IT is the o­ver curi­ous am­bition of many, to be best or to be none: if [Page 2] they may not doe so well as they would, they will not doe so well as they may. I will doe my best to doe the best, and what I want in power, supply in will. Thus whils I pay in part, I shall not bee a debtor for all. Hee owes most that payes nothing.

PRide is the greatest enemy to reason, and discretion the greatest opposite to pride. For whiles wisdome makes art the ape of nature, [Page 3] pride makes nature the ape of art. The Wise­man shapes his apparell to his body, the proud man shapes his body by this apparell. 'Tis no marvell than, if hee know not himselfe, when hee is not to day, like him he was yester­day: and lesse marvell, if good men will not know him, when hee forgets himselfe, and all goodnesse. I should feare, whilest I thus change my shape, least my maker should change his opinion: and finding mee not like him hee [Page 4] made mee, reject mee, as none of his making. I would any day put off the old cause of my ap­parell, but not every day put on new fashioned ap­parell. I see great rea­son, to bee ashamed of my pride, but no reason, to bee proud of my shame.

THe reason that ma­ny men want their desires, is, because their desires want reason. Hee may doe what hee will, [Page 5] that will doe but what he may.

I Should marvell that the Covetous man can still bee poore, when the rich man is still covetous, but that I see, a poore man can bee content, when the contented man is onely rich: the one wanting in his store, whiles the other is stored in his wants. I see then, wee are not rich or poore, by what wee possesse, but by what we desire. For [Page 6] hee is not rich that hath much, but hee that hath enough: nor hee poore that hath but little, but hee that wants more. If GOD then make mee rich by store, I will not impo­verish my selfe by cove­tousnesse: but if hee make mee poore by want, I will inrich my selfe by content.

HYpocrisie desires to seeme good rather than to be so: honestie desires to bee good ra­ther [Page 7] than seeme so. The worldlings purchase re­putation by the sale of desert, wisemen buy de­sert, with the hazard of reputation. I would do much to heare well, more to deserve well, and rather loose opini­on then merit. It shall more joy mee, that I know my selfe what I am, than it shall grieve me to heare what others report mee. I had ra­ther deserve well with­out praise, than doe ill with commendation.

[Page 8] A Coward in the field is like the Wisemans foole: his heart is at his mouth, and hee doth not know what hee does professe: but a Coward in his faith, is like a foole in his wisedome; his mouth is in his heart, and hee dares not professe what hee does know. I had rather not know the good I should doe, than not do the good I know. It is better to be beaten with few stripes, than with many.

[Page 9] EAch true Christian is a right traveller: his life his walke, CHRIST his way, and Heaven his home. His walke painefull, his way perfect, his home pleasing. I will not loyter, least I come short of home: I will not wander, least I come wide of home, but bee content to travell hard, and be sure walke right, so shall my safe way find its end at home, and my painefull walke make my home welcome.

[Page 10] AS is a wound to the body; so is a sinfull body to the soule: the body indangered till the wound bee cured, the soule not sound till the bodies sinne bee healed, and the wound of nei­ther can be cured without dressing, nor dressed without smarting. Now as the smart of the wound, is recompensed by the cure of the body: so is the punishment of the body sweetned by the health of the soule. [Page 11] Let my wound smart by dressing, rather than my bodie die; Let my bo­dy smart by correction, rather than my soule pe­rish.

IT is some hope of goodnesse not to grow worse: It is a part of badnesse not to grow better. I will take heed of quenching the sparke, and strive to kindle a fire. If I have the good­nesse. I should, it is not too much, why should I make it lesse? If I [Page 12] keepe the goodnesse I have 'tis not enough: Why doe I not make it more? Hee ne're was so good as hee should bee, that doth not strive to be better than he is: He never will be better than he is, that doth not feare to bee worse than hee was.

HEalth may be injoy­ed; sicknesse must be indured: one body is the object of both, one GOD the Author of both. If then hee give [Page 13] mee health, I will thank­fully enjoy it, and not thinke it too good, since it is his mercy that be­stowes it: if hee fend sickenesse, I will pati­ently indure it, and not thinke it too great, since it is my sinne that deserves it. If in health; I will strive to preserve it by praising of him: if in sickenesse; I will strive to remove it, by praying to him. Hee shall bee my GOD in sicknesse and in health, and my trust shall bee in him in health and in sick­nesse. So in my health.

[Page 14] I shall not need to feare sicknesse, nor in any sick­nesse despaire of health.

IT is the usuall plea of poverty to blame mis-fortune, when the ill-finished cause of com­plaint is a worke of their owne forging. I will ei­ther make my fortunes good, or bee content they are no worse. If they are not so good, as I would they should have beene, they are not so bad, as I know they might have beene. What [Page 15] though I am not so hap­py as I desire? 'Tis well I am not so wretched as I deserve.

THere is nothing to be gotten by the worlds love, nothing to bee loft (but its love) by its hate, Why then should I seeke that love that cannot profit mee, or feare that malice that cannot hurt mee? If I should love it, for lo­ving mee, GOD would hate mee, for loving it, If I loath it for hating [Page 16] mee, it cannot hurt mee for loathing it. Let it then hate mee, and I will forgive it, but if it love me, I will never requite it. For since its love is hurtfull, and its hate harmelesse, I will con­temne its hate, and hate its love.

AS there is a folly in wit, so there is a wis­dome in ignorance. I would not bee ignorant in a necessary know­ledge, nor wise above wis [...]dome. If I know [Page 17] enough I am wise enough, If I seeke more I am foolish.

ITs no marvell that man hath lost his rule over the creature, when hee would not bee ruled by the will of the Crea­tor. Why should they feare man, when man would not obey GOD? I could wish no crea­ture had power to hurt mee, I am glad so many creatures are ordained to helpe me. If GOD al­low enough to serve me, [Page 18] I will not expect that all should feare me.

NO affliction (for the time) seemes joy­ous, all time in affliction seemes tedious. I will compare my miseries on earth with my joyes in heaven, and the length of my miseries, with its eternity, so shall my journey seeme short; and my burthen ea­sie.

[Page 19] THere is nothing more certaine than death, nothing more uncer­taine than the time of dying. I will therefore bee prepared for that at all times, which may come at any time, must come at one time or a­nother. I shall not ha­sten my death by being still ready, but swee­ten it. It makes me not die the sooner, but bee the better.

[Page 20] THe commendation of a bad thing, is his shortnesse, of a good thing its continuance: it were happie for the damned, if their tor­ments knew end, 'tis happier for the Saints that their joyes are eter­nall. If man, that is borne of a woman, bee full of misery, 'tis well that hee hath but a short time to live; if his life be a walke of paine, its a blessing, that his daies are but a spanne-long. [Page 21] Happie miseries that end in joy: happie joyes that know no end: hap­pie end that dissolves to eternity.

HAd I not more con­fidence in the truth of my Saviour, than in the traditions of men, povertie might stagger my faith, and bring my thoughts into a perplexed Purgatorie. Wherein are the poore blessed, if pardon shall bee purchased onely by expense? Or how is it [Page 22] hard for a rich man to enter into heaven, if money may buy out the past, present and future sinnes of himselfe, his deceased and succeeding progeny? If Heaven bee thus fold, what benefit has my po­verty, by the price al­ready paid? I finde no happinesse in Roome on earth, 'Tis happinesse for mee to have Roome in heaven.

[Page 23] THere is no estate of life so happie in this world, as to yeeld a Christian the perfecti­on of content: and yet there is no estate of life so wretched in this world, but a Christian must bee content with it. Though I can have no­thing heere that may give mee true content, yet I will learne to bee truely contented heere with what I have What care I though I have not much (If I [Page 24] have enough) I have as much as I desire. If I have as much as I want, I have as much as the most, if I have as much as I de­sire.

