CHAP. I. That Peace and Vnion, are Gods Attributes, and the perfection of nature.

THAT ſupreame God who made the Heavens, chroniclers of his glory, and greatneſſe; to give us by his viſible effects ſome knowledge, and notice of the inviſible treaſure, depoſited in the deepe treaſures of his owne omnipotency. In all his operations, as well internall, or (as the Divines doe terme them,) ad intra, which are the generation of the word, and production of the holy Ghoſt; as alſo in the externall, as the creation, the providence, the preſervation, and the like, ſheweth us, that his moſt eſſentiall and proper attribute is Union. Since the reall diſtinction, admitted by ſacred Divinity, betweene the Divine perſons is not ſufficient to make the Son not to be the ſame with the Father, and both one with the holy Ghoſt. Nor doth that infinite variety of divers natures, whereof this artificial frame of the world is compoſed beſides the univerſall dependency, which they have from one beginning, refuſe the bond of peace, wherewith they are ſtraightly joined together. For proof of the firſt, the efficacy wherewith the ſame God, did ſo much give in charge and urge unto his choſen people the unity of his divine nature, ſhall ſerve me for a concluding reaſon, he ſaying unto them a thouſand times; Hearken O Iſrael! thy God is one, and one is his name. Which wordes as they are moſt true, and unreproovable witneſſes of this truth, ſhall ſave me a labour of proving it by naturall, and theologicall reaſons.

The ſecond, which is the dependency which all creatures have, from one onely beginning, may be plainly demonſtrated by that which hiſtoricall Moſes writ the beginning of his ſacred hiſtory, attributing the creation of the world to one ſole cauſe. Which truth that great Mercurius Triſmegiſtus did alſo leave engraven in pure Emerald, beeing there in followed by the whole troop of Philoſophers, who unanimouſly confeſſed one firſt cauſe, eternall, independent, and immortall; needing therein no other Tutor, but onely the light of naturall reaſon. And if any curious man ſhould aske me the proof of the third point, he may yeeld himſelfe ſatisfaction, by conſidering the ſtreight bonds, and intrinſecall union, wherewith all natures doe linke themſelves one with another▪ untill they come unto the firſt linke from whence they were taken. Nor let any one thinke this union, and naturall concord of the creatures to be a borrowed perfection; or accidentally belonging unto them: ſeeing that the ſupreame architect, who made all thinges deliberately, and with wiſdome, and meaſure; having ſet every one of them in their owne poſte, and place convenient for their natures, gave unto them all joined together union, for the center of their preſervation. And that ſo properly, and intrinſecally, that if the ſaid union could be broken, the whole frame of the world whoſe harmony conſiſteth in the reciprocall conſonancy of all its parts, would be brought to nothing.

He that ſhall with particular attention conſider the ſeven rings, or linkes, whereof the chaine of this world is compoſed, ſhall eaſily finde out this marvailous bond of union. Beginning from the firſt and laſt, which is God; who though he be generally united to all creatures, which live in him, ſubſiſt by him, and move through him; yet by a more particular aſſiſtance, he is united unto the Angelicall nature, as the perfecteſt of all creatures. This joyneth it ſelfe with the nature of the heavens, which by reaſon of its incorruptibility, is the moſt perfect next unto the Angelicall. To the celeſtiall enterlaceth it ſelfe the elementall, in whoſe linke conſiſteth the diameter of the chain; as that, which according to the order and perfection of nature, is fartheſt from the firſt. The fifth is compoſed of the laſt element, which is the earth: and this is the firſt linke, which begins to turne towards it beginning, and it is the vegetative nature which intreſſeth it ſelfe with the ſenſitive, and that with the rationall, which uniting it ſelfe immediately with God, ſhuts up the chaine and circle of this ſucceſſion. And becauſe the laſt knot or linke of this chaine was to unite it ſelfe with God, and betwixt God and the creature there could be no proportion of equality: therefore the eternall wiſdome created the ſoule, which being immortall and incorporeall, ſhould have ſome reſemblance of God, and ſo uniting it ſelfe perfectly with him, the chaine of the fabricke of this world ſhould ſo cloſe up and ſhut. And in caſe, that ſome curious body, not content with the generall union, of the ſeven rings or linkes, which have bin ſet downe, ſhould deſire more particularly to finde out the point of this trueth, he may ſatisfie himſelfe, with the internall ſearching out of each nature and linke of the ſaid chaine. And beginning from the firſt, he ſhall finde in it an infinite abyſſe of perfections and attributes, which are Wiſedome, Omnipotency, Juſtice, Goodneſſe, Glory, Mercy, and innumerable more, which are all with an unſpeakeable incomprehenſibility gathered in, and united unto the indiviſible latchet of the moſt ſimple divine nature.

Concerning the ſecond linke, which is the Angelicall nature, he may very well apprehend, not onely by the light of faith, but alſo by the ſtrength of his owne underſtanding: the marveilous order, & perfect concord, wherewith thoſe Angelicall ſpirits are united together; the Cherubins joyning themſelves to the Seraphins, the Seraphins to th' Archangels, they to the Angels, Thrones, Powers, Dominions, & the other kinds of the twelve quires of Angels, with ſuch great uniformity and concord, as may be preſumed in that heavenly commonwealth. Then if we ſhall caſt our eyes, on the contemplation of the third linke, which is the nature of the heavens, we ſhall plainly ſee (if Ptolomie deceive us not) that the primum mobile, is united to the Chriſtalline heaven, this to the eight ſpheare, the eighth ſpheare to Saturne, who joyneth himſelfe to Jove, Jove to Mars, Mars uniteth himſelfe to Sol, Sol adheres to Venus, Venus to Mercury, Mercury to Luna, from whoſe hollow ſuperficies takes it beginning: the fourth linke of th' Elementall nature, joyning it ſelfe unto the annexed fire, it unto the ayre, whom the element of water followeth, untill it comes to unite it ſelfe unto the earth, which is the univerſall center of al heavie and ponderous things.

From the earth beginnes the fifth linke, to goe upwards againe, and this is the Vegetative Nature; which, like unto the reſt, keepes it dependance and ſucceſſion united unto all her ſpecies and kindes, beginning from the biggeſt trees and of greateſt fruit, even to the loweſt, humbleſt, and pooreſt graſſe of the field. In this vegetative nature conſiſts the baſis and foundation of the ſenſitive, which is utterly unable to put in practice th' operations of moving, and feeling without it. This likewiſe is not different from the firſt, and hath it kindes and degrees of ſucceſſion and dependency, the nobleſt, and perfecteſt of them, which is the Lyon, uniting himſelfe to the pooreſt worme of the earth. This ſenſitive nature, linkes it ſelfe at laſt with the rationall, which being (by meanes of the ſoule) ſpirituall, exceeds in perfection; the corporeall, vegetative, and nutritive, remaining at laſt united with God. So that the aforeſaid union is not onely to be found in this whole univerſall frame, but alſo in every one of its parts. It being impoſſible that there ſhould be any one not linked and united to the reſt, by the analogie of ſome attribute, which is indifferently proper to them all.

The little microcoſmos of man may be an example of this, her being an epitome and cipher of the whole fabricke of the world, in whom all natures are united, he being participant of each vertue and perfection; for he hath his body of the heavens, elements and ſtones; his vegetating or growing, from the plants; his feeling from beaſts, his diſcourſe from Angels, and the image and likeneſſe of God. And paſſing to that which is proper unto this nature, we ſhall finde that all his actions have a dependency one from the other; the underſtanding being not able to underſtand any thing, unleſſe it unite it ſelfe to the ſences; nor theſe produce any ſenſations or feelings, unleſſe they joyn themſelves, by meanes of the ſpecies and image, which preſents it ſelfe unto them, with the object. And according to the Philoſophers doctrines, the object unites it ſelfe to the externall ſence, the externall tranſmits it to the common, the common repreſents it to the phantaſie, from whence comes the names of phantaſmaes: With theſe imaginations doth the active intellect joyne it ſelfe, illuſtrating them, and with taking away all their materialities, makes them of ſenſible, intelligible. The active intellect unites it ſelfe with poſſibility, which cannot operate, unleſſe the active diſpoſeth it to it, by 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 repreſenting the ſpecies unto it, diſrobed of all matter and ſingularity. From thence the intellect or underſtanding being diſpoſed produceth its firſt operation, which is the ſimple apprehenſion; and this coupleth it ſelfe with the ſecond; which is affirmation or negation; from whence groweth the third, which is diſcourſe. The diſcourſe goeth united with the will, which could not produce any act of love, or hatred, or election; if diſcourſe had not gone before, it being impoſſible to will or refuſe that which hath not before bin knowne. So that all things which are incloſed within this frame of the world, are nothing but union, accord, and amity; not onely through the dependency which every thing hath from one ſole beginning; but alſo through the loving correſpondency, which they hold amongſt themſelves.

And if any one ſhall aske me the reaſon of this marvailous linke, and intrinſecall love wherwith ſo many, and ſo different natures are linked together, I will not anſwer them with that which is ordinarily ſaid, that God had ſo ordained. But I wil ſay, that the ſupreame artificer, having determined in the creation of the world, to make a perfect and durable compound; variety and union were very requiſite therein: it being impoſſible to make any thing beautifull, which was not compoſed of varieties, or durable, if it were in and againſt it ſelfe divided. To this end he appointed all creatures (at the leaſt the corporeall ones) a naturall, and proper meane, which hindereth all that which is contrary to the union, and preſervation of this world. And this is that prima materia, argued upon by all, but (as I beleeve) knowne by none. This materia (which ſome ſay, is pura potentia; others an entitative act; others, that it is neither quid nor quantum, nor quale) is a beginning, in the which ſtand united all corporeall or bodily natures. It is not ingendred, nor it doth not corrupt; for ſo the union and pacificall harmony of the world might come to be loſt, whoſe preſervation is grounded upon the incorruptible unity of this matter. It hath bin created, but not from everlaſting, as Plato, and others have affirmed; it being impious to give or attribute the glory of eternity, and of being, without a beginning, unto a creature, which is due onely to God. Finally, it is ſufficient for us to know, without engulfing our ſelves into any other metaphyſick, that the matter whereof all corporall things are framed, is of one and the ſame kinde; and by that reaſon, all your materiall ſpecies or kindes, are united and coupled together.

And becauſe that the formes of the compounds, which muſt neceſſarily be ſundry and diverſe to make a perfect and faire compound, ſhould not deviate from that unity, which God ordaines, and nature pretends: The ſupreame Artificer determined that they ſhould all come forth of the entrailes of the materia▪ or (as the Divines call it) de potentia materie, that ſo in all their alterations and changes, they might be tributary unto that beginning, out of whoſe bowels and entrailes they came: the power of corrupting, engendring, and altering, reſting onely in it, as not being ſubject to goe out of the bounds of union and peace.

By this doctrin, is confuted the opinion of many moderne Phyloſophers; who judging by the ſence, that which is contrary to reaſon; beleeve that the formes of the Elements, have no other end, then to deſtroy and corrupt. As for example, the fire, which we ſee conſumes, and devoures all as it findes, living in perpetuall warre with the water; as alſo the earth with the ayre: For if we leave that ſeemingnes, which ſence ſheweth us, and examine the trueth with reaſon, we ſhall finde, that the elements being conſtitutive parts, whereof all your mixtes are compounded, it is repugnant, and contrary to them, to have deſtruction be their end, their nature being eſſentially ordained to compound. Whence is concluded, that the naturall end of the Elements, is nothing but union. And although there ordinarily ſeemes to be a continuall enmity betweene them, deſtroying one another, yet we muſt hold for a certaine, that this warre is onely made for the preſervation of peace and union; ſince the fire in ſeeking to perſecute its contrary, doth nothing but ſeeke a temperament, to the rigor of his proper ſtrength; and any thing elſe which might hinder the union and conjunction, whereby the compound is preſerved.

So that we will conclude this Chapter, ſaying, that Union is an attribute of God, the treaſure of nature, the naturall center of creatures, and chain of the whole world This unites the mortall with the divine; as the eternall Word with humane nature. The mortall with incorruptible, as the body with the ſoule. The materiall with the ſpirituall, as the underſtanding with the ſences. The living with the inſenſible, as beaſts with the earth. The heaven with their elements, the elements with man, & man with God. And finally, from God, to God, there is nothing but peace, concord, union, agreement and love.

CHAP. II. That enmitie and diſcord are monſters of nature, and the divels owne children.

FRom the precedent Chapter, we may by very good conſequence inferre, that, which we ſeeke to prove in this: For if union and peace (as we have proved) be Gods attributes, and the perfection of nature, it is plaine, that enmity and diſcord (capitall enemies of union) muſt of neceſſity be contraries to God and nature, being altogether averſe to the nobleſt perfection that our underſtanding can conceive in God, which is unity and ſimplicity; wherewith his divine attributes and perfections, are ſo indiviſibly united together, that no manner of diſtinction can be admitted betweene them, either reall, formall, or fundamentall, as Divines doe terme them; unleſſe we ſhould allow of the diſtinction of reaſon, which our underſtanding licenciouſly frameth conceiving that to be diſtinct, which in it ſelfe is indiviſibly one. Daily experience ſheweth us, the great repugnancy, and contrariety that is betweene diſcord and nature, either of them ſhewing it by their effects: ſeeing the proper and principall end of the one, is to corrupt, diminiſh, ruine, and undoe. Of the other, to generate, to joyne, to multiply, and unite all wordly things, with the moſt firme bond of peace. Becauſe that knowing by evident induction, that diſcord and enmity, are enemies unto God; and the very plagues of nature, we may, with good reaſon, conclude them to be, the workes of the divell, wrought by his owne hands: ſo peſtilent a fruite doubtleſſe proceeding from ſuch an accurſed tree.

The Apoſtle did in three wordes admirably ſet downe the genealogie, and diſcent of this fierce monſter, ſaying, that through the divells envy, death was come into the world. Wherein we muſt note, (according to the expoſition of ſome Doctors) that the Apoſtle in this place, calleth diſſention, and diſcord, by the name of death: And that very properly, ſeeing that the Doctors meaning by death, as well the ſoules, as the bodies death, we ſhall finde death to be nothing elſe, but a wretched ſeparation, and unfortunate divorce tending to ruine, and perdition. And as for the death of the body, none can be ſo ignorant, as to deny this truth, beholding with his owne eies, the diſſolution of the ſtreighteſt, and internalleſt friendſhip, as humane underſtanding can conceive; and after that, the miſerable accidents which ordinarily accompany a dead carcaſſe. And if this paſſage bee taken for ſpirituall death; it being an enmity, and divorce, between God, and the ſoule, and not an ordinary divorce, but an infinite one by reaſon of the infinite diſtance, that is between God and a ſinner: we ſtill conclude that death, and diſcord, are one, and the ſelfe ſame thing; and both daughters to the divell, and envy, as the Apoſtle ſaith, the motive which moved the divell, to bring this accurſed diſſention into the world, was a cruell, & impatient rage againſt man: being not able to endure, that God ſhould grow enamored, of ſo ugly, baſe, and wretched a nature, as humane nature is; and that he ſhould enrich it, with ſo many extraordinary favours & priviledges, as unite himſelfe hypoſtatically to it, and make it the inſtrument of redemption; denying that favour, to the Angelicall nature which is more noble and perfect, then the humane: and ſo being deſperately enraged, he contracted matrimony with envy, in which wedlocke, death was borne: ſo that death, or diſcord, hath the divell for her father, and envy for her mother: her grandfathers were pride, and contempt, and her firſt root was ambition.

This curſed plant was the firſt Angels plague, and that which made him to exceed the bounds of his owne nature: raſhly opening the way unto an unbridled appetite, and ambitious deſire, to climbe up unto the heaven of divine perfection, to place his throne above the ſtarres, and to be like unto the moſt high. Making the conſideration of himſelfe, and the beauty, and perfections, wherewith he was enriched, the inſtruments of ſo blinde a pretence, and proud abſurdity. Judging himſelfe thereby, to be worthy of ſo great an honour: out of which conſideration grew pride, which augmenting the raging fire of her mother ambition, cauſed the Angell to forget the reſpect and honour due unto his creator, and to become the heire of contempt. Theſe two fierce monſters of nature, Pride and contempt, made ſuch a ſlaughter of that faire creature, that they left not in him the leaſt ſigne of perfection and goodneſſe▪ yea, they did ſo deprave and pervert his will, that ſeeing himſelfe baniſhed out of heaven, and condemned to a perpetuall priva • ion of God, and • o the terrible habitation of thoſe darkeſome priſons of hell▪ hee enragedly proteſted to be revenged. And being unable to execute his vengeance againſt God▪ his infinite perfection and greatneſſe, being not to be reached unto; he purpoſed to wreake his vengeance upon man, as the creature in moſt favour, not being able to endure thoſe particular favours and prerogatives wherewith he perceived God did intend to honour him. Out of which conſideration ſprung envie▪ the Divels ſpouſe, and mother of death.

With ſuch weapons doth this fierce Leviathan perſecute mankinde, and with them he brings to an end all his pretences: ſubjecting unto his empire and command, all the Provinces of the earth. It being moſt certaine, that cities ſubject to diſcord and diſſenſion, cannot be free from the divels bondage, and conſequently ſubject to ruine. The epithets which the Prophet Nahum gives unto the citie of Niniveh, ſhall be ſufficient, and faithfull witneſſes for me herein; when he cals it the citie of blood, the citie of miſery, the city of death and perdition; attributing the cauſe of theſe wretched effects, to nothing but to the diſcord and diviſion of her inhabitants. And he doth with ſo much efficacy, inſiſt upon this point, that he pronounces an infallible curſe upon that citie, which ſhall ſtand divided and in diſcord. The ſame doth the Prophet Hoſea, concluding by an enthymeme the ruine which comes through diſſenſion, ſaying, Their heart is divided, and therefore they ſhall periſh. And if this be not ſufficient, let us conſider that wretched tricke he ſerved our firſt fathers, in the beginning of the world; where it being a hard taske to beat downe ſuch knowledge and wiſedome, ſo perfectly infuſed, as Adam & his wives was, he uſed no other weapons then theſe, perſwading them, that God had enjoyned, upon paine of death, not to taſte of the tree of life; onely through an artificiall malice, becauſe that none ſhould be ſo wiſe as himſelfe: which he could ſo well, and with ſuch lively reaſons perſwade them, that (being already moved with an ambition and deſire of knowledge) they conceived ſuch enmity and hatred againſt God, that caſting away the reſpect and obedience which they knew was due unto him, they did contrary to that which was commanded them; remaining thereby ſubject unto death, and their poſterity to an abyſſe of miſeries.

Let him that is curious, obſerve for the confirmation of this truth, the ſentence which God pronounced againſt the Serpent; when as being willing to puniſh him by way of retaliation, or as they ſay in Latine poena talionis. He tooke for a meanes of the puniſhment, the ſame way as the Serpent had taken, to make man fall from his originall juſtice and ſtate of innocency; ſaying unto the Serpent, I will ſet enmity betweene thee and the woman; as if he ſhould more plainly ſay, thou haſt procured through thine accurſed perſwaſions and lyes, to ſet hatred and enmity betweene the woman and I, to make her a ſlave, and all her poſterity ſubject to thy will and tyranny. And I ſay unto thee, that thou ſhalt be chaſtized with the ſame puniſhment, for I will ſowe ſuch terrible hatred and deadly antipathy betwixt you, that you ſhall alwayes live in continuall warre and enmity, ſhe endeavouring with all her might to breake thine head, and thou to ſet ſnares for her heele.

