EPISTLES The FIRST VOLUME: Containing II. DECADES.  
* ⁎ * By JOSEPH HALL..  
AT LONDON Printed by H. L. for Samuel Macham & E. Edgar: & are to be sold in Paul's Churchyard, at the sign of the Bullhead. 1608.   

TO THE HIGH AND MIGHTY PRINCE, HENRY, PRINCE OF GREAT Britain, Son and Heir Apparent to our Sovereign Lord, JAMES, King of Great Brit. etc. all glory in either world.  
MOst gracious Prince:  
IT is not from any conceit of such worth in my labours, that they durst look so high. A lower Patronage would have served an higher work. It were well, if ought of mine could be worthy of popular eyes. Or if I could wring aught from myself, not unworthy of a judicious Reader; I know your Highness wants neither presents, nor counsels: presents from strangers, counsels from your teachers; neither of them matcheable by my weakness: Only duty herein excuses me from presumption. For, I thought it injustice to devote the fruit of my labour, to any other hand beside my Masters: which also I knew to be as gracious, as mine is faithful. Yet (since even good affections cannot warrant too much vileness in gifts to Princes) lest while my modesty disparages my work, I should hazard the acceptation; here shall your Grace find variety, not without profit. I hate a Divine, that would but please; and, withal, think it impossible for a man to profit, that pleaseth not. And if, while my style fixeth itself upon others, any spiritual profit shall reflect upon your H. how happy am I! who shall ever think, I have lived to purpose, if (by the best of my studies) I shall have done any good office to your Soul. Further (which these times account not the least praise) your Grace shall herein perceive a new fashion of discourse, by Epistles; new to our language, usual to others: and (as Novelty is never without some plea of use) more free, more familiar. Thus, we do but talk with our friends by our pen, and express ourselves no whit less easily; somewhat more digestedly.  
Whatsoever it is, as it cannot be good enough to deserve that countenance; so, the countenance of such Patronage shall make it worthy of respect from others. The God of Princes protect your person, perfect your graces, and give you as much favour in heaven, as you have honour on earth.  
Your Grace's humbly-devoted servant, IOS. HALL..   


EP. 1. TO JACOB WADSWORTH, Lately revolted, in Spain.  
Ep. 1. Expostulating for his departure, and persuading his return.  
HOw unhappily is my style changed! Alas, that to a friend, to a brother, I must write as to an Apostate, to an adversary! Doth this seem harsh? you have turned it, by being turned yourself. Once, the same walls held us in one loving society; the same Diocese, in one honourable function; Now, not one Land, and (which I lament) not one Church: you are gone, we stand and woder. For a sheep, to stray through simplicity, is both ordinary and lamentable: but, for a shepherd is more rare, more scandalous. I dare not presume overmuch, upon an appeal to a blinded conscience. Those, that are newly come from a bright candle into a dark room, are so much more blind, as their light was greater; and the purest ivory turneth with fire into the deepest black. Tell us yet by your old ingenuity, and by those sparks of good which yet (I hope) lie covered under your cold ashes, tell us, what divided you? Your motives shall once be scanned before an higher bar. Shame not to have the weak eyes of the world see that, which once your undeceiveable judge shall see, and censure. What saw you, what heard you anew, that might offer violence to a resolved mind, & make it either to alter, or suspend? If your reasons be invincible; inform us, that we may follow you: but if (as they are) slight and feeble; return you to us: return, and think it no shame to have erred, just shame to continue erring. What such goodly beauty saw you in that painted, but ill-favoured strumpet, that should thus bewitch you, so to forget yourself, and contemn the chaste love of the Spouse of your Saviour? I saw her, at the same time in her gayest dress: Let my soul never prosper, if I could see any thing worthy to command affection. I saw, and scorned: you saw, and adored. Would God your adoration were as far from superstition, as my scorn from impiety. That God judge betwixt us, whether herein erred: yea, let men judge, that are not drunk with those Babylonish dregs. How long might an indifferent eye look upon the comical and mimic actions in those your mysteries, that should be sacred, your magical exorcisms, your clerical shavings, your uncleanly unctions, your cross, creepings, censings, sprinklings, your cozening miracles, garish processions, burning of noone-daie, christening of bells, marting of pardons, tossing of beads, your superstitious hallowing of candles, wax, ashes, palms, chrism, garments, roses, swords, water, salt, the Pontifical solemnities of your greatmaster, and whatever your new mother hath (besides) plausible, before he should see aught, in all these, worthy of any other entertainment, than contempt! Who can but disdain, that these things should procure any wise proselyte? Cannot your own memory recount those truly religious spirits, which having sought Rome as resolved Papists, have left the World as holy Martyrs; dying for the detestation of that which they came to adore? Whence this? They heard and magnified that, which they now saw, and abhorred. Their fire of zeal brought them to the flames of Martyrdom. Their innocent hopes promised them Religion: they found nothing but a pretence; promised devotion, and behold idolatry: they saw, hated, suffered, and now reign; while you wilfully, and unbidden, will lose your soul, where others meant to lose, and have found it. Your zeal dies, where theirs began to live: you like to live, where they would but die. They shall comfort us, for you: they shall once stand up against you: While they would rather die in the heat of that fire, then live in the darkness of their errors; you rather die in the Egyptian darkness of errors, then live in the pleasant light of truth: Yea, I fear, rather in another fire, than this light.  
Alas! what shall we looke-for of you? Too late repentance, or obstinate error? Both miserable. A Spira, or a Staphylus? Your friends, yourself, shall wish you rather unborn, then either.  
O thou, which art the great shepherd, great in power, great in mercy, which leavest the ninety & nine to reduce one, fetch home (if thy will be) this thy forlorn charge: fetch him home, drive him home to thy fold, though by shame, though by death. Let him once recover thy Church, thou him, it is enough. Our common Mother I know not whether more pities your loss, or disdeignes thus to be robbed of a son: Not for the need of you; but her own piety, her own love. For, how many troops of better informed souls hath she every day returning into her lap; now breathing from their late Antichristianisme, and embracing her knees upon their own? She laments you, not for that she fears she shall miss you; but, for that she knows you shall want her. See you her tears, and do but pity yourself as much as she you. And, from your Mother, to descend to your Nurse; Is this the fruit of such education? Was not your youth spent in a society of such comely order, strict government, wise laws, religious care (it was ours, yet let me praise it to your shame) as may justly challenge (after all brags) either RHEIMS, or Douai, or if your Jesuits have any other den more cleanly, and more worthy of ostentation? And could you come out, fresh and unseasoned, from the midst of those salt waves? Could all those heavenly showers fall beside you; while you, like a Gedeons' fleece, want moisture? Shall none of those divine principles, which your youth seemed to drink in, check you in your new errors? Alas! how unlike are you to yourself, to your name? Jacob wrestled with an Angel, and prevailed: you grapple but with a jesuit, and yield. Jacob supplanted his brother: an Esau hath supplanted you. Jacob changed his name for a better, by his valiant resistance: you, by your cowardly yielding, have lost your own. Jacob strove with God, for a blessing: I fear to say it, you against him for a curse; for, no common measure of hatred, nor ordinary opposition can serve a revolter: Either you must be desperately violent, or suspected. The mighty one of Israel (for he can do it) raise you fallen, return you wandered; and give you grace at last to shame the Devil, to forsake your stepmother, to acknowledge your true Parent, to satisfy the world, to save your own soul. If otherwise; I will say of you, as jeremy of his Israelites (if not rather with more indignation) My soul shall weep in secret for your revolt, and mine eyes shall drop down tears, because one of the Lords flock is carried away captive.   

To my Lord and Patron, the Lord DENNY, Baron of Waltham.  
EP. 2. Of the Contempt of the world.  
MY Lord, my tongue, my pen, and my heart, are all your servants; when you cannot hear me, through distance, you must see me in my Letters. You are now in the Senate of the Kingdom, or in the concourse of the City, or perhaps (though more rarely) in the royal face of the Court. All of them, places fit for your place. From all these, let me call off your mind to her home above; and, in the midst of business, show you rest: If I may not rather commend, then admonish, and beforehand confess my counsel superfluous, because your holy forwardness hath prevented it. You can afford these, but half of yourself: The better part is better bestowed; Your soul is still retired, and reserved. You have learned to vouchsafe these worldly things, use, without affection; and know to distinguish wisely, betwixt a Stoical dullness, and a Christian contempt: & have long made the world, not your God, but your slave. And, in truth (that I may lose myself into a bold and free discourse) what other respect is it worthy of? I would adore it on my face, if I could see any Majesty, that might command veneration. Perhaps, it loves me not so much, as to show me his best. I have sought it enough: And have seen what others have doted on; and wondered at their madness. So may I look to see better things above, as I never could see aught here, but vanity & vileness.  
What is fame, but smoke? and metal, but dross? and pleasure, but a pill in sugar? Let some gallants condemn this, as the voice of a Melancholic scholar: I speak that which they shall feel, and shall confess. though I never was so, I have seen some as happy, as the world could make them: and yet I never saw any more discontented. Their life hath been neither longer, nor sweeter, nor their heart lighter, nor their meals heartier, nor their nights quieter, nor their cares fewer, nor their complaints. Yea, we have known some, that have lost their mirth when they have found wealth; and at once have ceased to be merry and poor. All these earthly delights, if they were sound, yet how short they are! and if they could be long, yet how unsound! If they were sound, the● are but as a good day between two agues, or a sunshine betwixt two tempests. And if they were long, their honey is exceeded by their gall. This ground bears none but maples, hollow, and fruitless; or, like the banks of the dead sea, a fair apple, which under a red side contains nothing but dust. Every flower in this garden either pricks, or smells ill. If it be sweet, it hath thorns: and if it have no thorns, it annoys us with an ill sent. Go then, ye wise idolatrous Parasites, & erect shrines, and offer sacrifices to your God, the World; and seek to please him with your base and servile devotions: It shall be long enough ere such religion shall make you happy. You shall at last forsake those altars, empty and sorrowful. How easy is it for us Christians, thus to insult over the worldling, that thinks himself worthy of envy? How easy to turn off the World with a scornful repulse; and when it makes us the devils proffer, All these will I give thee, to return Peter's answer, Thy silver & thy gold perish with thee? How easy to accounted none so miserable, as those that are rich with injury, and grow great by being conscious of secret evils? Wealth and honour, when it comes upon the best terms, is but vain; but, when upon ill conditions, burdensome. When they are at the best, they are scarce friends; but, when at the worst, tormentors. Alas! how ill agrees a gay coat, and a festered heart? what avails an high title, with an hell in the soul? I admire the faith of Moses: but, presupposing his faith, I wonder not at his choice. He preferred the afflictions of Israel, to the pleasures of Egypt; and chose rather to eat the Lamb, with sour herbs, than all their flesh-pots: For, how much better is it to be miserable then guilty? and what comparison is there betwixt sorrow and sin? If it were possible, let me be rather in hell without sin, then on earth wickedly glorious. But, how much are we bound to God, that allows us earthly favours, without this opposition! That GOD hath made you at once honourable and just, and your life pleasant and holy, and hath given you an high state with a good heart; are favours, that look for thanks. These must be acknowledged, not rested in: They are yet higher thoughts that must perfect your contentment.  
What God hath given you, is nothing to that he means to give: He hath been liberal; but, he will be munificent. This is not so much as the taste of a full cup. Fasten your eyes upon your future glory, and see how meanly you shall esteem these earthly graces. Here, you command but a little pittance of mould (great indeed, to us; little, to the whole): there, whole heaven shall be yours. here you command, but as a subject: there you shall reign as a King. here, you are observed; but sometimes with your just distaste: There, you shall reign with peace, and joy. here, you are noble among men; there, glorious amongst Angels. Here, you want not honour; but you want not crosses: there, is nothing but felicity. Here, you have some short joys: there, is nothing but eternity. You are a stranger, here; there, at home. Here, Satan tempts you, and men vex you: there, Saints and Angels shall applaud you; and God shall fill you with himself. In a word, you are only blessed here, for that you shall be.  
These are thoughts worthy of greatness: which, if we suffer either employments, or pleasures to thrust out of our doors, we do wilfully make ourselves comfortless. Let these still season your mirth, & sweeten your sorrows, & ever interpose themselves betwixt you & the world. These, only, can make your life happy, and your death welcome.   