IT is the greatest of all sinnes alway to con­tinue in sinne. For where the custome of sinning waxeth greater, the conscience for sinne growes the lesse: it is easier to quench a sparke, then a fire; I had rather breake the [Page 25] Cockatrices egg, then kill the Serpent. O daughter of Babylon, happie shall hee bee that taketh thy children whilest they are young and dasheth them against the stones.

NAture bids mee love my selfe and hate all that hurt mee, Reason bids me love my friends and hate those that envie mee, Re­ligion bids mee love all and hate none. Na­ture sheweth care, Rea­son [Page 26] wit, Religion love. Nature may induce me, Reason perswade mee, but Religion shall rule mee. I will hearken to Nature in much, to Reason in more, to Religion in all. Na­ture shall make mee carefull of my selfe, but hatefull to none; Rea­son shall make mee wise for my selfe but harme­lesse to all; Religion shall make mee loving to all, but not carelesse of my selfe. I may heare the former, I will hearken onely to the later. I subscribe to [Page 27] some things in all, to all things in Religi­on.

ABundance is a trou­ble, want a misery, honour a burthen, base­nesse a scorne, ad­vancements dangerous, disgrace odious. One­ly a Competent estate yeelds the quiet of con­tent. I will not climbe, least I fall, nor lye in the ground, least I am trod on. I am safest whiles my legges beare me. A competent heate [Page 28] is most helthfull for my body, I would desire neither to freeze nor to burne.

A Large promise with­out performance is like a false fire to a great Peece, which dischar­geth a good expectati­on with a bad report. I will fore-thinke what I will promise, that I may promise but what I will doe. Thus whilest my words are led by my thoughts, and followed by my acti­ons, [Page 29] I shall bee care­full in my promises, and just in their perfor­mance. I had rather doe and not promise, than promise and not doe.

THE good-meaner hath two tongues, the Hypocrite a double tongue. The good mans heart speakes without his tongue, the Hypocrites tongue without his heart. The good man hath often­times GOD in his [Page 30] heart, when in his mouth there is no GOD men­tioned: the Hypocrite hath GOD often in his mouth, when the foole hath said in his heart there is no GOD. I may soonest heare the tongue, but safest the heart, the tongue spea­keth lowdest, but the heart truest.

THe speech of the tongue is best known to men: GOD best understands the language of the heart: the heart [Page 31] without the tongue may pierce the eares of hea­ven, the tongue with­out the heart speakes an unknowne language. No marvell then if the de­sires of the poore are heard, when the prayers of the wicked are unre­garded. I had rather speake three words in a speech that God knowes, then pray three houres in a language hee under­stands not.

[Page 32] MEditation is the wombe of our acti­ons, Action the midwife of our Meditations. A good and perfect con­ception, if it want strength for the birth, perisheth in the wombe of the minde, and, if it may be said to bee borne, it must be said to be still­borne: a bad and imper­fect conception, if it hath the happinesse of a birth, yet the minde is but de­livered of a burthen of imperfections, in the [Page 33] perfection of deformity, which may beg with the criple at the gate of the Temple, or perisheth through its imperfecti­ons. If I meditate what's good to be done, and doe not the good I have meditated, I loose my labour, and make curst my knowledge. If I doe the thing that is good, and intend not that good that I doe, it is a good action, but not well done. Others may injoy some benefit, I de­serve no commendati­ons. Resolution without action is a sloathfull fol­ly, [Page 34] Action without reso­lution is a foolish rash­nesse. First know whats good to be done, then do that good being knowne. If forecast be not better than labour, labour is not good without fore­cast. I would not have my actions done with­out knowledge, nor a­gainst it.

IT is the folly of af­fection not to compre­hend my erring friend, for feare of his anger: it is the abstract of folly, to [Page 35] be angry with my friend, for my errors reprehen­sion. I were not a friend, if I should see my friend out of the way, and not advise him: I were unworthy to have a friend, if hee should advise mee (be­ing out of the way) and I bee angry with him. Rather let mee have my friends anger than de­serve it; rather let the righteous smite mee friendly by reproofe, than the pretious oyle of flatterie, or conni­vence, breake my head. It is a folly to flie ill­will, [Page 36] by giving a just cause of hatred. I thinke him a truer friend that deserves my love, than he that desires it.

WHen Children meet with prim­roses, nuts, or apples in their way, I see those pleasures are oftimes oc­casions to make them loyter in their errands, so that they are sure to have their Parents displea­sure, and oftimes their late retunre findes a [Page 37] barr'd entrance to their home, whereas those who meete with dan­gers in the way, make haste in their journey, and their speede makes them welcomed, with commendation. Na­ture hath sent mee a­broad into the world, and I am every day tra­velling homeward: If I meete with store of miseries in my way, discretion shall teach mee a religious haste in my journey: And if I meete with pleasures, they shall pleasure mee onely by putting mee [Page 38] in minde of my plea­sures at home, which shall teach me to scorne these, as worse than trifles. I will never more reckon a trou­blesome life, a curse, but a blessing. A plea­sant journey is deere bought with the losse of home.

VVHen I see the fisher bait his hook, I think on Sathans subtile malice, who su­gars over his poysoned hookes with seeming. [Page 39] pleasures. Thus Eves apple was canded with divine knowledge, yee shall bee as Gods knowing good and evill. When I see the fish fast hang'd, I thinke upon the cove­tous Worldling, who leapes at the profit without considering the danger. Thus Achan takes the gold and the garment and ne're con­siders that his life must answer it. If Sathan be such a fisher of men, its good to looke before wee leape. Honey may bee eaten, so that wee take heede of the sting: [Page 40] I will honestly injoy my delights, but not buy them with danger.

I See, when I have but a short journey to travell, I am quickly at home, soone out of the paine of my travell, soone into the possession of my rest. If my life be but my walke, and heaven my home, why should I desire a long journey? Indeed know­ing my home so plea­sant, I would not bee weary with a long [Page 41] walke, but yet the shor­ter my journey, the soo­ner my rest.

I Cannot see two saw­yers worke at the pit, but they put mee in minde of the Phari­see and the Publican: the one casts his eye upward, whiles his actions tend to the pit in­fernall: the other stan­ding with a dejected Countenance, whiles his hands and heart move upward. 'Tis not a shame to make [Page 42] shew of our profes­sion, so we truely pro­fesse what wee make shew of: But of the two, I had rather bee good, and not seeme so, than seeme good, and not bee so. The Publican went home to his house rather justified then the Pha­risee.

WHen I thinke on the Eagles cary­ing up of the shell-fish in­to the ayre, onely to the end hee may breake [Page 43] him by his fall, it puts mee in minde of the divellish costly courte­sies, who out of the bountie of his subtilty, is still ready to advance us to destruction. Thus more then once hee dealt with my Redee­mer, no sooner had hee rais'd him to the top of an high pinacle, but straight followes, cast thy selfe downe; and ha­ving placed him on an high mountaine, let him fall downe and hee shall bee largely rewar­ded with his owne. If advancement be so dan­gerous, [Page 44] I will take heed of being ambitious. Any estate shall give mee content: I am high enough if I can stand upright.

WHen I see leaves drop from their trees, in the beginning of Autumne, just such thinke I, is the friend­ship of the world. Whiles the sap of mainte­nance lasts, my friends swarme in abundance, but in the winter of my need, they leave me na­ked. [Page 45] Hee is an happie man that hath a true friend at his need: but hee is more truely hap­pie that hath no need of his friend.

