THE FRENCH ACADEMY.  
FULLY DISCOURSED and finished in four Books.  
1. Institution of Manners and Callings of all Estates.  
2. Concerning the Soul and Body of Man  
3. A notable description of the whole World, etc.  
4. Christian Philosophy, instructing the true and only means to eternal life.  
This fourth part never before published in English.  
All written by the first Author, PETER de la, PRIMAUDAYE, Esquire, Lord of Bar, Chancellor, and Steward of the French Kings House.  
LONDON, Printed for THOMAS ADAMS.  
1618.    

TO THE RIGHT VIRTUOUS AND WORSHIPFUL GENTLEMAN AND HIS SINgular good friend. Mr. JOHN BARN Esquire, T. B. C. wisheth grace and peace in this life, and everlasting happiness in the life to come.  
SIR, having at length finished the Translation of this FRENCH Treatise of moral Philosophy, I presume the rather to recommend it to your Worship's favour, because yourself did first commend it unto me for the variety of excellent sayings and examples wherewith it is replenished. And surely I persuade myself, that howsoever for want of a skilful Translator it hath lost much of that grace, which otherwise it might have had, yet by reason of the matter itself, and good disposition observed throughout the whole book, it will be of some account with so many as prefer the soundness of substance before the swelling froth of curious phrases True it is, that many words used by the Author, and retained by me, are almost the same with the original tongues from whence they were derived, and peradventure will sound harsh at the first in their ears that never heard them before: but if they will have patience a while, and let them pass to and fro upon the file often heir teeth, no doubt but in short time they will be as smooth as other Greek and Latin words which now are taken for mere English. I might here allege reasons to prove the necessity of retaining such words in translating: namely, that many of them are proper names and words of Art; that as all occupations and handicrafts have their several names of instruments belonging to their science, so is it with Philosophy, and with every part thereof: but I make no doubt of finding the Reader favourable in this point, considering that it tendeth to the enriching of our own language, and hath been practised by the learned of all nations that have go before us, as is evident to such as are skilful in the tongues. Concerning the profit of this book, I refer the Reader either to the title thereof, which promiseth no more (in my opinion) than is performed with advantage in the body of the same; or else to the Authors Epistle to the Reader, wherein he setteth down a summary of that doctrine, which is afterward handled more at large. Wherein howsoever he hath very excellently behaved himself, and (as I am persuaded) go far beyond those that have handled the same matter before him, yet considering each man's infirmity to be such, that he attaineth not to perfection in any work, neither speaketh all things that are to be spoken of the same thing, nor yet is free from error in those things which he speaketh or writeth, I exhort all that shall peruse this Treatise following, so far only to approve every sentence and example of life, as it may be proved out of the records of holy Scripture. Moreover, as many as are desirous to be bettered by the reading of this book, they must think seriously upon the end unto which this Author had regard when he penned it, which was the same that Aristotle had in writing his Ethics or book of Manners: namely, The practice of virtue in life, and not the bore knowledge and contemplation thereof in brain. And, jest any man should have that opinion of these Moral precepts, which all men have 
Arist. lib. 2. Eth. cap. 2.  of Plato's Common wealth, or of Aristotle's Felicity, of Tully's Orator, or of moors Utopia, that they contain in them rather an Idea of good life, than such a platform as may be drawn from contemplation into action, he hath joined works with words, practise with precept, and the first-fruits of rare examples with the fair flowers of Philosophical instructions. But many are so far from concerning any such excellency in them, that so soon as they hear the name of Philosophy, they think they have sufficient cause to condemn as hurtful, all the writings of Philosophers, alleging that sentence of Saint Paul Beware jest there be any man that spoil you through Philosophy: not considering that the Apostle doth in the very next words expound himself, and showeth that he meaneth nothing else but the deceitful conclusions of man's reason, disagreeing from the doctrine of Christ revealed unto us in his word. I grant that the word of God is only perfect, and containeth in it an absolute rule both of piety towards God, and humanity towards men; but it followeth not therefore, that we may not use the benefit of human precepts, or tread in the steps of heathen men, so far forth at their learning and lives descent not from the truth of holy Scriptures. Will any man refuse pearls because they are offered him i● base vessels? or not use a light, because it is not put into a silver candlestick? And shall we pass over without profit, so many good precepts and worthy examples of learned men, because they proceed from the twilight of natural knowledge, and not from the clear sunshine of the word of God' Let us rather harken to Saint Augustine, in his second book of Christian doctrine, where he hath these words agreeing very fitly to this matter: As for those (saith he) that are called Philosophers, if they have uttered any truth 
Aug. lib. de doct chr. ca 40.  agreeable to our faith and doctrine (especially the Platonists) we are not only not to fear it, but rather to challenge it from them as from unjust possessors thereof. For as the Egyptians had not only; dolls and heavy burdens, which the people of Israel were to detest and flee from, but also vessels and ornaments of gold, silver and raiment, which that people at their departure out of Egypt challenged covertly to themselves for better uses, although not of their own authority, but by the commandment of God, etc. So the doctrine of the Gentiles hath not only sergeant and superstitious forgeries and heavy packs of needless labour, which every one of us departing from their society under our Captain Christ, aught to detest and shun: but also liberal Arts meet to set forth the truth by, and certain profitable precepts of manners, yea some true points concerning the worship of one only God. What their knowledge was concerning themselves, and then duty one toward another, the whole Treatise following expresseth at large, unto which I had rather refer you than use any needless repetition in this place. And as for the other point concerning the knowledge of one only God, it is most certain, that from the light of Nature helped with industry, study, 
Aug. lib. 8. the civet. D●●, cap. 6, 7, 8, etc.  and education (according to the wisdom and dispensation of God) many notable conclusions proceeded from sundry of them, as Augustine himself showeth by a long discourse in his eight book De Civitate Dei, where among other he allegeth these out of Plato: That God is a spirit, and of a far more excellent nature than the soul of man, or any other spirit whatsoever: that God is one and the same, and always like unto himself: that God is the light of our minds, whereby we attain to all our knowledge and understanding: that no man is therefore blessed and happy, because he hath abundance of wealth, honour, strength, beauty, or of any external thing, nor yet for any gift of the mind, but because he enjoyeth God the sovereign good. How divinely doth Aristotle writ of God, and of his fatherly providence, in his Tractare De Mundo dedicated to Alexander? I know that many with force of reason carrying them thereinto, have vehemently suspected, that this piece of work came never out of his shop. Which although it be granted for true, yet the book doth evidently declare, that the Author thereof was a mere heathen man, and directed only by his pure Naturals, when he wrote it: which being sufficient to show how far the darkness of nature doth comprehend the light and knowledge of heavenly things, is as much as I require. This treatise being wholly occupied in these two principal points: namely, in the description of the universal 
Aristotle de Mun. 10.  frame of the world, and in the declaration of the nature of God the worke-master thereof, I will briesly set before you the sum of the last part, which the Philosopher painteth out unto us very notably in lively and orient colours. First he acknowledgeth, that All things are of God, that they consist and have their being by his power, that no nature whatsoever is able to continued, if it be not maintained and preserved by him. And in setting out the manner of working whereby this mighty power of God is forcible in the government of all things, he goeth beyond the common reach of natural men, affirming, that although God be present every where, yet not by any bodily or local presence, as the common received opinion than was: That all things whatsoever we perceive by sight, hearing, or any other sense, were full of Gods, and as servetus blasphemously taught of late years, That God was an essential part of every creature, but that he governeth all thing▪ by his power and virtue, whereby he effecteth whatsoever pleaseth him. Again, as he subscribeth to the almighty power and providence of God in the being and rule of all things, so he laboureth to make known the great wisdom of God by the contemplation of the excellent course of nature, which is certain without inconstancy, beautiful without blemish, & diverse with out disorder. For what can be more certain than the ordinary course of the Sun, Moon, and Stars, which have continued in their appointed race from time to time and from one age unto another? What greater certainty then that which to our comfort appeareth in the natural turns and returns of times and sea●onss, of Summer, and Winter, Spring and Autumn, day and night? in regard of which constant continuance of the irrevocable order appointed by God in this whole frame, the world is called by the Hebrews gnolam: and in the Epistle to that people, it is expressed by this word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, (which many times signifieth perpetuity) Heb. 1. 2. & 11. 3, Concerning the beauty and glorious show thereof, what thing more beautiful than the glittering face of the heavens decked and adorned with star●eses both great and small, as it were with jewels and precious stones of all sorts? And for this self same cause it received that name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 from the Grecians, and of Mundus from the Latins.  
Lastly, if we look either to the variable motions of the Spheres in the ethereal region, or to the contrary qualities of the elements in the airy and lower part of the world, or to the variety of fowls, fishes, beasts, plants, grain, stones, metals, etc. and consider withal what a sweet harmony ariseth from all these, as it were from a well tuned instrument that hath strings of all sorts, or like to a lively picture that hath all kinds of colours mingled in it, or to a well ordered city compounded of sundry occupations, callings, and conditions, of poor and rich, young and old, bond and free, we may see if we have but half an eye, and feel if we be blind, that in this rare piece of work and frame of the world, there is most excellent conveyance without confusion, great variety concurring in unity, and diversity of all kinds without disorder. All this and much more is attributed by the Author of that book De Mundo, (Aristotle, or some other heath: n Philosopher) to the only working of the power of the muisible God, of whom (saith he) we must conceine that for his power he is most mighty, for his beauty most excellent, for his life unmortall, and for his virtue most absolute: and therefore he cannot be seen of any mortal creature, but is notwithstanding known by his works. For all accidents in the air in the earth, and in the water, may truly be called the works of God, who containeth and preserveth this world, of whom (as Empedocles saith) proceeded,  
All things that were, that are, and shall be here,  
Plants, Men, Beasts, Birds, and Fish in waters clear.  
But this Philosopher not contenting himself with this consideration and view of God in his works, entereth into a deeper meditation of his nature, by setting down a very good exposition, and as it were a Commentary upon those names and titles, which usually were attributed in his time unto God, thereby to make his powerful government over all the world more known unto men Although (saith he) that God be but one, yet we call him b● m●n● names, as 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉: because we live by him 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, because he is of an immutable nature, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, ●Spane● a thing is done by chance, but according to his most certain decree: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, because no man can possibly avoid ●Spane●, because he abideth for ever. And as for that fable (saith he) of the three sisters of destiny. I 〈◊〉 ●●●th● that spinneth, of Lachesis that draweth out to a just length, and of Atropos that cutteth off the thread of man's life, It is to be understood of God only, who (as it was said in old time) is the beginning, midst, and end of all things. To conclude, there is a justice that is never separated from God, which is the revenger of all tranfgressions committed against the law of God, wherein every one must be well instructed that would be partaker of human felicity & happiness.  
Now judge, I pray you, whether a Christian may not with profit enter into this School of nature, and reap commodity by this little light of natural knowledge, which as it served to make them without excuse that were endued therewith, because they knowing GOD, did not glorify him as GOD, neither were thankful, but become vain in their imaginations: so it is to be feared, that those self same men shall rise up in judgement against us that profess Christianity, and condemn us in that great and terrible day. For how many of us want that knowledge of the eternal power, divinity, and providence of God, which was in Parmenides, Plato, Aristotle, and others, endued only with the light of nature, whereby they were led from the view of the creatures, to the consideration of the invisible things of God? And if we look into the lives of men in these days, and consider what neglect there is of those duties which God commandeth us to exhibit one to another, we shall soon see, that many a million of carnal gospelers come far short even of those civil apparent and halt virtues of the heathen, and may therefore be sent back to learn holiness of Socrates, justice, and innocency of Aristides, charity of Cimon, upright dealing of Photion, fidelity in performing promises of Regulus, 
Lib. 6. Strommat.  moderation of Camilsus, parsimony of Curius, gravity of Cato, and what not of heathen men, whose sight in these things was better at midnight, then ours is at midday? But my meaning is not to approve that Apocryphal tradition of Clemens Alexandrinus, who saith, that As the law was a Schoolmaster to the jews to lead them to Christ: so Philosophy was to the Grecians to bring them to salvation. Now although this erroneous doctrine be as contrary to truth as darkness is to light, and as hell is to heaven, yet did Andradius defend it in a book set forth by him at their instigation (as himself protested) who were of greatest authority in the late Tridentine Council. Doth not the Lord by the mouth of Easie tell us, that there is no light in them that have not recourse to the law and to the Testimony, and speak not according to his word? Easie 8. 20. Doth not our Saviour Christ sand us to the Scriptures for everlasting life? john 5. 39 How then dare any professing Christianity, affirm, that Philosophers by the light of nature, and knowledge of Philosophy, without the direction of the written word of God, were made partakers of the righteousness that cometh by faith, and so consequently of eternal happiness? But to let this halfphemous mouth pass, let us make that account of the writings of men which they deserve, and reap that commodity by them, which we may without prejudice to the written word. For my meaning is not in commending Philosophy, to give greater credit unto it, or further to allow the use thereof, than may stand with the majesty of the holy and sacred Scripture, which being the Mistress of all human arts & disciplines, useth them as her handmaids to serve and obey her. Therefore as it is unseemly for a maid-servant to go before her mistress, to speak before she be spoken unto, or to use three words for one, especially in company where service and modesty is most required so it beseemeth not the Ambassadors of God's word (unto whom indeed the knowledge of tongues and human arts is a singular help) to use these gifts otherwise then as handmaids in their studies and meditations to serve the Scripture to the more plain and pure exposition of it, seeing they are sent to edisie others, and not to set out themselves. Now when they stuff a great part of their speech with Poetical fictions, Philosophical sayings and examples (as also they are wont to allege Hebrew, Greek, and Latin sentences, to draw men into admiration of their great learning) they set the mistress behind, and give the first and chiefest place unto the handmaidens. Is not this To make the cross of Christ of none effect? 1. Corinth. 1. 17. To use that kind of preaching that standeth in the enticing speech of man's wisdom, and not in plain evidence and power? Is it not To build faith upon the wisdom of men, and not upon the power of God? 1. Corinth. 2. 4. 5. If disagreement of matter and form be unseemly, how undecent is it in spiritual doctrine to use a carnal and human kind of teaching, 1. Corinth. 2. 13. to alloy the strength of the word of Christ with the warerish sayings and fables of men? to put upon the naked and glorious face of God the beggarly cloaks of Poets and Philosophers?  
When the Lord hath sanctified, not the corruptible seed of the sayings of men, but the incorruptible seed of his own most holy word to the begetting of faith, are not these new begetters ashamed to bring in another way of regeneration? When Gods will is to have his children nourished with the sincere and unmingled milk of his word, dare man use the infusion of water, to the weakening of them whom he aught to confirm? When the King hath appointed for his Sons and Daughters the purest and finest wheat, shall the Steward, as if they were swine, provide Acorns for them? But I detain you too long from entering into the pleasant walks of this Platonical Academy and School of Moral Philosophy, which being hewn out of the choicest timber of all Countries, was raised up, and set together in France, and is newly rough-cast (as you see) by an English workman: whose earnest desire is to have this small labour of his known to other, and received of you as a monument of his grateful mind towards your Worship, for the manifold benefits which he hath from a child received at your hands. In consideration whereof I am bold, or rather bound, to offer myself together with these my first first-fruits unto your good liking beseeching him that turned your bountiful heart towards me, to knit it so near unto himself, that he may be your chief riches in this life, and your only happiness in the world to come. Thus commending you and that good Gentlewoman your wife with all yours, to the grace of God, I take my leave of you, this 17. of October.  
Your Worships ever bounden in the Lord, T. B. C.   

FIDELI SVO AMICO, T. B. C. GALLICAE ACADEMIAE 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
SI quis in nativo solo collocatus, honestis quibusuis circumfluens voluptatibus, nec ulla necessitate ●o impulsus, se tamen amicorum hortatu in turbulentissima● maris tempestates conijceret, ut preciosam margaritam a suis multum desideratam compararet: certe & laudanda foret eius in tantis laboribus subeundis alacritas, & postquam secundo vento usus sit, summa cum latitia excipiendus illius redditus. Peregre, ut mihi visum est, profectus es aliquantisper (charissime amice) & licet ea fuit vitae tuae conditio, ut bonis litteris te obiectans, in ijs tanquam in tua patria consistere potuisses: voluisti tame● amicocorā rogatu fluctibus te obijcere, & per aliquos scopulos velut in Gallican regionem navigare, ut hanc splendidissimam gēmam, Academian nempe florētissimā, nobis etiam amicis tuis communicare posses. Appulisti tandem ad portum, syrtes oes praeteruectus es; exoptatam margaritam tuo opere assecuti sumus: non possumus ergo quin & tuam in istis laboribus suscipiendis voluntatem libenter agnoscamu●, & in ijsdem exantlandis foelicitatem libere praedicemus. Quamuis vero multorum in occulis vilescere coepit Philosophia, cu●us abditos the sauros in lucem protulisti: eiusmodi tamen sunt, quorum autoritas propter hominum levitatem nullius est momemti, & quos vere perstringit illud sermone tritum proverbium, Scientia non habet mimicum nisi ignorantem. Quis in Maronem Bathyllo atrocior? Quis in Vlissem Thersite acerbior? Quis Dialecticis argutijs Epicuro infestior? Et quales, quaeso, sunt, qui canino latratu impetunt Philosophiam, nisi qui huius Reginae ades ne a limine salutarunt? Si ergo apud istos forsitan sordescant tua vigilia, ne dimittas tamen animum. Neque enim tam a●re est eorum judicium, ut tam pertimescas, nec lingua adeo virulenta, ut vel minimam labeculam tuo nomini aspergere possit. Ne Solis quidem lumen caco jucundum est: saluberrima pharmica ab imperitis conculcantur: pretiosissimae gemma a gallo Aesopico spernuntur: & ipsa Philosophia, vitae lucerna, mentis medicina, gemma lucidissima, a cacis, s●olidis, brutis contemnitur. Si aut cum Neoptolemo apud Ennium philosophandum putassent, licet paucis; aut cum Divo Paulo 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 duntaxat 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 reiec●ssent; nos minime repugnantes habuissent: Quum vero una cum Apollonio philosophiam ludibrio habeant, eamque ab omni vetustate constitutam cum Arcesila penitus labefactent, nullo modo audiendi, aut ferendi sunt. Ac sicut Dicaearchus & Aristoxenus, quia difficilis erat animi, quid aut qualis esset intelligentia, nullum omnino animum esse dixerunt: ita isti, quorum obtusa acies philosophiae insignes fructus aspicere nequit, nullum esse omnino philosophiae usum clamant.  
Verum enim vero, habeat Phylosophia suam laudem, sit vitae dux, morum magistra, virtutis columna, & ei tanquam reginae solium suum tribuatur. Tuae tamen laudes nullae erunt, nulla te manebit laurea, nullum hic est tuum inventum, nullum tui accuminis specimen nisi velis tanqu●m ignavus miles de spolijs aliorum sudore partis gloriari & latronum mor● al●orum bona, alijs impr●ssis notis, tanquam tua venditare. Siceine vero? quid ita tandem? Novi ego (mi amice) anim● tui endol●m, nullamque (ut ing●nue dicam, quod longa me docuit experientia) 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in te contemplari potui● & quam vis nulla benefacta lucem reformident, ea tamen semper laudabiliora duxisti, quae sine venditatione & populo tes●e facta sunt, nullumque theatrum virtuti conscientia maiu● iudicasti. Cuius rei vel hoc unicum satis est argumenti, quod non (sicut illi philosophide contemnenda gloria scribentes sua nomina libris apposuerunt) voluisti hoc tuum opu● tuum in fronte nomen gerere, sed publicum potius commodum quam privatam gloriam respiciens, incerto maluisti librum ●rod●re a●thore, quam nos c●rta ca●ere utilitate. Gloria autem individua virtutis comes, vide, ut te quam vis fugientem sequatur. Neque enim n●hili est tua industria astimanda, quam vis alterius vestigijs institisti, nec parvi ducendae sunt tuae vigilia, l●et alterius opera priu● elucubrata fuit ista Academia. Aurum & argentum alunt ipsa terrae viscera: illis tamen 〈◊〉 debem●● quorum sudore ista metella effodiuntur. Omne fere genus mercaturae aliquibus in locis sua sponte nasc●tur; suo tamen honore minime spolian di sunt mercatores, quorum cum p●riculo vitaeque crebra iactura, tanta nobis b●na comport●●a sunt. Sit itaque P●●maudayi aurea ista Academ●a, illius sit pretiosissima haec supelle●; tibi tamen aliquid interta laudis ●●linquatur, cui●● industria nisi s●se opportune interposuisset, Anglis nostri● nihil inde emolumenti redundasset Neque est quod qu●spiam agre ferat, si Philosophia Graeca ac Romana vest ut plurimum induta, iam incipiat Brit annico quoque vestitu incedere Bonum enim (ut pul●hre philosophus) quo communius, ●o melius: & philosophia ipsa Soli haud d●ss●milis, ●n omnes terrarum orbes radios suos disseminare cupit. A●gi vorum r●s gestae celebres factae sunt prim● ab Hom●ro: neque tam●n lusit suam operam Virgilius, cum easdem suo carmine c●lebrau●t. Philosophia diu Graeciae regionibus 〈…〉 perma●sit: nunquam tamen consenes●et Ciceron●s laus, qui ●am ipsam Lat●nis literis illustra vit. Et 〈◊〉 (●t● per●) memoria tuos labores prosequ●ntur omnes quibus factum est, ut Academi a ista, Galli●is antea circum●●●●● term●●is, Anglis iam tandem inn●t●s●at. Mac●● igitur virtute (chariss●me a●ice) & ma●ores tibi ad●ant spiritus 〈…〉 ad ●a●●ra, si justa se offerat occasio, s●scipi●n la. Spero et●n●m aliquando even●urum, ut, sicut in Philo●●●● 〈◊〉 vires tu● se 〈◊〉, ita etiam ●n Th●ologico pulvere pari salt●m foeli●itate exspatientur.  
Interim 〈…〉. 13. Octobr. Tui studiosissimus, ●. ●.   

TO THE MOST CHRISTIAN KING OF FRANCE and POLONIA, HENRY the third of that name.  
SIR, if we credit the saying of Plato, Common wealths begin then to be happy, when Kings exercise Philosophy, and Philosophers reign. The Wiseman speaking more divinely, exhorteth Kings to love and to seek after wisdom, that they may reign upon earth righteously, and in heaven eternally. And truly from wisdom and Philosophy, as from a lively fountain floweth the gift of governing by good laws & good example, of defending by prowess and of nourishing by wisdom and providence, which are the band● of all perfection requisite in an excellent & absolute Prince; that desireth to govern his kingdom according to piety & justice. These three great & excellent gifts depending of God, as every other grace doth, one of those means whereby he useth most commonly to enrich them that have the reins of worldly government in their hand, is to imprint in their hearts a love and desire of learning and sciences. But because they cannot so perfectly understand them by reason of their great and burdensome charge, as private men may, who quietly enjoying the fruit and benefit of their King's labours, addict themselves to no other profession, their Majesties are so much the more pricked forward to love, to inquire after, and to honour such their subjects, as are best able to set before their eyes those virtuous and learned instructions that are drawn out of the fountains of arts and disciplines. This moved Antigonus king of Macedonia to writ thus to Ze●o the Philosopher: I am assured that I excel thee in the goods & favour of Fortune, and in the renown of such things, but I know withal, that thou art f●r above me, and goest beyond me in that true felicity, which consisteth in the knowledge & discipline of studies. Therefore I desire earnestly that thou wouldst come unto me: wherein I pray thee deny me not, that I may enjoy thy conversation and company, as well for mine own profit, as for the profit of all the Macedonians my Subjects. For he that instructeth a Prince, doth also profit as many as are under his charge. The self same love of knowledge was the cause, that all the festival ornaments of that great lover of virtue Ptolemie Philadelphus' King of Egypt, were grave questions as well of piety as of Philosophy, which he propounded to be handled and concluded by those learned men whom he ordinarily maintained in his train.  
Sir, the example of these two noble Kings shining wholly in you, who greatly love and favour learning, and the professors thereof, and open the gate of that holy and virtuous discipline, which was so much cherished by ancient men, that they may daily be instructed the better in the duty of their charges, doth promise to your good subjects & vassals, that by the grace of God they shall see under your reign, the evil of those sinister effects defaced, which have issued from these long troubles and civil wars. Whereof all men have conceived a more certain hope, because they see that you labour with a holy zeal and good affection, to restore piety and justice to their former strength and beauty, which were in a manner buried in France: and that you have gloriously crowned that work, which that great King Francis your grandfather did happily begin, to the end that arts and sciences might flourish in this kingdom. The dinner of that Prince of famous memory, was a second table of Solomon, unto which resorted from every nation such as were best learned, that they might reap profit and instruction. Yours, Sir, being compassed about with those who in your presence daily discourse of, and hear discoursed many grave and godly matters, seemeth to be a School erected to teach men that are borne to virtue. And for myself, having so good hap during the assembly of your Estates at B●ois, as to be made partaker of the fruit gathered thereof, it came in my mind to offer unto your Majesty a dish of divers first-fruits, which I gathered in a Platonical garden or orchard, otherwise called an ACADEMY, where I was not long since with certain young Gentlemen of Anion my companions, discoursing together of the institution in good manners, and of the means how all estates and conditions may live well and happily. And although a thousand thoughts came then into my mind to hinder my purpose, as the small authority which youth may or aught to have in counsel amongst ancient men: the greatness of the matter subject, propounded to be handled by years of so small experience: the forgetfulness of the best foundations of their discourses, which for want of a rich and happy memory might be in me: my judgement not sound enough, and my profession unfit to set them down in good order: Briefly, the consideration of your natural disposition and rare virtue, and of the learning which you receive both by reading good Authors, and by your familiar communication with learned and great personages that are near about your Majesty, (whereby I seemed to oppose the light of an obscure day, full of clouds and darkness, to the beams of a very clear shining Sun, and to take in hand, as we say, to teach Mi●erua) I say, all these reasons being but of two great weight to make me change my opinion, yet calling to mi●de many goodly and grave sentences taken out of sundry Greek and Latin Philosophers, as also the worthy examples of the lives of ancient Sages and famous men, where with these discourses were enriched, which might in delighting your noble mind renew your memory with those notable sayings in the praise of virtue, and dispraise of vice, which you always loved to hear: and considering also that the bounty of Artaxerxes that great Monarch of the Persians' was revived in you, who received with a cheerful countenance a present of water of a poor labourer when he had no need of it, thinking it to be as great an act of magnanimity to take in good part, and to receive cheerfully small presents offered with a hearty and good affection, as to give great things liberally, I overcame whatsoever would have stayed me in mine enterprise. For I assured myself thus much of your bountiful and royal greatness, (which I crave in most humble manner) that you would measure the gift and offer of this my small labour, not according to the desert thereof, or by the person of one of your basest servants and subjects, who presenteth it unto you, but according to the excellency of those things, which you shall see handled in this Academy, and according to the serviceable and most effectionate desire, wherewith I dedicated and consecrated both goods and life to your service. I beseech God, Sir, to preserve your Majesty in great prosperity, increase of honour and continuance of a long and happy life.  
At Barree in the month of February. 1577. Your most humble and most obedient Servant and Subject, PETER de la PRIMAUDAYE.   

The Author to the Reader.  
THe Philosophers teach us by their writings, and experience doth better show it unto us, that to covet and desire is proper to the soul, and that from thence all the affections and desires of men proceed, which draw them hither and thither diversly, that they may attain to that thing, which they think is able to lead them to the enjoying of some good, whereby they may live a contented and happy life. Which felicity, the most part of men, through a false opinion, or ignorance rather of that which is good, and by following the inclination of their corrupt nature, do seek and labour to found in human and earthly things, as in riches, glory, honour, and pleasure. But for as much as the enjoying of these things doth not bring with it sufficient cause of contentation, they perceive themselves always deprived of the end of their desires, and are constrained to wander all their life time beyond all bounds and measure according to their rashness, and inconstancy of their lusts. And although they rejoice for a little while at every new change, yet presently they loath the self same thing which not long before they earnestly desired. Their own estate seemeth unto them to be worst, and every present condition of life, to be burdensome. For one estate they seek after another, so that now they withdraw themselves from the service of Princes, and mislike public charges, and by and by they blame the private life, labouring that they may be employed. They forsake one country to go & dwell in another, and suddenly they desire to return again into their former ways. They that have neither wives nor children, seek and wish for them, and when they have them, they desire oftentimes nothing more than to be rid of them: and soon after ye shall see them to be married again. Have they heaped up great store of wealth, and increased their revenues by half so much more? They desire notwithstanding to make it altogether as much. The Soldier seeketh to be Captain: from a Captain to be master of the Camp: from the master of the Camp to be Lieutenant to the King: then he would gladly make himself King. The silly Priest would be a Curate: from a Curate, Bishop: from a Bishop, Cardinal: from a Cardinal, Pope: and then would command Kings and Sovereign Princes. King's are not contented to reign over their own Subjects, but bend themselves always to enlarge their limits to make themselves (if they can ● the only Monarches. Briefly, all men whose hearts are set upon worldly goods, when they are come to this estate of life, they would attain to that: and being come thereunto, some other new desire carrieth them farther, so that this mischief of continual, uncertain, and unsatiable lusts and desires doth more and more kindle in them, until in the end death cut off the thread of their inconstant, and never contented life. This cometh to pass, because the alteration of an Estate and condition of life plucketh not out of the mind that which presseth and troubleth it: namely, the ignorance of things, and imperfection of reason. But they, who through the study of Wisdom are furnished with skill and understanding, and know that all human and earthly things are uncertain, deceitful, slippery, and so many allurements unto men to draw them into a downfall and destruction, they I say, do lay a far better and more certain foundation of their chief Good, contentation, and felicity. For they are so far off from being carried away, as worldlings are, with the desire of greatness, riches, and pleasure, that they rather desire less than they have, contemn them, and so use them as though they had them not. And delivering their souls by the grace of God, from all those perturbations which besiege them in the prison of their bodies, they lift up their wishes and desires, yea, they refer all the ends of their intents and actions to this only mark, to be united and joined to their last end of their sovereign Good, which is the full and whole fruition of the essence of God, that their holy affections might be at once fulfilled and satisfied, by enjoying that divine light, through a most happy and immortal life, when they shall be unclothed of this body of death, and of all concupiscences and passions, and rejoice in such a felicity, as neither eye hath seen, nor ear heard, nor ever entered into the heart of man.  
Moreover, we aught to know, if we have never so little judgement and reason, that in all worldly things how great and goodly soever they seem to our carnal eyes and senses, there is such a mixture of bitterness and dislike joined with the fruition of them, that if we could divide the evil from that which of the ignorant sort is called Good, and weigh them one against another, there is no doubt but the bad part would easily weigh down what goodness soever could be found amongst them. But how shall we call that good, which is so mingled with evil, which oftentimes burteth more than it profiteth, and which being possessed abundantly, cannot keep the possessor thereof from being wretched and miserable? What contentation can a man find therein seeing that such a Good commonly slippeth away as soon as it is received, and always worketh an unsatiable desire thereof? What felicity shall we expect and look for in the fruition of that thing which waxeth old and perisheth, and which men are always afraid to loose? Now I pray you, who can doubt justly, but that the quality and nature of riches, of glory, of honour, and pleasure is such? Whereupon we must conclude, that man can find no goodness, contentation, or happiness, in any thing that is earthly and mortal. Besides, who knoweth not sufficiently the poor estate of man's life, which in the fairest of his race cometh to nothing in the twinkling of an eye; so that all his bodily show and brightness turneth suddenly into putrefaction? Who doth not try more than he would, how full his life is of sharp griefs, and pricking miseries, and how it is assaulted with continual troubles? With how many piercing cares doth it abound, and what griping griefs do pursue it? Briefly, as a wise Graecian said, having but the bore name of life, it is in effect and truth a continual pain. And truly that thing hath no being indeed, which changeth without ceasing, as the nature of man doth which never continueth in the same estate, not not the lest moment that is. I would gladly ask of thee who readest this, or dost mean to read it, what day, or what hour thou hast passed, or now passest over, since thou hadst any judgement or knowledge, wherein thy body hath not felt some grief, or thy heart some passion? As there is no sea without tempest war without danger, or journey without travel: so there is no life without grief, nor calling without envy or care: neither did I ever see or know that man, who hath had no cause to be grieved, or to, complain.  
Doth not experience daily teach us, that no man living can make choice of any estate void of all trouble, or flee one inconuentence, but that he is in danger to fall into another? Is it not also most certain that a sudden joy or prosperity, is but a fore warning or sign of some grief and heavy calamity at hand? But what? Shall we for all this think man so miserable, that sailing all his life time in storms and tempests, he cannot possibly attain to any safe haven against the rage of them? shall we in such sort deprive him (during the time of his being in this world) of all Good, contentation and happiness, as if there were no means to avoid, or at leastwise to mollify the mishaps and miseries of mankind, that he faint not under the heavy burden of them? Wherhfore then do wise men by so many learned writings invite us diligently to seek after, and with a burning zeal to embrace holy virtue, saying, that by her alone a man may live happily and contentedly in every calling, and may enjoy therein the sovereign Good, through the tranquility and rest of his soul, purged of perturbation by Philosophy? was it in vain and fruitless, that an infinite number of famous personages, whom Histories the mother of Antiquity set before our eyes, employed so great travel passed infinite watchings forsook and contemned riches, pleasures, honours, and worldly commodities, to get and treasure up virtue only? And why do we, after their example, despise all these things and spend that which we accounted most precious, I mean time, that we may be adorned and clothed with virtue, if it cannot make us hit that mark, which every one so much desireth and seeketh after with such great p●ine and labour, namely, that they may enjoy some chief Good in this world, and lead thereby a contented and happy life? Be not overtaken (friendly Reader) with this small difficulty which perhaps might 'cause a gross and feeble head not well instructed in wisdom, to stagger and departed out of the right way. Now, although the heavenly word only hath the perfect and sound knowledge of wisdom, because he is that eternal wisdom itself, yet man being his workmanship, and aided with his grace, must not leave off to seek for, and to require earnestly of him that gift of the knowledge and participation of the secrets of that incomprehensible truth, (so far fourth as he may and shall be necessary for him) that his soul thereby may obtain her permament and lasting happiness. Moreover, albeit our sovereign and chief Good, our perfect contentation and absolute felicity be only in heaven in the enjoying of that divine light, yet we must not in the mean while, (albeit we cannot fully possess that) leave off to seek without ceasing, or give over in any sort to keep and follow that good and infallible way of virtue, which causing us to pass over quietly, and to sustain with joy of spirit, the miseries of mankind, and appeasing the perturbations of our souls, from whence proceed all the evils that torment us, and making them voided of all damnable effects, will teach us to lead a pleasant, peaceable, and quiet life, and to effect all things worthy and beseeming this certain hope, that we shall one day (by the grace of God) be framed a new i● that eternal, most happy, and contented life. Let us therefore accounted this world, and all the riches thereof, as a thing belonging to another, as a stranger and nothing appertaining to those men, who being regenerated by the Spirit of grace, have profited well in the school of wisdom. Let us not seek for friendship upon earth: let us not covet after riches, glory, honour, and pleasure: which none but fools d●e extill, desire and wonder at. We are not of this world, but strangers only therein, and therefore let us set all worldly things behind us, and accounted them unworthy of the care of our immortal souls if we mean not to perish with the worldby joining ourselves thereunto. Let us forsake it, I say forsake it boldly, how precious soever it be, that we may abundantly treasure up that great, sweet 
This commendation of virtue is chief to be understood of faith the root of all good virtues.  and durable wealth, I mean virtue which is honoured, loved, and desired for itself only, which is the true and wholesome medicine for diseased souls, the rest of the mind oppressed with care, the cause (by the will of GOD) of that chief Good wherein the principal end of the soul consisteth, and the only assured guide which leadeth to the Haven so much desired of every one, namely, the contentation of mind. Which thing this present Academy doth not only set before our eyes, but also doth save and keep us being already entered into this Haven of safety, against all tempests, if we will ourselves, and not spare our labour to reap profit of those learned and wise instructions, that are here given unto us by the precepts of doctrine, and examples of the lives of ancient, virtuous, and famous men. For first of all we shall learn hereby to know ourselves, and the end of our being.  
Secondly, we shall be instructed in good manners, and taught how we may live well and happily in every estate and condition of life whatsoever. Yea we shall find in the basest and lowest estate, which of the ignorant and common sort of people is oftentimes called miserable, as much joy and happiness, as a monarch can be partaker of in the fruition of his greatness, yea much more than he, if he be wicked: because vice in all estates maketh thee possessor thereof wretched, and contraiwise Virtue maketh every condition of life happy. Moreover we shall see in this Academy, that every one loving and fearing GOD, may obtain this inestimable good of virtue, and thereby remain a Conqueror over the perturbations of his soul, which breed all his misery, remembering this point always, so far forth as the frail nature of man, aided by the author of all goodness can attain to this perfection. We shall learn here how we aught to govern ourselves wisely and dutifully in all human actions and affairs, and in all charges and places whatsoever, either public or private, whereunto we shall be called. We may note here the cause of the subversion and ruin of many Empires, Estates and Common wealths, and of the glistering show and glory of infinite others: as also the cause of the wretchedness, and destruction of a great number of ●●n, and what hath lift up other, and crowned them with honour and immortal praise. We shall be taught here the government of a house and family, the manner of the education & instruction of children, the mutual duties of married couples, of brethren, of masters and servants, how to command, and how to obey.  
We shall see here the order and establishment of Policies and Superiorities: what is the duty of the Heads of them, of Princes and Governors of nations, as also what the duty of their subjects is. Briefly, both great and small may draw out from hence the doctrine & knowledge of those things which are most necessary for the government of a house, and of a Common wealth, with sufficient instruction how to frame their life and manners in the mould and pattern of true and holy virtue, and how by means thereof (the grace of GOD working in them) they may run the race of their duties in joy, happiness, rest and tranquillity of Spirit, and that in the midst of greatest adversities, which the uncertainty and continual change of human things may bring upon them. Now because the sequel compounded of the sundry treatises and discourses of this Academy, will sufficiently instruct thee in all things above mentioned, as it promiseth in the fore front and title thereof, I will not dilate this matter any farther, but only desire of thee (Reader) patiently to hear these Academical students, from the first of their discourses unto the last.  
Their intent was only (as thou mayst understand more at large in the entrance of their assembly) to ●each themselves, and next every one according to their ability, the institution of good manners, and rule of good living, for all ordinary and common estates and conditions of life in our French Monarchy, to the and that every member of this politic body (brought thus low with evils, and beaten with tempestuous storms) might somewhat help & profit it by their counsels & instructions. And this thou mayst do (friendly Reader) if thou takest pains to read well, to understand better (& which is best of all) to follow the precepts, instructions & examples▪ which thou shalt found here: as also, if thou bringest hither a good will, & cheerful disposition, voided of all malicious envy, which at this day is commonly practised by most men of this our age (who like to malicious Censurers) busy themselves rather in seeking out what to bite at, & to reprehend in other m●ns' works, than to draw out, & to commend that which is good, or to assay to make them better.  
Besides, thou shalt have somewhat to commend in the order of these discourses, and in the manner of teaching which is in them. For after the handling of that knowledge which is especially necessary for m●n, all those virtues follow which he aught to embrace, and those vices which he is to shun. Next, he is instructed in that which concerneth house keeping: then in that which hath respect to Estates and Policy; and last of all how he may die well, after he hath lived well. As for the manner of teaching, which is diligently observed by these Academics, thou shalt see that first they praise that virtue, or dispraise that vice which they propound to themselves to discourse upon, that they may move and frame men's minds, as well to hate the one, as to desire the other. Than they define that whereof they discourse, that the end of the present subject may be better known. Afterwards, they give precepts to find out the means whereby to attain to that which is Good, and to eschew the evil. Lastly, they add examples, which are lively reasons, and of great weight to move men with delight to embrace virtue, and to flee vice. Now if thou thinkest that too little is spoken, considering the goodly and large matter here propounded, it is not because they knew not that the excellency of every thing put forth here is so great, and the reasons so abundant, that a man might well make a Book thereof by itself, as many learned men have done: but the chief scope and drift of these Interspeakers, was to discourse briefly of such things as are necessarily required in the institution of manners, and of a happy life. Nevertheless, it may well be, that that which thou findest not sufficiently followed in one place, may be learned in another, if thou lookest unto the end. Moreover, they who are here named, and who mind to retain always the name of disciples, never purposed or presumed to set down resolutions, or to appoint Laws whi●h are necessarily to be kept, and may not be changed in any wise by th●se that are clear sighted, according to the occurrence and benefit of the estate of this Monarchy, but grounding their counsels and instructions upon the soundest and most approved opinion of the writing of learned men, both of ancient and late times, and upon such as drew nearest to the infallible rule of the holy Scriptures, according to the small measure of grace given them from above, they have left to every one (following therein the ancient School of the Academics) liberty to compare the motives of the one side, with there●● sons on the other, that the truth of all things might be diligently searched out and inquired after, tha● none through an headstrong conceit should be wedded to private opinions: and that afterward ch●ise wight be made of the best, and of such as are most certain thereby to order and rule all intents and actions, and to refer them to the perpetual glory of that great Lord of Hierarchies, who is the only cause and chief fountain of all Good, contentation, and happiness.  Spe certa quid melius,  

The Contents of the several Chapters of this first Book,  

Chap. 1 OF Man Page 4.  
Chap. 2 Of the Body and Soul. 8  
Chap. 3 Of the diseases and passions of the Body and Soul, and of the tranquillity thereof. 11  
Chap. 4 Of Philosophy. 16  
Chap. 5 Of Virtue. 21  
Chap. 6 Vice. 26  
Chap. 7 Of Sciences, of the study of Letters, and of Histories. 29  
Chap. Chap. 8 Of the Spirit, and of memory. 34  
Chap. 9 Of Duty and Honesty. 38  
Chap. 10 Of Prudence. 42  
Chap. 11 Of want of Prudence and of Ignorance, of Malice and Subtlety. 47  
Chap. 12 Of Speech and Speaking. 52  
Chap. 13 Of Friendship, and of a Friend. 56  
Chap. 14 Of Reprehension and Admonition. 61  
Chap. 15 Of Curiosity and Novelty. 65  
Chap. 16 Of Nature and Education. 70  
Chap. 17 Of Temperance. 74  
Chap. 18 Of Intemperance, and of Stupidity or Blockishness. 78  
Chap. 19 Of Sobriety and Frugality. 81  
Chap. 20 Of Superfluity, sumptuousness, Gluttony, and wallowing in delights. 86  
Chap. 21 Of Ambition. 92  
Chap. 22 Of Voluptuousness and looseness of life. 96  
Chap. 23 Of Glory, Praise, Honour, and of Pride. 101  
Chap. 24 Of Shame, Shamefastness, and of dishonour. 105  
Chap. 25 Of Fortitude. 109  
Chap. 26 Of Timorousness, Fear, Cowardliness, and of Rashness. 114  
Chap. 27 Of Magnanimity and Generosity. 118  
Chap. 28 Of Hope. 123  
Chap. 29 Of Patience and Impatiency: of Choler and Wrath. 126  
Chap. 30 Of Meekness, Clemency, Mildness, Gentleness, and Humanity. 131  
Chap. 31 Of good and ill hap. 135  
Chap. 32 Of Prosperity and Adversity. 139  
Chap. 33 Of Richeses. 144  
Chap. 34 Of Poverty. 147  
Chap. 35 Of Idleness, Sloth, and Gaming. 151  
Chap. 36 Of an Enemy, of Injury and Revenge. 156  
Chap. 37 Of justice. 160  
Chap. 38 Of Injustice, and Severity. 165  
Chap. 39 of Fidelity, Forswearing, and of treason. 170  
Chap. 40 of Ingratitude. 174  
Chap. 41 of Liberality, and of the use of Richeses. 178  
Chap. 42 of Covetousness, and Prodigality. 182  
Chap. 43 of Envy Hatred, and Backbiting. 188  
Chap. 44 of Fortune. 192  
Chap. 45 of Marriage. 196  
Chap. 46 of a House and Family, and of the kinds of Marriage: of certain ancient customs observed in Marriage. 201  
Chap. 47 of the particular duty of a Husband towards his Wife. 206  
Chap. 48 of the duty of a Wife towards her Husband. 210  
Chap. 49 of the duty of the head of a Family in other parts of the house, namely in the parental, masterly, & possessory part. 215  
Chap. 50 of the duty of children towards their parents: of the mutual love that aught to be amongst brethren: of the duty of Servants towards their masters. 220  
Chap. 51 of the education and instruction of children. 226  
Chap. 52 of the division of the ages of man, and of the offices & duties that are to be observed in them. 230  
Chap. 53 of Policy, and of sundry sorts of governments. 235  
Chap. 54 of the soveraige Magistrate, and of his authority and office. 240  
Chap. 55 of the Law. 244  
Chap. 56 of the people, and of their obedience to the Magistrate, and to the Law. 248  
Chap. 57 of a Monarchy, or a Regal power. 253  
Chap. 58 of divers kinds of Monarchies, and of a Tyranny. 258  
Chap. 59 of the education of a Prince in good manners and conditions, 263  
Chap. 60 of the office and duty of a King. 268  
Chap. 61 of a Council, and of Counsellors of Estate. 273  
Chap. 62 of judgements, and of judges. 279  
Chap. 63 of Seditions. 284  
Chap. 64 of the causes that breed the change, corruption, etc. of Monarchies, and Policies. 290  
Chap. 65 of the preservation of Estates, and Monarchies, and of remedies to keep them from sedition. 296  
Chap. 66 of the Harmony and agreement that aught to be in the dissimilitude or unlike callings of subjects, by reason of the duty and office of every Estate. 301  
Chap. 67 of Peace and War. 305  
Chap. 68 of the order and discipline of War. 309  
Chap. 69 of the office and duty of a General. 313  
Chap. 70 of the choice of Soldiers, of the manner how to exhort them to fight, and how victory is to be used. 318  
Chap. 71 of a happy life. 322  
Chap. 72 of Death. 327    

The special and principal matters handled in this second Tome of the French Academy, as it is divided into several days works, and distinguished by Chapters.  

The first days work.  
OF the creation of the first man, and of the matter whereof the body of man is made. cap. 1. fo. 339.  
Of the creation of woman. chap. 2. fol. 34●.  
Of the simple or similary parts of the body, namely, the bones, ligaments, gristles, sinews, pannicles, cords or filaments, veins atteries and flesh. chap, 3. fol. 346.  
Of the compound parts of the body, and first of the feet and legs, and of the arms and hands. chap. 4. 349.  
Of the backbone and of the marrow thereof: of the. ribs, and of other bones of man's body. chap. 5. 335  
Of the Sharebone and marrow of the bones; of the bones in the head, and of the flesh: of the muscles and of their office. chap. 6. 356.  
Of the kernels in the body, and of their sundry uses: especially of the breasts of women, of their beauty and profit in the nourishing of children, and of the generation of milk. chap. 7. 359.  
Of the fat and skins of man's body, and of their use: of the hairs thereof. chap. 8. 362.   

The second days work.  
OF the bodily and external senses, especially of touching: of their members, instruments and offices chap 9 fol. 364.  
Of the eyes, and of their excellency, profit and use: of the matter and humours whereof they are made, chap. 10. 367.  
Of the tunicles end skins of the eyes: of their form & motions: of their sundry colours of the sinews whereby they receive sight, and of other parts about the eyes. chap. 11. 370.  
Of the ca●eses, and of their composition, office, and use. chap. 12. 377.  
Of the divers uses of the tongue: of the instruments necessary both for voice and speech, how there is a double speech: of the form thereof how the spirit of man is represented thereby, chap, 13. 377.  
Of the agreement which the instruments of the voice and speech have with a pair of Organs, what things are to be considered in placing of the lungs next the heart, of the pipes and instruments of the voice. chap. 14. 380.  
Of the tongue, and of the nature and office thereof: of the excellency and profit of speech which is the art of the tongue: what is to be considered touching the situation thereof in the head, and near the brain. chap. 15. 383.  
Of the office of the tongue in tasting, and in preparing meat for the nourishment of the body: of the teeth, and of their nature and office, of the conduit or pipe that receiveth and swalloweth down meats. chap. 16. 386.   

The third days work  
OF the sense of taste given to the palate: what tastes are good to nourish the body: of the diversity of th●m: of hunger and thirst, of then causes. chap. 〈◊〉 l. 389.  
〈…〉 and creatures meet for the preservation and 〈◊〉 of the body: how God prepareth them to serve for that purpose: of their us●. chap. 18. 392.  
〈◊〉 the ●o●e and of the sense of smelling, and of their 〈◊〉 and use ●f the composition, matter and form 〈…〉 chap. 19 395.  
〈…〉 briefly of▪ I the outward senses of man's bo〈…〉 in purging the superfluities and ordures. of his nose: of the diversity that is in men's faces, and of the image of the mind and heart in them. chap. 20. 398.  
Of the nature, faculties and powers of man's soul: of the knowledge which we may have in this life, & how excellent & necessary it is: into what kinds the life and soul are divided. chap. 21. 401  
Of the two natures of which man is compounded: how the body is the lodge and instrument of the soul? how the soul may be letted from doing her proper actions by the body, and be separated from it, and yet remain in her perfection. cap. 22. 404.  
Of the brain and of the nature thereof: of the sundry kinds of knowledge that are in man: of the similitude that is between the actions and works of the natural virtues of the soul, and of the internal senses. cap. 23. 407.  
Of the composition of the brain, with the members and parts thereof: of their offices, & that knowledge which aught to content us touching the principal cause of the virtues and wonderful powers of the soul. cap 24, 410.   

The fourth days work.  
OF the seat of voluntary motion and sense of the office and nature of the common sense: of imagination, and of fantasy: and how light and dangerous fantasy is: of the power which both good and bad spirits have to move it. cap. 25 fol. 413.  
Of reason and memory, and of their seat, nature and office: of the agreement which all the senses both external and internal have one with another and of their virtues. cap. 26. 416.  
That the internal senses are so distinguished, that some of them may be troubled and hindered, and the rest be safe and whole, according as their places & instruments assigned unto them in the body are sound or perished: and of those that are possessed with devils. cap. 27. 419.  
Of the reasonable soul and life, and of virtue: of the understanding and will that are in the soul, & of their dignity and excellency, cap. 28. 422.  
Of the variety and contrariety that is found in the opinions, deliberations, counsels, discourses, & judgements of men, with the cause thereof: and of the good order and end of all discourses. cap. 29. 426  
Of judgement, and of his office after the discourse of reason: and how belief, opinion, or doubting follow it: of the difference that is between them. cap. 30. 429  
Of the means whereby a man may have certain knowledge of those things which he aught to believe & to take for true: of the natural & supernatural light that is in man, and how they bear witness of the image of God in him. cap. 31. 43●.  
How the virtues and powers of the soul show themselves by little and little. And by degrees: of contemplation, and of the good that is in it: of that true & divine contemplation which we look for after this life. cap. 32. 434.   

The fift days work.  
OF the appetites that are in all living creatures, & namely in man, and of their kinds: and particularly of the natural & sensitive appetite. cap. 33. 437.  
Of will and of the divers significations & uses of these words (Reason and Will) of the actions, freedom, and nature thereof: of the power which reason may have over her. cap. 34 440.  
Of those good things which both men only guided by the light of nature, are able to propound to themselves, and to follow, and they also that are guided by the spirit of God: of the power and liberty of the will in her actions both external and internal. cap. 35, 443.  
Of the distinction that aught to be between the understanding and knowledge, and the will and affections in the soul, and between the seats and instruments which they have in the body: of the agreement that is between the heart and the brain, cap. 36. 446.  
Of the nature and composition of the heart, & of the midriff: of the tunicles or skinny coverings of the breast, and of the Pericardion, or cawl about the heart: of the motion, office and use of the lungs: of the heart, and of the arteries. cap. 37. 471  
Of the substance situation and counterpoise of the heart: of the nature and use of the vital spirit, and of the forge, vessels and instruments thereof: of the sundry doors and pipes of the heart, and of their uses. cap. 38. 451.  
Of the second motion of the heart, which belongeth to the affections of the soul, and: of those that go before or follow after iudgemnt of the agreement that is between the temperature of the body, and the affections of the soul. cap. 39 454.  
Of the health and diseases of the soul: of the agreement between corporal and spiritual physic: how necessary the knowledge of the nature of the body and of the soul is for every one. cap. 40. 416.   

The sixt days work.  
OF four things to be considered in the will, and in the power of desiring in the soul: and first of natural inclinations: of self love, and the unruliness thereof. cap. 41. fol. 458.  
Of the habit of the soul in the matter of the affections of what force it is: of the causes why the affections are given to the soul, with the use of them: of the fountain of virtues and vices. cap. 42. 461.  
That according to the disposition of the judgement the affections are more or less moderate or immoderate of the cause of all the motions of the soul and heart: of the variety of affections, of the regeneration, nature and kinds of them. cap. 43. 464.  
That joy or grief, are always joined to the affections: and what joy & grief are properly. cap. 44. 465  
Of the causes why God hath placed these affections of joy and sorrow in the heart: of true and false joy, & of good and bad hope. cap. 45. 468.  
Of fear, and of the nature and effects thereof toward the body, the mind and the soul, and how it troubleth them: of the true harness and armour against fear. cap. 46. f. 471.  
Of the delight and pleasure that followeth every joy, and of the moderation that is required therein: of divers degrees of pleasures and how men abuse them especially those pleasures, which are received by the corporal senses. cap. 47. 473.  
Of the comparison of pleasures received by the internal senses: and how men descend by degrees from the best to the basest pleasures: of the difference between the use of spiritual delights and corporal: & how the one chase the other. cap. 48. 476.   

The seventh days work.  
OF the affections of love, of the nature kinds and object of it: of the beginning of friendship: of the virtue and force of alluring that is in likeness & in beauty: of the agreement that is between beauty and goodness. cap. 49. fol. 479.  
Of other causes why beauty procureth love and, of divers degrees and kinds of beauty: how it is the nature of love always to unite, and what other effect●t it hath: how love descendeth, and ascendeth: now what power it hath to allure and breed love. cap. 50 fol. 482  
Of desire and coveting, and of the kinds of it: of the infiniteness of men's desires, and what Good is able to satisfy and content it: of the difference between desire and love, and of the utmost limit and end of love. cap. 51. 485.  
Of the good things that are in true love, of the diver● valuations of love and of the benefits which it procureth: what knowledge is requisite to allure love, & how one love groweth by another: of the friendship that may be both between the good and the bad. Cap. 52. 487.  
Of favour, reverence, and of honour: of their nature and effects: of those outward signs whereby they show themselves: of pity and compassion, and how agreeable it is to the nature of man. chapter 53. 490  
Of offence in the heart and soul: of the degrees of offence, and of the good and evil that may be in this affection: of contempt that is bred of it, and of mockery, which followeth contempt. c. 54. 493.  
Of anger: and of the vehemency and violency thereof: of the difference that is between anger and rancour: of the affection of revenge that accompanieth them: of the motions of the heart: in anger, with the effects thereof, wherefore this affection is given to man, and to what use it may serve him. c. 55. 496.  
Of hatred and of the nature and effects thereof: of a good kind of hatred, and the remedy to cure the evil hatred of envy, and of the kinds and effects thereof: of the difference between good and evil envy. cap. 56. 499.   

The eight days work.  
OF jealousy and the kinds thereof: how it may be either a vice or a virtue: how true zeal, true jealousy & indignation proceed of love: of their natures & why these affections are given to man. Cham 57 502  
Of revenge, cruelty and rage, & what agreement there is among them: what shame and blushing is, and why God hath placed these affections in man: and of the good and evil that is in them. c. 58. f. 505  
Of pride, with the consideration thereof as well in nature entire as corrupted: of the original thereof, and of such as are most inclined thereunto: what vices accompany it: how great a poison it is, and what remedy there is for it. c. 59 508.  
Of the natural powers of the soul, and what sundry virtues they have in the nourishment of the body: of their order & offices: of their agreement & necessary use: where their vegitatine soul is placed in the body, and what virtue it hath to augment the same, chap. 60 f. 511.  
What instruments the soul useth in the body, about the natural works of nourishing and augmenting: of the ventricle or stomach, and of the figure, orifices and filaments it hath: of the stomach, and of what substance and nature it is: of the causes of hunger & of appetite: of the inferior orifice. c. 61. 514  
Of the entrails and bowels, & of their names & offices: of the nature of the three smaller guts: & of the other three that are greater: of the instructions which we may learn by these things. c. 62. 517.  
Of the mesentery & Mesareon: of the Meseraical veins of the Pancreas or sweet bread, and of their nature and office, of the liver, and of his nature & office of the roots, bodies and branches of the veins: of their names and uses, & of the similitude between them and the arteries. c. 63. 520.  
Of the blood, and of other humours in the body: of their diversity and nature, and of the agreement they have with the elements: of the similitude that is betwixt the great garden of this great world, and that of the little world, touching the nourishment of things contained & preserved in them. c. 64. f. 523   

The ninth days work.  
OF the vapours that ascend up to the brain, and of the waters and clouds contained therein: and in what perils men are thereby: why the soul and blood are put one for another: of the temperature of the humours necessary for the health and life of the body: of the causes of health, and of diseases, and of life and death, Chap 65. fol 526  
Of the uses and commodities of the humours joined with the blood, and what vessels are assigned unto them in the body, & of their nature and offices, and first of the choleric humour, and of the spleen: then of the phlegmatic humour, & of the kidneys and other vessels, which it hath to purge by. c 66. f. 529  
Of the names whereby the humours of the body are commonly called, with the causes wherefore: of the comparison between the corruption & temperature of the humours of the body, and between the manners and the affections of the soul: of the means whereby the numors corrupt, and of the fevers and diseases engendered thereby: of the sundry natural temperatures in every one. chap 67. fo. 532  
Of the divers temperatures and complexions of men, according to the nature of humours that bear most sway in them: of the disposition whereunto they are naturally moved by them either to virtues or vices: of the means to correct the vices and defects that may be in our natural inclinations. c. 68 534  
Of the restoration and reparation of all natures created by the generative power and virtue that is in them, and namely in man: what generation is, and what the generative power of the soul is: what the seed is, and how generation proceedeth of strength, and of infirmity. c. 69. f. 537  
Of the powers of the generative virtue, and of their offices: of the principal cause why God gave to man the power of generation: in what sense the rains are taken for the seat of generation: how we aught rightly to consider of the generation of man. c. 70 f. 539  
Of the fashion of a child in the womb, and how the members are framed one after another in the mother's belly: of the time and days within which a child is perfectly fashioned. cap. 71. f. 542  
Of childbirth, and the natural causes thereof: of the great providence of God appearing therein: of the image of our eternal nativity, represented unto us in our mortal birth. cap. 72. 545   

The tenth days work.  
WHy God created man naked, and with less natural defence than he did all other living creatures: how many ways he recompenseth this nakedness: of the general beauty of the whole body of man, iouned with profit & commodity. ca 73. f. 548  
Whether the life of the body can proceed either of the matter or of the composition, form, and figure, or of the qualities thereof, or else of the harmony, conivaction & agreement of all these: whether any of these, or all of them together can be the soul: of the length and shortness, of the divers degrees and ages, and of the end of man's life: of death, and of the causes both of life and death. of the difference that is between natural and supernatural Philosophy in the consideration of things. cap. 7●. f. 551  
Of the causes generally of the length and shortness of bodily life: of natural and of violent death: in 〈◊〉 ma●er the life of man consisteth in his breath: of the principal things required to life, and without which it cannot be: of the difference betwixt the life of men, and the life of beasts: of the image of the spiritual death in the corporal: of the true comfort which we aught to have therein. cap. 75. f. 554  
Of the chief consolations, which the wisest among the Pagana and Infidels could draw from their human reason, & natural Philosophy against death: of the blasphemies used by Atheists and Epicures against God and nature: what nature is, and who they be that attribute unto it that which they aught to attribute to God. cap. 76. f. 557  
That there is but one soul in every several body: that one and the same soul hath in it all those virtues and powers, whose effects are daily seen: of the seat of the soul in the body, and of the principal instrument thereof, of the union of the body and soul: of the divers degrees of nature, and of the excellency that is in it: of the fountains and bounds of all the powers and virtues of the soul, cap. 77. fo. 560.  
Of the nature and variety of the animal spirits, and how they are only instruments of the soul, and not the soul itself: of the nature of those bodies wherein the soul may devil and work: of the difference that is, not only between the soul and the instrument by which it worketh, but also between the instruments themselves, and their natures and offices, and which of them are nearest or farthest of: of the degrees that are in the union and conjunction of the soul with the body. cap. 78. f. 563  
Of the divisions of man made in the holy Scriptures, as well in respect of the soul as of the body: in what significations the names of the soul, spirit & heart are used therein, and the causes why: of the entire sanctification of man: how the soul is taken for the life, and for the members and instruments of nourishment, and for nourishment itself, cap. 79. f. 567  
What is meant by a living soul, what by a sensual and natural body, and what by a spiritual body: how the name of Soul is taken for all the desires of the flesh, and for all things belonging to this life: and not only for the whole person alive, but also for the person being dead, and for a dead corpse: and lastly, for the spirit separate from the body. c. 80. f. 570   

The eleventh days work  
WHether the soul of man is engendered with the body, and of the same substance that the body is of: or whether it be created by itself and of another substance, whether it be needful for us to know what the soul is, and what is the essence thereof, or only to know of what quality it is, with the works and effects thereof. cap. 81 f. 573  
Whether there be any thing mortal in the soul of man: of the distinction between the soul and the powers of it: of the opinion of the Philosophers, and what agreement is between them touching the soul of bruit beasts, and the nature and substance of it: of their opinion that derive the soul of man and the soul of beasts from one fountain: of them that ascend higher, and of their reasons. cap. 82. f. 576  
Of the opinion of Galen, of Plato, and of Aristotle, touching the substance and nature of man's soul: of the opinion of O●cam touching the vegetative and and sensitive power thereof, and of the distinction of souls he maketh in man of the sentence of the Platonistes, and of Origen touching the creation, birth, and nature of the soul: of the conjunction of the soul with the body, and the estate thereof in the same. c. 83. f. 578  
Of the opinion of the Platonists and some others, touching the substance of men's ●ouless: what sense not only the Poets and heathen Philosophers, but also SAINT Paul, have said that men were the generation and lineage of God: of their error that say, that souls are of the very substance of God: of the transmigration of souls according to the opinion of the same Philosophers. cap. 84 fol 580  
The chief causes, as learned men think, that moved Pythagoras and Plato to broach the transmigration of souls, & transformation of bodies: the ancient opinion of the jews touching the same thing. c. 85. 583  
Of the Pithagorians of these days amongst the Christians, and of their foolish opinions: of the opinions of many Doctors and Diviues touching the creation and ordinary generation of men's souls: of the moderation that aught to be kept in that matter: of the cause of the filthiness and corruption of man's soul. ca 86. 586  
Of those powers & properties, which the soul of man hath common with soul of beasts of those powers & virtues which are proper and peculiar to itself, according to the Philosophers: of the difference and agreement that is between human Philosophy & Christian doctrine touching these things. c. 87. 589  
How men can have no certain resolution of the immortality of the soul, but by the word of God, of the perverseness of Epicures and Atheists in this matter: of the chief causes that hinder men from believing the immortality of the soul, and of their blockishness and evil judgement therein: how we must seek for the image of God after which man was created in his soul, c. 88 592   

The twelfth days work.  
OF those who desire the return of souls departed to testify their immortality: what witness hath been sent us of God out of another world to resolve us therein. c. 89. 596  
Of natural reasons whereby the immortality of souls may by proved against Epicures and Atheists: and first of the argument taken from the faculty of knowledge which the soul hath, and from that knowledge of eternity which is in it: how it appeareth that it is not begotten of this corruptible nature, because it ascendeth up unto God: and how by a special benefit of God, it is daily created, and not by the virtue of nature. c. 90. 598  
Of the argument for the immotalitie of the soul, that may be taken from that naturally desire thereof and of perpetuity which is in it: of another argument to the same purpose, of the desire which men have to continued their name and memory for ever: an argument to the same and taken from the apprehension and terror which men may have both of death of the body: and also of the soul and spirit, c. 91. 601.  
Of the agreement that may be taken from the delights and pleasures of the soul to prove the immortality thereof: an argument to the same end taken from the infallible desires and pleasures of men even from such as are most carnal: of the testimony which they may found even in their vices to prove the immotalitie of their soul. c 92. 604  
Of the testimony that men have of the immortal nature of the soul in their very body, by the composition and frame thereof: of that which is in the motion and rest of their soul: how the creation of the whole world should be vain, and how there should be no providence of God, no religion, no divine justice, if the soul were mortal: of the multitude and qualities of the witnesses that stand for the immortality thereof. c. 93. 607  
Of another argument for the immortality of the soul taken from that natural desire which men have of knowledge: of Aristotle's opinion touching the nature and immortality of the soul: of other reasons of Philosophers to prove that the spirit cannot be a corruptible and mortal nature: and how just men should be more miserable, and should have more occasion to fear and to eschew death, than the unjust and wicked, if the soul were mortal, cap. 94. 610.  
Of that praise and reward which wisdom and virtue may receive of men in this world: how miserable it is, if there be no better prepared for them elsewhere: how death would be more grievous and lamentable to the best learned and wisest men, then to the ignorant and foolish, if the soul were mortal: how the best and most certain judgement of men is for the immortality of the soul: of them who not believing the same, say that it is good for men to be in such an error. cap. 95. 613.  
Of those internal testimonies, which all men carry within themselves, to convince them that doubt of the immortality of the soul, and of the judgement to come, which shall be in eternal happiness for the good, and perpetual torment for the evil: how the very heathen acknowledged as much by reasons taken from the testimonies of nature. cap. 96. 616.   

The thirteenth days work.  
OF the testimonies which every one may take from his conscience of that fear unto which all men are naturally subject to prove the immortality of the soul and a judgement of God upon the just & unjust: how that which the Atheists say, that fear causeth gods amongst men serveth, to overthrow their damnable opinion. cap. 97. 620.  
Whether Epicures and Atheists be reasonable beasts, yea or not, & what reasons they bring to overthrow the immortality of the soul: of the false opinion of Pliny touching the same, and of his frivolous and brutish reasons to this purpose: of the brutish conclusion unbeseeming the whole race of mankind which he maketh of this matter, and of the judgement of God upon him. c. 98. 623.  
Of them who say that we cannot know by the light of nature but that the soul is mortal: of them that allege a place of Solomon against the immortality of the soul: how we aught to consider of the judgements of God upon Epicures, Atheists: how the absurdities which follow their doctrine declare plainly the grossness of it: of the force of those arguments that were produced before the immortality of the soul. c. 9●. 627.  
Of the image of God in the soul of man, and of the image of the world in man's body: of the conjunction that is between God, the Angels, and men: of the sundry degrees of Good that are therein: of those lessons and instructions which we aught to receive from the wondered composition and conjunction of the soul and body. cap. 100 631,    

The special and principal matters handled in this third Tome of the French Academy, as it is divided into several days works, and distinguished by Chapters.  

The first days work.  
OF the creation of heaven & earth, Cham 1. fol. 637 Of Time, which took beginning with the world. cha. 2. f. 640  
Of the insufficiency or nullity of reasons, framed concerning the nature of the world against the creation thereof. c. 4. f. 642  
Of the reasons taken from motion, and the moving intelligences against the creation of the world, & of the insufficiency of them, c. 4. f. 646  
Of many other devices which they invent, who pretend to overthrow the doctrine of the creation of the world, performed by the creator thereof. c. 5. f. 648  
Concerning those causes which have made the Philosophers to err from the knowledge of truth, and of their ignorance concerning God and his works, c. 6. 650.  
Of the authority of such witnesses as make the creation and newness of the world undoubted. c. 7. 655  
Of the reasons making for the creation and newnesle of the world. c. 8. f. 665   

The second days work.  
COncerning the errors of those Philosophers, which say that God doth his outward work of necessity. Chap. 9 Fol. 658  
Of the reasons, which conclude that God proceeded of frank and free deliberation to the work of the world. c. 10 f. 660  
Of one only principal and first cause of the Vnivers. c. 11. f. 663.  
Of the space of the six days mentioned in the history of the creation of the world. c. 12. f. 665  
Of the mysteries hidden under the number of six in the creation of the Vnivers: and of the seventh day of rest. c. 13. f. 667  
Of the divisions of the universal world. c. 14 f. 670  
Of the Angelical and intellectual world. c. 15 f. 672  
Of devils and evil spirits. c. 16. f. 675   

The third days work.  
OF the celestial of spherical world. Cham 17. f. 678  
Of the form and figure of heaven, & of the motion thereof, as well general as particular. c. 18. 681  
Of the circles in general, and particularly of the Equinoctial and Zodiac, and of their signs. c. 19 683  
Of the two great circles named Colours, and of the ●●ure less circles and parallels, and of the five Zones of the world, and immovable circles. c. 20. f. 686  
Of the hower-circles, & what is done by them in Sund●●lss: and of the circles which divide the 12. houses of heaven. c. 21 f. 688  
Of the ascensions and descensions of the stars, and of 〈◊〉, and other aukes of the Zodiac, and of the 〈◊〉 and occidental latitude of the Sun, or de 〈◊〉 the Zodiac, c. 22. f. 691  
O● 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 days, and of the nights, 〈…〉 cause. c 23. 692  
〈…〉 & artificial hours: 〈…〉 of the ●un●e above the Horizon, and 〈…〉 c. 24. f 694   

The fourth days work  
OF the substance and nature of heaven, and of the celestial bodies: and of their continuance and change. cap. 25. fol. 696.  
Of motions in general, of their first cause, and of their union in all nature. cap. 26. fo. 698  
Of the life, reason, and understanding of the celestial bodies: and of the excellent, political and military order which is amongst them. cap. 27. fo. 700  
Of the influence and effects of the planets and stars in things here below either to good or evil c. 28. f. 703  
Of the truth which is found in prognostications of Astrologers: and how the stars are appointed by God for signs, and that from their influences no evil proceedeth. ca 29 fo. 705  
Of the planet Saturn, and how it is not evil, nor any other star. cap. 30. fo. 708  
Of the planets in general, and how they work in man, not in constraining, but disposing. cap. 31. fo. 710  
Of the true Astronomy which the heavens do teach us, and specially the Sun in his admirable effects. c. 32. fo. 712   

The fift days work  
OF the rising and setting of the Sun: and of the providence of God which shineth in the commodities of day and night. cap. 33. 714  
Of the second course and motion of the Sun and Moon, for the distinction of years, months, and seasons: and the providence of God in these things. cap. 34. fo. 716  
Of the image of God, and of his light which is proposed unto us in the Sun, with the felicity of man's life, in changing of light and darkness. c. 35. f. 719  
Of the eclipses of the Sun and Moon; and of the image which we have therein of the constancy which is in God, and of the inconstancy of men, and of human things. cap. 36. 721  
Of the beginning of natural and corruptible things. cap. 37. fo. 724  
Of the elements, and of things to be considered in them, in that they are distinguished by the number of four. cap 38. fo. 726  
Of the opinion of those, who admit but three elements not acknowledging the elementary fire. c. 39 f 728  
Of the perfect compositions which are in the nature of all things, by which the four elements may be considered. cap. 40 fol. 731   

The sixt days work  
OF the agreement betwixt the elements and planets. Cap. 41. fol. 733  
Of the fire, and of the air, and of the things engendered in them: & of their motions, & of the winds. c 42. 736  
Of thunder, and lightning. ca 43. f. 738  
Of the true Meteors of Christians: and of the supernatural causes of thunder & lightning. ca 44. fo. 740  
Of Snows, Mists, Frosts, Ye, and Hail. c. 45 f. 742  
Of Comets. cap. 46. f 744  
Of Clouds and vapours. cap. 47. fo. 746  
Of the waters sustained and hanged in the air, and of the Rainbow. cap. 48. f. 748   

The seventh days work.  
OF dews and rain. Chap. 49. Page 751  
Of the Fertility caused by dews and rain, and of the providence of God therein, chap. 50. f. 753  
Of the winds, and of their kinds and names: and the testimonies which we have in them of the power and majesty of God. chap. 51. f. 755  
Of the fowls of the air, and namely of the Manucodiata, of the Eagle, the Phoenix, and of other wild Fowl. chap. 52. f. 760  
Of singing birds, and chief the Nightingale, and of sundry others, & of their wit and industry, c. 53. f. 760  
Of the Ostrich, of the Peacock, of the Cock, and of other Fowls. chap. 54. fol. 762  
Of the earth, and of the situation, immobility, figure, and quality thereof. c. 55. f. 764  
Of earthquakes. c. 56. f 766   

The eight days work.  
OF the sea, and of the waters, and the division and distribution of them throughout the earth, cap. 57 fol. 768.  
Of the flowing & ebbing of the sea; and of the power that the Moon hath over it, and over all other inferior bodies. chap. 58. fol. 771  
Of Salt, fresh and warm waters; and other diversities in them. cha. 59 f. 773  
Of the commodities which men reap of the waters by navigation, and of the directions which seamen do receive from heaven, and from the stars upon the Sea. c. 60. f. 775  
Of the division of lands and countries amongst men by the waters: and of the limits which are appointed them for the bounds of their habitation, c. 61. f. 777  
Of the commodities which are incident to men, and to all creatures, by the course of the waters through the earth. c. 62. f. 779  
Of divers kinds of fishes; namely, of the whale, of the Dolphin, of the Sea-calf, and others, c. 63. f. 782  
Of the image that we have of the state of this world, and of men in the sea, & in the fishes thereof, c. 64. 784   

The ninth days work.  
OF Fruits, and of the fertility of the earth, and the causes thereof: and of herbs, trees and plants, Chap. 65. folio 786.  
Of the virtue that herbs and other fruits of the earth have in physic and in food: and of the true use of them. c. 66. f. 788  
Of the diversity of plants, and of their difference and natural growth; and of their parts, and of the most excellent amongst them. c. 67. f. 790  
Of Trees, and specially of the Pine, the Fir tree, the Cypress, and the Cedar. c 68 f 792  
Of Trees bearing Cinnamom, Cassia, Frankincense, Myrrh, and Cloves. c. 69. f. 795  
Of trees and plants that bear Nutmegs, Ginger, and Pepper. c. 70. f. 797.  
Of the Date tree, of the Baratha or tree of India, of the Gehuph, and of Brasil, c. 71. f. 799  
Of the Citron tree, Limon tree, orange tree, olive tree and Pomegranate tree. c. 72. f. 801   

The tenth days work.  
OF mallows, wild mallows, purple-vialets, betony, ceterarch, and Saint johns-wort. Cham 73. Page 803.  
Of celandine, cammock, wormwood, byssope, sage and mints. cap. 74 f. 806.  
Of thyme, favorie, marierom, rue, parsley, and fennel, cap. 75. f. 808.  
Of rosemary, camomile, the lily balm, of grass or dog's tooth, and of pimpernel. cap. 76. f. 810  
Of nightshade, alkakeng, pelitory of the wall, fumitory, angelica, and of maiden's hair. cap. 77. f. 812  
Of rhubarb, liquorice, aloes, seen, saffron and century. cap. 78 f. 814.  
Of wheat, rye, barley and oats; and of rice and millet. cap 79. f. 816.  
Of the vine, of grapes, of wine, and of Aqua vitae. cap. 87 f. 819.   

The eleventh days work.  
OF terrestrial beasts, and especially of serpents; namely of the aspis or adder, and of this viper. cap. 81. f. 821.  
Of Bees, and of their honey & wax; and of silkwormes. cap. 82. f. 823.  
Of the dog, and of the horse, cap 3 f 25  
Of the elephant and of the camel, and of the rhinoceros. cap. 84. f. 827.  
Of the lion, of the tiger, and of the panther. cap. 85. f. 829.  
Of the wolf, of the bear, and of the ape. cap. 86. f. 831.  
Of the hart, of the wild boar, and of the unicorn. cap. 87. f. 833.  
Of the civit and muskat, of the castoreum, and of the ottar, cap. 88 f. 835.  
Of the right use of venomous creatures & wild beasts and of the justice and bounty of God which shineth in them. cap. 89. f. 837  
Of the nourishment of many creatures, by that which is poison to others, and of the natural amity & enmity which is between them. cap. 90. f. 838  
Of the profit which redoundeth to men by beasts, and chief of tame and private beasts; and of the wondrous providence of God which shineth in them. cap 91. fo. 840.  
Of the blessing and providence of God in the multiplication and conservation of those beasts that are most profitable for men, and with which they are most served. cap. 92. fo. 842   

The twelfth days work.  
OF metals, and chief of Gold. cap. 39 fol. 844.  
Of Silver, Amber, Iron, Led, Brass and copper. cap. 94. fo. 846.  
Of precious stones, & namely of the diamond. c. 95. 847  
Of the Emeraud, of the Carbuncle or ruby, of the Saphir, of the jacinth, and of the Amethyst. c. 96. 849  
Of the Chrysolite, of the Topaz, of the Opal, of the Turkess, and of the Agath. cap. 97. fo. 851  
Of Pearl, Coral, and Crystal. cap. 98. fo. 852  
Of the instructions that men may take in that gold and silver are hidden under ground, and of the use and abuse of them, and of precious stones. cap. 99 f. 854  
Of the doctrine and profit that every one must, and may receive of the whole work of God in heaven and in earth, thereby to acknowledge and glorify him. cap. 100 fo. 856.   
Par la priere Dieu m'ayde.   


