CHAPTER 1. Wherein is expounded what Passion is.

SEeing there can be no better or­der obserued, to expresse the na­ture of things, then to beginne by the defi­nitions, which haue vsually giuen vs a full light of their essence, wee must enter into this treaty of passions, by the definition which Philoso­phers [Page 2] giue. That which is called passion, say they, is no other thing, but a motion of the sensitiue appetite, caused by the apprehensiō or imagi­nation of good or euill, the which is followed with a change or alteration in the body, contrary to the Lawes of Nature. Whereby it ap­peares, that passions, to speak properly, reside onely in the sensitiue appetite, and that they are not fashioned but in the irrationall part of the soule: so as if we should giue the name of passions to the motions of the vnderstan­ding, or of the will; it is by a kind of improper and figura­tiue speech, alluding to the passions of the senses, with the which they haue some re­semblance. The reason why [Page 3] passions are not found in the rationall part of the soule, is, for that this part doth not imploy any corporeal organs in her actions, and that her office is not to alter or bring any change vnto the body; the which notwithstanding, is an action which doth ac­company the passions inse­parably. But seeing they are not to be found in any other part of the soule, but in the sensitiue appetite: there ri­seth heere a great question, whether this appetite shalbe diuided into the irascible & concupiscible or desiring power, as into two different and distinct powers, or whe­ther it makes but one power of both. The common opi­nion is, that as their obiects are diuers, so they are two [Page 4] distinct powers: whereof the reason is gathered, by that which experience doth shew vs in all other things subiect to corruption; for we see in other corruptible creatures, that they haue not onely an inclination and power to seek after those things which are fit and conuenient for them, and to flie those which may hurt or anoy them; but moreouer, they haue ano­ther faculty or power, to re­sist and fight against that which may crosse their acti­ons, or destroy their beeing. As for example, fire is not onely indued with lightnesse, to flie vp high, but it hath al­so receiued heate from na­ture, by meanes whereof, it doth resist and fight against any thing that is contrary to [Page 5] his action. In like manner it was necessary for the good of man, that hee should haue two kindes of inclinations, the one to pursue those things which are pleasing & agreeable to the senses, and to auoyde those which may any way anoy him: and this we call the concupiscible or desiring power; and the other, by meanes whereofhee may incounter and vanquish whatsoeuer opposeth it selfe, crosseth his inclinations, or that tends to the destruction of his being, or the decay of his contentment, which is that wee call the irascible or angry power. This differs from the concupiscible, for that the concupiscible tends to the sensible good, abso­lútely considered, and with­out [Page 6] any crosses; whereas the irascible doth alwayes aime at the good which is inuiro­ned with some difficulty, the which she striues to vanquish to the end shee may take all obstacles from the concupis­cible power, which crosse her content, and hinder her from enioying the good which she desires to attaine vnto: so as the irascible is as a sword and target to the concupiscible, for that she combates for her content, and resists any thing that may crosse her.

There are many things proue, that they are two dif­ferent and distinct powers: For as Mathematicians ha­uing noted diuers apparent irregularities in the Planets, and obserued, that they seem sometimes to hasten their [Page 7] course, and sometimes to slacke it; sometimes they stand as it were fixed, and sometimes to returne backe in the Zodiaque; sometimes they seem neare to the earth, & sometimes they appear far off; they haue held it necessa­ry to multiply their heauens, and to giue them many to a­uoyd all disorder in these ex­cellent bodyes of the Vni­uerse. In like manner the di­uersity of passions in man, the contrary motions & desires, wherewith his soule is tost, haue let philosophers vn­derstand, that there is in him not onely a concupiscible power, but also an irascible: for that many times we haue a desire of that which wee striue against, and resist with vehemency; and if wee suffer [Page 8] our selues to be vanquished, wee are grieued; as hee who desiring to see the bodies of such as had beene executed, suppressed this desire, and di­uerted his eies from this in­famous spectacle, yet suffe­ring himselfe to bee vanqui­shed by his curiosity, and ha­uing cast his eyes thereon, witnessed his griefe and sor­row which remained, to haue giuen so brutish a content­ment to his eyes. Whereby it appeares, that desire and anger are two diuerse facul­ties, seeing that one power is not carried at one instant to contrary desires. And we finde in our selues, that often times wee are inclined to an­gry passions, & are not much mooued with those of the concupiscible, or to the con­trary. [Page 9] In like manner there are creatures which haue de­sires, but no motions of cho­ler: as for example, Sheepe, Pigeons, and Turtles, make shew to haue impressions of desires, and yet there appea­reth in them no signe of an­ger. So as to obserue their dispositions well, we may call in question that which Ari­stotle saith, that there is no creature but hath some touch of choler: finally wee may ob­serue, that sometimes the i­rascible makes vs to pursue things which are absolutely contrary to the concupisci­ble, as when with the hazzard of life (which is so deere and precious to all creatures) we seeke to reuenge our selues of a powerfull enemy which hath wronged vs. For this [Page 10] reuenge which puts our life in danger, cannot proceede from the same power which desires passionately to pre­serue it: and so the irascible and concupiscible, are two different powers. And there is no part of passion properly taken, but in these two sensi­tiue faculties, which is one of the things wee gather from the definition wee haue gi­uen.

It appeares also by the same definition, that the pas­sions of our soule should al­wayes bee followed with a sensible alteration in the bo­dy, by the impression of the sensitiue appetite, touched with the imaginatiō of good or euill, which presents it selfe. And here first we must not wonder if the [...]oule doth [Page 11] impart her motions, and cau­seth such great alteration in the body, seeing that the bo­dy doth impart his paines, when as it suffers any vio­lence. For if it be laid on the racke, broken on a wheele, or cast into the fire, the soule grones vnder the burden of his torments: the which hap­pens, for that beeing vnited as forme and matter, and ma­king but one body which growes from their vnion; of necessity all things must bee common vnto them, except those things which repugne, and cannot agree with their particular natures; and ther­fore by a certaine contagion they communicate their pas­sions one vnto another. But in this subiect there is a stronger reason for the which [Page 12] the soule excites these alte­rations in the body by her passions, that is to say, for that the soule doth not onely reside in the body as the forme, but doth preside there in quality of the moouing cause, by meanes whereof, she doth change and alter it at her will. For as the intel­lectuall power, which mooues a heauen, applying her vertue to mooue it, makes it to change place, and drawes it from East to West, or from West to East, euen so the soule which hath a moouing power commanding ouer the body, changeth his naturall disposition, and by her agita­tion puls him from his rest, wherein hee was before shee troubled him; in this man­ner.

[Page 13]Moreouer, wee must not wonder if the sensitiue appe­tite in particular, make so great an impression in the body. This proceedes from the sympathy which is found in those powers, which are gouerned by the same soule which imployes them: so as the sensitiue appetite, com­ming to play her part, shee doth stirre vp the mouing fa­culty of the heart, the which dilates it selfe, or shrinkes vp, according to the nature of the obiects which haue made impression vpon the sensitiue appetite, whence grow al the alterations which are made in the body of man. And here we must remember, that nature hath fashioned the heart in such sort, as it is in perpetual motion, according [Page 14] vnto which it sometimes ex­tendes it selfe, and sometime retires of it selfe, with a cer­taine measure and proporti­on; the which continuing within the bounds which na­ture hath prescribed it, as conformable vnto the condi­tion of the creature, this mo­tion is wholy naturall: but if it once come to breake this law, and shew it selfe more violent, or more slow, then the nature of the creature re­quires, the naturall harmony is broken, and there followes a great alteration in the bo­dy of the creature.

Of all the powers of the soule, those of the sensitiue appetite onely cause the al­teratiō of this motion, whose actions alone may make it more violent, or more slowe, [Page 15] then the lawes of nature doe allow. And hence it comes, that none but the actions of the sensitiue appetite are made with a visible change of the body, and with a sen­sible alteration of the natu­rall constitution. Yet as in this change the heart re­ceiues an alteration, so the spirits, the blood, and other humours, are agitated and mooued beyond ordinary, the which doth wholy trou­ble the naturall constitution of the creature. The which happens after this manner: The obiects of the senses strike first vpon the imagina­tion, and then this power ha­uing taken knowledge of thē, conceiues them as good or bad, as pleasing or trouble­some, and importune: then [Page 16] afterwards propounds them as clothed with those quali­ties to the creature, which apprehending them vnder this last cōsideration excites the concupiscible, or irasci­ble power of the soule, and induceth them to imbrace or flye them, and by the im­pression of its motion, agi­tates the spirits which we cal Vitall, the which going from the heart, disperse them­selues throughout the whole body, and at the same instant the blood which deriues frō the liuer, participating in this agitatiō, flowes through­out the veynes, and casts it selfe ouer all the other parts of the body: So as the heart and liuer beeing thus trou­bled in their naturall dispo­sitions, the whole body f [...]eles [Page 17] it selfe mooued, not onely in­wardly, but also outwardly, according to the nature of that passiō which doth trou­ble it. For in motions of ioy and desire, the heart melts with gladnesse. In those of sorrow and trouble, it shrinks vp and freezeth with griefe. In those of choler and reso­lution, it is inflamed and all on fire. In those of feare, it growes pale and trembling. A Louers words are sweete and pleasing, and those of a cholerick man are sharpe and rough: Finally, there riseth no passion in the soule, which leaueth not some visible trace of her agitation, vpon the body of man.

Lastly, wee may gather from the definition of passion that this alteration which [Page 18] happeneth in the body, is contrary to the lawes of na­ture, for that (as we haue said) it transports the heart be­yond the bounds, which na­ture hath prescribed it, and doth agitate it extraordina­rily.

Hence it growes, that a­mōg al the motiōs of the sen­sitiue appetite, those only are prop [...]ly called passiōs, which are accompanied with some notable defect. For as we call passions of the body diseases, wounds, paines, inflammati­ons, incisions, and all other violent accidents which hap­pen extraordinarily: So wee properly call passions of the soule, those infirmities where­with she is afflicted and trou­bled; as pittie, feare, bashful­nesse, or shame, loue, hatred, [Page 19] desires, Choler, and the rest.

For, in this subiect the word Passion, is not taken in that sense, whereas wee say that a subiect suffers, when as it receiues some new forme, bee it that at the comming of this forme, it lose any thing of its owne or not, as when the ayre is enlightned with the Sunne beams, with­out losing any thing of her first constitution: nor in that sense, wherein we say, that a subiect suffers, when as it receiues a new quality which doth expell another, whether it bee concurrent to its na­ture, or contrary vnto it, as when water growes cold, or is made hot.

[Page 20]But the word Passion is ta­ken here for a change, which is made in man, contrary to his naturall constitution and disposition, from the which hee is as it were wrested by this change. In which sense the Phylosophers say, that things suffer, when as they are drawne from their natu­rall disposition, to a course that is contrary to their na­ture.

In the mean time you must not wonder, if we ground the irregularity of the change, which these passions breed, vpon the disorder which the sensitiue appetite (stirred vp by the sensible obiects) casts into the heart, being a thing which wee must constantly beleeue, that this power of the soule, bee it the irascible [Page 21] or cōcupiscible, hath its se at and mansion in the heart: The which cannot be denied in the subiect of feare, for that such as are transported ther­with, call back the blood and heate vnto the heart, as to the place where feare doth exercise her tyranny, there­with to defend themselues: considering also that those creatures which haue the greatest and largest hearts, are most fearefull, for that their heate is more dispersed, and consequently lesse able to resist the assaults of feare. Some haue not beleeued, that it was so of other passi­ons, but haue appointed thē their seates else-where, and haue maintained, that some did reside in the liuer, others in the spleene, and some in [Page 22] the gall; & as for anger, they haue lodged it in the gall, whereas choler resides, which doth inflame it. But they haue giuen loue his quarter in the liuer, for that the sāguine cō ­plexion is inclined to loue: & for ioy, they haue seated it in the Spleen, for that melan­choly proceeds from the dis­temperature of this part. But notwithstanding this, it is most certaine, that both the powers of the sensitiue appe­tite, I mean the Irascible, and Concupiscible, reside in the heart; the which beeing the fountaine of life, & of all vital operations, must also bee a lodge & retraite to those ap­petites which nature hath gi­giuē the creature to preserue his life, & to chase away those perils which may threaten it. [Page 23] Wherby we see, that the pas­siōs of desire or anger, are felt presētly in the heart, & trou­ble the natural cōstitution as soon as they rise; wherby fol­loweth a strange alteration throughout the whole body, for the springs cānot be trou­bled but the streams wil feele of it. And therefore the passi­ons being too vehement, and making a violēt impressiō vp­pō the hart, they cause strāge accidents in man. As for ex­āple, a furious anger drawing the heate violently from the heart, to those parts which are most remote frō the Cen­ter of life, and by the same meanes inflaming choler, which by her naturall light­nes mounts vp to the braine, may depriue mā of the vse of reason, & make him furious and mad.

[Page 24]In like manner an extraor­dinary feare, drawing the spi­rits and heate forcibly to the heart, whereas she meanes to fortifie her selfe against her enemy, may quench the na­tural heate, and suffocate the man: shame may doe the like, whereof we haue prodi­gious examples in histories, which testifie, that great per­sonages haue died with shame and griefe, for that they could not find the knot, or expound certaine riddles or difficult questions, which had beene propounded vnto them: yea, they say, that great ornament and Gemme of Phylosophy Aristotle, died with griefe, for that he could not finde the cause of the flowing and ebbing of Eury­pus. Whereby it appeares, [Page 25] that the heart which is thus opprest by Passions, when they are violent, is the seate of both the powers of the sensitiue appetite, that is to say, of the Irascible, and Con­cupiscible. And whereas they obiect to the contrary, that Choller resides in the Gall, in­ferring thereby that the Iras­cible power should reside there also: It is easily an­swered, for that the Choller which remaines in the Gall, is not the reason for the which Anger is inflamed, but for that it is a hot and dry humor, the which are fit qua­lities to produce that effect. The like may be sayd of Loue, and that the aboundance of bloud doth not make men more inclined to the Passions of loue, forthat the Concupisci­ble [Page 26] power resides in the liuer, which is the place where the blood takes his forme; but for that they which are of a sanguine complexion, haue a hot and moist temperature▪ which is proper to that pas­sion. And as for ioy wee cannot conclude that it resides in the Spleene, for that it being infirme, many are op­prest with melancholly; for the reason why melancholly doth torment them which are troubled with the Spleene, is not for that ioy re­sides there, but for that adust choller preuailing, causeth a troublesome and importune heauines.

Yet we will not so restraine these two powers, within the bounds and extent of the heart, but wee will confesse, [Page 27] that although they haue their chiefe residence there, yet they disperse themselues through the whole creature; whereof wee haue good proofe in Lizards, which be­ing cut in peeces, feele paine in all the parts where they are offended. For the last of our obseruations vpon the subiect of passions, it remaines to shew, whether of the con­cupiscible and irascible pow­ers, bee the more noble and excellent: some giue the pre­heminence to the concupisci­ble, for that it is destined to serue the soule, and to make it enioy the obiects of her passions. The which made Aristotle to say, that beasts put themselues into choller, and fight for their desires. But this reason doth nothing [Page 28] abase the Irascible power, but contrariwise it shewes how much it is more excellent then the Concupiscible.

For as those souldiers are most valiant which main­taine the shocke of a bat­taile, and defend the weaker; euen so by consequence, the Irascible power must haue more generosity then the con­cupiscible, seeing she is ordai­ned by nature for her de­fence. And as the noblest vertues, are formed in the most excellent powers, so we see that force or valour, which resides in the Irascible, is a more worthy and more commendable vertue then temperance which hath her seat in the Concupiscible. We finde also that it is more shamefull not to bridle the [Page 29] motions of the Concupiscible, then those of the Irascible, for that these are lesse offensiue to reason. In regard whereof we blame them more which abandon themselues to plea­sure and voluptuousnes, then those which are subiect to motions of choller.

Of the Number of Passions. CHAP. 2.

AS they that haue treated of the Nature of the Winds haue writ­ten diuersly, some setting foure, others eight, some e­leauen, and some two and [Page 30] thirty, to the which they assigne diuers points in the horizon: So the Philosophers which discourse of the Passiōs of the Soule, agree not of the number, some naming more, some lesse. Yea there was an Ancient affirmed, that as there are many Passions, whereof we know the names, so there are an infinite num­ber which we know not.

Wherefore hee compared man to one of the monsters of antiquity, which they re­present vnto vs, composed of the members, and formes of diuers creatures: for that his Cupidities and Passions are so prodigious, and so many in number, as they are able to amaze any one, that shall iu­diciously consider of the mul­titude and diuersity.

[Page 31]First of all, there were some which haue beleeued, that as there were foure chiefe winds which excite diuers stormes, be it at land or sea; so there are foure prin­cipall Passions which trouble our Soules, and which stir vp diuers tempests by their irre­gular motions, that is to say Pleasure, Paine, Hope, & Feare: and in truth these foure haue as it were the Empiry ouer all the rest, which propound themselues as the obiects of their motions; for whatsoe­uer men do, either they feare or desire, or afflict them­selues, or are contented; which be the effects of these Passions. Others will haue onely two, that is to say, Pleasure and Paine; and some assigne but one, and that is [Page 32] Loue, to the which they refer all the rest as to their center and roote. Others haue multi­plied them, and haue made twelue, and some eleauen. Amidst this diuersity of opi­nions, that is the tr [...]est which is receiued at this day, and imbraced by all those that make an exact professi­on of Philosophy: that is to say, that there are eleauen primitiue and generall Pas­sions, whereof all the rest are but as it were budds and branches. These generall Passions are, Loue, Hatred, De­sire, Flight, Pleasure, Paine, Feare, Courage, Hope, Despaire and Choller. And thus the Philosophers finde out the number. Of Passions, say they, some regard the good or e­uill absolutely and simply [Page 33] considered. And these be­long to the Concupiscible pow­er. Others regard the good or euill accompanied with some difficulty, and they ap­pertaine vnto the irascible: those of the Concupiscible pow­er, are six in number, whereof three haue for their obiects the good, that is to say, Loue, Desire, and Pleasure; and the other three haue for their ob­iect the euil, that is to say, Ha­tred, Flight, and Paine: for pre­sently that the obiect which hath the forme of good, offers it selfe vnto the Concupiscible power, shee presently feeles herselfe surprized, and Loue is framed. If this obiect bee present, she receiues Pleasure and Delight: if it bee absent, she is toucht with a Desire to enioy it. And in like man­ner [Page 34] as soone as the obiect presents it selfe vnto the selfe same power, vn­der the shew of euill, it doth presently stirre vp a ha­tred contrary to loue: and if during this horror it bee ab­sent, then Flight or Au [...]rsion, contrary to desire discouers it selfe: but if it bee present, she then conceiues griefe. In this manner we finde out the number of the passions which reside in the concupiscible pow­er: those of the irascible are but fiue, as feare, courage, hope, des­paire, and choller: for if the obiect which hath some shew of good, presents it selfe being accompanied with dif­ficultie, and that man con­ceiues with himselfe that notwithstanding all that, it is in his power to obtaine [Page 35] it, then hope is framed; but if there bee no likelyhood, despaire pulls him back and diuerts him. And touching that which regards the good wee enioy, there is no passion in the irascible that con­cernes it, seeing that which is in our power is not ac­companied with any difficul­ty, neither is it needfull the irascible shoulde mooue or worke for this subiect. But if the euill which presents it selfe, be ful of horror and dif­ficulty, it must either be pre­sent or absent; if it be absent, it excites courage or feare; Cour [...]ge, if wee striue to sur­mount it; and feare, if we ap­prehend it as too doubtfull. If it bee present, it inflames choller which carries vs to re­uenge, to repell the iniurie [Page 36] that is done vs. And thus wee finde out the number of the Passions of the irascible power, the which with the six of the Concupiscible, make e­leauen in a [...]l. But wee must remember, that notwith­standing this determined number, yet wee finde as it were a swarme of others, which notwithstanding take their beginning, and spring from these, as we haue obser­ued. In this number the Philosophers put Bitternes, En­uy, Emulation, Shamefastnes, Impudency, Mercy, Humanity, and a thousand others which were too long to relate. But for that there are some, without the knowledge whereof this treaty were im­perfect, wee will speake of them according the exi­gence [Page 37] of the subiect, when occasion shalbe offered: here it shall suffice to obserue, that as the generall Passions, re­gard their obiects without any restriction, but that of good or euill, which presents it selfe; so the more particular Passions, contained vnder these generall, regard the same obiects limitted to some speciall condition: as for example, Desire taken ab­solutly is a generall Passion, which regards the obiect of good, without any other li­mitation then vnder the ap­parance of good: but if wee come to prescribe bounds to this good, and that wee con­sider it vnder the forme of some particular good, be it of H [...]nor, of Riches, of Beauty, or of any other thing; the desire [Page 38] must also bee limited, and then it shall bee a desire of honor, which is called ambi­tion; or a desire of riches, which we call couetousnes, or a desire of beauty, the which attributes vnto it selfe, the name of the gender, and is called loue. And the like may bee sayd of the other limita­tions of this obiect: so as these Passion of Loue, Riches, and Honor, are more particu­lar Passions then the desire, which is as it were their gen­der and spring. So griefe taken absolutely is a Passion, which regards the obiect of euill in its generall extent, without any other limitati­on then that of euill. By reason whereof if this obiect come to bee restrained by vs to some speciall condition, as [Page 39] to the misery or prosperity of another man, or to our owne infamy; then this griefe shall also be limited and re­strained, and shall become a griefe for another mans mis­fortunes, and then it shalbee a compassion; or it shal bee a griefe for another mans pro­sperity, and then it sha [...]bee called an indignation or an enuie and despight: or else it will become a griefe for our owne infamy, and then it is a shame, and so of the rest. These Passions may bee infi­nite vnder the diuers limita­tions of obiects which are in­finite, and therefore they can hardly bee rancked vnder a cert [...]ine science: neither haue they particular names, but borrow them from the limi­tation [Page 40] which the obiect giues them; yet there are some which haue their pro­per names, as Enuy, Iealousie, Compassion, Shame: but the rest many times carry the name of their Genders.

In the meane time a que­stion is heere propounded, whence it comes that consi­dering the obiect of the Con­cupiscible appetite, which con­taines the good and euill sim­ply taken, that is to say, with­out shew of any difficulty ad­ded vnto it; wee haue put ioy as a Passion, which ariseth from the presence and enioy­ing of the good, and griefe as a Passion which growes from the present euill which can­not be auoided; and yet con­sidering the obiect of the Irascible power, which com­prehends [Page 41] the good which cannot be obtained but with difficulty, and the euill which cannot be auoyded but with paine, wee haue not set any Passion that riseth from the enioying of that good, or from the presence of that e­uill which cannot bee eschu­ed. Whereunto we answere, that this difficulty were al­lowable, if these two appetits had their actions separated one from another; but they are alwayes vnited, and march ioyntly to the pursuit and enioying of good, and to the flight and auoyding of euill. So as the Irascible ap­pitite neuer stirres but ioynt­ly with the Concupiscible, for that it is ordained to succor and assist it, whensoeuer there appeares any difficulty in the [Page 42] obiect which he is to pursue or auoyd. In regard where­of, notwithstanding any diffi­culty that may be incounte­red in the fight or pursuite of this obiect, yet when it is obtained or auoyded, all the paine or difficulty which did enuiron it, vanisheth away, and is dispersed. It is not therefore necessary to ascribe any other Passions, which grow from the enioying or flight of this obiect, then the same which arise from the enioying or flight; when as there is no apparent difficul­tie which doth crosse the possession or make the auoy­ding difficult: and to the end wee may the better know what order these two appe­tites obserue in the executi­on of their offices, wee may [Page 43] thus represent their moti­ons, and the order of the Pas­sions which are framed in the one, and the other. As soone as any obiect presents it selfe vnto the sensible power, vn­der the forme of an apparent good: as for example, the beauty of a faire Hellen, whether that the acquisition be accōpanied with any dif­ficulty or not, this beauty doth first of all stirre vp a passion of loue, from the which presently doth grow a desire which makes him seeke to enioy her; and if in this pursuite there appeare no difficulty, the possession wil be obtained without the assistance of the irascible appe­tite, whence will arise ioy or pleasure. But if during the heate of desire, there appeares [Page 44] any difficulty to obtaine it, then if the Concupiscible appe­tite were not assisted, it would be danted with the least dif­ficulty that should present it selfe, and would cease to de­sire the thing, or striue to en­ioy it: for this reason the Iras­cible to preuent this, causeth hope to arise to succour the concupiscible, which supports desire and makes him striue to attaine vnto it; and in this case it breedes no other ioy then that which had succee­ded if it had bin obtained without any difficulty, consi­dering that the enioying makes him forget all the pre­cedent paines. But from the beginning and breeding of desire, or during the whole continuance thereof, bee it with hope, or without expect­tance [Page 45] of the enioying of the obiect, if it appeares to bee a thing absolutely impossible to enioy, then not to suffer desire to consume it selfe in a vaine pursuite, the Irascible stirres vp despaire, to the end the Concupiscible power may not spend it selfe in a designe which cannot succeed. And in like manner if an obiect presents it selfe vnto the ap­petiue power, vnder the forme of euill, as for example, a po­werfull enemy prepares him­selfe to wrong vs, then first of all hatred riseth in vs, and makes vs apprehend the euill which doth threaten vs ap­parantly, and then inclines vs to seeke the meanes to a­uoyd it, bee it in putting our selues in defence, or in reti­ring our selues and seeking [Page 46] some shelter for this storme, or else in auoyding it by some other meanes, the which breeds in vs the Passion of flight, by the which wee vn­derstand no other thing here▪ then our striuing to flie the euill. But in case that in this seeking of meanes to auoyde it there appeare not any dif­ficulty, then the irascible pow­er doth not trouble it selfe to assist the concupiscible. And for that to escape a danger and to auoyd a mischiefe is a kind of good, this happening it begets ioy. As on the o­ther side if we fall into a mis­fortune which threatens vs, although there appeare not any difficulty in the auoy­ding, it will cause griefe. But if whilst I seeke meanes to a­uoyd the storme which [Page 47] threatens me, I finde that I cannot doe it without paine and difficulty; then for that the least obstacles amaze and hinder the concupiscible pow­er which neuer striues to sur­mount them, the irascible excites courage which goes to succour it, and supports the motion of this Passion, which wee terme flight or auersion from the thing, vntill the euill bee wholy auoyded and dispersed; and then ariseth the same ioy which had hap­pened if it had not incounte­red any of these difficulties. And if amidst this resistance and striuing of courage, the euill doth notwithstanding ariue, then griefe is framed after the same manner as if this accident had happened without any incounter or dif­ficulty. [Page 48] But if whilest wee seeke the meanes to auoyde the euill, wee discouer much difficulty to preserue our selues, and that there appro­cheth an eminent danger to our persons, then the irascible doth succour vs with feare, which makes man discreet and aduised, to the end that his too great hardines may not precipitate him into the danger which hee would a­uoyd. Besides al this, when as the obiect which presents it selfe vnder the forme of good, seemes at the same instant impossible to be attained vn­to, then not onely hope dies, but euen desire is banisht, so as the first Passion which then springs vp in vs is despaire, which the irascible stirres vp, to the end there should [Page 49] grow no vaine desire, for that naturally no man desires things which are impossible, and vaine and vnprofitable actions are enemies to na­ture.

As for the contrariety which may bee found betwixt some of these Passi­ons, we must vnderstand that this contrariety may be con­sidered after two manners, that is to say, either by rea­son of the diuers motions of the appetite which is inflamed; as for example, wee say that hope and despaire are contra­ry Passions, not in respect of their obiects, seeing they both regard the apparant good, vnder the condition of difficult obtaining, but by reason of the diuers motions they excite by their nature [Page 50] in the appetite, for that hope striues to seeke and enioy the obiect, and despaire to flie from it and auoid it. Whence it growes that if we compare hope and cour [...]ge, we shall find them contrary Passions, not in regard of the motion of the app [...]tite, seeing that both agitate and stirre vp the spi­rit, and serue it as a spurre to make it more ready in the pursuit of th [...]ir obiect, but in respect of the obiect, for that hope lookes to the appa­rent good, and courage to the euill.

In like manner fe are and despaire are contraries, by reason of their obiects, and not in regard of their moti­ons, for that both serue ra­ther to retire and stay the striuing of the appetite, then [Page 51] to excite and stirre it vp. Next, desire and flight are contrary Passions, by both reasons together, considering that the one hath the good for obiect, and the other the euill. And moreouer desire stirres vp the appetite to seeke the obiect, whereas flight makes it retire to auoyd it. We may make the same com­parisons of the rest of the Pas­sions. But this will appeare more plainely when wee shall treat of them in particular.

Of the quality of Passi­ons, whether they be good or bad. CHAP. 3.

AMongst the questions which haue beene seri­ously disputed [Page 52] in the Schooles of ancien [...] Philosophers, there is not any one hath bene more famous▪ nor whose subiect hath been [...] argued with greater conten­tion, then that which con­cernes the quality of the Pas­sions of the Soule, that is to say, whether they be good or bad, and if they bee compati­ble with any eminent vertu [...], or can subsist with it. The Stoicks seuere Phil [...]soph [...]rs ▪ & dissenting from the com­mon opinions of the world, haue maintained, that a Soul [...] in which vertue hath taken deepe roote, and which en­ioyes all the ornaments of true wisedome, should haue gotten such a power ouer all her motions, as it should ne­uer be transported with any perturbations. The reason [Page 53] which moued them to this opinion, was, for that they held it an vnworthy thing for a wise and vertuous man to see himselfe subiect to the infirmities of the soule, which is the name they giue to Passions. But the Peripa­titians haue held the contra­ry opinion, and did beleeue that it could not bee denied, but that the greatest Spirits, and most accomplished in vertue and wisedome, had sometimes a feeling of these Passions, the heate whereof wisemen knew how to bridle and restraine. And they ground their reason, for that they rise not in vs▪ by our e­lection, but are as it were siences of Nature, which spring out of themselues. This controuersie hath see­med [Page 54] to many great Perso­nages to be more verbal then materiall. But whatsoeuer it bee, it is certaine that the wisest cannot exempt them­selues from the motions of naturall Passions, and yet their vertue is nothing dimi­nished or made lesse perfect. We must then remēber that these kinds of Passions may be considered in two manners, first in their particular ex­tent, that is to say, as moti­ons of the sensitiue appetite, which of it selfe is not indo­wed with any reason, and which is common to vs with beasts; and in this considera­tion they are neither com­mendable, nor blame wor­thy, seeing that the weight and merit of that which parts from our soule, depends [Page 55] of reason: secondly, they may be considered in as much as reason may subiect them to her command and prescribe them a Law. And in this consideration they may bee good or bad, according to the quality of the will that gouernes them. So wee see both good and bad, feare, desire, and reioyce alike. But the wicked haue bad feares, wicked desires, & bad ioyes, whereas the good haue none but good feares, good de­sires, and good ioyes, for that the branches do alwaies participate of the nature of the roote. For although the sensitiue appetite of her owne quality be destitute of liber­ty, yet by reason of the strict vnion that it hath with the in­tellectuall and reasonable, it [Page 56] doth participate as it were with a beame, and some kind of borrowed liberty, in re­gard whereof some haue maintained that it is capable of vertues, as of temperance and fortitude, which reside in this part of the soule.

If the Stoicks had well ob­serued this consideration, they should haue seene that a wise man by the guide of reason may so moderate his Passions, as they may be com­mendable and worthy the profession hee makes of ver­tue. The which is nothing doubted of by Christian Phi­losophers, seeing that he who was neuer subiect to sinne, and whose soule was aduan­ced to the height of graces and vertues, had Passions and humane affections, the which [Page 57] could neuer command ouer reason, or transport it, but receiue a law from it. But on the other side wee want no reasons to conuince and o­uerthrow the opinions of the Stoickes. For first of all, ver­tue (how eminent soeuer) neuer ruines that which is wholy conformable to rea­son. But what is more rea­sonable then to see a man moued with pitty and com­passion of his like, of his friends, or of his kinsman? what inhumanity were it for a mother to see her child in the throat of wild beastes, or exposed to shipwracke, or broken vpon a wheele, or torne in peeces by tortures, or only sicke of some violent infirmity, and not to haue her soule sensible of griefe? [Page 58] would wee that a vertuous man should not bee touch­ed with indignation to see crimes honored, and the wic­ked aduanced to the height of dignities? Shall we con­demne the spurres of an ho­nest emulation, wherewith he is toucht that reades the glorious exploits and vertu­ous actions of great Perso­n [...]ges which [...]aue gon before him? will you haue him that owes his life, and honor, and whatsoeuer [...]ee enioyeth, to his friend, insensible of the offices of his friendshp? would they that the [...]eares of an honest wife should haue no power, o [...]er an husband that were ready to abandon her? All these motions be­ing so iust were it not a great cruelty to seeke to suppr [...]sse [Page 59] them, as it were in despight of nature? But who knowes not that these Passions [...]re ex­ercises of vertue? To appre­hend euill, to feare punish­ments, to attend recompen­ces with ioy, to long after promises, are they not so ma­ny incour [...]gements to piety, temperance, and other ver­tuous actions? who is it then that will blame so commen­dable a thing? Nay, is it not to quench the fruits of ver­tue; and to deny it the con­tent which is due vnto it, in cutting off thus generally all Passions? For who knoweth not, that shee doth vsually plant in the soules of men an ardent loue of the goodly fruits which she produceth▪ What iust man but feeles▪ certa [...]ne pleasure [...]nd sweet [...]nes [Page 60] in the effects of Iustice? what sober man but receiues content in the actions of so­briety? what valiant man but suffers himselfe to bee transported with the loue of braue exploits, and a desire to seeke glorious death in com­bats? And who will beleeue that euer vertue (like vnto Polipus which eates his owne armes) will euer ruine her proper obiects? Who doth not know but the Passions of our soules are the obiects of many excellent vertues, which doe moderate them, and reduce them vnto reason when they seeke to flie out? Fortitude is nothing but a mediocrity betwixt feare & hardines: That is to say, it is nothing but a vertue by meanes wher [...]of we do mo­derate [Page 61] our exceeding feare, and our immoderate bold­nesse. Take then feare and hardines from fortitude, and it is no more a vertue. And by the same reason you ouer­throw all courage and mag­nanimity, whereof the one makes vs to vndertake the most terrible and difficult things with resolution, and the other giues vs a lustre in our greatest actions. You shall in like manner ouer­throw all patience, and per­seuerance, whereof the one makes vs constantly and willingly to endure all the miseries of this life; and the other confirmes vs against all the crosses of this world, so as wee remaine inseparably [...] to that which wee hold conformable to reason; for [Page 62] all these vertues haue for their obiect the Passions of the Irascible appetite. Tem­perance is no other thing, but a mediocrity which wee keepe in the pleasures of tast and feeling, and in the griefes and sorrowes which befall vs. That is to say, it is a vertue by meanes whereof wee gouerne our pleasures and paines. If then you take all pleasure and Paine from temperance, you giue it the name of vertue in vaine. And withall you put modesty and honesty out of the number of the vertues, whereof the one makes vs apprehend in­famies and reproches; that is to say, induceth vs to flie whatsoeuer hath any shew of dissolution. And the other filling our soules with good­ly [Page 63] things done with a cer­taine grace, makes vs to flie whatsoeuer is filthy and wor­thy of reproch. You shall also put out of the same num­ber of vertues, abstinency, So­briety, chastity, and pudicity, whereof the two first mode­rate the delights of the mouth, and the other the pleasures of generation: For that all these ver [...]ues haue for their obiect the Passions of the concupiscible appetite.

After all this the sensitiue appetite is a present of nature, which God (who is the Au­thor) hath freely bestowed vpon vs; but vertue neuer de­stroyes nature, but addes vn­to it the perfection which it wants. It must then suffer the sensitiue appetite to act ac­cording to his inclination, [Page 64] yet moderating his motions and restrayning them vnder the lawes of reason. And without doubt it seemes the Stoicks haue not obserued in man any other composition then that of the body and the soule, and that they were ignorant of the diuersity of the intellectuall and sensitiue powers of reason, and of sen­suality. For otherwise they would neuer haue suffered the sensitiue appetite to haue bene idle in man, as it must of necessity remaine, if it bee once freed from all motions of Passions. And as for those wonderfull praises they giue to a wise man, whom they imagine to bee freed from Passions, they are like vnto the stately titles which are giuen to great shipps, and to [Page 65] all that rich equipage, and furniture wherewith it is a­dorned, and yet it is subiect to the fury of stormes, and suffers shipwracke as well as the smallest vessells. Wee haue alwayes seene those which haue made profession of this sect, grow pale and wanne, aswell as other men in dangers at sea or land; they are alwayes seene subiect to the common desires of men, and they haue in that regard more vanity then constancy. So as they haue bene forced to excuse these first motions, and to confesse that it was not in the power of man to suppresse them, but they would sometimes breake forth. What remaines then but to confesse that reason must gouerne them, and re­duce [Page 66] them to a mediocrity which is found in vertue? For as health doth not consist in the ruine of contrary quali­ties which are found in man, but in the temperature which a good constitution giues them: And as to make a perfect musique, wee must not take away the diuersity of tunes, but reduce them to a good accord to make the harmony perfect; so the striuings of vertue consistes not wholy to roote all natu­rall Passions out of the soule, but to moderate and go­uerne them by the rule of reason. It is true, there are some Passions full of offence, and which wee detest to heare named, as Impudency, Enuy, Hatred; and these wee make no question but they [Page 67] ought to bee supprest. But there are others whose very names are pleasing, as Pitty, Modesty, Honest Loue, and the like; and these need not any thing, but to receiue a tinc­ture from reason and vertue, to make them altogether commendable.

But to prescribe vs a man that is not moued with any Passion, were to depriue him of all humanity, and to make him a stone or a god. They that make profession of this proud and arrogant Philoso­phie, cannot but laugh when as they reade in the writings of Poets, that there hath bene men of that constitution, and as we may say, of that temper, that no swords, lanc [...]s, or o­ther armes, could pierce them or wound their bodies. [Page 68] And they that haue had most credit among them, haue de­rided those Philosophers which beleeued that there were certaine Ilands and Countries in the world, as Delos and Egypt, which had neuer felt the violence of earthquakes, and which had continued for euer immoue­able, amidst the motions of all the other parts of the world. And these people paint vs out a wise man so perfect, so eminent, and so fortified with vertue, as all the stormes of Fortune, yea the most violent, Shipwrackes tortures, and infamies cannot make any impression in his soule; so as he continues im­moueable in the midst of flames, wheeles, gibbets and all the fearefull horrors of death [Page 69] and shame. What is hee that will not laugh at this strange vanity? But the Sto­ickes say, that it is a thing vn­worthy of a wiseman ador­ned with perfect vertue, to see himselfe transported with passions, which are the disea­ses of the soule. Where­unto we answere, that Passi­ons considered as they sub­mit themselues vnto the lawes of reason, are no infir­mities of the soule, but in that sence they are the in­struments and obiects of ver­tue, and as it were liuely sparkes which inflame desires in our soules; and as Aristotle speakes, they are the armes of reason. It is true that (as one saith) the flowers of Egypt being continually char­ged and watered with the [Page 70] Vapor of Nilus (which are grosse and earthly) ye [...]d not such pleasant smelles as they would do without this obstacle: euen so soules troubled with Passions, can­not produce the vertuous actions which they would do without this agitation: for that the motions and im­pressions which they make in our soules are like vnto the force of a violent torrent, which teares vp stones, ouer­throwes plants, and drawes after it whatsoeuer opposeth it selfe against his violence; for that they quench the rea­son, depriue vs of iudgement, smother the vnderstanding, and suffer not any image of vertue in a soule that is trans­ported. But this happens to those which abandon them­selues [Page 71] wholy to Passion; and not vnto these who like vnto wise pilots prepare against a storme, and when it comes endeauour to auoid it, not loosing his iudgement in an accident which terrifies o­thers. Wee tame Elephants, Tigers, Lyons, Panthers, and o­ther sauage beasts, and are not moued: and will they not allow vs a power to suppresse the brutishnesse of the sensi­tiue appetite, and to mode­rate the Passions when as they aduance themselues a­gainst reason, without great perturbation?