I Should wonder, that the unsatiable desires of ambition can finde no degree of content, but that I see they seeke a perfection of honour on earth, when the ful­nesse of glory is onely in heaven. The ho­nour on earth is full of degrees, but no degree [Page 46] admits a perfection: Whereas the glory of heaven admits of de­grees, but each degree affoords a fullnesse. Heere, one may bee lower then another in honour, and yet the highest want a glory: There, though one Starre differs from ano­ther in glory, yet in the fullnesse of glory they all shine as Starres. Heere, the greatest may want, there the least hath enough: Heere, all the earth may not bee enough for one; There, one heaven is enough [Page 47] for all. LORD let me rather be least there, without honour heere, then the greatest heere, without glory there. I had rather bee a dore­keeper in that house, then a ruler in these tents.

WHen I see the hea­venly sun buried under earth in the eve­ning of the day, and in the morning to finde a resur­rection to his glory, Why (thinke I) may not the sonnes of hea­ven, [Page 48] buried in the earth, in the evening of their daies, expect the mor­ning of their glorious Resurrection? Each night is but the past­dayes funerall, and the morning his Resurrecti­on: Why then should our funerall sleepe bee other then our sleepe at night? Why should we not as well awake to our Resurrection, as in the morning? I see night is rather an intermission of day, then a depriva­tion, and death rather borrowes our life of us then robbs us of it. [Page 49] Since then the glory of the sunne findes a Re­surrection, why should not the sonnes of glo­ry? Since a dead man may live againe, I will not so much looke for an end of my life, as waite for the comming of my change.

I See, that candle yeelds mee small bene­fit at day, which at night much steeds mee: and I know, the cause is not because the candles light was lesse [Page 50] at day, but because the daies light is lesse in the evening. As my friends love to mee, so mine to my friend may bee at all times alike; but wee best see it, when wee most need it: and that, not because our love is then greater, but our want. Though then I welcome a courtesie according to my want, yet I will value a cour­tesie according to its worth. That my for­tunes need not my friends courtesie, is my happinesse: should my happinesse sleight my [Page 51] friends courtesie, 'twere my folly.

I See that candle makes small shew in the day which at night yeelds a glorious lustre, not because the can­dle has then more light, but because the ayre hath then more darke­nesse. How prejudiciall then is that ambition, which makes mee seeme lesse then I am, by pre­suming to make mee greater then I should bee. They whose glo­ry [Page 52] shines as the sparkes amongst stubble, loose their light, if compared to the Sonne of glory. I will not seat my selfe higher then my place, least I should bee dis­graced to an humility, but if I place my selfe lower then my seat, I may be advanced to the honour of, friend sit up higher. I had rather bee exalted by my hu­mility, then be brought low by my exaltation.

[Page 53] I See that candle which is as a sunne in the darkenesse, is but as a darkenesse in the sunne; the candle not more lightning the nights darkenesse, then the sunne darkning the candles light. I will take heed then of con­tention, especially with great ones. As I may bee too strong for the weaker; so I must bee too weake for the stron­ger. I cannot so easily vanquish mine inferi­ors, [Page 54] but my superiors may as easily conquer mee: I will doe much to bee at peace with all men, but suffer much ere I contend with a mighty man.

I See when I follow my shadow it flies me, When I flie my shadow it followes mee: I know pleasures are but sha­dowes, which hold no longer then the sunshine of my fortunes. Least then my pleasures should forsake mee, I will for­sake [Page 55] them. Pleasure most flies me when I most fol­low it.

IT is not good to speake evill of all whom wee know bad: it is worse to judge evill of any, who may prove good. To speake ill upon knowledge, shewes a want of cha­rity: to speake ill up­on suspition shewes a want of honesty. I will not speake so bad as I know of many: I will not speake worse [Page 56] then I know of any. To know evill by others, and not speake it, is sometimes discre­tion: to speake evill by others, and not know it, is alway dishonesty. Hee may bee evill himselfe who speakes good of others upon knowledge, but hee can never bee good him­selfe, who speakes evill of others upon suspi­tion.

[Page 57] A Bad great one is a great bad one. For the greatnesse of an evill man, makes the mans evill the greater. It is the unhappie pri­viledge of authority, not so much to act, as teach wickednesse, and by a liberall cruel­tie, to make the offen­ders sinne not more his owne then others. Each fault in a leader is not so much a crime, as a rule for error: And their vices are [Page 58] made, (if not warrants, yet) presidents for evill. To sinne by pre­scription, is as usuall as damnable: and men run poast in their journey, when they goe to the divell with authority. When then the vices of the rulers of others, are made the rules for vices to others, the offences of all great ones must needs bee the greatest of all offences. Either then let mee bee great in goodnesse, or else it were good for mee to bee without greatnesse. My owne [Page 59] sinnes are a burthen too heavie for mee, why then should I lade my selfe with others offences.

To speake all that is true, is the property of fooles: to speake more then is true, is the folly of—too many. Hee that spends all that is his owne, is an unthrifty prodi­gall: Hee that spends more then is his owne, is a dishonest unthrift. I may sometimes know [Page 60] what I will not utter, I must never utter what I doe not know. I should bee loath to have my tongue so large as my heart, I would scorne to have my heart lesse then my tongue. For if to speake all that I know, shewes too much fol­ly, to speake more then I know shewes too lit­tle honesty.

IT is the ambitious folly of too many, to [Page 61] imitate rather great­nesse then goodnesse. They will sooner fol­low the example of their Lord, then the precepts of their GOD. I will alway honour greatnesse, I will one­ly imitate goodnesse: and rather doe good without a patterne, then commit evill in imitation. 'Tis better to bee saved without a president, then to bee damn'd by example.

[Page 62] THere is no security in evill society, where the good are of­ten made worse, the bad seldome better. For it is the peevish industry of wickednesse, to finde, or make a fel­low. 'Tis like, they will bee birds of a fea­ther, that use to flocke together. For such com­monly doth their con­versation make us, as they are with whom wee use to converse. [Page 63] I cannot bee certaine, not to meet with evill company, but I will bee carefull, not to keepe with evill com­pany. I would wil­lingly sort my selfe with such, as should either teach, or learne goodnesse: and if my companion cannot make mee better, nor I him good, I will rather leave him ill, then hee shall make me worse.

[Page 64] TO teach goodnesse is the greatest praise, to learne goodnesse, the greatest profit. Though he bee wisest that can teach, yet he that doth learne is wiser. I will not therefore be unwil­ling to teach, nor a­shamed to learne. I cannot bee so ignorant, but I may learne some­what, nor so wise but I may teach more, I will therefore teach what I know, and learne what I know not. Though [Page 65] it be a greater praise to teach, then to learne, yet it is a lesser shame to learne then to be igno­rant.

AS there is a misery in want, so there is a danger in excesse. I would therefore desire neither more, nor lesse, then enough. I may as well die of a surfet, as of hunger.

[Page 66] IT is the apish nature of many, to fol­low rather example then precepts: but it would bee the safest course of all, to learne rather by precept then example. For ther's many a good Divine that cannot learne his owne teaching. It is easier to say this doe, then to doe it. When therefore. I see good doctrine with an evill life, I may pittie the one, but I will practise [Page 67] onely the other. The good sayings belong to all, the evill actions onely to their authors.

THere are two things necessary for a tra­veller, to bring him to the end of his journey: a knowledge of his way, a perseverance in his walke. If hee walke in a wrong way, the faster he goes the fur­ther he is from home: if he sit still in a right way, he may know his home, but ne're come [Page 68] to it: Discreet stayes make speedie journeyes. I will first then know my way, ere I begin my walke: the know­ledge of my way is a good part of my jour­ney. Hee that faints in the execution looseth the glory of the action. I will therefore not one­ly know my way, but also goe on in my way: I had rather my jour­ney should want a be­ginning, then come to an untimely end. If heaven bee my home, and CHRIST my way, I will learne to [Page 69] know my way, ere I haste to travell to my home. Hee that runs hastily in a way hee knowes not, may come speedily to an home he loves not. If CHRIST be my way, and heaven my home, I will ra­ther indure my painefull walke, then want my perfect rest. I more esteeme my home then my journey; my actions shall bee led by know­ledge, my knowledge be followed by my acti­ions. Ignorance is a bad mother to devotion, and idlenesse a bad steward to [Page 70] to knowledge.