The Table of the Chapters contained in the first part of the fourth Book.  
WHat it is to be a Christian Philosopher, and how such a man aught specially to purge and cleanse his soul & conscience of 7. principal follies, thereby to enjoy a happy, peaceable, & contented life, Chapter 1 Folio 865.  
That a man must and aught to correct his first and most extreme folly in himself, which is, not to believe that there is a God. Cap. 2. fol. 869.  
That men aught to renounce the second folly, which is to esteem man more then God. c. 3. f. 878  
That we must amend our lives, & shun the third folly, which it, to think to live ever. c. 4. f. 885.  
That it is requisite and necessary for man to free himself of the fourth folly, which is, not to know wherefore we live. cap. 5. fol. 888.  
That man aught to deliver himself from the fift folly, which is, to judge of the happy and unhappy state of man by exterior signs. cap. 6. fol. 89●.  
That it is necessary for us to leave the sixt folly which is to give more credit to our enemies, then to our friends. ca 7. fol. 897.  
That man must shun the seventh folly which is to think himself wise. cap. 8. fol. 901.  
That man being a Christian, should withal his heart, affect seven principal things, requisite and necessary to attain eternal life, whereof the four first are, the Church, the word of God, the sacraments and prayer. cap. 9 fol. 904.  
That it is the duty of a Christian not to neglect the use of particular prayers, nor the reading of holy Scriptures, that he may know how to practise the doctrine thereof. cap. 10. fol 908.  
That a Christian aught with an ardent zeal to embrace charity, to be careful to give alms, and to help the poor. cap. 11. fol 912.  
To lead a happy life, a Christian Philosopher must purge himself of 7 pernicious vices, that is, Covetousness, ambition, excess of apparel & meats, voluptuousness, unlawful pleasures, envy and slander. cap. 12. fol. 917.  
That there are seven principal vocations, wherein every man is bound to show the first-fruits of Christian Philosophy, whereof marriage is the first, & to know what common duties belong to a married man and a woman, as also the particular offices of a woman towards her husband, and of a man towards his wife, cap. 12. fol. 943.  
The duties of fathers & mothers towards their children, and of children towards their parents, cap. 14. fol. 949.  
The duties of Magistrates toward their Subjects, & of subjects towards their Magistrates, of Pastors or ministers towards their flocks, and of their flocks towards them. cap. 15. fol. 954.  
That by seven causes and divine reasons, a true Christian Philosopher should be induced to embrace all the means of a happy life, set down in this Philosophy, specially by that which hath been said by our Lord and Saviour jesus Christ, that the kingdom of heaven is at hand. cap. 16. fol. 960.   

The second part.  
THat man being a true Christian Philosopher, aught to exercise and comfort himself in 7. principal things, whereof the first is, Meditation of the life to come, and to be well assured of eternal and celestial felicity promised to the children of God. cap. 1. fol. 968.  
The true and only means whereby a Christian (by a second consolation) may know that he is the child of God, thereby to be happy forever. c. 2. f. 974.  
What means Christians have for a third consolation, to apply the marks of their adoption in jesus Christ, to assure themselves thereof, & consequently of their salvation. cap. 3 fo. 976.  
That Christians for their 4. consolation aught and may be assured and certain to be the children of God, although the marks of their adoption be weak and feeble in them, cap. 4. 980.  
The fift consolation is, that a Christian Philosopher, aught to make use of the afflictions and miseries of human life, thereby to persuade himself to be the child of God, by the excellent fruit, which they produce. cap. 5. 985.  
The sixt consolation for a Christian philosopher is, constantly to persever in his vocation to the Lord, not to fear death, to walk in the ways of God, & continually to pray unto him. cap. 6. 995.  
Meditations & prayers, which a Christian philosopher, for a seventh & a complete consolation, aught to have in heart and mouth: and every day to exercise the same, to live and die happily. cap. 7. fo. 1000    

An Index of the contents of the principal points spoken of by Sections in every Chapter of this Philosophy.  

Chap. 1. 1. Two kinds of men that are altogether careless, or 〈◊〉 respect the difference that should be between them. F●lio 861.  
2 The ●●mmary effect of true wisdom which ma●●th man a Christian philosopher. 866.  
3 The ground of Christian philosophy, to amend our lives. 866.  
4 Seven principal follies, which a Christian philosopher must sh●● and avoid. 868.  
Chap. 2. 1 The feeling of a Deity printed and engraven in every man's heart, denied and rejected by many, rather monsters than men. fol. 869. 2 Three ways and means to know God, and one only to conceive what he is. fol. 870. 3 A general consideration of the world in seven demonstrative reasons of the Deity. fol. 872. 4 Special consideration of the world in seven principal things which make a certain proof of the Deity. fol. 873. 5 Other considerations of the former seven reasons, four interior and moral, and three supernatural and theologiall. fol. 876.  
Chap. 3. CITIZEN Of those that deny the Deity by their works, because they know not the providence of God. fol. 878. 2 Seven reasons and certain proofs of the divine providence of God, as well generally as particularly. fol. 879. 3 How we love man more then God. fol. 881. 4 How we fear man more then God. fol. 882. 5 How we trust more in men then in God. fol. 883.  
Chap. 4. 1 Man naturally inclined to incredulity and to doubt of true things, which he desireth should not come to pass. fol. 885. 2 Testimonies to prove, that man thinketh to live always. fol. 885. 3 The brevity and vanity of our lives, most necessarily to be considered by man. fol. 886.  
Chap. 5. 1 All things created for two principal ends, the one near at hand, or first, the other further of and last. fol. 888. 2 It is a most necessary thing for man to know himself, and the end for which he was borne. 889. 3 Three principal ends of the life of man. fol. 890.  
Chap. 6. 1 The children of God are inclined to stumble at his providence, & wise and just conduction to their ends. fol. 892. 2 Man's false judgement of good and evil things. fol. 893. 3 Not exterior thing can make man happy or unhappy. fol. 894.  
Chap. 7. 1 Man is naturally inclined to credit and believe three great enemies. fol. 897. 2 The flesh and the concupiscences thereof, the first and a great enemy to man. fol. 897. 3 The world an other great enemy to man. fol. 898. 4 The devil an other great and principal enemy to man. fol. 899.  
Chap. 8. 1 It is an easy matter for a man to deceive himself, in thinking to be wise. fol. 901. 2 How men think themselves to be wise and are not, fol. 901. 3 Two points necessary for men to make them wise. 902.  
Chap. 9 1 Two families or cities of all men; the one terrestrial, the other celestial. fol. 904. 2 Seven principal things necessary to attain to eternal life, the first is the holy Church, whereof all the children of God aught to be members. fol. 905. 3 The word of God is the first and sure means to unite man to the Church. fol. 906. 4 The sacraments and public prayer, are other true and sure means to unite us to the Church. fol. 907.  
Chap. 10. 1 The assistance of God is necessary for all men and consequently prayer. fol. 908. 2 Examples and considerable advertisements touching Prayer, fol. 909. 3. The reading of the word of God, recommended by authority, and which way a man may profit thereby, fol. 910.  
Chap 11. 1. Man by nature hath a sinful body, and in many good things is inferior unto beasts. fol. 912. 2 The love of God and of righteousness, conjoined by the band of charity, are the fountain of all good things. fol. 913. 3 The duties of charity proved by two natural reasons. fol. 915. 4 Alms are the proper first-fruits and effects of charity. fol. 916.  
Chap. 12. 1 Reason's aught of the holy Scriptures to make us inclined to holiness and righteousness. fol. 917. 2 General rules out of the holy Scriptures, thereby to frame the life of a Christian to all righteousness and holiness. 919. 3 Seven pernicious vices, whereof we must purge ourselves, the first covetensnesse. 920. 4 Of ambition, pride, and boasting or bragging. 922. 5 Of excess of apparel, and meats, and of drunkenness. 925. 6 Of pleasure, adultery and lechery. 930. 7 Of unlawful passetimes, dancing, dices, plays and comedies. 933. 8 Of envy & slander. 938.  
Chap. 13. 1 Men are called to divers vocations, and every man is to follow the same uprightly. 2 Seven principal vocations, whereof marriage is the first, and the common duty requisite and required to be observed by them that are married. 943. 3 Particular duties of the wife. 946. 4 The particular duties of husbands. 947.  
Chap. 14. 1 It is a good family when all the parts and members thereof, are well and wisely governed. fol. 949. 2 Discipline and instruction which fathers and mothers aught to give unto their children. 950 3 Duties of children towards their fathers and mothers. 952.  
Chap. 15. 1 The duties of Kings, Princes and Magistrates. fol. 954. 4 The duties of subjects towards their magistrates. 956. 3 Duties of pastors, and ministers towards their flocks 957. 4 Duties of Christian people towards their pastors. 959.  
Chap. 16. 1. Seven principal causes and reasons more than sufficient, to make a man forsake and amend all his follies and corruptions. fol. 960. 2. The first cause of amendment of life, is the authority of jesus Christ, ibid. 3. The second reason of amendment of life, is the name of holy attributed to Christ, 961. 4. The third cause to move us to amendment of life, is the title of Emmanuel given to jesus Christ, fol. 962. 5. The fourth cause or reason to move us to amendment of life, is meditating upon the five other names and titles attributed to Christ, ibid. 6. The fift reason to move us to amendment of life, is two other names of our Saviour (jesus and Christ) ibid. 7. The sixt reason to move us to amend our lives, is that we are strangers and pilgrims in this life. 963. 8. The seventh reason to persuade us to amendment of life is, because the kindgdome of heaven, or of God i● at hand, 964.   

The second part.  
Chap. 1. HVmane life is to be esteemed of by the faithful, although it be full of miseries, and that a man may comfort himself therein, by seven singular and special things Fol. 968. 2. Meditation of life eternal, is the first comfort of a Christian, the felicity whereof is uncomprohensible, fol. 969. 3 The greatness and perpetuity of the goodness which is to be expected in life eternal. fol. 969. 4 Three principal degrees of blessed and eternal life. fol. 970. 5 Singular and special consideration of beatitude and life eternal. fol. 971. 6 divers degrees of blessedness, which are without end, and most assured to the faithful. fol. 972.  
Chap. 2. 1 The good and benefit that a Christian hath, to know and feel in his conscience that he is the child of God. fo. 974. 2 An exterior mean given unto us by God, to know his children. fol. ib. 3 Interior means, to assure us to be the children of God. fol. 975.  
Chap. 3. CITIZEN Two kinds of temptations, which shake and weaken the constancy of man to assure himself to be the child of God. fol. 976. 2 True and assured means to comfort the faithful against the distrust of their indignity, merit, and ignorance in the secrets of election and salvation. fol. 977.  
Chap. 4. 1 Not to feel in us the peace and joy of true faith, is a testimony of human infirmity, but not that we are without faith. fol. 980. 2 The fears and distrusts of the elect▪ deprive them not of true faith. fol. 981. 3 A considerable distinction between the two principal effects of faith, always powerful to assure us of our adoption. fol. 982. 4 Inclination to si●ne, aught not to make the faithful fall from, or to doubt of the certainty of the promises of God, tou●ching salvation. fol. ibid.  
Chap. 5. 1 Common and ordinary complaints by men touching the misery of their lives, fol. 985. 2 God is the author of tribulations, which are foreshowed, and promised by the Scriptures to his children. f. 985 3 The examples of jesus Christ's possions, is a means to strengthen us in our tribulations, and to persuade us, that we are children of God, and that we must constantly endure persecution. f. 986. 4 The first-fruits of afflictions are of power to confirm the faithful in the assurance of their adoption. fol. 988. 5 to suffer 〈◊〉 righteousness, is honourable, having a promise of of present and future reward. fol. 991. 6 Afflictions which passelightly over, are recompensed with di●uerss celestial blessings, and at the last with eternal life. fol. 993.  
Chap. 6. 1 In Christian hope which is not visible, it is requisite to have singular patience and perseverance, f. 995. 2 Of death, and how pleasing and welcome it is to the faithful. f. 996. 3 Exercises proper to a Christian specially prayer. f. 998.  
Chap. 7. 1 Meditation upon the Lord's prayer, fol. 1000 2 Consideration of the excellency and efficacy of Prayer, made in faith with a good and a Christian resolution, fo. 1002. 3 Meditation upon the Creed, fo. 1004. 4 Meditation and Prayers touching faith, and to obtain increase thereof. f. 1006. 5 Meditation and Prayers touching God the Father most puissant Creator of heaven and earth. fol. 1007. 6 Meditation and Prayers that jesus Christ is the Son of God, and our Lord and Saviour, fol. 1009. 7 Meditation and prayer upon this Article, the holy Ghost is our Instructor, Sanctificator, and Comforter, fo. 1011. 8 A prayer full of comfort to the Trinity, one only God, Father, Son, and holy Ghost. fol. 1013. 9 Meditation and prayer touching the Catholic Church, fol. 1014. 10 Meditation upon the Ten Commandments, f. 1016 11 A prayer t● ask grace of God to live according to his word, fo. 1018 12 Meditations and prayers touching the holy Sacraments of the Lords Supper, to present ourselves worthily at the receiving thereof, f. 1019. 13 Thanks giving after the receiving of the holy Sacrament, f. 1020. 14 Meditati●tion and prayer touching the blessed life which God hath prepared for his children, f. 1021. 15 A prayer to be said by householders in the morning, fo. 1022. 16 Grace or prayer before meat, f. 1024. 17 Grace or prayer after meat, ibid. 18 Prayer to be said by a household at night, ibid. 19 A short prayer for every particular person to say in the morning, f. 1025. 20 A Prayer for a particular man at night, ibid. 21 A prater to be said by a sick person, ibid. 22 Meditations and prayers fit to be said by him, that feeleth much pain by sickness, f. 1026. 23. Meditation and prayer against the fear of death, fo. 1027. 24 A prayer to be said by him which feeleth himself at the point of death, and may also be daily said by every one that is well and in health, f. 1029. Verses briefly showing the sum of Christian Philosophy, fol. 1030.    


THE FIRST DAYS WORK OF THIS ACADEMY, WITH the cause of their assembly.  
WHen GOD by his infinite and unspeakable goodness, beholding with a fatherly, bountiful, and pitiful eye our poor FRANCE (which most cruel against itself, seemed to run amain most furiously to throw itself headlong into the centre of some bottomless gulf, had sent from heaven the wished-for news of peace in the midst of civil and domestical armies, (which a man might say were of purpose prepared for the final overthrow of this French Monarchy, that hath flourished so long time) sparing by his heavenly grace and favour, and that in despite of them, the blood of those men, who held forth their right hand to cut off the left; among many, who touched with the love of their country, and with true zeal to piety, rejoiced at this so well liking and healthful news, four young gentlemen of Anjou, who came together to serve their prince, and to sacrifice their lives, if need required, for the welfare and safety of the Commonwealth, were none of the last that sought out one another, and met together to testify each to other (as their motuall kindred & sworn friendship didinvite them) the joy which filled their souls, arising of so happy and unlookedfor success & alteration of affairs: to the end also that they might give glory & praise to him, who for the benefit of his, knoweth well how to take order even in those things, which according to the judgement of men are desperate and past recovery. And that which gave them greater occasion to rejoice for this peace, and so diligently to seek out one another was this, because contrary to hope, they saw the means offered them to return home, and to continued and exercise, that greatly pleased them, which not long before the last fall of France into troubles they had happily begun. Now to let you (Readers) understand what this exercise was, these four gentlemen being of kin, and near neighbours, and in a manner of one age, were by the care and prudence of their fathers brought up and nourished together from their young years in the study of good letters, in the house of an ancient wise gentleman of great calling, who was the principal stock and root of these fruitful buds. This man by reason of his manifold experience, and long abode in strange countries, knew that by the common corruption of French youth, of itself inclined to pleasure, proceeded chief from the over-greatlicence, and excessive liberty granted unto them in the Universities of this Realm, as well through the fault and negligence of the governors and tutor's in them, as also because of the evil government of the towns at this day. He knew also that they were no less abused, who thinking to avoid this dangerous downfall at home, did sand their children to study abroad amongst strangers, where the traffic and merchandise of mischiefs is more common and easy to be made, because they fear not that news will presently, or so speedily be carried to their parents, as if they were near unto them. O how well worthy of eternal praise is the prudence of this gentleman! bringing to my remembrance Eteocles one of the most noble Ephories of Lacedaemonia, who freely answered Antipater ask fifty pledges, that he would not give him children, lest if they were brought up far from their fathers, they should change the ancient custom of living used in their own country, and become vicious: but of old men and women, he would give him double the number, if he would have them. Whereupon being threatened by this king, if he speedily sent him not of the youth: We care not (quoth he) for threatenings. For if thou command us to do things that are more grievous than death, we will rather choose death: so careful were the men of old time, that the dressing and trimming of these young plants should not be out of their presence. But let us go on with our matter. This good and notable old man having spent the greater part of his years in the service of two kings, & of his country, and for many good causes withdrawn himself to his house, thought, that to content his mind which always delighted in honest and virtuous things, he could not bring greater profit to the Monarchy of France, than to lay open a way and mean to preserve & keep youth from such a pernicious and cankered corruption, by offering himself for example to all fathers, and showing them the way to have a more careful eye in the instruction of their children, and not so lightly to commit them to the discipline of vices, by the hands of mercenary and hired strangers. And this was begun upon these four young gentlemen, whom he took to his own house, by the consent of their parents, offering himself to the uttermost of his power to help their gentle nature, which appeared in them worthy their ancestors, by training it up, first in the fear of God, as being the beginning of all wisdom: secondly, in human learning and knowledge; which are necessary helps to live well and happily, to the benefit of the society of men. To this end, after that he himself had showed them the first grounds of true wisdom, & of all things necessary for their salvation, according to the measure of grace given him from above, & as their age could conceive them, he laboured earnestly to have in his house some man of great learning, and well reported of for his good life & conversation, unto whom he committed the instruction of this young Nobility. Who behaved himself so well in his charge, that not greatly staying himself in the long degrees of learning, which be ordinary, & usual in our French Colleges, are often more tedious (besides loss of time) than profitable to youth; after he had indifferently taught his scholars the Latin tongue, & some smackering of the Greek, he propounded for the chief part and portion of their studies the Moral philosophy of ancient Sages and wisemen, together with the understanding, and searching out of histories, which are the light of life: therein following the intent and will both of him that set him on work, and also of the parents of this Nobility, who desired to see their children not great Orators, subtle Logicians, learned Lawyers, or curious Mathematicians, but only sufficiently taught in the doctrine of good living, following the traces and steps of virtue, by the knowledge of things passed from the first ages until this present: that they might refer all to the glory of the divine Majesty, and to the profit and utility as well of themselves as of their country. And yet in the mean while these noble and toward youths were not deprived of other exercises meet for them, which (as the divine Plato saith) are very profitable for this age, & help much to quicken the spirits of young men, and to make their bodies which are weak by nature, more strong and apt to sustain travel: as namely, to ride horse, to run at the ring, to fight at barriers, to apply themselves to all kind of weapons, and to follow the chase of beasts. All which exercises this wise and ancient Knight did intermingle with their earnest studies by way of recreation, himself standing them in stead of a master. For in such exercises he was as fully furnished as i● to be wished in a man of valour and activity, insomuch that he was more expert than many of our time who make no other profession. Now this school having been continued for the space of six or seven years, to the great profit of this nobility of Anjou, the four fathers on a day took their journey to visit this good old man, and to see their children. And after the usual welcome, which is between kinsfolks and friends, they discoursed together of the corruption which then was in all estates of France; whereupon they fore saw (as they said) some great storm at hand, if every one did not put to his helping hand for the correction and reformation them, but chief the secular power authorised of God for this purpose. They alleged for witness of their saying many examples of ancient estates, Commonwealths and kingdoms, which were fallen from from the height of glory & excellency into a general subversion and overthrow, by reason of vices reigning in them unpunished. And thus continuing their speech from one thing to another, they fell in talk of the corrupt manners that might particularly be noted in all, and those maintained by authority and with commendation, insomuch that both great and small endeavoured to disguise vice with the name of virtue. In fine, they were of opinion to hear their children discourse hereupon, that they might know & judge, whether they had profited so well in the institution of good manners (the rule of good life) by following of virtue, and by the knowledge of histories, (the pattern of the time passed for the better ordering of the time present) as their master, who was present at the discourses of these ancient Gentlemen, did assure them, by intermingling the praises of his scholars in the midst of their grave talk, and vaunting that they were well armed to resist the corruption of this age. For truly virtue purchased and gotten by practice, is of no less power against all contagion of wickedness, than preservatives well compounded are of force in a plague time to preserve in good health the inhabitants of a country. And as heretofore that famous physician Hypocrates preserved his city of Coos from a mortality that was general throughout all Grecia, by counseling his countrymen to kindle many fires in all public places, to the end thereby to purify the air: even so whosoever hath his soul possessed, and his heart well armed with the brightness and power of virtue; he shall escape the dangers of corruption, and eschew all contagion of evil manners. But returning to the intent and desire of our good old men, because they had small skill in the Latin tongue, they determined to have their children discourse in their own natural tongue, of all matters that might serve for the instruction and reformation of every estate and calling, in such order and method, as themselves with their foresaid master should think best. For this purpose they had two hours in the morning granted unto them, wherein they should be heard; and as much after dinner, which was to each of them one hour in a day to speak in. You may guess (gentle readers) whether this lively youth did not bestow the rest of the day, yea oftentimes the whole night upon the well studying of that which they purposed to handle, and with what cheerfulness of heart, & willingness of mind they presented themselves before the honourable presence of their fathers, who were so greatly delighted in hearing them, that for the most part in stead of four hours a day before mentioned, they bestowed six or eight. For after they had heard the two first discourse one morning, they had not the patience to refer the rest of that matter unto the afternoon, when the other twain of their children should be heard, but commonly commanded them presently to enter the lists, and to proceed, as being jealous over their glory in regard of their companions. In this commendable manner of passing their time they continued certain days. But the sudden and sorrowful news of the last frantic return of France into civil war, broke up their happy assembly, to the end that these noble youths betaking themselves to the service due to their Prince, and to the welfare and safety of their country, might make trial of their first feats of arms, wherein they wanted neither readiness, nor valour of heart, which being naturally in them, was also increased by the knowledge of philosophy. The study whereof resembled (as Plato saith) to a separation of the soul from the body, standeth wise men in stead of an exercise to die without fear, when duty requireth it, & causeth them to esteem of death, as of the cause of the true and perfect good of the soul. For which reason. Socrates, Xenophon, Architas, Thucydides, Thales, Epaminondas, & a million of other famous men, learned philosophers, & historiographers having charge of armies, never doubted, or feared in any sort to offer themselves cheerfully unto all perils and dangers, when the question and contention was for public benefit and safety, and in a just war without which a wise man never aught to fight. Yea I dare boldly say, that the greatest, and most famous exploits of warfare, were achieved for the most part by them and their like. Which served well for a spur to our young Angevins to 'cause them to undertake this journey with joy and cheerfulness of spirit, being resolved to follow with all their might the examples of such great and notable personages, as histories, the treasury of time, did call to their remembrance. When they were in the camp, each of them according to his particular affection ranged himself under sundry corners of great Lords and good captains. But, as we said in the beginning, after news of the peace proclaimed, which was so greatly looked for, and desired of all good men, they laboured forthwith to meet together, knowing that their joint-returne would be acceptable to their friends, especially to that good old man by whom they were brought up. Moreover they deliberated with themselves as soon as they were arrived at the old man's house, to give their fathers to understand thereof, to the end they might be certified from them, whether it were their pleasures to have them reiterate and continued in their presence the moral discourses begun by them, as we have learned before; that they might be refreshed with the remembrance of their studies, and thereby also keep fast for ever those good instructions, which by the daily travel of so many years they had drawn out of the fountain of learning and knowledge. As it was devised by them, the execution thereof followed, so that all these good old-men being assembled together, taking up their first order, and conferring a new of the same matters, daily met in a walking place covered over in the midst with a goodly green Arbour, allotting for this exercise from eight to ten in the morning, and from two to four in the afternoon. Thus they continued this exercise for the space of three whole weeks, which make eighteen days works, besides the three Sabbath days, set apart by them, that they might rest and cease from their studies, and attend the better to the chief point of that holy days institution, which is to the contemplation, and consideration of the works of God, of his law, and of his praises. During which time it was my good hap to be one of the company when they began their discourses, at which I so greatly wondered, that I thought them worthy to be published abroad, as well to enrich our French tongue with an infinite number of grave sentences and speeches, worthy to be remembered, being drawn out of the fountain of Greek and Latin arts and disciplines, through the incredible labour of these youths, lovers of virtue; as also to awake and stir up by their example all the Nobility with a jealousy and emulation of glory, gotten by the same virtue. For only virtue is able to guide & conduct gentlemen to honour, for the obtaining whereof (as they say) they contend and fight so often, and can also restore them to the fruition of their first rights of authority, and goodly privileges, whereby (as we read of the ancient Romans) such as were most worthy amongst the Nobility were chosen to attend unto these three things: namely, to the service of God, which is to govern, as the Scripture speaketh secondly, to the administration of laws and justice, which is the pillar of kingdoms: and lastly, to the tuition and defence of the Common wealth by arms, which is the assurance thereof against all practices & assaults of the enemy. Of which three excellent administrations, necessary for the establishing and maintenance of all estates and Common wealths, the most part of our Nobility retaineth the last only, which likewise they seem to despise in a manner, submitting, to their great shame, by reason of their ignorance and weltering in delights and pleasure, their conscience, honour, goods, and life to the opinion and judgement of those whom nature and right had subjecteth to them. But mark how we devised to proceed in our discourses: to wit, that three of us one after another should utter some sentence or memorable saying, in the praise of that virtue, or dispraise of that vice, whereof we were resolved to speak, and that the fourth should make a whole discourse of that matter. Which being ended, he should be ginnne the first proposition of the second Treatise, and two others should follow him therein: then the last should make the second whole discourse for that morning. Likewise in the afternoon, that same party was to lay open that matter which was to be entreated of, and two others continuing it, one of those, who in the morning did only propound, should discourse in his turn: and then giving to his companions new matter subject, he which as yet had not discoursed at all, was to handle it, and so to make an end for that day. And thus all four of us followed the same order daily, until every one in his course had entreated according to appointment, both by the precepts of doctrine, as also by the examples of the lives of ancient Sages and famous men, of all things necessary for the institution of manners, and happy life of all estates and callings in this French Monarchy. But because I know not whether, in naming my companions by their proper names, supposing thereby to honour them, as indeed they deserve it, I should displease them, (which thing I would not so much as think) I have determined to do as they that play on a Theatre, who under borrowed masks and disguised apparel, do represent the true personages of those whom they have undertaken to bring on the stage. I will therefore call them by names very agreeable to their skill and nature: the first, ASER, which signifieth Felicity: the second, AMANA, which is as much to say as Truth: the third, ARAM, which noteth unto us Highness: and to agreed with them as well in name, as in education & behaviour, I will name myself ACHITOB, which is all one with Brother of goodness. Furthermore, I will call and honour the proceeding and finishing of our sundry Treatises & discourses with this goodly & excellent title of Academy, which was the ancient & renowned school amongst the Greek Philosophers, who were the first that were esteemed; and that place where Plato, Xenophon, Polemon, Xenocrates, and many other excellent personages, afterward called Academikes, did propound and discourse of all things meet for the instruction & teaching of wisdom: wherein we purposed to follow them to our power, as the sequel of our discourses shall make good proof. Begin then (gentle readers) to hear that which we speak concerning man in the first days work, using these or the like speeches.  
Aser, Felicity: Amana, Truth: Aram, Highness: Achitob, Brother of Goodness.   

Of Man Chap. 1.  
WHen I direct my flight now and then (my companions) even unto the heavens, and with the wings of contemplation behold their wonderful greatness, their terrible motions, being contrary and without ceasing, the lively brightness, rare beauty, and incomparable force of the Sun and Moon, their unchangeable course, one while cause of light, and by and by after of darkness, the infinite number of goodly stars, and of so many other celestial signs: and from this excellent and constant order of all these things, as one ravished and amazed, when I withdraw my spirit lower into the elementary region, to admire and wonder at the situation and spreading of the earth amidst the waters, both of them making one round mass or lump, which in the midst of this great firmament occupieth the room but of a prick or tittle in respect thereof: beside, when I acknowledge in this earth and water as many sundry and most beautiful plants, and kinds of earthy and watery creatures, as there are grains of sand on the sea banks: and when I delight myself in the variety of minerals and precious stones, considering the form, quality, and virtue of each of these things: briefly, when I admire the diversity of ●●mess and seasons, the continual spring of fountains, the certain course of rivers, and generally, so many wonderful works under the cope of heaven, I cannot mavell enough at the excellency of Man, for whom all these things were created, and are maintained and preserved in their being and moving, by one and the same divine providence always like unto itself.  AMANA. 
There is nothing more certain than this, that all things whatsoever either the eye can behold, or the ear hear, were created for the benefit, profit and use of man, and that he was made excellent above all things to rule over them: yea the 
Heb. 1  very Angels are sent to minister for their sakes, which shall receive the inheritance of salvation.  ARAM. 
O unspeakable and heavenly goodness, which hast created man little lower 
Psal. 8.  than thyself, and crowned him with glory and worship. But tell us I pray thee (ACHITOB) more particularly, what this great and principal work of nature, Man is, to what end his 
All things were created for man.  being was given him and how he hath showed forth the first-fruits thereof. For it must needs be, that there is something in him greatly to be wondered at, seeing all things were created to serve and obey him.  ACHITOB. 
Truly ye have reason (companions) to begin our happy assembly with that knowledge, which we aught to have of ourselves, as being the storehouse of all wisdom, 
To know ourselves is true wisdom,  and beginning of salvation: whereof we may have an assured testimony from that father of Philosophy Socrates, who beholding the first precept written at Delphos in the temple of Apollo, which was so renowned throughout Graecia, namely Know thyself, was forthwith driven into a very deep cogitation, and being rapt with contemplation of spirit, he began from that time forward to doubt and to inquire of himself. Whereupon contemning that way which all the Philosophers of his time went, who busied themselves about nothing, but only in finding out the causes of natural things, and in disputing curiously of them, he gave himself wholly to the knowledge of himself, I mean of his soul, which he maintained to be indeed Man, and by disputation to entreat of the sovereign good thereof, and of virtue. By 
The soul is truly man  which means the gate of wisdom was opened unto him, wherein he profited in such sort, that according to the Oracle at Delphos, he was called of all men the wise, the just, the prince of Philosophers, and father of Philosophy. And surely out of his sayings, which being more 
Socrates was called the father of Philosophle.  divine than human, were written by his disciples, all other Philosophers have drawn their knowledge. Heraclitus another excellent man, minding to give out in speech that he had done some notable act, worthy of himself, said: I have sought myself. Which beginning truly is very necessary for man, as being a guide to lead him to the true knowledge of God, which is a heavenly gift of God, and peculiar to his. And this is learnedly taught us by the same Socrates, where he saith, That the duty of a wise man is to seek out the reasons of things, that in the end he may find that divine reason whereby they were made: and having found it, may worship and 
Socrates said that the knowledge of God & of ourselves must be joined together. Wherein the duty of man consisteth. Ignorance of ourselves, the cause of much evil.  serve it, that afterward he may enjoy it, and reap profit thereby. Moreover he addeth, That the perfect knowledge of ones self, which consisteth in the soul, is in such sort joined with the knowledge of God, that the one without the other cannot be sincere and perfect. And for the same reason, Plato his disciple, who for the excellency of his writings was surnamed the Divine, saith, That the perfect duty of man is, first to know his own nature: then to contemplate the divine nature: and last of all to bestow his labour in those things, which may be most beneficial to all men. Ignorance of a man's self (saith Lactantius) and the want of knowledge wherefore and to what end he is borne, is the cause of error, of evil, of leaving the right way to follow the crooked, of wandering out of the plain way to walk in the ragged and uneven way, or upon a dangerous and slippery mountain: and lastly, of forsaking the light to walk in darkness. Now if we accounted it a shameful thing to be ignorant of those things which belong to the life of man, surely the not knowing of ourselves is much more dishonest. Let us then consider what man is, according to that mean knowledge, which by the grace of God we are endued withal, not staying in those curious definitions which the Philosophers have made. Man is a creature made of God after his own image, just, holy, good and right by nature, and compounded of soul and body. I say of 
What man is. Gen. 1. Col 3.  soul, which was inspired of God with spirit and life, and of a perfect natural body, framed of the earth by the same power of God. In this sort man had his being of the eternal workmaster of the whole world, of whom he was created by his incomprehensible goodness, to be made partaker of his immortality and permanent felicity, for this only end to set forth the 
The end of man's being.  glory of his Creator, and to speak and do those things that are agreeable unto him, through the acknowledgement of his benefits. From which end man being fallen of his own free will through ingratitude and disobedience, was bereaved of all those ornaments, which he had received before of God, and in stead of righteousness and holiness, all iniquity, filthiness and uncleaneness entered into him: whereby he was made the slave of sin and of death, from whence all those miseries had their beginning, wherewith the life of man is overwhelmed. His soul also was wrapped with infinite hurtful passions and perturbations, which work in it a continual disquietness, and his body become subject to innumerable travels, and violent untowardness. Of which corruption the ancient Philosophers had great and assured knowledge, but the first and true cause thereof, which was sin, and the voluntary fall of man, with his restoring unto grace by the unspeakable goodness and mercy of his Creator, from whence he was fallen, were always hidden from them, (as we shall see anon) as also from an infinite number of men, who living holily according to the world, never had the perfect knowledge of God in his eternal Son. As for any good thing whatsoever they uttered, or found out, it came through earnestness of study, by discoursing and considering in the reasonable part of their soul, of those things which offered themselves to their mind. But for as much as they were not wholly over whelmed in every part of reason, and yet had no knowledge of the heavenly word jesus Christ, they uttered many things contrary one to another: and in the midst of their great and wondered skill (according to that saying of the Scripture, Who hideth his secrets from the prudent, and revealeth them to babes) they had a continual troubled spirit, wandering here and there aswell in the seeking out of themselves and of the causes of natural things, as of those things which are above nature. And truly, the reason of man, naturally engraffed 
There is a double reason in man.  in his heart, which so far forth as he is man, and according to his ability and manner of life he imitateth and followeth, is divers from that which by special grace from above cometh to the elect, accompanieth them, and helpeth them in all their actions. This is full of faith, and of undeceiveable assurance of eternal promises: the other, weak, troubled and wonderfully hindered, wherein a man can never have any certain resolution. This is that which caused Aristotle, who was Plato's Disciple, and Prince of the Peripaterike School to say, that the more knowledge a man hath, the greater occasion of doubting was offered. Neither can we judge otherwise, but that the same reason of trouble and doubting moved the above named Heraclitus that great Philosopher, to spend his life in continual 
Heraclitus wept continually.  weeping, howsoever he allegeth wisely, that it was for the compassion he had of man's nature, both for that the life of men consisteth in nothing but in miseries, as also because all the labours wherein they exercised themselves, seemed unto him to be worthy of great commiseration and pity: namely, seeing that they being far wide of justice, did yet through too greedy desire make themselves slaves unto all covetousness and vainglory. This also was an argument of inconstancy and wavering in Democritus, who never came abroad amongst men, but he laughed unmeasurably at all their works and deeds. Howbeit herein he said truly, that the life of man was vanity and folly, and that all their lusts and desires were fond, and worthy 
The judgement of Philosophers concerning the nature of man. P●ndarus  to be laughed at. But such extremities of laughter and weeping are not seemly in him, who is well instructed in the study of Philosophy, & in the certain knowledge of himself: which thing these Philosophers so earnestly laboured to attain unto, as we shall see anon, after we have learned what other ancient men have thought of the nature and state of man. What other thing (saith P●ndarus) is man, than the shadow of a dream in ones sleep? Whereby he showeth the vanity o● man by an excellent manner of speaking, very significantly uttering his 
Homer.  meaning. For what thing is less than a dream yea than the shadow of a dream? Homor having compared mortal creatures together, both in respect of their continuance, as of the maintenance of their life, crieth out, that of all those which walk on the earth and draw 
T●mon.  breath, there is not one more miserable than man. Timon the Athenian detesting much more than all these the imbecility of man's nature, used and employed all his skill to persuade his countriment to abridge & shorten the course of their so miserable life, and to hasten their end, by hanging themselves upon gibbets, which he had caused to set up in great number, in a field that he bought for the same purpose, unto whose persuasions many gave place. Pliny rehearsing 
Pliny.  the great miseries wherewith man cometh into this world, & the manifold labours wherein he liveth, said, that it were good for a man not to be borne at all, or else so soon as he is borne, 
The custom of the Scythians.  to die. It was a custom amongst the Scythians, to weep at the birth of their Children, & to rejoice, and make a solemn feast at the death of their parents. Now as the opinions of these philosophers near named by us (who being destitute of the light of God, & of true religion had no other foundation but their own human & weak discourses,) are to be rejected for enclosing all mankind in such vile & abject estate, so on the other side we must take heed, that we enter not into that presumptuous opinion of many others, who endeavour to lead man to the consideration of his dignity and excellency, as being endued with infinite graces. For they persuade him, that through the quickness of his understanding, he may mount up to the perfect knowledge of the greatest secrets of God and nature, and that by the only study of philosophy, he may of himself, following his own nature become master of all evil passions and perturbations, & attain to a rare & supreme kind of virtue, which is voided of those affections: that being thus exempted and freed from all vice: he may lead a most happy and perfect life. This did the Stoic philosophers with one consent maintain and teach, saying: Whosoever received their doctrine, if in the morning he were very wicked, in the evening he should 
The presumptuous opinion of the Stoics.  become a very good man: and if he laid himself down to sleep being ignorant, vicious, and poor, the next morning he should arise wise, virtuous, rich, happy and ●ust, Zeno, Seneca, Diogenes, Chrysippus, and infinite more, otherwise endued with most fruitful doctrine, as we shall understand hereafter, were of this opinion. In so much that Chrysippus said, that Dion the chieest man for knowledge in Syracuse, was no less virtuous than his god jupiter, to whom they attributed perfect divinity. Seneca also boasted that he had received life by the benefit of God, but to live well, from himself. Thus whilst they granted to manspower such an excellent and divine disposition, they lift him up in a vain presumption, in pride and trust in himself, and in his own virtue, which in the end cannot but be the cause of his utter undoing. We therefore holding the mean between these two contrary opinions (as the perfection and goodness of all things consisteth in mediocrity) and continuing to speak of man as we have already begun, doesaie, that the knowledge of himself is very necessary for him, and that having perfectly attained thereunto, he hath cause both to be humbled greatly, as also to glory and rejoice. First to humble himself through the sense and feeling of his vanity, per●ersenes and corruption, in which respect he aught to hate and be displeased with himself, 
The end of the knowledge of ourselves.  because he beholdeth his destruction and condemnation engraven in his conscience. Secondly: he is to glory in the knowledge of God, which inseparably followeth the other, after he hath learned this, that in the mercy of Cod he may recover that which is wanting in himself, having once been made and fashioned of God, who is altogether pure, wise, true, good, and almighty, to the end he might be partaker of his glory. For the obtaining hereof, he had given unto him from the beginning (as trusty guides) godliness, holiness, and religion: godliness, to the end he might know thereby, that he had God for his father: holiness, to yield unto him continual glory and praise: and religion, to keep him in continual meditation of his grace and benefits, and to serve him for an indissoluble bond to knit him to his Creator, whothreatned him with death, if he did the contrary. But our first father 
The wilful fall of man.  through ingratitude and disobedience, forsaking thoseheavenly guides to follow his own freewill, deprived himself and all his posterity of that promise of eternal life, that was made unto him. Whereupon being dead to his first life, which was most happy & innocent, through his offence and perverseness of his sin, he began from that time forward to live a mortal life, so that his body and soul become subject to infinite miseries and damnable infirmities, which draw upon them the condemnation of eternal death. Notwithstanding God, whose goodness and mercy are endless, re-established and assured the succession of his immortal in heritance unto those, whom it pleased him by grace to make dead to sin, and alive to himself, through the satisfaction of his wrath made by the innocency of his eternal 
The restoring of man.  Son, purging them in his blood, and opening unto them by him the gates of heaven, after he hath renewed them in righteousness, holiness and innocency, that they may follow after godliness and religion. And knowing that man so frail and weak, might easily fall down under the heavy burden of those miseries and calamities, whereunto the corruption of his nature made him subject, and wherein by reason of hereditary sin he should remain during this mortal life, as also that those furious and continual passions, which are mingled together in his soul, being joined to the common infirmities of his body, would be of too great force to throw him again headlong into destruction; this infinite mercy of God appointed, that from the beginning there should remain in the spirit of man a little spark of light, which driveth him to natural love of the truth, and to a desire to inquire after it, yea which pricketh & provoketh him not to sleep altogether in his vices. This weak instinct being awaked, stirred up, helped, and disposed by the pure grace, virtue and 
All men naturally have some love & liking of the truth.  power of the author of all goodness, draweth and moveth a Christian, regenerated by the holy Ghost (after knowledge of himself, and hatred of that which is in him) to seek after and to covet with a special hearty desire, that goodness and righteousness whereof he is voided, & that glorious liberty of which he deprived himself. Furthermore, the same heavenly grace blessing this holy desire of the man regenerate, causeth him to draw out of the doctrine 
Effects of Christian regeneration.  of holy Scriptures that wherewithal he may, if not heal perfectly his wicked inclinations, yet at the lest contain and repress them in such sort, that they break not out into any damnable execution. He teacheth him also to receiee the infirmities of his flesh, as fatherly chastisements for his sin, and as necessary means to exercise him, and to keep him in awe. And lastly, for the upshot and perfection of all happiness and felicity in this world, he instructeth him how he may lead a quiet and peaceable life in beholding the wonderful works of the divinity, which he is to adore and honour, and in the amendment and correction of his manners naturally corrupted, by squaring them after the pattern of virtue, that so he may be made worthy and fit to govern human affairs, for the profit of many: and at length attain to the perfection of a wise man, by joining together the active life with the contemplative in the certain hope and expectation of a second, immortal and most blessed life. Whereunto also the precepts and discourses of learned and ancient 
The perfection of a wise man's life.  Philosophers, may serve for our instruction and pricking forward: as also the examples (which are lively reasons) of the lives of so many notable men, as histories, the mother of antiquity, do as it were represent alive before our eyes. And this in my judgement is sufficient generally to understand of Man, seeing we are hereafter to discourse more particularly of both his principal parts, the body and soul.   

Of the Body and Soul. Chap. 2.  ACHITOB 
THe body and soul are so knit and conjoined together, that nothing can separate them but death the destroyer of all, which through sin, and for the just punishment 
The wondered conjunction of the body and soul.  thereof entered into the world. And this is no sooner done, but that whatso, ever we see of man, vanisheth from before our eyes: the earthy part returning into the mass of of earth from whence it came, according to the saying of Aristotle, that all things are resolved into those things whereof they are compounded: likewise, that which is spiritual and invisible goeth into an eternal immortality, from whence the being thereof proceeded.  ASER. 
Truly this knitting together, and conjunction of the body and soul is a most wonderful thing in nature, yea, as many of the Philosophers say, against nature: seeing the soul which is light, is contained within the body being heavy: that which is of celestial fire, within that which is cold and earthy, that which is invisible, within that which is palpable: that which is immortal, within that which is mortal. But what? Where is the sense of man, which is able to comprehendthe reason of the doings of that great Maister-builder of the universal frame? Yea there is more. For during this conjunction, as all things that move within this general globe are maintained by agreeing discords: even so of necessity there must be 
All things are preserved by agreeing discords.  such a harmony between the body and the soul, that by the help of the one, the other subsisteth and abideth, and that through their contituall striving sometimes the one, and then the other be in the end obeyed.  AMANA. 
Thou tellest us here of a wonderful strange thing, that, that which is spiritual & immortal sometime obeyeth that which is mortal, and made of a corruptible lump. But I understand thee well. This proceeds of the imperfection and imbecility of our nature. For (as Socrates said) if we were perfect Philosophers, we would never agreed with ourselves, but resist continually. Now following this matter, make us to understand more particularly (ARAM) what the body and soul are, what properties they have, and what is the excellency both of the one and the other  ARAM. 
With a good will, my companions, and first I will begin at the definition of a body. A body (as the Philosophers say, speaking generally of all things that have bodies) is 
The definition of a body.  that which may be divided and measured after three sorts, in length, in breadth, and in depth. Or according to others, a body is a mass or lump, which, as much as lieth in it, resisteth touching, and occupieth a place. A body (saith Plato) is that which being in his proper place is neither heavy nor light, but being in a strange place first inclineth somewhat, then is driven and carried forward, either with heaviness or lightness. Hereupon, both he and other Philosopher's discourse learnedly and profoundly of the particular nature of all bodies, of the earth, of the fire, of the air, of the water, and of all other both simple and compound bodies, and of their contrary motions. But seeing all those discourses are at this present without the compass of our Academy, let us simply with more profit, and that according to the Scripture, define the body, which we have undertaken to handle. We say 
Gen. 6. Rom. 8. Gal. 5. The works of the flesh.  then, that the body is flesh, that every affection of the flesh is deadly, and that the works thereof are uncleanness, pride, fornication, enmity, debate, wrath, contention, envy, murder, gluttony and such like: and therefore that the body is made of mortal matter, of as small continuance as a vessel of earth, sinning without ceasing, and endeavouring that that which is shut up within it, should please it. Notwithstanding we aught not to neglect and contemn the wonderful frame of this heavenly plant, as Plato calleth it, saying, that the root thereof is in the head drawing towards heaven, seeing, as in a little world, we may behold therein the excellency of the wonderful works of God, and that in so great measure, that the wisest and 
Man is a little world.  most eloquent men could never set them forth sufficiently. And if we call to mind how by his Almighty power he framed him at the first of a piece of earth, we shall not need to stand long 
Gen. 2.  here to inquire & search out, how he could be engendered & fashioned in his mother's womb, how he received nourishment & life; & lastly, how he came into the light. As for example, how 
Of the conception and fashioning of man.  the 6. first days after his conception, he is nothing but milk: the 9 following, blood: 12. days after, flesh: and how in the 18 next ensuing, he is fashioned, at what time the fruit beginneth to live, and to have sense, which is the 45. day after he was conceived. These are secrets of nature, which may seem as incomprehensible, and beyond the capacity of man, as his first creation. For what greater marvel can there be, than that of a little drop of man's seed there should be engendered bones, sinews, veins, arteries, similar and instrumental parts, skin and flesh, and that all these should be framed in that kind, figure and similitude, which we daily see in men, who are all created after that manner? What need we then to make an anatomy of all the chiefest parts of the body of man, when as the consideration of the lest of them, which peradventure may be found too be most necessary, will suffice to ravish us with admiration? What supper fluous thing can be noted in the body? What small parcel is there, which the noblest part may want conveniently, and which is not partaker of every evil 
Of the excellency of the body, and of all the parts thereof.  disposition thereof? What thing is there in the whole nature thereof, which doth not satisfy that duty very profitably, whereunto it is borne and appointed, which moveth not of itself, which either doth, suffereth or disposeth of itself otherwise than is most expedient and meet for it own benefit, and for the rest of the frame of man? The progress and growth thereof from day to day, from hour to hour, and that of all the parts together of this principal work at one instant, even frow the first hour of his being, until his whole perfection, are they not more heavenly than human things? What is more wonderful under the cope of heaven, than the conjunction and subjection of the natural senses unto the body, I mean, of the sight, smelling, hearing, taste, and touching, whereby (saith Plato) the common sense which is as it were a general receptacle, conceiveth all outward things? What an excellent property in man is it, to void from him a profitable superfluity of his nourishment, from whence the cause of the preservation of mankind proceedeth? The articulate and distinct voice, proper to him only, is it not worthy of great marvel? What greater secret of nature 
Great secrets of nature.  could ravish the mind of man more with admiration than amongst the infinite multitude of men in the world, to consider the variety of their gestures, and diversity of their countenances, that having all but one & the same form, yet not one almost resembleth another? And when in so great variety, two are found resembling in all points one another, as we read of some, even of sundry nations, who have been taken indifferently one for the other, is it not a stranger matter? How marvelous is it, that all men having a tongue wherewith they speak and sing, yet we seldom see that the speaking and singing of one resembleth the speech and tune of another? whereupon it cometh to pass, that friends and familiars oftentimes acknowledge and understand one another by their speech and voice before they see each other. Who will not admire this great secret in the hand of man, that a hundred thousand writers may writ the something, with the same ink & like pen, and that with three and twenty letters, which have each his own figure and shape, and yet the writings 
The diversity of men's voices and writings.  shall not resemble one another so, but every writing may be known by his hand that wrote it? Briefly, what is there in the whole body of man, that is not full of rare beauty? This is sufficient for the matter in hand; now let us come to the soul which is much more noble, and infused into the body by God the Creator, without any virtue of the generative 
The soul is infused not traduced.  seed, when as the parts of the body are already framed and fashioned. This alone can lead us to the knowledge of God and of ourselves, or rather as Socrates said, we shall never understand perfectly what the soul is, except we first know God, and behold it in him, as in a true glass, who only can represent it unto us. Let us then see what the soul is, according to the sayings of the ancient Philosophers. Thales Milesius, one of the sages of Graecia, who flourished in Athens in the time of Achab king of juda, was the first that defined the soul, 
The definition of the soul Pythagoras was the first that was c●ll●d a Philosopher.  affirming it to be a nature always moving itself. Pythagoras (the light of his time, and the first that took unto himself the name of a Philosopher, because all those, who before him were addicted to the contemplation of the divinity, and of the secrets of nature, caused themselves to be called by the name of Mages and wisemen, which he would not have spoken of himself, saying that this divine and lofty title of Wise, was proper to God only, and that it far passed all human ability) I say this excellent man Pythagoras affirmed, that the soul was a number moving itself. Plato saith, that it is a spiritual substance moving it sel●● by harmonical number. Aristotle saith, that the soul is the continual act or moving of a natural and instrumental body, and may have life. Or else, according to others, it is the light of the substance, and in perpetual motion. They divide it likewise diversely, and make many parts thereof. The soul (as Pythagoras said) is compounded of understanding, 
The division of the soul.  knowledge, opinion and sense, from which things all knowledge and Arts proceed, and of which man is called reasonable, that is, apt to discourse by reason. Plato saith, that there are three virtues in the soul belonging to knowledge & understanding, which for this cause are 
Plato maketh six parts of the fool.  called cognitive or knowing virtues: namely, reason, understanding and fantasy. Unto which three others are answerable appertaining to appetite: namely Will, whose office is to desire that which understanding and reason propound unto it: Choler or Anger, which followeth that, which reason and fantasy offer unto it: and Concupiscence, which apprehendeth whatsoever fantasy and sense object unto it. Aristotle maketh another distinction of 
Aristotle, divideth it into two parts.  the soul, saying that one part of it is void of reason in itself, and yet may be guided by reason that the other part is of itself partaker of reason. And in another place this Philosopher saith, that there are three things from whence human actions proceed, namely sense, understanding and appetite. Many others both ancient and late writers make 
Four parts of the soul.  four parts of the soul: Understanding, reason, anger, and desire. The understanding lifteth the soul up to heaven to the contemplation of divine and intellectual things. Reason guideth the soul by prudence in all her functions. Anger is ruled and moderated by the virtue of magnanimity: and desire is governed by temperance. Of these a very harmonical justice is framed, which giveth to every part of the soul that which belongeth unto it. But the most sensible, common and true opinion, which the wisest amongst the Philosophers 
The best division of the soul.  had of the soul, is that which divideth it into two parts only, under which all the rest are comprised: the one being spiritual and intelligible, were the discourse of reason is: the other brutish, which is the sensual will, of itself wandering and disordered, where all motions contrary to reason, and all evil desires have their dwelling. Among all the philosophical discourses of the soul, written by these great personages, this error is very great, when they attribute such a strength & power to reason (which they say is resident in the soul as a lamp to guide the understanding, and as a queen to moderate the will) as that by it alone a man may well and and justly govern himself. Now although we know that this reason of man is is of itself, wholly depraved & corrupted, yet we may say well enough, that the soul, which spirit & life, cannot be divided, being imortal: because whatsoever is divided, dissolveth & parteth asunder, & whatsoever is dissolved, perisheth. Nevertheless it may be said to be compunded & made subject (during the conjunction thereof with the body) to these two principal parts, of Understanding and William The understanding serveth to conceive & comprehend all things propounded 
The soul cannot be divided 〈…〉 to two parts.  unto us and to discern & judge what we aught either to approve & allow or what refuse & reject. The will is that which executeth & bringeth to effect, whatsoever the understanding judgeth to be good, & contrariwise flieth from that which it reproveth & condemneth. And herein we agreed with the Philosophers, that the understanding, under which we comprehend the sense, is as the governor and captain of the soul, and that the will dependeth of it. But withal we say, that both the one and the other are so corrupted and altered from 
Both parts of the soul are corrupted.  their nature, (the understanding being obscured and dimmed with the clouds of darkness, by reason of the first man's sin descended upon all his posterity through here detarie and natural filthiness, and the will in such sort corrupted by this disobedience, and so weakened and made feeble to all goodness) that if there be none other guide coming from above to teach the understanding, and to direct and lead the will, I mean regeneration by the spirit of God, both of them cannot but do evil, drawing the soul with them to utter ruin and perdition, by causing her to consent to the law of her members, which are the body and flesh, 
Rom. 7. 23.  full of ignorance, of obscure darkness, of frowardness, misery, calamity, ignominy, shame, death, and condemnation. Notwithstanding, if in the corruptible, heavy, and gross lump of the body, within which the soul is contained, we found matter of praise and of the contemplation of heavenly things, what shall we say of that which is immortal, which in a moment in hit discourses and cogitations, goeth through the whole heaven, compasseth the 
The properties of the soul.  earth about, saileth all over the sea, without which the body moveth not at all, and all the beauty thereof turneth suddenly into putrefaction? This only can make a man happy both in this and in the other life, by reason of the treasures of wisdom, the understanding whereof is proper unto it: yea this is the only instrument whereby a man may behold the divine nature. This is invisible, and cannot be perceived by any natural sense: this is contemplative and active at one and the same time: this beholdeth universal things, and practiseth particulars, understanding the one, and feeling the other. This hath for the actions and operations 
The actions of the soul.  of hit essence and nature, Will, judgement, Sense, Conceiving, Thought, Spirit, Imaginnation, Memory, Understanding and Reason: and for hit incomparable beauty, she hath Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude and justice, without which the excellent order of all 
The beauty of the soul.  human things would be changed into disorder and confusion. This is that moreover, which being illuminated with wisdom, bringeth forth the first-fruits of love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperancy. Briefly, to conclude our present speech, we 
Gal. 5. 22. 23.  may well say that the soul is so great and divine a thing, that it is a very hard matter to comprehend it by reason, but altogether incomprehensible by the outward sense: and that all man's felicity, as well present as to come, dependeth of the soul, when, being regenerated (as hath been said) and made free and void of all wicked perturbations (as near as the nature of man can approach to perfection) her human contentation and delight is only in virtue, 
The true delight of the sense.  and in the hope and certain expectation of a more sound and perfect virtue, by the renewing and changing of this mortal life into that which is immortal and most blessed: as S. Paul exhorteth us hereunto, saying: Let us rejoice in the Lord: both because our names are written in heaven (as Christ saith) and that our modesty, meekness and goodness may be known 
Phil. 4. 4. Luk. 10. 20.  to all men. Moreover let us learn that in the wonderful composition, conjunction and disposition of the soul & body, there is matter whereby to draw man greatly to the consideration▪ of the chief end, for which he was first placed in the world, namely, to glorify his Creator in godliness, holiness and religion. He aught therefore both to serve him with all the parts of 
How a man aught to use both body and soul.  his body, not abusing them in any sort, but keeping them pure and clean, to be made members of the glorious body of his eternal Son in the resurrection, and also to praise and glorify him with all the gifts and graces of his soul, not defiling it with uncleanness and vice, that she may, by the same divine grace, return unto the full fruition of that most happy essence and nature from whence she had her being. In the mean while let us learn, that as the body useth many instruments whereof it is compounded, and which are proper unto it, so the soul, being much more noble, excellent and divine, aught to use the body and all the parts thereof: and that the soul is the organ and instrument of God whereby he worketh in us and lifteth us up to the contemplation of his divine nature.   

Of the diseases and passions of the body and soul, and of the tranquility thereof. Chap. 3.  ARAM. 
ONe of the ancient Philosophers used to say, that no living creature was worse to man than man himself, because, albeit he hath dominion over all things, yet 
Nothing worse to man than man himself.  he cannot rule himself, nor his desires. Experience causeth us both too much to know the truth of this saying. For who can doubt in any sort hereof, seeing blessed S. Paul himself confesseth, that he did not the good things which he would, but the evil which he 
Rom. 7. 18. 19  would not, and that in his flesh there dwelled no goodness? So undoubtedly we have both body and soul compassed about with so many pernicious passions, that it is very hard, yea 
There is no good thing in the flesh of man.  altogether impossible, that what good thing soever is in us should not faint and sink under their heavy weight without a special and divine grace.  ACHITOB. 
Truly this is no vain speculation, nor unprofitable to man: as also for a man to know, that he is as it were tied in this world to all uncertain things, which he, being mortal by nature, cannot any way shun and avoid, without the help of God. He which is in health expecteth sickness: he that is sick, health. Doth any one desire in his mind any thing? Before he enjoyeth it, his desire is often changed into another. In a word, no man abideth still in one and the same estate. And therefore Plato calleth man a mutable creature, as if he meant to say, that he is easily altered and changed. 
Man is a mutable creature.   ASER. 
The change which this divine Philosopher meant (if I be not deceived) hath relation principally to the conditions of the soul, which, being filled with infinite perturbations, fastened in the midst of it with the nail of pleasure and grief, is carried away with inconstancy and uncertainty into a stream of troublesome passions, which if they be not cut 
Pleasure and grief the cause of passions.  off and mastered by reason, draw a man into utter destruction. But give us to understand (AMANA) more at large of these passions of the soul, and of the way to remedy them: and if you think good, you may speak somewhat of those of the body.  AMANA. 
Among the innumerable evils, which the desire of pleasure and fear of grief, engraven in the most secret parts of our soul by our first corruption, bring to man, this is the greatest and most pernicious, that they make sensible things more evident and plain unto him than things intelligible, and constrain the understanding to judge more by passion than by reason. For using, through the sense of pleasure or travel, to attend the erroneous uncertainty, and mutable nature of the body, as to that which is subsisting and subject to sight, he remaineth blind, and loseth all knowledge of that which truly is and subsisteth, namely, of the light of the soul, which is divine and immortal. Moreover, applying himself wholly to the sensual and unreasonable will, which is that part of the soul that proceedeth of the corruption thereof, he laboureth with all his might to quench and choke that weak instinct of the soul, which aspireth unto the true Good, from whence she perceiveth herself to have fallen. And this he doth with such force and power, that if God strengthen not the soul, and reason the divine guide, accompany her not, without doubt she yieldeth to such mighty enemies: and then (as we have said) staying himself wholly in things subject to sight, he appeareth too careful and curious in seeking to deck that, which belongeth to the body: but as for the soul (whereof all human felicity dependeth) because she is invisible, and not seen of him, it is the lest of his cares to furnish her with that which she seeketh & desireth, and which 
Man is more careful of his body than of his soul.  is necessary for her. Whereupon in the end it cometh to pass that the lest overthwarts and discommodities of his flesh seem very grievous and burdensome to a man, but as for the incurable diseases, which overwhelm his soul, he doth not so much as feel them. Now to the end we may understand more particularly that which is here propounded unto us, we will handle in order, and as briefly as we may (this matter being very large) the diseases and passions of the body and soul, with the remedy which we are to desire and seek after. And first we will speak a word of the diseases of the body, next of the natural and necessary passions thereof, albeit we will entreat of the passions of the soul, as of our chief matter subject. Concerning the maladies and evil dispositions of the body, one Hypocrates, one Galene, nay infinite others skilful in Physic, are not able to describe them exactly, much less prescribe certain and sure remedies. But seeing it is not my purpose or profession to stay long here, neither yet necessarily belong to the cause of our assembly, I will content myself to speak these few words by the way, that we aught to take every bodily infirmity as a fatherly chastisement 
The end, cause, and remedy of bodily diseases.  of our sins, and as a necessary mean to awaken us, to warn us of our duty, and to keep us in awe. Besides, one principal cause of all bodily diseases, proceedeth ordinarily from vices, which are the proper inheritance of man, and with which we defile ourselves continually. Therefore if we heal our souls, we may cure ourselves of the most of them: and as for others, which come by defect of nature, or by some other hidden cause, we have the counsel and help of Physicians, whom willingly and diligently we seek after. There are beside these, certain natural and necessary passions in the body, properly belonging 
Natural passions.  unto it, even from the first creation thereof, which are not to be condemned, neither can be taken away, but with the abolishing of man's nature: as the desire of drinking, eating, sleeping, and such like, which only by the direction of reason are to be freed from all superfluity. But it standeth otherwise with the diseases and passions of the soul, derived from our first corruption, and driven forward by sin, being plentiful and rich, which without comparison are far more dangerous than those of the body, more hard to be perceived and known, more headstrong and uneasy to cure, and which is worse, man is very slothful in seeking out a remedy for them. And for the most part thinking that he hath found some remedy, through want of skill and and ignorance, he falleth into a worse estate than he was in before, and as we commonly say, from a gentle ague into a pestilent and burning fever. But first we will generally define this word, Passion, according to the opinion of those philosophers, who were 
The definition of passion.  endued with greatest light. Passion is every natural and actual motion in the soul. This motion is of two sorts: the one weak, good and holy, aspiring and rejoicing in that which is truly good: the other very strong, evil and pernicious, covering with a disordered desire, and delighting with an immoderate joy in a good falsely so imagined. The matter of these motions are opinions, affections, and inclinations, which being considered in their own nature, are through sin wicked and corrupt throughout the soul, yea the blossom and root of them proceed from our own substance, to the end (as Plato saith) that no man should think God to be the cause of evil. Now albeit these passions thus defined by the Philosophers are many in number, yet drawing nearer to the truth, we may comprehend and divide them all into two principal kinds. The first kind shall be that which we believe by faith: the other according 
The division of passions.  to our opinions and affections. Under the first we comprehend that which every one believeth, thinketh, and desireth, concerning divine and heavenly things, as of true righteousness, of the immortality of the second life, and of the judgement to come. Under opinions and affections is comprehended whatsoever respecteth and concerneth earthly things, this life, manners, government of a household, of a commonwealth, and generally all human inclinations and actions. As touching that which we believe by faith, we are led thereunto, and stirred by the weak instinct and feeling of the divine nature imprinted in 
All men have naturally a desire of happiness.  every soul, which after a sort moveth man to aspire unto, and to desire the true and sovereign good, and which, being more powerful, and of greater efficacy in some than in others, causeth the better sort to delight also in the same good. Nevertheless it is proper to every man's understanding, not to hold a steadfast and sure way in seeking out the truth, but 
No man by nature can found out the right way that leadeth to happiness. The word of God showeth us the right way to happiness.  to wander aside into divers errors (as a blind man that walketh in darkness) and to fill itself rather with lies, and with a continual desire and curiosity of new, unprofitable and superfluous things, than to content itself simply with the truth, insomuch that finally it misseth of all. But to the end we be not of this number, we aught to hold fast to the infallible rule of the holy Scriptures: which gift we are to ask, hope, wait, and seek for in the only grace and mercy of that Spirit which indighteth them, and to look for the full opening of these treasures in the second and eternal life. As for the second kind of our passions, properly called perturbations according to the philosophers, from whence all the evils and miseries 
Of the perturbations of the soul.  of mankind proceed, and whereof we mind chiefly to speak, they are but affections and inclinations, which come from our will, corrupted by the provocations and allurements of the flesh, and which wholly resist the divine nature of the reasonable part of the soul, fastening it to the body (as Plato saith) with the nail of pleasure. Which passions the mind of man commonly beholdeth clearly enough, when it applieth itself thereunto, if it be not altogether perverted and depraved: yea by the grace and help of God, the mind is able to confirm itself against any passion through the discourse of reason, before it be in force, and during the vehemency thereof, to fortify itself against it. And although the passion be 
The scope of our passions.  contrary to reason, and have (for her only scope) pleasure, and the fear of grief, which can prevail greatly with man, yet reason by the means of God's grace, can both easily constrain, master and compel all passions in such sort, that they shall take no effect, and also bring to pass, that whatsoever is rashly desired, shall be overcome by the discourse of prudent counsel. And for this cause we say, that the first motions are not in our power, but that the event and issue of them is in some sort. Likewise reason doth not wholly quench and extinguish all passions, which cannot possibly be performed in the nature of man, but repelleth and hath the upper hand of them, as the precepts of doctrine, and infinite examples of the lives of ancient heathen and pagan philosophers do learnedly teach us. Which thing as it 
The ancient heathen may arise up in judgement against many Christians in these days.  aught to 'cause many at this day to be ashamed, who vaunt themselves of the name of Christians, so it condemneth them in a fault not to be excused before the just judgement of God, because those men, being destitute of the perfect knowledge of God, which they say they have, far excelled and surpassed them in the bridling, overcoming and kill of so many pestiferous passions as compass the soul about, as we may handle elsewhere, and see examples thereof worthy of eternal remembrance, when we shall discourse particularly of virtues and vices. In the mean while we may learn of Cicero (the father of latin eloquence, whose skill in joining philosophy with the art of Rhetoric, was excellent, and who in my judgement handleth this our present matter more profitably than any other of the ancient) that all the above named evil passions are perturbations, which if they be not mastered by reason, deprive man of the sovereign good of the soul, which consisteth in the tranquillity thereof. Moreover he saith, that through ignorance and baseness of mind, they proceed only of the opinion of good or evil, either present or to come, which we imagine 
The original nature, and effects of perturbations.  to be in the unperfect and transitory things of the world, and which are accompanied unseparably either with good or evil. In respect of good things, we are carried away with a vehement desire or covering of them, besides an immoderate joy in them: in regard of evil things, we are oppressed with fear and sorrow. And these are the four springs of all vices and sins 
All perturbations are contained under these four heads, Desire joy, Fear, Grief.  wherein men plunge themselves during this life, and under which all perturbations are comprehended, which fill the soul with endless trouble and disquietness, causing man to live always uncontented, and to find every present kind of life burdensome, and so to seek after and to desire another. But as fearful men, (saith Plutarch that excellent Philosopher, and schoolmaster to that good Traian) and they that are at sea, subject to casting, thinking they shall be better in one place than in another, go from the stern to the stem, then to the bottom 
An excellent comparison.  of the ship, afterward to the highest part, from thence go into the skiph, and in the end return into the ship, without any amendment of their evil, because they carry always about with them both fear and grief: so the alteration of life, and of worldly conditions and estates into others, doth not purge, but rather increase the perturbations and diseases of the soul, if first the cause of them, I mean ignorance of things, and the imperfection of reason, be not taken out of it. These are the mischiefs, which trouble both rich and poor: these are the miseries, which wait upon great and small, bond and free, young and old. Thus is the spirit of sick persons vexed, and that continually. One while the wife is troublesome, the Physician 
The cause of the diseases of the soul.  unskilful, the bed uneasy, the friend that visiteth importunate, he which visiteth not proud: but being once healed, they find that whatsoever was irksome unto them before, now pleaseth them. But that which health doth to the diseased body, the same thing reason 
Reason is the medicine of the soul.  worketh in the soul of a prudent man, by curing the passions and perturbations thereof, and by causing him to rest joyful and contented, in what estate and condition soever he be. Let us note moreover (which we touched in the beginning of this present discourse) that all these passions of the soul are much more dangerous than those of the body, because the most hurtful passions of the body, are first engendered of those in the soul. For the body yieldeth itself ready to serve the desires, appetites, and pleasures of the soul, which being overcome and in the power of fleshly provocations, procureth in the end destruction to them both. But contrariwise, the soul being ruled by reason, resisteth mightily all corporal passions and is nothing at all, or very little made partaker of their evil dispositions: whereas on the other side the body is constrained to all altar and change with every infirmity of the soul. If the mind be troubled, what cheerfulness can be seen in the face? The diseases of the body hinder not the soul from effecting all good and virtuous actions: yea many have brought forth the first-fruits of wise Philosophers and great Captains, when they were vexed with diseases, which they could never do at lest very few of them, that were corrupted and defiled in soul. And therefore Democritus said very well, that it was much more convenient and meet for a man to have care of his soul, than of his body: For if the soul be perfect, she correcteth the naughtiness 
A sound soul correcteth the naughtiness of the body.  of the body, whereas the strength and disposition of the body without the use of reason, hurteth both the soul and itself. Moreover, that the passions of the soul are harder to be perceived and known, and consequently more uneasy to be cured, who doth not easily feel it, being grieved but in the lest part of his body? yea what grief doth not of itself sufficiently appear, either by some inflammation, or by the colour of the visage, or by some other outward show? But how many do we see, whose souls are extremely sick, spoiled and corrupted with vice, and yet being deprived of all feeling, they think themselves to be the soundest men in the world? And that they are headstrong and uneasy to be cured, we may know by this, that the body is in the end so far forth obedient, that if reason be urged upon it, 
The p●ssions of the soul are headstrong and h●●d to be cured.  she forceth even the natural passions of hunger, thirst and sleep, and findeth out besides a thousand remedies to help yourself. But when the passions of the soul have once been grounded and rooted within it, without resistance they have such piercing pricks, that oftentimes they press and overwhelm all reason, which is their only medicine and preservative. And yet to fill up the measure of all misery, such is the froward nature of man, that he is much more slothful to seek out this remedy of the soul, than that of the body, as we touched in the beginning of this present discourse. Moreover, the judgement of reason being oftentimes diseased within him, is the cause, that when he thinketh to find health, he increaseth his evil, and falleth into those inconveniences, which he desired most of all to eschew. Example 
The Passions of men commonly bring forth effects contrary to their purposes  hereof we have in those, who being led only with a desire of glory and honour, obtain nothing by their doings, if we consider them well, but shame and dishonour. The like may be said of all the other diseases of the soul, which commonly are accompanied and followed with effects contrary to their ends and desires. What remaineth then, seeing we perceive the dangers to be great, which follow all the perturbations of the soul, but that knowing it to be more easy not to receive them, than to drive them out being received, we prevent them, and hinder them from taking lively root within our souls, by making reason (which as Hesiodus saith is a divine guide, and wisdom inspired from above) so strong and powerful, 
Reason, is wisdom inspired from heaven.  that it may, be able by the grace of God, to resist all the assaults of unbridled desires, and the froward affections of this flesh? But behold yet a better and more certain remedy: namely, that being assured, that all perturbations are but opinions drawn from our will, through a judgement corrupted with the affections of this flesh, we labour by good and sound reasons to overthrow and confounded these false and erroneous opinions, persuading ourselves that 
A remedy against passions.  whatsoever we imagine to be good or evil in the world (which is the cause that our minds are deprived of their rest and quietness) is indeed neither good nor evil, and so consequently, that it aught not in any sort to breed passions within us. Hereof the sequel of our discourses shall (by the help of God) give us to understand more at large, and furnish us with examples of pernicious effects, which proceed from all the passions of the soul. We will here by the way note their force, having learned out of Histories, that they have oftentimes set upon the hearts of men in such violent manner, that some through desire, some for joy: these by fear, others by grief have ended their lives. Diagoras the Rhodian, and Chilon, hearing 
Examples of death by over great joy. Herennus died for fear.  that their children had won the prize at the games of Olympus, felt such a motion in them of the spleen, that they were stifled with laughter. Herennus the Sicilian, as he was led prisoner, for being a copartner in the conspiracy of Caius Gracchus, was so astonished, and oppressed with the fear of his judgement to come, that he fell down stark dead at the entry of the prison. Plautius' the Numidian looking upon his dead wife took it so to heart, that casting 
Plautius' through grief. The effects of desire.  himself upon the dead body, he arose no more, but was there stifled with sorrow. As for extreme desire or coveting, there is nothing that so greatly moveth or carrieth away the minds of men, or that cometh nearer to their destruction, than this foolish passion in dangereth their life. Galeace of Mantua saying oftentimes to a damsel of Pavia whom he courted and made love to, that he would suffer a thousand deaths for her service, if it were possible, was in jest commanded by her to cast himself into the river: which he presently performed, and was drowned. But we shall allege more fitly such testimonies of the fond effects of desire, and of all the perturbations of the soul, when we discourse more particularly of every vice that proceedeth from them. In the mean time I would gladly ask this question of him, that is most ignorant, vicious, and carnal, whether he will not grant virtue to be a good of the soul. There is none so impudent whose conscience would not compel him to confess the same. And yet no man is carried away with too great a desire of virtue, neither doth any rejoice therein too excessively, after he hath obtained it. Likewise there is none 
Virtue is always without excessive passion.  that feareth so vehemently, lest he cannot obtain her, as that the fear thereof driveth the soul out of his place and rest. For no man can fall into this fear, lest he should not become virtuous, except he be very desirous to be so indeed: & none can have this desire, except reason, guided with heavenly light, & doing her duty in him, had wrought the same: but reason thus qualified must needs be an enemy to all perturbations. Thus we see that no man, through fear of not being virtuous, is overtaken with perturbations. The like may be said of sorrow. For albeit a man be grieved because he is not virtuous, yet his mind is not excessively disquieted, seeing this desire is never in him, but when reason commandeth according to her divine nature, by causing us to know ourselves. Whereby we clearly perceive that perturbations never arise in us for that which is the true good of the soul, but only for that which fools do falsely call good, & that which the Philosophers call the goods of the body & of fortune. But these 
The nature of worldly goods.  being naturally subject to corruption, & as we have already said, inseparably accompanied with vehement desire, unbridled joy, fear and grief, (as we shall see more at large when we handle them hereafter) are unworthy to be cared for by the immortal soul, neither may or aught they to be called goods because they are possessed, much less evils, when they are wanting. If we be thus persuaded, we shall be masters over all perturbations, not esteeming that which is mortal and frail, worthy to be either wished for, or delighted in. Hereof it will come to pass, that our soul and spirit shall be quiet, and reason, which knoweth how to discern good from evil, will deal with us as a good husbandman, and vine-dresser dealeth with his tree and vine, when he cutteth off the dead branches and unprofitable twigs, to the end that all noisome sap and moisture may be taken away. And thus shall we be taught to desire and do that, which we aught, and every contrary inclination shall be weakened, not taking effects, and the soul shall fulfil her duty, in commanding absolutely, over all the provocations of the flesh, and in quenching them so soon as they do appear. For as they that have healthful bodies (saith Epictetus') easily endure both cold and heat: so they that have a stayed and settled soul, have the dominion over anger, grief, joy, and all their other affections. 
A wise soul governeth the affections What it is to live happily.  Than shall we live happily, not being terrified with any fear, nor vexing our spirits with any longing or tedious desires, nor being tormented with any lusts & disordered affections, and lastly, not suffering ourselves (being drunken withsugred poison) to be overcome and bound under the yoke of pleasure. This shall we learn by the study of Philosophy, which is a certain remedy, and a sound medicine for every vice and passion, and is able to enrich and clothe us with reason, which is such a beautiful, perfect and profitable ornament.   