To my Lord HAY, H. and P.  
EP. 3. Of True Honour.  
MY Lord, It is safe to complain of Nature where Grace is; and to magnify Grace, where it is at once had, and affected. It is a fault of Nature, and not the least, that as she hath dim eyes, so they are misplaced. She looks still, either forward, or downward; forward to the object she desires, or downward to the means: Never turns her eyes either backward, to see what she was; or upward, to the cause of her good: Whence, it is just with God to withhold what he would give, or to curse that which he bestows; and to besot carnal minds with outward things, in their value, in their desire, in their use: Whereas true wisdom hath clear eyes, and right set; and therefore sees an invisible hand in all sensible events, effecting all things, directing all things to their due end; sees on whom to depend, whom to thank. Earth is too low, and too base, to give bounds unto a spiritual sight. No man then can truly know what belongs to wealth, or honour, but the gracious; either how to compass them, or how to prise them, or how to use them. I care not how many thousand ways there are to seeming honour, besides this of virtue: they all (if more) still lead to shame: Or what plots are devised to improve it; if they were as deep as hell, yet their end is loss. As there is no counsel against God: so there is no honour without him. He inclines the hearts of Princes to favour; the hearts of inferiors to applause. Without him, the hand cannot move, to success; nor the tongue, to praise: And what is honour without these? In vain doth the world frown upon the man, whom he means to honour; or smile, where he would disgrace. Let me then tell your L. who are favourites in the Court of heaven; even whiles they wander on earth: Yea, let the great King himself tell you, Those that honour me, I will honour. That men have the grace to give honour to God, is an high favour: but, because men give honour to God (as their duty) that therefore God should give honour to men, is to give, because he hath given. It is a favour of God, that man is honoured of man like himself: but, that God alloweth of our endeavours as honour to himself, is a greater favour than that wherewith he requires it.  
This is the goodness of our God: The man that serves him, honours him: and whosoever honours him with his service, is crowned with honour. I challenge all times, places, persons: who ever honoured God, and was neglected? Who wilfully dishonoured him, and prospered? Turn-over all Records; and see how success ever blessed the just, after many dangers, after many storms of resistance, and left their conclusion glorious; how all godless plots, in their loose, have at once deceived, shamed, punished their Author. I go no further: Your own breast knows, that your happy experience can herein justify God. The world hath noted you, for a follower of virtue; and hath seen how fast Honour followed you: While you sought favour with the GOD of heaven, he hath given you favour with his Deputy on earth.  
God's former actions are patterns of his future: He teaches you what he will do, by what he hath done. Unless your hand be weary of offering service, he cannot either pullen his hand from rewarding, or hold it out empty. Honour him still, and God pawns his honour, on not failing you. You cannot distrust him, whom your proof hath found faithful. And, whiles you settle your heart in this right course of true glory; laugh, in secret scorn, at the idle endeavours of those men, whose policies would outreach God, and seize upon honour, without his leave. (GOD laughs at them in heaven. It is a safe and holy laughter, that follows his.) And pity the preposterous courses of them, which make religion but a footstool to the seat of advancement; which care for all things but heaven, which make the world their standing mark; and do not so much as rove at God. Many had sped well, if they had begun well, and proceeded orderly.  
A false method is the bane of many hopeful endeavours. God bids us seek first his kingdom; and earthly things shall find us, unsought. Foolish nature first seeks the world: and if she light on God by the way, it is more than she expects, desires, cares for; and therefore fails of both, because she seeks neither aright. Many had been great, if they had cared to be good; which now are crossed in what they would, because they willed not what they ought. If Solomon had made wealth his first suit, I doubt he had been both poor and foolish; now, he asked wisdom, and gained greatness; Because he chose well, he received what he asked not. O the bounty and fidelity of our God because we would have the best he gives us all: Earth shall wait upon us, because we attend upon heaven.  
Go-on then, my Lord, go-on happily to love religion, to practise it: let God alone, with the rest. Be you a Pattern of virtue; he shall make you a Precedent of glory. Never man lost aught, by giving it to God: that liberal hand returns our gifts, with advantage. Let men, let God see that you honour him; and they shall hear him proclaim before you, Thus shalt it be done to the man whom the King will honour.   

To Mr NEWTON,  
Tutor to the Prince.  
EP. 4. Of Gratulation, for the hopes of our Prince; with an advising apprecation.  
SIr, God hath called you to a great and happy charge; You have the custody of our common Treasure: Neither is there any seurice comparable to this of yours; whether we regard God, or the world. Our labours, oft-times bestowed upon many, scarce profit one: yours, bestowed upon one, redounds to the profit of many millions: This is a summary way of obliging all the World to you. I encourage you not in your care: you have more comfort in the success of it, than all Worlds can give you. The very subject of your pains would give an heart to him that hath none. I rather congratulate, with you, our common happiness, and the hopes of posterity, in that royal and blessed issue. You have best cause to be the best witness of the rare forwardness of our gracious Master: and I have seen enough, to make me think I can never be enough thankful to God for him. That Princes are fruitful, is a great blessing: but, their children are fruitful in grace, & more eminent in place then virtue, is the greatest favour God can do to a State. The goodness of a private man is his own; of a Prince, the whole worlds. Their words are Maxims, their actions examples, their examples, rules. When I compare them with their royal Father (as I do oft and cheerfully) I cannot say whether he be more happy in himself, or in them. I see both in him, and them; I see & wonder, that God distributes to natural princes gifts proportionable to their greatness. That wise Moderator of the world knows what use is of their parts: he knows that the head must have all the senses that pertain to the whole body: And how necessary it is, that inferiors should admire them no less for the excellency of their graces, then for the sway of their authority. Whereupon, it is, that he gives heroical qualities to Princes: and, as he hath bestowed upon them his own name; so also he gives them special stamps of his own glorious image. Among all other virtues, what a comfort is it to see those years, and those spirits stoop so willingly to devotion? Religion is grown too severe a Mistress for young and high courages to attend. Very rare is that Nobility of blood, that doth not challenge liberty; and that liberty, that ends not in looseness. Lo, this example teaches our gallants, how well even Majesty can stand with homage; Majesty to men, with homage to God.  
far be it from me, to do that which my next clause shall condemn: but, I think it safe to say, that seldom ever those years have promised, seldom have performed so much. Only God keep two mischiefs ever from within the smoke of his Court; Flattery and Treachery: The iniquity of times may make us fear these; not his inclination.  
For, whether as English, or as men, it hath been ever familiar to us to faun upon Princes: though, what do I bestow two names upon one vice, but attired in two sundry suits of evil: For, Flattery is no other than gilded treason; nothing else but poison in gold: This evil is more tame; not less dangerous. It had been better for many great ones not to have been, then to have been in their conceits more than men. This, Flattery hath done: and what can it not? That other, Treachery, spills the blood; this, the virtues of Princes. That takes them from others: This bereaves them of themselves. That, in spite of the actors, doth but change their Crown: this steals it from them for ever. Who can but wonder, that reads of some not unwise Princes, so bewitched with the enchantments of their Parasites, that they have thought themselves Gods immortal, and have suffered themselves so styled, so adored? Neither temples, nor statues, nor sacrifices have seemed too much glory to the greatness of their self-love; Now none of all their actions could be either evil, or unbeseeming; Nothing could proceed from them worthy of censure, unworthy of admiration: Their very spots have been beauty, their humours justice, their errors witty, their Paradoxes divine, their excesses heroical. O the damnable servility of false minds! which persuade others of that which themselves laugh to see believed. O the dangerous credulity of self-love which entertains all advantages if never so evil, never so impossible. How happy a service shall you do to this whole world of ours, if you shall still settle in that princely mind a true apprehension of himself; and shall teach him to take his own height aright; and even from his childhood to hate a parasite, as the worst traitor: To break those false glasses, that would present him a face not his own: To applaud plain truth, and bend his brows upon excessive praises. Thus affected, he may bid vice do her worst. Thus shall he strive with virtue, whether shall more honour each other. Thus sincere and solid glory shall every where follow, and crown him. Thus, when he hath but his due, he shall have so much, that he shall scorn to borrow the false colours of adulation. Go-on happily in this worthy and noble employment. The work cannot but succeed, that is furthered with so many prayers.   

To Sr. THOMAS chaloner,  
EP. 5. A report of some Observations in my travel.  
SIr, besides my hopes, not my desires, I traveled of late; for knowledge partly, & partly for health. There was nothing that made not my journey pleasant, save the labour of the way: which yet was so sweetly deceived, by the society of Sr Edmund Bacon (a Gentleman truly honourable, beyond all titles) that I found small cause to complain. The sea brooked not me, nor I it; an unquiet element, made only for wonder and use, not for pleasure. Alighted once from that wooden conveyance, and uneven way, I bethought myself how fond our life is committed to an unsteady and reeling piece of wood, fickle winds, restless waters; while we may set foot, on steadfast and constant earth. Lo, than every thing taught me, every thing delighted me; so ready are we to be affected with those foreign pleasures, which at home we should overlook. I saw much, as one might in such a span of earth, in so few months. The time favoured me: for, now newly had the key of peace opened those parts which war had before closed; closed (I say) to all English, save either fugitives or captives. All civil occurrences (as what fair Cities, what strange fashions, entertainment, dangers, delights we found) are fit for other ears, and winter evenings. What I noted, as a divine within the sphere of my profession, my paper shall not spare in some part to report; and that to yourself, which have passed a longer way, with more happy fruit of observation. Even little streams empty themselves into great rivers; and they again into the Sea. Neither do I desire to tell you what you know not: it shall be sufficient that I relate aught, which others shall think memorable.  
Along our way, how many Churches saw we demolished! Nothing left, but rude heaps, to tell the passenger, there had been both devotion and hostility. O the miserable footsteps of war, besides bloodshed, ruin and desolation! Fury hath done that there, which Covetousness would do with us; would do, but shall not: The truth within, shall save the walls without. And, to speak truly (whatever the vulgar exclaim) Idolatry pulled down those walls; not rage. If there had been no Hollander to raze them, they should have fallen alone, rather than hide so much impiety under their guilty roof. These are spectacles not so much of cruelty, as justice; Cruelty of man, justice of God. But (which I wondered at) Churches fall, and Jesuits Colleges rife, every where: There is no City, where those are not either rearing, or built. Whence cometh this? Is it, for that devotion is not so necessary as Policy? Those men (as we say of the Fox) fare best, when they are most cursed. None so much spited of their own; none so hated of all; none so opposed by ours: and yet these ill weeds grow. Whosoever lives long, shall see them feared of their own, which now hate them; shall see these seven lean kine devour all the sat beasts that feed on the meadows of Tiber. I prophecy, as Pharaoh dreamt: The event shall justify my confidence.  
At Bruxelles, I saw some English-women profess themselves Vestals; with a thousand rites, I know not whether more ridiculous, or magical. Poor souls! they could not be fools enough at home. It would have made you to pity, laugh, disdain (I know not which more) to see by what cunning sleights and fair pretences that weak sex was fetched into a wilful bondage; and (if those two can agree) willingly constrained to serve a master whom they must and cannot obey: Whom they neither may forsake for their vow, nor can please for their frailty. What follows hence? Late sorrow, secret mischief, misery irremediable. Their forwardness, for will-worship, shall condemn our coldness for truth.  
I talked there (in more boldness, perhaps, then wisdom) with Costerus a famous jesuit; an old man, more tasty than subtle, and more able to wrangle then satisfy. Our discourse was long & roving; & on his part full both of words & vehemency. He spoke as at home; I as a stranger: yet so, as he saw me modestly peremptory. The particulars would swell my Letter too much: It is enough, that the Truth lost less than I gained. At Gaunt (a City that commands reverence for age, and wonder for the greatness) we fell upon a Cappucine novice, which wept bitterly, because he was not allowed to be miserable. His head had now felt the razor, his back the rod: all that laconical discipline pleased him well; which another, being condemned to, would justly account a torment. What hindered then? Piety, to his mother, would not permit this which he thought piety to God: He could not be a willing beggar, unless his mother must beg unwillingly. He was the only heir of his father, the only stay of his mother: the comfort of her widowhoode depended on this her orphan; who now naked must enter into the world of the Capucines, as he came first into this; leaving his goods to the division of the fraternity: The least part whereof should have been hers, whose he wished all: Hence those tears, that repulse. I pitied his ill-bestowed zeal; and rather wished, then durst teach him more wisdom. These men for devout, the Jesuits for learned and pragmatical, have engrossed all opinion, from other Orders. O hypocrisy! No Capucine may take or touch silver: for, these are (you know) the quintessence of Franciscan spirits. This metal is as very an Anathema to these, as the wedge of gold to Achan; at the offer whereof he starts back, as Moses from the serpent: Yet he carries a boy with him, that takes and caties it; and never complains of either metal or measure. I saw, and laughed at it; and, by this open trick of hypocrisy, suspected more, more close. How could I choose? while commonly the least appears of that which is; especially of that which is loathsome in appearance, much more in nature. At Namurs, on a pleasant and steep hill-top, we found one that was termed a married Hermit; approving his wisdom above his fellows, that could make choice of so cheerful and sociable a solitariness. Whence, after a delightful passage up the sweet river Mosa, we visited the populous and rich Clergy of Leodium. That great City might well be dichotomized into Cloisters, & Hospitals. If I might adventure, I could here play the Critic, after all the ruins of my neglected Philology. Old monumnts, and after them our Lipsius, call this people Eburones: I doubt whether it should not rather be written Ebriones; yet without search of any other Records, save my own eyes: While yet I would those streets were more moist with wine, then with blood; wherein no day, no night is not dismal to some. No law, no Magistrate layeshold on the known murderer, if himself lift: For three days after his fact; the gates are open, and justice shut: private violence may pursue him, public justice can not: whence, some of more hot temper carve themselves of revenge; others take-up with a small pecuniary satisfaction. O England, thought I, happy for justice, happy for security! There you shall find in every corner a Mammet; at every door a Begget, in every dish a Priest. From thence we passed to the Spa, a village famous for her medicinal and mineral waters, compounded of iron & Copperice; the virtue whereof yet the simple inhabitant ascribes to their beneficial Saint, whose heavy foot hath made an ill-shaped impression, in a stone of his 
* The name of the upper Well of the Spa.  Savenir; A water more wholesome than pleasant, & yet more famous than wholesome. The wild deserts (on which it borders) are haunted with three kinds of ill cattle; Freebooters, Wolves, Witches; Although these two last are oft-times one. For, that savage Ardenna, is reputed to yield many of those monsters, whom the greeks call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; they, Lougarous; we (if you will) Witchwolues: Witches that have put on the shape of those cruel beasts. We saw a boy there, whose halfe-face was devoured by one of them near the village: yet so, as that the ear was rather out then bitten off. Nor many days before our coming, at Limburgh was executed one of those miscreants, who confessed on the wheel to have devoured two and forty children in that form. It would ask a large volume, to scan this Problem of Lycanthropy. The reasons, wherewith their relation furnished me on both parts, would make an Epistle tedious. This in short I resolved; A substantial change is above the reach of all infernal powers, proper to the same hand that created the substance of both: Herein the Devil plays the double Sophister; yea, the Sorcerer with Sorcerers. He both deludes the Witch's conceit, and the beholders eyes.  
One thing I may not omit, without sinful oversight; A short, but memorable Story, which the Grephier of that Town (though of different religion) reported to more ears than ours. When the last Inquisition tyrannised in those parts, and helped to spend the Faggots of Ardenna; one of the rest, a confident Confessor, being led far to his stake, sung Psalms along the way, in an heavenly courage, and victorious Triumph: the cruel Officer envying his last mirth, and grieving to see him merrier than his tormentors, commanded him silence; He singes still, as desirous to improve his last breath to the best. The view of his approaching glory, bred his joy; his joy breaks forth into a cheerful confession: The enraged Sheriff causes his tongue, drawn forth to the length, to be cut off near the roots. Bloody wretch! It had been good Music to have heard his shrieks: but, to hear his Music was torment. The poor Martyr dies in silence, rests in peace. Not many months after, our butcherly officer hath a son born with his tongue hanging down upon his chin, like a Dear after long chase; which never could be gathered up within the bounds of his lips. O the divine hand, full of justice, full of revenge! Go now, Lipsius, and write the new miracles of thy Goddess; and confirm superstition by strange events. 
Histoire et Miracles, etc.  judge you that have seen, if ever the Chapel of Halle or Zichem have yielded aught more notable. 
Que le 8. iour du mois de Septembre an dict an. 1603. estant Feste de la Nativitè de nostre Dame, le number de Pelerins a estè ewiron 20000. Pag. 35.  We met every where Pilgrims to those his Ladies: two Ladies shall I call them, or one Lady in two shrines? If two, why do they worship but one? If but one, why doth she that cure at Zichem, which at Halle she could not? O what pity it is, that so a high a wit should in the last be subject to dotage! All the masculine brood of that brain we cherished, and (if need were) admired: but, these his silly virgins, the feeble issue of distempered age, who can abide? One of his darlings, at Lovan, told me from his own mouth; 
Virgo Hallensis.  that the elder of these two daughters, was by him in ten days got, conceived, borne, christened. I believed, and wondered not. These acts of superstition have an invisible father, and midwife: beside that it is not for an Elephant to go three years with a Mouse. It was told me in the shop of his Moretus, not without some indignation, that our King, when he had well viewed the book, and read some Passages, threw it to the ground with this Censure; Damnation to him that made it, and to him that believes it. Whether a true story, or one of their Legends, I inquire not: I am sure, that sentence did nor so much discontent them, as it joyed me. Let me tell you yet, ere I take off my pen, two wonders more, which I saw in that wonder of Cities, Antwerp; One, a solemn mass in a shambles, & that on God's day: while the house was full of meat, of butchers, of buyers; some kneeling, others bagaining, most talking, all busy. It was strange to see one house sacred to God, and the belly; and how those two services agreed: The Priest did eat flesh, the butchers sold flesh in one roof, at one instant. The butcher killed, and sold it by pieces; the Priest did sacrifice, and orally devour it whole: whether was the more butcher? The like we might have seen at Malines. 
Mechlinia.  The other, an Englishman, 
One Goodwin a Kentish-man.  so madly devout, that he had wilfully mured up himself as an Anachoret; the worst of all prisoners: There sat he pent-up, for his further merit, half hunger-starved for the charity of the Citizens. It was worth seeing, how manly he could bite-in his secret want, and dissemble his over-late repentance. I cannot commend his mortification, if he wish to be in heaven, yea, in purgatory, to be delivered from thence: I durst not pity him; because his durance was willing, & (as he hoped) meritorious: But, such encouragement as he had from me, such thank shall he have from God; who in stead of an Euge, which he looks for, shall angrily challenge him, with Who required this? I leave him now, in his own fetters; You, to your worthy, and honourable employments.  
Pardon me this length. Loquacity is the natural fault of travailers: while I profit any, I may well be forgiven.   