I Cannot but wonder at the folly of those hearts, who are like to kill themselves with the feare of dying, making the newes of an insuing mischiefe, a worse mischiefe then that they have newes of: whereas the fore-knowledge of an ap­proaching evill, is a benefit of no small good. For if it can­not teach us to pre­vent it by providence, [Page 71] it may shew us, how to sustaine it by pa­tience. I may grieve with the smart of an evill, as soone as I feele it: But I will not smart with the griefe of an evill as soone as I heare of it. My evill when it commeth may make my griefe too great, why then should my griefe before it comes make my e­vill greater?

[Page 72] AS I see in the body, so I know in the soule, they are oft most desperately sicke, who are least sensible of their disease: whereas hee that feares each light wound▪ for mortall, seekes a timely cure, and is healed. I will not reckon it my hap­pinesse, that I have ma­ny sores, but since I have them, I am glad they greeve mee. I know the cure is not the more dangerous, [Page 73] because my wounds are more grievous; I should be more sicke if I plained lesse.

IT is one, not of the least evills; not to avoid the appearance of evill, which oft makes the innocent justly punished with undeserved suspiti­on. I would desire to bee thought good, but yet I had rather be so. It is no small happinesse to be free from suspici­on, but a greater to bee void of offence. I [Page 74] would willingly be nei­ther evill nor suspe­cted: but of the two I had rather be suspected and not deserve it, then deserve evill and not be suspected.

I Know but one way to heaven, I have but one Mediator in heaven, even one Christ: and yet I heare of more Waies, more Mediators. Are there then more Christs? Are the Lords waies as your waies that wee must goe to the King of heaven as [Page 75] unto a King on earth? Or if wee must, yet if my King bid me come shall I send an other? If he bid me come un­to him, shall I goe un­to another? If he bid me aske for peace onely in the name of the Prince of peace, why should I mention the Lady Ma­ry? If I shall be heard onely in the name of his sonne, why should I use the name of his ser­vants? Were it a want of manners, or a want of obedience to come when I am bid? Is ano­ther better, or am I too [Page 76] good to goe in mine owne errands to the Almighty? Because the sonne was worse used then the servants on earth, shall the servants therefore bee sooner heard then the Sonne in heaven? There are still unjust Husbandmen in the Lords vineyard, who not onely abuse the ser­vants, but kill againe the Sonne, and rob him of his due inheritance. When the LORD there­fore of the Vineyard commeth, what will he doe to these Husband­men? I doe not envie [Page 77] your glory yee Saints of GOD, yet I will not attribute the glory of my GOD to his Saints. How shall my GOD glorifie mee, if I should give his glory to another?

TO be without passion is worse then a beast, to be without reason, is to bee lesse then a man. Since I can be without neither, I am blessed, in that I have both. For, if it bee not against rea­son to be passionate, I will [Page 78] not be passionate against reason. I will both greeve and joy, if I have rea­son for it, but not joy nor grieve above rea­son. I will so joy at my good as not to take evill by my joy: so grieve at any evill as not to increase my evill by my griefe. For it is not a folly to have passion, but to want reason. I would bee neither senselesse, nor beastly.

[Page 79] IT is the folly of wit in some, to take paines to trimme their labours in obscurity. It is the ig­norance of learning in others, to labour to de­vest their paine by bluntnesse; the one thin­king hee never speakes wisely, till he goes be­yond his owne, and all mens understandings: the other thinking hee never speakes plainely, till hee dive beneath the shallowest apprehensi­on. I as little affect cu­riosity [Page 80] in the one, as I care for the affectation of baldnesse in the o­ther. I would not have the pearle of heavens kingdome so curiously set in gold, as that the art of the workeman should hide the beauty of the jewell: nor yet so sleightly valued, as to be set in lead: or so beastly used as to be slub­bered with durt. I know the pearle (how ever placed) still retaines its vertue, yet I had rather have it set in gold, then seeke it in a dunghill. Neat apparell is an or­nament [Page 81] to the body, but a disgrace, if either proud or slovenly.

I See corruption so largely rewarded, that I doubt not, but I should thrive in the world, could I but get a dis­pensation of my con­science for the liberty of trading. A little flat­tery would get mee a great deale of favour, and I could buy a world of this worlds love, with the sale of this little tri­fle Honestie. Were this [Page 82] world my home, I might perhaps be trading: but alas, these merchandize yeeld lesse then nothing in heaven. I would wil­lingly be at quiet with the world, but rather at peace with my consci­ence. The love of men is good, whiles it lasteth, the love of GOD is bet­ter being everlasting. Let me then trade for those heavenly marchandize: if I finde these other in my way, they are a great deale more then I looke for, and (within little) more then I care for.

[Page 83] AS faith is the evi­dence of things not seene: so things that are seene are the perfecting of faith. I beleeve a tree will be greene, when I see him leavelesse in winter: I know he is greene when I see him flourishing in summer. It was a fault in Thomas not to beleeve till he did see. It were a mad­nesse in him not to be­leeve when he did see. Beleefe may somtime ex­ceed reason, not oppose it, and faith be often [Page 84] above sense not against it. Thus whiles faith doth assure mee that I eate CHRIST effectually, sense must assure me that I taste bread really. For though I oftentimes see not those things that I beleeve, yet I must still beleeve those things that I see.

THere is none so inno­cent as not to be evill spoken of, none so wic­ked as to want all com­mendation. There are too many who condemne the [Page 85] just, and not a few who justifie the wicked. I oft heare both envie and flat­tery speaking falsehoods of my selfe, to my selfe, and may not the like tongues performe the liketaskes, of others to others? I will know O­thers by what they doe themselves, but not learn my selfe by what I heare of others. I will be care­full of mine own actions, not credulous of others relations.

[Page 86] THe Crosse is but a signe of CHRIST crucified, CHRIST crucified the substance of this Crosse. The signe without the sub­stance is as nothing, the substance without the signe is all things. I hate not the signe, though I adore but the substance. I will not blaspheme the Crosse of CHRIST, I will not worship but CHRIST crucified. I will take up my Crosse, I will love [Page 87] my Crosse, I will beare my Crosse, I will imbrace my Crosse, yet not adore my Crosse. All knees shall bend in reverence to his name, mine never bow in idolatry to his image.

IT is the nature of man to be proud, when man by nature hath nothing to be proud of. Hee more adorneth the Creature, then he adoreth the Creator▪ and makes, not onely his belly his God, [Page 88] but his body. I am ashamed of their glo­ry, whose glory is their shame. If nature will needs have me to bee proud of some­thing, I will bee proud onely of this, that I am proud of no­thing.

AS the Giver of all things, so each re­ceiver loveth a cheere­full giver. For a bar­gaine is valued by the worth of the thing bought, but a gift by the [Page 89] minde of the party gi­ving: which made the widowes mite of more worth, then the riches of superfluitie. I see then, he gives not best that gives most, but he gives most, that gives best. If then I cannot give bountifully, yet I will give freely, and what I want in my hand, supply by my heart. Hee gives well that gives willingly.