Of Philosophy. Chap. 4.  AMANA. 
THe life of man (said Pythagoras) is like to that general assembly of Graecia at the Olympian games, where many carried with glory and ambition presented themselves at those exercises, that they might bear away the crown and prize: others led with covetousness, came thither to traffic, selling and buying merchandise: and a third sort of men, more praise worthy and noble, came thither also, who sought not after vain glory, or covetousness, but carefully marked whatsoever was done in that assembly, that they might reap profit and commodity thereby. So men coming into the world, as into a fair or mart, some give themselves to ambition and vainglory, others 
The common drift of men.  to covetousness, and to heap up treasure: But they that are of a more divine nature, sequestering themselves from worldly affairs, meditate upon heavenly things, and thereupon fasten the scope of their intents, desires and wills. Divine Plato, joining action with contemplation in a happy and perfect life, saith, that next to the glory of God we must have regard to do that which is profitable for the Commonwealth. Which excellent opinions of these two Philosophers, 
What men aught chief to level at. The work of Philosophy.  are comprehended under this only word of practising philosophy, and that art which giveth us the precepts thereof, is called Philosophy, whose work and effect (as Seneca Nerves schoolmaster said very well) is to find out, and to know the truth both of divine and human things. justice, piety, religion, yea the whole company of virtues never departed from her. She teacheth us to adore and serve God, and to love man.  ARAM. 
Surely Philosophy is the mother and continual spring of all good knowledge. For she teacheth us to know good and evil: she provoketh us by the uprightness of reason to fly this thing, and to do that, causing us to live as wise and prudent men, joyful and contented in every estate, whereupon ariseth the sound rest of the spirit. Moreover, the excellency of this knowledge (as Plato saith) is so great, that it is but one and the same thing to be a king, a governor of a Commonwealth and a Philosopher: because the royal, civil, and Philosophical arts are compounded of the same matter, namely, of justice and prudence.  ACHITOB. 
Philosophy cannot sufficiently be praised, seeing that whosoever obeyeth her may pass his days without tediousness. For the true scope thereof is to seek to glorify 
The proper end and scope of Philosophy.  God in his wonderful works, and to teach a man how to live well, and to help his neighbour. Which perfection cannot be attained unto without a special and heavenly grace, and that after the knowledge of the fountain from whence all goodness cometh. And this hath been the cause, as I think, why so many great Philosophers, knowing certainly wherein the true and perfect felicity of man living in this world consisteth, namely, in the tranquility 
why the Philosophers could never attain to the sovereign good in this life.  of the soul, and labouring continually to root out, or at lest to weaken all the perturbations thereof, by the uprightness of reason, and to engraff virtue therein, yet could never perfectly enjoy this sovereign good, which they so much desired, because they were ignorant of the fountain from whence it proceeded, which is, the grace and mercy of our God in his beloved Son. And albeit their life was marvelously quiet, and void of many vices, yet it standeth us in hand (if we be Christians indeed) to lead, without comparison, a more happy, contented, and excellent life, and to exercise philosophy according to that true wisdom, which our Lord jesus Christ teacheth us. But I think ASER is prepared to speak of this matter, and to discourse thereof more at large unto us. Let us harken then what he will say.  ASER. 
That which presently offereth itself to be handled, requireth truly a far better spirit than mine. Notwithstanding, that I seem not to shun those lists, into which we entered willingly, I purpose according to my weak judgement, to tell you first what Philosophy is, what good cometh unto us by it, the means to learn it, and to profit thereby, how a man may know he hath it, and how he must show forth the first-fruits thereof: and lastly, how we aught to contemn all things that we may obtain it, after the example of some ancient Sages, whom we will allege. Philosophy is a love or desire of wisdom. Or otherwise, it is a profession, 
The definition of Philosophy.  study, and exercise of that wisdom, which is the knowledge of divine and human things, and which properly belongeth to him, who only is sufficient of himself, and is wisdom itself, namely, to God. Pythagoras was the first that gave the name to Philosophy, which being divided as well by him, as by other ancient Philosophers into divers and sundry arts and sciences, we may distinguish into two general parts only: into the Contemplative part, and into the Moral, which somecall Active. We will make two kinds of the Contemplative, Divine, and 
The division of Philosophy.  Natural. As touching the divine part, it is that highest and most unchangeable knowledge, whereunto we must wholly refer the end of our being, and the scope of all our purposes, studies, and actions, namely, to be able to know and to glorify the Creator and preserver of the 
Of divine Philosophy.  whole world. Of this eternal knowledge, which Socrates called Wisdom, we say with justin, who was both a Philosopher and a martyr, that all lovers of Christian faith aught to endeavour not to be ignorant, not not of any point belonging to the knowledge and perfect keeping of God his commandments, but especially they must have in singular recommendation his service and true worship. As touching the absolute and perfect knowledge of heavenly 
How we must behave ourselves in searching out the secrets of God.  mysteries, they aught to desire the understanding of them so far forth as they are able, and according to the gift and measure of graces, which shall be given them from above. But if the eye of their soul dazzle in the consideration of them, it shall be sufficient to honour and admire them with due reverence, and to believe them steadfastly, knowing that man's understanding is not able to attain to the exquisite knowledge of so high mysteries. Natural Philosophy consisteth chief in the Mathematics, which are divided into many parts and particular 
Of natural Philosophy.  sciences, of which the most of them seem to many not greatly necessary, as that which entreateth of the nature of the heavens, of the sun, of the moon, of their motions, measures, and of the natural causes of all things. Which oftentimes serveth rather to content the curiosity of haughty spirits, than to make them better, insomuch that sometimes, by speculations, and by vain and frivolous questions, they seek out the natural causes of things so curiously, that in the end they strive to find out another beginning of all things than GOD: whereby at length they remain deceived and confounded in their knowledge, as both the writings of so many ancient Philosophers, and also the life of many in our time do prove unto us. Nevertheless, there are some parts of the Mathematics necessary to be known, for the great profit that may come unto us by them, as Physic, Arithmetic, Geometry, and others. But the subject of our Academy will not suffer us to handle all these sciences at this present. I will say thus much only by the way, that we aught so to rule and direct the profession of natural philosophy, that we use it not before we have been well and sufficiently instructed in the fear and knowledge of God, and of all things that concern a good and happy life, and that vain glory should not be the end of that 
A rule to be kept in natural Philosophy.  study, but that it should ravish us more and more in the contemplation of the works of that great maister-builder of the whole frame, to the end to glorify him in greater measure. And yet we must above all things beware, that we fall not into that curse of the Prophet, which he denounceth against those, who being destitute of God's grace by reason of their sins, give themselves to soothsaying, and to seek after sorcerers, magicians, and calculators of nativities, which things we see are too common amongst us: insomuch 
Against sorcereiss, magicians, and birthgazers.  that he is judged as it were miserable, that knoweth not his Horoscope, from whence so many abuses, invocations, and cursed charms have proceeded by little and little. Let us shun such vain knowledge, proper to infidels and Atheists, and refer our events and issues (which albeit we knew before, yet could we not assure ourselves that we should avoid them) to the only providence and direction of God. It remaineth now to entreat of the other part of Philosophy, called Moral. Of this I think Socrates the 
The issue of all things is to be referred to the providence of God. Of moral philosophy.  wife man meant to speak, when hesaid, that Philosophy consisteth not in learning many things, or in meddling with many arts, but in the perfect knowledge of justice, prudence, and all other moral virtues. He addeth further, that this philosophy worketh two things in our mind, the one in purging it as well of perturbations, as offals opinions, and the other, in causing it to return into the right way by reasons and exhortations drawn from earthly and sensible forms to such as are spiritual, which are enclosed within our souls, that by them we may be led to God, the Idea and pattern of all good. This is that moral Philosophy, which 
God is the Idea of all good.  we have undertaken to handle in all our discourses, & which is so necessary for the life of man. For as the untamed horse by reason of his overgreat wildness is not profitable for any thing: so he that is drawn away by his affections (which philosophy only can moderate) is unprofitable and unworthy of all company, and of all government either public or private. It is philosophy that teacheth us the doctrine of good life, and causeth us to know our miseries, and the means whereby we may be delivered from them. She it is that frameth in our understanding the judgement of reason, and learneth us to lead a life agreeable to doctrine: showing 
The benefit that cometh by philosophy.  unto us what true honesty is, what perfect beauty, and what in truth and in deed is profitable. Sheerepresseth all evil passions and perturbations of the soul, appeaseth the unsatiable desires thereof, delivereth it from all fear, and from all earthly carefulness, filling it with tranquility, constancy, assurance, magnanimity, and sufficiency. She purgeth pride, presumption, ambition, choler, revenge, covetousness, injustice, and in a word, she it is, that (by the means of reason guided by the heavenly Spirit, which teacheth us reason, and giveth it unto us for a law) frameth all the manners and behaviour of a man according to the pattern of virtue, by engraffing it in his settled soul, as his only permanent good, and by causing him to do that willingly, which others (as Xenocrates said) do by compulsion, and for fear of laws. We are by philosophy instructed at large in that duty and obedience, which we own to our parents, superiors, and laws: and taught how much we aught to love & honour one another, our wives, our children, our brethren, yea all those that are not of our blood. She it is (saith Cicero) that containeth the discipline of virtue, of duty, and of good life: she is also the art and mistress of life. Briefly, by philosophy we are taught that perfection, which concerneth all the actions and dealings of men, even from those who are placed in the government of monarchies, 
Philosophy is the art of life.  kingdoms, commonwealths, cities, and nations, unto the lest that liveth under them. For she teacheth the one sort how to command well, and the other to obey well, & to maintain themselves upright in every estate and condition of life, in the alteration either of prosperity or of adversity, yea even to show themselves constant in contrary things, by shunning pleasure and sustaining grief, by despising glory and enduring contempt. And to this effect, one of the wise Hebrew interpreters, being demanded by Ptolemie Philadelphus' king of Egypt, what it was to exercise philosophy, answered, that it was to reason well and directly, to reap great profit by all things that happen, not to be carried away by lust, to contemn all vanities 
What it is to play the philosopher.  proceeding of worldly pleasures, and to be guided in every action by a certain mediocrity. Now seeing it is out of question that the fruit and commodity of moral philosophy is such and so great, let us in the next place consider where and how we may learn it, that we may 
Where and how Philosophy is learned.  put it in practice. There is nothing more true than this, that it dependeth in such sort of the former, which we called contemplative and divine, or rather is so joined unto it, that without this, it can never but be unperfect in man, seeing the fear and knowledge of God is the beginning and perfection of all wisdom. Moreover, it is so well and perfectly taught us in the word of God, that nothing more may be added or desired. Nevertheless the doctrine 
True Philosophy is to be found in the word of God.  joined with examples, which we may draw out of histories, and from the lives of wise men, by things that have been done in deed, is of great force and efficacy in the soul to draw and move it with delight to seek to resemble them. For when a man, naturally desirous of glory and immortality, shall see, that philosophers and virtuous men, who were so much commended and renowned, are as it were revived again in these days, after so many ages past, he will bethereby awakened and pricked forward by this jealousy of glory, which by nature is in him, to desire and bring to pass all great matters worthy to beeremembred, to the end he may deserve the like praise and commendation. Therefore we shall reap no small profit hereby, yea it will be unto us as an entry to a happy and holy life, and as a guide to sacred contemplations, if we earnestly embrace and exercise ourselves in the reading and study of good authors, who teach us the precepts of good life: to whom (as Alexander the Great said, speaking of his master Aristotle) we found ourselves no less bound and beholding, 
How much we own to good authors  if we thoroughly taste their doctrine, than to our own fathers (without offence unto them be it spoken) of whom we have only our life and being, But because the excellency and highues of this part of Philosophy, called Moral (which is for the correction of life and manners) is such and so great, that the sound and perfect knowledge thereof is very hard, and seeing that good beginning in all great matters are always the difficultest part of them, we must lay a good ground of our enterprise, if we mean to attain thereunto, and then ascend upward from one degree to another. The chiefest and most necessary foundation must be a perpetual and fervent love of the truth, and of eternal things, joined with the separation of lies, and of 
founpation of all Philosophy The chief  the desire of temporal things far from us, Secondly, these particulars ere (as Plato saith) very necessary for us: a lively and sharp wit, a nature apt to contemplation, likewise grave, prompt hardy to execute, and provident of public commodity. But above all things the knowledge 
Necessary points for a Philosopher.  of the true God is in finitely necessary for him that will be a Philosopher, because that, as all things without the enjoying of their use and goodness, are possessed without profit: so to have knowledge of arts and sciences without the understanding of the true God is frivolous and unprofitable. Yea not man can do any thing that good is, whether it be in private or public affairs, if by reason he knoweth not what that is, which aught to be called good. But in this thing we shall be well instrncted (God willing) by the sequel of our discourses. Thirdly, 
We must learn always.  we must continued without ceasing the study of this moral knowledge, as Cicero the father of eloquence doth familiarly teach us, saying, that in our studies we are to use some intermission only for the recreation both of body and mind in all honest sort, but we must never leave and forsake them altogether, Neither aught these intermissions to be of any long continuance, because vice always wateheth to overrun us so soon as we let ourselves lose unto idleness, to the end to stir us up through the enticements of the flesh, to follow our natural imperfections. Much less aught we, through presumption of ourselves, and confidence in 
Against presumption and self liking.  our own virtue and sufficiency, altogether to forsake the profession of this study, as they do, who think themselves such great doctors, that nothing may be added to their knowledge. Of these men we may truly say, that they never had the true knowledge of this moral philosophy, wherein the more we profit, the more we shall desire to learn: and whether we be young or old (as Socrates said) we shall always find what to learn, and be occasioned to diminish all vain opinion of ourselves, seeing this is one of the most notable effects thereof, to purge all pride and presumption. For as those vessels (saith Plutarch) wherein we put liquor, 
A fit comparison.  do let out the void air according to the measure of that which goeth in: so when the soul fiilleth itself with certain and true goods, vanity voideth and giveth place. This is that which Plato saith in these words: The more reason a man getteth by philosophy, the more pride and arrogancy he loseth. We have a notable testimony hereof in Antisthenes, who after he had heard Socrates dispute, took so great pleasure, and found such deep skill therein, that albeit 
Antisthenes' an example of great love to knowledge  he was very learned, and had a great number of scholars, yet he willed them to seek another master, because he purposed to learn himself. And by reason of the distance of place where he dwelled, he came twice a day above three miles on foot to hear Socrates. Likewise Plato showed well how smally he presumed of his exceeding great knowledge, when not contenting himself therewith, after the death of his master Socrates he made a voyage 
Plato  through Egypt, and after into Italy, to hear and confer with the best hest learned of those countries, and to learn that which he knew not before. Which zeal of his and burning desire unto wisdom being so laudable, God so recompensed, that none of the ethnics (except Socrates) ever came near unto his divine knowledge of eternal things. We see then how we must be the disciples of Philosophy all our life time. Now as there is nothing, wherein a master builder rejoiceth so much, after he hath laid a good foundation of some great work, as to see the progress and proceeding thereof: so after we have laid ou● first happy resolution (as is said) of attaining to the knowledge of Philosophy, and have tasted of the first principles of her wholesome fruits, it will turn to our great contentation, and occasion of proceeding, when we see and perceive that we profit and amend by this study. This will appear 
How we may know whether we profit in Philosophy.  unto us by the cpnsideration of our present works and actions, being compared with the former, and by the diminishing and quallifying of our wicked passions and natural inclinations, which the profession of this science will undoubtedly work in us. For ●● we take it for a good sign when a disease removeth into some parts of lest account: so w●en our vices are changed into more meek and soft passions, it putteth us in hope that we shall wholly 
A good way to overcome great faults.  deface them afterward. Then right and perfect way hereunto is to enter deeply into our selves, and to make a perfect and sound knowledge of our natural, hurtful, and most vehement inclinations by comparing one with another. Next, as a good and expert Phisittion before he dealeth with dangerous diseases, beginneth with gentle preparatives, we are first to correct lesser faults, that after we may the easier overcome the greatest. For it is certain, that by such an exercise and custom of keeping ourselves from things that are after a sort excusable, yea that are permitted and lawful, it will be far more easy for us afterward to amend and abstain from unlawful things. After we have thus reform ourselves, we shall wholly forsake small imperfections (which will be easy for us to do) and make no more reckoning of little offences, as those which we shall avoid altogether. From thence we shall come to consider and to discover better the nature and cause of our greater and more hurtful passions, together with their ugliness and deformity. Than labouring to diminish their force by eschewing prudently the causes of them, and by cutting off one branch now, and then another, we shall in the end wonder to see how reason perfecteth in us her office of commanding absolutely over all the perturbations of our soul, I mean so far forth as 
When we may be called Philosophers.  human frailty aided by God, can (as I said before) attain to perfection. Than may we truly call ourselves Philosophers, when by our own example we may make it known, that the life of man at all times, in all places, in all passions, and generally in all affairs receiveth the use of Philosophy. Now after we have well profited through so great diligence and watchfulness, through such industry of mind and continual study, I mean after we are become better than we were before, by reason of the tranquility of our souls purged from perturbations, 
The perfection of philosophy.  we must be careful that this our commodity redound also to others, as the commandment of God and natural duty bind us thereunto. Than (I say) we shall have attained to the perfection of this goodly knowledge, when we are serviceable to our neighbours, brethren and countrymen not of vain glory, or for terrestrial riches, but for the love of virtue only, which of itself is a goodly recompense for itself, being joined with a happy expectation of heaven. But let us note further for the last point of our discourse, (whereof I have already briefly spoken) that one of the surest means, which we can take to come to a true knowledge 
The contempt of worldly goods necessary in a Philosopher.  of Philosophy, is, not to esteem at all, but rather to contemn whatsoever is subject to corruption, and is in the power of variable fortune, as the Philosophers use to speak: namely, vainglory, worldly wealth, and other earthly goods, forasmuch as the desire of getting, keeping and increasing them is that which carrieth us away most, & which hindereth every other good and virtuous inclination. Therefore let us freely forsake all such things, let us withdraw our minds from all by thoughts, and despise all earthly discommodities: yea let us patiently sustain all grief, that we may yield ourselves wholly to the study of philosophy, which is the cause of so many good things. Crates the The ban forsook his patrimony of eight talents 
Crates.  (which according to the common computation amounteth to four thousand, eight hundred crowns) that being delivered from the care of house keeping, and of guiding his 
Notable examples of love to philosophy  goods, he might follow the study of Philosophy with great liberty. Anaxagoras for the same cause suffered his lands to lie waist, and after long study returning to his house, and finding it altogether fallen into ruin and desolation, he said, If these things had not perished, I had perished: as if he had said, that he should never have gotten the treasure of knowledge, which 
Anaxagoras  was the ornament of his mind, if he had given himself to gain and to gather goods. Democritus Abderita, being very rich (as may be gathered by the feast which his father made to 
Democritus  that innumerable army of Xerxes who came into Graecia, which consisted, as Herodotus writeth, of more than two millians of fight men gave all his patrimony to his country, reserving to himself but a little sum of money to live withal, that he might have the more leisure to study Philosophy, for which cause he went to dwell at Athens, Euclid, of the 
Euclid.  town of Megara, being very desirous to hear Socrates dwelling at Athens, between which two cities the war was so cruel, that no Citizen of the one city durst be seen in the other, without inevitable danger of death if he were known, had notwithstanding so great love to wisdom, that although he were an Ethnic, and doubted of a second life, yet he preferred the desire of knowledge before the care of his life, and being appareled like a woman, went once in two days to Athens, and abode there all night to hear Socrates, who commonly spent the most part thereof in discoursing of wisdom, and then returned again about the 
Philosophy only teacheth us to know our chief good  break of the day. Now to conclude our present treatise, we will hold this, that only philosophy can give us certain knowledge, and teach us how we may enjoy in this life our only and sovereign good, which is the rest and tranquillity of our souls. Yea she is unto us in stead of a guide to lead us to the eternal fruition of our supreme and everabiding good, which is promised, and purchased by the blood of the immaculate Lamb in that second and most happy life. And, as Plato said, speaking by the mouth of Socrates, that they only shall attain to the kingdom of heaven with God, who end their days in this life purged by Philosophy, so shall it be by the unspeakable love of this eternal wisdom, that we shall be purged, cleansed, and saved. Yea through the expectation of this blessed felicity we may a great deal more perfectly than did all those great and ancient Philosophers, lead a contented, joy full and quiet life, void of all perturbations and fear, forasmuch as they knew the justice of God only, and not his mercy, which is assured unto us in his beloved Son. Moreover they were ignorant (notwithstanding their Philosophy) of the chief point of his justice, namely of the beginning of all things and of their end, which the word of God teacheth us together with the truth of that permanent happiness of the soul, whereof they had but a shadow in their life. Hereof our Lord jesus Christ himself hath left good and sure pledges in the depth of our hearts, saying that he gave and left his peace with us, his 
The true cause of joy and tranquility in a Christian soul.  peace (I say) in our souls, and not with the world. Therefore it appeareth sufficiently, that nothing is so much to be desired, whether we regard profit to ourselves, or service to the whole body and society of our brethren and countrymen, as the study of Philosophy, which is the knowledge of life, and the true medicine and tillage of the soul whereby all virtue is taught us.   
The end of the first days work.   

The second days work  

Of Virtue. Chap. 5.  ASER. 
Among the infinite number of them that were honoured with this fair name and excellent title of Philosopher, which is as much to 
What this word Philosopher meaneth.  say, as a lover of wisdom, there were three principal sects that contended together by general rules, but especially about the sovereign good and felicity of man: namely, the Academikes, the 
There were three chief sects of Philosophers.  Peripatetiks, and the Stoics. The best of them all, and they which came nearest to the knowledge of the truth were the Academiks, whose first authors were Socrates and Plato, who, as we heard yesterday, always taught, that our true good consisteth in the tranquility of the soul, void of all perturbations, and in stead of them adorned and enriched with all virtue, which is the proper substance and matter of Philosophy, and therefore called the only permanent good of the soul.  AMANA. 
I cannot but greatly commend this paradox of the Stoics, that There is no good but virtue, nor evil but vice, which is the contrary unto it. And to go a little further, following their opinion and the opinion of many ancient wise men, I say, that The virtuous man only is free and happy, yea although he were in Phalaris bull: and that The vicious man only is a bondman 
Who are happy, and who unhappy.  and unhappy, albeit he had the riches of Croesus, the empire of Cyrus, and the glory of Alexander. For great callings are nothing where the mind is not content, and where the heart pricked with desire troubleth the tranquility of the soul.  ARAM. 
Richeses (saith Pythagoras) are no sure pillars, and glory is less certain. Likewise beauty, and the disposition of the body, magistracies and honours are all of no force: but Prudence, 
Worldly goods are of no force.  Magnanimity and justice, are anchors of greatest stay, which cannot be plucked up by any tempest. For it is the will and law of God, that virtue only should be mighty and firm, all other things being but toys and fooleries. But we must now learn of thee ACHITOB, that which is necessary for us to know concerning this excellent disposition of the soul.  ACHITOB. 
The disputation concerning the good of man hath indeed always been great amongst the learned, so that as well their divers opinions, as their arguments, would stay us here with too long a discourse, especially seeing they are unnecessary for us, who seek only to be instructed in the truth. Now that we may attain hereunto, and to the perfect understanding of that matter, which is here propounded unto us, we will here set down this Maxim, or principle, confessed of all the greatest and most ancient Philosophers, and agreeable to that truth, which is taught us in the holy Scriptures, that, There are two sorts of goods, the one which is the last and, the other is the means to attain thereunto. The first is the sovereign, supreme, 
Two sorts of goods.  most perfect, and eternal good, which we respect and hope for in the immortality of the second life, when we shall enjoy that true and absolute felicity, which neither eye hath ever seen, nor ear heard, neither hath entered at any time into the heart of man. That which we call the means whereby we come to the first, is virtue only, whereof we are now to speak and which is the proper effect of our regeneration by the Spirit of God dwelling in us. First 
Virtue is the effect of regeneration.  then let us consider what virtue is, also the division, fountain, incomparable excellency, and invincible force thereof, with those wonderful effects which it worketh in him that possesseth her: Wherein also we will see some notable examples of ancient men. Virtue (as the Philosophers say) is a disposition and power of the reasonable part of the soul, which bringeth 
The definition of virtue.  into order and decency the unreasonable part, by causing it to propound a convenient end to it own affections and passions, whereby the soul abideth in a comely and decent habit, executing that which aught to be done, according to reason. But to speak more briefly Virtue is a proportion and uprightness of life in all points agreeable to reason. The division thereof is altogether like to that of Philosophy. For they are so linked together, that it is all one to be virtuous, and to be a Philosopher, the one being the matter and substance of the other. Virtue therefore is divided into Contemplative and into Moral. The eternal Wisdom by the operation of his spirit guideth and lifteth up the contemplative virtue to her proper end, which is that happy and immutable knowledge, that concerneth the majesty of God. This did Socrates call Religion, and the greatest virtue: saying further: that the contempt thereof brought upon men a cursed ignorance, and that no man aught to persuade himself, that 
Socrates' called religion. the greatest virtue.  he could find among the race of men any greater virtue than religion and piety towards God: whose honour is the foundation of every good work, which if it be overthrown, the other parts are as soon dispersed as the pieces of a ruinous building. Yea religion is not only the head of justice and virtue, but also as it were the soul to give vigour and strength unto it. From this supreme science floweth prudence, which is a work thereof, appointed to govern, rule, and 
The duty of prudence.  moderate by the means of moral virtue, the passions and affections of the unreasonable part of the soul in all mediocrity, by cutting of all excess and defect of those passions, and by moderating them between too little and too much, thereby to keep men from erring. As for example, she holdeth a man within the limits of prows and valour, jest he should cast away himself through rashness of cowardliness: she causeth him wisely to use liberality, because he should not be spoiled by covetousness, or fall into prodigality. And that he should not be cast down too much in adversity, nor lift up beyond measure in prosperity, she keepeth him upright and constant both in the one, and in the other. Thus doth virtue generally teach a man, by following the reason of true prudence, to rule all his inclinations and actions as well for his own private good, as for the profit and utility of human society. Whereby it appeareth sufficiently unto us, that the foundation of all virtue is that divine reason, which floweth into our souls from the free goodness of our God, and which taketh lively root by 
The foundation & spring of all virtue.  care, study, and diligence, when the selfsame grace blesseth our labour. For without this we can do nothing, so that all our meditations and purposes to live uprightly, continently and temperately, become vain and frivolous before his majesty. In this manner, of that excellent reason and wisdom, wherewith the eternal wisdom enricheth us, that we might know good and evil, prudence is engendered, which is most necessary for the government of earthly things (whereof we will entreat hereafter) and whereby man is enriched with moral virtue, as with an infallible rule of all his works and actions, to the end that fully enjoying human felicity, which consisteth in good manners, qualities and conditions of the soul, he may bring forth the fruits and effects thereof to the profit of many. We say then, that all 
Wherein human happiness consisteth  virtue consisteth in mediocrity, as vice doth in excess, or in defect: in regard whereof he is in the midst, albeit in respect of herself. I mean of her perfect and absolute excellency, she is extreme, and standeth not in need of any increase or diminution. Now as all the imperfections of the soul are called vices and passions, so all their contraries, which serve for remedies unto them, are named virtues. And although virtue be always one, so that he which hearty embraceth one part of it, is desirous of them all, yet may she be called by divers names, even by so many, as there is always in every good action some particular virtue, that maketh it eminent, and to be seen above others. Moreover, according to the divers subjects wherein she is, she bringeth forth divers effects, conforming herself in some sort to the manners, conditions, and natural inclinations of those which possess her. Hereof it cometh, that 
The gifts and graces of god are divers in men.  some are more apt & constant in some one virtue than others are, (for all cannot do all things) and that one practiseth it after one fashion, and another otherwise. Now it followeth, that I handle hereafter distinctly and in order, the plurality of virtues, with their several properties. But in the mean while, to speak generally of this precious and inestimable riches, I mean of virtue, and of the great, worthy and wonderful effects, which she bringeth forth in men, first, she is the only, proper and true good of the soul, that cannot by any accident 
The excellency & property of virtue.  be violently taken and carried away. She alone maketh her possessor happy, causing him to find every kind of life that is sweet, pleasant, and acceptable, contained in her. Virtue alone is the only matter of rest and tranquility in the mind, being by reason purged of fear, of trouble, of worldly desire and joy. Of his lively fountain spoke Democritus, when he said that joy was engendered in men's hearts, of the mediocrity of pleasure, and of a moderate and temperate harmony of life. Virtue (said Thales) is the profitablest thing in the world, because it maketh all other things profitable, by causing men to use them well. You we may say further, that all other gifts and riches, remain unprofitable and hurtful, without the ornament 
Every thing is made profitable through virtue.  of virtue, Cicero proveth by many goodly reasons, that only virtue is of itself sufficient to cause men to live well and happily. And surely every good and virtuous man of what calling soever he be, is so happy, if he have grace to know it, that he need not to wish for any thing with passion or travel in this life, but rather is content of himself in regard of men, and contemneth the care of worldly things, not judging any thing evil, which necessity of nature, or rather the ordinance of God bringeth upon him. And where miseries are doubled, there virtue showeth her effects most wonderfully, giving us thereby to understand, that she consisteth in such things as are most rare and difficult. For which cause her strength is compared to the date tree, which the more it is pulled down, the more it returneth upward: so when virtue is most oppressed of her enemies she shineth most gloriously. Only virtue 
Virtue compared to a tree.  appeareth wonderful to the mind, that is clothed therewith, and keepeth it from covering that which others commonly worship, namely, great callings, riches, pleasures and glory. She despiseth the praise & flattery of men, whereunto so many others make themselves, and remaineth always free in herself, and free to every one, without any other hope of reward, than to be accepted of God, and to effect things meet to be rewarded eternally in the 
The reward of virtue in the life to come is of the free mercy of God.  next life by the liberality of God. If we compare worldly goods with virtue (calling that good which usurpeth that name, and is subject to corruption) first, as touching those which the Philosophers call the goods of fortune, and namely nobility, whereon at this day men stay so much, what is it but a good of our ancestors? Richeses are easily lost: and as for the glory of the greatest, yea of all principality, it is no less uncertain. Concerning the goods of the body, beauty, and comeliness is but a flower of small continuance: health which is so precious, 
Comparison of worldly goods with virtue.  soon changeth: strength is lost by infinite inconveniences. All bodily pleasure is unperfect, and followed of perturbations. But virtue is that only divine and immortal quality in us, which (as Hesiodus saith) is a stable and sure possession both to the living and to the dead: over which, neither fortune, slander, sickness, old age nor adversity have any power: and 
Nothing hath power over virtue.  as for length of time, which diminisheth all things, it always addeth somewhat to virtue, and increaseth it. All the other goods above rehearsed, are from without a man, working oftentimes destruction to their possessors, and commonly coming to those that are lest worthy of them. Only virtue is the proper inheritance of the soul, worketh the happiness thereof, and maketh a man always worthy of true glory and praise, causing him to be honoured, and esteemed even of his enemies. In a word, it cannot (as Cicero saith) be uttered how much virtue 
Virtue cannot be valued  surmounteth all other things in glory and excellency. And if all other goods of men (saith Socrates) were laid by themselves, they would amount in value but to one mote in respect of the price of virtue. Plato his disciple saith, that the difference of virtue compared with other goods, is so great, that if they were put into one scale of the balance, and virtue into the other, this would ascend up to heaven, and the other would touch the earth. Moreover, he wrote four and fifty books or dialogues, which did all entreat of virtue, out of which men may 
Why Plato in his works bringeth in Socrates speaking.  reap infinite profit, especially out of those that entreat of a commonwealth, or of laws. In these books that he might not seem ungrateful toward his master Socrates, who would never writ any thing, he bringeth him in rehearsing that, which at other times he had heard him speak. Stilpo the Philosopher, being in his city of Megara when it was taken and spoiled by Demetrius king of Macedonia, who favouring him, asked if he had lost any thing that was his, made this answer: Not sir, (quoth he) for war cannot spoil virtue. And indeed this is the riches wherewith we aught to furnish ourselves, which can swim with us in a shipwreck, and which caused Socrates to answer thus to one, who asked him what his opinion was of 
Wherein the happiness and greatness of a king consisteth.  the great king, whether he did not think him very happy. I cannot tell (quoth he) how he is provided of knowledge and virtue. Who may justly doubt whether virtue alone is able to make a man happy, seeing it doth not only make him wise, prudent, just and good, both in his doings and sayings, but also commonly procureth unto him honour, glory and authority? It was through her means that Alexander deserved the surname of Great, by that experience which she gave him in war, by his liberality in riches, by his temperance in all his 
What it was that procured to Alexander the surname of Great.  sumptuous magnificence, by his hardiness and constancy in fight, by his continency in affections, by his bounty and clemency in victory, and by all other virtues, wherein he surpassed all that lived in his time. Yea the fame and renown of his virtues procured a greater number of cities, countries and men to submit themselves willingly unto him without any blowestriking than did the power of his army. Wherein this sentence of Socrates is found true, that whole troops of soldiers, and heaps of riches, are constrained of ten times to obey virtue. What said Darius, Monarch of the Persians', when he understood both what continency Alexander his enemy had used towards his wife, who being exceeding beautiful was taken prisoner by him, and what humanity he showed afterward in her funerals when she was dead? The Persians' (quoth he) need not to be discouraged, neither think themselves cowards and effeminate because they were vanquished of such an adversary. Neither do I demand any victory of the gods, but to surmount Alexander in bountifulness. And if it be so that I must fall, I beseech them to suffer none but him to sit in the royal throne and seat of Cyrus. Will we have testimonies of the invincible force of virtue, and of her powerful and praiseworthy effects in most sinister and untoward matters? Histories declare unto us, that amongst all the virtuous acts, which procured praise and renown to the men of old time, those were the notablest and most commended, which they showed forth at such time as fortune seemed to have wholly beaten them down. Pelopidas, general Captain of the Thebans, who delivered 
Examples of the force and effects of virtue in adversity. Pelopidas.  them from the bondage of the Lacedæmonians, is more praised and esteemed for the great and notable virtue, which he showed being prisoner in the hands of Alexander the tyrannous king of the Phereans, than for all his victories gotten before. For at that time his virtue was so far from yielding any jot to his calamity, that contrariwise with an unspeakable constancy he recomforted the inhabitants of the town, that came to visit him, exhorting them to be of good courage, seeing the hour was come, wherein the tyrant should be at once punished, for his wickedness. And one day he sent him word, that he was destitute of all judgement and reason, in that he vexed his poor citizens, and caused them to dye in torments who never offended him, and in the mean time suffered him to live in rest, of whom he could not be ignorant, that escaping his hands he would be revenged of him. The tyrant marveling at his great courage, asked why he made such great haste to dye. To this end (quoth he) that thou being yet more hated of God and men than thou art, mightest the sooner be destroyed. Philocles, one of the most famous 
Philocles.  Athenian captains of his time (who caused this law to be made, that the right thumb of all prisoners taken in war from that time forward should be cut off, that they might not handle a pike any more, but yet might serve to row with an oar) being taken prisoner with three thousand Athenians in one battle, which Lysander admiral of the Lacedæmonians obtained against him, and all of them being condemned to dye, was demanded of Lysander what pain he judged himself worthy of for counseling his country men to so wicked and cruel a thing. To whom he made this only answer with an unmovable virtue, Accuse not those who have no judge to hear and know their cause. But seeing the gods have showed thee this favour to be a conqueror, deal thou with us as we would have done with thee, if we had overcome thee. Which being said, he went to wash and bathe himself, and then putting on a rich cloak as if he should have go to some feast, he offered himself first to the slaughter, showing the way 
A most constant death. Anaxarchus.  of true constancy to his fellow citizens. Anaxarchus the Philosopher, being taken prisoner by the commandment of Nero, that he might know of him, who were the authors of a conspiracy that was made against his estate, and being led towards him for the same cause, he bitten his tongue in sunder with his teeth, and did spit in his face, knowing well that otherwise the tyrant would have compelled him by all sorts of tortures and torments to reveal and disclose them. Zeno missing his purpose, which was to have killed the tyrant Demylus, did as much to 
A wonderful magnanimity  him. But what is more terrible than death? Notwithstanding when did virtue better show her greatness and power, then when death laboured most to overthrow her, as being resolved of that saying of Cicero, that all wise men die willingly, and without care, but that the unwise & ignorant are at their wits end for fear of death? If many who have not known the true and perrect immortality of the soul, & some only led with a desire of praise and worldly glory, 
A wise man dieth willingly.  others touched with duty and kindled with a love towards their country, have showed the increase of their virtue in the horrors and pangs of death, what aught they to do, who expect certainly an everlasting life? Photion, after he had been chosen general Captain of the Athenians four and forty times, and done infinite services to the commonwealth, being at length through certain partake and divisions overcome with the weakest side which he had maintained, & being condemned to drink poison, was demanded before he drank. whether he had no more to say. Whereupon speaking to his son, he said, I command thee to bear the Athenians no rancour and malice for my death. And a little before this speech, beholding one of those that were condemned to dye with him, to vex himself through impatiency; What meanest thou poor man (quoth he to him) dost thou not think thyself happy that thou mayst die with Photion? The fear & apprehension of death 
The fear of death doth not astonish the virtuous Callicratides.  doth astonish, as we commonly say, the stoutest, but not the most virtuous. For they know (as Plautus saith) that he dieth not, who for virtues sake is put to death. Callicratides, General of the Lacedæmonians, being ready to give battle to his enemies, the soothsayer, after sacrifice done to the gods, said unto him, that the entrails of the sacrifices promised victory to the army, but death to the captain. Whereunto he answered as one without all fear; although he believed it as an oracle from heaven, Sparta a consisteth not in one man. For when I shall be dead my country shall be nothing lessened, but if I recoil and draw back, the reputation thereof will be diminished. Whereupon substituting in his place Cleander, as successor in his office, he gave battle, wherein it happened him as the soothsayer had told him. If we desire infinite such examples, histories are full of them, even of those who loved rather to kill themselves (which a Christian never aught to do, but only to suffer death patiently, if it be offered unto him) than to commit any thing unworthy their virtue. Themistocles being unjustly banished from 
Themistocles love to his Country.  Athens, retired to the king of Persia, whose great favour and benefits received, caused him to say to his children, We had been undone, if we had not been undone: as also to promise', that he would employ himself in his service. Not withstanding when he saw the war begun again between this King and the Athenians, wherein he was offered a great charge, he chose rather to hasten his death by a poison which he took, than to seem to be pricked or provoked with malice against his ungrateful country men, jest thereby he should obscure and blot the glory of so many goodly exploits, triumphs and victories which he had obtained. Now if death cannot stop the course of virtue, how much less can any other weaker accidents do it? Old age, which diminisheth and consumeth all the strength of the body, could not weaken 
Age hath no power over virtue. Agesilaus.  the great virtue of Agesilaus king of Lacedemonia, who being fourscore years of age, and seeing the glory of his country brought to nothing by that victory, which the Thebans had obtained against him, withdrew himself into the service of a king of Egypt, and took the charge of a captain under him, that through the good service he should do him, he might deserve (whereof he assured himself) to have succour of him for his own country affairs. Envy (saith Thucydides) is hard to be overcome, and followeth great estates and potentates. Honour, glory and riches, are but firebrands to kindle it. Notwithstanding the excellency of virtue often times triumpheth over it, so that the envious are constrained to speak well of virtuous men. We see then clearly, and have better experience thereof in ourselves, if we be decked with virtue, that she is of an invincible force, and that all things are tamed by her. For who can doubt that through her, great Empires, Monarchies, commonwealths, estates and Cities have much more flourished, than through force and might of arms? The sequel of our discourses shall furnish us with examples hereof. Now to conclude our present matter, 
Virtue causeth Kingdoms to flourish.  knowing that virtue deserveth so great praise in regard of her first-fruits, and of her wonderful great effects, we say, that she is the only good both for honesty, profit and pleasure, between which there is such a conjunction, that they cannot be separated one from another, (as hereafter we may entreat more at large) so that the severing of these three things to attribute them to other earthly and perishing goods, is the fountain of all vice, deceit and mischief. If then, trouble, loss, hazard or danger are to be found in the practice and exercise of this holy and sacred virtue (as even the greatest worldly happiness is counterpoysed with evil and difficulty) 
Verity is the only honest, profitable and pleasant good  aught we not to despise all such things, yea death itself for that happy recompense, which is assured unto us, not only of immortal glory and praise (which the men of old time promised to themselves) but also of life everlasting, where of the most of them were ignorant? Let us not be like to a little child (for he that is a child in mind differeth nothing from a child in age) who feeing a trifle wherewith he playeth, taken out of his hand, casteth away for anger that which he holdeth in his other hand, although it be some dainty thing, and good to eat, But let us with fervent zeal, and burning affection, always embrace this so precious and chaste beauty, I mean virtue, which alone filleth the life of man with true, sound, and perfect contentation. Let all things come behind virtue, after the example of so many excellent and ancient personages, who aught to make us blush for shame, when we consider, that the care of earthly goods hath the first place amongst us. Anacharsis a Barbarian, being led with the only love of virtue, left the kingdom of Sythia to his younger brother, and went into Graecia, where he profited so 
Anacharsis forsook a kingdom that he might the better obtain virtue. Three things necessary for the obtaining of virtue.  well with Solon, that he deserved to be placed in the number of the seven Sages. Now if three things (after we have asked them of him who only can, and will give them unto us) meet together in us, namely, Nature, Reason, and Use, we may by them, being directed, illuminated, and guided by the Spirit of God, attain to the top of human perfection in this rich virtue, which being thus grounded (like to a strong and lively plant) will take sure footing and root within us. If she meet with a good and well disposed nature, that is able to endure labour, and that is tilled by reason with the precepts of Philosophy, whereby it is made firm, mighty, and fruitful, then use and exercise will bring forth the first-fruits thereof, as well for our own. as for the common profit of men.   

Of Vice. Chap. 6.  ACHITOB. 
AS he that is ignorant of goodness cannot love it, or boast (except it be falsely, that 
The knowledge of goodness must go before the love of it.  he seeketh after it, and if he should find it, yet he could not acknowledge it, or reap any profit thereby; so he that knoweth not evil, can never hate it sufficiently, much less shun it or keep himself from falling into the snares and ambushes thereof, where it lieth in continual watch to surprise and overtake men. Ye shall have very few, but will say, that they are enemies to evil, and that they labour to drive it as far from them as they can. But what? As they never knew what goodness meant, so they know as little of the contrary. Now having by our last speech declared sufficiently, that virtue is the only true good of the soul, it is out of question, that vice, which is altogether contrary unto it, is 
Vice is the only evil the soul.  the only evil thereof, and the fountain of all the miseries of man, as well earthly as eternal. Which, that we may more surely avoid, and mark better the excellency and beauty of virtue, by the loathsomeness and deformity of vice (because contraries set one by another, as black near to white, show themselves a great deal better) I think it will not be to wander beside the matter, if we bestow the rest of our morning's work in the handling thereof.  ASER. 
There is no evil in man (as the philosophers say) but vice, if we take that for 
What we aught to call evil.  evil which is offensive. Neither doth any thing offend and make a man worse, but that which endamageth his soul. And in this manner vice only and sin is hurtful unto him, yea (as Plutarch saith) is sufficient of itself to make a man miserable.  AMANA. 
As virtue (saith Plato) is the health and forcible vigour of the soul, so vice 
Virtue is the health, and vice the sickness of the soul.  is the sickness and imbecility thereof, which having gotten a habit, maketh a man vicious and corrupt. For it is certain that if men had sufficient force and constancy to resist vice (which we have by inheritance) they would follow after virtue. But being overcome by the looseness of their sensuality they are led captives, as it were in a triumph, under the yoke of sin. Let us then hearken to ARAM, who I think, will not forget to paint out unto us this pernicious Hydra with all her colours, that she may be so much the more odious unto us.  ARAM. 
I have always learned of wise men, that this saying of an ancient man is most true. That there is an hundred times more pain in doing evil, than in well doing: and that vice hath the same effect in the soul, which the dropsy hath in the body. For both of them 
Vice like a dropsy.  do plant in man a continual desire of that which breedeth his greatest bane. Whereupon most miserably he seeketh after his own perdition and ruin with pain and travel, whereas he might pass through felicity in this life, into that life which is eternal and most happy. One chief occasion hereof, as I think, may be attributed to the ignorance of evil. For what wicked man is so dull of understanding, that if he knew certainly what vice were, would not with all his might separate himself as far from it, as for the time he drew near unto it? By a stronger reason it followeth, that he which truly knoweth it, before it be grown to a habit within him, will shun it more diligently: because we begin then to hate vices (as Plutarch saith) when by reason we understand what shame and harm cometh of them. Therefore it 
When we begin to hate vice.  must needs be very profitable for us to utter herein that which we have learned by the study of Philosophy, and that briefly for this present, hoping hereafter to entreat more particularly of the principal parts of vice. First we will define it; then consider the pernicious effects thereof in the soul, and the first-fruits which it bringeth with it: thirdly, declare how it never escapeth unpunished: and lastly show how we must fortify ourselves against the privy watchings and snares of such a dangerous and mighty enemy. Vice is an inequality and jarring of manners, proceeding from man's natural inclination to pleasures and naughty desires. This inclination not being reined with the bit of reason, guided by the Spirit of grace, nor 
The desinititiou of vice.  ruled by the wise declarations thereof, causeth a man by little and little to give over himself to all wicked passions (the end of one being the beginning of another) whereby he becometh most unhappy, yea more wild and savage than any brute beast. Chrysippus a Stoic Philosopher, called vice the proper essence of unhappiness. And surely it is a very perfect workemaster of wretchedness, disposing and framing men to all kind of mischief and misery. For after it hath once taken hold of the soul, it will never forsake it until it hath wholly bruised, overwhelmed, and destroyed it, filling it daily with perturbations and new passions, with voluptuousness, rancour, enimities, revenge, murders, anguish, fear, fruitless 
The effects of vice.  repentance, ambition, covetousness, and with all other lusts, which are incurable diseases of the soul, after they have once taken root therein. For the more they wax, the more they will grow, vice being (as Plato saith) of an infinite and endless race. And therefore the above named Chrysippus said not without reason, that to avoid so dangerous an enemy, and one that aught to be so odious unto us, it were better for us to cast ourselves headlong into the 
Vice is of an endless stock.  sea, than to suffer it to reign over us. Plato also writeth, that it is far better for a man not to live at all, than to live wickedly, or in ignorance. For such a life can have no fit name, than 
Although we are to hate vice with a perfect hatred, yet we must not kill ourselves to be rid of it.  to be called a true shadow of death, I mean of eternal death, which followeth the wicked even at the heels. Bias one of the Sages said, That no man might justly be termed a captive, although he were laden with irons, except also he were compassed about with vices. Moreover, we see that neither sword nor fire doth carry away a man so violently as vice doth. Many have suffered a thousand outrages and punishments with such constancy, that tyrants were sooner weary of persecuting them, than they of suffering. Besides, they had so great power over themselves, that in the midst of torments they were able to stay their voice altogether: insomuch 
The vicious man only is a captive.  that one would have either judged them to be senseless, or else think that in seeing them he did not see them. But vice always discovereth itself, and every where appeareth 
Nothing more hurtful than vice.  shameful, in famous, and hurtful. Thales called vice the hurtfullest thing in the world, because that where it is, it marreth and destroyeth all. Moreover, it maketh those things, which otherwise seem honourable and magnifical, loathsome and unpleasant, when it is mingled 
Vice joined with authority is more hurtful.  with them: yea it appeareth so much the more infamous, as the nobility and authority whereunto it is joined is greater, because than it discovereth better what pernicious and damnable effects it hath. For taking a swift course by the high way of power, and driving forward every wicked affection to execution, it causeth choler to be turned presently into murder, love into adultery, covetousness into confiscation, and so in other passions. But as the vices of the greater sort are more dangerous, so no doubt, shame and dishonour are likewise doubled upon them, because they are better seen and noted, whereby they become more odious and contemptible to every one. Besides, their rewardlyeth at their gate in great measure, which will not belong from them. For to whom more is given, of him more shall be required. And I pray you what greater cause of shame and blushing can man have, who being borne to command men of 
A good lesson for great men  all estates and conditions, doth himself obey such vile and abject things, as are sensuality, ignorance, concupiscence, and other like passions wrought by vice, which being without reason, are made to obey, and to be ruled by reason? Neither are we more to be excused than the greater sort, when we follow after such things, because we are but of mean and small calling. For every one is borne to command himself, whereunto our chief study and labour aught to tend. We have further to note diligently, that vice is not only hurtful to him that is infected there with, but also that it useth him as a minister and instrument to corrupt and spoil others. For you shall never see any wicked man, that laboureth not to make others like himself: which if he cannot do, yet he will so think of them, and seek to persuade all others, that they are such, or rather worse than himself. Whereby it is easy enough to judge, that this is that which undoth and destroyeth Commonalties & Commonwealths, 
The property of the wicked.  Towns and Cities, when the Governors and Magistrates of them are ministers of vices. The change of monarchs, Estates and Kingdoms proceeded always of vice. Roboam through want of prudence, Sardanapalus through intemperancy & luxuriousness, the last French king of the race of Clovis through retchlesness, Perses of Macedonia through 
The alteration of kingdoms cometh of vice.  rashness, with infinite others, whose examples we shall see hereafter, lost their kingdoms through vices. But that we may yet have greater occasion to hate this horrible monster of nature, let us that vice chastiseth itself, Which is not done only by man's law, out of which the mightier sort (as Anacharsis said) escape as great flies that break through the Spider's web, the punishment also of which may oftentimes be avoided for a time, but even the pain followeth 
Offences are never without pain.  the offence so near, that it is equal unto it both for age and time. For from that very instant, wherein wickedness is committed; she frameth for, and of herself her own torment, and beginneth to suffer the pain of her mischievous deed, through the remorse thereof. This is that worm that continually gnaweth the conscience of a malefactor, and accompanieth his miserable life with shame and confusion, with frights, perturbations, anguish, and continual disquietness, even to his very dreams, so that all his life time he is destitute of all tranquillity, and rest of spirit, wherein only human felicity consisteth. And therefore one of the Hebrew Interpreters well and truly answered King Ptolemy, who asked him how he might be in rest when he dreamt: Let piety (quoth this Wiseman unto him) be the scope of all thy sayings and doings. For by applying all thy discourses and works to excellent things, whether thou sleepest or wakest, thou shalt have quiet rest in regard of thyself. 
How a man may have continual quietness.  Truly that man feareth nothing, whose soul being free from all notorious crimes, followeth the will of God, who directeth all counsels to good. But (as Plato saith) there is nothing that maketh a man so fearful, as the remembrance of his life passed in shame. Yea presently after the offence (saith justin Martyr) the conscience of a wicked man is unto him in stead of an accuser, a witness, a judge, and a hangman. This is that, which the Scripture 
The force of conscience in the wicked. Levit. 26. 36.  teacheth us i● Leviticus, saying, That the wicked shall tremble at the fall of the leaf of a tree, and that they shall be as if their life hung by a thread. We aught to be persuaded that this violence of man's conscience cometh from God, who causeth his enemies to feel his judgement and fury in such sort, that they cannot abide it, but are constrained to condemn themselves. And if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart. Now although the Word should wholly fail in this, yet we have the testimony of nature imprinted with such characters in our hearts, that it did even compel the ancient Poets to find out and feign Furies, as revengers of our sins, which are nothing else but the torments of evil consciences. This is that worm whereof Easie speaketh, which dieth not, but gnaweth and devoureth them without ceasing. Caligula, a most cruel Emperor, never had secure and quiet 
Easie 66. 24.  rest, but being terrified and in fear, awoke often, as one that was vexed and carried headlong with wonderful passions. Nero, after he had killed his mother, confessed that whilst 
Examples of tormented consciences in the ●●●ked.  he slept, he was troubled by her, and tormented with Furies, that burned him with flaming torches. Let us not then suppose that, although a wicked act may be hidden, and kept close from men, therefore the torment is the less, (which a Wise man never thinketh of, knowing that he aught to be in more reverence of himself than of others) but rather more grievous 
A wise man is ashamed to offend before himself.  within us, not for the only fear of worldly shame or punishment, but for the apprehension of the just judgement of God, from whom nothing is hid. He pursueth the wicked hard at the heels for the most part, and knoweth how to take vengeance of their iniquity in due time. And if he defer the punishment, it serveth but to aggravate their condemnation so much the more upon their heads, and to make the punishment more horrible, whereof we aught to stand in greater fear than of any bodily pain, because the dolour thereof abideth for ever. He that would go about to repeat here severally all those vices wherewith men 
Why God defeiteth his vengeance upon the 〈◊〉.  may be infected, and wherein we see them commonly wallow, should found their number very great, yea infinite. But (as Democritus said) let us only lay open that which is within us, and we shall find there a heap and conserve of many, divers, and different evils, which have their original beginning from thence. For as shadows follow bodies, so passions and vices follow souls. Hereafter we may discourse more particularly of the greater part of them, and of their proper and peculiar effects, with that just punishment, which commonly followed them. In the mean time we may learn this, that if custom be of so great force, that (as we say) it overcometh nature, it is chief to be seen in vice and dissoluteness which is a gulf wherein a man may very easily cast himself headlong; but it is a very difficult matter, yea unpossible to withdraw himself again. And (as a wise Roman said) most horrible & execrable offences through use and custom are made small faults, & are commonly practised. For it is the property of vice to be headstrong and contentious, seeking to defend itself by reasons, 
Custom in sinn●●● is dangerous.  which although they be altogether vain and frivolous, yet of great weight in regard of the weak flesh of man, which easily suffereth itself to be bound under the yoke of sin. Therefore we are to take good heed, that we suffer not ourselves to be surprised by so dangerous an enemy, nor give him any access or entrance into us. I mean that he should not devil in us (for orherwise we know that perfect righteousness is in God only) but rather let us exercise all those things that are contrary to vice, accustoming ourselves in such sort to master our common and small imperfections (which are but too abundant in the justest 
How we should fortify ourselves against vice.  men) that they take no effect, howsoever of themselves they may seem excusable. By this means we shallabour evermore to make choice of the best in all indifferent things: which will stand us in stead of a sure rampire against the tyrannical reign of this enemy to virtue. We read of Pythagoras, that he accustomed himself to abstain from cruelty and injustice even towards brute beasts, by requesting fowlers, after they had taken birds to let them fly again. And when he came amongst fishermen he bought their draughts, and after 
The humanity of Pythagoras even towards brute beasts.  caused all the fish to be cast again into the sea. Moreover, he forbade all his disciples to kill a tame beast at any time. After his example let us abstain from all things that may procure vice, an never suffer such speeches, as these to pass from us: What good will this do if that be wanting? Now I will deal in this manner, another time I will do better. OH how slippery are such ways, how easily doth vice glide away like a stream under such pretences? For as a wedge maketh but a small cleft in the beginning, yet afterward the rift being greater, sundreth all in pieces: so the sufferance of unlawful things how small soever it be, leadeth men by little and little to an unmeasurable licentiousness, Moreover, who can assure himself of tomorrow, 
An excellent comparison teaching us not to suffer any unlawful thing.  yea of a quarter of an hour? The oracle of Apollo answered those of Cyrrha, that if they would live in peace among themselves, they should make continual war with their neighbour's strangers. So, that we may pass the course of our short days in peace, rest and tranquility of spirit, and that we fall not into the cruel paw of this adversary to all goodness, we must daily fight against him, and never give ear to his heralds and ambassadors of peace which are pleasures, neglect of duty, and such other baits, which he presenteth to us, to deceive and beguile us withal. It is most certain, that vice putteth on a vizard, and goeth disguised and covered with goodly shows that belong only to virtue, and challengeth falsely 
We must never hearken to the heralds of vice.  unto itself those goods, which indeed and in truth man aught to desire: And being thus clothed with the help of corruptible pleasures that lightly pass away, it yoketh base minded men, whose care is only set upon the desire of earthly things which it setteth before their eyes as their felicity, impudently imputing to virtue all those evils that are in it 
How vice deceiveth men.  self, But they have sufficiently profited in Philosophy through the knowledge of that which is good, and of such things as are truly fair and beautiful, never harken to such hurtful allurements, but rather do as the serpent doth, that stoppeth her ears with her tail, to the 
The prudence of the serpent  end she may not hear the charms and sorceries of the enchanter. But if through the neglect of all good admonition, we give place amongst us never so little to the baits of vice, they may easily in the end (as thorns and thistles growing near to good seed, do oftentimes choke it) darken all that good instinct of nature that shall be in us, Diogenes the Cynic, 
Why Diogenes asked his alms of images.  walking one day through that street in Athens, wherein there were many images of such ancient men, as had best deserved of the Commonwealth, asked his alms of them all one after another. Whereat some marveling and demanding of him the cause why: I learn (quoth he to them) to take denial patiently: even so when we can so far command ourselves, as to shun all vain and unprofitable business, wherein this age delighteth, and which serve but for allurements and baits to niceness and pleasure, let us not be ashamed not to follow them, but rather let us say, that we learn to contemn that which is contemptible, and to make choice (according to that ancient precept of Pythagoras) of the best kind of life that is, to the end, that custom may by little and little make it easy and pleasant unto us. To conclude therefore our present matter, we say that vice, being inseparably accompanied with a thousand miseries, and with unspeakable and exceeding mischiefs, which draw man into utter ruin and eternal perdition, may be truly called the only evil of the soul, as that which of itself is able and sufficient to make him unhappy, who receiveth it for a guest. And as such a hurtful thing, we aught to hate and fly from it, by the means of virtue that is contrary unto it, labouring by all means to have our souls pure and clean from all wicked deeds, wills, and counsels, and our manners undefiled, not being troubled or infected with any evil perturbation, wherewith vice always aboundeth and is rich.   

Of Sciences, of the study of Letters, and of Histories. Chap. 7.  ARAM. 
IT is a usual speech in the mouths of men altogether ignorant of the beauty and profit of Sciences, That the study of Letters is a bottomless gulf, and so long and uneasy a journey, that they which think to finish it, oftentimes stay in the midway, and many being come to the end thereof find their minds so confused with their profound and curious 
The speeches of ●●no●●nt m●n touching the study of sciences.  skill, that in stead of tranquility of soul, which they thought to find, they have increased the trouble of their spirit. Under this goodly pretence, the most part say, that it is better not to know much, yea nothing at all: attributing the cause of man's imperfection unto science. Being thus persuaded, if they have already any beginning and entering in learning, they draw back, and seek to hinder and to turn others aside from following them. For this cause many fathers set not their children to learning, or else because they find this way of preferment too long and costly, and have other more short and profitable means now adays whereby to enrich them. But both the one and the other are greatly to be condemned, 
Why many fathers set not their children to school●.  because we are to spare no labour and travel, that we may get the treasures of the soul endued with reason, which are sciences, wherein all human felicity consisteth, and which never breed vexation of spirit. But all wits are not fit and apt to comprehend and conceive them. Neither doth the corruption of our nature better appear, than in this, that we love rather to enrich ourselves and our children with wicked and perishing goods, than with true, certain and immortal goods, the happy knowledge whereof sciences and arts do bring unto us. Now having through the grace of God received this benefit by your liberality (most honourable fathers) as to have been instructed in the best and most necessary points of knowledge, we thought it would not be tedious unto you to hear us discourse, that we might stir up the memories of our studies, and that the beauty and commodity of sciences might work in our affections a liking and desire to continued and to finish them.  ACHITOB. 
Man (saith Aristotle) was created to understand and to do. For it is necessary 
Man is created to understand & to do  that instruction go before working. Knowledge begetteth judgement, and by judgement men execute all good and virtuous actions. Whereupon it followeth, that the study of letters is rich, and undoubtedly giveth us the knowledge of things. Moreover, nothing may be compared to sciences, which comfort us in our life time, and 'cause us to live after death.  ASER. 
OH science (saith Plato) how would men love thee if thou wert known? Fire and air are not more necessary for life, than is the art and rule of good living, which is showed unto us by learning. And as health is the conservation of the body, so is doctrine the safeguard of the soul. But we are to understand more amply of thee (AMANA) what is the greatness & beauty of sciences.  AMANA. 
Whatsoever is profitable, not only for a house and family, for a city and nation, but generally for all mankind, may well be accounted dear, precious and wonderful, and as so excellent a thing, aught to be bought with all that a man hath: especially if it be the true substance of all happiness and felicity, and the efficient cause of prudence, which is an excellent guide for men's actions to make them worthy of an immortality. What can one desire more than profit, pleasure and honour, which are those things wherewith all men are commonly led? The treasure of Arabia and India may well bring some pleasure to man, but yet always unperfect: seeing all riches is of itself blind, and bringeth no light to the soul, but receiveth her brightness from the soul when it is framed according to virtue. Great and proud armies may by notable victories procure to themselves renown and glory, but blame worthy: a title of honour, but forced and unjust, if their enterprises are not grounded upon equity and justice. The merchant sailing on large and terrible seas, may reap profit by his traffic, but bought with the peril of his life, and hazard of his certain patrimony. Neither can this be done, except he have first laid a good ground of his voyage upon a sure discourse of reason, and upon the direction of a good and wise pilot. Now of all these things, thus poor of themselves, and begging all their ornaments elsewhere, what certain joy, true honour or great profit may a man challenge to himself, and not rather look for a sudden change of them into a worse estate than they were in before, through the inconstancy and uncertainty of man's nature? Where then shall we seek for these great and rare properties, to find that which of itself will be unto us profitable, pleasant, and honourable altogether, and that not for an instant, but for ever? Truly in science or knowledge, which first is able to mollify man's nature, being before savage and wild, and to make it capable of reason: secondly, 
The benefits which come by knowledge  frameth and settleth his judgement, that he may pass the course of his days in all tranquility of mind to the perfit of many: lastly, causeth him to die in honour, with certain assurance of eternal life and happiness. It is knowledge that maketh man prudent, 
The proper work of the sp●●● of man  (for doctrine bringeth forth prudence) and worketh unspeakable pleasure in his soul. For the searching out of the truth is the proper work and perfection of the spirit, neither doth any delight come near to that which a man taketh in learning. It is science which guideth men's judgements, whereby their chiefest deliberations and counsels are executed, as well in feats of war, as in the establishment and preservation of laws, kingdoms, monarchies, commonwealths, cities and peoples: likewise in the regiment and government of all worldly affairs, either general or particular, which are well or ill guided, according as he that manageth or governeth them is instructed. To this purpose Seneca said, that they, who being 
It is long ere men without knowledge become good magistrates.  destitute of knowledge, did learn only by experience to govern public affairs, although they were borne with a divine and happy spirit, yet both late, and to the detriment of their commonwealth, they would in the end become good governors of the people: As contrariwise, they that should come thereunto being guarded with the precepts of knowledge, (so they carried a good mind) would quickly and without pain become worthy of their charge. OH wisdom (saith Cicero) the guide of our life, the only cause of virtue, and enemy to vice, what should, not we only, but even all the life of men be without thee? Thou 
The praise of Wisdom  hast builded towns: thou hast gathered together dispersed and wandering men, that they might live in a society of life, and in common friendship. Thou compelledst them to come together, first by keeping all in a house and by marriage: then by the common use of words & speech. Thou hast been the inventresse of laws, and the mistress of manners and discipline. We have no recourse but to thee in our afflictions: we crave aid and secure of thee: we put ourselves wholly into thine arms. Truly one day well and justly spent according to thy holy precepts, is to be preferred before an immortality of time consumed in wickedness and vice. With what riches shall we furnish ourselves rather than with thine, which hast liberally given us the means to obtain tranquillity in this life, and hast taken from us all fear and terror of death? Briefly, we may be assured, that science is the only divine and immortal quality in us, and that infallible rule, which bringeth both peace and war to their perfect proportion: without which whosoever goeth about to frame any glorious or happy building, doth as much as if he should undertake to sail in the midst of the sea without a rudder, or walk through unknown places without a guide. Now the ancients knowing the greatness and difficulty of knowledge, and that it cannot be obtained (as it falleth out in all great matters) without great pain and travel; that their labour might become profitable unto us, they, I say, who had spent their life with sweeting, in seeking out the secrets of nature, and were desirous to ease man's study, who otherwise is inclined from his youth to pleasure and rest, have divided science for us into divers parts. Which they did to this end, that step by step, according to the niceness of our spirits (even as our bodies are first nourished with milk, and then with stronger meats) we might find therein apt and conceivable food, and in the end be made partakers of the secrets of perfect wisdom, every one according to his capacity and need expecting the full understanding thereof in the immortality of that second and most happy life. First then all arts and sciences handled by reason. were divided into three principal kinds: into Philosophy, Rhetoric and Mathematic. Afterwards, each 
The division of sciences.  of these sciences was divided into three other parts and kinds, Philosophy into Moral, Logical, and Physical or Natural. Rhetoric, into Demonstrative, Deliberative and judicial. Mathematic, into Arithmetic, Music, and Geometry. Since that, for greater facility, and that it might be more easy to learn, all human philosophy hath been reduced into art, as we have it at this day, from whence the name of liberal arts came, because they are worthy 
Grammar Rhetoric.  and beseeming a freeman. Their names are these, Grammar which is the entrance and beginning of all knowledge: Rhetoric, which is the art of fine speaking, and of persuading: Dialectike or Logic, which is to learn the truth of all things by disputation: Physic, which 
Logic Physic.  is the study of natural things: Metaphysike, which is of supernatural things: Mathematic, which hath many members, whereof Arithmetic is the first, which is the science of numbers, and the foundation of all the other parts of Mathemetike, without 
Metaphysike Mathematik and the partest thereof as Arithmetic.  which science of Arithmetic, Plato denied that any man could beeither a Philosopher or a captain general. Next to that is Geometry that is to say, the art of measuring the ground, very necessary likewise for a captain, and for many other martial affairs. Than followeth Cosmography and Geography, to know the situation of the whole world, even from the tower of the highest heaven, called the first Mover, unto the centre of 
Geometry.  the earth, and likewise of the divers regions thereof, with their particular temperatures. After 
Cosmography. Geography.  that is Astronomy, the science that teacheth us to know the course of the stars and planets; which thing practise only might teach us, I mean so much as is necessary for us, as our first fathers were a long time content therewith, until the curiosity of men invented these names, 
Astronomy  of Saturn Mars, and others, attributing natures unto them according to their imaginations and also over our bodies: yea those things that shall perish and are without life, are said to have power over our immortal souls. And from thence proceeded judicial Astronomy, wherewith so many good wits are deceived, and of which so many abuses have their beginning. Next, Music is set down also for a member of the Mathematiks, as being a science drawn from numbers, because that by them harmonical proportion was found. Lastly, followeth 
Mathematiks. 〈◊〉.  Poetry, which is attributed to Music. In this short discourse the wonderful greatness of science appeareth sufficiently, as also how hard, yea unpossible it is, to attain to the perfection thereof through the sound knowledge of all the parts thereof. Wherhfore we are first to seek after those that are most necessary, and then to desire a mean understanding of them all according to the gifts and graces of God bestowed on our souls. But above all 
Those sciences ●● first to 〈◊〉 tha● are most necessary.  things we must shun that idleness recklessness which is in many, who by reason of the difficulty, which they hear say is in sciences, and distrusting themselves for ever coming near the skill of so many good wits, as have go before them, remain as buried in ignorance, and unprofitable amongst men. The greatness of Alexander stayed not his successors from trying the issue and event of all sorts of noble enterprises. And the wonderful knowledge of Plato could not keep Aristotle from handling Philosophy as he thought good. He that distrusteth his wit and the invention thereof, showeth himself too ungrateful. For it seemeth he will condemn nature the mother of all things, as though she had put her all gifts and graces in some men, and ever after purposed to be idle and barren, having no more strength to bring forth any thing worthy commendation. We must not therefore in this sort be discouraged in the searching out of every good discipline, knowing that those things also, which draw near to perfection are great. But yet for the chief part of all our studies, let us take Moral Philosophy, whereof we have already discoursed: that we may frame our manners according to virtue, and lead and direct our souls to the end, which we desire, even to live well and happily. So let us practise that divine saying of Plato speaking by the mouth of Socrates, that Moore virtue & and piety is required of a Philosopher than knowledge: and that all science, which is to be required 
What kind of knowledge is especially required in a Philosopher.  in him, is, that above all things he worship and reverence God the only true master of wisdom, and author of whatsoever may be known: and that he endeavour to separate his soul from his body, as much as may be, by contemning pleasures, ambition, vainglory, and riches, that so he may lay hold of the treasures of immortal life. This we may learn by reading books and writings, which are the instruments of wisdom, and are left unto us by learned men for a rule and for instruction. By the study hereof we shall attain to that knowledge of the true and perfect good of man, which consisteth in virtue and verity, the only nourishment, rest and tranquility of the mind. But will we know further what profit we may receive by the doctrine of ancient men? Let us only read that which Anacharsis wrote to Croesus' king of Lydia. Know (quoth he to him) that in the studies of Graecia 
Anacharsis letter to ●iae●us touching the studies of Graecia.  we learn, not to command, but first to obey: not to speak, but to keep silence: not to resist, but to humble ourselves: not to get much, but to content ourselves with a little: not to revenge our harms, but to pardon injuries: not to take from others, but to give our own: not to take care to be honoured, but to labour to be virtuous. Lastly, we learn to despise that which others love, and to love that which others despise, that is poverty. Behold the fair first-fruits of science, and of the study of these ancient Sages, to which no treasures of worldly riches are in any sort comparable, and which we aught to desire above all things. Moreover, 
The praise and profit of history.  by this study of letters, we shall be taught to search out diligently the understanding of histories, which are the treasure of things past, the pattern of those that are to come, the picture of man's life, the touch stone of our doing, the worke-master of our honour, and as Cicero calleth them, the witness of times, the light of truth, the life of memory, the mistress of life, and the messenger of antiquity. Histories 'cause us to behold that without danger, which so many millions of men have tried with the loss of their lives, honour and goods, that we may be made wise by their peril, and stirred up to follow the virtue of others, which hath brought them to the top of all felicity and glory. Now if we think to learn by our own experience these excellent instructions which we may draw out of histories, in stead of so rare treasures we shall know but few things, and those with loss and peril amongst a thousand adversities, from which the understanding of that which is past, saveth and delivereth us. Prudenee gotten by experience is too perilous, and so long a coming, that very often a man dieth before he have obtained it, so that he had need of a second life to employ about it. But we must hasten it forward by the searching out of things, which have come to pass both before and since our time, in the study both of Philosophy, which is rich and plentiful in worthy examples, and also of histories, which are a singular gift of God, whereby he would have his wonderful works continued in the memory of men. For this cause Zeno, being 
How a man may become happy. Wherein kings aught most to exercise themselves.  demanded how a man might become happy, answered, if he drew near unto and haunted the dead: meaning thereby, if he read histories, and endeavoured to learn their good instructions that have go before us. Ptolemy also ask one of the wise interpreters, wherein a king aught to exercise himself: In the knowledge (quoth he) of things which have been done, and in reading books of things which daily offer themselves, or which are fit for present affairs, and lastly, in searching out whatsoever is written for the preservation of kingdoms and correction of manners. And truly they that are exercised in the understanding of histories, although they be but young, yet in knowledge of worldly matters they become like to the aged and gray-headed: as contrariwise they that are ignorant of things done and passed before their being, remain always children, & even within their own country where they were borne, they are in the same estate in respect of knowledge that forerunners are. If we yet desire more testimonies from amongst the ancients, of the honour, love, zeal, and ardent affection, which they bore towards the study of good letters, and how the chief glory of all their heroical and noble acts doth of duty belong to science, we read of Philip king of Macedonia, that when Alexander was borne to him, he gave thanks to God, 
The saying of Philip at the birth of Alexander.  not so much because he had this son, as because he was borne in the time of so wise a Philosopher as Aristotle was, whom he made his schoolmaster. Of him Alexander learned many goodly sciences, as well in Philosophy as in Physikes, and namely, those acroamatical sciences, that is, speculative, and such as could not be learned but by hearing a teacher. Of which Sciences this great Monarch was jealous, and taken with so greedy a desire, that hearing how Aristotle had published certain books, he wrote a letter unto him in this manner: Alexander sendeth greeting to Aristotle. Thou hast not done well to publish these books of 
Alexander's letter to Aristotle.  speculative sciences: forasmuch as we shall have nothing above others, if that which thou hast taught us privately come to be published and communicated to all. For I would thou shouldest know, that I love rather to excel others in the understanding of high and notable things, than in power. How greatly this excellent Prince always loved knowledge, appeareth 
His love to learning.  sufficiently by the exceeding liberality and gifts, wherewith he honoured the masters and teachers thereof, (as we may somewhat touch it hereafter) as also in that he always carried Homers●liadss ●liads about him, which usually he laid under his pillow, naming it the nourishment and preserver of warlike virtue. Caesar in the midst of his camp had his Commentaries in his 
julius Caesar.  bosom, and that time which he spared from fight, he bestowed in reading and writing, holding a lance in his left hand, and a pen in the right. We see in these two mighty and sacred Princes, and in infinite other great personages both Greeks' and Roman, the wonderful effects of knowledge, which conducted them to the top of all honour, felicity, and prosperity. Xenophon, the disciple of Socrates serveth for another witness, who being guided 
Xenophon.  by an unspeakable prudence & providence gotten in the study of Philosophy, brought an army of a thousand footmen out of Persia into Greece, going over the fords of fifty rivers, and through the midst of an hundred thousand enemies pursuing him, and yet his array was never broken, albeit he fought with them sundry times. Besides, if we are desirous of testimonies of the incredible delight, which the study of any science worketh in men's souls touched with the zeal of knowledge, we read of Nicias the painter, how he took such 
Nicias.  great delight in his works, that oftentimes he enquired of his servants whether he had dined or no. Archimedes drawing his Geometrical figures upon a table, was as it were by force 
Archimedes.  drawn away of his servants, that he might anoint himself with oil (according to their custom) before he did eat: and during the time of his anointing, he would trace new figures upon his body. Socrates was seen standing a whole Summer's day for the space of four and twenty hours continually in contemplation and discoursing in his mind: which was 
Socrates' conclusion drawn out of 24. hours contemplation. Charles 4. Robert king of Sicilia.  when he drew this conclusion out of his thoughts, that There was but one only God, and that the soul was immortal. The Emperor Charles the fourth going on a day to a College in Praga, to hear the disputations of virtue that were there, remained above four hours on foot in hearing them. And when his courtiers, to whom he was wearisome, told him that it was time to sup, he answered, that It was no more time for him, and that he had supped. Robert king of jerusalem and Sicilia, a very learned Prince, was so affectionated to letters, that he oftentimes said, that if he were to loose either his kingdoms or his learning, he would choose rather to be deprived of them than of knowledge. What greater testimony of love towards Science can one desire than that of Ptolemy Philadelphus, that virtuous king of Egypt, who with incredible charges gathered together into his library five hundred thousand books, and purposely caused seventy and two of the most learned and religious men of judea to come and translate the holy Bible out of Hebrw into Greek? And surely we should be too ungrateful towards our Princes, if amongst so many famous men we should leave no place for that great Emperor and king Charlemagne, who was skilful in the Greek and Latin tongues, and who 
Charlemagne  in favour of those tongues, and of the lovers of knowledge, erected the university at Paris, and that at Pavia, according to the pattern of those places of learning which were at Athens. Francis the first, a Prince of most famous memory, so loved and favoured letters, and the professors of them, that he deserved the name of the restorer of sciences and good arts, 
Francis. 1.  sparing neither care nor means to assemble together books and volumes of sundry sorts, and of all languages for the beautifying of his so renowned a library, which was a worthy monument of such a magnifical Monarch: whose praiseworthy qualities we see revived in our king, treading in the self same steps. Now to conclude our present discourse, we learn hereby to despise all earthly goods for the obtaining of knowledge, which of itself is truly profitable, delectable and honourable altogether and whereby we are taught how to live and die well and happily. And because that arts and sciences consist of many parts, let us apply our minds to the study and contemplation of those which together with delight do also draw us to that which is our proper and peculiar good, namely, to the knowledge of truth and virtue, which work in us always an affection and zeal to follow them, and 'cause all arts and sciences teaching other things to be esteemed base, mechanical, and unbeseeming good wits. This did Antisthenes give one to understand, who greatly commended Ismenius for an excellent player on the flute: It is true (quoth he to him) but otherwise he is good for nothing, For else had he not been so good a minstrel, So, every one applying himself to some 
Antisthenes' saying touching a flute●la●er.  base and vain art, produceth for witness against himself that labour, which he hath bestowed about unprofitable matters, to prove that he had been idle and slothful in learning honest and profitable things. And for the last fruit and use of our speech, we see here what great occasion we have all our life time to become the disciples of knowledge, which is so high and profound; and to diminish all pride and presumption of our skill, after the example of that wise man Socrates, who although he were the learnedest of his time, and so judged to 
The modesty of Socrates touching his own skill.  be by the Oracle at Delphos, yet always said, that he knew nothing. And when he was demanded any thing, he would never answer resolutely, as if he would have been believed, but doubtingly used to say, I think so, or It may be so. Being therefore desirous to learn with all modesty, let us endeavour to seek out more and more by travel and study, the assurance and knowledge of verity and virtue.   