Finally, by meanes of enmity and hatred, the divell did catch Cain, never letting him reſt untill he tooke away his brother Abels life. By meanes of theſe two, he ſtirred up Eſau his anger againſt Iacob, Saul his revenge againſt guiltleſſe Duvid. Pharaohs hardneſſe againſt the children of Iſrael. And with diſſention, diſcord and ambition, the divell hath brought under his dominion and obedience, the moſt noble and fruitfull Provinces of the earth; burning up the fruits of peace, reſpect, feare, reverence and zeale of the publike welfare towards them, to whom they were ſubject, by divine and humane lawes.

Many times have I conſidered that excellent and admirable invention which Samſon uſed to revenge himſelfe upon the Philiſtines; and I truely finde, that it is the ſame as the divell uſeth to be revenged upon man; ſince, if that I well remember the ſtory, Samſon having ſought all the ſureſt wayes, to be revenged of the wrongs he had received, could finde none more effectuall then diviſion, verily beleeving, that thereby he ſhould ruine all his enemies goods and wealth; and to that end he tooke a number of Foxes, and binding firebrands to their tailes, he let them run into the Philiſtines corne fields: The beaſts feeling themſelves looſe, began to ſever and divide themſelves in the fields, with ſuch diſorder, that there were not two left together, all taking ſeverall wayes, fixing their eyes towards their owne homes and terriers. Which diviſion was the cauſe that all the corne was burnt up, leaving the land ſpoyled, and Samſon revenged. With ſuch like induſtry doth the Divell ſubject unto his Empire, all the countries of the world; overthrowing the beſt things he can finde in them, and leaving them utterly unable to helpe themſelves. Seeing that to turne a quiet and peaceable citie into a citie of bloud and wretchedneſſe, the firſt thing he doth is to ſtirre up ambition in them whom he findes moſt diſpoſed thereunto, and alluring them with their owne proper intereſts, he kindles the fire of diſcord and diſſention in ſuch ſort, that it being impoſſible to pacifie and unite it: the feare of God, the zeale of publicke welfare, the reſpect and obedience due to the Prince, and the charity towards ones neighbour, are all beaten down: whence immediatly followeth, the totall perdition and ruine of the common-wealth.

By all this which we have ſaid, we may ſurely inferre, that ſince diſcord and diviſion produce no other fruit but bloud, ruine, perdition and death, they cannot be poſitive effects of God, to whom is repugnant to be the authour of evill: Nor yet of nature, whoſe treaſure conſiſts in unitie; but meerly the Divels, who ſeekes nothing but to oppoſe himſelfe to all goodneſſe and perfection, which God or nature brings forth in this world. The contrary effects alſo, which are found in both, may beare ſufficient witneſſe to this truth, ſince that all which God and Nature pretend, is nothing but peace and union: that which the Divel profeſſeth, is nothing but warres, and diſſention. Nature loves preſervation; the Divell ruine; that to generate, this to deſtroy. Nature finally deſires to make every thing like unto it ſelfe, by means of peace, love and union: the Divell ſtrives to ſubject every thing under his dominion, by meanes of diviſion, hatred and diſcord. Therefore ſuch effects being directed unto ſuch a deteſtable and perverſe end as deſtruction, wee cannot attribute them to God; to whom, by reaſon of his infinite goodneſſe and perfection, is not onely repugnant to be authour of evill, as the Apoſtle ſaith, but alſo to will it or deſire it.

And if any ſelfe-weening, or peeviſh man ſhould contrary this, alledging the words of the Prophet, who ſaid, There is no evill done in the Citie but God doth it: and likewiſe the words of the Apoſtle in the ninth chapter to the Romans, where he ſeemes to prove, that God is cauſe of the evill which is done in the world: he may ſatisfie himſelfe with the Fathers of the Churches ordinary expoſition of thoſe places; conſidering that in evill, or ſin, there are two things, whereof the one is the materiall of it, which is the phyſicall action, or reall execution, to which God doth poſitively concurre, it being impoſſible for the creature to doe any reall act without the ordinary concurrencie of the Creator: Since that all that is in the world, lives and is preſerved through him: and in this ſenſe are to be underſtood thoſe texts which prove God to be the cauſe of evill.

But the formall, and malicious part of ſinne, as the deformity of it, and privation of righteouſnes, depends onely from our free and abſolute will, and not poſitively from God. Becauſe if that were ſo, God ſhould not onely goe againſt his ſupreame perfection of being God, but ſhould alſo bee unjuſt in puniſhing man; he not being the true and immediate cauſe of ſinne. And ſo we muſt freely confeſſe, that the proper and eſſentiall cauſe of ſinne, is the maliciouſneſſe of our will, depraved both by it ſelfe, and by the Divels temptations.

And though we finde in holy Scripture, that many times God puniſheth one ſinne with another, as Pharaohs inſolencie with the hardneſſe of his heart; the Phariſees incredulity with blindneſſe, we cannot for all that ſay, that God is the authour of evill; becauſe that although thoſe which God puniſheth with, conſidered in themſelves, are ſinnes; yet if they bee conſidered as effects of the divine juſtice, to which belongeth to reward and puniſh every one according to their deſert, they ought not, nor cannot be ſo called. And ſo our concluſion alwayes remains true, that enmities, warres, diſcords, diviſions, and other ſuch like accidents, are workes of the Divell.

CHAP. III. That it is monſtrous in Nature for one to perſecute another that is of his owne likeneſſe.

ANY ſpeculative underſtanding, will bee quite aſtoniſhed, and full of wonder, if hee conſider the abyſſe of chimeraes, falſhoods, deceits, perſecutions, and garboiles, which pride and ambition doe breed in the heart of man, to ſo deteſtable and perverſe an end, as the deſtruction of the particular creatures of the ſame kinde: A thing ſo horrible, monſtrous and terrible, that it goeth beyond the nature of the fierceſt beaſts of the earth; amongſt which you ſhall hardly finde any that will abuſe and perſecute another of the ſame ſpecies or kinde. And therefore he ſaid very well, who left it to us for a Proverbe, that man with man is like unto a Wolfe; ſince that this beaſts cruelty in tearing in peeces a poore Kid, is not greater then the rigor and tyranny of a bruitiſh and ſoule-leſſe man againſt another man. Another ſaid, that one man againſt another, is a Lion: and a third, who would expreſſe the venome of his heart, ſaid, that one man towards another, is a man declaring unto us that his fierceneſſe ſurpaſſeth the fierceneſſe not onely of theſe, but alſo of all other beaſts, whereof there is not any that abhorreth from the preſervation of its owne ſpecies and nature.

And if we doe, in truth conſider this point, we ſhall finde, that among creatures there is not any; which hath more ground, or reaſon to humble it ſelfe, and to love the particulers of its kinde; nor leſſe reaſon to grow proud, and perſecute them, then man. Since that pride hath alwaies for her ſeale ſome nobleneſſe, prerogative, or excellency, whereupon ſhe builds her cloſe pretences, and preſumptions. And man is farre from all theſe: his compoſition, and firſt frame being of the loweſt, baſeſt, groſſeſt, and vileſt droſſe of the world, which is the earth; out of the ſlime, and ordure of which man was framed. And therefore the monſtrouſneſſe, and violence of pride, is no leſſer in man, then if one would exalt the element of the earth, above the heavens.

And if we will ſhew his begining, ſtate, and end, we ſhall plainly ſee this truth, reduced into a ſhort and compendious definition, which moſt patient Iob made of him, ſaying, that the nobility of man conſiſtes in being borne of woman; to whom the expoſiters upon this text doe attribute variableneſſe, fragility, imprudency, and all manner of imperfections. In having a ſhort life, and full of miſeries, calamities, and afflictions; there being none of Adams children, that can glory, of having had the leaſt ſhadow of pleaſure, and content, which he hath not paid for, with a thouſand griefes, and bitterneſſes; in a moſt incredible inconſtancy, and variability, becauſe he never continueth in the ſame ſtate, and purpoſe, but is wholly a diſordered, and confuſed chaos, which hath no determined nor ſure end. And finally, it is a brickle, and unſafe veſſell, into which, as the Prophet David ſaith, the treaſure of life is depoſited, and which one, and that a very ſmall ſtone, is able to breake, and reduce to nothing. Becauſe that though his phantaſticall prides be all of gold, and ſilver, and doe reach up to the heavens; yet the foot, and baſis thereof being of clay, like Nebuchadnezars ſtatue, ſome ſmal ſtone of weakneſſe, or diſaſter, hitting againſt it, they ſtraightwaies come downe with their whole frame, and all their chimeraes; and fall into a poore, and ſtinking grave: ſo that if we conſider him from the top, to the toe, we ſhall finde nothing, in him, but is contrary, and repugnant to pride. Whence followeth that man, having no ground whereupon hee may grow proud, he cannot have any, for the perſecuting of others, perſecution being the daughter of ambition, and arrogancy; but that the baſeneſſe of his compoſition, ſhould rather invite him to peace, amity, and love.

And though theſe forealledged reaſons, ſhould not move man, to withdraw himſelf from ſuch an execrable, and cruell montrouſneſſe, as to be the butcherer of his owne kinde: yet his equality, and ſimilitude, with all the reſt, might move him to procure peace and amity; the holy Ghoſt in S • lomons bookes, and nature it ſelfe, teaching us, that all thinges doe love their like; which being moſt true, it ſhall alſo bee more reprehēſible in man, to perſecute one another, then in any other creature: ſeeing that amongſt all the created ſpecies, there is not any that hath its particulars more like, equall and proportionable then man, reſerving its ſimilitude and quality ſo wel, both in the beginning, middle and end; that there is not the leaſt tittle of difference: For as for the beginning, it is well knowne, that they all came out of the duſt, or ſlime of the earth, and that they were all borne naked, and came into the world weeping. The equality of the end may bee known by the univerſall attribute which all Adams poſterity doe owe unto their birth. Since that neitehr Scepter, nor Miter could ever finde any Antidote, or ſpell againſt death. And as for the middle, which is from the time of their birth, untill death, wee have already ſaid with Iob, that mans life is a continuall warfare, full of all manner of afflictions, and calamities, as may bee deviſed or imagined. And this is univerſall and common to all, there being none exempt from croſſes.

So that there being in man a perfect, and totall ſimilitude with all his particulars, and all agreeing in one, and the ſame degree of miſery, baſeneſſe, and calamity, there being none in this more noble, or priviledged then others; we conclude that pride, and perſecuting of his like in man, is a monſter, and prodigy of nature and a frenzy of the underſtanding. Hee being by his baſeneſſe bound to humble himſelfe; and by his equality tyed to love thoſe of his owne ſpecies. Whence I doe inferre, that your naturalliſts doe with very good reaſon, call the Lyon King of the Beaſts; and preferre him before other Beaſts for generoſity and ſtrength; becauſe God made him advantaged, and ſhewing oddes of the reſt, but by what reaſon can one man eſteeme himſelfe to bee more then another? What prerogative or excellency did nature grant unto him, which ſhe denied to other men? which being moſt certaine, wee may ſecurely ſay, that a man which is proud, and at enmity with another; is worſer then the Divell, or to ſay better, pride, and ambition, is not ſo unproper for the Divell as for man. Becauſe if Lucifer did pretend to ſet his throne above the ſtarres, to be like unto the moſt high, and had other fooliſh fancies, and raſh propoſitions; though hee had no true nor reall ground for it, the creature being incapable of the creators perfection and nobleneſſe: yet he ſaw, and knew in himſelfe ſome likelihood, and colour for his unbridled appetite; knowing himſelfe immortall, incorporeall, and the moſt beautifull of all creatures; being as Iſaiah ſaith, not onely a bright ſhining ſtarre, but Lucifer unto the morne, and the moſt perfect of all other angelicall ſpirits. Moreover the whole army of Divells is united, and concordant in the perſecution of the ſoule, one not entermedling in the others office, nor endeavouring to diſturbe or croſſe the temptation, that another ſhall intend.

Whereby it is proved, that man being the moſt abject, and wretched creature, and having nothing but what other men are alſo partakers of; growing proud, and perſecuting another man, hee goeth beyond the nature of a brute beaſt, and is worſer then the Divell himſelfe.

CHAP. IV. Of the nobleneſſe of man.

THE concluſion of the precedent Chapter, gives us great occaſion to treate in this Chapter of the nobleneſſe of man, and of his excellencies, by reaſon of a motive any one may have to wonder at our laſt propoſition, wherein we concluded, that man is the moſt abject, imperfect, and wretched creature of the world: Which being conſidered at the firſt ſight, ſeemeth quite contrary to that which both Scripture and common Philoſophy teacheth us, Canonizing man for the nobleſt and perfecteſt creature. And truely if we doe with particular attention conſider, that high ſublime and lofty degree of nobleneſſe and perfection which man attained unto by that Hypoſtaticall union, which the divine word made in the incarnation, wee ſhall freely confeſſe that it is the nobleſt and perfecteſt of all creatures; ſince the angelicall nature did not onely remaine inferior to it, but alſo ſubject to adore it in Chriſts humanity. Whence (as ſome Doctors teſtifie) the firſt Angell tooke occaſion to rebell againſt his Creator, not being able to brooke the exaltation of humane nature, and the extraordinary and exquiſite favors, which by revelation hee knew God would communicate unto it.

Neither is that proofe which is ordinarily brought by them who thinke man inferiour to the Angell, of any great force or power; for whereas the vulgar tranſlation ſaith: Thou haſt made him little leſſe then the Angels, the Hebrew hath it, Thou haſt made him little leſſe then Eloim; which according to ſome Rabbins interpretation, ſignifies, that man is little leſſe then God: becauſe that the word Eloim ſignifies many times God, and many times Angell. And that expoſition is not much out of purpoſe, but grounded upon very good reaſon: for if we attentively conſider that marvellous union which God made with our nature, we ſhall finde that Gods Epithetes were thereby ſo appropriated unto man, that it may truly be ſaid, that man is little leſſer then God; which thing the Angell cannot glory in, hee being deprived of ſo notable a favour.

And although in all creatures there bee in ſome faſhion a certaine reſemblance of God, yet it is more perfect in man then in any of the reſt, ſince that in none but man is to be found the Word incarnate. His compoſition conſiſting of Soule, whoſe three powers are correſpondent to the three divine perſons; and of body, which united to the ſoule, is correſpondent to the divine Word, in which are divinely united Body, and Divinity. And of all this the Angell is incapable, becauſe he is incorporeall.

The Divines call theſe perfections, perfections of meere grace, becauſe that God would out of his will and mercie ſo favour this nature, though ſhee could no way deſerve it by any vertue or excellencie. And in this all cōfeſſe, that human nature is more noble then the Angelicall, ſince God did not beſtow ſo many favours upon the Angell, as hee did upon man. But if wee conſider both theſe natures of themſelves, without any reſpect to grace, many, or almoſt all will ſay, that the Angell is more perfect then man. In the deciding of which queſtion, I cannot reſolve my ſelfe, but with a diſtinction: Noting firſt, that in man there are two things to be conſidered, the Soule and the body. Of the ſoule ſome ſay, that it is of the ſame ſubſtance & nature as the Angels are, incorporeall and rationall as they; but that is not a compleat ſubſtance (as Logicians call it) wherein it only differs from Angels.

Others ingulfing themſelves into an abyſſe of Metaphyſickes, ſay, that the Angell is more perfect then the ſoule, ſince he is not ſubject to the imperfections and miſeries of the ſoule, and hath his will, not indifferent to good or evill as the ſoule hath, but onely frame himſelfe to doe that which is good and juſt. Which reaſon I cannot allow of: For conſidering the Angell according to his owne nature, or in puris naturalibus, as Divines tearme it, he is as indifferent to good or evill, as the rationall ſoule; which is evidently proved by holy Scripture, which ſaith, that Lucifer and all his followers did ſinke themſelves into hell, and Michael and other good Angels remained in Paradiſe. For if the Angell by nature had been impeccable, and could not have ſinned, hee could not have damned himſelf, nor much leſſe ſave himſelfe, if his will even from the inſtance of his creation had beene preciſely determined to evill. Beſides the Scripture telleth us that there be good and bad Angels, and that the laſt fell from Heaven for the ſinne of pride: whereby is concluded, that the nature of Angels preciſely conſidered, is peccable, and may ſinne, being indifferent to good or evill, as well as the ſoule. Yet the Angel being now confirmed in grace, loſes the indifferency which he had, and his will remaines now governed and ſubject onely to good. And all this may the Divine finde to bee likewiſe in the ſoule punctually: there being none ſo fooliſh as to imagine that in the bleſſed there is any indifferency or poſſibility of ſinning. So that by the foreſaid reaſon it is not concluded that the Angell is more perfect than the ſoule.

And if the curious perſon will give me leave to ſpeake my opinion freely, in this caſe I will ſay (alwayes ſubjecting my ſelfe to the doctrine of the Fathers, and correction of the Church) that the ſoule in this world, even with its indifferency of ſinning or not ſinning, is more perfect then the Angell, though he neither doth nor can ſin. The reaſon is, becauſe the ſoule having the power to ſin and not ſinning, gaines a greater excellency and perfection then ſhee ſhould otherwiſe have, if ſhe were good becauſe ſhe could not be bad, as the Angell is: So that the indifferency which is in the ſoule, and her being ſubject to ſo many temptations which daily fight againſt it, argues an excellency of perfection; whereby making her victory more glorious over her enemies, her reward ſhal be ſo much the greater. For I would faine know what great commendations is it for a man to be quiet and peaceable, when there is no boby ſtrives againſt him? Or what is it for one to be good, when there is no body to provoke or entice him to bee evill? And what perfection ſhall it be not to ſin, when the will is ſo tyed and ſubjected as that it cannot ſinne? None verily: Whereby I conclude, that the ſoule even in her owne nature is more noble than the Angels. True it is, that if we will conſider in Angels that which is acceſſory, and concomitates this their unaptneſſe to ſin, which is glory, and the beatificall viſion, in this he ſhall bee more perfect than the ſoule, and there ſhall be as much difference betweene them, as there is betweene him that is bleſſed, and him that is not: whereof I intend not now to diſcourſe. But if we will conſider the counterpriſes and inconveniences whereunto the ſoule is ſubject whilſt it lives within this mortal body, (I mean the dependency it hath upon the ſenſes in all her operations) then queſtionleſſe the Angel being incorporeall, and without any dependency, is more perfect then it. Yet otherwiſe the ſoule exceeds all other creatures in nobleneſſe, amongſt which ſhee onely participates ſomewhat of God.