To Sr DAVID MURRAY,  
EP. 6. Concerning the Miracles of our time.  
Indeed the world abounds with miracles. These, while they fill the mouths of many, sway the faith of some, and make all men wonder. Our nature is greedy of news; which it will rather fain, than want. Certainly, ere long, miracles will be no wonders, for their frequency. I had thought, our age had had too many grey hairs, and with time experience, and with experience craft, to have descried a juggler: but, now I see, by the simplicity, it declines to his second childhood. The two Lipsian Ladies, the charms of Bluntstones' boy, and Garnets' straw, what a noise have they made! I only wonder how Faux and Catesby escaped the honour of Saints, and privilege of miracles. Herein you ask my sentence; more seasonably, than you hoped. For, I meant to have wrote a just volume of this subject, and furnished myself accordingly in that region of wonders; but that I feared to surcharge the nice stomach of our time, with too much. Neither would my length have aught availed you; whose thoughts are so taken up with those high and serviceable cares, that they can give no leisure to an over long discourse. May it please you therefore to receive, in short, what I have deliberately resolved in myself, and think I can make good to others.  
I have noted four ranks of commonly named Miracles: from which, if you make a just subduction, how few of our wonders shall remain either to belief or admiration? The first merely reported, not seen to be done; the next seeming to be done, but counterfeited; the third, truly done, but not true miracles; the last, truly miraculous, but by Satan. The first of these are bred of lies, and nourished by credulity: The mouth of fame is full of such blasts. For these, if I listed awhile to rake in the Legends, and book of Conformities, an ingenuous Papist could not but blush, an indifferent Reader could not but lay his hand on his spleen, and wonder as much that any man could be so impudent to broach such reports, or any so simple to believe them; as the credulous multitude wonders that any should be so powerful to effect them. But, I seek neither their shame, nor others laughter. I dare say, not the Talmud, not the Alcoran, hath more impossible tales, more ridiculous lies. Yea, to this head, Canus himself (a famous Papist) dare refer many of those ancient miracles reported, and (by all likelihood) believed of Bede, and Gregory. The next are bred of fraud, & cozenage, nourished by superstition. Who knows not, how the famous Kentish I do I moved her eyes, 
The Rood of Grace at Boxley Abbey.  and hands, by those secret gimmors, which now every Puppet-play can imitate? How Saint Wilfreds' needle opened to the penitent, and closed itself to the guilty? How our Lady sheds the tears of a bleeding vine? and doth many of her daily feats, as Bel did of old eat up his banquet, or as Picens' the Eremite fasted forty days. But, these two every honest Papist will confess, with voluntary shame and grief; and grant that it may grow a disputable question whether Mountebanks or Priests are the greatest cozeners. Vives, beyond his wont vehemently, terms them execrable and satanical impostors. The third are true works of GOD, under a false title: God gives them their being, men their name: unjust, because above their nature; wherein, the Philosopher and the superstitiously-ignorant, are contrarily extreme: while the one seeks out natural causes of Gods immediate and metaphysical works; The other ascribes ordinary effects, to supernatural causes. If the violence of a disease cease, after a vow made to our Lady; If a soldier, armed with this vow, escape gun-shot; a captive, prison; a Woman traveling, death; the vulgar (and I would they alone) cry out, A miracle. One loadstone hath more wonder in it, than a thousand such events. Every thing draws a base mind to admiration. Francisco del Campo (one of the archdukes Quiryes) told us, not without importunate devotion, that in that fatal field of Newport, his vow to their Virgin helped him to swim over a large water, when the oars of his arms had never before tried any waves. A dog hath done more, without acknowledgement of any Saint. Fear gives sudden instincts of skill, even without precept. Their own Costerus durst say, that the Cure of a disease is no miracle: His reason, because it may be done by the power of Nature, albe in longer time. 
* ●n l' an mil six cents & trois, y fureut comptez cent & Trent cinque potences & iambes de bo●s de personnes boyteuses y apportées au seul espace de quatre ou cincque mois. Histoire & Miracles. c. 12. p. 34.  Yield this, and what have Lipsius his two Ladies done? wherefore serves all this clamour, from the two hills? I assented not; neither will be herein thus much their enemy: For, as well the manner of doing, as the matter, makes a miracle. If Peter's handkerchief, or shadow, heal a disease, it is miraculous, though it might have been done by a Potion. Many of their recoveries, doubtless, have been wrought through the strength of Nature in the Patient; not of virtue in the Saint. How many sick men have mended, with their physic in their pocket? though many other also (I doubt not) of those Cures have fallen into the fourth head; which indeed is more knotty, and requires a deeper discourse. Wherein, if I shall evince these two things, I shall (I hope) satisfy my Reader, and clear the Truth: One, that miracles are wrought by Satan; the other, that those which the Romish Church boasteth, are of this nature, of this author. I contend not of words: we take miracles in Augustine's large sense; wherein is little difference betwixt a thing marvelous & miraculous; such as the spirit of GOD in either instrument calls 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 
Or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Perhaps, it would be more proper to say, that God works these miracles by Satan: for, as in the natural and voluntary motions of wicked men; so in the supernatural acts of evil spirits (as they are acts) there is more than a mere permission. Satan, by his tempest, bereaves job of his children: yet job, looking higher, saith The Lord hath taken. No sophistry can elude this proof of Moses; that a Prophet or dreamer may give a true sign or wonder, and yet say Let us go after strange Gods: 
Deut. 13. 1  nor that of our Saviour, who foretells of false Christ's, false Prophets that shall give 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; signs and wonders, and those great. The are some too great, I grant, for the hand of all infernal powers: by which, our Saviour invincibly proves the truth of his deity: These never graced falsehood, neither admit any precedent from our times. As to the rest so frequent and common, for me, I could not believe the Church of Rome were Antichristian, if it had not boasted of these wonders. All the knot lies then, in the application of this to Rome, and our imaginary Lady: How shall it appear, that their miracles are of this kind? Ludovicus Vives gives six notes to distinguish God's miracles, from Satan's; Lipsius three: Both of them too many, as might easily be discovered by discussing of particulars. It is not so much the greatness of the work, not the belief of witnesses, not the quality nor manner of the action, nor truth of essence, that can descry the immediate hand which worketh in our miracles. That alone is the true and golden rule which justin Martyr (if at least that book be his) prescribes in his Questions and Answers; How shall it be known that our miracles are better than the Heathens, although the event countenance both alike? 
By the faith and worship of the true God.  Resp. Ex fide & cultu veri dei: Miracles must be judged by the doctrine which they confirm; not the doctrine, by the miracles. The dreamer, or prophet, must be esteemed, not by the event of his wonder; but, by the substance and scope of his teaching. The Romanists argue preposterously, while they would prove the truth of their Church by miracles; whereas they should prove their miracles by the truth: To say nothing of the fashion of their Cures, that one is prescribed to come to our LADY, rather on a Fridaye, as * Henry Loyez; another, to wash nine Days in the Water of MONT— AIGV, as Leonard Stocqueau; 
Pag. 7.  another, to eat a piece of the Oak where the image stood, 
* Histoire & miracles de nostre Dame. pag. 73. pag. 102.  as Magdaleine the widow of Bruxelles. All which if they savour not strong of magical receipts, let the Indifferent judge. Surely, either there is no sorcery, or this is it. All shall be plain, if the doctrine confirmed by their miracles be once discussed: for, if that be divine truth, we do unjustly impugn these works as diabolical; if falsehood, they do blasphemously proclaim them for divine. These works tend all chiefly to this double doctrine; that the blessed virgin is to be invoked, for her mediation; That God & Saints are to be adored in & by Images; Positions that would require a volume, and such as are liberally disputed by others: whereof one is against scripture; the other (which in these cases values no less) besides it. One deifies the virgin; the other, a stock or stone. It matters not what subtle distinctions their learned Doctors make betwixt mediation of Redemption, and Intercession, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the Saint and the Image: We know, their common people, whose devotion enriches those shrines (by confession of their own Writers) climb the Hill of Zichem with this conceit, 
Examen pacific de la doctrine des Huguenots.  that Marie is their Savioresse; 
Osaweresie sawe moy. Manuel of French prayers, printed at Liege, by approbation and authority of Anton. Ghevart Inquisitor, etc.  that the stock is their Goddess: which unless it be true, how do their wonders teach them lies! and therefore how from GOD? But, to take the first at best (for, the second is so gross, that were not the second commandment by Papists purposely razed out of their Primiers, children and carrers would condemn it) it cannot be denied, that all the substance of prayer is in the heart; the vocal sound is but a complement, and as an outward case wherein our thoughts are sheathed. That Power cannot know the prayer, which knows not the heart: either than the Virgin is God, for that she knows the heart, or to know the heart is not proper to GOD: or to know the heart, and so our prayers, is falsely ascribed to the Virgin: and therefore these wonders, which teach men thus to honour her, are Doctors of lies; so, not of God. There cannot be any discourse, wherein it is more easy to be tedious. To end; If prayers were but in words, and Saints did meddle with all particularities of earthly things, yet blessed Marie should be a God, if she could at once attend all her Suitors. One solicits her at Halle, another at Scherpen-hewell, another at Luca, at our Walsingham another; one in Europe, another in Asia; or perhaps another is one of her new Clientes in America: Ten thousand devout Supplyants' are at once prostrate before her several shrines. If she cannot hear all; why pray they? If she can, what can GOD do more? Certainly (as the matter is used) there cannot be greater wrong offered to those heavenly spirits, then by our importunate superstitions to be thrust into God's throne; and to have forced upon them the honours of their Maker. There is no contradiction in heaven: a Saint cannot allow that an Angel forbids. See thou do it not, was the voice of an Angel: if all the miraculous blocks in the world shall speak contrary, we know whom to believe. The old rule was, 
Let no man worship the Virgin Marie.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: Either that rule is devilish, or this practice. And if this practice be ill, GOD deliver me from the immediate author of these miracles. Change but one Idol for another, and what differ the wonders of Apollo's Temples, from those of these chapels? We reverence (as we ought) the memory of that holy and happy Virgin: We hate those that dishonour her; we hate those that deify her. Cursed be all honour, that is stolen from God.  
This short satisfaction I give, in a long question; such as I dare rest in; and resolve that all Popish miracles are either falsely reported, or falsely done, or falsely miraculous, or falsely ascribed to heaven.   