[Page 90] I See at a feast, that others seed heartily on that dish which perhaps would not suite with my appetite, whilest I make as good a meale on those cates, that perhaps their pa­lats could not relish. I will not therefore thinke I doe well because my actions please not others, nor bee confident that my actions are good, be­cause my doings please my selfe: but bee [Page 91] more carefull to pro­vide what is good at a feast, then what's delightfull: and more study to expresse what is honest in my acti­ons, then what's plea­sing. So, if sicke sto­mackes cannot relish my sound meates, the fault shall light on their ill appetites: and if unseasoned judge­ments like not my honest intentions, the fault shall fall on their ill relished apprehensions. It would please mee well to have praise when I deserve it; [Page 92] but joy mee more to deserve praise when I have it.

WHen one as­cends from the ground to an higher roome, I observe with [Page 2] what contempt he in­sults and tramples on the staires by which he riseth, and how he first and most darteth that step by which he first stepped from the durt. Which putteth me in minde of the practice of the aspiring ambiti­ous, who, to get up to their wished height of honour, bedurt with scorne, and neglect those by whose shoul­ders they were first mounted, and exal [...]ed I hate that ambition which inforceth ingra­titude; which, being [Page 3] the basest of vices, can­not but foyle, and dis­grace a man graced with such honours. I am not preferr'd with honour, if debased with ingra­titude.

HE that will not be perswaded to leape downe from an high chamber at once, com­meth willingly downe by the stayres: and yet the declining degrees of his winding descent make it not lesse down­ward to him, but lesse [Page 4] perceived of him. His leape might have brought him downe sooner, it could not have brought him down lower. As I am then fearefull to act great sinnes, so I will bee carefull to avoid small sinnes. He that con­temn's a small fault commits a great one. I see many drops make a shower: and what difference is it, whether I be wet either in the raine, or in the river, if both be to the skinne? There is small benefit in the choyce, whither [Page 5] we goe downe to Hell by degrees or at once.

THE gentle and harmelesse sheepe being conscious of their owne innocency, how patiently, how quiet­ly, doe they receive the knife, either on the al­tar, or in the shambles? How silently and un­daunted doe they meet death and give it en­trance with small resi­stance? When the fil­thie loathsome and harmefull swine roare [Page 6] horribly at the first handling, and with an hideous crying reluctan­cy, are haled, and held to the slaughter. This seemes some cause to me, why wicked men (conscious of their filthy lives, and nature) so tremble at the remem­brances, startle at the name, and with horrour roare at the approach of death: when the godly quietly uncloathe themselves of their lives, and make small difference twixt a natu­rall nights short sleepe, and the long sleepe of [Page 7] nature. I will pray not to come to an un­timely violent death, I will not violently resist death at the time when it commeth. I will ex­pect and waite my change with patience, imbrace it with cheere­fullnesse, and never feare it as a totall privation.

IT is no small fault to be bad, and seeme so: it is a greater fault to seeme good, and not be so: The cloake of dissimulation is a maine [Page 8] part of the garment spot­ted with the flesh. A vice thus covered is worse then a naked of­fense. There is no divell to the Hypocrite.

WHen I see the Larkers day-net spread out in a faire morning, and himselfe whirling his artificiall motion, and observe how by the reflecting lustre of the sunne on the wheeling instru­ment, not onely the merry larke, and feare­full [Page 9] Pigeon are dazeled, and drawne with admi­ration; but stowter birds of pray, the swift Merlin, and towring Hobbie are inticed to stoope, and gazing on the outward forme loose themselves. Me thinks I see the divels night­nets of inticing harlots fully paraleld, spread out for us in the vigour of our youth; which with rowling eyes draw on the lustfull­nesse of affection, and betray the wantonnesse of the heart, and wit [...] their alluring glances [Page 10] often make to stoope within danger of their fatall nets, not onely the simple and carelesse, but others also, men otherwise wary and wife: who comming within the pull of the net lie at the mercy of that mercilesse fowler, to their certaine de­struction. Hence I re­solve when I see such glasses, to shunne such motions, as assured that those glasses have nets adjoyning; those nets a fowler attending; that fowler a death prepa­red for me, then which [Page 11] I cannot die a worse. I may by chance, I must by necessity, at sometime come within their view: I will at no time come within their danger. I cannot well live in this world, and not see them at all, I cannot live well in this world, nor at all in the better world, if I bee caught in their fatall nets.

[Page 12] THere bee that make it their glory to feed high, and fare deliciously every day, and to maintaine their bo­dies elementary, search the elements, the earth, sea, and aire, to main­taine the fire of their appetites. They that thus make their bellies their Gods doe make their glory their shame. I di­staste a sordid diet as un­wholsome, I care not to taste and feed on va­riety of delicates as un­healthfull. [Page 13] Nature con­tented with a few things is cloyed, and quelled with over many: and digestion her cooke im­ployed in the concocti­on of so much variety at once, leaves the sto­macke too fowle a kitchin for health to a­bide in. Since then so to feed may the soo­ner end my life, and the end of my life is not so to feed, I will bee taught by Grace not to live to eat, but eat to live; and maintaine health by a competent diet, not surfet with excesse.

[Page 14] HE that too much admires the glory of a Princes Court, and drawne up thither (by his ambition) thinks high places to bee the highest happinesse; let him view the foggie mists, the moist va­pours, and light exha­lations drawne up from the earth by the attra­ctive power of the glo­rious sunne-beames: which when they are at highest, either spend themselves there in por­tending [Page 15] meteors, to o­thers terrour and their owne consumption; and either by resolu­tion are turned into raine, or cong [...]lation unto hayle or snow, which sinke lower in­to the earth at their fall, then they were at their assending. For my part, I may admire such a glowing coale. I will not with the Satyr kisse it. As I thinke it not the least and last praise to please Princes; so, I know, it is not the least danger of times to to live with them, procul [Page 16] a Iove procul a fulmine. Hee presumes too much of his owne brightnesse that thinkes to shine cleere neere the sunne; where if his light bee his owne it must bee obscured by compari­son: if borrowed from the sunne, then is it not his, but an others glory. A candle in the nights obscurity shewes brighter then a torch at noone-day. And Caesar thought it a grea­ter glory to be the first man in some obscure towne, then the second man in Rome the [Page 17] head city of the world.

IT is a common cu­stome (but a lewd one) of them that are common lewd ones, by custome, to wound the fame, and taint the reputation of their neighbours with slan­ders; and having no lesse impotency in their tongues then impurity in their hearts, forme both opinions and censures according to the mould of evill in themselves. And this they [Page 18] doe, either with the Lapwing to divert, by their false cries, the travelling stranger from finding the nest of their filthinesse, or with the curtold Fox in the fa­ble, to endevour to have all foxes cut-tayld: or, with the fish Sepia, to darken with the pitchie inke of aspersions, all the water of the neigh­bourhood, that so them­selves may scape the net of Censure, justly cast to catch them. Or els, to have themselves thought as good as any other, they will not [Page 19] have any thought good, that dwells neere them. I will therefore suspect him as scarce honest, who would (with a slan­der) make mee suspect an other as dishonest. I will not presently dis­respect him as dishonest, whom a lewd person dishonesteth with suspi­tion. The divell is not more blacke-mouth' then a slanderer; nor a slanderer lesse malicious then the divell.

[Page 20] WHen I see the sunnerising from the East in glory, like a gyant ready for the course, within an houres space obscured with mists, darkned with clowds, and sometimes eclipsed with the Moones inferiour bo­dy: and however, without these, after noone declining, de­scending, setting, and buried under our ho­rizon; I seeme to see an earthly king moun­ting [Page 21] his throne in glo­ry, yet soone clouded with cares, and feare of dangers: sometime darkned in honour by the malicious envy of his subjects; sometimes eclipsed in his domini­ons by the interposition of forreigne powers; and however, without these, in a short time, descending and setting at the evening of his life, and seldome pas­sing the whole day thereof in perfect con­tinuall glory. Then thinke I. O the odds of comfort in that heaven­ly [Page 22] and these earhly king­domes; O the comfort of this odds; There each Saint is a glorious King; each King hath his incorruptible Crowne; each Crowne a bound­lesse, fearelesse, endlesse kingdome. Let mee strive for the glory of such a kingdome onely, which is a kingdome of such glory.

