Estimation.

IT should be the propriety of Vertue; but I do not find that this Logick fits generally the School of the world; in stead of Soli & semper, it is seldom to be found in its true place and predicament. There is nothing that has such an Excentrique to men, or runs so byassed, as their esteem: He that makes not the world his Friend, (or Bawd) will have little Trade for his merit; and that is the reason that some set up for them­selves so plausibly. One would wonder how they came, where we find them; had not Fame an Art to go forward with men, though she place her Trumpet the wrong way: there is wind enough in the world to serve her turn, and she employes it accordingly. How many have I known that have gain'd repute of Wit, Judge­ment, good Nature, Honesty, (marry, and carry it too with a face accordingly) when the contrary of these has been their true Character? They can walk with Vertue as our Antipodes do with us, yet seem to behold Heaven the same way. Others there are that care not how meanly they arrive to estimation, so they have it: they can Court this man to call them witty, another to call them honest; they will submit to cringe, [Page 4]and sneak for it, take it for Alms, or any way; so they have their bauble of applause, they are satisfied. Though the world be liquorish enough to swallow mistakes and follies, as being to vulgar apprehensions welcome Novelties, It is no small grievance to the ingenious and candid, that know how to fit their tastes better; their disadvantage only is, that the undeserving will still have most followers, whilest the wiser and honester must be contented to bring up a thin rear of merit, as well as they can: However they have this to comfort them, that if they wait long behind, their esteem will be more elevated whensoever it takes place. I confess, Honour, Riches, Fortune will operate; but we know what heads it makes giddy; gild it how we can, there is no Paganism so barbarous to reason, as the Idol of a Fool.

Trust.

I May call it a Jewel, which the Soul of one man deposites in anothers; and it should be prefer'd with as high a care: whatever its value be, not only the betraying what concerns our repute, or estate is a breach; but even the least word or thought is a violation and injury, if [Page 5]charged on our confidence. How contrary is the worlds course! Men hardly converse without well warding of their words, as if it were necessary their thoughts should pass from one another in Armour: no caution is sufficient to prevent mistakes, cavils, mis-reports: our Friends, Visitants, Servants must be suspected, and all little enough too. There is nothing more un­worthy of the Soul of man, than that men live so unhappy, as to be diffident of one another; a blemish to man's being, that will hardly admit a Cure. We need not trust all, and we must trust some, and be in their power to deceive us too. If there were no Devil, a false man does pretty well supply his Office, he does all in this world he can wish, but damning of us: or may be resembled to the Plague, against which the best preservation is, to be as far off on't, as one can. If he be cunning, he does it more impiously, though perhaps more covertly: And yet I have known some that have been made up of a small stock of impudence, or what signifies little more than meer deceit and lying, have made notwithstanding a pretty good shuffle in the world, even with such as might well understand them, but will suffer themselves to be misled. He that sees such a man in a Noose, of which he is able to forewarn himself, does less deserve pitty. I would be as far from admitting a trea­cherous [Page 6]man to my conversation, as to my friendship; in the best sense, it were to have too great a familiarity with the worst, and meanest of Vices. I can trust my Dog, or Horse, because they have neither thought or speech to my pre­judice; and what a shame is it to humanity, to have more mischief both in their Souls and Tongues?

Preferment.

THe advancement of the Wise and Ver­tuous, is the happiness and glory of a peo­ple; it is diffusive with Governments, and spreads their greatness. Men must be under Power, and Laws, and can reasonably ask no more, than to be honourably governed. But do Princes and States what they can, it will not always be so: let them shuffle the Cards as well as they may, Fortune will turn up sometimes her own Trumps; which makes some men not more a wonder to the world than themselves, in their felicity of aspiring. It was a very remarkable passage in a Minister of Lewis the Eleventh of France, who finding himself beyond his expe­ctation great, said, that he would give for an Emblem of his Elevation, his Figure standing [Page 7]on Fortunes Wheel. The King understanding his conceit (and whether displeased with the Vani­ty, or resolv'd to remove him) reply'd, that he had best fasten the wheel he talk'd on with a strong pegg, lest it kept turning; which he soon proved by his ensuing fall. There is a circling downward, though most unexpected, by those that would only consider themselves in the Me­ridian of their greatness, forgetting that a de­scent may be as near their height, as their first rising was to their Zenith. A Semicircle on the Globe does sufficiently resemble it, though half a dayes journey of the Sun. Cicero relates of Marias the Roman, that he was one of the most fortunate of men whil'st great, and in adversity no less to be admired; upon which occasion he adds a little after this excellent precept, Nemo non potest beatissimum esse, qui est totus aptus ex sese, quique in se uno sua ponit omnia; but he that depends upon the will of man, or Fortune, must expect, or at least should be content with their varieties: A thought that is too great a stranger to the ambitious. The Psalmist sayes, That man being in honour, has no understanding, (I suppose meant of its vain inducement that renders him forgetful of what he was, by what he is) a carriage so frequent with the world, as if men had resolved on a secret Act of Obli­vion relating to their own exaltations, and [Page 8]neglect of their Friends. How scornfully can they behold their past Obligers! as if they must needs act the Ape, which skipping from bough to bough, turns his tail towards you, when at the top: Or that men were to take notice they were grown now too big for their merit, they may ask and be denyed too; it being seldome observed, that such as can forget to do hand­somly of themselves, will do any thing worthy when they come to be remembred; the Office or Preferment does so far alter the ingenuity and worth of their persons: but how scurvily will such behold themselves in the opinion of men? If they slip from their height, or would be beholding to others, (not seldom the fate of such Ascenders) let greatness be as well bred as it can be, we may observe the Evil manners of Ingra­titude too often accompany its aspiring; it is a Weed that grows too commonly with the prosperity and flowers of a Court, or State, and so diffusive unto meaner conditions of life. Rome had it bitterly enough, both the time of her State, and Monarchy, as may be seen by many examples: And I judge, that in order to pub­lique affairs, (if at all) it is most allowable, be­cause it sometimes ceases, or prevents the ambition of a well-deserving merit, where if it cannot be safely rewarded, there may be secu­rity in laying it aside. How odious must this [Page 9]vice be as to every private man, when nothing can palliate it in a Prince, or State, but common preservation? The Subordinates of power, are very often so unnecessarily infected with this vice, that when they are got high enough, for the most part they remove the steps and instru­ments of their preferment to some disgrace if possible; as if there could no fair quarter be kept with any, on principles of greatness. But let them keep their Stations as well as they can, I am like to continue in mine, I hope with better satisfaction, than to depend on any improvement of my condition by their favours. He that ascends a Hill by a path of Ice, is in some danger of a precipitate sliding backwards, and the most perillous when nearest the top: and such are not seldom the lubricities and ruine of greatness. It is well hinted by Seneca the Tragedian, in this expression, Quam fragili loco starent superbi! and in another place he calls it, Aulae culmine lubrico, which is somewhat more particular. The world is full of quarrelling at preferment, by reason more desire it, than deserve it: And as merit is still the glory of a few, so it is gene­rally plac'd in such, who are best content with a neglect of their deservings; men not alwayes to be found in the concourse and Road of Courts, and consequently more readily pass'd over, or left to a solitary injoyment of their [Page 10]worth. Though Princes are in reason the best observers of men, (as experiencing the abilities of many by their several Imployments) yet would they take care to finde out apt and worthy ca­pacities, as well as limit their Observations to such only within their eye and business, their affairs might perhaps be no less acceptably dis­charged: but this were to make the world too happy, and Monarchs more curious in the choice of their instruments, than they judge they have occasion to be. On the other side, there are men that at first will seem to act nothing but what shall deserve the favour of a popular breath; they will not by any means allow themselves to do well, without that kind of ostentation and glory; their merit must be set to shew, if not to Sale: to be good unseen, is not enough: or rather than fail, they will thrust themselves on the world and business; they will Intrigue, Cabal, create their Partisans and Factions, until taken off and sweetned by some convenient advancement. Of these there are many remar­kable, (and I suppose none of our best Patriots) but the mischief is, that when they have their ends, they very often render themselves worse a contrary way: though when the Vizard is taken off, it is some wonder if they be not asham'd of their own faces. Doubtless the most commen­dable ambition is, to refuse Ambition; but this [Page 11]is such a Phoenix of worth, as is seldome ob­serveable in Mankind. If I were asked whether the Publick does at any time wisely, in turning the Byass that guides the Actions of such to its more regular imploying their abilities, I conceive it may be answered affirmatively; not only as it is more gracious and easie to win men by the ob­ligation of favours, but that by this means the strength of faction is weakned with more facility, and its Abettors rendred more disabled, if not despicable in the sense of their busie admirers, than by any severity can be made use of; the last adding the reputation of sufferance, whereas the first produces a certain neglect, if not their contempt on all sides. But these are Politicks above the ordinary drift of an Essay, and so we'll leave them. There is a pretty kind of humour observeable in many, which is, to be sure to dislike or decline their precedent good opinion they had of any, in case the publick thinks fit to prefer them to management of things; they must then be no longer good Com­mon-wealths men, but are immediately cryed down as men lost, or profitably with-drawn from all publick good whatsoever. This humour I conceive is more to be observed in the English, than in most Nations; as if it were necessary to be peevish at the Actions of their Prince, or that such he thinks fit to employ, could not be good [Page 12]in his opinion, and theirs together. But let these know, that the scattering of such conceptions, can have only growth from the Seminaries of Faction, and ought so to be esteemed, if not otherwise punished. Particular men have little more to do with Governments and their Mini­sters, than to be rul'd by them; at least it is their duty to dispense with their failings. To hear a man, whose greatest knowledge lyes in the bu­siness of a Fair or Market, undertake to judge capriciously of affairs of State; can there be any thing more ridiculous? and yet there is nothing more commonly discussed, even by the meanest apprehensions. If men were as strictly inqui­sitive of the management of their private con­cerns, they would less partially blame any miscarriages of the Publick, since most want due care and conduct in things of particular and small importance. In sum, what a wise man cannot commend in such as are lawfully set over him, he will finde his discretion and modesty enough obliged to grant them his pardon.

Mathematicks.