Of the Spirit, and of Memory. Chap. 8.  AMANA 
Having now discoursed of the greatness, beauty, and profit of knowledge. I think that if we were to wish for two helps very necessary for the attaining unto it, those aught to be a spirit or mind ready to conceive, and memory: firm to retain: without which two things we shall profit ourselves little, and much less a great many.  ARAM. 
Those two things, which thou propoundest unto us would seem wonderful if they were together. For we commonly see, that they who have a ready and quick wit, for the 
Quick w●tss commonly want memory.  most part want memory: and they that learn with greatest difficulty and pain, do best retain and keep that which they have once learned.  ACHITOB 
This talk of the spirit, whereunto you attribute the property of comprehending (and yet speak not of the soul) is undoubtfully worthy of great consideration. For even when we speak of a young infant we say by and by, that his spirit or wit will grow with his body, and of a crooked old fire, we say that his spirit wax old with him, which in many we see oftentimes becometh altogether dull and unfit for the ordering and government of affairs. Now that which waxeth old draweth to an end, as the Scripture itself teacheth us, 
Psal. 102. 26.  concerning times and seasons, which wax old like to men's garments, and are to take end. And yet we know that the soul is immortal, and therefore waxeth not old, So that one would think, that the soul and spirit are two distinct things, although we see every where the one taken for the other. But let us hear ASER discourse of this matter, and so we shall learn what the spirit is in the soul,  ASER. 
As the works of the divine power are altogether incomprehensible to the outward sense of man, and very hard to be comprehended by reason guided and conducted by gracefrom above, so we are not to think much if the knowledge of a man's self, which is most necessary, be so hardly found out by him, seeing his composition far passeth all the works of nature, that are visible and subject to sight. Now if a man cannot know himself, 
It is very hard for a man to know himself.  how should he hope to comprehend greater matters, which are supernatural and hidden in the heavens? And who can rightly boast, that he hath the true and perfect understanding of the chiefest part and most powerful beginning of himself, namely of his spirit? Who am I, said Socrates? Am I a subject, compounded of soul and body? Or rather a soul, 
Socrates' opinion concerning man.  that useth the body, as a horseman doth a horse? Or, is every one of us that principal part of the soul, whereby we understand, discourse, and do, and all the other parts of the body but instruments of this power? Or if there be no proper substance at all of the soul by itself, but that it is only a temperature and complexion of the body so framed, that it hath power to understand and to live; am I not a savage beast, more crafty, bold and furious then ever was the serpent Typhon? Or else, am I a meeker and simpler 
The soul is truly man.  creature, partaker of a better estate, and void of pride? All the excellentest Philosophers that ever were, handled this self same matter as well as Socrates, with incredible travel and pain, that they may attain to this knowledge of the noblest part in them, which is the soul and spirit, taking indifferently the one for the other, But first of all this wise Socrates spoke 
Socrates' answer touching his burial.  excellently of the dignity and immortality of the soul, saying, that in truth the soul is man, and not this mortal mass and Inmpe of the body, which of itself is no more than a simple and base instrument is in regard of the most cunning workman of any art of science, And for this cause gining up the ghost amongst his disciples; and being asked by Clito where he would be buried: As for Socrates (quoth he to him) take thou no thought or care. For thou canst not stay him, whose tomb hath been from all time ready for him. But concerning that which he leaveth here below, it is not worthy to be cared for by him, The greatest thing 
Periander.  (said Periander) that may be said to be contained in a little place, is the soul in a man's body. 
Empedocles. Of the generation of the soul.  Empedocles speaking of the generation of the soul saith, that neither blood, nor the vital spirit congealed have given unto us the substance of the soul, and the beginning of life. The body only is compounded earthly and mortal, But the generation of the soul is heavenly. being sent here below as a passenger, and stranger, or as one that is banished and sent out of his country. Whereupon she continually sigheth, groaneth, and as it were drieth away, (like to a good plant translated out of a good plot of ground into a bad) until in the end she return, and be received into her immortal habitation, after she hath changed her present life, which is unto her but as a vain illusion of some dream; in respect of a true, certain and permanent life. Surely, these philosophical speculations are not vain and frivolous, but very necessary to lead us to that happy end of our being, which we seek for. For if we be well instructed concerning the great and honourable place and condition, which the soul enjoyeth above the body, as well in her immortal generation, as in her contemplation and action, as also that of her happiness dependeth (as before we handled it) the felicity of the whole frame of man, will we not apply all our principal care, study, and diligence in providing such things for her as she desireth, and which are meet and healthful for her? But we have further (thanks be given to the author of all good) a second and more perfect understanding of the soul, than had all these notable heathen men, both in respect of the blessed immortality and also of the cause thereof. We know also that so long as she is detained in this mortal prison 
The soul is divided into the spirit and the flesh.  of the body, and that we are become new creatures by the grace of God, she is divided into these two parts, the spirit and the flesh, between which there is a perpetual combat. Yea the flesh continually offereth to the spirit a thousand temptations, to delight it withal. For the body and flesh consisting of mortal and corruptible matter, are but a lump of sin, and full of wicked desires, whereas the spirit of itself virtuous and good, and of animmortall essence, is of it own nature enemy to vice and iniquity: so that being ruled and guided by the Spirit of God, it loveth and desireth eternal happiness, and rejoiceth in justice, purity, and 
The spirit of the godly both by creation & regeneration is enemy to vice.  holiness. And yet the soul is not so freed from the slavery of sin, but that there remaineth in her many steps of the earthly man, so that she always carrieth about with her the relics of the flesh, whereby her liberty is so much diminished. This is that fight whereof the true children of God have daily experience, when they are lifted upward by the spirit, and by the flesh turned downward: by the spirit they bend with an ardent desire towards immortality, by 
The fight between the spirit and the flesh.  the flesh they are carried astray into the way of death: by the spirit they think to live justly, by flesh they are stirred forward to iniquity: by the spirit they contemn the world, by the flesh they desire worldly things. But in the end the grace of God causeth the spirit to remain superior, so that his children walk not according to the flesh, but according to the spirit. Whereas if we be left of God to our own corrupt and perverse nature, we have not sufficient 
Rom. ●. 7. What we are being left to ourselves.  strength to resist the temptations of this wicked flesh, but in stead of commanding it, we obey it with shame and confusion. And then accustoming ourselves to sin, and to consent to the desires of the flesh, the divine part of the soul is so weakened, that she hath no more strength or feeling of her essence, which is enemy to vice, but having forsaken God, he forsaketh her, and giveth her over into the power of carnal desires. So that by this long dwelling in sin, being as it were altogether dead, she taketh no more counsel of reason, but followeth after detestable vices, and such as are against nature. But on the contrary side being guided by the grace of God, after we have laboured by fasting, watching and prayer, to resist the unpure desires of the flesh, all the concupiscences thereof, will at length be so tamed and forced, that the soul shall execute her office in commanding over them absolutely, and in choking them so soon as they shall spring up. Therefore it cometh from the spirit, that we aspire continually to our last and sovereign good: that with a singular desire of heart, and with all our affection we study to seek and find it out, even with tears and sighs, by reason of those continual impediments, which the flesh layeth before us in following our course. Moreover, the spirit causeth us to employ all our might in the separation of the soul from the body, and in despising pleasure, ambition, vain glory, and riches, that we may offer an acceptable present, by yielding unto him the soul, which he hath given us. Which thing cannot be done (saith Plato) but by keeping it, as much as may be, purged and cleansed from earthly spots, that she may be known and acknowledged above amongst her companions, considering that no defiled thing shall enter into the kingdom of heaven. In this discourse of the soul and of the spirit thus intermingled, I think we may here set down some special difference betwixt them, although undoubtedly the one is taken indifferently for the other, without any absurdity, 
The difference between the soul and the spirit.  yea they are one and the same thing. The difference may be made in this sort, if we say, that the soul is common to all things that have life, as we use to say, that all beasts are animated, and have sensible souls: but that the spirit which is immortal, and capable of reason & knowledge, is proper and peculiar to man only, And it seemeth that Sophocles would teach us this distinction, when he saith, that The spirit is the same thing to the soul, which the eye is to the body. Socrates also putting a difference between the soul and the spirit, said, that as every seditious man is to be banished out of a well governed city, so a spirit inclined to all mischief is to be removed from that soul, which we would save. Or else we may say otherwise (not dividing any thing) that the spirit is the first and principal part of the soul, wherein the Mind, the Understanding, and the Memory are contained, which are most necessary for the direction of all good and virtuous actions, and which stand in need of preservation, nourishing and exercise, 
The three parts of the spirit.  & therefore they are said (not without reason) to increase and decrease in the mind of man The mind is as a white paper, wherein as a man groweth in age and judgement, he writeth his cogitations & thoughts, which the study of letters and learning do afford him. Understanding is framed by the knowledge of reason, and lastly memory followeth and preserveth 
Of Memory.  it, being the mother of the Muses, and the treasury of knowledge. Plutarch calleth it the hearing of deaf things and the sight of the blind. There is nothing, that serveth so much to beget and preserve learning and knowledge, as memory doth, whereof we have many examples among the ancient. We read of Mithridates' king of Pontus, who was a great enemy to the 
Mithridates.  Romans, that he had under his dominion two and twenty nations, speaking divers langugesall which he learned, and answered their ambassadors in their own tongues. Which thing he could never have comprehended without an excellent and happy memory, which also was the cause, that Themistocles knew personally and could name all his countrymen by their proper names. The Emperor Fredrick the 11, spoke the Greek, Latin, Hebrew, Arabian, 
Fredrick.  Morisko, Almagine, Italian and French tongue. In our time there was an interpreter of Sultan Solymanus, named Genusby, borne in Corfou, endued with the richest memory that ever was. 
Genusby.  For he spoke perfectly, the Greek tongue, both vulgar and learned, the Turkish, Arabian, Moorish, Tartarian, Persian, Armenian, Hebrew, Russee, Hungarian, Sclavonian, Italian, Spanish, Almaigne, Latin and French. It is recorded of Publius Crassus, that at one instant he heard five sundry languages spoken, and answered each of them in the same tongue. Whereby 
P C●●s●●s.  we see that he was endued with an excellent and quick spirit, apt to conceive, and with a firm memory, able to retain them altogether: and this may be seen in many. But the perfection of these two great gifts of nature, is a good & sound judgement, proceeding from pondering, 
From whence judgement proceedeth.  and from a firm discourse of reason lightened by the Spirit of God, and by the same Spirit purged from error, illusion, and all vain opinions, which are usual in man, and hinder him from judging aright of the truth. But to continued our speech of the wonderful effects of memory so much esteemed of Plato, that he writeth, that we should leave off to be men, and become like to the gods, if our memory could retain and keep so much as the eyes can read and see. We must not here forget to make mention of julius Caesar, that great Monarch, 
julius Caesar.  of whom Historiographers report, that at one time he caused his Secretaries to writ unto four several persons of sundry matters, and that oftentimes he would indight a letter to one of his Secretaries, read in a book, and hear another speak all at one time. Seneca rehearsed two thousand sundry names, having only heard them pronounced before, beginning at the 
Seneca.  last and continuing to the first. By these examples, we see the greatness of memory, whereby we may easily judge how profitable it is for the enriching of the mind with all things necessary to the government of man's estate. Yea it is unto us a help requisite unto salvation, as that whereby we keep in remembrance the gifts & graces which we daily receive from the goodness 
A good use of memory.  and favour of God, to this end that we should not be ungrateful, but yield unto him glory and praise without ceasing. Now because one of you (my companions) touched this, that they which have a ready and quick wit, commonly want memory, and that they which hardly learn, retain and keep better that which they have learned, I will give you this reason with Plutarch, that hardness of belief seemeth to be the cause why men comprehend 
Reasons why quickest wits have worst memories, & contrariwise  slowly. For it is very evident, that to learn, is to receive some impression: whereupon it followeth, that they which resist lest, are such as soon believe. And therefore youth is easier to be persuaded than old folks, sick than sound, women than men: and generally the weaker that thing is, which discourseth and doubteth, the easier may a man put and add unto it, what he will, as likewise the selfsame thing is sooner lost and ●et slip away. Some others (as justine Martyr saith) have rendered this reason of the quickness or slowness of man's wit, saying, that it cometh of the good or immoderate mixture and temperature of the elements, of which our bodies are compounded and framed, and of the symmetry and proportion of the organical or instrumental parts joined together in him. And surely these seem to give us the true reason thereof. For we see many, who in their beginning and first age show that they have prompt and sharp wit, but when they come to old age are changed, and become slow and dull to conceive. Which is a great token and argument, that a good or bad complexion and constitution of the body, is the cause of such a disposition, either in quickness or slowness of spirit, as the difference of years doth afford them. Besides, do we not perceive, that they which have the head over great and ill favoured, whom we commonly call great blockheads (because there is not an equal symmetry and moderate proportion between that and the other parts of the body) are naturally unapt to conceive, and to bring forth any sensible and witty thing? But the resolution of all this speech shall be, that all gifts of the Spirit are from above, and that amongst all sorts of men, there are some found, that are prompt and witty to comprehend great and divine things, by a specially grace and favour, which God hath bestowed upon them. Some by the gift of the holy Ghost have wisdom, 
1. Cor. 12.  others knowledge and understanding of things, and all given to every one for the profiting both of himself and of his neighbour. Knowing therefore by this present discourse, according to the weakness of our judgement, the creation and nature of the spirit, which is the principal and most noble part of us, and that whereof dependeth and proceedeth all our happiness, rest and felicity, let us be careful and diligent to search it out, and to provide such things as it desireth of us, as helps to that effect, bestowing all our care, labour and study, to adorn and deck it with righteousness and holiness, according to the holy desire thereof, wherein consisteth life and peace. And let us beware that we seek not to feed it with strange meats, which may make it sorrowful, & with which our flesh aboundeth to her death and destruction. But mortifying all the deadly desires and affections thereof, let us labour not to walk any more according to the flesh, but according to the spirit; and let us know that all 
Rom. 8. 1.  wearisomeness and tediousness which troubleth the tranquillity and rest thereof, proceedeth from the want of experience in affairs, from the want of good discoursing, grounded upon a resolute and settled judgement, and from the want of skill fitly to apply ourselves to present occasions. And this is that which troubleth all sorts and conditions of life, as well rich as poor. But the way to preserve the spirit in rest and quietness, is to nourish and exercise it in the study of wisdom, where it learneth reason, which of itself can cure it of all sorrow, anguish and grief, through wise discoursing, and work in it a like inclination and constant behaviour in every alteration of life, causing man to live happily throughout the whole course of his life, not without the hope and certain expectation of a blessed immortality.   
The end of the second days work.   

The third days work.  

Of Duty and Honesty. Chap. 9  ASER. 
ALthough all things were created of divers natures and properties, and many of clean contraries, yet by an incomprehensible wisdom the were appointed to refer themselves to one only certain and common end, namely, to show forth the infinite power and greatness of their workmaster, sufficient in the lest of his works with admiration to ravish man, to whom he hath made allthings subject. But as in him alone the treasures of his heavenly graces 
The end of the creation of all things.  have been without comparison more liberally unfolded, and that in all fullness and bounty, as well in regard of the goods and commodities of this life, which he draweth from heaven, from the earth, from the air, from the water, from beasts and plants, and generally from all things contained under the cope of the firmament, as also in respect of that unspeakable happiness and eternal felicity, which by the special grace of God is purchased & assured to him only in the immortality of the second life; so also hath God from the beginning until this present and for ever, reserved to himself a particular homage, and that not for a time or 
What homage we own to God.  for certain years of his life, but to continued without intermission from time to time, namely love testified by obedience, which we may comprehend under this only word of Duty, calfall by the Philosophers, the wellspring of all virtuous & laudable actions, and the foundation of honesty. Therefore I propound this matter to you (companions) to be discoursed upon.  AMANA. 
The duty of a good man consisteth in his good behaviour towards the chief & only end of his being compounded of these two things, the glory of his creator, and the love 
Which is the 〈◊〉 end of our being.  of his neighbour. But the last undoubtedly dependeth of the first. For without the fear of God, men will never preserve equity and love amongst themselves: as contrariwise the honouring of his majesty teacheth them to live uprightly one with another.  ARAM. 
We aught not to assure or fortify ourselves with any other bulwark, than to do, to counsel & to utter all good and honest things, according to duty, whereunto we are called by nature, not only for ourselves, but also for the benefit and profit of many. Therefore of thee (ACHITOB) we shall understand more at large, what Duty and Honesty is,  ACHITOB. 
No treatise in Philosophy (saith Cicero) is so necessary as that of Office and Duty: for as much as no part of man's life, whether it be in public or private affairs, or in what action soever it be, either aught or may be destitute thereof. For therein consisteth all honesty of life, and, if it be neglected, all infamy. And albeit most part of the ancient Philosophers comprehended Duty and Honesty under virtue, affirming them to be one and the same thing, yet following the opinion of that great orator and Philosopher, who hath handled moral Philosophy in very good order, we may distinguish them after this sort, saying, that Duty is the end whereunto virtue tendeth, namely, when in all our actions we observe honesty and comeliness. In which distinction we see nevertheless such a conjunction of these three things, Virtue, Duty, and Honesty, that the one is the end of the other, 
What duty is  the perfection thereof consisting in all three together. Duty then is that, which bindeth the soul, cheerfully and willingly without force or constraint to give to every one that which belongeth unto him: honour, to whom honour: reverence, to whom reverence, tribute: to whom tribute, and succour, to whom succour belongeth. This duty is divided into two general● kind's: the one is that which appertaineth to the perfect and sovereign good: the 
The ●●●sion occupy.  other ●●●●rneth the preservation and safety of the common society of men, and consisteth in mo●●ll procepts according to which the behaviour of all sorts of life may be squared. 
Wha● 〈…〉 God and 〈…〉.  As touching the first, no doubt but all men are beholding and bound unto God, both for their being and preservation thereof, as also for that abundance of goods necessary for this life, which he poureth forth most liberally, both on the good and on the bad. Moreover. Christians are furthertied and bound unto him for the certain hope of their salvation in his eternal Son. For all which things he asketh nothing of us but love and goodwill, testified by honour, reverence, and service, according to his holy ordinance, every one after the measure of gifts and graces, which he hath from above: knowing that more is to be required of him to whom more is given. This obedience being grounded upon that role of perfect righteousness, which is given unto us in the law of God, is the mother and preserver of all virtues, yea the beginning and root of all goodness. The other part of duty, 
Obedience to God's law is the mother of all virtues. What our duty towards our neighbour is.  which respecteth our neighbour, and whereof we are chief to entreat in this our Academy, is nothing but charity and love of our like, as of ourselves, which is greatly recommended unto us in the Scripture, as being very requisite unto salvation. This is that duty, whereby we are bound not to do any things against public laws, equity, and profit, but to be always constant in the perfect exercise and use of virtue, by doing honest and seemly things for their own sakes, and not of necessity and constraint. We are not only borne (saith Cicero) for ourselves, but our country, parents, and friends both will and aught to reap some commodity by our birth. For whatsoever is upon earth was created for men, and they for themselves, that one might aid and help another. So that if we will follow 
Man created for man.  nature, we must employ our goods, travel, and industry, and whatsoever else is in our power, in the behalf of common commodity, and in the preservation of human society: yea, that man liveth most happily, who as little as may be, liveth to himself. And on the other side, no man liveth more disorderly, than he that liveth to himself, and thinketh on nothing but his own profit. This is that duty, which requireth that for the safety of our parents, friends and country, we should offer ourselves to all perils, not respecting our own profit or commodity. Neither aught we to esteem any thing just and profitable, except honesty: which are so linked together, (as the philosophers say) that they can no more be 
Profit must not be separated from honesty.  separated than whiteness and cold from snow, and heat and light from fire. So that if any man be persuaded, that the rule of honesty and profit is not one and the same, he will never be without fraud or wickedness. For thinking thus with himself, this indeed is honest, but that is profitable for me, he will not fear to break and rend asunder all equity ordained and appointed either by divine or human laws. And this division is the fountain of all vice, falsehood, and mischief. A good man (saith Plato) may not slander, steal, or lie for his own commodity. Is there any thing then in this world of so great value, any treasure so precious, that aught to 'cause us to lose the name of virtuous and just? We aught rather to turn profit towards honesty, and that in such sort, that howsoever the words seem to differ one from another, yet we should make them but one thing. Moreover, the same divine philosopher saith, that the true beauty of the soul, which is honesty, is nothing else but the brightness of that perfect and chief good that appeareth in those things, which may be known by the eyes, ears, and mind, whereby it is caused to return towards the Idea and pattern of goodness. Whereby this excellent man meaneth no other thing than to give us to understand that whatsoever goodness and honesty is in us, cometh from God, as from the fountain thereof, unto which by the same virtue it returneth, leading the soul with it to live eternally. Besides, from him and by him cometh the beginning and proceeding of our good works: yea it is he that maketh us to go forward according to our duty, which consisteth in these two points: first, that the intention and end of our actions be rightly framed: secondly, that the like means to attain to that end be found out. For 
Two things requisite in every good work.  these two things may agreed or disagree one from another, as we see sometimes the end well propounded, and yet men err in the means to attain unto it: and contrariwise, it falleth out oftentimes, that the means are good, and the end oftentimes propounded had. So that it is from this lively and everflowing fountain, which is the cause of all good, from whence we are to look for the perfect knowledge of our duty, and the ends and means whereby to execute it, to the glory of God, and to the good and profit of our like. And from this general virtue, and fountain of honesty and duty, four rivers 
Four rivers issue out of the fountain of duty.  issue and spring, called moral virtues: namely, Prudence, which is as a guide to the rest, and knoweth what is profitable for itself, for others, and for the commonwealth: Tomperance, the mistress of modesty, chastity, sobriety and vigilancy, and of all order and mediocrity in all things: Fortitude, which maketh a man constant pat●ent, courageous, hardy, and ready to enterprise high, great, profitable, and holy things: and justice, which is the bond and presetuation of human society by giving to every one that which belongeth unto him, by keeping faith in things promised, by succouring gladly the afflicted, and by helping every one according as ability serveth. Which virtues are the t●ne and certain goods of the soul, whereby all actions are directed according to duty, as we shall speak particularly thereof hereafter. In the mean while let us enter into the examples of the ancients, and see how exactly and inviolably they observed all points of duty, choosing rather to sacrifice their lives, than to infringe and break any of them, much more contemuing all other weaker occasions, wherewith lewd and base minded people suffer themselves to be easily corrupted. And first, touching the first point of duty naturally imprinted in the souls of the greatest 
Examples of the zeal of the ancients in the service of their gods.  infidels, which is to acknowledge some divinity, with what zeal (although inconsiderate and rash) did the ancient heathens and pagans precisely observe their paganism, even to the sacrificing and cheerful offering up of their own children to their gods, as we read of the Carthagenians? What say I, their children? yea oftentimes themselves, whereof Calanus an Indian Gymnosophist serveth for a witness, who seeing himself old, after he had offered 
Calanus.  sacrifice to the gods, bad Alexander the Great farewell, with whom he came to Babylon and took his leave also of all his other friends. Than lying along (according to the custom of his country) upon a little pile of wood, which he had prepared for that purpose, he caused fire to be put unto it, and so burned himself for a burnt offering to his gods, not stirring at all, but continuing with such a wonderful constancy, that Alexander, who was present, confessed himself to be vanquished of him in greatness of heart, and magnanimity of courage. Who will not admire the strict observation of the ancient religion of the Egyptians, Grecians, and Romans moved with a desire of yielding the duty of their being to the honour of a divine nature? But for shortnessesake, and not to wander far from the subject of our assembly, I pass it over with silence. Here I will only allege one notable example of the jews, who were more zealous professors of their law, than ever were any people. Caius a Roman 
The zeal of the jews to their law.  Emperor, sent Petronius into Syria with commandment to make war with the Jews, if they would not receive his image into their temple. Which when they refused to do, Petronius said unto them, that then belike they would fight against Caesar, not weighing his wealth, or their own weakness and unability. We will not fight (quoth they) but had rather dye than turn from the laws of our God. And forthwith casting themselves on the ground, and offering their throats, they said, that they were ready to receive the blow. In this estate (as josephus reporteth it) they remained for the space of forty days, letting slip the time which then was, of sowing their grounds. Which caused Petronius to defer the execution of his charge, and to sand the declaration of these things unto Caesar, whose death rid the jews out of danger. Now we are to consider with what burning affection the ancients embraced comonn benefit and safety, seeking to profit all men, according to the true duty of a good man, but especially their country, in whose service they thought it great happiness to loose their lives. 
Of the love which a man oweth to his country.  For truly besides the sweet affection, which nature hath imprinted in our hearts towards our country, and the conformity of humours, which commonly is found in our bodies with that heaven and air where we have our first breathing, which seemeth to be a mutual and natural obligation, the reason of all human right, and the religion of divine equity, besides the duty of conscience, bind all persons to serve the public wealth of their country, to the uttermost of their power: and that so much the rather, because that under it, the life, honour, and goods of every particular man are comprehended. This reason caused Cato of Utica, a Consul and noble Roman, to answer one of his friends, who was 
Cato of Utica  come to give him thanks for defending him in judgement from a false accusation, that he was to thank the Commonwealth, for whose love only he did speak, and counseled all things. This also made him to undertake the suit for the office of Tribuneship of the people, that he might resist the faction of Pompey, by whom he saw Metellus set on work to 
In what case a good man may sue for an o●h●●.  sue and seek for the same office, for the assurance of his affairs and strengthening of his league. Now is the time (quoth Cato to his friends) wherein I must employ and bestow the power of such an office, and of great authority, as a strong medicine, in time convenient, and upon necessary causes, and either overcome, or dye honourably in the defence of common liberty. So likewise he opposed himself as much as he could, against all novelties & alteration of affairs between Caesar and Pompey. And when the selfsame Pompey, being desirous to win to himself, sought to bring it to pass by alliance, and thereupon demanded two of his nieces in marriage, one for himself, and the other for his son: Cato without any longer deliberation, answered him presently (as being nettled) that carried back the message, that he should return to Pompey and tell him, that Cato was not to be taken by the means of women. Which was not because he would have him esteem greatly of his friendship, which he should always find in him to be more sure and certain than any alliance by marriage, so that he only sought after and did things honest and just, but at this time he would not give hostages at Pompey's pleasure against the Common wealth. Afterwards the affairs of Rome being brought to such necessity through corruption of money, and by unlawful and forcible means in procuring public places of authority, many Senators being of opinion, that Pompey was to be chosen sole and only Consul: Cato also was of the same mind saying, that men aught to choose a less evil to meet with, and to redress greater mischiefs: and that it were better willingly to bring in a kind of monarchy, than to defer it so long, until the issue of present seditions should by force & constraint establish one. And it may be (quoth he) that Pompey will have a longing desire to preserve the Common wealth, when he shall see, that it is so liberally and freely committed to his fidelity. This election being approved and ratified, Pompey sent to seek Cato, and having hearty thanked him for that honour, which he had done him, requested him to be a daily assistant and Counsellor unto him in his office. To whom this grave man made answer, that he did never oppose himself heretofore against him for any ill will he bore him, neither gave this last counsel for any good he meant towards him, but all for the good and profit of the Common wealth. And as touching his private and particular affairs, he said, he would give him the best counsel he could, whensoever he asked his advise: but for public matters, he would always speak what he thought were best, although he never asked him any thing. Thus did Cato behave himself all his life time as a good Citizen, and as an upright and just man, free in speaking for the truth, and altogether void of corruption. Metellus a Senator of Rome left us a notable testimony, that he esteemed of Duty, as of a sacred and inviolable thing, when he would not swear to the people to observe and keep that, which was to be ordained and established concerning a law put up by one of the Tribunes against all right and equity, notwithstanding that the Consul with the rest of the Senators through constraint and fear, which they had of the people, had sworn unto it, and given their promise. Than Metellus departing from the assembly, said, that it was too easy a 
Metellus.  matter to do ill, as also a common thing to do well where no danger is, but to do well when peril is certain and sure, that was the proper duty of an honourable and virtuous man. For this cause being banished, and making light account of the matter, he used these or the like speeches: When things shall be amended, the people repenting them of their error, will call me back again: but if the affairs continued still in the same state, wherein they now are, it will be best for a man to keep himself afar off. Lycurgus' after his laws were given to the Lacedæmonians, feigned that he had something else whereof to take counsel with Apollo concerning their estate, and therefore at his departure from Lacedaemon to go 
Lycurgus.  to Delphos, he caused his citizens to swear and promise, that they would keep his laws inviolable until his return, either dead or alive. This done he went to the Isle of Candie, die, where he remained in perpetual and voluntary banishment, and commanded that after his death, the ashes of his body being burnt, should be cast into the wind, that by this means the Lacedæmonians might never be absolved of their oath, but that his country might always receive the fruit of his labours, for desire whereof he had freely forsaken it altogether. Marcus Otho the Emperor hath left behind him a more wonderful example of the great love he bore towards his Country, for the benefit whereof he died willingly, 
Marcus Otho  For after he had lost a bartell against Vitellius and Cecinna, fight for the Empire, he was solicited by the rest of his army, which was yet of great strength, to try fortune one again, & to use them and their persons as long as they had one drop of blood, and life in their bodies. And at the same time a simple soldier having a sword in his hand, spoke thus unto him: 
The courageous mind of a Soldier.  Know, OH Caesar, that all my companions are determined to die thus for thy sake, and therewithal he slew himself before him. Than Otho casting his eyes all about, spoke unto them in this sort: I accounted this day more happy to me (Companions) than that other wherein ye did choose and pronounce me your Emperor, beholding you so well affected in my behalf, and receiving such honour from you with so great a demonstration of friendship. And if I have been worthy to hold the Empire of Rome by your election. I must now show it, in not sparing my life for the good and safety of my Country, I know very well that the Victory is not yet wholly mine enemies: and I have received news of such and such Forces (which he named particularly unto them) that are ready to join with us. The Senate is on our side, and the Wives and children of our enemies 
A notable example against civil war.  are in our hands. But what? This war is not against a Hannibal or a Pyrrhus, or against the Cymbrians, that we should fight for the possession of Italy, but it is against the Romans themselves: so that in this war both the conqueror and conquered shall offend and hurt their Country, because, whatsoever serveth for the benefit of him that overcometh, turneth to the damage of the Common wealth. Believe me, I know better how to die than to reign, especially considering that I shall not so much profit the Romans, although in the end I should remain the stronger, as now I can by sacrificing my life for the peace, union and concord of my Countrymen. This done, he took order for the Senators and others of his army to retire and save themselves: and said to a Nephew of his whom he had adopted, I command thee my son, as the last admonition which I can give thee, not to forget altogether, nor yet to print it too much in thy memory, that thou hast had an uncle, who was Emperor, Than laying him down to rest, the next morning very early he took his sword, & turning the point thereof with both his hands against his stomach, he fell upon the top of it, without showing any other token or feeling of grief, and so died, being only seven and thirty years of age. Codrus king of Athens did no less 
Codrus.  for his Country. For having understood that the Oracle had promised and assured the victory to the Thracians, who were enemies to the Athenians, if they saved their King alive, he went into their Camp disguised like a handicrafts man, and slew one of their men, whereupon he was presently slain of others, not being known what he was. And thus were the Thracians deprived of the hope of victory, which before they accounted certain, and in a manner gotten of the Athenians. Marcus Curtius a knight of Rome, who being Consul won 
M. Curtius.  a notable battle against the Cymbrians, threw himself headlong into a deep gulf, which was made in the midst of Rome by an earthquake, and which had greatly damaged the City. The reason moving him so to do, was because the soothsayers had given out, that the gods would not be pacified and appeased towards the City before the gulf had swallowed a man alive. Curtius' being desirous to procure the benefit and ease of the Common wealth, would serve himself for this sacrifice. And so it came to pass, for presently this gulf closed up to the great astonishment of all the people. How shall we think that these, and so many others as histories set before our eyes, who have freely offered their lives for the safety of many, and chose rather to undertake any danger, than to turn aside in any thing from that which they knew to be the duty of a good man, how (I say) shall we think that they would have fainted or yielded through the enticements of honour, grace, favour, and riches, whereby the greatness of their courage, limited only with the bounds of right and justice, might have been weakened? But hoping that the sequel of our discourses will furnish us with more ample testimonies both of this, and of all the other parts of duty, which respect every particular action, and fearing jest I have been somewhat too long in the examples already alleged, we will conclude our present matter with this general instruction, that unto what estate, quality or condition soever men are called, they aught to propound to themselves in all their actions, Duty & Honesty, searching for them in the holy Scriptures, and in the precepts of good 
Duty and honesty are to be propounded in all our actions.  life conformable thereunto, which are left unto us by the ancient Sages and wise Philosophers, to this end, that being well instructed in true piety, we may first of all give honour and glory to God, and then be beneficial, helpful, and profitable to his creatures. These graces we may, by the direction and blessing of God, draw out of those four rivers which proceed and flow from this general virtue and fountain of Honesty, of which we are to discourse particularly hereafter, namely, of Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude, and justice, which are those moral virtues whereby all good and virtuous actions are brought to pace.   

Of Prudence. Chap. 10.  ACHITOB 
THere is one only wise, sovereign Creator of all things, the Almighty, strong and terrible, who sitteth upon his throne, from whom cometh all wisdom, 
E●des. 1. 18  which always hath been, and is for ever with him, and which he hath powered out upon all his works, and upon all flesh according to his liberality, and giveth her abundantly to them that love him. She teacheth the doctrine of God, and causeth us to choose his works. She decketh us with prudence, justice, and courage, giving us the knowledge of the time past, and judgement of that which is to come. The multitude of those which are endued with these gifts and graces, are the guard of the world, and a prudent king is the assurance of his people. The sequel therefore of our speech leadeth us to the handling of Prudence the first river of the fountain of Duty.  ASER. 
Wisdom raineth down knowledge, and wise understanding, and bringeth to 
●●cless. 1. 23  honour those that possess her. Of her therefore we are to seek for true prudence, a necessary guide to all our actions; but we must hate the prudence of the flesh, which is folly before God, and maketh all the thoughts of the wise of this world to become vain & foolish. Moreover, Cicero saith, that no man can be prudent but he must be good.  AMANA. 
OH how learnedly hath Socrates taught us to know and mark this true and heavenly prudence, proceeding from the love and fear of the Highest, from the earthly Prudence, which is full of darkness! when he saith, that Prudence is the general virtue, the princess 
What prudence is.  and guide of moral virtues, and that wherein the knowledge of our sovereign good, and of the end of our being consisteth, as also the choice of those ways whereby we may come unto it. But let us hear ARAM discourse more largely of the great, worthy, and wonderful effects of this rich virtue.  ARAM. 
All the life of men expressing a worthy end of their being, consisteth in contemplation and action. For knowing that the thoughts of all mortal men are unstable, and their inventions uncertain, because the body and the affections thereof oppress the soul, and cast down the spirit laden with care, they lift up their hearts towards the brightness of the eternal Light, who of his mere grace prepareth their souls, lighteneth their understandings, and directeth their paths, to the knowledge of that true and perfect Idea of Good, from whence Prudence floweth, that she may govern their actions according to Gods will, and to the profit of human society. Therefore it is from knowledge and reason 
The effects of the virtue of prudence.  gotten in the study of wisdom by the grace of God, from whence the virtue of Prudence proceedeth, which is that rule of all the actions of man, whereby through good and sage advice he decerneth and chooseth good from bad, that which is profitable from the contrary, to the end he may shun the one and the practise the other. This is that which Aristole saith, that the office of prudence consisteth in skill to consult and to choose, to the end to execute that which virtue commandeth, namely, Honesty and decency, and that for no other respect than for the love thereof. And therefore wise men have put a difference between Science, and Prudence, saying, that Science is a dead knowledge of things, which of itself cannot change the will in such sort, that it may embrace and follow the known good, or avoid 
The difference between science & prudence.  the evil. which is evident in wicked men endued with knowledge. But Prudence is a beam proceeding from that true sun, which doth not only illuminate and lighten the understanding, but also warmeth, and kindleth affection. This virtue (saith Bias one of the Sages of Graecia) is amongst the rest of the virtues, as the sight is amongst the five senses of man's body: thereby giving us to understand, that as the eye, of all the other senses is most beautiful, 
Prudence compared to the sight.  subtle, and piercing, so the virtue of Prudence by her quick and clear light directeth and conducteth all virtues in their good and commendable operations. It is by her that man is always clothed with a mild and settled disposition, whereof he standeth no less in need, than a ship floating on the sea doth of the presence of a pilot, that he may prudently undertake, and wisely execute whatsoever he knoweth to be good, after mature deliberation, and consideration of all the circumstances of the fact. Moral Philosophers attributed three eyes to this virtue of Prudence, namely, Memory, Understanding, and Providence: which 
Prudence hath three eyes.  three things Cicero calleth the parts of Prudence. With the first she beholdeth the time past: with the second, the time present: with the third, the time to come. Moreover, a prudent and wise man, by the consideration of things past, and of that which hath followed since, judgeth of that, which in the like case may fall out in the time following. And after long deliberation, he expecteth the times, weigheth the dangers, and knoweth the occasions: & then, yielding now and then to the times, but always to necessity, so it be not against duty, he boldly setteth his hand to the work. For this cause Isocrates said, that a prudent man aught to remember things past, to use things present, and to foresee things to come. A prudent man (saith Demosthenes) accounteth it a point of folly to say when a thing is come to pass. Who would have thought it could have been? Now Prudence is apparent in him that possesseth her, first by 
The praise worthy effects of prudence.  the rule and government of his person, whether it be in things within him, as in his manners and conditions, or in outward things concerning his body, as in sobriety or diet, comely entainement: good housekeeping, commendable use of his substance and riches. Of which perfections and other praise worthy effects that flow from prudence under the name of sundry virtues, we are to entreat particularly hereafter, as also how a prudent man being adorned with them may first become a good Oeconomist, that is, a governor and father of a family, and after attain to that great virtue of political knowledge, which is the art of skilful governing and ruling a multitude of men. And then although he doubt not, but that it is an act of Prudence to know what is good and profitable for the Commonwealth, yet that he may know how to execute that office with a perfect and absolute virtue, he seeketh for all occasions to profit the same, and unto what place of authority soever he be called, he always showeth forth dutiful effects of a good man. He never giveth or taketh but good counsel and always uttereth the same freely. He is able (saith Plato) to discern the good from the bad. He helpeth innocency, and correcteth malice. He is not astonished for any fear, nor altereth his mind for dispraise or commendation: he is not discouraged through violence or false accusations, neither is pressed down with sorrow, or puffed up with prosperity. And as one not ignorant of the uncertainty of worldly things, he abideth constant in all changes, and like to himself, knowing how to choose the less evil in all inconveniences, as the better. He showeth himself valiant in all things. He is master of his pleasures, and knoweth how to command himself He can reap profit by most sinister accidents, yea by his greatest enemies, and yet hurt them not. The conversation of the Prudent is always healthful and profitable. His quips, his laughters, his sports, are not without some fruit, having in them abertaine power to correct and move those that do amiss. He believeth not (saith Heraclitus) any thing lightly, but is a severe examiner of the truth. To be short, Prudence causeth a man to refer all his actions, both private and public, to the best end, which is, to serve God, and to profit his neighbour. This did Socrates teach very well, saying, that all the desires and inclinations of our soul guided by prudence, tend to happiness. Wherein we may note the indissoluble conjunction of all the moral virtues, of which no one can be had perfectly, but 
The conjunction of all the virtues,  with her companions, albeit each of them have her particular and proper duty. But prudence is especially necessary in them all, as it will yet better appear in the further handling thereof, albeit the effects hereunder mentioned of this first virtue being narrrowly considered, may give us sufficient proof thereof. Now to incite and stir us up to embrace it with greater zeal and affection, and to seek after all means of obtaining it, either by good instruction, or by long use of things, let us call to mind certain examples of the ancients, thereby to mark what wonderful first-fruits this virtue of Prudence hath brought forth in them, If we consider all the heroical facts of the worthiest Captains and Generals of armies that ever were, we shall find that they brought them to pass more by prudence, than by any other force and mean. Which thing Alexander the Great, and first Monarch of the Grecians knowing very well, whensoever any speech or comparison was made before him of Virtue or Science, he always had this verse of Homer in his mouth: In counsel wise and valiant in the fight: as if he would have said, that of all virtues, prudence was most prince like, and that prowess was practised by means thereof. And indeed he being richly endued therewith undertook 
Of the prudence of Alexander  the conquest of the Persian Empire, yea of all the world, when he had but thirty thousand footmen, and four thousand horsemen, with money and victuals to furnish them only for thirty days. But what? The means whereunto he trusted was Prudence, followed of patience Valour and temperancy, wherewith the study of philosophy had furnished him for his voyage. In this journey he did not only in two battles, overthrow Darius' Monarch of the Persians', who had above twelve hundred thousand men, but also brought under subjection 15. sundry nations, and took five thousand cities and towns, and laboured to put in real execution and practise that form of government of estate, which was so greatly esteemed of Zeno the Stoic Philosopher, and tended in effect to this end, that all men generally might live together, not being divided by towns, peoples and nations, nor separated by particular laws, rights and customs, but that we should take all men for our countrymen and fellow citizens: that as there is but one world, so there might be but one kind of life. Thus did this prudent and virtuous Monarch give out that he was sent from heaven to be a common reformer, governor, and reconciler of the whole world, so that he employed all his might to reduce and bring to civility barbarous kings, to plant Grecian cities, that they might live civilly amongst the untamed and savage nations, and established every where laws and a peaceable kind of life, even amongst unbridled people, who never heard word spoken either of peace or laws. Those whom he could not assemble together by persuasion of reason he constrained by force of arms, so that he caused them all to drink, as ye would say, in the same cup of love and friendship, by intermingling their lives, manners, marriages, and fashions of living. I see commanded that all men living should accounted the whole habitable earth for their country, and his camp, for their castle and tower of defence, and that all good men should be of kin one to another, and the wicked only strangers. Moreover he willed, that the Grecian and Barbarian should no more be distinguished by their garments, but that the Grecian should be known and discerned by virtue, and the Barbarian by vice, accounting all virtuous men Grecians, and all vicious men Barbarians. Therefore Plutarch said very well, that they who were tamed and brought under his yoke were a great deal more happy than those that escaped his power, because these men had none to 'cause them to leave off from living miserably, and the other were compelled by the Conqueror to live happily. Whereby he deserved no less the name of a great Philosopher, than did Pythagoras, Socrates, and others, who although they wrote nothing, yet were so called, for their manner of life, and for that which they spoke, did and taught. In all which things Alexander approaching next unto them, went also beyond them in this, they taught men of good understandings, namely such as were Grecians as well as themselves, & that without great pain and travel: but this Monarch sustaining infinite labour, and cheerfully shedding his blood, did change into a better estate, and reform the rude manners of innumerable savage people, even of such as were brutish by nature. Now let us speak of Caesar the first Roman Emperor. Was it not prudence especially that prepared the way for him to so mighty an Empire, 
Of the providence of julius Caesar.  first, by reconciling together Crassus' and Pompey, two of the greatest Roman Senators, by whose favour he obtained afterwards the dignity of Consulship? When he was placed therein, being desirous to win the good will of the people, & knowing that he was already well underpropped of the Senators, he preferred many laws in their behalf. Besides, he was very sumptuous and popular, if ever any Roman was, not sparing any cost upon plays, turneys, feasts, largesses, and other baits to curry favour with the meaner sort of the people, & to gain the honour and credit of a man that is gracious and charitable towards the poor. And when he was sent to take upon him the government of the Gauls, he warred there ten years, being guided by an unspeakable prudence, that was accompanied with diligence and forecast: so that by using all occasions wisely and to purpose, he subdued there three hundred sundry nations, took eighteen hundred towns, and in many battles discomfited three millions of men. The Commentaries which he wrote himself, declare sufficiently that his own virtue wrought more exploits than all his army. Of this also he gave proof enough in the beginning of the civil war between him & Pompey, wherein he used such diligence, that coming out of France, he made himself master of all Italy in threescore days, without any effusion of blood, & drove away his enemy. And Cicero, who (as some say) conspired his death, in an Epistle calleth him a monster of prudence, and of incredible diligence. Was it not prudence, whereby he noted two faults in Pompey, which after were cause of his overthrow? The first in an encounter of their armies, wherein Caesar being at that time the weaker had the worst. And 
Caesar noted two faults in Pompey.  when he perceived that his enemy pursued him not, but retired to his Camp, he said: The victory this day was in the power of our enemies, but their captain could not perceive it. The other fault which he noted was at the battle of Pharsalia, where Pompey was quite overthrown, because he charged his soldiers being ranged in battle, to stand still in their places, and so to attend their enemies. Than Caesar said, that in so doing, Pompey took from his soldiers the vehemency and violence of giving the onset, which is as a spur unto them in their race, besides the heat of courage which this speedy running forward worketh in them. We see then how necessary this virtue of prudence is in the feats of war, which caused Agesilaus king of Lacedomonia, after great losses sustained by the violence of 
Agesilaus.  Epaminondas, the general captain of the Thebans, to say to his men, that they should not greatly care for the multitude of their enemies, but bend all their force against Epaminondas only, because none but wise and prudent men were valiant, and the only cause of victory. And therefore if they could beat him down, they should undoubtedly have the rest at 
The loss of a captain is commonly cause of the ruin of an Army.  their devotion. As indeed it came to pass in that battle which they fought together, wherein the Lacedomonians half discomfited, one of those that fled being pursued by Epaminondas, turned back and slew him: whereupon the rest took such courage, and the Thebans were so dismayed, that the victory remained with Agesilaus. Now if in warfare prudence beareth such a stroke, who doubteth but that in civil and politic government she is as necessary or rather more? Divine Plato in his book of a common wealth saith, that if a man would do notable acts worthy of perfect praise in the administration of the commonwealth. he must have prudence and justice, followed of power and fortune. But we may further say, that only prudence hath set aloft and preserved many great estates from ruin and subversion. The Athenians being divided and banded into three contrary parts and factions, Solon being very prudent and wise, would not join himself to any of them, but 
The prudence of Solon.  kept himself indifferent to all, practising and speaking whatsoever he could devise to join and reconcile them together again, Wherein he behaved himself so well, that being chosen by them all for the only pacifier and reformer of their estate, he placed it in greater glory than ever it was in before, by his prudent and wise laws which were received as inviolable, The prudence of Lycurgus, the reformer and law maker of the Lacedæmonians, was 
The prudence of Lycurgus.  the cause of the maintenance of their estate above five hundred years, so that it was the chiefest in all Grecia, both for excellency of government, from whence they fell not until such time as they wholly neglected those goodly ordinances and laws which he left them. A prudent man always giveth good counsel, and uttereth the same freely, being also a good and willing help to innocency. Photion speaking his mind one day in the counsel chamber of the Athenians, against the enterprising of a certain war, and seeing that 
Phocian.  his advise so greatly displeased them, that they would not give him leave to utter his mind, he spoke freely unto them in this manner: Ye may peradventure (OH Athenians) force me to do that which aught not to be done, but ye cannot constrain me to speak any thing contrary to my opinion that aught not to be spoken or counseled. Demosthenes' knowing the innocency of a poor woman drawn into judgement with danger of being overthrown, 
The prudence of Demosthenes in defending the innocency of a poor woman.  saved her by his great prudence. For two strangers having given her a good sum of money to keep, with this condition, that she should not restore it to the one except the other were also present, within a while after one of them came very sorrowful, feigning that his companion was dead, and bringing some sergeant token thereof with him. Whereupon he so persuaded this poor woman, who meant simply and plainly, that she restored the money to him. Afterwards the other came, and demanding the money also, brought this woman before a judge, who being without hope of escaping, Demosthenes aaswered for her, that she offered to give him the money, so that he brought his fellow, because, as himself confessed, she aught not to give it to the one without the other, The profit which a prudent man draweth from his enemies is in this, that he knoweth and taketh them for spies, for enviers at his life, and joint labourers with him for honour and glory: whereupon he is the more careful that his doings may be blameless. And to this purpose Diogenes answered 
How a prudent man may reap benefit by his enemies, and by mishap.  wisely to one, who demanded how he might be avenged on his enemy: By making thyself (quoth he) a virtuous and good man. Most sinister accidents likewise turn to the profit of a prudent man. For being long time before prepared for all events, the worst that happen confirm him further in the knowledge of the uncertainty of human things, and lift him up so much the more to the contemplation of heavenly things, that he may desire nothing but the blessed immortality of the soul. Anaxagoras hearing news of his sons death, said nothing but this, that he knew he had begotten him a mortal creature. The foresight 
An ●agoras.  of Prudence maketh it also to be greatly admired. Marcus Cato, when he saw that Pompey joined himself in league with Caesar, told him, that he did put Caesar's yoke upon his own neck, which then he perceived not, but that shortly it would weigh heavy upon him, and then should he find himself taken and tied. A prudent man is not amazed 
The prudent foresight of M. Cato.  through fear either of blame or of false accusation, but always goeth with his head upright, trusling to his innocency, and to his own virtue. Scipio Africanus being accused of many things by the Tribunes of the people, answered nothing to the crimes laid against him, but only say de thus: In such a day as this is, sirs, I overcame both Carthage and Hannibal, and therefore I am now going to the Capitol to sacrifice to jupiser the best and greatest God, and to give him thanks for the victory. In the mean while if any man 
The prudence of Scipio in answering to an unjust accusation.  long to proceed against me in judgement, let him do it. After he had so said, he went towards the Capitol, being followed of his friends, and of the greater part of the Senators When the people saw this, they likewise accompanied him, so that in stead of condemning him, they caused him in a manner to triumph again. Emilius Scaurus being also accused of a certain crime by Uarius, made this only answer: OH ye Romans, Varius affirmeth this 
Emilius Scaurus.  crime laid against me to be true, and Scaurus denieth it: whom will ye rather believe? By this wise and courageous answer he made the accusation of none effect, because his honesty was well known to every one. The conversation, assemblies, laughters, quips and pashmes of prudent men, are never without some profit. Plato in his book entitled Conuivi●um, that is a feast, discourseth of the last end of men's actions, and of the sovereign and chief good of man but yet in very familiar speeches, by certain examples, and pleasant fictions, 
The sports of prudent m●n.  and devices fit for the time and place, and not with serious and grave words, as he useth to do in his other writings. Moreover, learned devices are the sports & delights of wise men, who accounted all other pastimes vain and unbeseeming them, and as hindrances and lets rather of their pleasure, than occasions of any recreation. Notwithstanding, wisely applying themselves to places and persons, they can in their serious discourses intermingle some honest pastimes, but yet not altogether without profit. As Plato in his foresaid feast interlaceth certain comical speeches of love, howbeit all the rest of the supper there was nothing but wise discourses of Philosophy. A Lacedaemonian being asked of a certain matter 
Pleasant sayings full of doctrine.  by an other, answered clean contrary to the truth. And when the other told him that he lied. Behold (quoth he again) what a fool thou art to ask me that) which thou knowest well enough. Diogenes in a great assembly of people purposely going backward, and seeing that every one laughed at him, asked them aloud if they were not ashamed to mock him for going backward when he walked, whereas they did so all their life time. And as Aristippus on a time beheld him washing of Coleworts for his supper, he said unto him; If thou didst know (Diogenes) how to obey Kings, and to seek them out, thou wouldst not wash Coleworts. And thou Aristippus (quoth he) if thou knewest how to wash Coleworts, thou wouldst not serve Kings, but live at liberty. What profitable doctrine may a man draw out of these Philosophical disports and jests? Further, a prudent man never believeth any thing overlightly, but layeth aside all reputation and credit of him that speaketh, 
A prudent man doth ever lightly believe any thing.  and examineth the speech by itself: so far is he from giving credit to an ignorant or naughty fellow. Neither will he be dazzled with fine and eloquent speech, but (as Zeno said) considereth whether his speech be tempered with sense and reason, that so he may judge sound of the truth, and take order thereafter. OH what number of examples to this purpose might be alleged of that great harm that hath followed the credulity and light belief of Magistrates, Governors and heads of Monarchies and Nations? Alas, our poor France hath but too great experience thereof to her confusion and destruction. But this matter may offer itself hereafter to be more amply handled, as also other effects of Prudence, which I have briefly touched. In the mean while we will conclude, that Prudence is an excellent gift of God, that it is the guide and light of all the moral virtues, from whence all good and noble actions have their being and beginning, and that without it a man can do nothing that is excellent and praiseworthy.   

Of want of prudence and of ignorance, of malice and subtlety. Chap. 11.  ARAM. 
NO man (saith divine Plato) can be hurt or deceived but by himself. Which proposition at the first sight may seem somewhat absurd. But if, being well instructed 
How none can be hurt but by himself.  in Philosophy, we will follow the opinion of the ancient Sages, that Whatsoever we see of the body subject to sight, is not man, but that the soul only, which is invisible and immortal, is that which truly aught to be called man, and that whereby we live, and for which we aught to live, It is out of doubt, that none can hurt our souls but ourselves. The knives wherewith we hurt our souls are either want of prudence of malice, which are as pernitions things as can come to man, seeing by them he committeth all sins and offences whatsoever, and by them hurteth himself only, when as oftentimes he thinketh to offend another. As then in our former discourse we have seen the laudable effects of Virtue and Prudence, so let us now consider, my companions, the dangerous fruits of these two vices, which are altogether contrary unto it.  ACHITOB. 
If the blind lead the blind both will fall into the pit: and he that knoweth his Master's will, and doth it not, shall be much more chastised than the ignorant. So that both want of prudence and malice are two plagues in the soul greatly to be feared: and therefore Bias saith, Be neither simple nor subtle.  ASER. 
Herillus the Chalcedonian affirmed, that science was the sovereign good. But we see contrariwise many excellent men for skill and doctrine, who live most wickedly. So that in my opinion if it be not accompanied with virtuous deeds, it aught rather to be called the chiefest evil: forasmuch as he that sinneth through ignorance, is more excusable than the malicious, who sinneth wittingly. And for defence of my saying, besides the 
Virtuous actions are to be joined with knowledge.  authority of the Scripture, I have Plato, who saith, that science without the knowledge and practice of that which is good, is very pernicious. But let us harken to AMANA, who will discourse unto us more at large of these two vices, want of discretion, and malice or subtlety.  AMANA, 
All virtue being in the midst of two vices, the one of them is clean contrary unto it, and the other being more dangerous, seeketh to cover itself with her name and it is called of the philosopher a false follower of virtue. For this cause they placed want of prudence, which vice is in the defect, at the right hand of prudence: and at the left hand, malice or craft, which is the excess, and causeth a man to sin, not through ignorance, but by deceit and subtlety, and that under the name of prudence. First then let us consider of want of prudence or unskilfulness, & of the effects thereof in the soul. unskilfulness proceeding or rather being the same thing that ignorance is, causeth a man (as Aristotle saith) to 
What want of prudence is.  judge evil of things, to deliberate worse, not to know how to take the advantage of present good things, but to conceive ill of those things that are good and honest in man's life. And as prudence is the knowledge of that which aught to be done or eft undone, so unskilfulness is the ignorance of those self same things, and is always followed of incontinency, of want of civility, and of forgetfulness. Briefly want of prudence is so contagious and pestilent a a thing in the mind of man that all other infirmities of the spirit, wherewithal it is commonly molested, and all evil actions seem to proceed from the same. And truly wheresoever it is, there neither God can be truly honoured and served, nor vice avoided, nor any action, either public or private can be orderly, and according to duty executed. For as a weak and diseased sight cannot behold the light of the Sun, so an unskilful soul cannot know the truth. Unskilfulness causeth a man to fall into severity, when he thinks to exercise justice. If he would be liberal, he becometh prodigal. If he thinketh to avoid superfluity, 
The pernicious. effects of ignorance.  he falleth into covetousness. If he have any apprehension of the divine nature, he consumeth his soul with a confused fear through superstition, If his mind cannot conceive that there is a most happy and blessed nature, forthwith he judgeth that there is none at all: and thus guided by ignorance, all his desires and inclinations tend to wretchedness and misery. Moreover, Plato saith, that ignorance taketh away the sight of the mind from those that are tainted therewith, as blindness taketh away the sight of corporal eyes from those that are tainted therewith, as blindness taketh away the sight of corporal eyes from those that lack their sight, And further he testifieth, that the ignorant mind is vile and wretched, and that it is more expedient not to live at all, than to live in ignorance. But if we give credit to Cicero, he only liveth indeed and possesseth a soul, who settling himself to some good matter, seeketh after renown by some notable fact, or by some good art. It is good (saith Socrates) to leave off altogether the use of that thing whereof we have no skill to use it well. And so for those that know not how to use their eyes, ears, and whole body, it were more profitable neither to see, hear, or help themselves any way with their body. In like manner it were better for him that knoweth not how to use his soul, to have none at all, than to live. And if he must needs live, being borne, he should be happier in the estate of a slave than of a freeman. The speech of this wise philosopher expoundeth itself sufficiently, as tending to none other end than to give us to understand, that it is better not to be, yea never to have been borne, than through ignorance to follow vice: and further, that it is more dangerous when a man may freely do so without fear of any greater than himself, For as drunkenness engendereth rage and madness, so (saith Aristotle) ignorance joined with power begetteth insolency and fury. And it is all one (as Plato saith) to place an ignorant man in authority, as to lay a great burden upon the shoulders of a man half dead through weakness. All these things make me judge an ignorant man to be, I will not only say, like an image or block of wood, but in a manner nothing differing from the brute beasts. This caused the ancients 
All ignorant men are evil.  to use this saying: that Every ignorant man was evil. And Terence going yet further saith, that The earth beareth nothing worse than an ignorant man. And in truth what mischiefs do we not see to come of ignorance? If a man be of a mean or base estate, it maketh him good 
The effects of ignorance both in rich and poor.  for nothing, fearful, superstitious, unprofitable, needy, uncivil, slothful, and unfit to every good thing. If he be mighty and rich, besides that he may fall into the said miseries through the same imperfection, he will so much the sooner become arrogant, cruel, rash, talkative, covetous, unconstant, given to voluptuousness, and unjust. In a word, the more means he shall have to exercise vices, the richer in them will he grow to be through ignorance: and so not being able to govern himself, he must needs be unworthy to intermeddle at all either in political or economical government. If an ignorant man possess any great benefit or felicity, he can never know so much, before he hath lost it again. Moreover, this mischief followeth him, that he can never make his profit of any good counsel, because of the presumption of his own opinion, which he always thinketh better than any other: yea he supposeth that nothing can be well done, except he put to his helping hand. For (as Menander saith) nothing is so rash as ignorance. And the more that an ignorant man is lift up unto some execellencie of dignity or riches, the more unsufferable he is, as one that knoweth not how to use them: so that he is puffed up with pride above measure, and not content with his estate, but driven with ambition, he presumeth oftentimes to undertake things against all reason and equity. And contrariwise, if fortune change, he abaseth himself out of measure, showing nothing but abjection of mind, inconstancy and impatiency, and that with so great trouble and disquietness of spirit, that oftentimes he is wholly besides himself. Now these are but small fruits of ignorance, namely, to make a man importunate: to 'cause him to stay another that hath great affairs, saying that he hath many 
Common effects of ignorance.  things to communicate unto him, when in truth they will do him but small pleasure: to desire one that hath lost his suit to bestow a dinner upon him, promising to tell him a way how he may recover it again: to speak ill of women, when he is invited to weddings, or in their company: to request him to walk that hath already go a great way: when he seethe a thing sold to bring a chapman to the seller, who would have given a great deal more for it: to repeat one thing oftentimes: to show himself ready to do that which a man would not have him to do, and yet dare not well deny it him: to wonder at all things; and to speak all in a word, an unskilful man is always in all places and in all affairs uncivil and impertinent. The examples of these foresaid effects are but too familiar amongst us. And first concerning these of small and mean estate and condition, how many millions of men have there been in the ages past, and do live yet among us, whose life being ignorant of every good cause and reason is not much unlike, and in many things worse than that of brute beasts? The original of so many errors, foolish opinions, and impieties, hath it not had passage through 
The spring of all errors.  the midst of their souls, because they had no true knowledge of the end of their being, nor of his will by whom they live? From thence it cometh, that the best advised among them exercise base handicrafts, not being desirous to learn further: that some lead a servile & contemptible life, bringing their bodies and souls in subjection to the lusts and wicked desires of the greater sort: that others remain idle and unprofitable, seeking to maintain their lives by unlawful means: that all through a blockish ignorance deprive themselves of all present and eternal felicity. Now albeit these poor men, who have no great means to execute their wicked desires, may after a sort seem tolerable and excusable to man's judgement, because their ignorance doth not greatly hurt any but themselves, yet it falleth out far worse with those that have wealth at will, and authority to command others, who not knowing how to use their goods well by virtuous deeds, abuse them to all vice, dissoluteness, and pleasure: whereby for the most part they cast themselves headlong into infidelity and Atheism, because they never had true understanding of the perfect divinity, nor yet considered the perfection of his works both in heaven and earth. OH pitiful calamity abounding in this our age more than ever it did. A thousand millions of Pagans' and heathens considering that there was nothing to be misliked in the heavens, neither any negligence, disorder, or confusion in the moving 
The reasons which moved the heathen to believe that there was a divinity.  of the stars, nor in the seasons of the year, nor in their revolutions, nor in the course of the sun about the earth, which causeth the day and the night, not not in the nourishing and preservation of all sorts of living creatures, nor in the generation of yearly first-fruits, and for a thousand other good considerations, believed & worshipped one supreme eternal essence, which governeth all things: and shall they that carry the name of Christians, to whom the unspeakable treasures of the heavens have been opened and offered with innumerable graces, shall they, I say, doubt, yea impudently deny that there is a God? But let us return to our matter. It is most certain, that the higher that ignorant men are advanced, so much without question are their faults greater than those of meaner estate, because they are hurtful to many. Yea oftentimes it hath come to pass, that one only fault of such a man hath been the loss and destruction of an infinite number of men. Nicias the general Captain of the Athenians, through the 
Nicias feared an eclipse of the moon.  fear which he had conceived of the darkness of an Eclipse of the moon, and not knowing the cause thereof, stayed so long until his enemies had enclosed him round about: whereupon he was taken alive of them, and put to death, besides the loss of 40000. Athenians that were taken and slain. Who doubteth but that ignorance drove Caligula and Domitian into such pride 
Caligula and Domitian.  and cruelty, that whilst they sought to be worshipped in stead of the true God, they were the cause of the death and destruction of more than a hundred thousand men? In the time of Otho the first, there fell a stone from heaven, which astonished all Germany, and turned them 
Otho the first.  from prosecuting an enterprise of great weight and importance for the benefit of their country. If they had known it to be a natural thing, and such as had come to pass long before, as Aristotle affirmeth, they had not been so fearful, nor received that damage to the detriment of the Commonwealth, which came to them afterward. That speech of Anaxagoras a Greek Philosopher, agreeable hereunto, is worthy to be remembered, when he said, 
Anaxagoras, saying against the superstitious fear of celeshall signs.  that a man aught to drive out of himself, and to tread under his feet all superstitious fear of the heavenly signs and impressions of the air, which work great terror in them that are ignorant of their causes, and that fear the Gods with a forlorn and amazed fear, because they want that certain knowledge that Philosophy bringeth, which in stead of a trembling and always terrifying superstition, engendereth true devotion, accompanied with an assured hope of good. Let us look a little into our Chronicles, and consider what profit our kings received by their ignorance, when they were called Simple, when they stood but for images, and were seen of their subjects but once a year. They suffered their wise masters of the palace to take knowledge of, and to order and to rule all things, who depriving them as un worthy, of alauthority, took possession in the end of their crown. And surely it is no less pernicious for the greater sort to advance ignorant men to charges and places of honour, and to use their counsel, than to be ignorant themselves. For (as we said) ignorance causeth him that is advanced to forget himself, and lifteth him up into all pride. There are amongst us too many examples of the ambition and presumption of many ignorant men: who, contrary to Torquatus that refused the Consulship because of his diseased eyes, altogether blind as they are deaf, dumb, and destitute of all natural light, of prudence and experience to guide themselves, are not contented to manage the sails & tackle, but desire to have the rudder of the Commonwealth in their hands. And it is greatly to be feared, that such unskilful and ambitious men will in the end show themselves both in will & practise to beimatators of one Cleander an out 
Cleander a ●●●tor to Commodus his Lord  landish slave, who being preferred by Commodus the Emperor to goodly offices and great places of honour, as to be great Master of his men of war, and his chief Chamberilane, conspired not withstanding against his Lord, seeking to attain to the imperial dignity by seditious, which he stirred up in Rome between the people and the soldiers. But through good order taken, his enterprise took no effect, except the loss of his own head, and destruction of his house. Although oftentimes it falleth out clean contrary through the just punishment of God, for the ignorance and impiety as well of the monarches themselves, as of their people. Now if fortune turn herself about, and set herself never so little against an ignorant person, he is strait way overcome with a thousand perturbations, and urged with despair, as being only grounded before upon the vain and weak hope and confidence in external and uncertain goods. Perses, King of Macedonia, and one of the successors of Alexander the Great in his great conquests, but not in his unspeakable virtues, was overcome in battle by Paulus Emilius, chiefecaptaine of the Romans, and was led towards him. Emilius as soon as he 
The b●se mind of perses being overcome of Emilius.  saw him, arose from his seat, and went forward to receive and honour him, as being a great parsonage, and fallen into that mishap by the hazard of fortune. But Perses being wholly beaten down through faintness and baseness of mind, cast himself at his feet upon the ground with his face downward, using such abject requests and supplications, and so unbeseeming the virtue of a king that the conqueror could not abide them, but said thus unto him: Alas poor ignorant man as thou art, how dost thou by discharging fortune accuse thyself in this sort to be the only cause of this ill success that is befallen thee, seeing thou never deservedst that honour, which thou hast had heretofore, because of thy base mind within thee, which hath made thee an unworthy adversary of the Romans? And truly a man cannot justly be called through the benefit of fortune, but by knowing how to use her well & wisely both in prosperity and adversity. As for an ignorant and base minded man, the higher that fortune lifteth him up in great estate where he shall be viewed of many, so much the more she discovereth, describeth, & dishonoureth him. For great calling, & riches are no more able to lift up the hart of a base minded fellow, than poverty can abate and lessen the great courage of a noble heart. I could here allege many more examples of the pernicious effects that are (as we have said) wrought in the soul by ignorance, but hereafter they will come in more fitly, when we shall discourse particularly of vices. Only I say here with Plato, that arrogant ignorance hath now more than ever seized upon the minds of men, and filled them with evils, as being the root and spring of them: that it perverteth all things, and causeth him that possesseth her to taste to the end of a most bitter fruit. Now to come to malice and craft, which is the excess of prudence, it is that which leadeth a man through wilful ignorance, to oppose 
What 〈◊〉 & 〈…〉  himself against that which he knoweth to be dutiful and honest, causing him under the sergeant name of prudence to seek to deceive those that will believe him. This vice is the chief cause of ambition and covetousness, which most men serve in these days: but above all things it is an enemy to justice, causing all their actions to tend to the overthrow thereof. To this purpose Cicero saith, that the craftier and subtler a man is, the more he is to be suspected and hated, as one that hath lost all credit of goodness. All knowledge severed from justice aught rather to be called craft and malice than science and prudence. Neither is the only act of malice (as the same author saith) evil and wicked, but also the deliberation thereof although it take no effect, yea the only thought thereof is vile and detestable: so far is it, that any covering or cloak can excuse a fault committed of malice. Also he saith, that in deliberating all hope of concealing and hiding the fact must be taken away, for as much as 
Virtuous men seek after honest, not secret things.  virtuous men aught to seek after honest, not secret things. Moreover it is the property of a malicious man to choose hypocrisy and dissimulation for his companions. Besides he hath for his first author and father Satan, who by his subtlety and craft abused the simplicity of our first mother to the overthrow of all mankind. Among many we may note here the example of Nero a most cruel Emperor, who being instructed from his youth by that wise man 
Satan the father of malice & subtlety.  Seneca his schoolmaster, in the beginning of his Empire counterfeited so great bountifulness and clemency, that when he was to set his hand to the condemnation of one adjudged to die, he cried out and said, Would to God I had no learning, then should I be excused from subscribing to any man's death. Notwithstanding within a while after he disclosed his detestable impiety & cruelty, by putting to death his mother, his tutor, and a great number of honest 
The malice of Nero●.  men against all right and justice. Moreover he purposely caused fire to be put into all quarters of Rome, forbidding under pain of death that any should quench it, insomuch that more than half the city was clean consumed: Afterwards, to the end he might have some colour to persecute the Christians, he laid to their charge the kindling of the fire, and so put a great number of them to death. Tiberius' also in the beginning of his reign behaved himself 
Tiberius.  so wisely, virtuously, and gently, that he seemed to be (saith Suetonius) a simple and plain citizen. And yet soon after he become as detestable a tyrant as ever was, for cruelty and filthy pleasures. True it is that one may attribute the cause of such sudden alteration of humours to the sovereign authority and power of commanding, which commonly hath this property to make him that seemed good to become wicked: the humble to be arrogant: the pitiful, cruel, the valiant, a coward. But it is always more likely that a Prince changing his nature so quickly useth to sergeant and to dissemble, and to put a goodly vizard upon his face, as historiographers writ, that Tiberius could behave himself cunningly in that sort. Now that we may profit by this discourse, let us learn to be prudent and simple as the Scripture speaketh, eschewing all shameless and damnable malice and deceit, all want of prudence and ignorance, which procure the loss of soul and body, whereof a man may accuse none but himself. 
Mat. 10. 16.  For ignorance (saith Menander) is a voluntary mischief. And although the knowledge of good and evil is most necessary of all others, yet it is most easy. For the obtaining whereof, and avoiding (through the grace of God) of that condemnation, which is to fall upon the blind, and upon the guides of the blind, let us never be ashamed to confess our ignorance in those things whereof we want instruction: following therein that precept of Plato, That we must not be ashamed to learn, least happily we be hit in the teeth to our confusion with that saiing of Diogenes to a young man whom he espied in a tavern, who being ashamed to be seen there, speedily step further into the same. The more thou runnest in (quoth this wise man to him) the further thou art in the tavern. Even so we shall never cure our ignorance by denying or hiding it, but the wiser we seek to be accounted, the more ignorant we shall remain: 
We must not deny or hide our ignorance.  not unlike to poor men, who being desirous to seem rich, in the end find themselves poorer than before, by reason of their vain & foolish expenses. But the ignorant man that searcheth for wisdom and inquireth after her, shall be in some sort esteemed wise, and that iniquity aught to be taken for an argument of his wit and prudence: as contrariwise he that taketh himself for a wise man and presumeth too much of his skill, falleth often into shame and dishonour, being reproved of many. Therefore let us daily accuse ourselves of too much ignorance, knowing that even the sharpest sighted do see but through a cloud & mist, I mean the instrument of our body, from which we shall not be delivered until we have put off this mortal to be clothed with that which is immortal in the enjoying of the blessed life. So that it will be always necessary for us during this life, to learn and to profit in the knowledge of the truth, which is an enemy to ignorance.   