[Page 23] THE Lawes in themselves are the scoales of justice, the wronged poore-mans shelter, the pillars of the Common-wealth: but the abused practice makes those scoales un­equall, that poore-mans shelter a mans poore shelter for his wrongs. The proofe of this, ap­peares with the Iuries at the Assises in their proofes: when one may often discerne per­jury usher in the evidence [Page 24] to the jury, and injury follow with the verdict. I admire with reve­rence the justice and wisedome of the Lawes: I deplore with compas­sion the abused practice of the Lawes, and re­solve, rather to beare with patience an hayle­shower of injuries, then to seeke shelter at such a thicker, where the bram­bles shall pluke off my fleece, and do me more hurt by seratching, then the storme would have done by hayling. I care not for that phy­sicke, where the reme­dy [Page 25] is worse then the di­sease.

HOw cunningly doth the Prince of dark­nesse take on him the forme of an Angell of light? How often have seeming-saints prooved divels? even in those things (lightly) most faulty, which they make a shew of being most free from: Some more prowd of being thought plaine, then a flaunting gallant in his new fashi­on. Others refusing a [Page 26] deserved commendati­on, onely with a desire to be commended for refusing it: The one hating pride with a more proud hatred, the other shunning praise with a greater vaine-glory. It is bad to have vices, worse to dissemble them. Plato possessed his rich bed with lesse pride then Diogenes trampled on it.

[Page 27] I Meete sometimes with men whose crazed braines seeme soldered with quick-silver; whose actions straines run on­ly in odd crotchets; whose judgements be­ing hood-winkt with their owne opinion, and passion, admit of nought for reason, but what their unreasonable selfe-will dictates to them. And then what they will doe, they will doe; and doe it they will with that torrent of [Page 28] violence, that overturnes all obstacles of counsell, which crosse their cour­ses. From these I will learne not to make Will my coach-man, unlesse Reason runne before to shew the way: And if my action must passe by the waters of uncer­taine danger, of all vessels I will not use the Whirry. As sloath seldome brin­geth actions to good birth: so hasty rashnesse alwaies makes them abortive, ere well for­med.

[Page 29] AS in virtues, hee that hath one, hath all: so in vices he that hath one hath seldome one alone. He that will steale, must lye; and he that will steale, and lye, will sweare his lye; and so easily skrue himselfe up to perjury. He that will be drunke, what will he not be, when he is drunke? and being slipt downe from the top of reasonable sense, where stoppeth he from tumbling downe into a [Page 30] beastly sensuality? I will therefore give the water no passage no not a litle, least it make a breach, and that breach let in an inundation to drowne the sweet pastures of my soule. I see the di­vels claw is an entering­wedge, to let in his foot; that foot, his whole body. I will be care­full to set a Watch and keepe the doore, that sinne may have no admit­tance. I cannot be too carefull, so it bee to the purpose; it cannot be to the purpose, if it be too little.

[Page 31] THat the voyce of the common people is the voyce of GOD, is the common voice of the people; yet it is as full of falshood, as com­monnesse. For who sees not that those blacke­mouth'd hownds, upon the meere seate of opi­nion, as freely spend their mouthes in hun­ting Counter, or like Actaeons dogges in cha­sing an innocent man to death, as if they fol­lowed the chase of truth [Page 32] it selfe, in a fresh sent. Who observes not that the voice of the people, yea of that people that voiced themselves the people of GOD, did pro­secute the GOD of all people, with one com­mon voice, he is worthy to die. I will not therefore ambitiously begg their voices for my prefer­ment; nor weigh my worth in that uneven ballance, in which a feather of opi­nion shall be momente­nough to turne the scales, and make a light peece go currant, and a currant peece seeme light.

[Page 33] THere are a sort of men which are kind men to mee, when they expect some kindnesse from mee: who have their hands downe to the ground in their salutations, when the ground of their salutations is to have a hand at me, in some commodity. But their owne ends once served, their kindnesse hath its end at once: And then it seemes strange to mee, how [Page 32] [...] [Page 33] [...] [Page 34] strange they will seeme to grow to mee; as if the cause (their de­sire) being removed the effect (their courte­sie) must straight cease. I will not acknowledge such my friends, but their owne; and when ever I see such insinua­ting palpalation, I will bethinke mee what the authors would have of mee. And, with a thrif­ty discretion, rather de­ny such their requests, then, in a prodigall kind­nes become their friend, more then mine owne.

[Page 35] I See a number of gal­lants every where, whose incomes come in yearely by set num­bers, but runne out dai­ly, sans number. I could pity the cases of such brave men, but that I see them still in brave cases. And when I see them often foxed, methinke the Proverbe sutes those sutes, What is the fox but his case? I should thinke them to bee Eutrapelus his ene­mies, whom he cloathed [Page 36] richly to make them spend freely, and grow deboshed. I will doe those men right, and wonder at them, be­cause they desire it. I will not wrong my selfe to envie at them, because they deserve it not, nor to pity them, because they scorne it. I know that gorgeous apparell is an ornament to grace the Court, for the glory of the King­dome, but it is no orna­ment usefull in the King­dome of Grace, nor needfull in the King­dome of glory. A rich [Page 37] coate may be commen­dable in the Accidents of armory onely, but it is not the onely sub­stance of a commenda­ble gentleman. I will value the apparell, by the worthinesse of the wearer; I will not va­lue the worthinesse of the wearer, by the worth of his apparell. Adam was most gallantly ap­pareled, when hee was innocently naked.

[Page 38] THe men of most credit in our time, are the usurers. For they credit most men: And though their grea­test study bee security, yet is it usually their for­tune to be fullest of care. Time is pretious to them: For they thinke a day broke to them, is worth a broke-age from their creditor. Yet this they finde by use, that as they have much profit by putting out, so must they have [Page 39] much care to get it in. For debtors are of Themistocles his minde, and take not so much care how to repay all, as how they may not pay at all, their creditors, and make this their first resolution, how they may make no resolution at all. I envy not there­fore the Usurers gaines, but considering they (as Marchant-adventurers) send abroad their estates in uncertaine vessels, sometime into the bank­rupt rivers of prodigali­ty, and unthriftinesse, sometimes into the seas [Page 40] of casualities, and mis­fortunes, that many times their principall comes short home, I thinke, with my selfe, Let them gaine much by the adventure, that adventure so much to gaine. I will make this use of those uses, as to claime no interest in their gaines, nor to owe any thing to any man but love. If I lend where need is, and re­ceive my principall againe, I will accompt that my principall gaine, and think my courtesie but a commanded charity.

[Page 41] IN gratitude is the cha­racter of an ill nature in our selves, a canker of friendship with o­thers, and the very poyson that kills cha­rity in the embrio, be­ing but newly concei­ved in the pregnant mindes of good men, and causing an abor­tion of liberality, ere it comes to its intended birth. For who will sow those barren sands, where hee knowes hee must not onely not ex­pect [Page 42] a good harvest, but bee sure to loose his seed and labour? Yet in these times what is more common or more practised then this ingra­titude? For in recei­ving benefits, who will not (with Euclio in Planutus) finde a third hand to reach out to take them? But in requi­ting, who is not more maymed then the sta­tua's of Mercury, which Alcibiades so mangled that he scarce left them a finger to point out the way to travellers? It is ten to one, but we [Page 43] all desire to be cured of the leprosies of our wants: yet scarce one of ten of us returnes, to give thankes for the cure. I will not thinke my selfe so inriched by receiving a courtesie, as ingaged to bee thanke­full for it. I am not left a free man at my liberty, by taking a mans free liberality: but I sell my freedome for his benefits. I can not deserve to be gra­cious with my friend, if, with the Graces, I looke not with two faces backe to require, [Page 44] as well as with one for­ward to receive.