Finally, when as these mo­tions of Passions preuent the reason and anticipate all the resolutions of man, wee can­not hold them bad, seeing they are meere motions of [Page 72] nature without any shew of liberty. And it is most cer­taine that not onely an ordi­nary wisedome is subiect thereunto, but euen the most excellent soules, (I speake not of those which haue speciall guifts from God) yea those that are in­dued with Heroicall vertues, feele agitation; seeing that vertue how eminent soeuer, cannot so subiect the sensitiue appetite, (ouer which she doth not command as a slaue, but as a Cittizen) but it will an­ticipate the Empire of rea­son. And this the Stoickes are forced to confesse, seeing they affirme that it is not in the power of a wise man to free himselfe from perturba­tion, when as some fearefull formes presents themselues [Page 73] suddenly to his eyes, so as whatsoeuer he doth in those accidents, hee will grow pale, he will be amazed, and his heart will shrinke vp. Yet, say they, all this will happen without consenting to these motions, for that it is in his power not to consent. They adde, that there is this diffe­rence betwixt a wiseman and one that is distracted: for that an vnreasonable man yeilds to passions and obayes them wholy; whereas the wiseman although he suffers the motions, yet hee resists them still, and generously preserues in his soule the lawes and loue of vertue; heerein truely they approach neere to the doctrine which we teach. But we must still remember that the office of [Page 74] reason is not to pull out of the soule of man, all the rootes of Passions, neither were it expedient or necessa­ry she should do it: But her duty is to prescribe them their bounds, and to reduce them to a mediocrity as ver­tue requires. As for exam­ple, let vs presuppose a bro­ther which hath lost his bro­ther whom hee loued passi­onately, and they coniure him not to lament for this losse, not to afflict himselfe, nor to shew any signe of mourning to preserue the re­putation of a wiseman and absolutely vertuous. Is it not rather a meere stupidity then a true constancy? They that make these discourses shew that either they haue no naturall disposition, or [Page 75] else they neuer fell into these calamities: otherwise so sensi­ble a griefe wold haue pulled out of their spirits this arro­gant Philosophie; and had forced them to confesse that humanity cannot suffer them to remaine insensible at such cruell accidents. In the meane time as these Passions preuenting reason, cannot be held good nor bad, so when as they suffer themselues to be moderated and gouerned by reason, they get vs great commendations; whereas when they flie out and ex­ceed the bounds of vertue, they procure vs nothing but blame and infamy. To con­clude, Passions are in the soule, as the sinnews in the body; for as by meanes of sinnewes we extend [...]r bend [Page 76] the members ▪ so by the ope­rations of Passions, wee carry our selues to good or euill, and if wee will imploy them to good, they are as it were spurres and obiects: But if wee turne them to euill, our sensuality makes vse of them; like vnto him that keepes a slaue, who makes vse of his chaine to draw him where he pleaseth. So as the triumph of vertue consists not in pul­ling away or rooting out the Passions, as monsters; but in ruling and reforming them like vnto insolent and diso­bedient children▪ for they grow in vs and are as the fruits & buds of our sensuali­ty, which haue onely need to be made subiect vnto reason. Finally, they that haue any other opinion must remem­ber, [Page 77] that wee cannot wholy pull away the defects which proceed from nature: And that may by our industry correct and moderate that which is borne with vs, but not vanquish it and suppresse it wholy; wherefore wisedom may not promise vnto it selfe any thing in this subiect, see­ing she hath no power. The Passions are absolute and depend not on the Em­pire of vertue. They present them­selues vn­called.

Of Hatred or Enmity. CHAP. 1.

AS the Lawes of Loue and Hatred are directly con­trary; by that which wee haue spoken of Loue, it will be ea­sie to iudge, wherein Hatred consists, and how farre her ef­fects extends. Hatred then is [Page 185] An auersion and horror which man hath of all that seemes con­trary to his good, or preiudiciall to his contentment: Or else Ha­tred is an horror which the ap­petite hath of that which seemes pernicious vnto it, so as the sheepe hate the wolfe, as the enemy and persecuter of his life.

But wee must heere ob­serue, that as all that is befit­ting Nature is put in the rancke of good, so on the o­ther side, whatsoeuer is op­posite vnto it, must be placed in the rancke of euill. Wher­fore as the good is the obiect of Loue, so the euill is the ob­iect of Hatred. To vnderstand this, we must remember, that whether it be in the minde or in the body, there is a befit­ting estate, and as it were a [Page 186] naturall harmony, which makes vs to abhorre that which may dissolue this con­sort. This harmony conside­red in the body, is no other thing then the good consti­tution, by meanes whereof, we enioy a perfect health; the which being impayred, our nature receiues pain, as when we indure great hunger and thirst, or when as wee receiue any hurt or wound. As for the soule, this same harmony may bee considered: first in the senses, as well externall as internall, & cōsist in the pro­portiō they haue with their obiects; which is such, as they hate whatsoeuer puls them away, or which diuerts them by any kinde of violence. As for example, the eyes hate darkenesse and obscurity, [Page 187] and our imagination is ter­rified and troubled by the fearefull apprehensions of dreames, which it frameth during our rest. This same harmony considered in rea­son, either it regards the sim­ple knowledge of the truth, which our vnderstanding conceiues with pleasure; or the vse and execution of things which depend on wisedome, which wee doe with content. In regard of the first, our spirit is enemy to lying, although at some times it takes delight in the art wherewith they colour a thing to giue it some shewe of truth: So as the wisest are delighted in the reading and report of fables, when as the intention hath any grace. And as for the second, there [Page 188] is such diuersity of iudge­ments in humaine actions which are as it were the Ele­ment of prudence, as it is a thing in a manner▪ incredi­ble: for hardly shall you see two persons which haue the same feeling and apprehensi­on of affaires, in regard whereof this life is full of Ha­tred and factions which grow from these diuerse opinions.

As for that which con­cernes the will, her harmony consists in the proportion & Loue which she beares to the good, which makes her detest and abhorre whatsoeuer pre­sents it selfe vnto her, vnder the shew of euill, as pernici­ous and hurtfull to her con­tent and rest. And there­fore the harmony of the sen­sitiue appetite consisting in the [Page 189] familiarity and concurrence it hath with the good of the sences, it doth abhorre and beares an irreconciliable ha­tred, to whatsoeuer shall of­fend them; hence it comes that wee so much abhorre whippes, tortures, punish­mēts, hunger, thirst, wounds, & such like which tend to the destruction of our being. This Passion was ingraft in vs by nature, to the end that at the first approach, at the first taste and imagination of euill, wee may retire our selues and flie it, lest wee runne into ruine. This kind of hatred then is proper to the concupiscible which is offended at diuerse things, yea at small things, and many times at those which haue no subiect of of­fence, for you shall see some [Page 190] which cannot suffer the pre­sence of certaine creatures, & others cannot endure the sight of certaine fruites, though otherwise they be ex­ceeding pleasant. Finally there is no creature so fantas­ticke in his Appetite, nor so sudden in the motions of Ha­tred and distastes of things which present themselues vn­to his senses, as man, who not able to endure any thing, makes himselfe insupport­able in a like manner to all creatures: but principally to his like.

But to giue more light to this discourse, we wil obserue that there are diuerse sorts of Hatred and Enmities, which may bee referred to foure chiefe heads: for there is a natural Hatred, and a brutish [Page 191] Hatred, a melancholy Hatred, and a humaine Hatred. The naturall Hatred takes her be­ginning from a certaine anti­pathy, and contrariety of na­ture which is found in crea­tures, the which as it were abhorre one another, and cannot frequent or conuerse together, although the sub­iect of this Hatred appeare not, and that shewes it selfe more in the effect then in the cause; whereof wee haue pro­digious examples in nature, in plants, in beasts, and in men. Brutish Hatred is rather a rage then a Passion, for that it seekes a furious destruction of that it hates, and to see the last relliques consumed; so as it is more fitting for raue­ning wolues, or for monsters then for men. Such is the [Page 192] Hatred of those who not sa­tisfied to haue slaine their e­nemies, make their bodies to feele their fury, practizing a thousand cruelties vpon their carcasses, and making them to suffer after death, all the indignities their rage can deuise. This detestable Hatred sometimes passeth to such a furious transport, and so full of excesse, as they eate the flesh of their enemies, & haue a brutish delight in the fume of their members being cast into the fire: This onely befits Canniballs and those monsters which haue layd aside all humanity. Melan­cholly Hatred growes from the great aboundance of adust choller, the which doth so torment and agitate those miserable wretches which are [Page 193] afflicted therewith, as they abhorre all the honest plea­sures of life, fly the light of men, and wish euill vnto themselues, so as they cannot indure to bee seene, neither will they speake to any man, but seeke desarts & solitary places, where they confine themselues, and con­sume themselues with the discontent and Hatred they beare to mankind: like vnto that cursed Athenian, who had conceiued such a mortal Hatred against all men, as he imagined it was not in his power to binde his fellow Cittizens vnto him more strictly, but in planting of trees which might serue them as Gibbets to hang themselues.

Some among the Idolaters [Page 194] would haue tied this aspersiō & infamy to the profession of religious men amōg Christi­ans, comparing these holy soules, to birds which fly the light, and neuer shew themselues but in the darknes. But these reproaches are the fruites of impiety, which is not capable nor can comprehend the motions, nor force of the inspirations of the spi­rit of God, who drawing his elect from the vanities and pleasures of the wo [...]ld, leade [...] them into these holy soli­tudes, where being far from the conuersation of men, they approach neere the comp [...]ny of Angells; or ra­ther vnite themselues to him who is the sole ioy and so­ueraigne good of Angels. If they which haue thus soug [...] [Page 195] to blemish and defame this holy profession, which be­ginnes his paradise on earth, would haue taken the paines to search into and sound the condition, the manners, and the life, of those which re­nounce the world, & the plea­sure thereof; they shold haue found, that the Sun in the whole world doth not be­hold soules more contented then those, in whom there appeares no signe of sadnesse, nor any shew of melancholy: But a perpetuall ioy which no troubles interrupt, nor a­ny discontents do crosse. But this belongs not to our sub­iect.

It rests that wee speake of that Hatred which plants her rootes simply in the harts of men. This is an infirmity [Page 196] of the soule as wee haue de­scribed it, which hath hu­maine causes, and to the which also they bring hu­maine remedies to seeke to cure it, of the which we now treat. In the meane time there is great difference be­twixt Choller, Hatred, and En­uy. And first of all there is this difference betwixt Chol­ler, and Hatred, that Choller growes from iniuries which we haue receiued, and which offend vs in our owne parti­cular; whereas Hatred may spring from things which concerne not vs in particu­lar; but which touch the Publique. As for example, we may hate and detest those which kindle a fire of discord in the remotest parts of the Estate. We may hate such [Page 197] as commit villanies a hun­dred leagues from vs; but to inflame our Choller, the iniu­ry must touch vs and offend vs, either in our owne person, or in that of our friends. And Choller doth alwayes presup­pose particular men; but Ha­tred may extend it selfe to all mankind, there being no man but doth detest and general­ly abhorre all theeues, al mur­therers, and all slanderers▪ Moreouer Choller may bee cured with time, for that it is a short fury which may bee pacified with patience. But Hatred is in a manner incure­able, and growes more bitter with time and remedies. Wherefore the Poets de­scribe Etrocles: and Pollinices, continuing the effects of their Hatred euen in their [Page 198] tombes: For when as their sister Antigona had cast their bodies into the fire, to per­forme their ordinary obse­quies, they could not remain together, but the flame diui­ding it selfe cast their bodies one from another; whereup­on miserable Antigona cried out, that their Hatred surui­ued their death.

Moreouer, he that is trans­ported with Choller, not on­ly desires to be reuenged of the party that hath wronged him in making him to feele the effects of his wrath▪ But withall will haue him know that hee is the author of this reuenge, and of the paine hee feeles. But he that is possest with Hatred, desires onely to see his enemy ruined, and doth not care to haue him [Page 199] know that hee is the Author thereof, so as he may behold his destruction. Besides, Choller is accompanied with paine, by reason of her vehe­mency: But Hatred is with­out paine, neuer filling her subiect with this extreame ard or, but suffers him coldly to attend the ruine of his e­nemy. Finally, Choller hath bounds, for if hee that is in­censed against any one, sees any great calamity befall him, which exceedes the li­mits of a common reuenge, he hath pitty, and doth wish that his misery had not mounted to that height. But the man that is full of Hatred, neuer sees his bad inclinati­ons satisfied; and how great soeuer the calamity be which befalles his enemy, hee hath [Page 200] no feeling nor pitty: the reasō of this differēce is, for that he which is in choller, desires only that the party against whō he is incēsed shold know, that it is in his power to reuenge the wrong he hath done him. But he that meerly hates, seeks ab­solutely the ruine of his enemy, and is not satisfied vntil he see him vtterly lost: let vs now ob­serue wherin Hatred differs frō Enuy. The diuersity appeares first, in that hatred hath for ob­iect the euill which wee con­ceiue of the party whom wee hate, presupposing him to be wicked, either in our owne respects, or generally toward all men. For we finde it day­ly by experience, that men are disposed to hate those, from whom they thinke they haue receiued some iniury, [Page 201] or whō they know are accu­stomed to outrage all the world: whereas Enuy hath for obiect the felicities and prosperities of another: the which is most apparent, for that wee neuer enuy the mi­serable. And Hatred also ex­tends euen to bruit beasts, for as we haue said before, there are some which naturally hate certaine creatures; yea, we haue seene a great Prince who could not endure the singing nor sight of a Cocke. But Enuy powres forth his poyson only among men: for wee doe not enuy birds for their goodly fethers, nor Ly­ons for the greatnesse of their courage; nor Stags for their swiftnesse; [...]or Elephants for their greatnesse and force: but we onely enuy the glory [Page 202] of our like. Moreouer, enuy is alwayes vniust; for what shew of reason can be found in a passion which doth af­flict vs for the prosperities of another man, as if hee did vs some iniury in being happy? But there may be Hatred full of iustice as those which make vs abhorre the publike plague, and troublers of the peace of the State, the ene­mies of the Countrey, men desperately wicked and vici­ous, and the enemies of God and religion: yea, this Ha­tred of the wicked is a signe of a good soule, as the enuy wee beare to them that are fortunate, discouers a wicked dispositiō: wherfore we dissē [...]ble not the Hatred we beare to such as wee know are wic­ked, whereas wee disguise all [Page 203] we can the enuy we conceiue against them that are hap­py. Againe, Enuy kindling in our hearts by the great pros­perity of another, when as they decline, and that we see them ouerthrowne by some notable accident of misfor­tune, it relents, and is by little and little quenched: yea, it is most certaine, that enui­ous men are glad to haue some cause of pitty; whereas Hatred and enmities neuer ceas [...]e for all the calamities which befall their enemies; but when they are once fra­med and fixed to any one, they neuer abandon him nei­ther in good nor bad for­tune. Moreouer, Hatreds and enmities are sometimes cu­red and quenched, by letting the party (that is tormented [Page 204] with this passiō) know, that he to whō he wisheth euill, hath not done him any wrong, or that he hath changed his in­clinatiō, & is become a good & vertuous mā; & moreouer, that he hath done him some kind of pleasure, in occasions which haue bin offered to ob­lige him. But althogh you perswade a man, that hee hath not receiued any wrong from him that is happy and fortu­nate, yet it doth not quench his enuy; and in stead of sup­pressing it with this conside­ration, that he is a good man and that hee hath indeauou­red to doe him fauours, yet he will shew it the more, and let the world see, that he can neither indure his prosperity nor his benefits; for that the one proceeds from the good [Page 205] fortune which doth accom­pany him, and the other is an effect of his vertue, which are two recommendable things, & cōsequently subiect to En­uy. Lastly, these two Passions differ, in regard of the diuerse ends which they propound vnto themselues: for Enuy hath that in particular, that shee doth not alwayes cause vs to wish great miseries to those we enuy: for wee see it dayly by experience, that there are some which enuy their own kinsmē or friends, yet they would be loth to see any great misery befall them, or an affliction which might tend to their ruine; conten­ting themselues to crosse their prosperities, and to hin­der the lustre and glory of their fortunes. But Hatred [Page 206] passeth further, still watching for an occasion to ruine his enemy, and is neuer satisfied with his miseries vntill they haue brought him to the pe­riod of his downefall: So as shee induceth vs to pro­cure irremediable mischiefs, and extreame calamities to those whom shee pursues with obstinacy.

Wee must now seeke the source and fountaine of Ha­tred, and shew what the cau­ses be that frames it. As she consists in the auersion of things which are contrary to our senses, it may spring from three causes principally; that is to say, from choler, from reproches, or slanders, and from the crosses or discom­modities which wee receiue. As for the first, an Ancient [Page 207] had reason to say, that hatred is an inueterate or rooted choler; not that time doth change one of these passions into another: for the Philo­sophers will neuer confesse, that one kinde may passe in­to the nature of another but for that choler hauing exas­perated our courage, if wee entertaine long the forme of an offence which doth gall vs, in the end wee lay aside choler, and beginne to hate him against whom our wrath was kindled: So as choler is not of the Essence of hatred, but many times the cause.

As for the second, it is cer­tain, that nothing doth more excite our Hatred then slan­ders & reproches, the which may euen trouble the wisest and most vertuous; for wee [Page 208] haue seene great Personages, who had, as it were, renoun­ced all feeling of the other Passions, yeelde o the griefe of detraction, and haue suffe­red themselues to haue beene so caried away with griefe of minde, as they haue fallen in­to a generall disdaine of all the world, and to abhorre all Mankind, by reason of the fury of such as had defamed them. So as slander is like to a huge waue which wrests the helme out of the Marriners hand: for that she troubles the most vertuous, and makes thē to giue way to the griefs of Hatred. Besides, if they which slander vs, giue vs o­ther crosses, and are the cause of some notable preiudice; as if they accuse vs before the Magistrate, if they bring vs [Page 209] in questiō of our liues, if they cause vs to lose our goods, if they persecute our kinsmen, if they torment our friends; all these causes together frame a deepe Hatred in our soules, the which retaine for euer the forme of these bloo­dy iniuries, vnlesse they make some great and solemne sa­tisfaction.

Finally, the reasons why choler, detraction, and cros­ses, or discommodities, in­gender Hatred, is, for that all these things tending to the destruction of the being, or honour of men, they are so many subiects and spurres of Hatred against those that procure them those displea­sures. Yet Hatred is not fra­med in our hearts by these causes onely, but there [Page 210] are other particular motiues from whence it may proceed, as when we see our selues de­ceiued in our trust, and of the good opinion we had of men to whom we were tied by af­fection. Wherefore an An­cient had reason to say, that Hatred is commonly framed in our soules, by our bad e­lections, for that wee loue before we know, and before wee haue tried the merit and fidelity of those to whom we will trust so rich a treasure as friendship. We are too ea­sily perswaded that they are vertuous, and worthy of all fauour and confidence, and in the meane time wee finde them treacherous and vn­worthy: so as wee fall into such a disdaine, and do so ab­horre them, as we cannot in­indure [Page 211] to heare them spoken of. Finally, to draw to a head the causes of this Passi­on; wee hate vgly and defor­med things, as the monsters and scorners of nature and arte, and those which are fil­thy, troublesome, and impor­tune: for that wee esteeme them as enemies to our sen­ses and content. As for those which are subiect to the mo­tions of this Passion, wee ob­serue, that faint and base mindes, are sooner mooued then generous spirits: The reason is, for that Cowards feare euery thing, so as their hatred is inflamed against all such as they thinke may hurt them, bee it in their per­son, in their goods or in re­gard of their friends. Hence it growes, that great men [Page 212] which haue no courage are commonly cruell, as we haue monstrous examples in Ne­ro, Caligula, and other effemi­nate Princes, whose rage no murthers could satisfie. And for the same reason they that haue offended a great Perso­nage, who hath meanes to reuenge himselfe, hate him irreconciliably; which makes them to desire his death, to see themselues freed from feare. Whence groweth that famous saying, He that of­fends neuer pardons. The proud and enuious are al­so subiect to the motions of Hatred. The first, for that they thinke they are not honored as they should be; and the last, for that all the prosperities of their equalls offend them.

[Page 213]They that loue themselues too much, are wonderfull apt to the same motions, for that they take euery thing as an iniury, and are so nice as they cannot endure any man. But as Loue springs from a feeling of good, and Hatred from an apprehension of E­uill, it happens that for that the good things we enioy in this life are neuer pure, nor much durable, they make no great impression, neither do they leaue any great remem­brance nor Loue of them in our soules: But contrariwise euill things being very sensi­ble & long, take deepe roo­ting in our hearts, where by reason of our corruption, they are are as it were in their proper Element, so as we do more easily preserue the seeds [Page 214] of Hatred then of Loue: Wherefore an A [...]ient sayd, that he whic [...] [...] with griefe, remembers it; but hee that enioyes pleasure, for­gets. Finally if wee would make good vse of our Hatred, wee must imploy it against vice, and against those ob­iects, the Loue and pursuite whereof may pollute our hearts, and blemish the Image of God which shines in our soules. This Hatred must take her course from causes contrary to those, which we haue formerly said, are proper to induce Loue. As for example, to roote out of the soule a dishonest Loue, we must leaue to thinke of it, and diuert our minds and sences from the continuall contemplation of the image [Page 215] which beginnes to make vs to feele her power, lest that the beames of so pernitious an obiect, kindle and nourish in our hearts bad desires: and moreouer, to fortifie our Hatred, we must iudiciously weigh the defects which may incounter in the subiect which we Loue. And of this sort, from the most perfect creature in the world, being subiect to great imperfecti­on, we may easily if wee will, finde occasion to separate our selues.

Wee must in like manner represent the miseries which do commonly accompany the pursuites of Loue; we must also set before our eyes the shipwracke of so many fa­mous pe [...]sonages, which haue lost themselues vpon [Page 216] this shelfe: We must repre­sent the infidelities, cares, crosses, paine, and torments, which this wretched Passion doth cause. And aboue all, a Christian should apprehend the wrath of God, and the horror of his iudgements which hee powres out vpon vncleaenenesse. But this be­longs to another Discourse.

Of Desire or Cupidity: and of the flight and horror we haue of things. CHAP. 1.

AS NATVRALL things being farre from their center, haue no rest vntill they [Page 217] attaine vnto it; so man ha­uing a particular inclination to good, as soone as he pro­pounds vnto himselfe the obiect, and ties it to his ima­gination; if the enioying bee denied him, he feeles himselfe surprized with a certaine ve­hemency, which makes him to seeke it passionately. And if it bee a good of the mind, his will is inflamed; and if this good concernes the contentment of the body, his sences receiue the im­pression and long to enioy it. According to this last moti­on, Philosophers affirme that there is Passion in man which they call Cupidity or Desire, which concerneth those things which we possesse not, and which we thinke are fit and proper to giue vs con­tent [Page 218] This Cupidity or Desire is no other thing, but a Passion wee haue to attaine vnto a good which we enioy not, & which we imagine is fitting for vs. It dif­fers from Loue and Pleasure, for that Loue is the first incli­nation, the first taste, or (as we may say) the first sweetnesse we feele of good things, or of those which are goodly or faire: which rauish our sen­ces, and breed in vs this de­sire and longing to enioy them; after which, hope doth arise, the which succeding, the effect filles vs with ioy, and contentment, which is properly the pleasure wee conceiue when the thing hath succeeded. Or to de­liuer it more plainely, Desire, differs from Loue, and Plea­sure, for that Loue is the first [Page 219] motion, and the first Passion we haue of any good thing, without respect whether it be present or absent; Desire is a Passion for a good that is absent, and pleasure a con­tentment wee haue to enioy when wee haue gotten it. Whereby it followes, that Desire as we say, is a particu­lar Passion, for that it regards a sensible good, vnder a sensi­tiue consideration, that is to say, vnder this consideration that it is absent, and that in this absence it drawes vnto it the affection of man to pur­sue it. For the sensible good which is the obiect of the sensuall appetite, moues other­wise when it is present, then when it is absent.

For when it is present, the Appetite is at rest by the pre­sence [Page 220] of the thing beloued, whereas being absent, the Appetite is moued and agita­ted with a desire and longing to pursue it and get it. But there are two kinds of Desires and Cupidities, which may make impression in our sen­ses, the one is naturall, the o­ther rise from our choice; the naturall are those which a­gree with the nature of the creature, as drinking, eating, sleeping; and these are com­mon to men & brute beasts, for that both the one and the other, haue obiects befit­ting their nature. Those which arise from our electi­on, are such as regard the things which are not altoge­ther necessary for the crea­ture, but man hath inuented them for his greater ease and [Page 221] commodity, as the delights of drinking, & eating, baths, play, sights, riches, honor, re­putation, and such like. As for naturall desires they are not infinite, but haue their bounds; for that as nature contents it selfe with a little, so shee prescribes vnto her selfe certaine limitts, within the which she containes her­selfe, tying herselfe to the ob­iect which is fitting, without any diuersion.

But those which follow our election haue no bounds, so they grow infinite. For as they depend of the imagina­tion of man, as this power re­presents the formes and ima­ges of infinit obiects; so these desires multiply infinitely to pursue all those good things which the imagination hath [Page 222] propounded. Whereby it happens that representing at one instant any thing that seems pleasing or profitable, we desire it passionately, and then changing opinion wee wish another, and after it a third.

So as we feele as it were a swarme of desires disclose themselues in our thoughts, which draw vs to diuerse ob­iects, without rule or mea­sure. For as no aboundance of water can satisfie them that are sicke of the dropsie, so there is no kind of good­nesse or pleasure that may content our desires. The an­cient Philosophers compared the first matter to an infa­mous strumpet, who is ne­uer glutted with present plea­sure, but doth still meditate [Page 223] vpon new imbracings; for that the first matter is neuer content with the formes which she enioyes, but still desires new, not caring whe­ther they be more noble then that wherewith she is ador­ned. But we haue more rea­son to apply this comparison to our Cupidities and Desires, which shew themselues insa­tiable in all they pursue, with what kind of Passion soeuer. And herein appeares the great misery of man, who ha­uing meanes to passe with few things necessary for the entertainment of his life, plungeth himselfe in super­fluities as into a gulph, whereas hee findes neither bottome nor bancke, and afflicts himselfe with a thou­sand torments in the pursuite [Page 224] of his vaine desires, making his condition much more miserable then that of other creatures. For they hauing quencht their desires by the enioying, remaine fully satis­fied, and torment themselues no more, vntill that nature quickens againe their appe­tites.

When as the Lyon hath pursued a Bull or a Goate, he deuoures what is necessary to satisfie his hunger; but he hides not the remainder in the ground. The Bore drinkes vntill hee hath satisfi­ed his thirst, and then leaues the water. The Wolfe (though a rauening beast) runs after his prey, when hunger driues him; but being satisfied hee leaues his chace. Leopards and Tygers being [Page 225] prest by necessity, kill their prey, but hauing fedde they are quiet. Bulles hauing ta­ken their pasture, returne content. But there is no­thing able to satisfie the de­sires of man, his imagination being alwayes fertile and in­tentiue to furnish him with new toyles and cares to seeke for new, by the distaste hee hath of those which hee en­ioyeth.

So as to comprehend them all together, there is not glo­ry enough, nor wealth suffici­ent, nor obiects of pleasure and delight in the whole world, that can make him absolutely content. Where­by we may see a man growne from a base estate to a glori­ous fortune, complaine of his estate; neuer looking to [Page 226] them that are inferiour vnto him, but onely to such as ex­ceed him. Let him be aduan­ced to the first office of estate, yet this glory will be a spurre vnto him to aspire vnto a greater. He would play the prince, he wold contemne his King, and would enioy the glory of his Diademe.

Finally, he would see how high fortune can raise him, and doth not consider that she growes weary, and that her consistence is as brickle as glasse, and that her lustre is like vnto those false lights, which deceiue Seafaring men, and guide them vpon Rocks and Shelfes, whereon their ships are broken, and they suffer shipwracke. Am­bition hath no bounds, if she hath surmounted the earth, [Page 227] she wil defie heauen. So those proud Princes of Antiquity, not satisfied with the glory of their Crownes, and hauing nothing more on earth to be desired, wold counterfeit the thunder and lightning, to haue themselues held power­full in heauen. But if euer Prince made shew that Am­bition is insatiable, it was Alexander; for that after so many battels, after so many glorious conquests, hauing past from Macedonia through Asia, euē vnto the red sea, yet he sent forth his Lieutenants to discouer new worlds, there to finde out a new har­uest of triumphs: the Scythians though Barbarians, could wel reproach him with this in [...]a­tiable passion of glory. If the gods (say they) had giuen thee [Page 228] a body equall to thy courage, the whole world would bee too little for thee: with the one hand thou wouldst touch the East, and with the other the West: and after all this, thou woldst yet know where the brightnesse of that great Di­uinity were hidden. But wee must not imagine, that this passion is proper onely to A­lexander, for there was neuer great Monarch whose abun­dance of treasure, and extent of Empire could limit his Ambition. There was neuer any one whom death hath not found plotting of new designes, and making of new proiects for conquests. The cupidities and desires of ri­ches are no lesse insatiable: the more we enioy, the more wee desire, and the Passion growes more violent by a­bundance; [Page 229] like vnto the flame of a great fire, which in­creaseth whē they cast wood into it. Giue mee a man in whose house (to speake with the world) fortune hath hea­ped vp all the treasures of Pe­rou, to whom shee hath im­parted so much gold, siluer, and pretious stones, as he not onely enioyeth it, but also treads vnder his feet Pearles, Rubies, and Diamonds; yet amidst al this riches and glo­ry, I dare boldly affirme, that his soule is not content, but in this abundance hee repre­sents vnto himselfe other ri­ches, which he imagineth are more exquisite, & more pre­tious then those which hee enioyes. So as in being rich, we doe not learne to leaue to be passionate for the loue of [Page 230] riches, nor by enioying many superfluous things, we do not get the contentment not to desire more. And when will mighty men ceasse to extend the boūds of their possessiōs? The lands, the houses of their neighbors, do they not stand in their light? & do not their Desires enflame them to buy thē, or take thē away by vio­ence? If there be a branch of a riuer that may fit their buil­dings, must they not haue it either by loue or force? Doe they not cut down moūtains & Rocks, diuert the course of riuers, make valleis euen; yea, & remoue the very foundati­ons of the earth to satisfie their desires? Poore men, which hauing but so little a body to lodge, build such ample Pallaces.

[Page 231]And for al this are their de­sires satisfied? nay rather, the end of one is the beginning of another. This is a miserable Passion, seeing that shee her selfe fights against her owne satisfying and content: and seeing that by a prodigious violence shee enflames vs to the pursuit of riches to inioy them; and when wee haue gotten them, she forbids vs the vse: she begets a longing in vs, and denies vs the plea­sure And as we more abhorre the Cantharides and Tarantu­les, then Lyons, Tigers, and Beares; for that they kill men and reape no fruite of their death, whereas sauage beasts doe feede themselues, and satisfie their hunger: so of all the Cupidities and Desires, there is not any one that we [Page 232] should so much detest, as that of Couetousnesse: for that this monstrous Passion draws no contentment from that it gathers together, nor suf­fers him rhat is possest with it, to take any pleasure: wher­as other desires, at the least, aspire to the enioying and content which may grow by the possession of their ob­iects. Interdicting thus the enioying, shee stirres vp new Desires, to get newe treasure; and hauing gotten it, wee finde, that the paine we haue taken to enioy it, is nothing in regard of the torment it giues vs after that we are ow­ners. And yet wee stay not there, but plunging our selues still in this gulph, wee finde sooner an end of our liues, then of our Couetousnesse. [Page 233] These are the thornes which spring from riches, which are gotten with paine, preserued with care, and lost with griefe. Pleasures and delights are also infinite, not onely for that they cannot giue a full contentment to our desires, but also for that the number is so great, as we can hardly reckon them, or at least giue them names. There are De­sires of the eyes, which repre­sent sensible beauties, of which we finde a thousand fashions, the search whereof should be innocent if it had any bounds; but the excesse of our Desire doth blemish the pursuit. As for example, Pictures, Images, Statues, Porphyrie, Marble, Amber, C [...]ystal, Iuory, Flowers, tapi­stries, Diamonds, Rubies, & [Page 234] all other things, where the eye discouers the wonders of nature and the Art of man, are the obiects of an inno­cent pleasure, if we could vse them moderately. But wee suffer our selues to bee trans­ported with so furious a De­sire, and we seeke them with such an inraged heate, as it is rather a madnesse then a De­sire. An Ancient said, That nothing had more distasted him from loue, and the Passi­on of all those things, then to see the stately Triumphs of Rome where they exposed to the sight all the gold and sil­uer of that great City, to serue for an ornament; and carried the Pictures, Images, Armes, plate, pretious stones, Treasure, Tapistry, and the Mooueables of vanquished [Page 235] Kings, & the spoyles of their rich Prouinces, to encrease their glory. And his reason was, for that (said he) all this pompe, all this lustre, all this glory, and this abundance of treasure, was seen in one day, and then vanished: So as in a short time our eyes might behold all the pride not on­ly of Rome, but of the world. This was to make a man wise by sights, whereas others be­come mad.

There are other pleasures of the eyes, which pollute by the excesse of our cupidities, and by the disorder of our de­sires: as when our eyes not content to behold the beau­ty of a woman, conceiue an vnchaste desire. Besides these diuers pleasures of the eyes, there are others of smelling, [Page 236] hearing and feeling; where­in wee obserue as little mea­sure as in the rest. Perfumes are exquisite presents of Na­ture; but our effeminate de­licacy hath made the vse in­famous and shamefull. Mu­sick, consorts, and the sweet­nesse of Instruments, were things which wee might vse honestly without offence; but we haue conuerted all into Luxury, which prophanes the vse. And amidst all this a­bundance, neither doe our eyes satisfie their Desires, by so many obiects which they behold; neither doe our eares finde their heate quenched, nor our other senses their pas­sions, by whatsoeuer offers it selfe to their desires. The o­ther pleasures wherunto man is addicted, as play, combats, [Page 237] huntings, exercises, compa­nies, and whatsoeuer he doth to ease the cares of this life, cannot satisfie nor giue any full contentment to man: but amidst all these roses hee stil meets with some thornes, and seekes dayly after newe contentment; so insatiable are his Desires.

The same Cupidities al­so vary according to the a­ges, complexions, and hu­mours of those which are toucht with this Passion. Yong men are passionate af­ter play and women, and ex­ceede in these pleasures. The sicke wish for health, as the souereigne good of his life; old men desire good wine, and good fare, which seemes to make them liue againe, & to adde new vigor to their [Page 238] bodies. Princes and gene­rous spirits breath nothing but glory, tryumphs, and tro­phies, which serue to ad­uance them beyond the or­dinary of men.

They which are of a san­guine and hot complexion, haue a Passion fit for all things, and they pursue them with great heate; but it lasts not long, and is like a fire of straw, inconstancy & change accompanying them still in their pursuites. Whereas they that are of a cold con­stitution, haue no great de­sires, by reason of the heaui­nesse of their humors: But they are obstinate in their pursuits, and can hardly bee diuerted from the obiect, whereunto they are tied. They which haue the least [Page 239] feeling of the motions of De­sire, are such as haue no ap­prehensiō of the discōmodi­ties and miseries of this life, as they that are young; great spirits; men ouertaken with wine; and finally all such as haue much blood and heate gathered together about the heart. As in like manner, they are not much transpor­ted, which haue neuer felt a­ny vrgent necessity. For as feare and distrustes increase Desire, to prouide all things necessary for the preseruati­on of this life, they which haue tasted of crosses, appre­hending to fall into their first miseries, do Desire infinite things, to fortifie themselues against all accidents; suppo­sing still that nothing can secure them sufficiently. [Page 240] They also which haue little blood about their hearts, & that but luke-warme, haue naturally cares and ardent desires to gather; for that they feare to see themselues fall into want and pouerty; and the importune care they haue to preuent this misery, afflicts their soules, and tor­tures their minds. Hence it comes, that we often see men who haue bene prodigall and very profuse in their youth, so change their inclinations, as when they come to age, there can be nothing noted in them but base couetousnes in all their actions: whereas on the other side wee com­monly see that wine and Loue make couetous men bounti­full.

Finally when we haue got­ten [Page 241] with much paine the goods which we enioy, wee shew more vehemency to keepe them. The which may arise from two causes, either for that we feare to fall againe into the necessity in which we haue bene, and ap­prehend to see our selues for­ced to take new paines, and to vndergo new toyles to re­couer our estates. Or else for that the things which we haue gotten with sweat and danger, are more deare vnto vs, then those which come without labour and paine. So we see a young Heire, which comes to a great Estate by the death of his father, will bountifully bestow his gold and siluer, and dissipate with­in few dayes, what his mise­rable father had bene long a [Page 242] gathering, and which he had not gotten but with infinite torments both of body and mind. Whereas a Merchant, who hath tried the dangers of traffique; who hath grown pale a thousand times at Sea during his voyages; who hath seene himselfe often neere death, and ready to fall into the hands of Pyrates or theeues, will not thrust his hand rashly into his coffers, nor distribute his mony but with great stayednesse, and wonderfull discretion, which may make him to bee held base and couetous. Doubt­lesse wee haue seene in our times the most generous Prince of the world, who shewed no such magnifi­cence in the bestowing of his excessiue treasures, as the [Page 243] glory of his birth and the splendor of his other actions seemed to require. So as many had a conceite that he feared to fall into his first necessities; but doubtlesse his good husbandry was far bet­ter then our profusions.

Wee haue spoken suffici­ently of this Passion of Desire, the which hauing in a man­ner all things common with Loue, it shall not need any longer Treaty, nor more words to explaine it. As for the Passion which is con­trary vnto it, as it hath no name, (although it bee the same which makes vs ab­horre and fly that which wee thinke is hurtfull to our na­ture,) so it is not needfull to seeke out the conditions and particularities, seeing they [Page 244] are in a manner the same which we haue obserued vp­pon the subiect of Hatred. Moreouer, that from the na­ture of Desire, we may gather what that of horror is, seeing that one contrary deciphers another.

Of Pleasure or Delight. CHAP. 1.

AS this great Fabricke of the heauens makes his motion vp­pon the two Poles of the world, which are as it were the two points where it beginnes and ends: So it seemes that all the Pas­sions of our soules depend vp­on [Page 245] Pleasure and Paine, which grow from the contentment or distaste which we receiue from the diuerse obiects which present themselues vnto vs in the course of this life. If we loue, it is for that wee finde a sweetnes in the subiect that doth rauish vs. And if we hate, it is in regard that wee imagine the obiect which presents it selfe vnto our imagination, is full of griefe, contrary to our appre­hension. The pleasure wee take in the Idea of a good thing, which we enioy not, and yet promise to ourselues the possession in pursuing it constantly, begets hope: as contrariwise, when we think it is not in our power to ob­taine it, the griefe wee haue afflicts vs, and leades vs to [Page 246] despaire. Desires in like man­ner are framed in vs by the imagination we haue of a be­nefit which may giue vs con­tent; and the distaste wee haue of things which we flie, is, for that we imagine they may cause our discontent and vexation. So as in all the other Passions wee still finde Ple [...]sure and griefe intermixt, in regard whereof, wee may rightly tearme them the two springs and fountaines, from whence deriue and flow all the other Passions. Yet they haue their particular reasons and considerations, which giue them their rancke, and put them in the number of o­ther Passions duly & exactly considered. Wherefore Plea­sure or Delight is a Passion & motion, which is framed in our [Page 247] soules with a certaine sweetnes which filles our senses with contentment and ioy, when as they receiue the impression, by the enioying of a good which is pleasing vnto them: Or else, Pleasure is a Passion which proceedes from the sweetnesse which our senses receiue from the obiects which delight them. Or to vse Aristotles definiti­on; Pleasure is a motion of the soule, which putts it suddenly and sensibly in an estate fit for the nature of man. Where­upon wee must first obserue, that as things meerely na­turall tend to their perfecti­ons, by those meanes which nature hath prescribed; so all creatures striue to attaine vnto those which are proper vnto them, by the meanes which the same nature hath [Page 248] made subiect to their power. But there is this difference betwixt insēsible creatures & those which haue sense, that the insēsible hauing attained to the height of their perfec­tion, feele no ioy. So as it seemes, the Sun is vnhappy in that respect, that being in­dued with such a shining brightnesse, and such perfect beauty, yet it hath no feeling nor knowledge of his glory; whereas creatures haue a fee­ling of their good when they haue gotten it. So as this feeling filles their senses with ioy, and causeth pleasure, which makes their nature cō ­tent: let vs now see what con­ditiōs are necessary to frame this delight, & to beget in vs the pleasure of things which touch our senses.