To Mr. william BEDELL, at Venice.  
EP. 7. Lamenting the death of our late Divines and inciting to their imitation.  
WE have heard, how full of trouble, & danger, the Alps were to you; and did at once both pity your difficulties, and rejoice in your safety. Since your departure from us, Reynolds is departed from the World. Alas; how many worthy lights have our eyes seen shining and extinguished?  
How many losses have we lived to see the Church sustain, and lament; of her children, of her pillars; our own, and foreign? I speak not of those, which (being excellent) would needs be obscure: whom nothing but their own secrecy deprived of the honour of our tears. There are, beside, too many whom the world noted and admired; even since the time that our common mother acknowledged us for her sons. Our Fulk led the way; that profound, ready and resolute Doctor, the hammer of heretics, the champion of Truth: whom our younger times have heard oft disputing acutely, and powerfully. Next him, followed that honour of our schools, & Angel of our church, learned whitaker's; than whom, our age saw nothing more memorable: what clearness of judgement, what sweetness of style, what gravity of person, what grace of carriage was in that man? Who ever saw him, without reverence? or heard him, without wonder? Soon after, left the world that famous and truly illuminate Doctor, Francis junius, the glory of Leiden, the other hope of the Church, the Oracle of textual and schoole-divinity: rich in languages, subtle in distinguishing, & in argument invincible: and his companion in labours, Lu. Trelcatius, would needs be his companion in joys; who had doubled our sorrow & loss, but that he recompensed it with a son like himself. Soon after, fell old reverend Beza; a long-fixed star in this firmament of the Church: who, after many excellent monuments of learning and fidelity, lived to prove upon his adversaries, that he was not dead at their day. Neither may I without injury, omit that worthy payr of our late Divines, Greenham, and Perkins: whereof the one excelled in experimental divinity; and knew well how to stay a weak conscience, how to raise a fallen, how to strike a remorseless: The other, in a distinct judgement, and a rare dexterity in clearing the obscure subtleties of the school, and easy explication of the most perplex discourses. Doctor Reynolds is the last; not in worth, but in the time of his loss. He alone was a well-furnished library, full of all faculties, of all studies, of all learning: The memory, the reading of that man, were near to a miracle. These are gone, amongst many more, whom the Church mourns for in secret: would God her loss could be as easily supplied, as lamented. Her sorrow is for those that are past; her remainder of joy in those that remain; her hope in the next age. I pray God the causes of her hope, and joy, may be equivalent to those of her grief.  
What should this work in us, but an imitation, yea (that word is not too big for you) an emulation of their worthiness? It is no pride, for a man to wish himself spiritually better than he dare hope to reach: nay, I am deceived, if it be not true humility. For, what doth this argue him, but low in his conceit, high in his desires only? Or if so; happy is the ambition of grace, and power of sincere serviceableness to God. Let us wish, and affect this, while the world lays plots for greatness: Let me not prosper, if I bestow envy on them. He is great, that is good: and no man, me thinks, is happy on earth, to him that hath grace for substance, and learning for ornament. If you know it not, the Church (our mother) looks for much at your hands: she knows how rich our common father hath left you: she notes your graces, your opportunities, your employments: she thinks you are gone so far, like a good Merchant, for no small gain; and looks you shall come home well laded. And for vent of your present commodities (though our chief hope of success be cut-off with that unhoped peace) yet what can hinder your private traffic for God? I hope (and who doth not?) that this blow will leave in your noble Venetians a perpetual scar; & that their late irresolution shall make them ever capable of all better counsels; and have his work (like some great Eclipse) many years after. How happy were it for Venice, if as she is every year married to the sea, so she were once thoroughly espoused to Christ! In the mean time, let me persuade you to gratify us at home, with the publication of that your exquisite polemical discourse; whereto our conference with M. Alabaster, gave so happy an occasion: You shall hereby clear many truths; and satisfy all Readers: yea, I doubt not, but an adversary (not too perverse) shall acknowledge the Truths victory and yours. It was wholesome counsel of a Father, that in the time of an heresy every man should write. Perhaps, you complain of the inundations of Francford: How many have been discouraged from benefiting the world, by this conceit of multitude! Indeed we all write; and, while we Write, cry out of number.  
How well might many be spared, even of those that complain of too many? whose importunate babbling cloys the world, without use.   

To my Lord, the Earl of ESSEX.  
EP. 8. Advise for his Travails.  
MY Lord, both my duty and promise make my Letters your debt; and, if neither of these, my thirst of your good. You shall never but need good counsel, most in travail: Then are both our dangers greater, and our hopes.  
I need not tell you the eyes of the world are much upon you, for your own sake, for your fathers: Only let your eyes be upon it again, and pitied, which have brought nothing from foreign Countries, but misshapen clothes, or exotic gestures, or new games, or affected lissping, or the diseases of the place, or (which is worst) the vices? These men have at once wandered from their Countily, and from themselves: and some of them (too easy to instance) have left God behind them; or perhaps, in stead of him, have after a loose and filthy life brought home some idle Puppet in a box, whereon to spend their devotion. Let their wrack warn you: and let their follies be entertained by you, with more derestation than pity. I know your Honour too well to fear you: your young years have been so graciously prevented with sovereign antidotes of truth and holy instruction, that this infection despairs of prevailing. Your very blood gives you argument of safety: yet, good counsel is not unseasonable, even where danger is not suspected. For God's sake, my Lord, whatsoever you gain, lose nothing of the truth; remit nothing of your love and piety to God; of your favour and zeal to religion. As sure as there is a God, you were trained up in the true knowledge of him. If either Angel, or Devil, or jesuit, should suggest the contrary, send him away, with defiance. There you see and hear, every day, the true mother and the feigned, striving and pleading for the living child. The true Prince of peace hath past sentence from heaven, on our side. Do not you stoop so much as to a doubt, or motion of irresolution. Abandon those from your table and salt, whom your own or others experience shall descry dangerous; Those serpents are full of insinuations: But, of all, those of your own Country: which are so much more pernicious, by how much they have more colour of privilege of entireness. Religion is the greatest care: advises for carriage, & improvement of travail, challenge the next place. I need not counsel you to keep your state, with affability; and so to menage yourself, as that your courtesy may be more visible, than your greatness. Nature hath taught you this, and hath secretly propagated it from your Father: who, by his sweetness of disposition, won as many hearts, as by his valour and munificence. I rather tell you, that a good nature hath betrayed many; who, looking for that in others which they have found in themselves, have at last complained of their own credulity, and others deceit. Trust not Strangers too much; with your counsel, with your person: and, in your greatest familiarities, have an eye to their common disposition, and infirmities. Those natures, wherewith you converse, are subject to displeasure; and violent, in pursuit of small indignities. Yesterday heard I named, from no unfaithful report, a French Courtier, that in single combat hath sent 18. souls from the field to their place: yet he ever as the patient in the quarrel; and for this, mentioned with more than excuse: I censure not how justly. This is others care: Only hence I argue the rifeness of unkindness taken, and pursued. You shall see, that the soil is not so diverse, as the inclination of persons: who, in all Climates, though they differ in particulars, yet still agree too well in common falls. The Italian deep, close, and crafty; the French rash; the german dull. One not forward to offer wrongs; but, apprehensive of a small wrong offered: another, prone either to take, or give them; but, not uneasy to remit: another, long in conceiving, long in retaining. What do I exemplify? There are long Catalogues of peculiar vices, that haunt special places; which, if they were not notoriously infamous, my charity would serve me to particularise: It were pity there should be fewer virtues, local and proper. There are good uses to be made of others enormities; if no more, by them to correct our own: who loathes vice in another, is in good forwardness to leave it in himself. The view of the public calamities, and disorders of other Churches, shall best teach you thankfulness for the better state of ours: But, better use of their virtues; by how much it is more excellent to know what we should do, than what we should not. You must now look upon all things, not with the eyes of a stranger only, but of a Philosopher, but of a Christian; which accounts all lost, that is not reduced to practice. It is a great praise, that you are wiser by the contemplation of foreign things; but, much greater, that you are better. That you have seen Cities, and Courts, and Alps, & Rivers, can never yield you so sound comfort, as that you have looked seriously into yourself. In vain do we affect all foreign knowledge, if we be not thoroughly acquainted at home. Think much, and say little; especially in occasions of dispraise: wherein, both a little is enough, and oft-times any thing is too much. You cannot inquire too much: that, which in us inferiors would be censured for dangerous curiosity, in your greatness shall be construed as a commendable desire of knowledge. Ask still after men of greatest parts & reputation: & where you find Fame no liar, note & respect them. Make choice of those for conversation, which either in present, or in hope, are eminent: & when you meet with excellencies in any faculty, leave not without some gain of knowledge. What are others graces to you, if you only admire them; not imitate, not appropriate them? Lo, your equals in time grow up happily in the College (so I may term it) of our young, and hopeful Court, which you have left; and, above all, that gracious Precedent of worthiness and perfection: whom while in all other things you serve, you may without reproof emulate for learning, virtue, piety. Myself am witness of their progress; which I do joyfully gratulate to the succeeding age. Beware, lest their diligence shall outstrip you, and upbraid you with that ancient check of Going far and faring worse. I am bold & busy in counseling: you abound with better monitors; and the best you carry about, I hope, in your own bosom. though these should be needless, yet they argue my humble affection, and discharge my duty. My prayers are better than my counsels; both of them hearty and unfeigned for your good. God guide and return you safe, from a journey not more happy and prosperous than I wish it.   

To St. ROBERT DRURY, and his Lady.  
EP. 9 Concerning my Remooveall from them.  
WIth how unwilling an heart I leave you, he knows that searches the heart: Neither durst I go, but that I sensibly see his hand pulling me from you. Indeed, desire of competency betrayed me, at first; and drew mine eyes to look aside: but, when I bend them upon the place, and saw the number and the need of the people, together with their hunger and applause, meeting with the circumstances of Gods strange conveyance of this offer to me; I saw, that was but as the fowler's feather, to make me stoop: and, contemning that respect of myself, I sincerely acknowledged higher motives of my yielding; and resolved I might not resist. You are dear to me, as a Charge to a Pastor; If my pains to you have not proved it, suspect me: Yet I leave you. God calls me to a greater work: I must follow him. It were more ease to me, to live secretly hidden in that quiet obscurity, as Saul amongst the stuff, then to be drawn out to the eye of the world, to act so high a part before a thousand witnesses. In this point, if I seem to neglect you, blame me not; I must neglect and forget myself. I can but labour, wheresoever I am. GOD knows how willingly I do that, whether there or here. I shall dig, and delve, & plant, in what ground soever my Master sets me. If he take me to a larger field, complain you not of loss, while the Church may gain. But, you are my own charge; No wise father neglects his own in compassion of the greater need of others: yet consider, that even careful Parents, when the Prince commands, leave their families, and go to warfare. What if God had called me to heaven; would you have grudged my departure? Imagine that I am there, where I shall be; although the case be not to you altogether so hopeless: for, now I may hear of you, visit you, renew my holy counsels, and be mutually comforted from you; there, none of these. He, that will once transpose me from earth to heaven, hath now chosen to transpose me from one piece of earth to another: what is here worthy of your sorrow, worthy of complaint? That should be for my own good: this shall be for the good of many. If your experience have taught you, that my labours do promise profit; obtain of yourself to deny yourself so much, as to rejoice that the loss of a few should be the advantage of many souls. though, why do I speak of loss? I speak that, as your fear, not my own: and your affection causes that fear, rather than the occasion.  
The God of the harvest shall send you a labourer, more able, as careful: That is my prayer, and hope, and shall be my joy. I dare not leave, but in this expectation, this assurance. Whatever become of me, it shall be my greatest comfort to hear you commend your change; and to see your happy progress in those ways I have both showed you, and beaten. So shall we meet in the end, and never part.   

Written to Mr. I. B. and Dedicated to my father, Mr. I. HALL..  
EP. 10. Against the fear of Death.  
YOu complain, that you fear Death: He is no man, that doth not. Besides the pain, Nature shrinks at the thought of parting. If you would learn the remedy, know the cause; For that she is ignorant▪ & faithless. She would not be cowardly, if she were nor foolish. Our fear is from doubt, and our doubt from unbelief: and whence is our unbelief, but chiefly from ignorance? She knows not what good is elsewhere: she believes not her part in it. Get once true knowledge and true faith, your fear shall vanish alone. Assurance of heavenly things, makes us willing to part with earthly. He cannot contemn this life, that knows not the other. If you would despise earth therefore, think of heaven. If you would have death easy, think of that glorious life that follows it. Certainly if we can endure pain, for health; much more shall we abide a few pangs, for glory. Think how fond we fear a vanquished enemy. Lo, Christ hath triumphed over Death: he bleedeth and gaspeth under us; and yet we tremble. It is enough to us, that Christ died: Neither would he have died, but that we might die with safety, and pleasure.  
Think, that death is necessarily annexed to nature: We are for a time on condition that we shall not be; we receive life, but upon the terms of redeliucrie. Necessity makes somethings easy; as it usually makes easy things difficult. It is a fond injustice to embrace the covenant, and shrink at the condition.  
Think, there is but one common road to all flesh: There are no bypaths of any fairer, or nearer way; no, not for Princes. Even company abateth miseries: and the commonness of an evil makes it less fearful. What worlds of men are gone before us; yea, how many thousands out of one field? How many crowns and sceptres lie piled up at the gates of death, which their owners have left there, as spoils to the Conqueror? Have we been at so many graves, & so oft seen ourselves die in our friends; and do we shrink when our course cometh? Imagine you alone were exempted from the common law of mankind, or were condemned to Methusalah's age; assure yourself death is not now so fearful, as your life would then be wearisome.  
Think not so much what Death is, as from whom he comes, and for what. We receive even homely messengers from great persons; not without respect to their masters: And what matters it who he be, so he bring us good news? what news can be better than this. That God sends for you, to take possession of a kingdom? Let them fear death, which know him but as a pursuivant sent from hell; whom their conscience accuses of a life wilfully filthy; and bindes-over secretly to condemnation: We know whither we are going, and whom we have believed; Let us pass on cheerfully▪ through these black gates, unto our glory.  
Lastly, know that our improvidence only adds terror unto death. Think of death, and you shall not fear it. Do you not see, that even Bears, and Tigers, seem not terrible to those that live with them? How have we seen their keeper's sport with them, when the beholders durst scarce trust their chain? Be acquainted with Death; though he look grim upon you, at the first, you shall find him, yea, you shall make him a good companion. Familiarity cannot stand with fear. These are receipt enough. Too much store doth rather overwhelm than satisfy. Take but these, and I dare promise you security.  
FINIS.    