I Will not much com­mend others to them­selves, I will not at all commend my selfe to others. So to praise any to their faces, is a kinde of flattery: but to praise my selfe to any is the height of folly. Hee that boasts his owne praises, speakes ill of himselfe, and much derogates from his true deserts. It is worthy of blame to [Page 45] affect commendation.

MErily and wittily said Plautus, that was one of the mery Wits of his time, I would (said he) by my will have tale-bearers and tale-hearers puni­shed the one hanging by the tongue, the o­ther by the eares. Were his will a law in force with us, many a tatling gossip would have her vowells turned to mutes, and bee justly tongue­tied that desires to bee [Page 46] tyed by the teeth at your table: wherewith Theo­minus his tooth shee gnaweth on the good­name of her neighbour: And many a hungry Paret whose belly is his arts-master would cease to second his ave to his Lord with depraving tales called newes, and make his grace after din­ner the disgrace of some innocent: And most men would give them course entertainment, that come to entertaine their eares with discourse of defa­mative reports. I will be silent and barren of dis­course, [Page 47] when I chance to heare a tale rather then go with-childe therwith, till an others eares be my mid-wife, to deliver mee of such a deformed mon­ster. I may heare a tale of delight, & perhaps smile at an innocent jest, I will not jest, not joy at a tale disgracing an innocent person.

WHen I see a gal­lant ship well rigged, trimmed, tack­led, man'd and muni­tion'd with her top and top-gallant, and her [Page 48] spread sayles proudly swelling with a full gale in faire weather, putting out of the haven into the smooth maine, and drawing the spectators eyes, with a well-wi­shing admiration, and shortly heare of the same ship splitted against some dangerous rocke, or wracked by some dis­asterous tempest, or sunke by some leake sprung in her by some accident, me seemeth I see the case of some Courtfavourite, who to day like Sejanus da­zeleth all mens eyes [Page 49] with the splendour of his glory, and with the prowd and potent beake of his powerfull pro­sperity cutteth the waves and ploweth through the prease of the vulgar, and scor­neth to feare some re­mora at his keele below, or any crosse-windes from above, and yet to morrow on some stormes of unexpected disfavour, springs a leake in his honour and sinks on the Syrtes of disgrace, or dashed against the rocks of dis­pleasure is splitted and [Page 50] wrack'd in the Charibdis of infamy, and so con­cludes his voyage in misery and misfortune. I will not therefore ad­venture with the gree­dy shepheard to change my sheepe into a ship of adventure, on the sight of a calme sea

[Page 51] I Will study to deserve my Princes favour, I will not desire to be a Princes favourite. If I fall whence I am, I can raise my selfe, but to be cast downe thence were to be crushed with a desperat downe-fall. I preferre a mediocrity though obscure yet safe, before a greater eminency with a farre greater danger.

[Page 52] WHen a storme drives mee to shelter mee under a tree, I finde that if the storme bee little, the tree defends me, but if the storme bee great, the tree not onely not defends me, but pow­reth on mee that wet which itselfe had recei­ved, and so maketh the much wetter. Hence instructed, I resolve that if improvidently I fall into some small danger of the lawes, I [Page 53] will presume to seeke shelter under the armes of some potent friend, but if the tempest of my trouble bee too po­tent for my friend, I will rather beare all my selfe, then involve my friend in the danger. It would be bad inough for mee to bee drencht with or distrest by the storme of the lawes anger onely; It would be worse to bee drow­ned with the anger of my storming friend al­so. My conscience of my ill deserving to­wards the lawes would [Page 54] inforce a patience: my remembrance of my well-deserving to my friend would make the just addition of his an­ger intollerable.

COntent is the marke wee all ayme at, the cheefe good and top of felicitie, to which all mens actions strive to ascend: But it is solely proper to GODS wisedome to ingrosse all true content into his owne hand, that hee may sell it to saints by [Page 55] retaile, and inforce all men to buy it of him or want it. Hence is it that a godly man in his meane estate, en­joyes more content in GOD, then a King or Emperour in his earths glory and magnificence. I will then strive to pur­chase me a patent of con­tent from him that hath the monopolie thereof: and then, if I have litle in estate, I shall have much in content, Godli­nesse shall bee my great riches, whiles I am con­tented with what I have.

[Page 56] AS in the greater world for man, so in the little world of man, as in the outward riches of the one, so in the inner treasures of the other, many possesse much and enjoy but li­tle, many have much, and use but litle, others use much, and but litle well. I shall not so much endevour to have much wherewithall to doe, as to doe much, with that litle I have. It shall not so much [Page 57] greeve mee, that I am a poore treasurer, as joy mee, if I have beene a good steward. I could wish I had more to use well, but more wish well to use that I have. If hee were so blamed that imployed not one ta­lent well, what would become of mee, if I had ten, and abused them?

[Page 58] POpular applause, and vulgar opinion may blow-up and mount up­ward the bubble of vaine-glorious minde, till it burst in the ayre, and vanish: But a wise man builds his glory on the strong foundation of virtue, without ex­pecting or respecting the slender props of vulgar opinion. I will not neglect what every one thinkes of me; For that were impudent dis­solutenesse. I will not [Page 59] make it my common care, to hearken how I am cared for of the common sort, and bee over-sollicitous what every one speakes of mee, For that were a toyle­some vanity. I may doe well, and heare ill: And that's a Kingly happinesse. I may doe ill, and heare well: and that's an hypocrites best felicity. My actions shall make me harmony in my hearts inner cham­ber: I will not borrow the Voyces of the vulgar to sweeten my mu­sique.

[Page 60] THe rancor of ma­lice is the true na­ture of the divell, and the soule possessed therewith is his dearest darling. For where envy, hate, and re­venge take up the whole heart, there GOD hath no roome at all left to bee in all his thoughts. I may meet a mad man, and avoid him, I may move a cholericke man, and pacific him, I may crosse a furious drun­kerd, [Page 61] and shunne him, but a malicious man is more dangerous, im­placable, and inevita­ble then they all. Ma­lice omits no occasion to doe mischiefe: and if it misse thy body and substance, it pro­secutes thy shadow, Visam fera saevit in um­bram. My soule come not thou into their se­crets, unto their assem­blie, mine-honour bee not thou united. I must not turne anger out of my nature, I must not turne my nature into anger, I must give place to [Page 62] Wrath, but not a re­sting place, but a place to let it passe-by, that I may let goe displeasure. I may give entrance to anger on just cause, I may not give it enter­tainement on any cause, till it sower with the leaven of malice. I must bee angry with sinne, but I must bee angry and sinne not.

[Page 63] WHen I plant a choyse flower in a fertile soyle, I see nature presently to thrust up with it, the stinging nettle, the stinking hemlocke, the drowzie poppie, and many such noysome weedes, which will either choake my plant with excluding the sunne, or divert its nou­rishment to themselves: But if I weed out these at first, my flower thrives to its good­nesse [Page 64] and glory. This is also my case when I endevour to plant grace in the fertill soyle of a good wit. For luxurious nature thrusts up with it, either stin­ging wrath, or stinking wantonnesse, or drow­zie sloath or some other vices, which robb my plant of its desired flou­rishing. But these be­ing first pluckt up, the good wit produceth in its time, the faire flower of vertue. I will not therefore thinke the best wits, as they are wits, fittest [Page 65] to make the best men, but as they are the best purged best wits. The ground of their good­nesse is not the good­nesse of their wits, but the good weeding and clensing it. I must first eschew the evill, ere I can doe good, supplant vices, ere I can implant virtue.