Of speech and speaking. Chap. 12.  AMANA. 
Having spent all this day in discoursing of prudence, and of those vices that are contrary unto it, I think that to finish this days work, we shall do well to take in hand again, and to follow that which was too briefly handled concerning the commendable effects of this virtue of prudence in the soul of a wise man. This appeareth no less in speech than in any other action thereof, forasmuch as of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. But it is a great virtue to speak little and well. The discourse of this matter I leave to you my companions.  ASER. 
Surely the speech of man is a divine work, and of great admiration. And therefore we aught to accounted it sacrilege to pollute and defile so holy a thing with filthy and vile talk. A good man always draweth good things out of the treasure of his heart, and a 
Math. 12. 35.  wicked man evil things. Therefore I greatly commend that saying of Plutarch: That speech is as it were the nourishment of the soul, which is corrupted, and becometh odious through the wickedness of men.  ACHITOB. 
He that hath knowledge (saith the wise man) spareth his words: even 
Prou. 17. 27, 28.  a fool, when he holdeth his peace is counted wise, and he that stoppeth his lips prudent. If any man long after life, and to see good days, let him refrain his tongue from 
1. P●t. 3. 10.  evil, and his lips that they speak no guile. For every one shall eat of the fruit of his mouth to salvation, or to condemnation. But we will hear ASER discoursing more at large upon this matter.  ASER. 
In the writings of the learned we find mention made of a double speech or reason: 
A double reason of speech.  the one internal, or of the mind, called the divine guide: the other uttered in speech, which is the messenger of the conceits and thoughts of man. The end of the first is friendship towards a man's self. For respecting only the mark of virtue, through the instructions of philosophy, it maketh a man to agreed always with himself, it causeth him to complain never, to repent him of nothing, it maketh him full of peace, full of love and and of contentation in his own virtue, it healeth him of every rebellious passion that disobeyeth reason, of all contention between will and will, and of the contrariety of discourses. OH rare excellency, which floweth from wisdom into the souls of blessed men! The end of the other reason, or uttered speech, is friendship towards others, which causeth us to speak and teach whatsoever is fruitful and profitable for every one, and carrieth with it great force to persuade. Of this speech we purpose here to entreat, as of that which occupieth no small place, but even very great amongst the secrets of nature, and which aught to ravish us into an admiration of his works who is author thereof. The Philosophers, diligent searchers out the reason of all things, say that speech is made by air beaten and framed with articulate and distinct sound. But howsoever it is framed, the reason thereof is hard to be comprehended of 
How speech is framed.  human sense. And we aught to be so much the more desirous to know for what cause it was given us, and to fear lest we make it unprofitable or wickedly employ so great, wonderful, and divine a thing. Democritus said that words were the shadow of works. Themistocles 
Words are the shadow of works.  compared speech to a rich cloth of tapestry, figured and setfoorth with stories, because that both in the one and the other those things that are fashioned and represented, are then seen when they are opened and displayed, and are not subject to sight, neither bring any delight or contentation, when they are folded up and hidden. When a wise man openeth his lips (saith Socrates) we behold as it werein a temple, the goodly similitudes and images of the soul. Virtue (saith Plutarch) hath no instrument so gracious or familiar as speech, which being followed of works, is of great efficacy and force, and wonderfully pricketh forward those that hear us, causing them to give credit to oursaying, and working in them a desire to resemble us. Aschines said very well, that it is not so necessary, that the Orator and the Law should agreed in one and the same thing, as it is requisite, that the life of a Philosopher should be conformable and agreeable with his doctrine and speech. Moreover, a wise man aught to take every word he speaketh for a voluntary and particular law, laid upon himself, seeing that Philosophy is a profession of serious, grave, and weighty matters, and not a play or prittle prattle, unconstantly uttered to obtain honour only. Whereby we see that all talk aught to have reason for a foundation, and the love of our neighbour for a mark to aim at. This is that which Agabetus would teach us, when he saith, That the tongue is a slipperieinstrument, 
The foundation and ●●ope of all speech.  and bringeth great danger to those that neglect it: but if we direct it with a religious understanding, it will sing us a song tuned with all the concord's of a true harmony of virtue. Plutarch saith, that speech aught to be like gold, which is then of greatest price of value, when it hath lest dross in it: so a few words aught to comprehend great store of substantial matter and instruction. Such was the speech of the ancient Grecians, as the sentences uttered by them do testify: namely, Know thyself, Nothing too much, Nothing more than enough, and other short speeches full of great and profitable doctrine. Whereupon 
Of Laconical speech.  this proverb arose, laconical sayings, that is, short and sententious, which resemble streams running through a narrow strait, where the water is so pressed together, that one cannot see through it. And so truly it was very hard without skill and great labour to comprehend the depth of the sense and understanding of their words, which were full of sententious gravity. And when they were to answer any thing propounded on a sudden, avoiding all superfluous speech, their answers were very witty and well contrived, their words very significant and short, having in them both grace and gravity joined together. As when Philip king of Macedonia wrote unto them, that if he entered within Laconia, he would overthrow them topsy-turvy: they wrote back unto him only this word, If. And another time, as Demetrius one of his successors, being angry with the ambassador which they sent unto him, asked if he came alone from the Lacedæmonians to him, the ambassador made this only answer, One to one. Pittacus used to say, that a dry and 
A pretty saying of Pittacus.  thirsty ear must be washed with a sentence that is good to drink, and that speech grounded upon reason only, is able to content and satisfy the hearing. Notwithstanding that we may the rather and the more profit others, we are not to neglect, if it may be, the joining of grave doctrine with sweet gracious and eloquent speech, mingled with some pleasure, grace, and delight, but void of all dissoluteness. For (as Euripides saith) that is the goodliest assembly in the world, where the Graces and Muses meet together. Right and reason are 
Of grave and eloquent speech.  invincible, being well uttered, because the soul is thereby induced easily to believe the good reasons she heareth, through the delight that is joined with them. Examples also being uttered fitly, and with a good grace, profit no less than the other, because with the force of persuading, which is in the nature of the example, there is joined the virtue of delighting. But we must carefully avoid all subtlety of speech, all proud, superfluous, and unprofitable talk, jest that be justly objected unto us, which Photion replied to Leosthenes who laboured to persuade the Athenians to war by an eloquent and very lofty oration. Thy words, (quoth he to him) young man and my friend, may fitly be compared to Cyprestrees. For they are great and tall, but bear no fruit worth any thing. Or else that may be objected unto us which Aristotle answered to a great pleader of causes, who at every sentence he rehearsed, asked him, if that were not a strange thing. Not that, (replied he) but this is a greater 
Against prating pleaders.  marvel, that any man having two legs can abide thy babbling. And to another, who after a long discourse said unto him, I have troubled thy head Philosopher: Not a whit (answered he) for I thought not upon it. Such babblers, whom Plato very aptly calleth thieves of time, are compared by Plutarch to empty vessels, which give a greater sound than they that are full. So he that is poor in respect of the goods of the soul, hath always some fond speech in his mouth. But we must above all things shun this vice of intemperancy of the tongue, which Bias calleth the best and worst thing that was. It serveth us to profit & 
The tongue is the best and worst thing that i●.  instruct others, and by the same also we hurt and corrupt others. And as a little fire consumeth a great wood, so this little member, which is a fire, yea, a world of iniquity, defileth all the body, and setteth on a flaming fire the whole world, if it be not extinguished and repressed. It seemeth that nature would teach us by fortifying the tongue better than any other part of the body, and by setting before it the bulwark of the teeth, that if it will not obey reason, which being within aught to serve in stead of a bridle, to stay it from preventing the thought, we might restrain, and chastise the impudency thereof with bloody biting. And because we have two ears and two eyes, it aught to serve us for instruction, that we must hear and see much more than we speak. Do we not also see, that sight & hearing go before speaking, and that of necessity, an infant must first understand before he can be able to speak? Isocrates appointed only two times to speak in: the one, when the matter is necessary: and the other, when a man speaketh that which he knoweth. And this 
Isocrates appointed two times of speaking.  we may put in practice without blame in this manner. As touching the first point, it is lawful and seemly for us to speak, when we stand in need of anything; secondly, when our speech shall profit any; also to delight & recreate one another with pleasant devices, voided of dissoluteness, to mollify and to ease the travel of our affairs, or else to relish our rest the better, and to induce us thereby to give glory to God. All speech not grounded upon one of these three causes were better restrained than uttered, Moreover we aught to observe inviolably the second point of not speaking that which we know not, except it be in seeking and ask after instruction: remembering that which Apelles once spoke to Megabyses a great Persian 
Appelles' 〈◊〉 to a persian lord.  Lord, who coming into his shop to see him, intermingled some talk of the art of painting, So long (quoth Apelles to him (as thou were silent, thou seemedst to be some man of great account-by reason of thy chains, car quenets of gold and purple gown: but now there is not the lest of these boys that grindeoker, who doth not mock thee, hearing thee speak that which thou knowest not. By which saying we may note, that great men aught to weigh well, and to consider of that which they speak in public places, and to use grave 
How great me● 〈◊〉 to speak●●  and sententious words of another phrase than that of the vulgar sort, or else to hold their peace if they have not this gift of speaking: Or at the lest they are ro speak but little, seeing the very words, gesture and countenance of a prince, are oftentimes taken for Laws, Oracles, and decrees. Tiberius' also brought up this custom of speaking to the Prince by writing, and of his answer by the same, to the end that nothing should escape his mouth that was not well considered of before. But to continued our matter, as the above named painter had set forth atableo his own for all men to behold, & had hid himself behind it, that he might hear what could be reprehended, a shoemaker espied a fault in the fashion of the latchet, which Apelles afterward corrected. And having the next morning hung it out again to be viewed, this shoemaker passing by, and seeing that his opinion was followed, entered further to speak against other lineaments. But the painter not able to bear his boldness came from behind his table, and stopped his mouth with this saying. That a shoemaker aught not to judge of 
Apelles' speech to a shoemaker.  greater matters than of the shoe. This is the meaning of that common proverb, to go about to teach Minerva: which is so into lerable a thing in men of honour, and so pernicious in the simpler sort that are light of belief, that for this cause Alexander the Great gave money to Cher●llus an ignorant poet, to hold this peace and to leave writing. And seeing we are entered 
Alexander gave●●on●'s to a poet to hold his peace.  into this matter, we must know that we aught to be much more stayed and advised in writing any thing, than in bore speaking: because a rash and and inconsiderate word may be corrected presently, and that which is once set down in writing can no more be denied, or amended but with infamy. As therefore a man had need of a ready and quick wit to be able 
Nothing 〈◊〉 to be 〈…〉 o●.  to speak well: so great wisdom is very necessary to writ well, yea the same rules and precepts that belong to speaking, agreed also to writing. Besides, writing is called of many, a dumb speech, which aught to be short and full of instruction. Caesar in a letter which he sent to Rome from the Persian battle, wrote but these three words, Veni, vidi, vici, that is to say, I came, saw, and over came. Octavian writing to his nephew Caius Drusus, said thus: For as much as 
Notable and 〈◊〉 letters of an● en● men.  thou art now in Illiria remember that thou descendest of Caesar's, that the Senate hath sent thee, that thou art young, my nephew, and a Citizen of Rome. Plato writing to Dyonisius the younger, used these words only. To kill thy brother, to double thy tributes, to force the people, to forget thy friends, to take good men for thine enemies, are the works of a tyrant. Pompey writing to the Senate from the east parts: said thus: Fathers of the Senate, Damascus is taken. Pentapolis is subdued, Syria, Ascalonia and Arabia are confederates, and Palestina is vanquished. We see then the manner of writing used by the ancients, for which brevity they were as much esteemed, as the great discoursers of these times after just occasion of correction. But to return again into the path way of speaking, we have in Cicero a notable instruction for this matter. Let our speech (saith he) be sweet and pleasant, not headstrong: 
A good precept for speaking.  and when we discourse, let us not be so long that we hinder others from speaking. For speech of all other things aught to be mutual and equal. Moreover we must have respect to that thing whereof we speak. If a man discourse of grave matters, he must add a certain severity, but if he speak of delectable things, a pleasant and gracious behaviour. Above all things we must take heed, that our speech discover not some vice to be in our manners, which commonly falleth out when we speak evil of a man in his absence, either to move laughter, or to his shame and reproach. We must also remember, if our speech upon some occasion coming between intermit the first discourse, that it return again in convenient time. But that is as things fall out. For all take not pleasure in the same things, nor at all times, & as we have begun upon some occasion, so we must end by some means. Now because in every action of our life the perturbation of the soul are to be eschewed, we must be careful that our speech be void thereof: namely, that it be without choler, without extreme affections, also without carelessness, and other such like imperfection. Especially we must strive to make it known, that we love and reverence those with whom we speak. Further, we must know that silence in due time and place, is profound wisdom, a sober and modest thing, and full of deep secrets. 
The praise of silence.  This caused Archidamus, when he saw that Hecatus the Orator was blamed for not speaking one word at a bauquet, to answer for him, that they which know how to speak well, know also the time of silence. Hyperides likewise being at a feast amongst a great assembly, very full of noise and pleasure, and being asked why he spoke nothing, answered 
Hyperides.  thus: It is no time now to discourse of those things for which I am fit: and as for those thins, which the time now requireth, I am unfit. Bias being mocked of a babbler, because he spoke nothing all a Supper while, answered him thus: How is it possible that a fool should hold his peace at the table? The Ambassadors of the King of Persia being at a feast with a citizen of Athens, and seeing Zeno the great Philosopher say nothing; they began to flatter him, and to drink to him, saying; What shall we tell the King our master concerning you, Master Zeno? Nothing else (quoth he) but that you saw an old man, who knew well how to hold his peace at the table. And truly no speech uttered did ever so much good, as many kept in, have profited: and that which is restrained may be spoken at any time; but a word given out can no more be called back again. For words (as the Poet saith) have wings, and are presently dispersed every where: and many repent that they have spoken, but never that they held their peace. How many examples do histories set before our eyes of men, who through the intemperancy of their tongues, have thrown themselves headlong into infinite calamities, and of mighty Cities and great Estates destroyed & overthrown 
Examples of mischiefs caused by the intemperancy of the tongue.  through the disclosing of some secret? The City of Athens was taken and destroyed by Sylla the Roman dictator, who by his spies was admonished of the prattling of certain old men in a Barber's shop, where they talked of a certain place of the town that was weakest, and worst defended. The overmuch talk of one only man was the cause that Rome was not delivered from the tyranny of Nero. For seeing one of the prisoners that was taken by the tyrant to be dismayed because he should be put to death, he willed him to pray to God that he might escape but until the morrow only, and then he should have cause of rejoicing. Whereupon the Prisoner thinking with himself, that it were better for him to choose a certainty than to expect an uncertainty, and to prefer a safe way to save his life, before a just, disclosed this speech to Nero, who knew well how to remedy the conspiracy. The Gentleman of Normandy who in his confession, told a Franciscan Friar, that he was once minded to have killed Francis the first, may well be placed amongst these overmuch speakers. For the King being advertised hereof by the Franciscan Friar, sent the poor penitentiary to the court of Parliament, where he received sentence of death. Those that are nobly & royally brought up (saith Plutarch) learn first to hold their peace, and then to speak. Therefore Antigonus the Great being demanded by his son, at what hour the Camp should dislodge: Art thou afraid (quoth he to him) that thou alone shalt not hear the trumpet? He trusted not him with a secret matter, to whom the succession of the Empire was to come: teaching him thereby to be more close and secret in such matters. Every particular man likewise aught to be no less advised in using great discretion, when the question is of uttering any thing which a man would have concealed. For he (saith Plato) to whom one discloseth a secret, getteth the others liberty. Now in this laudable silence which we commend here, we have 
Of concealing a secrer.  this to mark well, that when the question is of speaking a truth, or of profiting another, we aught not to doubt in any case, what pretence soever there be, to speak, utter, maintain, & freely to give counsel in that thing, which concerneth the duty of a good man, or the charge whereunto we are called. The Sages and virtuous men heretofore have always showed themselves to be such in their free counsels and wise declarations, as hereafter we may handle more largely. In the mean time we may have here Demaratus for an example of this commendable 
Examples of the commendable freedom of speech.  liberty of speech, who coming from Corinth into Macedonia, when Philip was at variance with his wife and with his son, was demanded by the King, whether the Grecians did agreed well among themselves: Truly sir, (quoth he to him) it becometh you well to inquire after the concord of the Athenians and Peloponesians, and in the mean while to suffer your own house to be full of division and domestical discord. Diogenes also being go to the Camp of the same Philip, at the same time that he returned from making war against the Grecians, and being led before him, the King asked him if he were not a Spy. Yes truly, answered the Philosopher, I am a Spy, and come hither to espy thy impudency and folly, who not constrained by any, dost set down as it were on a dicing board in the hazard of one hour, both thy kingdom and life. Demosthenes' being demanded of the tyrant Epemetes, why he wept so bitterly for the death of a Philosopher, a companion of his, seeing it was a strange matter to see wise men weep, yea altogether unbeseeming their profession. Know (said he to him) that I weep not for the death of this Philosopher, but because thou art a live. For I tell thee that in the Academies we are more sorrowful for the life of the wicked, than for the death of good men. Let us learn then by our present discourse, that talk being the messenger of thought discloseth our manners a great deal more than the lines and draughts of our face do. And as that tree whose root is dry can have no green leaves: so from a vicious and corrupted soul, nothing but vile and filthy speeches can proceed, which a wise man aught wholly to shun, because to make small account of evil words, leadeth a man by little and little to dishonest deeds. Let all vain speech also be banished from us, and let us take great heed, that we never speak, either in sport or earnest any one word that is not true, knowing that to be true in word, is the beginning & foundation of a notable virtue. Moreover, let us know, that truth is not only betrayed of those that speak falsely, and maintain a lie, but also of those that dare not confess and defend it publicly. Let us know that above all things we must dedicated our voice & speech to sing the praises of God, remembering the saying of that holy man Gordius, who, as he was 
The constancy of Gordius.  led to the place of punishment was exhorted by some to leave his opinion, and to save his life. To whom he answered, That the tongue aught to utter nothing that is injurious to the Creator thereof. Lastly, let us know that we must refer every word to the glory of his name, and the profit of our neighbours.   
The end of the third days work.   

The fourth days work.  

Of Friendship, and of a Friend, Chap. 13.  ASER. 
MAn being a reasonable Creature, born for civil society to observe laws and justice, and to exercise in the world all duties of gentleness and goodness, the fairest and most fruitful seed that God hath infused and sown in his soul, and that draweth him to this end, is love and charity towards his like. But as every action of man's life standeth in need to be guided by the virtue of prudence, 
Prudence requisite in a friend.  whereof we discoursed yesterday, so in truth she is very necessary in every good and unfeigned friendship, For this cause I think (companions) that we shall observe the order of our discourses, it we begin this days work with the handling of friendship, and of the true and perfect duty of a friend.  AMANA, 
Nothing that seemeth to be profitable, whether it be honour, riches, pleasure, or whatsoever else is of this kind, aught to be preferred in any respect before friendship. Yea, 
Not outward thing is to be preferred before friendship.  a man is to make more account of friends (as Socrates said) then of any other mortal thing.  ARAM. 
Perfect friendship (saith Aristotle) is to love our friend more for his benefit than for our own: and therefore a friend is always profitable and necessary. But he is greatly deceived (saith Homer) that seeketh for a friend in the Court, and proveth him at a feast. But let us hear ACHRITOB discourse hereupon.  ACHRITOB. 
Rare things are commonly most esteemed amongst men, and the more precious they are of their own nature, so much the more are they had in request. This we 
Nothing more rare or excellent than a friend.  may very aptly apply to a friend, seeing there is nothing so rare as one that is unfeigned and steadfast, neither any thing so excellent and perfect as he is, if he be a good and prudent man. And for this cause the Philosophers accounted friendship to be the chiefest and most excellent good of Fortune, as being lest of all subject to her, and most necessary for man. But because the wickedness of men is so great in these days, that nothing is so sacred and holy which is not violated, corrupted and brought to confusion: no marvel if men impudently abuse this name of a friend (so much reverenced in old time) that some take it to themselves being altogether unworthy thereof, and others as freely, although to their loss and shame, grant them this excellent title, and esteem them for such in truth towards them, as they falsely vaunt themselves to be. But that we be not deceived with the great number which is not always the surest mark, let us briefly consider what friendship is, what first-fruits spring from her, who may rightly challenge this titie of a friend, what manner of one we aught to choose, how we must try him before we take him for such a one, than the means whereby to keep him, and lastly what mutual duty friends are to use one towards another. First we say with Socrates, that true friendship cannot be framed but by the help and grace of God, who draweth like to the love of his like: that every perfect friendship is to be linked 
The principal 〈◊〉 and end of all true friendship.  with the bond of charity, and aught to be referred to God, as to our sovereign good and chiefest friend: and therefore that true friendship cannot be settled between the wicked, who being at discord within themselves, can have no concord and agreement one with another. Moreover, there is to be found in friendship whatsoever men think worthy to be desired, as honesty, glory, tranquility of mind, and pleasure: and consequently a happy life, which cannot be amongst the wicked. Friendship is a communion of a perpetual will, the end whereof is fellowship of life, and it is framed by the perfect habit of a long continued 
What friendship is.  love, Whereby we may perceive, that there is a difference betwixt love and friendship: because love is a desire of the thing loved, and a beginning of friendship, but friendship is an inveterate 
The difference betwixt friendship and love.  and ancient love, wherein is more pleasure than desire. To love (saith Cicero) is nothing else but to be desirous to profit and pleasure another without hope of recompense. For otherwise friendship would be a mere merchandise, whereas it aught to be as free as charity. Socrates also said, that the end of friendship was, that of two souls one should be made in will and affection, and that none should love himself better than his friend. For there is a mean to be kept in all things, except in conversing with a friend, in regard of whom this aught to be resolved upon, that he is either wholly to be forsaken, or wholly to be trusted. What shall I hide from my friend (saith Homer) or what letteth why I may not think myself alone when I am with him? Whereby it appeareth unto us, that a friend is a second self, and that whosoever would take upon him this title in regard of another, he must transform himself into his nature whom he purposeth to love, and that with a steadfast and settled mind to continued so for ever. Hereupon one of the ancients speaking of him that loveth perfectly, saith, that he liveth in another man's body. Friends therefore aught of necessity to have a conjunction and conformity of manners, of desires, of passions, of speech, of studies, 
What things are requisite in friendship.  of pleasures, of inclinations, of intermissions, if they mind to profess perfect friendship. Whereby we may easily guess, that he which entertaineth many friends, depriveth himself of the name of a true and steadfast friend, because it is altogether unpossible for a man to fashion himself to all patterns, and to apply himself to all natures, so diverse in every one: especially considering that he shall very hardly find himself like affected in all things to one alone. Now after we have found such a disposition and conformity in him that offereth himself to be our friend, we must enter further into the knowledge of him, by sounding out the depth of his heart, that we may be certain and sure of his good disposition. For to see outwardly a resemblance of our manners and conditions another, is not sufficient to prove them such indeed without dissimulation, unless they be grounded upon a good and virtuous nature, which is simple, upright, and unfeigned. For otherwise we see that many (like to Proteus taking divers shapes) are so subtle, that when they would curry favour with any man to deceive him, they disguise themselves, and for a while apply themselves to all his humours. This is practised chiefly by flatterers towards great men, who will sergeant rather than they will not imitate the natural vice of the Prince: so that as soon as ever they see him laugh, they betake themselves to laughing, albeit they know not wherefore. And namely, we 
The common practice of flatterers.  read that Alexander the Great, and Alphonsus king of Arragon, having each of them somewhat a wry neck, this by nature, the other through custom, the flatterers and courtiers held their necks on the one side, to sergeant their imperfection. To the end therefore that the sugared poison of such feigned friends deceive us not, we must make choice of an honest, prudent and wise man for our friend, whose fidelity (as Cicero saith) integrity, constancy and 
What manner of man we must choose for our friend.  liberality are approved of every one, and whom we shall perceive to be led and possessed with the same zeal to virtue that ourselves are, to the end we may be aided and furthered by them in all good and laudable actions. For (as Plato saith) friendship is given by nature for a help to virtue, not for a companion of vices. To this effect Pythagoras saith, that it is not good to join hands with every one. Dicearchus also would give us to understand the same when he saith, that we must make all men our well willers if it be possible, but only good men our friends, who are not obtained but after a long time, and that by virtue. And as when we pass by a bramble or burr that taketh hold of us, we cast it far from us, but contrariwise seek for the Olive and the grape: so we aught to seek after their friendship that deserve it, whose minds have sufficient matter in them to 'cause them to beloved, but to forsake, yea to reject such as are unworthy, and vicious, sensual and disordered, although they fawn upon us: because their conversation marreth and corrupteth every good nature. Therefore Bias said very well, that a wise man receiveth not every one unto his friendship. Having thus chosen him whom we desire to entertain for our friend, and laid the chief foundations of friendship upon his agreement of manners with us, and upon his good disposition (which we may know by familiar conversation with him, and by diligent inquiry) before we can assure ourselves or boast that we have a true friend, we must prove his steadfastness and constancy, and not trust to offers and promises, whereof men are very prodigal now adays. But this is clean contrary to the duty of a true friend, whose property is to be sparing in speech, and prodigal in deeds, because great proffers are meet to be used towards strangers, and good deeds towards true friends. Now to prove a friend, we must not stay until need and necessity urge us, lest such trial be not only unprofitable and without fruit, but also very 
How we must prove a friend.  hurtful and dangerous unto us, because at such a time as necessarily requireth friends, we make trial of him, who in truth is no such man. But we rather to govern ourselves with prudence and foresight, as we use to do in the receipt of gold and silver. For before we have need to employ it we consider whether it be currant, that we may be sure it will serve the turn when necessity requireth. To this purpose Theophrastes said, that we aught to prove strangers to love them, and not love them to prove them. Therefore albeit the true and and right trial of a friend is in adversity, as of fine gold in a furnace, yet that is to be understood of him, who is such a one indeed. For if we should expect the first trial upon ourselves in time of certain danger, thereby to be assured and out of doubt, if then he should fail us it would bring us in great peril: so that we were better to try him when we stand not in need, requesting him notwithstanding, as if we were urged, and stood in need of his help and assistance in a matter of importance. If then he go forward with a sound zeal and ready affection, we are assured of him against another time. But if he stagger, and do it coldly, or turn away his face and refuse it, besides that we have no hurt or hindrance, we shall also gain much by withdrawing such a friend gently, and by little and little from our table, and from our prosperity: always wisely observing that this friendship be simply forsaken, and 
How we must shake off a false friend.  no enmity undertaken. For it is not good or seemly to quarrel with him, with whom we have lived familiarly. Moreover, we must note here, that trial is to be made in an honest, not in a wicked matter. For we must not do, as we read that Alcibiades did, who, being desirous to know whether he had so many friends as he thought he had, called them upon a day 
How Al● biades tried his friends.  one after another into a dark place and showed unto them an image of a dead body, saying, that it was a man whom he had killed, and requesting them to help to carry it away. But amongst them all he found none except Callias that would hearken thereunto. This kind of proving a friend maketh us unworthy of such a name, and occasioneth every good man to withdraw himself from our friendship. If we do all things (saith Cicero) both good and bad for our friends, such friendship may more truly be called a conspiracy of evil men, than a confederacy of good men. But, as we have said, we must gain another man's friendship by virtue, and not by vice, as also try a friend in just and reasonable causes: as if we be oppressed unjustly, if affliction and adversity follow hard at our heels, if need or any other human accident betid us, into which the best men commonly fall. After we are sure that we have a friend, (which truly is very great riches) there is nothing that we aught to desire more than 
The means to keep a friend.  to preserve and keep him. And first the mutual opinion, which aught to be in every friend of the virtue of his companion serveth very much for this matter. For as Cicero saith, The opinion of virtue is the fountain of friendship, and it is proper to virtue to win men's hearts, to draw them unto itself, and to preserve their friendship. Next, the conjunction of manners and wills keepeth back all riot and contentions, when as the will and mind of the one shall no sooner be declared, but the other presently putteth to his helping hand to bring it to pass. Thirdly, we are to observe this first law of friendship inviolably, not to require our friend to do any thing that is not just, or not in his power to perform, but to content ourselves with the use and service of that which he hath, without further seeking his hindrance. After the example of the industrious and painful Bee, which draweth honey out of flowers, and hurteth not the fruit. Above all things we must hold this for a general, which we have already touched, that true and perfect friendship aught to be free, as charity is, from whence she hath her beginning: I mean, that it aught to exercise itself not for hire or recompense, but only 
Friendship m●st be free.  for his love, who is beloved of us. For the one is proper to a friend, the other savoureth of a hireling. True it is that friends in these days are like to crows, which fly not but towards those places where there is something to feed upon: even so they commonly visit not men's houses except it be for profit, neither reverence a friend longer than they see him in prosperity, or may reap some commodity by him. But we must shun such parasites, who are but saluting and table friends. Moreover, we must rejoice and delight in the company and conversation of our friend, as in that wherein the sweetest and most pleasant fruit of friendship consisteth. And for want of this benefit, friends must often communicate together by letters, thereby to show that they live in remembrance one of another. For by the letter of a true friend the spirit is refreshed, the eyes delighted, friendship confirmed, and the mind contented. Besides, we must have our virtues, spirits, prosperity, yea acquaintance, and all common together, and nothing secret or hidden. Lastly, we must yield to our friend all duties and service of sincere friendship, and that in all honest and profitable things according to right and justice, which are the bounds and limits of an holy love, desiring the like of him towards us. Above all things his affliction or adversity, and all injury offered him, aught to be common to us with him, wherein we are to assist and help him with all succour and sweet consolation, which is as sovereign and fit a remedy as can be applied unto him, especially when good doctrine is joined with our speech, Hereof Phalereus confessed very well that he had good experience when he was banished from his kingdom, saying, that his 
Phalereus.  meeting with Crates the wise man had taken from him all care and thought of his misery. And if friendship can greatly diminish the grief that cometh by adversity, no doubt but it can add as much grace and pleasure to prosperity. We may effect all duty whatsoever we own to our friend, by succouring him with four things: namely, with our person, with our goods, with comfort, and with counsel. Which we may also comprehend under these two 
How many ways we own duty to our friend.  duties, of relieving the necessity of our friend, and of comforting him in his tribulation. Now because, what perfection soever is in our friend, as likewise in ourselves, it cannot be but there will be always some imperfection mingled therewith, (men's doings being never without some evil) we must not presume to be able to build such a perfect friendship as shall be void and free of all vice. And therefore we must gently support and bear with all wants and discommodities of our friend, and oftentimes frame ourselves to many passions, so they 
How we must bear with the imperfections of our friend.  be not directly contrary to virtue, but such as proceed from the imbecility and frailty of nature common with us. Nevertheless against such imperfections we must in time convenient and to purpose, use free and gentle admonitions, which are so necessary in friendship, and worthy of such consideration, that in my opinion we shall do well to make a several discourse thereof. Now if it come to pass, that some displeasure or jar happen between us, then is the time wherein we aught most of all to study & labour how we may do some profitable or honourable thing to our friend: & not hearken to slanderous tongues, which watch for some small & light occasion to power out the poison of discord, thereby to rend and break asunder our good & sure friendship. To such parasites, & scrap-gatherers at freecost feasts, who seek for nothing but their own gain by the disagreement of others, we must never give ear, but drive them as far from us, as they think to come near us. And to the end we may be the better affected and disposed hereunto, we must often call to remembrance, what benefit and happiness cometh to such men as are linked together by true and unfeigned friendship: as namely, in those affairs at which cannot be present ourselves, the fidelity of a friend supplieth our place. From whence we will draw this conclusion, that he which violateth friendship, setteth himself against the common succour and aid of all men, and as much as in him lieth, overthroweth human society. For we cannot do all things ourselves, and therefore friendships are joined together, that by mutual duties one may profit another. Now considering that all the above named things are both necessary, and also very hard and difficult to be observed & kept in true friendship, a man may easily judge that this so excellent Sympathy and fellow feeling of two friends is very rare, and not easily found: and by a more 
Against the plurality of friends.  forcible reason it followeth, that it is altogether impossible that many such friends should be linked together. So that whosoever goeth about any such matter can never attain to a certain and durable friendship. For it must needs follow, that he which beginneth new friendship cannot but diminish and wax faint in affection in regard of his former friendship, wherein he was in a manner settled. Yea, how can he observe all dutiful points of a steadfast friend, as well in mutual conversation and communication of all things, as in helping his friend in all his affairs, if he have many friends to look unto, who may all stand in need of him at one and the same time? It is certain that in serving one he would be wanting to the other, and peradventure to both, whilst he doubteth which to help first. But there is yet a further matter in it. Do we not take him for our enemy, who is enemy to our friend? It is most certainly so: as the wise man Chilon very fitly signified so much to one who boasted, that he had never a foe. Than hast thou never a friend, quoth Chilon, seeing it is impossible, by reason of the wickedness of men, that two persons should live in the world 
He that hath never a foe hath never a friend.  without enemies. Whereupon Plutarch saith, If thou seekest for a swarm of friends, thou considerest not that thou fallest into a wasps nest of enemies. Hereof it is that histories, when they set before us examples of true and excellent friendship, make mention only of two persons: as of jonathan and David, whose friendship could not be hindered by the 
The best and most excellent friendship is between one couple.  wrath of the father of the one, not not although he knew, that his friend should reign over him, notwithstanding he were by inheritance to succeed next in the kingdom. So we read of one Achilles and Patroclus, of whom the one falsified his oath, which was that he would never fight, to the end he might revenge the death of the other. There was but one Orestes and Pylades, both of them calling themselves by the name of Orestes who was condemned to die, thereby to save the life of his companion. Neither was there any more than one Ephenus and Eueritus, and one Damon and Pythias, two of which being condemned to die by Dyonisius the tyrant of Syracuse, had their pardon granted them by reason of the constancy and stability of the friendship that was between them and their companions, whereof they showed this proof. The two condemned persons besought Dionysius to licence them to go unto their country, that they might take some order for their household affairs before they died. The tyrant scorning at this asked them what pledges they would pawn for their return. Whereupon the two other friends willingly offered themselves for pledges, and so six months space being granted, they were set at liberty. When the end of this time drew nigh, many mocked these poor caitiffs: but they nothing astonished made answer, that they were certain and sure their friends would not in any case fail of their promise. And indeed they arrived the last day that was granted unto them. Whereat the tyrant woondering, forgave the condemned parties, and prayed them to receive him for a third man unto their friendship. So great force had virtue, that it could pacify choler and cruelty in his heart, whose virtue consisted in nothing else but in vice. We read of a letter written by Pisistratus, a Prince of the Athenians, serving for a notable example of the force of friendship, which oftentimes is greater than all consanguinity. For having intelligence that Thrasillus his nephew was of a conspiracy against him, he wrote unto him in these words: Nephew Thrasillus, thou shouldest 
Pisistratus letter to his nephew.  have called to remembrance, not that I brought thee up in my house, that thou art come of my blood, that I have communicated my secrets with thee that I have given thee my daughter to wife with the half of my goods, but above all things, that I loved thee as a friend. Thou art become a traitor towards me, which I would never have suspected, considering that I never deserved any such thing at thy hands. And therefore I would gladly I had so much authority over myself, that as I can shake off this alliance, so I could also falsify our friendship, which I can neither do, nor determine of my fidelity saved. For the consanguinity that I have with thee may be separated, as being within the veins: but the love I bear thee cannot, seeing it is within my heart. A thousand other examples of couples joined in friendship are to be found in histories. In the mean while we have to note, that although we measure friendship here by the number of two, yet our meaning is not to exclude others altogether. For we know, that true charity extendeth itself unto every one, that we are bound to love even our enemies, and to do good to all, but yet amongst all we may choose one only friend to love, and to be loved again of him in perfection. Nevertheless, we must labour by a thousand good duties to get the good will of all men, and in what place soever we be, to follow the wise counsel of Polybius given to Scipio Africanus, that he should never departed from the public place of authority before he had gotten unto himself some new friend and well willer. This belongeth to them especially that have wealth at will, and are in public offices, and favoured of the mightier sort: and therefore are so much the more bound thereunto, as also to take delight in doing good to many, not sparing any of their substance. We have famous examples hereof amongst the ancients. That great Roman captain and Consul Titus Flaminius, who delivered and freed all Graecia from bondage, and 
Thus Flaminius.  and wise in battle ranged discomfited P●lilip king of Macedonia, is exceedingly commended of historiographers, not only because he was ready to pleasure every one, but also because he took such delight therein, that he would always remain well affected even to more whom he had once pleasured, as if himself had received the benefit: insomuch that he was always ready to do them more good. Whereby he showed himself truly zealous of virtue which is never set on work for the hope of any earthly recompense, seeing the price and reward of a virtuous deed aught only to be the doing thereof. Therefore Cicero said very well, that no commonwealth can either with too little, or too late recompense her native countryman. Now to conclude our present discourse, we say, that friendship is so excellent a thing, that there is no comparison between it and any other worldly good: that it is virtue, which frameth and uniteth together perfect friendships, and that if it be once forsaken, they cannot longer continued. Therefore honesty (as Cicero saith) is to be placed above friendship and profit: and religion, justice, and fidelity are to be prefereed before the unjust requests of our friends, howsoever they might be profitable for this life, either to them or to ourselves. We say, that whilst we labour to make all men our well willers by doing them good, according to the duty of a good nature, if we meet with one sure and certain friend amongst them all, we have gotten a great and incomparable treasure: seeing there is nothing more fit for life, or more commodious for a good and happy life, than to live with a 
Nothing better than to live with a virtuous man. Three things necessary in friendship.  virtuous man and our friend, whose fidelity, integrity, and constancy are ruled by charity. Lastly we say, that three things are very requisite and necessary for the foundation and assurance of his friendship: namely, virtue, as that which is honest: Conversation, as pleasant and agreeable: Profit, as helpful. Which is as much to say, as that we must receive a friend after we have known and proved him, that we must rejoice in his company, and use him in our need, as we desire him to do the like by us. So that he which can boast of such a friend is very happy.   

Of Reprehension and Admonition. Chap. 14.  ACHITOB. 
Divine Plato writing a letter to Dionysius the tyrant of Syracuse in the behalf of Helicon the Mathematician, after many and great commendations spoken of him, addeth this, that he wrote these things of a man, that is, of a living 
Man ●● mutable.  creature, by nature mutable and soon changed. The like also he spoke of those that were well brought up and instructed in Athens. I fear yet (quoth he) that being men, and the offspring of other men, they will make known the great infirmity and frailty of man's life, which truly, being compassed about, and as it were besieged with infinite miseries, is so easily troubled, that the wisest stand always in need of instruction, and aught to be awakened and admonished of their duty. Whereunto the free reprehension, and sweet admonition of a friend doth not a little profit. Wherhfore my counsel is, that we handle it presently, without departing from the matter of our former discourse.  ASER. 
True friends (saith Socrates) must not through flattery seek to gain the favour of their friends, but reprove them rather, that for their benefit they may reduce them to a better way.  AMANA. 
To admonish and to be admonished (saith Seneca) are proper to true friendship. And Cicero saith, that a man may despair of his safety whose ears are closed up against the truth, and cannot abide reprehension. Let us therefore hear ARAM handle this subject.  ARAM. 
One of the greatest, most profitable and necessary first-fruits, which spring out of 
One of the greatest first-fruits reaped in friendship.  every good and holy friendship, and are noted and reaped by the acceptacle and long conversation of a prudent and wise friend, is that free reprehension and sweet admonition, which aught to be mutual between all true friends: seeing the frail inconstancy of man is such, that even the justest man (as the Scripture saith) sinneth seven times a day. But man having pride and presumption naturally rooted in his soul, howsoever he seethe a mote in his brother's eye, yet he perceiveth not the great beam that closeth up his own eyes. This maketh him bold (as it is the property of vice to be headstrong) to defend and maintain, that, he hath always done well, and not easily to harken to his reasons that reproveth him were it not that the mighty and inviolable bond of friendship, as of a second-selfe did constrain him to lend his ear to his friend through the opinion which he hath conceived of him and his virtue. True it is, that if there were amongst us such a reformation of life and manners, and that love joined with obedience might take place now, as it did long since amongst 
A notable custom of the Lacedæmonians.  the Lacedæmonians, (who observed this custom inviolable, to punish him that did not reprove another's fault committed in his presence, with the same punishment which was inflicted upon the offender himself, and sharply to chastise him that resisted, or was angry at the reprehension) we should not see so great winking at vices and imperfections, no● such impudent resisting and shameless contempt of all good admonition, as reigneth now adays amongst us, who unskilfully term this friendship, not to correct one another, but rather to cover and wink at all faults. But seeing our age is so greatly corrupted, we may easily know what a precious and necessary thing it is, to have found a prudent and wise friend, who knoweth how to use wholesome and sharp reprehension, as a preservative medicine, that saveth the patient's life, being ministered in convenient time, and to purpose. Which thing if it be not wisely observed herein, (as in all other things) it greatly hurteth, and depriveth the admonition of profit and efficacy. Therefore a friend being opposite to a flatterer, who studieth for nothing but to please, to do and to speak to his liking whom he flattereth, (which is enough to overthrow friendship, whose strength is only in virtue) aught to deal as a skilful physician, who in the tuneing of his instrument setteth up some of his strings, and letteth down others. So a prudent friend yieldeth unto some things, but refuseth and contrarieth others, changing his mind as honesty and profit require. 
A friend compared to a musician.  He is not afraid sometime to make his friend sad with intent and purpose to profit him, not to break friendship. Likewise he is not greatly to care although he see his friend angered, so that he be bettered considering that anger may better be tolerated than vice. Agesilaus 
Agesilaus.  king of Sparta said, that he liked well to be praised of such friends as would not spare him at all, but were ready to blame him also whensoever he gave them occasion so to do, To this effect Epictetus said, that as a wolf in some sort resembled a dog, so a flatterer was like a friend: and therefore that we aught to beware, lest in stead of good dogs for a safeguard, we receive unto us most pernicious and hurtful wolves. For it is bettee (as Antisthenes said) to stand at the courtesy of crows then of flatterers, seeing the one devour dead carcases, and the other living men. Now let us consider of the means how to use aptly and to purpose this so healthful medicine in friendship, I mean reprehension and admonition. Sometimes it is 
How we must use reprehension.  necessary (saith Cicero) for us to rebuke our friends, wherein we are to use a more austere countenance and vehement speech: but to great severity and overmuch sadness aught to be far from us. For although gravity be a virtue, yet friendship is more familiar, free and pleasant. We must also take heed that it appear not we be in choler, but rather that we come against our wills to do this duty, as surgeons do to cut off and to burn, and that very rarely, when there is no way to find or use any other receipt. Moreover, if one behold his friend in some great affliction, knowing it to be the nature of adversity to make men of troubled and vexed spirits, soon choleric and unwilling to hear, and at such a time to be offended a good and true speeches (even as honey although it be sweet, yet breedeth grief when it is applied to ulcers) I say a friend well advised aught then to beware that he use no sharp or biting words, which are apt to provoke him to anger, that is pressed with adversity. And this did Pythagoras mean to teach us learnedly by that enigmatical precept or riddle, which forbiddeth us to Stir up the fire with a sword, A man aught rather in such a case to minister some such sweet and gracious speeceh of comfort, as yieldeth and giveth place a little to the just grief of his friend, and from whence he may draw some ease of his evil, whether it be in talking thereof together with him, or otherwise in lamenting the same. And this must be done before any mention be made of a remedy, or any other convenient matter of talking with him be sought after. In this sort for a man to comfort himself is no less difficult a matter (as Thales said) than it is for a Physician to cure himself. Above all things we must be very circumspect when we see our friend lately angered by reason of some pregnant and notable injury or wrong received from another. For then in stead of being importunate with him presently to forgive the injury, or of seeking to persuade him to think it a small fault, thereby endeavouring at the first dash to bring him to reason, we must entreat him gently to defer the punishment, and after by little and little, and by degrees to pacific and appease him. For it is very certain, that when wrath is much kindled, and the heart enraged, a man cannot easily receive comfort, nor so suddenly conceive and understand reason. And therefore Plutark amongst other things gave this counsel to the Emperor Traian, to be patiented towards furious folks, considering that time moderateth as many things as reason doth change. Notwithstanding when the question is of restraining a disordinate pleasure, of 
Time b●●●eth as many things to good order as reason doth.  repressing choler and peevishness that passeth the bounds of all reason, of bridling insolency which is go too far out of square, of hindering some notable covetousness, or of staying some foolish motion or superfluous passion, then is the time wherein a prudent and good friend aught to be vehement and earnest, and to double the speech of his admonition: yea to frame himself so, as if the imperfection proceeded from himself, and as though his own utter undoing lay thereupon. In such a case he is to follow that good Grecian captain Phociou, who, when his friend would have cast away himself, said, that he would not suffer him, because he was made his friend for that purpose. Therefore whensoever any such occasion is offered, a man is not to stay until the fault be committed, that he may then give his friend some good instruction. For than it would come too late and no less unfitly, than that Porter's warning, who after he had hit Cato, bade him beware. What (answered Cato) wilt thou give me yet another blow? Moreover, we must take good heed, that all reprehending of one friend by another be done (as we commonly say) between two private walls, that is, secretly when the door is shut: because the discovery of any sin or vice (even as of some foul disease) is always shameful. The example of these two Sages, Socrates and Plato, will fitly agreed to this matter. Socrates being somewhat more earnest than his custom was with one of his familiar friends before a great company, Plato could not contain himself, but said unto him: Had not this been better spoken privately apart? And had not yourself (quoth Socrates) done better, if you had told me privately of this which now you utter? Whereupon we may further learn this lessen, that it is always easy enough to reprove another, but that all our reprehensions are blame worthy, if we reap not this instruction thereby, to correct, or to avoid the like errors in ourselves. Thus doth the selfsame Plato teach us, saying, that we must descend into our inward parts, and say every one with himself. Am not I such a one? Otherwise a man might truly reproach us with that saying taken out of an old Tragedic, Each wounded wight doth seek to salve the sores that others have. But as we see our own eyes shine within the apples of our neighbour's eyes, so aught we in the life 
We must correct in ourselves those faults which we reprehend in others.  of other men to lay our own before us, and to purge them of those vices which we reprehend. For as Lysander made this answer to Megarian, who thrust himself forward to speak aloud for the liberty of Graecia in a general assembly of counsel, That speech my friend had need of a mighty city, so may it be said to every one that useth freely to reprehend others, that his manners had need to be well reform, Therefore Plato said that he corrected Speusippus by the example of his life. In like sort, Xenocrates casting his eye upon Polemon, 
Sundry instructions how to admonish wisely.  who in dissolute apparel was entered into his school, changed and reform all by his only looks. This also will be a good and honest way to make our reprehension both profitable and well liked of, when we enfold ourselves in that fault, which we reprove in others: as that wise man Socrates used to do, when he checked and taught young men: saying, that himself was not delivered from ignorance, but had need to be instructed with them in virtue, and to seek out the knowledge of the truth. For when one accuseth himself as a subject to the same faults that his friend is, and protesteth that his meaning is to correct and reprove him, as if he were himself, it causeth him that reprehendeth to be loved and reverenced, and procureth greater credit to his sayings. Let us further observe this, that every reprehension between friend and friend aught to be pure, and void of all private passions. Insomuch that if we perceive ourselves contemned, and after a sort despised, yet must we testify our sincere and loving affection in speaking freely in the behalf of others that are likewise despised, but not framing our talk in any sort for our own defence. Every admonition thus grounded as I have said, cannot but be profitable and well liked of our friend, as that which causeth the offender both to reverence him that gave it, and to blush for shame, not daring once to lift up his eyes against it. But for as much as naturally we hate to be reproved and blamed, as we learned in the beginning of this discourse, we must know that to cure such a pernicious inclination, nothing can profit us so much as to believe, that the beginning of good life is to be blamed & baited at. For man, by nature inclined more to vice than to virtue, can never hate evil before he understand what misery it bringeth. So that when he sinneth, if his 
Reprehension is the beginning of good life.  friend lay the infamy and shame of his offence before his eyes: unless he be altogether past shame, and fraught with impudence, he must needs give place to the truth, which is invincible, and so with shame not to be discommended, he is induced to reform his life according to the pattern of comeliness and honesty. Therefore Plato said, that we are greatly beholding to them that tell us of our faults, and show us what way we must keep: because it is better for us to amend by being corrected of another, then to undo ourselves by foolish perseverance. Moreover as all true and perfect love aught to be general, and to extend itself indifferently unto all without exception of person, so likewise every one according to his several place, aught to admonish and to correct those that do amiss as often as occasion is offered unto them, and chiefly they that are near to great men are bound to doeit, but with discretion and great deliberation. Thus much did Solon signify to one, who by way of admonishment told him, that princes were either not to be approached unto, or else to be pleased: Nay contrariwise (said the wise man) either they are not to become 
Solon's good advice for counsellors to princes.  near unto, or else the truth is to be told them. We may observe infinite examples amongst the ancients worthy to be remembered, of the great freedom, which they used in reprehending and showing the faults not only of their familiar friends, but generally of all others: and especially of their kings, princes and magistrates, who because they see and hear for the most part by other men's eyes and ears, aught necessarily to have such friends, counsellors and servants about them, as will freely tell them the truth, as hereafter we may discourse more at large. This caused Plutarch to say, that a Philosopher aught chiefly to keep company 
Philosopher's aught ●o be conversant with princes.  with princes and great lords, and that it was the point of a wise man, and of one that is well affected to the commonwealth, to be endued with common love, and to inquire after, or to accept & entertain such a friendship, as might be commodious and beneficial to many in particular and much more in general to them all. And truly they that company with private men, and labour to instruct them, may well make them contented, mild and gracious in themselves, & profitable to them only: but he that taketh away an evil quality from a Lord and magistrate: or directeth his will and intention, as it aught to be, playeth the part of a Philosopher in the behalf of common commodity, and correcteth that mould and pattern according to which all the subjects are framed and governed. This kind of free admonition Solon used towards Croesus, whom he perceived to be blown and puffed up with pride, through an opinion of earthly and uncertain felicity, admonishing him to expect what the end 
Solon's counsel given to Croesus.  would be. The gods (quoth he to him) have given to us the residue of the Grecians all things after a mean sort, and namely a base and popular wisdom, not royal or magnifical: which as it giveth us to understand, that the life of man is, subject to infinite changes, so it forbiddeth to trust or glory in the grounds of this world, or to make great account of any man's felicity that is yet in danger of alteration. For time daily bringeth many sundry accidents to many hereof he never thought before. But when the gods continued the prosperous estate of man unto the end of his days, then will we accounted him happy. The desire which Plato had to profit many caused him to sail from Graecia into Sicilia, that by grave discourses and wise instructions he might stay and contain within the bounds of reason the young 
Why Plato went into Sicilia to Dionysius.  years of Dyonisius, prince of that country, who through unbridled liberty, and power not limited, waved hither and thither without restraint. Afterwards when he began to be in love with the beauty of learning, he left off by little and little his drunkenness, maskings, and whoredoms, wherein before he gloried, insomuch that his court was wholly changed upon a sudden, as if it had been inspired from heaven. But within a while after, Dionysius giving ear to flattterers, banished Plato, to whom when he took his leave of him, the tyrant said, I doubt not, Plato, but thou wilt speak ill of me when thou art in the University amongst thy companions and friends. Whereupon the Philosopher smiling, and observing that freedom of speech, which he had always used towards him, made this answer, I pray God, Sir, there may never be so great want of matter to speak of in the University, that we need to speak of thee. He was no sooner shipped from Sicilia, but Dionysius returned to his former fashions, and called back again dancers, minstrels, bawds, and such like vermin, whereof commonly there is no want about great personages; so that presently you might have seen his court, yea all the rest of his people, over whelmed in all delights and pleasures. Such great force hath a prince to altar and change at his pleasure the hearts of his subjects, but yet rather always to vice and folly than to virtue. And to go on with our matters of the free and bold admonition of great men, the self same Plato used it very fitly towards Dion, who had driven Dionysius out of his jurisdiction, and that at such time as the said Dion was in the greatest glory of all his prosperity. Among other things he willed him to beware of arrogancy, as of her that dwelled with solitariness: that is to say, which in the end was forsaken of 
Arrogancy dwelleth in the end with solitariness.  all the world. The same kind of admonition Spensippus followed, writing to the same Dion, willing him not to presume to wax proud of himself, because he heard women and children utter his praises and commendation, but to have regard only to this, that Sicilia might ●e adorned with religion and piety towards God, with justice and good laws towards 
Notable coun●●l● for p●●n●eses.  men and that the University might always be had in honour and estimation. OH counsel full of Christian instruction, and worthy to be daily set before the eyes of Christian princes, who may also learn of Demetrius king of Macedonia to take in good part, to reap 
Demetrius.  commodity, and to reward those that reprehend and admonish them of their duty. After he had taken the city of the Athenians, who had rebelled against him, and stood in great need of victuals, he caused a general assembly of the people to be made, wherein he declared, that he gave them freely a great quantity of corn. In which oration it fell out so, that he committed an incongruity of speech, whereat one of the inhabitants suddenly stood up, and pronounced the word aright as he should have uttered it. For this correction (quoth Demetrius) I give thee beside five thousand measures of wheat. The example of good Traian 
Traian's letter to Plutarch.  writing to his master Plutarch, aught especially to be imitated of great men. I advertise thee (quoth he) that hence forward I will not use thy service to any other thing, than to counsel me what I aught to do, and to tell me of those faults, whereunto I may fall. For if Rome take me for a defender of her Commonwealth, I make account of thee as of the beholder of my life. And therefore if at any time I seem unto thee not well pleased when thou reprehendest me, I pray thee master not to take it in ill part. For at such a time my grief shall not be for the admonition thou usest towards me, but for the shame I shall have because I offended. Philoxenus the poet may also serve for a witness of free correction, void of all flattery in regard of great men. For when Dionysius prince of Syracuse sent unto him a 
How Philoxenus corrected Dionysius tragedy.  tragedy of his own making that he should read and correct it, he sent it back again unto him all razed and blotted from the beginning to the end, because he found it in no respect worthy to be published. Neither doth antiquity only afford us such examples of bold reprehension by word of mouth, used by wise men in old time, but there hath been also in our ages worthy examples of base and contemptible men, yet full of good learning. For proof hereof may serve that quip, which not long since a peasant gave unto an Archbishop of Cullen, who was well accompanied with armed men according to the custom of Almaigne. This country fellow beginning to laugh, and being demanded by the prelate the cause thereof; I laugh (quoth he unto him) at Saint Peter, prince of prelate's, because he lived and died in poverty to leave his successors rich. The Archbishop being touched therewith, and desirous 
The free gird of a peasant given to an Archbishop.  to clear himself, replied that he went with such a company, as he was a Duke. Whereat the peasant laughing more than before, said, I would gladly know (Sir) of you, where you think the Archbishop should be, if that Duke of whom you speak were in hell. Neither may we omit the answer which a poor Franciscan Friar made to Pope Sixtus the fourth, who 
The like given to Pope Sixtus the 4. by a Friar.  from the same order being come to that great dignity, showed him his great wealth and riches, saying, Friar, I cannot say as Saint Peter did, I have neither gold nor silver. Not truly (answered the Franciscan) no more can you say as he said to the impotent and sick of the palsy, Arise and walk. Now concluding our present discourse, we learn that free reprehension and gentle admonition grounded upon reason and truth, and applied fitly, are of such virtue and efficacy with men, but especially with a friend, that nothing is more necessary or healthful in true and perfect friendship: and therefore aught to be joined inseparably therewith, according to that saying of the wise man, that Open rebuke is better than secret love, and that The wounds made by a lover are faithful, but the kisses of him that hateth, dangerous. In the mean time 
Prou. 27. 5.  we must (as Saint Paul saith) restore those that fall with the spirit of meekness, considering ourselves, and never betray the truth for fear of the mightier sort. 
Gal. 6. 1.    

Of Curiosity and Novelty. Chap. 15.  ARAM. 
MAn having by nature imprinted in his soul an affected and earnest inclination to his sovereign good, is drawn as it were by force to search it out in every thing, which he esteemeth fair good in this world. And from hence proceed all those his affections which carry him hither and thither, causing him to rejoice in and desire greatly all variety and novelty. But the ignorance of things, and imperfection of reason, which abound in him, because of his corruption, do make him for the most part to labour and take delight in evil rather than in goodness, if he be not by other means called to the knowledge of the truth: which aught to be the principal and most worthy object of our minds, esteeming all other knowledge vain and unprofitable, being compared to this which is so great and divine. And in this respect curiosity tending to understanding, (albeit in many things it be very hartfull, especially being left unto itself) is also very profitable and necessary, when it is directed and guided by the grace of God to best end. Wherhfore I think my companions, that it will not be unprofitable, if in this matter we discourse of these two things, Curiosity and Novelty, which seem to proceed from one and the same fountain, and about which the virtue of prudence showeth great and worthy effects.  ACHITOB. 
Curiosity indeed desireth in part to know and learn much, which cannot be condemned. Nevertheless we must wisely be ware that we employ it not upon evil and vile things, but rather testify always, that we are of a grave and contented nature, which is enemy to all novelty, and to superfluous things that are without profit.  ASER. 
Novelty causeth us through error of judgement to esteem those things wherewith we are not acquainted, greater, and more to our liking, and so to buy them dearer, than better things that are common and familiar. It is the very guide of the curious, causing them to contemn their owneclimate, and to hazard what good thing soever they have, to possess that which belongeth to others. But let us hear AMANA who will handle this matter more at large.  AMANA. 
Among those learned precepts belonging to good life, which were written in the temple of Apollo in Graecia, this was in the second place: Nothing too much, Solon said, Nothing more than enough: Pittacus, Do all things by a mediocrity. These sayings are very short and 
Mediocrity must be used in all actions.  of one matter, but yet comprehend all prudence necessary for the governing of man's life, as well for the preservation of the tranquillity of the soul, and of the spiritual gifts thereof, as of all human goods, called by the Philosophers, the Goods of the body and of fortune. The Ancients being desirous to make us understand this the better, propounded unto us every virtue between two vices, teaching us thereby, that we cannot decline never so little either to the right hand or to the left, but we step aside from the right way of virtue, which is our 
The disterence of good and bad consisteth in mediocrity.  only and true good: and that all difference between good and bad consisteth in a certain moderation and mediocrity, which Cicero calleth the best of all things. If men had from the beginning contained themselves within the limits of these divine precepts, it is certain they would not so lightly have abandoned the simplicity and first modesty of their nature, to feed their minds with a vain curiosity and searching out of things supernatural, and incomprehensible to the sense and understanding of man. Which things the more they thought to know, the greater occasion of doubting they found in them, so that for all their labour and understanding they could never carry away any true knowledge, or certain resolution. And even as that man, who not contenting himself with the abundant light of the Sun beams, but seeking with his eyes to pierce through the brightness thereof even unto the midst of the circle of the body, must questionless become blind: so falleth it out for 
Against curiosity in knowledge.  the most part to those, who go about too curiously to inquire after that which is not lawful to be known. The ill success of our age affordeth us too many miserable testimonies, wherein at this day we see nothing but contrarieties of opinions and uncertainties, through their subtleties and bold curiosities, who have sought to pluck (as a man would say) out of heaven the secrets hid from the Angels: yea, which is worse, have boasted that they have attained unto the knowledge of them, filling our times with trouble and confusion under that false pretence. There are others also no less hurtful, who have been such curious Inquisitors of the causes of all natural things, that through frivolous and unprofitable questions they have fallen into that impiety, as to seek for another beginning of all things, than God. Whereupon this proverb, which is too true, arose, Of three Physicians one Atheist. This kind of curiosity, is of all others most pernicious. But forasmuch as it is without the compass of our Academy, we let it pass with this short mention thereof, and with this only addition, that God commonly punisheth the pride of such men by those first-fruits, which we see them bring forth, and by taking from them their understanding in principal and most necessary matters, wherein notwithstanding they think themselves to be wonderful and jolly fellows above all others. As touching this point the example of Socrates is very memorable, and to be imitated, who being demanded what the world was, answered, that since he 
A notable saving of Socrates.  had any judgement he gave himself to seek out the true knowledge of himself, which yet he could never find. But so soon as he had attained thereunto, than he would seek for other things that would do him no service or pleasure. Aristotle (as justin Martyr writeth) who for the excellency of his skill in natural Philosophy was called the god of the earth, 
The death of Aristotle and Pliny through too much curiosity.  burned with such a desire of curiosity in understanding the causes of natural things, that because he could not know and conceive the cause and nature of Euripus, which is in Chalcis a city of Euboea, I mean of the flowing and ebbing of the se●, which turneth and compasseth about that place, nor give a sufficient reason thereof, he died for very shame and grief which he conceived thereupon, Pliny also who wrote the history of natural Philosophy, was choked with the flames and vapours of the mountain Mongibel in Sicilia, whilst he sought to find out the cause of them, and from whence that great fire came, which spoilt the country 
The burning of Aetna.  round about in the time of Titus the Emperor: insomuch that seven or eight towns were burned, and many persons traveling by land, and sailing on the sea were stifled with the ashes thereof, carried about by the vehemency of the winds. But let us leave these curious spirits, and speak of two other general kinds of curiosity, which respect chief our moral 
Two general kinds of curiosity.  Philosophy, and from whence all corruption of good manners proceeded. The first kind concerneth ourselves only, and the other our brethren and countrymen. To speak therefore of the first, it bringeth forth pernicious effects after divers sorts and manners, but amongst us Frenchmen they appear principally in that burning desire, which in flameth us 
Against the curiosity of seeing strange nations.  to travel into strange nations, and in our carking and caring for the nourishment, clothing, and decking of our bodies, and for the setting forth and trimming up of our houses with curious and unprofitable movables, wherein we exceed all the super fluity of other countries. When the ancients speak of the felicity that accompanied the golden age, amongst the good conditions, and commendable manners, which they noted in that holy and first simplicity, they never forgot this, that the men of that good time tilled and manured their grounds, and cared not what strangers did in far countries. Moreover, since the time that men made light account of their own climate, through a curious and unsatiable desire of appropriating unto themselves the inheritance and labour of others, besides the cruelty, violence, and murders, which prepared a way to their miserable platforms, all corruption of good manners at home, and all bastardlike attire have followed thereupon. We might here note infinite testimonies of antiquity, and especially of our ancient progenitors the Gauls, who were very warlike and lived within their bounds in all simplicity of manners, and frugality of life. But our own example, to our unspeakable shame and misery, is so evident before our eyes, that I need no better proof, of my saying than that experience which we feel by our own peril. For the ruin and destruction of this French monarchy proceedeth 
One evident cause of the ruin of France.  of no other second cause (our iniquity being the first) than of the mixture, which we have made of strangers with ourselves. Wherein we are not contented to seek them out under their roofs, unless we also draw them unto us, and lodge them under our roofs, yea prefer them before our own countrymen and citizens in the offices and honourable places of this kingdom, against the law and right of every good and well established policy. Besides we adore and reverence all their novelties and subtle inventions, and that so ignorantly, or rather blockishly, that suffering them to suck us even to the very bowels, in stead of all our riches and spoils, which they for their part have drawn from us, they have left us nothing but new manners and fashions of living in all dissoluteness and pleasure, except this one thing also, that we have learned of them to dissemble, and with all to frame and build a treason very subtly. Such is the provision wherewith our French youth is commonly furnished by their Italian voyages. To this purpose Guevara, Chronicler to the Emperor Charles the first, writeth, that from foreign country's men commonly bring news to prattle of, and strange customs to practise: and that few come out of Italy, that are not absolute and dissolute. Lycurgus' by his laws commanded the Lacedæmonians not to go out 
Lycurgus' forbade or afficke with strangers.  of their kingdom, nor to converse with strangers, saying, that although by their traffic with them they might be enriched, yet on the other side, they would grow poor in regard of their own virtues. Titus Livius, Macrobius, Salustius and Tully cursed and bewailed the conquests and victories, which Rome had in Asia, saying, that if the Romans brought the Persians', and Medes under subjection by force, yet the self same Asians overcame the Romans with their vices and delights. This doth Cicero testify writing to Atticus, where he saith that the five vices, namely, to make glorious sepulchres, to wear rings of gold, to use 
Five vices brought out of Asia by the Romans.  spice in meats, to allay wine with snow, and to carry about with them perfumes and sweet smells, were sent to the Romans for a present from the Asians, as a revenge for the cities which they had taken from them, and for the blood which they had drawn of them. And which was worst of all, he saith, that these vices would always remain with them, but the country conquered, for a little time. Experience telleth us, that no country is so poor, which is not sufficient and able, all super fluity cut off, to nourish and maintain those men that are bred in it with things necessary for them. Whereupon a man may easily guess, that want of prudence, and ambitious desires, first invented the art of Navigation and sailing into 
Why Fabius would never go on the water.  far countries. Fabius the Consul in the seventy years which he lived, departed not once from his village of Regio to go to Messana, which was but two miles off by water. And when one asked of him the cause why, The bark (quoth he) is foolish, for it always stirreth up and down: the mariner is foolish, for he never abideth in one opinion: the water is foolish, for it never standeth still: the wind is foolish, for it runneth continually. Now if we use to go from a fool when we meet him upon the land, what reason were it for me to hazard my life with four fools upon the sea? But whatsoever my speech hath been hitherto, my meaning is not to find fault with the right use of hospitality, which aught to be maintained, and kept inviolable in every well established common wealth. In this respect France hath been commended above all nations for entertaining and receiving all sorts of people: provided always that they be not preferred before our own children, and that they be contented to obey and live according to the common laws of the country. Neither do I reprehend that traffic and trade with strangers, which serveth for a bond of human society, and whereby the commodities of one to another are communicated together with common profit: provided always that superfluous and unnecessary things be left and forsaken. But ere we enter too far in with them, it were good for us not to undertake such voyages to gather wit and experience (as the most say) before we have profited well in the knowledge of virtue, and are guarded with good and commendable manners, which are able to resist all new and strange corruption: whereby otherwise the nature of man desirous of diversity and novelty, suffereth itself easily to be overcome, making merchandise amongst them of naughtiness rather than of goodness. As hitherto experience showeth us, that from this Fountain hath proceeded the curiosity of superfluous apparel, of gold, of silk, tapestry, pictures, vessels, perfumes, painting of faces, delicacy of meat, and all provocations of voluptuousness, whoredom, gluttony, and of other filthy dissoluteness, and infamous vices, too much known amongst us, whereof we have heretofore made mention, and will hereafter continued the particular discourse of them. Now after we are armed well at all points with good doctrine and virtue, we may according to the example of Plato, of Apollonius Thyaneus, and of many other 
Plato and Apollomus were great traucllers.  notable men, seek, after those that are best learned in strange countries, that we may profit and be instructed by them. Plato after he was well instructed by Socrates sought out the Mages and wise men of Egypt, by whose means he saw the books of Moses. Than he went into Italy to hear Archit as Tarentinus, the most renowned Philosopher of that country. Apollonius, who matched in learning all the Philosophers of his time, traveled over three parts of the world to see and to confer with all the skilful men of his age: and being returned into his country, and enriched with wonderful knowledge, he distributed all his goods, whereof he had great abundance, amongst his brethren, and to the poor: and withdrawing himself into the fields, he lived with bread and water only, that he might have his mind free for the contemplation of heavenly things. Now let us come to the other kind of curiosity, 
Of curiosive in seeking to know other men's imperfections.  which as we said, concerneth our brethren and countrymen. This is that which Plutarch calleth a desire to know the wants and imperfections of other men. It is commonly joined with envy and evil speaking, and is by that excellent Philosopher compared to adultery which may be called a curious inquiry after another body's pleasure. Moreover curious folks through an overweening in continency, seek to violate and to discover their neighbour's greatest secrets, especially those which are blame worthy, that by publishing and blabbing them out, they may nourish the intemperancy of their tongues. For as venomous serpents seek after infected and stinking places: so curiosity delighteth in finding out evil things, but despiseth those that are good and commendable. If there be any one imperfection in a stock or kindred, if any infamy, fault, error, or evil government in a house, any quarreling, anything to be misliked or loathed therein, it is the delight of curious folks to learn that thoroughly, that they may sport themselves, and tell long stories of them, by that means using their memory for aloathsome register of other men's vices, and yet neither see or know any fault of their own. This causeth them all their life time to be the disciples of ignorance, and not of Philosophy, which teacheth us, not other men's faults, but our own, as also the means how we may be delivered from them. Diogenes beholding one of his scholars in a public place talking very earnestly with a young man that was thought to be subject to his pleasure, demanded what talk they had. To whom the disciple answered, that the other rehearsed unto him a notable trick of youth, which he had played the night before. Than Diogenes said to them both, My will and commandment is, that each of you have forty stripes with a whip, within the Amphitheatre, or playing place: Thou (quoth he to his scholar) for giving eareunto him, and he for the folly committed, because Philosopher deserveth as much for hearkening to folly recited, as doth the vagabond that rehearseth it. What punishment think you would this wise man have judged them worthy of, who harken and inquire so curiously after other men's faults, and imperfections? And yet a man may truly say of the most of these men, that they will never look upon, or consider their own lives, which is a very unpleasant spectacle unto them; nor yet return and look back with reason, as with a light upon themselves. But their soul being full of all sorts of evil, and fearing that which sheefeeleth within herself, leapeth forth and wandereth here and there in searching other men's doings, thereby feeding and ●atting her own ill nature, and using curiosity as an eye to look upon other men. Hereof it cometh, that a curious man is more profitable to his enemies than to himself, because he discovereth, manifesteth, and 
The curious are more profitable to their enemies than to themselves.  showeth unto them from what they are to beware, and what to correct: and yet in the mean while he seethe not the most part of that which is within himself, so greatly is he dazzled by beholding that which is without in other men. He openeth all even to the very walls of strange houses, and pierceth like a wind into the midst of those things that are most secret. His mind is both upon the palaces of the rich, and cottages of the poor. He ferretteth out every thing, and inquireth many times after the affairs of the greatest, which is the cause of his overthrow, when he busieth himself too far in them. This was wisely noted by Philippides, when Lysimachus the king asked him what part of his goods he would have imparted unto him: What you please Sir, (quoth he,) so it be no part of your secrets. Now if we desire to 
Curiosity in princes affairs is perilous. How we must cure curiosity.  divert and to quench the heat of this vicious passion of curiosity, which is too familiar amongst us, and unseemly in a prudent and virtuous man, we must sometimes abstain from enquiring after lawful things, though otherwise not necessary. In the exercise and practise of justice, it is expedient sometime to leave untaken that which a man may lawfully take, thereby to accustom himself to abstain more easily from taking any thing unjustly. Likewise it is good for a man sometime to abstain from his own wife, that he may attain to the virtue of temperancy, and so be never moved to desire another man's wife. In like manner, if in stead of showing ourselves to be of the number of these diligent and curious inquirers after unprofitable news, we signify rather to him that cometh to tell us of some news, that he should please us better if he had some good and profitable matter to speak, then should we thereby give testimony of a stayed and settled nature despising curiosity. This was noted in Alexander the Great, who seeing a messenger running apace towards him with a smiling countenance, said unto him (not showing himself to be moved at all, or desirous to 
Examples against curiosity.  understand what he would speak) what good news canst thou bring me my friend, unless thou didst come to tell me that Homer is risen again? And truly he had great reason to think that no more excellency could be added to his valiant acts and deeds, except it were to have them consecrated to immortality, by the writings of some learned and notable wit. The example of Phocian deserveth well to be here alleged against curious folks, who are commonly light of belief. For as soon as the Athenians received ne●eses of Alexander's death, 
Against lightness of belief  they purposed presently to altar their estate, and to shake off the yoke of the Macedonian alliance. But Photion being of a contrary opinion said unto them, if this news be true to day, it will be true also tomorrow. And therefore (my Lords Athenians) make no haste, but deliberate leisurely, and look safely to that which ye have to do. It is certain, that if we use in this sort to show ourselves stayed in such things, and in all other things of small importance, wherein our natural inclinations would provoke us to be curious, as namely, to break off good communication begun, upon the receipt of a letter; to forsake company to run and meet a messenger, only to know what news he bringeth, and a thousand such like sudden 
Faults whereinto curious men commonly fall.  motions proceeding of lightness and curiosity, I say by avoiding such things we should prepare a way to the restraining of all curiosity in greater matters, which otherwise may procure blame. As for example, to open another body's letter, to intrude ourselves into the secret counfels of our neighbours, to seek out their faults and imperfections, to inquire busily after that which may grieve our familiar friends, or to ask them of that, which they like not of, neither is grounded upon any good cause or reason, lest peradventure the answer of some wise man should turn more to our shame, than be framed according to our desire. Thus dealt Demaratus with a curious and importunate fellow that had oftentimes asked of him, who was the honestest man in Sparta: He that resembleth thee least, quoth he unto him. The answer also of an Egyptian was not unfitly made to one that asked him what he carried there 
Witty answers made to curious questions  folded: It is wrapped up (quoth he) because thou shouldest not know what it is. Now by that which hath hitherto been discoursed, it appeareth sufficiently, that all kind of curiosity is hurtful, hateful, and greatly to be blamed in every one, if it be not bounded and limited by the reason of true prudence, which guideth and stirreth us up to seek after good, honest, & profitable things, either in heaven, in earth, in the air, or in the sea, according to the gift & capacity of our understanding and judgement, which may be necessary for us to know, or may help us to live well and happily. For whatsoever is more, we aught to accounted it unprofitable and superfluous. Let us learn then not to know more than we aught, but unto sobriety, containing our spirits within the limits of mediocrity, simplicity, and modesty. Let 
Rom. 1●. 3.  us forsake all sophistical curiosity, and worldly wisdom, which is mere foolishness before God, that we may embrace a simple, popular, and accademical kind of knowledge, which will teach us to know ourselves and our duty, whereby we shall be led to that happy end, which we seek for and desire. Let us not admire any more the merchandise and outward shows wherewith strangers feed the eyes of curious folks, but let us wonder at virtue only: saying with the comical poet, where he speaketh of those that covered their bedsteads with gold and silver, what great folly is it to make sleep so dear, which God hath freely given unto us? So to seek for that of strangers with such great expenses, which we may have at our own haven better and more commodiously, were all one, as if we should leave the substance, and run after the shadow, or that which is certain for an uncertainty. We may have in France (if our blockishness stay us not) Universities and Schools of all honest exercises meet for our nobility, without strangers. And if we think that in some places amongst them, they have better teachers than we have, let us first seek amongst ourselves for those instructions that are most necessary, namely, for the knowledge of good letters, and institution of virtue; and than if we think good, we may hear their teachers and masters, without infecting our behaviour with the corruption of their manners. Besides, by the same study we shall learn to shun all curious inquiry into other men's imperfections, that we may diligently look into our own.   

Of Nature and Education. Chap. 16.  AMANA. 
SFeing that in the entrance of our former treatise, we began with that natural instinct which moveth and disposeth him to desire and to seek after his good; we may in continuing the same matter find more profitable instruction, by considering his nature more narrowly, as also what cometh unto him by good education, which, that I may so say, standeth him in stead of a second nature. To you therefore (my Companions) I leave this matter to be entreated of.  ARAM. 
The nature of man is like to a pair of balance. For if it be not guided with knowledge and reason unto the better part, of itself it is carried to the worse. And although a man be well borne, yet if he have not his judgement fined, and the discoursing part of his mind purged with the reasons of Philosophy, it will fall often into gross faults, and such as beseem not a prudent man. For in those men that are not endued with virtue ruled by certain knowledge, nature bringeth forth such first-fruits as naturally come from the ground without the manuring and helping-hand of man.  ACHITOB. 
That which commonly causeth men to will evil rather than good, proceedeth chief of this, that they have no knowledge or experience thereof. And therefore Socrates said, that as bringing up maketh dogs fit for hunting, so good instruction causeth men to become profitable in the managing of a commonwealth. But it cometh to thy course, ASER, to discourse upon this matter.  ASER. 
This hath been always a great question among the skilful and diligent inquiters after the perfection of nature. Whether learning or nature teach us to know ourselves. justice (saith Cicero) is naturally planted in us from our birth, as also religion, piety, grace, duty, 
Natural virtues according to the Philosophers, who had no knowledge of man's fall. The division of nature.  and truth. Whatsoever is according to nature (as the Philosophers say) is certainly ordained and appointed, because nature is nothing else but order, or rather the effect of order. But disorder, like to Pindarus sand, cannot be comprehended in any certain number: neither can that which is against nature be defined, because it is infinite. When they speak generally of nature, they make two principal kinds: the one spiritual, intelligible, and unchangeable beginning of motion and rest, or rather the virtue, efficient, and preserving cause of all things: the other, sensible, mutable, and subject to generation and corruption, respecting all things that have life, and shall have end. Aristotle saith, that nature in one respect is said to be the first and chief matter and subject of every thing that hath being, namely, of those things which have in them the beginning of their own moving and mutation: and in another respect, it is called the form of any thing. But leaving the infinite disputations and curious inquiry made by the philosophers concerning this excellent matter, whereof we have not here undertaken to entreat, we say with justin Martyr, that Nature (in which the 
What nature is.  steps of the divinity shine and are lively represented) is that Spirit or divine reason, which is the efficient cause of natural works, and the preserving cause of those things that have being, through the only power of the heavenly Word, which is the workemaster of nature, and of the whole world, and hath infused into every thing a lively virtue and strength, whereby it increaseth and preserveth itself by a natural faculty. Or to speak more briefly, Nature is the order and continuance of the works of God, obeying the Deity, & his words and commandments, and borrowing her force and strength from thence, as from her fountain and original. In this nature thus defined, which respecteth all things created, we have here to consider of and to handle particularly, according to our meaning at the first, the nature of man only, which natural Philosophers call the instinct and inclination of every one's spirit. There is nothing more true, than that nature of herself leadeth men in some sort to that which is decent and honest: neither is learning able to show any thing, which is not 
The property and light of nature.  to be found in nature, whether we go about to teach the end of man, which the Philosophers call the action of virtue, or whether we seek out the causes and beginnings of other sciences. For there is no man so barbarous or wicked in all the world, who is not touched with honesty, and who retaineth not somewhat of the light of nature. Which may be clearly perceived by this, that a virtuous action pleaseth him, so that he is even constrained to commend it. And if he might taste thereof never so little, not being fore-possessed with other disordinate desires, no doubt but he would become such a one, as might purchase and deserve praise and commendation. But here we must acknowledge the first corruption of our nature, whereby it is inclined to pleasure, and to eschew labour, which are the wellsprings of 
The corruption of nature.  vices, and of infinite evils. And if our nature should be suffered to run with the bridle at liberty, whither soever it is driven by carnal desires, having none of them cut off by wise admonitions and lively persuasions, there is no beast so untamed or savage, that would not be milder than man. Whereupon it followeth that nature must of necessity be tamed, and as it were mollified by the study of good letters, and by the instruction of good Philosophical reasons, which as they serve for nourishment and food to our minds, so by them our manners and actions are framed and guided according to virtue and prudence, & we made able to learn how, by the compass of reason, to attain to mediocrity, wherein perfection consisteth, and to reject excess, which is always dangerous. A good player on a ●ute or vial toucheth no other strings than those that are touched by him that is most unskilful. Notwithstanding being taught in the beginning, he knoweth afterward through use what strings make that sound, which the ear judgeth by the harmony and agreement of sounds to be delectable, whereupon he is taken for his crafts-master. Even so a perfect virtuous man useth only natural gifts, but reason and practice bringeth them to their perfection. Every good beginning cometh unto us by nature, the progress and growth by the precepts of reason, 
Three things necessary for the perfection of man.  and the accomplishment by use and exercise. Nature without learning and good bringing up is a blind thing. Learning without nature wanteth much, and use without the two former is unperfect. It is true (as Plato saith) that some may be found, that are of a strong and forcible nature, and thereby endued with reasonable good sense and judgement (which is in man as the rudder in a ship) so that they make show of great virtues. But those men are not without many great vices also, if they want education and learning: not unlike to a good fat ground, which bringeth forth many good and bad herbs together, if it be not well dressed. Now if this good nature be ill brought up, without doubt it will spoil itself and become very pernicious. Scipio and Catiline were both high minded and courageous by nature, but forasmuch as the one was always obedient to the laws of his Commonwealth, and used his virtue as reason required, he was accounted virtuous, and the other wicked and wretched for doing the contrary. You ask of me (saith Socrates in Xenophon) whether courage or greatness of heart proceed of nature or of learning. For my part I think, that as we see some borne with stronger bodies than others are, so by nature we have minds more fit to sustain perils and adversities than others have. And that this is so, we see many brought 
The difference between Philosophers and the common people.  up with the same manners, and instructed under like laws, and yet some of them more hardy and bold then the rest. Notwithstanding there is no doubt but the goodness of nature is helped by learning and instruction. It is certain (saith Plutarch) that there is in all men some light of good and right judgement, but yet the difference between Philosophers and the common sort of men is great: because Philosophers have their judgement more stayed and assured in dangers, whereas the vulgar sort have not their hearts fortified and defended with such anticipations and resolute impressions aforehand. Albeit therefore many notable men (as Cicero saith) have achieved many brave and virtuous exploits being guided by their natural judgement only, and by daily experience in affairs, yet infinite faults may be noted in them, especially in their behaviour and manner of life, which might have been amended and corrected by the knowledge of letters. Moreover the judgement of man wavereth too easily to settle and resolve itself upon any thing: yea it is driven by a thousand occasions from the ground of her former discourses, if it be not built and laid upon certain knowledge and reason, which the study of wisdom teacheth us. And as for that prudence, which is gotten only by use, and by a man's own experience, it is too long, dangerous, and difficult, because it is not able to make us wise but after our own peril: and oftentimes whilst we seek it, death maketh haste to prevent it, or else followeth it so near, that we had need of a second life to bestow about it. Thus we see that if there be any want in any one of these three, Nature, Reason and Use, virtue also must needs fail and be unperfect in that point. True it is, that a good natural inclination deserveth more praise being without learning, than learning 
Three things concur in perfect virtue.  doth without it: because even knowledge serveth many times for an occasion to the wicked, who abuse it maliciously, to further their unpure purposes. Nevertheless, we can accuse nothing but there perverseness, which by reason of their ignorance, would not have stayed itself from uttering such pernicious effect in them, and peradventure worse. For in what measure soever it be yet (as Socrates said) they that have been well brought up and instructed, are in some sort forced to moderate themselves. Besides, they that are not altogether well borne, yet being helped by good training up and exercise of virtue, they after a sort repair and recover the defect of nature. Idleness (saith Plutarch) annihilateth and corrupteth the goodness of nature, but diligence in good education, correcteth the naughtiness thereof. 
The defect of nature is helped by good education.  And as we see, that drops of water falling upon a hard stone maketh it hollow, and that iron and copper consume and wear only with handling, and ground that is more uneven and stony than it aught, yet being manured and dressed, beareth fair and goodly fruit; and contrariwise, good ground becometh unfruitful, and worse and worse, the more it is left unlaboured: even so good manners and conditions are qualities, which in long process of time are imprinted in the soul, and moral virtues are attained unto through care, diligence, labour, and long exercise. Therefore although nature hath this property in all men, that it is in perpetual motion through a weak instinct, and that in some stronger, in others weaker, 
The weakness of our natural inclination to goodness.  which causeth her to aspire unto and to desire the excellency of her first perfection, whereof she knoweth herself void, yet if she be not always helped and driven towards the better part, she will sooner suffer herself to be carried to the worse. They are but little sparks (saith Cicero) which through vice and corrupt manners are so easily quenched, that the light of them appeareth not. And as the heat buried in the veins of a flint, seemeth rather dead then alive, if the sparkles be not drawn forth by the steel: so this immortal portion of celestial fire, being the fountain and first motive of all knowledge, remaineth without any profit or commendable 
A similitude  action, if it be not sharpened and set on work. We are no sooner borne, and taken in hand to be brought up, as Plato saith, but we follow after wickedness as if we had sucked iniquity together with our nurse's milk. Afterwards being committed by our fathers to the hands of teachers, we so inwrap our minds with errors that those weak seeds of virtue, which are in us by nature, must needs give place to vanity, and to opinion. But if good wits find good bringing up, than they grow always up from better to better, Whereupon in my opinion that old proverb was not spoken without reason, that Education goeth beyond nature. Which thing when Lycurgus was desirous to let the Lacaedomonians understand, he nourished two dogs of one and the same litter, using the one to hunt, & bringing up the other 
Lycurgus' example of two dogs.  in the kitchen. And when the people were gathered together, he spoke unto them in this manner: It is a matter of great importance (OH ye Lacaedomonians) to engender virtue in men's hearts by education, custom, and discipline, as I will let you see, and sensibly perceive out of hand. Than he caused both the dogs to be brought, and casting off a hare on the one side, and setting a platter of broth on the other, and he let lose his dogs, of which the one followed after the bore, and the other ran to the broth. Thus fareth it (quoth he) with men, who may be made more virtuous by good education, than by nature. Neither will it profit them at all to descend of Hercules race, if they practise not those works whereby in his life time he grew to be most famous in the world, and if they exercise not themselves all the days of their the world, and if they exercise not themselves all the days of their life in honest and virtuous actions. Furthermore, if we desire examples of this, that learning, institution and education avail greatly to conform and frame our hearts and wills to virtue, yea to altar and make them better. Socrates confesseth in Plato, that by nature he was inclined to vices, and 
Socrates and Themistocles were by nature vicious, but by education virtuous.  yet Philosophy made him as perfect and excellent a man as any was in the world. Themistocles in his youth (as himself confessed) for want of discipline was carried away by his desires like to a young unbridled colt, until that by Miltiades example, who was then famous amongst the Grecians, he caused the vivacicie and quickness of his spirit, and the ambition which naturally was in him, to attend upon virtue. Besides, education and custom have power to change not only the natural inclination of some particular men, but also of whole countries, as the histories of most nations in the world declare unto us: and namely of the Germans, who in the time of Tacitus had neither law, nor religion, nor knowledge, 
The Germans much changed by institution.  nor form of common wealth, whereas now they give place to no nation for good institution in all things. Let us not then be discouraged or faint by knowing our natural imperfections, seeing that through labour and diligence we may recover that which is wanting: but happy is that man, and singularly beloved of God, to whom good birth and like bringing up are granted together. It followeth now to discourse particularly of the manner of good education and instruction of youth: but this will come in more fitly, when we shall entreat of oeconomy. And yet seeing we are in the discourse of man's nature, I think it will not be from the purpose, nor without profit, (if to make us more severe censurers of our own faults) we note, that although our behaviour be chief known by the effects, as a tree by the fruit, yet many times a man's natural inclination is better perceived in 
A man's natural inclination may be espied in a small matter.  a light matter, as in a word, in a pastime, or in some other free and private business, wherein virtue or vice engraven in the soul may be sooner espied, than in greater actions and works done publicly: because in these matters shame or constraint commonly cause men to use dissimulation. How beit this also is true, that the more power and authority a man hath, when he may allege his own will for all reason, the inward affection of his heart is then best discovered. For such an unbrideledlicence moveth all, even to the very depth and bottom of his passions, and causeth all those secret vices, that are hidden in his soul to be fully and evidently seen. Whereupon it followeth that great and noble men aught above all others 
Great men aught especially to learn virtue.  to learn virtue, and to study to live well, especially seeing they have all those requisite helps and commodities, through want of which most men are hindered from attaining thereunto. Let us therefore learn by our present discourse to know, that the nature of all men by reason of the corruption of sin, is so depraved, corrupted, and unperfect, that even the best men, amongst many imperfections carry about them some envy, jealousy, emulation and contention, against some or other, and rather against their very friends. This did Demas a noble man and greatly conversant in matters of estate, declare unto the council in the city of Chio, after a civil dissension wherein he had followed that part which overcame. For he persuaded those of his side not to banish all their adversaries out of the city, but to leave some of them after they had taken from them all means of doing more harm: lest (quoth he unto them) we begin to quarrel with our friends, having no more enemies to contend withal. For this cause we must fortify ourselves with understanding and knowledge through labour and study of good letters, that we may restrain and repress so many motions mingled together in our souls. Let us know moreover, that seeing our nature is assaulted & provoked by a vehement inclination to do any thing whatsoever, it is a very hard matter to withdraw and keep it back by any force, not not by the strength or fear of any laws, if in due convenient time we frame not within it a habit of virtue, having first wished to be well borne. But how soever it be, let us endeavour to be well borne through custom and exercise in virtue (which will be unto us as it were another nature) using the means of good education and instruction in wisdom, whereby our souls shall be made conquerors over all hurtful passions, and our minds moderate and stayed, that in all our doings, sayings and thoughts we pass not the bounds of the duty of a virtuous man.   
The end of the fourth days work.   