The second Decade of Epistles.  

To Sr. ROBERT DARCY.  
EP. 1. The estate of a true, but weak Christian.  
IF you ask how I fare: Sometimes, no man better; and, if the fault were not my own, Always. Not that I can command health, & bid the world smile when I li●t. How possible is it for a man to be happy without these; yea in spite of them? These things can neither augment, nor impair those comforts, that come from above. What use, what sight is there of the stars, when the sunshines? Then only can I find myself happy, when (overlooking these earthly things) I can fetch my joy from heaven. I tell him that knows it, the contentments that earth can afford her best Favourites, are weak, imperfect, changeable, momentary; and such, as ever end in complaint. We sorrow that we had them; and, while we have them, we dare not trust them: Those from above are full, and constant. What an heaven do I feel in myself, when (after many traverses of meditation) I find, in my heart, a feeling possession of my God When I can walk, and converse with the God of heaven, not without an openness of heart, and familiarity: When my soul hath caught fast and sensible hold of my Saviour; and either pulls him down to itself, or rather lifts up itself to him; and can and dare secretly avouch, I know whom I have believed: When I can look upon all this inferior creation, with the eyes of a stranger, & am transported to my home in my thoughts; solacing myself in the view and meditation of my future glory, and that present of the Saints: When I see wherefore I was made, and my conscience tells me I have done that for which I came; done it, not so as I can boast, but so as it is accepted; while my weaknesses are pardoned, and my acts measured by my desires, and my desires by their sincerity; Lastly, when I can find myself (upon holy resolution) made firm & square, fit to entertain all events; the good with moderate regard, the evil with courage and patience, both with thanks; strongly settled to good purposes, constant and cheerful in devotion; and, in a word, ready for God, yea full of God. Sometimes I can be thus, and pity the poor and miserable prosperity of the godless; and laugh at their months of vanity, and sorrow at my own: But then again (for why should I shame to confess it?) the world thrusts itself betwixt me and heaven; and, by his dark and indigested parts, eclipseth that light which shined to my soul. Now, a senseless dullness over-takes me, and besots me; my lust to devotion is little, my joy none at all: God's face is hid, and I am troubled. Then I begin to compare myself with others, and think, Are all men thus blockish and earthen? or, am I alone worse than the rest, and singular in my wretchedness? Now I carry my carcase up and down carelessly, and (as dead bodies are rubbed, without heat) I do in vain force upon myself delights, which others laugh at: I endeavour my wont work, but without an heart; there is nothing is not tedious to me, no not myself.  
Thus I am, till I single myself out alone, to him that alone can revive me: I reason with myself, & confer with him; I chide myself, and entreat him: and, after some spiritual speeches interchanged, I renew my familiarity with him; and he the tokens of his love to me. Lo, than I live again, and applaud myself in this happiness, and wish it might ever continue, and think basely of the world in comparison of it. Thus I hold on, rising and falling; neither know, whether I should more praise God for thus much fruition of him, or blame myself for my inconstancy in good; more rejoice, that sometimes I am well, or grieve that I am not so always. I strive, and wish, rather than hope, for better. This is our warfare; we may not look to triumph always: we must smart sometimes, & complain; and then again rejoice that we can complain; and grieve that we can rejoice no more, and that we can grieve more, Our hope is, If we be patient, we shall once be constant.   

To Sr. EDMUND BACON.  
EP. 2. Of the benefit of Retiredness, and secrecy.  
SVspect (if you can) that, because now many cold winds blow betwixt us, my affection can be cooler to you. True love is like a strong stream, which the further it is from the head, runs with more violence. The thoughts of those pleasures I was wont to find in your presence, were never so delightful, as now when I am barred from renewing them. I wish me with you; yea (if I could or might wish to change) I should wish me yourself. To live hidden, was never but safe, and pleasant; but now, so much better, as the world is worse. It is an happiness, not to be a witness of the mischief of the times; which it is hard to see, and be guiltless. Your Philosophical Cell is a safe shelter from tumults, from vices, from discontentments. Besides that lively, honest, and manly pleasure, which arises from the gain of Knowledge in the deep mysteries of Nature; How easy is it, in that place to live free from the common cares, from the infection of common evils. Whether the Spaniard gain or save by his peace, and how he keeps it; and whether it were safer for the States to lay down arms, and be at once still and free; Whether the emperors truce, with the Turk, were honourable and seasonable; or whether Venice have won or lost by her late jars; are thoughts that dare not looke-in at those doors. Who is envied, and who pitied at Court; Who buys hopes, and kindness dearest; who lays secret mines to blow up another, that himself may succeed, can never trouble you: These cares dare not enter into that Sanctuary of Peace. Thence you can see how all, that live public, are tossed in these waves, and pity them. For, great places have seldom safe and easy entrances: and (which is worst) great charges can hardly be plausibly wielded, without some indirect policies. Alas! their privileges cannot countervail their toil. Weary days, and restless nights, short lives and long cares, weak bodies, & unquiet minds attend lightly on greatness. Either Clients break their sleep in the morning, or the intention of their mind drives it off from the first watch: Either suits or complaints thrust themselves into their recreations; and Packets of Letters interrupt their meals. It is ever Term with them, without Vacation. Their businesses admit of no night, no holiday: Lo, your privacy frees you from all this, and whatever other glorious misery. There you may sleep, and eat, and honestly disport, and enjoy yourself, and command both yourself and others. And, whiles you are happy, you live out of the reach of Envy; unless my praises send that guest thither: which I should justly condemn as the fault of my love. No man offers to undermine you, none to disgrace you: you could not want these inconveniences abroad. Yea, let a man live in the open world, but as a looker on, he shall be sure not to want abundance of vexations. An ill mind holds it an easy torment, to live in continual sight of evil; if not rather a pleasure: but, to the well disposed, it is next to hell. Certainly, to live among Toads & Serpents, is a Paradise to this. One jests pleasantly with his Maker: another makes himself sport with Scripture. One fills his mouth with oaths of sound: another scoffs at the religious. One speaks villainy; another laughs at it; a third defends it. One makes himself a Swine; another a Devil: Who (that is not all earth) can endure this? who cannot wish himself rather a desolate Hermit, or a close prisoner? Every evil we see, doth either vex, or infect us. Your retiredness avoids this; yet so, as it equally escapes all the evils of Solitariness. You are full of friends; whose society, intermixed with your closeness, makes you to want little of public. The Desert is too wild, the City too populous: the Country is only fit for rest. I know, there want not some obscure corners, so haunted with dullness, that as they yield no outward unquietness, so no inward contentment. Yours is none of those; but such as strives rather, with the pleasure of it, to require the solitariness. The Court is for honour, the City for gain, the Country for quietness; A blessing, that need not (in the judgement of the wisest) yield to the other two. Yea, how many have we known, that having nothing but a cote of thatch to hide them from heaven, yet have pitied the careful pomp of the mighty? How much more may those which have full hands, and quiet hearts, pity them both? I do not so much praise you in this, as wonder at you. I know many upon whom the conscience of their wants, forces a necessary obscurity; who if they can steal a virtue out of necessity, it is well: but, I no where know so excellent parts shrouded in such willing secrecy. The world knows you, and wants you; and yet you are voluntarily hid. Love yourself still; & make much of this shadow, until our common mother call you forth to her necessary service, & charge you to neglect yourself, to pleasure her. Which once done; you know where to find Peace. Whether others applaud you, I am sure you shall yourself: and I shall still magnify you, and (what I can) imitate you.   

TO Mr. JOHN WHITEING.  
EP. 3. An Apologetical discourse of the Marriage of Ecclesiastical persons.  
I Know not, whether this quarrel be worthy of an answer, or rather of a silent scorn; or if an answer, whether merry or serious. I do not willingly suffer my pen to wade into questions: Yet, this argument seems shallow enough for an Epistle. If I free not this Truth, let me be punished with a divorce. Some idle table-talk calls us to plead for our wives. Perhaps some gallants grudge us one, who can be content to allow themselves more. If they thought wives curses, they would afford them us. Our marriage is censured (I speak boldly) of none but them, which never knew to live chastened in marriage; who never knew Gratians true distinction of Virginity. 


virg. 

Carnis,  
Mentis      What care we for their censure, 
cause 35. q. 5. C. Tunc sa●●bitur.  where God approves? But some perhaps maintain it, 
M●lier suam virginitatem bene secuat, si●●eo nubat ut filios pariat ad justitiam.  out of judgement: Bid them make much of that, which Paul tells them, is a doctrine of Devils. Were it not for this opinion, the church of Rome would want one evident brand of her Antichristianisme. Let their shavelings speak for themselves; upon whom, their unlawful Vow hath forced a wilful & impossible necessity. I leave them to scan the old rule of In turpi voto muta decretum; 
Profitentur continentiam corporum, in incontinentiam debacchantur animorum. De Rom. Cler. Saluianus.  if they had not rather, Cautè si non castè. Even moderate Papists will grant us free, because not bound by vow; no not so far as those old Germans, pro posse et nosse. Or what care we, if they grant it not? while we hold us firm to that sure rule of Basil the great; 
* Qui vetat quod Deus, praecepit. aut praecipit quod Deus vetuit, maledictus habeatur ab omnious qui amant Dominum. In Moralib. sum. ca 14.  He that forbids what God enjoins, or enjoins what God forbids, let him be accursed. I pass not what I hear men, or Angels say, while I hear God say, Let him be the husband of one wife. That one word shall confirm me, against the barking of all impure mouths. He that made marriage, says it is honourable: what care we for the dishonour of those that corrupt it? yea, that which Nature noteth with shame, God mentions with honour, 
a Heb. 13. The Marriage Bed is honourable.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; 
b Non quia peccatum sit coniugibus commisceri: hoc enim opus castum non habet culpam in coniuge, etc. Gregory in Psal. Poenit. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Socrat. hist. eccles.  Greg. with the title of opus castum; Paphnutius, of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, chastity. But, if God should be judge of this controversy, it were soon at an end; who, in the time even of that legal strictness, allowed wedlock, to the ministers of his sanctuary. Let Cardinal Panormitan be heard speak. 
c Continentia non est in clericis secularibus de substantia ordinis, nec de iure divino. 〈◊〉  Continency, saith he, in Clergy men is neither of the substance of their order, or appointed by any law of God. And Gratian, out of Augustine, yet more.  