AS it is never to soone to be good: so is it never too late to amend. I will there­fore neither neglect the [Page 66] time present, nor de­spaire of the time past. If I had beene sooner good, I might perhaps have beene better. If I am longer bad, I shall (I am sure) be worse. That I have stayed long time idle in the market-place deserves reprehen­sion, but if I am late sent into the vineyard, I have incouragement to worke, I will give un­to this last as unto thee.

[Page 67] WHEN I see the Husband­man well contented with the cold of frost and snow in the Win­ter, because, though it chilleth the ground, yet it killeth the char­locke, though it check the wheat somewhat in growing, yet it choa­keth the weeds from growing at all: Why should I bee moved at the winter of afflicti­on? Why vexed at the quaking fit of a [Page 68] quartane ague? Why offended at the cold change of affection in my Summer-friends? If as they seeme bitter to my minde or body, they prove healthfull to my bettered soule. If my wants kill my wantonnesse, my po­verty check my pride, my disrespected sleigh­ting quell my ambiti­on and vaine-glory, and every weed of vice being thus choaked by afflictions winter, my soule may grow fruit­full for heavens har­vest, let my winter be [Page 69] bitter, so that I be ga­thered with the good corne at reaping time into the LORDS barne.

AS oft as I heare the Robin-red-brest chaunt it as cheereful­ly in September, the beginning of Winter, as in March the approach of the Summer, why should not we (thinke I) give as cheerefull entertainement to the hoare-frosty hayres of our ages winter, as to [Page 70] the Primroses of our youths spring? Why not to the declining sunne in adversity, as (like Persians) to the rising sunne of prosperity? I am sent to the Ant, to learne industry; to the Dove, to learne in­nocency; to the Ser­pent, to learne wise­dome; And why not to this bird to learne equanimity and pati­ence; and to keepe the same tenour of my mindes quietnesse, as well at the approach of calamities winter, as of the spring of hap­pinesse? [Page 71] And, since the Romans constan­cy is so commended, who changed not his countenance with his changed fortunes, Why should not I, with a Christian resolution, hold a steddy course in all weathers, and though I be forced with crosse­windes, to shift my sailes, and catch at side-windes, yet skilfully to steere, and keepe on my course, by the Cape of good hope, till I arive at the haven of eternall happinesse?

[Page 72] THE same water which being liquid is penetrated with an horsehaire, will beare the horse himselfe when it is hard frozen. I muse not then that those precepts and threats of GODS judgements enter not into the hard­ned hearts of some old men, frozen by the practice of sinne, which pierce and penetrate deepe into the tender hearts and melting con­sciences of yonger folks [Page 73] thawed with the warmth of GODS feare. Hence see I the cause why the sword of the Word, so sharpe, that it ser­veth in some to divide the joyntes and marrow, in others glaunceth or reboundeth without dint or wound, from their cristall frozen and adamantine hearts. I cannot promise my selfe to bee free from sinne, I were then no man: but I will purpose in my selfe to bee free from hardnesse of heart, by custome and conti­nuance in sinne, I may [Page 74] erre in my way, I will not persist and goe on in my errours, till I can­not returne againe into my way. I may stum­ble, I may fall, but I will not lye still when I am fallen.

WHen I see two game-cocks at first sight, without pre­meditated malice fight desperatly and furiously, the one to maintaine the injury offered, the other to revenge the injury received by the [Page 75] first blow and to main­taine this quarrell, not onely dye the pit with their bloud, but die in the pit with their mu­tuall bloudy wounds, me thinkes I see the successe of those duël­lers of our time; which being ambitious of A­chilles his praise, Pelidis juvenis cedere nescij, de­speratly and furiously adventure their lives heere, and indanger their soules heereafter onely for the vaine termes of false honour. I will not say but that being flesh and bloud I [Page 76] may be carelesse of my flesh and bloud to re­venge injurious indig­nities offered me: yet since as a tenant my soule must answer her Land­lord for reparations of the house she dwels in, and I have no warrant of GOD or man for such revenge, I will not kill my owne soule to kill an other mans body. I will not pull the house of my body on my soules head in a fury, that GOD may make them both fuell for the fury of hell fire.

[Page 77] WHen I view the heavens declaring the glory of GOD, and the firmament shewing his handy worke, and consider that each litle numbred starre even of the sixth magnitude, containeth the earths dimension 18. times in bignesse by Astrono­mers conclusions, I easily descend to con­sider the great diffe­rence of earthly mens glory, and that weight of glory affoorded the [Page 78] Saints in heaven. For what a poore ambiti­on is it to bee the best man in a City? What's a City to a Shire? What a Shire to the whole Island? What this Island to the Continent of Europe? What Europe to the whole Earth? What that Earth to a Starre? What that Starre to Heaven? and that to the Heaven of Heavens? And so by a retrogra­dation how litle? How nothing is this poore glory. I finde many which say, hoc nihil est [Page 79] aliquid: I finde in my selfe cause to say, hoc aliquid nihil est. If I needs will bee some­body by my ambition, I will bee ambitious to bee ranged with the Saints in Heaven rather then ranked with the Kings on earth: since the least in the Kingdome of Heaven is greater then they.

[Page 80] I Saw once a Ierfalcon let fly at an Heron, and observed with what clamour the He­ron entertain'd the sight and approach of the Hawke, and with what winding shifts hee strave to get above her, la­bouring even by be­muting his enemies fea­thers to make her flagg­winged and so escape: but when at last they must needs come to a necessitated encounter, resuming courage out [Page 81] of necessity hee turned face against her, and striking the Hawke thorough the gorge with his bill fell downe dead together with his dead enemie. This sight seemed to mee the event of a great sute in Law, where one trusting to his cases po­tency more then his causes equity, endea­vours to disinherit his stubborne neighbour by colourable titles to his land. Heere may you heare the clamorous obloquies of the wron­ged and see the many [Page 82] turnings and winding Meanders in the Law sought out to get above his adversary. And lastly when the issue must come to tryall, oftentimes in the grap­ple they both sinke to beggery by the Law whiles lawfully they seeke to get above each other. Hence warned against potent enemies I will alway pray, LORD make mee not a prey unto their teeth; and against an equall or inferiour I will not borrow the lawes ex­treme right to doe him [Page 83] extreme wrong: nor fall to law with any body till I fall by law, to bee no body. I will not doe that to have my will, which will undoe my selfe of what I have, by my will­fullnesse.

THe Psalmist doth not slander the slanderers, when in a good description of their bad natures, hee saith, their throat is an open sepulcher, &c. the poyson of Aspes is under [Page 84] their lippes. For what more loathsome stench, and noisome smells can a new opened sepulcher belch out, then these venomous open throa­ted slanderers? And well may their lipscon­taine the poyson of Aspes, of which Lu­can saith, in nulla plus est serpente veneni, when a few words of theirs shall (like a Witches spell) charme and strike dead a mans deerest re­putation. I will there­fore indeavour to make my actions of that ver­tue, that as an antidote [Page 85] of Mithridates his best confection, they may repell the worst infecti­on those serpents shall spit at mee. And al­beit I cannot bee free from their assaults (from which none is freed) yet I will not with Cleopa­tra set those Aspes so neere my heart that they may stop my vitall spirits with their poy­son. And since I must passe thorough this Africa of monsters and harmefull beasts, I will carefully feare and shunne the worst of tame beasts the flatterer, [Page 86] and of wild beasts the slanderer.

MEditation is a bu­sie search in the store-house of fantasie for some Idea's of mat­ters, to bee cast in the moulds of resolution into some formes of words or actions; In which search when I have used my greatest diligence, I finde this in the conclusion, that to meditate on the Best is the best of Medita­tions: [Page 87] and a resoluti­on to make a good end is a good end of my resolutions.