DEmonstrative Science is the glory of Man's Soul, because it, of all other, gives reason [Page 13]the highest perfection: and doubtless men are most Superlatively obliged to Mathematical Arts for so elevated and refined an understanding; it brings us to the greatest certainty we can arrive to, both of Sublunary and Celestial beings and operations: it has so much to do with Heaven, that if any knowledge was most immediately given to man from God, it was most probably this: It does immaterially, as I may say, ex­press and abstract its operations from things, and yet delivers them no less fully to our con­ceptions; which must be granted a kinde of Supernatural manner of thought, in no small measure applicable to the Divine and Spiritual being of God. Who can but admire that a Point, a Line, a Superficies, should so exactly terminate all commensurable magnitudes, and yet all these but meer Idea's or Notions of mea­sure; for if they were quantitative, they would be part of what they measure, which were very erroneous to admit. Euclide asks no more, than a reasonable condescention to the afore-men­tioned Postulata's, to raise the admired Structure of his Fifteen Books. I wish that all supernatural and infallible pretences had as much demonstra­tion, or impos'd no more on the concessions of reason. Besides, there is in no small measure a pre­science in Mathematical operations: let a man but consider the exact and wonderful certainty [Page 14]in the works of Arithmetick, the Rules of False Position, the Solutions and Equations of Algebra; which, (from as it were a Supernatural manner of working,) findes without error the truth required: And he will soon grant this Science to be more perfect and sublime, than all other humane knowledge: And I doubt not but it was for this reason, that Plato was induc'd to believe, that the Harmony and order of the Universe, consisted chiefly in a Divine dispo­sition of number and motion. I could never believe but there was more true sense in Euclide's Quod erat demonstrandum, than is to be found in all the Tearms, Propositions, and Syllogisms that stuff up the reason of the Schools; because they are subject to the fallacy of a Pedant, to whom the other in three words gives Law. As Arithmetick has many Excellencies, so Geo­metry has somewhat more: wherefore I cannot but commend Pythagoras for his making so famous an oblation to Heaven, for being so divinely inspired, as to finde out the unexpres­sible power of Lines, in a Rectangle Triangle mentioned in the Forty seventh Proposition of the first Book of Euclide; and perhaps there is not any thing more admirable and useful in any Mathematical demonstration. If this Science does elevate mans knowledge, it does no less advance his Wit, in making above all other the [Page 15]fancy Solid and Large. Virgil well perceived this, who, more than all Poets was Mathematical Learn'd, as may be seen in many parts of him, but most especially in his inimitable Georgicks: which is enough to shew what Ornaments this Science gives to the highest productions of Wit. Some things are handled in this Science with such a laboured and needless curiousity, that if done what is required, it signifies not much to the practice and advance of this most excellent knowledge. Hither might be referred some trite and impertinent operations in Algebra. As on the other side, that high and noble endeavour of squaring the Circle, is very commendable, because were the Demonstration agreed on, it would furnish us with means to ascertain the proportion betwixt a straight and a circular Line, which were exceeding useful. And here I cannot but commend the worthy endeavours of Mr. Hobbes, who, say what his Detractors please, has come nearer it by a Geometrical way, or per loca plana, as Mathematicians speak, than any that have yet attempted it. Besides the many uses and perfections appropriate to Ma­thematical Arts, there is not any study that has added like this, so lasting an Honour, even to the greatest Kings and Emperors: how famous does Ptolomy continue with time, for his elabo­rate and extraordinary depth in this kinde of [Page 16]Learning! In like manner Alphonso King of Castile had not liv'd at this day so memorable, were it not for his Astronomical works: not to reckon the many Ancient Philosophers, with other of late and excellent repute, such as Coper­nicus, Regiomontanus, Kepler, Tycho, who added no small perfection to this excellent Science. I dare affirm, that amongst the great Acts of Julius Caesar, there is nothing can balance the ever-remaining glory of his recti­fying the annual account; insomuch that the world at this day is beholding to his care for a more true Computation of time, than was known before: and I conceive that the late Gregorian account, is not to be preferred be­fore it, notwithstanding some undertake to assert the contrary. But I need not farther in­stance the Encomiums of Mathematical know­ledge, since this Science cannot want praise, that is of such extraordinary abilities to prove its worth.

Praise.

THere are far more that seek for praise, than really deserve it: the most irregular sort of men, would have in their kinde an Applause, [Page 17]as well as the truely meriting esteem; Fame being a Mistress that has a rabble of followers, and she debauches them accordingly: she is served by so many opposite Complexions, that her lists are endless: there are few men so reserved or serious, that will not shew their Gallantries to this Mistress; or any so inconsiderate, or stupid, but will get as near as they may, the Van of praise; If they cannot own the Honour of merit, they will (rather than be left out) be as eminent as they can for their vice or follies: Thus Claudius Caesar, though a very Beetle-brow'd Emperor, could stand upon the honour of a contemptible Triumph; another must needs play the Fool, so far as to Counterfeit Thunder, that he might be admired as a God on earth. It is well for the vain-glory of such Princes, that they can command and oblige Flatterers, though it be pernicious to their vices, that few dare laugh them out of countenance. What a Fool does, is no wonder, because his actions are the effects of folly: But how idely such as would be thought the Grandees of the world in all capacities, for the most part, do carry themselves in order to their esteem, deserves more admira­tion and pity: Consider them on the plausible account of Wit or Honour, and it is easie to observe, how fantastically they itch after com­mendation, or invite it to them. I have known [Page 18]not a few that would be content to blaze their wit and atchievements, with so confident a vanity, either as related by themselves or others, that it has put a modest stander by to a blush for their sakes: Nay, this is not enough neither; they must have their Partisans, their Factions, their Defenders, that will undertake to argue all others out of countenance that smile at their follies: and indeed ingenuity, and honour (to the sname of this Age) does not seldom descend so low, as to seem beholding in great part to others, for its repute, as if the worth of either was too much doubted to depend on merit alone. We have scarce a Poet that dares ven­ture a Play, but he first bespeaks his Cabal, though there be nothing that makes his Wit more ridiculous: nor a man of Honour that can safely undertake a Service for his King and Coun­trey, if not beforehand with detraction. I need not mention how much the emulation and pre­judices of this kind have, and may redound to our publick detriment. I read of few ancient Worthies that ever made such provision for their praise, at least, were somewhat farther off from giving it themselves. I only finde Annibal once so extravagant, and that rather provoked by the discourse and interrogation of Scipio, at that so famous interview mentioned by Historians, who asking him whom he thought the greatest Cap­tain, [Page 19]he answered, Alexander; and who next? sayes Scipio; he replyed Pyrrhus King of Epirus; being further demanded whom he thought the third best, the Carthaginian named himself: to which the Noble and Magnanimous Scipio ad­ded, And what wouldst thou have thought Annibal, had'st thou overcame me? Why then, sayes the other, I would have judged my self the best. An example very remarkable, since Annibal got so little by praising himself, that he was forced to bestow on his modest Enemy the most Superiour commendation, both in respect of himself, and those famous Captains he had so honourably mentioned. It has been well enough observ'd, that few men ever got by speaking of themselves in any kind; if to dis­commendation, a man in that case testifies against himself; if to praise, he sets himself farther back­ward in the opinion of the modest and discreet: wherefore of all things men should least have to do with their Encomiums, but leave them to the good opinion of the world. A Collateral praise does very often advance esteem; and the more, when it seems least particular; wherefore I cannot but admire the pertinent and sublime Panegyrick that Juvenal bestows on the Ver­tues of the two Cato's in these few words, Tertius è coelo cecidit Cato. He names neither of them, yet does more than advance the esteem of both, [Page 20]by supposing that to equal their Excellencies by a third Cato, must be the immediate act of Hea­ven. But as we have few Cato's in these dayes, so I believe the most of our Fame-mongers are not so internally partial to their deserts, as to expect liek praises, if we had Poets no less able to give it them than Juvenal. Above all, I am most astonished at such, that for the most execra­ble wickednesses would aspire to be registred by Fame. We may remember that Scot was bold enough to pretend as highly, even for the horrid Murder of the late King; and I judge the like of Oliver's Trayterous Usurpation: But how such men should hope to be of propitious repute with posterity, when beheld so sowrely by their An­cestors, may be enrolled amongst the Vanities and Impieties of the wicked: Or perhaps it is the policy of such (who having no better way to credit their Villanies) will give them a kind of confident glory, or unrelentancy of their fact, as was observed in most of those that suf­fered for the late King's death. Assuredly there is nothing more ridiculous, than for ill men to expect future renown: a present hand of power may somewhat curb the freedom of Tongues; but in after-time, they will requite their Memo­ries by exclaiming loud enough. He must be very impudent that would not blush, if now charged for giving a Panegyrick to Oliver in his [Page 21]Throne of Tyranny. So soon fade the false esteem, and aspiring Bayes of the Impious. Men may endeavour to shrow'd or conceal their evil manners, and wickedness; but Vice has too broad a face to be masked by their Artifice: there are and will be alwayes men honest, and dis-interested, that will discover it. To con­clude, as the good have onely a propriety to fame, so first and last it will divulge and establish their esteem and praise.

Criticism and Censure.

THe most Magisterial Criticks have not as yet agreed on a certain definition of Wit, and I believe never will; they are content to take it where they finde it, and so may any man that looks less big on sense than they do: he can give himself satisfaction, though perhaps with less curiosity than the others that take upon them the repute of being Critical. But there are few men that will ask their leave to like their own compositions, or what is ingenious in other men; the sincerity of such, being for the most part doubted, that appear rigid or bitter to­ward the performances of others. Julius Sca­liger, a severe and learned Critick, as may be [Page 22]seen by his Censure of Poets, requires these par­ticulars to compleat a stile of wit; that it be, Tersus, mollis, & rotundus; as on the other side, durus, humilis, & laxus, must not have his par­don: and perhaps he is just enough there. He allows Virgil's Works only all possible perfe­ction, and calls him no less than the God of Poets. Homer, though his Predecessor, and ad­mired by many, he charges with many boyish and trifling passages, insomuch that he blames severely his Characters wit and conduct. In one place he mentions him with this neglect, Nolo in presentia cum Homeri puerilibus ineptis ineptire. Horace, notwithstanding in many things he highly esteems him, in other he reprehendeth him to purpose, shewing his faults by his repeti­tions and excursions from one thing to another; nay, he assures us, that in his De arte Poetica, he has such failings, as he would correct and amend in other Poets: take his own expression to this purpose, of Horace in general, Neque in Sa­tyris, neque in Epistolis, at ne in Poetica quidem, in qua hoc ipsum precipit, observavit. He had been as tart with Ovid, (who was too much a Gentle­man-like Poet not to have faults) against whose Writings, I suppose he could have brought in somewhat a larger list of exceptions, yet he spares him somewhat more honourably, thus— Hoc tamen vetat pudor animos nobiliores, qui [Page 23]non insectando, sed admirando antiquitatem ineunt gratiam à posteritate. 'Tis true, that Ovid had ask'd his Reader pardon before, by acknow­ledging that he let some things pass that stayed no longer with him than primos habere sonos; and I suppose he had the more easily Scaligers to boot.