[Page 249]First of all, the good must be vnited to our senses, be it real­ly & in effect, or in thought and imagination. For wee must remember in all this Treaty of Humaine Passions, that it imports not for to stir them vp, that the obiect which incites the motions be really in the nature of things, or simply in the imaginati­on: for that there are some men which suffer themselues to be more transported with the images which Fancy frames in their braines, then by the true obiects of things which subsist really. As we reade in Histories, that a certaine Athenian called Thrasillus had a certaine foo­lish conceite, that all the shipps▪ with their loading, which came into the Port [Page 250] of Pyrea were his. But when as his friends had caused his braine to be purged, and had brought him to his right sen­ses; he complained of them, and blamed them for that they had depriued him of an infinite content.

Moreouer it is requisite in Pleasure, that the obiect of good which makes an im­pression in our senses, should be agreeable to our nature.

The which cannot be, if it be not in some sort agree­able vnto their capacity. Wherefore there must bee such an agreement and pro­portion betwixt the senses and obiect, as there may bee betwixt them a certaine re­semblance and affinity, so as that which caused the Plea­sure must neither bee too [Page 251] strong nor too weake, to make his impression. Where­fore a moderate light is more pleasing to our eyes then that which is more glistring. And in like manner a sweete sound cōtents the eare more then that which is loud.

And we take more delight in a speech which we vnder­stand, then when wee vnder­stand not the words; for that this intelligence wee haue of the words, frames a kind of conformity betwixt them and vs, whereby the speech doth insinuate sweet­ly into our eares, and makes a more pleasing impression in our soule.

Thirdly, it is requisite to breed delight in our senses, that wee haue knowledge of the good which breeds the [Page 252] impression, and that we find it is fit for vs, & that we enioy it either in effect, or by ima­gination: For that we cannot receiue any ioy of a thing vnknowne, or which we find not that it is good for vs, or are ignorant that it is in our power. So a hidden friend­ship doth nothing touch vs, and yet if we had any perfect knowledge, we should be ra­uished with ioy, and burne with desire to imbrace it. Finally, it is requisite to be­get Pleasure in our soules, that our Appetite (from whence desires do arise) should receiue an alteration or change by a sweet impres­sion, which the obiect (being the cause) makes in our sen­ses. For this sweetnesse is of the Essence of Pleasure, [Page 253] which cannot subsist without her: wherefore shee consists rather in the end of the mo­tion then in all the rest of her progresse; therefore Aristotle tearmes it, not onely a mo­tion, but also a rest of the soule. In the mean time there are two kinds of appetites in man, that is to say, the intel­lectuall, which is the reaso­nable will, and the sensitiue, which is diuided into the I­rascible and Concupiscible, as we haue said: the intellectuall reioyceth at good things which are conformable to reason, whereof the vnder­standing is iudge.

And the Sensitiue takes de­light in things which con­cerne the senses. We also ob­serue this difference, that those things which delight [Page 254] the senses, cause a sensible al­teration in the body. As in ioy wee feele our heart open and dilate it selfe; especial­ly if this ioy proceede from an vnexpected thing which concernes vs much, it may be so mooued and agitated, as death may follow. As it hap­pened in those women of Carthage, who hauing newes that their sonnes had beene slaine in battaile, when as they saw them liuing before their eyes: this ioy happe­ning contrary to their hopes, they dyed suddainely. But the pleasures of reason cause no other thing then a simple motion of the will, which re­ioyceth the minde without any alteration of the body, vnlesse it extend vnto the senses. Wherefore some af­firme [Page 255] that this kinde of ioy is found in the Essence of God, and in the nature of Angels. And they are accu­stomed to propound a que­stion vpon this subiect, which be the greatest pleasures, and delight most, whether those of reason, or those of the sen­ses. But the answer is easie, for that vndoubtedly, the in­tellectuall and those of the minde (if we consider them in themselues) are more de­lightfull then those of the senses. And this made Ari­stotle to say, that the sweetest and most pleasing content, wee can haue in this life, is that which proceedes from the exercises and actions of wisedome, which is spent in the contemplation of the first causes. The reason why [Page 256] the pleasures of the minde haue an aduātage ouer those of the body, is, for that to cause pleasure or delight in vs, there must concurre three things; that is to say, the ob­iect vnited to the power; the power to the which it is vni­ted; and the actuall vnion of the one with the other, which presupposeth knowledge of this good. As for example, to beget the pleasures of our taste, there must bee delicate meates, a taste well disposed, and moreouer the vnion of these two things must bee made by the naturall organs, with his knowledge, that must receiue the impression of this pleasure. For if the most exquisite meates were put into the mouth of a man that slept, hee should receiue [Page 257] no pleasure, for that hee had no feeling nor knowledge. And first of all, the goods of the minde (in the enioying whereof consist the intellec­tuall pleasures) are more no­ble and more louely then all the goods of the senses and body: whereof we haue a no­table proofe in that wee see men (yea, most abandoned to vice) depriue themselues of the sweetest pleasures of the body, to purchase glory, which is a good of the mind. So they sayd of Caesar, who in his great inclination to loue and women, renounced all his pleasures to get the ho­nor of a Triumph.

Moreouer, the power of the will, in which is made the impression of these kinde of Pleasures, being intellectu­all: [Page 258] and much more excellent then the senses which are cor­poreall, the actions which she produceth and which are followed by these Pleasures, are also more noble then those which deriue from the senses. And by consequence, the vnion which is made of spirituall obiects with the will, is farre more strict; more worthy, and more du­rable, then that which hap­pens betwixt the senses and the obiects, which they pur­sue. It is more strict, for that the senses regard onely the superficies of things, and doe not busie themselues but to consider the accidents which inuiron them: as co­lours, smelling, noyse, sweet­nesse, and the like; whereas the vnderstanding pierceth [Page 259] into the Essence and sub­stance of the obiects. It is more worthy, for that it is made without any alteration or corporeall change: where­as the obiect pleasing to the senses, cannot be vnited with them, but it will cause some kinde of change which is full of imperfection.

It is more durable, for that the obiects of the sēses are of perishable goods which soon faile, whereas the obiects of the minde are of eternall fe­licity which continues for e­uer. Yet it is true, that the obiects of the senses make a more violent impression in our soules, and that the plea­sure which we receiue, tou­cheth vs much more then that which the spirits ga­thers from the obiects which [Page 260] are pleasing vnto it. The which happens first, for that the goods of the body are borne with vs, encrease with vs, and are preserued with vs· So as handling them daily and hourely, we haue a more exact knowledge then of the goods of the vnder­standing, which are remoued from vs.

We haue said, that know­ledge is necessary for the en­ioying of pleasures: where­fore, where this knowledge hath least power, there the pleasures are least sensible. This also happens, for that we vse pleasures as remedies and cures against the crosses, troubles, and cares of this life, which are sweetned, and as it were charmed by their presence. But most men be­ing [Page 261] either indisposed, or not capable to raise themselues vp to spiritual consolations, seeke and tye themselues to pleasing obiects, which pre­sent thēselues easily to their senses. The which is fortified, for that the sweetnesse of ob­iects which delight our sen­ses, are suddainely tasted, and doe not much trouble vs to seeke them. It is an infalli­ble Maxime in Philosophy, that the obiects by their presence, make a more powerfull im­pression in our soules, then when they are absent. And those things which giue vs least paine, are most sweete in their acquisition: so as for all these considerations, the Pleasures of the body seeme vnto vs greater then those of the minde. We may say in [Page 262] a word, that those of the sen­ses are more sēsible, but these more perfect, & more excel­lent. In the mean time, all the wise men of the world ex­hort vs to set a careful guard ouer the Pleasures of the sen­ses, which they call the poy­son of the minde. For the which wee must the more carefully prouide; for that these Passions are accompa­nied with a certaine sweete­nesse which flatters vs at her first approach, and surpri­zeth our iudgement, and charmes it in such sort, as it helpes to deceiue it selfe. So as in this subiect wee must i­mitate those wise old men of Troy, who counselled Priam to send backe Hellen to the Grecians, and not suffer him­selfe to be any longer abused [Page 263] with the charms of her great beauty: for that keeping her within their City, was to en­tertaine the siege of a fatall and dangerous warre, and to nourish a fire which would consume it to ashes.

The euent did shew, that it was wisely fore-seene, and pronounced as an Oracle▪ for in the same manner wee should chase from vs the ob­iects of Pleasures, lest they be the cause of our ruine. To which purpose an Ancient said, That nature had engraf­ted no such pernicious De­sires, as those of the Pleasures of the body: for that these desires growing vnbridled, doe so enflame the courages where they get possession, as they leaue nothing vndone to content their Passion. [Page 264] Whence spring treacheries and treasons, which make men to sell their friends and countrey: from thence proceedes ruines and defo­lation of Estates, & the con­spiracies against Common weales. As it appeared in that of Catilyne, who practi­zed the ruine of Rome: from thence the murthers, violen­ces, burnings, and all the mi­series of this life, take their spring and beginning. The reason is, for that pleasures quench the Iudgement, and smother all the seedes of vertue and wisedome in man; the which they effect more powerfully, when they are most violent: as it appeares in those which are trans­ported with Loue, who are not maisters of them­selues, [Page 265] but suffer themselues to be wholy guided by their Passions: wherefore a wise­man of the world was wont to say, that he had rather fall into frenzy, then suffer him­selfe to bee surprized with Pleasures; for that, sayd hee, Physitians may cure madnes, by purging the braine with Helleborum, whereas Pleasures depriue man of his iudge­ment, without hope of reme­dy for his infirmity.

But for that there are Plea­sures not only of the mind, but of the body and senses, which are meerely innocent, as the Pleasure we receiue by Pictures, Perfumes, honest exercises, and other things which bring a chast content; it shall bee conuenient to know what the causes and [Page 266] obiects bee, to the end wee may of our selues iudge, which are lawfull, and which are interdicted, and to bee abhorred. First then, things necessary for preseruation of our nature, as drinking, and eating, are pleasing vnto man, and the which he vseth with a delight, which mode­ration and temperance make innocent. Secondly, men take a singular delight in things to the which they haue beene long framed and accustomed, for that cus­tome is as it were another nature, considering that the things whereunto wee haue bene accustomed, and where­of there is framed a long ha­bite, by continuall exercise, haue a great affinity with those of nature. Thirdly, the [Page 267] things which are conform­able to our nature and dispo­sition, are pleasing; for that they force vs not in any sort, but insinuate sweetely into our senses: Whereas on the other side, whatsoeuer brings any constraint vexeth vs, as studies, serious affaires, dispu­tations, and such like, are im­portune and troublesome; for that they constraine and force our inclinations, vnlesse that custome hath taken a­way the bitternes. Whereas their contrary please vs, as rest, sleepe, play▪ cessation from labour, sights, and such like, in which wee finde not any constraint. Fourthly, what­soeuer flatters our desires, giues vs ioy and Pleasure, for that these kinds of Cupidities, are properly the desires of [Page 268] things which we imagine are pleasing, and rauish our sen­ses: For whatsoeuer flatters our senses, and delights our imagination, causeth Pleasure and content. So euery kind of good, bee it that which is present, or past, or to come, doth giue a content by the presence or by the imaginati­on; for that it delights our senses, and is pleasing to our fancy, which is a delicate power, & easily toucht with the sweeetnesse of her obiect, how small soeuer. Where­fore they that remember the good things which they haue tasted▪ and those which they hope for in future, ha­uing these things imprinted in their fancy, feele a ioy. Whereby it appeares plaine­ly, that all Pleasure and De­light [Page 269] consists either in the feeling of things present, or in the remembrance of things past, or in the hope of those which are to come. For we taste and feele the present, we remember those that are past, and we hope for the future. And doubtlesse the things which are grauen in our me­mory please vs much, not on­ly those which were sweete in the action, but euen those which we haue tasted with some bitternesse, especially when as the paines and toiles we haue indured are ended to our profite & honor: which made an Ancientto say, that it was a sweete thing to re­member trauailes past. So souldiers glory of their dan­gers past, and relate with sin­gular content, the wounds [Page 270] they haue receiued in com­batts.

They which haue escaped dangers at Sea, or made great and desperate voyages by land, haue the same content to relate the hazards and for­tunes which they haue runne and surmounted. The rea­son of this ioy, and the cause of this content, is, for that it is a sweete thing to be freed from a mischiefe, especially when it hath giuen vs great afflictions and apprehensi­ons.

But as for that which re­gards things which depend of hope, all those things whose presence and enioying we imagine will bee pleasing or profitable, and which will cause vs no kind of discon­tent, excite Pleasure in our [Page 271] senses, be it when we remem­ber them, or when wee hope for them. So as whatsoeuer we imagine as a good which may befall vs, is pleasing vnto our thoughts: By reason whereof, (as wee will shew hereafter) we feele a content in choller, for that no man is angry, but with hope to bee reuenged, the which hee re­puts for a great good. Wherefore Homer made A­chilles to say, that choller dis­perst it selfe in a great cou­rage, more sweetely then ho­ny.

For as much then as what we remember or hope for, as a thing pleasing and sweete vnto our thoughts, excites ioy in our hearts, therefore most of the desires of men are accompanied with some Plea­sure [Page 272] and delight: For when as they remember how they haue plaied, or when as they imagine after what manner they hope to play, they feele a sensible content and a new ioy, which represents vnto them the image of the true enioying. As it happens to those which haue drunke with delight during a bur­ning Feuer, for they haue a certaine kind of ioy when as they remember to haue so drunke; or when as they pro­mise vnto themselues to drinke againe after the same manner.

So they that are tormen­ted with Loue, be it that they speake of the party beloued, bee it that they write or make verses of that subiect, they feele a wonderfull con­tent, [Page 273] for that in all those things, they conceiue that whom they loue is before their eyes, as in their thoughts.

Wherefore they hold it for a certaine signe of Loue, when as any one afflicts him­selfe for the absence of ano­ther, and when he takes Plea­sure in the teares and com­plaints of their separation. And it is certaine, that euen in cares and vexation, there is also a content in the teares and sighes wee powre forth for the absence of that wee loue.

There is doubtlesse a griefe for that we see not the party wee Loue; but there is also a sweetnesse, for that her i­mage presents it selfe vnto our thoughts, and sets before [Page 274] vs all the motions, gestures, actions, speeches, smiles, grace, sport, and whatsoeuer wee haue obserued in her when shee was truely pre­sent.

Reuenge also, as wee haue formerly toucht, is a sweete thing, the which doth well appeare by her contrary; for if wee see that wee cannot reuenge the iniury which hath beene done vs, and which hath inflamed our Choller, wee feele a wonder­full discontent: whereas wee are transported with ioy when as wee hope and see some appearance of re­uenge.

Moreouer, it doth much content, and giue a singular pleasure, not onely to the ambitious, but indifferently [Page 275] to al sorts of persons, to van­quish and surmount those, a­gainst whom they haue any contention or dispute: for in this concurrence it seemes they dispute of the excellen­cy and superiority, and that it is as it were, adiudged to him that obtaines the victo­ry: and all men liuing, bee they great, meane, or base, desire, (though some more ardently, and others with lesse Passion) to excell and surmount others. By this reason we finde there is plea­sure in sports, in which there is any cōtention, as at Chesse, Tennis, Cards, and Dice; and likewise in more serious ex­ercises where there is any dexterity to obtaine the vic­tory; as in fighting at bar­riers, running at the Ring, [Page 276] and Tilt, or such like. Wher­of some are pleasing as soone as they apply themselues vn­to them, and others growe pleasing by custome: as for example, they that giue thē ­selues to the exercise of hun­ting, although it bee some­what violent; yet they re­ceiue a singular content, for that they must fight against sauage beasts, and aspire to get the victory. And accor­ding to that which wee haue said, that victory breeds de­light, it is easie to iudge why the exercises of schooles, dis­putations among learned men, and the pleading of Lawyers at the barre, giue a content to them that im­ploy themselues: the reason is, for that in these exercises, there is also an image of vic­tory [Page 277] which presents it selfe vnto our eyes.

Glory in like manner is in the rancke of those things, which causeth delight and Pleasure; for that it consists in a certaine opinion, to be more eminent, and more ex­cellent then other men, by reason of the esteeme the world makes of vs: for eue­ry man imagines himselfe to bee such as others esteeme him; especially, if they bee men which he holds to be ful of truth. Wherein wee giue more credite to neighbours then to those which are re­mote, who can haue no exact knowledge of our merit. And wee referre more to out fel­low Citizens, to our house­hold seruants, and to our fa­miliar friends, then vnto [Page 278] strangers: yea, wee yeelde more to them that liue, then to posterity: we esteem more the iudgement of wise men, then of them that want wit; and we preferre the testimo­ny of many, before the ap­plause of some few particu­lars: for that it seemes they whom we preferre, for the a­boue mentioned reasons, are better informed of the truth, and more to bee credited in their dispositions. Where­fore wee are better satis­fied and contented, to bee in reputation with them, then with the rest of the world: for no man cares to be honored by such as are contemptible, and not regarded.

Wherefore if we hide our selues from Infants or beasts, it is not for any fear of shame [Page 279] we haue of them, seeing wee know they are without iudg­ment, and cannot dishonor vs. It is also a sweete thing to haue a friend, seeing that the very action of Loue, what obiects soeuer she propounds vnto her selfe, is wonderfully pleasing. For no man loues wine who takes not delight to drinke it. No man delights in Armes which takes no pleasure in the exercise; no man loues Philosophy which is not pleased to discourse thereof. In like manner no man loues another, but hee takes pleasure in his friend­ship.

And moreouer, it is a sweet thing to see himselfe belo­ued, for it is as it were a pre­sage, that hee is indued with qualities which makes a man [Page 280] louely, and to be esteemed by such as haue any feeling of reason. Also euery man thinks he is beloued for the loue of himselfe: The which puffes him vp, and makes him more glorious, & by consequence, fuller of content. For the same reason it is a sweete thing to excite admiration of vs in the hearts of men, for that the honor they yeeld vs, maks vs to haue a good con­ceit of our selues, which fills vs with ioy and Pleasure: In regard whereof, flatterers charme our mindes, for that these kinde of people offer themselues vnder a shew of friendship, and admirers of our vertues. Moreouer, it is a sweete thing to doe an action often that pleaseth vs, for that custome makes [Page 281] things easie vnto vs, & con­sequently pleasing.

Change is also delight­full vnto vs; for that it is as it were, an imitation of nature, which is pleased in variety, & in the diuersity of things: for that which persists al­wayes in one sort, frames an importune custome in its subiect, which continuing too long, comes to corrupt. Where [...]ore it was wisely said that alterations and changes make all things more sweete and pleasant to our senses. So as they also which come againe by interualls and re­spits, are more pleasing vnto vs: as the returne of the Spring after the sharpenesse of winter, and the arriuall of our friend after along voy­age: for that these things [Page 282] are not onely done with a change which causeth de­light, but also for that they happen rarely, and not at all times, nor in all seasons. Moreouer, it is a great con­tent to behold things which giue vs a subiect of admira­tion: for the wonder which they stirre vp in our soules, inflames vs, and makes vs de­sire to know them, and the cause of our admiration. But wee cannot learne any thing of that wee desire to know, but with extreame pleasure; seeing it is as it were, to mount vp to the highest de­gree of our nature, and to e­leuate it to her perfection: wherefore this admiration causeth ioy.

Againe, they be things full of sweetnesse and Pleasure, to [Page 283] impart and to receiue bene­fits; for that in receiuing you obtaine that which men de­sire; and by giuing, you shew your selfe to haue that which others want, and that you exceede them therein; the which we see with delight as a marke of our excellency. And as to do good is a sweet thing, it followes, that it is pleasing to ease the misery of another, to draw him out of captiuity, and to change the face of his fortune, by ma­king him happy, who was formerly miserable.

And for that any thing that breedes admiration in our soules, and giues vs any subiect to learne, is followed with pleasure: it therefore happens, that whatsoeuer consists in imitation, brings [Page 284] contentment, as painting, caruing, and Poesy, which are all professions whose ex­ercises are pleasing, although the things which they imi­tate be not alwayes delight­full. As for example, the pain­ter leaues not to please him­selfe in his Art, although he drawes the portraict of a Moore: Nor the Caruer to content himselfe in his work, althogh he cut a Chimera, or that he fashiō a monster: nor a Poet forbeares not to take delight in his verses, althogh they bee made vpon a Mush­rome, a Sparrow, a flea, or some such ridiculous subiect: for that which stirres vp plea­sure in the spirit of man, is not the obiect, which hath propounded it selfe, but the knowledge and iudgement [Page 285] hee makes to haue so well exprest this obiect, as his in­dustry approcheth neere the truth, and is a liuely Image: For that this perfect re­semblance betwixt the I­mage and the Originall, teacheth him some thing which hee knew not before; and withall, it makes him see his industry, and his la­bour, whereby he enters into admiration of his worke, and pleaseth himselfe to be­holde the perfection of his Arte.

For the same reason, the euents of things not hoped for, nor expected, and the care to bee freed from those wherein there are great dan­gers, are accompanied with ioy, for that they happen not without amazement.

[Page 286]In the meane time (for that we haue said, that what is cōformable to the inclinati­ons of nature, is pleasing) we see, that the things which are tied by any bond of Nature, & that haue any affinity one with another, as those which are of one kinde, or which haue any other naturall con­formity, are delighted in the company one of another: as Eagles loue Eagles, Lions take pleasure to bee among Lions; and men loue to see themselues among men: and for that euery thing loues that which resembles it. All men loue themselues, althogh some with more vehemency then others; and by conse­quence they commend their owne workes, they esteeme their discourses, they loue [Page 287] commonly flatterers, who praise them, they are passio­nate for glory, for their friends, and for their children who are (as wee may say) their owne workes.

And by the same reason they are pleased to finish that which they haue begunne; which is to giue perfection to the labour of their hands.

Wisedome which consists in the knowledge of many ex­cellent & admirable things, procures ioy to him that is adorned, for that it raiseth him aboue the ordinary of men, and giues him a kind of power ouer others, which man desires naturally; and for that men are naturally ambitious of honor, they take delight to shew their authority in commanding o­thers, [Page 288] and in reprehending them, they make demonstra­tion that they cannot allow of their actions.

Moreoue, rman hath a singu­lar delight to practize those things wherein he thinkes to excell; for he is neuer tired to shew his industry, & doth willingly spend dayes and nights to become more per­fect and to exceed himselfe. The which we haue seene in Apelles, Zeuxis, Protogenes, and other excellent Painters of antiquity. Finally, for that the sports and recreations of the minde are pleasing, and that wee take delight to laugh, and to spend the time Iouially, it followes that all the things which may ferue to that end, as iesters, their actions and words, giue vs [Page 289] content, and procure delight to behold them.

These in some are the ob­iects of Pleasure, which wee feele in this life; we must now see what kind of Pleasures are allowed, and which are iustly forbidden. For the explain­ing whereof, we must vnder­stand that there haue beene Philosophers, who not know­ing how to set a difference betwixt the vnderstanding and the senses, and imagining there were no other Pleasures but those of the body, haue condemned them generally as detestable and pernitious. But they had no reason for their assertion, seeing there is not any man that can liue without some kind of sensible and corporall Pleasure; see­ing the author of nature [Page 290] hath vnited this kind of Plea­sure and sweetenesse to the actions of this life, to the end wee might with more cou­rage indure the toyles and paines, and that they might bee as salt which seasoneth meate, and which makes it more pleasing to our taste. Wee must then know that Pleasure being a rest of the soule which she hath gotten by some kind of operation, there are some which being conformable to the rules of reason, and to the eternall law which God hath establi­shed among his creatures, cannot be held bad, but are meerely innocent; as those which God hath tied to the procreation of children, when as they are tasted in a lawfull marriage, such as hee [Page 291] hath ordained for the preser­uation of mankind. Yet we must confesse, that the dis­cordes of men do commonly peruert the vse, not keeping thēselues within the bounds of reason nor of the law of God; the which is visible in the excesse they commit in drinking, and eating, in wo­men, perfumes, play, dancing, and other Pleasures of the bo­dy, which are seene at this day to be no other then sub­iects of offence: whereby we may see how infamous the opinion of the Epicures was, (from the which notwith­standing many great Perso­nages did beleeue that Epicu­rus himselfe much dissented, affirming that hee made no account but of the Pleasures of the mind,) who with a vi­sible [Page 292] reproach to humaine nature, haue placed the soue­raigne good of man in the Pleasure of the senses, which notwithstanding are com­mon with bruite beasts. In like manner wee may gather what wrong they did vnto vertue, who by a notable effe­minacy, represented the i­mage of Pleasure sitting in a throne like a great Queene, which had vnder her the ver­tues, as slaues to attend her commandements.

As if a man in the course of this life, should haue no o­ther obiect in all his actions, yea in the most vertuous, then the satisfying of his Pleasures, and the content­ment of his senses. Our re­solution then is, that we must not imagine that all the Plea­sures [Page 293] of the senses are to bee reiected as pernitious, nei­ther all to bee imbraced as beames of our soueraigne good.

But as Pleasure is a rest and contentment to the soule, which enioyeth some good whereof she tastes the sweet­nesse; if it bee an absolute good without exception, the Pleasure is innocent and al­lowable to man. But if it bee a good pleasing only to the senses, and contrary to the rules of reason, and the law of God, as the Pleasures of the flesh out of a chast marriage; the effect is perni­tious, and the enioying dam­nable.

But for that we haue for­merly sayd, that Pleasures re­gard either the remembrance [Page 294] of that is past, or the enioy­ing and feeling of a present good, or the hope of a future, it shal bee fit to shew which makes the most powerfull impression in our senses, and delights vs most. We must then know that Pleasure ta­king her beginning in our soules, by the presence of a good which incounters our senses, or which vnites it selfe vnto vs by some other meanes, this presence or ima­ginary good is framed by the simple knowledge, and the only Idea which wee haue of this good, so as the obiects wherof we haue knowledge, make an impression of their formes in our soules▪ or else this presence consists in a real vnion of the good with our senses, whether that wee do [Page 293] actually enioy it, or that wee haue a certaine hope to get it.

Wherefore as the reall vnion of the obiect with the power is greater and more strict then that which is but imaginary; and as the actuall vnion is stronger then that which is but in power, wee must necessarily conclude, that the sweetest Pleasure is that which proceeds from the feeling and actuall enioy­ing of the good which is really present with our sen­ses.

But the ioy which springs from hope is greater, and the Pleasure more sweete, for that in this kind of ioy, there is an vnion b [...]twixt our soule, and the good which pleaseth vs; Not only according to [Page 296] the imagination, which re­presents vnto vs the perfecti­ons, but also with this con­dition, that the possession is in our power, for that otherwise wee could not hope for it. Wee put in the last rancke the Pleasure wee feele of good things which are past as the least of all, for that those good things not being vnited to our senses, but by the imagi­nation and memory, which is the weakest vnion that can bee betwixt our senses and the obiects which de­light them; the ioy which we receiue must also be lesse sensible.

Of the effects of Pleasure. CHAP. 2.

THe effects which arise from the Pleasure we con­ceiue of the ob­iects which are delightfull to our sense, may be better vnderstood by ex­perience, then expounded by words. Fi [...]st of all, there is not any man which doth not feele in the midst of the ioy which hee receiues, his heart to dilate it selfe and as it were open with gladnesse, from whence it sends the signes & tokens to the coun­tenance, by the laughter whic [...] [...]t [...]irres vp in the [Page 298] mouth, where it causeth a visible change. They that are tender hearted, are apt to receiue the impressions of ioy and heauines, like vnto soft wax, wherein they do easily imprint the formes which are laid vpon them. They that haue them firme and hot by reason of the heate, conceiue ioy easily, & by reason of their constancy preserue it longer.

Whereas contrariwise they that haue it cold and hard, are capable of heauinesse & melancholly, which makes an impression easily, by rea­son of the coldnesse, with the which she hath an affinity, & maintaines it selfe long by reason of the hardnesse, as we see happen vnto melancholy men. For sadnesse is an earth­ly [Page 299] Passion cold and dry, whereas ioy is moist and hot. And therefore it is easily framed in the hearts of children, of young men, and of those which are of a good com­plexion: from this ioy which makes the heart to spread and dilate it selfe like vnto a flower, growes laughter, which is no Passion, but an exterior effect of an interior Passion.

For the sweetnesse of Plea­sure, makes the heart to moue and open to receiue the forme, euen as when wee go to meete a friend, and open our armes when he presents himselfe vnto vs. And this his motion and interior ioy ascends vp vnto the counte­nance, but it appeares chiefe­ly in the opening of the [Page 300] mouth, whereas laughter is framed, and hath his seate, & from thence disperseth it self to the eyes and the rest of the face, although that some hold it hath his seate within man, and about his heart. But to take away all kind of difficulty, wee must vnder­stand that sometimes laugh­ter comes meerely from a corporall motion, as that which proceeds from the tickling of the arme holes, so as there haue bin seene sword players die laughing, for that they haue beene woun­ded in that place.

Sometimes it riseth from indignation and despight, which we haue conceiued of any thing we behold vnwil­lingly; as we reade of Han­n [...]bal, who seeing the Cartha­ginians [Page 301] lament their estates, for that the Romaines were maisters of their fortunes, be­ganne to laugh [...] whereat one being amaz [...]d, said vnto him, that it was an act of great inhumanity to laugh at the teares of his fellow Citizens; to whom he answered, that this laughter was no signe of his ioy, but a token of his despight, for that he scorned the fruitlesse teares of those, who lamented rather their particular losse, then the mi­sery of their common weale. But when it is an effect of our passion, and a signe of plea­sure which our heart recei­ueth from pleasing obiects, which present themselues vnto our senses: it comes from a quicke and suddaine motion of the soule, which [Page 302] desiring to expresse her ioy, excites a great abundance of hot blood, and multiplies the vitall spirits, which agitate and stir vp the muscles which are about the heart, & those raise vp the muscles which are of either side of the mouth, which vpon this oc­casion opens with a visible change of the whole forme of the face. But it riseth from the pleasure and ioy which our soule conceiueth, by rea­son of the pleasing obiects which present themselues vnto our sense.

It is certaine that as new things and not expected, prouoke most ioy in our hearts, so they stirre vs vp sooner to laughter. For proof whereof, hauing once accu­stomed our selues to see spec­tacles [Page 303] and sights, how plea­sing soeuer they be, they doe not moue vs to laugh, as they did when wee first behelde them. And in like manner profound cogitations and meditations, hinder laugh­ter: wherefore wise men doe not laugh so easily as o­thers, as well for that they haue alwayes their spirits busied and imployed about some serious meditations, which will not suffer them to regard such triuiall things as commonly make the Vul­gar to laugh: As also for that the great knowledge they haue of things, hinders them from esteeming many of those things newe or strange, which the common sort admire. And withall, their complexion do [...]h con­tribute [Page 304] thereunto: for that most commonly it inclines to melancholy, which makes them pensiue, and more dif­ficult to moue to ioy.

The reason why many things please at the first ap­proach, and afterwards lose this grace by custome and continuance, proceedes from nothing else, but that at the first sight our thought is [...]ied vnto it with a certaine vehe­mency, which yeelding by little and little, makes the pleasure decay. The which is not onely seene in the ob­iects of the sight, whereof our eyes growing weary by little, begin to slacke in their acti­on, and to become more neg­ligent in beholding them; but also in the obiects of all the other senses, wherewith [Page 305] our soule is loathed in the end after too long a continu­ance. The reason is, for that as in the action of the eyes, the vitall spirits consume by the vehemency of the atten­tion: so in all other operati­ons of the senses, the disposi­tion of the Organs alter, and are changed by the motion, and by the impression which the obiects that vnite them­selues vnto our senses, make: so as it is impossible that the creature should long enioy one kinde of pleasure, or suf­fer the same griefe.

And moreouer, as we haue sayd before, that diuersity, as an Image of the changes of Nature, is pleasing; hath also a place in this subiect: for that men are weary alwayes to enioy the same pleasures, [Page 306] and see the same obiects. Wherefore the continuance causeth distaste, how sweete soeuer the possession be. And therefore Lucian brings in a man, who beeing made a god, was weary of his diui­nity, and desired to dye, that he might bee no more: and his reason was, that the life of men did not seeme tedi­ous vnto him, but onely for that hee still beheld the same things, one Sunne, one, and the same Moone; the same Starres, the same meates, and the same Pleasures, which change not their face: wher­fore, sayd he, tasting nothing but the same thing in this Diuinity where I am, I am weary, and thereupon would needes dye to change. More­ouer, there are men who are [Page 307] wonderfull sensible of ioy, which bee they to whom all things seem new, as children, and the ignorant multitude, whom any sights prouoke to laugh: whereas wise men are nothing mooued. The complexion doth also helpe much to ioy, as they which abound in blood, and haue it not cholericke and adust, but pure and sweete, are Iouiall by nature, and loue to laugh. Whereas mellan­choly men are hardly moo­ued to ioy.

The delight or pleasure which wee conceiue of the obiects, which are agreeable vnto vs, doth vsually stirre vp in vs an ardent desire, and as it were, a thirst of a new, or a more full enioying. The which proceedes either from [Page 308] the condition of the thing which is not capable to sa­tisfie our desire at one in­stant.

As we see in drinking and eating, to which we must re­turne diuerse times to enter­taine life: Or from the im­perfection of enioying, as they which haue but tasted the first sweetnes of friend­ship, desire to haue a fuller content: Like vnto those which loue Poësie, who ha­uing heard a peece of a good­ly verse, such as Vergil wrote, wish to heare the rest to make their pleasure perfect; Or else it growes from the nature it selfe of Pleasure, which is so sweete as it in­flames the soule to desire the continuance: The which is seldome seene in the pleasures [Page 309] of the senses and of the body, but which is felt with infinite delight by those which drink of that torrent of Pleasure, which the Scripture des­cribes vnto vs in heauen; for they drinke eternally, and are neuer satisfied.

We must also remember, that there is great difference betwixt the Pleasures of the senses, and of the minde; for the delights of the senses charging and as it were im­portuning our naturall dis­positions, becomes trouble­some and tedious; as it falls out when we suffer our selues to be surprized with the ex­cesse of eating and drinking. Whereas those of the mind neuer exceed the carriage nor capacity of the naturall dis­position of the soule, but ra­ther [Page 310] adde perfectiō to her na­ture: wherefore when they are fully enioyed they delight most. And if there be at any time a distaste, it is for that the actiō of the mind is accō ­panied with the action of the inferior powers, the which be­ing corporeall, they are tired with the cōtinuance of so long an imployment. Wherefore they call backe the spirit that it may giue some rest vnto the body. And doubtlesse it is the onely reason why those happy soules are neuer weary to behold the diuine Essence, for that the contemplation of this pleasing obiect doth not ouercharge nor weaken the spirits, but doth ease and fortifie them. And moreouer, she doth not worke by the meanes of the senses, and cor­poreall [Page 311] Organs, which are subiect to grow slack in their actions.

I might adde, that this happy contemplation of the diuine Essence, is alwayes ac­companied with new sub­iects of admiration, in regard wherof, it can neuer be trou­blesome: and moreouer, al­though the obiect bee soue­raignely simple, yet it com­prehends all the good things which may fall into the thought or desire of man, so as it can neuer cause any distaste: But this belongs vnto another discourse.

The pleasure of the sen­ses produceth a pernicious and dangerous effect in vs; it binds our reason and takes away the vse, the which hap­pens by three occasions. The [Page 312] first, for that imploying the soule wholly in the feeling and enioying of the sweete­nesse which doth accompa­ny it, she retires it from the consideration of all spirituall goodnesse, and makes it lesse capable of reason, in regard of the heate of the passion which doth agitate it. Se­condly, for that most part of the pleasures of the body, at the least when they tend to excesse and disorder, are con­trary to the motions of rea­son. And it is an vndoubted truth, That one contrary doth alwayes expell and de­stroy another; wherefore pleasure yeeldes no place to the motions of Reason. The which made Aristotle to say, that although that pleasure corrupts not the Theory and [Page 313] simple knowledge wee haue of things; as for example, she doth not hinder vs from knowing, that a Triangle hath three corners, and that the whole is bigger then its parts distinctly comprized; yet shee depraues the iudge­ment, and hinders the e­steeme wee should make by the lawes of wisedome, of that which is good: For that although we know well that temperance is a vertue, yet we flie it, for that it is cōtrary to the pleasures of our senses, which suffers vs not to e­steeme it as we ought. The third is for that the pleasures of the senses cause a greater and a more violent alterati­on and change in our bodies, then that of the other Passi­ons.

[Page 314]The reason is, for that wee imbrace with more vehe­mency, and tie our selues more strictly to the obiects which please vs, when they are present, then when they are absent. These changes and sensible alterations in the body, cause trouble to the soule: As it appeares in those which are surprized with wine, in whose actions there is no shew of reason; the excesse of wine hauing altered their braine, and made them incapable of the functions of the mind. But honest and moderate Plea­sure, addes perfection to her actions, as beauty and a good grace giues the last orna­ment to youth; aswell for that she is the end and scope which wee propound vnto [Page 315] our selues when we meane to worke: as also for that shee makes her actions agreeable by the content she ingrafts in our senses: So as to enter­taine this Pleasure shee cau­seth vs to imploy our selues with more heate and atten­tion to accomplish them. Wherefore an Ancient sayd, that nature had ioyned Plea­sure to actions necessary for the entertainment of the life of creatures, or for the preseruation of their kinds, as eating, drinking, and gene­ration, to the end it might bee as salt which seasoneth meate: That is to say, to the end it might make those acti­ons delightfull, and that the creatures might not bee drawne vnto them with dis­taste. And touching that [Page 316] which concernes the allure­ments and inticements of honest Pleasures, we must still remember the wise counsell of Aristotle, who perswades vs not to obserue them at their first approach, but at their parting; for that al­though the entry bee sweete and pleasant, the end is al­wayes bitter and tragicall. They say that among the Pagans there was a Temple of Diana, whose image did shew a sadde and seuere counte­nance to those that entred to worship it, but at their de­parture it seemed more pleasant and smiling: But it is contrary in Pleasures, for at their first approach they pre­sent nothing but roses and sweete contents; and in the end they leaue vs nothing [Page 317] but thornes and importune griefes; especially for that they diuert vs from the soue­raigne Good, and from the loue of spirituall delights, without the which our soules can finde no solide nor soue­raigne content.

Of Griefe and Heauinesse. CHAP. 1.

AS among all creatures there is not any one exposed vnto so many outrages of Fortune as man, whom we may rightly tearme an image of misery and weaknes▪ So it is most certaine, that there is not any Passion wherewith hee is more afflicted in this [Page 318] life, then with Griefe and Sor­row, whose obiects present themselues continually to his sense and mind. Where­fore although that by the light which we finde in con­trary things when they are opposed, and compared one with another, we may iudge of the condition of Griefe and Sorrow, by that which we haue spoken of Pleasure and Delight; yet for a more ample knowledge of a thing which is so common vnto vs, it shall be fit to treate more ex­actly vpon this subiect. Griefe then is a violent Passion of the Soule, entertained by some sen­sible discontent: Or else, Griefe is a torment of the mind and bo­dy: Or againe, Griefe is a Passi­on of the mind afflicted by some kind of euill which presents it [Page 319] selfe: Or to describe it more particularly; Griefe is a Passion of the Soule, which riseth from a discontent she receiueth from obiects contrary to her inclina­tions, which present themselues vnto the senses, and afflict them.

But wee must obserue that there are two kinds of Griefe: The one which re­sides in the sensuall Appetite; and the other hath his seate in the rationall. This last which afflicts the minde, is properly called heauines, and differs from the other, for that a sensible Griefe is al­wayes accompanied with a visible alteration and change of the body which is moued; whereas the Griefe of the mind hath not alwayes an a­gitation of the body, but [Page 320] most commonly containes it selfe within the bounds of the power where it is fra­med; in regard whereof it is sometimes attributed to God and the Angells. These two kinds of Griefe differ al­so one from another, for that the cause of the sensible Griefe resides in the body, which suffers some violent impression that alters it. But the cause of the intellectuall Griefe resides in the rationall part and in the mind, which represents vnto it selfe the euill which she receiues from the obiects which present themselues vnto her thought. They differ againe, for that the apprehension and know­ledge which the exterior sen­ses haue of things, they do only regard the present ob­iects [Page 321] which make an actuall impression in them; but the vnderstanding not only con­ceiues things present, but e­uen those that are past, and which may happen, or fall vnder the imagination of man. Hence it comes that corporeall Griefe which fol­loweth the apprehension, which present things make in the senses, growes onely from the presence of obiects contrary to their inclinati­ons.