Of this nobleneſſe of man in reſpect of other creatures, I doe not purpoſe to diſcourſe, but only by the way; it being a thing which requires much metaphyſick, and ſpeculation; wherefore laying it aſide, we wil treate of that, which it hath in reſpect of its owne individui, that is one man, in reſpect of another: ſeeking wherein conſiſts the nobleneſſe of man: that is to ſay, who amongſt men may juſtly call himſelfe noble, and what requiſites he ought to have, that deſerves ſuch a title, and name. I am moved to ſpeake of this by reaſon of the conceit every one hath of himſelfe, of what quality ſoever he be, eſteeming himſelfe noble, and well borne. And this evill is growne ſo common, that if you aske a Cobler an accoumpt of his genealogie, and diſcent, he ſhall puffe up like a Peacock, anſwer you, that he is deſcended by a direct line, from the Emperour Sigiſmond, or Alexander the great: and he will ſpeake it with ſuch confidence, and oſtentation, that even he ſhall bee bound to beleeve him, that knows it to be falſe. I will not ſay, that Nobleneſſe is repugnant to a mechanicall artificer, nor to him that lives by his hand labour; Yea I hold them to be in a great error who ordinarily ſtile country men and thoſe people who live by their labours, to be peaſants, and baſe people, baniſhing them out of the number, and company of the noble, by reaſon of their vocation. Since it is certaine that the nobleſt of all men that ever were, was Adam, and he had no other quality, nor trade but a labourer: being forced to eate his bread with the ſweat of his brow. The ſonnes of Adam were noble, and they exerciſed themſelves onely in mechanick and baſe trades: as as to bee Smiths, and the like. Noah was by all men held to be noble, yet his recreations were nothing, but planting of vineyards, and ſowing of fields. Abraham and his children were noble, ſeeing that from them came the Jewiſh nobility, yet had they no other meanes to live, but what they got by labouring: Saul, and David, were noble, and Kings, yet were nothing but ſheapeards. Finally, all the ancient nobility was occupied in bare and mechanicall exerciſes: wherby I conclude, that they are deceived who judge of nobility by their exerciſes and trades. Neither doth true nobility conſiſt, in being private, or in favour with Kings: ſince there are many who not onely are out of favour with Kings, but alſo are perſecuted by them; yet their nobility, ſtands ſtill firme, alive, and ſecure. Neither doth it conſiſt in learning; ſince that ordinarily the moſt learned, and wiſe, if they have nothing elſe but learning, are the moſt vile, and contemned of a common wealth. Whence I draw this concluſion, that true nobility conſiſts in every ones generous actions, be he rich, or poore, Cittizen, ignorant, or learned. So that he may lawfully be called noble; who ſhall be moſt noted for ſome heroicall enterpriſe, either of fidelity, or valour, or any other rare vertue. And it is reaſonable and juſt that ſuch a ones memory ſhould bee preſerved in his poſterity, all of his linage holding the name of Noble.

This is the true nobility which is called diſcreet and wiſe mens nobility; becauſe thoſe that are ſo, ought to hold or eſteem none but ſuch to bee noble: But the vulgars nobility, which this day is practiſed in the world, is not this, but wealth; ſo that in this our wretched age, hee is onely eſteemed noble, that is rich. And if the diſcreet and wiſe reader will give mee leave to prove the nobleneſſe of wealth by the baſeneſſe of the contrary, which is poverty, hee ſhall clearly ſee, that the vulgar ſort are not much deceived therein, ſince there is no miſ-hap nor miſery can be equalled to a poore mans. Poverty is the quinteſſence of contempt, the root of all worldly miſeries, and the grave of vertue. Give mee the valianteſt and couragiouſeſt man in the world, if he be poore, a Hare ſhall not bee more timorous or cowardly then hee. If hee bee honeſt and mannerly, there is none, but ſeeing him poore, will eſteeme him an hypocrite. And finally, povertie comming to any mans doore, the world knowes him not: his kindred denies him, his friends retire from him, his ſervants forſake him, and hee ſeemes a ſtranger to all, the world flying from him, as if hee had the plague about him. Poverty is the mother of Infamy: for finding a man poore, hee will bee apt to worke any deceit or roguery, and attempt any treachery: his ordinary companions being diſhonour, cruelty, ignorance, contempt, falſhood, infidelity, treacherie; which, and the like, a poore man ſhall bee apt to commit. What difference is there betweene a poore man and a withered tree, a bow without a ſtring, a ſhip without tackling, a cart without wheeles, a bird without wings, or a body without a ſoule? Surely not any: Since hee remaines as unable to doe any good thing, as the abovenamed things. Since therefore theſe are the effects which poverty produces in man, with very good reaſon the vulgar ſort affirme, that nobility conſiſts in the want of nothing. And what doth man deſire more, then with nobility to enjoy thoſe priviledges which wealth bringeth with it: For let a man be the moſt infamous fellow under the Sunne; yea, let him be a hangman, if hee be a rich man, and in proſperity, he ſhall ſtraightwayes be a Cavalier, Noble, and well deſcended from the line of Alexander the Great, and the firſt of the Baldwins: Let him never have taken ſword in hand, nor ſeene battle, unleſſe it were drawne in ſome picture; and they ſhall preſently ſay, that hee is a valiant Captaine, and that in the Gulfe of Lepanto hee overcame the Turkiſh Armie, and tooke the King of Miramamolin priſoner. Let him not know the firſt letter of the A. B. C. and they ſhall ſuddenly canonize him for a Mercurius Triſmegiſtus. Finally, being rich, he ſhall in the vulgars eye, have all the vertues, eminences, and nobleneſſe in the world: for all will reſpect and reverence him, pulling off their hats to him a mile off. If hee comes into the Church, they will all make way for him, and give him their places. At banquets they place him at the upper end of the table; when he ſpeaks, they all ſtand attentive, and hearken to him, as if a Cicero were ſpeaking.

The rich mans houſe is frequented by all men, his children are made much of, his ſervants are reſpected, and ſtiled gentlemen; if he be ſicke, the City is turned upſide downe to find out preſents to bring him; his gate ſtands full of foot-clothes, his hall full of viſiters, his tables attended on with muſicke; and in concluſion, as all manner of miſeries accompany the poore man, ſo all contents, favours, and priviledges belong to the rich, ſince in this wretched age money is the abſolute Lord over all our actions. This commands, governes, and keepes in ſubjection all the world, and all things, as Salomon ſaith, obey it. It attaines to all things, makes all things eaſie. Money is the object, motive, and end of all mans cares and deſires; towards it are bent all his endeavours and employments, and every thing is governed by it. This makes the bitter ſweet, the impoſſible eaſie, the little great, the falſe true, and finally of nothing it makes all things; and by reaſon of its great power and worth, all the world loves it, ſeekes it, and adores it, tormenting and even martyrizing themſelves for to obtaine it. What moves the Souldier to march up to the knees in water in the winter time, loaden with iron, nigh dead with hunger and thirſt, broken and bruiſed all in peeces, with death daily before his eyes, but only money? what makes the Labourer to break his armes, yea his whole body, tearing up the earth with his labors, but onely money? What makes the mechanicall artificer paſſe continually the winter nights in working, but onely money? Who makes the Merchant venture his life upon two inches of planck, and ſuffer ſo many ſtorms and tempeſts, but onely money? Who makes the Lawyer loſe his ſight in ſtudying Bartolus and Baldus, the Phyſician Hippocrates and Galen, but onely money? Who makes the Councellour confound his braines to defend his cauſes per fas & nefas, but onely money? In concluſion, money is the end towards which man directs all his actions and endeavours. The Phyſicians Recipe, the Apothecaries miſce, the Lawyers Bartolus, the Scriveners Pen, the Notaries &c. the Logicians Ergo, the Grammarians Nominatives, the Aſtrologians Heaven, the Philoſophers infinitum, the Metaphyficians unum verum & bonum, the Shoomakers Nawle, the Taylors Needle, the Plowmans Plough, the Noblemans Gentility; and finally, life and death it ſelfe lies in the hands of money: ſince reward is able to condemne a juſt man to death, and to give life to one that is condemned to dye. Whence finally I conclude, that the vulgar ſort ſpeakes not much out of purpoſe, when it attributes all the nobleneſſe of the world unto money, ſince in the world infinite wonders are wrought by it.

CHAP. V. Of the Nobleneſſe and Worth of the French and Spaniſh Nations.

IT were fitting and reaſonable to leave this chapter unto fame, as a lawfull Chronicler of this heroicall enterpriſe, it being onely reſerved for her to end that which my pen could not in an age beginne. For if true nobleneſſe conſiſts in the generoſity of actions, as wee have ſaid in the precedent Chapter, the actions of theſe two Nations are ſo many, ſo excellent, and ſo heroicall, that it would bee impoſſible almoſt in an age to rehearſe the leaſt part of them. I will not now ſtand to ſet downe the beginning and deſcent of theſe two moſt noble Nations, it being notorious unto all, and ordinary for them who have written of this matter. I will only inſiſt a little upon the contemplation of the rare and perfect vertues which God infuſed into them: of which he may come to have knowledge and notice, who will attentively conſider the marvellous order which God held in the ſix daies of his Creation, in which time he had beautified the large field of this world with ſo many varieties of nature; and that they might make ſhew of the perfection which hee had granted them, hee made the fourth day two faire and bright lights, to which hee gave certaine vicars and ſubſtitutes, giving them full licence to aſſiſt the day and night, dividing, ordering, and appointing times and ſeaſons, and producing thoſe marvellous effects which daily experience preſents unto us in the theatre of this viſible world. The greatneſſe and perfection of theſe two Lights might ſufficiently be proved by the onely knowledge of the ſenſes: ſince he muſt be altogether blinde, that opening his ſight towards heaven, doth not know, that the Sunne and Moone are authors of all the rejoycings and gladneſſes of this world▪ and of all the varieties, changes, and alterations that are ſeene in the foure elements: and that their abſence cauſeth many troubles and ſorrowes amongſt men, which the horror of the night, and nightly impreſſions may teſtifie by the ſunnes abſence, together with an infinite company of other effects, which for brevity ſake, I do omit. Notwithſtanding the ſtrongeſt meanes I have to prove the excellent perfection of theſe two lights, is to ſee that the Prophets, and the whole Scripture, when they would make us conceive the greatneſſe of the Creator, they know not to whom better to compare him, then to theſe, calling him Sunne, and Moone, and Aſtrologie teacheth us, that all the ſtarres, and luminous bodies receive their light, and ſplendor from them, and that from them proceed all the alterations, and motions, of all that hath, or hath not life.

Theſe and infinite other greatneſſes, ſhall the contemplative man find in theſe two great lights which God placed in the celeſtiall globe, ſo noble, faire, and bright, that an acute underſtanding can not ſufficiently praiſe them, but onely by admiring them. For if thoſe doe enlighten all viſible and materiall thinges; theſe doe enrich, and governe the reaſon, and the actions of the will, which are ſo much above the ſenſitive, as the being free, and voluntary exceeds the naturall, and depending. Theſe have for their ends generation, corruption, variation, and change; theſe to eternize, to conſerve, and alſo to attaine to the infinite, ſince they doe produce marveilous effects, as vertue, counſell, underſtanding, learning, and doctrine, which eternize the ſoule with God. Thoſe have their ſeat and place, in an incorruptible, yet materiall ſubſtance; and theſe hold dominion over humane nature, for whoſe ſervice the firſt were created; and becauſe that the middle, or meanes, cannot be more perfect then the end for which they are ordained, the heavenly lights with all their influences, and vertues, being onely created for man, it is certaine they muſt bee leſſe perfect then man.

Yet we will compare the nobleneſſe of theſe two earthly lights, which are the Spaniſh, and French nations, with the two heavenly ones, there being more amongſt creatures which may better repreſent their rare perfection, ſeeing that the one hath ſuch proportion, and correſpondency with the other, that it ſeemed the divine architect tooke from theſe the originall▪ which had ab aeterno bin framed in his divine minde, to produce in time their pourtracture, and place it in the firſt, and fourth ſpheare. Theſe are they which in rigor of juſtice deſerve the name of two great lights; that which now vertue, learning, and advice, doe publiſh the truth: ſo that the Evangelick faith holding her ſeate betweene theſe two moſt firme, and inexpugnable columnes, that is between a Catholick, and a moſt Chriſtian, ſhe ſtands firme, and ſecure, out of danger of being ſtained by any cloud of infidelity, or perſecution. They doe command the day, and the night, ſince there is no nation from one pole to the other, which doth not obey them, ſpreading their names into all, both barbarous, and catholicke provinces, as the feare of the Lions voice amongſt the other beaſts of the wood.

CHAP. VI. Of the nobleneſſe, and valour of the French.

LET Chriſtendome publiſh the ſtrength of the valiant French arme, and let faithfull Europe exalt her famous acts, let not England altogether contemne her valour, and let Germany celebrate her fearleſſe aſſaults, let Italy ſolemnize her valiant endevours, and let perfidious Turkie divulge without paſſion, her heroikall enterprizes and actions, wherewith ſhe doth daily eternize her immortall valour: let the ſame fame alſo ſpeak (if it doth not through paſſion grow dumb) and tell that which my tongue and rough pen cannot: let the powerfull Ottoman aright confeſſe this truth, which holds it ſelfe unconquerable by having one company of French Souldiers. And let not great Perſia diſſemble the qualities and valour of this great Nation, ſince it ſtudies nor labours for thing more then to imitate their manners and warlicke hardineſſe.

The memorie of Roman antiquity is now forgotten, her proud command, her ſo renowned acts, through the ſingular proweſſes and rare generoſity of the unconquerable French nation. Fame which was once ſo appaſſionate of the excellent enterpriſes of Alexander, and Caeſar, remaines now tributario unto the heroicall and immortall actions of great Henry the fourth, father of his countrey, pillar of Chriſtendome, ſcourge of the Infidels, and ſhade of the whole world. And from ſuch a foundation and premiſſes, let them begin and continue unto this houre, to ſing and praiſe the rare prudence and extream wiſedome of great Lewis, worthy ſonne of ſuch a father. Let the ſeaven Planets, and all other ſtarres of biggeſt greatneſſe, which in this French firmament receive their brightneſſe, and light from this Sunne, ſpeake, and communicate unto the world his peregrine valour, that every one may admire it. Let that almoſt infinite number of Princes, which like bright ſtarres adorne this sky, diſcover the magnanimity of his bright influences, that the wiſe may conjecture the beauty of the whole, by the beauty of the parts. Let the Earth eternize thy renown, ſince the Heavens, as an elect veſſell of perfection, do beſtow ſingular favours upon thee, beautifying thee with all thoſe conditions and requiſites which belong to a juſt and lawful King. And if one (as the Scripture ſaith) would have excuſed himſelf from being King, ſaying that he was no Phyſitian, neither was there bread in his houſe: that cannot bee ſpoken of thee, who art abundance it ſelfe, and furniſheſt other nations with bread, wealth, nobility, infinite valour, vertue, knowledge, mercy and piety. And to this plenty is added thy being a Phyſitian, wherby thou doeſt arrive to the non plus ultra of thy greatneſſe; remaining upon earth the mirrour of Chriſtians, the ſcourge of Infidels, the fire of thine enemies, the death of the envious, the haven of the paſſionate, the comfort of thy ſubjects, the protector of thy orphans, the juſtice of thy wronged.

None can tax thee, unleſſe it be ſome one, who burſts with envy, or rages with paſſion. When did ever the poore, wretched, or needy come to thy doore, to aske for ſuccour; but that thou diddeſt with a free and liberall hand, remedie their neceſſities? when did the afflicted, ever lay open his griefes, and ſorrowes, unto thee; but that he found thee alwaies diſpoſed like a pitifull mother to yeeld her a remedy? when ever did oppreſſion, wrong, or ſubordination dwell within thy breaſt? was there ever any affect found in thee, towards thy children other then clemency, liberality, generoſity, and vertue? can there be ought found in thee to obſcure the leaſt atome of the perfect ſplendors? No ſurely, thou art the quinteſſence of greatneſſe, and valour, thou art the Infinitum in actu of worth. Finally, thou art the content and harmony of this our hemiſphere.

The laſt attribute belonging to theſe lamps of heaven, which is to cauſe changes, alter the times, and produce divers effects, belongs alſo to this nation, may eaſily be proved, without ſpending many wordes, by the quotidian experiences, and marveilous effects, which her glorious enterpriſes doe worke amongſt all nations; ſince that every time as France takes arms in hand, other nations preſently, confuſed, and changed, and with a deadly heart beating double their garriſons, fortifie their wals, renew their munitions, give orders, and prepare themſelves with ſuch care for defence, as if they looked for a new deluge in the world. The fierce roaring of the Lion in the night, doth not more affright the other beaſts of the wood, then the ſound of the French trumpet, or drumme, affrighteth other kingdomes: what lightning broke out of a cloud, comes downe whirling more furiouſly through the aire, then the fearleſſe, and warlike French doth in ſetting upon an enemies campe? what Kingdome, Nation, or Province, is upon the earth, that having France on his part, hath not Mars in his armes, a Lion in his breaſt, an Eagle in his handes, a crowne on his head, and an aſſured victory on his ſide? are the treaties, complots, expeditions, and undertakings of other nations, powerfull and ſtrong enough, if French valour doth not aide, and confirme them? No ſurely, ſince we ſee that as the ſunne beames doe diſſolve the Chaos, and obſcurity of the clouds; even ſo the French ſtrength, and induſtry, once beginning to ſhew it ſelfe, breakes, ſplittes, and annihilates, the plots, and ſtratagems of all other nations: ſo that they doe if this will, they have if this gives, they get if this ſuffer, they conquer if this helpes, they loſe if this go from them and finally, if this perſecutes, they are deſtroied.

I could ſay much more, though it would all be too little, if feare of being tedious, did not ſtay my tongue, and the diſcretion which a writer ought to ſuppoſe in the reader did not ſecure me, as alſo the infinite diſproportion, which is betwixt the groſſe energie of my tongue, and the ſupreame valor of this nation. So all that which I have ſaid, and all that which Rethoricke could ſet downe, if ſhe did undertake the taske, would be but a beginning of an infinite, an atome of an immenſity, a point of a line, an inſtant of eternity, a ſhadow which paſſeth, and like a nothing in reſpect of the whole. And ſince the ſubject of my Booke will not ſuffer me to conceale any thing of this noble nation, I ſhall be forced to imitate the induſtry of that famous painter, who being commanded to draw out a Giant in a little ſpace, finding that it was impoſſible to draw him out whole, he reſolved to draw onely one of his little nayles, ſo as by that proportionably might be knowne the deformity and greatneſſe of the Giant. Let thoſe therfore which reade this Chapter know, that if I have ſaid any thing that ſeemeth too much to any one, that all this is but the leaſt part of the whole, which might be ſpoken in praiſe of this Nation.

CHAP. VII. Of the nobleneſſe and valour of the Spaniſh Nation.

THe complaints of my mother Spaine begin now to buzze in mine eares, as offended by my having bent all my forces in prayſing of France; imagining that being drawne by ſome private intereſt, paſſion, or ſubornation, I have with ſilence paſſed over all her greatneſſes. I already ſee the Lords of Spaine angry with me, canonizing mee in their aſſemblies and congregations, for the moſt ungratefull, faithleſſe, and forgetfull man of the world, perſwading themſelves that againſt the naturall law of my Countrey I have taken Ceſar his due from him. On the other ſide, me thinks I meet the French quite puffed up, imagining that which I have ſpoken to bee proprium quarto modo (as your Logicians terme it) belonging onely to them and not to others. I alſo know that ſome malicious Sophiſter, enflamed with paſſion, ſtands waiting with great impatience to ſee whether I will expreſſe my ſelfe, and tell which of the two Nations is the Sunne, and which is the Moone, which ſhall have the title of the greater, and which of the leſſer Light.

But my intention being not to kindle the fire of enmity betweene theſe two Nations, but rather to quench that which is, and onely to treat of the excellency and nobleneſſe of each of them, without offending either of them: I ſay (ſhunning compariſons, which are odious) that betweene theſe two moſt noble Nations there is neither greater nor leſſer, great nor little, ſince they are both great Lights, faire, and reſplendant. And that therefore all that I have ſpoken of the French Nation, muſt alſo be underſtood of the Spaniſh, without diminiſhing any the leaſt perfection as may be thought of.