It were too tedious to recount the sharp re­flections he has on most of all the Ancient Poets: one above all I cannot but mention, and that is of Persius, whom he calls a morose, ob­scure, and unintelligible Writer (which I will not deny) nay, such a one as understood as little what he writ himself, as any man else yet Sca­liger must needs be so super-critically knowing beyond all others, that he sayes, all those obscure things of Persius are throughly apprehended by him: Quanquam nunc à nobis omnia intelli­guntur. But whether Scaliger does not himself deserve a lash from the Criticks for this super­cilious mistake of his, I leave them to judge. In the mean time it sufficiently appears, that so great a Master of Learning and Wit might discover his own failings, as well as other mens; which may instruct the censorious, though of excellent abilities, to have as much regard to their own sense, as what they conceive deserves a discommendation from their Pens. But how much more should our small siz'd Wits and Cri­ticks [Page 24]take care of their presumptuous Descants and carpings at mens performances, when they are scarcely well vers'd in the common places of Grammer and Sense? nay, when there is no­thing more to be abominated by the judicious, than what they call wit, and would so father on the world? The Press as well as the Stage has enough of their endeavours and applauses; the latter of which is transformed by these new Wits and their Poets into the most hideous li­cense of Scurrility, Bawdery, and Prophaneness as can be imaginable, and no less an offence to discreet and modest observers. Yet with this stuff, they are ready to vye with all former commendable Writers: Shakespear, Beaumont, Fletcher and Johnson, must be nothing with them, though such majestick strength of Wit and Judgement is due to their Dramatique Pieces. Of Johnson, I dare affirm that he is yet unparallel'd by the world, and may be some succeeding Ages: He gave our English Tongue firmness, greatness, enlarged and improved it, without patching of French words to our speech, according to some of our modern Pens: insomuch that I question whether any of the Wit of the Latine Poets be more Terse and Eloquent in their Tongue, than this great and Learned Poet appears in ours. Virgil, who most un­doubtedly was as well accomplished to value [Page 25]Wit, as any of his Poetical contemporaries or predecessors; how candid and handsomely does he occasionally take notice of most of all the Greek Poets? he did not grutch to say, Musaeum ante omnes; nay, to the honour of the Muses, he figures their Divine being in the Elizium or other world, as may be seen in his Sixth Book of Aeneids; and I suppose, that most of our present Writers will grant, that he, who so far exceeded all Wit that was extant in his time, or that since has succeeded, could not but in a high measure understand the value of his own: nor do I finde throughout his Works more than this one line of a Censorious or Satyrical reflexion against any of his contemporary Poets: and that very gentle and sparingly, Qui bavum non odit, amat tua Carmina maevi. And I believe, there was never any so neat and modest Satyr, that has such a Compendious, and yet full extent on incon­siderable Poets, as this one Verse of his; which shews that he understood too well his worth, to endeavour its exaltation by the undervaluing or depressing the fame of others: on the other side observe with what humility he speaks of himself comparatively with other Writers that deserved his esteem, as in his Eclog. Meris, Nam neque adhuc varo videor, nec dicere cinna digna, sed argutos inter strepere anser olores. I have been (I confess) a little too pedantique in filling [Page 26]this Essay with so many quotations: but con­ceiving it of good use to many of our Wits and Poets that so inconsiderately applaud themselves, and censure others; I thought fit to bestow it here: and indeed there is no better means of re­forming defects in men, than when it is pressed by the authority of best Examples. A modest and judicious Critick is an Honour to the Chair of Wit, and he alone is sit to claim it; his sense is able to make more perfect the Ingenuity of Writers. Ovid has two Verses which tell us how much he esteemed such a man; which I will there­fore add, though I have confess'd my self too busie with such kinde of Presidents already: Corrigere ast tanto res est magis ardua, quanto major Aristarcho magnus Homerus erat. Here Ovid means well, in bestowing this Panegyrick on a Judgment able to correct; but I could have wished he had named Homer for the Composer, and Aristarchus for the Judge, since the first was certainly a better Poet than Critick. I finde it observed of our late worthy Writer Mr. Cowly, that whensoever his Judgment was desired, he was more forward to commend what was well, than to reprove things amiss; by which means he gave not only Writers incouragement, but incited as much their desire to amend what he conceived faulty: An example worthy of imi­tation in such as take upon them to judge of [Page 27]Wit; in which case, there is not seldom more to be prais'd, than to be rejected. But we have many of our contemporaries that will make it their malice or mirth to do otherwise; nay, will not be contented to dislike, but they must nauseously Character mens persons on the Stage, scatter or otherwise publish their scurrilous reproaches: insomuch that I have known some (and of no ordinary quality) that have more gloryed in a pitiful Lampoon, or Libel, than if they had been able to compose a good Poem. But how much more despicable do they render their parts by such a mean discovery of them­selves, than any mans Wit they can pretend to quarrel with, would deserve a serious inspection of their thoughts. They would then soon per­ceive how they ought to be valued by the times they live in, and how they can convey nothing so permanent to the future, as their own con­temptible Monuments. Censure is such an Itch, that not only green and giddy heads, but men of firm comprehensions may find some imploy­ment for their Abilities to allay it; there being nothing more generally acceptable to humane Nature, than to be busie and prying into such defects as might well spare them the trouble of a concernment. To conclude, he that is wise and moderate, will finde he has so much to do to correct himself (let it be in Wit or [Page 28]Manners) that he will have little encourage­ment to exercise his Criticisms and Censure on others.

Mediocrity.

IT has been alwayes esteemed best capacitated to receive the simplicity of Vertue, which seldom has an agreeable entertainment in any extreams of mans condition or life: Wherefore out of my respects to this great Mistress, I would choose it in general and particular concerns: to be neither so mean as to produce contempt, or so highly elevated, that if I fall, I must of ne­cessity break the neck of my happiness in this world, is all I wish for: I rather choose to fall from my own height on the ground, than from Grantham-Steeple. If others are ambitious to be placed like Weather-cocks on such sublimi­ties, I can stand contentedly below, and observe how the wind sits by them: Or like this of Horace,

I am content with a reasonable estate for my subsistance, wishing that I could improve my [Page 29]manners to a suitable Mediocrity of good: I would not wish to go much farther; but I finde that I am able to spend more pounds, than wil­ling to be at the charge of a few good deeds. I am free to charge my self home enough, though I experience as much the parsimony of vertue in other men: But, be it with them and me as it, may be, I will say this for my Theam, that I would choose it in all things appertaining to me; I may take leave, I hope, to commend what I cannot improve or practice, as well as other of my Theoretical friends: To touch a ground of vertue, is almost the talent of every Pen; but when we come to compose handsomly all her parts, the harmony is not much to be admired. I was telling my Reader of some satisfactions as to a Medium in my condition of life, and now I will tell him in what other particulars I esteem it best. In the first place, I like it in years; that is to say, neither too young, or too old: if Women cannot approve my choice (for reasons they are best able to dispute) I would not go so far forward with my time, but in complaisance to them, I would set theirs as much backward; my reason is this: youth (I conceive) has so many rambles, and is so unsteady for thought, that a man lives a fool to himself; or perhaps comes to an estate at One and twenty, that were fitter for him at forty; but my argument is yet [Page 30]more mannerly, by understanding what is requi­site to a particular accomplishment. I mean that also of due respect to others, which is indeed the greatest; he that looks for either of these from youth, may as well expect that a Horse may go away with him in a smooth Amble as soon as back't. 'Tis well, if we have not as much oc­casion to learn at Forty as at Fifteen; I suppose many finde it no contradiction: it is a task vain enough to tutor man too early; he will ill Hus­band his Ethicks in spite of fate, till time make him more tractable. The best that can be said for youth is, that it may sometimes yield and ply to amendment, where age will not, by reason of long continuance and habit. And so much for the young. As for Age, I finde I have as little reason to hope much good from it, as to trust youth. If Vice be strong in the bud or growth, it is odds but it will be more rugged and tough when old; as we see in Trees, though they be shivered and wind-shaken by time, they will have the more firmness and knots. 'Tis true, Age does decay mans strength, but not alwayes his appetite: He that has been liquorish young, 'tis odds but he'll like the same sauce when he is old: the fancy will have its luxury and youth when the ability is least. There are some Vices that are not so familiar with youth, and will six with Age; it is apt to be Morose, and encrease [Page 31]ill nature abundantly: observe it but in cove­tousness, and you'll finde none so retentive as the old, though they are just taking leave of the world. A prudent man may well fear his living over-long, not only as it enfeebles our bodies, and renders them less useful to our Selves, our Countrey, and Friends; but as it weakens the faculties of his Soul, and may render him per­verse and froward: we may call Nature too in­dulgent, when she permits us to live a Child's life twice: He that out-lives himself, does as much shame the kindness of Providence for giv­ing his life so long a thread. Age having such a tincture of the River Lethe, that it does ma­nifest an oblivion of our selves, in our most especial concernments. I have known some that have not onely forgot acquired knowledge and letters, but even the common things of conver­sation and manners. At this day, I know an ancient man, a near Neighbour of mine, that ask'd about last Michaelmas whether we should have no May that year; he had liv'd to forget the revolution of time, though so long his acquain­tance. I wonder that among the Heroick Acts of the Romans, they incouraged no Suicides in Age, since they could do it upon accounts of friendship, of disgrace on loss of a Battel, con­tempt of their Enemy, and the like; when per­haps there is no greater affront to the honour of [Page 32]life in many kindes, than the folly and imperfe­ction of Age. Had this been allowable with them, we had perhaps heard of more of their Heroins than Hero's. The apprehension of the ruine and neglect of past beauty, had doubtless done much with such objects; and I am glad for their sakes there was never no such usage. I cannot but chide with Nature, when I behold a handsom Lady declining or superannuated: I could fer­vently make it may desire that the lusters of that Sex might still continue; and I judge all men obliged to do the same, by reason they chiefly would continue such attractions for mans sake. If this wish be to little purpose, I hope they will allow it obliging; and I am over and above paid for the thought. To return to my own Sex, I have commended a mediocrity in years; and I have reason, since I have prov'd it best as to my abilities and inclinations. I thank Heaven I am now somewhat past it, and yet I finde the strength of my Wit and Judgment as firm as ever, which gives me as much incouragement to hope as well of my Age, as most can of theirs. Some defect I finde in my Memory and Hearing, the first of which was never good young, and therefore I am not to hope its amendment: where­fore I would be understood onely to reflect on the failings and imbecilities of youth and Age: There is great honour allowable to both, [Page 33]when aptly capacitated for the improvement of life, he that is young may have a commendable growth toward goodness; and he that is old and knowing, is more able to direct and practice it. They are both excellent in their kindes; though a middle state of years does more surely temper judgment, and therefore more suitable to a wise man's wish, might he alwayes conti­nue so, or not be longer a slave to life, than he can comfort his years with right understanding. And here I cannot but mention, that if a Me­dium of man's being be approveable as to estate and years, and other requisites of private life; I hold it no less commendable as to the publick or body-politick of man at large, take it in the two Essentials of a people, Peace and War: a Moderation in either of these cannot but be the best temperament of power. To be over-long in peace, does very often enervate a People, or is apt to produce such restiffness, through the Luxury of Ease, Pride, and Riches, that it pre­cipitates them into many pernicious extrava­gancies, such as were the horrible effects of the long peace preceding our late Civil War. As on the other side, to be over-harress'd with Arms, or poverty (a most infallible consequence of the Calamities of War) does both create and streng­then discontents and faction; whereas if used as moderately exercising the strength and vertue [Page 34]of a people, it redounds not seldom to their advantage and glory: but such a temper of State is more happily imagin'd, than easily found; it being very hard for a Government exactly to qualifie or proportion to both these the humour of a people; besides which, there are not a few external respects of Neighbours and Confede­rate Nations that must go into the ballance. However, my Argument must be granted in both cases this advantage, that what comes nearest a Medium, must be allowed the best. There is amother Mediocrity (which I cannot but com­mend) and I assure you of the highest concern­ment; that is to say, in Religion: I confess I am afraid of having my brain too much fum'd with Zeal, lest it grow giddy, turbulent, rash, and by such mistakes wicked; (as was the case of our late Reformers) or so unnecessarily hot, that I must needs engage in Polemick Fisti-cuffs with Divines in the Schools, or course the follies or indifferences of Opinions, till they turn head against my Reason; or invite it to wrangle about such things they cannot teach me, or I them: I am rather content to be so far out of the noise of the pit, as I would not willingly hear such Cocks crow, much less combate their Argu­ments. On the other side, I would not be so blockish in my Devotion, that it should need boxing from a Pulpit, or not be able to employ [Page 35]my contemplation of Heaven, without my Ear be so boisterously taught it. I would have my Religion at least as well-manner'd as my con­verse; that is to say, civil, and discreet. I thank God, I have seen a Surplice wore in England and France, and thought it superstition in neither. I can profit from one in a Coat and Breeches, as well as in a Cassock: I am apt enough to allow men sacred, so they do not oblige me to receive Oracles from them. I know how to commend my Shoomaker, though I do not altogether tye my shooe his way. And as I approve a mode­ration in this Supream concern, so I would make it my choice in the vertues and moralities of life: For example, in Love and Friendship, I cannot but believe that an extream in either, does ren­der men more uneasie and unuseful to one ano­ther, than a moderate, and consequently a more agreeable relation would produce; there being no capacity of vertue more apt to impair, than what comes nearest an extreamity; every little misunderstanding does make it too nice or piquant to continue its fervour long, as is ob­vious enough in such cases of affection; wherefore I will have sufficient content, if I am but mode­rately assured of either. I finde that ease and plainness are very grateful to my disposition in all kinds; to which, as I would proportion my manners, so I would do no less for my Food, [Page 36]Cloaths, and Converse. I would not be trou­bled with too much wit, or want what is enough to embellish behaviour. A complemental or finical man should no more be of my society, than a Puppet that moves, makes legs and faces upon a wyer: I have enough of such Punchinello,'s and it may be they of me: if they afford me quietly my choice, 'tis all I look for; if not, I must tell them that I care as little for the modish allowance of their wit, as they can for the free­dome of mine. I use no Salt purposely to gall their Throats. If my Genius has spared enough to season these Papers fit for my Readers pallat—let him taste for me; however, I will not be afraid to tell the world what I think best: If I have stirred up any Spiritual or Temporal Zeal to oppose me, I know no better way than to refer them to this Essay; where I hope I may be found so far in the right, as to occasion a mo­derate approbation or pardon.