Whereas the Griefe of the mind following the know­ledge of the vnderstanding, may grow from obiects that are present, past, or to come, and from those which man doth presuppose may suc­ceed vnto him. So as the noblest powers of our soule, [Page 322] and those which are the richest ornaments of our na­ture, as the vnderstanding, imagination, and memory, helpe to increase our paines, and to augment our afflicti­ons: As if the presence of heauen which giues vs some prerogatiue ouer beastes, should make vs more mise­rable. For the most sauage beastes flie dangers, when as they present themselues vnto their eyes: But being esca­ped they remaine quiet and assured; whereas we not only torment our selues▪ for the e­uill which doth oppresse vs; but euen for which is not yet happened.

But you must vnderstand that to speake properly, Griefe which is one of the Passions of the soule, is that [Page 323] which is framed in the sensi­tiue appetite, with a visible al­teration of the body, which is agitated and moued exte­riorly by the euill or paine which it suffers: So as the cause doth reside in the body which receiues some kind of outrage. But the motion of Griefe is alwayes framed in the soule, for that the body is not capable but by the presence of the soule. Wee must also remember, that as to excite Pleasure in our senses, the pleasing obiect must not only be vnited, but also knowne and perceiued by the senses, as we haue for­merly obserued; so to cause Griefe, the afflicting obiect must touch our senses, so as by the imp [...]ssion it makes, th [...]y must p [...]rc [...]iue: at it [...] paine­full. [Page 324] For it is certaine that as there is no good but that which is sensibly present, can cause Pleasure to the senses, so there is not any but a present euill can procure a sensible Griefe. But vnder the obiect of Griefe we comprehend not only the euill which afflicts vs, but also the good which we haue lost. For euen as the weight of bodies causeth that not only they haue an inclination to rest in the cen­ter▪ but also is the cause that they are neuer farre remote without suffering a visible vi­olence in their nature: So men are naturally carried not only to Loue, but with a sensi­ble Griefe of their losse. So the couetous man torments himselfe for the losse of his wealth; The voluptuous is [Page 325] grieued to see an end of the obiects of his content; The mother afflicts her selfe for her only son▪ & we see many who after good cheare, great feasts, and dancings, hauing spent the time in all kind of Pleasures, suddenly grow heauy and pensiue; and yet can giue no reason of this sudden change, which proceeds only from the dis­quietnesse of our minds, which grieues at content­ments past, and afflicts it selfe, the which makes him heauy; and this heauinesse conuerts into melancholy, which augments his anguish, and torments him without any other forme of euill, that presents it selfe vnto his sen­ses. As for the causes of griefe and Heauinesse, being consi­sidered [Page 326] in regard of their subiects where they incoun­ter, we obserue three. For first of all, our Cupidities and Desires, do many times cause great vexation and discon­tents, as when any one is surprized with the Loue of a pleasing obiect, if they hin­der the enioying, or but only delay the possession, they are so many thornes of Griefe which pierce his soule. For as the hope to obtaine the possession causeth Pleasure and Delight; so the despaire to attaine vnto that we passio­natly desire, giues cruell af­flictions and insupportable torments.

Moreouer, the Loue wee beare to the preseruation of our bei [...]g, doth oftentimes cause sorrow and [...], [Page 327] for that we apprehend the de­struction; euen as wee see all creatures afflict thēselues for that which offends them, and are very carefull to shelter their bodies from all out­rage. Wherefore wee may say, that Griefe is no other thing, but an apprehension and feeling of the destruction of our good, which makes vs impatient. Thirdly, the soule helpes to afflict herselfe, whether that melancholy workes this ef­fect, or that the continuall af­flictions oppresse her in such sort, as she doth nothing but sigh vnder the burthen of sor­row, and like vnto a bad Pilot which abandons his ship to the waues and storme, shee suffers her selfe to be so ouer­come with Griefe, as she aug­ments her owne paine and in­creaseth [Page 328] her misery. For we often see men who in the middest of their afflictions and discontents do nothing but sigh and powre forth teares, and will not yeeld themselues capable of any kind of consolation. But al­though wee shew our selues more sensible of the Griefe of the senses, then that of the mind, yet it is most certaine, that the interior Griefes which afflict the soule, are much greater then the exte­rior paines which torture the body. For that the appre­hension of the mind and ima­gination, is much more pow­erfull, and more noble then that of the senses, and especi­ally then that of feeling which hath the greatest share in corporeall paines. For [Page 329] proofe whereof, wee see great courages to auoyd inferior Griefe, expose themselues vo­luntarily to the exterior paines of torments and pu­nishments, which are in some sort pleasing vnto them, for that the interior ioy doth mollifie their paine: Where­of wee haue glorious exam­ples in the constancy of our Martyres, who to auoyd the blame and aspersion which had bene layd vpon them, to haue offended God in bur­ning incense to Idolls, haue exposed themselues to the fire, to tortures, to wheeles, and to the rage of wilde beasts, for that they would not bee subiect to that igno­minious reproach.

Finally, heauines hath troublesome effects, for that [Page 330] first of all, if it be excessiue, it quencheth the spirit, and takes from it all meanes to attend the search of truth. The reason is, for that all the powers of our soule, being ti­ed vnto their essence, as the branches vnto the tree, it doth of necessity follow, that when shee is wholy busied in the functions of one of her powers, shee abandons the rest, and cannot assist them in their actions.

Wherefore when as any thing drawes the soule who­ly vnto it, and imployes her whole action, shee cannot attend any thing else: by con­sequence whereof, an excee­ding heauines seazing vpon her, it drawes her away; so as shee cannot thinke of any thing else, feeling her selfe [Page 331] opprest with Griefe as with a heauy burthen, which beares her downe and hinders the liberty of her functions. It is therefore generally true, that there is no action of the soule whereunto heauines is not a hindrance and let. The which we find verified in our selues, for wee neuer do any thing so well being possest by cares as when we are in ioy; whereof the reason is visible; for that the will is the cause which excites vs to act, the which hath the good for ob­iect, and makes the more powerfull effect, when it ap­peares pleasing and is ac­companied with delight. It is true, that when there re­maines any hope to sur­mount the causes of our dis­pleasure, then heauines may [Page 332] serue to fortifie our action and to inflame our courage; for that the more we feele a­ny Griefe, the more wee striue to bee freed from it. But if there be no hope remaining, we become as it were sense­lesse, and abandon our selues in prey to Griefe.

We flee the company of men, we hate the light, wee find the comforts and conso­lations of our friends impor­tune, and we haue no content but to feed our selues with bitternesse. Besides the tor­ments which heauines giues vnto our spirits, she doth al­so produce fearefull effects vpon our bodies; for that it is a maligne, colde and dry Passion, which wasteth the radicall humor, and by little and little quenching the na­turall [Page 333] heate of the body, thrusts her poyson euen vnto the heart, whose vigor shee causeth to wither, and con­sumes the forces by her bad influence; whereof wee see the signes after death, when as they come to open those that haue beene smothered with melancholy. For in­steed of a heart, they find no­thing but a drie skinne like to the leaues in Autumne. So as all things exactly conside­red, we may say, that there is not any thing that doth so much aduance our dayes as this cruell Passion, which thus consumes our forces, causeth our heart to languish, and makes our life short, but ex­treamely miserable.

There are many remedies against this Passion, but most [Page 334] commonly the Griefe is so obstinate, as all applications are vnprofitable. To cure it, we must first take away, or at the least diminish the opini­on of the euill which afflicts vs: the which is easie to do, seeing it depends of our opi­nion.

For as dignities, honors, crownes, and triumphs, giue vs no content, but what wee take our selues when as they arriue; for that we haue seene many weepe euen in the middest of all this pompe: so the paines of this life, igno­minies, banishment, the losse of goods and kinsfolkes, with all other miseries, afflict vs not extraordinarily, vnlesse wee our selues make them more bitter and violent by our owne weaknesse; for that [Page 335] we haue seene many laugh in the middest of all these mise­ries: wee must then represent these things otherwise then the Vulgar esteeme them; for that the true cure of the euill must not bee expected from time, but by our reason, which must preuent it. Other­wise wee shall receiue this disgrace, that it will cause vs to do that we would not, al­though it were in our power. For there is no Griefe so bit­ter but time doth moderate, seeing that, as wee haue sayd, the greatest pleasures de­crease by too long enioying, which causeth our soule to grow slacke; so it is most cer­taine that excessiue sorrow by little and little decayes, by the continuance and cus­tome which the soule takes [Page 336] of the Griefe. The which may also happen, for that time doth change the condi­tion of things and giues them another face, and so doth mollifie or wholy take away the sorrow.

But not to yeeld to the e­uill when it comes to seaze vpon vs, we must foresee the accidents of this life, not as if they should happen infal­libly, for that were to make vs miserable before the time; but as incident to all men, and that being of this num­ber, if any crosse or misery shall fall vpon vs, we may bee the lesse amazed. For the crosses of Fortune which wee haue foreseene, strike vs more gently, and make a weaker impression in our soule. Wherefore a wiseman of the [Page 337] world, who had prepared himselfe for all the accidents of this life, receiuing the heauy newes of the death of his sonne, was no otherwise moued, but only sayd, I knew I had begotten a mortall crea­ture. Doubtlesse it is the effect of an exact and singu­lar wisedome, to haue this feeling of humaine acci­dents, not to bee amazed at that which happens, nor to see any thing befall him, which he hath not foreseene. So as a wiseman must alwaies remember, that dangers, losses, banishment, infirmi­ties, yea the death of his chil­dren, wife, and that which he holds most deare, are things which may happen dayly, and which threaten all men; and therefore if hee bee ex­empt, [Page 338] it is the benefite and guift of God; and if they be­fall him, that they are the mi­series of his nature. For ha­uing this consideration of the common miseries of men, he finds himselfe bound [...]o suffer constantly and with patience, the necessities and crosses of this life: Least he should seeme to fight against God, who hath layd this yoake vpon him, to punish his offences, or to keepe him in awe.

But to mollifie our sor­rowes, wee must remember that the miseries of this life giue vs a glorious subiect to exercise our vertue, and to shew our constancy before the eyes of heauen and earth, which are witnesses of our combatts. For as Pilots can­not [Page 339] shew their art and indu­stry but in stormes, nor sol­diers giue proofes of their valour but in the middest of dangers: So a vertuous man hath no meanes to make his vertues shine, but amiddest the aduersities which befall him in this life; as for exam­ple, wee should haue knowne nothing of the great resolu­tion of Sceuola, if hee had not fallen into danger before the King of the Tuscanes, who was rauisht with admiration, seeing with what constancy he burnt his own hand, & suf­fered without amazement the violence of the fire, into the which hee thrust it, for that he had fa [...]ld of his enter­prize. Neither should wee know the notable tempe­rāce of Fabrititus, nor the mo­deration [Page 340] he shewed in refu­sing the gold and presents of Pyrrhus King of Albania, if pouerty had not bene famili­ar vnto him. So Regulus be­ing pierced with nailes, and torne in pieces with punish­ments, seruing as a spectacle of the Carthiginians in huma­nity, purchased an immor­tall name for his constancy. So Socrates seeing himselfe condemned to drinke poy­son, and beholding the cup into the which the hangman powred that mortal draught without any palenesse or a­mazemēt, deserued to be ad­mired by his enemies. After their example, then a wise­man will conceiue, that the afflictions of this life offer him a goodly occasion to shew his constancy, and to [Page 341] make his vertues shine; and therefore they shall not be a­ble to afflict him immoderat­ly, nor to torture his minde extraordinarily: But that which should most fortifie him in this thought, is, that God which doth cast him in­to the middest of these com­batts, will crowne his con­stancy, and not suffer him to remaine without reward. Moreouer, we may also striue to diuert it by some pleasing imployment, which may cause vs to turne our eyes from the fearefull image of the euill which afflicts vs, re­presenting vnto our selues obiects which are more sweet and delightfull, then those which torture vs so cruelly.

Finally, to draw together as it were into one body, all [Page 342] the meanes wee haue to charme our cares & griefes; heauines is disperst, ether for that wee see our selues freed from the euill which did per­secute vs, or that wee reco­uer the possession of the good which had beene wrested from vs, and wee had lost: or else for that the misery wherewith wee haue beene crost, is as it were recompen­ced by some other felicities which befall vs; as the sweet­nesse of these last contents, takes away all the bitternesse of our forepassed afflictions, as would befall him that should be drawne out of pri­son and from bonds, to bee set in a royall throne, and to haue a scepter put into his hand, and a crowne vpon his head.

[Page 343] Griefe is also dispersed by diuertisments, by affaires, by the entertainment of wise­men, by the discourse of such as are learned and feare God, and by the force of our owne iudgement, conceiuing with our selues that we should not suffer any misery to triumph ouer our constancy; that to suffer our selues to bee van­quished by Griefe, were to shew the weaknesse of our courrage; and that to bee toucht with afflictions, is a thing common to all men, but the glory of this constant oppositiō ▪ belongs only to an eminent vertue. And lastly, that he who sends vs these af­flictions, is a Father, and no executioner: That it is that great God, without whose decree there falls not a haire [Page 344] from our heads, & whose will no man may contradict, vn­lesse hee will shew himselfe desperately mad. After all this we must remember, that Griefe is neuer cured, but ra­ther inflamed by Griefe. And therefore as in other infirmi­ties of the soule, a greater e­uill makes the lesse to be for­gotten, so wee may disperse a present heauinesse, either by shewing that it is not the present misery which we must lament, but others that are more cruell, which threaten vs: As if hee who is afflicted for the losse of his goods bee in danger to lose his life, by publicke iustice: Or else in fortifying our resolutions with a better hope, as in re­presenting vnto himselfe the glory of paradise, after the [Page 345] miseries of this life, and the crownes of heauen after the combatts of the earth. All these things make great im­pressions in religious soules, capable of the feeling of pie­ty.

Besides all this, there are remedies which are taken from the obiects of the sen­ses, which recreate the mind and body in the middest of Griefe. For first, whatsoeuer delights and giues ioy vnto the senses, causeth ease to the heauinesse of the soule; for that ioy is to the soule that which rest is to the body. So as they which rest repaire their forces, mollifying the paine which hath tyred thē; so they which begin to taste any sweete pleasures, feele their Griefe to decay by [Page 346] little and little, and their hea­uinesse to vanish away & go to smoake. Wherefore it is fit to draw them that are af­flicted, into the fields, to en­ioy a free aire and the sight of heauen.

It is good to shew them haruest, riuers, meadows, and hills; for that these diuerse obiects diuert the afflicted soule, and make it forget a part of its Griefe, so as all hi­deous shapes are defaced by the presence of these sweeter obiects. Some haue thought that musique consorts and instruments, are fit to charme our melancholies, whereunto they referre that which the Scripture sayth, that Dauid by the sound of his harpe did pacifie the euill spirit which tormented Saule, but experi­ence [Page 347] hath taught vs, that all these things do many times rather entertaine melancho­ly then disperse it. Where­fore in this subiect wee must obserue the nature of the in­firmity, and the quality of the musique, which must be cheerefull to driue away hea­uinesse.

The vse of wine hath also a particular vertue to expell cares: And we haue seene in our time a great Prince des­perately afflicted for the death of his only sonne, could finde no other remedy for his Griefe, then to vse the strongest wine that could be gotten. The reason is, for that wine being moist and hot, it doth at one instant both water sweetly, and heat that bilious humor, which is [Page 348] as it were the center & roote whereunto melancholy doth fixe it selfe. Sleepe also and the vse of Bathes, are very be­hoouefull; for that both the one and the other reduce na­ture to her first habite, and restore her good constituti­on which Griefe had corrup­ted; the which disperseth hea­uinesse, and causeth ioy to enter into the afflicted soule.

Teares are also proper to disperse heauinesse: yea wee finde many times in our bit­terest griefes, that teares di­minish our paine, and molli­fie our miseries how sharpe soeuer.

The which happens for two reasons. The first, for that the things which are pernitious vnto vs and re­maine inclosed within vs, [Page 349] hurt vs more then when they are without: But when wee powre forth teares, we cast out that which afflicts vs, & emptying the humor which oppresseth vs, and smothers vs within, by this meanes we free our selues from a heauy burthen which lay vpon our hearts, by reason whereof our soule helping her selfe to cast out the enemy of our life di­uerts and frees her selfe from the importune thought of Griefe, and imployes her ima­ginatiō in this diuertisement, the which for this occasion is pleasing vnto her, and doth ease her in her afflictions.

The second reason is, for that it is a contentment to man, to do an act befitting the estate wherein hee finds himselfe. So as if amiddest [Page 350] the mourning of our friends, we chance to laugh vnadui­sedly, when wee enter into consideration with ourselues, this lightnesse doth displease vs, for that laughter agrees not well with mourning; and there is nothing doth accord and concurre better with the condition of miserable men thē teares, wherefore they are pleasing vnto them, and by consequence sweeten their torments.

And not onely the teares which afflicted persons poure forth are sweete vnto thē, but euen those of their friends do comfort them: whereof wee may yeeld two reasons, the one, for that naturally they who grone vnder any burthē, feele his hand sweete, which labours to discharge them, or [Page 351] which helpe to support them. So friends from whom pitty and compassion wrest teares in the middest of their friends misery, endeauoring as it were to ease him of the bur­then which doth presse him downe, sweeten his paine, and make him endure his afflicti­on with more constancy and resolution. The other, for that he that sees his friends participate with his Griefe, knowes thereby that their af­fections are sound, and that they loue him sincerely; which is the sweetest thing that may happen in this life: wherfore this thought makes his affliction more support­able; whereby hee comforts himselfe in his discontent.

But all these remedies are not so powerfull against [Page 352] Griefe, as the contemplation of the first truth, which dis­persing her beames in our soules, fills them with so plea­sing a splendour, as they re­maine rauisht with ioy and content. For it is certaine that this kind of contemplation is so sweete and delightfull of it selfe, as it expells and disper­seth all his cares and Griefe that applies himselfe vnto it. The which shee workes the more powerfully, if the soule be enflamed with the loue of true wisedom, which consists in the contemplation of the first cause, which is God. So as the soule reioyceth in the middest of the afflictions of this life, thinking still of the sweete Idea's of the glory of heauen.

In regard whereof some [Page 353] Martyres haue giuen a thou­sand testimonies of ioy in the midst of their torments: And some marching bare­footed vpon burning coales, haue protested constantly and truely, that they thought they trod vpon Roses. But we haue spoken sufficiently of Griefe in generall, let vs now come vnto the buddes which she produceth, and to the species in particular, which are contayned vnder the generall, as miserie, in­dignation, enuy, and emula­tion, without the explayning whereof this treaty would be imperfect.

Of Mercy and Indig­nation. CHAP. 2.

ALthough there bee some Philo­sophers who ob­seruing the im­pression and wound which the pitty wee haue of another mans mise­ries makes in our hearts, haue absolutely condemned al the motions of this Passion, as vnworthy the greatnesse of our courrages: Yet we must confesse, that amidst so ma­ny strange accidents which happen in the course of this life, amiddest the great po­u [...]rties and miseries of men, [Page 355] the cruel infirmities, banish­ments, tortures, punish­ments, shipwracks, burnings, slaughters, and all other calamities aswell priuate as publicke which makes them miserable; they must haue abandoned all feeling of hu­manity if they should not be toucht with Griefe when as these miseries offer thēselues vnto their eyes. For notwith­standing the saying of these Philosophers, that great spirits in the which vertue hath ta­ken deepe roote, see all things without perturbati­on, and wipe away the teares of those that weepe without any motion: that is to say, that men perfectly vertuous giue almes to the poore, stretch forth their hands vn­to him that is in danger of [Page 356] shipwracke, vntie the bonds of those that are in seruitude, giue liberty to a sonne for the teares of his mother, in­terre the bloody carcasse of him who hath bene transpier­ced with wounds, and yet his heart is not toucht with any feeling of all these mise­ries; yea and in these acci­dents they retaine still the same countenance with the which they behold playes & shewes vpon a theater. These are words which haue more shew and pompe then solide truth. Let vs then leaue this inhumaine Philosophy which makes men rather stupid then constant, & to become insensible of the miseries of this life; and let vs consider more exactly of the true na­ture of this Passion, which [Page 357] giues vs a commendable fee­ling.

Mercy is a Griefe or feeling which we haue of another mans miseries, whom we hold worthy of a better fortune. This fee­ling and Griefe is framed in our soules, for that we consi­der, that what hath befallen him may happen to all the world: And particularly for that wee imagine that the like misfortune may ouer­take vs, or some one of our friends: for it is most certaine that such as feele their hearts toucht with pitty, must bee in that estate as they thinke that either themselues or their friends may fall into the like accident, and runne into the same misfortune that he hath done, whose mi­sery doth moue them to [Page 358] this commiseration. Where­fore first of all, they that are at the height of humaine mi­series, and cannot feare a more wretched condition then that whereunto they are reduced, are neuer toucht with any kind of compassion, for that no kinde of Griefe presents it selfe vnto their eies but they think they haue tried it. And also for that they imagine that all the af­flictions which may happen, are as it were mixed with those they suffer. Secondly, they that at the height of worldly felicity, haue no fee­ling of pitty, but are rather transported with insolency and contempt, then to haue any compassion of the mise­rable. For imagining them­selues to enioy all kind of [Page 359] ioyes & contentments, they presume that no disaster can befall them which may ouerthrow their fortunes, for that this confidence is as a part of their felicity.

This second consideration made Aristotle to say, that Mercy had no place in the diuine Essence; for that it is soueraignely happy, and that nothing is able to trouble or diminish her felicity. But here he considers Mercy as a sensi­ble Passion which doth moue and mollifie the heart, and doth imprint a feeling of a­nother mans misery in his soule which desires to releeue him. And of this sort with­out doubt there can bee no Mercy found in God, who is as free from Humaine Passi­ons, as the heauens and plan­nets [Page 360] are exempt from the qualities and impressions of the Elements: but taking Mercy according to her ef­fect, which is to releeue the miserable, were to ruine man­kind which subsists by his bounty, to deny that it is in him: For this soueraigne fe­licity which hee enioyeth from all eternity, without a­ny apprehension that he may euer lose it, doth not hin­der him to releeue vs in our afflictions, & to draw vs out of our misery, by the sole in­clination of his bounty, who hath nothing common with the hardnesse of Tyrants, nor with the stupidity of the wretched. But let vs returne to our discourse.

They that are capable of Mercy, are such as first of all [Page 361] imagine themselues to bee subiect to the accidents of this life, and who haue alrea­dy tried and escaped them, or which apprehend to feele the rigor. And for this rea­son they which haue liued long are commonly inclined to pitty, both for that expe­rience hath taught them that neither Diademe nor Crowne, nor riches, honors, health, nor present prosperi­ties, can shelter man from the stormes and tempests which assaile his life; as also for that age filles them with iudgement and makes them wise, not to trust to fortune, which seemes to haue no o­ther constancy, but alwayes inconstant in the fauours which she bestowes vpon vs. In like manner men subiect [Page 362] to infirmities, weake persons and destitute of meanes, who see themselues exposed to all kinds of outrages; yea and learned men who haue the knowledge of the accidents and miseries of this life, are easily moued to pitty, for that they can duely consider of things, and iudge vpright­ly of the affaires of the world. Wherefore an excellent and wise Romane Captaine, ha­uing defeated a mighty King of Macedon in battaile, when as they brought this misera­ble Prince prisoner vnto him, hee rose from his seate, and with teares in his eyes went to meet him, as a great perso­nage fallen by some misfor­tune, or by the wrath of the gods, into that lamentable accident:

[Page 363]And hauing cast himselfe at his feete, hee could not en­dure it, but raisd him vp with all humanity. Afterwards retiring himselfe, and think­ing deepely of the miseries of this life, he made a speech vn­to his children and to the young men that were a­bout him, to purge their soules from all insolency and vanity, by so prodigious an example of humaine frailty. But wee must returne to our discourse.

They that haue wife, chil­dren, and a great number of friends, are also inclined to pity, for that as we haue said, they still apprehend the com­mon miseries, and think that the like misfortunes hang o­uer their families. But they that are transported with a [Page 364] violent Passion of Courage, Choller, or Hardinesse, are no­thing moued; for that the heate of their blood▪ and the excesse of their Passion, will not suffer them to thinke se­riously of these things, and to care for future euents. An extraordinary feare doth al­so hinder the feeling of pitty, for that they which are sea­zed therewith, being tied to their priuate miseries, haue no time to thinke of another mans. So he that hath lost his children, or seene his house burnt, thinkes not of him that is led to the gal­lowes, or to bee broken on a wheele.

But we put in the ranke of those which are touched with pitty, those soules which haue not yet lost all feeling of [Page 365] mankind, but beleeue that there are yet good men liuing in the world. For they that imagine there are no vertuous persons vpon earth, perswade themselues also that all men deserue the miseries they suf­fer, and by that reason be­leeue that they are vnwor­thy of compassion: Whereof we haue a monstrous exam­ple in that Athenian, who had no Pleasure in this world but to see the [...]ine of mankind. Finally men suffer thēselues to be moued [...]o pitty, when as they remember that they haue groned vnder the bur­then of afflictions which they see other men endure: Or when as they apprehend the [...]ike calamities may befall them or their friends.

But let vs see what things [Page 366] are worthy of pitty and com­passion. They are generally all those which cause Griefe to the mind, or torment to the body: Those which take away life; make families de­solate, and cause some gre at changes and alterations in the fortunes of men. As for example, punishment, vio­lent deaths, disgraces, pouer­ty in age, incureable diseases, great languishings, & insup­portable want, or extreame pouerty, treachery, or losse of friends, burnings, and ship­wracke, are all miserable things and excite to pit­ty. Wee may also put in this rancke the monstrous defor­mities of counterfaite bo­dies, the accidents of limmes lamed, or benummed, and the ruines which happen to [Page 367] men by the treachery of those from whom they should ex­pect all support. Wee may also comprehend the miseries which befall vs often, or which happen after other ac­cidents. And in like manner the benefits which come out of season: As if a Prince should send presents of gold and siluer to one that were dead of hunger.

Finally, it is a miserable thing neuer to haue felt any good or contentment in this life, or if any hath happened, not to haue had meanes to enioy it.

But for that these obiects of misery do not alwayes make an equall impression in our senses, we must now know who they bee whom wee do chiefely pitty, when we see [Page 368] them ingaged in any misery. First of all, wee are greatly moued to compassion and mercy to those persons whom we haue knowne familiarly, and with whom we haue had some kind of friendship, at the least if they be not strictly tied vnto vs by naturall affi­nity and blood: For as for those which touch vs so neere, we haue a feeling more violent then that of pitty. In regard whereof wee reade of Amasis King of Egypt, who seeing his own son drawne to execution, he neeuer shed one teare, as if he had had no fee­ling; whereas perceiuing one of his friends opprest with pouerty and begging his bread, hee wept bitterly, thinking that teares were not sufficient to witnesse his [Page 369] first Griefe, but they were due vnto the second. In like man­ner those strange accidents which happen to those of our blood and which touch vs so neere, are full of horror & amazement, and by their ex­cesse suppresse our teares, yea and depriue vs of our speech, as if the spirit were wholy re­tired to consider of the vio­lence of our Griefe; whereas the miseries of our other friends mollifie our courra­ges, and by the wound they make in our hearts, send teares vnto the eyes, which we powre forth, and are as it were the blood of that part wounded and opprest with affliction.

Moreouer, men haue pitty of those whom they see neere vnto some great misfortune: [Page 370] As when they are ready to be buried in the waues of the sea by some accident of ship­wracke; or of those who are to haue a member cut off, or to receiue some notable vio­lence, yea or some indignity. Particularly men are toucht with pitty, when as they that are exposed to outrages, or endure great calamities, are their equalls in age, in hu­mors, in quallities, in exer­cise, or in breeding. For all these things make deepe im­pressions in the thought, that they are subiect to the like mi­series; wherefore they are mo­ued to take cōpassion of their miseries, being an ordinary thing to pitty those which suffer any affliction, which we ourselues apprehend. And to the end we may be sensible [Page 371] in the feeling of a misfortune which befalls another, wee must haue it as it were pre­sent before our eyes: for that we are not much moued with those miseries whose forme is remote from vs. As for ex­ample, wee are not much mo­ued to teares by the relation of the miseries which the slaues of Byserte and Algier endure.

And in like sort our hearts are not much mollified for any tragicall accident which happened a thousand yeares since, neither do we care much for that which shal suc­ceed after the reuolutions of many ages. Wherefore in old time the Romans to moue the Magistrates to mercy, striued to make a more sensible im­pression of their miseries, by [Page 372] causing their wiues, children, and families to come deso­lately vnto the place of ius­tice: And as for themselues they appeared in iudgement with garmēts befitting their fortunes, all filthy and torne; they opened their breasts & other parts of their bodies, to shew the wounds they had receiued in the seruice of the common wealth: Yea they caused tables to bee drawne where their misfortunes were painted▪ the which they presē ­ted vnto their Iudges, to the end that hauing before their eies so mourneful a spectacle, they might take cōpassion of their misery; being most cer­taine that the voice, attire, carriage, countenance, ges­ture, and presence, of the mi­serable, make powerfull im­pressions [Page 373] in our hearts, and incite men more to pitty: The which happens for that these things make vs as it were present by the sight of another mans misery. And therefore a bloody roabe, (as that of Caesar murthered in the Senate) being showne to expresse the misfortune of a Prince, did not onely wrest forth teares, but euen inflame the people to reuenge so pittifull an accident. For the same reason wee feele our selues much touched with griefe and pitty, when as wee heare the complaints, sighes, teares, and lamentation, of these which are opprest by some notable calamity: As when we behold the Agonies of those that are exposed to a cruell and shamefull death: [Page 374] And we are the more moued to pitty and commiseration, when they are worthy and vertuous men, whose vertue and glory past, makes their ends the more lamentable and tragicall,

For this consideration moues vs the more, both for that the euill is neere vs, and that our eyes are spectators, as also for that the Image of their vertue, and the glory of their precedent liues, in­creaseth the indignity of their punishment.

Of Indignation. CHAP. 3.

AS Mercy or pit­ty is a signe of a good soule, so this other Passi­on which we cal Indignation, and which is no other thing but a grieuing & repining wee haue at the good Fortune which befalles the wic­ked, who are altogether vnwor­thy, is very commendable in vs. For as pitty is framed of the Griefe which we feele for the miseries of good men, or whō we iudge worthy of better fortunes; so Indignation pro­ceeds from the discontent we receiue to see the wicked [Page 376] flourish and enioy the world­ly blessings which they haue not deserued; so as either of these Passions is commenda­ble, for that as wee should af­flict our selues to see vertu­ous men ouertak [...]n by mi [...] ­fortunes, from the which their vertue should exempt them: so we should bee greiued to see men execrable for their crimes, aduanced to the height of honors and wordly dignities, which good men should enioy. For whatsoe­uer befalls a man contrary to his merrit, is full of outrage and iniustice; wherefore Ari­stotle did not forbeare to say, that Indignation is a thing which is found euen in the diui­nity, to the which the prospe­rities of the wicked cannot be pleasing.

[Page 377]But to enter into the matter, you must vnderstand, that as Indignation is a griefe which wee feele, & a despight which we conceiue at the great pro­sperity of those whom wee hold vnworthy for their crimes, yet this Passion is not framed in our soules for all kind of prosperities which may befall them: For that no man hath any reason to bee troubled to see the wicked change their life vnto a bet­ter, to imbrace piety, to be­come iust, valiant, moderate, wise, and adorned with other vertues. Yea, the most inno­cent soules reioyce whensoe­uer they see a man who was formerly vicious and disor­dered, become vertuous and temperate. There being no man liuing that is vnworthy [Page 378] of vertue, seeing that vertue by her presence doth extin­guish vice, and makes man worthy of the blessings of this life; whereas they that are destitute of this orna­ment, deserue them not. So as if hee who was formerly wicked, becomes vertuous, by this change hee makes him­selfe worthy of all good for­tune, and therefore if any hap­pen vnto him we should not be grieued; as in like manner wee should not take pitty of those who remaine obstinate in their crimes, and glory in their vices.

The goods then which we grieue and disdaine to see the wicked enioy, are the goods of the body and those which we call of Fortune, that is to say, nobility, beauty, honors, [Page 379] scepters, Crownes, Empires, and such like. As for exam­ple, there is no good man but doth grieue and tremble to see the Tyrants of the East, the cruell and infidell race of the Ottomans hold the good­liest scepter, enioy the richest citties, and command ouer the most powerfull prouinces of the world.

And in like manner there are no vertuous soules that can without griefe & Indigna­tion see other wicked men to flourish and abound in all sorts of honor and riches. But especially our despight is inflamed, when as they are men who haue crept vp to the height of glory in an in­stant, and when they are very prodigies of Fortune, being aduanced before they were in [Page 380] a manner knowne to bee in the world, or at the least were in any sort respected. For as for those which hold their Nobility from prece­dent ages, who are rich by succession and inheritance, and who hold all the aduan­tages they haue from nature, although they be altogether vnworthy, yet wee endure them with lesse impatiency then we do new men, who are risen to a monstrous prospe­rity in one day. The reason is, for that they which enioy their glory and riches from their ancestors, seem to haue nothing but what belongs vnto them by the right of na­ture and blood; whereas men aduanced to new honors, without merite, seeme to bee rich with the spoyles of ver­tue, [Page 381] and to enioy the goods which in no sort belong vnto them.

And for the same reason, although that sometimes the goods of the body, as beauty, health, and dispositi­on, meeting in men which de­serue them not, may raise in our soules some clouds of In­dignation and despight to see these presents of nature so vnworthily prophaned; yet wee do not conceiue so gal­ling a discontent, as when we see them enioy the goods which we call of Fortune, as charges, dignities, offices, the gouernment of state, and the mannaging of great af­faires; all which things seeme to bee due to vertue. For this cōsideration it is an insupportable thing, to see a [Page 382] man of the common sort, wholy destitute of vertue, and full of all vice, attaine to the first dignities of a Realm, and in the twinckling of an eye to become as powerfull as the greatest Princes. And there is no doubt but all good men tremble when they see these prodigious ad­uancements of persons taken from the scumme of the peo­ple, without any considera­tion of merit.

Yea these sudden changes are as it were odious, & con­trary to nature which re­quires time in her actions. And for the same reason wee see, that the people submit themselues willingly vnder the obedience of a Prince who holds the scepter of his Ancestors, and is come to [Page 383] the Crowne by the right of succession; but when they seeke to giue them a new maister, which is not issued from the extraction of their Kings, they cannot endure him, but easily shake off the yoake whereunto they haue not bene accustomed. And in like manner, no man is grieued to respect them that are descended from ancient Nobility, but they can hard­ly yeeld honor to those whose nobility is but newly discoue­red. The reasō is, for that men beleeue, that the ancient No­bility being in possession of this glory, no man should re­pine to yeeld him that which time hath gotten him, which is a right in a manner equall to that which nature giues; for that the things which we [Page 384] enioy by a long continuance of yeares, seeme to be gotten and held as it were inpropri­ety, not by the indulgence of men, but by the bounty of na­ture. And withall that which hath continued so long, hath a greater affinity with the truth, whose lasting is eter­nall, then that which is but newly sprung vp within few dayes.

But there is one thing that filles our soules with Indigna­tion, when as wee see any one enioye those goods, which haue no coherence with his quallity: As when (to the great reproach of piety) wee see a Knight, a Captaine, a Souldier, or any other ma­king profession of armes, to hold bishopprickes, to enioy Abbeys, and to possesse other [Page 385] dignities of the Church; we hold this much more vnwor­thy, then if they gaue the charge of Campe-maisters, and of Colonels of foote or horse to religious men or Bi­shops. Or if they made a sin­ging man or Clarke of the Kings Chappell, Generall of his armies. Finally, we hold it a thing very vnworthy, to see a yong man inferior in all kind of qualities to a reue­rent old man, contest with him of merit and glory; espe­cially when it falles out be­twixt men of the same pro­fession, betwixt whom this inequalitie is remarkeable. And admit they be not men of the same profession, yet we hold it an vnworthy thing that one who is inferior in all poynts to another, should [Page 386] contest against him. As if a Musitian would equall him­selfe to a President or Coun­sellor of the Court, remem­bring not that the charges of Iustice are farre more ho­norable then the profession of Musicke; this would make all men to tremble which know what difference there is betwixt gold & lead. They which easily conceiue in­dignation, are first of all men indowed with some eminent quality, who see themselues reiected from dignities and offices, or which see men al­together vnworthy, aduan­ced to the same honours whereunto they haue attay­ned by their vertue: For doubtlesse it is no iust thing to place so vnequall persons in the same ranke. Moreouer [Page 387] vertuous soules and adorned with bounty, haue a great disdaine to see good men de­priued of the iust reward of their vertue, and the wicked raised to honours which they could not hope for. The cause is, for that those soules haue their iudgement pure, and can esteeme things accor­ding to their weight and va­lue: And therefore they ab­horre vice, and haue vertue in singular recommendation. Againe, they that loue ho­nors and charges, are subiect to indignation, especially when as they aspire to those places which are held by vn­worthy persons. In like man­ner, they that haue a good o­pinion of themselues, and [...]ho beleeue they deserue [...]ore then all the world be­sides, [Page 388] are subiect to the mo­tions of indignation, when as any one enters into compari­son with them. Whereas contrariwise▪ seruile soules, men borne in barbarisme, and grosse spirits, are not trans­ported with any thing, ha­uing nothing in them that may quicken this passion. Yet there are some which do rather referre the motions of ambitious & presumptuous men to meere enuy, then to a iust indignation: For that in­dignation being a commen­dable passion, & which pro­ceeds from the feeling of ver­tue, it cannot subsist with the vanity and arrogancy which accompany those men, but it must bee another passion which kindles in their soules this kind of despight.

Of Enuy and Emulation. CHAP. 4.

AS Crocodiles haue their breeding, and liue in the goodliest and richest riuer in the world; and as other vene­mous beasts are commonly found among the most ex­quisite and sweetest flowers, whose grace and beauty they pollute and corrupt; so Enuy which is a venemous and ma­ligne Passion, doth commonly assaile the most vertuous men, and such as haue attai­ned to the greatest honor & glory in the world. Where­fore one of the most famous [Page 390] Captaines of antiquity, be­ing yet in the flower of his age, was wont to say, that he knew hee had done nothing that was generous or com­mendable, for that he did not find any man that did Enuy him: which shewes that there can bee nothing imagined in this world more vniust or more wicked then this infa­mous Passion, which seekes her owne torment, and finds her punishment in the glory and contentments of ano­ther.

It is also the reason why men are ashamed to confesse openly that they are trou­bled with this Passion: And being conuicted, they labour to palliate their error, yea, they had rather accuse them­selues of all other imperfecti­ons [Page 391] then to iustifie this; And therefore they giue it other names, excusing themselues that it is not Enuy, but hatred, feare, or choller, which trans­ports them: the which is a silent confession they make, that of all the infirmities of the soule, they should most dissemble it, least they ex­pose themselues to a visible shame and disgrace. But be­fore we blame it, we must first know it with her nature and properties.

Enuy then is a griefe, which is framed in our soules by rea­son of the prosperities which we see happen to our equalls or such as be like vnto vs; not that wee expect to reape any fruite by our Passion, but for that wee cannot endure the glory of another man without Griefe. It riseth first [Page 392] betwixt equalls or such as are alike; that is to say, be­twixt those of the same blood, of the same age, of the same profession, of the same wealth, and betwixt those that aspire to the same ho­nors. So as we see, kinsmen Enuy their kinsmen, and are grieued at the increase of their fortunes.

Young men also cannot suf­fer with griefe that they of their age should be aduanced before them. In like manner Philosophers are iealous of the glory of Philosophers; and Painters Enuy the reputation of Painters; great Comman­ders in the warre cannot be­hold but with impatiency the tryumphes of their com­panions; rich men in like manner crosse the rising of [Page 393] such as are their equalls; and finally, they that affect the same offices do what they can to keepe backe their companions. The reason is, for that Enuy being alwaies accompanied with a certaine competition and contention, which riseth betwixt those that do passionately desire the same thing, it is necessary it should rather be among e­qualls▪ then where there is no equallity nor comparison: for that men being naturally desirous to excell in all things, and to exceed their companions, this desire doth alwayes breed a contention betwixt such as pretend the same thing, and from this contentiō Enuy is ingendred; and therefore the Philosophers did rightly teach, that this [Page 394] Passion was alwayes found a­mong equalls. And there­fore they which do much ex­ceed others in glory, being aboue their Enuy, feele not themselues to be crost.