And to ſhew the great proportion which theſe two nations have with the two Lights of heaven, upon which I have grounded my diſcourſe, it ſhall ſuffice that the holy Scripture ſaith, that God created two great Lights, without ſeeking out any other particulars, or Metaphyſicall diſtinctions. Yet to ſatisfie the malcontent, and thoſe which are too curious, who will not be content till they know which of theſe two Nations is the Sunne, and which the Moone; which governes by day, and which by night, I ſhall be forced to ſhew a point of Philoſophy, by which your delicate and appaſſionate underſtanding ſhall be ſatisfied, and ſhall confeſſe that there is neither greater nor leſſer between theſe two noble Nations, being both great, and of exceeding worth and dignity.

Your Schollers know that the whole Homogeneon, or alike, is of ſuch nature and property, that the integrant parts of it have the ſame faculty, name, and being which the whole hath. As for example, water which ſtands in many veſſels, bee they great or ſmall, ſtill all or each of the parts retaines the ſame name and vertue of water, there being no attribute that can bee imagined which doth not equally befit all the parts. In the ſame manner we ſhall ſee that the light being a homogeneall and like quality, all the parts of it, though placed in ſeveral ſubjects, have the ſame nature, name, and vertue. And therefore it would be a great abſurdity to imagine the light of the Sunne to be different, or of any other quality then the light of the Moone, ſince God made them both the fourth day, ſhining with the ſame light which hee had created the firſt day. Which may admirably bee proved by thoſe words of the Pſalm, which ſay, Per diem Sol non uret te, neque Luna per noctem, giving us to underſtand, that the vertue of heating is in the ſame manner common to both, as well as the ſhining, the having its influences, and the lighting. And in that ſenſe muſt thoſe words of Moſes be underſtood, Fecit Deus duo luminaria magna. There are notwithſtanding three things to bee conſidered in each one of theſe lights, the influence, the manner, and the light. The two firſt are different enough, the Moone ending her courſe in eight and twenty dayes and odde houres, and the Sunne in a yeare, and therefore there muſt needs bee ſome difference in them, and 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 therefore holy Scripture calleth the one the greater light, and the other the leſſer; but as concerning the light, they are both great, and ſhining. The ſame Philoſophy may be found in our two earthly lights, I meane in the French and Spaniſh Nations, to whom God did impart worth, perfection, and nobleneſſe, with ſuch liberality, that he left them great, and wholly perfect, nobleneſſe and vertue being as proper to either of them, as the light is to the Sunne and the Moone. The truth is, that in ſome particulars there may be ſome difference, and may likewiſe by turns bee called one greater then the other, no otherwiſe then the Philoſophers affirm the heavens to be more perfect then man, by reaſon of his incorruptibility, but as being a living creature, not onely man, but even the leaſt worme of the earth is more perfect. In the ſame manner ſome things may bee found in the French Nation which may cauſe it to be called the greater, and ſo likewiſe the Spaniſh may have others which may give it the ſame name and title. Yet theſe differences being accidentall, doe not undo the greatneſſe of the other, agreeing both in the eſſentiall perfection, of being both moſt noble and advantaged. And therfore all that which hath beene ſpoken of France, & much more which might have beene ſpoken, may without diminiſhing of the leaſt tittle bee alſo ſpoken of Spaine.

And if that the enmity and naturall antipathy, rooted in the hearts of theſe two Nations, for ſo many ages, ſhall dazle the eies of ſome paſſionate, and will not ſuffer him to know the reaſon, I wil ſatisfie him with experience, the true mother to give ſatisfaction and faithful witneſſe of truth, by ſetting downe ſome little parcell of that moſt pure & unſpeakable brightneſſe which this great light communicates to all the world, to bring forth in it thoſe vertues and marvellous effects which are in it. Of whoſe unlimited ſtrength, the Eagles and the Lion, which great Philip carieth in all his devices, ſhall bee witneſſes, giving us thereby to underſtand, that his command, worth and ſtrength, flies through all parts of the world, there being no part within its ſpacious map, wherein his light, feare, ſigniorie and nobleneſſe is not knowne.

A thouſand times have I had in remembrance thoſe words of David, who ſaith: In omnem terram exivit ſonus corum, & in fines orbis terrae verba corum, which though they bee conſtrued by the Doctors, for the Apoſtles, and preaching of the Goſpell, yet I may bee ſuffered to apply them to the ſingular vertue of this noble Nation, they ſeeming to bee ſpoken onely to this purpoſe; for if we attentively hearken to the cries which are heard in all the parts of the world, there is nothing heard but Viva Spain and Viva Philip. If you ask Europe who is her father, ſhepheard, refuge, tower & ſtrength, and who keepes in awe a many of young Lions, Wolves, Tigers, and Foxes that would bite him, it will ſurely bee anſwered, that it is none but this couragious Lion. If wee come into Affricke, wee ſhall heare nothing but a terrible and timorous rumour of warre, accompanied with a ſquadron of confuſed and untuned voyces, which in deſpight of them, call for mercy, and cry, Viva Spaine. If we turn our hearing towards fruitfull Aſia, we ſhall heare it doe nothing but lament the continuall ſlaughter which the Spaniſh policie and valour makes there. And if we aske newes of this great nation in America, it will anſwer with lowd voyces, that ſhe is indebted unto it for the light of the Goſpell, and Chriſtian religion, and for taking of it out of the Divels hands: and finally, for making of it a new world. And if curioſity do draw us to inform our ſelves of what is ſpoken upon the briniſh and wide ſeas, queſtionleſſe we ſhall heare, that Spaine enriches her Iſlands, defends her gulfes, and makes the paſſage eaſie to all nations. Finally, the claws, ſtrength and valour of this great Lion, reach to the ends of the world, ſince that America obeyes is, Affrick feares it, Aſia deſires it, and Europe honours it.

And as wee have ſaid above, that it is proper to the heavenly lights, to order times, divide ſeaſons, and enrich the world with divers effects, to whom can this better be attributed, then to this valiant Nation, whoſe nobleneſſe, wiſedome and quickneſſe of wit is ſuch, that it ſpecifies each ſpeculative underſtanding? Since that all nations, even her greateſt enemies, confeſſe, that Spaine is a harbour of vertue, a treaſure of underſtanding, a ſea of diſcretion, a garden of nobleneſſe, an abyſſe of ſciences, and a wonder of the world. And fear of not ending my diſcourſe, I ſhould once engulfe my ſelfe into the heroicall attempts, and noted actions by the Spaniards, did not hinder me, it would appeare that thoſe of Mars would be abaſed by theirs; and all thoſe which have been written of from the creation of the world to this day, compared with theirs, would be but as a ſhadow of the body, and a draught of the originall, there being no fidelity, obedience, reſpect, generoſity, wiſedome and prudence in the world, which compared with the brightneſſe and ſplendor of this light, bee not darkened, ecclipſed, and do not vaniſh away.

And if any one judging mee to be ſuſpect through being paſſionate and partiall, ſhall diſallow of theſe my reaſons, let him take the depoſitions of her very enemies, as eye-witneſſes, and hee ſhall ſee, that there never lodged feare or puſillanimity in the heart of a Spaniard; nor was there ever any Spaniard, that did 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 not valiantly ſpend his life in ſervice of his king, and defence of his countrey, which the continuall heart-beatings, and mortall ſlaughters wherewith they affright the Moores, can well witneſſe, whoſe frontiers doe water their fields with the bloud of their inhabitants, in ſtead of water, ſpilt by the unconquered army of Spaine. Who tames the unlimited deſires, and unſatiable thirſt of the Ottoman Wolfe, but the ſtrength of this majeſticke Lion? Who humbleth and abateth his proud ambition, beating downe his deſignes, diſcomfiting his armies, caſting his thoughts to the earth, and cauſing him, like a frighted Wolfe purſued by Dogges, to beat a retreat, but the ſupreame valour of this Spaniſh Monarch?

I finally conclude the praiſes of this great Light, with that Maxime of Ariſtotle, as true as proper to this Nation, which ſaith, that in every kinde, there is a thing which is the rule and direction of all the reſt, and which containes in it ſelfe all the perfection which ſeverally the reſt have in themſelves. As for example, amongſt the Beings of God, amōgſt ſubſtances the Angels; amongſt ſoules, the rationall; amongſt the heavens, the Emperiall; amongſt the Planets, the Sunne; amongſt the Elements the fire; amongſt living creatures, Man; amongſt men, Chriſt: Amongſt bruit beaſts, the Lion; amongſt fiſhes, the Sturgeon; amongſt birds, the Eagle; amongſt metalls, Gold; amongſt pretious ſtones, the Carbuncle; amongſt colours, Azure; and amongſt Nations, the Spaniſh, which is the modell and major of all the reſt, and that which hath in it ſelfe all the prerogatives and eminences, and is the nobleneſſe of all the nations of the world.

CHAP. VIII. That the French, and Spaniſh Nation, being the beginning of the other Nations, naturally ought to be oppoſite.

IT beeing concluded in the precedent Chapter, that the French, and Spaniſh nations, are the beginning, and ſpring of all the other; It muſt through neceſſary conſequence follow, that they ought to bee oppoſite, and contrary; as likewiſe the two great lights of heaven are, upon which the diſcourſe of this my booke is grounded: The end of the contrariety which is in the heavenly ones being none other, then the variety, whereby the ſpacious garden of the world ſhewes faire, and enamelled with divers colours, with infinite variety of natures, and kindes, yet with ſuch order, and art, that all united together ſeem nothing but individuum of one onely thing. And ſo it was requiſite that their influence, and motion ſhould be various, and divers; it being certaine that there can be no difference in the effects, if the cauſes be not different; which punctually belongs to theſe two nations, which as the beginning, and modell of the reſt, muſt have ſome contrariety, in their ceremonies, humours, faſhions, of cloathing, converſations and the like, that other nations which looke on theſe in a glaſſe, might be various, and ſo humane nature, by reaſon of the ſaid variety, ſhould be beautified, and delightfull.

And though this truth be cleare to any one that ſhall looke on it; yet I will confirme it by Ariſtotles authority, who ſaith, that beginnings ought to be different, ſaying when he defineth them, that contraries or beginnings, are they, which are not made by any, neither any of them is compoſed of the other, but of them all things are made; which definition ſquares excellent well with theſe two nations: ſince we cannot ſay, that they are compoſed of any other; that is that they have taken any perfection, vertue or nobleneſſe, from them which were before them; ſeeing it is plaine that ſince the creation of the world, there never was any nation floriſhing in learning, wit, ſubtilty, policie, or other laudable exerciſes, more then theſe two. And ſo it ſeemes that God did with particuler providence make them in this world, beſtowing on them immediately with his owne hand, thoſe perfections which they have. Neither can it be ſaid, that the one is compoſed of the other, ſince that neither France takes anything from Spaine, nor any way ſeeks to imitate it, nor Spaine likewiſe from France: yet other nations are compoſed of them, receiving all the good they have, from theſe two beginnings, and fruitfull ſprings, ſo that it agreeing ſo well, with theſe two nations to be beginnings, they ought alſo to be of their nature, that is to be contrary.

I hold it certaine, that this variety and oppoſition of nature, which is in theſe two nations, was by divine providence. For if all were of one minde, and one humour, either all would ſtay at home, and would have no deſire to ſee the world, or all would be wandring, and forget their homes, and families, againſt the law of nature, & preſervation of humane kinde: and the effects of the world not have that beauty which is in them, if they were all alike. And therefore this being the pretended, and in the creation of the univerſe, God made theſe two beginnings, and nations ſo contrary, and ſhared all favours, and graces, amongſt them ſo equally, that the one cannot prevaile againſt the other, like two contraries of equall vertue; that cannot overcome one the other.

Neither let any one deceive himſelfe ſo farre as to thinke that the contrariety which is in theſe two nations as originalls, be any imperfection, but that it is in them the greateſt excellenlency that may be, ſeeing that if we conſider it well, they have no other end, then peace, and preſervation, it being a thing infallible that ſince they cannot overcome, nor conquer one another, by reaſon of the equality, ſtrength, and valour, they will preſerve not onely themſelves, but theſe nations alſo which depend on them. It being moſt certaine that a Province favoured, and protected, by Spaine, ſhall not be deſtroied by France: nor likewiſe by Spaine, any nation favoured by the French. And therefore wee ſhall finde that this contrariety is ordained for the peace, and preſervation of the world: and if God had not made theſe two originall, theſe two nations contrary, and communicated unto them their valour, with full equality, I verily beleeve that a great part of the world would be left: for if God had not tempred the fury, and violence of the French, with farre degrees leſſe of Spaniſh patience, and ſolidity, they would queſtionleſſe be ſoveraigns of the world. And contrariewiſe if Spaniſh patience were not mixed, with a ſlow, and flegmatick deliberation, there is no doubt but they would bring all the kingdomes of the earth in ſubjection. And that therefore God, who with an equall ballance, meaſure and wiſedome made all thinges, ſweetly diſpoſing of them, ordained that the world ſhould be preſerved in peace by meanes of this contrariety, dividing the goods ſo equally betweene theſe two Nations, that that which the one wanted, the other abounded in, that ſo like two perfect originals they might give peace and preſervation unto other Nations.

This Philoſophy wil not ſeem harſh to them who ſhall conſider in the foure Elements the contrariety and order wherewith they mix themſelves, to produce and preſerve thoſe things which are compoſed of them; for hee ſhall in them finde their qualities tempered and divided with ſuch art, that the one hath that which the other wants. God gave the Element of fire heat (as the Philoſophers call it) in ſummo, and drineſſe inremiſſo. For if it were extreame, as the heat, it would with its power and activity deſtroy all the other. And therefore to withſtand that diſorder, he left the fire with a remiſneſſe. If the earth had coldneſſe in extreame, as it hath dryneſſe, it would by reaſon of its clammineſſe & hardneſſe be intractable, and altogether incapable of compounding any mixt. He left the water with a remiſſe humidity, giving the ſame to the ayre in ſummo. So that with this diſtribution of qualities, God made them originals of peace and preſervation. The ſame art did hee uſe in theſe two Nations: for he gave the French the extreame of valour, force, and gentileneſſe, yet accompanyed with the remiſſe of variability and inconſtancy.

He placed in the Spaniard courage, ſtability, and conſtancy in a ſupreame degree, but tempered with a remiſſe deliberation. I would lay open the point more diffuſedly, if I did not feare thereby to animate, by telling of the truth, the two nations one againſt the other, who will not confeſſe that they have any thing in a remiſſe degree, but all perfection in ſummo. And ſo we are to beleeve that it was by heaven ordained that gifts ſhould be ſo entermingled betweene theſe two Nations, that neither France nor Spaine ſhould have all the power in either of themſelves, but equally divided betweene them, that knowing themſelves to be no ſtronger one then the other, they ſhould alwayes live in peace, and ſhould not attempt any thing whereby they might get broken heads. The truth of this admirable peece of worke was rarely ſet downe unto us in two words by the wiſe man, who conſidering the fabrick and ordering of the world, and the wonderfull meanes which God ordained to preſerve it, ſaid that hee had ſet one againſt one. Which was queſtionleſſe done, becauſe no one ſhould overtop the other, going beyond his bounds and confines. And ſo conſidering well the whole frame of the world, we ſhall finde that there is no one kinde or nature in it, but hath its contrary. God having ſet againſt a hell, heaven; againſt a Lucifer, Michael; againſt vice, vertue; againſt an Adam, Chriſt; againſt an Eve, a Mary; againſt the fire, water; and finally, againſt the Spaniſh the French nation, from which two, as from beginnings, yet contraries, ſhould iſſue ſuch plentifull ſtreames of valour, generoſity, & nobleneſſe, as ſhould beautifie and make fruitfull all mankinde; ſince that if any light of faith hath ſpread it ſelfe amongſt infidels, it hath beene through the diligence and labour of theſe two moſt noble Lights.

CHAP. IX. How the Devill envying the nobleneſſe and perfection of theſe two Nations, turned the naturall contrariety into a mortall antipathy.

OUr Lord God created theſe two noble Nations in the aforeſaid degree of perfection, that they might communicate and diſtribute that light and beauty which he had granted to them. But the old Serpent, mortall enemy unto peace, knowing the marvellous good and notable profit which theſe two Nations might have broght to the world, • f they had agreed and lived together in peace, fearing leſt they • hould with their great learning and holineſſe, cauſe the true faith and Chriſtian religion to ſpring up in all Heathen countreyes, and by that meanes get them from under his ſubjection, whom by meanes of idolatry and beſtiality wherewith he deceived them, he yet kept: hee gathered ſtrength out of their weaknes, and ſought to hinder this fruit, making uſe of the powerfulleſt arms he had, which were enmity and hatred: which hee rooted ſo deeply in theſe two Nations, that he converted his art into a nature, leaving them enmity and perſecuting of one another as hereditarie, there being no ſigne or token left of amitie, peace and union betwixt them; ſo that the ſmoke and duſt, as Saint Iohn ſaith in the Revelation, that curſed ſtarre fell from heaven, hath raiſed, is gotten up to the fourth ſpheare, and darkened the Sun. This is the cloud of enmity and mortall hatred, which the Divell ſowed between the Spaniſh and the French, which obſcured the Sunne and light of theſe two nations. Since, if had not been this curſed ſeed of enmity, whence groweth the diſtruſt of one another? They had, being both united together, conquered moſt Kingdomes and Monarchies of the world, diſſipating the darkneſſe of infidelity in many provinces and kingdomes which want the light of the Goſpell, and had offered an acceptable ſacrifice to God, of an infinite number of ſoules, which they would have drawne out of the way of perdition, and brought them into the way of ſalvation and eternall life.

It is therefore lamentable to ſee, that this accurſed Leviathan ſhould finde ſo much aptneſſe in ſuch wiſe nations, to ſwallow his mortall poyſon, and bring them from their firſt perfection, that hee could bee contented to ſet them at variance, and in hatred; but hee hath alſo with his powerfull diligence converted them (at leaſt in outward ſhew) into himſelfe: ſeeing that although a Frenchman be the ſame with the Spaniard, in that which is of the eſſence, that is rationalitie; yet hath the Divell ſo diſguiſed this nature in ſuch ſort, and hath ſo maliciouſly defiled, and changed her accidents, humours and conditions, that now a Frenchman in a Spaniards eye ſeemes to bee no man; and a Spaniard a Divell in the Frenchmans eye.

And if the Divell would have been contented with ſetting enmity and diſcord onely in the humour, cloathing, commerce, and other particular ceremonies of theſe two nations, it were no great matter, for it might eaſily have been remedied; but he was ſo cunning in ſowing this mortall diſſention, that with his deadly punctures and poyſon, he converted that into nature, which before were but accidents, making it paſſe by ſucceſſion, from the fathers to the ſonnes, & from theſe to the grand-children, like originall ſinne. So that as the Chicken flieth from, and is afraid of the Kite, although hee doth not know him: or as the gentle Lamb ſcarcely come out of the mothers belly, ſeeing the Wolfe a great way off, retires fearfull and timerous, flying him as a mortall enemy, having never ſeen him before, nor received any hurt by him, nor any having ſhewed him any enmity and antipathy. In like manner the hatred of the French to the Spaniards, and the Spaniards to the French, is growne ſo naturall, that even in children hanging on their mothers breaſts, there ſeemes to grow a naturall inſtinct to know a Spaniard a mile off, crying out as lowd at the ſight of him, as if hee did ſee ſome ſtrange viſion or apparition.