The Dubitant.

I Count it no disrepute to our Religion, that it is doubted by some, as well as believed by many, since I have not read of any perswasion but had as many opposers as Defenders. I finde [Page 37]it the same under the Law, as under the Gospel; and yet the Gentiles and Ethnicks that would have argued down these, had as much to do in their disputes with one another. Doubt ever had, and ever will have some fellowship with Believers, or will be a near Neighbour to them; and men must be content with its company, whe­they they will or no. There is nothing that can be asserted to come so immediately from Heaven, as no mixtures of men shall accompany it: such as have authority must be the deliverers, or im­posers of it. God has taken more care of the essence of our belief, than of the manner and circumstances; such he has thought fit to leave to the prudence of our Governours and Teachers; who, as they do not finde it requisite to impose over-much on the wise, on the other side will alwayes finde enough to entertain, or amaze the weak and ignorant: and it does become their wisdomes so to do, since all Worships are no less composed of the knowing, the impertinent, and foolish, than Body-politicks are: wherefore some sweetning is allowable alwayes according to mens several capacities, somewhat like that of Poetry in Hudibras, one thing for rhime, ano­ther for sense. I know a man that taking occa­sion to admire Prophecies, and of all Books of the Prophets, the Psalms of David as they are Sung in English, cited this passage, From Turk [Page 38]and Pope, Good Lord deliver us; without which he acknowledged that he had never been so sully confirmed how great a Prophet David was: the man meant well, and as little thought that Hopkins had sung this inspiration instead of David; and yet I undertake not absolutely to blame the addition; it was perhaps thought necessary at that time to make the Pope and Turk equally terrible, by the authority of a Prophet. Vulgar apprehensions will be apt to receive impossibilities or contradictions; as the glittering of Copper-lace can set forth a Stage well enough to them: If a Gold or Silver Sute enter now and then between the Acts, they do not much more admire it. The brain of man must be pleased with inequalities: as the weak are generally the most easie, and consequently the firmest believers; so the strong in conception will for the most part be as diffident. Wit will be ever inquisitive; and as it is a gift of Heaven, so it does require as high convictions, or it has a Pike against its will.

And yet I never knew, and I believe there was never any man that was purposely a doubter: they that know most, would be glad of all others to be as throughly satisfied of what they are to receive. It were very severe to conster such Atheistical for endeavouring to inform themselves, and consequently would believe if [Page 39]they could. Ask a vulgar apprehension, and he shall tell you he believes all he was Christen'd to believe; but if you ask him why, he will as soon be put to a Nonplus, and tacitely conclude himself an Atheist: for it is no reason or commen­dation of faith, to say I believe this or that, be­cause I do or will believe it. The Scripture sayes, The Fool hath said in his heart there is no God, or as emphatically in such a weak con­fession of his belief: I am sure there was never any understanding man within this predicament of folly, since he must needs be better able to inform himself, than to believe nothing. God is too plainly manifested to such a capacity; he may doubt of his way to Heaven, but he can never controvert his being religious or good: though a judicious person may find as much impulsion from his reason in some respects to be a dubitant, as a Fool is unable rationally to be­lieve. Let Zealots then define which of these complexions does conduce most to Atheism: or to deliver mine, I am confident that the un­mannerly and irregular carriage of Sectaries does occasion a greater scandal and doubt in this age of belief, than any sort of men whatsoever; because whatsoever is so extravagantly pra­ctised, must in the end produce contempt and disbelief. I neither believe all, nor doubt all; what I finde my reason cannot swallow, I cannot [Page 40]perfectly disgest; if I put spurs to it, and I finde it will not go forward, I am forced to stand still in spite of my teeth: However, I can dispense with what I cannot believe, and that as be­comes a Christian, that is to say, modestly and peaceably. If I observe any that can swallow Burs as easily as Pills of Butter, I allow their practice; nay, I commend it, and am sorry I cannot do as much for my belief as they do: Above all things, I am careful not to offend or trouble the repose of other mens Consciences; I can keep my perswasions to my self, and I am as willing they should not be molested in theirs.

There is no question but very many things are to be credited upon the authority of Pa­rents, of Tutors, of Magistrates, in order to the better mannagement and improving of civil society; and it is as undeniable, that many things are worthy of reception, that neither the proposer can prove or demonstrate to the re­ceiver, by reason that there is too long a train of things to arrive in all points fully to their original verity: wherefore I may doubt, yet not positively deny, what neither I, nor any other man that believes them, can assuredly evidence. How any one individual thing was first produ­ced, I have no certainty; yet I am assured it was by Creation, or a work as miraculous to humane conception: The main question is, what [Page 41]is within the power of a deliverer, which I con­ceive too nice a thought to be discussed here. To be plain, I would have as little Sceptical in the practice of Religion as possible. He that keeps his thought without contesting, hinders no body; to which purpose, I would be very glad that some power amongst us were esteem'd very neer, or equal to infallibility: I finde its conveniency amongst the Romanists, and com­mend it, though I could wish their Consciences were a little more subject to a divine jurisdiction here: I think it somewhat too much to have any part of my Conscience at the Devotion of a Forraign interest, because it must needs clash 01 with our Laws, and impede something of the esteem that we ought to have to the established capacities of the civil Magistrate: If he under­takes to be my Judge, I may tacitely choose whether I'll believe him or no; but I have at least an unmannerly Religion, if I will needs openly and avowedly go further. I assure my Reader, that I should be loath to embrace a better than theirs on such terms, and should think I had a good Conscience on my side to confirm me: Nor can I judge him wise, that will scru­pulously or over-curiously go far to Market, when he may be supplyed as conveniently at home. What our Ancestors did formerly, is not the Question; the Laws did not prohibit them, [Page 42]which forbid us now. I cannot square my be­lief in some things, though Divines on all sides should undertake to perswade me; I have too prevalent an apprehension of their being swayed with interest and Hierarchy, to trust them abso­lutely when either is in Question: I acknow­ledge a sacred esteem to be their due, because there ought to be no less allow'd to Divine Tea­chers. I am so far from repining at their Tem­poral Estates or greatness, that I judge both for respect and order sake, that they ought not to be impaired in either: I am sorry if they cannot cure their own Distempers, as well as other mens; like Physitians that are sometimes so un­fortunate, as to leave Diseases worse than they found them: Did not the modesty of my Faith oblige my aversion to Faction and Schism, my reason would do as much for my Conscience by condemning them as monstrous and inconsistent with humane being, since seldome or never intro­duced without Rapine, Blood, and Rebellion, or such a pernicious License that is greedily suck'd in by vulgar minds: and it is some Non­sense to expect a good cause from bad effects. If any advantage can proceed out of so much evil, it is, that zeal will not probably amongst us have too much of future reputation; and it is ever safest that what has so commanding a power, if not fascination on the hearts of men, [Page 43]should prudently be doubted; as it is for the most part Hypocritical and false. A flame (though counterfeited to come from Heaven) is enough to strike the Soul with fury and blindness; an over-hot zeal will at least tend to frenzy, if not to mischief, as has been a lamentable experience. It is never safe to put Religion out of repute, lest it be not afterwards so soberly esteemed as it had been before: Wherefore the sad divisions and mischiefs produced by our late unhappy Civil War, have abundance of my pitty; nothing be­ing more deplorable, than to see the Sword of the Spirit drawn on all sides with the Temporal. I must farther add, that I do not believe any have so much occasioned hesitations and doubts in matters of Religion, as their unfortunate mis­carriages or evil Tenents: few men will be fool'd with the first: Ill examples are far more obvious to all understandings than disputable. The Orthodox, and true Protestant party, I know are not to be blam'd, though the others have done enough to scandal themselves, and these too. Was ever such impieties committed, as that Fanatick tribe of Levi have acted? did they not preach up Blood and Rebellion? did they not Sequester, Imprison, and intrude into one ano­thers preferments? Can any man conceive that these men did believe at all, or fit to convince any body of a contrary perswasion, and pra­ctise [Page 44]thus? If such as should be our guides are apt to take wrong pathes, they will be mistrusted by those they bid follow. They have left their stains in too deep a dye, to be easily rub'd off, and have nothing but the illiterate madness of their Sects to support their impieties.