And wee obserue that as the Sun at noone day makes no shaddow, so eminent ver­tues are exempt from the iea­lousies of Enuy, and yet they cannot auoyd the assaults of Hatred. As for example, Cy­rus and Alexander the Great in their ages, and in our time Henry the Great being raised to the height of worldly glo­ry, by the greatnesse of their courages haue so surmounted Enuy, as in the end they found themselues without concur­rence: But they could not so vanquish the Hatred of the wicked, but they were expo­sed [Page 395] to their rage: Especially this last, the loue and delight of Princes; whō an execrable parricide depriues of his life, when as the whole world ho­nored his Vallour. Moreo­uer, that which made these inuincible resolutions to try­umph ouer Enuy, was for that no man could contend any more with them of glory, whereof hauing attained the full; despaire to surmount them or to equall them, did shaddow them from the iea­lousie of all the world.

And for the same reason, they which haue attained to that height of glory, seeing their vertue raised and ad­uanced to so high a degree, as all they that would bee their concurrents cannot at­taine vnto it, they enuy no [Page 396] man, but rather disdaine and contemne all the world, as incapable to mount vnto that height whereunto they haue raised themselues. As for example; there is no pri­uate Knight that doth enuy the power and lustre of a Kings Diadem, neither doth the King enuy his fortune. In like manner, there is no Ca­puchin, or simple religious man, that doth beare enuy to the Popes Authority or Crowne; or whose condition also the Pope doth malice: but if by some notable disa­ster a potent King or a great Bishop should decline, and bee reduced to a more base fortune and condition, in which they that were before their inferiors, might hope to become their compani­ons [Page 397] and equalls; then there were no obstacles, but Enuy might rise betwixt them, see­ing that there might bee a concurrence.

Enuy then discouers it selfe betwixt equalls, and those that are alike: the which must bee vnderstood of those which are alike, ac­cording to their degrees and power, but are vnlike in their fortunes and prosperities; considering that in this last point, hee which beares enuy is alwayes inferior in some kinde to him whom hee en­uies, at the least, in those things which cause this tor­ment.

In the meane time there is not any thing that doth so much beget Enuy, as those things which concerne ho­nour. [Page 398] Whereby the ambi­tious are perpetually affec­ted, for that they are alwayes in contention with some one for preheminence and glory. Yea, what glory soeuer men enioy, yet for that they ima­gine the honour they haue not, is due vnto them, and that it is as it were rauisht a­way by such to whom the world hath giuen it, they doe commonly beare Enuy to all those that haue any lustre or share of it. They also which haue a conceit of their wise­domes, or which think them­selues to bee vertuous, are wonderfully subiect to enuy. I say, those that imagine and suppose these things; for that they which are truely vertu­ous, and truely wise, content themselues with their proper [Page 399] vertue, and with their owne wisedome, & knowing them­selues to be truely worthy of honor, affect no other glory, neither doe they feede them­selues with winde and smoke: whereas such as haue but the name of wise and vertuous, hunt passionately after this vanity, and desire to bee ho­noured and praised of all the world; shewing a wonderfull despight against those that contemne them: and for this reason they are enflamed with Enuy against such as are aduanced to great honours. Cowardly mindes are in like manner subiect to Enuy, for that beeing faint-hearted, when as they see things of small price shine in others, they esteeme them great and worthy to bee enuyed: like [Page 400] vnto little children, who see­ing a piece of glasse or a pin in the hands of those of their age, afflict themselues, and striue to take it away.

They also which haue at­tained to some good with wonderfull paine, are enui­ous to see another attaine vnto the like without any difficulty, and especially if the facility which hee hath found be preiudiciall or dis­honorable vnto them. As they which haue spent many yeares to learne painting and Philosophy, enuy such as are growne perfect in a short time, especially when they are to make profession in the same City.

Finally, they against whom we conceiue any Enuy, must not be farre distant from vs, [Page 401] either in place, time, age▪ dignity, honour, or such like: So as the inhabitants of Pa­ris and France, doe not enuy those of the great Cayre or China. In like manner, wee beare no enuy to those who had fauourable fortunes two or three thousand yeares since. Neither doe wee see that Kings enuy the fortune of Alexander or of Caesar, al­though they may enter into some emulation of their va­lour. In like sort, wee en­uy not the dead, or those which are not yet come into the world. And there is no apparence that a yong man, though issued from a noble Family, should enuy graue old men, which enter into a Councell of State. In like manner, an Attorney of the [Page 402] Court cannot enuy a Chan­cellor of France, being so farre short of his dignity. Neither doe shepheards enuy the Crownes and Scepters of Kings: nor Merchants ma­lice Generalls of Armies, with whose charges their qualities haue so little pro­portion. But our Enuy is kindled against those, whose glory doth as it were dazell our eies with their continual presence, which makes vs to thinke of the basenesse of our condition, the which wee see deiected vnder theirs. But especially when as they pos­sesse a good which wee haue enioyed, and which is no more in our power to reco­uer. By reason whereof, it often happens, that old men enuy the younger sort, for [Page 403] that beeing in Companies, they see that their age takes from them the vse, or forbids them the enioying of those sports and exercises, wherein young men take delight. And this Enuy which they beare them, appeares in the rigors which they shew them, in their reprehensions which they make them, and in the hinderances they giue them, when as they may crosse them.

Moreouer, the things that may bee profitable or com­modious vnto vs, stir vp more Enuy then those which are onely proper to him that en­uies them. Wherefore wee do more enuy our equalls for their beauty, riches, know­ledge, and honours, then for their health or long life, [Page 404] which are particular vnto themselues. And the reason is, for that Enuy rising from this desire to bee esteemed in the world, and from the Pas­sion we haue to see our selues more respected then other men; the qualities which re­commend them, make the deeper impression of Enuy in our soules, the more capable they are to purchase reputa­tiō to him that enioyes them. And there is no question but the things which may bring pleasure, profit, or honor, not only to him that enioyes thē but also to all men that shall possesse them, are euer estee­med more honorable, and more glorious then those, whose pleasure, profit, or glo­ry, extend but to one in par­ticular: wherefore they doe [Page 405] also stirre vp more Enuy.

There is another Passion which is also a bud or branch of Headinesse, as well as Enuy, and that is Emulation, which hath some affinity with it, but yet they are very diffe­rent Passions. For although that Emulation bee A griefe which we haue conceiued for the prosperity of our equalls, yet it riseth not from any bad af­fection wee beare them, but onely from a desire wee haue to see our selues attaine vnto the like felicities. Wherefore Emulation doth not merit the blame which Enuy doth, but many times it is commenda­ble in vs. As for example, when as wee see some vertue shine in one of our equalls, we striue in imitation of him to attaine vnto it. This E­mulation [Page 408] is worthy of praise. So Caesar is commended, to haue propounded Alexander for a patterne, as Alexander did Achilles: And Themisto­cles did shewe that hee was borne to great matters, when as he said that the triumphes of Miltiades would not suffer him to sleepe: for that it was a testimony that hee was troubled with an honest E­mulation of his vertue. Emu­lation then is found among equalls, or at the least among those which are almost alike, for that this Passion stirring vp a desire in vs, inciting vs to seeke the perfection which shines in those, whose glory hath made this impression in our soules; wee must of neces­sity imagine that it is in our power to attaine vnto them, [Page 409] for that we neuer desire those things which are impossi­ble.

Wherefore wee haue no Emulation of those, who haue so great an aduantage ouer vs, as it is not in our power to come neere them. Recipro­cally we haue no Enuy in re­gard of those that be so farre inferior vnto vs, as we see no commendable quallity in them, which wee enioy not with much eminency. A­mong the rest, young men are naturally inclined to Emula­tion, for that by reason of the heate of their youth, they are found more hardy, and being full of good hopes, they shew themselues more actiue to vndertake; for that all things how difficult so euer, seeme easie vnto them. And for [Page 408] the same reason great and couragious spirits, are very capable of Emulation, by rea­son of the greatnesse of their minds, which makes them conceiue that there is no de­signe aboue their valour, and that there is nothing so diffi­cult but they may surmount.

Among other things which may induce vs to Emulation, those which may make a man necessary or profitable to many, hold the first rancke. As for example, learning, e­loquence, riches, power, the mannaging of affaires, and such like, are greatly subiect to the force of this Passion. And therefore it is often commendable; that is to say, when shee propounds vnto her selfe no sort of externall goods, but the only treasures [Page 409] of the soule and the riches of the mind, which shee sees to shine in another subiect, whose glory inflames her, and makes her aspire to the possession of the same graces. For this consideration also we haue a particular Emulati­on, and desire passionately to equall, or to imitate those who are respected through­out the world, whom all the world commends, and al men loue, and especially when their vertues are honored by excellent pennes: For that all these things are so many glo­rious testimonies of their merits.

These bee the Personages whose vertue makes so glori­ous a shew, as wee desire ear­nestly to imitate them: As contrariwise wee contemne [Page 410] and are ashamed to resemble those which are destitute of all these goodly qualities. Wherefore as man should carefully free his soule from Enuy, which doth but trou­ble his rest, and afflicts him more then the party against whom it conspireth; so in some sort hee should giue way to an honest Emulation, which proceeds not from any euill will hee beares to ano­ther, but from the good hee desires to himselfe, to the end that in propounding to himselfe the examples of magnificence, valour, Iustice, modesty, prudence, wisedom, and of the other vertues which shine in the liues of great Personages of his con­dition, he may become mag­nificent, valiant, Iust, mode­rate, [Page 411] prudent, wise, and en­dowed with all the other qualities which make them glorious which are adorned therewith. But wee haue spo­ken sufficiently of the Concu­piscible Passion, we must now treate of those which make their impressions, and stir vp the Irascible.

Of Hardinesse or Courage. CHAP. 1.

AS in the anci­ent sacrifices of the Pagans they did carefully obserue the ge­nerosity of the beasts that were to bee sacrificed; so as [...]he priest comming to passe [Page 412] a naked sword before their eyes, if they were affrighted with the brightnesse thereof, they were chased from the Altar; whereas if they stood stil without amazement, they were held worthy to bee of­fred to the diuinity. So base and deiected minds which grow pale at any danger, were alwayes held in great contempt; whereas generous and resolute spirits, whom no kind of perill could terrifie or amaze, haue euer beene held in singular admiration. This resolution and courage proceeds from an excellent nature wherewith they are endowed, which makes them to looke vpon all the acci­dents of the world without any alteration, being resol­ued to vanquish whatsoeuer [Page 413] presents it selfe to encounter their constancy: Shewing thereby, that they apprehend a disgrace more then a mis­fortune, and that they had more care to preserue their honors, then to prolong their liues.

Seeing then that true Har­dinesse and Courage is so com­mendable a thing, and that many of the most excellent men of antiquity haue pre­ferred it before riches, the disposition of the body, beauty, and the other orna­ments, whereof men do vsu­ally glory; we must seeke out the Essence, and shew what courages she doth accompa­ny, and in what soules shee is found.

Hardinesse then is no other thing, but a resolution of cou­rage, [Page 414] whereby promising vnto himselfe to be able to surmount the calamities which threaten him, he sees them comming with­out amazement, and is not ter­rified when they are befallen him: Or else according vnto others: Hardinesse is a Passion of the soule, which doth fortifie it, and makes it assured against the miseries which are most dif­ficult to auoyd, and which doth encourage it to pursue those good things which are most painefull to obtaine.

Whereby it followes, that Hardinesse is alwayes accom­panied with a certaine hope to bee able to vanquish and disperse those fearefull things which present themselues vn­to the imagination of man. This confidence may grow from the opinion wee haue, [Page 415] that the euill which treat­neth vs is far from vs; or from our beleefe, that if it should present it selfe, we should bee able to surmount it. As when a Citty hath a conceit that no man will attempt any thing against the peace of her Cittizens; and if they should, they were able to re­pell the iniury, and to endure the attempts of their ene­mies; this beleefe makes them hardy and assured. Second­ly, it may grow, for that al­though wee finde our selues weake, and vnable to resist our enemies, yet wee beleeue that wee shall bee powerfully assisted by our Allies, with whose ayde wee hold our selues inuincible. As for ex­ample, although the Duke of Saiwy bee not able of himselfe [Page 416] to resist the Armes of Spaine; yet being fortified with the alliance of this Crowne, hee doth not apprehend them, neither is hee affraid to in­cense them, knowing that the assistance of the Christian King protects him of that side.

Thirdly, this confidence may grow, for that wee be­leeue, wee haue neither recei­ued nor done iniury to any man, which should make vs apprehend reuenge. And a­gaine, for that we thinke wee haue no enemies, or else that they are so feeble and weake as they cannot annoy vs. It may also grow in regard that they who haue power to hurt vs, are our friends, and liue in good correspondency with vs, and haue assisted vs [Page 417] in our occurrents, as for our part we haue endeauored to bind thē vnto vs by al occasi­ons which haue bene offered. So the Allies of great Kings feare not their power, al­though it be fearefull to the rest of the world.

By this meanes wee find that there are diuerse sorts of persons which are full of Har­dinesse and assurance. First, they are hardy, which ima­gine that all things shall suc­ceed happily in regard of their former felicities. So A­lexander vndertaking the conquest of India, appre­hended nothing; by reason of the happy victories, and try­umphes which he had gotten ouer the Persians. So Caesar being ouertaken with a cruel storme and in a small barke, [Page 418] feared nothing, but to con­firme the resolution of his Pilot whom the storme had amazed, he wisht him not to feare, seeing hee carried Caesar and his fortunes. Second­ly, they are hardy who ha­uing beene ingaged in great dangers, haue yet escaped; for they imagine that good For­tune which hath beene so fa­uorable vnto them in so ma­ny other occasions full of despaire, will not abandon them in that present danger. Finally, men are not troub­led in dangers for two rea­sons, either for want of expe­rience, or for the hope they haue to be speedily releeued. As for example, they that go by sea, hauing neuer seene the horror of tempests, imagine that the maisters and such as [Page 419] guide the ship, are expert in their facultie, and that they will easily preserue them from shipwracke; so as they are not amazed, although the stormes and waues seeme to threaten them their death.

Thirdly, men are full of as­surance when as they see such as equall them not, or do not exceed them in pow­er, make no demonstration of feare; conceyting that they are assured, they haue more cause to continue constant. Men not only hold them in­ferior vnto them whom they haue exceeded, but also such as cannot enter into compa­rison with them, or at the least are not more pow [...]rfull then those whom they haue vanquished,

Againe men are full of Cou­rage [Page 420] and resolution, when as they see themselues furnished with all those things which may make thē feareful to their enemies. Among the which we put store of coyne, dispo­sition of body, greatnesse of minde, extent of Empire, support of friends, the pow­er of Armies, and a great pro­uision of all that is necessary for the maintenance of a war.

Moreouer, men hold them­selues assured when they haue not offended any man, or when such as they haue offen­ded are not able to reuenge the iniurie. And withall, men are much assured, when as they thinke that God is fa­uorable and assistant in their designes. Wherefore, in old time great Captaines of war were not wont to giue bat­taile, [Page 421] before they had sa­crificed vnto their gods, and had seene in the intrailes of their sacrifices some happy presage of diuine assistance. For the same occasion they consulted with Oracles, at­tended the answers, and were carefull to obserue the signes which were seene before the battaile: so that sometimes the flying of an Eagle hath assured Armies that were a­mazed.

But without all these signes and presages, men thinke that God is fauoura­ble, when as they thinke they fight for a good cause: As when they haue taken Armes for religion; for the seruice of their Prince; for the mainte­nance of his Crowne; and for their Countrey: yea, [Page 322] when as they imagine, that the reuenge they pursue is iust, and that they haue beene vnworthily abused. The rea­son is, for that Choler which is alwayes enflamed by the iniury receiued, and not by that which wee doe vnto o­thers, makes men hardy, per­swading themselues, that God assists them that are wronged and vniustly perse­cuted. Lastly, they that begin a warre are common­ly hardy, especially when they haue a conceit that the action will succeed, and that the euent will answer the ex­pectation.

As for the constitution of the body, which may con­tribute to the Hardinesse and resolution of man: It is cer­taine, that such as haue much [Page 323] blood and spirits, and which abound in heate, are most commonly hardy and vali­ant. For they haue great mindes and full of generosi­ty, which makes them to cō ­temne dangers. And if in the middest of hazards some part of the blood retires in­wardly, yet the better part keepes her seate, and remaines firme and constant: so as they neuer grow pale, nor tremble like to other men. But if be­fore they fight the apprehēsi­ō of dāger, makes any impres­sion in their soules, they re­couer themselues suddainely, and expell the feare which would surprize them. And for the same reason, they which are full of wine, may become more hardy: not that this defect of it self doth [Page 424] contribute any thing to the greatnesse of Courage, but for that wine enflames the blood, & by accident makes men valiant; and withall, they that are ouertaken with wine, haue their reason cap­tiuated, and their iudgement troubled: so as they cannot consider duely of the great­nesse of perill, but imagine, that all dangers are inferior to their force and resistance.

In the meane time we ob­serue, that many which shew a great Hardinesse and cou­rage to cast themselues into danger, as soone as they finde themselues engaged, are of­ten amazed; as we see in those that go valiātly to a charge, but finding resistance, they turne their backs to the ene­my: where of wee can giue no [Page 425] other reason, but that they are not valiant by iudgment, but by the bounty of nature. So as apprehending not the greatnesse of the danger be­fore they enter, but imagi­ning that they shall vanquish whatsoeuer opposeth it selfe against them; when as they finde resistance which they did not expect, they are ama­zed at the strangenesse of this accident, and their hearts grow cold and relent in such sort, as sometimes they flye before their enemies. But the contrary happens to those that are truely valiant; for when as they gouerne their courages by wisedome, and measure their forces, attemp­ting nothing aboue their strength or against reason, there is no sudden accident [Page 426] that may befall them, that can trouble them in any acti­on of Armes; whereas com­monly they finde lesse resi­stance then they expected before they entred the fight, so as their resolution is al­wayes fortified and neuer decayes. And then propoun­ding honor only before their eyes, the feare of the losse of life cannot amaze them, but their vertue surmounting all accidents, it causeth them (notwithstanding all haz­zards) to persist couragiously in that which they haue glo­riously begunne. Yea, com­monly they shew themselues more cold in the beginning, then at the ending; for that it is not the Passion that doth animate them, but it is iudgement which doth act [Page 427] in their courages. By reason whereof, in the beginning of the actiō they are more cold, & are not enflamed but with fighting. But it hath bin ob­serued in many valiant men, which had their hearts all couered with haire: whereof wee haue a famous example in that couragious Lacede­monian Leonidas, who with fiue hundred men kept the streight of Thermopiles a­gainst that huge Army of Xerxes, & who had the cou­rage and resolution to passe through the midst of his ar­med souldiers, to wrest the Diade [...]e from his head. For when as after his death the King of Persia (amazed at so great a resolution) had cau­sed him to bee opened, his heart was found all couered [Page 428] with haire. Some, it may be, would put this among the prodigies, or rather among the scornes of Nature; but the reason is easie to bee gi­uen, for they that are extra­ordinarily valiant, haue an exceeding heat, which drawes from their heart a fume of excrements, which thickens, and is conuerted into haire; the which is a marke of their courage, and a signe of va­lour.

CHAP. 1. Of Feare or Dread.

ALTHOVGH it seems that feare is a dead Passion & that it shold not make any great impressions in our [Page 429] soules, nor cause any strange alterations in the world: yet as there bee certaine starres, which beeing in a manner continaully hidden, haue not­withstanding very maligne and pernicious influences: so although shee seeme not to bee so actiue as the rest, and remaines as it were couered & hidden, yet she doth cause strange accidents in the life of man; for that shee hath sometimes ruined powerfull Armies, brought Kingdomes and States into dangers, and ouerthrowne the fortunes of priuate persons. Wherefore wee haue seene great Com­manders in warre, who trou­bled by some sinister and vn­expected accident, in a day of battaile, haue had recourse to vowes and prayers, and [Page 430] haue promised to build tem­ples to Feare and palenesse, to diuert the ruine that threat­ned them, if the amazement spread ouer the whole Army, had not beene as it were mi­raculously dispersed.

Wherefore seeing that Feare doth produce such po­werfull changes in the af­faires of men, and withall, that this life is dayly threat­ned with infinite miseries, which giue vs still cause to feare; wee must see wherein shee consists, how shee is fra­med, and in what soules she doth reside. Feare then is no other thing, but A griefe and distresse of the soule, troubled by the imagination of some ap­proaching Euill, wherewith man is threatned, without any appa­rence to be able to auoyd it easi­ly, [Page 431] although it tend to the de­struction of his being, or cause him some strange calamity in the course of his life.

It is first of all a griefe and a distresse; for that as pleasures fill the senses with delight and ioy, so the imagination of an infallible euill, which cannot bee auoyded, fills vs with griefe and heauinesse. But secondly the causes of this griefe, are not alwayes solid nor true, but many times they are vaine and i­maginary: for that wee doe frame or rather forge to our selues the miseries, whereof the apprehension afflicts our mindes, and torments our senses.

The which made an An­cient say, that there are more things which amaze vs, then [Page 432] that presse vs: and that most commonly opinion and ap­prehension, doth vs more harme then the thing it selfe. Wherein doubtlesse the con­dition of man is lamentable, for that as if he were not in­uironed by a sufficient nūber of true miseries, he forgets others which are not in na­ture, to encrease his miseries.

For wee see daily that al­though there appeare no presages, nor any signes of a calamity that doth threaten vs, yet our minds do frame false imaginations, and vaine feares, which many times are the causes of our ruine.

There are some things which torment vs more then they should do, others trou­ble vs before the time, and some afflict vs without cause [Page 433] or subiect, for that we either increase our griefes and paines, or we forge them our selues, or else wee run before them and anticipate them: And whereas wee should striue against these iealousies and false opinions which cause them, wee suffer our selues to be vanquished, re­sembling therein certaine Soldiers who being amazed at a little dust raisd by a flocke of sheepe, turned their backes, as if the enemy had beene at their heeles.

These vaine feares may sometimes grow from the ignorance of things which they imagine to bee of bad presage, although they bee meere effects of nature which they should obserue without trembling, as we haue many [Page 434] times seene an Eclipse of the Sun or of the Moone which haue their naturall causes, trouble whole Armies and terrifie their Commanders. Thirdly, wee must obserue that to cause Feare, the euill that doth threaten vs must not bee present but to come; for that when it is present, it is no more a Feare but a meere heauinesse. And then the euill which wee doubt must bee full of horror, and threaten vs with the losse of life, or some other great pre­iudice: For things of small weight, are not capable to make any impression of Feare, at the least if there remaine any sparke of generosity in our hearts.

Yea all kind of calamities how great so euer, are not a­ble [Page 435] to cause Feare, if it be not accompanied with a certaine horror which amazeth the sences. As for example, men apprehend not to become vniust, or wicked, although they be things more to bee feared then all the miseries of this life. But the nature of vice is such, as the horror of her presence is not sensible vnto vs, for that shee seemes not to destroy our being, nor to cause in vs any great alte­rations that should afflict vs. Moreouer, to bee terrified with any euill, it must bee as it were hanging ouer our heads, and threaten vs with a ruine at hand; for when as we imagine that it is farre from vs, how fearefull soeuer the forme be, yet we are not ama­zed. Euen so although that [Page 436] death bee the most horrid & fearefull thing that may fall into the thought of men, yet for that euery man presumes it is not ready to seaze vpon him, we do not apprehend it as we ought, but wee suffer it to come and prepare not our selues.

There rests now to see what things wee haue iust cause to apprehend. An An­cient makes three sorts, that is to say, pouerty, diseases, & the outrages of the mighty. The two first, that is to say, pouerty, and diseases, make the least shew; but the out­rages of the mighty pre­sent themselues vnto our sences with much bruite, and terrifie our eyes and eares. For euen as an executioner is the mor [...] fearefull when he [Page 437] brings forth diuerse instru­ments to torture & torment the patient, so as many times they which would haue en­dured their punishment pa­tiently, are dismayed, seeing so many deaths at one in­stant before their eyes; euen so among the calamities which oppresse our spirits, those cause most terrour which march with the grea­test shew, for that they repre­sent vnto our thoughts irons, fire, chaines, prisons, gibbets, wheeles, and whatsoeuer is most horrible and fearefull in this life. But let vs heare Aristotle, who also sets three kinds of things which giue vs apprehension and feare. In the first rancke he puts those which tend infallibly to the destruction of our being. For [Page 438] this reason, we do iustly feare thunder and lightning; for that the life of man is full of the examples of such as haue bene miserably burnt. We Feare in like manner great in­undations, and deluges of water, which are the cau [...]es of so many ruines vpon earth. For the same reason, being in Forrests and deserts, wee ap­prehend the encounter of sa­uage beasts, which are ene­mies to the life of man. And for the same subiect wee ap­prehend to fal into the hands of those whom we thinke we haue offended.

In the second rancke of fearefull things, he puts those which cause pinching vexa­tions and griefes, as the losse of our kinsfolkes and friends, banishment, imprisonment, [Page 439] and other punishments. In the third hee placeth those which are as it were the signes and presages of these kind of miseries. Not that these signes of themselues cause vs any preiudice, but for that they are as it were the forerunners of the danger into which wee feare to fall. The which makes kings and Princes apprehend the rising and apparition of Comets, for that they haue beene per­swaded they are foretellings of the death of great men. These signes which amaze vs, may bee reduced to foure heads, which are found in the course of this life, and in the affaires of the world. For we are accustomed to Feare the wrath, and hatred of those which haue power to [Page 440] bee reuenged; for that their wrath and hatred is as it were an infallible signe of our ruine; seeing that hauing po­wer to vndo vs, there is no question, but (by a disease commune to all men,) they will be naturally inclined to reuenge.

But secondly, wee appre­hend our enemies more, when they are not stayed by some honest Feare of Iustice, or some other respect, but are ready to tread all diuine and humaine lawes vnder foote to satisfie their reuenge. For men which haue thus re­nounced all the feelings of vertue, wanting no power, & hauing a wicked inclination, are alwayes ready to do euill; and apprehend not to shew their valorous disposition. So [Page 441] we haue great reasō to Feare such as in the liberty of crimes, find themselues aboue the lawes, and cannot bee pu­nished by any man. As for example, Tyrants which haue seazed vpon Estates & Empires, are much to be fea­red; for that hauing force & power to oppresse whom they please, there is no doubt but they will speedily put it in execution; for that these sauage spirits, knowing that those whom they haue made subiect to their Empire, (ha­uing iust cause to hate them,) haue no other dessigne but to take from them al meanes to hurt thē, by weakning them, and terrifying them with the Feare of punishments. They are also to be feared, not on­ly for that they haue power, [Page 442] but also for that to settle their Empire, they are incli­ned to commit all outrages and violence.

It is true on the other side, that the same Tyrants should apprehend the fury of the people, who do but seeke occasions to roote them out, and to abate their power. Wherefore wee see the life of these plagues of mankind, is ful of Iealousies and distrusts, which torment them day and night more cruelly, then those which they make their miserable subiects to suffer, who grone vnder the bur­then of their Tyranny. For although they bee inuironed with their guards; that they haue powerful alliances; that they command great Ar­mies; and haue strong townes [Page 447] & Forts at their command, yet nothing can assure their consciences, but they are in perpetuall terrour; which makes their condition like to that of sauage beasts, which flye all the world, and all men abhorre them.

Thirdly, we haue cause to feare resolute men, who make profession of honour, when we haue offended them: for that beeing sensible of iniu­ries, it is certaine their cou­rage will carry them to re­uenge.

Lastly, wee should appre­hend those which haue iust cause to feare vs, at the least, if they haue power to hurt vs. For beeing in continuall apprehension, lest wee should attempt something against their liues, they had rather [Page 444] preuent vs, then suffer vs to surprize them. From hence it followes, that there are di­uers persons whose enterpri­ses we should feare, and haue a speciall care of. First, wee should feare those to whom we haue imparted some great and important secret, which beeing reuealed, may bee the cause of our ruine: for the weakenesse of mans minde is such, as it may bee, they will either be corrupted, or indu­ced by promises to discouer vs; or the feare to bee found confederates if the matter should be reuealed, they will seeke to iustifie themselues in accusing vs, and ruine vs to saue themselues. Secondly, we should apprehend such as haue power to hu [...]t vs, for that commonly the will fol­lowes [Page 445] the power, and they will easily take liberty to ef­fect that which is in their power. Thirdly, wee should dread such as we haue offen­ded, or that thinke wee haue wronged them, beeing likely, that they will not leaue this iniurie vnreuenged, but will endeauour to take reuenge when occasion shall be offe­red. Fourthly, wee should feare those which haue wronged vs, and which are subiect to feare vs: for that doub­ting lest wee should appre­hend the iniury wee haue re­ceiued, and hauing forces at command, it is likely they would free themselues of this feare by preuenting vs, as we haue formerly said. Fifthly, we shold distrust those which dispute or contend with vs, [Page 446] for honour, or for any good thing, which wee cannot en­ioy ioyntly together. For to take away this obstacle in their pursuites, it is to be pre­sumed that they wil attempt something against vs. Sixth­ly, wee should dread such as are fearefull to greater per­sonages then our selues. For that if they may strike a ter­ror into the mighty, they wil more easily doe it in them that are weake. Seuenthly, wee should bee watchfull of those, which haue already tried their forces against such as are more powerfull then our selues, and haue pre­uailed; or that haue vsed some surprize or treachery, to bee reuenged of such as were not equall to vs in power. For that the first may easily per­swade [Page 447] themselues to bee able to master vs, hauing vanqui­shed those that did exceede vs. And the second, seeing their successe against the weaker, they will take cou­rage in their crime, and pro­mise themselues the like suc­cesse against them that are more powerfull; to whom they imagine they should be fearefull, by reason of that which they had formerly done. Eighthly, we should apprehend the friends of those whom wee haue offen­ded: not such as are prompt to choler, and which speake much, for that it is easie to discouer them, & to beware of them; but those that are close, dissembling, and full of arte, for that it is a difficult thing to knowe what is in [Page 448] their soules, and to discouer if they practise any thing a­gainst our liues.

Among the things which make an impression of Dread, the most fearefull are those which surprize vs, and which wee had not fore-thought. The which happens for two reasons: the one, for that be­falling vs thus vnlooked for, they take from vs the meanes to thinke of the remedies, whereof wee doe commonly make vse against the disasters that doe threaten vs: and the other, for that speaking of the accidents of this life, bee they good or bad, the more wee consider of them, the more the opinion which we had formerly conceiued, is extenuated. In regarde whereof, as there is no griefe [Page 449] so violent, but time doth mollifie, so there is no apprehen­sion so great, which is not in some sort diminished by pre­paring our selues for the mi­series which threaten vs. Wherefore Feare increaseth when we are surprized, and haue not meanes to thinke of the remedies.

Secondly, those things are most fearefull, when as if wee commit a fault, it is no more in our power to repaire the error, but if there bee any re­medy, it depends wholly on the will of our enemies. For this reason wee haue often seene generous resolutions, and great Captaines, appre­hend much to giue battaile, for that as the euents of war are doubtfull, so if he chance to lose it, there is little means [Page 450] to repaire the error, but most commonly he must receiue a law from the Victor, in stead of giuing it him.

Thirdly, among fearefull things, wee apprehend those which stirre vp compassion in our soules, and mollifie the heart with griefe, if wee see them befall other men: as shipwrackes, burnings, racks, tortures, executions, despe­rate diseases; the losse of goods, kinsfolkes, or friends, and al other accidents which may make men miserable. Wee must not forget that [...]eare augments in vs, when as the causes which produce it come to increase. Where­fore as it riseth from the con­sideration of dangers which threaten vs: so many times, they which doe exactly con­sider [Page 451] the hazards and dan­gers which threaten this life, are most subiect to Feare; as wise and discreete men, such as haue had a long ex­perience of worldly affaires: whereas fooles, drunkards, and young men apprehend nothing, but hope for all.

Moreouer, the excesse of danger encreaseth Feare, es­pecially when it is neere vn­to vs, when it presseth vs, and when wee see no remedy nor meanes to auoyd it; as when an Army or a City is surpri­zed, and neither Captaine, nor souldier endeauours to repulse the enemy. Yea, after that any one hath escaped a great danger, the very ima­gination to haue beene freed from so great a misfortune, is able to kill him; for that [Page 452] the imagination hath that force, to represent vnto vs the thing, as if it were yet present, and as if wee were in the midst of the danger. As they report of a Iew, who ha­uing by night past a bridge, whereas no man did passe by reason of the danger; who when hee came to thinke of the perill wherein hee had beene, was so surprized with Feare and horror as he died.

On the other side, it helpes much to dissipate Feare, to i­magine there is no kinde of danger in that where-with they would terrifie vs. The which may proceede from two causes, that is to say, ei­ther from an exact know­ledge of the nature of the things which wee haue care­fully obserued and knowne, [Page 453] and find therein no subiect of Feare; and this course is ful of discretion: Or else from meer ignorance, which makes vs to iudge of things otherwise then wee ought; imagining, that there is no danger in places or things which are full of amazement; which is a signe of want of iudge­ment.

Finally, there is a kinde of people which feare no­thing; that is to say, such as haue renounced all feeling of things, whereof we haue iust cause to apprehend the losse.

As they which haue lost all honor, abandoned all shame, wasted their fortunes and their goods, and those whose liues are tedious vnto them. For what can they feare, who [Page 454] haue nothing remaining to trouble them? For this rea­son wee must greatly appre­hend desperate persons, and such as haue abandoned the loue of this life: for as an Ancient said, Hee that con­temnes his owne life, is master of another mans. Yet there are diuers things which may free our soules from all Feare whatsoeuer presēts it self. For as they that are perswaded that nothing can hurt them, haue no apprehension nor Feare: yea, if the heauens should fall, they would not be amazed at their ruines: In like manner men do not feare to lose those things, which they thinke are safe from the outrages of their enemies. As wise and vertuous men doe not feare that the rage [Page 455] of Tyrants can preuaile ouer their minds to blemish their constancy.

If Tyrants threaten them with any shamefull death, they are ready to say, as a re­solute spirit did once vnto a Prince who threatned to hang him: This (sayd he) would amaze the gallant Cour­tiers, but as for mee, it is in­difference whether I ro [...]te in the Ayre, or in the Earth.

Thirdly, men Feare not those whom they think haue not power to hurt them, al­though in effect they should apprehend them. This false perswasion hath o [...]ten ruined great Commanders in the warre, who contemning the enemies, and making shew not to Feare them, haue lost the victory, and fallen misera­bly [Page 456] into their power. In like manner, men Feare not when as they conceiue that the oc­casions which should make them Feare, are taken away: As they which apprehend the persecution of a Tyrant, lose all Feare when as they see his power ouerthrowne: Whereby it appeares that men Feare, when there is ap­parence that they may suffer some iniury: Or when as hee that is threatned is exposed to outrages: Or when as they that threaten are powerfull: Or that time and occasion fauours him that would do an iniury.

By all this we may gather, that there are two kinds of men which are aboue all fea­red. The first are such as are very happy, which haue ma­ny [Page 457] friends, abundance of wealth; great Spirits, great power; and which haue not yet tryed the miseries of this life. For this great felicity, this immoderate wealth, this exceeding power, and the other aduantages of na­ture and Fortune, make men hardy, insolent, outragious, and to contemne all the world. Whereas on the o­ther side, pouerty and weak­nesse make men fearefull, for that the callamity which doth presse vs, being the ob­iect of Feare, they which nei­ther haue meanes nor power to defend themselues, haue cause to apprehend.

The second sort of men, are they which thinke they haue suffered the cruellist afflicti­ons that can bee endured in [Page 458] this life, and whom the cus­tome of forepas [...]ed miseries haue made insensible of fu­ture calamities, as they that are led to execution, after that they haue bene tortured in prison.

But the chiefe reason why these men haue abandoned all Feare, is that which Ari­stotle alledgeth, that To haue an apprehension of the things which afflict vs, there must bee some hope or some shew, to be freed from it by industry. And therefore Feare makes vs fly to Counsells, and to seeke out remedies: For no man consults of a businesse that is desperate. So as these men seeing no reliefe in their af­faires, as they haue no more hope, so they cannot Feare. And touching that which [Page 459] Aristotle saith, that Feare makes vs flie to Counsells; some one may make a questi­on, whether that Feare doth contribute any thing to make men more wise, and more dis­perse their Feare. Where­unto the answere is easie, that Feare makes an impres­sion in vs of greater care to seeke for Counsell to fortifie vs against the calamities that do threaten vs; but many times it doth hinder vs from reaping the fruits which we might gather without this apprehension.

The reason of the first is, that Feare representing the danger hanging ouer our heads, and hard to be auoy­ded, it binds vs to seeke the meanes to diuert it, and makes vs to craue aduice of [Page 460] our friends, to supply our weaknesse. The reason of the second is, for that they which are troubled with Feare, or transported with any other Passion, imagine things to be greater or lesse then they are; so as they that loue, value the things beloued much; & they that Feare, represent them more horrible. Where­fore in that regard all Passi­ons are enemies to wise Counsells, and good resoluti­ons.

Of the Effects of Feare. CHAP. 2.

THE Effects of Feare are di­uerse & strange; for to leaue the impression which it makes in the mind of man, (whereof we will speake hereafter,) she doth produce all these effects vpon his body. First, shee shrinkes vp his heart, and doth weaken it by the liuely apprehension which she doth giue it of the affliction; By reason whereof all the heate that is in his face is forced to flie vnto it to succour it: and when as that sufficeth not, [Page 462] the blood of the other parts flow also vnto it: So as they that are affrighted grow pale. For prouident nature to pre­serue the life of man, hauing thus call'd backe the blood and spirits from all the parts to succour the heart which is the fountaine, speedily leaues the other parts wholy vnfur­nisht and naked. In regard whereof the blood being that which giues colour, and makes man to haue a san­guine hew, it being fled, his complexion fades, and hee growes pale. For the same reason they that are amazed, are presently surprized with a continuall shaking, for that the heate which resides in the blood and spirits, be­ing that which supports and fortifies the members of man; [Page 463] being destitute thereof they can hardly support them­selues, but tremble and shake in that manner. And whereas the hands and lippes shew greater signes of alteration then the rest, the reason is, for that those parts haue a more strict bond with the heart, and haue lesse blood then the rest; and therefore cold doth more easily make an impres­sion vpon them.

Finally, the members which haue a particular connexi­on with the heart, haue also a particular feeling of his agi­tation: wherein it is strange, that as trembling is an effect of the want of heate, and that Feare chaseth the heate vnto the heart, to preserue the cen­ter of life; yet they that are terrified, haue their hearts agita­ted, [Page 464] and they beate in them, as if they were destitute of heate.

The reason is, although that prouident nature to pre­serue the heart sends downe the heate from aboue, yet Feare doth not suffer it to subsist long there, but doth chase it lower; for that in them that feare, their spirits grow thicke, and become more heauy by reason of the cold which imaginatiō doth produce, that they are not a­ble to resist the danger which doth threaten them: So as the spirits being growne thus heauy, by rea­son of the cold which this i­magination leaues, tends downeward, and remaines not about the heart. They that are surprized with feare, [Page 465] feele strange alteration; and are wonderfully dry; for that the heate which nature hath drawne about the heart, burnes and filles the bowells with an exceeding heate, which makes him to desire cold and moist things, where­in thirst consists, to quench this troublesome alteration, to refresh the Creature, and to free it from this insuppor­table heate.