From this naturall antipathy commeth that to either nation, the cuſtomes, cloathing, & manner of living of the one, ſeemes evill-favoured, improper, and altogether abominable to the other, though the things of themſelves bee good, joyning them with the three ordinary fruits of hatred, which are, unbeliefe, detraction and contempt. For if one tell a Frenchman of any victory, any ſtrong hold, or citie which the Spaniard hath taken, or any other famous & heroicall enterprizes, which this nation ordinarily performe, none ſhall make him beleeve it, no not if an Angell ſhould come down from heaven to verifie it. And if he be either by common report, or other credible relations forced to beleeve that the thing is true, hee will ſay, they yeelded without reſiſtance, or that all in the hold were aſleep, that the watches and centries betrayed it, or that there were but thirty of the enemies ſouldiers, and the Spaniards were three thouſand: or finally, that there were many Frenchmen in the Spaniſh army, by whoſe advice and induſtry the battell was given, and the victory obtained. Howſoever, hee will never confeſſe, that the victory was truly gotten, but by ſome accident, or miſchance.

So againe, if the Spaniard heare any ſuch like newes of the French, he will ſay that ſome river broke her bankes, and drowned the enemies campe, or that thirty peeces of ordnance brake and killed halfe their army, or that the plague, or ſome other contagious diſeaſe, was amongſt them: ſo that he will not confeſſe that the victory was obtained by any ſtrength, valour, or induſtry, but by meere misfortune.

All the world knowes that Spaine is more barren then France, by reaſon of the great droughts, and ſmall ſtore of raine, that falls there: wherefore ſome yeares there comes corne, and other victualls out of Languedock, and Provence into Catalonia, and France, come your hollands, cloth, linnen, cambrick, and a thouſand other commodities which Spaine hath not: yet you ſhall not finde a Spainard who will confeſſe, that France is a better land, or more abundant, and rich. The ſame weakneſſe we alſo finde in the French, ſeeing that the greateſt Prince of that nation, that day as he will make ſhew of his greatneſſe, he adornes and beautifies himſelfe with things which come out of Spaine: if he have any brave horſe, it is Spaniſh, if he have perfumes about him they are Spaniſh, if he be cloathed in fine cloth it is Spaniſh, if he drinke good wine it is Spaniſh, and will ſcorne at play to carry any money about him but Spaniſh piſtolets; and yet though all this be true, they will not beleeve, but that Spaine is a wretched country, and Spaniards a cunning, malicious, and no way curious nation. And when they are convinced by experience, they will ſay, that all is good in Spaine which cannot ſpeake.

All Spaniards hold the French liberty, mirth, and affability, to be baſe, contemptible, diſhonorable, and of ſmall eſteeme, and almoſt madneſſe, and yet is a wonderfull perfection, wherein they excell all other nations; for by that meanes any one bee hee never ſo poore, may come to ſpeake to the King, and relate his grievances to him when hee will, without any let. The French gives like judgement of the Spaniard, calling his gravity, and continency, pride, and madneſſe; yet it ſtandeth with reaſon, that every one ſhould know what he is, and not give occaſion to ſuffer too much liberty, to breed 〈◊…〉 and diſreſpect.

The Spaniards accompt your French liberality in great feaſts, and banquets, to be an unreaſonable gluttony; it being very true as I my ſelfe have ſeene, that they are very abundant, and delicate in their foode, eſpecially your Nobility; their ends in theſe exceſſes beeing no other then to keepe their houſes, ſervants, and families, ſatisfied, content, and merry; which are things properly belonging to generoſity. The French beleeve that to abſtaine from theſe exceſſes, and the rule and order which the Spaniards keepe, proceeds from baſeneſſe, and avarice, onely to avoid expence: and yet it is manifeſt that this is no vertue, like unto ſobriety, and parſimony, as well for the commendation it particularly hath in holy Scripture, as alſo for the ſpirituall and bodily benefits, which proceed from it.

If you aske a Spaniard what he thinkes of the French habit, and fancy, he will not onely hold them to be ill favoured, but will be ſcandalized at a thing which cauſeth mirth, and attracts the mindes. For to ſee a troope of French upon a feſtivall day cloathed in ſuch variety of colours with a thouſand kinds of feathers, jewells, embroderies, fringes, ornaments, and gold laces with ſo many hundred of jewels, diamonds, pearles, rubies, emeralds, and topaces, that one would thinke the Indies were landed in France; is even as one ſhould ſee a garden enamelled, and enterlaced moſt artificially with divers flowers, or a faire field full of dazies, lillies, and violets, whoſe faire ſhew, wakens the ſences, keepes the mind in ſuſpence, and enamoures the very ſoule: Yet the Spaniard will ſay, that it is the greateſt folly in the world. I doe not wonder at it, becauſe that in Spaine your civill habit is ſo much uſed, and wearing of colors ſo abhorred, that they force the hangman to weare colours, for a marke of his ſhame, and infamy. And if we have a French mans judgement concerning your Spaniſh habit, and manner of clothing, he will ſay that to goe alwaies in black is a ſigne of deſpaire, the marke of a widdow, or a decayed perſon, yet blacke is one of the moſt honourable colours, and argues modeſty, reputation, authority, and underſtanding.

Let a French man truly conſider the effect of the looke, modeſty and curteſie of a Spaniard, his deliberateneſſe in his ſpeech, his reſervedneſſe, his affectuous conceipts in his diſcourſes, his gravity in his gate, his patience in his buſineſſe, his meaſuring of his words, his attentive hearkning to his reaſons who ſpeakes to him, and he ſhall truly finde that all is but civility and curteſie; yet he will ſay that Spaniards would ſeeme to be wiſe but are not. And if a Spaniard looks upon the actions of a Frenchman, his never ſtanding ſtill, his unquietneſſe and impatience, his flinging away, though he knows that under ſuch actions there is a great deale of wit, capacity, ſubtilty, and wiſedome, yet he will ſay, that Frenchmen neither ſeeme nor are wiſe.

If a Gentleman go to a friends houſe to viſit him, he will ſcarce be in, but with a great deale of mirth he asketh for breakfaſt, if it bee in the morning, or according to the time of the day, wherein hee ſhewes his liberty and friendſhip, ſeeing that to eate in one diſh, and drinke in one cup is a ſigne of fidelity and friendſhip. Now this would be abominable and diſgracefull to the Spaniard, who would rather ſtarve for hunger and thirſt, then aske for it in a friends houſe. Yea there are ſome ſo ſhame-faced, that will ſit a whole meale without drinke, onely becauſe they will not aske for it: as it happened to certaine countrey people, who being invited to a Biſhops houſe, after they had eaten went to drinke at a river, becauſe they were not ſo bold as to aske for drinke at the table. If we aske a Spaniard what he thinkes of the manner and faſhion which the French uſe in ſaluting of Ladies, kiſſing their facess, comming neare them and touching them with that freeneſſe as is uſed in France, he will loſe his patience, and he will by no meanes be perſwaded that ſuch ceremonies can have any civility or curteſie in them: it being a maxime among 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 them, that who parleyes will yeeld the hand, who yeelds the hand will yeeld the face, and who yeelds the face will yeeld the reſt. And yet it is moſt certaine true, that ſuch actions are void of malice, and ancient cuſtomes, practiſed even in the Apoſtles times. As alſo when they ſalute them afar off, going backwards, raking their feet upon the ground, with ſuch like honeſt, wiſe, and juſt ceremonies, wherein there cannot be the leaſt occaſion of any raſh judgement: yet I doe not wonder at this ordinary contrariety, ſeeing the Devill hath ſo taken away all manner of liking betweene the two Nations, with envie and hatred, that he makes that ſeem evill and deteſtable unto them, which indeed is commendable and honeſt.

CHAP. X. Of ſome things which befell the Author in France, touching the enmity of the two Nations.

I Know that every one will beleeve the antipathy which I am deſcribing, without urging mee to prove it by any of thoſe many particulars which happened unto me. Yet I will a little digreſſe from the theory, and (as by the way) delight the Reader with ſome paſſages, which when I remember I cannot forbear laughing, and afterwards to fall into a ſtrange admiration, in ſeeing how much the name and ſight of a Spaniard hath beene, and is abhorred in France.

I went out of Spaine, drawne by that curioſity to which the deſire and appetite of knowing inclines unquiet mindes. And being told that in France I might ſatisfie my deſires, I was not ſlow in taking my journey that waies, it being neare unto Spaine, and there being alſo ordinary commerce betweene them. I undertooke my journey with as much eaſe as my poverty could afford me, which was not ſo great, but that I did ride on horſeback, and had ſome money, though not much, which I alſo was forced to lay out to make me a ſuit of cloths. I beleeved that as ſoon as I ſhould come into France, without any other art or oſtentation, that onely ſeeing of me in Spaniſh habit, would make all the world affect me, and ſtrive who ſhould firſt have me home to his houſe. I thought that a ſpanne of ruffing which I wore ſtiffe ſtarched, would ſerve me for bill of Exchange; beleeving that having them on, none durſt deny to lend me money, if I deſired to borrow of him.

Then I aſſured my ſelfe that I ſhould be eſteemed of, reſpected and in a manner feared, by reaſon of ſix palms of rapier which hanged by my ſide, raking with the chape upon the ground. At laſt I arrived into France, cloathed in Spaniſh habit, as may be preſumed of one that went into France with a pretence of finding favour, onely becauſe hee was a Spaniard. I travelled all the way from Burdeaux to Paris, without any accident worth the writing, unleſſe it were ſome baſe words they gave mee when I paid my reckonings at Innes; which becauſe they were of no great importance, and ſpoken by people which could not offend me, I bore with patience. I came into Paris with that deſire which the citie deſerves all men ſhould have, which come to ſee it. I began to walke the ſtreets with a Spaniſh gravity, ſtate and garbe: yet I was faine to leave it, and haſten my pace, forſaking my wonted gravity: for I had not ſcarce gone twenty paces, when I heard a noyſe behinde me of children that called to me, Senor Senor de la Burrica pany Ravanicos: Sir, Sir, out of your budget bread and radiſhes, with a thouſand other injurious words, and ſuch untuned voices, that I was by neceſſity forced to goe into the firſt houſe that I found open, leaving the doore and court as full of little children and men, as if it had been the Councell chamber gate. By misfortune there were three little boyes playing in the entry, who ſeeing mee in a habit which they were not accuſtomed to, did entertaine mee with ſuch out-cries, fears and ſhreekes, that with their noiſe many began to look out at the windows: then came a groome, who thinking▪ I had done thoſe children▪ ſome injury, ſtrook me ſuch a blow on the head with a Curry-comb he had in his hand, that he had almoſt aſtonied me. I thought to excuſe my ſelf in thoſe troubles, with ſome humble reaſons; but it was a kinde of preaching to a deſart. And ſo after I had made my complaint to 30. or 40. that were come into the entry, they reſolved to put me into the ſtreet, and turn me over to my firſt tormentors, who waited at the doore for me, whoſe number being by the one halfe increaſed, they began to follow mee up another ſtreet, with ſuch a noiſe and tumult, that from all ſides came an infinite of people to ſee the cauſe of this extraordinary tumult, thinking I was ſome fellow that was whipped up and down the ſtreets. I was ſo troubled, and beſides my ſelfe, that I had not the wit to aske where I was; and though I could have done it, yet that accurſed company of Humble-bees did not give me time to doe it: ſo that all as I could doe, was to haſten my pace, endevouring to finde ſome gate of the Citie, taking it for my laſt remedy, to goe out of it. But my evill fortune not yet ſatisfied, (to my greater confuſion) cauſed me to ſee a Church which ſtood open, and a Prieſt ſaying Maſſe in it, and many hearing of him; I went in, thanking God a thouſand times for the favour he had done me, in delivering mee out of the hands of ſo many Caldeans. I was ſcarce gone up the ſecond ſtep, but there began ſuch a laughter amongſt the poore lame people that ſtood begging at the Church doore, that they which were within the Church very attentive at maſſe, turning their backes to the Altar, began to gaze upon me, and ſecond the others laughter, whereat I remained ſo aſtoniſhed and confuſed, that I ſtood a great while ſtill in the midſt of the Church, turning my ſelfe no way; and I had ſtood ſo a great while longer, if one of them as ſtood next to me had not come to mee and bid me make cleane my cloke.

So I went into a corner of the Church, where looking upon my ſelfe from head to foot, I found a hares ſcut and a peece of a ſheepes gut pinned upon my cloake, and the reſt of it embroidered with ſpittles and other filth, which together with my habit, had beene the cauſe of the tumult in the ſtreet, and laughter in the Church; the ſudden murmure of them which heard maſſe was ſo loud, that the Prieſt looked about three or foure times, to ſee the motive of this newes, and becauſe I perceived he knew that I was the cauſe of that whiſpering and noiſe, every time he turned himſelfe about to the people and caſt his eyes upon me, mee thought he reproved me as a diſquieter and diſturber of that ſpirituall reſt. Which did ſo trouble me and make me ſo aſhamed, that I repented a thouſand times that I was come into the Church. Once amongſt the reſt, when the Prieſt turned towards the people, he looked upon me, and whether it was true, or but onely my imagination, I thought that in ſtead of ſaying Dominus vobiſcum, hee had ſaid to mee, Why doeſt not thou get thee hence? with which impreſſion I ſuddenly went out of the Church ſo enraged, aſtoniſhed, and troubled, that not looking what was before me, nor regarding where I ſet my feet, as I came out of the doore I hitting my head againſt a Friers noſe, who ſtood in the middle of it, begging with a box in his hand, and gave him ſuch a knocke, that he fell on his hands and head to the ground, and the box tumbled downe the ſteps, at the bottome whereof ſtood ten or twelve foot-boies holding their maſters horſes, who enraged againſt me for the knocke I hit the Frier, began to make a tumult, and hold up their rough cudgels againſt me: and ſurely they would have evill entreated me, if my laying hands on my patient ſword, and the ſacrednes of the place where they ſtood had not ſtayed them. Yet uſing their tongues for inſtruments of revenge, they followed me down the ſtreet with ſuch injurious words and ſpeeches, as were able to have ſcandalized the deſperateſt fellow in the world: And they did not leave me, till croſſing of a ſtreet, I ſhut my ſelfe up in a Cookes houſe, where I ſtaid all night, yeelding infinite thanks to God for being gotten out of ſo great a feare and confuſion.

The day following I reſolved to take another way, thinking that of the laſt day to have been unlucky. And ſo with hope of better fortune I tooke heart, and came out of the houſe with the ſame gravity and ſtatelineſſe as I uſed before: yet ſtill looking every way, to ſee if I met with any of mine enemies. Truly that day was lucky, for none followed me in the ſtreets, onely the Shoomakers, Coblers, and Taylors in every ſtreet as I went by, would leave their worke, and ſtanding upon their doore ſills, would hiſſe, ſcoffe, and laugh at me till I was gotten out of their ſight. Whereof I made ſmall account, it ſeeming but a paſtime to that was paſt.

This manner of contempt and ſcorne laſted all the while I went in Spaniſh habit, which was almoſt two months, during which time my very ſoule was tormented with divers affronts, fictions, and jeſts, whereto I could by no meanes finde any remedy: ſo that the remainder of that time, I was forced to goe in the evenings after Sunne ſetting, like a night-Bat, or a man that hid himſelfe for debt, it being impoſſible by day to goe in the ſtreet an hundred paces, without having twice as many boyes about me. Once that I preſumed to goe over a market place, the ſight of mee was ſuch a novelty, and ſeemed ſo ſtrange to certaine women which ſold radiſhes, ſalads, and egges, that comming neare one who was weighing of a Cheeſe of ten pounds, ſhe ſo wondred, and was ſo affrighted at the ſight of me, that the ſcales fell out of her hands, and both ſcales and cheeſe fell upon a basket of eggs which ſtood under them, out of which immediately began to runne a ſtreame of whites, and from her mouth iſſued more excommunicate curſes then doth come from an Exorciſt to one poſſeſſed of the divell: the egs were another womans who ſtood by her, and perceiving her ware upon the ground, without ſcolding with the other, tooke hold of three or foure of her cheeſes, which ſtood there upon a little table, ſo that the one ſtriving to take them away from her, and the other to keepe them, they ſtrugled ſo long that both they, the table, cheeſes, and basket, and all came to the ground, and falling with their heeles upwards, diſcovered &c.

I ſtood by looking on, and laughing with the reſt, who ſtood by looking upon the skirmiſh, which laſted above a quarter of an houre, ſtruggling, and ſcratching upon the ground, with the skirts of their coates over their heads, ſo that thoſe that came at laſt could not perceive what it was, ſeeing nothing but their buttocks and their feet. The battaile ended with ſome little bloud, bruiſes and loſſe of much haire on both ſides; and having wiped their faces which were all bedawbed, with butter, egs, durt, and bloud: ſeeing me there, and remembring that I was the firſt cauſe of the skirmiſh, they both with one accord tooke up the broken egs which lay on the ground, and ranne towards me with their haire about their ears▪ and barefoote throughing them at me: after them aroſe all the reſt, and beleeving I had beene the cauſe of all that miſchiefe, they began to ſhowre upon me ſo many ſtones, onions, peares, whole cabidges, and peeces of poore John, that they made me looke blacker, and more diſfigured then they; and I remember I could make no more uſe of the cloake nor the hat, ſeeing a whole army of women upon me, ſo enraged as they were, I ſought to eſcape from them running as nimble as a Deere, forgetting that gravity, and ſtatelineſſe which I profeſſed.

By good fortune in this my trouble I met with a gentleman, who queſtionleſſe had beene in Spaine, and moved with compaſſion, tooke me into a friends houſe, which by chance was at the end of that ſtreet, for me unfortunate, and commanded certaine groomes to make cleane my cloake, and clothes. I came out againe, timorous, and angry; fearing to commit ſome infamous action, as really I had done if I had drawne my ſword againſt ten or fifteene women, who warred againſt me with nothing but onions and cabidges; and I had ſcarce gone a hundred paces, but a farre off I eſpied a troope of people who very ſilently ſtood hearkning to a long and ſet diſcourſe which a blinde man had with a dogge tied to his girdle in a chaine. The dogge hearkened to him attentively, that he truely ſeemed to have judgement and capacity to apprehend all that was ſaid unto him. So having made him dance to the ſound of a cymball which he carried at his backe, he began to aske him certaine queſtions, and amongſt the reſt, he ſaid unto him what wilt thou doe for the King of France? Then the dogge began to dance and skip, and make ſuch ſhew of rejoicing, that if it had beene a man as indeed it was a beaſt, he that had ſeene him would have judged him to be mad or frantick, ſeeing how he danced and ſtirred about. This queſtion being paſt, the blinde man asked him againe, what he would doe for the King of Spaine? Lord! who could relate the fooliſh noiſe which that beaſt made with barking? truly the haire upon the ridge of his backe began to briſtle, hee grinned with his teeth, turned his eies awrie, pricked up his eares, and began to gape ſo wide that he ſeemed to have a legion of divells within him. I could look on no longer, I was ſo enraged & even ſmothered with anger, to ſee that the hatred & diſdain againſt the Spaniſh nation, ſhould be a means for blind men to get their livings in France. Whereupon I reſolved to cloath my ſelf after the French faſhion, and conforme my ſelf to the uſe of the country, perſwading my ſelfe that I might thereby prevent a thouſand inconveniences.

I went away from that company, thinking that my habit gathered more people together then the blinde man and his dogge: and ſo taking my way homewards, I found at the end of a narrow and unfrequented ſtreet, a woman ſitting upon her doore ſille, and giving her child pappe, who being froward, and untoward, would by no perſwaſions eate his pappe. The poore mother vexed with the childes obſtinacy, ſeeing all the faire means ſhe could uſe, could not make it take that which ſhe would give it, made uſe of the preſent occaſion, and when I was neare her ſhe ſaid to it, ſee the Spaniard that comes to carry away little boyes that will not eate the pap: in truth that little creature was ſo affrited when it ſaw me, that full of feare with a panting heart hee held up his little hands, as a ſigne to his mother to give him all the pap at once: This thing made mee laugh ſo heartily that for two houres after, I did nothing but laugh and wonder at it.