There are another sort of rash and giddy men, (though I conceive not so pernicious to the pub­lick as the last) and those are such as will im­piously glory, not only in being Scandals to Religion, but as they will debase and prophane the very essentials of it in their usual Ralleries: they will not be so humble as to be Dubitants; it is below their wit, if they make not all Belief whatsoever so ridiculous, as to be their Comedy and sport. I need not put my self to the trouble of farther describing them; they are too noto­riously known without it: wherefore I pass them by as the worst Errata's in humane Society. To conclude of this subject, let men obey the Laws, the Church, their Prince; and where their Reason is too much refin'd, let them endea­vour to allay it, or acquire so much becoming modesty as to enjoy it with silence: Besides, he that is wise, will give himself caution of being too much an Opiniator, or Singular in his con­ceptions, lest he prove as great a wonder to himself, as he must be to the world.

Authors.

I Have ever thought time more precious, than to bestow much of it on many words, or many Authors: the quintessence of two or three well extracted, is enough to refresh or inform our knowledge on any one Subject. On the other side, there are some that conceive they can never turn over Books enough, though their colle­ctions from them are not to much more purpose than if they knew only their names; nay, the reputation of which alone, or having of a great Library, has emboldned some to enter them­selves with the Learned: though you finde them in those Lists, you may soon prove them Intru­ders, without going so high as a School-distin­ction. They will tell you who is an excellent Di­vine, Historian, Orator, or Poet, so you'll not have an account of their wit. Every man that has Money can purchase Cloaths, but not con­sequently the useful demeanor, and carriage in wearing them. I have known some heads so elaborately stuffed with Books, that they have appeared dull, or in a manner stupified, as to all polite converse: if you do not talk with them of what other men have written, you had as [Page 46]good hold your peace; and indeed they signi­fie no more under the weight of so many Vo­lumes, to the improving or supportance of Science, than the fiction of Atlas does, whom the Poets will needs feign (perhaps from such an extraordinary burthen of his brain) to uphold the Axis of Heaven: but I would rather liken them to crouching Antiques of Wood or Stone, which though seeming to labour exceedingly under the weight of a great building, yet signifie nothing to its strength or beauty. 'Tis an odd, and fruitless thing to burthen our brain with other mens works, and produce nothing inge­niously of our own, or by their means to ride a mans parts to a heaviness or stand. I have known some Scholars that would weary or tyre them­selves with a Horse, which a Gentleman could with grace and pleasure ride a longer Journey. Nature must refine our converse and studies, or they will be unpleasant or lubberish for our use: wherefore I had rather have one tenth part of Learning joyn'd to the ordinary behaviour and embellishments of a Gentleman, than what a whole Colledge of Students can pretend to from the Schools in gross. I would be able to put on my Band, sit my Horse, or speak handsomely without the assistance of an Author.

When all is done, every man should endevour as far as his abilities extend, to be an Author to [Page 47]himself, I mean, in well weighing, improving, and as much as in him lyes, perfecting his own thoughts, and next compare them with what he has read; there being nothing more certain, than that the Ingenious apprehension of very many men does compleat more useful, and bet­ter knowledge than they seek, or can be acquir'd from Studies: wherefore he is an ill husband of his brain, that does not manure it aswel as he can for his own use. And as I approve thinking, so I somewhat more commend the communica­tion of our thoughts in Writing; not that I judge every man is fit, or would oblige any to undertake publickly to be Authors (except they shall judge their parts suitable,) but I mean as most directive to every mans particular Inge­nuity, and by which a man is most compendi­ously and at hand furnished with his concep­tions. There is nothing more commendable, than what does enable a man dexterously to ex­press himself; and no way to do it so well as by Writing himself: if his thoughts be ingenious, they are collected and improved by it; if not, it is a ready way to be acquainted with his defects, and to amend them; besides that it advantages exceedingly our Native language, which can no way so readily be better'd, as by a frequent and correct use of our speech. I have known ingenious men, that for only the neglect, or being [Page 48]cautious to publish what they have written, have either continued unknown, or not had that early repute from the world, which other­wise had been their due: And I doubt not, but if the Writings of such persons were looked into, there would be found (of this kinde) many worthy pieces of Wit and Learning, which out of modesty, (or to avoid the hazard of an un­kinde or unjust Censure) they do not think fit to divulge. Of all manner of penning our thoughts, I hold Essayes the best, not only as it is most neat and pithy; but as it comes full, and pertinently home to all concernments of life: besides, it is the essence of thought so apply'd, and contracted, that nothing can be more fit for our selves and others: to which purpose I have endeavour'd in these few examples here, and some lately published of the like nature. The greatest discouragement I perceived was, (not only as there are few things held good of this kinde) but as I prov'd it no less difficult, than I esteem'd it pleasant, there being nothing more hard (perhaps) than to scatter an ingenious and comely variation of thought; yet so, as con­cisely and properly to connect their dependance on one matter, or Argument, which is the business and beauty of an Essay; the uses where­of should be as familiar to an ordinary apprehen­sion, as the highest of Capacities. Of all the Pens [Page 49]of the Ancients, I judge that of Petronius Ar­biter to be in all kindes the most polite and in­genious, it being so familiarly applicable to the Natures and converse of men, as is not to be parallel'd by Antiquity: wherefore I cannot raise his commendation higher, than to allow him their best general Writer, or Essayist. And with us, I know of none so near his parallel as the late Sir John Suckling, whose wit was every way at his command, proper and useful in Verse and Prose, equally gentile and pleasant: And I believe he has not too partial an esteem and memory, if allow'd the Petronius of his Age. Of all Writers in this way, I judge Montaigne is most taxable, (though I greatly commend his parts) not only as he is very disagreeable or contradictory to himself, but that he is long and tedious, and ravels in a deal of quotations, and things disorderly and out of place; nay, some­times takes heads to write on, when you read him speaking to other purposes, & things of different nature: For what is more impertinent, than to pretend to write (as he does) of Coach and Horses, or of some Verses in Virgil, and not once touch the Argument he pretends to handle? Which was well perceived by my Lord Bacon, who not only far exceeded him in all respects, but has worthily left himself the best example of an Essayist throughout the world. The main requi­sites [Page 50]to compleat an Author, are, Wit and Judge­ment; (since how perfectly soever he collects from others, cannot be called his) the one as an orna­ment, the other a well disposing and contex­ture of his thoughts. It is true, that wit is more rarely found with men than discreet reason and judgement, since a thousand may be found wise and solid, to one man of refined notions and sense; and yet so wanting to its self, or so fatal to such as have it, as there are none more ob­noxious to censure, than the manners and Pens of those esteemed witty. And thus we observe from the Writings of most Poets; if you examine their wit, you may perceive it often; but their judgements by no means so perspicuous: the reason I conceive is, that their volubility and airyness of thought, being so much more predo­minant, there is left a narrow part of their appre­hensions to a solid management of their inge­nuities; but are so speciously flatter'd or charm'd with a pleasing (though false Idea of things) that they not seldom elapse into many Errors, and out of indulgence to their Verse, neglect them­selves: insomuch as there is nothing more sin­gular in the world, than a Correct or faultless Poem; and I dare affirm, that the too frequent use of Rhime does not a little conduce to this misfortune; it being very obvious with such, to take a sound or noise in stead of proper ex­pression [Page 51]or sense: As on the other side it is manifest, that the cleerness and strength of a Genius (in all kindes) is not so perceptible as when writ without it. Perhaps my Reader will admire that I, who have dealt with the Muses here and elsewhere, should prepare him so strongly against my self: but he is to know, that as I grant so many failings in other men, so I will not defend what are mine: and I suppose he will be the more inclinable to pardon what he thinks amiss, since I so little bespeak his praise. The most proper commendation that can be allow'd good Poesie, is, that it does surprise and present us as it were with new conceptions and wit; from which excellency, I suppose it was anciently honour'd with the name of Inspira­tion: And it is most certain, the more perfect and singular any thing appears writ in this way, it will continue many Ages as conspicuous to the world. I cannot at this day read an Eclog of Virgils, (not to mention his greater works) but it seems to me not onely exceeding delightful, but the most perfect and newest wit, that the attempts of near seventeen Ages since him has yet produced; and is as likely to continue so still, for the reason before expressed. As an Au­thor should be apt and judicious, so he ought to be no less perspicuous. A man may write any thing mystically or hard, nay trifles, as subtilly [Page 52]as Metaphysicks; as I have known some Learned that would be sure to do them curiously enough; but they forget that a Reader is not obliged, nor ought he to study any thing that is delivered knotty, and obscurely; and yet I have observed some Writers (though in our Tongue they are born to know) that are so cross-grain'd, as one would as soon undertake to understand the har­dest place of Persius Satyrs, as unriddle their wit; or as the aforementioned Author said of his Writings, that the time would come, when Inter ignotu haberentur, and so I'll leave them. To be short, let a Writer endeavour to be plain and judicious, not close his wit in such a shell, as no body shall care for the kernel; it being unreasonable to expect that any man should puzzle his Brain with that sense, which he be­lieves too intricate for the Authors own under­standing.

Retirement and Solitude.