And for that in this moti­on of feare, the heate des­cends, it made Homer to say of him that was without courage, that his heart was fallen to his heeles, after which there commonly fol­lowes many accidents which slacken and vnknit all the ioynts and ligatures of the body; but especially they that [Page 466] are terrified haue their tongs tied & can hardly speak, cau­sing them to [...]umble in their discourses: yea their voyce is very shrill and weake, for that it is abandoned by the heate which should enter­taine her force; whereas in choler it shewes it selfe more strong, for that the heate which ascends fortifies it, & makes it more powerfull. Moreouer feare makes the hayres to stand vp with hor­ror, for that in the absence of hea [...]e, the cold congealeth, and stoppes the conduicts by which it passeth: So as the haire as it were opprest in the rootes, by the cold which di­uerts their naturall nourish­ment, for that they cannot suffer a strange humour full of excrements which doth [Page 467] rot them, they stand vpright with horror; the which some­times workes so strange an effect by her vehemency, as they make young men grow graye in an instant: where­of wee haue a memorable example in the age of our fa­thers, during the reigne of the Emperour Charles the fift. For Francis Gonzague, hauing caused a young man of his house to bee commit­ted to prison, for that he sus­pected hee had conspired a­gainst him; this miserable young man was so terrified with his affliction, as the same night hee was cast into prison, his haire grew all white. In the morning his Keeper seeing him thus changed, went and made re­port thereof to Gonzague, [Page 468] who being amazed at this prodigie, cōceiued that it was a testimony of his innocence; whereupon he pardoned him.

This sudden change of the prisoners haire, proceeded without doubt, for that the vehemency of his feare cau­sed the heate retire from his braine: As in like manner old men grow white, for want of heate, which decayes with age: Finally, they that haue little hot blood about the heart are naturally fearefull: So as those Creatures which haue great hearts to the pro­portion of their bodies, (as Stagges and Panthers) are more subiect to feare; for that hauing little heate, it is weakned, dispersing it selfe in­to a large extēt, euen as a litle fire cannot so warme a large [Page 469] roome, as it would do one that is lesse. So as the blood growes cold, & is lesse able to warme the heart, which is the seate of courage.

Whereas other crea­tures which haue more heat, and the heart proportiona­bly lesse, are more hardy and couragious. For that the heat abounding in them, it is more actiue, and the sub­iect where it workes, disper­sing not her action by extent, shee workes more power­fully: so as she enflames them to all generous enterprizes, and glorious designes.

But let vs come to the ef­fects which Feare breedes in the minde of man. Besides all these strange accidents which she doth produce in the bo­dy, shee causeth other disor­ders [Page 470] in the soule, filling it with such confusion, as shee leaues him neither memory, nor iudgement, nor will, to encounter any danger that threatens his ruine. Where­fore it is not the worke of an ordinary courage, to haue a constant resolution in the middest of greatest dangers, and suddenly to finde reme­dies against the mischiefes that threaten him. As histo­ries giue this commendation of Hannibal, Iugurth, Caesar, Alexander, and some few of those great spirits of former ages; whose iudgements were neuer danted with apprehen­sion of any danger, but in the middest of combates they could speedily redresse all ac­cidents, which happening suddenly, might amaze their [Page 471] Armies, and depriue them of the victory.

Moreouer, Feare (like a feruile and base Passion) de­priues man of all courage: and whereas the apprehensi­on of danger is a spurre to generous spirits, to fortifie them, and to make them seek powerfull meanes to auoyde the danger; it doth so deiect faint-hearted and fearefull men, as they remaine, as it were, immoueable, and vnca­pable of all action.

Moreouer, it makes a man ashamed and confounded, and to contemne himselfe; he crosseth his armes, and flat­ters them basely and vnwor­thily, whom hee thinkes may ease his griefe. It fills him al­so with amazement, and as if it were able to conuert him [Page 472] into a rocke, it reduceth him to that stupiditie, as hee for­gets himselfe, and becomes, as it were, insensible of the miseries which oppresse him, althogh they vexe him worse then death.

But you must remember that wee speake of a disorde­red Feare, which doth wholly trouble the imagination of man: for there is a kinde of moderate feare, which stri­king reason but gentlely, makes vs aduised (to the which the Stoickes giue the name of circumspection) to prouide with iudgement for that which concernes vs: for that it makes vs carefull and atentiue to looke to our af­faires, and to giue order for that which is necessary to shelter vs from stormes.

Of Shame. CHAP. 1.

SEEING that Shame is, as it were, a shoote or a Sience of Feare, wee must shew wherein it consists, and what effects it doth produce, to the end we may leaue no­thing behinde that may con­cerne this subiect. Shame then is, A griefe and a confusi­on, which growes from the ap­prehension of some crosses, which may make man infa­mous: And vnder this kinde wee comprehend those cala­mities which are presēt, past, or yet to come; so as they bee [Page 474] of that nature, as they may trouble and breed a confusi­on in the soule of man. And impudency on the other side, is a contempt of the same misery, for want of feeling. By the definition of Shame, we may gather, that men are ashamed of those things that they thinke will breed them infamy, or lay some aspersion vpon them, or their friends, or vpon such as belong vnto them. So as first of all, all vices, and all things that doe resemble or haue any shew of vice, are capable to breede Shame in our soules. As for example, it is a shamefull thing to flye from the Army in a day of battaile; for that this flight is a signe of base­nesse and want of courage. In like manner it is a shamefull [Page 475] thing to refuse to restore that, which hath beene left with vs in guard, and which hath beene consigned to our fidelity; for that this refusall is a proofe o [...] our iniustice & disloyalty. It is also a shame­full thing to run indifferent­ly into all dishonest places, in the which (as Diogenes said to a young man) the farthe [...] he enters, the more his infa­my encreaseth; for that it is a testimony of intemperance and dissolutenesse. And a­gaine, it is a very shamefull thing to seeke to reape pro­fite from all base and abiect things; like [...]o that Romane Emperour, who said, The fa­uour of gaine was alwayes sweete, from whence soeuer it came: for it is a signe of a prodigious couetousnesse. [Page 476] Moreouer, it is a shamefull thing to refuse to releeue them that are in misery, and implore our aide, with mo­ney or any other thing; for it is a signe of our inhumani­ty: yea, it is a Shame not to assist them bountifully ac­cording to their meanes. But especially when they are our kinsfolkes, our Allies, our friends, or such persons, as at another time may require the offices wee haue done them in their necessity. It is a Shame to begge for fauor or to borrow money of an inferiour, or that is poorer then our selues; and wee can­not but blush to require mo­ney of him in lone, who hath first demanded it of vs; or to require of him, who would gladly bee payd that which [Page 477] we owe him.

All these things cannot proceede but from a base minde, and voyde of inte­grity. Moreouer, wee blush when as wee praise any one aboue his merit, and when as we seeke to excuse in him the defects that are inexcusable, to the end that wee may ob­taine some fauour, some pre­sent, or some assistance from him. And in like manner we cannot but blush, when as to insinuate our selues into the fauour of any one, wee aban­don our selues to impuden­cy, to extoll his good for­tune, and the successe of his prosperity, without measure. As also wee are ashamed of the extraordinary demon­strations we do vsually make to men afflicted, to witnesse [Page 478] vnto them the feeling wee haue of their griefe: as when to comfort our Friend for the death of some one that was deere vnto him, we wish (although it bee farre from our thought) that we were able to redeeme him whose losse is so bitter vnto him, with the losse of our owne blood or life▪ for all these are signes of insupportable flattery, which cause euen our friends to blush when they heare vs.

Wee blush in like man­ner, when as wee refuse to en­dure the toyle of honorable imployments which are offe­red vs; and that men of grea­ter age, more vnable, more tender, and of another qua­lity then our selues, accept them freely: for that this re­fusall [Page 479] is a signe of our effemi­nacy. Moreouer, wee blush to receiue benefites and fa­uours continually from the same person; and wee cannot without some Shame re­proach them we haue bound vnto vs by our fauours, for that it is a signe of great basenesse.

Finally, we are ashamed when as we attribute praises vnto our selues which are not due vnto vs; or that we brag vnseasonably, or challenge the glory of goodly actions, which other men haue en­ded: for that it is a note of our arrogancy and vanity. So al vices, and all the marks of vices, make an impression of shame in all those which are infected with them.

Secondly, we are ashamed [Page 480] to see our selues destitute of all honest qualities, which recommend all our equalls generally, or at the least most of them. As for example, it is a great shame not to bee adorned with valour, wise­dome, knowledge, modesty, and other excellent parts; which shine commonly in those of our profession, of our age, of our blood, or of our quality. So Caesar seeing himselfe two and thirty yeers old, and hauing made no shew of the greatnesse of his courage, nor done any great exployt, hee grew ashamed, and began to weepe, behol­ding the Image of Alexander who seemed to reproach him. All these defects are full of Shame and infamy, especi­ally when as they proceede [Page 481] from our negligence, which shewes that we haue no cause to accuse any man but to blame our selues.

Thirdly, men blush when as they are forced to do or suffer things which are vn­worthy either of their condi­tion, or of the nature of man. As for example if they would force a man of quality to do seruices vnworthy of his rancke, this fills him with Shame, and he cannot endure it, but with great griefe and distaste: yea we reade in Hi­stories of generous spirits, who in the middest of their captiuity remembring that they were borne free, had ra­ther precipitate themselues and chuse a voluntary death, then bee forced to do serui­ces vnworthy of their births. [Page 482] And therefore Nero should die for Shame to commit that excesse which he did with the scumme of the people vpon the Altars and in the pub­lique places of Rome: But what graue or serious thing can wee attend from that in­famous monster, who hath dishonored mankinde with his impudencies? In like man­ner it is a matter which cau­seth extraordinary Shame in men of note and quality, when by the iniuries of For­tune, or by their own basenes they see themselues reduced to that extreamity as to suf­fer indignities and outrages which blemish their first lus­tre and glory: As those kings who hauing lost battailes, & seene their Estates ruined & spoyled, to crowne their mi­series [Page 483] were led in triumph to Rome, to serue as a spectacle to that world of people, and to be the Images and shewes of humane misery, and of the inconstancy of the world. Wherefore they branded them with infamous basenes, which did prostitute them­selues to this Shame either through couetousnesse, or for want of courage. Contra­riwise according to the cus­tome of the time, when as Christian religion had not yet dispersed the vanity of Pagan errors, nor conuerted reproches into exercises of patience, they obserued great beames of generosity in a woman borne to pleasures, and bred vp in the middest of all delights: For that being in the power of her enemy, [Page 484] shee chose rather to kill her selfe by the biting of Aspicks, then to bee led in shew, to serue as a fatall ornament to his tryumph.

But generally it is a very shamefull thing in all condi­tions to do or to suffer things full of indignitie and re­proch: yet we must set a dif­ference betwixt those that suffer them by their owne basenesse, and such as endure them by a violent constraint. For they that suffer them by their owne basenesse, are in­famous; for that they expose thēselues volūtarily to those affronts.

But wee must againe set a difference betwixt those that suffer them by con­straint: For either they re­solue though timerousnesse [Page 485] and by an apprension, which should not fall into a con­stant soule; and then it is a signe of their weaknesse: Or else for that they cannot re­sist, being forced by such as are become maisters of their persons; and then it is rather an effect of their misfortune then a signe of their basenes: As wee see in those that suf­fer some indignity by them that are more powerfull.

But for that Shame riseth from a beleefe which wee haue to bee wounded in our reputation, the which wee measure according to the iudgement & esteeme which men make of vs; it falls out many times that we are asha­med of the disgraces we suf­fer in the presence of persons which we respect much, and [Page 486] whose blame and censure we apprehend.

In which ranke wee put those which haue in their po­wer the good chances where­unto we aspire, and of whom depends the honour or con­tentment which wee affect with Passion. As for exam­ple, a souldier will bee much more ashamed to haue fled from the enemy in the view of his Captaine▪ then to haue committed this basenesse in his absence; and a Louer will endure an iniury done him in the presence of his best beloued, more impatiently, then all the affronts that can bee done elsewhere. For the same reason our Shame in­creaseth, when as wee receiue any reproach before vertu­ous persons, and such as are [Page 487] held to be iust: As when they are wisemen or reuerent old men that accuse vs; for that wee thinke men will easily giue credit to what they say of vs. Wee are also asha­med if any infamous thing befall vs in the presence of our equalls, and of such which are as it were emula­tors and riualls of what wee pursue; for that contending with them of honor, it is a wonderfull griefe vnto vs to see this breach made in our reputation in their presence. And generally wee are asha­med of that which is done in the sight of men which ob­serue it, or which haue a ma­licious disposition, & which interpret all actions sinister­ly.

For wee conceiue, that if [Page 488] they do not pardon inno­cence, they will not spare vs. Shame in like manner shewes it selfe in the presence of such which are adorned with ver­tues contrary to the defects which appeare in our actions, especially if they bee seuere men, who are not accusto­med to pardon or excuse the errors which they see com­mitted: As the Romans were ashamed to do any vnwor­thy act before Cato, both for that he was a seuere censor of the actions of the Cittizens, as also for that he pardoned no man. It troubles vs also to see our selues reproued & scorned by ordinary Iesters, and by such as make professi­on to shew themselues in Theaters; for that wee con­ceiue it is a testimony that [Page 499] we are publikely defamed, or at the least wee feare that these people to the eternall infamy of our name, will teare our reputation in pub­lique assemblies. We are also ashamed to shew our defects before those whom we thinke wee haue offended, and are not our friends: For that we know they will not faile to publish our imperfections. Finally, wee blush when as a­ny thing vnworthy of our condition befalls vs in the view of such whose fauour & friendship wee seeke ambiti­ously; apprehending that this misfortune will bee an obsta­cle to our pursuites, and a subiect to make vs be reiec­ted.

As in like manner we blush to see our selues surprized in [Page 490] some notable fault, by such as had vs in good esteeme, es­pecially if they be our famili­ar friends, or of our owne fa­mily, which discouer the er­ror, into which we had neuer before fallen, or had alwaies cunningly concealed it.

There are also diuerse o­ther subiects which make an impression of Shame; and for example, at our first speech to any one whom we know not well, we blush, for that being ignorant what account hee makes of vs, or how hee is af­fected to vs, wee are in sus­pence betwixt hope & feare, and know not how hee will entertaine our discourse. And in like manner we are surpri­zed with Shame, when as wee are to speake before a great multitude and a concourse of [Page 491] people: For that in this great diuersity of minds and humors we thinke it impossi­ble, but there is some one who hath no great dispositi­on to fauour vs. Moreouer, when as we are to speake be­fore a person of eminent qua­lity, of exquisite knowledge, or of exact iudgement, wee blush and are amazed, by rea­son of the great respect wee haue of him; which makes vs feare to fayle before him, and this feare fills vs with Shame, and makes vs blush. Wee are also not only ashamed of our defects, but euen of all the signes and tokens of our vi­ces and bad inclinations: As wee blush not only at vn­cleannesse, but also at all the signes of wantonnesse; especi­ally we are ashamed at licen­tious [Page 482] words, which offend chaste eares. Wherefore Alceus hauing opened his mouth to speake to Sapho, & then staying himselfe, and pretending for his excuse, that Shame had hindred his speech, she answered; If you had not had some bad desire, but had meant to speake that which was honest and not licentious, Shame had not appeared in your eyes, neither had it tyed your tongue, but you would haue deliuered your thoughts free­ly.

By all that we haue sayd, it followeth, that men are not ashamed to do or say any thing whatsoeuer before such as they do not esteeme, but contemne: Whereby it fol­lowes, that they neither re­spect nor feare the eyes of [Page 493] children nor beasts. But those before whom wee are most ashamed to shew our selues in our misfortune▪ are our enemies, to whom wee know our miseries are a sweete and pleasing specta­cle: As Caesar seeing himselfe a prisoner in the hands of Pirats, said, That his enemy Crassus would be glad of the misfortune which had befal­len him.

To cōclude, mē are ashamed to see thēselues defamed publikely; as to be led to execu­tion in the midst of a multi­tude of people, to bee witnes­ses of their ignominy. And yet the Poet Antiphon being condemned to dye with ma­ny others, by Denis the Ty­rant, when as hee saw his companions going to execu­tion, [Page 494] & passing before a great multitude to hide their fa­ces, as being ashamed; beeing come out of the City, he said vnto them, What my friends, dee you feare that some one of these Gallants will see you a­gaine to morrow, and reproach you with your misfortune? But doubtlesse euery man hath not this resolution, nor so great a courage in the last in­dignities of life.

CHAP. 2. Of the Effects of Shame.

AS there are cer­tayne Plants whose roots are venemous and mortall to such as vse them, but their leaues [Page 495] are indued with excellent qualities, and proper for the preseruation of the health of man: So there are Passions of the soule, which on the one side serue man as a spurre to vertue, and on the other side precipitate him to vice. And this is particularly in­cident to Shame, the which doth sometime induce men to decline from wickednesse, and sometime shee diuerts them from commendable & vertuous actions, by the ap­prehension of an imaginary dishonour.

Timoleon conceiuing that all the world did hate him, for that he had consented to the death of his brother, who was a plague to his common Wealth, wandred vp and down the fields twenty years [Page 496] together, and could not re­solue to embrace the defence of his Citizens generously. Others beeing ashamed to a­bandon their Countrey in publike calamities, haue car­ried themselues couragiously to vndertake things, for the which they knew, they shold bee vnworthily recompen­ced by the ingratitude of their Citizens.

But before wee come to the effects which Shame pro­duceth in the soule, let vs see what impressions shee makes in the body: for it seemes shee stirres vp an effect farre different from the cause from whence it proceedes. Shame, say the Philosophers, Is a kinde of feare, which ariseth, for that man doubts some blame and some censure of his actions. [Page 497] As Feare then retires the blood, and makes it descend about the heart, how comes it that Shame should cause the blood to ascend vnto the countenance, and make the face to blush? Whereunto they answer, that men may be threatned with two kinds of miseries, whereof the one is not onely contrary to the inclination of their sen­ses, but also tends to the de­struction of their nature and being, as extreame dangers and perills of death. Others are onely contrary to the de­sires of the senses, but doe not threaten man with death or the decay of his being: As for example, the blame and dishonour which wee appre­hend for something we haue done. When man then pro­pounds [Page 498] vnto himselfe the forme of these first kindes of obiects, that is to say, of those calamities which tend to the dissolution of his being: Na­ture beeing amazed by the impressiō which she receiues from the senses, striues to suc­cour them, and drawes the blood and heate vnto the heart, which is (as wee haue said) the fountaine of life; whereupon the countenance being destitute of blood, man growes pale in these great terrors. But when as he ap­prehends onely the calami­ties of the second kinde, that is to say, those which tend not to the destruction of his beeing, but onely to the de­crease of his glory; Nature is not so powerfully mooued by the senses, for that the ru­ine [Page 499] of her consistence is not directly in question; but leaues the griefe in the sen­ses, whose amazement doth not send the heat and blood into the body, but causeth it to mount into the face, which becomes all red and san­guine.

Some beleeue that this blushing is as it were a veile, which Nature extends be­fore her to couer her shame; as wee see commonly, they that are ashamed carry their hands before their faces and eyes, for that those parts are most afflicted with shame, in regard they are the most no­ble. And the impression is particularly made in the eies, which the Ancients haue called the seate of modesty: and therefore Plato brings in [Page 500] Socrates couering his eyes, when as hee would make a discourse of Loue, wherein hee thought there was some shame for a man, making profession of deepe wisedom. The reason therof is, for that wee are ashamed to see our defects knowne to men, whō we greatly respect and reue­rence.

The Ancients did alwaies hold it for a good signe and presage in young men, to see them blush easily; wherefore they called this blushing The colour, or vermillion of Ver­tue. Yea, that great Romane Censor said, that hee loued them better that blusht, then such as grew pale, for that to be pale, is a signe they feared some danger: So as they that grow pale, seeme to haue an [Page 501] apprehension to be called in question for some crime, and punished: whereas they that blush, shew they are ashamed, and apprehend euen the ve­ry suspition of doing ill.

But there is no kinde of people in whom an honest bashfulnesse is more com­mendable; yea, vpon the lightest occasions, then in Virgins, and Women: for to blush for words, for moti­ons, and for the least licenci­ous actions, is a signe of an exact modesty, which is the rarest and the most rich or­nament of their sexe.

But to returne to young men, as it is a good signe to see them blush, for that being naturally inclined to follow their passions (by reason of this great heate of blood [Page 502] which abounds in them, and enflames them) it is a com­mendable thing to see that Shame is, as it were, a bridle to retire them from vice. But this kinde of shame is not much commendable in men of ripe age, who haue not this spurre to incite them to euill; and moreouer, vertue should haue taken deep root in their hearts, whereby all their actions should be com­mendable and full of glory, so as they haue no subiect to blush. But if they fall into this defect, it is a signe that they iudge themselues, and that their vertue is not per­fect nor compleat proporti­onable to their age.

Let vs now come to the effects which Shame produ­ceth in the soule: there are [Page 503] some good, as we haue sayde in the beginning, but she also produceth badde. Many times shee hath made them valiant, who were faint-hear­ted and feareful; yea, we haue seene whole Armies beeing amazed and terrified, haue re­sumed courage by the pre­sence of Caesars, Alexanders, Scipioes, & other great Com­manders, who haue brought backe their souldiers in bat­tailes; for that the great e­steeme they had of such ex­cellent Captains, made them blush to flye before them; yea, to chuse a most certaine death, rather then to be held cowards by such wotthy men.

Moreouer, there haue beene souldiers, who hauing faintly maintained an en­counter, [Page 504] the next day to wipe away this shame, haue performed wonders, whereof the Greeke and Romane histo­ries, furnish vs with many examples. Besides, Shame doth retire vs often from dis­honest things, as appeared in him who confessed freely that he plaid not at dice, for that he was ashamed any one should see him lose his time in so bad an exercise.

But on the other side, Shame diuerts vs many times from commendable things; yea, and from those which are profitable, and which concerne the preseruation of our liues. As for example, you see at banquets, some be­ing prest to drink extraordi­narily, are ashamed to refuse them which inuite them; and [Page 505] ouer-ruled by their vniust entreaties, fall into surfeits which ruine their health.

Others in like manner see­ing thēselues importuned or coniured in bad companies, not to bee so modest before their friends, suffer them­selues to be carried away, to commit great disorders, as with women, or at play, or to do other execrable villa­nies, for the which they are grieued in their soules, but they haue not the courage to refuse such as presse them: whereby it happens often, that flying the smoake they runne headlong into the flame, that is to say, for that they are not able to resist an imaginary Shame, they fall in­to an eternall reproach, be­ing blamed by all vertuous [Page 506] men, when they heare of their basenesse.

There haue bene some also who fearing that there haue bene plots laid to kill them, or to poyson them, yet sur­mounted by Shame, haue a­bandoned themselues to the danger.

So Dyon being aduertized of the conspiracy which was practized against him, and his host and friend Calippus; being ashamed to refuse to go whither they were both inuited, which was the place where the murther was in­tended, he went rashly to his death.

So Antipater the sonne of Cassander, lost himselfe for that he durst not refuse to suppe with Demetrius, where he was slaine. Young Her­cules, [Page 507] the sonne of Alexander the Great, was surprized by Polipherchon and Cassander, being ashamed to refuse their requests to suppe with them, who tended only to haue a meanes to murther him. By all that we haue sayd, we may gather that Shame is some­times profitable, and some­times pernicious; but it is al­wayes commendable, when it serues vs as a bridle to re­tire vs from vice.

Of Hope and Despaire. CHAP. 1.

HEe which sayd that Hope was a dreame which presents it selfe to them that wake, [Page 508] hath excellently described the nature and effects of this Passion. For as dreames in the night fill vs with illusi­ons and vaine formes, which abuse vs, and which make vs imagine that wee are rich in our extreamest pouerty, that we are happy in our greatest misery, that wee enioy Scep­ters and Crownes, in the midst of bonds and irons, that wee command great Empires when we are restrai­ded in a hard and slauish cap­tiuity; in like manner, Hope, abusing our imagination, fills our soules with vaine contentments, and represents vnto vs that all things are subiect to our power, that the whole world should re­ceiue a law from vs; and if that there appeare any ob­stacle [Page 509] to hinder our dessignes and desires, that we are able to surmount them. Yea in the middest of our greatest disgraces, wee flatter our selues with this conceit, that humane calamities and mise­ries haue their bounds, and that they are weary to be al­wayes about one man; as the winds and stormes in the end breake, and are pacified after the most violent gustes. Wee represent vnto our selues the constitution of heauen and earth; wee call to mind that the Starres which are in the West returne suddenly to the East, that the day fol­lowes the night, that a calme season succedes a storme, and that faire weather followes thunder and raine: Finally, we beleeue that wee must as­sure [Page 510] our selues to see a change in the course of this life, and that the day which wee at­tend will make our conditi­on better, and conuert our misfortunes into incompara­ble felicities: So as I doubt not but euen among those wretched slaues whom mise­ries consume in the Turkes gallies, there are some which dreame and thinke of the Scepter of the Empire of A­sia.

Wherefore an Ancient sayd, that there was nothing so common in the life of men as Hope, which remaines euen to them that are depriued of all other good and content: For that the miserable after an absolute shipwracke, en­tertaine Hope, as the last an­chor of their ruined fortune. [Page 511] But to leaue the illusion and deceipts which wee frame in our selues; who knowes not that when they are well or­dered, they serue to mollifie the paines, and to incounter all the crosses and accidents of this life? What had be­come of the Romans after the battaile of Cannas, wherein they lost the flower and chiefe of their men of war, if a better Hope had not reuiued their courages, to reuenge the losse and disgrace which they had receiued? Had not their common-weath with­out it, bene a prey to Hanni­ball, and the Carthaginians? Had not their Estate beene ouerthrowne, and their rich prouinces made desolate? But these great personages representing vnto themselues [Page 512] that many suffer shipwracke in the Port; and contrariwise others, saue themselues a­mong rockes; fortified them selues with Hope, which made them not only repaire this losse, but also to giue a law vnto the victors. How ma­ny other Estates, Empires, and Kingdomes, through Hope haue maintained them­selues against the iniuries of Fortune?

During the reigne of Charles the sixt, in that great deluge of English, which o­uerflowed in a manner all France; in those domesticke treacheries, in that generall reuolt of all the Orders of the Realme, what had become of the fortune of France, if those great ornaments of our Hi­story, those worthy men, [Page 513] which liued at that time, by an infamous basenesse had a­bandoned the ship in the middest of a storme, and had lost all Hope to preserue the King, and his Crowne? Was not their hope seconded by a thousand miracles which God wrought to preuent the shipwracke of the State? And in our dayes, amidst the pow­erfull conspiracies of Spaine, and the violent factions of the League, into what misery had this goodly Crowne falne, if great Henry, the mi­racle of our age, full of good Hope, which neuer abandons great resolutions, had not supported it, and by his va­ [...]o [...]r ouerthrowne all the ob­stacles, which his enemies had set before his throne to hinder his rising? But if Hope [Page 514] hath great power to main­taine publique fortunes, it hath no lesse to assure those of priuate mē. So as we may say, that most men liue by Hope, & entertaine thēselues with the future, this Passion neuer abandoning any man vntil he goes to the graue. Wherfore if we shold search out the na­ture of any Passiō exactly, it is of this in particular, which hath such power ouer the o­ther affections of our soules. We must then gather the de­finitions dispersed here and there in the writings of Philo­sophers. Hope, said an ancient, is an expectation of good: Hope, sayd another, is a cert [...]e cōfi­dence which we haue, that what we imagine shal befal vs. And a third writes, that Hope is a motion and passion of the soule, [Page 515] by the which, vpon the impressi­on which wee haue of a future good, which presents it selfe to our imagination as difficult to obtaine, we endeauour to pursue it, conceiuing that we are able to attain vnto it, and in the end to get the possession. From this last Definition, which doth explicate the true nature of Hope, wee gather that there are foure conditions requi­red in the obiect. First, it must haue bounty, for that Hope tends alwayes to that which is good. Wherein it differs from feare, which hath for obiect the euill where­with man is threatned. Se­condly, this good which wee hope for must bee to come, for that the presence and en­ioying of this takes away the Hope. So Alexander go­ing [Page 516] into India hoped to con­quer it, but hauing finished his conquest, this Hope vani­shed, and was conuerted into the enioying and possession of that which hee had hoped for. So in this life we hope for the glory of heauen, but when we shall enioy it▪ this hope shall bee quencht and extinguished. And therein Hope differs from Ioy, which is a contentment of a good which we possesse.

Thirdly, there must bee a paine and difficulty to attain vnto the good whereof wee haue conceiued an Hope, for no man hopes for that which is in his power. And there­fore the Philosophers ob­serue, that Hope is alwayes mixt with some feare, by reason of the obstacles which [Page 517] present themselues, and may hinder mans enioying of the good hee hopes for; wherein she differs from De­sire, which extends generally to all kinde of good, without any apprehension of difficul­ty: And therefore Desire belongs to the Concupiscible appetite, whereas Hope is sub­iect to the Irascible.

Fourthly, amidst the dif­ficulties which man doth ap­prehend in getting the good which he hopes for; yet not­withstanding hee must ima­gine, that it is in his power to preuent all the obstacles which might hinder his en­ioying; for no man did euer hope for things which hee holds impossible. So Caesar would neuer haue hoped to finish the conquest of Gaule, [Page 518] if he had not first perswaded himselfe that the industry of a generous Captaine, might bring that enterprize to a good end, although it were difficult and dangerous. Whereby wee may gather, that although Hope hath her seat in the Irascible appetite, which hath the good for her obiect: yet as it is the pro­perty of powers indued with knowledge, to excite those which are capable to desire, representing their ob­iects vnto them; her motions depend of the imagination which man frames in himselfe of a good which he beleeues confidently to obtaine, not­withstanding that he appre­hends great crosses in the pursuit. For man, who is a credulous creature, and al­wayes [Page 519] flatters himselfe in his hopes, doth also assure him­selfe to compasse that which he thinkes is not aboue his forces, although hee bee not ignorant that hee shall finde some resistance. So as this beleefe begets in the Irasci­ble part a certain confidence, which makes him vndertake that which he desireth, assu­ring himselfe to surmount all obstacles which may crosse him and hinder his enioying. And it is certaine, that euen bruite beasts haue motions of hope and despaire as well as men. For the interior pas­sions of creatures discouer themselues, and are knowne by their exterior motions, wherewith they are agitated; whereof we haue daily expe­rience, in the Sparrow-hauk, [Page 520] Tassel, Sacre, Lanner, and o­ther Hawkes, who seeing their game farre from them, and not in their power to o­uertake it, they neuer bate af­ter it, nor offer to pursue it; whereas if they see it in a rea­sonable distance, they pre­sently take their flight to seaze vpon it. And in like manner the Lyon going to hunt after his prey, to sa­tisfie his hunger, runnes not after those beasts which hee thinkes can easily flye from his fury, but sets vpon those which hee imagines cannot escape him.

But wee must vnderstand, that to frame the Hope of a­any thing in our soules, it is not necessary that wee know euidently that it shall hap­pen, and that it is in our [Page 521] power to attaine vnto it, but it sufficeth that wee haue some opinion and coniecture grounded vpon the appa­rēce, which makes vs beleeue that there is meanes to ob­taine it: for that when wee perswade our selues vpon a­ny reason whatsoeuer, as ima­gining that others haue at­tained vnto it, that it hath at other times succeeded, and that the same euents attend vs; that time assists vs, that the place is fauourable vnto vs, that we haue friends, or that wee are able enough of our selues to compasse our designes; we fill our selues with Hope, and doubt not but all will succeede happily. So as there is no reason how light soeuer, but it is suffici­ent to make vs hope for that [Page 522] which we propound vnto our selues; wherein it seemes, that amidst the miseries of this life, and all publicke and priuate calamities, which o­therwise would be intollera­ble, the wise prouidence of God hath prouided vs this remedy, to fortifie our con­stancy and to keepe vs from shrinking, and falling vnder the burthen of aduersities. The which the Poets would represent vnto vs, vnder the fable of Pandora, in whose boxe (beeing emptied of all good things) there remained nothing but onely Hope vp­on the brimme of the ves­sell.

And therefore a Rhodian being cast into an obscure and cruell prison, among ser­pents and venemous beasts, [Page 523] and coniured by some of his friends, to make an end of so many miseries by a volunta­ry death, he answered wisely, that man hopes still whilst he breathes: as if he would say, that death onely could de­priue man of the hopes of life, and a better fortune.

The persons which fill themselues with Hopes, are first of all those which haue had a long experience and a perfect knowledge of the af­faires of the world. As for example, such as haue beene in many incounters, and haue gotten great victories, pro­mise still vnto themselues a power to vanquish, yea, when they haue beene beaten. And therefore that Romane Con­sull which escaped from the battaile of Cannas, where his [Page 524] companion had beene slaine, and the whole Romane Army defeated, was commended for that he hoped well of the Common-weale.

And heere wee must re­member what wee haue for­merly said, that the obiect of Hope is a difficult good, but yet possible to attaine, for thereby followes, that one thing may contribute, and serue to entertaine our Hope after two manners; that is to say, either in making the thing truely possible, and put the effects into our power: Or at the least, in making vs be­leeue that it is not impossi­ble, and that we may attaine vnto it by meanes, which are not aboue our forces. In the first sort, whatsoeuer makes vs more powerfull increaseth [Page 525] our Hopes. And in this kinde wee put riches, Armes, Cou­rage, Crownes, Empires, yea, and a long experience of things: for so we see that men powerfull in wealth assure themselues to compasse any thing.

As Philip of Macedon said, that hee could force any place whereas money might enter. And great Kings mea­suring enterprizes, rather by their power and courage, then the obstacles which present themselues, haue an imagination to accomplish them happily.

And in like manner expe­rience, by meanes whereof man hath gotten the know­ledge of meanes fit to pro­cure things to succeed easily, makes him cōceiue a certain [Page 526] Hope, to haue good successe of that which hee proiects. Wherefore an Ancient said, that no man apprehends to vndertake that which hee hath learned well and can do accordingly,

In the second sort, what­soeuer makes vs esteeme things easie, or which dimi­nish the difficulties, may also serue to fortifie our hopes. And of this sort an exqui­site knowlege, or a powerfull remonstrance may contri­bute much. And therefore in great battailes, Generalls haue beene accustomed to represent vnto their souldi­ers their valours tryed in ma­ny occasions, the little cou­rage of their enemies; and whatsoeuer may assure them of the victory.

[Page 527]In this manner their ex­perience may preuaile much: for by the experience which a man hath of things, he per­swades himselfe that what o­thers hold impossible, may notwithstanding succeede happily. It is true also that experiēce may weaken Hope, according to the resolution or want of courage where it resides. Wherefore Aristotle said, that old men haue weak or bad hopes, for that the long experience they haue of things, the changes they haue seene, the deceits which they haue tried, the fraudes wherewith they haue beene circumuented, the practises wherewith they haue beene abused, and the little integri­ty and sincerity they haue found in the actions of men; [Page 528] fills them with iealousie and distrust. Adding moreouer, that they liue rather by me­mory then Hope; for that they haue a small share in future things, which is the ground of Hope, and that they haue a great Idea of what is past, which serues to entertaine the memory.

But contrariwise young men are full of Hopes, for three reasons grounded vpon three conditions, required in the obiect of this Passion, which we haue sayd should bee a good not yet present; difficult, but yet possible to obtaine; for young men haue little knowledge of what is past, and haue a great part in the future, by reason of their age: In regard whereof me­mory being of things past, [Page 529] and Hope of things to come, they do not much build vp­pon their memory, but feed themselues with hopes, which are many times vaine. And moreouer young men haue much heate, and aboundance of spirit, which puffes vp their hearts, and makes them aspire to great matters, little esteeming any difficulties which present themselues.

Thirdly, as they that haue receiued no repulse in their enterprizes, nor found any obstacles in their dessignes, they perswade themselues ea­sily that they shal attaine vn­to their desires, young men hauing no experience of the crosses, and hinderance which are found in affaires, imagine that all will succeed happily, and therefore they [Page 530] are still full of Hope.

They also which are sur­prized with wine conceiue great hopes, both by reason of the heate and aboundance of spirits, caused by the ex­cesse of wine, as also for that their spirits being drowned in wine, cannot apprehend the dangers, nor foresee the obstacles which they may find in their dessignes. For the same reason mad men, who are neither capable of counsell nor iudgement, are easily carried to Hope, for all that which they imagine; and they vndertake foolishly whatsoeuer comes into their fancies; for as Aristotle sayth, to speake of all things and leaue nothing vncensured, is a marke of folly; so to at­tempt all things, and to [Page 531] Hope for all, is a signe of little iudgement.

If against this which we haue propounded, (that young men, such as are ouer­taken with wine, and mad­men are commonly full of great hopes) they obiect, that neither the one nor the o­ther haue any kind of experi­ence whereof they may make vse, nor any firme resolution, neither yet any great power to effect their dessignes, all which are necessary conditi­ons to frame hopes; they must remēber that although these men in effect haue none of these qualities, but are for the most part vnprouided, yet they are rich in imagina­tion, and thinke they enioy them.

And we haue sayd, that the [Page 532] obiects of Hope, make not their impression in our soules, by the truth alone of things, but also by the vaine imagi­nations which wee frame in our selues. Wherefore al­though they bee without ex­perience, without resolution, and without great meanes to effect what they haue pro­pounded, yet they do pro­mise much vnto themselues, and Hope for all.

And although that loue be the fountaine of all the Passi­ons of the soule, yet Hope may be the cause that we loue any one. For Hope may propound vnto it selfe two things, that is to say, the good which wee hope for, and the meanes to obtaine it. Wherefore an obiect of good presenting it selfe vnto vs, which wee are [Page 533] not able to attaine vnto, but by the assistance of some o­ther; for this reason, Hope doth also regard those that assist vs, and make the thing easie.

Seeing then that Hope re­gards the obiects which wee propound vnto our selues, vndoubtedly loue is the root and cause of Hope; for that we hope not for any thing but that wherewith wee are in loue, and whereunto we haue tied our affections, desiring passionately to enioy it. But for that hope regards him which doth open to vs the meanes, and makes the thing possible; loue is a bud of hope, seeing that we loue him, for that we hope to attaine vnto our desires by his assistance. So as the first impression [Page 534] which the obiect wee pursue makes in our soules, is an ef­fect of the loue wee beare it, conceiuing it to bee a good fit for vs. But the conside­ration of the meanes to at­taine vnto it, which comes from others, makes a second impression in vs, and indu­ceth vs to loue him that doth procure it, representing him vnto vs as profitable vnto our dessigne, and therefore worthy to be beloued.

Touching that which con­cernes the effects of hope, we will not make any particular discourse, but content our selues to say, that as the North Star is the marriners guide who looke continually vpon her light to assure their nauigation: so Hope is that which inflames vs to all the [Page 535] difficult actions wee vnder­take.

And as the brightnes of this Star doth fill them with ioy that saile by sea, but when as it shines not they are dismaide, & feare hourely to perish by the violence of some storme, or to see their ship split vpon some rocke: So whilest wee haue any re­mander of hope, our soules are content; but if it bee quite vanished, we hold out selues miserable, and begin to neg­lect and forget our selues.

The first effect of Hope is, that it breeds a singular con­tēt in vs, which makes our pursuites pleasing. Wherefore all the Philosophers concurre in this Maxime, that hope for­tifies our resolutions, and makes them more prompt in [Page 536] their actions. The which is for two reasons. The first, for that she hath for her obiect a good hard to bee obtained. But the apprehension of the difficulty, which presents it selfe in the pursuite of the good whereunto wee doe as­pire, doth vsually make vs gather our forces together, to vanquish all obstacles, and to attaine vnto it, notwith­standing all the difficulties that may bee encountered: And therefore wee imploy more care and diligence, by meanes whereof wee attaine more easily to the end of our dessignes.

Secondly, Hope breeds this pleasure and sweetnes where­of wee haue spoken, which makes vs more actiue and more ready to pursue that [Page 537] which we desire; for that we behold nothing painful wher­in we take deligh [...] ▪ Wee must then remember here, what we haue spoken elsewhere, that Hope is a sweete imagination which we frame in our selues, of a good whereunto wee aspire. And that this imagination begetts in our soules a se­cond contentment, for that it is accompanied with this beleefe, that wee may attaine vnto it.

Wherefore as pleasure makes all actions delightfull vnto men, so the content we receiue from our hopes (ac­cording vnto the Philoso­phers) makes vs to pursue with more heate and lesse paine, that which wee haue once conceiued in our thoughts. This ioy which proceeds [Page 538] from a certaine hope we haue of enioying, deriuing from the soule, disperseth it selfe in­to all the members of man, the which do ioyfully receiue the impressions of the mo­uing faculty, yeelding vpon this occasion a more prompt obedience to execute the commandements of the Ira­scible, the which of the one side is inflamed with desire to incounter & vanquish what­soeuer opposeth it selfe a­gainst her, and on the other she is sweetly entertained in this resolution, by the plea­sure which imaginatiō giues her, representing that shee may vanquish all these obsta­cles, and be victorious in this combate, and in the end ob­taine the good whereunto she aspires.