But if I ſhould particularize unto you, the broiles, the decepts, and couſenings, which the inkeepers uſed towards mee, I ſhould never have done. I never came into an Inne but I came out of it, with a quarrell, was couſoned, and yet forced to aske all thoſe that were preſent forgiveneſſe: The quart deſcu in my hands, or rather in their handes was worth ten ſols: a relon of ten ſols was converted into a halfe quart d'eſcu, and this into a royall, and that of five royalls into five ſols: and if I chanced to reply any thing, they would turn towards me like Lions, chiding me, and ſaying, that if I did not know what value coynes were of, I ſhould learne, and not conteſt with honeſt people that feared God, and caried a good conſcience: and they would tell me I had no skill in Arithmeticke, and eſpecially in ſubtraction. Many times I ſhould buy ſome wares which I knew would not waſte at the ayre nor the fire, yet within a quarter of an houre in a pound I ſhould finde foure ounces wanting. With theſe and the like deceipts I paſſed my firſt dayes, till knowledge and practice of the countrey ſhewed me what meanes I ſhould uſe to free me from theſe evils.

CHAP. XI. The contrariety and antipathy of the ſoule and body of the Spaniards and the French.

I Have thought a thouſand times to aske the midwife in what manner the French came out of their mothers bellies, for ſeeing the contrariety that is betweene them and the Spaniards, mee thinkes it is impoſſible for them • o be borne in the ſame manner, ſeeing one can hardly preſume, • hat having the middle and the end, the body and the ſoule, yea • nd their very death contrary, they ſhould have their naturall beginning, which is their birth, alike. This contrariety is ſo great and ſo remarkable, that to define a Frenchman, one cannot doe it more properly, then to ſay he is a Spaniard the contrary way. For there the Spaniard makes an end where the Frenchman begins, as I ſhall ſhew in the following chapters. As for the ſoule I muſt confeſſe that they are all created in tempore, and that they are all of the ſame ſpecies, and that God doth with one action create and infuſe them into the organicall body. And if faith did not teach me, I ſhould never beleeve, that French and Spaniſh ſoules were of the ſame nature. Yet I finde, that if we conſider the ſoule of it ſelfe, and without any reference to the body of either Nation, the ſoule it ſelfe is neither French nor Spaniſh: And this ſpecificall unitie which Divinity admits between them, is not againſt that which I ſay; for conſidering the ſoule within the body, it is no more indifferent, but determined to bee either Spaniſh or French.

Wherefore I ſay, that the ſoule determined into a French body, hath her powers quite contrary to a Spaniſh one. Firſt the French underſtanding hath its apprehenſion very quicke, and with a great deale of eaſe will goe through any difficulty that can be propoſed unto it: yet it goeth no further, nor entreth into deeper diſcourſes, which depend upon the ſame difficulty: But with the ſame ſpeedineſſe as hee 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 did apprehend it, with the ſame it goeth away and is forgotten. Contrariwiſe, the Spaniards underſtanding is ſlow in apprehending the difficulty, but having once underſtood it, he will hold it faſt, drawing a thouſand conſequences out of it, and ſifting every point of it.

The Spaniard his underſtanding is altogether ſpeculative, ſince that in all his actions, his end is no other but the contemplation of things, without afterwards directing or ſettling of it upon any ſervile or mechanicall worke. Wherefore you ſhall finde few naturall Spaniards of any mechanick trade, as Shoomaker, Taylor, Cobler, Joyner, Inne-keeper, or the like. For which I call the French to witneſſe, who goe into Spaine, and come backe againe offended, becauſe they finde no Alehouſes nor Innes as they have in France, ſo that ſometimes they may travell three dayes and not come at an Inne, whereby they are conſtrained to carry meat with them in their bags, and wine in their bottles. The French underſtanding is altogether practicall, being it is not content with the only knowledge of things, but learnes them for to make uſe of them therein, where he may reap ſome profit by it, and ſo is not idle, but to avoid idleneſſe employes it ſelfe in any manner of exerciſe; and thence growes the variety of trades in that Nation. The greateſt part of your French wits addict themſelves to the ſtudie of the Law and Canons, and very few ſtudy Poſitive or Schoole Divinitie. Amongſt the Spaniards few ſtudy the Law, and almoſt all Divinitie.

The French underſtanding, though it receive and hold things concerning Faith and Religion for infallible, yet it cannot ſtay and fixe it ſelfe on them, but will ſee, conſider, and alſo judge whether that which faith ſayes is as he meanes, and finding ſome difficulty, he runs his boat a ground, beleeving himſelfe onely, and denying that which others hold. The Spaniard his underſtanding is fearfull, and humble in that which concernes faith, and determination of the Church. So that as ſoone as any Article of faith is propounded unto him, he preſently ſets bounds to all his knowledge, wiſedome, and diſcourſe, and not onely ſtrives not to know whether that bee ſo or no, which the faith ſets downe, but uſeth all the meanes hee can to avoid ſpeculation thereon, fearing to fall into ſome errour through the frailty of his underſtanding. Whence groweth the punctuall obedience which the Spaniards yeeld to the Church of Rome, and the difference and diſſention that is thereupon amongſt the French.

The French man will reſolve upon buſineſſes of greateſt importance, when he is in moſt company, being not diſturbed by any tumult, noiſe, or outcrie: ſo that I have noted in this nation, that your Princes, Lords, and other perſons of quality, will diſpatch their commiſſions, and other weighty buſineſſes ſitting at table, the eating being no diſturbance to the audience which they give to a thouſand people: and ſometimes they will ſit at meales and have one of each ſide of them, who at the ſame time will talke to them, and they will anſwer them all as punctually, as if they were ſhut up privately in a chamber, without any diſturbance and had nothing to doe, but to hearken to them, which ſpeake to them. All this is contrary to the Spaniſh underſtanding, who if hee have any buſineſſe of conſequence, retires himſelf into ſome ſolitary place, and is ſuch an enemy of company and tumult, that if a fly comes buzzing by his eare, when he is in the depth of his buſineſſe it is enough to hinder his reſolution.

In the ſecond power of the ſoul which is the memory, there is contradiction, & antipathy, ſince the French mans is altogether concerning the preſent: I mean, that all his actions have none other end, but that which they then have and poſſeſſe, remembring neither that which is paſt, nor that which may happen: and ſo for a content and pleaſure in hand, they forget all paſt adverſities, and make no count of any thing which may come, though they know aſſuredly, that that very occaſion once paſt, it ſhall ſurely happen to them. The Spaniards are quite contrary, who weigh all their actions with the ſcale of what is paſt, and what is to come; not plunging themſelves, in the content, and enjoyment of the preſent, without thinking, weighing, or eſteeming all inconveniences which may enſue: and therefore reducing this point to two words, I ſay: that the French mans memory is about the preſent, if one may beare preſent things in memory: and the Spaniards is of that which is paſt, and is to come: the French will eaſily remember, or forget a thing, being quickly angry for any preſent wrong done to them, and eaſily forget and pardon it: Your Spaniards muſt be much urged before they will remember an offence, but once had in minde, they will hardly forget it. I could make a whole book and a large volume, of the contrarieties, and antipathies which are in their wills, if I might ſpeak all that which truly I might, without diſtaſting of neither nation: I will therefore be content, without touching the vertues or vices, which might bee found in either, God onely being perfect, and without fault, to ſay that there is no nation in the world ſo patient, and ſuffering, as the Spaniſh nation is; ſo that it will never quarrell nor contend, unleſſe it be upon a more then urgent occaſion, which muſt prick him on to it. The French contrariwiſe, if you doe them but a haires breadth of offence or injury, he preſently makes a breach, and will never reſt till they be revenged by fighting.

The Spaniards are true, firme, and conſtant in their loves; ſo that many times they goe beyond the bounds of affection, adoring that which they love, and with ſo much fidelity, that they would bee afraid to annoy it ſo much as with a thought, and they inviolably preſerve this faith; no chance whatſoever, being able to remove them from what they profeſſe, yea they are ſo affected to their will, that many times they loſe their judgement, which never happens to the French who are ſo mutable in their wills, and purpoſes, and ſo voluble that having ſet their affection upon one, they will ſettle it upon a hundred more, if ſo many ſhould come to them. And if any there be, as there are many, that have not this defect: yet their affections are to changeable, that the leaſt anger in the world, will change their fire of love into a colder ſnow, then that which is in winter upon the Pyrenean mountaines.

A French man that is in his Miſtriſſes favour, will doe what he can to let his friendes and all the world know his being in favour, and his being acceptable unto her: a thing much abhorred by the Spaniard, who if he be in any ſuch predicament, with all care and diligence, will ſeeke to hide his content from his friends, and all the world, and even from himſelfe, if it were poſſible. Finally, in this particuler they have two contrary motions; The French man ſeekes to have that ſeene, which lies hidden. The Spaniard ſeekes nothing more, then to hide that which is outward and in light.

The Spaniards delight extreamly, in outward apparance, and honour, caring more to ſatisfie the world, then for their owne intereſts; ſo that they care not for ſuffering want or miſery, ſo that it be not known: and there are ſome who being in places that they muſt goe abroad, handſome in cloathes, want will bring them to that extremity, that they will faſt two daies to have a handſome cloak, and a ſtarched ruffe, to goe abroad in, and they will carry themſelves ſo luſtily, well diſpoſed, and haughty, that you would thinke they had kept a very good houſe. Contrariewiſe the French have no other end in their actions, but their proper intereſt, and pleaſure, ſo that if he may but fare well in his diet, he cares not what the world can ſay: and if neceſſity ſorce him to it, he will ſell his cloake, his ſword, yea his very ſhirt, and drawers; and after he hath conſumed them, hee will goe forth naked if need be into the ſtreet, to give his friends ſatisfaction; holding it no diſgrace to ſay that he hath ſold them to buy food. If a Spaniard be ſo neere driven that hee muſt ſell his cloathes, to buy food; hee will firſt ſell his ſhirt▪ ſeeing that with his doublet, and ruffe, he covers the want of it; and if his need increaſes he will ſell his doublet, covering his body with his cloake, after his doublet goes his ſword, after that his ruffe; and the laſt thing of all is his cloake. But the French man when he is in want, doth quite contrary, beginning where the Spaniard ends, and the firſt thing hee ſells is his cloake, next his doublet, then his britches, and laſt of all his ſhirt: in want there is none more valiant and fearleſſe then the Spaniard; nor is there any are more timorous then the French, if he want victualls. A Spaniard will live three daies upon a peece of bread, and will not bee diſmaid, or ſhew loſſe of courage, but if the French man wants his pottage but one day he thinkes himſelfe loſt and undone.

A Spaniards generoſitie is notable when he begs an almes; ſeeing hee will never confeſſe hee doth it for neceſſity, but by ſome accident or diſaſter; that he was forced to ſave his life and his honour, to cloath himſelfe in a poore habit, & beg in the ſtreets; and the words he uſeth when he begs ſhall bee theſe or the like: Pleaſe you, Sir, to doe ſome curteſie for a poore cavallier, who is come out of his Countrey for ſuch a miſchance; that hee hath beene forced to cloath himſelfe in this habit as you ſee: And when you know who it is that begs (as long it ſhall not bee before you doe know) you will thinke your ſelfe happy that you pleaſured a man of my condition and qualitie; and if by chance he that hears him, and hearkens to his complete ſpeeches, aske him who hee is, and what miſchance he hath had; having firſt made him ſweare that he wil not diſcover him, he will anſwer that he is nephew to an Earle or Duke, or brother to the Admirall of Caſtile, and that a great Princeſſe falling in love with him, he conveyed her out of her fathers houſe in mans apparell, which being diſcovered by her parents, he was forced to abſent himſelfe and live in that faſhion unknown, till his friends had made peace; and hee will ſay that he hath fifteene or twenty thouſand crowns a year, and eight or ten Baronies: Finally, the Spaniard then ſhews his generoſity moſt, when hee ſees himſelfe moſt croſſed. But if a Frenchman comes to that paſſe, that he hath not a peny, nor any thing to ſell for food, good Lord who can rehearſe his inventions! his ſtratagems, his wry mouths, and ſhruggings, to make his miſery knowne, and to draw men to beſtow an almes upon him? Hee will ſhrinke up his ſhoulders, croſſe his hands, fall on his knees, beat his breaſt, weepe, and with a dolefull humble voice full of anguiſh, will deſire you to give him a farthing, to buy him bread, ſeeing he hath eaten nothing in three dayes; he will ſay he hath nothing in this world that he can depend upon, nor any that can afford him any 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 comfort, that hee is altogether wretched, forſaken of his kindred, parents and friends: finally, he ſhewes ſo much lowlineſſe, and faints ſo, that hee ſhould bee harder then any ſtone, that hearing a relation ſo full of compaſſion and miſery, ſhould not beſtow ſomething upon him.

The contrariety of body which is betweene the French and the Spaniards is ſo manifeſt, that it would bee time loſt that were ſpent in diſcourſing long upon it; it being manifeſtly ſeene, that the moſt part of Spaniards are little, and your French tall. Your Spaniards are brown, your French faire: your Spaniards brave blacke haire, your French red or flaxen: your French weare long haire, your Spaniards ſhort: your French have ſpare legs, your Spaniards fleſhy, ſeeing a Spaniards calfe of his legge will bee as big as a Frenchmans thigh: your French let their beard grow, your Spaniards cut it, leaving nothing but the muſtachoes and a little tuffe in the middle: your French are cholericke, your Spaniards flegmaticke: your Spaniards are ſlow, your French quick: your French are light, your Spaniards ſolid: your French are merry, your Spaniards melancholy: your French are bold, your Spaniards ſhamefaced: your French are precipitious, your Spaniards warie: your French liberall, your Spaniards ſparing. From theſe may bee conſidered infinite thinges which ſhall alwayes be found wholly contrary.

CHAP. XII. Of the contrariety that is betweene the French and the Spaniards in their clothing.

IF one conſider a Spaniards habit, you ſhall finde it quite contrary to the French; the Spaniard from the waſte upward being broad and thicke, and the French man contrariwiſe, from the middle upwards is ſlender, his doublet being very cloſe and ſtrait. Amongſt a thouſand Spaniards you ſhall finde none but weares a caſſack, and amongſt a thouſand French, you ſhall not finde one that will weare it: there is not a French man but will in ſummer weare his doublet open before and behind, holding it a ſtately thing to ſhew their ſhirt: The Spaniard although there ſhould fall lances of fire, will never unbutton himſelfe, holding it diſgracefull to ſhew ones ſhirt: A Spainards hat is high in the crowne, and narrow in the brimmes; the French quite contrary: The neck and collar of a Spaniard is cloſe before; the French mans open: That which the Spaniard weares upon his armes, the French man weares it upon his thighes, wearing long ſleeves, and ſhort breeches▪ and the French man wears very long breeches, and his doublet ſleeves very cloſe: The Spaniard wears garters, and the French man weares none at all: The French fancy weares two great roſes which cover almoſt all his ſhoo: The Spaniſh pompe is to weare ſuch a ſmall latchet that you can ſcarce perceive it: your French weare high hollowed and pointed heeles, your Spaniard weares them low, broad, and flat: The Spaniard weares his ſtockings drawne up ſmooth, that you can ſcarce take hold of them with a paire of pincers, the French man lets them fall looſe, deſiring to have foure plaites juſt above his heele: The Spaniards weare a long cloake and let it hang downe; the French weare it ſhort, and ſo tuckt up, that you can ſcarce ſee any thing of it but the cape: A French man cannot hold his armes under his cloake as he walkes the ſtreets, the Spaniards never hold them out: your French weare a little ſword and with ſmall hilts, and hanging before them: your Spaniards weare their rapiers with large hilts, and weare it upon their ſide: your French man weares his dagger on the middle of his girdle: your Spaniard hangs it on the one ſide: your French man when hee goeth to fight in duell, will put of his doublet, and his ſhirt too: the Spaniard wears his ſhirt, his doublet, his coate, and his jacke of maile: the French man begins to button his doublet from the necke downe towards the waſte: the Spaniard begins at the waſte and ends at the necke: the Spaniard when hee makes himſelfe ready puts on his doublet firſt; the French man laſt: the French man in cold weather puts on a waſtecoate in the night, and puts it off in the day, becauſe he will not ſeem thicke waſted: The Spaniard weares it the day, and pull it off at night.

CHAP. XIII. The contrarieties in eating and drinking.

THE Spaniards ordinary rule is to eate twice a day, a •… at dinner and at ſupper: The French man foure times eating beſides thoſe two meales a •… breakefaſt, and afternoones nunching: The Spaniard brings in fruit at the beginning of meales, your French at the latter end: your Spaniards have every one their ſeverall diſhes to eate pottage in: your French eate all in one platter: The meate which is ſet on a Spaniards table is cut in ſmall peeces: The French mans is whole: your French will put all their fingers in the diſh to take out a ſop, your Spaniard will very carefully take it up with two fingers, if he have no forke: the Spaniard reſerves what good meate remaines at dinner, for ſupper: the French man never brings meate to the table againe: the French man eates his boiled meate firſt; the Spaniard his • oſt meate: the Spaniard eates • allads onely at the ſupper, and at the beginning of it: your French man at every meale, and at the • atter end: the French man after meals walks and goes: the Spaniard reſts and ſleeps: when the Spaniard drinks he fils water out firſt, and then wine; the French the wine firſt, and then the water: the French man alwaies talkes while hee is eating; if the Spaniard ſpeakes a word it is a wonder: the French man cals aloud for his drinke, the Spaniard beckens, and ſaies nothing: the Spaniard eates much bread, and little meate, the French much meate and little bread: the Spaniard eates very leaſurely; the French man very faſt.

CHAP. XIIII. Of their Antipathy in going.

IT is a ſtrange thing to ſee a company of French men walking in the ſtreet; for they will all, if there were a hundred, walke ſide by ſide, taking up the whole bredth of the ſtreet, and they goe as cloſe as grapes in a cluſter, ſtumbling, falling, and riſing, yet never forſaking their ranke; neither advancing forwards, nor tarrying behinde, though they meet with other company, and bee juſtled by them; or though they juſtle, and be ready to overthrow one another: The Spaniards doe quite contrary; for if they be above three in company, they will goe together but onely two and two, ſo that when they are many, they make as it were a proceſſion: when the French walke alwaies in their turnings they keepe their places: the Spaniards change at every turne, thoſe going into the middle which were on the ſides: the French ordinarily walke as faſt, as if they had Sergeants at their heeles: the Spaniards walke with ſuch leaſure and gravity, that they that ſee them, thinke they have lately beene ſicke, or have yet ſome quartane ague: your French uſe to walke about the city booted and ſpurd, the Spaniards cannot indure it; and if they doe chance to walke in bootes, they will not weare ſpurs: your French when they are a horſeback, ride alwaies a full trot: the Spaniards ride leaſurely: The French mens footboyes runne after their Maſters when they ride: the Spaniards go before: your Spaniards on horſebacke weare their cloakes and ſwords, and their mans ſword too: amongſt the French, the Page carries his Maſters ſword and cloake: if a French man walkes penſive, he lets his cloak hang upon one ſhoulder, and holds his hand upon the pommell of his ſword, the Spaniard caſts out his legs, and turnes up his muſtachioes: when your French goe together in the ſtreet they leape, laugh, and make a noiſe, that you may heare them a mile off: the Spaniards walke upright, ſtiffe, and grave, ſay nothing, nor make any uncivill or unmodeſt action: the French man when he meets a friend, ſalutes him with his whole body, bending downe his head, kiſſing his hands, and making legs, and ſtand halfe an houre in ſuch action: the Spaniard holds his body and his head, as ſtiffe as a ſtake, & only with the pulling off his hat, requites the prolixe curteſies, and reiterated ceremonies of the French: a French man though noble will make no difficulty, to pull an apple out of his pocket, or buy it in the ſtreet, and eate it before all the world: a thing ſo abhorred by the Spaniard that hee would not doe it for the world, fearing to offend them that look upon him: when the French man ſeeth ſome body a farre off and would becken to him, he lifts up his hand towards his ſhoulders: the Spaniard caſts his hand downe, holding it towards his feet.