REtirement from the too much noise, and crowd of the world, has received both esteem and practice from the good and bad, though on different Motives and respects: the [...], as he would make himself more familiar [Page 53]with vertue by an undisturb'd contemplation. The wise and great people both in thought and action practis'd it very frequently. What a noble and contented Solitude, or withdrawing from the world, had Fabritius, Curius, Dentatus, and other of the Romans, even in the Meridian of their fame? Their greatness was not to retire to a vast or plentiful estate, but to a great minde: It was ordinary to finde a man thus fur­nished with them, though his dwelling was but so homely, as to be the capital messuage of four Acres of Land. And it had no less of policy in it too: for by contemning the world and riches, they commended that vertue which challenged a vast share of both. It was sometimes yet more honourable with them, as when the brightness of their merit was spreading too popular, or began to dazle the eyes of the vulgar; on which accounts the prudence of that State took well their withdrawing. Thus it was in the Eminent example of the great Scipio, and perhaps one of the bravest Gentlemen and magnanimous per­son, that State produc'd: Nor was it any wonder, that he (so greatly entertained with the memory of his past glory) could pronounce that so noted expression of his Solitude, Nunquam minus solus, quam cum solus. And yet it is confi­dently believed that he no less accompanied himself with his ingenuity in Writing, than his [Page 54]other greatness; as is observable from the assi­stance that is attributed to him of Terence's Comedies: and doubtless there are many things more quaint and gentile in those compositions, than are probably to be attributed to a mean African or Slave, such as Terence is conceived to be. How few Grandees at this day will sit down thus satisfied! they can never be Ambi­tious or great enough; talk to them of retirement, they count themselves ruined or neglected; they will rather confess themselves not Masters of so much ingenuity or vertue, that is worth retiring to. If a man should have advised some some of our late Usurpers, or that quintessence of Villany and Tyranny, Oliver, that his timely withdrawing from his unworthy Ambition, had been no less honourable, than of merit to his Countrey; how would he have snorted or canted at such counsel! perhaps he might have pretended purposely to seek God, but never to declare he had leave from Heaven to recede from his wicked designs or power. Which shews us, that good men can be content to take from themselves, what the bad seldom or never will do. Another sort of men there are, who, because the ends of their Ambitions are defeated, or by reason they are not so considerable and publick in affairs, as they would be thought worthy to be, will sneak to a pitiful kind of Solitude, or [Page 55]where they may more freely vent their discon­tents; and of these, there are not a few exam­ples. As on the other side, there are others, who out of a Cynical nature, or a glory as it were not to be great, or as they are indeed per­verse despisers and haters of humane Society, will lurk in their corners, but to be sure will carry their evil habits and manners with them, (or as Tiberias did when he retired from Rome to exercise more covertly his Debaucheries) and seem to avoid the world, but not themselves; notwithstanding it is in some kinde the greatest obligation they can do men, to remove out of their way. I have no such pike to the world, as that I desire to live so, as not to partake my enjoyments in it; my nature cannot be easily reconciled to the Horrors of Solitude. I cannot believe but a due commerce with Mankinde is a very considerable duty of life; as also that I finde sufficient cause to admire the splen­did and eminent good effects of Providence, that I perceive in the Ornaments and Grandeur of States and Princes; so that I fully enough convince my self, that Heaven is not to be em­braced so unmannerly or Monkishly as some imagine. I do not doubt but there are as sub­lime instructions to be drawn from Courts, as from the strictest Cells; nay, possibly better, since where Man's reason is most adorned and [Page 56]refined, his Soul must receive a considerable improvement by it; and doubtless a wise man ought most to value a suitable freedom in the practice of his faith and manners, since he can be no other way so beneficial to himself and others. Notwithstanding, a sincere and honou­rable retirement whereby to amend and improve our understandings and vertue, is highly com­mendable: To avoid the noise and turbulency of the world the more quietly, and undisturb'd to look into our selves, has been the business of the most discreet and eminent of men. It were end­less to cite Presidents in this kinde: they have sufficiently their praises from many Writers; Virgil and Horace, two especial Poets, approved it, adding no small glory to their Pens by its commendation: though they were both by the favour of so great and munificent an Emperor as Augustus, contrary to their inclinations, in great part debar'd their satisfactions in this kinde; yet they did not cease their esteem of retirement, as one of the best expedients of humane content and happiness. Had it not been for these reces­sions of life, and a due time of thought imploy'd from thence, Mankinde had never been obliged with so many excellent pieces of wit and know­ledge. The Philosophers that made both their contemplation, could in an ordinary Being, Cave, or Cell, deliver their precepts of Learning [Page 57]and life, aswel as the Poets did the sublimity of their wit and inventions. And I have read, that the Grot or Cave, in which Virgil compos'd his matchless work of Georgicks, is at this day to be seen at Naples. And it is no wonder, if the Muses have ever best communicated their inge­nuities to persons of temperate and moderate condition of life: Excess being a more general retainer on tumults and triumphs, than on the ease and freedom of thought. Whatsoever a mans condition is, he would at sometimes enjoy a liberty and quiet, to consider himself and his affairs: it has been acceptable and useful to the greatest of Courts and Camps, and all conditions of life, both in order to publick and private concerns.

In sum, he that has ostentation or vanity to be too much known to the world, is in great danger of dying unacquainted with himself.

Pretenders.

A Good man is a sure Friend, but a bad man seldom or never one; and he is yet worse, that pretends to civilities and obligations, which he never intends to practice. I particularize none, but condemn all; they have their modes [Page 58]both in publick and private Actions. A sort of Foxes that will finde holes in Courts, Cities, and Countreys, and you may Nose um as rankly every where: they will come in the winde of reason do what a man can, and yet will be so confident of their formalities and Addresses, as if they had no rankness about them, or that a Periwig well perfum'd were enough; a savoury outside for a rotten brain and heart. They will pretend to strict intrigues of friendship, and for the most part more propensely than desired; but so, as they will ever look asquint toward their ends, which never fail to discover such. If a man have a friendly hope to be any wayes ob­liged by them, he is sure to be frustrated, by reason they are so much beforehand in their de­sign on him. I speak to the world, which on this subject has an ear deaf enough, but I care not: I would have others as little as my self cozen'd with fine nothings and shadows; but go along as they can, they have the Sunshine on their sides, and I am not likely to interpose be­twixt it: I can only choose whether I'll court what I do not care for, and so may others that are wiser than I. If I am not in love with empty notions and words, I do not begrutch them of their bargain, that are willing to buy them dear I would no more make use of Circumlocutions in my Expressions, than Prayers; and 'tis odds [Page 59]but he that dares mock men this way, will be as bold with God in another: wherefore I am as apt to blame what is deliver'd for the most part from our Pulpits, as I do the verbal formalities of Statesmen, or the long-winded Orations and Decorums of Forraign Embassies, whose grea­test reality is Form. If Zeal be more comple­mentally bold with Heaven than it need be, I suppose that it has Divines for its Courtiers. I mistrust Schism and Faction for nothing more, than that it appears to be full of babling and words, which shews on which Sex of Mankinde it depends most: A he-Professor and fighter, and a Zealous she-complier, is this Ages general composition of the Mars and Venus of Faith. I can be as soon delighted with Aretine's Postur [...]s, as Religion in such paint. The pretences of Zeal have so regalio'd with the fury and luxury of this Age, that good men might well hope its impo­tency in the next, did not the world produce so many bables of extravagancie and folly, as are still too propense to support and continue its allurements and deceits. I called it even now the dalliance of Venus and Mars, and I may in some other respect term it Venus and Mercury: Lust will be alwayes of the Feminine gender, though she seem to wear an ingenious or spiritual shape, or though you, finde her in a Smock in stead of a Surplice, as the ready way to propa­gate [Page 60]more exceedingly in our body politick: but these are a generation I had never much to do withal in jest, and I will less meddle with them in earnest: if the kisses of such Satyrs are sleeker to others than they can be to me, let them enjoy their retirements and underwoods of Love as they please, or as the publick shall per­mit them. In the mean time, I will believe that what they seem to hunt after, is not worth find­ing. Vulgar zeal keeps best quarter with Heaven and Men, when the Sullow is more in their hand than head. If their brain goes to Plough with Religion, instead of the grain and blossoms of faith, you will have for the most part weeds. Wherefore wise men might be glad if such would manure their capacities more sparingly in such matters. I do not conceive that when they seem to lye cold or barren, that it is the worst Husbandry of Religion: Nor do I judge that those Ages of our Ancestors, which are called heavy, superstitious, or darker times, deserve the denomination. One may go to Blinde-man-Buff by day-light, as well as by Candle: an over-heat in the exercise of Religion, may pro­bably sooner tire and weary its professors, than a temperate and calm devotion. I hope I may take leave to commend charity and good manners, without being thought a Bigot of Popery: if there were as wise and peaceable men in those [Page 61]times, am I therefore forbidden to think them pious? I am well satisfied that the supream duties of life are more consistent with an humble belief and practice, than in such, who being inquisitive or turbulent, will take upon them to direct themselves. It must be a weak or foolish Reli­gion, that is not somewhat above ordinary capa­cities, which would render it too simple to be safe: Wherefore, if Papists can be thus convinced in order to their obedience and quiet, I am sorry that as commendable practice and reason is not as essential to the faith of Protestants; However, I shall not ask pardon for my opinion of such as think otherwise. As publick disturbances from Zeal does seldom want Patriots, so the notions of asserting publick good and politick preten­sions, are never without seduced maintainers and admirers; the vulgar being alwayes ready to be allured by a seeming care of preserving or better­ing their common conceruments, though there be nothing at bottom but the utility of their Seducers. It is one of the oldest cheats in the world, and will be ever one of the newest: 'tis but putting on new trimming to an old dress, and the work is done. And thus (to pass by other examples) we may observe the Analogy betwixt the late Scotch Covenant, and the Ca­tholick League in Henry the Third's time of France: if one was the Bawd, the other was [Page 62]the Curtisan; or the first disguis'd in the habit of the last, whereby to act and revel more unknown. Popularity and ambition will have these pranks, when they design to erect their Trophies.

To come to our selves, and late intestine War and dissentions; what had we but a various Anarchy, from almost Forty one to Sixty? (not to mention the execrable Murther of the late King) what did it establish, after kicking down every thing in its way, but that Caper ipse gregis, aliàs Cromwell, should go astray with his flock? But as these wicked contrivers and fomenters of our troubles have had their Scene in this Age: so they must expect to be as notoriously recorded to future time.

There are others, who being less capacitated to advance publick evils, will serve their turn on private; that is to say with the Proverb, Wil [...] play at small games, rather than sit out; and these are so very general, that every man's or­dinary occurrences does evidence them. It is well for the distrustless and ignorant, that the wise and honest are their defenders; Craft and Cozenage are two such greedy Monsters, as they would devour all otherwise. As there are few men so weak, as to give themselves up directly to deceivers; so there are many that will bite hom [...] when a pretext is speciously baited: what [...] cautions fish will not swallow, enough of th [...] [Page 63]fry will. We meet it thus in our converse, our dealings, and in what is called our friendship; how few are there that do not soon appear bad enough to discover themselves? men cannot enter a familiarity or friendship, but they as soon come to a distance or strangeness with one ano­ther: we may have enough of such as will rea­dily call themselves our Friends, but are never extended further than the name. I have known a long acquaintance produce worse effects of this kinde, than a shorter familiarity: by the first, if men are bad, they are more familiarly knowing of the disposition they are to work on, and con­sequently succeed more perniciously: wherefore it is good judgement to be rid of such an ac­quaintance betimes, or on a small discovery, left you do it after on worse terms: He that is at any time evil, it is very dangerous to give him opportunity to be worse: we may well discharge the intimacies of such, who put themselves away, by first meriting our separation from them. There is no ingratitude but wears first the smooth disguise of friendship; it being ever referred to some precedent endearments by familiarity or obligation, to which purpose the excellent Sa­tyrist Juvenal gives us this caution, Ingratos ante omnia pone sodales. Where we entrust our selves most, the unworthy Nature of man is more impowred to do mischief; wherefore [Page 64]there ought to be no less caution used to whom we commit the fidelity and openness of our hearts, lest we have a false one in return: It being good prudence to doubt most, and trust few; not believing but the denomination and trust of a friend, are sometimes the pretexts and stratagems of a base Enemy. I finde it the most general and vehement complaint of Writers in all times I have read of, to reflect most severely on the evil manners of their Age; and I judge they have reason, as being most the concern of men to conceive their present defects and vices worse than such preceded them. And yet I am satisfied enough, that there have been times as exquisitely bad as ours can be pretended to be. The Art of deceit and lying, I finde somewhat ancienter than the Trojan Horse, and the Poets Sinon; notwithstanding the pretended inge­nuity and sanctimony of his Character: but the mischief is, that what they render'd most odious, we frequently practise to be more customary and curious in it. If I were asked whether I would have trusted a Porter or Groom belonging to our Ancestors, before some magnifyed honour, and Heroes of this Age; I should take leave, with­out asking many of their pardons, to grant the affirmative. I cannot admire a modish trick or deceit, though delivered by the most splendid Tongue, or Name. Where the Heart has cause [Page 65]to be ashamed, there is great reason to blush for our words: However, we are somewhat behold­ing to the practises of our time, in that a Me­diocrity or small degree of vertue is able to pass so well amongst us, whereas a stricter Age would be more incompatible in teaching us to be good. I could say as much of Wit, and other pretended accomplishments; but they have been touched elsewhere, or not further necessary to be men­tioned in this place.