[Page 539]But particularly, this ioy falles about the heart, which sends it backe againe and makes it ascend vnto the eies and countenance. Where­fore we reade in their faces that are full of good hope, the contentment which their i­magination giues them.

In regard of the ioy and cōtentment which hope giues vs, wee do easily deuoure all the toyles and paines which present themselues in our pursuites, especially when the good which we pursue is en­dued with some excellent perfection, which makes vs to esteeme it greatly, or to loue it ardently. As for ex­ample, at the seege of Troy, the Grecians were not dis­couraged with the tedious­nesse of the time, nor with [Page 540] the toyles and dangers of warre; for that they imagi­ned the beauty of Hellen de­serued their long labor to re­store her to her husband, and to reuenge the reproach and infamy of Greece.

So Iacob being passionately in loue with faire Rachell, hee patiently endured the rigors of her father, the toyles of his seruice, and the afflictions of his mind, for that he liued daily in hope of this in compa­rable beauty: And therefore Hope hath so great power in humane affaires, in which there is found some kinde of difficulty. The laborer would not expose himselfe so freely to the rigor of the aire, nor endure with such patience the iniuries of times, in til­ling his land, if hee did not [Page 541] promise vnto himselfe a rich haruest for the fruit of his la­bour: the souldier would not cast himselfe into dangers, he would not mount vp to brea­ches, nor thrust himselfe into the fury of combates, if the expectance of glory, or hope of booty did not animate his courage.

The Merchant would not passe through rockes, fires, waues, and stormes, running from Sea to Sea, and from Port to Port, if hee did not promise vnto himselfe great wealth, in recompence of his voyages and trauailes. Yea, Alexander himselfe going to the warre of Asia, where hee should expose himselfe to a thousand dangers, protested that he was wholly thrust on by Hope to enioy all the glo­ry [Page 542] and treasures of the East, by subduing those Barbari­ans. So as hope is as it were, the soule of goodliest acti­ons, making vs to surmount all the difficulties and obsta­cles, which might hinder the execution by the mollifying of our resolutions. Yea, it is certaine, that Courage hath alwayes beene held an effect of good hope: for when as man hopes to surmount those fearefull things, which seeme to threaten him, he goes cou­ragiously to encounter them; whereas when he is surprized by feare, he faints, and aban­dons himselfe vnto the mis­fortune, his despaire rising from the difficulties which he apprehends in the good which he should hope for.

But to haue full know­ledge [Page 543] of this subiect, and of the whole matter, we must in the end of this chapter shew, how despaire is contrary to hope, and seek the reason why it may sometimes make men valiant, and to winne great victories. First of all, you must remember what wee haue formerly sayd, that a­mong the Passions of the soule, they obserue two kinds of opposition. The first is found among those that haue contrary things for ob­iects: and that is onely a­among the passions of the Concupiscible part: as for ex­ample, betwixt Loue and Hatred, whereof the one re­gards the good, and the o­ther the euill. The second is obserued betwixt those that in truth regard the same ob­iect, [Page 544] but with diuerse consi­derations, and that is found among the Irascible passions, whereof the one seekes the good, and the other flies it, by reason of the difficulty which doth inuiron it. As for example, Courage and Feare do both regard an im­minent danger, which pre­sents it selfe to the imagina­tion; but courage lookes vp­pon it to encounter and van­quish it, and feare regards it to auoyd it and flye from it, if it be in her power. After this manner then despaire is contrary to hope, for that the obiect of hope which is a good difficult to obtaine, drawes vs of the one side, that is to say, so farre as wee doe imagine a power to ob­taine it. But it doth reiect vs [Page 545] on the other side, as when we apprehend, that wee haue no meanes to enioy it: for this apprehension daunts our re­solution: or that, as Aristo­tle teacheth, the impossibili­ty which wee imagine in things, makes vs to giue ouer their pursuit.

Wherefore in this conside­ration, despaire is quite con­trary to hope. But some one may say, How comes it that many times in warre, despaire makes men valiant, and giues them great victories, as well as Hope, for that it is not the custom of nature to produce the like effects from contra­ry causes? To which we an­swer, that when in the midst of despaire men resolue to fight valiantly, as we reade of the English in the plaines of [Page 546] Poictiers, where they tooke one of our Kings prisoner; it happens for that they haue not lost all hope: for they that see no apparence of safety by flying, and apprehend that it cannot preserue them from falling into their enemies hands, but will purchase them eternall shame with their miserie; losing all hope of that side, they resume new courage, and resolue to sell their liues dearely, and to re­uenge their deaths glorious­ly. Wherefore great Cap­taines haue alwaies held o­pinion, that enemies should not bee thrust into despaire beeing put to flight, but ra­ther make them a bridge of gold, & to giue them meanes to passe riuers, lest that fin­ding themselues staied, and [Page 547] despairing of all safety, they should take more courage, and generously reuenge their first basenesse, by a cruell slaughter of their enemies.

Of Choler. CHAP. 1.

OF all the passions of the soule, there is not any one that takes such deepe root, or extends her branches far­ther then Choler; wherof, nei­ther age, condition, people, nor nation, are fully exempt. There are whole Countries which liuing vnder a sharp & rough climate, are not ac­quainted with pleasures: [Page 548] There are others, who con­tenting▪ themselues with those benefits which nature presents vnto them, are not enflamed with any ambiti­on. Some there be, to whom misery is familiar, as they fear not any accidents of fortune. But there is not any, ouer whom Choler doth not exer­cise her power, and shew the excesse of her rage: Yea, she enflames whole kingdomes and Empires; whereas the o­ther passions doe onely trou­ble and agitate priuate per­sons.

Wee haue neuer seene a whole Nation surprized with the loue of one woman. It was neuer foūd, that a whole City hath beene transpor­ted with a desire to heape vp treasure: Ambition doth [Page 549] puffe vp but certaine spirits. But we see Cities, Prouinces, and whole States, enflamed with Choler, and transported by this fury, with a publicke conspiracy of great & small, young and olde, men, and children, Magistrates, and multitude: we see Commo­nalties, whom this fury hath incensed, runne all to Armes, to reuenge a disgrace, or a wrong, which they pretend hath beene done them. Wee haue also seene great and po­werfull Armies, which haue bene the terror of the world, ruine themselues by this fu­ry, which hath thrust them into mutiny against their Commanders. Wherefore if there be any passion which is pernicious vnto man-kind, it is this, which seemes nei­ther [Page 550] to haue bounds nor li­mits, nor any shew of reason. It shall bee therefore fit to know the nature, properties, and effects thereof; to the end, wee may finde out some remedy, to diuert the mise­ries which shee brings into the world.

Let vs begin by the De­finition, which giues a full light of the Essence of the thing, and makes vs to know perfectly.

Choler is an ardent passi­on, which vpon the apparence there is to be able to reuenge our selues, incites vs to a feeling of a contempt and sensible iniury, which we beleeue hath been vn­iustly done, either to our selues, or to those we loue. Whereby it appeares first, that Choler is accompanied with a heate, [Page 551] which is framed and ingen­dred in vs, for that this passi­on enflames the blood and spirits, which are about the heart, by meanes of the gall, which in this heat exhales it selfe, and ascends vnto the braine, where it troubles our imagination. This heate dif­fers from that which pro­ceedes from loue, for that the heate which is found in loue, tending to the thing belo­ued to vnite it selfe with it, is mixt with a certaine sweete­nesse, so as the Philosophers compare it to the moderate heate of the ayre or blood.

Wherefore we say, that sanguine complexions are most capable of loue, & that the bounty of the liuer wher­as the blood is framed, indu­ceth to loue. But the heate of [Page 552] Choler is boyling, full of bit­ternesse, and accompanied with sharpenes, which tends to the destruction of the ob­iect which it pursues, and is properly like to the heate of a great fire, or to adust cho­ler extraordinarily mooued, which consumes the subiect whereunto it is fixed, and therefore the Philosophers maintaine, that it proceedes from the gall.

It appeares also by the Definition of Choler, that she hath alwayes for obiect the particular persons which haue wronged vs. Wherein she differs from hatred, which extends to a multitude of men. As for example, wee detest all murtherers, all theeues, all poysoners, and all slanderers: euen as wee ab­horre [Page 553] all serpents, vipers and venemous beasts. And there­fore it is not sufficient to sa­tisfie our Choler, that he that hath done vs wrong fall into some disaster, which might suffice to giue satisfaction to our hatred: But moreouer (to giue vs full contentment) hee must know that we haue pro­cured him this crosse, and that wee are the authors of the reuenge and afflictions which he endures.

So Vlysses hauing put out the eye of Cyclops, dissembled his name no longer, as he had done before, but would make himselfe knowne vnto him; as if he had not bene suffici­ently reuenged of this mon­ster, vnlesse hee had let him know that he was the author of his disaster. We learne [Page 554] also by the same definition, that to incense vs to Choller, it is necessary, that he who is theobiect haue done vs wrōg; or to some one whō we loue, or that belongs vnto vs. As for example, wee are discon­tented with those that wound our reputation, which attempt against our liues; which crosse our pleasures, or vndertake any thing a­gainst our kinsfolkes or friends: But wee cannot bee angry with him which cau­seth a Iew to be put vnto the chaine at Constantinople, or a Moore to be whipt at Rome; for that the outrage done vn­to these persons doth no­thing concerne vs. But if it doe casually happen that one man is angry against a­nother, hauing receiued no [Page 555] cause of distaste from him, only by a certaine antipathy and contrariety of humors▪ the reason is, for that in this naturall antipathy, he that is angry against the other, con­ceiues in his imaginatiō that hee is able to do him some wrong, or at the least he hath such a distaste of him as it is troublesome vnto him to looke on him.

So as this antipathy sup­plies the place of an iniury, and workes the same effect that the imagination did to haue receiued some wrong.

Wee gather also from the same definitiō, that to excite Choler we must imagine that wee are able to execute the reuenge whereunto we aspire: And therefore wee dare not be angry, or at the least verie [Page 556] lightly, against kings, and great personages that haue wronged vs; for that wee know their authority pro­tects them from our re­uenge.

Yea there hath bene a fa­ther, whose son a great King hauing slaine in the middest of his cups with the shot of an arrow, supprest his griefe in such sort (seeing hee could not reuenge it) as forbearing to complaine of this mon­stous cruelty, hee commen­ded the Princes dexterity in shooting. But we may say, that this actiō sauored more of flattery then of constan­cy,

For the last obseruation we must remember that the causes which excite Choler are not alwayes true, but ma­ny [Page 557] times are such as we frame in our owne imaginations; for this Passion with her o­ther defects hath also that e­uill, that she is witty to finde out meanes to cloake her vio­lence and fury. As it appea­red in that Roman, who trans­ported with this fury, suppo­sed three crimes to put three innocents to death, vnder some colour of Iustice. By that which we haue formerly sayd, it may be gathered that Choler is alwayes accompani­ed with some kind of plea­sure, which proceeds from the hope we haue to reuenge the wrong which hath beene done vs. For there is a con­tent to promise vnto our selues to bee able to attaine vnto that which wee desire passionately; whereas no man [Page 558] man wisheth for those things which he thinkes are aboue his power. Wherefore as he that is incensed against any one, pursues a reuenge whereunto hee thinkes hee may attaine, this hope fills his soule with ioy, and giues him a singular content; wherefore Homer makes A­chilles to say, that Choler dis­perseth it selfe in the hearts of generous men, with a sweetnes which exceeds that of hony.

But this great content doth not only arise from the hope wee haue to bee able to re­uenge our selues; but it also proceeds from the working of our imagination, which thinking continually of the same obiect of reuenge, breeds in vs a pleasure like [Page 559] vnto that which they feele that haue delightful dreams, and which take pleasure in their vaine apparitions. Yet we must remember that Cho­ler is also full of griefe and bitternesse, for that it pro­pounds the iniury receiued, the which shee cannot easily disgest, presupposing that it is accompanied with some notable contempt which tends to the impayring of his honor and reputation. So as the sweetnesse which is found growes from the opi­nion of reuenge; and the bit­ternesse proceeds from the conceite of the iniury which we cannot endure. Finally, as our Choler is inflamed by the contempt and bad opi­nion which they seeme to haue of vs; as there are diuerse [Page 560] kinds of contempt, so it may grow from diuerse subiects. For many times although the contempt be not accom­panied with any iniury, ma­king only a shew that they do not hold vs in such e­steeme as we thinke wee are worthy of, this simple con­tempt prouoketh vs to Cho­ler, holding our selues wron­ged, for that wee are not ho­nored as we thinke wee haue deserued.

As if we should yeeld to a King all the honors of the world, and yet forbeare to giue him the title of a King, this were sufficient to en­flame his Choler: At it appea­red in Alexander, to whom Darius hauing written a let­ter full of great and large of­fers, but had forgot to giue [Page 561] him the title of King; this generous spirit bare it so im­patiently, as in the end of that which he sent for an an­swere, hee added for the last conclusion of all their confe­rences by writing, Finally, when thou writest vnto me, re­member that it is not only to a King, but euen to thy King that thou writest. The which hee added for that hee had defea­ted Darius in battaile. In truth he that yeelds not to any one the honour that is due vnto him, makes shew to contemne him, and that he deserues not the honor which he doth en­ioy: For that if hee regarded him as hee ought, hee would not seeke to diminish those honors which all the world besides yeeld vnto him. And therefore we may prouoke a­ny [Page 562] one to Choler by our si­lence, for that it may bee a signe of our contempt. But the wrong wee receiue from those which depraue vs o­penly, and dishonor vs either in deed or word without any cause, is more hard to disgest. For that he which doth this outrage without any subiect, makes a visible demonstrati­on that he doth not esteeme vs: it being most euident that when as wee hold any good regard of a man, we are care­ful not to offend him without cause; yea wee endeauor to insinuate our selues into his friendship.

There is another kind of contempt which prouokes Choler more then that where­of wee haue spoken; as when any one takes a pleasure to [Page 563] wrong vs and to crosse our dessignes, reaping no profit by the crosses which he giues vs, but the contentment to haue crost vs, and to haue hindred the course of our in­tentions. For it is an appa­rent signe of a wonderful con­tempt, seeing that he wrongs vs in a thing whereof hee reapes no profit but the dis­content hee giues vs, & with­all he shewes to haue an opi­nion that wee are not able to hurt him; otherwise he would apprehend to wrong vs vpon so weake a subiect: and that hee attends no kind of good­nesse from vs; for if hee did hope to reape any profit by our friendship, hee would seeke it and cherish it by all good offices, and not take that liberty to discontent vs. [Page 564] So as hauing so many testi­monies of contempt, and of the little esteeme hee makes of vs, we thinke wee haue iust cause to bee moued, and to reuenge our selues of him. But when as this contempt proceeds to outrages, and that any one without cause seekes to blemish our reputa­tion by scandalous reports made in companies: Then our Choler hath no bounds, but is inflamed beyond mea­sure, and makes vs burne with desire to reuenge so great an affront.

In like manner he, who without prouocation doth vs wrong both by word and deed, and who dissembles not his bad disposition, but doth publish it in all places, makes shew that hee doth wonder­fully [Page 565] contemne vs. For as he is not ignorant, that so sensi­ble an iniury deserues reuēge, seeing that he makes no dif­ficulty to doe it, but in de­spight defames vs in all com­panies where he comes; hee shewes plainely how basely he esteemes vs, and that hee thinkes wee are either too faint-hearted to vndertake, or to weake to execute the reuenge, which so sensible an affront deserues.

In the meane time we sup­pose that hee which hath wronged vs in this manner, doth it for his pleasure, ha­uing not giuen him any ap­parent subiect of discontent: for if it were to repell a for­mer iniury which hee had re­ceiued from vs, it were no more a contempt or an out­rage, [Page 566] but a reuenge which he would take of vs.

But you must not wonder at that which we haue said, that there are some people, which take a delight to com­mit outrages: and the rea­son is, for that naturally men cannot endure that any one should exceede them in those things wherein they take de­light: yea, they desire to ex­cell those whom they thinke are competitors with them in that which they vnder­take. Wherefore if they en­counter any one that is a­ble to oppose himselfe against thē, they contend with him, and vpon the first occasion doe him some affront, to the end they may shewe how much they exceede him in power. And therefore yong [Page 567] men, and such as are rich and powerfull, doe most com­monly fall into this excesse. For young men, and such as haue their blood hot and boyling, are wonderfully rea­dy to commit insolencies: and as if they wanted better imployments, they busie thē ­selues to doe harme; yea, vn­to those which haue not of­fended them. Whereof wee haue great and notable examples in the life of Alcibi­ades, who scandalized the whole City of Athens, by the insolency of his actions.

Rich men in like manner, and such as are powerfull, are full of this vaine ambiti­on to seem great, by the out­rages they doe to their infe­riours, imagining that this insolency is a marke of their [Page 568] greatnesse. For they presup­pose that they are farre ad­uanced aboue those, whom they dare so visibly wrong. And therefore they take a certaine kinde of content, to do them some affront, which is also the ordinary end that they propound vnto them­selues, which take a delight to wrong others.

Finally, we must remem­ber, that men are commonly moued to Choler, when as they see themselues contem­ned in any of those manners which we haue related. And if we shall seeke the cause in the Center, wee shall finde that the reason is, for that men desire passionately to see themselues honoured, and they beleeue, that such as are inferior vnto them, bee it [Page 569] in nobility, power, vertue, or any other eminent quality, are bound to yeeld them all sorts of duty and respect.

Rich men also will bee re­uerenced and respected by the poorer sort, who are infe­rior vnto them in the goods of fortune. And hee that is indowed with singular elo­quence, desires that such as haue not attained to the like perfection, should acknow­ledge the aduantage he hath ouer them.

In like manner men of au­thority and command, will haue such as are subiect to their gouernement, honour them with their seruice. And if their inferiours faile to yeeld them the honor which they think is due vnto them, they cannot endure this in­iury, [Page 570] but fall into rage; which makes them to seeke all oc­casions to punish this con­tempt.

And therefore it was tru­ly said, That the indignati­on of a King is great and fearefull; for that when as a great king is incensed against any one that is not of his quality, although he temper and moderate his choler for a time, yet hee smothers it in his brest, and is neuer satisfi­ed vntill hee hath made him feele the effects of his power, that durst presume to offend him.

Wherefore an Ancient said, that Choler encounte­ring with a great power, was like a thunder-bolt, which breakes in peeces whatsoeuer stands in its way. But not [Page 571] onely Kings, but euery pri­uate person is impatient to see himselfe contemned by those which are his inferi­ours. And to speake truth, there is nothing but the wise­dome of God, and the Law of Iesus Christ, that can pull out of our soules, this feeling of a contempt, or of an in­iurie receiued vnworthily.

For a conclusion of this chapter, we will obserue, that Philosophers make three kindes of Choler: and that as among serpents, there are Aspickes, Vipers, and Dra­gons, whose poyson encrea­seth daily; so they hold opi­nion, that of these diuerse kindes of Choler, some are ac­companied with more vio­lence, and shew more fire then the rest. For there is a [Page 572] kinde of Choler, whose mo­tions are sudden and prompt and which enflame vpon the first occasions, and the first obiects which present them­selues.

Aristotle calls those that are subiect to this passion, sudden, actiue, cholerick, and adust; for that this sudden­nesse to bee mooued, riseth from the abundance of adust choler, or from the gall. But as it is kindled suddenly, so it is quencht with little paine, like vnto the waues of the Sea, which rise and breake at the same instant There is another kind of Choler, which takes roote, and is fashioned in the soule, by a long con­tinuance of time, during the which, man doth represent vnto himselfe the forme of [Page 573] that party which hath wron­ged him, and preserues the memory of the iniury he hath receiued.

Aristotle tearmes these men sharpe, bitter, and secret: Such was the choler of Achil­les, which the death o [...] so ma­ny braue Princes slaine at the siege of Troy, during his de­spight, could hardly mollifie. There is a third kinde (al­though it differs not much from the second) the which doth wholly transport men, torments them perpetually, and neuer giues them any rest, vntill they haue satisfied their reuenge. Aristotle calls those that are agitated-with this frenzy, violent, outragi­ous, and insupportable. The first is found in the best dis­positions, but the two other [Page 574] are signes of bad inclinati­ons. To conclude, there is not any one of them, but we should auoyde and flie from, as a poyson which kills cha­rity, which should shine in all the motions and actions of Christians. And if we are at any time surprized, let vs bee angry, but sinne not; let Na­ture worke her first effect, but let vs stay her violence, and aboue all, let not the Sunne go downe vpon our wrath.

Of those against whom we are angry. CHAP. 2.

HEe which said that man was a creature which is passionate for glory, seemes to haue discouered all the roots of Choler: for if we obserue the obiects which excite it, and against whom we are an­gry, we shall finde it general­ly true, that it neuer disclo­seth it selfe in our hearts, nor is framed in our soules, but vpon a conceit we haue, that they seeke to diminish our glory, and to blemish our re­putation, [Page 576] with some notable contempt, or by some great outrage which wee cannot beare: so as this passion is kindled first, by a contempt and an iniury which we ima­gine we haue receiued, the which maketh an impression in our soules: the griefe and discontent to haue beene wronged, makes vs to seeke meanes for reuenge, beeing thrust on by the nature of griefe, which alwayes seekes ease, and which in this occa­sion cannot finde it but one­ly in reuenge, the desire whereof makes his heart to swell, and stirres vp his cou­rage. For it is certaine, that reuenge quencheth the heate of Choler, and we are pacified, when as wee see the wrong which we haue receiued, suf­ficiently [Page 577] punished: For that we conceiue by this meanes that our reputation is repai­red, and the contempt reuen­ged. But before this reuenge, the griefe of the iniury stickes fast vnto our soules and im­flames, vs to seeke reparati­on.

An Empresse of Constan­tinople hauing let slippe cer­taine words of contempt a­gainst Narses that generous Captaine, who had reduced Italy vnder the obedience of the Empire: and sayd in dis­daine that they must send for that Eunuch and make him spinne amongst her women; this valiant man being incen­sed at this outrage, protested in the middest of his griefe, that hee would weaue such a webbe for the Emperour and [Page 578] his Empresse, as all their po­wer and industry should not be able to vndo: And there­upon he drew the Lombards into Italy, and dismembred those goodly prouinces from the Empire: whereby it ap­peares how dangerous it is to incense a great spirit. Second­ly, when we are much trans­ported with Passion, and do vehemently affect any one thing, wherein we are crost & haue some obstacle giuen vs, be it directly or indirectly, by ouert meanes, or secret prac­tizes, our Choler is inflamed against those that are the au­thors of this let: And there­fore sicke men are angry with such as to repaire their health, refuse them water or fruits, or some other thing which they earnestly desire: [Page 579] And they that are in loue, frowne on them that flatter not their Passion, and which seeke to diuert them from the pursuite of that they loue. But aboue all, men are bitterly incensed, when as they con­temne their present conditi­on, and the estate whereunto some calamity or their owne indiscretion hath brought them.

Hence grow the com­plaints and vexations of the miserable, of poore people, of the diseased, of those which apprehend some notable af­afliction, and of those which see themselues exposed to the violence of the mighty, yea there haue beene men which haue died of sorrow & griefe, for that they were re­procht with an imperfection [Page 580] of nature which they broght with them into the world. Moreouer we are disconten­ted against those who wee thinke are the authors or a­bettors of any disastrous ac­cident which wee expected not, holding them for our friends.

For as any great felicity which befalls vs beyond our expectation, fills vs with ex­traordinary ioy; so great mis­fortunes which happen, not foreseene, and contrary to our expectance, afflicts vs strangely, and excites vs won­derfully to Choler. And some­times the circumstance of places where wee are, the hu­mors, wherein we are, the time wherein they take vs, with a thousand such like serue to prouoke vs to wrath. [Page 581] As for example when wee are sad and full of sorrow, Choler doth easily become mistresse of our senses opprest with griefe: And in like manner, if they giue vs any words of cōtempt in cōpany or before such persons as we loue, we beare thē impatiently, and let slippe the reines to Choler. These are the chiefe roots of anger which breeds in our soules, and these are the pow­erfull obiects that may ex­cite it.

But moreouer there are o­ther mouing causes which haue power to prouoke it, al­though they bee alwayes grounded vpō the contempt which is done vs: For men are also discontented against those that cause them to suf­fer some indignity, or that [Page 582] scoffe at them, or at such per­sons whose reputations are as deere vnto them as their owne. So the Cittizens of Millan being beseeged by the Emperour Frederike, ha­uing spoken something a­gainst the honor of the Em­presse, the Emperour bare it so impatiently, as hauing them in his power, he caused them to suffer all the indigni­ties that might bee inflicted vpon the vanquished; yea hee ruined their Citty and sow­ed it with salt, to take from them all hope of rising or to see it built againe. The rea­son of this extraordinary Choler is, for that these op­probrious scoffes are signes of a notable contempt. Men are also moued against those which do them some sensible [Page 583] outrage, the which brings no profit to the author, but dis­honors him that receiues it. Wherefore Choler made a powerfull impression in the soule of the Emperour Iusti­nian the second, by reason of the outrage which they of Constantinople (deposing him from the Empire) caused him to suffer, in cutting off his nose; who being restored to his estate, whensoeuer there distilled any humor from his wound, hee sent for some one of them whom he thought to haue had a part in the con­spiracy, and put him present­ly to death, or sent him into exile.

The reason is, for that these kinds of outrages blemish the things wherein they take any kind of content, as they that [Page 584] are passionatly affected to armes, canno [...] endure to heare the profession taxed without Choler: Neither had it bene the meanes to winne any great fauour with Caesar, Alexander, and Great Henry, to haue made discourses vnto them in disgrace of Martiall exercise.

And in like manner they that loue Philosophy, can­not see it contemned with­out perturbation. Yet wee must obserue, that such as thinke they haue attained to the perfection of any thing, are not so apt to bee moued for words that are spoken to the disgrace of their professi­on, as they that haue but weake beginnings, and are but new apprentices; and which thinke they haue no [Page 585] great opinion of them, or which know their owne de­fects: For these men are easi­ly incensed for any thing that is spoken against the profession they imbrace: Whereas the others being assured by the knowledge they haue of their owne me­rits, make shew to neglect the blame is giuen thē with­out iudgement. But there is no contempt more insup­porable then that we receiue from our friends, and from such as wee thinke are bound to contribute to our glory: for when as wee see that in­steed of aduancing our ho­nour they seeke to blemish it, we can no longer maister our despight.

Wherefore we haue seene great personages, who find­ing [Page 586] themselues vnworthily intreated by their common­weale, or by their Cittizens, for whose preseruations they had exposed themselues to a thousand deaths, haue borne this iniury so impatiently, as they haue giuen way to de­spight; and hauing no other meanes to reuenge this in­gratitude, for the last monu­ment of their wrath, haue de­nied their ashes vnto their Country, desiring to be buri­ed in other places. Where­fore the Ancients held opi­nion, that the Choler of bre­thren was cruell and hard to pacifie: For that the loue of brethren being tyed by the most powerfull bonds of na­ture, being once broken, Cho­ler turnes into fury, which continues euen after death.

[Page 587]Againe, men are mooued against those which hauing made profession to honour them, grow cold againe, and yeeld them not that respect which they had formerly done: For that they imagine this coldnesse proceeds from some kind of contempt, as if they had discouered some imperfection in them, the which they had not formerly obserued: for they discourse in themselues; if these men had not changed their opini­ons, and if they had not con­ceiued some new contempt, which withdrawes thē from vs, they would liue as they had formerly done; the which they neglecting, they attribute it to an opinion which those men haue con­ceiued, that insteed of hono­ring [Page 588] them, they should bee honored by them.

Men are also incensed a­gainst such as they hold in­grateful, and who they think haue no feeling of the bene­fits they haue receiued from them: For they imagine that this ingratitude is a meere contempt both of them and of their fauors, as if they had bene due vnto them, or that they were much their inferi­ors. They are also discon­tented against those which take a contrary part to that which they imbrace, which contradict their counsells; oppose their resolutions, and which are of another opiniō in all occasions which are of­fred: for they conceiue that this contradiction proceeds from the little esteeme the [Page 589] opponent makes of their suf­ficiency & industry, and also from a concyit they haue to bee more capable and suffici­ent, which is a visible con­tempt.

But men are wonderfully incensed to see themselues disdained by the baser sort, which are in no estimation, holding this contempt to be much more insupportable, then that of eminent persons, and which are in reputation. The reason is, for that as wee haue said, Choler riseth from the indignity of the con­tempt; but we cannot endure a contempt accōpanied with a greater indignity, or a more sensible outrage then that which comes from base per­sons, and which are our infe­riours, who should yeeld all [Page 590] honour and respect to those that exceed him in dignity and merit. Wherefore men of honor cannot endure but with much impatiency, to see themselues contemned by the scum of the people.

Men are also disconten­ted against their friends, if they refuse to commend them, or to oblige them by their courtesies and fauours, but especially if they doe the contrary: that is to say, if they braue them, and reiect them, seeming to bee ignorant of their necessi­ties, or if they accommodate not themselues to their de­sires and passions. And in truth it is a great signe of contempt, when as any one feignes not to know that which his friend desires and [Page 591] affects with passion: for that we striue to know the affaires and inclinations of those, of whom we haue any care and loue dearely.

Men are also incensed a­gainst those which reioyce at their calamities, or haue not the true feeling they ought. For to scorne, or take delight in them, is a marke of Hatred; and not to care for them, is a signe of con­tempt. Men are also discon­tented with such as neglect them, and hold it an indiffe­rent thing to displease them, or to doe an act that may of­fend them. Wherefore we doe commonly hate such as bring ill newes, conceiuing that if they had borne vs the respect they ought, they would not haue beene the [Page 592] messēgers of that which they knew wold afflict vs, lest they shold giue vs occasion of dis­content, but would haue left the cōmission to some other.

In like manner they are mooued against those which take delight in scandalous speeches made to the preiu­dice of their reputation, or which laugh with the rest, or take pleasure to be specta­tors of their miseries: for that the first argues a contempt, and the second shewes an ha­tred. So as wee see true friends vndertake wordes of reproach deliuered in the ab­sence of their friends, and are mooued with griefe, when as they happen to be spectators of their misfortunes. As it chanced to that poore man, who held himselfe happy to [Page 593] be vpon the coast of Egypt, not farre from Alexandria, where as Pompeys slaues performed his last funerall rites, to the end hee might witnesse his griefe, and pitty for the mise­ry of so great a Personage. But men are particularly mooued against those which contemne them before foure kindes of people: that is to say, before those with whom they contend for honour and glory. As Alexander could not endure the contempt of those which preferred Darius before him: Nor Caesar such as equalled Pompey vnto him. Or before such as they ad­mire, or by whom they desire to be admired: As Alexan­der could not without griefe endure they should blemish the glory of his conquests be­fore [Page 594] the Athenians: for that hauing their vertue in singu­lar recommendation, he desi­red in like manner to bee ad­mired by them, and attended from them the most glorious ornaments of his triumphes. Or before such as they loue and honour, as children grow into choler against those that contemne them before their parents; and he that is passi­onate in loue with a woman, cannot endure an affront which is done him in her pre­sence. Or else before those by whom he will be reuerenced: As fathers grow bitter a­gainst such as discouer their imperfections to their chil­dren, by whom they cannot endure to be contemned.

Moreouer, men are dis­contented with those that [Page 595] contemne or offend such as are deare vnto them, whom they are bound to assist, vn­lesse they will be partakers of their disgrace: the which hath bene the cause of great warres to reuenge an iniury done to the wiues, daughters sisters, and mothers of Kings: Princes hold thēselues inte­ressed to reuēge the reproch done vnto those persōs, that Nature hath tied vnto them by so powerfull bonds.

Moreouer, they are angry with such as doe not thanke them, nor acknowledge the fauours they haue receiued from them: for when as they see themselues depriued of this iust acknowledgement, which they had propoun­ded vnto themselues, for the fruite of their good turnes; [Page 596] or at the least, which they expect from the good dispo­sition of those they held ob­liged vnto them, they attri­bute it vnto a meere con­tempt. And their choler is kindled against those which haue depriued them of an honour whereof they helde not themselues vnworthy.

They are angry also with such as dissemble things, and make a ieast of that which they haue done seriously: for this dissimulation and diuer­sion of their intensions, is a signe of scorne.

Finally, men are discon­tented with those which doe good to all the world, yet do none to them in particular: for they are conceited, that such as haue no care to bind them vnto them, shewing an [Page 597] inclination to oblige all the world, witnesse thereby, that they esteeme them not as they do other men, but haue a most base conceit of their merit.

This consideration hath bred discōtents in the courts of great Princes; for euery one holding himselfe as wor­thy as his companion to at­tain vnto the offices of State, when as any one is aduanced without mention made of them, they conceiue that his good fortune is a blemish to their glory, & makes them to be esteemed inferiour to his merite. To cōclude, forgetful­nesse prouokes choler, for that forgetfulnesse is a signe of the little care they haue of men. And this little care is a mark of contempt, for that the [Page 598] things whereof they make account, are most carefully recommended to memo­ry.

CHAP. 3. Of the Effects and remedies of Choler.

AMONG all the Passions that trouble & trans­port the soule of man, there is not any accompanied with so great violence, which shewes such brutishnesse, or that produce such fatall and tragicall effects, as Choler; which seemes properly to be the spring frō whence flowes [Page 599] all the miseries and ruines which happen in the world. For whereas other passiōs, as Loue and Ioy, Desire and Hope, haue certain beams of sweet­nesse, which makes them pleasing; Choler is full of bit­ternes, & hath no sweeter ob­iects thē punishments, blood and slaughter, which serue to glut her reuenge.

These be her delights, these are her ioyes, these are the sweetest and most pleasing spectacles which she can be­hold. But if you desire to see how shee is the fountaine of all the horrors which are dis­persed ouer the world, and make it desolate: reade in histories of the sacking of Townes, of Prouinces ruined and made deserts, obseruing the euersion and ouerthrow [Page 600] of Empires; Diademes tro­den vnder foote; Princes basely betrayed, and smothe­red by poyson; Kings mur­thered; great Commanders in Warre cast into chaines; and seruing as an example of humane miserie. Consider that whole multitudes haue beene put to the sword, or made Gallyslaues; whole Na­tiōs rooted out; the Temples (wheras Diuinity dwels) pro­phaned; the Altars beaten down; and whatsoeuer was most holy and most reuerend among men, vnworthily violated, and they shall find that all these tragicall spec­tacles are the effects of that cruell and inhumane fury. But setting apart the horror of the effects which shee pro­duceth generally, let vs ob­serue [Page 601] the miseries whereof she is the cause in priuate persons that suffer themselues to bee transported with this Passi­on.

First then if the saying of Physitians be true, that of all the infirmities wherewith we are afflicted, there are none worse nor more dangerous then those which disfigure the face of man, and which make it deformed and vnlike vnto himselfe; we must con­clude by the same reason, that of all the Passions of man, there is not any one more pernitious, nor more dreadfull then Choler, which alters the gracefull counte­nance and the whole consti­tution of man. For as furi­ous and mad men shew the excesse of their rage, by the [Page 602] violent changes which ap­peare in their bodies; euen so a man transported with Cho­ler giues great signes of the frenzie that doth afflict him: his eyes full of fire and flame which this Passion doth kin­dle, seeme fiery & sparckling; his face is wonderfully infla­med as by a certaine refluxe of blood which ascends from the heart: his haire stands vpright and staring with hor­ror, his mouth cannot deliuer his words: his tongue fal­ters, his feete and hands are in perpetuall motion. He vo­mits out nothing but threats, hee speakes of nothing but blood and vengeance: Final­ly, his constitution is so alte­red, and his lookes so terri­ble, as he seemes hideous and fearefull euen to his dearest [Page 603] friends. What must the soule then be within, whose out­ward image is so horrible? Wherefor an Ancient sayd, that Choler was a short fury: And another maintained, that all violent Choler turned into madnesse: The which we may confirme by that which is written of Hercules, who growing furious knew not his owne wife and children, vpon whom he exercised his rage, tearing them inhumanely in peeces; euen so they o­uer whom Choler hath gotten absolute power, forget all af­finity and friendship, and without any respect make their owne kinsfolkes and friends feele the effects of their fury. For it is a Passion which growes bitter against all the world, which springs [Page 604] aswell from loue as from ha­tred, and is excited aswell in sport as in the most serious actions.

So as it imports not from what cause it proceeds, but with what spirit it incoun­ters: As it imports not how great the fire is, but where it falles; for the most violent cannot fire marble, whereas the smallest sparkles will burne straw.

Hereby wee gather, that this Passion domineers prin­cipally in hot and fiery con­stitutions; for that heate is actiue and wilfull, and giues an inclination to these kinds of violence, making vs to grow bitter easily, yea vpon the least subiect that may be. Finally, to returne to our first purpose, Choler doth not on­ly [Page 605] disfigure the body, but many times it ruines it who­ly: For some being extraor­dinarily moued, haue bro­ken their veines, and vomi­ted out their soule with the blood; yea they which haue slaine themselues, owe their misfortune to Choler which hath forced them to this last fury: hauing then left such cruell signes of rage vpon the body, she assailes the mind, shee doth outrage to the soule, and smothers reason in man, and like vnto a thicke cloud, will not suffer it to en­lighten him, and by this meanes fills him with disor­der and confusion. So as hee begins to shut his eare to all good aduice, he will no more heare speake of that which may helpe to mollifie his [Page 606] courage, which is full of bit­ternesse and violence; so as taking pleasure in his owne affliction, he abhorres all re­medies, and flies the hand of the Physitian which might cure him: yea in this trans­port hee is offended at any thing, and imitates the sa­uage beasts, whom the most cheerefull colours thrust into fury: An innocent smile, a shaking of the head which signifies nothing, a glance of the eye without dessigne, is capable to draw him to the field.

But how often haue wee seene this inhumaine fury dissolue euen the most sacred friendship vpon very friuo­lous subiects? hath shee not prouoked dearest friends to duells, and made them serue [Page 607] as spectacles of infamy both to heauen and earth, for quar­rells imbraced without any ground? It is then very appa­rant, that this Passion is not only infamous, but also most wretched, seeing that vnder an weake pretext of reuenge she doth precipitate men in­to most horrible villanies, & makes them tread all diuine and humaine lawes vnder feete, to satiate her in [...]olency and rage. Wherein doubtles she is more to bee blamed then all the other Passions wherewith the soule of man is afflicted: For that the o­ther Passions haue this pro­perty, that euen at the very instant when as they are as it were in the height of their transport, giue way some­what to reason, and yeeld in [Page 608] some sort vnto her comman­dements, when as shee pre­sents her self to pacifie them▪ Whereas Choler doth like vnto Marriners which are a­mazed or corrupted, and will giue no eare to the voice of their Pilot: Or as mutinous souldiers, which will not heare the aduice of their Lea­ders: Yea shee despi [...]es truth if shee opposeth against her rage; and although she come to know the innocency of the party whom shee perse­cutes, yet she holds obstinacy more honorable then repen­tance: So as nothing shalbe able to make her desist from her vniust and violent pur­suites.

And continuing this In­iustice against himselfe, shee sometimes constraines the [Page 609] most couetous profusely to cast away their most pretious treasure, and to make a heape of their wealth, and then to set fire on it; and many times also shee forceth am­bitious men to refuse and re­iect the honours which they had passionatly affected be­fore their despight: who doth not then see that this Passion, (more then any other) quencheth the light of rea­son?

The cause is, for that of all the Passions, whether they haue the good for their obiect, or regard the euill, those cause the greatest per­turbations in our soules which are the most violent; there is not any that doth exceed or equall Choler in vi­olence, which doth inflame [Page 610] the whole blood, and all the spirits which flowe about the heart, which is the most pow­erfull organ of Passions: by reason whereof there fol­lowes a wonderfull disorder not onely in the sensible and corporeall powers, but euen in the reason. For although she vse no corporeall organs in her proper functions, yet to produce them forth shee hath need of the powers of the sences, whose actions are crost and disquieted by the trouble which riseth in the heart and the whole body; by reason whereof Choler doth darken, yea hinder the whole light which she striues to cast forth: whereof wee haue two apparant signes, for that the members, where­in the image of the heart [Page 611] doth most shine, as the tong, the eies, & the countenance, feele the most violent force of this fury.