Of Temperance. The fifth days work.  

Of Temperance. Chap. 17.  ASER. 
THE divine excellency of the order, of the equal and wonderful constancy of the parts of the world, as well in the goodly and temperate moderation of the seasons of the year, as in the mutual conjunction of the elements, obeying altogether with a perfect harmony the gracious and sovereign government of their Creator, was the cause that Pythagoras first called all the compass of this universal frame by this name of World, which without such an excellent disposition 
The Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 used by Pythagoras, and translated by the Latins Mundus, and of us World, signifieth a comely order.  would be but disorder and a world of confusion. For this word World signifieth as much as Ornament, or a well disposed order of things. Now as a constant and temperate order is the foundation thereof, so the groundwork and preservation of man's happy life, for whom all things were made, is the virtue of Temperance, which containeth the desires and inclinations of the soul within the compass of mediocrity, and moderateth all actions whatsoever. For this cause, having hitherto according to our judgement sufficiently discoursed of the liver of the fountain of honesty, I think we aught to set down here in the second place (although it be contrary to the opinion of many Philosophers, this virtue of Temperance, saying with Socrates, that she is the groundwork & foundation of all virtues.  AMANA. 
As a man cannot be temperate if first he be not prudent, because every virtuous 
No virtue can be without temperance.  action proceedeth of knowledge: so no man can be strong and valiant, if he be not first temperate, because he that hath a notable and great courage without moderation, will attempt a thousand evils and mischiefs, and will soon grow to be rash and heady. Likewise justice cannot be had without Temperance, seeing it is the chief point of a just man, to have his soul free from perturbations. Which cannot be done except he be temperate, whose proper subject the soul is.  ARAM. 
Heroical virtue (saith Plato) is made perfect by the mixture and joining together of Temperance and Fortitude, which being separated will at lengsh become vices. For a temperate man that is not courageous, easily waxeth to be a coward and faint-hearted: and a noble heart not temperate, becometh rash and presumptuous. Let us then hear ACHITOB discourse of this Temperance, so excellent and necessary a virtue.  ACHITOB. 
Agapetus a man of great skill, writing to the Emperor justinian, amongst other things had this saying: We say that thou art truly and rightly both Emperor and 
The true marks and ornaments of a king.  king, so long as thou canst command and master thy desires and pleasures, and art beset and decked with the crown of Temperance, and clothed with the purple rob of justice. For other principalities end by death, whereas this kingdom abideth for ever: yea others are many times the cause of perdition to the soul, but this procureth a certain and an assured safety. When we have considered well of the worthy effects and first-fruits of this virtue of Temperance, no doubt but we will subscribe to this wise man's opinion, and to as many as have written of the praises and royalties of that virtue. Temperance (saith Pythagoras) is that light, which driveth away round about her the darkness and obscurity of passions. She is 
What temperance is.  (saith Socrates) the wholesomest virtue of all. For she preserveth both publicly and privately human society, she lifteth up the soul miserably thrown down in vice, and restoreth her again into her place. Temperance (saith Plato) is a mutual content of the parts of the soul from whence springeth Continency) causing all disordered and unbridled desires to take reason for a rule and direction. Temperance (saith Cicero) is the mother of all duty and honesty. It is the property of justice not to violate the right of another man, and of Temperance not so much as to offend him. In Temperance a man may behold modesty, with the privation of every perturbation in the soul, as also a way how to frame all things according to that which is decent or seemly, which the Latins call Decorum, being a conveniency meet for the excellency of man, and that wherein his nature differeth from other living 
What Decorum o● comel●nesse is.  creatures. For as bodily beauty moveth and rejoiceth the eyes, by reason of the goodly and seemly composition of all the members wherein all the parts with a certain grace agreed together: so this decency, which is honesty and seemliness, shining in man's life by his good order, constancy and moderation both indeed and word, moveth and draweth the hearts of those amongst whom we live. This virtue then of Temperance is a 
The definition of temperance.  fledfast and moderate rule of reason over concupiscence, and over other vehement motions of the mind. But she commandeth chief over those two perturbations of the soul, grounded upon the opinion of good, I mean, Unbridled desire, and unmeasurable joy, whereof 
What passions are ruled by temperance.  heretofore we made mention. Thus we see, that no man can find out any thing that is so excellent and wonderful as temperance, the guide and governor of the soul, which because of her exceeding great light cannot be hid in darkness: which compelleth us to follow reason, bringeth peace to our minds, and mollifieth them as it were by concord and agreement. She serveth for a bridle to restrain all pleasures, and in the midst of them maketh man good and virtuous, She serveth for a knife to cut off all superfluous, vain, and unnecessary desires as well of the soul as of the body: and is as it were a rule directing natural and necessary desires by fit choice of times, and by temperate use of mediocrity. Wherhfore we may say, that this virtue of temperance comprehendeth in it all the other virtues: that through her a harmony, concordance, and conjunction of them all is made: that she ministereth unto them all occasions of beginning, and being begun confirmeth them by a firm and steadfast safety. Briefly, Temperance (as Plato saith) is a general surname of those virtues, whereby a man moderateth his own affections, and frameth his gesture and behaviour in some sort, that no effeminate or lose matters, no clownish or uncivil fashions are seen in him. OH saith (Euripides) how is temperance to be esteemed, which is the cause of such great glory & honour amongst men. This virtue is divided into sour principal parts, into Continency, Clemency, Modesty, and Order. Continency is that part, whereby concupiscence and 
Four parts of temperance.  desire are governed by counsel and reason. Clemency, is that, whereby the minds of men, rashly carried away with the hatred of any one, and with desire to hurt him, are kept back by gentleness. Modesty is that, whereby honest shame and bashfulness purchaseth good and due deserved renown. Order is a disposition of all things in their convenient place. All these virtues are undoubtedly joined with temperance, and consist as well in action, as in the discoursing of the mind. For by joining a certain mediocrity and order unto those things that belong unto this life, we preserve honesty and duty. Every virtue (saith jamblicus, a notable man) despiseth whatsoever is frail, mortal, and momentany, but temperance more than the rest: because she contemneth, and through chastity beateth down all those delights & pleasures, whereby the soul (as Plato saith) is fastened unto the body as it were with a nail. Therefore if temperance rooteth out whatsoever she findeth unperfect and subject to perturbations, how shall she not therewithal make us perfect? This is the meaning of that which the Poets would give us to understand under that feigned fable of Bellerophron, who being aided by modesty put to death, that Chimaera, and all other cruel and savage monsters. But as long as the immoderate force of our affections reigneth in us, it suffereth not men to be men, but draweth them to the ill favoured nature of beasts void of reason, Contrariwise, this holy moderation, whereby pleasures are contained within certain bounds, preserveth families together, and cities: and which is more draweth us in some sort near to the divine nature. Thus we see that she is the foundation and ornament of all good things. If we should endeavour to rehearse here all those excellent praises, which Philosophers give to this virtue of temperance, because of her worthy effects and wholesome first-fruits, which she bringeth forth in the soul, we were not able to perform it, although we should bestow this whole days work about it. But because in the sequel of our discourses, as well in the handling of vices as of virtues, we may consider furthermore how necessary temperance is, and what profit it bringeth to the whole life of man, we will content ourselves to learn of Plato, that temperance is the pillar of fortitude, the helmet and shield against luxuriousness, the keeper & guide of the eyes, the preserver 
The commendation of temperance.  of good will, the razor of evil thoughts, the corrector of untamed desires, an enemy to the disordered will of the soul: that it shunneth natural desires, hindereth dishonest actions, breedeth continency, mollifieth men's hearts, and giveth reason for a rule in all things. Now let us note out amongst the ancients, some examples of the force and greatness of this virtue of Temperance, which hath made many excellent men worthy of eternal renown, Scipio, Affricanus, General of the Romans, at the taking of the city of Cartharge had a young 
Wonderful examples of temperance Scipio. Africanus.  damsel to this prisoner, of rare and excellent beauty. And when he understood of what great calling she came, and how her parents not long before had betrothed her to a great Lord of Spain, he commanded that he should be sent for, and restored her unto him, without abusing her in any respect, although he was in the flower of his age, and had free and sovereign authority. Moreover, he gave for a dowry with her the money that was brought unto him for her ransom. An act no doubt of great continency in a victorious captain towards his captive, whereof Aulus Gellius, joining it with that which we read of Alexander the Great, maketh this question, whether of the twain behaved himself more virtuously. For Alexander having vanquished in battle king Darius, and retaining as prisoner his wife, 
Alexander.  which excelled all the dames of Asia in beauty, and was withal but young in years, the victorious monarch being but young also, and having no superior above him to whom he was bound to give an account of himself, had not withstanding such great knowledge how to command himself, that albeit by his acquaintance and friends he was sufficiently certified of the excellent beauty of this Lady, yet he bore no ill thought towards her, but sent to comfort her, and caused her to be entertained and attended on with no less honour and reverence, than if she had been his own sister. And to avoid all suspicion and occasion of evil, he would not see her, nor suffer her to be brought before him. The temperance of Cyrus' king of Persia is also very famous amongst the historiographers. For when one of his minions 
Cyrus.  stirred him up to go and see fair Panthaea, saying that her rare beauty was well worthy to be seen: That is the cause (answered this young Prince unto him) why I will altogether abstain at this present from beholding her at thy persuasion, lest she herself hereafter should induce me through the remembrance of her perfection to go to her, and to 'cause me in the mean time to let slip many affairs of great importance. Architas was so temperate, 
Architas.  that he would not so much as utter one filthy word: and if he were driven to declare it upon some just occasion, than he wrote it, showing by this silence, how dishonest a thing it was to commit that, which being only uttered aught to 'cause a man to blush. Xenocrates, was endued with such a great gift of contenencie, that Phryna a very fair and notable courtesan laid a 
Xenocrates.  wager with certain young men, that if she lay with him, she would 'cause him to break his temperance. But Xenocrates, having granted her the half of his bed, for example's sake to those youths, was nothing more moved for any thing that she could do. Whereupon Phryna being very angry made answer in the morning to those that demanded the wager of her, That she lay not with a man but with a block. Isaeus the Philosopher being asked of one 
I●au●.  that looked upon a very fair woman, whether she seemed not unto him to be fair, made this answer; My friend, I am not diseased any more in my eyes, and so would not behold her at all. Caius Gracchus the Roman, as long as he governed Sardinia, would never suffer a woman to set foot in his house, except it were to demand justice. Antigonus' king of Macedonia, 
C. Gracchus. Antigonus.  hearing that his son was lodged in a house where there were three very fair daughters, made an edict, that no Courtier should lodge in any matron's house that had daughters, if she were under fifty years of age. Pompeius would never speak to the wife of Demetrius his freeman, because she was so fair, that he feared lest he should be in love with her. In the number of these ancient, famous and virtuous men, that great captain Francis Sforce duke 
Pompeius. P. Sforce.  of Milan deserveth to be placed, whose continency, was wonderful, even when he was yet young, and General of the Florentine army, at the taking of Casanova. For as certain soldiers had taken a maid of an excellent beauty, and at her entreaty and earnest request had brought her before him, Sforce asked the maid why she desired so earnestly to come before him. To this end (quoth she) that thou mightest deliver me from the soldiers, and that I might please thee. Sforce seeing her to be very fair, accepted of her, and at night caused her to lie with him. But as he would have drawn near unto her, the maid cast herself on both her knees before him without the bed, and besought him to save her virginity, and to restore her to him unto whom she was made sure. Whereunto Sforce willingly agreed, beholding the abundance of her tears, which were testimonies of the chastity of her heart. Will we have examples of this virtue of temperance in other circumstances of her effects? Ambition truly is the most vehement and strongest passion of all those wherewith men's minds are troubled, and yet many notable and virtuous men have so mastered it by the force of their temperance, that oftentimes they accepted of offices and estates of supreme authority, as it were by compulsion and with grief: yea some altogether contemned and willingly forsook them. Pompey receiving letters of absolute authority from the Senate to conduct the war against the two kings Tigranes and Mithridates cried out: OH God, shall 
The temperance of Pompey against ambition.  I never come to the end of so many travels? Shall envy always hold me in such sort as her slave, that new and great charges daily laying hold upon me, I cannot rid myself of these snares, to the end I may live sweetly with my wife and children at my house in the country? Pittacus one of the Sages of Graecia, being constrained to take upon him the charge of an army, accepted it with great grief, saying before them all: OH how 
Pittacus.  hard a matter it is to be a good man: Pedaretus the Lacedaemonian having escaped to be 
Pedaretus.  elected one of those three hundredth Senators, which governed the estate of Sparta, returned from the assembly very joyful, saying, That it was an easy matter to find in the city three hundredth better and more honest men than himself. What did Scipio; of whom we have already 
Scipio.  spoken, after he had performed a thousand glorious facts for the greatness of the Roman Empire? He forced the nature of ambition, which is always carried with a desire of new glory, and changed the rest of his life into quietness: an abandoning the affairs of estate, he went and dwelled in the country. Torquatus and Fabritius absented themselves from Rome, the one because he would not have the dictatorship, and the other the consulship. It is 
Torquatus & Fabritius. Aimaeus.  not long since Aimaeus duke of Savoy willingly gave over his duchy into his son's hands, and become an hermit: and after that being chosen Pope, he gave up the seat willingly to another. Amurathes, the second of that name, Emperor of the Turks, after he had obtained infinite victories, and vanquished the king of Hungary, become a monk of the straightest sect 
Amurathes.  amongst them. The great Emperor Charles the fift, did he not resign his Empire into the 
Charles the fift.  hands of the prince's electors, and withdrew himself into a monastery? But what need we marvel at the knowledge of these examples, which show the effects of this virtue of temperance against strange passions arising in us, proceeding of our nature corrupted with sin, and ruling in us through the ignorance of that which is good, when we may see, that temperance doth not only serve for a good guide and schoolmaster to our passions, and to our natural and necessary desires and pleasures that are borne with man from the beginning, to rule them with mediocrity & reason, but also compelleth them oftentimes to submit themselves, thereby triumphing over their necessity, although (as Thales said) it be invisible? And then how much more easy will it be to restrain, yea, wholly to overthrow the foolish desires of vanity? Sous a Captain of great renown, and king of Lacedemonia, being besieged in a 
Sous.  narrow strait, and very craggy place void of water, after he had endured the necessity of thirst to the uttermost, he offered to the Clitorians his enemies, to restore unto them all their land, which he had won of them, so that he and all his company might drink of a fountain near unto them. Which being thus agreed upon between them, he led all his men thither, and said unto them, that if any one would abstain from drinking, he would resign his royalty of Lacedemonia unto him. But none would accept thereof, insomuch that all drank except himself, who going last down into the fountain did nothing but refresh himself, and wet his mouth a little on the out side, in the presence of his enemies, not drinking one drop thereof. By means whereof he maintained, that he was not bound at all unto his promise, because all drank not: and so he continued the war to the great honour and advantage of his country. Lysimachus, one of Alexander's successors in the Empire, had not so great power over the like passions. For being compelled by thirst, he delivered himself 
Lysimachus.  and all his army to the Geteses his enemies. After he had drunk, being prisoner, OH God (quoth he) how fainthearted am I, that for so short a pleasure have deprived myself of so great a kingdom! Cato the younger, traveling over the deserts of Lybia, endured very sore thirst. And when a soldier offered him a little water in his motion, he threw it upon the ground in 
Cato.  the presence of them all, to the end his army might know, that he would be in no better estate than they. Truly a worthy example for all Captains: for by so doing, that which would hardly have quenched the thirst of one, restrained it in a whole army. The Emperor Rodolphus, who of base estate attained to this dignity by his virtue, upon the like occasion made an answer 
Rodolphus.  worthy to be remembered. For when a full cup of beer was brought unto him in the war which he had against Octocarius' king of Bohemia, at what time he was in a place where his whole army was greatly troubled with thirst, he would not receive it, but said unto the bearer thereof, That his thirst was for all his army, and not only for himself, and therefore that cup of beer was not sufficient to quench it. We read of Socrates that whensoever he felt himself 
Socrates.  very thirsty, he would not drink before he had spilled and cast away the first pitcher of water, which he drew for himself out of the well, to this end (as he said) that he might acquaint his sensual appetite to expect the convenient time of reason. Seeing therefore by such examples, and infinite others contained in histories, we have certain and assured proof of the force of temperance over natural and necessary passions, how credible is it, that she may have far greater power over those, other passions that came from without us, after we fell from our first creation? Let us therefore conclude by our present discourse, that the virtue of Temperance is very necessary and profitable for a happy life, as that which hath this property belonging unto it, to be skilful in choosing a mediocrity in pleasures and griefs, in keeping that which is honest and virtuous, and in shunning of vice, especially of carnal pleasures, although she serve also to moderate all the actions of our life. And if a prudent man avoideth dishonest things in public places, a temperate man goeth farther, eschewing them in solitary and obscure corners. If justice suffereth no violence to be used, or wrong offered to any, Temperance further permitteth none to offend any: and therefore is very well called of the Philosophers, the mother of all duty and honesty.   

Of Intemperance, and of Stupidity or Blockishness. Chap. 18.  ACHITOB. 
BEing instructed in the virtue of temperance, which, as well as her fellow virtues, consisteth in mediocrity, we are now to consider of her extremities and vices that are in excess and in defect. Intemperance is clean contrary unto it, which, as Cicero saith, inflameth, provoketh, and troubleth the tranquility of the spirit: but concerning the defect, I found no proper name given unto it by the Philosophers. But I leave the handling of this matter unto my companions.  ASER. 
Intemperance (saith Plato) was so called of the ancients, because that perverse, cruel, great and terrible beast Lust, exerciseth therein more power than it aught, as also disordered joy doth the like. Whereupon it cometh, that intemperate men enjoying the 
Predominant passions in Intemperance.  pleasure of their senses, imagine falsely that true felicity accompanieth them therein. But truly whosoever obeyeth bodily pleasures, serveth most cruel tyrants.  AMANA. 
Nature (said Architas) hath given no plague more pernicious and hurtful than the pleasure of the body. For whereas God hath bestowed upon man nothing more excellent than the soul and reason, there is none so great an enemy to this heavenly gift as voluptuousness: because where luxuriousness and concupiscence reign, there temperance can have no place: yea, all virtues are banished out of their kingdom. But let us hear ARAM discourse of these vices here propounded unto us.  ARAM. 
I read in Plato not long since, that there were many sins, which aught rather 
Some sins are punishments of other sins.  to be called punishments of other sins going before, that sins. According to the course and sequel of his speech, if my memory be good, I think his meaning is, that men suffering themselves to be overtaken of vice in the beginning, as it were in sport, never take heed unto themselves, until they be wholly abandoned and given over (as Saint Paul saith) to their vile affections, and pleasures of their hearts, in all uncleanness and turbulent passions 
Rom. 1.  of Ignominy and reproach. Insomuch that after they have opened the gate to their concupiscences, and to the desires of the flesh; of whoremongers, covetous persons, revengers, of their own wrongs, belly-gods, gluttons, and from other less imperfections, being notwithstanding soul & beastly, they become Sodomites, Church-robbers, parricides, Epicures, Atheists, and full of all execrable villainies, which are comprehended under this word of intemperance. Intemperance is very well defined of the Philosophers to be an overflowing in voluptuousness, forcing and compelling all reason in such sort, that no consideration of loss 
What intemperance is.  or hindrance is able to stay or keep back him that is through long custom infected with vice, from betaking himself of set purpose, and as a man would say, willingly and desperately, to the execution of all his desires and lusts, as he that placeth his sole and sovereign good therein, seeking for no other contentation than in that thing, which bringeth to him and to his senses delight & pleasure. For this cause Aristotle distinguisheth between intemperance 
The difference between an incontinent and an intemperate man.  and incontinency (albeit many take them indifferently one for another) saying, that an incontinent man chooseth not, neither consulteth when he offendeth, as one that knoweth full well that the evil he committeth is evil, and had resolved with himself not to follow it, but being overcome with perturbations, yieldeth thereunto. Whereas the intemperate man committeth evil of election and settled purpose to follow it, accounting it a good thing, and to be desired; and this cometh through a long custom and habit of vice, which is the cause that he never repenteth him of the fact, but taketh pleasure therein: whereas on the contrary side the repentance of an incontinent man followeth hard at the heels of his sin and transgression. In this manner than proceedeth Intemperance, until men are wholly addicted and given over to vice. This is the cause why the sensual and unreasonable part of the soul contendeth no more with reason, which then is as it were stark dead, and suffereth itself to be carried to ugly and unnatural vices, and to all fleshly desires: because the divine part of the soul is weakened in such sort, that she hath no more strength, nor feeling of her essence, which is an enemy to vice. And thus accustoming herself to follow nothing but the will of the body, she forsaketh God altogether, who seeing himself forsaken, leaveth her to her concupisciences, from whence is engendered this exceeding luxuriousness even against nature, this mortal, venomous and bloody envy, this furious & barbarous cruelty, this insatiable covetousness, this blood thirsty ambition, and other incurable diseases of the soul, too well known amongst us, whereof the sequel of our discourses will afford a more ample knowledge unto us. Thus we see that intemperance (as Cicero saith) is the mother of all the perturbations in the soul, and causeth man (as Socrates said to differ nothing from a beast: because he never thinketh upon that which is best, but only seeketh how to satisfy and content the unbridled desires of pleasure and lust, having no more use of reason than beasts have. Intemperance (saith Eusebius) corrupteth the soul, and destroyeth 
A fit similitude.  the body, because it constraineth a man, for love of pleasure, and desire to satisfy it, to do that which he knoweth well is dishonest and vile. And as the winds torment and toss that ship which they have seized upon, now here now there, and will not suffer it to be guided by her master: so Intemperance moving and compelling the soul to disobey reason, suffereth her not to enjoy tranquillity and rest, which is an assured haven of harbour from all winds. Intemperance (saith Aristotle) is a vice that proceedeth from the covering part of man, whereby we desire to enjoy unlawful pleasures. It is her property to choose the fruition of hurtful and vile pleasures, supposing none to live happily, but such as pass away their life in them. This vice is unseperably accompanied with the troubling of all Order, with 
The companions of Intemperance.  impudency, unseemliness, luxuriousness, sloth negligence, and dissoluteness. In a word, Intemperance removeth and troubleth all tranquillity of the mind, and leadeth men to all kind of wickedness, the end of one vice being the beginning of another: which Socrates called the punishment of sin, that doth not cleanse but kill the male factor. There is no kind of dissoluteness wherein the intemperate man plungeth not himself, no wickedness or cruelty, which he executeth not for the satisfying of his unclean desires and unsatiable lusts; no fear or imminent danger, which can draw him back. And further, he laboureth oftentimes to procure, that glory and honour should be given to his most cursed and execrable misdemeanours, imagining and fancying with himself dreams answerable and agreeable to that he most desireth. Wherein he resembleth mad men, who have always before their eyes those Ideas and shapes, which work the apprehension of their fury, and hold them in the vision 
Intemperate men resemble mad folks.  and inward view of that which most troubleth their diseased brain. But to make this vice of Intemperance more odious unto us, and to move us more earnestly to fly those causes that nourish it, labouring to cut off all those branches and hurtful fruits, which it bringeth with it, as superfluity, gluttony, ambition, pride, and other excesses in all kind of delight, whereof we will entreat more particularly hereafter, let us call to mind examples of such pernicious effects, as it hath brought forth in them that voluntarily submitted themselves under her tyrannous government. Although we should search throughout all ancient histories, yet hardly could we allege a more evident testimony, than the life of Heliogabolus: because there is no kind of cursed mischief, of detstable lust, of injustice and of cruelty 
Heliogebalus.  wherewith he was not defiled. Yea, he fell into such a furious frenzy of vice, that seeking to become a woman, and to be married to one of his minions, thinking in that sex better to satisfy his beastliness, he apparelled himself after such a fashion, that he was neither man nor woman. And knowing it impossible for him by reason of his impiety and corrupt life to escape a miserable end and violent death (which aught rather to have been unto him an occasion of amendment) he was so be witched with intemperance, that he prepared poisons ready at hand to poison himself withal, if he perceived himself pressed of his enemies. And to make his death luxurious according to his desire, he kept his poisons in vessels made of precious stones. He provided also silken halters to hung himself withal, if he saw that more expedient for him, than to be poisoned: or if he should think it better to murder himself, he kept for that purpose knives made of precious metals. Likewise he caused a high tower all gilded to be built, and all to choose his death as fittest occasion should be offered. In the mean while he gave not over that execrable kind of life, which through God's just judgement he ended, being deprived of all those means wherewith he desired to serve his own turn in his death. For he was strangled by the soldiers of his guard, who trailed him in that manner through all places of the city of Rome. Nero, one of his predecessors, was little 
Nero.  better than he. For he slew a Roman Consul called Atticus, that he might have the free use of his wife: and pleased himself so much in his cruelty, that he was the murderer of his own mother, brother, sister, and of two wives which he had, named Octavia and Poppea. Likewise he put to death his Schoolmaster Seneca, and many other good men. But his end dissembled not his life. For being hated of all and sought for to be slain, he killed himself. Commodus an other Emperor, not finding wherewith to satisfy his intemperancy in three 
Commodus.  hundred concubines, and three hundred buggers, which he kept in his palace committed incest with his own sisters. Caligula also did the like, but the one of them was slain by his 
Caligula. Proculus.  wife, and the other by his concubine. Proculus a Roman Emperor, was so much given to lust, that he bragged how in fifteen days he had gotten with child a hundred virgins of Sarmatia, which he had taken prisoners in the war. Chilpericus the first, king of France, to the end 
Chilpericus 1.  he might the better enjoy a whore called Fredegonda, whom afterwards he married, compelled his first wife named A●devora, to become a religious woman, and put to death two children which he had by her, through the counsel of his said concubine. Than having in his second marriage taken to wife Galsonda daughter to the king of Spain, he caused her to be strangled, and married Fredegonda, who perceiving afterward that he noted in himself this looseness of life, and offensive kind of government, caused him to be slain. A just punishment suffered by God for his intemperance. Xerxes' monarch of the Persians', was so intemperate and given to lust, that he propounded rewards for those that could invent some new 
Xerxes.  kind of pleasure. And therefore coming into Graecia with an infinite number of men to subdue it, he was overcome and repulsed by a small number, as being an effeminate and fainthearted man. Epicurus a learned Philosopher was so intemperate, that he placed the sovereign Good and Felicity in pleasure. Sardanapalus monarch of Babylon, the first of the four 
Epicurus. Sardanapalus.  Empires, was so addicted to lust and intemperance, that he stirred not all day long from the company of women, being appareled as they were, and spinning purple. Whereby he become so odious, that two of his Lieutenants judging him unworthy to command over Asia, and over so many good men as were under his Empire, raised his subjects against him, and overcame him in battle. Whereupon despairing of his safety, he caused a great Tabernacle of wood to be set up in a sure place within the cloister of his palace, and compassed it round about with great store of dry wood. Than he caused his wife and his concubines whom he loved best, to enter into it, and all the wealth he had to be brought thither. This done shutting himself within it, his eunuchs and servants according to the oath which he had taken of them, put fire to the said frame, and so this miserable king of the Chaldeans and Assyrians, with all that was with him, was suddenly consumed with fire, and ended his monarchy, which his victorious lieutenants divided betwixt them, the one taking himself for king of Babylon, the other of Media. Antonius' one of Caesar's successors in the Empire, procured his own 
Antonius.  ruin through intemperance and looseness, and stirred up against himself, the envy and murmuring of the Romans for his retchlessness in feats of arms in that war over which he was General against the Parthians. For to the end he might quickly return to his concubine Cleopatra Queen of Egypt, he hazarded all in such sort, that without doing any thing worthy his first reputation, he lost more than twenty thousand of his own men. Afterwards Octavius his companion in the Empire, being armed against him, that he might revenge the injury which he had done him in forsaking his sister whom he had wedded, to live in his uncleanness, gave him battle: wherein Antonius seeing his friend Cleopatra fly, who had borne him company in that war, followed her with threescore of his own galleys, albeit the fight was yet equal, and the victory doubtful. Thus he betrayed those that fought for him, to follow her, who already had begun his destruction, to the end she might accomplish the same, as indeed it fell out after. For being besieged within Alexandria by the said Octawis, and without hope of safety, he thrust himself through the body with his sword, whereof he died: and Cleopatra also procured her own death by the biting of the serpent 
Boleslaus. 2.  Aspis. Boleslaus the second, king of Polonia, being given to all uncleaneness and filthiness, made no doubt to take women by violence from their husbands. Whereupon the Bishop of Craconia often admonished him thereof, and when, by reason of his obstinate perseverance, he proceeded against him even with excommunication, he was carried headlong with such fury, that he killed this holy man. After that his subjects coming against him, he was constrained to fly into Hungary, where falling mad, he slew himself. The Emperor Adrian took 
Adrian.  such glory and pride in all execrable vices, that he commanded a temple with a sumptuous tomb to be made for a naughty man named Antinoüs, whom he had miserably abused in his 
johannes a Casa.  life. In our time johannes a Casa Archbishop of Benevento, and Legate in Venice, wrote a book in praise of the abominable vice of Sodomitry. Sigismundus Malatesta, Lord of a part of Romaignola a province of Italy, strived to have carnal knowledge of his son Robert, who thrusting his poinado into his father's bosom, revenged that great wickedness. By these examples and infinite others, whereof histories are full, it appeareth sufficiently, that man burning with Intemperance, careth not at what price, with what shame, hurt, or hindrance, he may come to the execution and practice of all such pleasure and delight, as he propoundeth to himself. As if he purpose to have his fame continued for ever, he will not stick to do it, although it be by some notable wickedness. And thus we read of him that burned the Temple of Diana, which was accounted the fifth wonder of the world, and was two hundred and 
The Temple of Diana was burnt by Erostratus.  eight and twenty years in building by the Amazons within the city of Ephesus in Asia. The planks thereof were all of Cedar wood, and the doors and garnishing of the walls of Cypress. This wretched caitiff confessed, that he put fire to that sumptuous building for no other cause, than to leave his fame and renown behind him in the world: but commandment was given that none should set down his name in writing. Nevertheless he is named Erostratus, by Solinus and S●rabo: from whence came that proverb, This is the renown of Erostratus, used when any man seeketh to be famous by a wicked act, which we may also apply to all intemperate men. As touching the defect of Temperance, whereof mention was made in the beginning of our present discourse, and which hath no proper name, but unproperly is called by some Stupidity or senselessness, it is rarely found amongst men, who by nature are given to pleasure, and carried away with all kinds of desires and lusts. For where shall we found 
Of Stupidity.  any so dull and blockish, that hath no feeling of pleasure, and that is not moved with glory and honour? Such a man may be truly taken and accounted as one void of sense and feeling, and like to a block. Neither doth it belong to Temperance to be deprived of all desires, but to master them. For that man (as Cicero saith) that never had experience of pleasures and delights, neither hath any feeling of them, aught not to be called temperate, as he that hath done nothing which may testify his continency and modesty. Thus ye see we have no matter offered whereabout to bestow time in reproving this vice of defect, from which men are too careful to keep themselves. But to come to the conclusion of our discourse, we say with Aristotle, that concupiscences and desires change the body, and make the soul outrageous: that so many as are infected with such a pernicious and damnable vice as Intemperance is, are no men, but monsters in nature, leading a life altogether like to that of brute beasts, which being destitute of all reason, know nothing better or more honest than pleasure: and having no knowledge of the justice of God, neither reverencing the beauty of virtue, bestow all the courage, craft and force that nature hath given them, to satisfy & to accomplish their desires. So that if death brought with it an end of all sense and feeling, and an utter abolishing of the soul, as well to men as to beasts, intemperate folks should seem to gain much by enjoying their desires and lusts during their life time, and to have good cause to wax old, and even to melt in their foul and filthy pleasures. But seeing we know (for truly he that doubteth hereof, is very ignorant and most miserable) that sense and feeling remain after death, and that the soul dieth not with the body, but that punishment, yea everlasting pain is prepared for the wicked, let us be careful to do the will of our Father which is in heaven, whilst we have time, that in the triumphing day of his eternal Son, we may not bear to our confusion, that sentence of his mouth, Departed from me ye workers of iniquity. At which time, the just shall shine as the Sun in the kingdom of God, and the wicked shall be cast headlong into everlasting fire, where shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. 
Luke 13. 27.    

Of Sobriety and Frugality. Chap. 19  ARAM. 
Socrates' used to dispute earnestly and gravely of the manner of living, as of a thing of great importance. For he said that continency in meat and drink, was as it were the foundation and beginning of skill. And truly the mind is much more prompt to comprehend all good reason, when the operations of the brain are not hindered by vapours, which the superfluity of meats sand up thither. I am of opinion therefore, that we handle this virtue of sobriety, which dependeth of temperance, and is contained under the first part thereof, namely under continency.  ACHITOB. 
To live well and frugally (saith Plato) is to live temperately: and (as Epictetus saith) there is great difference between living well, and living sumptuously. For the one cometh of Temperance, Frugality, discipline, honesty, moderation of the soul, contented with her own riches: and the other of intemperance, lust, and contempt of all order & mediocrity. In the end, the one is followed with shame, and the other with true & lasting praise  ASER. 
We cannot well use our spirit (saith Cicero) when we are stuffed with meat. Neither must we gratify the belly and entrails only, but also the honest joy of the mind. For that which is contained in the other parts, perisheth: but the soul separated from the body, abideth for ever. Let us then hearken to AMANA, of whom we may understand how necessary sobriety is for a happy life.  AMANA. 
If we set before our eyes the long and happy life of the Ancients, so long as they observed sobriety and frugality: out of doubt we will attribute one principal cause of 
The cause of the long life of our Elders, and of the shortness of ours.  our so short life, and so full of infirmities, to the riot, superfluity, and curiosity of diet, which at this day are seen amongst us. The life of our first fathers, was it not maintained a long time with first-fruits, milk, honey, and water? Who ever came near their long and happy days, since those times? What preparation of exquisite victuals did those six hundred thousand Israelites think to find, that came out of Egypt to go into a new land, walking forty years through the wilderness, drinking nothing but water, and many times wanting that? After those first ages, the Grecians and Romans loved sobriety, more than all other nations. And as the Hebrews used to eat but once a day, which was at dinner, so the Grecians only supped. For this cause we read that Plato, being demanded whether he had seen any new or strange thing in Sicilia, answered, that he had found a monster of nature, which did eat twice a day. This he spoke of Dionysius the tyrant, who first brought up that custom in his country. 
Dionysius a monster, and why.  In the time of julius Caesar the Germans, a strong and warlike people, lived only of milk, cheese and flesh, not knowing what Wheat or Wine were, nor yet what it was to labour the ground, or to sow. Yea how many millions of men are there at this day in the West regions and islands, who know not what all this superfluity and daintiness of fare meaneth, and yet live long and healthy in all frugality, the greatest part of them upon herbs and roots, whereof they make cakes in stead of wheat, and others of raw flesh? Whereby it is easy to judge, that Sobriety is the preservation and maintenance of health, and of natural strength and vigour, and so consequently of the life of man. But when we look higher, and with the eyes of our mind mark the excellent glory and immortal praise, deserved by so many Camilli, Scipiones, Fabritij, Metelli, Catones, and by a thousand other famous families, 
The sobriety of old time, and corruption of ours compared together.  which executed so many worthy acts by their own virtue, and yet in the mean while kept such a simple and sober diet, that the most of them were contented with bread, herbs, and water, endured and tolerated cheerfully all injuries of weather, went but homely arrayed, and altogether contemned gold and silver: out of question we will judge those men very blind, and far from the white of such glory and honour, who embrace nothing but dissoluteness, super fluity, lust, drunkenness, pride, and all such like imperfections that bear sway amongst us, who behold Vice mounted so high, that men must in a manner blush as much to speak of Virtue, or to be virtuous in a thousand companies, as in that happy time of the Ancients, they were ashamed of Vice, or to be vicious. And truly I think that these men being past shame, care but little for the glory that hath been in many ages, seeing they live for the body only, after a brutish impiety, without all regard of the soul, or of the second life. What say I for the body? Nay rather they are the destroyers thereof, seeing it cannot be● denied but that sobriety is a great benefit and help to preserve health and bodily strength, and to 
Sobriety preserveth health  expel diseases, and it is to be used as a good foundation to attain to a happy old age. The experience hereof is well known to every one, although there were no other proof but this, that we see the simple sort of people that labour and travel, to live with bread and water, grow old in health; whereas our Princes and great Lords being delicately brought up in idleness, die young men, tormented with infinite diseases, especially when they grow a little in years. Further, let such dissolute men as make pleasure the end of their desire, know, that Sobriety leadeth those that follow her, to far greater and more perfect pleasures, than incontinency and superfluity do. For these excessive fellows never expect hunger, or thirst, or any other pleasure of the body, but through intemperance prevent them, and so enjoy scarce half the pleasure. But sober and temperate men, forbearing the fruition of their desire a long time, have a far more perfect taste of them, because (as Cicero saith) the pleasure of life consisteth 
There is more pleasure of the creature in sobriety, than in superfluity.  rather in the desire, than in the satiety thereof. And if mediocrity be not observed, those things that are most acceptable and pleasant, become most unpleasant. Do we not also see that when the body is not overcharged with meat and wine, it is better disposed, and more temperate for every good action? And as for the spirit for which we aught chiefly to live, it is more ready and nimble to comprehend and conceive what right, reason, and true honesty are. For (as Aristotle saith) sobriety causeth men to judge better and according to the truth, of allthings, & in that respect is very necessary for the attaining of Philosophy. Likewise sobriety tetaineth that in a wise man's thought, which a fool without discretion hath in his mouth. And therefore (saith Ca●es) we must strive by all means to restrain our belly, because 
The belly is an unthankful beast.  that only is always unthankful for the pleasures done unto it, craving continually, and oftener, than it needeth: so that whosoever is not able to command over it, will daily heap up mischief upon mischief to himself. But frugolity and sobriety are the mistresses of good counsel, and the badges of chastity. For this cause Titus Livius commendeth more the barrenness and sterility of a country. Than fertility and fruitfulness, saying that men borne in a fat and fertile soil, are commonly do littles, and cowards: but contrariwise, the barrenness of a country, maketh men sober of necessity, and consequently careful, vigilant, and given too to labour. As the Athenians were, being situated in a very unfruitful place. We make great account (saith Paulonius) of frugality, not because we esteem the creatures themselves vile, and of small value, but that by means thereof we may increase the greatness of our courage. And if the greatest and chiefest benefit that could come to man, were (said Solon) to have no need of nourishment, it is very manifest, that the next to that is to have need but of a little. But amongst so many good reasons of such excellent men, the counsel of Epictetus is well worth the marking, where he saith: then when we would eat, we must consider that we have two guests to entertain, the body and 
The counsel of Epictetus concerning eating.  the soul, and that whatsoever shall be put into the body, departeth away quickly, but what good thing soever entereth into the soul, abideth for ever. To this effect Timotheus a Graecian captain, having supped with Plato in the Academy at a sober and simple repast (for the greatest festival dainties were olives, cheese, apples, coleworts, bread and wine) said that they which sup with Plato, feel the benefit thereof the next day, yea a long time after. For these 
How wise men in old time feasted one another.  wise men met together at banquets void of excess, not to fill their bellies, but to prepare & dress their minds, and to learn one of another by their goodly discourses of Philosophy, whereof a virtuous soul hath better taste, than the body of a well relished and delicate meal Such were the feasts of Pythagoras, Socrates, Xenocrates, and of other Sages of Graecia, where the discussing of good & learned matters there handled, brought through the remembrance of them great pleasure, and no less liked commodity, and that of long continuance to such as were present at them. And as for the pleasures of drinking and eating, they judged the very remembrance thereof to be unworthy and unbeseeming men of honour, because it was to pass away as the smell of a perfume. Neither would they suffer that men should bring into their assemblies the vanity of foolish delights, as of the sound of instruments, 
Against vaindelights in feasts.  of interludes, or of any other pastime, which a wise man aught rather to esteem as a hindrance of delight, than any pleasure at all. For having within themselves sufficient matter of recreation and rejoicing, through their learned discourses, itt were mere folly to beg strange and frivolous delights from without them. And Plutarch saith, that the brutish part of the soul, depending of the feeding beast, and uncapable of reason, is that which is pleased, brought to order, and satisfied by songs and sounds, which are sung and tuned 
The belly a feeding beast.  unto it: even as with the whistling of lips or hands, or with the sound of a pipe shepherds cause their sheep to arise, or lie down, because they understand not an articulate or distinct speech, that hath some pith in it. Therefore I commend Euripides, for reprehending such as use the harp, so long as a feast lasteth t for (quoth he) music aught rather to besent for, when men are angry, or mourn, than when they are feasting or making merry, thereby to 
When music is most convenient.  make them give more liberty to all pleasure, than before. I suppose the Egyptians did better, who used in the midst of their banquets to bring in the Anatomy of a dead body dried, that the horror thereof might contain them in all modesty. For this cause the memory 
The custom of the Egyptians at banquets.  of the Emperor Henry the third, greatly commendeth itself, who banished all pomp and vanity from his wedding, and drove away the players, and iosters, causing a great number of poor folk to come in their place. The custom which the Lacedomonians observed, when they lived under Lycurgus' laws, is also worthy to be remembered: which was, that no torches or lights should be brought unto them, when they departed from feasts at night, that it might be an occasion unto them to fear drunkenness, and so to avoid this shame, that 
The custom of the Lacedæmonians.  they only could not find out their houses. Now in those happy times vines were planted and dressed, that wine might be drunk rather in time of sickness, than of health: insomuch that it was not sold in Taverns, but only Apothecary's shops. Those ancient Sages commonly measured their drinking by that saying of Anacharsis, that the first draft which 
The manner of drinking in old time.  men drunk? aught to be for thirst, the second for nourishment: and as for the third, that it was of pleasure, and the fourth of madness. Pythagoras being much more religious in this matter, and living only of herbs, fruit, and water, said: that the vine brought forth three grapes, whereof the first quencheth thirst, the second troubleth, and the third altogether dulleth. He never drank wine, no more did that great Orato Demosthenes, nor any other famous men, of whom histories make mention. The kings of Egypt were forbidden wine, which they never drank, except on certain days, and then by measure. And truly it bringeth with it pernicious effects, aswell to the soul, as to the body. For from it proceedeth the chief and most common cause of bodily diseases, and of the infirmities of the soul. But to continued the examples of love which the Ancients bore to the virtue of sobriety, this was it that caused Alexander the Great to refuse those cooks and Paisterers which Ada Queen of Caria sent unto him, and to sand her word back again, that he had better than they were: 
The sobrietic of Alexander.  namely, for his dinner, early rising, and walking a good while before day: and for his supper, a little dinner. Notwithstanding, in the end the Persian delicacies and riches (which always is the property of such goods) caused this virtuous Monarch to change his commendable custom of living, and to approve and like of excess in drinking: to which vice, that he 
Against excessive drinking.  might give greater authority, he propounded six hundred crowns for a reward to him that drank most, and called a great cup after his own name. Which cup, when he offered to Calisthenes one of his fauourits, he refused, saying: that he would not for drinking in Alexander, stand in need of Esculapius. With which the king perceiving himself touched, was so incensed against him, that he caused him to be put in a cage with dogs, where he poisoned himself, being impatient of his captivity. Wherein we may note how ridiculous their blockishness is, who for fear, not of such an entertainment as this wise man received, but of being taken and reputed as void of good fellowship and uncivil, cast themselves into the danger of a sore sickness, rather than they will refuse to drink a carouse, when they are invited thereunto. Hereby also those men show their want of judgement, and of convenient matter to talk of, who cannot entertain their friends without drunkenness and gluttony. And the other if they knew how to make denial fitly, and in good sort, besides the profit which they should receive thereby, their company would be more desired, than it will be for their drunkenness. Cyrus, Monarch of the Persians', from his childhood gave great testimony, that he would one day become a very sober man. For being demanded by Astyages his grandfather, 
Cyrus.  why he would drink no wine, he answered, for fear lest they give me poison, For (quoth he) I noted yesterday when you celebrated the day of your nativity, that it could not be, but that some body had mingled poison amongst all that wine, which ye then drank: because in the winding up of the table, not one of those that were present at the feast, was in his right mind. Afterwards, this virtuous Prince always lived very frugally: for proof whereof may serve his answer made one day to Artabazus, as he marched in war, who asked him what he would have brought unto him for his supper: Bread, (quoth he,) for I hope we shall find some fountain to furnish us with drink. Porus a noble king of India, lived with water and bread only. Phaotes also king of the same country, did the like: and the greatest feasts 
Porus. Phaotes. Alphonsus.  which he made, or suffered his courtiers to make, was only with a kind of venison. Alphonsus' king of Arragon, and Sicilia, a very soberman, was demanded of certain of his Princes, why he drank no wine: because (quoth he) wisdom is hindered through wine, and prudence darkened: which two things only are able to make a king worthy of that name he beareth. Agesilaus king of Lacedaemonia having always been brought up in the discipline of Lycurgus, 
Agesilaus.  who had banished allryot and super fluity from that city, by the utter defacing and abolishing of gold and silver, become very wonderful, by reason of his simplicity and plainness, in feeding and clothing his body, and in behaving himself as the meanest of his subjects. He used to say (which he likewise put in ure) that he which commanded and ruled many, aught to surpass them, not in dainties and delicacy, but in sustaining labour, and in nobility of heart. The benefit which (as he said) he reaped thereby, was liberty, whereof he assured himself, that he could never be deprived by any alteration and change of fortune. And as he passed with his army by the country of the Thasians, they sent him certain refreshing of flower, and of dainty cates, as comfits, and other dainty devices made of past: but he would take nothing save only the flower. And being urged of others to receive all, he said: Well, if ye think it good, divide the rest amongst the Ilots, (who were their slaves) for it agreeth not with them that make profession of manly fortitude and prows, to take such iuncates. For that which allureth and enticeth men of slavish nature, aught not to be acceptable to them that are of a frank and free courage. But is there any thing now adays I pray thing now adays I pray you, that so much allureth and keepeth base minds in the service 
Good cheer keepeth base minds in subjection.  of great men, as the dainties of their table? And surely the Ancients did not unfitly apply the name of tyrant to a rich man, keeping a sumptuous table, as to one that compelleth men to follow and to obey him. Nevertheless, a courageous heart suffereth not itself to be taken with such baits: but let us continued the examples of Sobriety. Pompey the Great, having all his life time loved modesty and frugality, gave yet a more certain testimony thereof, when, 
Pompeius.  by reason of a linger disease he had lost his appetite to meat. His Physician appointing him to eat of a Blackbird, he was given to understand by his servants, that because they were out of season, it would be a hard matter to get any, except it were of Lucullus, who kept some all the year long, and would willingly give him some. What (quoth he then) if Lucullus were not a dainty and nice glutton, could not Pompey live? Not, not, let me have something made ready that may easily be gotten. Marcus Cato, after he had overcome Spain, and triumphed of notable victories, albeit he was now old and very rich, yet he would add nothing to his 
M. Cato.  ancient manner of living, which was very austere, but drank almost nothing but water, and for the most part did eat nothing but bread and beef, labouring in the field in time of peace as much as the meanest of his servants. Epaminondas the greatest Captain and Philosopher 
Epaminondas.  of his time, lived so thriftily and temperately, that being invited by a friend of his to supper, and seeing great superfluity & sumptuousness, he returned very angry, saying, that he thought he had been requested to sacrifice, and to live honestly together, and not to receive injury and reproach by being entertained like a glutton. Caius Fabritius a noble Roman Captain, was found by the Samnite Ambassadors that came unto him, eating of radish roasted in the 
C. Fabritius.  ashes, which was all the dishes he had to his supper, and that in a very poor house. Scipio Aemilius kept a very honourable table for his friends (for in his time riot had already begun to 
Scipio.  enter into Rome) but going aside himself, he would eat nothing but bread. Masinissa king of the Numidians, was of so great sobriety, that even at ninety years of age he would 
Masinissa.  eat but once a day, and then upon homely meats without sauce. Mithridates' king of Pontus being very old, never sat down at the table to eat, and lived very frugally. Hannibal fed upon 
Mithridates. Hannibal,  no other meat, than did the meanest of his soldiers. The reason why I stay longer in the examples of this virtue of sobriety, is to show the beastliness of men in our age, to whom it seemeth an impossible, vain and contemptible thing, to live in such sparing and austerity of life: saying, that there were none but certain foolish Philosophers, (for that is the Epithet, which the ignorant sort give to virtuous men) and some simple hermits, who lived after that manner. Therefore that they may unseal their eyes, let them behold here, how in all sorts and conditions of men, even in the greatest, the virtue of temperance, frugality and sobriety, did appear and shine. The Emperor Vespasianus one day in every month used to eat nothing. The Priests of Egypt, the Sages of India and Persia, and jupiters' priests, serving false 
Vespasianus.  gods, did never eat any flesh, nor drink wine. Notable examples for those that have the first places in the Church, who aught to be as a lamp in the midst thereof, neither may they take examples by Ethnics and Pagans' only, but also by many holy men, who had in them the true love and fear of God. Daniel and his companions neglecting the king's table, lived with pulse and water only. S. john Baptist passed over the great part of his age in the desert, eating 
Daniel. john Baptist.  nothing but locusts and wild honey. S. Jerome maketh mention of one Paul an Hermit, who lived from sixteen years unto sixty, of dates only: and from sixty years unto the age of six score and five years (when he died) he was fed with a little bread brought daily unto him by a crow. Maxentius bishop of poitiers, lived always with barely bread and water. But to the end we may reap profit by all that hath been here spoken, let us learn of Socrates, that the 
Maxentius.  soul which hath gotten the habit of frugality, and is contented with her estate, passeth away her days in this world, as he that in the Spring time taketh small and easy journeys in a pleasant and fruitful region, with great contentation of mind and little labour. And let that notable and divine precept of Empedocles sound often in our ears,  Behave thyself full soberly, and free from all offence. 
Let us adorn and deck our life with this good and rare virtue of sobriety, which will teach us to renounce worldly vanity, and to content ourselves (next unto God) in virtue only, and in heavenly riches. And although delicacy of fare be so common amongst us Frenchmen, and maintained with such impudence, that we permit amongst us, and study kitchen Commentaries, as much as any good science, so that it may seem a very difficult matter to take it away, and banish it from amongst us, yet it is not altogether impossible as many think. But let us follow that ancient precept of Pythagoras; To choose the best kind of life, and no doubt but custom will by little and little make it easy and pleasant unto us. And if we be despised and rebuked of others, we may answer as Socrates did, who being reproved because he had made no greater preparation of meat in a feast whereunto he invited many 
Socrates' feast  of his friends, said, If they be virtuous, there is enough, and if they be not, there is too much. So let us not seek to please and to imitate the most part of men, but the best and smallest number: neither let us look unto custom, but to that which is decent and honest. But if we persevere in our dissoluteness and superfluity, as if we were Christians in name and sect only, but Epicures in life, we are to fear that in the end need and necessity will force us to forsake it. And as it fell out to king Darius, who after he had lived a long time in all abundance of delights, and never knew what hunger or thirst meant, as he fled from the battle 
Darius in his thirst, judged puddle water to be good drink.  gotten by Alexander was very thirsty: and after he had drunk puddle water proceeding from a river tainted with dead bodies, he burst forth into this speech, That in all his life he never drank better drink: so likewise after we have been tamed with miseries and calamities, we must confess, but too late, and peradventure (OH dangerous downfall) without hope of recovery, that our estate is yet better (albeit most miserable) than our offences have deserved, even then when God for our dissoluteness shall withdraw his blessing wholly from our grounds and possessions. This he hath already begun to perform in some measure, by 
Tokens of the wrath of God.  causing the ground to bring forth unto us thistles and thorns, in stead of good grain and fruit, & by continuing amongst us wars and hurly burlies, which are accompanied with pestiferous diseases, that he may overcharge those with the scourges of his just vengeance, who will not humble themselves under the sweetness of his word.   

Of Superfluity, sumptuousness, Gluttony, and wallowing in delights. Chap. 20.  AMANA. 
SEeing we have summarily understood the excellency and profit of the virtue of sobriety, that it may yet better appear by the contrary, and that we may be so much the more induced to desire it amongst us, I think we shall do well to entreat 
The chiefest cause of destruction to Commonwealths is excess in delights.  of superfluity, sumptuousness, and gluttony, whose first-fruits are weltering in delights, which is the principal cause of destruction (as Plato saith) to kingdoms, monarchies, and commonwealths. Therefore I propound these vices to you my companions to discourse upon.  ARAM. 
Whatsoever is desired more than that which is necessary for the life of man, is superfluity, which causeth so many foolish and excessive expenses amongst us, that, besides the ruin and decay of many good houses, the destruction of the body, and, which is more to be feared, of the soul also, doth for the most part ensue thereupon. Therefore Erasmus said very well, that nothing is more abject and hurtful, than to live as a slave to the pleasure of the mouth and belly.  ACHITOB. 
Those men (saith Plato) that are addicted to the service of their bellies, and care nothing for the food of their minds, are like beasts, who never enjoy true pleasures. Which thing also may be said of them that like fools depend more of opinion than of reason. But it belongeth to thee ASER, to handle this matter here expounded, more at large.  ASER. 
Good things (said Lycurgus) are contrary and enemies to him that abuseth the gifts of nature: as if a valiant man should love rather to be a thief, than a soldier: or a beautiful person an adulterer, rather than a married man. So is it with the goods of fortune, as we term them, the possession of which giveth occasion to those that are unworthy of them, to commit many follies. Among which we may note superfluity for a very pernicious vice, having this property in it to draw the wills of men secretly, and to induce them to covet delights. Whereunto after they have once addicted themselves, they busy their minds with nothing, but to make provision of frivolous, exquisite, and sumptuous things, taking small care, yea forgetting easily those things that are profitable and necessary, whereof afterwards they perceive themselves to stand in great need. Now the end of all superfluities, wherein men plunge themselves after divers manners, is pleasure, which chiefly and for the most part they seek in such a riotous and delicate life, as causeth the body without labour to enjoy all his desires, lusts, and delights: or else in the fruition of worldly glory, 
Pleasure the end of superfluity.  wherein through unprofitable and superfluous expenses, they strive to excel, or at lest wise to match those that are greater than themselves. Concerning the mark whereat they aim, there is nothing more hurtful to man, than pleasure and delight, which (as Plato saith) serveth for a bait & allurement to draw him to commit wickedness, as hereafter we may discourse in more ample manner thereof, as also of that luxurious life, whose desire and contentation is in whoredom. And that I may begin to handle the two other general points, wherein they that are given to superfluity and costliness, seek delight, namely, the delicate life and curiosity of expenses: let us consider of the first-fruits that issue and proceed from them. First, when men suffer themselves to be overtaken with the Epicures doctrine, and appear so careful to serve their belly, nourishing it in excess, daintiness, gluttony, and drunkenness, 
Of the delicate life.  is it not from this head-spring from whence diseases and evil dispositions of the body proceed? We are sick (saith Plutarch) of those things wherewith we live, neither is there any proper and peculiar seed of diseases, but the corruption of those things within us, which we 
The seed of diseases.  eat, and the faults and errors which we commit against them. Homer going about to prove, that the gods die not, groundeth his argument upon this, because they eat not: as if he would teach us, that drinking and eating do not only maintain life, but are also the cause of death. For thereof diseases gather together within our bodies, which proceed no less of being too full, than of being too empty. And oftentimes a man hath more to do to consume and digest meat put into his body, than he had to get it. Physicians (saith Seneca) cry out, that life is short, and art long, and complaint is made of nature, because she hath granted to beasts to live five or six ages, and appointed so short a time of 
Of the shortness of man's life.  life for men, who are borne for many great things. We have no small time, but we loose much time, and life is long enough, if it be well employed. But when it passeth away through excess and negligence, and no good is done therein, in the end through constraint of extreme necessity, although we perceive it not going, yet we feel it is go. Moreover a man may reckon greater store of griefs than pleasures, that come to him from his nourishment: or to speak better, the pleasure of eating is but small, but the toil and trouble that men have in providing it, is great. It were hard to repeat the shameful pains and toilsome labours wherewith it filleth us. Many a man's soul (saith Solon) is overwhelmed, and as it were clothed with fear, lest it should stand in need within the body, as it were in a mill, and turning 
The soul of glottons compared to a millstone.  always about like a millstone, it seeketh after nourishment. Hereupon it remaineth voided and destitute of feeling, and desire of all honest things, and attendeth only to the insatiable lusts of the flesh, which is never contented, because need and necessity are always joined with desire of superfluity. The ancient Egyptians used this custom, to cleave in sunder the body 
The custom of the Egyptians.  of a dead man, to show it to the Sun, and to cast the guts and entrails into the river, and being thus cleansed to embaulme the rest. And in very deed those inward parts are the pollution and defiling of our flesh, and are properly the very Hell of our bodies. But, which is worse, is it not the stuffing and filling of the belly that maketh the mind for the most part dull and uncapable of any science or reason, whereby the divine part of man is oppressed and overwhelmed through the weight and force of that part, which is mortal? A wise soul is a clear brightness, said Heraclitus. OH how hard a matter is it (saith Cato) to preach to the belly, which hath no ears, and which will take no denial, howsoever the case standeth! And as when we behold the Sun through thick clouds and undigested vapours, we see it not clear, but with a pale and wannish light, and as it were plunged in the the bottom of a cloud: so through a troubled and defiled body, heavily loaden with food and strange meats, the brightness and clearness of the soul must needs become pale, troubled, and dimmed, not having such forcible light, as to be able thereby to pierce through unto the contemplation of those things that are great, heavenly, subtle, exquisite, and hard to discern. I thought in my heart (saith the wise man) to withdraw my flesh from wine, that I might bend my mind to wisdom, and eschew folly, until I knew what was profitable for the children of men. It is not for kings, it is not for kings to drink wine, nor for princes strong drink: 
Prou. 31. 4, 5.  lest he drink and forget the decree, and change the judgement of all the children of affliction. To whom is woe? To whom is sorrow? To whom is strife? To whom is murmuring? 
Pro. 23. 29, 30  To whom are wounds without cause? And to whom is redness of the eyes? Even to them that tarry long at the wine: to them that go and seek mixed wine, which in the beginning is pleasant, but in the end pricketh like a Serpent, and poisoneth like a Cockatrice. And in another place, the wise man speaking of gluttony, saith, that it drieth the bones, and that more dye by it than by the sword. We see that beasts fatted up languish through sloth and idleness: neither do beasts faint through labour only, but also by reason of the mass and heavy weight of their own bodies. Furthermore, the vice of gluttony and drunkenness is never alone, but draweth with it a thousand other excessive and dissolute fashions. For (as Plato saith) it stirreth up lust, grief, anger, and love in extremity, and extinguisheth memory, opinion, and understanding. Briefly, it maketh a man twice a child. And in another place, the same Philosopher saith, that gluttony fatteth the body, maketh the mind dull and unapt, and which is worse, undermineth reason. Wine hath as much force as fire. For as soon as it hath overtaken any, it dispatcheth him. And as the North or South wind tormenteth the Lybian sea, so, and much more doth wine vex a man. For it discloseth the secrets of the soul, and troubleth the whole mind. A drunken governor and ruler of any thing whatsoever, bringeth all to ruin and overthrow, whether it be a ship or a waggon, or an army, or any other thing committed to his keeping. We see by the goodly sentences of these Authors, how many discommodities and mischiefs come as well to the body as to the soul, by this excessive super fluity and cariosity of nourishment, whether it be in drinking or eating. We see also that from this self same springhead proceed those unmeasurable and lose behaviours in all kind of delights, in carding and di●ing, in dancing, marking and mumming, in love of maidens, and adultery with wives, the filthiness whereof is so shameful, and discovereth itself so much, that I shall not greatly need 
Against masks and mummeries.  to lose time in reproving thereof. For it is most certain, that all such innentions are merely heathenish, or rather devilish, when men commit such reprobate actions with public liberty and licence. Especially we have to note this well that concerneth masks and mummeries, so common amongst us, and the cause of infinite offences, that forasmuch as the face was appointed and ordained of God to be seen openly, and the mouth to speak, we destroy the ordinance of God, as much as lieth in us, and become contrary unto him, when we take unto us a false face, and deprive ourselves of speech. It may be said, that many think no harm when they do these things. But that which of itself is evil, cannot be excused, and no fashion of living taken up and practised through the only motion of our sensuality (such are these delights and pleasures) can be maintained, neither hath it any good and lawful defence. Now let us consider some examples of those pernicious effects which proceed from this Epicurian vice of intemperance. Esau sold his birthright through a gluttonous desire. The self same cause moved the Israelites to murmur many 
The Israelites Lot. Alexander.  times against God. The drunkenness of Lot caused him to commit incest with his daughters. Alexander the Great darkened the glory of his valiant acts with this vice. For being overtaken with wine, he slew Clitus one of the valiantest captains he had, to whom he was beholding for his own life. Afterwards, when he was come to himself, he would oftentimes have murdered himself, and wept three days together without meat and drink. Dionysius the younger, was sometime more than nine days together drunken: and in the 
Dionysius.  end he lost his estate. Cyrillus son in his drunkenness wickedly slew that holy man his father, and his mother also great with child. He hurt his two sisters, and deflowered one of them. Aught not this to 'cause the hair of our head to stand upright, as often as occasion is offered unto us, whereby we might fall into such inconveniences? Among the Romans Lucullus, 
Lucullus.  a man of great dignity, and commended of Historiographers for many brave exploits of war which he did in Armenia, and for his bounty, justice, and clemency, is yet greatly blamed, because towards the end of his days, omitting all intermeddling with the government of public affairs, he gave himself to all kind of excessive sumptuousness, and superfluous wasting of that great substance which he had. Whereof this only testimony recited by Plutarch, shall serve for sufficient proof. Cicero and Pompey meeting him one day in the city, told him that they would sup with him on this condition, that he should prepare nothing for them but his own ordinary diet. At the least wise (quoth he to them) give me leave to bid my Steward make ready supper in my hall of Apollo: and by that he beguiled them. For his servants understood thereby what cost he would have bestowed thereupon: insomuch that a supper of fifty thousand drachmas of silver, which do amount to five thousand crowns, was prepared for them. This was so much the more wonderful, because so great and sumptuous a feast was made ready in so short a time. But this was his ordinary diet which he caused many times to be prepared for himself alone. And as his men asked him on a day who should dine with him, seeing he commanded them to make ready such a great feast: Lucullus (quoth he) shall dine with Lucullus. This superfluous pomp and magnificence will not be thought very strange, if we compare it with that which not long since a simple Franciscan Friar called Peter de R●ere made, after he had attained to the 
The sumptuousness of a Fanciscan Friar. Philoxenus.  dignity of a Cardinal through favour of the Pope his kinsman. For within the space of two years which he lived in Rome, he consumed in feasts and banquets the sum of two hundred thousand crowns, besides his debts, which came to no less sum. Philoxenus the Poet wished he had a neck like a Crane, to the end he might enjoy greater pleasure in swalowing down wine and meat: saying that then he should longer feel the taste thereof. We read of the Emperor Uitellius Spi●ter, that he was so much given to superfluity and excess, that 
Vitellius.  at one supper he was served with two thousand several kinds of fishes, and with seven thousand flying fowls. But within a very little while after he changed his estate, being executed publicly at Rome at the pursuit of Vespasianus, who was chosen Emperor in his place. In our time Muleasses king of Thunes, was so drowned in pleasure and delight, that after he had banished from his kingdom because of his whoredom, in his return out of Almaigne, being 
Muleasses.  without hope that the Emperor Charles the fift would help him at all, he spent one hundred crowns upon a peacock dressed for him, as Paulus iovius rehearseth: and that he might take the greater delight in music, he covered his eyes. But the judgement of God was such upon him, that his own children made him blind with a bar of hot iron. Concerning examples of the misery that followeth and accompanieth riot and delight in playing, dancing, and mumming, we see daily that a thousand quarrels, blasphemies, loss of goods and whoredoms proceed from thence. And oftentimes God suffereth the punishment thereof to be notorious, even by unlooked for and strange means: as not long since it happened to Lewes' Archbishop of Magdeburg, who dancing with gentlewomen until midnight, fell 
Lewes' Archbishop.  down so fiercely upon the ground, that he broke his neck with one of the women which he led. Charles the sixt being clothed like a wild man with certain of his familiar friends, and dancing by torch light, was also in great peril of burning, if a gentlewoman had not cast her 
Charles the sixt  cloak upon his shoulders. And I think it will not be from the matter, if we say that it is a shameful thing to suffer amongst us, or to loose time that aught to be so precious unto us, in beholding and hearing players, actors of Interludes and Comedies, who are as pernicious a plague in a Common wealth as can be imagined. For nothing marreth more the behaviour, 
Against players.  simplicity and natural goodness of any people than this, because they soon receive into their souls a lively impression of that dissoluteness and villainy which they see and hear, when it is joined with words accents, gestures, motions, and actions, wherewith players and jugglers know how to enrich by all kind of artificial sleights the filthiest and most dishonest matters, which commonly they make choice of. And to speak freely in few words, we may truly say, that the Theatre of players is a school of all unchasteness, uncleanness, whoredom, craft, subtlety and wickedness. Now let us speak of those that propound (as we said) unto themselves the vain glory of outward show amongst the best, and men of great calling, through frivolous, 
Against the curiosity of superfluous expenses.  unprofitable and superfluous expenses, as in sumptuous and costly apparel, precious and rich movables, goodly furniture and trapping of horses, great train of serving men, dogs, birds, and other vanities, gifts and presents sent to such as are unworthy, thereby to obtain the good will of them that are most wicked in authority, to the end to prepare a way unto high callings, and to preferments unto offices. Besides the wasting of their goods hereupon to their shame and confusion, which they should employ upon charitable works, they spend many times other men's goods, even the substance of the poor, which they craftily get by unlawful means. This is that which at length (as Crates the Philosopher said very well) stirreth up civil wars, seditions, and tyrannies within cities, to the end that such voluptuous men, and 
The beginning of civil wars.  ambitious of vain glory, fishing in a troubled water, may have wherewith to maintain their foolish expenses, and so come to the end of their platforms. Hereof we have many examples in the civil wars amongst the Romans, as namely under Ci●na, Carbo, Marius, and Sylla. Likewise in the conspiracy of Catiline and his complices, who being of the chief families in Rome, and perceiving themselves to be brought to the estate of bank rupts, as we commonly say sought by all means to prosecute their first deliberation, which was always to seem great and mighty. Thus dealt Caesar in procuring to his country that civil war, which he made against Pompey, after he had indebted himself in seven hundred and fifty thousand crowns, to get the favour and good liking of the people. This is that which Heraclitus meant to teach his countrymen, when, after a sedition appeased and quieted, being asked what way were best 
How Heraclitus dissuaded superfluity.  to be taken, that the like should not fall out again: he went up into that place from whence orations were made to the people, and there in stead of speaking, began to eat a morsel of brown bread, and to drink a glass of water. Which being done, he came down again, and spoke never a word. Hereby he would signify, that until daintiness of fare were banished the city, and immoderate expenses cut off, and sobriety and modesty brought in their place, they should never be without sedition. If this counsel were ever requisite in a Monarchy, it is certainly most necessary at this present for ours wherein all kind of superfluity, riot, and weltering in pleasures, curiosity in apparel, tapestry, and pictures, vessels, perfumes, and painting of faces, aboundeth in greater measure than heretofore it did amongst the Persians', which was the cause of their final subversion, and of Alexander's greatness, who subdued them. That which for the space of five hundred years and more, maintained the Lacedomonian estate, being the chiefest in Graecia for glory and goodness of government, was the cuttting off and abolishing of all superfluity in diet, apparel, movables, and of all strange wares, which Lycurgus banished. Whereby also foreign merchants (the cause of corruption) banished themselves as they that seek not after 
Lycurgus' banished all strange wares from Lacedemonia.  others but for gain, by selling their novelties very dear unto them. Neither did the Roman Commonwealth flourish more at any time, than when those men that carried about them perfumes and sweetesmelles, and those women that were found swilling like drunkards, were corrected with the same punishment. This caused Cato, being the Censurer of the election of two captains, that one of them might be sent as General of the Panonian 
Why Cato would not choose Publius' General of the war.  war, to say with a loud voice, that he would dismiss Publius his Alley, because he never saw him return wounded from the war, but had seen him walk up & down the city of Rome perfumed. What would he have said of our Courtiers, so finely curled, ruft, and perfumed? The Kings and Magistrates of those so happy times, were the principal observers of their own laws and edicts, reforming themselves before all others, and living so austerely, that their example constrained their subjects more to follow them, than all the punishments which they could have devised to propound unto them. We have a notable testimony hereof in Agis king of Sparta, who in his return from the war wherein he had overcome the 
Agis.  Athenians, being desirous to sup privately with his wife, sent into the kitchen that was appointed for his band and company (for they lived all in common, being severed into quarters) to have his portion. But this was denied him, and the next morning for this fact he was fined by the Ephories, who were joined in sovereign authority with the kings, for the maintenance of laws, and of justice: in which sentence and judgement of theirs, he willingly rested. 
Against excess in apparel.  But to return to our matter, how aught we to blush for our riot and excess in apparel, which we maintain with such glory? What folly is it to employ the industry of the soul ordained for heavenly things, in trimming, decking, and guilding her enemy, her prison, and if I may so speak, her poison, the body? Excess of apparel (saith Erasmus) is an argument of the incontinency of the soul, and rather whetteth the eyes of the beholders thereof to wicked desires, than to any honest opinion and conceit. Deck not thy house (saith Epictetus') with tables and pictures, but paint it with temperance. For the one is to feed the eyes vainly, but the other is an eternal ornament, and such a one as can never be defaced. If we make account of things of small importance, we despise those that are of great weights: but in not caring at all for little things, we make ourselves worthy of great admiration. That great monarch Augustus Caesar ware no other garments than such as his wife and daughters made, 
Augustus.  and these very modest. Agesilaus king of Lacedemonia, never had but one kind of garment for winter and summer. Epaminondas General captain of the Thebans, was contented with 
Agesilaus.  one only gown all the year long. Further, if we look unto their simplicity and modesty in their train and followers, truly it was worthy of reverence, being without pride, pomp, 
Epamihondas.  or super fluous magnificence. Scipio. Africanus that great captain, going as delegate into Asia, to compound and end certain contentions that were between the kings of that country, 
Examples of moderate train of Serving men.  was accompanied but with two of his friends, and with seven slaves. Cato the elder, visiting the provinces of his government, took but three servants with him, Now adays we see that the lest accounted gentleman amongst us, thinketh it a cracking of his credit to ride so ill furnished. And yet the most part even of the greatest, never make any great inquiry how their train defray their charges. But howsoever they may say, that they know not of the excess and riot committed under their authority, & in their service, yet they are not thereby 
A good lesson for Princes and Magistrates to learn.  excused. For we aught carefully to beware, that no man abuse our name. Now, if Princes and governors of Common wealths, instead of abridging superfluous charges, take delight therein themselves, from thence proceedeth the necessity of charging and overcharging their people with imposts and subsides to maintain their excess, and in the end cometh the overthrow and subversion both of the one and the other. But they aught 
Commendable imposts for Princes to lay upon their subjects.  rather both to abstain from such vanities themselves, and also to seek by all means to banish them from their subjects, and where there own example and bodily punishments are not sufficient for this purpose, there aught they to lay great imposts upon all such things as serve but to spill and corrupt their subjects. Such things are all exquisite dainties & provocations of Appetite, all sorts of toys and trifles, perfumes, cloth of gold and silver, silks, sipers, net-workes, lace, woven works, and all works of gold, silver, and inammell: all kind of superfluous apparel, with colours of scarlet, crimson, and such like, the forbidding whereof hitherto hath profited little. For the nature of men is such, that they find nothing more sweet and acceptable, than that which is straightly forbidden them, so that the more superfluities are prohibited, the more they are desired, especially of foolish men, and of such as are vainly brought up. Therefore it were good to raise the price of these things so high by means of imposts, that none but rich men and dainty folks may use them. And such subsidies would as much set forward the glory of God, the profit of the commonwealth, the desire of good men, and relief of the poor, as many others now adays used are quite contrary hereunto. Than these speeches would no more be so common against us, as now we hear them daily uttered by our Courtiers: We will (say they) keep company and be seen amongst the greatest, and be esteemed thereafter. If we spend not freely, men will make no account of us. It is our honour and greatness, and the way to procure glory and renown to our houses and families. But I would gladly tell a great number of them, that they would be very much troubled to make answer to a law made by Amasis' king of Egypt, and after established in Athens by Solon, whereby it was enacted, that every one should yearly make it appear unto his 
A good law to cut of the occasions of idle expenses.  Provost or Bailie how he lived, and if he approved not his manner and trade of life to be just and reasonable, he was condemned to die. If in like case these great spenders were to give an account from whence they receive wherewith to satisfy their pride and vanities, a man should find that their purchase (as we say) is far better unto them than their rents, and that they commit a thousand wrongs and detestable vices to make supply to their lavish expenses. As for them that have goods lawfully gotten, yet in spending them wastefully, they give sufficient testimony, that they care and seek for nothing but a vain and vanishing glory, which oftentimes, contrary to their expectation, is waited upon with great infamy, and with the certainty of perpetual punishment. And in the mean while they neglect that glory which is eternal and always profitable, which they should enjoy by well using, and not by misspending their goods, whereof they are but gardeans and stewards, and must one day yield up an account of them. OH witless man (said one of the ancient Sages, what will the remembrance of vain glory profit thee, if thou art tormented and vexed where thou art, and praised where thou art not? This deserveth a longer continuance of speech, but we may hereafter discourse thereof more at large. In the mean time let us note another mischief, which commonly followeth superfluity of expenses, namely poverty, whereinto many rich men fall before they be ware, and are then very much grieved therewith, and not able 
Poverty followeth superfluous expenses.  to bear it. But the shame and reproach thereof is yet greater, because they fell into it by their own folly and misgovernment. Therefore to the end we walk not in such a slippery way, which in the beginning is large and pleasant, but yet leadeth the traveler unto a downfall from which he can never escape, let us leave and forsake the discipline and life of Epicures, and beware that our palate and tongue be no more sensible than our heart. Let us lead a life worthy an honest Academy, and beseeming the doctrine of the ancient Sages, that is, a simple, 
Our palate must not be more sensible than our hart.  sober and modest life, adorned with temperance and continency, knowing that diet and decking of the body aught (as Cicero saith) to be referred to health and strength, not to pleasure and delight, and that all outward excess is a witness of the incontinency of the soul. And for the perfection of all that lasting and inevitable misery which belongeth to them that are given to voluptuousness and superfluity, let us hear that sentence of Scripture, and fear lest we be comprehended under the judgement thereof, Continual misery and mourning be upon you that have lived in pleasure on the earth, and in wantonness, and have nourished your hearts as 
james 5. 1. 5.  in a day of slaughter.   
The end of the fifth days work.   