Of Living and Dying.

I Will joyn these together, because they are considered more than they ought asunder; they are too familiarly acquainted, to be set at distance; and are but the common and evident revolutions of Nature, which gets as much by Death, as she can do by Life: if one thing dye, another lives out on't, is too much a common place of Philosophy to be insisted on; I will therefore deal here with their effects or simili­tude: though we cannot live after death the same, I finde we dye much after the same rate we liv'd: the use of life, is but to instruct death; and as we manage the first, so we for the most part conclude with the other. If our first acts [Page 66]are good, there is some hope of a better at last; if not, the contrary; and thus very generally we leave the world. The cure of the Soul when we are to dye, is not less difficult than the repa­ration of the Body: To quit a Disease that has been long upon us, is not easily done in a few moments: A long Journey is troublesome to provide for in too short a warning; the very haste does enforce us to leave something neces­sary behinde us. Wherefore might I have my wish, I would dye timely and by degrees; and I am no less beholding to Nature, if my end be so sitted, that I be not precipitately thrust out of the world by death; either as it respects Youth or Age, I cannot but pity it wheresoever I observe it. I would be some time a consuming, and by parts, before I do it altogether: I hold it the most familiar way of Nature so to dispose of us; and I would not have her purposely go out of her way for me: wherefore I am much more desirous to go off with a Consumption than a Feaver; the first as a convenient warning of my dissolution, which it prepares in part beforehand; whereas the other has too much of heat and Distemper. Inever affected Drunken­ness, and I should be loath to have any thing like its humour in my Brain dying. I much approve a handsome correspondency of Life and Death; I would not be altogether the same dying and [Page 67]living; yet not so as to attempt a Metamor­phosis of my constitution at the time I am to be transformed by Nature: If I have lived a Gen­tleman, I should be loath to turn a Cynick or Capuchine near the minute of my departure: if I cannot more mannerly take leave of my self in leaving of the world, I shall not endeavour at that time to court Heaven morosely, and in a form would not have becom'd me before. Besides, it shews too much forgetfulness, apprehension, or despair, to put on a disguise, or absolutely to personate another Character so near our End. A good man has a hard part to Act Living and Dying; but I would not expect such a strict Decorum in the last, that like a Player's, it must needs have an Exit in the greatest word or thing: our Wit and Memory are generally too frail (especially at that time) for extraordinary heights: if a mans last day be not much the worst, he ought not to be so extraordinary ambitious, as by its means to aspire to his best. I cannot but observe too many Austerities, Surges, and windings in the Avenues of Christian practice; one while posting over the Alps to Rome; ano­ther time whip'd and spur'd to Geneva, as if Faith must gad out of our own Countrey of necessity: besides, we are not seldom too remiss, and again as rigorous in our devotions. Wherefore I could wish our manners and piety were more smooth [Page 68]and facile, which were both Ethical and Natu­ral; and not as if we had not so much to do for our selves, as others for us. If this excellency be admired in most of the Ancient Philosophers, it does no less highly merit an esteem; whose pre­cepts were equally familiar and complaisant to good manners and belief; and by consequence could guide themselves accordingly. If there were here and there a Diogenes amongst them, a Morose or Cynical Christian may look as odly amongst us: I would neither choose the con­finement of a Tub, or a Temple: such extraor­dinary and irregular examples of Living and Dying take me not: austerity and sullenness may be as much (in its kinde) a form or mode, as capping of the Hat, or cringing the Knee: it is one thing to retire wisely (as I have instanc'd already) and another to be so dogged as to bite our selves. I cannot blame any thing so much in the Heroick vertue and constancy of the Romans, as their voluntary Deaths and Suicides; as if they were obliged to live no longer than they thought fit themselves, or when their vertue was not successful or practicable with others, or that of necessity they must dye when other men would not be good with them. I had as live fee a Childe cry for what he has lost, as hear of an Heroick that kills himself for losing that he can­not keep, (the first I am sure is more natural) and [Page 69]this was the case of Cato, Brutus, and the like. What a Tragedy is it to think of Cato's dying and tearing his Bowels in such a displeasure with the world; or, what was more odious to his severity, the sight of Caesar and his good fortune, or Vultum Tyrannidis, as Cicero calls it. We may imagine the same of Brutus when defeated by Augustus, and even with disdain and contempt of vertue he had so Stoically serv'd,

Which I judge to be some oversight in so great a man, in expecting a certain Superinten­dency of vertue over the mistakes and accidents of the world, when very often nothing shifts for its self worse, or is more often oppress'd than a righteous Cause. Amongst all I have read on, I cannot finde a more vertuous Prince, or a juster quarrel, than what our late King defended; and yet the success was no less deplorable: As on the other side, his magnanimous and equal com­pliance with the last and worst Exigents of his fate, had been as much an example even to Cato and Brutus, as it far surpasses all Moral or Christian Heroes.

But to return, I do not finde any thing so commendable in the Ancients (putting aside some austere examples) as their constancy to themselves and vertues, I mean in beginning betime, and no less honourable and prudent in concluding their lives: They did not set their youth forward in the world with airy and phan­tastick notions, but made their vertue serious and early: they did not deny it the most weighty imployments of Age, when it flourished with suitable endowments; as was seen in Scipio Af­frican, who at four and twenty years old, was thought sufficient for the Prudence and Majesty of a Consul or General, and no less successfully managed the War against their most subtile and formidable Enemy Annibal: and it was not to be wondred at with them, whose manners did accustome and ripen so soon their greatness in all kindes. Amongst us (as well as some Ages past) it is far otherwise, our brain has no room for flowers early: if we kill some weeds at forty, and be reform'd to some sobriety of understand­ing and manners then, 'tis passable enough with us; nay, if we come to be better acquainted with piety in a fit of sickness, or take fast hold of our Creed dying, 'tis pretty well. I instance this in respect of our prejudices on all accounts from the inequalities of life. For the time of Death, I finde one only most suitable and proper, [Page 71]that is, when we are most willing, and best pre­pared. Seneca the Tragedian has it thus:

If well invited, it cannot be unwelcom whenso­ever it comes; and what might be well ended at such a time, perhaps is worse finished in ano­ther: I would not depend on Age for this con­tentation of minde absolutely, because it is very possible it may arrive much sooner; it being usual enough with such as are old, to be better satisfied with their years of living, than any they can number on the account of vertue. In short, when we have sum'd all the Actions and Con­tents of life, they do at most, but either fill us, or weary us, which a very few hours can do as well as many; nay, if we consider diligently, the greatest blessings we can perceive or enjoy, they are upon the matter but so many repeti­tions, as much ours in one day as in many; we are not likely to observe a different order of Na­ture either in our selves, or any thing else. Hea­ven and Earth were the same in our fore-fathers time, and are likely to continue so after us; and it is no small meanness of Soul, not to have enough of the same thing often, which we cannot better understand, or any wayes more perfectly enjoy. When all is done, it must be (as I have touched already) an evenness in living, that can best suit and welcome our separation from the [Page 72]world: He that has liv'd airily and generous, goes off with no good Decorum, if his death represent a Satyr or Tragedy against his past life: Nor do I judge that Heaven is much pleas'd to behold us so unequally: wherefore if such a man does not dye capping of Verses, I can allow him some complaisance with Poetry and Wit; and perhaps a thought of that kinde, so it be useful and Divine, may go more smoothly up­ward from his Genius, than a line of the Prophets he has not been so well acquainted with. He that thinks he can more agreeably end with Musick than Tears, it were severe to deny him, let his profession be what it will. Though I am far of another judgement than Petronius Arbiter was; yet I could pardon most of his Enormites (except his being no Christian) for his so gentile and delicate embracing of his end, in conformity with his life, and what he thought was to be esteem'd felicity

And it is probable enough that such as we call Heathen, had a due apprehension of the shame of too great an inequality or tergiversation in themselves; a useful thought for Christians, who above all should endeavour to live and dye as becomes their belief.

I cannot deplore death, (not only as it is so familiar and certain with mankinde) but rather [Page 73]finde my self obliged to welcome it in respect of its subserviency to the uses of Providence; nay, I am assured, that had we not our periods set by its means, but might live till the world were so over-burthen'd, thats its numbers of men must necessarily be impaired, we should do it but madly and Butcher-like of our selves, and be glad to receive the natural conveniencies of death for our own sakes. I finde (and I do not remember where) a pretty kinde of merry wish in some-body, that he might never dye; as arguing, that it were nothing for Heaven to exempt from the grave the life of one man. But suppose this person might have obtained his de­sire; might not he have been weary of living, or abhorr'd its perpetuity in himself, which to a determin'd and final comprehension could not be satisfactory? I confess I have sometimes ad­mir'd how the efficacy of Nature comes so easily, and in a manner contrary to its intention, to be untimely frustrated of life in so many several in­dividual things which perish young: I see it in Trees, and Beasts; and what is most deplorable, even in the most hopeful of humane youth, when removed by Diseases, Accidents, and the like: and yet there is no doubt but to the utmost power and providence of Nature, she intends a due continuation. But this is a contemplation above thought. The most proper and useful [Page 74]consideration that we can have on this subject, is, not to be wanting to our selves in reflecting on the intemperancies, vices, and imprudencies of life; because these are no less our concern, than in our power to remedy. As for death, as it is of necessity and without us, and claims no­thing from us that we can call absolutely ours; so we are obliged and ought to be prepared to bid it welcom: There being no greater imbeci­lity of minde, than in being unwilling to leave Life; which we neither can, or ought to keep.

Of my Self.

I Have troubled my Reader with some genera­lities of my thoughts; and I will now, with his leave, limit some to my self; yet so, that as much of the world I finde in me, he shall take (if he please) together with me. Every man represents a Microcosm or little world, is old and Pro­verbial; I finde by my self that I represent Mankinde somewhat broader and larger. If I conster my self, I can read the world better with­in me, than without me: the manners of most men have to do in me whether I will or no; there is no Vice or Luxury but my constitution has a [Page 75]twang of, in which my Soul does imbibe more venom than it is able to vomit out of me: nay, I am not ashamed to confess, that I write against such enormities that I cannot sufficiently abhor. There is no Logician of them all, that can better distinguish Vertue from Vice, than I, though I fail as well as most of them, in the general pre­dicament of practice: my Soul has the misfor­tune (with others) to be more Speculative, than good. I have invented as many fine things for my self, as most have done; and I as much blame my ingenuity for troubling me to so little purpose.