d Copula sasacerdotalis nec legali, nec Euangeli●● nec Apostolica authoritate prohibetur. 26. q 2. c sors. ex Aug.  Their marriage, saith he, is neither forbidden by legal, nor evangelical, nor Apostolic authority.  
God never imposed this law of Continence: who then? 
e Only ex statuto Ecclesiae. Durand. 4. Dist. 37. q 1. Tom. in 2. 2. q. 88 art. 11.  The Church. As if a good spouse would gainsay what her husband willeth: But, how well? Hear, O ye Papists, the judgement of your own Cardinal; and confess your mouths stopped. 
f Sed credo pro bono & salute esse animarum (quod esset salubre statutum) ut volentes possint contrahere; quia experientia docente, contrarius prorsus effectus sequit●r ex illa lege continentae; cum hody non vivant spiritualiter nec sint mundi, sed maculantur illicito coitu cum eorum gravissimo peccato, ubi cum propriâ uxore esset castitas. Panormit. de Cler. Comug. cap. Cum olim.  But I believe (saith he) it were for the good and safety of many souls, and would be an whole some law, that those which would, might marry; For that, as experience teacheth us, a contrary effect follows upon that law of Continency; since at this day they live not spiritually, neither are clean, but are defiled with unlawful copulation, to their great sin: whereas with their own wife it might be chastity. Is this a Cardinal, think you, or an Huguenot? But, if this red hat be not worthy of respect; Let a Pope himself speak out of Peter's Chair. Pius the second, as learned as hath sit in that room this thousand years; 
g Sacerdotibus magna ratione sublatas nuptias, maiore restituendas videri: In the record of Platina himself In vita Pij. 2.  Marriage saith he, upon great reason was taken from the Clergy; but, upon greater reason is to be restored. What need we other judge? How just this law is, you see; see now how ancient: For, some doctrines have nothing to plead for them, but Time. Age hath been an old refuge for Falsehood. Tertullians' rule is true; That, which is first, is truest. What the ancient jewish Prelates did, Moses is clear: what did the Apostles? Doth not 
h 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. 1. Cor. 9 5. etc.  Paul tell us that both the rest of the Apostles, and the brethren of the Lord, and Cephas, had wives, and (which is more) carried them still along in their travels? For that childish elusion of 
i Rhemists read it a woma● asister.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, who can abide, but to laugh at? Doth not 
k Clemens, citatus etiam ab Euseb. l. 3. c. 13▪ Petrum cum uxorem svam ad mortem ducicerneret hortatum & consolatum his verbis. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Clemens of Alexandria (a father not of more antiquity, than credit) tell us, that Peter, Philip, and Paul himself, were married? and this last (though unlikest) how is it confirmed by Ignatius, in his Epistle to the Philadelphians? Yea, their own Cardinal, learned 
l In illud. ad Philip. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Cajetan, doth both avouch and evince it. This was their practice: what was their Constitution? Look in these Canons, which the Romish Church fathers upon the Apostles, and Franciscus morion their Jesuit sweats to defend it in a whole volume: There you find, Canon. 5. enacted that 
m 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 (non eijciat) 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Can. Apost. 5.  no Bishop, Presbyter, Deacon, shall forsake his wife (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) in pretence of religion, upon pain of deposition. It would move laughter, to see how the Jesuits gnaw upon this bone, and suck-in nothing but the blood of their own jaws; 
n Constant. 6 l. 3. Can. Quoniam. Canon Apostolicae 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Nos, sequentes veterem Canonem Apostolicae 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, & constitutiones sacrorum virorum, legales suptias amodò valere volumus, etc.  while the sixth General Council avers and proclaims this sense truly Apostolical, in spite of all contradiction.  
Follow the times now, and descend lower; what did the ages succeeding? Search records: Whatever some palpably-foysted Epistles of Popes insinuate; they married, without scruple of any contrary injunction. Many of those ancients admired virginity; but, imposed it not. Amongst the rest, 
o Qui a Christianis parentibus enutriti sunt, etc. maximè si fuerint ex patribus sacerdot●li sede dignificatis. i. Episco patus, presbyteratus, aut diaconatus ne glorientur. Orig. Tract 8. in Matth.  Origen (though himself a wilful Eunuch) is fain to persuade the sons of Clergy men, not to be proud of their Parentage. After this, when the fathers of the Nicene Council went about to enact a law of Continency, Socrates the Historian expresses it thus: 
p Visum erat Episcopis legem novam introducere in Ecclesiam. Socr. l. 1. c. 8.  It seemed good (saith he) to the Bishops to bring in a new law into the Church. 
* Signa per Paphnutium non m●nus quam dudum per Apostolos siebant. Ruff. n. l. 1. c. 4. Pathnutium, miraculis & pietate clarus, obtinuit in Nicena synodo habendum pro castitate cum propriauxore concubitum Socra. l. ●. c. 8  It was then new, and they but would have brought it in; therefore before it was not: where we know how Paphnutius, himself a Virgin, famous for holiness, famous for miracles; rising (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) cried loud, that they ought not to lay this (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) heavy yoke, upon men of the Church. His Arguments wan assent. He spoke and prevailed. So this liberty was still continued and confirmed. If this be not plain enough; Holy 
q In Epist. ad Dracont.  Athanasius, a witness past exception, shall serve for a thousand histories till his age.  

r Multi ex episcopis matrimonia non inierunt; Monach● contrà parents ●iberorū facti sunt: quemad modum vicissim Episcopos filiorum patres, & Monachos generis potestatem non quaesivisse animaduertas. Athana●. Epistola. ad Dracon●ium.  Many Bishops, saith he have not married; and contrarily Monks have been fathers of children: as contrarily, you see Bishops the fathers of children; and Monks that have not sought posterity. Would you yet have instances of the former, and the next age? Here you have 
s Numidicus presbyter, qui uxorem concrematan & adhae a rentem lateri laetus aspexit. Cyprian. l. 4. Ep. 10.  Numidicus the Martyr, a married Presbyter; 
t Ex D●onisio. Euseb. l. 6. c. 41  Cheremon of Nilus, a married Bishop; 
v Euseb. l. 7. cap. 29. Euseb. l. 8. c. 9 Gregorios' verò apud Nazianzum oppidum in locum patris sui episcopus subrogatus Ruffin. l. 2. c 9  Demetrianus Bishop of Antioch, whose son Domnus succeeded Paulus Samosatenus; Philo●omus and Phileas BB. of the Thmuites; Gabinius brother of Eutychianus BB. of Rome; The father of Nazianzen, Basil, and the other 
x Gregor. Nassen frater Basilij, teste Nicephoro, uxoratus, uxorem & liberos habuit: sed non propterea fuit inrebus et exercitijs divinis inferior vel deterior. Sozom▪  Gregory, Hilarius, and that good Spiridion Bishop of Cyprus, of whom Sozomen gives so direct testimony. To omit others▪ what should I speak of many Bishops of Rome, whose sons not spurious, as nowadays, but (as Pope Vrban himself witnesss) 
z De legiti nis coniugiis nat.  lawfully begot in wedlock, followed their fathers in the Pontifical chair. 
a cum ergo ex sacerdotibus nati in summos Pontifices legantur esse promoti, non sunt intelligendi de fornicatione sed de legitimis connubiis nati; quae sacerdotibu● ubique ante prohibitionem licita erant, et in Orientali ecclesia usque body eye licere probantur, Dist. 56. Ceno●an.  The reason whereof, that Pope himself ingenuously rendereth; for that marriage was every where lawful to the Clergy, before the prohibition (which must needs be late) and in the Eastern Church to this day is allowed. What need we more testimonies or more examples? What ever 
b The author of the Aethiopic history.  Heliodorus, Bishop of Trica (a man fitter for a wanton love-storie, than a Church controversy) brought into the Church of Thessalia, Socrates thus flatly writes of those Bishops of his time; 
c Nam non pauci illorum, dum Episcopatum gerunt, etiam liberos ex uxore legitimâ procreant. Socrat. l. 5. cap. 21.  For many of them in the place and function of Bishops, beget children of their lawful wives. This was practised: see what was decreed in that sixth general 
d The words of that Council are thus truly translated by Chemnitius; Quoniam in Romana ecclesia, loco canonis seu decieti, traditum esse cognovimus, ut ij qui digni haben di sunt ordinatione diaconi vel piesa byteri piofiteantur se deinceps cum uxoribus suis non congressuros; nos sequentes veterem canonem Apostolicae, sincerae, exquisitae & ordinatae constitutionis, legitimas sacrorum virorum cohabitationes coniugales etiam ex hodierno die in poster● valere ratas & firmas esse volumus; nullo modo eorum cum uxoribus propriis coniunctionem seu copulationem dissoluentes. Itaque si quis dignus inveniatur etc. is minime prohibendus est ad hunc gradum ascendere, ideo quòd eum legitimâ uxore cohabitet. Nec tempore ordinationis suae ab eo postuletur, seu cogatur ut abstinere velit aut debeat legitimo congressu cum propriâ uxore.  Council of Constantinople, to this purpose, to the confusion of all repliers. If any Protestant Church in Christendom can make a more peremptory, more full and absolute, more cautelous decree for the marriage of Ecclesiastical persons, let me be condemned as faithless: A place, I grant, miserably handled by our adversaries; and because they cannot blemish it enough, indignly torn out of the Counsels. What dare not impudence do? Against all evidences of Greek Copies, 
Citat a Nilo Thesalonicensi.  against their own Gratian, against pleas of antiquity. This is the readiest way; Whom they cannot answer, to burn; what they cannot shift off, to blot out; and to cut the knot, which they cannot untie. The Romanists of the next age were somewhat more equal: who, seeing themselves pressed with so flat a decree, confirmed by authority of Emperors, as would abide no denial, began to distinguish upon the point; limiting this liberty only to the Eastern Church, and granting that all the Clergy of the East might marry, not theirs. So Pope Steven the second freely confesses: 
e Aliter se Orientalium habet traditio Ecclesiarun: aliter huius sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae. Nam eorum sace●dotes, diaconi, ●ut subdiacont. matrimonio copulantur: Istius autem ecclesiae vel occidentalium nullus sacerdotum, a subdiacono usque ad episcopum, licentiam habet coniugiun sortiendi. dis. 31  The tradition (saith he) of the Eastern Churches is otherwise, then that of the Roman Church. For, their Priests, Deacons, or Subdeacons' are married; but, in this Church, or the Western, no one of the Clergy, from the Subdeacon to the Bishop, hath leave to marry.  
Liberally; but not enough: and if he yield this, why not more? shall that be lawful in the East, which in the West is not? Do the Gospels or laws of equity alter according to the four corners of the world? doth God make difference betwixt Greece & England? If it be lawful, why not every where? if unlawful, why is it done any where? So than you see, we differ not from the Church in this; but from the Romish Church: But this sacred council doth not only universally approve this practice (with pain of deposition to the gainsayers) but avouches it for a decree Apostolical. judge now, whether this one authority be not enough to weigh down an hundred petty Conventicles, and many legions (if there had been many) of private contradictions. Thus, for seven hundred years, you find nothing but open freedom: All the scuffling arose in the eight age; wherein yet this violent imposition found many & learned adversaries, & durst not be obtruded at once. Lo, even then, Gregory the third, writing to the BBs. of Bavaria, gives this disiunct charge; 
f Nemo scor ta aut concubinam alat: sed aut casten vivat, aut uxorem ducat; quam repudiare fas non esto.  Let none keep an harlot or a concubine: but either let him live chastened, or marry a wife; whom it shall not be lawful for him to forsake: According to that rule of Clerks cited from 
g Dist. 23.  Isidore, and renewed in the 
h Anno. 813  Council of Mentz, to the perpetual shame of our juggling adversaries. Nothing can argue guiltiness so much, as unjust expurgations. 
i Clerici castimoniam inviolati corporisperpetuò conseruare studeant; aut certè unius matrimonij vinculo foederentur. Isid. reg. cleric.  Isidore saith, Let them contain, or let them marry but one: They cite him, Let them contain; and leave out the rest: somewhat worse than the Devil cited scripture. But, I might have spared all this labour of writing, could I persuade whosoever either doubts, or denies this, to reade-over that one Epistle which 
k Whether Huldericus or (as he is somewhere entitled) Volusianus, I inquire not: the matter admits of no doubt. Huldericus Episcopus Augustae. Anno. 860. Aeneas Sylu. in svam Germ. Hedion. Eccl. hist. l. 8. c. 2. Fox, in Act. & Monum. hath it fully translated.  Huldericus BB. of Auspurge wrote learnedly, and vehemently, to Pope Nicolas the first, in this subject: which if it do not answer all cavils, & satisfy all Readers, and convince all (not wilful) adversaries, let me be cast, in so just a cause. There you shall see, how just, how expedient, how ancient this liberty is; together with the feeble and injurious grounds of forced continency: Read it, and see whether you can desire a better advocate. After him (so strongly did he plead, & so happily) for two hundred years more, this freedom still blessed those parts; yet, not without extreme opposition. Histories are witnesses of the busy, & not unlearned combats of those times, in this argument. But now, when the body of Antichristianisme began to be complete, and to stand up in his absolute shape, after a thousand years from Christ; this liberty, which before wavered under Nicolas 1. now by the hands of Leo 9 Nicolas 2. and that brand of hell, Gregory 7. was utterly ruined, wives debarred, single life urged: 
l Aventinus l. 5. Gratum scortatoribus, quibus pro una uxore sex centas iam malierculas ●●re l●cebat.  A good turn for whoremasters (saith Aventine) who now for one wife might have six hundred Bedfellows.  
But, how approved of the better sort appears (besides that the Churches did ring of him, ech-where, for Antichrist) in that at the 
m Anno. 1076.  Council of Worms the French and Germane BB ● deposed this Gregory, in this name (amongst other quarrels) for 
n Maritos ab uxoribus separate.  separating man and wife. Violence did this; not reason: neither was Gods will here questioned; but, the Pope's wilfulness. What broils hereon ensued, let 
o Ex Interdicto sacerdotum coniugio, gravissiam seditio gregem Christi perculit: nec urquam talis lues populum Christi afflixit. Avent. l. 5. Henric. Huntingdon. de Anselmo. l 7. de An. 1100 in synodo Londinensi: Prohibu●● sacerdotibus uxores, antè non prohibitas: Anselm. (saith that Historian) was the first that forbade marriage to the Clergy of England (and this was, about the year of our Lord, 1080) Till then ever free. Item Fabianus Liberos aijt fu●sse sacerdotes per annos 1080.  aventine witness.  
The bickerings of our English Clergy, with their Dunstanes, about this time, are memorable in our own Hist. which teach us how late, how repiningly, how unjustly, they stooped under this yoke. I had rather send my Reader to Bale and Fox, them abridge their monuments, to enlarge my own.  
I have (I hope) fetched this truth far enough; and deduced it low enough, through many ages, to the midst of the rage of Antichristian tyranny. There left our liberty; there began their bondage. Our liberty is happily renewed with the Gospel: what God, what his Church hath ever allowed, we do enjoy. Wherein we are not alone: The Greek Church, as large for extent as the Roman (and, in some parts of it, better for their soundness) do thus; and thus have ever done.  
Let Papists and Atheists say what they will; It is safe erring with GOD and his purer Church.   