CHAP. XV. Of the contrariety in ſpeaking.

HE that would diſcourle of all the particulers, which might be ſpoken of in this point, muſt of neceſſity make a great volume of it, wherefore to ſhun prolixity to which I am an enemy, I will only touch the property of theſe two languages, & alſo of the third which is the Italian: Some curious wits faine that theſe three languages had their originall with the beginning of 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 the world, and that they were all three uſed between God, the ſerpent, and man: They ſay that when God commanded Adam he ſhould not eat of the tree of knowledge, he ſpake to him in Spaniſh, ſhewing thereby that the property of that language was gravity, imperiouſnes, command, and nobleneſſe: after God had given him this command they ſay the ſerpent, the better to induce him to ſin, and to diſobey Gods command, ſpake to him in Italian, to ſhew us that amongſt all languages there is none ſo perſwaſive, ſweet, and affected, as the Italian: after our firſt parents had ſinned God called them, and asking them the cauſe of their diſobedience, they anſwered him in French, there being no language to free and excuſe themſelves like unto it.

As for the reſt it is ſeene by experience that the French ordinarily do ſpeak much, and aloud, the Spaniards a little, and ſoftly. If one aske a Spaniard why hee came out of Spaine, hee will anſwer that the King ſent for him, becauſe he ſhould go treat about ſome buſineſſe of great importance. And if you aske a Frenchman the ſame queſtion, hee will ſay he went a pilgrimage to St. Iaques in Galicia, or to viſit the holy Crucifixe of Burges, and that his fellow dying in an Hoſpitall, he ſtaid behinde looking for ſome company to goe home into his Countrey with him. Finally, you ſhall get nothing out of a Spaniard that is out of Spain, but greatneſſe, nobility, and authority; and from a Frenchman when he is in Spaine, you ſhall heare nothing but abaſing of himſelfe.

Your Spaniards have a noted property, different from all other Nations, which is, that being out of their Countrey, they love one another, honour, and reſpect one another extreamly, though at home they have beene mortall enemies. And if any one queſtions him cōcerning his fellow, asking him who, and what he is, though you queſtion him about the pooreſt fellow in the world, and the ſonne of a cobler, he will anſwer with great admiration, and ſay, Is it poſſible Sir that you doe not know that cavallier, and that you have not heard of him (though perhaps he hath never a ſhooe on his feet) I dare lay a wager, that there is ſcarce in the City or Kingdome a childe of five yeares old but doth know him, at leaſt if he bee of any faſhion. You ſhall underſtand Sir, that he is ſonne to the Maggioraſco of Caſtile, and of the greateſt families of Spaine; and there are many that ſay, hee is ſecond couſin to King Don Sebaſtian: yet hee goes diſguiſed, and in the habit you ſee, by reaſon of ſome miſchance; and I beſeech you, Sir, not to diſcover him: for if the King ſhould know of it, hee would take it very ill, that he did not goe directly to alight at Court: and hee would not for all the world be known. If a Frenchman, or any of another Nation, meets with another Countrey-man out of France, preſently they become mortall enemies, ſpeaking the worſt they can one of another; and if any one deſires to know, and be informed what his companion is, he will with all manner of contempt, ſay: Sir, that is a Frenchman, a poore Carpenters ſonne, whoſe fathers goods were all taken away for debt, and had not above eight or ten crowns left, with which hee bought that ſuit at the Brokers, which makes him ſeeme to bee ſome fine fellow; but before foure dayes comes to an end, hee will ſell it, and then you ſhall ſee him goe a begging: and ſo will ſpeake the worſt hee can of him.

All the induſtry in the world cannot make a Frenchman keep a ſecret, but that hee muſt needs reveale it: And all the drugges in the Indies ſhall not get a ſecret from a Spaniard. Finally, all the Spaniards actions are contrary to the French, and there is no concordancie nor reſemblance in any of them.

CHAP. XVI. Of the fruits of the ſaid Antipathy.

THe aforenamed, and many other contrarieties, which manifeſt the hatred and mortall enmity between theſe two Nations, were ſowen by that accurſed Satan, the enemy of mankind, planting this accurſed root between them, that ſo the head being infected, all the members might alſo bee out of order, and overthrowne, with ſuch extravagancie of Religions, Cuſtomes, and Lawes, as wee now ſee over all the world: ſince that we may freely ſay, that the liberty which barbarous nations have to multiply their beaſtly Cuſtomes, Statutes and Edicts, proceeds from nothing elſe, but from the enmity and diſagreement of theſe two: and that the greatneſſe of many Princes, who at this time have great dominion and command in divers parts of the world, groweth from the ſmall confidence theſe have in one another, each doubting to loſe their owne, whileſt they engage themſelves in the conqueſt of others.

Who makes any queſtion but if they would with one accord have communicated that wonderfull talent, of knowledge, vertue, and learning which God hath beſtowed upon them, but that they might have gotten out of the divells hands an infinite number of ſoules, which for want of teaching, lie now buried, in the darkneſſe and chaos of ignorance and error? And wee ſee that by reaſon of our ſinnes, and to the great affronting of the valour and greatneſſe of theſe two nations, a barbarous and tirant King governes all the Eaſt: Chriſtendome alſo in part yeelding him obedience, hommage, and tribute, and all the world honours, and holds him for a great Lord, to the great diſparagement of the honour due to the Catholick faith, her chiefe, and defenders: yet it hath no other ground nor cauſe, but this accurſed hatred, and pernicious enmity: For the ſtrength and valour of theſe two nations lying buried in themſelves, neceſſarily their enemies muſt increaſe, and ſo innumerable hereſies, errors, ſects, and unbeleefes ſpread themſelves abroad in the world, by which the body of the Church is daily perſecuted and evill intreated: wherefore the divell being cunning and well experienced, made uſe of the invention and ſtrategeme of the good ſhepeard, when a troope of wolves fall upon his ſheepe, which is to ſet his dogs, and maſtifs upon them, that whileſt they two fight, his flocke may paſſe ſecurely and untouched: A cunning and marveilous invention of the divell to come to his accurſed ends: He ſaw plainly, that if he left the ſtrength and mouthes of theſe two valiant Lions unmuzelled, they would have ſwallowed up all infidelity and barbariſme, filling it with all manner of holineſſe and vertue, ſo that there would have nothing redounded unto him but ſhame and confuſion: wherefore fearing to loſe the command he had over the infidels, he cauſed hatred and diſcord to come between theſe two nations, and ſo diverted them, that they might not diſturbe the increaſe and proſperity of his vaſſals, and truely when I conſider this point, I am aſtoniſhed with wonder, being not able to imagine or think, what vaile or cataract, ſo blinds theſe Nations, as that they cannot ſee theſe evills; and that they will ſuffer their enemies to grow great, and exalt themſelves before their faces; to the blemiſh of that reputation they hold in the world; it being thought that they are the two greateſt Monarchies of it.

And if the zeale of their own honour did not move them to open their eies, and to take it ill, that they being ſtiled the one moſt Chriſtian, and the other moſt Catholick; a barbarous infidell and tirant, ſhould uſurpe and command the holy Sepulchre, and that he ſhould entitle himſelfe grand Signior: and the continuall cries of poore Grecia, Bulgarie, Sclavonia, and Armenia, and many other poore Chriſtian Provinces, which onely implore the favour, and protection of thoſe two Nations or either of them, for to bring them out of the wretched ſlavery and ſervitude wherein they live: yet might they be moved to compaſſion; by reaſon that it is one of the eaſieſt & ſecureſt enterpriſes that is in the world; as it is well knowne to them who have been in thoſe parts.

This is the ſnare wherewith the divell keeps tied the ſtrength of theſe two Nations, and the vaile which hee hangs before their eies: there being at this time an infinite number of valiant ſouldiers buried in ſloth, who ſtudy nothing, but how to undo and breake the Spaniſh power, and policy: who if they were imploied againſt the infidells would performe more heroicall exploits then Homer writes of Hector and Vlyſſes. With ſuch perſwaſions and deceits doth this curſed enemy bewitch a great number of Cavalliers & Gentlemen that live contented with their meane fortunes, who if they would employ their valours and warlike courages in Turky, would not make plaine Cavalliers, but mighty Monarchs. In the ſame manner are in France many Illuſtrious Princes, and magnanimous Lords, which following the ordinary courſe of the Court, and ſervice of their King, live at home, who if they did put to execution the inclination of their noble mindes in Africke or in Aſia, would conquer more Provinces then Ferdinand Corteſe did in America. Wherefore I know not by what diabolicall witchcraft ſuch noble underſtandings are blinded, that they doe not perceive that by this hatred and enmity, both Nations loſe many Crownes and Kingdomes which they might have ſubject to their dominions. And that their union ſhould not onely not ſuffer themſelves to hurt one another, but neither of them to bee hurt by other Nations, but be aſſured alſo, that ſuch a concord and amity could have no other end nor iſſue, but the ſervice of God, the exaltation of his Church, the peace of the world, the baniſhing of infidelity, and the increaſe of the common good. Things which this peſtiferous venome of enmity, troubles, and hinders, there redounding from it nothing but multiplicity of hereſies in Europe, inſtitution of ſects and religions in the Eaſt, the obſervance of beaſtly and ſalvage cuſtomes and ſtatutes in thoſe parts of Libia and Ethiopia, the exaltation of Mahomets law in Africke and Aſia, the Turks ſwelling pride in Conſtantinople, the little reſpect and diſcourteſie of the King of Feſſe and Marocco, the poore Chriſtians miſeries which live among the infidels, the captivity of the holy Sepulchre, the martyrdoms and torments of an infinite number of ſlaves in heathen lands, the multitude of Lordſhips and States, which know no Kings nor Lords, the perſecution of the Catholicke Church, the perturbations and commotions of common-wealths, the ſmall ſecurity of neighbours, the contempt of thoſe who are farre off, and the boldneſſe of vaſſalls. All theſe things happen by reaſon of the hatred and enmity of theſe two nations, which certainly if they were as well united in conformity of wills, as they are in confederation by way of marriage, ſcarce the world were able to reſiſt the force of ſuch an union. In witneſſe whereof I will alledge a reaſon which an old and wiſe Moore told me upon a Friday in Conſtantinople, who after hee had long queſtioned with mee concerning the manner of living of the Kings of Europe, and particularly of theſe two kingdoms, which they confeſſe to bee the chiefe and the moſt powerfull of Chriſtendome, he told me that every time they came into their Moſcheas to ſay their prayers, they prayed to God that the hatred of theſe two Nations might laſt for ever, that the one being continually ſuſpicious and miſtruſtfull of the other, they might not remember them, nor thinke upon taking armes againſt them.

CHAP. XVII. Of the cauſe of the enmity and antipathy of the Spaniards and the French.

I Have endeavoured divers times to finde out by ſpeulation the fundamentall cauſe of the diſdaine and hatred betweene theſe two Nations: Becauſe that though it is true, that the Divell hath been the principall authour of this antipathy and diſcord, to hinder the fruit which might grow through their union, yet we muſt preſume, that hee found in them ſome ground and root to increaſe ſuch a curſed diſſention, and pernitious poyſon.

Some doe attribute this contrariety to the difference of the ſtarres, and their influences, as their univerſall cauſe, and ſay, that the ſituation of the heavens, and conſtellation of Spaine, being farre different from that which the French have, conſequently the temperament and humours of both muſt bee very different. They confirme this with Hippocrates doctrine in his booke de Aere, Aquis & Locis, which ſaith, that the divers conſtitutions of the ſtarres, is cauſe of the variety of temperaments, complexions and humours of man. And verily hee that conſiders the humours of theſe two Nations in order with the conſtellation and change of time, ſhall find ſome likelihood in this reaſon; ſeeing that in Spaine, if hot weather once begins, it continueth in the ſame vigour three or foure months, there being in all that time no notable change; and of the ſame compaſſe is the Spaniſh humour: ſeeing that ſetting upon a purpoſe, hee keeps himſelfe firme in it, without any change or alteration at all. It is otherwiſe in France: for there, bee it Winter or Summer, the cold nor the heat, nor the faire weather, never laſts three dayes together; but the variableneſſe of this conſtellation is ſuch, that a man can never perceive what time of the yeare it is. The inhabitants of Paris know this to bee true, becauſe that in one day there you ſhall have the weather change eight or ten times, the morning or day breake being very faire, and two hours after there falling a deluge of rain: after the which, the Sunne will appeare more bright and reſplendent then in the month of June: and hee ſhall ſcarce have ſpread his beams, but you ſhall heare a noiſe of thunder, lightning and winde, as though the world were ſinking: and therefore there being a dependencie from the influence and conſtellation, the French, as ſubjected to an inconſtant clymate, muſt needs be voluble and inconſtant in their determinations. And therfore hee that will aſſigne for the reaſon of this Antipathy and hatred, the diverſity of climates, will ſay, that the Divell grounded his malice upon nature, making uſe of the differences of the ſtarres.

This reaſon, though in appearance it bears ſome ſhew of truth, yet it doth not reſolve our queſtion: ſeeing that though the ſtarres have dominion over naturall things, yet they do not extend their force to acts of abſolute command of the will, which are hatred and love, and therfore we muſt confeſſe, that thoſe who bring this reaſon, that the ſtarres encline things ſubject unto them, (yet naturall ones) and by reaſon of the league, which it hath with their wills, this influence may ſomewhat touch them, moving them in ſome manner, but yet it cannot force them.

And ſince this matter gives me occaſion of ſpeaking of a difficulty, which is commonly handled by curious and learned men, I will not paſſe it over with ſilence, without ſpeaking that which my ſmall talent will affoord me. All the world almoſt marvailes at ſome things which the Aſtrologers fore-tell, which depend on mans wil, over which no conſtellation, influence, or celeſtiall vertue, hath power to move it or force it; but contrariwiſe the will and diſcourſe command and governe the ſtarres with their influences. Whence came that common Proverb, Sapiens dominabitur aſtris: and yet wee ſee that many times they prognoſticate the truth, and ſo punctually, as if the ſtarres did directly enforce mans will 〈◊〉 whence holding ſuch predictions to bee miraculous, they call the Aſtrologians Magicians, no • beleeving that ſuch things may be known by naturall reaſons, thinking it impoſſible, that the command of the ſtarres ſhould go beyond materiall things, under the which are not comprehended the powers and actions of our ſoule.

Surely they which finde great difficulty in this, doe it not without great ground: but if they • hall conſider the order which our underſtanding and the will • old in producing of their acti • ns, they ſhall finde, that it may • e done only by the perfect ſpe • ulation of the ſtarres; without • oing beyond the bounds of na •… re. Since all will yeeld to me, •• at the ſtarres have their influ • nces in ſublunary things; and •• at they have great power over • aturall things, they being governed by them: and that being true, the conſequence followes, that the celeſtiall vertue and influence, ſhall have command over that which is natural in man, as might bee the body with the ſenſes, to which our ſoule is ſo linked, and ſo depends upon them, that it can produce no act without them, repreſenting unto them the matter, which is the intelligible ſpecies; it neceſſarily followes, that by reaſon of this union and ſtreight bond of amity which they reciprocally hold, the ſoule muſt ſomewhat participate of the dominion which directly falls upon the ſenſes. And although by this meanes they do not force, but onely incline, ye • our will, after ſinne, remained ſo contrary to the law of Reaſon and ſo annexed to the ſenſitive appetite, that it ſeldome withſtands or contradicts it, reproving thoſe things which it propounds unto it; which ſenſes being governed by the influence and power of the ſtarres, as ſubject and depending on them, the will muſt needs follow that which the appetite propounds unto it. And therefore the Aſtrologers judging the actions of the will by the influence which governes the ſenſitive appetite, many times prognoſticate the truth, though abſolutely it depend on the will of man.

From this doctrine, though true, it followeth not, that the influence of the ſtarres onely, and the diverſity of the clymates are the fundamentall cauſes of the hatred & antipathy of theſe two nations: being there are many other nations in the world, farre more different in climates, and conſtellations, which have not ſo much hatred and contrariety amongſt themſelves, as theſe two: we muſt therefore find out ſome other reaſon, more powerfull, then this of the ſtarres.

I remember I have read in the hiſtories of France, that King Lewis the eleventh, came to meet the King of Caſtile upon the confines of France, to confer with him about ſome buſineſſe of importance. This King though magnanimous and generous, had notwithſtanding his particuler humour, as other men have, and ſo he ordinarily wore a leaden medall in his hat, his cloathes, and other French mens who were his followers were ordinary, and of meane ſtuffe; ſo that he was but meanly cloathed without any ſtatelineſſe or pompe: the Spaniards did cloath themſelves the beſt they could, uſing all the pompe they could, beleeving that the King of France would have come withall the greatneſſe and variety as they expected from ſo great a King: and ſeeing him otherwiſe, they began to deſpiſe him, and ſtrangely to ſcoffe the French men; where they conceived ſuch hatred againſt the Spaniards, that they could never ſince forget this diſgrace and affront: and if we will ſay that the devill at this meeting grounded the enmity, and antipathy which now a daies raignes, we ſhall not ſay amiſſe, ſeeing a farre leſſer ground then this will ſerve his turne.

To all that is ſaid before may be added a great motive which theſe two Nations have had to contemne and abhorre one another; which is that in times paſt, there came not out of France into Spaine any people of ſort and note, but onely poore beggerly and needy people of the frontiers, as Guaſcons, Biernois, and others, who went as they do to this day in white round caps like a trencher upon their heads, bare legged, with wooden ſhoos which they call eſclops upon their feet; theſe with a baſe kind of avarice will put themſelves to any baſe office, as keeping of cowes, and hogs, to ſweepe chimneies or the like, and though in their eating they bee ſober enough, for with an onion, or a head of garlicke, and a peece of bread they will paſſe the whole day, yet in their drinking they are unreaſonable, and all their gaines goeth in wine, which being ſtrong and heady, preſen • ly makes them drunke, ſo that for the moſt part of the day they go reeling and falling about the ſtreets, to the great ſcandall of the Spaniards, amongſt whom there is no greater infamy or diſhonour then to bee drunke: wherefore the Spaniards who ſaw no other French men but theſe, & thought that all the reſt had been like them, did abhor them, and conceive much enmity againſt them, and contempt of them; the ſame occaſion had the French, for very few or no Spaniards of faſhion going into France, and they ſeeing none but poore and wretched people who went to bee touched for the Kings evill, verily beleeved that all other Spaniards had been of the ſame kinde; and ſo from that baſeneſſe they tooke occaſion to hold the Spaniards in little eſteeme; and beſides this contempt to encreaſe this mortall enmity; each of theſe foreſaid reaſons in my minde, are ſufficient occaſions and motives of the hatred and diſdaine we finde between theſe two Nations, eſpecially the divell mixing his care and induſtry with it: But if I ſhould ſpeake mine opinion, I think there cannot be a more powerfull reaſon given for this antipathy, then the naturall contrariety of theſe two Nations humors: and ſo it being ſo hard a thing to force nature with reaſon, I doe not wonder, if the will in which conſiſts hatred or love, keeps company with nature, and followes her ſteps, obeying her contrarieties and repugnances; and we muſt imagine, that to move the will ſo much the more to the contrariety of humors, the divell did helpe forward all the forenamed accidents; ſo that the conſtellation, the diverſity of humours, the contempt of both nations, and the divell joining together, there could nothing be hoped for, but a mortall hatred, and the antipathy which now we ſee; the remedy of which lieth in God only; ſeeing I doe not beleeve that on earth there is any antidote for ſuch a peſtilent poiſon.