Repentance is but the brocage of ill manners, though as dear a Purchase as any man can make for himself: there are many cheaper Bar­gains to be had in Long-Lane (if you'll pardon the meanness of the Metaphor) than are to be allowed from Philosophers and Divines: the Soul must be at the charge of so many nice and fine Idea's, with either of the last, that believe me, Sense will go near to repent, or vitiate her con­tract another way; wherefore I blame em not, if they allow better bargains to themselves than other men have from them: I am forced to deal with my Soul and Body together, do what I can, or they for me: What I finde exorbitant in my self, I am as apt to check as another man; yet cannot fall directly foul with Nature for [Page 76]making Vice predominant, or more necessary in me than I could wish, since she has declared in great part it shall be so, in giving me a suitable temperament and being; I will not therefore be troubled with her will, although I do not abso­lutely submit my own. When I behold a beau­tiful Woman, my inclinations want no alacrity to consider her as a Woman, and my self as a Man; nay, I am ready enough to conclude that Nature has intended her as much for my enjoy­ment as any others, (since her Hee's and Shee's have no particular appropriation from any re­cord of hers) untill I select some more superlative notions to restrain this propensity of mine. To deal plainly, I finde my appetite so strong, or lusty as I may say, that I am forced to make use of not only a Curb to it, but of a Musrole or Martingale to boot; and I assure you, I am glad when both are sufficient to serve my turn together: If I am able to manage my self soft and fairly on betwixt Vertue and Vice, I hold it a good Pilgrimage for my manners: where Nature is irregular, I cannot but go astray some­thing; however, my endeavour shall be to break over as few of her Hedges and Pounds, as any other Man. I cannot for my life allow of that general Maxime (from whomsoever it comes) that all men are by Nature equally evil or vi­cious, since I finde it as fully contradicted, as [Page 77]the complexions and inclinations of men arising from thence can be possibly said to differ. It signifies to me all one, to hold that men are cold and hot alike, that they feed and are equally nourished to one condition or temperament of Body: which is sufficient to manifest what ado and scuffle is made by some to fit a more refined Soul and Body together, than is capable of subsistance from humane life. And here I could make a Query, whether man may not reasonably expect a suitable pardon for such of his offences, as are more properly the impulsions of Nature, than caus'd by himself? I finde no way so obvious to distinguish the essential dig­nity of the Soul from the Body, as that I can think or contemplate so much better than I do: and here I conceive must be granted an Excellence or a Divine comprehension in the Soul alone; and yet I finde that it does so participate of the imperfections of the body, that it seems rather to bungle with those Superlative notions and Idea's that are inherent in it, than to bestow them fully, and expressive on the Intellect. For ex­ample, I am Writing on this Subject, which I am beholding to my Soul to deliver, but as she conceives it in gross: if she were able to go fur­ther with me, she could declare not only her own being, but as clearly things of a Super­lative excellence; which she being not able to [Page 78]execute, is at some stand to discern her self, as likewise her apprehension of whatsoever is of a more sublime subsistency. Every man may finde that excellency in his Soul, that no reason (for the impediments above mentioned) is able to give account of: He may think backward, for­ward, fix his consideration on this or that object; observe such a continual, and uncompell'd mo­tion of all the faculties of his Soul, as it seems necessarily to require a more supream and lasting abode, than can be given it by the Body: nay, if a man considers how far he can recollect past thoughts, and how early Children are for the most part capable and expressive of such know­ledge, as could not reasonably be supposed learn'd, or taught them, it will make a good judgement inclineable to permit the Soul a Di­vine pre-existence or being. Wherefore I can­not believe the Incarnation, (though held by many so incomprehensible a fundamental of our Faith) to be more a Miracle, though a greater, since they differ no more, than that the one is the general Divinity of Mankinde; the other a more Supream and Sacred essence in the mystical Union of both Natures in Christ. But I will say no more of this particular, lest I make my Rea­ders head ake, as well as mine. Every man has enough to do with the world, but I finde that my understanding is more intricately troubled [Page 79]with my self; I am not so overseen or mistaken in any other man: I know where to have other mens thoughts in greater measure by their Actions; as the covetous, fraudulent, dissemblers, and the like. I act none of these parts against my self; wherefore they are nothing of my bu­siness with me: where my actions are most common with the rest of Mankinde, I finde my thoughts not only different from them, but from such other of mine as my Brain is pleased to furnish me with; I cannot chuse but per­plex my self with what I have found is not to be understood, as well as some I am acquainted withall: I finde my Soul is willing to instruct me, but cannot; and yet I am still inviting her to be my Tutress: I am so unhappy, as never more to doubt my knowledge, than when I consider much: where I would take it pro­foundly, I find it shallow; and I prove it the same in others that have plung'd deepest. I very often perceive my conceptions more jarring within themselves than with other mens, where­fore I am better prepared to receive their instru­ctions than my own. I am far more delighted with such Authors as are rather ingenious, than curious and subtle; which is no small reason that the nice distinctions and Doctrines of the Schools, is less the Ambition of my knowledge. I have observ'd enough the difference amongst [Page 80]Philosophers of the best repute, to build any cer­tainty of Science from principles which at best go not much higher than probability: The cu­riosity and search of mans understanding I prov'd large; but that Nature had much strained his intelligence in order to himself. To Mathe­maticks I have been more indulgent, in respect it depends on demonstration, and a method to conclude certainly on something: but as I en­deavour'd to proceed, I soon found many things in it rather intricate and profound, than useful; or as the French say, Le Jeun' vau pas le Chandelle: wherefore I concluded in general, that a taste of Books, or such a Cursory knowledge as be­came a Gentleman, was most advantageous to my Genius. Above all, I found that the wit of manners, such as is in Cicero, Seneca, and some of the Poets, conduced most to refine Nature; giving it such a politeness of Spirit and Judg­ment, as was best suitable to the uses of life in all kindes: In short, I hold it more agreeable to en­joy the world, than to be overmuch cumber'd with its contemplation. I pen nothing of weight, but I finde my conceptions various and incer­tain, which not seldom betraye my reason into a Labyrinth of doubts, and so leaves it: though I cannot discern the way out, I do not forbear to bring my apprehension where I can least guide it; and thus I lose my self, when I [Page 81]would be most considerately found by my un­derstanding.

I write with as many blots as most men do, and yet I have found sometimes occasion to blame my self for not making of more: Insomuch that I have been not a little concerned that I have published some things over-hastily, or without such a diligent examination as I could have be­stowed on them. I would not by my will have enabled the world to judge better of my sense, than my own reason might have done for them and me too. Ben Johnson said of Shakespear's Works, that where he made one blot, he wish'd he had made a thousand: If my brethren of Pernassus be content with me to take as many amongst us, I will with good satisfaction share with them, though I do not finde more of my Lines that deserve a Purge for being Aguish or Gouty, than I do of theirs. As for praise, I never much courted it, or thought so meanly of my ingenuity, as to endeavour its support that way: where I have thought my lines strong, I have never apprehended they could be Crippled by a Critick. If some have smil'd at my wit, I have perhaps done the same at their censure. I could never carry my self so smoothly towards the perverse or indiscreet, as to arrive at the reputation of being one of the ingenious of their Club or Society; which seem'd all one to me, as [Page 82]to be thought one of the wisest Fools amongst them; though perhaps I might have been cele­brated for such a toy, on as easie terms, as I see it bestowed on others, who are well enough content to enjoy a repute of wit, at the cost of theirs, or other mens folly. I never increased my aversion to mens parts, or what I conceiv'd their failings, out of any pique to their persons, (though it be the Splenative and contemptible carriage of some) nay, I have ever endeavour'd to set the keenest of my Wit against my own failings in all kinds; and have been no less trou­bled to perceive that such blemishes as I have at one time pretty well prun'd from my Genius, should at another season spring again. I love my self too well to write my own Satyr, and yet I am not asham'd to tell my Reader that my own Salt has inwardly gall'd my self. I have sometimes considered other men in a balance with me, and have found cause to depress my self, as much as I have exalted them: where I judged their Abilities weighed lighter than mine, I have added some grains to make them more ponderous to my understanding. If I have allowed any more favour than they have deser­ved, or returned me, I repent it not, as being more suitable to humanity, to have more kind­ness for the best things of men, than to be over­severe or froward at their worst.

Experience is said to be the Mistress of Fools, and she has been so far my knowledge of the world, as that I have trusted and been deceived; nay, with that indulgency too, that I have not concluded men so bad, as I have had cause enough to think them; though when such had been well prov'd by me, I could not have ima­gin'd them so vile as I found them.

I have this more to say for my self, that (were it not for ostentation) it lyes sufficiently in my power to compare my self advanta­giously with the greatest part of men of as gene­rous a birth as I am, (I will pass by what ingenuity or learning belongs to them or me, lest they take it too ill, if I do not allow them more wit and knowledge than I pretend to) wherefore I would be understood in manners only, to the defects of which I dare affirm, I do not finde my self so prone as many of my degree. I study no form of words, or modes of deceit: I am neither so prodigal or covetous; no associate of such Cabals of impertinency and debauchery, as not a few of my equals are addicted to. If I have been so frail as to have to do with Vice, it has been alone, and with a blush. I stave off no Creditors with hard words, or put them to the expence of Suits for their own. I deal with men as I would have men deal with me; that is to say, plainly and justly: I finde enough in the world [Page 84]that I better, even in the worst things: I am ne [...]ther so bad as I could be, or as they are and would be; which I might take to be some cre­dit to my imperfections, if they could deserve any: and I do not pretend to an absolute vertue. In sum, I could never indure to render my self so ridiculous to my self, as to pretend to be more religious, or morally good, than well became my conscience to assert, (notwithstanding I observe nothing more commonly and easily counterfeited, both as to private and publick respects) I will therefore leave such disguises to men of suitable designs and interest: if others hold them Patriots, they shall be none of mine, but against my will. I desire neither to abuse my self, or the world; if I do not finde cause to adore my desert, I am as far from en­deavouring to receive the Idolatry of other men.

'Tis generally said of Painters, that they figure themselves best; and it may be aswel affirmed, that men suitably accomplish'd are most able to write themselves: wherefore of many Histories, Lives and Characters of men, delivered by the Pens of the ingenious, it would not but have been at least as useful, if for the most part they had published as diligently themselves: I should much rather have chosen to read the Lives of [...]ocrates and Plato, as also some of the best Poets, [Page 85]communicated by their own Pens, than Alexan­der or Caesar by Quintus Curtius, or Plutarch. But as some men are over-modest, so others are as much ashamed to express themselves truly and home to what they ought to discover; which may be the reason that the world is not so use­fully knowing in this kinde.

In the mean time, as I have received some satisfaction in communicating thus far my self unto me, so I shall as willingly receive my Readers pardon for troubling him with what he has so little to do with: though I am fully in­different in appearing what I am to the world, as to my thoughts: or if at any time he shall conceive this method useful for himself and others, I could wish that he would so far im­prove it, and me, as to publish as indifferently his Figure; that I may take as deep inspection into his, as he has had of mine.