To my Sister, M B. BRINSLY.  
EP. 4. Of the Sorrow not to be repent of.  
IT is seldom seen, that a silent grief speeds well: for, either a man must have strong hands of resolution to strangle it in his bosom; or else it drives him to some secret mischief: whereas sorrow revealed, is half remedied, and ever abates in the uttering. Your grief was wisely disclosed; and shall be as strangely answered. I am glad of your sorrow; and should weep for you, if you did not thus mourn. Your sorrow is, that you cannot enough grieve for your sins. Let me tell you, that the Angels themselves sing at this lamentation; neither doth the earth afford any so sweet music in the ears of God. This heaviness is the way to joy. Worldly sorrow is worthy of pity, because it leadeth to death: But, this deserves nothing but envy and gratulation. If those tears were common, hell would not so enlarge itself. Never sin, repent of, was punished: and never any thus mourned, and repented not. Lo, you have done that, which you grieve you have not done. That good GOD, whose act is his will, accounts of our will as our deed. If he required sorrow proportionable to the heinousness of our sins, there were no end of mourning. Now, his mercy regards not so much the measure, as the truth of it; & accounts us to have that which we complain to want. I never knew any truly penitent, which in the depth of his remorse, was afraid of sorrowing too much; nor any unrepentant, which wished to sorrow more. Yea, let me tell you, that this sorrow is better, and more, than that deep heaviness for sin, which you desire. Many have been vexed with an extreme remorse for some sin, from the gripes of a galled conscience, which yet never came where true repentance grew; in whom the conscience plays at once the accuser, witness, judge, tormentor: But, an earnest grief, for the want of grief, was never found in any but a gracious heart. You are happy, & complain. Tell me, I beseech you; This sorrow which you mourn to want, is it a grace of the spirit of God, or not? If not, why do you sorrow to want it? If it be, oh how happy it is to grieve for want of grace! The God of all truth & blessedness hath said, Blessed are those that hunger and thirst after righteousness; and, with the same breath, Blessed are they that mourn: for, they shall be comforted. You say, you mourn; Christ saith, you are blessed: you say you mourn; Christ saith, you shall be comforted. Either now distrust your Saviour, or else confess your happiness, and with patience expect his promised consolation. What do you fear? you see others stand like strong Oaks, unshaken, unremoved: you are but a reed, a feeble plant, tossed & bowed with every wind, and with much agitation bruised: Lo, you are in tender and favourable hands, that never broke any, whom their sins bruised; never bruised any whom temptations have bowed. You are but flax; and your best is not a flame, but an obscure smoke of grace: Lo, here his spirit is as a soft wind, not as cold water; he will kindle, will never quench you. The sorrow you want, is his gift: Take heed least while you vex yourself with dislike of the measure, you grudge at the giver. beggars may not choose. This portion he hath vouchsafed to give you, if you have any, it is more than he was bound to bestow: yet you say, What, no more? As if you took it unkindly, that he is no more liberal. Even these holy discontentments are dangerous. Desire more (so much as you can) but repine not, when you do not attain. Desire; but so as you be free from impatience, free from unthankfulness. Those, that have tried, can say how difficult it is to complain, with due reservation of thanks. Neither know I whether is worse, to long for good things impatiently, or not at all to desire them. The fault of your sorrow, is rather in your conceit, then in itself. And, if indeed you mourn not enough, stay but God's leisure, and your eyes shall run over with tears. How many do you see sport with their sins, yea brag of them? How many that should die for want of pastime, if they might not sin freely, and more freely talk of it? What a Saint are you to these, that can droop under the memory of the frailty of youth, and never think you have spent enough tears! Yet so I encourage you in what you have, as one that persuades you not to desist from suing for more. It is good to be covetous of grace, and to have our desires herein enlarged with our receipts. Weep still, and still desire to weep: but, let your tears be as the rain in a sunshine; comfortable and hopeful: and let not your longing, savour of murmur, or distrust. These tears are reserved; this hunger shall be satisfied; this sorrow shall be comforted: There is nothing betwixt God and you, but time. Prescribe not to his wisdom: hasten not his mercy. His grace is enough for you: his glory shall be more then enough.   

To Mr. HUGH CHOLMLEY.  
EP. 5. Concerning the Metaphrase of the Psalms.  
Fear not my immoderate studies. I have a body that controls me enough in these courses; my friends need not. There is nothing whereof I could sooner surfeit, if I durst neglect my body to satisfy my mind: But, while I affect knowledge, my weakness checks me and says, Better a little learning then no health. I yield, and patiently abide myself debarred of my chosen felicity. The little I can get, I am no niggard of: neither am I more desirous to gather, then willing to impart. The full handed, are commonly most sparing. We vessels, that have any empty room, answer the least knock with a hollow noise: you, that are full, sound not. If we pardon your closeness, you may well bear with our profusion: If there be any wrong, it is to ourselves, that we utter what we should lay up. It is a pardonable fault to do less good to ourselves, that we may do more to others. Amongst other endeavours, I have boldly undertaken the holy metres of David; how happily, judge you by what you see. There is none of all my labours so open to all censures; none, whereof I would so willingly hear the verdict of the wise, and judicious. Perhaps, some think the verse harsh; whose nice ear regards roundness, more than sense: I embrace smoothness, but affect it not. This is the least good quality of a verse; that intends any thing but musical delight. Others may blame the difficulty of the tunes: whose humour cannot be pleased without a greater offence. For, to say truth, I never could see good verse written in the wont measures. I ever thought them most easy, and least Poetical. This fault (if any) will light upon the negligence of our people; which endure not to take pains for any fit variety: The French & Dutch have given us worthy examples of diligence, & exquisiteness in this kind. Neither our ears, nor voices are less tunable. here is nothing wanting, but will to learn. What is this but to eat the corn out of the ear, because we will not abide the labour to grind, and knead it? If the question be, whether our verse must descend to them, or they ascend to it; a wise moderation I think would determine it most equal, that each part should remit somewhat, and both meet in the midst. Thus I have endeavoured to do, with sincere intent of their good, rather than my own applause. For, it had been easy to have reached to an higher strain: but I durst not; whether for the grave Majesty of the Subject, or benefit of the simplest Reader. You shall still note, that I have laboured to keep David's entire sense, with numbers neither lofty, nor slubbered: which mean is so much more difficult to find, as the business is more sacred; and the liberty less. Many great wits have undertaken this task; which yet have either not effected it, or have smothered it in their private desks, and denied it the common light. Amongst the rest, were th●se two rare spirits of the Sidnyes; to whom, Poesy was as natural as it is affected of others: and our worthy friend, Mr. Sylvester, hath showed me, how happily he hath sometimes turned from his Bartas, to the sweet Singer of Israel. It could not be, that in such abundant plenty of Poesy, this work should have passed unattempted: would God I might live to see it perfected, either by my own hand, or a better. In the mean time, let me expect your unpartial sentence, both concerning the form, and sense. Lay aside your love, for a while; which too oft blinds judgement. And as it uses to be done in most equal proceedings of justice, shut me out of doors, while my verse is discussed: yea, let me receive not your censure only, but others by you: this once (as you love me) play both the Informer and the Judge. Whether you allow it, you shall encourage me; or correct, you shall amend me: 


Asteriscus.  
Veru.    Either your stars or your spits (that I may use Origens' notes) shall be welcome to my margin. It shall be happy for us, if God shall make our poor labours any way serviceable to his Name, & Church.   

To Mr. SAMVEL SOTHEBY.  
EP. 6. A Preface to his Relation of the Russian affairs.  
Travel perfiteth wisdom; and observation gives perfection to travel: without which, a man may please his eyes, not feed his brain; and, after much earth measured, shall return with a weary body, and an empty mind. Home is more safe, more pleasant; but less fruitful of experience: But, to a mind not working and discursive, all heavens, all earth's are alike. And, as the end of travel is observation; so, the end of observation is the informing of others: for, what is our knowledge if smothered in ourselves, so as it is not known to more? Such secret delight can content none but an envious nature. You have breathed many & cold airs, gone far, seen much, heard more, observed all. These two years you have spent in imitation of Nebuchadnezars' seven; conversing with such creatures as Paul fought with, at Ephesus. Alas! what a face, yea what a back of a Church have you seen? what manners? what people? Among whom, ignorant superstition strives with close Atheism, treachery with cruelty, one Devil with another; while Truth & Virtue do not so much as give any challenge of resistance. Returning once to our England after this experience, I imagine you doubted whether you were on earth, or in heaven. Now then (if you will hear me, whom you were wont) as you have observed what you have seen, & written what you have observed; so, publish what you have written: It shall be a grateful labour, to us, to posterity. I am deceived, if the fickleness of the Russian state, have not yielded more memorable matter of history than any other in our age, or perhaps many centuries of our predecessors. How shall I think, but that God sent you thither before these broils, to be the witness, the register of so famous mutations? He loves to have those just evils which he doth in one part of the world, known to the whole; & those evils, which men do in the night of their secrecy, brought forth into the Theatre of the world; that the evil of men's sin being compared with the evil of his punishment, may justify his proceedings & condemn theirs. Your work shall thus honour him; besides your second service, in the benefit of the Church. For, whiles you discourse of the open Tyranny of that Russian Nero, John Basilius; the more secret, no less bloody plots of Boris; the ill success of a stolen Crown; though set upon the head of an harmless son; the bold attempts and miserable end of a false, yet aspiring challenge; the perfidionsnesse of a servile people, unworthy of better governors; the miscarriage of wicked governors, unworthy of better subjects; the injust usurpations of men, just (though late) revenges of God, cruelly rewarded with blood, wrong claims with overthrow, treachery with bondage; the Reader, with some secret horror, shall drawin delight, and with delight instruction: Neither know I any relation whence he shall take out a more easy lesson of justice, of loyalty, of thankfulness.  
But, above all, let the world see & commiserate the hard estate of that worthy and noble Secretary, Buchinski. Poor gentleman! his distress recalls ever to my thoughts Esop's Stork, taken amongst the Cranes: He now nourishes his hair, under the displeasure of a foreign Prince; At once in durance, and banishment. He served an ill master; but, with an honest heart, with clean hands. The master's injustice doth no more infect a good servant, than the truth of the servant can justify his ill master. A bad workman may use a good instrument: and oft-times a clean napkin wipeth a foul mouth. It joys me yet to think, that his piety, as it ever held friendship in heaven, so now it wins him friends in this our other world: Lo, even from our Island inexpected deliverance takes a long flight, and blesseth him beyond hope; yea rather, from heaven, by us. That GOD, whom he serves, will be known to those rude and scarce human Christians, for a protector of innocence, a favourer of truth, a rewarder of Piety. The mercy of our gracious King, the compassion of an honourable Councillor, the love of a true friend, and (which wrought all, and set all on work) the grace of our good God, shall now lose those bonds, and give a glad welcome to his liberty, and a willing farewell to his distress. He shall, I hope, live to acknowledge this; in the mean time, I do for him. Those Russian affairs are not more worthy of your records, than your love to this friend is worthy of mine. For, neither cold this large Sea drown or quench it, nor time and absence (which are wont to breed a lingering consumption of friendship) abate the heat of that affection, which his kindness bred, religion nourished. Both rareness, and worth shall commend this true love; which (to say true) hath been now long out of fashion. Never time's yielded more love; but, not more subtle. For, every man loves himself in another, loves the estate in the person: Hope of advantage is the loadstone that draws the iron hearts of men; not virtue, not desert. No age afforded more Parasites, fewer friends: The most are friendly in sight, serviceable in expectation, hollow in love, trustless in experience. Yet now Buchinski, see & confess thou hast found one friend, which hath made thee many: on whom while thou bestowedst much favour, thou hast lost none. I cannot but think how welcome, Liberty (which tho late, yet now at last hath looked back upon him) shall be to the Cell of his affliction; when, smiling upon him, she shall lead him by the hand, and (like another Angel) open the iron gates of his miserable captivity, and (from those hard Prestaues and savage Christians) carry him by the hair of the head, into this paradise of God. In the mean time I have written to him as I could, in a known language, with an unknown hand; that my poor Letters of gratulation might serve as humble attendants to greater.  
For your work, I wish it but such glad entertainment, as the profit, yea the delight of it deserves; and fear nothing, but that this long delay of publication will make it scarce news: We are all grown Athenians, and account a strange report like to a fish, and a guest. Those eyes and hands stayed it, which might do it best. I cannot blame you, if you think it more honoured by the stay of his gracious perusal, than it could be by the early acceptation of the world. Even the cast garments of Princes are precious Others have in part prevented you; whose labours, to yours, are but as an Echo to a long period: by whom, we hear the last sound of these stirs, ignorant of the beginning. They give us but a taste in their hand: you lead us to the open fountain. Let the Reader give you but as much thank, as you give him satisfaction; you shall desire no more.  
Finally, GOD give us as much good use, as knowledge of his judgements; the world, help of your labours; yourself, encouragement; Buchinski, liberty.   

To STANISLAUS BUCHINSKI, late Secretary to DEMETRIUS Emp. of Russia.  
EP. 7. Of the comfort of Imprisonment.  
THe knowledge, that the eye gives of the face alone, is shallow, uncertain, imperfect. For, what is it, to see the utmost skin, or favour of the visage; changeable with disease, changeable with passion? The ear (me thinks) doth both most clearly disclose the minds of others, and knit them faster to ours: which, as it is the sense of discipline, so of friendship; commanding it even to the absent, and in the present cherishing it. This thing we have lately proved in yourself, most noble Stanislaus: nearer examples we might have had; better, we could not. How many, how excellent things have we heard of you, from our common friend, though most yours, which have easily won our belief, our affections! How oft, how honourable mention hath he made of your name! how frequently, how fervently have we wished you, both safety, and liberty! And now, Lo where she comes, as the greeks say, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, & visits her forlorn Client. Although, I would not doubt to say that this outward durance of the body, hath seemed more harsh to the beholders, then to yourself, a wise man, and (which is more) a Christian; whose free soul, in the greatest straits of the outer man, flies over Seas and Lands, whither it listeth; neither can, by any distance of place, nor swelling of waves, nor height of mountains, nor violence of enemies, nor strong bars, nor walls, nor guards, be restrained from what place itself hath chosen. Lo, that enjoys God, enjoys itself, and his friends; and so feeds itself with the pleasure of enjoying them, that it easily either forgers, or contemns all other things. It is no Paradox, to say that A wise Christian cannot be imprisoned, cannot be banished: He is ever at home, ever free. For, both his liberty is within him, and his home is universal. And what is it, I beseech you (for you have tried) that makes a prison? Is it straightness of walls? Then you have as many fellows, as there are men. For, how is the soul of every man penned within these clay-walles of the body, more close, more obscure● whence, she may look oft, through the grates of her busy thoughts; but, is never released in substance, till that God, who gave us our Mittimus into this jail, give us our Delivery, with a Return ye sons of Adam: Thus, either all men are prisoners, or you are none. Is it restraint? How many (especially of that other sex in those your Eastern parts) chamber up themselves, for state; so as they neither see the Sun, nor others them? How many superstitious men, for devotion? How many obscure Aglai, for ease and carelessness, keep themselves in their own Cottage, in their own village; & never walk forth so much as to the neighbour towns? And what is your Russia to all her inhabitants, but a large prison, a wide Galley? yea, what other is the world to us? How can he complain of straightness, or restraint, that roves all over the world, and beyond it? Tyranny may part the soul from the body; cannot confine it to the body. That which others do for ease, devotion, state, you do for necessity: why not as willingly, since you must do it? Do but imagine the cause other; & your case is the same with theirs which both have chosen, and delight to keep close; yet hating the name of prisoners, while they embrace the condition. But, why do I persuade you, not to mislike that, which I pray you may forsake? I had rather you should be no prisoner at all; then to be a cheerful prisoner upon necessity. If the doors be open, my persuasion shall not hold you in: Rather our prayers shall open those doors, and fetch you forth into this common liberty of men; Which also hath not a little (though an inferior) contentment. For, how pleasant is it to these senses, by which we men are wont to be led, to see & be seen, to speak to our friends, and hear them speak to us; to touch and kiss the dear hands of our Parents and with them at last to have our eyes closed? Either this shall befall you; or what hopes, what pains (I add no more) hath this your careful friend lost? and we, what wishes, what consultations? It shall be; I dare hope, yea believe it: Only thou our good God give such end, as thou hast done entrance into this business; and so dispose of these likely endeavours, that whom we love and honour absent, we may at last in presence see and embrace.   