The sixth days work.  

Of Ambition. Chap. 21.  ASER. 
AS often as I remember the strange tragedy of the Roman Emperors since the time that the Empire was mounted up to the very top and height of her greatness until her declination, according to the uncertainty of all human things, 
73. Emperors of Rome 〈…〉 100 years.  and how within the space of one hundred years, wherein there were threescore and thirteen Emperors, only three of them died of sickness in their beds, and all the rest by violent death; I cannot sufficiently admire (considering the inconstancy and short continuance of so great a government, which cannot but be well known to every one) the folly of men, which commonly affecteth them with an unmeasurable desire to rule, whereby they are all their life time slaves to ambition, which is one point of the vice of intemperance whereof we spoke yesterday. And thus in my opinion we are to begin our days work with the description of this pernicious passion.  AMANA. 
It is natural in man, the greater his stomach is, the more to labour to excel others, which is accompanied with an exceeding desire to rule: whereupon he is easily driven forward to do unjustly, if by wisdom he be not moderated.  ARAM. 
Ambition and contention for honour (saith Cicero) are miserable. And many forget justice, after they are fallen into a desire of glory, Empires and honours. Go to then ACHITOB let us understand of thee more at large, what are the effects of this vice.  ACHITOB. 
Eudoxus a Greek Philosopher desired of the gods that he might behold the Sun very near, to comprehend the form, greatness, and beauty thereof, and afterwards be burnt of it, as the Poet's report, that Phaeton was: such a hardy and hold passion to undertake most difficult and dangerous things, is the desire of enjoying any pleasure whatsoever. This may chief be spoken of ambition, which is the most vehement, strongest, 
The force of desire to enjoy any pleasure.  and most disordered passion of all those desires which so sore trouble men's minds, and fill them with an insatiable greediness of glory, and with an unbridled desire to rule. But to handle it more profitably, we will make two kinds of ambition, the one respecting private men only that live under the power and government of heads, of estates and policies: the other shall be of the heads themselves, of monarches and governors of peoples and kingdoms. 
Two kinds of ambition.  In the mean time we may thus generally define ambition, calling it an unreasonable desire to enjoy honours, estates, and great places. Further it is a vice of excess and contrary to modesty, which is a part of temperance. For that man (as Aristotle saith) is modest, 
What ambition is.  who desireth honour as he aught, and so far forth as it becometh him: but he that desireth it more than he aught, and by unlawful means, is ambitious and carried away with a perturbation of intemperance. Ambition never suffereth those that have once received her as a guest, to enjoy their present estate quietly, but maketh them always empty of good, and full of hope. It causeth them to contemn that which they have gotten by great pains and travel, and which not long before they desired very earnestly, by reason of their new imaginations 
The effects of ambition.  and conceits of greater matters, which they continually bark forth, but never have their minds satisfied and contented. And the more they grow and increase in power and authority, the rather are they induced and carried headlong by their affections to commit all kind of injustice, and flatter themselves in furious and frantic actions, that they may come to the end of their infinite platforms, and of that proud and tyrannical glory, which, contrary to all duty, they seek after. These imperfections happen unto them, 
The cause of ambitio●s desires.  because from the beginning they studied to hoard, and heap up external, mortal and hurtful riches, before they had laid a good foundation of reason through knowledge and learning, thereby to direct aright their purposes and doings, according to comeliness and honesty. And therefore oftentimes they are deceived and miss of their intent, and even lose that which they might have had, because they sought over boldly to lay hands on that which they could not so much as touch. So that we may well say with Timon, that the elements and matters of mischiefs, are ambition and avarice, which are found both together for the most part in the same persons. But to enter into a more particular consideration of the nature of every ambitious man, he hath commonly this property, to envy the glory of others▪ whereby he becometh odious, and stirreth up against himself 
Envy a no●e of an ambitious man.  the envy and ill will of every one. Moreover, this his jealousy over another man's glory, is so much the more hurtful unto him in that he might, being set in high estate and authority, use the help and company of such as are virtuous and noble minded in the execution of great matters, if in stead of taking them for his adversaries, in the pursuit of virtue he favoured them, and drew them near unto himself. Whereby we may judge, that there is none so pernicious a plague for the overthrow of virtue, as ambition, because it is never without contention for glory and honour, even against the greatest friends, from whence in the end proceed the greatest enmities. Cicero also saith very well, that whatsoever hath this quality, that many things of the same kind cannot be excellent, thereof ariseth for the most part such strife, that it is a very hard matter to observe holy Society. For equity is not easily kept inviolable, when one desireth to be greater than all the rest. It cometh through the fault of ambition (saith Aristotle) that many seditions arise in cities. For the mightier, not 
Sedition a fruit of ambition.  the vulgar sort, contend for honours and promotions. But if, as Plato writeth, there were a Common wealth of good men, you should see as great strife for the avoiding of offices, as now men contend to command and rule. Also the honour of a good man (saith Plutarch to Traian) consisteth not in that estate or office which he presently enjoyeth, but in his former deserts; so that it is to the office whereunto men give new honour, as for the person he hath but a painful charge. Out of the sayings of these great Philosophers we will draw this conclusion, that we must labour more to deserve estates and honours, than dare to procure them, and accounted that thing unworthy and unbeseeming us, which is obtained by unlawful means. Now as the ambitio●s' man is intolerable in all his actions, so especially he bringeth 
Ambitious men full of selfe-praise.  himself in derision and reproach, through his burning desire of glory and praise, which he looketh that others should yield unto him, and wherein he taketh unmeasurable delight. Now, if he perceiveth that he cannot be commended for his doings that are unworthy of honour, the thirst of glory wherewith he pineth away, compelleth him to borrow of himself by his own commendation against all seemliness: which is neither more nor less, than if the body of a man in time of famine, not receiving nourishment else where, should take of it own substance against nature. Further, if we should go about here to make recital of those notable evils and mischiefs, which the ambition of some particular men hath brought upon Monarchies, cities, and common wealths, and generally upon all those persons which were under their bloody reign, the whole life of one man would not suffice to describe them. But to touch this point briefly: we may note in all ancient histories, that the greatest plagues of flourishing estates, and oftentimes their utter subversion, came from civil wars and dissentious stirred up by ambitious men, desirous to command, and to be preferred before others. What did at any time procure the ruin of Graecia, flourishing in arms and sciences, so much as the ambition of those men who sought to bring the public offices into their own hands, 
Civil wars a fruit of ambition.  as Leostenes, Demosthenes, and many others did who were not afraid to kindle the fire of domestical division, not caring what would be the issue of their damnable enterprises, so they might make way for their devised platforms? How many mischiefs did Alcibi●des procure to his country, being an enemy to peace, and given to all kind of novelties & seditions? Who 
Alcibiades.  used to say, that a noble heart aught to labour but for one thing in this world, namely, to be great among his own countrymen, and to purchase fame and renown among strangers. Which had been well spoken, if he had added, by justice, and Virtue. Was it not from the same fountain of ambition, that so hurtful wars to both those common wealths of the Lacedæmonians and Athenians, the one being masters of the sea, & the other of the land, took their beginning, and thereby were both brought to ruin in the end? Was it not the same cause of ambition in certain particular men, which procured the speedy return of that good king Agesilaus, to redress the civil dissensions of Graecia, when he was in Asia continuing those goodly victories, which he had against the Barbarians, for the comfort and liberty of many Grecian cities? OH ye Grecians (said that wise Prince, being very sorrowful) how many more mischiefs do ye procure to yourselves, than were procured unto you by the Barbarians banded together for your overthrow, seeing ye are so unhappy as to stay with your 
A very ●it admonition for France.  own hands that good speed, which conducted you to the top of felicity, & to turn back into your own entrails, those weapons which were so well guided against your enemies, by calling back the war into your own country, from whence it was so happily banished? The great and large scope of the Roman Empire over three parts of the world, could not satisfy 
Caesar and Pompey.  the ambition of Caesar and Pompey, whilst the one could abide no equal, and the other no superior: insomuch, that they omitted and forgot no means to increase their greatness, although it were with the charges of the Common wealth. As we may read among other things of Caesar, who, to ground and underprop his power well for countinuance, gave at one time to Paulus the Consul, nine hundred thousand crowns, for fear lest he should oppose himself against his enterprises: and to Curio the Tribune he gave fifteen hundred-thousand crowns, that he should take his part. After the death of these two Princes, that great dominion could no better content the triumvirate, namely, Octavius, Antonius, and Lepidus, who by force of arms ceased not to put their country to sword & fire, until the sovereign 
The triumvirate.  authority become resident in one alone. But why should we seek among the ancients, or amongst our neighbours for examples of the pernicious effects of this vice, seeing we have so many at our own gates? Who kindled that fire in France, which had taken hold of all the parts thereof, and almost consumed it utterly under the reign of the Dukes of Orleans and Burgundy, who strove together for the government of the kingdom. Were there not upon 
The ambition of the Dukes of Orleans and Burgundy.  the same occasion more than four thousand men slain in one day within Paris, the most of them being men of name, at the instigation and procurement of the Duke of Burgundy who had taken possession thereof? But alar, the continual and present remembrance of our late and unspeakable miseries, procured chief from the same fountain of ambition, & known to women and children, stayeth me from seeking farther for testimonies of this our present matter. Yea, I fear greatly, that we shall shortly see (I would to God I might be deceived) the final and entire ruin of our Monarchy, which hath flourished as long as ever, any did, and continued longer unvanquished of strangers. For we see her own children bathing their hands in her blood, and seeking to pluck out her heart and entrails, and to cast them as a prey before her enemies. OH how would Princes chase far from them all ambitious persons, if they were well instructed in virtue, and in the knowledge of those evils which such men procure! Seeing it is impossible that any good counsel should proceed from them, but only 
Ambitious men can be no good counsellors to Princes.  such as tendeth to the advancement of their private greatness. Now if ambition be the mother of civil wars, is it not the same also of all other wars, which are daily breed between Kings and Princes, through the desire of increasing their bounds, of seizing upon other men's territories, to the treading down, oppression, and ruin of their poor subjects, and oftentimes of their own estates? Is it not ambition which blindeth men so, that they are not content to be chief among a million of others over whom they command, unless they be equal or superior to one or two of those whom they know to be greater than themselves? The desire of having more (saith Plutarch) is a vice common to Princes and great Lords, which by reason of ambition and desire to rule, bringeth forth in them oftentimes an unsociable, cruel, and 
Effects of ambition in great men.  beastly nature. And as Ennius saith, there is no faith or assured society in kingdoms. For they, whose greediness neither sea, nor mountains, nor unhabitable deserts can stay, and whose unsatiable desire of having, cannot be limited with those bounds, which separate Asia from Europe, how will they content themselves with their own, and not seek to usurp that which belongeth to another, especially when their confines and borders touch one another, and are joined so near together, that nothing is between them? It is impossible. And in truth, howsoever they dissemble, they purposely war one with another, watching continually for means to surprise and overreach each other. But in outward show they use these two words of Peace, and War, as a piece of money, according as it shall make best for their purpose, 
The names of Peace and War abused much by Princes.  not for duties sake, or upon reason and justice, but for their own profit and advantage, wickedly disguising in that manner the intermission and surceasing from the execution of their ill will and purpose, with the holy name of justice & amity. Prince's therefore must not think it strange, if sometime private men (howbeit that doth not excuse them) found the like dealing profitable unto them, according as it falleth out for their purpose. For in so doing, they do but imitate and follow them that are their masters in all disloyalty, treason, and infidelity, thinking that he bestirreth himself, who least of all observeth that which equity and justice require. This did Dionides the Pirate fitly give Alexander the Great to understand, when he 
Dionides answer to Alexander.  asked of him why he troubled the whole sea, and rob every one. Know (quoth he to him) that thou and I are both of one disposition and calling, except in this, that I am called a pirate for scouring the seas with a few men, and thou a Prince, because thou invadest and spoilest every where with great and mighty arms. But if thou wert Dionides, and I Alexander, it may be I should be a better Prince than thou a good pirate. With which free speech Alexander was so delighted, that in stead of a guilty man brought before him to be punished, as was Dionides, he made him one of his great captains. But to continued our matter, if Right (say ambitious men) may be violated, it is to be violated for a kingdom. OH speech full of impiety, yea such as will 'cause them to bury the violating of so holy a thing very dearly, seeing they spare not him who calleth himself equity and justice itself. Further, if (as histories teach us) some have been so wretched and miserable, as to give themselves to the 
Examples of the first-fruits of ambition.  art of Necromancy, and to contract with the devil, that they might come to sovereign power and authority, what other thing, how strange soever it be, will not they undertake that suffer themselves to be wholly carried away with this vice of ambition? It is ambition that setteth the son against the father, & imboldeneth him to seek his destruction of whom he holdeth his life. Henry the fift by force deprived his father from the Empire, and caused him to die miserably in prison. Frederick the third, after he had reigned thirty years, was 
Fredericus 3.  miserably strangled by Manfroy his bastard son, whom he had made Prince of Tarentum. And after he had committed this parricide, he poisoned his brother Co●●adus lawful inheritor to Frederick, that he might make himself king of Naples. Antoninus and Geta, brothers & 
Antonius and Geta. Soliman.  successors in the Empire to Severus their father, could not suffer one another to enjoy so large a Monarchy: for Antoninus slew his brother Geta with a dagger, that himself might rule alone, Solyman king of the Turks, grandfather to him that now reigneth, when he heard the loud acclamations and shouts for joy which all his army made to Sultan Mustapha his son returning out of Persia, after he had caused them to be strangled in his outward chamber, and presently to be cast out dead before his whole army, he made this speech to be published with a loud voice, that there was but one God in heaven, & one Sultan upon earth. Within two days he put to death Sultan Soba, because he wept for his brother, and Sultan Mahomet his third son, because he fled for fear, leaving one only alive to avoid the inconueniency of many Lords. These are but of the smaller first-fruits of this wild plant of ambition, in respect of those that cause men to put innocents to death, that themselves may take surer footing to grow up and increase. And no doubt but for thee most part, just punishment for example to men, followeth such an ambitious passion, whereof there are infinite examples both in the Greek and Latin histories. Marcus Crassus a Roman Consul, & the richest man in his time, 
Marcus Crassus justly punished for his ambition.  not contenting himself with many goodly victories gotten by him, but burning with an excessive ambition and desire of new triumphs, and being jealous of Caesar's glory obtained by his great seats of arms, presumed at the age of 60. years to undertake the war against Arsaces' king of the Parthians, contrary to the will of the Senate, feeding himself with vain hope, which led him to a shameful death joined with public loss and calamity. For being overcome and his army discomfited, he was miserably slain with twenty thousand of his men, & ten thousand taken prisoners, Marius having passed through all the degrees of honour, & been six times Consul, which never any Roman before was, not content with all this, would notwithstanding 
Marius.  take unto himself the charge of the war against Mithridates, which fell to Sylla by lot, even then when he was weakened with old age, thinking with himself to get the Consulship the seventh time, and to continued that sovereign authority in his own person. But this was the cause of his utter overthrow, and of that slaughter, whereby all Italy and Spain were imbrued with blood by Sylla, and the popular estate brought in the end to extreme tyranny. Spurius Melius a Senator of Rome, was murdered for his ambition, and his house razed by Cincinnatus the Dictator, because he sought by means of a certain distribution 
S. Melius.  of wheat, to make himself king of Rome. Marcus Manlius was also upon the like occasion thrown down headlong from the top of a rock. Therefore it appeareth sufficiently unto 
M. Manlius.  us how pernicious this vice of ambition is in the souls of great men, and worthy of perpetual blame. And although the matter be not of so great weight, when they that follow this vicious passion are but mean men and of small account, yet we are to know, that all they departed far from duty and honesty, who, for the obtaining of glory and renown, show themselves inflamed and desirous to excel others in all those things which they aught to have common together for the mutual aid & comfort of every one. Only we must seek, without pride and envy, after excellency and preferment in that which is virtuous, and profitable for 
How and wherein ●e may seek for honour.  human society, contenting ourselves notwithstanding with that, which we are able to perform, and so we shall never be blamed: but justly may we be condemned, if we undertake that which is above our strength. Especially let our desires and passions give place to the benefit of the Commonwealth, as heretofore Cretes and Hermias, two great men of Magnesia, dealt one towards another. Their city being besieged by Mithridates, and themselves 
Cretes and ermias. H  having before been at great strife for honour and pre-eminence, Cretes offered Hermias to let him have the charge of captain General, in the mean time he would departed the city: or if he had rather departed, that he should leave that office to him. This offer he made, lest if both of them should be together, their jealousy might breed some mischief to their country. Hermias seeing the honest offer of his companion, and knowing him to be more expert in feats of war, willingly surrendered the authority of commanding unto him. Now to end our present discourse, let us learn to know their outrageous folly, who for imaginary honours, and those of so small continuance, that the wise man compareth them to smoke dispersed of the wind, desire nothing more than to run out of the race of their days in continual miseries and calamities, travels and cares, depriving themselves of all liberty, and which is worse, pawning their souls to an eternal and most miserable thraldom. Thus let us detest ambition, which is an infinite evil and companion of pride, so much hated of God and men. Let us consider a little that point of Philosophy which we find written by Traian to Plutarch, jenuie (said this good prince) Cincinnatus, Scipio Africanus, and Marcus Portius, 
Traian's letter to Plutarch.  more for their contempt of offices than for the victories which they have gotten, because a conqueror is for the most part in fortune's power, but the contempt and refusal of offices, and honours consisteth only in prudence. Let us mark well the example of the Emperor Plavius Vespasianus, who being admonished 
Vispasianus.  by his friends to beware of one Metius Pomposi●nus, (because it was a common rumour that he should one day be Emperor) was so far from procuring him any harm or displeasure, or from hating or envying him. (as it is the property of ambitious men, to fear above all things lest their estate be touched, because they would reign alone) that contrariwise he made him Consul the next year. Whereat his familiar friends wondering and dissuading him from it, My meaning is (quoth he to them) that he should one day remember this good turn. Let us also propound to kings and princes that sentence of Titus the Emperor, who making a feast one day with a cheerful countenance to the contentation of every one, in the end of the banquet strake himself on the breast at the table, and fetched a great sigh withal: whereupon his favourites demanding the cause why, I cannot (quoth he) keep myself from sighing and complaining, when I call to mind that this great honour which I have, dependeth upon 
A notable saying of Titus. Another of Philip king of Macedonia.  the will of Fortune: that my estates and dignities are as it were insequestration, and my life as it were laid in pawn and pledged unto me. Let the saying of that good prince Philip king of Macedonia be well noted of great men, who on a day falling all along in that place where wrestling was exercised, and beholding the fashion of his body printed in the dust, Good Lord (quoth he) how little ground must we have by nature, and yet we desire all the habitable world. According to his example let us all humble ourselves to the acknowledgement of our imbecility and poor human estate, and let us moderate our unruly affections through the contempt of those things which worldly men desire and seek after, judging them an unworthy reward for virtue. Let every one of us content himself with his estate and calling, so that it tendeth to the right end, namely to his glory, that gave it unto us, and to the benefit and profit of his creatures, and let all be done according to that measure of graces, which he shall bestow upon us.   

Of Voluptuousness and Lechery. Chap. 22.  ACHITOB 
AMong those faults which men commit, being led with desire and pleasure that is naturally in them, we noted a little before, luxuriousness and whoredom. But because we then reserved it to a more ample handling of Voluptuousness, and of a lustful life, which is the chief work thereof, and whose desire and contentation is in lechery, to the end we may the better discover that sugared poison, which lurketh under these detestable vices, I am of opinion that we must begin to enter into this large field, so fruitful for thorns and thistles, which to sick eyes many times seem fair blossoms of some goodly first-fruits: propounding to the sight of every one, the nature and effect of the tyrannical power of pleasure, a mortal enemy to the reign of Virtue.  ASER. 
Pleasure (saith Plato) is the hook of all evils, because men are taken thereby as 
Pleasure the hook of all evil.  a fish by a hook. For it quencheth the light of the soul, hindereth all good counsel, and through enticements turneth men aside from the way of virtue, throwing them down headlong into the gulf of confusion, which is luxuriousness and whoredom, a most wicked and abominable vice above all others, whereby all virtue is hurt and offended.  AMANA. 
He that is given to pleasure (saith Cicero) judgeth all things, not according to reason, but according to sense, esteeming that best, which most delighteth him: so that he easily suffereth himself to be kindled with the burning fire of luxuriousness, which is hurtful to every age, and extinguisheth old age. But let us hear ARAM upon this matter.  ARAM. 
It is no new opinion, that many judging according to their sensuality and being altogether ignorant of the true nature and immortality of the soul, have placed their sovereign Good in pleasure, & in the enjoying of those things which most of all tickle the senses. Aristippus and all the Cyrinaiks, Epic●●us, Metrodorus, Chrysippus, and many others, who falsely 
Who they were that placed their chief Good in pleasure.  took unto themselves the name of Philosophers, laboured to prove it by many arguments, cloaking their wickedness with grave and lofty words, saying: that none could perfectly attain to pleasure, except he were virtuous and wise. But that which Cicero allegeth against them, is sufficient to discover the mask of their impudency, and to convince them of lying: namely, that we must not simply look to men's sayings, but consider whether they agreed in their opinions. For how is it possible, that he which placeth his chief Good in the pleasure of the body, and in never feeling grief, should make account of to embrace virtue, which is an enemy to delights and pleasures, & commandeth ●ss rather to suffer a cruel & dolorous death, than to start aside against duty, It is certain, that he which placeth his chief Good in pleasure hath noregard to do any thing but for his private profit. Whereby he declareth sufficiently, that he careth not at all for virtue, especially justice, which commandeth nothing so much, as to leave our own particular pleasure & profit, and to embrace, though with our peril and loss, the public welfare. Moreover, how could he be courageous, if he thought that grief were the extremest and greatest evil; or temperate supposing pleasure to be perfect felicity? Besides what can be more unseeming man, appointed for all great excellent things, then to take that for his chief Good, whereof bruit beasts have better part than we, and to leave the care of that which is divine and immortal in us, to attend to that which is mortal and subject to corruption? But these erroneous & false opinions, being contrary to themselves, are so absurd and full of blockish ignorance, that we need not here loose much time in confuting them, & convincing them of lies. Notwithstanding, it being so common a thing with men, to embrace pleasure as the principal end of their actions, because naturally they desire pleasure, and shun grief: will it be easy for us to show, that ignorance only guideth them, when being deprived of the knowledge of that Good which is to be wished for, and is pleasant and acceptable, they seek after, through an evil choice, the greatest mischief of all. I mean pleasure unseparably followed of grief, which men labour most of all to eschew. Let us then see what pleasure is, and what fruits she bringeth with her. Voluptuousness or pleasure (saith Cicero) is properly called that delight, which moveth and tickleth our senses, 
What pleasure is.  which slideth and slippeth away, and for the most part leaveth behind it occasions rather of repentance, than of calling, it again to remembrance. For many through wicked and unnecessary pleasure have fallen into great diseases, received great losses, and suffered many reproaches. It always (saith Plato) bringeth damage and loss to man, engendering in his mind sorrow, sottishness, forgetfulness of prudence, and insolency. 
The first-fruits of pleasure.  Wheresoever sweet is (saith Anchipho) there presently followeth sour. For voluptuousness never goeth alone, but is always accompanied with sorrow and grief. Pleasure (saith Plutarch) resolveth men's bodies, mollifying them daily through delights, the continual use of which mortifieth their vigour, and dissolveth their strength, from whence abundance of diseases proceedeth, so that a man may see in youth the beginning of the weakness of old age. Voluptuousness is a cruel beast, making men her slaves, and chaining them (as Sophocles saith) with diamond chains. She is so much the more odious, by how much the more she hideth her venom, putting upon her the garment of good liking, betraying virtue, and killeth a man even when she flattereth him. When pleasure come (saith Erasmus) they flatter us with a disguised visage & when they departed, they leave us full of sorrow and sadness. Which Xenophon very wittily devised under the name of Hercules, saying, that as he went one a day into the fields, in a certain threefold high way he met Virtue and Vice, 
The sundry proffers which Vice and Virtue made to Hercules.  both of them being in the shape and apparel of women. Vice being clothed in a stately, delicate gorgeous and lascivious gown, with a smiling, painted, & coloured countenance, which did wonderfully allure by reason of the sweetness & flourishing beauty that seemed to be in it, offered herself suddenly unto the said Hercules saying: that if he would follow her, she would 'cause him to lead his whole life in delight & pleasure. But Virtue with a sorrowful, lean, & dismayed face, & clad with a long and plain rob, without any decking of her speech, used these words: If thou wilt come to me Hercules, thou shalt be endued not with bodily ornaments nor with fading and vanishing beauty, but with certain other riches which are more worth and endure for ever. For whosoever believeth me, forsaking that which seemeth fair, and cleaving to those things which outwardly appear austere and hard, he receiveth in the end an eternal felicity. Let us unclothe voluptuous men (saith Plutarch) and consider their doings. They are drunkards, whoremongers, fluggish in all weighty matters, neglecting the benefit of the Commonwealth, of their parents and of their friends. But of all kind of voluptuousness, lechery is most defiled, filtby, vile, and pernicious, whereof especially we are now to discourse, being properly called of the Philosophers a furious passion, which corrupteth 
What whoredom is.  the sense of man, and a burning fire that consumeth him. All unmeasurable pleasure, which men take by their five senses, is vile and dishonest: but the Grecians after a special manner called those men incontinent and immoderate, who exceeded in tasting and touching. And Hypocrates said, that he supposed copulation to be a part of that foul disease, which we call the Epilepsy or falling sickness. And truly there is nothing more certain, than that immoderate use of the venerous act spoileth beauty, defileth the body, drieth it up, and causeth it to stick, maketh the face pale, wa● or yellow, weakeneth the members and joints, engendereth 
The effects of immoderate copulation.  Sci●ticke gouts, colic passions, griefs of the stomach, giddiness of the head, or dimness of sight, the leprosy and pocks. It shorteneth life, taketh away the understanding, darkeneth the memory and as the Prophet Osey saith, taketh away the heart. Moreover, how odious all whoredom aught to be unto us, so that it be not so much as once named amongst 
Osey 4. 11.  us, the only curse that is laid upon it of God, aught sufficiently to persuade us, seeing thereby he condemneth it both with temporal and with eternal death. But we have beside, many goodly sentences and notable examples of Ethniks and Pagans', and namely of the just punishment, which for the most part followed this detestable vice hard at the heels, and which aught to stir us up to hate it, and to fly from it with all our might, especially when adultery is joined therewith, which is when the sacred knot of marriage is violated and broken. Concupiscence (saith Aristotle) changeth men's bodies, and breedeth madness in their souls. The end thereof is luxuriousness, from whence proceed a thousand wrongs, 
The effects and end of concupiscence  violences, incests, murders, poisonings, and innumerable other impieties. Is it not then a sign of great looseness and baseness of mind, for a man to subject himself to carnal concupiscences, which are disordered desires contrary to reason, and whose office and practice is to choose evil for good? Let us here give ear to Socrates' disputation with Euthydemus, being very fit for our present matter. Tell me OH Euthydemus, dost thou think that liberty is a good, great, and profitable possession, whether it belongeth either to a man, or to a city? 
Socrates' disputation against incontinency.  Very great. Therefore whosoever serveth the pleasures and unbridled desires of the body, so that for love of them he cannot execute that which he knoweth to be very good; dost thou think that he is free? No. It may be thou judgest it a thing worthy a free man to be able to put in practice whatsoever he taketh to be good, and contrariwise, to be hindered from so doing, to be servile and slavish. So it is. Thou believest then that no incontinent men are free. Yea truly, and that justly. Thinkest thou that incontinent men are hindered from doing that which is honest, or compelled to commit vicious things? I think they are as much compelled to do the one, as hindered from practising the other. But what masters dost thou think them to be, who forbidden well doing, and constrain men to embrace evil? In good truth, very wicked. And dost thou not think that bondage of all others is most troublesome, when one serveth most wicked and naughty masters? Yea. Than incontinent men are of all others most miserable, of what estate or condition soever they be. Besides, he that never thinketh upon goodness, but seeketh by all means to fulfil his untamed desires of pleasure and lust, hath no more use of reason, than beasts have. This wise Philosopher teacheth us sufficiently how hurtful and pernicious a thing it is, to suffer the desires of the flesh to reign in us, considering that they draw us vehemently to the practice of them, to our own destruction: especially whoredom, which bringeth with it all kind of mischief, dissolveth and weakeneth the body, and offendeth all the virtues and goods of the soul. Through 
The first-fruits of whoredom.  her it cometh that men abase themselves so low, as to submit both their bodies and souls to the inconstant will and unruly desire of a foolish woman. For we see some men so bewitched with a harlot, that if need be, and she command it, they will hazard their honour and credit, and oftentimes make themselves an example to a whole country upon an open scaffold. And then they labour to cover their folly with this goodly name of Love, which is better termed Euripides by the name of Fury and madness in men. For true and good love, which is the fountain of friendship, is always grounded upon virtue, and tendeth to that end: but this slippery and lose love, is a desire founded upon a the opinion of a Good, which indeed is a most pernicious evil. And if adultery follow upon it (which according to Aristotle is a curious inquiry after another man's love) the vice is twofold more detestable and wicked, because that he which committeth it, seeketh against all duty of nature to take away another man's honour and reputation, spoileth him of that which he accounteth 
The miserable effects of adultery.  most precious, namely, of the love and friendship of his wife, breaketh the peace of a house, causeth the wife to loose her soul, who otherwise peradventure would not have yielded, if he had not corrupted her. In a word, it is the cause of infinite miseries and offences which we daily see come to pass. Among the ancients this vice was so odious, that it was narrowly sought out, and chastised with very grievous punishments. Insomuch that julius Caesar caused one of his Captains to be beheaded, because he had dishonoured the mistress of the house where he lodged, not staying until one accused him, and without any complaint made unto him by her husband. There was a law among the Locrians, established by Zaleucus, which condemned all those that were convicted of this vice of adultery, to have their eyes 
Zaleucus law against adultery.  pulled out. This law was afterward so well kept, that his son being taken with the fact, and all the people entreating for him, Zaleucus would never suffer the punishment to be any thing lessened. And yet to satisfy their importunity in some sort, he caused one of his own, and another of his sons eyes to be plucked out, choosing rather to bear half the punishment allotted for the offence, than that it should remain unpunished, and the law violated. Augustus Caesar made the law julia, entitled of Adulteries, wherein is declared, how process aught to proceed against those that are attainted of it, and how such as are convicted thereof 
The law of julia against adulterers.  are to be punished, even to permit the father to kill his daughter being taken in the fact with the adulterer. After that Fabius Fabritius was slain by his wife through treachery, to the end that she might have greater liberty to commit adultery, one of his younger sons when he came to age slew his mother with the adulterer, & was absolved thereof by the Senate. We read also that the lest punishment used by the Egyptians against adulterers, was to cut off 
The punishment of adulte e●s used among the Egyptians. Alexander hated adultery.  the woman's nose, and the privy parts of the man. Briefly, we shall find, that in all nations where honour and civility is never so little regarded, this vice of adultery hath been grievously punished, and greatly hated of all noble minds. Herein the example of Alexander is worthy to be remembered, who, when a woman was brought unto him one evening, demanded of her why she came so late: to whom she answered, that she stayed until her husband was go to bed. Which he no sooner heard, but he sent her away, being very angry with his men, because they had almost caused him to commit adultery. He would not so much as touch his friend's Concubine, although he loved her: and he took on wonderfully with Cassander, because he would by force kiss a minstrels maid. So far off was he from being willing to suffer his courtiers to force any wives or daughters of his subjects, or to induce them to suborn any for him. But contrariwise we see now adays, that they are most esteemed of great men whose skill is greater in corrupting of women. Antonius Venereus Duke of Venice may be unto them an example worthy to be followed, who caused his own son 
Antony Duke of Venice. Testimonies of God's wrath against whoredom.  to die in prison, because he had ravished a maid. But let us note a little the eye witnesses of God's wrath, who never, or very seldom suffereth whoredom to go without present payment meet for such perverse wickedness. The reading of holy Scriptures doth furnish us with notable examples, in the death of four and twenty thousand Israelites for whoredom: in the punishment of the same sin committed by David, with the death of more than threescore 

Numb. 25. 9 This sin of David was in numbering the people, as appeareth.  
2. Sam. 24. 1. 1. King. 12. Gen. 19   thousand men in Israel: in the punishment of the same sin in Solomon upon his son, who was deprived of ten parts of his kingdom: in the overthrow of the cities of Sodomah and Gomorrah, and in many other places. When Satan seeketh for a ready way to cause men to fall, he commonly useth whoredom. When Balaam taught Balaac that subtle practice to 'cause the Israelites to commit adolatrie, it was by means of the fair women of his country, thereby to 'cause them to fall into the wrath and indignation of God. Concerning histories written by men, the number of examples of God's wrath upon whoormongers is infinite, of which we will here allege some, making mention of violent punishments, and of the deprivation and subversion of flourishing estates, which have proceeded from the same cause of whoredom. And truly it is more dangerous for a prince in regard of his estate, than any 
The danger that dependeth upon the looseness of a Prince. Tarqvinius.  other vice, yea than cruelty itself. For cruelty maketh men fearful, and striketh a terror in the subjects, but whoredom draweth with it hatred and contempt of the prince: because every one judgeth an effeminate man unworthy to command a whole people. Tarqvinius king of Rome, for his loftiness surnamed the Proud, was deprived of his kingdom, because of the violence which one of his sons offered to Lucretia, a Roman Lady. And although he gathered together great forces, thinking thereby to re-enter into his estate, yet he could never attain thereunto. Since which time the name of a king hath been so odious among the Romans, that they would never suffer any to bear that title amongst them, but from that time forward, changed the government of a Monarchy into a democracy or popular estate, abolishing all laws appertaining to a king. In place of which they sent to the Athenians for Solon's laws, which afterwards were observed by the Romans, and called the laws of the twelve tables. Appius Claudius, one of those ten that had all authority in the government 
Appius Claudius.  of the Roman estate, because he would have ravished Virginia, daughter to Virginius a Citizen of Rome, who slew her to save her honour, was banished with all his companions in that office, and their manner of government changed into the authority of Consuls. What was like to have befallen that mighty Caesar, after he had conquered France Almaigne, 
Caesar.  England, Spain, Italy, and Pompey himself, but a shameful death, by reason of a foolish love, which caused him to go into Alexandria in disguised apparel to enjoy Cleopatra, where an Eunuch and a child had almost slain him, if he had not cast himself from a high tower into the sea, and so saved himself by swimming to his camp under the galleys of his enemies? Teundezillus' king of Spain was, for committing violent adultery with a Lady of a noble house, deprived both of life and kingdom. Marcus Antonius Caracalla Emperor, being carried 
Teundezillus. Caracalla.  away with intemperate lust, married his mother in law: and within a while after he lost both his Empire and life. Childericus the first of that name, king of France, after he had reigned a long time, was driven out of his kingdom for his whoredom. john, County of Arminacke, 
Childericus. joh. Earl of Arminack. Rodoaldus. Roderigo.  married one of his own sisters, and being therefore excommunicated of the Church, was deprived of his estate and life by the Emperor Charlemaigne. Rodoaldus king of Lombary being taken in adultery, was slain by the woman's husband, whom he abused. Roderigo king of Spain, was deprived of his kingdom and life by the Saracens, who were called in by an Earl named julian, that he might be avenged of his king, who had forced his daughter. Geleatus Maria Duke of Milan being at Mass, was slain by a citizen, who struck him into the stomach with a dagger, feigning that he would have spoken with him. The 
Galeat. Duke of Millian.  chief cause hereof was for a suspicion which he had conceived, that this Prince entertained his wife. In the time of Philip the fair, king of France, two knights that were brothers, named 
Two brothers flaied alive.  ●' Aunoy, were flaied alive for their whoordomes committed with a Queen of Navarre, and with the Countess of March, daughter to the County of Burgundy, which twain also were condemned to perpetual prison. Not long since, Peter jews Duke of Placentia, was murdered for his incest, and incredible whoordoms. Among other things, it is 
Peter jews.  written of him, that he forced Cosmes Cheri Bishop of Valentia, whom he caused to be held by his men, and after poisoned him, lest he should have accused him to the Emperor. Also not long ago, the cities of Almendine and Delmedine, were cut off from the kingdom of F●z, and brought under obedience to the Portugese's, because a young woman was taken away 
Almendine & Delmedine. Abusahid.  by force from her husband, by the Governor of them, who was afterwards slain. Abusahid also king of F●z, was murdered with six of his children by his Secretary, whose wife he had abused. This is set down by Leon in the description of Africa. In our time, and even amongst us, too many such examples of the pernicious first-fruits of whoredom have fallen out. Nevertheless, it beareth such sway in this desolate France, that they are accounted the gallantest 
The whoredom of Frenchmen.  men, who are the greatest pillars of whoredom. Yea, the greater sort, that aught to be patterns of chastity to others, are bold in the practice thereof, thinking to cover their shame, to cloak & disguise their whoredom with the mask of virtue, accounting it a point of glory and honour to be the chiefest and most expert in that school. But let us know that this vizard is but to make them altogether without excuse before him, from whom nothing can be bidden, and who abhorreth all maliciousness and shameless impudence, wherewith whoormongers set forth their face. And seeing that he, whose mercy is endless, supplieth the want and infirmity of his creatures, this vice of whoredom is without all colour of excuse before him, because he hath given us a holy and honourable remedy against it, which is marriage, permitted to every one, but yet despised of all whoormongers, to their ruin and eternal 
The scourges that 〈◊〉 endureth.  confusion. And if they were not wholly blinded through continuance in vice, the scourges of civil war, of heresy, of famine, and of rebellion which France at this day suffereth, would be more than enough to unseal their eyes, that they might acknowledge the wrath of the Almighty, ready to destroy them both body and soul. Therefore let us that are better instructed by our Academic, learn of Socrates, that a wise man aught to pass by pleasures as by the Sirens, if he long to attain to virtue, his most happy country and dwelling place. And for a good help hereunto, let us take the counsel of Ep●ctetus', saying; When thy spirit is drawn with some desire of pleasure, beware thou tumble not into some downfall: and meditate 
Good counsel against whoredom.  a little, considering diligently, that after thou hast been overcome of pleasure there remaineth nothing but repentance, and thy hatred against thyself. Whereas if thou abstainest, a steadfast and assured joy possesseth thy heart, which wholly driveth away sorrow. Thus let us endeavour to deck ourselves with purity, chastity, and uprightness, hating in such sort voluptuousness and lechery (the dear and costly pleasure whereof passeth away as the wind, and leaveth behind it a shameful remembrance) that following the will of our lawmaker, we sh●n all dissoluteness tending that way, whether it be immodest garments, unchaste gestures and countenances, or vile and filthy words, which may induce others to evil. Let us remember in good time what Archelaus, a great Philosopher said to a young man clothed with superfluous apparel, that it was all one in what part soever of his body he declared his unchasteness, and that it was evermore to be condemned. But above all things let that divine sentence sound without ceasing in our ears, that no whoremonger hath any inheritance in the kingdom of jesus Christ. And if, being naturally 
1. Cor. 9 9 Ephes. 5. 5.  given to love pleasure, and to fear grief, we would delight our soul with a joy that is both profitable and pleasant: let us lift it up in the meditation of those unspeakable and endless riches, which are promised unto it in that happy immortality: and so we shall weaken and make fruitless that desire of worldly pleasure, which is borne together with us.   

Of Glory, praise, honour, and of pride. Chap. 23.  ARAM. 
MEn having their eyes covered with ignorance, use commonly to say, that he hath a great lofty and noble mind, who aspireth to honours, estates, riches, 
The judgement of ignorant men touching nobleness of mind.  and other worldly vanities. Albeit truly, if we narrowly look unto the end wherefore they direct their intents and actions that way, we shall see nothing else in them but a desire of vainglory and praise, thereby to feed their pride and natural passions, which are so pernicious in the soul, that if they be not ruled by temperance and mediocrity, and grounded upon virtue, which is the fountain of honour, they will bring forth very dangerous effects, clean contrary to men's desires.  ACHITOB. 
They (saith Seneca) that would make choice of a happy life, must not follow the fashion and manner of life used by the multitude and greatest part of men, but such a 
How we should make choice of a happy life.  one as is altogether contrary thereunto. And this we shall do, if we despise the glory, honour, praise and pride of the world, and judge nothing worthy to be cared for of us, but only virtue, which is able to bring us to the fullness of true glory, and of everlasting felicity.  ASER. 
The glory (saith Pindarus) that a man taketh to see himself in honour and credit, maketh pains to seem pleasant, and travel tolerable. It is the property of a stone (saith Cicero) not to have any feeling of the difference that is between praise and dispraise: but it belongeth to a wise man not to be so moved with all these things, as that they should 'cause him to draw back from duty. Let us then hear AMANA discourse more at large of the matter which is here propounded unto us.  AMANA. 
Most certain it is, that commonly nothing affecteth a man more than the 
The common downefal of the passions of the soul.  coveting of glory, of praise, and of honour, whereof he is by nature desirous. But as all the passions and diseases of the soul are for the most part followed with those inconveniences, which men pretend most of all to eschew, so oftentimes they that glance at honour, as if that were virtue itself, leaving behind them the path of that virtue from whence honour aught to proceed, and which is able of itself to adorn and deck men, fall into the same reckoning that Ixion did, who (as the Poets say) had to do with a cloud, supposing it to have been the goddess juno, whereupon the Centaurs were engendered. Even so worldly men embracing vainglory only, which is but a false shadow of true virtue, all their doings deserve so small commendation, that if they were well weighed, they should rather be found worthy of blame and dishonour, than of that honour, which they so greatly seek and ask after. For this cause the ancient Romans built two Temples joined together, the one being dedicated 
The Romans built two Temples, the one to Virtue, and the other to Honour.  to Virtue, and the other to Honour: but yet in such sort, that no man could enter into that of Honour, except first he passed through the other of Virtue. But seeing the way of Virtue is so little frequented at this day, no marvel (as Hesiodus saith) if so great a heap of wickedness be dispersed through the world, that all shame & honour have forsaken & abandoned the life of man. Now if an honest man prefer the loss of his honour before his own life, to the end he be none of those that content themselves with a deceitful Idea and platform, in stead of the thing itself, let him learn above all things to know wherein true glory and honour consist, and from whence he may deserve praise: which first is in Goodness and justice: secondly, in guiding all human actions prudently according to duty, comeliness and honesty. These are the only means to get durable and eternal honour, glory, and praise, which always follow virtue as the shadow doth the body, having this property to make men wise, just, prudent, and to bring them to the best, excellentest, and most divine habit that can be in men, which is the uprightness of reason and judgement, and to the perfection (next after God) of the reasonable nature, which is such a disposition of the soul as consenteth and agreeth with itself. Therefore that goodness and excellency which proceedeth of wisdom and good instruction, is the first step to come to honoor, because from that as 
The first step to Honor.  from a lively fountain floweth every virtuous and praiseworthy action, practised by a prudent man. For (as Cicero saith) not man can be prudent, but he must needs be good. Now this is clean contrary to the common opinion of those that run so swiftly now adays after honour and reputation, who being ignorant of every good cause and reason, and having corrupt and wicked conditions, imagine in their minds, that so long as they do some act well liked of great men, and for which they may be noted out by them to be men of valour, making good pennyworths of their skin, and of their conscience also, whether it be in fight, or in the execution of some other commandment of theirs, they shall have cause to think 
Wherein worldlings place honour.  themselves worthy of great honour, and to be preferred before other men. For they suppose that honour aught to be measured by that good will and liking which men conceive of them, although they themselves be most wicked, and not by the trial of the work whether it be good or evil in itself. But I wonder at their folly. For seeing they have no goodness in them, how can they judge what aught to be done or left undone, according to equity and justice? And what honour will they deserve in all their actions, being guided only with a desire of worldly glory, which (as Quintilian saith) is the chief and principal evil? Do not they also propound to themselves as a recompense of their pain and travel, advancement to high estates and dignities, that they may the better enjoy worldly pleasures? Whereby they become slaves to mortal goods and riches all their life time, and deprive themselves of that precious liberty of the soul, for which a noble heart aught to fight and to suffer death. But a good man adorned with goodness and justice, propoundeth unto himself a far other end. For admiring nothing but virtue, he seeketh not to be honoured but in obeying her, in following her steps, and in referring all his doings to the infallible rule thereof. He knoweth (as Seneca saith) that glory is to be followed, not to be desired: that it is gotten by such a noble courage as measureth all things by conscience, not doing any thing for ostentation and vanity. The price and reward which he expecteth in this life for every laudable action, is to have done it: and yet he depriveth not himself of glory, which remaineth immortal unto him among good men for his just and virtuous deeds, neither careth he at all what 
The White at which every good man aught to aim.  the wicked or ignorant sort think or speak of him. Having laid this ground and foundation of all his intents and purposes, he looketh not to the most beaten way, nor to the present state of things, that he might apply himself to the time, as though he feared that he should be left behind, but desireth rather to abide unknown in his simplicity, than with the hurt and detriment of his soul, to intrude himself among the greatest. And if he undertake, or execute any thing, he hath justice and prudence always for his guides: and then neither fear nor danger is able to drive him from his determinate purpose, which howsoever it falleth out, is always no less worthy of honour and praise, than their actions, who do nothing but for worldly glory, deserve blame and dispraise, which they fear most of all, and labour to avoid. True it is, that these men, who ambitiously seek after vainglory and greatness, may say unto me, that things go far otherwise than I speak of, and that their doings, who apply themselves to the pleasure and liking of the greater sort, without sparing their lives, are as much extolled as the others that respect the uprightness of causes, are set light by and contemned. But I answer them again, that it is the duty of a prudent man, rather to fear the judgement and opinion of a few wise men, than of an ignorant multitude. Neither aught he to leave 
The judgements of the best, ●o● of the most, ● to be preferred always.  his conceived purposes grounded upon reason, for the praise of men. For they that do otherwise, declare evidently, that they live not but for the world, having no care of the principal and chief end of their being. Bion compared such men very fitly to vessels with two handles, which are easily carried by the cares whithersoever a man will. So these men being praised and much made of, undertake all things boldly: yea the burning heat of glory oftentimes carrieth them so far, that they praise and commend their own doings to no purpose. Which is so unseemly a thing (as Aristotle saith) that it is more blame worthy than lying, which commonly goeth with it, and is also a great argument of an inconstant mind. But as Plutarch saith, the more reason a man hath gotten by Philosophy, the more he looseth of his pride and arrogancy, and they that have nothing before their ●i●ss, whereunto they aspire, but virtue and duty only, use the occasion, time, and sequel of their affairs, without caring for any other praise than that which proceeded from the nature, judgement and consent of all good men. It is true, that sometime it is collerable in good men, 
A good man may sometime praise himself.  yea necessary for the benefit of others, to commend themselves in some sort, by speaking of themselves to their advantage. As if labouring to be believed, we rendered a reason of our virtue and goodness by our former effects, that so having means to continued our virtuous actions to the benefit of many, we may, as it were against their wills, work their safety, and compel those men to receive a good turn, who shun all occasions thereby. This caused Themistocles to use those speeches in the Council of the Athenians, whom he perceived to be 
Themistocles did so.  weary of him: OH poor men (quoth he to them) why do ye oftentimes receive benefits of the same parties? And another time he used these words: In rainy and stormy weather ye have recourse to me, as to the shelter of a tree, but when fair weather returneth, ye snatch every one a branch, as ye pass by. Homer bringeth in Nestor rehearsing his prows and valiant acts, to encourage Patroclu, and the other nine knights to undertake the combat against Hector man to man. Moreover, exhortation 
And Nestor  having the testimony of works ready at hand, and examples joined with the prick of emulation, are lively, and wonderfully whetteth men on: yea they bring together with courage and affection, hope of ability to attain to the end of that thing, which is perceived not to be impossible. But in this case, as in every other action, let us above all eschew pride, hated of God and men, and the cause of the corruption and transgression of man's nature. Yea, it causeth that work to become wicked, which of itself is good: so that humble submission is better than the proud boasting of our good deeds, which causeth a proud 
The effects of pride.  man oftentimes to fall into more detestable vices than he was in before. Now in requiring first and chief those praises that proceed of bounty and justice, my meaning is not that we should contemn, but rather search diligently after those that procure unto us immortal glory by noble and courageous acts, provided always that they pass not the bounds of equity and justice. For otherwise they cannot but falsely be called works of fortitude and generosity, 
The work of fortitude must be grounded upon equity and justice.  as hereafter in our discourses upon these virtues we may understand more at large. Therefore it is the jealousy of glory gotten by virtue, after the examples of our predecessors that lived well, which aught to prick forward every noble heart to build for himself an eternal monument through heroical deeds, when duty and reason invite us thereunto. Thus did that good and valiant captain Mattathias behave himself, who, denying obedience to the tyrannical edicts of Antiochus after he had subjecteth and subverted jerusalem, and taking arms with his five sons, went into the fields, out of a poor village where he dwelled, and called unto him such as would follow him to recover again their liberty. And after many victories obtained by him, when he perceived that he drew near to death, he exhorted his sons to follow his just and holy deliberation without fear of any danger. True it is (quoth he to them) that our bodies are mortal, and subject to the same decree that others 
Mattathias exhortation to his sons.  are, but the memory of excellent deeds procureth to itself an immortality, whereunto I would have you aspire in such sort, that ye think not much to die in behaving yourselves valiantly. Thus it is lawful for us to be touched, and stirred up with the jealousy of a good glory, so that it be without envying the prosperity and preferment of others, but only so far 
How jealousy of glory is tolerable. Themistocles.  forth as it may serve for a spur unto us to undertake and to effect all virtuous and commendable things. As for example: Themistocles hearing of the great victory that Miltiades had obtained in the plain of Marathron, said: that that news would let him take no rest: meaning thereby, that he should never be quiet, until by some other act of virtue he had deserved as much praise, as did this excellent Captain Miltiades. Titus Flaminius' a Roman Consul, who delivered Graecia from bondage, and twice in battle ranged, overthrew Philip king of 
T. Flaminius.  Macedonia, showed himself likewise greatly touched with a desire of glory and honour, not to be blamed, but to be practised of all excellent and noble natures, by putting to his helping hand whensoever he could, with the first, yea, sometimes alone, to every matter and exploit of importance. He kept company oftener and more gladly with those that stood in need of his help, than with such as were able to aid him in well doing, accounting these men to be his competitors in the purchasing of honour and glory, and the others to be matter whereupon he might exercise his virtue. It was an argument of young years which seemed to promise much, and to be borne to all great enterprises, when julius Caesar being yet very young, and beholding the image of Alexander the Great at four and twenty years 
Caesar wept at the sight of Alexander's image.  of age, fell to weeping, and said: Am not I miserable that have done nothing worthy of memory, and yet this prince at these years had executed so many notable things? Moreover, we may observe among the Ancients infinite worthy examples quite contrary one to another, in that many great and famous men have altogether despised the honour of vainglory, which is never without presumption & pride: and contrariwise, others being led with pride and arrogancy, have fwolie abused their authority and greatness, purchasing to themselves 
Cyrus.  more blame and dishonour, than praise and honour. That great Cyrus' Monarch of the Persians', was of so meek and gentle a nature, and so little desirous of vain glory, that he would never provoke his equals in age to any exercise wherein he perceived himself the stronges, but those rather, who were better practised than himself, to the end he might not displease them by bearing away the price from them; as also that he might reap this benefit, to learn that which he could not do so well as others. OH right noble heart, giving evident proof of the contempt of base and vile things, to treasure up those that are great and excellent! But now a days where about do we strive most? namely, who can most cunningly strike with the sword, run at the ring, or ride and manage horses. And I would to God we did no worse. But as for excelling others in virtue, these times require no such matter. We read of an Indian, who being commanded by Alexander the Great to shoot before him, because he 
Anotable story of an Indian.  had heard that he was very excellent in that art, would do nothing. Whereupon the Monarch being incensed, condemned him to death, if he would not obey him. The Indian going to execution, told one of those that led him, that he had been indeed heretofore a very good Archer, but because he had of long time intermitted that exercise, he feared that he had forgotten it: and therefore had rather die then loose the reputation, which he had once obtained. To this fellow we may compare those of whom we have already spoken, who glory in nothing but in this, that they are taken of the greater sort for valiant men, and, as they use to say, for such as make profession, that they carry about them a sharp sword for their service. These men had rather die in a naughty quarrel, with the danger of losing their soul, than to fall from this their reputation, which they desire to carry with them. But let us follow our examples of the contempt of vain glory, and of certain others led away with an over weening pride. Pompey the Great, showed a notable argument that he was not touched 
Examples of the contempt and desire of vain glory Pompeius.  with vain glory or pride, when, after he had utterly vanquished Tygranes king of Pontus, and made him his prisoner, he chose rather to set him again in his kingdom, and to make him an ally and confederate of the Romans, than to reserve and lead him in manner of a triumph into Rome, according as they used then to deal with enemies, and with their spoils: saying like a virtuous Monarch, that he much more esteemed the glory of a whole age, than of one day. The Great Tamberlane being puffed up exceedingly, because of a Peasant's son he attained to so great a Monarchy, used far greater and more barbarous severity towards 
Tamberlanes' seruerity● towards Bajazet the great Turk.  Bajazet Emperor of the Turks, whom, after he had overcome him, and made him his prisoner, he caused to be led about with him in a cage, wheresoever he went, feeding him only with the crumbs that fell under his table: and whensoever he took horse, he used his body for an advantage. After the same manner Valerianus the Emperor was handled by Saphor king of Persia, by whom he was discomfited in battle, which this Barbarian had won of him. He 
Saphors towards Valetianus.  that trod upon the Emperor Frederick Barbarssa his neck, and pushed him twice with his foot when he had him at his devotion, showed himself more proud, cruel, and arrogant, in that he used for a pretence and cloak of his pride and wickedness, that text of Scripture. Thou shalt walk 
Pope Alexander's towards frederick. Psal. 91. 13  upon the Lion and Asp, the young Lion and the Dragan shalt thou tread under foot, as if it had been spoken to him. That heathen man Agathocles king of Sicilia, left behind him a far more excellent example of the contempt of glory, that we should not be lift up too much, nor forget ourselves by reason of the greatness of our estate. For being come to that estate by his virtue, because he was borne of a poor Porter, he caused himself to be served ordinarily at his table 
Agathocles.  with earthen vessels, intermingled with his cups of gold, saying thus to those that came 
The honour of great m●n dependeth of their virtue, not of their dignity.  to see him, thereby to inflame them with a desire of well doing: Behold what it is to persevere in travel and in taking of pains to become virtuous and courageous. Heretofore we made these pots of earth, and now we make these of gold. Further we must know, that when fortune (if it be lawful for us under this word to understand the ordinance of God) lifteth up men of low degree unto great and honourable places through their valour and desert, and exalteth also many men that are unworthy, letting us see how proudly and wickedly these men behave themselves in abusing their authority, and contrariwise how the other sort use it well, she doth thereby so much the more honour, and recommend virtue unto us, as the only thing whereof al● the greatness, glory, and honour of them dependeth, and not of the dignity wherein they are placed. Now how greatly haughtiness of mind is hated both of God and men, among infinite testimonies which we have, that of Herod Agrippa king of the jews, aught well to be marked. For being 
Herodes.  go up into the pulpit appointed for Orations, and rejoicing because the people cried out to his praise, That it was the voice of God & not of man, he was suddenly strooken from heaven, so that when he perceived himself to consume away with Vermine, he cried out to the people, saying: Behold how he dieth now with intolerable griefs, whom not long since ye called God. Dioclesianus the Emperor was so puffed up with pride, that he called himself brother to the Sun 
Dioclesianus  and Moon, and made an edict, whereby he would have all men to kiss his feet, whereas his predecessors gave their hands to the Nobility, and their knees to the simpler sort: but God suffered him to die a mad man. Moreover we see daily, that proud men become odious to every one, and are in the end contemned, yea, that oftentimes it costeth them their life. The punishment that Philip king of Macedonia laid upon Menacratus the Physician was 
Menecratus finely punished for his pride by Philip.  more gentle, yet pleasant, and worth the noting. This fellow because he was excellent in his art, caused himself to be called jupiter the Saviour. The good prince minding to correct him for his arrogancy, invited him to a feast, and made a table to be provided for him by himself, whereof at first he seemed to be very glad. But when he saw that in stead of meat they gave him nothing but incense, he was greatly ashamed, and departed from the feast in great anger. Now for the conclusion of our discourse, we say with Solon, that to name a presumptuous 
Every vainglorious man is a fool.  and glorious man in right terms, is to call him a fool, as contrariwise, courtesy and meekness is the foundation of wisdom and of a quiet life. Whereunnnto that we may attain, let us learn, that whosoever beholdeth with the eyes of his mind the estate of man's nature, and considereth the baseness of his condition, together with the shortness of this present life, subject to an infallible decree, and marketh also the foul pollutions that are joined with the flesh, he shall never fall in that headlong downfall of arrogancy and pride. And thus detesting all presumption and love of vanity, let us seek for honour by the means of virtue only, which as Euripides saith, is always either followed or prevented with glory and praise. And let us not greatly care for the praises of men, but only do those things that are worthy of commendation. Let us rather rejoice and glory that we excel and go beyond others in all good duties towards them, than in any other advantage, either of worldly glory, or of our private profit. Lastly, let us rather love to abide always as it were unknown to the the world, than by serving vanities to turn aside from one only jot of the duty of goodness and justice, which by the grace of God may procure us a perpetual praise among good men, and make us acceptable before him, who evermore lifteth up the humble, and beateth down the proud.   

Of Shame, Shamefastness, and of Dishonour. Chap. 24.  AMANA. 
HItherto we have briefly entreated of those principal points, which respect the virtue of Temperance, and the vice of Intemperance, contrary unto it. Nevertheless for the finishing of our days work, I think we are to consider what shame and shamefastness are, which, as this Philosophers say, are joined with this virtue of Temperance. For the more we love glory & honour, the more we fear and labour to eschew shame and dishonour. Now seeing we have been taught where to seek for true glory and honour, we shall receive no less profit, if we learn wherein we aught to fear shame and dishonour. 
Shame is the keeper of all virtues.   ARAM. 
There is (saith Cicero) a certain shame and bashfulness in Temperance, which is the guardian of all the virtues, and deserveth great commendation, being also a most goodly ornament to the whole life, as that which fashioneth it according to the pattern o● decency and honesty.  ACHITOES. 
Two things (saith Plato) are very well able to direct his life that will live virtuously, namely, shame of dishonest things, & desire of those things that are good & virtuous. Let us therefore hear ASER discourse more amply of that which is here propounded unto us.  ASER. 
As we see that a good ground, although it be far and fertile, bringeth forth notwithstanding naughty and wild plants: so a good nature, although it be endued with many great perfections, is yet never without some shame.  
And this of itself seemeth to be a hurtful passion in the soul, albeit it may easily by the 
How shame may be ●●de profitable in a man.  means of virtue be dressed and made profitable, if we cure it of all fear of reproach, by doing that which is good, decent and honest; and contrariwise suffer it to augment, and to strengthen itself more and more, when occasion, either of doing ill, or of speaking, approving, and counseling any thing that is against the duty of a good man, shall be offered. Honest shame and shamefastness (saith Quintilian) is the mother of all good counsel, the right guardian of duty, the mistress of innocency, well liked of her nearest friends in all places, and at all times, courteously entertained of strangers, as that which hath a favourable countenance. Honest shame, being (as Cicero saith) the moderator of concupiscences, procureth unto us a steadfast and commendable authority amongst all men. Hesiodus calleth it the hostess of justice. Of this Socrates spoke, when he said, that virtuous shame beseemed youth. I look for small goodness of a young man (saith Seneca) except of such a one as blusheth after he hath offended. For he that blusheth (saith Menander) is not void of all good nature. Therefore shamefastness is to be nourished and much made of. For so long as it remaineth in any man's spirit thereiss good hope to be conceived of him. Many have shrunk through fear of shame, with whom no reason or torment could in any sort prevail. A wicked man (saith Euripides) hath no shame in him. Shamefastness (saith one of the ancients) is sister to continency, & companion of chastity, yea by means of her society and fellowship, chastity is in greater safety. A fault is lessened through shame, as it is made greater by contention: & shame mollifieth the heart of a judge, but impudence provoketh him to anger. He that is touched to the quick through a sharp reprehension for the reformation of his manners, & yet is nothing restrained thereby, nor full of sweat and blushing for shame, which cannot heat to ascend into the face of every one well borne, but remaineth inflexible & unmovable, smiling & jesting thereat, such a one I say giveth a great argument of a very blockish and senseless nature, which is ashamed of nothing, by reason of his long custom and conformation in doing of evil. To sin (saith Diodorus the Athenian) is a thing naturally engrafted in men: neither was there ever 
Sin is natural in man.  any law so rigorous, that could stay the course thereof, although new pains and punishments were daily added to offences, to see if men be drawn from vice through fear of them. But some gather boldness through poverty; others because of their riches become insolent, ambitious, and covetous, and others have other passion and occasions which move and induce them to do ill. Now to turn these aside, and to make them fruitless, there is no better way than deeply to imprint in our souls the fear of a perpetual shame and infamy, which are the inseparable 
How we must avoid and ●epres●e sin.  companions of all wickedness and corrupt dealings. And as often as we commit any fault through frailty, we must together with repentance imprint in our memory a long remembrance thereof: yea we must lay it often before our eyes, as also the shame and dishonour that might have ensued thereof unto us; to this end, that afterward we may be the better kept back, and more advised in the like matters. Herein let us follow the example of wayfaring men, that have stumbled against a stone, and of Pilots that have bruised their ships against a rock, who being mindful of their mishap, are all their life time greatly afraid, not only of those stones & rocks, which were the causes of their evils, but also of all such as resemble them. There was approhibition (as Aulus Gellius writeth) that no young Roman should dare to enter into a strumpet's house, but with his face covered: and if it so fell out, that any man was so shameless as to come out of that place uncovered, he was as severely punished, as if he had committed some forced adultery. And truly when one is ashamed that he hath offended, 
A notable custom among the Romans.  we are to hope well of his amendment. Now, as shame of evil, serving for a bridle to vice, is commendable; so that shame wherein want of prudence and of wisdom beareth sway, is evil and very hurtful, not only to those that are touched therewith, but oftentimes procureth great evils to Commonalties and commonwealths. Whereof those men have too great experience that live under such Governors, Magistrates, and judges, as of a foolish baseness and cowardliness of mind, either for fear to displease the greatest, or to be blamed 
What kind of shame is very hurtful.  and reproved of an ignorant multitude, bow and bend to another man's beck against right and equity, as though they were ashamed to do well. Whereupon thinking to eschew a light and small, reproach, they fall into a perpetual note of infamy and dishonour, not being able to declare more plainly the smallness of their courage (which fitly resembleth a weak temperature of the body, unable to resist heat and cold) than in consenting to evil, because they dare not gain say lest they should be misliked. But Seneca saith, that he is no meet scholar of Philosophy, who cannot contemn a foolish shame. And this causeth far greater mischiefs, when the Sovereign Princes of any estate are entangled therewith. Which may be verified of them, if through over great bounty and simplicity void of prudence, they wholly give over themselves to their pleasure that have them as it were in possession, and dare not gain say or deny them in any matter. For hereof it cometh, that flatterers, brokers, and such as are most wicked, carry away offices, charges, benefices, gifts, and wastefully consume the public treasure: so that a man may behold an impunity and liberty of vices, and of execrable offences, because a simple and bashful king dare not deny a request. And thus under such a Prince public welfare is turned into private wealth, and all the charges fall upon the poor people. But not to stray far from our purpose, having so nearly touched a matter worthy of a large discourse, I think we shall reap no small profit, if we call to mind here certain notable instructions, which Plutarch giveth us, to teach us to repel far from us all foolish and dangerous shame: namely, that so soon as years of discretion work in us any knowledge of goodness, we should exercise ourselves in those things, which of themselves are easy enough to practise, being without fear that any thing can (as the proverb saith) hung or take hold of our gown. If at a feast (saith that great Philosop) 
How we must learn to resist all naughty shame.  thou art invited to drink more than reason, or thy thirst requireth, be not ashamed to refuse to do it. If any babbler or ignorant fellow seek to stay and keep thee by discoursing of vain and tedious matters, be not afraid to rid thyself of him, and to tell him freely that another time thou mayest come and visit him, not having at that time any leisure to keep him company any longer. If thy friend or any other man, communicate with thee any act or purpose of his, wherein thou knowest somewhat, though never so little, that is to be reprehended, tell him thereof hardly. If any man be importunate with thee by requests and entreaties, never promise' more than thou art able to perform, and blush not because thou canst not do all things, but rather blush to take upon thee things that are above thy ability. If any man ask thee a question of any matter whatsoever, confess freely that which thou knowest not, to the end thou mayest receive instruction. Now, if we exercise ourselves in this fort, honestly to refuse, to departed, to break off, to speak freely, and to submit ourselves after a comely manner, so that no man can lightly complain of us, or blame us, but upon very slender occasion; we shall be in a ready way to accustom ourselves not to be ashamed in matters of greater weight, and such as are necessary for the preservation of duty. For otherwise, if we are afraid to put back a glass of wine, which some one of our acquaintance in drinking doth offer unto us, how will we resist the request of a prince, which is as much as a commandment, or the importunate suit of a whole people, in an unjust and unreasonable matter? If we are ashamed to be rid of a babbler; if, as flatterers use to do, we commend one contrary to our opinion, whom we hear praised of many: or if we fear to tell our friend of some small fault of his, how will we set ourselves courageously against those slanderers of the truth, and maintainers of lies, that are placed in authority? Or how shall we dare to reprove notorious faults boldly, being committed in the administration of a magistrate, and in civil and voliticall government? This is that which Zeno very well taught us, when meeting with a familiar friend of his that walked heavily by himself, he asked him the cause 
Zeno.  thereof: I shun (said the other) a friend of mine, who requesteth me to bear false witness for him. What (quoth Zeno) art thou so foolish, that seeing him void of shame and fear to request unjust and wicked things of thee, thou hast not the heart to deny him, and to put him back upon just and reasonable consideration! Agesilaus: may be unto us a good Schoolmaster in this matter. For being 
Agesilaus.  requested by his father to give sentence against right, he was not ashamed to deny him graciously with this answer: You have taught me (OH Father) from my youth to obey the laws, and therefore I will now also obey you therein, by judging nothing against the laws. Pericles being likewise 
Pericles.  requested by a friend of his to swear falsely for him, said, I am a friend to my friends unto the altars: as if he would have said, so far as I offend not God. The same reason was the cause that Xenophanes being called a coward at a feast because he would not play at dice, answered without fear of 
Xenophanes.  being accounted void of civility, and good fellowship, I am indeed a coward and fearful in dishonest things. Now besides all those pernicious effects of foolish and naughty shame that are 
Other pernicious effects of foolish shame.  already touched by us, oftentimes it maketh the senses of a man so brutish through a long custom, that he neglecteth the care of that which concerneth his safety and private benefit, yea, sometimes of his own life. I will not here stand to speak of those which, say they are ashamed to ask their due, or by way of justice to pursue such as devour the substance of their poor families, whereby they make it known, that they have neither virtue, heart, nor courage. To this agreeth fitly that which we read of one named Perseus, who being to lend money to a very friend of his, went with him to the common place of bargaining, calling to 
Perseus.  mind that precept of Hesiodus, who saith:  
Even when thou dost disport with thine own brother,  
Let present be some witness one or other.  
His friend thinking this somewhat strange, said: What, so orderly by law? Yea quoth Perseus, that I may have it again of thee friendly, and not be compelled to demand it again by order of law. But what shall we say of so many great personages as are mentioned in histories, who under pretence of a foolish shame badly grounded upon this conceit, that they would not distrust them whom they took for their friends, offered themselves even to the slaughter? Dion endued with great perfections, and one that delivered from tyranny and freed 
Dion.  from thraldom the city of Syracuse, although he was advertised that Caplippus whom he took for his Host and friend, watched opportunity to slay him, yet he went to that place whither he had invited him, saying: that he had rather loose his life, than be compelled to distrust his friends, and to keep himself as much from them as from his enemies. And indeed it fell out so, that he was slaive there. The like befell Antipater, being bidden to supper by Demetrius. It seemeth 
Antipater. 1. Caesar.  also that julius Caesar as well as they, was in some sort the cause of his own mishap, because having had many advertisements, suspicions, and forewarnings of the miserable death that was intended against him, yet he neglected them all, as appeareth by that speech, which he used the evening before he was murdered, being at supper with Marcus Lepidus. For a controversy arising amongst the guests about this proposition, What kind of death was best, even that said this Monarch, which is least looked for. True it is which may be said, that destiny may possibly be better foreseen than avoided. But this were an evil conclusion thereupon, that 
What death Caesar thought best.  we must let go all care of keeping those goods, which God giveth us as a blessing proceeding from his grace. For it is the duty of a good and sound judgement to confer that which is past, with the present time, to the end to foresee in some sort, and to determine of that which is to come, which is always doubtful and uncertain unto us. Moreover to resume our former matter of honest shame and shamefastness, which is the guide of our life to decency and virtue, we may see amongst the Ancients infinite examples, how it hath been recommended and precisely observed, and what strength it hath had in right noble minds. The Persians' brought up their youth in such sort, that they neither did nor spoke any thing that was dishonest, putting him to death that stripped himself stark naked in the presence 
How the Persian youth was instructed  of another. Yea they judged every uncivil action how little soever, committed before others, to be great wickedness. The Parthians would never suffer their wives to come among their feasts, lest wine should 'cause them to do or to speak any dishonest thing in their presence. Hippocratides as he was walking, met with a young man in a wicked man's company, and perceiving that he began to blush, said thus unto him: My son, thou must go with such as 
Hippocratides saying to a young man that blushed. Eutichus.  will not 'cause thee to blush: but be of good cheer, for thou mayest yet repent thee. Blind Eutichus was set without the array of the battle by Leonidas, but being ashamed to leave his fellows in danger, he caused a slave to lead him to the place where they fought, and there wonderfully doing his endeavour, he was slain. The Romans were so shamefast amongst themselves, that the father would not bathe himself with his son, nor the son in law 
The shamefastness of the Romans.  with the father in law. They so greatly esteemed honest shame and bashfulness, that when Philip king of Macedonia was accused before the Senate of many crimes, the shamefastness of young Demetrius his son, who blushed and held his peace, stood him in greater stead than the shameless boldness of the eloquentest Orator in the world could have done. The son of Marcus Cato the Censor, being at the battle wherein Perses was discomfited, and fight with ● javelin, his sword fell out of his scabbard, whereof he was so ashamed, 
Cato his son.  that alighting on foot in the midst of his enemies, and doubling his courage and strength, he took it up and mounted again, fight on horseback as before. The son of Marcus Aemilius Sc●●rus, having abandoned and given over the keeping and defence of the country of Trenta committed to his charge, was so ashamed thereof, that not daring 
Scaurus his son. Parmenides.  to return again to his father, he slew himself. Parmenides taught his Disciples, that nothing was terrible to a noble mind but dishonour, and that none but children and women, or at least, men having women's hearts, are afraid of grief. When speech was ministered at the banquet of the seven Sages, concerning that popular government which was happiest, wherein all have equal authority, Cleobulus affirmed, that that city seemed unto him best guided by policy, 
Cleobulus.  wherein the Citizens stood in greater awe of dishonour than of the law Plutarch rehearseth a very notable history of the force of honest shamefastness in the Milesian maidens, who were fallen into such frenzy and perturbation of spirit, that without any apparent cause to be 
A notable history of the shamefastness of the Milesian maidens.  seen, they were suddenly overtaken with a longing to die, and with a furious desire to hung themselves. Which thing many of them had already put in practice, so that neither reasons, nor tears of fathers and mothers, no comfort of friends, no threatenings, policies, or devices whatsoever, could prevail with them, until such time that a wise Citizen by his advice procured an edict to be made by the Council, that if any hereafter hung herself, she should be carried stark naked in the sight of all men, through the market place. This edict being made and ratified by the Council, did not only repress a little, but wholly stayed the fury of these maidens that longed to die. Insomuch, that a simple imagination and conceit of shame and dishonour, which yet could not light upon them before they were dead, did prevail more with them than all other devised means could do, yea, than death itself, or grief, which are two of the horriblest accidents which men commonly stand in fear of. To conclude therefore our present discourse, we learn that honest shame and shamefastness, are always commendable and beseeming all persons that purpose to observe modesty in 
Honest shame is always commendable.  their words, gestures, countenances, and actions. We learn also that spirits well brought up, are more easily won by shame than by fear, according to that saying of Quintilian, that shamefastness is the property of a free man, and fear of a bondman. Further, we learn that every temperate man aught to be more ashamed of himself, when occasion of doing ill is offered, than of any other: that we must shun all evil, excessive and pernicious shame, proceeding from the want of discretion, because it hindereth men from effecting all good, wholesome and honest things, insomuch that of itself it is able to procure unto us loss, dishonour, and infamy.   
The end of the sixth days work.   

The seventh days work.  