CHAP. XVIII. That the conjunction, and confederacy of theſe two crownes, is a thing which proceeds from heaven.

AMongſt the great and infallable truths which the Apoſtle St. Paul writ, to lift us up towards the knowledge of God, me thinkes that is a marveilous one when he ſaith, Inviſibilia Dei per ea quae facta ſunt intellectu conſpiciuntur, which is as much to ſay, that in all and every creature; ſhines the infinite power of the divine wiſdome; and that they are all like ſo many tongues, to declare unto us, what the almighty power of their author is; wherefore that muſt be a groſſe and materiall underſtanding, which by the contemplation of things created, could not reach to the knowledge of the perfection and nobleneſſe of of him that made them.

The ſame was the royall Prophet his intent when he ſaid, Coeli enarrant gloriam Dei & opera manuum eju • annuntiat firmamentum: whereby is knowne the imperfection and miſery of our underſtanding, ſubject only to the knowledge of the materialities of this world, and unable to reach at the knowledge of things which are beyond natures bounds; ſince that in theſe (as Ariſtotle ſaith) he is as the owle or the night-bat is with the ſunne beames, when it ſhines moſt cleare and bright: and the ſame Pſalmiſt knew this truth, when he with ſuch great fervency craved of God; Revela oculos meos & conſiderabo mirabilia de lege tua: holding it for a certain, that it was impoſſible to arrive to the knowledge of ſuch high myſteries, with the imperfection of nature onely; wherefore the ſupreame architect finding that there could bee no equality nor proportion found between his greatneſſes, and our humane underſtanding, they being infinite, and this materiall & limited: he ordained that man ſhould come to the knowledge of his infinite power, by meanes of the viſible effects of this world.

Whence we ſhall ſee by this reaſon that God at all times did communicate himſelf to men by materiall, and viſible means, as in the guiding of the people of Iſrael, by day with a pillar of cloud, & by night with a pillar of fire, making mount Sinai to ſhake whē he gave the Law, affrighting them with thunder & lightning, ſending fire from heaven, the deluge and the like, by which he did accommodate himſelfe to the imperfection of our underſtanding. For if God ſhould not uſe materiall things, and eaſie to bee underſtood, perhaps the underſtanding of man, would either attribute ſuch effects to ſome other cauſe, or would not know from whence they proceeded. For it is certaine, that when God decreed to deſtroy the world with the floud, hee could as well have annihilated and deſtroyed it without filling of it full of water, or doing any other manifeſt and viſible action; but it would not have ſeemed ſo great a wonder to men, if they were all fallen dead without any manifeſt cauſe, as the rivers over-flowing of their bankes, and the opening of the cataracts and windows of heaven was.

And though God could have deſtroyed thoſe accurſed cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, without any apparent ſigne, with making them fall ſimply, without any other viſible effect; yet he would have their ruine be by meanes of a materiall cauſe, which ſhould manifeſt the great power of him who ſent to doe ſuch an execution, as that was, to make fire (as the ſacred text ſpeaketh) and brimſtome to come downe from heaven, a ſigne that hee could make even the groſſeſt underſtanding know what the power of divine juſtice was: for if God had uſed ſome inſenſible meanes, the cauſe would not have been knowne, nor his great might and power. So alſo when hee gave the Iſraelites their freedome, taking them out of Egypt, hee could in the night have opened the gates of the citie, and made them come out, or by day have blinded all the people of Egypt, that they might not have ſeene them, or finde ſome other meanes to free them out of bondage; but if he had done ſo, hee had not cauſed that feare which materiall means did, and the viſible tokens which he ſhewed, in turning the waters into bloud, filling the land with Locuſts and Frogges, and Flies, with other marvailous wonders & effects; by means of which, all that barbarous people, and even Pharaoh himſelfe confeſſed the omnipotencie of the God of the Hebrewes, and beſought Moſes, and his brother Aaron to pray for them, that thoſe plagues might be taken away from them, and that they would obey him. And if God had uſed ſome other ſigne as had not been ſo plaine and manifeſt as this, and that which hee uſed at the red Sea, peradventure the Egyptians would not have attributed the deliverance of their ſlaves to the power of God: nor the people of Iſrael, who was rough and of a hard beliefe, would have believed that he by his omnipotence onely could have wrought any ſuch effect.

In the law of Grace God uſed the ſame meanes to make himſelfe knowne, ſeeing that all the miracles which hee wrought (as the Evangeliſts ſet them downe) were done by ſenſible and materiall ſignes; from which every groſſe and rough underſtanding might gather the greatneſſe and the ſupreme power of the Creator. For who could be ſo groſſe, but ſeeing ſight reſtored to a blinde man with onely laying a little dirt upon his eyes, might not know that the dirt of it ſelfe had no ſuch vertue; and that therefore hee who applied that medicine, had a command above nature? And who will but ſay, ſeeing a Lazarus, who had lyen in the grave foure dayes, rayſed onely by ſaying, Lazarus come forth, that hee had power over death? And that the ſatisfying five thouſand people with five loaves and two fiſhes, onely by bleſſing of them, doth not infer ſupreme worth and power? And that ſeeing the healing of one, the reſtoring of ſight to another, turning water into wine, baniſhing death by naturall means, doe not preſuppoſe that this is a ſupernaturall power and vertue? And if that Chriſt had done theſe wonders without viſible and materiall meanes, onely by his abſolute power, peradventure his infinite power had not beene knowne: and therefore let us conclude with Saint Paul, that by meanes of viſible and materiall things, wee come to the knowledge of the inviſible things of God, as his Infiniteneſſe, his Immenſity, his Goodneſſe and Omnipotencie. And if in all nature there be any viſible thing which ſheweth us this divine power, it is the miraculous conjunction of theſe two Nations, ſo prodigious a one, that any groſſe underſtanding may plainly perceive, that it is an immediate worke of Gods omnipotencie, which only could undoe that which the Divell with ſo much diligence and art had done: ſince we cannot imagine that any ſecondary cauſes could have ſo much worth, induſtry and power, as in an inſtant to unite two natures ſo infinitely diſtant one from the other, and make them come frō an extream hatred and enmity, to the other extreame of union. And ſeeing that if the diſcord and contrariety of theſe two Nations, had been a new or ſuperficiall accident, the onely conſideration of good underſtandings, and the perſpicuity of wiſe and prudent perſons, might have been ſufficient to remedy it, but being nature and antipathy, which like originall ſin goes by ſucceſſion from the Fathers to the children, and ſo to the grand-children; and eſpecially being foſtered and maintained by the Divels malice, we muſt infallibly beleeve, that it is the worke of heaven, and that this union was onely reſerved to God, for to prevent an abyſſe of evils and miſeries, which by the ſaid enmity were threatned. And ſo God, to whoſe goodneſſe it belongeth to diſpoſe ſweetly of things, having created and preſerved the world by means of the union and peace of his creatures, ſeeing that the diſcord of theſe two Nations was ſufficient almoſt to ruine it, ſtayed through his omnipotencie, the fury of this raging evill, and through his goodneſſe and mercie, provided ſuch a perfect and ſalutiferous remedy as this divine union is, that ſo the world might not only be freed from its imminent ruine, & the calamities which threatned it by reaſon of this enmity, but might alſo bee enriched with thoſe pretious fruits which from this union may be expected.

And as the end which God pretended in this confederacie, is no other but this: ſo it is plainly knowne that the Divell with all his followers, hath not had power to hinder the execution of it, though hee raiſed a thouſand inventions, pretences, and feares, both amongſt the common people, and alſo the moſt Noble, egging them on with the fire of enmity and hatred, to oppoſe themſelves with all the power as might bee, againſt Gods decree, the Common-wealths repoſe, and the good of the whole world: and though the Divell went looſe, and puffed up, holding the victory certaine with his forces, againſt that ſmall aid which was promiſed; yet his care and labour being againſt the will of God, and the univerſall peace, I wonder not that God did ſend a woman to breake his head, through the wiſdom of ſo good a phyſitian, whileſt hee laid wait and ſnares for her heele.

And though there were no other reaſon to prove that this confederacie came from heaven, this would of it ſelfe be a ſufficient proofe, that wee ſee it was gloriouſly effected, againſt all humane endevours, and propounded difficulties, and againſt ſuch great oppoſitions, as I will now leave to the wiſe mans contemplation, and the pennes of others, who peradventure will write of this matter. Wherefore I conclude, ſaying, that this conjunction being made at that time, when this antipathy was moſt rooted between theſe two Nations, wee muſt needs confeſſe, that it was done by divine power, ſince neither hatred, nor diſdaine, nor the diverſity of climates and humours, nor the variety of cuſtomes, nor miſtruſt, nor the Divels endevours were able to hinder it.

CHAP. XIX. Of Gods marvailous invention to unite theſe two Nations.

IT will not be hard to perſwade an underſtanding man, that this ſo important & ſo glorious confederacie comes from heaven, & was ordained for the generall good of mankinde; the effects, circumſtances & means of effecting it, having been ſuch, and ſo myſterious, that they prove it to be true: and that which now ſtupifies mans underſtanding, is the marvailous and divine invention which God uſed in uniting thoſe two Nations, ſo different amongſt themſelves, a meanes ſo • ngenious and ſoveraigne, that it 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 not bee hoped nor looked for from any other place th • n from that inacceſſible and majeſticall Conſiſtorie of the holy Trinity: ſeeing that in it God hath ſhewed three effects of his immenſe God-head, which are, Omnipotencie in uniting from an infinite diſtance. Mercie in preventing an abyſſe of miſchiefes, which threatned the world: and Wiſedome in eſtabliſhing an union & indiſſoluble marriage. Whereupon wee are to conſider, that God was not contented (by finding out of ſuch a way & means) to remedy the preſent evill, but like a good Phyſitian hee left an antidote and medicine to preſerve theſe two Nations from any infirmity or danger as might enſue.

This healthfull medicine which God ſent into the world is matrimony the moſt effectuall and ſtrong meanes that could be found in nature, the wills being thereby ſo ſtraightly knit together, that they being two that are united, come to be one fleſh, and ſo conformable and united, that it cauſeth one to forget father and mother and brethren, to forſake his country, his own intereſt, and even himſelfe; for married folkes many times deprive themſelves of their owne liberties, to ſubject themſelves to the content and deſire of one another; wherefore marriage bringing forth ſuch effects, wee may ſay that God by meanes of it uniting theſe two actions, found an extreame and exquiſite 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 remedy, for an extreame and exquiſite diſeaſe, there being joyned to it by ſucceſſion an eternall and perfect union, out of danger of ever being loſt, by reaſon of the ſtability promiſed in thoſe thinges which come from heaven; where I dare ſay there could not have been found an inventiō more to the purpoſe, or more ſecure then this was; ſeeing there is nothing in the world that can mortifie the fire of enmity and diſcord more then the matrimoniall knot, which once contracted between two enemies, when they thinke the grievances and diſtaſtes which are paſt, they quite forget them againe, having not the heart or minde to perſecute or offend ſo much as in thoght, thoſe that are of their owne blood, or have any dependency of it.

The Romans (as hiſtories report) made uſe of ſuch remedies, when they ſaw themſelves moſt perſecuted by the Sabines, amongſt whom there was ſo much enmity, hatred, and perſecution, that they did deſtroy and ruine one another, burning their corne, ſpoiling their vines, and killing one another whereſoever they met; whereby other nations which were not ſubject to them grew the ſtronger, and encreaſed through their two enmities, and diſcords: ſo that at the laſt they perceiving the dammages and wrongs they did themſelves by perſecuting one another, and the triumphs and glory which other nations got, grounding their happineſſe and greatneſſe upon their diſcord, they agreed to uſe for a remedy the ſame meanes which God had uſed with theſe two nations; which was, that the Romans determined to give their daughters in marriage to the Sabines ſonnes, and the Sabines held it for an excellent good remedy to give their daughters unto the Romans ſons, that ſo by this mixture the evill might bee remedied, & the nations remain in peace and concord: and it is certain that though the Romans remembred the wrongs, & injuries, they had received at the Sabines hands, & that through this remembrance there might ſome appetite and deſire of revenge be ſtirred up: yet when they ſaw that if they executed their rage and fury, they muſt doe it upon their owne blouds, having their daughters amongſt the Sabines, they ſtaied themſelves from doing them any hurt: which conſideration ſerved alſo for a bridle to the Sabines, knowing that they could not uſe their ſwords againſt the Romans without ſpilling of their owne bloud; and ſo by meanes of marriage and confederacy they forgot all paſſed enmity, and remained intimate and hearty friends: ſuch and many other good things ought wee aſſuredly to hope for; through the meanes and confederacy which God hath ordained between theſe two nations; for they being linked together with ſo firme and effectuall a knot, as matrimony, we may be ſure that Spaine having matched her daughter with the ſonne of France they will quite forget all enmities, rancors, & hatreds, as hitherto have troubled their peace and quiet, to their great wrong, and dimunition of the renowne which they might have gotten if they had agreed; and will unite themſelves, with ſuch indiſſoluble and firme amity, that there ſhall not be ſeen any ſigne or ſhadow of what is paſt; and their wils will be ſo well ordered and diſpoſed, that neither of them will have any more intent to attempt warre, perſecution, breach of faith, or any other manner of deceit againſt the other, each of them binding their hands to their girdles for feare of doing hurt, and harming their owne bloud: moreover none can imagine but that by this confederacy the antipathy and enmity which was, will be quite extinguiſhed, and ended; ſeeing that marriage in all reſpects both of law and reaſon, ought to bee more powerfull and effectuall in ſubjects that are ſo noble, generous, prudent, Chriſtian, and fearing God, as theſe two nations are, then amongſt barbarous, heathen, and idolatrous people, as the Sabines and the Romans were; whereby all thoſe who are well affected to theſe two nations, may aſſuredly promiſe themſelves and hope for ſo perfect and compleat a peace, and agreement, as the like hath not been ſeen in the world, with all the fruits and properties that from it (as proceeding from heaven) may or ought lawfully to be hoped for. In ſo happy a confederacy I contemplate the ſupreame and extraordinary love that God hath ſhewed to theſe two nations, giving unto them the ſame meanes & manner for peace and union, as hee himſelfe tooke, when he was moſt at enmity with the world: not onely Divines but others alſo know the continuall warre and enmity which was between God and man before the incarnation of the word; they employing themſelves in nothing elſe but in offending him, with all the ſinnes and wickedneſſe as they could, neither feare, nor ſhame, nor any thing elſe being able to refraine their diſordered appetites; and theſe ſins were ſo great, that there could not be five righteous men found in Sodom, no nor one to ſtay the vengeance of heaven; but mans nature was ſo corrupted and depraved, that God ſeeing their wickedneſſes and ſins, ſaid in Geneſis, poenitet me feciſſe hominem: not that he repented, for he being exceeding perfect, was uncapable of griefe, repenting, change, or imperfection, but it was as if he had ſaid: I ſee humane nature ſo diſobedient, ungratefull, and bent to evill, that were I capable of repenting I ſhould repent that I had created it: ſo that at that time men did ſo obſtinately contemne Gods commandements, that they offended him without any care, and on the other ſide God was extreame ſevere and rigorous in puniſhing of faults; which the names that were then given him in holy Scripture may witneſſe, calling him the God of armies, the God of vengeance, the ſtrong, rigorous and ſevere God: which titles were accompanied with the fury of his power, as it was ſeen in the generall Deluge of the world, in the fire which deſcended from heaven to puniſh Sodome, in the number of the Jewes which hee cauſed Moſes to kill when they worſhipped the Calfe, in the four hundred yeares that he kept his people in ſlavery in Egypt, in the number of the Egyptians which he drowned in the red Sea: and infinite other examples which the Scriptures teach us; ſo that God doth nothing but puniſh, and men nothing but offend. So that ſeeing hee had created mankinde to ſave it, and his divine goodneſſe being more inclined to mercie, and love, then to juſtice and crueltie, hee tooke pitty and compaſſion upon humane nature, and determined to make a peace, by meanes of the moſt glorious and admirable marriage as could be conceived; which was to marry his Sonne, the Divine Word, unto our Daughter, humane Nature, and to unite himſelfe with it ſo intrinſecally and perfectly, that hee never left it, nor will ever leave it (as great Anſelmus ſaith) by which conſederacie and hypoſtaticall union our nature was ſo extolled and favoured, that it ſurpaſſed the ſpirituall degree of Angels, from whoſe greatneſſe, (as wee have ſaid) the firſt Angell tooke an occaſion to rebell againſt his Creator. By meanes of this divine & ſupream league, Gods juſtice and divine wrath was converted into mercie and compaſſion: Mercie and Truth (as David ſaith) meeting, and Peace and Juſtice giving each other ſweet kiſſes: Yet there remained in man an Obligation of never offending God, but alwayes to ſerve him; taking as a motive thereunto, Gods extraordinary mercie and clemencie ſhewed to Man, in eſpouſing himſelfe to humane nature our daughter: ſo that in offending him, beſides the diſloyalty and ungratefulneſſe wee ſhew, wee doe alſo offend our owne bloud and nature; And by this ſelfeſame union was God moved to uſe ſinners mercifully, ſtaying the rigour and puniſhment, by reaſon of the matrimony which his Sonne contracted with our Nature, holding it for a certaine, that this great Advocate which we have in heaven with the Father, which is Chriſt, doth obtaine forgiveneſſe for our ſinnes: and in conſideration of his merits, the everlaſting Father beſtowes thoſe favours and mercies upon us which we feel every day.

Hence it is, that holy King▪ David, when hee implored the Divine favour, was alwayes wont to ſay, Protector noſter, aſpice Deus, reſpice in faciem Chriſti tui. As if hee had plainly ſaid, God of my ſoule! my ſtay, my protector, and only refuge, look on me with the eyes of thy divine mercie; but doe not looke immediately upon me: for thou ſhalt ſee nothing but ſinnes, iniquities, diſobediences, and wickedneſſes, which will provoke thee to wrath and anger; but caſt thine eyes upon thy Sonne: for ſeeing him wedded to my nature, queſtionleſſe thou wilt bee moved to mercie and compaſſion. Finally, with this miraculous league, God remedied the enmity which was betweene man and him, and left man fortified with eternall peace and amity. All this may in ſome ſort bee ſeene by the heavenly conjunction which God hath made betweene theſe two Nations, which hee hath of his infinite mercie protected; it being certaine and ſure, that they being united by divine meanes and invention, they ſhall live in perpetuall peace, and continuall concord, triumphing over their enemies, and leaving unto poſterity memorable enterprizes, and actions of Nobleneſſe and Generoſitie.

FINIS.