It is true that Aristotle sayth, that Choler doth in some sort giue eare to reason: But that must be vnderstood touching the report which she makes of the iniury recei­ued, wherein shee takes a sin­gular content; but shee giues no [...]are vnto her, but reiects her aduertizements in the measure and moderation which shee ought to hold in the reuenge. So as in truth there must bee some kind of reason to prouoke Choler; for that men which are stupid & dull are not capable of these motions; but when this Pas­sion is fully inflamed, then she doth wholy darken reason.

[Page 612]And as the same Philoso­pher sayth, that they which are full of wine and drinke, are not mooued with any thing for that their reason being drowned in wine, they are not capable to ballance an iniury, or to obserue a con­tempt: But such as are not fully drunke, are moued to Choler, for that there re­maines some weake beames of iudgement to discerne that which hath an appa­rance of iniury or outrage; but this Passiō riseth in them without subiect and without any great occasion, for that their reason is captiuated by the wine which hath gotten the maistry.

Euen so in the beginning of Choler, reason may giue some light to the Irascible [Page 613] power; but whē she hath got­ten the absolute cōmand, and is become Mistresse of the senses, Reason is darkened, and is of no vse in a soule thus transported.

But we must not conceiue that this mischief is absolute­ly incurable, but wee must ra­ther imagine, that as Hellebo­rum hath power to cure mad men, so there are remedies a­gainst Choler. The most po­werful are those which are ta­ken from the Law of God, who teacheth vs nothing but patience, charity, mildenesse, humanity and sufferance. But wee will rest satisfied to set downe the instructions of Philosophy, which may serue to this effect: First of all, Phi­losophers aduise vs to en­treate this passion as they do [Page 614] monsters and serpents, whom they striue to smother as soone as they are disclosed: for they will that man should haue a care to the beginning of Choler, which many times ariseth from so light an oc­casion, and so poore a subiect, as it is vnworthy a great spi­rite should bee transported therewith And as it is easie to quench a fire of straw in the beginning, but if we suf­fer it to take holde of more solid matter, it passeth all our labour and industry, and makes a pittifull ruine: euen so, he that will obserue Choler from the beginning, seeing it beginne to fume and kindle for some light quarrell and small offence; it is easie for him to suppresse it, and to stay her course. But if shee [Page 615] be once setled and beginnes to swell, and that he himselfe blowes the bellowes; that is to say, if hee stirres it vppe and enflames it, it will bee hard for him afterwards to quench it, whereas he might easily haue done it before by silence,

Wherefore as Pilots fore­seeing a tempest, doe vsually retire themselues into a road or vnder the Lee of some rock, before the storme come; so he that feeles the first mo­tions of Choler, should haue recourse to reason, and op­pose it to the passion, to con­troule her violence. For the first meanes to vanquish Cho­ler as an vniust tyrant, is not to yeelde any obedience to her, nor to beleeue her in any thing she saith or doth, to in­flame [Page 616] vs to reuenge, we finde in other Passions, that the li­berty wee giue them, brings some ease. As when young men which are enflamed with Loue, goe in maske, make dances, combates, or feasts, in fauour of the party they loue; all this giues some ease vnto their passion: and when as they suffer those that are afflicted to weep in the midst of their afflictions, the teares they powre forth, carry with them a part of their griefe, But Choler hath nothing of al this, she growes bitter, and is incensed by the liberty wee giue her, and is enflamed the more in that we giue way to her fury. And as they that are subiect vnto the falling sicke­nesse, hauing any signe or be­ginning of their fit, retire [Page 617] themselues suddainly, and take all the remedies which may diuert so troublesome an accident, or at least, hide the shame; so they which see themselues transported with Choler, should retaine them­selues, and striue to moderate their passion, and diuert the infirmity which seekes to seaze vpon them. Where­vnto they should the more willingly resolue, for that all other passions doe but draw men to euill, but this doth precipitate them; those doe shake them, but this doth o­uerthrow them; Those when they haue the vpper hand, suffer themselues to bee cur­bed, but this beeing mistresse will obey no law; like vnto the thunder-bolt, which be­ing once falne from the cloud [Page 618] wherein it was enclosed, can no more bee stayed. Other Passions stray from reason, but Choler treades it vnder feete, and leads it as it were, in triumph. Wherefore by all these considerations, men should be carefull not to fall into the hands of so furious a mistresse.

The second remedy that may be giuen, is to represent the defects of this passion, & the miseries wherewith she is accompanied; the which are such, as it seemes they carry the Palme of vice, and to bee more detestable then all o­ther crimes, wherewith the soule may be polluted. Aua­rice, in truth, is a shamefull greedinesse of getting, but yet it sometimes gathers to­gether that, which falls into [Page 619] the hands of a good man that succeedes a miser: whereas Choler scatters all. For what expences, what profusiō doth she not to attaine vnto the reuenge which shee doth me­ditate? How often doth shee make a man ruine his owne fortune? the husband to separate himselfe from his wife; the sonne abandons his father; the people arme a­gainst the Magistrate; and he which aspired to honour, checks himselfe, and giues o­uer his pursuite.

Choler is also worse then voluptuousnesse, for that lusts make men to plunge themselues in particular ple­sures; whereas Choler makes them of so bad a disposition, as he is delighted in another mans miseries. It is much [Page 620] more wicked then Enuy: for that if Enuy desires to see a­ny one miserable, it is Choler which procures the mise­ry.

But we must not continue our great desires in the re­uenges of Choler, for generous spirits are as it were, impene­trable to offences; whereas they that cannot resist, shew their weakenesse; whereby we see that women, children, sicke folkes, and olde men are most subiect to these moti­ons and impressions.

The highest and goodli­est part of the world, and nee­rest to the firmament and starres, is neuer couered with clouds; and in whose bosome there is neuer any haile, rain, windes, nor other tempests congealed: there is neuer a­ny [Page 621] thunder nor lightning, al­though the thunder-bolts fal from thence vpon the earth. In like manner, a spirit true­ly eleuated, a generous soule, is alwayes quiet, moderate, and graue, neuer suffering it selfe to bee transported with the furious motions of Cho­ler; shee represents vnto her selfe the defects of this passi­on, shee sees that they which abandon themselues vnto it, disrobe themselues of all shame, and lose all reason: for who is he that in the mid­dest of his despight & wrath, seems not to haue renounc'd all moderation, and mode­sty? Can hee refraine his tongue, or containe the other parts of his body in their du­ty? But how many great per­sonages haue we seene expose [Page 622] themselues to bee a scorne of the world by the excesse of their Choler? Witnesse that famous Prince, who wrote letters to a Mountaine, and who caused a Riuer to bee whipped, which had beene an obstacle to his passage.

Wherefore as in seeing the shamefull motions of them that are drunke, we conceiue a certaine horror of the ex­cesse of wine: so great spirits seeing the deformity of Cho­ler, endeauour what they can not to bee infected with a vice, which is as it were a re­proach to humane Nature. But to preuent it, wee must first flye all affaires that are aboue our reach, lest that fin­ding our selues opprest, as with an insupportable bur­then, griefe kindle our way­wardnesse [Page 623] and Choler. We must also flye the company of quarrelsome persons, lest by a certaine contagion they poyson vs with their Passi­ons.

Drunkards prouoke to drinke, voluptuous men mol­lifie the most couragious, and auarice poysons those that haunt the couetous. In like māner, cholericke men infuse into vs their troublesome humours, or at the least in fre­quenting them, wee expose our selues to the dangers of quarrels with them; whereas conuersing with quiet men (besides the good example) we are freed from that dan­ger.

Philosophers produce o­ther remedies to cure Choler, aduising them that haue any [Page 624] inclination to this passion, to leaue al great and waighty occupations of the minde, yea, the most serious studies: and they exhort them to i­mitate those that are weake sighted, who ease themselues in fixing their eyes vpon the most cheerefull colors; aboue all things they coniure them to auoyde the occasions and subiects which are giuen thē, to remember that it is not expedient for man to see all nor to heare all, and that wee must let many things passe which are spoken against vs; for that many times hauing neglected them, it is a kinde of iustification. That which prouokes vs to Choler (say they) is the opinion we haue to haue beene outraged; but we must not so suddenly giue [Page 625] credit to this opinion, nor presently receiue the reports which are made vnto vs, how cleere and euident soeuer the proofes of the iniury may seeme vnto vs; for there are many things which hauing a shew of truth, are notwith­standing false; so as wee must reserue one eare to heare the reasons of him that is accu­sed, or else shut them both to the reporters, who many times take a delight to sowe discord, and to breed quar­rells for their owne plea­sures.

And doubtles we may ma­ny times repent to haue run rashly to reuenge, whereas we haue cause to bee glad to haue deferred it. For the same reason wee must flie suspiti­ons and iealousies, which ma­ny [Page 626] times incense vs, as well as the iustest subiects of Choler; for that taking in ill part a looke, a smile, or some other light action, wee conceiue a despight, and runne to field against those that are inno­cent, and which had no desire to wrong vs.

Finally of things that of­fend vs, some wee haue by re­port, others wee haue either seene or heard ourselues. As for those which are reported wee must not easily giue cre­dit vnto them, considering the practizes which are vsed at this day to abuse the most credulous: A flatterer will seeke to insinuate himselfe in­to fauour by accusing an in­nocent; he wil suggest an out­rage & make a bad discourse to perswade that hee hath [Page 627] heard it with griefe of mind; another will seeke an occasi­on to dissolue the most sacred bonds of friendship: Another full of venome & poyson will desire to haue the sport of a quarrell, and will bee glad to bee spectator of a combate which he hath kindled, so as he be none of the party. It is then a notable lightnesse to condemne a friend suddenly before he be heard, and with­out an exact knowledge of the matter whereof he is ac­cused; and it is a prodigious iniustice to bee incensed a­gainst him before that hee know who accuseth him, or what crime is imposed vpon him.

As for those things where­of we our selues are witnesses, we must cōsider the dispositi­on [Page 628] & will of those that haue committed them; if it bee a young man, let vs impute it to his age and beare with his youth. Is it a father? Hauing receiued so many other be­nefits from him, it is reason wee should endure, and that remembrance of things past should mollifie our present bitternesse; and we must due­ly consider with our selues whether hee hath not iust cause to entreat vs with that rigor, whereof wee now complaine.

If it be a woman, this sexe doth not alwayes follow the motions of reason, and her weakenesse should serue her for an excuse. If they bee per­sons subiect to a greater po­wer, it may be they haue bene forced, and being solicited [Page 629] by such as they could not dis­obey, would you then bee angry against necessity? ano­ther may offend vs after that he hath bene outraged by vs: and what wonder is it if hee requite vs with the like? If he be a Magistrate or a Iudge from whom wee pretend to haue receiued some iniustice, his sufficiency must bee of more weight then our pri­uate opinion, and wee should rather accuse our owne crime then suspect him of corruption. If it bee a King or Prince, that punisheth some malefactor, we must be­leeue that hee doth it iustly: But if hee oppresse an inno­cent, we must not complaine, but giue way to the miseries of humane nature, remem­bring that the weaker are [Page 630] subiect to the lawes of migh­ty.

If it bee a bruite beast or a peece of timber or stone that hurts vs, we must beware that we become not more stupid then sencelesse things, think­ing to reuenge our iniuries of them. If it be a good man, we should not thinke that he had any will to hurt vs, bee­ing confident of his inno­cency. If hee bee a wicked man, why are wee amazed if the effects resemble the cause? Moreouer if we thinke that wee are wrongfully op­prest, let vs remember that many times wee thinke that vniust, which is not so in ef­fect: This proc [...]eeds from too great a loue which wee beare vnto our selues: and in a word, it is ignorance or in­solency [Page 631] that thrusts vs into Choler, neuer remembring that humane nature (like vn­to a field full of weeds and thornes) brings foorth spi­rits that are ingrate, treche­rous, enuious and wicked. Hee that shall duely consi­der this, will not easily giue way to Choler.

These are parts of the re­medies which Philosophers propound against this furi­ous Passion. There are o­thers which were too long to relate; and to say the truth, most of them are ra­ther remedies of Emperickes which palliate the euill, then solide medicines which cure our Passions. The soueraigne remedy is to cast our eyes vpon the examples of pati­ence which the seruants of [Page 632] God and the Saints haue taught vs in this world, and especially to fixe them vpon those which the Sonne of God hath left vs, who being outraged by men did not curse them; being persecu­ted, hee did not threaten his excutioners; being cru­cified, hee prayed for his e­nemies; and who in the end by a Philosophy farre diffe­rent from that of the world, hath put our saluation in his crosse, our triumphs in his reproches, and our glory in his punishments.

Of Mildnesse and Gentle­nesse. CHAP. 1.

AS CHOLER enflaming man to reuēge, trans­ports him in such sort as ma­ny times he seemes to be de­priued of all kind of humani­ty; and that it hath conuer­ted him into a sauage and cruell beast, which breathes nothing but blood & slaugh­ter, so there is a motion con­trary to this Passion which restores man to the estate of man, and casting as it were water vpon the fire of his wrath, makes him tractable [Page 634] to pardon the outrages which hee pretends to haue beene done him vnworthily. This Passion hath no proper name, but may be called Gen­tlenesse, Mildnesse, or clemen­cy, according to the subiects where it encounters; and it is no other thing but a motion which reduceth the soule to a quiet estate, and makes him forget all kinds of iniuries & reuenges.

Wherefore as men are or­dinarily incensed against those that contemne them, & this contempt being an in­iury which proceeds from the will of him that offends vs, it is visible that our Choler is easily pacified when as wee see there is no cause of con­tempt in vs; for that they of whom we might complaine, [Page 635] haue done it against their inclination, and not by any affected malice: And the rea­son is, for that humane acti­ons depend of the intention of him that doth them. Wherefore imagining that they haue no bad intention against vs, we hold them free from crime.

By the same reason we do easily forget the Choler which wee haue conceiued against those, who being mistaken shew their griefe, and desire to liue otherwise; for that this desire is a testimony that their will hath beene surpri­zed. As for example, a friend in our infirmity may giue vs a receipt which hee thinkes fit to cure our disease, but hauing taken it, our paine in­creaseth; yet wee are not bit­terly [Page 636] incensed against him, for that it appeares his will was to giue vs ease, although our paine increased. And particularly wee shew our selues easie to pardon those which doe vnto themselues what they haue done vnto vs: For that we cannot con­ceiue that they haue con­temned vs in those things wherein themselues are in­gaged; being apparent that no man contemnes himselfe. We also pardon those easily which confesse their faults freely, and shew repentance for their offences; for that wee imagine this griefe is a sufficient punishment for their wrong.

Whereof we haue a fami­liar example in our seruants; reprehending more sharply, [Page 637] and punishing more seuerely, those that palliate their of­fences, or that answer vs arro­gantly; and we entreat them more graciously which ac­knowledge their faults and demand pardon. And the reason is, for that it is a signe of impudency to maintaine an error which is apparent, and th [...]s impudency is a no­table cōtempt of him against whom they contest so bold­ly: for that wee contemne those with whom we shew no respect or reuerence.

We are easily pacified, when as they whom we pre­tend haue offended vs, hum­ble themselues before vs, en­dure our reproofe, and doe not contradict vs; for that this submission is as it were, a signe of feare or reuerence [Page 638] which they beare vs, whereby they silently confesse, that they are our inferiours: so as we conceiue they doe not contemne vs: for that no man contemnes him whom he feares. Wherefore euery man layes aside all choler a­gainst those that humble themselues: we haue an ex­ample in the Lyon, a gene­rous beast, who neuer shewes his fury, but pardons those that lye prostrate vpon the ground to saue themselues. We also shew our selues mild to those which making the same profession, honour vs, and speake not slanderously of vs: for that this respect shewes they haue vs in good esteeme, and that they con­temne vs not.

Wee also pardon those [Page 639] willingly, from whom wee haue receiued some notable fauour, & particularly when they entreat vs and coniure vs with passionate prayers, to forget the iniuries they haue done vs, and not to take reuenge of them; for that these kinde of [...]ntreaties are signes of their submissi­on.

Wee also pardon those willingly, which are not re­puted to be insolent, slande­rers, mockers, or contemners of others, but are knowne to be good men, doing outrage to no man vnlesse it be to the wicked, among whom we de­sire not to sort our selues. Wee checke and controule our choler, when as we know that they that haue offended vs are powerful persons, from [Page 640] whom wee might feare some greater iniurie, if wee should attempt to reuenge that which they haue done vs▪ for wee seldome make demon­stration of choler against those whom we feare, beeing vnpossible that at the same instant wee should feare any man, and yet bee in choler against him. Yea, wee passe ouer their faults lightly that haue wronged vs in the heate of their choler: so as if wee are incensed against them, it is with lesse feeling and bit­ternesse, for that we conceiue that what they haue done, was not through contempt, seeing that no man euer con­temned him whom hee held worthy of his choler: for that contempt is without griefe and apprehension, but cho­ler [Page 641] is full of griefe and fee­ling of the iniury receiued.

Places, times, imploy­ments, companies, helpe ma­ny times to make vs mild and quiet, and to keepe vs from being transported with cho­ler, if it bee not for some out­ragious iniury: for in sports, at banquets, and publique feasts, among our friends, in the midst of our great pros­perities, during the happy successe of our affaires, and in the midst of our good hopes, we doe not easily receiue any impressions of choler, vnlesse (as we haue sayd) they do vs some notable outrage which exceedes all patience.

In like manner, when as we suffer much time to passe before wee seeke reuenge of the iniury, by little and little [Page 642] we forget it, and time hauing asswaged our heate, wee lose all desire of reuenge. But one of the things which helpes most to quench our choler, is, when as some o­ther then that party against whom it is enflamed, hath beene seuerely punished or sent to execution, before wee could satisfie our reuenge a­gainst him.

Wherefore Philocrates, be­ing demanded why hee did not purge himselfe of the crimes whereof he was accu­sed, during the time the peo­ple were in choler against him; answered, that the rea­son was, for that he expected some other should be vniust­ly accused and condemned before him; imagining (as it is true) that when as men [Page 643] haue powred forth their cho­ler and splene vpon any one, then they grow more milde, and their rage is turned to pitty. As it happened to Er­gophilus, against whom al­though his iudges were more incensed then against Calis­thenes; yet they pronounced him innocent, and freed him from punishment; for that the day before they had con­demned Calisthenes.

Moreouer, men shew themselues milde and tracta­ble to those ouer whom they haue gotten some fauourable decree, and also to such as they see exposed to more cruell afflictions, then they would haue imposed vpon them for their reuenge: For they conceiue that they are punished sufficiently for their [Page 644] offence, and that for their part they are fully reuenged of the iniury they haue recei­ued.

But particularly our choler is not often enflamed when as we conceiue the iniury that we suffer is done vs iustly, & that wee haue well deserued that chastisement; for then it rather makes shew of a re­uenge iustly pursued, then of a contempt or iniury vniust­ly procured. Choler hath in­iustice for her obiect, bee it true or apparent: for that as we haue obserued in the De­finition, it is a feeling of an indignity which wee thinke we haue receiued wrongful­ly, and without merite: wherefore when as we appre­hend there is no iniustice in the wrong wee receiue, our [Page 645] choler breakes not forth and runs not hastily to reuenge. And therefore when we will reprehend any one, it is fit to represent vnto him the sub­iect wherefore we vse this se­uerity, that making him know wee haue iust occasion, it may stay him from choler. The which wee should prac­tise particularly with our ser­uants, who will take our re­prehensions in better part, and serue vs with more af­fection when wee shew them that they haue erred, and let them know the offēce which hath moued vs to this rigor. Our choler is not easily mo­ued against such as wee hold insensible of any thing that we shall doe or say; for that Choler will haue her effects knowne. Wherefore no man [Page 646] of iudgement will bee angry against insensible things. But the choler which we shew a­gainst the liuing, is mortified in regard of the dead, for that they haue endured the last misery of life, and they haue no more feeling nor knowledge of iniuries, which choler doth wonderfully de­sire. Wherefore Homer to pacifie Aclilles, who insulted ouer the dead body of Hec­tor, let him know, that he did but beate the earth, and out­rage an insensible thing. These are briefly the persons to whom Mildnesse or cle­mency extends, and which can command their choler.

This Mildnesse is com­mendable in all men, for that it is a bud of true humility, or rather a true character of [Page 647] the children of God. But it hath a greater lustre and a more eminent shew when it is found in the soules of kings and Monarchs of the earth: For what praise, what tri­umph, and what glory is it to a great Prince, to haue the command of so many milli­ons of men, to bee arbitrator of their liues, to be master of their goods and fortunes, to be able in an instant to leuy fearefull Armies, and in the twinckling of an eye to ruine Townes & Countriee, with­out the feare of any Lawes? And yet in this prodigious power, not to suffer his eyes to be daxeled with so great a splendour, nor to bee trans­ported with choler, and in offences not to vse seuerity; to spare blood, to containe [Page 648] his Passions, and to make it his whole glory to doe good to those that are subiect to his authority.

Wherefore this bounty and clemency in Princes, makes them not onely to bee beloued, but euen to be ado­red by their subiects, who are rauished with a sweete ex­cesse of ioy, when as they see themselues subiect to a pow­er which hath nothing inso­lent, but all things tend to their preseruation, and pro­pound vnto themselues no more glorious obiects then their safety.

Subiects hide not thēselues from these good Princes, and flye not from them, as if a Ti­ger, a Lyon, or some other sa­uage and cruel beast, did pre­sent it selfe; but they runne to [Page 649] meete them, to behold them, and admire them, as starres of good influence, of whom depend all their happinesse. The subiects runne vnto their Temples for such good Prin­ces, & poure out their vowes and prayers for their honors and safety. It is for them they watch and are in care, and it is for them they are ready to suffer a thousand deathes, rather then any at­tempt shold be made against their liues, whereunto they know their safeties are tyed: For their mildenesse and cle­mency, as a powerful charme bindes the affections of their subiects vnto them, and doth purchase their loue, which is the most powerfull bond and the safest guard wherby Mo­narches may assure their e­states: [Page 650] For there is no Em­pire nor gouernement, more firme then that which plea­seth the subiects; whereas those that are odious, are soone ruined: yea, they that could temper their authority by Clemency, haue alwayes enioyed a happy successe in their gouernement. And to speake in a word, clemency is as a soueraign ornament to all the other royall vertues; yea; it is to Princes as a way to heauen, and immortality to vse so eminent and feare­full a power moderately; to loue their subiects, to pardon the humble, to abstaine from all cruelty, to do no violence, not to bathe their hands in blood, to let their time passe, to pacifie their choler, and to procure peace and quietnesse [Page 651] to the world. For these rea­sons their subiects appre­hend not them, but appre­hend onely for them: where­as the violence of Princes striks a terror into the minds of their subiects, but it makes them neither more power­full, nor to be more respected by them.

And these feares and ter­rors of the subiects are weake tyes and bands of their af­fection and loue: for when as they imagine they haue no more subiect of feare, they beginne to hate. But admit that the horror of punish­ments and tortures were able to settle Empires: who knows not, that as it is an incompa­rable shame for Phisitians to fill vp graues, putting their skill in practize: So it is a [Page 652] great reproach to Princes to mainetaine their great­nesse by tortures. They should vnderstand all the de­fects of their estate, but wise­dome binds him to excuse some: and if they be forced to vse seuerity, they must doe it in punishing crimes which deserue no pardon; yet with a testimony of griefe and re­morse. And finally, they must shew their clemency to those where there is some hope of amendement, not alwayes seeking to inflict punishments, but sometimes to bee satisfied with the re­pentance of them that haue offended.

They must remember that it is a glorious thing to par­don him whose offence hath already made miserable, and [Page 653] that it is a seuere punishmēt to be forced to craue pardon for his crime. They must imagine that cruell and vio­lent commands are more sharpe then durable; that no man can bee feared of many, but he must feare much: and that the life of Princes, is as a perpetuall warre, and a per­petuall death, if they bee for­ced to distrust, and to guard thēselues from so many milli­ons of men which hate their power, if it bee insolent and insupportable.

CHAP. 1. Of the diuerse Passions of men, according to their ages and conditions.

AS all the Coun­tries and parts of the world, are not equally sha­ken with the tempests of the aire, yet there is not any corner of the earth, nor portion of the Vniuerse, in which there riseth not some little winde, or some small stormes: Euen so, al­though that all men are not subiect to the furious moti­ons of the same Passions, yet there is not any age nor con­dition [Page 655] which doth not feele some effects, & is not in some sort agitated. Onely there is this difference, that the one haue a feeling of one sort, & the other of another: some are more violent, and other haue them more quiet and temperate. For some are Passions befitting yong men; others are incident to men of perfect age; and some are those of olde men: Some the rich and mighty are subiect vnto, and others transport the poore and miserable.

And first touching that which concernes the Passions of young men, they are hot and fiery by reason of the blood which boyles in their veines; and what they once desire they affect with vehe­mency. Yet they shew this [Page 656] heate more particularly in the motions of Loue, where­unto their age which is in the flower, giues them a vio­lent inclination, which ap­peares in the heate of their pursuites. But they are sub­iect to all kindes of changes, and haue no constancy in their affections; so as their Passions are properly like to the hunger and thirst of sicke persons, which passe away with the fit of their disease. Or to speake more properly, they resemble Meteors, or wandring fires which are kindled in the aire, and sud­dainely extinct.

They are in like manner very ready to the motions of Choler, and are easily trans­ported with disdaine, especi­ally when as they seek to ble­mish [Page 657] their honour, or to doe them any kinde of outrage. They are also ambitious, and loue glory passionatly, so as they preferre victory before any other thing, for that it is the highest degree of excel­lency whereunto they aspire. But they are not couetous, neither doe they loue money, for that they haue not yet tri­ed the miseries of pouerty: like vnto him whom an An­cient reproached, that the contempt hee made of gold, was a signe that hee had not yet felt the sweetnesse there­of; for if he had tasted it, his hands would be more ready, and he would bee more dili­gent to gather it together. Neither are they maliciously disposed, but shew more plainenesse then cunning in [Page 658] their actions, for that they haue not yet learned the sub­tilties, nor tried the malice of the world. But they are credulous, and doe easily be­leeue what is said vnto them: for that they haue not yet tried the fraudes of men, nor haue bin often abused.

Moreouer, they are full of great hopes, like vnto thē that are surprized with wine; both in regard of the heate which abounds in them, as for that they haue not yet felt the iniuries of Fortune: And therefore they liue in hope; for that Hope regards future things, as memory is imployed about that which is past. And as for them, they apprehend, that the time they haue to liue, is long; and they make no ac­count [Page 659] of that which is past. And for the same reason in the flower of their age, they remember not what is slipt away before their time, but hope for all that is to come, so as they are easie to bee de­ceiued: for that hauing this beleefe and hope, it is easie to make them beleeue and hope for that which is not. By consequence they are va­liant and hardy, both for that they are cholerick, and also for that they are full of good hopes: for Choler takes from them al feare, and hope makes them hardy; whereby they haue a great confidence of the successe of that they vndertake.

Moreouer, yong mē are bash­full, knowing nothing in this life, but what they haue lear­ned [Page 660] from the Lawes, or from their education: wherefore when as any thing presents it selfe, of whose nature they are not well instructed, they remain as it were in suspence, and know not what to re­solue, and therefore they are commonly subiect to blush­ing. They are also magna­nimous and generous, both for that they haue a good o­pinion of themselues, as also for that they haue a proud conceit of their courage, hol­ding themselues fit for any great action: and in like manner, for that they haue not yet tried the calamities and miseries, which ouer­throw the fortune and con­stancy of men, but are igno­rant of the afflictions where­unto this life is subiect.

[Page 661]Finally, they desire rather to vndertake those things which are honorable, then that which concernes profit. For that they gouerne them­selues rather by their owne courage, and the bounty of their nature, which hath the honesty of things for obiect, then by the discourse of rea­son, which doth commonly propound for end, that which is most profitable. Young men doe also loue indiffe­rently the company of such as are of their age and con­dition, not making any curi­ous choyce of their friends; the which shewes, that they haue more curiosity then care of that which may a­uaile them in the course of their liues.

They are also violent, and [Page 662] obserue no moderation in their motions and actions: so as if they loue, they loue furiously; and if they hate, it is extreame: and so in all o­ther things they keepe no mediocrity. The which grows from their presumption, and for that they haue a conceit to know any thing; which makes them to speake bold­ly, and to defend their imper­tinencies wilfully. They com­mit many errors, but com­monly they are the defects of youth, which proceede from the heat of blood, so as there is more insolency in their ac­tions, then affected crimes.

They are moreouer pit­tifull and gentle; for that measuring others by their own innocency, they beleeue that al the world is good; and [Page 663] that they which suffer any extraordinary miserie, haue not deserued it: and for that reason they haue compassion of them.

Finally, young men are pleasant, witty, and loue to laugh, and to heare a witty ieast, which they thinke is a signe of a good spirit, and therefore admire him. They also loue horses, dogges, hun­tings, combates, and other exercises, which haue some kinde of violence or plea­sure.

To conclude young men are commonly rich in inuen­tion, but poore in matters of iudgement: they are fit for execution, but incapable for any great dessigne. They are borne to excite troubles, but are not able to pacifie them: [Page 664] they imbrace much, but hold little: they aspire to the end, but looke not to the meanes: and when they haue commit­ted an error, they will hardly acknowledge it and leaue it; like vnto those resty horses, which leape and bound▪ and will neither stand still nor go forward.

As for those that grow to age, they haue Passions in a manner quite contrary to young men: for hauing li­ued long, and beene often de­ceiued, hauing themselues committed many errors, and knowing also that the world is full of subtilty and villainy; they are not assured of any thing, but looke vpon all things with distrust: and if they deliuer their opinion in any businesse, it is with a kind [Page 665] of feare: so as it seemes they will make it knowne, that in all things there is more con­iecture then certainty: wher­fore their ordinary restricti­on in their answers and dis­courses, is, It may be, peraduen­ture it is true. The which pro­ceedes frō the great Idea they haue of the inconstancy of things, & the deceits of men. For the same reason they are malicious, being a meere ma­lice to interpret, as they doe, all things in the worst sence; and for the same reason they are also distrustfull and suspi­tious: suspitious by reason of their distrust, and distrust­full, in regard of the experi­ence they haue of things. Fi­nally, they neuer loue entire­ly, neither is their hatred fu­rious, but they loue com­monly [Page 666] as if they should hate, and they hate as if they shold he moued to loue.

Moreouer, their cou­rage is weake, both in respect of the coldnes of their blood and spirits, as also by reason of calamities past, and the miseries which they haue tri­ed. And for this reason, vn­lesse they haue some spice of folly, they doe seldome at­tempt any hardy enterpri­zes, nor hazard their fortunes and honors, but they are con­tent to seeke that which may protect them from necessity: whereby they are couetous and fast, fearing to diminish that which they thinke is ne­cessary for them: whereun­to they are drawne by expe­rience which hath taught them, how hard a thing it is [Page 667] to gather great wealth, and how easie it is to lose it. They are in like manner fearefull, and encrease their apprehen­sions by imagination, and by the fore-sight of the future: wherewith they are alwayes troubled; the which proceeds from the coldnesse of their blood. For this coldnesse which is common to olde men, makes them enclined to feare, whereas heate incites courage and resolution.

Moreouer, they loue life much, and especially vpon the declining of their dayes; for that men desire that natural­ly, whereof they haue great neede; and when as they feare it should fly from them, then they desire it more pas­sionately. They commonly powre forth cōplaints, which [Page 668] are signes of their weaknesse, and which makes them im­portune: And then they ra­ther imbrace that which is profitable, then what is ho­norable: wherein they shew themselues commonly ex­treame, euen base, the which growes from the loue they beare vnto themselues: For profit is the good of that priuate person that doth en­ioy it, but honour tends to good absolutely, without consideration of the interest of any particular.

After this they are rather impudent then bashfull; for respecting not honour so much as their owne commo­dities, they care not for the opinion of the world, but contemne it. Finally, they re­nounce in a manner all good [Page 669] hopes, and haue none but bad, both for that they are distrustfull and fearefull; as for that experience hath taught them, that most things are bad, and that they impaire daily: so as they liue rather by memory then hope, for that they haue not long to liue, and haue liued long: for hope is of future things, and memory of what is past.

And this is the cause that old men are great talkers, for that they take a singular content to commend the times past: In our times (say they) we did this, wee did that: taking a wonderfull content to remember what is past. As for their choler, it is sudden and violent; but it is like a fire of straw, that is soon quencht. Their desires are mortified [Page 670] or weake, and cannot bee quickened, or receiue any vi­gor, vnlesse the loue of mo­ney possesse them. And there­fore they are temperate, and loue frugality, which is a kinde of sparing, for that they gouerne themselues rather by the discourse of reason, then by their owne genius, or their proper inclination: for (as wee haue said) discourse aymes at the end; and cou­rage hath a respect to hone­sty as a companion to vertue. Their faults sauour more of iniustice then insolency or outrage. They are inclined to mercy, yea, more then young men, but for diuers reasons; for young men are pittifull by humanity, and old men by weaknesse, whose age makes them apprehend [Page 671] the miseries wherewith they see other men afflicted, as if it hung ouer their heads; which is a consideration (as wee haue said else-where) moues to mercy and pitty: And for this reason they doe nothing but complaine, and they loue not to see any one laugh, neither doe they willingly frequent any that are pleasant and Iouiall; for that their age hath cooled the blood, and made an im­pression of melancholy which loues seuerity.

As for vigorous and per­fect men, such as are betwixt these two ages, they partici­pate of both their humours, yet they prune of [...] that which proceedes both in youth and age. Wherefore they obserue a mediocrity in all things, so [Page 672] as they are neither too auda­cious nor too timerous, but they hold a meane, neither trusting in all the world, nor distrusting euery thing, but they examin al affaires by the rules of wisdom & truth. And in like manner they are nei­ther, miserable nor prodi­gall, but measure their ex­pences by the lawes of their power & by honesty. And in like maner they obserue this mediocrity in the other mo­tions of the Irascible and Con­cupiscible powers. Their va­lour is tempered, and their temperance is accompanied with courage, wherein they participate both with young and old: For yong men are valiant, but without mode­ration; and old men are tem­perate, but full of apprehen­sion [Page 673] and feare. And to say in a word; all the good quali­ties which are found diuided both in young and olde, are as it were vnited and tied to­gether in a middle age, which containes it selfe within the bounds of his temper, and naturall inclination: And as for those which haue any ex­cesse or superfluity, either in youth or age; a man that is in this middle age, checks them and cuts them off, re­ducing them to the point of vertue and honesty.

We must now see what the Passions of men be, in re­gard of their fortunes: that is to say, wee must know the Passions of Noblemen, of Rich, and of the powerfull of the Earth; namely of Kings, and Princes. Noblemen haue [Page 674] this particular Passion, to de­sire honors vehemently: For as all men naturally wish to encrease the goods they en­ioy; Noblemen seeing them­selues rich in glory, and full of honor, desire to augment their treasure, to the end they may not seeme to plant their triumphes vpon that which their Predecessors haue left them. But as they haue gi­uen them light by their glo­ry, so they desire to transferre the same beames of bright­nesse to their posterity: and commonly, Noblemen hold it a generous vanity not to continue in the same ranke, with those which haue beene equal to their Ancestors; yea, many times they contemne them. Wherefore they de­sire to adde some thing to [Page 675] the ornaments of their birth, and to haue a subiect to re­commend themselues aboue others. For in truth, the tro­phees of Families are some­times so ancient, and so worn with time, as it is an easie thing to surmise any thing. Wherefore generous spirits should preserue that which nature and their birth giues them; otherwise, if they de­generate, it is a famous spec­tacle of infamy & reproach. As in truth there are some, which degenerating from the magnanimity of their fa­thers, make vs to see thicke clouds in the midst of their shining glory, as it was said of the sonne of Great Sci­pio.

This misery happens to Families as to fieldes where [Page 676] corne and fruites grow; for whilest the soile is good, it yeelds good fruites and rich haruests, but growing bar­ren, it yeeldes nothing that is pure and excellent. So good Families continuing in their vigor, produce worthy plants for a time: But this generous vigor decaying by little and little, they yeelde not such braue and valiant men as formerly they did. In this Realme alone, how many great and worthy Families (whose names are so many starres, and so many flowers which beautifie our ancient Histories) are extinct and lost? Or if there remaine any Reliques, they rest vn­knowne.

Finally, when as Nobi­lity comes to degenerate, it [Page 677] giues vs monsters of fury: for he that is puft vp with the glory of his Ancestors, and will stray from their vertues, imagineth, that hee cannot make better shew of the splendour of his birth, then by the insolencies and vio­lencies which accompany their actions: Whereof wee haue seene prodigious exam­ples in the carriages of the descendants of Dionysius the Tyrant, and Alcibiades. And it is a misery in humane things, that as good trees grow wild and sauage, either for want of pruning and manuring, or for that the soyle is not fa­uourable: So great Families lose the glory of those that were their founders. And as Philosophers affirme, that there is no worse corruption [Page 678] then that which growes from things soueraignly excellent, as we finde in the corrupti­on of perfumes: so it happens that Families full of magna­nimity and courage, degene­rate into dull and stupid spi­rits, as wee haue seene in the posterities of Symon, Berides, and Socrates, forbearing to speake of our owne age.

As for the Passions of rich men, they are knowne to all the world, for that euery man sees that these menare proud, insolent, and outragious. For feeling themselues supported by their wealth, they imagine that all things are in their power. For that riches, through the couetousnesse of men, set as it were, a price of all other things which they may buy.

[Page 679]Rich men are also volup­tuous, effeminate, and full of ostentation, and vanity, that makes them to glory of their treasure; they are voluptuous and effeminate by reason of the cōtinuall delights where­in they plunge themselues: they are vaine, and glory of their wealth, for that their thoughts are perpetually im­ployed in the imagination of their aboundance, whereof they are rather slaues and I­dolaters, then true posses­sors and masters. And more­ouer they imagine, that all the world loues what they loue. Wherein they are not much deceiued, for that infi­nite numbers of persons haue neede of the assistance of ri­ches. Wherefore a Philoso­pher beeing demaunded by a [Page 680] Princesse, whether it were better to be rich or wise: he answered, that it was better to be rich; for, said hee, wee commonly see wise men at rich mens gates to beg their fauours. Rich men also haue commonly this vanity, that they hold themselues worthy of great imploymēts, because they are rich, in regard wher­of, they thinke it reasonable they shold command others: And to speake in a word, the riches of a happy man (desti­tute of wisedome) discouers his inclination. But there is great difference betwixt the Passions of those that are newly raised to great for­tunes, & such as haue enioy­ed them long: And we must not doubt, but that they that haue newly gotten their [Page 681] wealth, are more vicious and more insolent, then such as haue enioyed it from their Ancestors; for they enter in­to their riches as into a new possession, in the which they are altogether ignorant. As for the crimes which either of them commit, they sauour more of insolency & incon­tinency, then of malice; for commonly they are polluted with adulteries, and doe out­rage to such as resist their de­sires.

It rests now to speake of Princes, Kings, and the great men of the earth, whose Pas­sions also are well knowne, for that they much resemble those of rich men; yet wee must confesse, that they haue sometimes bin more moderat and more milde; for great [Page 682] men are commonly more iealous of their honour, and more generous then the rich: for that they are imployed in greater actions, and haue a more eminent glory to pre­serue. Wherefore they are contented to mainetaine their dignity, not caring for any affected grauity: for that dignity giues a greater splen­dour vnto men. And there­fore they shew themselues temperate, and hold a medi­ocrity, for that dignity is sweete, and grauity is reue­rend.

Finally, when they once breake out, they commit no small mischiefes; For that commonly the effects are proportionable to their cau­ses; and finding themselues armed and powerfull, they [Page 683] execute their Passions vio­lently, and doe vnspeakeable wrongs; like vnto great ri­uers, which breaking forth spoyle the haruest, and ruine the labourers hope. Where­unto we may adde, that pros­perity doth also make them more insolent; for that seeing thēselues powerful in means, and fortunate in their des­signes, they grow proud, and liue without any considera­tion of vertue or vice, by rea­son of the fauours of Fortune which blind their eyes. And yet there are some good na­tures, who in steed of grow­ing proud, or forgetting themselues in the height of their fortune, become more temperate, more religious, and more fearing God: for that they acknowledge their [Page 684] greatnesse as a guift and fauour of his prouidence, to the which for this considera­tion they are more affectio­nate, and more deuout then other men, considering the great benefits they haue receiued.