To my father in law, Mr. GEORGE WENYFFE.  
EP. 8. Exciting to Christian cheerfulness.  
YOu complain of dullness; a common disease, and incident to the best minds, and such as can most contemn vanities. For, the true Worldling hunts after nothing but mirth; neither cares how lawless his sport be, so it be pleasant: he feigns to himself false delights, when he wants: and, if he can pass the time, and chase away Melancholy, he thinks his day spent happily. And thus it must needs be; while the world is his God, his devotion can be but his pleasure: whereas the mortified soul, hath learned to scorn these frivolous and sinful joys; and affects either solid delights, or none; and had rather be dull for want of mirth, then transported with wanton pleasures. When the world, like an importunate Minstrel, thrusts itself into his chamber, and offers him Music, unsought; if he vouchsafe it the hearing, it is the highest favour he dare, or can yield: He rewards it not, he commends it not; Yea, he secretly loathes those harsh and jarring notes, and rejects them. For, he finds a better consort within, betwixt GOD and himself, when he hath a little tuned his heart with meditation. To speak fully, the World is like an ill fool in a play: the Christian is a judicious spectator, which thinks those jests too gross to be laughed at; and therefore entertains that with scorn, which others with applause. Yet in truth, we sin, if we rejoice not: There is not more error in false mirth, then in unjust heaviness. If Worldlings offend, that they laugh when they should mourn; we shall offend no less, if we droop in cause of cheerfulness. Shall we envy, or scorn, to see one joy in red and white dross, another in a vain title; one in a dainty dish, another in a jest; one in a book, another in a friend; one in a Kite, another in a Dog; while we enjoy the God of heaven, and are sorrowful? What dull metal is this we are made of? We have the fountain of joy, and yet complain of heaviness. Is there any joy, without God? Certainly, if joy be good, and all goodness be from him; whence should joy arise, but from him? And if he be the Author of joy; how are we Christians, and rejoice not? What? do we freeze in the fire, and starve at a feast? Have we a good conscience, and yet pine and hang down the head? When GOD hath made us happy, do we make ourselves miserable? When I ask my heart David's question, I know not whether I be more angry, or ashamed at the answer; Why art thou sad, my soul? My body, my purse, my fame, my friends; or perhaps none of these: only I am sad, because I am. And what if all these, what if more? when I come to my better wits, Have I a father, an advocate, a comforter, a mansion in heaven? if both earth and hell conspired to afflict me, my sorrow cannot countervail the causes of my joy. Now I can challenge all adversaries; and either defy all miseries, or bid all crosses, yea death itself, welcome. Yet GOD doth not abridge us of these earthly solaces, which dare weigh with our discontentments, & sometimes depress the balance. His greater light doth not extinguish the less. If God had not thought them blessings, he had not bestowed them: and how are they blessings, if they delight us not? Books, friends, wine, oil, health, reputation, competency, may give occasions, but not bounds to our rejoicings. We may not make them Gods rivals, but his spokesmen. In themselves they are nothing; but, in God, worth our joy. These may be used; yet so as they may be absent without distraction. Let these go; so God alone be present with us, it is enough: He were not God, if he were not All-sufficient. We have him, I speak boldly; We have him in feeling, in faith, in pledges, and earnest; yea, in possession. Why do we not enjoy him? Why do we not shake-off that senseless drowsiness, which makes our lives unpleasant; and leave-over all heaviness, to those that want God; to those that either know him not, or know him displeased?   

To Mr. W. R. Dedic. to Mr. THOMAS BURLZ.  
EP. 9 Consolations of immoderate Grief for the death of friends.  
WHile the stream of sorrow runs full, I know how vain it is to oppose counsel. Passions must have leisure to digest. Wisdom doth not more moderate them, than time. At first, it was best to mourn with you, and to mitigate your sorrow, by bearing part; wherein, would GOD my burden could be your ease. Every thing else is less, when it is divided; And then is best, after tears, to give counsel: yet, in these thoughts I am not a little straited. Before you have digested grief, advise comes too early; too late, when you have digested it. Before, it was unseasonable; after, would be superfluous. Before, it could not benefit you: after, it may hurt you, by rubbing-up a skinned sore afresh. It is as hard to choose the season for counsel, as to give it: and that season is, after the first digestion of sorrow; before the last If my Letters then meet with the best opportunity, they shall please me, and profit you: If not, yet I deserve pardon, that I wished so. You had but two jewels, which you held precious; a Wife, and a Son: One was yourself divided; the other, yourself multiplied: You have lost both, and well-near at once. The loss of one caused the other, & both of them your just grief. Such losses, when they come single, afflict us; but, when double, astonish us; and, though they give advantage of respite, would almost overwhelm the best patient. Lo, now is the trial of your manhood, yea of your Christianity: You are now in the lists, set-upon by two of God's fierce afflictions; show now what patience you have, what fortitude. Wherefore have you gathered, and layd-up, all this time, but for this brunt? Now bring forth all your holy store to light, and to use; and approve to us in this difficulty, that you have all this while been a Christian in earnest. I know, these events have not surprised you on a sudden: you have suspected they might come; you have put-cases if they should come. Things that are hazardous, may be doubted: but, certain things are, and must be expected. Providence abates grief, and discountenances a cross. Or, if your a●●●ction were so strong, that you 〈◊〉 not forethink your loss; take it equally but as it falls. A wise man and a Christian, knows death so fatal to Nature, so ordinary in event, so gainful in the issue, that I wonder he can for this either fear or grieve. Doth GOD only lend us one another, and do we grudge when he calls for his own? So I have seen ill debtor, that borrow with prayers, keep with thanks, repay with enmity. We mistake our tenure: We take that for gift, which GOD intends for loan; We are Tenants at will, and think ourselves owners. Your wife and child are dead: Well; they have done that for which they came.  
If they could not have died, it had been worthy of wonder; not at all, that they are dead. If this condition were proper only to our families; and friends, or yet to our climate alone; how unhappy should we seem to our neighbours, to ourselves! Now it is common, let us mourn that we are men. Lo, all Princes and Monarches dance with us in the same ring: yea, what speak I of earth? The God of Nature, the Saviour of men, hath trod the same steps of death? And do we think much to follow him? How many servants have we known, that have thrust themselves betwixt their Master & death; which have died, that their master might not die? and shall we repined to die with ours? How truly may we say of this our David, Thou art worth ten thousand of us; yea, worth a world of Angels: yet he died, and died for us. Who would live, that knows his Saviour died? who can be a Christian, and would not be like him? Who can be like him, that would not die after him? Think of this, and judge whether all the world can hire us not to die. I need not ask you, whether you loved those whom you have lost: Could you love them, and not wish they might be happy? Could they be happy, and not die? In truth, Nature knows not what she would have; We can neither abide our friends miserable in their stay, nor happy in their departure: We love ourselves so well, that we cannot be content they should gain by our loss. The excuse of your sorrow is, that you mourn for yourself. True: but, compare these two, and see whether your loss or their gain be greater. For, if their advantage exceed your loss; take heed, lest while you bewray your love in mourning for them, it appear that you love but yourself in them. They are gone to their preferment, and you lament: your love is injurious. If they were vanished to nothing, I could not blame you, though you took up Rachel's lamentation: But now, you know they are in surer hands than your own: you know, that he hath taken them, which hath undertaken to keep them, to bring them again: You know, it is but a sleep, which is miscalled Death; and that they shall, they must awake, as sure as they lie down; and wake more fresh, more glorious, then when you shut their eyes. What do we with Christianity, if we believe not this? and if we do believe it, why do we mourn as the hopeless? But the matter, perhaps, is not so heavy as the circumstance: Your crosses came sudden, and thick; You could not breath from your first loss, ere you felt a worse. As if he knew not this, that sent both: As if he did it not on purpose. His proceedings seem harsh; are most wise, most just. It is our fault, that they seem otherwise then they are. Do we think, we could carve better for ourselves? O the mad insolence of Nature, that dares control, where she should wonder! Presumptuous clay! that will be checking the Potter. Is his wisdom, himself? Is he, in himself, infinite? is his Decree out of his wisdom; and do we murmur? Do we, foolish worms, turn again when he treads upon us? What? do you repine at that which was good for you, yea best? That is best for us, which God seeth best: and that he sees best, which he doth. This is God's doing. Kiss his rod in silence, and give glory to the hand that rules it. His will is the rule of his actions; and his goodness, of his will. Things are good to us, because he wills them: He wills them, because they are good to himself. It is your glory that he intends, in your so great affliction. It is no praise to wade over a shallow Ford: but, to cut the swelling waves of the Deep, commends both our strength and skill. It is no victory, to conquer an easy and weak cross. These main evils have crowns answerable to their difficulty: Wrestle now, and go away with a blessing. Be patient in this loss, and you shall once triumph in your gain. Let God have them with cheerfulness, and you shall enjoy God with them in glory.   

To Mr. I. A. Merchant.  
EP. 10. Against Sorrow for worldly losses.  
IT is fitter for me to begin with chiding, then with advice: what means this weak distrust? Go on, and I shall doubt whether I write to a Christian. You have lost your heart, together with your wealth: How can I but fear, lest this Mammon was your God? Hence was God's jealousy in removing it; and hence your immoderate tears for losing it. If thus; God had not loved you, if he had not made you poor. To some, it is an advantage to lose: you could not have been at once thus rich, and good. Now, heaven is open to you, which was shut before; & could never have given you entrance, with that load of iniquity. If you be wise in managing your affliction, you have changed the world for GOD, a little dross for heaven. Let me ever lose thus, and smart when I complain.  
But, you might have at once retained both. The stomach, that is purged, must be content to part with some good nourishment, that it may deliver itself of more evil humours. God saw (that knows it) you could not hold him so strongly, while one of your hands was so fastened upon the world. You see, many make themselves wilfully poor: why cannot you be content God should impoverish you? If God had willed their poverty, he would have commanded it: If he had not willed yours, he would not have effected it. It is a shame for a Christian, to see an Heathen philosopher laugh at his own shipwreck; while himself howls out, as if all his felicity were embarked with his substance. How should we scorn, to think that an heathen man should laugh either at our ignorance, or impotence? ignorance, if we thought too highly of earthly things; impotence, if we overloved them. The fear of some evils is worse than the sense. To speak ingenuously; I could never see, wherein poverty deserved so hard a conceit. It takes away the delicacy of fare, softness of lodging, gayness of attire, and perhaps brings with it contempt: This is the worst, and all. View it now on the better side: Lo, there quiet security, sound sleeps, sharp appetite, free merriment; no fears, no cares, no suspicion, no distemper of excess, no discontentment. If I were judge, my tongue should be unjust, if poverty went away weeping. I cannot see, how the evils it brings, can compare with those which it removes; how the discommodities should match the blessings of a mean estate. What are those you have lost, but false friends, miserable comforters? Else they had not left you. Oh slight and fickle stay, that winds could bereave you of! If your care could go with them, here were no damage: and, if it go not with them, it is your fault. Grieve more for your fault, then for your loss. If your negligence, your riotous misspence had impaired your estate, than Satan had impoverished you; now would I have added to your grief, for your sin, not for your asfliction: But now, since winds and waters have done it as the officers of their maker; why should not you say with me, as I with Job, The Lord hath taken? Use your loss well, and you shall find that God hath crossed you with a blessing. And if it were worse than the world esteems it, yet think not what you feel, but what you deserve: You are a stranger to yourself, if you confess not, that God favours you in this whip. If he had stripped you of better things, and scourged you with worse, you should still have acknowledged a merciful justice: If you now repine at an easy correction, you are worthy of severity. Beware the next, if you grudge and swell at this. It is next to nothing which you suffer: what can be further from us, than these goods of outward estate? You need nor abate either health, or mirth, for their sakes. If you do now draw the affliction nearer than he which sent it, and make a foreign evil domestical; if while God visits your estate, you fetch it home to your body, to your mind; thank yourself that you will needs be miserable: But, if you love not to far ill; take crosses as they are sent, and go lightly away with an easy burden.  
FINIS.    

Errata.  
Pag. 86. line 2. falls for faults. pag 98. li. 1. nor for not.