Of Fortitude. Chap. 25.  ASER. 
MAN endued with reason, and seeking to imitate as much as lieth in him, the Author of his being, (who albeit simply and absolutely he standeth not in need of any thing whatsoever, yet doth wonderful works without ceasing, for the benefit of his creatures) feeleth himself touched to the quick in his soul, with a desire to profit all those among whom he liveth, by all high, great, laudable, and laborious means, not fearing any peril, nor forcing any pain. Moreover, meditating and weighing the dignity of the immortality of the soul, he careth not earthly & mortal goods, nor standeth in fear of the contrary: and whether it be for the having or not having of them, his mind 
Fortitude is the third river of Honesty.  is nothing at all the less quiet, neither doth he think that any good upon earth can be taken from him. All which great and rare excellencies flow into him from the third river of the fountain of Honesty, whereof we are now to speak: namely, of the virtue of Fortitude, which (as Cocero saith) cannot be forced by any force.  AMANA. 
This virtue (saith Seneca) is very great, being able to resist and to fight against extreme miseries. Which is the property of Fortitude, that guideth a noble nature through hard and difficult things, that he may attain to the end of his just devices.  ARAM. 
Fortitude is the cause that neither for fear nor danger we turn aside from the way of virtue add justice. And as Plato saith, it lifteth up our minds to attend to that which is most excellent, laudable, best, and most profitable. Therefore let us hear ACHITOB discourse of the wonderful effects of this great and worthy virtue.  ACHITOB. 
Whatsoever is done manfully, and with a great courage, appeareth very decent, and beseeming a man. But the perfection of every work consisteth in this, that it be done by a stayed and constant reason, which teacheth us, that there is nothing after God, but 
Wherein the perfection of every work consisteth.  honesty, which we are to admire, to make account of, and to desire: and that we aught not in any sort to shrink & yield unto perturbations, or to any other human accidents whatsoever. Which opinions being well imprinted in our minds, prick us forward to enterprise those things that are most excellent, difficult, and fullest of labours and perils. For being free from all earthly care, and void of fear or sorrow, we contemn even death itself, and are in such sort prepared against all griefs, that our contentation lieth herein, that the greatest and most exceeding pains will not continued long, that the jest will vanish away of themselves, and that we shall be masters of the middle sort. This is that which the Philosophers by infinite learned writings required to be in the virtue of Fortitude, with which the force and strength of the 
Fortitude is a Good of the soul, not of the body.  body hath nothing common, as that which is a Good that belongeth to the body. But this is an immortal Good of the soul, consisting in the power and direction of the spirit, being fortified and confirmed through the study of Philosophy, and causing man of his own accord to make choice of, and to perfect all honest things for their own sakes. Fortitude, than (as Cicero saith) is that part of honesty, which is known by the excellency, greatness, and dignity of the heart, which after advised counsel and good consideration, causeth man to undertake without fear, all perilous matters, and constantly to endure all kind of travel. For constancy and dignity are never far from Fortitude in greatest distresses: because it adorneth him that possesseth her with the contempt of grief and of death causing him to esteem nothing untolerable that can happen to man, neither any thing evil that is necessary. And so it is the preservation of a firm and settled judgement in things that seem terrible and full of danger, seeing it is the knowledge of that which a man aught to endure. Plato also calleth it the knowledge of all good and evil: as though he would say, that nothing can come to a valiant and noble minded man, against his expectation, although it may be contrary to his will, because he is settled and prepared to undergo all events, as if he had certainly foreseen them. Aristotle saith, that Fortitude is a mediocrity between fearing and enterprizing. Moreover, it maketh a man fit for all occasions of dangers and travels, and holdeth him between these two extremities of cowardliness and rashness, which vices are very hurtful to a happy and commendable life. The same Philosopher saith, that whosoever will be strong and valiant, must be free from all fear of death, constant in adversities, void of fear in perils, 
The properties that are required in a valiant man.  choosing rather to die honestly, than to save himself villainously. He must endeavour to build noble enterprises, having for his companions hardiness, greatness of hart, good confidence and hope, beside, industry & patience. Than he cometh to set down many kinds of Fortitude Cicero agreeing well with him, saith that Magnificence, Confidence, Patience and Perseverance are the parts of Fortitude. Magnificence showeth itself in doing great and excellent things: Confidence 
The part of Fortitude.  in this, that a valiant man conceiveth good hope of the event of them: Patience in a voluntary and continual suffering for the love of honesty and virtue: and Perseverance in a perpetual constancy, and in a firm and steadfast abiding in his purposes and resolutions undertaken with good consideration following reason. Moreover, Fortitude (as the Stoics said very well) is a virtue that fighteth for equity and justice. And therefore neither they that suffer for unjust matters, nor they that fight for their private commodities, not being led 
Fortitude fighteth for justice only.  only with zeal of public benefit, can boast (except falsely) that they are decked with this percious virtue. For these latter sort of men are rather to be called cruel barbarous, mercenaries, and hired hangmen, destroying all humanity: and others impudent, shameless, and desperate yea so much more worthy of blame, as guilty of wilful madness, in that they show themselves constant in doing evil. But those men are valiant & of great courage, who think that no actions whatsoever, no time or season aught to be void of justice, who deliver the oppressed, and those that are wronged, who build all their devices upon virtuous works. They (saith Aristotle) are void of generosity, who fight either for fear of reprehension, or by constraint, or being stirred up with other men's speech, or of choler, or through ignorance of dangers. And this was Plato's meaning, when he said that all strong and valiant men hardy, but not all hardy men valiant: because hardiness cometh to men either by art, anger, or policy: but Fortitude is engendered in the soul by nature and holy education. 
All hardy men are not valiant.  And therefore this virtue standeth not in need either of choler, rancour, ambition, pride, or of any other evil passion, whereby to bring to pass brave and glorious effects, but is rather an utter enemy unto them, because it proceedeth from a mature and ripe consideration and election of reason, which causeth a man boldly to put in execution whatsoever he knoweth to belong to duty and honesty, according to that place whereunto he is called. And this also is the cause that he never taketh any thing in hand rashly, what pretence soever it hath, neither is he kept back by any fear in those matters which offer him good occasion of putting to his hand, what hazard or imminent danger soever seemeth to threaten him. But (according to that sentence of Socrates, that the hardest things aught to be taken in hand and executed with greater constancy and valour of heart) after he hath well and prudently grounded his enterprise upon a certain knowledge, and firm discourse of reason, neither reproaches, nor praises, neither promises nor threatenings, or torments, neither pleasures nor griefs, are able to 'cause him to break off, or in any sort to altar and change his resolution, which remaineth always praiseworthy, and is never subject to repentance, howsoever the matter falleth out: because we are not to judge of enterprises by the 
The resolution of a valiant man is always commendable and unchangeable  events, which are altogether out of our power, but by the groundwork and foundation whereupon they were built. And further, when the greatest dangers are, then is the time wherein a valiant man being nothing at all abashed, most of all showeth his strength and prows, never taking himself to be overcome as long as his virtue is free & at liberty to give him new supply of means to set forward again his matters; otherwise in a desperate case. Briefly, to speak in a word, Fortitude is the cause, that neither for fear, nor danger we turn aside from the pathway of virtue and justice, neither yet repent us of well doing for any torment. And thus it belongeth properly to this virtue, to command chiefly over these two perturbations grounded upon the opinion of evil, namely, Fear and Grief: as before we saw that Temperance exerciseth her power over unbridled Desire and Excessive joy. Furthermore, because they that naturally have greater stomachs, and more excellent spirits, are desirous and greedy of honours, power, and glory, and seeing that an excessive desire to rule and to excel others, commonly groweth with the greatness of the heart, it is necessary that this unruly affection should be moderated by the contempt of such things as are common to all men by nature. And this also is a property belonging to this virtue of Fortitude, which desiring 
Fortitude contemneth mortal things.  the greatest and best things, despiseth those that are base and abject, aspiring to celestial and eternal things, shunneth human and mortal things, and judgeth honours, riches, and worldly goods, an unworthy recompense for his valiant acts. Which is the cause, that whosoever hath this virtue of Fortitude perfectly (if so great happiness could be among mortal weights) he remaineth free from all perturbations of the soul to enjoy a blessed tranquility, which together with constancy, procureth unto him dignity and reputation. For this cause Cicero teacheth us, that they which give themselves to the government of affairs, aught (at lest as much as Philosophers) to make light account of temporal goods, from whence proceedeth all the rest of our minds: yea, they aught to strive to that end with greater care and labour than Philosophers do, because it is easier for a Philosopher so to do, 
Magistrates aught to make less account of worldly goods than Philosophers.  his life being less subject to Fortune, and standing in less need of worldly Goods, than doth that of Politics. And if any mishap befall them, it toucheth the Philosopher a great deal less. But whether it be in war, or in ruling a commonwealth, or in the government of an house, there are always means enough to exercise the works of Fortitude: and many times this virtue is most necessary in things that seem to be of smalleth account. Besides, that honesty which we seek after is perfected by the forces of the soul, of which every one hath great need, not by those of the body. I will not say, that the firm knitting together of the members, and the good disposition of nature to sustain manfully the injuries of weather, & 
Of bodily force.  all kind of pain and travel without sickness, is not a good help towards the execution of noble enterprises: only I say, that it is not so necessary, but that many being troubled with a thousand ill dispositions in their persons, especially such as were placed in offices of captains and conductors of armies, have executed infinite great and glorious exploits, surmounting all weakness of their bodies, through the magnanimity of their heart. Yea, oftentimes they have as it were constrained their bodies to change their nature, that they might be made fit to execute whatsoever their wise spirit judged to belong to duty. Was there ever any captain among the Romans greater than julius Caesar? Yet was he of a weak and tender complexion, subject to great head aches, and visited sometimes with the falling 
julius Caesar was sickly.  sickness. But in stead of using the weakness of his body for a cloak to live nicely and delicately, he took the labours of war for a fit medicine to cure the untowardness of his body, fight against his disease with continual labour and exercise, living soberly, and lying for the most part in the open air, which made him to be so much the more admired and loved of his soldiers. As it may appear by that which is reported of him, that being oneday by reason of a great storm and tempest greatly urged with want of lodging in a plain, where there was but one little cottage belonging to a Peasant, which had but one chamber, he commanded that Opius, one of his Captains, who was ill at ease should be lodged there: for himself he lay abroad with the rest, saying: that the most honourable places were to be appointed for the greatest, and the most necessary for such as were most diseased. What shall we say of those, who being impotent in some part of their members, did notwithstanding not diminish in any sort, but augment the glory of their doings? Marcus Sergius, a Roman captain, having lost his right hand in a battle, practised so well with the left hand, that afterward 
Marcus Sergius lacked his right hand.  in an army he challenged four of his enemies, one after another, and overcame them: such force hath a good heart, that it can do more in one only little member, than a man well made and fashioned in all points, that hath but a cowardly heart. We might here allege infinite examples, whereof histories are full, of all those effects, which we said were brought forth by the virtue of Fortitude in noble minds: but we will content ourselves to touch certain Generals that were of notable and politic prowess and valour, and constant in their resolutions; as well for shortness sake, as also because hereafter we shall have further occasion to bring others in sight, when we handle more at large the parts and branches that proceed from this happy stalk of Fortitude. Fabius the Greatest cometh first to my remembrance, to prove that the resolution of a courageous heart grounded upon knowledge 
Fabius the Greatest.  and the discourse of reason, is firm and immutable. This Captain of the Roman army being sent into the field to resist the fury and violence of Hannibal, who being Captains of the Carthaginians, was entered into Italy with great force, determined for the public welfare and necessity to delay and prolong the war, and not to hazard a battle but with great advantage. Whereupon certain told him, that his own men called him Hannibal's schoolmaster, and that he was jested at with many other opprobrious speeches, as one that had small valour and courage in him, and therefore they counseled him to fight, to the end he might not incur any more such reprehensions and obloquys. I should be (quoth he again to them) a greater coward than now I am thought to be, if I should forsake my deliberation necessary for the common welfare and safety, for fear of their girding speeches and bolts of mockery, and obey those (to the ruin of my country) whom I aught to command. And indeed after ward he gave great tokens of his unspeakable valour, being sent with three hundred men only to encounter with the said Hannibal; and seeing that he must of necessity fight for the safety of the Commonwealth, after all his men were slain, and himself hurt to death, he rushed against Hannibal with so great violence and force of courage, that he took from him the diadem or frontlet, which he had about his head, & died with that about him. Pompey, who by the renown of his high enterprises, got to himself the surname of Great, 
Pompey the Great.  being ready to sail by sea, and to pass into Italy, whither he was to carry a certain quantity of wheat to meet with a famine, according to the commission given him of the Senate, there arose a very great tempest, in so much that the mariners made great doubt to weigh up their anchors. But his resolution being well made before, and grounded upon the duty of a noble heart, he took shipping first of all, and caused the fails to be spread in the wind, saying with a loud and clear voice, It is necessary that I go, but not necessary that I live. Caius Marius, who was six times Consul, being in war against the Allies of the 
C. Marius.  Romans that were revolted, enclosed himself one day with trenches, and suffered a thousand injuries and vaunting speeches, both of his enemies and of his own men, but yet cared nothing at all for them, nor went from his deliberation, which was, that he would not fight at that time. And when Publius Silla, one of the chief captains of the enemy cried unto him, saying: If thou art such a great captain, Marius, as men report of thee, come out of thy camp to battle: Nay, do thou (quoth he again unto him) if thou art a great captain, compel me to come out to battle in despite of my teeth. Afterwards this Marius showed himself to be one of the most valiant and courageous men of his time, as well in the discomfiture of the said enemies, as in two other battles which he won against the barbarous Cimbrians and Flemings, who were entered into Italy to inhabit there: in one of which battles about an hundred thousand fight men were slain in the field. Agis king of Lacedaemonia, 
Agis.  being resolved to fight, his Counsellors told him, that there was no reason so to do, because his enemies were ten against one. It must need● be (quoth this courageous Prince) that he which will command many must fight also against many. We are enough to put naughty men to flight. The Lacedæmonians use not to ask what number there is of the enemies, but only where they are. The answer which Dienicus made to one that told the Council of Grecia, that the multitude of the Barbarians was so great, that their arrows covered the Sun, cometh near 
Dienicus.  to the courageous saying of king Agis. For concluding with their opinion who persuaded to fight, Dienicus made this answer: Thou tellest us very good news. For if the multitude of the Medes is such, that they are able to hide the Sun, they will offer us the means how to fight in the shadow, and not in the heat of the Sun. We may not here pass over with silence the testimony of invincible Fortitude, which always findeth means to effect her glorious purposes, given by Themistocles, when he saw the sundry opinions of the chieftains of the 
Themistocles.  Grecian army under the leading of Eurihiades the Lacedaemonian, touching the place where they should fight with Xerxes' fleet: The greatest part determined to forsake Salamis, where they were at that time, and to retire to Peloponensus, fearing the great force of their enemies, who were about twelve hundred vessels, whereas they themselves had but three hundred. But Themistocles sent Sicinus his children's schoolmaster secretly in a Sciffe towards the Persians', advertising them of the resolution which the Grecians had taken to fly, feigning (as he made Xerxes believe) that he favoured their side. Upon this watchword Xerxes sent part of his army to the other side of Salamis. Whereupon the Grecians considering that they were environed, resolved and settled themselves as men constrained to fight; and indeed the victory remained on their side, to the confusion and overthrow of their enemies, who departed out of Grecia: which otherwise would have been greatly shaken, had not Themistocles used this notable stratagem, thereby to stay the shameful flight of his countrymen. It was this virtue of Fortitude, which caused Damindas' the Lacedaemonian to make this answer 
Damindas'.  to one who told him, that the Lacedæmonians were in danger to suffer much mischief, if they agreed not with Philip, who was armed against the Grecians. OH my friend (quoth he) that art half a woman, what evil can he 'cause us to suffer, seeing we make no account of death itself? Dercyllides being sent from Sparta towards king Pyrrhus, to know wherefore 
Dercyllides.  he marched with his army upon their borders, and understanding of him, that he commanded them to receive again their king Cleonymus, whom they had banished, or he would let them know, that they were not more valiant than others already subdued by him, made this answer: if thou art a God we fear thee not, because we have not offended thee: but if thou art a man, thou art no better than we. The answer which certain Polonian Ambassadors made to Alexander the Great, who threatened their country, showeth also the excellency of their courage. We are afraid (quoth they to him) but of one only thing, namely, lest the sky 
A notable answer of certain Polonians. Anaxarchus. Socrates.  should fall upon us. Thunder (as Plato saith) terrifieth children, and threatenings fools. Anaxarchus being likewise threatened by the same Monarch that he should be hanged: Threaten this (quoth he) to thy Courtiers, who fear death: for my part, I care not whether I rot in the ground, or above the ground. Socrates also answered thus to one that asked him, whether he were not ashamed to commit any thing that would procure his death: My friend, thou dost not well to think that a virtuous man aught to make any account either of danger, or of death, or to consider any other thing in all his actions, than this; whether they are just or unjust, good or bad. If we desire to see farther what effects Fortitude bringeth forth in the greatest and most sinister dangers, Marcus Crassus 
M. Crassus.  shall serve us for sufficient proof. When he was threescore years of age, albeit he had received the foil in a battle against the Persians', wherein the greatest part of his army was destroyed, and his son being Captain of a thousand men, was slain, whose death seemed more to astonish the rest of his men, than any other danger, yet he showed himself in this mishap more virtuous than ever before, and went through all his bands crying aloud in this manner: It is I alone my friends, whom the sorrow and grief of this loss aught to touch. But the greatness 
A notable oration.  of the fortune, and glory of Rome remaineth whole and invincible, as long as you stand on your feet. Notwithstanding, if ye have any compassion of me, seeing me loose so valiant and virtuous a son, I pray you show the same by changing it into wrath against your enemies, to take vengeance of their cruelty, and be not abashed for any mishap befallen us: for great things are not gotten without loss. Patience in travels, and constancy in adversities have brought the Roman Empire to that greatness of power wherein it is now placed. With such speeches he fought unto the death. Will we have other examples of wonderful prowess and courage? judas Macchabeus, after many victories obtained by him against the Lieutenants 
judas Macchabeus.  of Antiochus, and against those of Demetrius, was set upon and assailed with two and twenty thousand men, (others say two and thirty thousand having himself but eight hundred, or a thousand with him. And being counseled to retire into some place of safety, God forbidden (quoth he) that the Sun should see me turn my back towards mine enemies. I hadrather die, than stain the glory which I have gotten by virtue, with an ignominious and shameful flight. In this resolute persuasion he greatly weakened his enemies, and yet died more through wearisomeness, than of blows or wounds which he had received in fight. Leonides king of Sparta, having with him but three hundred natural Lacedæmonians, fought and put to flight at the strait of Thermopylis three hundred thousand Persians: but he and all his died of the wounds which they received in that fight. Lucius Dentatus a Roman, was endued 
L. Dentatus.  with such Fortitude and Generosity, that one writeth of him, that he was in six score battles and skirmishes, and eight times came away Conqueror from fight hand to hand: that he had received of his captains by way of reward, and in token of his valour, eighteen lances, twenty b●rdss of horses, four score and three bracelets, and six and thirty crowns: and hastily, that by his means nine Emperors triumphed in Rome. Eumenus a Macedonian Captain, having been put to the worst by Antig●nus', retired into a strong hold, where 
Eumenus.  being besieged, and brought to parley through necessity of victuals and munition, it was signified unto him from his enemy, that reason would he should come and speak with him under his faith and promise without hostages, seeing he was both greater and stronger. But Eumenus made him this answer, That he would never think any man greater than himself, as long as he had his sword in his own power. And therefore demanding of him no worse conditions, than as one that thought himself to be his equal, he salied forth upon his enemies with such valour and courage, that he saved himself out of their hands, and afterward greatly troubled Antig●nus'. Aristomenes the Messenian, being taken by the Lacedæmonians, and 
Aristomenes.  and delivered fast bound to two soldiers to be kept, he drew near to a fire, and burned a sunder his bands with a little of his flesh: afterward coming suddenly upon his keepers, he slew them both, and saved himself. Lys●machus being cast to a Lion by Alexander, because 
Lys●machus.  he gave to Calisthenes the prisoner that poison wherewith he killed himself, fought with him, and stretching forth his arm and hand all armed into his throat, he took hold of his tongue and strangled him. Whereupon the Monarch ever after greatly esteemed and honoured him. By this small number out of infinite examples, which I could here mention, we see the great and wonderful effects of this virtue of Fortitude, which are no less in every part thereof touched in our discourse, as hereafter I hope we shall declare at large. Wherhfore we may well say, that this virtue is very necessary to live well and happily, and to lead us to the end of our being, which is, to refer both our life and death to the only exercise of duty and honesty: that by it we enjoy the true rest of the soul, which is nothing else (as Cicero saith) than a peaceable, sweet, and acceptable constancy, which undoubtedly always followeth Fortitude, being crowned with these two inestimable rewards, the contempt of grief, and of death, whereby we forsake that which is mortal, that we may embrace heavenly things in the hope and certain expectation of that happy immortality.   

Of Timorousness, Fear, and Cowardliness, and of Rashness. Chap 26.  ACHITOB 
WE may call to remembrance that saying of Plato before mentioned, that a temperate man, not endued with the virtue of Fortitude, falleth easily into cowardliness and baseness of mind, which is the defect of that virtue, which even now we described: and likewise, that a strong and valiant man without the direction of Prudence and Temperance, is easily carried away with temerity and boldness, which is the excess of the same virtue. Which two vices are so hurtful in the soul, that he which is infected with them, holdeth much more of the nature of a beast, than of that essence wherein he was created. Let us then consider what these imperfections are through the horror of that infamy which followeth them, we may be more zealous to follow that which is decent and honest.  ASER. 
We must take good heed (saith Cicero) lest through fear of peril, we commit any thing that may justly argue us to be dimerous and fearful. But withal we must beware that we offer not ourselves unto dangers without cause, than which nothing is more foolish and blame worthy.  AMANA. 
It is not seemly for a man (saith Plato) to commit any cowardly act to avoid peril. T●merity also setteth forth itself with courage, and contempt of dangers, but unadvisedly and to no purpose. But let us hear ARAM, who will handle this matter more at large.  ARAM. 
Albeit there is no greater disgrace than to be justly reproached with cowardly and faint heart, especially for youth to be called effeminate, yet is that fear good, which turneth us away from dishonest things, and maketh man stayed and well advised. This is the cause why the Ancients speaking of fear, made it twofold, the one good and 
Two kinds of fear.  necessary, the other evil and hurtful. The first, which they grounded upon a good discourse of reason and judgement, was so esteemed and honoured of them, that in the city of Sparta, 
A temple dedicated to fear.  which for arms and arts flourished most among the Grecians, there was a temple dedicated and consecrated to this fear: which, as they affirmed, better maintained and preserved the estate of Commonwealths, than any other thing whatsoever, because thereby man was led to stand more in awe of blame, reproach, and dishonour, than of death or grief. Which thing maketh him both apt and readier to undertake and to execute all virtuous and laudable matters, whensoever good and just occasion shall be offered; and also more stayed against every rash and unjust enterprise that might procure damage to the common wealth. And this was the occasion of that Proverb, Fear always accompanieth shame. Another reason alleged by these wisemen, why they honoured in such sort this feigned goddess, was, because to doubt and fear nothing was more hurtful to common wealths, than their very neighbour enemies, the fear of whom was their safety and assurance. The other naughty and pernicious fear standeth of two kinds. The first being destitute of all good reason and assured judgement, is that which we call Cowardliness and pusilanimity, always followed of these two perturbations of the soul, Fear and Sadness; and is the defect of the virtue of Fortitude, which we purpose chief to handle at this present. The Grecians called it by these two words 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
The fear of neighbour enemies is the safety of a Commonwealth. Two sorts of pernicious fear.  and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the one signifying Trouble, the other a Band; as if they would have said, that it held the soul bound, and wholly troubled. They affirmed also, that this fear was as it were a giddiness and alienation of the mind from the right sense, making the soul idle and dead, void of every good exploit or effect whatsoever. The last kind of fear is that which worketh in the wicked a fear of pain and punishment appointed for offences, whereby they are as it were with a bridle kept back and restrained from presuming to commit their villainies and damnable purposes. Now as the first kind of fear said to be good and necessary, is a great token of a commendable and virtuous nature, as that which for good cause is grounded upon the fear of reproach and infamy, and upon a desire to effect whatsoever belongeth to duty: so the one of these two last kinds testifieth a vile, contemptible, and abject nature; and the other a wicked and corrupt disposition. Plutarch speaking of this good fear, calleth 
Of the good fear.  it one of the Elements and grounds of virtue, saying, that it is chief requisite & necessary for those that have authority over others, who aught to fear rather to practise evil, than to receive punishment for the same, because the first is the cause of the latter, not only to themselves, but to so many as wallow in wickedness, which is never without recompense. Therefore a prudent and well advised man aught to have this fear always before his eyes, I mean this childlike fear, which is unseparably joined with the true love we own to our common 
It is joined with the true love of God.  Father, and is the beginning of all wisdom, whereby we are induced to honour him. And look how much the more the ancient Pagans' were kept in awe by this good fear, so much the more shall our condemnation be doubled, if we despise it. The duty also of this profitable fear is, to have an eye unto the good and safety of our country, and to 'cause us faithfully to 
It causeth us to respect the good of our country.  discharge every charge committed unto us, to the end we incur not perpetual shame and infamy among all good men. It causeth us to fear only the dishonour of an unadvised counsel or action, and to accounted it very seemly and honourable to be blamed and evil spoken of for well doing, which Alexander the Great said did well become a king. This good fear made Photion who for his desert and valour was chosen General for the Athenians five and forty times, to say, that he would never counsel, but hinder to the uttermost of his power that enterprise of war, which they would have concluded against Alexander. For (said he) although the Athenians would cast away themselves, I will not suffer them to do so, because I have for that intent and purpose taken upon me the charge of a Captain. And when Demosthenes, who persuaded this war, said unto him, The people will kill thee, if they enter into a fury. Photion replied, Nay they will kill thee, if they be well intheir wits. Antigonus the second, king of Macedonia, declared what benefit cometh of this good fear necessary for the foresight 
Antigonus.  of a wise and experienced captain in war, when retiring once from before his enemies who came to assail him, and being told by certain that he fled, he answered, It is clean contrary. For I look back to that profit which is behind me. As touching the opinion of the Ancients already mentioned, that to stand in fear of nothing is more hurtful to Common wealths than foreign enemies: it is that which Scipio Nasica a Roman senator 
Scipio. Nasicai  meant to signify, when upon the hearing of some, who said that Rome was in safety, if Carthage were laid waist: he replied, that it was far otherwise. For (said he) we are in greater danger now than ever, because we stand no more in awe of any whereby he wisely inferred, that too great and unlooked for prosperity of cities is commonly the cause of raising civil wars in them and secret divisions, or else of bringing into them so great idleness, that by it a gate is opened to all vices, as in truth it fell out with the Romans. For they being in the top 
The effects of 〈◊〉 great prosperity in common wealths.  of their felicity and greatness, by reason of the destruction as well of the Carthaginians by Scipio the younger, as of the Macedonians under Perseus and Autiochus, the people began to abuse their authority, preferring unto estates and places of honour, not the best and justest citizens, but such as flattered them most in their vices and dissoluteness, and won their hearts with prodigal and super fluou● feasts and distributions, to whom they sold their public voices. Whereupon in the end, those civil wars arose, which was the cause of their final overthrow, and of the alteration of their popular estate into a tyranny, afterwards called a Monarchy. But this discourse being the matter of another subject, let us come to the defect of the virtue of Fortitude, which is a fear void of reason and assurance, and argueth a faint and 
Of that fear which is the defect of Fortitude.  cowardly heart, causing a man through want of sense and understanding to accounted this the surest way, to doubt all things, and to distrust every one. Of this fear one of the ancient said, Fear taketh away memory and all good effects from every art, and industry. Yea sometimes some have been found so faint hearted, that as soon as this fear seized upon them, they gave up the ghost; not being oppresed with any other evil or violence. It is in this passion that Fear and Grief fully practise their power, being grounded upon a false opinion of evil, & sworn enemies to all rest and tranquillity, gnawing and consuing life as just doth steel or iron. Neither is this fear without an untruly desire and immoderate joy in things that are worldly, base, and contemptible; whereupon the soul is continually carried hither and thither, with pernicious and immoderate passions, which deprive her of the excellency of her immortality, to attend to the mortal & corruptible affections of the flesh, Alexander spoke of such as are possessed with this fear, when he said, that no place is so strong by nature & situation, which fearful men judge safe enough. Therefore the Satirical Poet said very well, That Fortitude always maketh timorous menlittle. For although they be born big of stature, yet the small 
Timorous men are always little.  courage of their hearts makes them so much the more contemptible, bringing forth worse & more dangerous effects, & making them unworthy of all intermeddling with matters of estate, or policy, or of war. In this number, among many whom histories mention, we may here reckon Claudius the first of Caesar's, who was so faint hearted, base minded, and blockish, that 
Claudius. Caesar.  his mother said often of him, that Nature had begun, but not finished him. And truly a heartless fellow, or one of little heart, is nothing else but a body without a soul. The memory of such men (of whom we see but too many examples among us) aught to be buried in oblivion, and during their life time they should remain unknown as well for their own honour, as for the good of the common society of men, to which they could not but be offensive and hurtful. For the most part they are not only afraid of men, of the hazards of wars, of troubles and 
The fear of saint-hearts.  seditions, of the dangers of long voyages, of the loss of their goods, of diseases, of dolours, yea, of the lest discommodities and adversities that can befall men: the event of all which, causeth them usually to forget all reason and duty, but they are also frighted with dreams, they tremble at sights and visions, they credit false abusing spirits, and with a forlorn fear they stand in a we of the celestial signs. Briefly upon the lest occasions that may be, and such as are unworthy the care of a prudent and valiant mind, they fall oftentimes into such vexation of spirit, that they loose it altogether, and become mad and enraged: insomuch, that many have hastened for ward with their own hands, the end of their so miserable days. As we read of Midas king of Phrygia, who being troubled and vexed with certain dreams, 
Midas.  grew to be desperate, and died voluntarily by drinking the blood of a bull. Aristodimus also, king of the Messenians, being in war against his subjects, it happened that the dogs howled like wolves, which came to pass by reason of a certain herb called Dogs teeth, growing about his altar at home. Whereupon understanding by the Soothsayerss that it was an evil 
Cassius.  sign, he was strooken with such a fear and conceit thereof, that he slew himself, Cassius the captain had a better heart when he answered a Chaldean Astrologian, who counseled him not to fight with the Parthians until the Moon had passed Scorpio; I fear not (quoth he) Scorpions, but Archers. This he spoke because the Roman army had been put to the worst before in the plain of Chaldea by the Parthian archers. Nevertheless that which we spoke of 
Base minds stand in great fear● of death and grief.  Midas and Aristodemus is seldom followed, yea is rately found among cowards, and base minded fellows, who commonly fly from temporal death as much as may be, as also from grief, which they fear in such sort, that contemning all virtue and justice, they labour for nothing more, than to preserve their lives together with their carnal commdities, for the obtaining of which they seem to live clean without all care of their soul, as if her portion were in this world, & should end together with the body. The effects of this fear of death are sufficiently felt of every one in particular, the number of them being very small, who would not willingly make (as we say) a sluice to their consciences, that they might be delivered thereof. Let us then confess ourselves to be fearful and faint hearted, and not boast of Fortitude and generosity of heart, which will not suffer us to stand in fear, not not of certain death in an holy and honest cause: so far is it from fearing and forsaking duty through doubt of an uncertain death. That which Spero● rehearseth in his dialogues of a gentleman of Milan, sufficiently showeth what marvelous force is in the apprehension and conceit of death, which extendeth itself not only upon the spirits of men, but also changeth the nature of their bodies, who want constancy to bear and sustain a small and light grief for the enjoying of eternal goods. This young gentleman being put in prison upon some accusation, it was told him, that of a certainty his head should be cut off the day following. Which news 
A strange alteration of a Gentleman's hair in one night.  altered him in such sort, that in one only night he was all white and graie-headed, whereof before there was no show or appearance, and so he lived long time after. Besides, experience daily ministereth unto us sufficient proof of the mischiefs which proceed of want of courage and faint-heartedness, especially in matters of estate, government, and public offices, wherein a fearful and soft man, for every reproach, dislike, or evil opinion of the world, yea of such as are most ignorant, and much more for the lest dangers of his person, and for fear and threatenings of the greater sort, yieldeth easily against all duty, and suffereth himself to be drawn to the error of the wicked and common sort. As for the middle and lesser sort, wherefore serve they being void of reason and assurance? Homer saith, That king Agamemnon dispensed with a rich coward for going to war personally, for a Mare which he gave him. Wherein 
Agamemnon dispensed with a rich coward.  truly he had great reason, because a fearful man hurteth much and profiteth little, not only in war, but even in every good and virtuous action. This caused that great captain Paulus Aemilius to say, that magnanimity and courage were for the most part reverenced in every enemy of theirs, but that cowardliness, although it had good success, yet was it always and of all men despised. I might here mention sundry vices, which ordinarily grow and are nourished 
What vices proceed of cowardliness.  of cowardliness and pusillanimity, as namely, cruelty, treason, breach of promise, impatience, idleness, sloth, covetousness, envy, backbiting, and all injustice; were it not that I hope these quele of our discourses will offer us matter and occasion to handle these vices particularly, our hour not affording us time and leisure to enter upon so many things together. There remaineth yet a word to be spoken of that fear which I said did accompany the froward and wicked many times, being called by the Poet a servile fear, which through the only horror of punishment holdeth them back from practising their wicked 
Of servile fear.  purposes. Of them spoke Pythagoras when he said, that he which careth not for doing of evil in any other respect, but only because he would not be punished, is very wicked. Now although such fear is accursed, and to be condemned in all, yet is it necessary for the preservation of human society. For otherwise, all things would run to confusion through the shameless malice of the wicked, of whom the earth is full. And it is a great deal better, that through such fear they should be restrained from their wicked desires and wills, than that they should without all fear a bandon themselves to put them in execution: albeit they are no way excusable before God, who requireth to be served with heart and spirit. Nevertheless, such fear doth not always stay them from putting their malice in effect, but the more they are restrained, so much the more are they inflamed and kindled with a desire to satisfy their corrupt will, which in the end is constrained to burst forth, and evidently to show that mischief which they kept secret a long time. But if the common sort (saith Seneca) be stayed by laws from committing evil, the Philosopher contrariwise hath reason for all laws, doing good not because the law commandeth it, and abstaining from evil not because it forbiddeth it, but because he knoweth the one to be honest, and the other vile and wicked. Having now seen that vice which is clean contrary to Fortitude, and knowing that every virtue hath a sergeant follower thereof, no doubt but Rashness is that vice which falsely shrowdeth itself under the title of Fortitude and valour. For this virtue easily overthroweth itself 
Of Rashness and of the effects thereof.  if it be not underpropped with good counsel, and the greater ability it supposeth to have in itself, the sooner it turneth aside to wickedness, if prudence govern it not. This is that which Isocrates saith, that Fortitude joined with Prudence is available, but otherwise it procureth more evil than good to the possessors thereof. If Fortitude (saith Lactantius) without necessary constraint, or for a dishonest matter hazardeth herself into dangers, she changeth into rashness. He that doth any thing at all adventures (saith Aristotle) not considreing how well he doth it, aught to be called virtuous: but only if he put it in execution, after knowledge, consultation & election. Therefore as it is a noble act to make such account of virtue, 
Who is a virtuous man.  as for the love thereof, not to fear the loss of life otherwise very dear: so is it a point of rashness and folly to contemnelife upon a small & light occasion. Rashness then is that which causeth a man with joy of heart, and for a vain and frivolous matter, to cast himself into certain and undoubted dangers, & to desire earnestly to fall into them, to undertake all things unadvisedly, and unconstrained to expect those perils which he knoweth will fall upon him. The elder Cato hearing certain men, to commend one openly who desperately hazarded himself, 
Cato.  & was bold without discretion in perils of war, said unto them. That there was great difference between much esteeming of virtue; & little weighing of life, as if he would have said, That it is a commendable thing to desire life to be virtuous. And truly to live and die are not of themselves good, but to do both of them rightly and in a good matter. So that to shun death, if it proceed not from a faint heart, is not to be reprehended. But Rashness is especially to be condemned in Captains and Heads of Armies, as that which procureth great damage to kingdoms and Monarchies, and to so many as march under their conduct. This is that which Iphicrates an Athenian Captain would have us learn, who compared in an army the Scouts lightly armed to the hands: the Horsemen to the feet: the battle of foot men to the 
Iphicrates comparison of an army to man's body.  stomach and breast: and the Captain to the head of a man's body. For (said he) the Captain that hazardeth himself too much, and throweth himself into danger without cause, is not reckless of his own life only, but also of all those whose safety dependeth upon him: and contrariwise, in taking care for the safeguard of his own person, he careth therewithal for all those that are under him. Isadas the Lacedaemonian seeing Epaminondas with the Theban army at hand against the Spartans', ready to force and take their City, unclothed himself stark naked, putting off his shirt and all, and taking a Partisane in one hand, and a sword in 
The rashness of Isadas.  the other, he went with might & main against his enemies, where he showed great prowess and valour. For which behaviour although he had a Crown given him by the signory according to the custom that was among them, yet he was fined, because he hazarded his life so rashly. We see daily among us but too many examples of great mischiefs which befall men through their rashness, led with ambition and desire of vain glory. Therefore to conclude, and to draw some profit out of our present discourse, we say, that we aught to fear the incurring of blame and dishonour for filthy and unhonest matters, and for evil deeds, and are to shun all fear proceeding of want of courage, of pusillanimity, and of a depraved and corrupt nature: This last, as proper and peculiar to the wicked, and the other, as that which maketh a man unapt to all good and commendable things. And as it is an act of Prudence and Fortitude to provide for a tempest and for storms to come, (when the ship is still in the Haven) and yet not to be afraid in the midst of storms: so is it a point of rashness for a man to throw himself wittingly into an evident danger, which might be avoided without any breach of virtue and justice. Therefore Plato saith, that timorous and rash men fear and enterprise unadvisedly, whatsoever they take in hand, but that noble minds do all things with prudence. This also is that which Seneca saith: Thou mayest be valiant if thou cast not thyself into perils, nor desirest to fall into them as timorous men do: neither abhorrest or standest in fear of them, as being timorous. 
How a man may be valiant.  But following the sage advice of Cicero, before we enterprise any thing, we must not only consider whether it be honest and commendable, but also whether there be any like means to execute it, that neither through cowardliness we give it over, not through greedy desire and presumption, we purchase to ourselves the reputation of rash men: observing moreover in every matter of importance this Maxim of estate, that before we begin any thing we must diligently prepare and fore see whatsoever is necessary thereunto.   

Of Magnanimity and Generosity. Chap. 27.  ARAM. 
WHen that saying of Aristotle cometh to my remembrance, that Fortitude is a mediocrity in fearing and enterprising, but that Magnanimity consisteth in great things, I am somewhat troubled in the understanding of this sentence: because it seemeth he would put a differencee between Fortitude an Magnanimity, as if this latter had more excellency and perfection in it than the other. For this cause my companions having entreated this morning of the virtue of Fortitude, I propound now unto you to discourse unto us what Magnanimity is.  ACHITOB. 
Among mortal and perishing things, there is nothing (as the Philosophers say) that aught to trouble the Magnanimity of a noble hart. But I found that they propound unto us in this word such a wisdom, as cannot be in him that remaineth all his life time subject to affections and perturbations. For this they would not have in true Magnanimity, which notwithstanding is well able to bring forth infinite wonderful effects out of a noble mind, causing it to be never unprovided of a good resolution to be put in execution according to the overthwarts that happen unto him.  ASER. 
The property of a noble spirit (saith Cicero) is not to be turned aside through ingratitude from the desire of doing good to all men, even to his enemies, as also to leave carking for that which is mortal, that he may embrace celestial things. But we shall understand more at large of thee AMANA, how these marvelous effects are works of true Magnanimity.  AMANA. 
Although the virtue of Fortitude be never perfected without Magnanimity 
What Magnanimity is.  (which is as much to say, as Generosity or nobleness of heart) as that which undoubtedly is comprehended under the first part of Fortitude, which Cicero calleth Magnificence, or a doing of great and excellent things, yet notwithstanding it seemeth that this word Magnanimity carrieth with it some greater & more particular Emphasis, and that a man may say, that the wonderful effects thereof appear principally in three points, whereof I purpose here to 
Magnanimity consisteth in three things.  discourse. The first concerning extreme and desperate matters, as when a man is passed all hope of saving his life, wherein perfect Magnanimity always knoweth how to find out a convenient remedy and wise consolation, not suffering himself to be vexed therewith. The second respecteth duty towards enemies, against whom generosity will in no wise suffer a man to practise or consent to any wickedness, under what pretence soever it be, not for any advantage which may be reaped thereby. The third causeth a noble minded man to contemn and to accounted that thing unworthy the care of his soul which others wonder at, and labour by all means to attain, namely, strength, health, beauty, which the Philosophers call the goods of the body: and riches, honour and glory, which, they say, are the goods of Fortune: 
The goods of the body and of Fortune.  and likewise not to stand in fear of their contraries. Among the worthy and famous men of old time, whose names and glorious facts crowned with an immortal Laurel, are engraved in the temple of Memory, we find no praise worthy of greater admiration, or that aught to awaken and stir us up better in Christian duty, than the effects of this virtue of Magnanimity, upon these three occasions presently touched. Whereof one effect is, that we yield not against reason, nor pass the limits of duty by fainting under that heavy burden of 
The first effect of magnanimity.  extreme distresses, which the horror of death bringeth with it: but that even in the midst of greatest agony which seemeth intolerable in man's judgement, we show such gravity and worthiness, that we departed not in any sort from the peace and quietness of our souls, but with constancy and cheerfulness of spirit, meditate upon the joy of that haven of salvation, which we behold with the eyes of our soul, whereinto through a happy death at hand, we shall shortly be received. Another effect is, that we accomplish (so far as our frailty can approach to perfection) the commandment of the divine will, by loving our neighbours as our 
The second effect.  selves, and by abstaining, even in regard of our greatest enemies, from doing, procuring or consenting, yea by hindering that no treachery or treason should be wrought them, nor any other thing unbeseeming that natural love, which aught to be in every one towards his like; and further, by procuring them all the good and profit that may be. The third effect of this great virtue, no less wonderful than the rest, is in that a noble minded man so long as 
The third effect.  he liveth, wholly withdraweth his affection from worldly and corruptible things through a steadfast and constant reason, and lifteth it up to the meditation and holy desire of heavenly and eternal things. The remedy which these great personages destitute of the right knowledge of the truth, most commonly used when their affairs were passed all hope of man's help, 
The common remedy of the Ancients in desperate cases.  was death, which they chose rather to bring upon themselves by their own hands, than to fall into the mercy of their enemies, whereby they supposed that they committed a noble act, worthy the greatness of their invincible courage. And if peradventure they were surprised, and forced in such sort by their enemies, that they were compelled to become their prisoners, they never desired them to save their lives, saying, that it beseemed not a noble heart; and that in so doing they should submit both heart and body to him, who before had but the body in his power, Cato the younger being brought to such extremity in the town of Utica, that by the advice of all those that were with him, he was to sand Ambassadors to Caesar the Conqueror, to practise an agreement after submission to his mercy, yielding thereunto in the behalf of 
Cato of Utica  others, but forbade that any mention should be made of himself. It belongeth (quoth he) to those that are overcome, to make request, and to such as have done amiss, to crave pardon. As for me I will accounted myself invincible so long as in right and justice I shall be mightier than Caesar. He it is that is now taken and overcome, because that which hitherto he denied to take in hand against the Commonwealth, is at this present sufficiently testified against him, and discovered. Neitther will I be beholding or bound to a tyrant for an unjust matter. For it is a point of injustice in him to usurp the power of saving their lives (like a Lord) over whom he hath no right to command. After many other speeches of Philosophy used by him, and standing much upon that Stoical opinion, That only a wise and good man is free, and that all wicked men are bondmen and slaves, he went alone into his chamber, 
The opinion of the Stoics  and slew himself with his sword. Sylla the Dictator having condemned to death all the inhabitants of Perouza, and pardoning none but his Host, he also would needs die, saying: that he would not hold his life of the murderer of his country, Brutus, after the battle lost 
Brutus.  against Augustus Caesar, was counseled by certain of his friends to fly: I must fly indeed (said he) but with hands, not with feet. And taking them all by the hand, he uttered these words with a very good and cheerful countenance: I feel my heart greatly contented, because none of my friends have for saken me in this business: neither complain I of fortune at all, but only so far forth as toucheth my country. For I esteem myself happier than they that have vanquished, as long as I leave behind me a glory of virtue for hazarding all liberally, to free from bondage my brethren and countrymen. Which praise our conquering enemies neither by might nor money can obtain, and leave to posterity: but men will always say of them, that being unjust and wicked, they have overthrown good men to usurp a tyrannous rule and dominion, that belongeth not unto them. After he had thus spoken, he took his sword, and falling upon the point thereof, gave up the Ghost. Cassius also his companion, caused his own head to be cut off by one of his slaves, whom he had made free, and kept with him long time before for such a necessity. The history which we read of the Numantines, cometh in fitly for this matter which we haadle here. For after they had sustained 
A notable history of the Numantines.  the siege of the Romans fourteen years together, and were in the end enclosed by Scipio with a great ditch of two and forty foot in depth, and thirty in breadth, which compassed the city round about, the Consul summoned them to commit themselves to the clemency of the Romans, and to trust to their promise, seeing all means of sallying forth to fight, and of recovering any victuals were taken from them. To whom they made this only answer, that forasmuch as they had lived for the space of 338. years in freedom, they would not die slaves in any sort. Whereupon, such as were most valiant, assembled together and slew those that were most grown in years, with women and children. Than they took all the riches of the city, and of the temples, and brought it into the midst of a great hall, and setting fire to all quarters of the city, each of them took the speediest poison they could find: so that the temples, houses, and riches, and people of Numantia ended all in one day, leaving to Scipio, neither riches to spoil, neither man or woman to triumph withal. For during the whole time wherein their city was besieged, not one Numantine yielded himself prisoner to any Roman, but slew himself rather than he would yield. Which Magnanimity caused Scipio to bewail the desolation of such a people, in these words: OH happy Numantia, which the gods had decreed should once end, but never be vanquished. Now albeit these examples and infinite other like to these, are set forth unto us by Historiographers, as testimonies of an excellent Magnanimity, whereby they would teach us both to be never discouraged for the most tedious travels and irksome miseries of man's life; and also to stand so little in awe of death, that for fear thereof, much less for any other torment or grief, we never commit any thing unseeming a noble heart: yet notwithstanding, 
No man aught to hasten forward the end of his days.  no man that feareth God, and is willing to obey him, aught to forget himself so much, as to hasten forward the end of his days for any occasion whatsoever. This did Socrates know very well when he said, that we must not suffer our soul to departed from the Sentinel wherein she is placed in this body, without the leave of her Captain: and that so weighty a matter as death, aught not (as Plato saith) to be in man's power. But if it be offered unto us by the will of God, then with a Magnanimous heart void of all starting aside in any thing against duty, we must set free this passage, being stayed and assuredly grounded upon that consolation, which never forsaketh a good conscience, not only through the expectation of a naked and simple human glory, which 
Alcibiades constancy and courage in death.  most of the Heathen propounded to themselves, but of that life which abideth for ever: following therein the constancy of Alcibiades, a great Captain of Grecia, who hearing the sentence of his condemnation to death pronounced, said: It is I that leave the Athenians condemned to die, and not they me. For I g●● to seek the gods where I shall be immortal, but they shall remain still amongst men, who are all subject to death. Socrates also having a capital accusation laid against him wrongfully, directeth his speech to the judges, and said unto 
Socrates' speech at his arraignment.  them, that his accusers by their false depositions might well 'cause him to die, but hurt him they could not: adding further, that he would never leave his profession of Philosophy for fear of death. I am persuaded (quoth he in Plato) that this my opinion is very good, namely, that every one aught to abide constantly in that place and trade of l●fe, which either he hath chosen himself, or is appointed him by his superior: that he must accounted that for the best, and hazard himself therein to all dangers, without fear either of death or of any other thing whatsoever. And therefore I should err greatly, If I should now for fear of death forsake that rank wherein God hath placed we, and would have he remainein, as I always believed and thought ●● namely, that I should live a student in Philosophy, correcting mine own and other men's vices. Now, if I should do otherwise, I might justly be accused for calling myself a wise man, not being so indeed: seeing to fear death, is to think that to be, which is not. But neither I, nor any other man, aught to d●e all that we may in judgement or in 
What it is to fear death.  war, to the end to avoid death. For it is very certain, that he who would in time of battle cast down his armour and fly away, might by that mean avoid death, (and the like is to be understood in all dangers and perils) if he were not afraid of infamy. But consider (OH countrymen) that it is no very hard matter to avoid death, but far more difficult to eschew wickedness and the shame thereof, which are a great deal swifter of foot than that is. OH speech worthy of eternal praise, and such a one as instructeth a Christian notably in a great and noble resolution: namely to run the race of his short days in that vocation, whereunto God hath called him, and that in the midst of tortures, torments, and all agonies of death. From which, whilst we expect a happy passage, we aught to be no more destitute of an apt remedy in all those things, which according to the world are most irksome and desperate, but sustain them with like constancy and worthiness, not departing from the tranquility and rest of our souls, which is a more noble act, than to hasten forward the end of our days, that we may be delivered of them. But howsoever it be, let us always prefer a virtuous and honest death, before any kind of life, be it never so pleasant. And seeing that one and the same passage is prepared as well for the coward as the courageous, (it being decreed, that all men must once die) the lovers of virtue shall do well to reap to themselves some honour of common necessity, and to departed out of this life with such a comfort. Now to come to the second commendable effect of this virtue 
Examples of the second effect of magnanimity. Fabritius.  of Magnanimity, whereof Heroical men were so prodigal heretofore for the benefit and safety of their enemies, we can bring no better testimony than the courteous fact of Fabritius the Roman Consul towards Pyrrhus, who made war against him, and whose Physician wrote unto him, that he offered himself to murder his master by poison, and so to end their strife without danger. But Fabritius sent the letter unto him, and signified withal, that he had made a bad choice of friends, as well as of enemies, because he made war with upright and good men, and trusted such as were disloyal and wicked: whereof he thought good to let him understand, not so much to gratify him, as lest the accident of his death should procure blame to the Romans, as if they had sought or consented to end the war by means of treason, not being able to obtain their purpose by their virtue. Camillus a 
Camillus.  Roman Dictactor, is no less to be commended for that which he did during the siege of the City of the Fallerians. For he that was school master of the chiefest men's children among them, being go out of the City, under colour to have his youth to walk, and to exercise themselves along the walls, delivered them into the hands of the Roman Captain, saying unto him, that he might be well assured the Citizens would yield themselves to his devotion, for the safety and liberty of that which was dearest unto them. But Camillus knowing this to be too vile and wicked a practice, said to those that were with him, That although men used great outrage and violence in war, yet among good men certain laws and points of equity were to be observed. For victory was not so much to be desired, as that it should be gotten and kept by such cursed and damnable means, but a General aught to war, trusting to his own virtue, and not to the wickedness of others. Than stripping the said 
A good lesson for a General to learn.  school master, and binding his hands behind him, he delivered him naked into the hands of his scholars, and gave to each of them a bundle of rods, that so they might carry him back again into the city. For which noble act the citizens yielded themselves to the Romans, saying: that in preferring justice before victory, they had taught them to choose rather to submit themselves unto them, than to retain still their liberty: confessing withal, that they were overcome more by their virtue, than vanquished by their force and power. So great power hath Magnanimity, that it doth not only advance Princes to the highest degree of honour, but also abateth the heart of the puissant and warlike enemy, and oftentimes procureth victory without battle. Truly we may draw an excellent doctrine out of these examples, which make all those without excuse, that spare nothing to attain to the end of their intents and devices, making no difficulty, at the destruction of innocents, but exercising all kind of cruelty, so they may overthrow their enemies by what means soever: using commonly that saying of Lysander, Admiral of the Lacedæmonians, That if the Lion's skin will not suffice, the Fox his skin also is to be sewed on. But let us resolutely hold this, that treason never findeth place in a noble heart, no more than the 
Treason and cruelty never find place in a noble heart.  body of a Fox is found in a Lion's body. Further, it is notoriously known, that the Ancients strived to procure all good and profit to their enemies, using clemency and humanity towards them, when they had greater occasion and means to be revenged of them. Hereof we may allege good examples, when we discourse hereafter particularly of those virtues that are proper to a noble minded man, who aught to hate cruelty no less than treason. We are therefore to look unto the last effect, and sound proof of Magnanimity and Generosity here propounded by us, which we said, consisted in the 
Of the third effect of Magnanimity.  contempt of earthly and human good●. Wherein truly resteth the very perfection of a Christian, who lifteth up his desires to his last and sovereign Good in heaven. Now, because there are but few that love not themselves too much in those things that concern the commodities of this life, and fewer that seek not after glory and honour, as a recompense of their excellent deeds, and that desire not riches earnestly to satisfy their pleasure; in these three point also a noble minded man causeth his virtue to appear more wonderful, because he doth not judge them to be a worthy reward for the same, but rather altogether unworthy the care of his soul, for which principally he desireth to live. This is that which Cicero saith that it is not seemly that he should yield to covetousness and concupiscence, who could not be subdued by fear, or that he should be overcome by pleasure, who hath resisted grief: but rather that these things aught to be shunned by all possible means, together with the desire of money, seeing there is nothing more vile and abject than to love riches nor more noble than to despise them. This also is that which Plato saith, that it belongeth to the duty of a noble heart not only to surmount fear, but also to moderate his desires and concupiscences, especially when he hath liberty to use them, whether it be in the pleasure of the body, or in the ambitious desire of vainglory, honour and power. In this sort then, he that hath a right noble and worthy mind, will no more weigh greatness among men and estimation of the common sort, than he doth grief and poverty, but depending wholly upon the will of God, and contenting himself with his works wrought in him, he will not that any good thing upon earth can be taken from him. And because he aspireth to those things that are best, highest, and most difficult, he abideth free from all earthly care and grief, as being long before prepared for all dolours, through the contempt of death, which bringeth an end to the greatest and most excessive pangs, serveth him for an entrance into eternal rest. We have already alleged many examples of ancient men, fit for this matter which now we speak of, and the sequel of one treatises will furnish us with mother when we shall come to entreat of riches and worldly wealth, whereof we are to speak more at large. But here we will propound Aristides only 
Aristides.  to be imitated, who was a worthy man among the Athenians, whose opinion was, that a good citizen aught to be always prepared alike to offer his body and mind unto the service of the commonwealth, without hope or expectation of any hire & mercenary reward either of money, honour, or glory. And so with an unspeakable gravity and constancy, he kept himself always upright in the service of his country, in such sort that no honour done unto him could 'cause him either to be puffed up in heart, or to be more earnest in employing himself: (as it is the manner of some to do service according as they are recompensed) neither could any repulse or denial which he suffered, abate his courage or trouble him, or yet diminish and lessen his affection and desire to profit his commonwealth. Whereas now adays we see that the most part of men with us upon a small discontentment, labour to make public profit to serve their desires and passions, in stead of giving themselves to the good and benefit of their country. Now concluding our present discourse, we learn that 
Magnanimity ●● invincible.  true and perfect Magnanimity and Generosity is in invincible and inexpugnable, because upon this consideration, that death is the common end of man's life, & that happy passage to life everlasting, she despiseth it altogether, & makes less account thereof than of bondage & vice; sustaining also with a great and unappalled heart, most cruel torments, not being moved thereby to do any thing that may seem to proceed of the common weakness, and frailty of man's nature. Further we learn that this virtue maketh him that possesseth her, good, gentle, and courteous, even towards his greatest enemies, against whom it suffereth him not to use any covin or malice, but keepeth him always within the limits of equity and justice: causing him further to make choice of and to finish all honest matters of his own will, and for their love, not caring at all for mortal and corruptible things, that he may wholly apprehended and take hold of those things that are divine and eternal   

Of Hope. Chap. 28.  AMANA. 
COnsidering that the perfection of a wise man's life consisteth in the practice 
Wherein the perfection of a wise man's life consisteth  of great and excellent things, he that is borne to virtue feeleth himself touched to the quick with desire to bring them to pass. But the instability and small assurance which he knoweth to be in that which dependeth upon the doubtful event of every high enterprise, oftentimes cooleth his virtuous intents, if a certain confidence and good hope did not make easy unto him the means of attaining thereunto. Likewise, when he feeleth the sharp pricking that proceedeth from the overthwarts and miseries of man, which sequester themselves very little from his life, he is soon daunted with sorrow and care, if he have not this hope that comforteth him with expectation of speedy redress. Of you therefore (my companions) we shall understand the excellency of this Good that belongeth to the soul and is so necessary for a happy life, I mean Hope, which dependeth of the virtue of fortitude, whereof we have discoursed all this day.  ARAM 
Learned men (saith Bias) differ from the ignorant sort in the goodness of hope, which truly is very profitable, sweet and acceptable to a prudent man. But evil hope leadeth carnal men, as a nauty guide, unto sin.  ACHITOB. 
As good hope serveth to increase strength in a man, so rash hope oftentimes beguideth men. But it belongeth to thee ASER to handle this matter.  ASER. 
Alexander the Great being by the States of all Graecia chosen general Captain to pass into Asia, and to make war with the Persians', before he took ship he 
Alexander reserved hope only for himself.  enquired after the estate of all his friends to know what meanesthey had to follow him. Than he distributed and gave to one lands, to another a village, to this man the custom of some haven, to another the profit of some borough town, bestowing in this manner the most part of his demeans and revenues, And when Perdiccas one of his Lieutenants demanded of him what he reserved for himself: he answered Hope. So great confidence had this noble Monarch, not in the strength of his weapons, or multitude of good warriors desirous of glory and honour, but in his own virtue, being content and satisfied with a little, in his incontinency, beneficence, contempt of death, magnanimity, 
Properties requisite in a General.  courtesy, gracious entertainment, being easy to be spoken with, having a free disposition by nature, without dissimulation, constant in his counsels, ready and quick in his executions, willing to be the first in glory, and always resolute to do that which duty commanded. From this Hope thus surely grounded, he never shrunk, until the last gasp of his life: which caused him to make this answer to Parmenio, who counseled him to accept of the offers which Darius made unto him for peace: namely, six thousand talents, being in value six Million of gold, and the half of his kingdom, with a daughter of his in marriage; If I were Parmenio, I would accept of his proffers. Besides, he sent word to Darius, that the earth could not bear two Suns, nor Asia two kings. Neither was he deceived of his good hope, which led him to such a perfection of worldly glory and felicity, that he was the first and last that ever approached near unto it. This Hope was that foundation whereupon so many great and excellent Heathen men and Pagans' built their high and noble enterprises. For proof hereof may be alleged that definition which Cicero giveth of Confidence, being the second part of Hope, affirming it to be that virtue, whereby the spirit of man putteth great trust in weighty and honest matters, having a certain and sure hope of himself. And elsewhere he saith that he shall neither 
The definition of confidence.  rejoice, nor be troubled out of measure, that trusteth in himself. But we know that this Hope is weak and uncertain, if it be not settled and grounded upon a sure expectation of the help and grace of God, without which we can never prospero. Now this is out of doubt, 
Our hope must be grounded upon the grace of God. Of vain hope.  that we cannot hope and wait for that grace, unless our counsels and enterprises, have reason for their guide, and right and equity for their bounds. For (as an ancient man saith) that man hopeth in vain that feareth not God, and they only are filled with good hope, whose consciences are clean and pure. So that all they that are led with sundry evil passions, either of ambition, of vainglory, or of any other unbridled desire, can never have that happy and good hope, which never deceiveth men. And indeed they miss oftentimes of their intent, yea, are deprived of that which was their own and certain, because they are desirous to get unjustly another man's right, being also uncertain. The self same thing falleth out to those that trust and stay in such sort upon their own strength, virtue and constancy, that fearing in no respect (as they say) the greatest calamities that can come to man, assure themselves in their prosperity to be invincible in their resolutions, and presume that nothing is able to pull them down, or to 'cause them to change their opinion: and yet so soon as the wind of adversity bloweth, they are the first that are thrown to the ground, and soon show forth the inconstancy and imbecility of man's nature left to it 
Who are soon thrown down with acuersitie. Wenclaus.  self. As contrariwise, they to whom God giveth eyes to acknowledge themselves, are then humbled, so that they reverence the ordinance of God, who derideth all the enterprises of men. The practice hereof was well known to Wencelaus king of Hungary, being driven out of his kingdom, and forsaken of his own, who oftentimes used to say, The hope I had in men hindered me from putting my trust in God: but now that all my confidence is in him, I assure myself that he will help me by his divine goodness. As indeed it fell out so unto him, being re-established again in all his estates and dignities. But to the end we confounded not together that which 
The division of hope.  is simply divine, with that which is human, I think we aught to make a double hope, the first, true, certain, and unfallible, which concerneth holy and sacred mysteries: the other doubtful respecting earthly things only. As touching the first, we know things to come by the assurance thereof, as well as if they were already done. We are taught in the holy Scripture what is the undoubted certainty of this hope, which through faith aught 
Of the true and infallible hope.  to be so imprinted in our hearts, that by the strength, power, and virtue thereof, we should run the race of our short days in all joy, happiness and peaceable tranquility of our minds, expecting without doubting the perfect and absolute enjoying of those goods that are immortal, unutterable and endless in the second and eternal life. Without this hope grounded upon the free goodness of the Almighty, let us assuredly persuade ourselves, that man's estate is more miserable than that of brute beasts, seeing this is, the only way of his salvation. The other hope which concerneth this present life only in all such 
Of earthly hope.  things as we propound to ourselves for the benefit and contentation thereof, hath such need to be ruled, guided, and referred to the happy end of the first excellent and heavenly hope that otherwise it cannot but be doubtful, inconstant, and rash, what human reason soever we can allege to persuade the possibility of attaining to the end of our pretended devices, which in one moment may be quite overthrown, the occasions whereof being for the most part secret and hid from us. Moreover the imperfection of whatsoever men commonly most esteem upon earth is so great, that together with their continual uncertainty, the perturbations which hinder the tranquility of the soul, redouble and abound so much the more, as the enjoying of these earthly commodities increase and augment, leaving in man a continual desire to multiply them, and a fear to loose them. As touching this hope therefore of human things which we wish might always prospero with us, we may well hope what we will, but withal we must prepare and settle ourselves to support constantly whatsocuer falleth out, that that which cometh unto us against our expectation: and that we never use such repine as these, unbeseeming a wise man, I would never have thought it: I looked for another matter: I would never have supposed that such a thing could have 
Speeches unbeseeming a wise man. The truite of hope.  happened. In the mean while we must not omit to Hope the best always in our crosses and calamities, because nothing lenifieth so much the sharpness of present adversities as the hope of future benefit, the certain expectation where of as it were stealeth away our labours, and causeth all fear of peril to vanish away. This is that which Apollodorus saith, that we must never be discouraged for adversities, but always hope for better things. The calamities of mortal men (saith Euripides) in the end leave of themselves: and as the winds do not always blow vehemently, so happy men are not ever fortunate. The one flieth from the other: but he is a good man, who is always full of good hope, Pindarus calleth it the nurse of old age. Thales said, that nothing in all the world was more common than Hope, because it abideth with them also that have no other goods. The Elpisticke Philosophers affirmed, that nothing better maintained and preserved the life of man, than Hope. And truly without hope, which easeth the burden of man's miseries, the world were not able to sustain life. 
Our life would be insupportable without hope.  For it greatly helpeth man to live contentedly and happily, if, as we said, it have respect to the best end, unto which all our desires and inclinations aught to be referred, and aught to be governed thereby according to reason and justice. Otherwise it is certain that a man can never peaceably and to his contentation, enjoy his present estate and condition, but always some new hope of better things to come, will 'cause him to neglect that whereof he is assured, and to run after an uncertainty, until in the end being often deceived and missing of his purposes and enterprises, he be overthrown quite through his great hope. Therefore Plato writeth, that Fortune is more contrary to that man whom she suffereth not to enjoy that which he hath, than to him whom she denieth to grant that which he demandeth of her. This gave occasion to Cineas (a very wiseman, and so excellent 
Cineas talk with Pyrrhus concerning his great hope.  an Orator, that one writeth of him, that he brought more towns in subjection to his master Pyrrhus by his tongue, than himself did by his valour) when he saw that although this king might enjoy a happy peace and quietness, if he would be contented to reign peaceably over his subjects: yet he burned with desire to undertake war against Italy; to enter into talk with him, and to ask of him this question. If Sir, the gods show us this favour that we should remain Conquerors in this war, what good would the victory do us? We might afterward (answered Pyrrhus) easily subdue the Grecian and Barbarian cities bordering upon that country. Well, when this is done, (replied Cineas) what shall we do afterward? Sicilia (answered Pyrrhus) will of itself yield unto us. Shall Sicilia then (quoth Cineas) end our war? What will stay us after (quoth this Monarch) from passing into Africa and to Carthage, and from the recovery of the kingdom of Macedonia with ease, that so we may command all Graecie without contradiction? Whereunto Cineas replied, When all is in our power, what shall we do in the end? Pyrrhus' beginning to smile, said, We will rest us at our ease, my friend, living in all pleasure, and as merrily as may be. Than Cineas having brought him to that point which he desired, said unto him: And what Sir, letteth us from rest at this present, and from living in joy and pleasure, seeing we have all things requisite and necessary, without seeking it with so much effusion of man's blood, besides infinite hazards and dangers, and that in such places where it is uncertain whether we shall find it: These wise speeches sooner offended Pyrrhus than caused him to change his mind. And although this Prince could not doubt at all what happiness and great felicity he for sook, yet was it unpossible to take the hope of that which he desired out of his mind. Wherhfore Antigonus king of Macedonia compared him very fitly to a Dices player, to whom 
Pyrrhus' compared to a Dice-plaier.  the Dices speak fair by giving unto him good chances, but yet so that he cannot cast the same again to serve his turn. For he lost that by hope, which he had gotten indeed, desiring so earnestly that which he had not, that he forgot to make that sure which was already in his possession. And indeed it fell out very unhappily with him in the end. For after he had fought prosperously a certain time, he was discomfited by the Romans, and being after besieged, was slain with a tile which a woman let fall upon his head. Was there ever Monarch who aught rather to have contented and delighted himself peaceably in the enjoying of his unspeakable prosperities than julius Caesar? And yet not being satisfied with the Roman 
Caesar was led continually with new hope.  Empire, which he had obtained by so many travels and innumerable dangers, he made preparation (whilst the conspirators sought his death) to go himself in person to war against the Parthians. So that as long as he lived, the hope of that which was to come, caused him to contemn the glory gotten by his former deeds, and to deprive himself of that commendation, which he should have no less deserved in preserving himself, and in the good government of his great estate, than he did in conquering the same: whereof he reaped no other benefit, but only a vain name and glory of small continuance in his life time, which procured him the envy and hatred of his countrymen, so that he was murdered with three and twenty blows of the sword on his body, after he had overlived Pompey (who was vanquished by him) four years only, or little more. Histories are full of sundry such alterations, which commonly follow them that are not content with their estate: from whence wise men and of good judgement may draw this instruction, to limit their thoughts and desires. For as Diodorus the Athenian said, these two things 
Two things hurtful to men.  are very hurtful to men, Hope and Love, of which the one leadeth, and the other accompanieth them; the one seeketh out the means to execute their thoughts, and the other persuadeth them with good success. And although these two things are not seen with the eye, yet are they mightier than visible punishments. Hereof came that old proverb, that proud men fat themselves with vain hope, which by little and little choketh them, as a naughty fat doth man's body. And if we be willing to keep ourselves from so dangerous a downfall, let us cure our souls of all hurtful hope, and let reason and duty (as we have already said) lead and limit all our affections and enterprises, considering wisely their beginning, namely, that we ground them upon right & equity only, knowing that they aught not to be judged of by the event and end of them, which oftentimes seem to favour unjust 
We must not judge of enterprises by the events.  counsels and doings. And this offereth some colour and occasion to the wicked to prosecute their dealings, having no care of violating right and justice. But howsoever it be, a miserable end bringeth them an over late repentance. Neither let us persuade ourselves, that the issue of our imaginations and enterprises, although they be well grounded, shall certainly fall out according to our meaning; (for this is that hope, which greatly hurteth, and most of all troubleth them) but let us know, that as in all things which grow, there is always some corruption mingled in them) it being necessary that all mortal seeds should presently be partakers of the cause of death) so from the same fountain ill hap floweth unto us in 
Ill hap is more common than good.  great measure, yea sooner and more abundantly than good success. Which thing Homer willing to give us to understand, feigned that there were two vessels at the entry of the great Olympus, the one being full of honey, the other of gall, of which two mingled together jupiter causeth all men to drink. And Plutarch saith, that men can never purely and simply enjoy the case of any great prosperity, but whether it be fortune, or the envy of destitute, or else the natural necessity of earthly things, there case is always intermingled in their life time, with evil among the good; yea in the like mishap, that which is worse surmounteth the better. All these things being considered of us, they will make us more advised and stayed in all our counsels and advices, and in such sort affected and prepared with true prudence, fortitude and magnanimity, that whatsoever happeneth unto us, we shall not be troubled or farther moved, but receive it, as having long before expected and looked for it. This doth Seneca very learnedly teach us, saying: that we aught not to be astonished or marvel at unlooked for chances that light upon us, but prepare and conform our hearts 
Seneca adviseth us to prepare ourselves to all events.  to all events that may come unto us, premeditating and thinking aforehand, that we are borne to suffer, and that nothing cometh to pass, which aught not to be. Destiny (saith he) leadeth those that are consenting, and draweth gainsayers by force. Neither aught we, through doubt of that which is to come, to neglect good, heroical, and far removed hopes of excellent things, having thus grounded them as we have said. For wise and famous personages desirous of honour and glory, were always of opinion, that they aught to be entertained and kept in a sound and settled resolution of the mind, because of the variety of accidents, which daily happen contrary to the common opinions of men: wherein experience teacheth us, that according to the direction of a good spirit, and the good success that followeth and accompanieth it, whatsoever concerneth the managing of 
What the author understandeth by the word Fortune.  worldly affairs, is changed, and turneth about with the moving of fortune, if be it lawful for us under this Heathen word to understand the ordinance of God. Therefore to end our present discourse, we will note this, that first we are to defend ourselves by the grace of God, with that happy and certain hope which can never deceive or confounded any, being a certain guide to keep us in this long and tedious pilgrimage from going astray out of the way of salvation. Secondly from this, the prop, stay, and comfort of man's life against all miseries and calamities will flow and issue. Thirdly and lastly, we shall be stirred up to all great and noble works, for the good and common profit of every one, referring the events of them to the wonderful counsel of the providence of God, and receiving them a● just, good and profitable.   
The end of the seventh days work.   

The eight days work.  

Of Patience, and of Impatiency: of Choler and Wrath. Chap. 29.  ASER. 
IF virtue consisteth in hard matters, if that which cometh nearest to the divine nature, and is most uneasy and lest of all used of all men, better beseeming a valiant and noble minded man, than any other thing whatsoever; not doubt but patience is the very same thing: whereof the Scripture teacheth us, that God is the author, and that he putteth it in 
Rom. 15. 5. Exod. 34. 9  daily practice among his creatures, deferring the full punishment of their faults by expecting their repentance. Further this virtue so much resembleth fortitude, whereof we discoursed yesterday that we may say with Cicero, that Fortitude is borne of her, or else with her, seeing there is nothing so great and burden some, which she cannot easily sustain and overcome, even the violentest and most common passions of man's nature, as impatiency, choler & anger, which commonly procure the utter ruin of the soul. Therefore let us (my Companions) begin our days work with the handling of the effects of this great virtue of patience, and of the vices that are clean contrary unto it.  AMANA. 
Patience (saith Plautus) is a remedy for all griefs. Endure patiently, and 
Patience a salve for all sores.  blame not that which thou canst not avoid. For he that is able to suffer well, overcometh. But this virtue is so rarely found among men, that more will offer themselves to death, than abide grief patiently. Nevertheless, it is the point of a wise man (saith Horace) to set a good face upon that which must needs be done.  ARAM. 
By patience (saith Cicero) we must seek after, that which we cannot obtain by favour: and if we endure, all the inconvenience will turn to our profit. But learned men whilst they resist not their perturbations, trouble, and overturn with a sudden vehemency those things which they had begun with a quiet spirit and mind, throwing down at one blow whatsoever they had builded with long labour. But of thee ACHITOB we shall understand the praise and property of this virtue of Patience, with the contrary effects thereof, namely, Impatience, Choler and Anger, and the means to shun and avoid them.  ACHITOB. 
Among all the ancients, the Stoic Philosophers were most zealous and precise observers of all points concerning this virtue of patience, which they grounded upon 
Of the Stoical Patience.  the fatal cause of necessity, requiring such exactness and perfection thereof in men, that they would have a noble heart to be no otherwise touched with adversity than with prosperity, nor with sorrow full things than with joyful. For this cause Aristo. said, that virtue only was to be wished: and therefore that it was all one to be sick or sound, poor or rich: briefly, that in all other human and necessary uses of nature, there was no more evil in one kind, than in another. Whereby it seemeth that these Philosophers delighted in painting out a picture of such patience, as never was, nor shall be among men, except first they should be unclothed of all human nature, or become as blockish and senseless as a stone. For so long as man remaineth in this life, he cannot be void of affections and perturbations, that draw the soul to care and to provide for the body, which continually crieth out against her for fear of grief, and of wanting that which belongeth unto it. But it is the duty of a wise man to moderate all passions in such sort, that in the end reason remain mistress. Moreover we say that virtue, which is a habit of comeliness and mediocrity in affections, 
Virtue is neither without affection, nor subject to affections.  aught neither to be without her motions, nor yet too much subject to passions. For the abolishing of desire maketh the soul without motion, and without joy even in honest things: as on the otherside over vehement motions thereof altogether trouble her, and 'cause her to be as it were beside herself. Further, we seek after the common practice of men, not for that perfection which they wish for, and whereunto they aught to aspire: and we desire that affection should show itself no otherwise in virtue, than a little shadow of a hidden cloud, or a line in a picture. Therefore true patience which we aught to embrace in all things, not as compelled and of necessity, but cheerfully and as restoring in our welfare, 
Of true patience.  is a moderation and tolerance of our evils, which, albeit we sigh under the heavy burden of them, cloth us in the mean while with a spiritual joy, that striveth so well and mastreth in such sort the sense of nature which shunneth grief, that in the end it worketh in us an affection of piety and godliness, joined with a free and cheerful mind, under the yoke and obedience of the just and rightful will of God, through a certain expectation of things promised, and causeth us to judge impatiency to be contumacy and rebellion to this divine will, and sufficient of itself to make a man to be called wretched. Patience (saith Plato) is a habit that consisteth in sustaining stoutly all labours and griefs for the love of honesty. The 
The definition of patience.  law saith, that it is a very good thing to keep the tranquillity of our spirit as much as may be in adversities, and not to complain of that which is uncertain: because men know not whether that which is light upon them be good or evil for them, as also because sorrow can not help that which is to come, but rather hindereth the curing of the evil: and lastly, because there is nothing in human matters, whereof any great account is to be made. But if I must needs support them, my desire and labour is to do it nobly, honestly and courageously. It skilleth not what we endure, but how we endure it. And then doth patience prevail most, when we know that whatsoever we have done, was executed of us for godliness sake. The conflict of Patience (saith Euripides) is such, that the vanquished is better than the vanquisher. 
The first-fruits of patience.  And let us not think that there is any calamity, which cannot be sustained by the nature of man armed with Patience, which is an invincible tower. Patience, (saith Cicero) is a voluntary and long suffering of labours, calamities, travels, and difficult matters, for the love of honesty and of virtue. And when all things are overthrown, and counsel will do no more good, there is but this one only remedy, to bear patiently whatsoever shall come upon us. Patience serveth us for a mean to attain to great matters, staying men from fainting in dangers and travels. By patience whatsoever is disordered, may be brought again to good order, as that wise Emperor, Marcus Aurelius would give us to understand, when he said, That patience had no less helped him in the government of his estate than knowledge Likewise it is for the most part followed of courtesy and gentleness, which make him well liked of that is adorned therewith, and sooner draweth good will, the cause of man's obedience, than force or violence doth. He that is slow to anger (saith the wise, is better than the 
Prou. 16. 32.  mighty man, and he that ruleth his own mind, is better than he that winneth a city. True patience loveth the afflictions which she suffereth, causing him that possesseth her to give praise to God in the midst of adversities, and to submit himself to his judgement when he is pressed with diseases: neither can poverty keep him back from commending highly his bounty and goodness. To be short, as a pearl showeth her beauty even in the midst of a puddle: so a patiented man causeth his virtue to appear in all adversiites. Moreover this patience which we show in adversities, moveth those to compassion and pity that see us suffer Which thing as it greatly comforteth in affliction, so oftentimes it causeth others to reap inestimable benefit, when they behold us to suffer unjustly. For it serveth to awaken and to strengthen the weak in the knowledge of their duty, that they suffer not themselves to be deceived with the poisonful sweetness of worldly goods and commodities. In a word, the virtue of patience is so necessary for a good and happy life, that no part or action of man's life can be guided to their proper end without her. And as she is a branch of Magnanimity, Fortitude, and greatness of courage: so Impatience is a weakness and imbecility of a base, vice, and 
Of impatiency, choler, & wrath.  contemptible nature, wherein choler, and in the end wrath, are easily engendered: which are two very pernicious passions in the soul, and differ nothing from fury (as the elder Cato said) but only in this, that they continued a lesser time, and this a longer. This is that which Possidonius teacheth us, sayings that anger is nothing else but a short fury. Aristides called it the inflammation of blood, and an alteration of the heart. Cicero saith, that that which the Latins 
The definition of anger.  call Anger, is named of the Grecians desire of revenge. And Solon being demanded to whom a man fraught with Anger, might be compared, answered: To him that maketh no account of losing his friends, and careth not atlhough he procure enemies to himself. But besides the sayings of all these Sages, experience sufficiently showeth us, that Choler and Anger are enemies to all reason: and (as Plutarch saith) are no less proud, presumptuous, and uneasy to be guided by another, than a great and mighty tyranny: insomuch that a ship given over to the mercy of the winds & storms, would sooner of itself receive a Pilot from without, than a man carried headlong with wrath and choler, would yield to the reason and admonition of another. For an angry man (like to those that burn themselves within their own houses) filleth his soul in such sort with trouble, chase, and noise, that he neither seeth nor heareth any thing that would profit him, unless he make provision long time before to suecour himself with reason through the study of wisdom, whereby he may be able to overthrow his impatiency and choler, which argue and accompany for the most part a weak and effeminate heart. And that this is true, we see that women are commonly sooner 
Who are most given to impatiency and choler.  driven into choler than men▪ the sick than the sound: the old than the young: all vicious, gluttonous, jealous, vainglorious, and ambitious men, than those that unfeignedly hate vice. Whereby it is evident enough, that choler proceedeth from the infirm and weak part of the soul, and not from the Generosity thereof. Neither doth it make against our saying, to allege the opinion of Aristotle, and of all the Peripatetics, who maintained that we aught to moderate these affections and passions of the soul: but otherwise that they were necessary to prick men forward to virtue. Yea Aristotle said, that choler was as a whetstone 
Aristotle contrary in opinion.  to sharpen and set an edge upon Fortitude, and Generosity. The Accademicks, and Stoics contend greatly against this opinion, and namely Cicero and Seneca, who said, that for as much as choler is a vice, it cannot be the cause of virtue, seeing they are two contrary things that have nothing common together. And considering that Fortitude proceedeth from an advised consultation and election of reason, which perfecteth the work, whereas choler hindereth and troubleth it in such sort, that an angry man cannot deliberate, it is not possible that it should stand him in any stead in the performance of excellent actions. And this is an invincible reason, because virtue cometh not of vice. Now, this being the end of all Philosophy for a man to know his vices, and the means, how to deliver himself from them, and seeing that the infamy and discommodity which accompany impatiency and choler, cannot but be known unto us, yea are notwithstanding so common amongst us, that the perfectest are infected therewith, let us look for some help and mean to cure ourselves thereof. First let us know, that although men may be moved to wrath and choler for diverse causes, yet 
How impatiency and choler may be cured.  unto all of them, the opinion of being contemned and despised is commonly joined. And therefore the true and sovereign remedy for this, (that so we may avoid such a cold and slender occasion of entering into choler against our neighbours, altogether unbeseeming the love we own them) will be to put from us as much as may be, all suspicion of being despised and contemned, or of bravery and boldness, and to lay all the fault either upon necessity or negligence, upon chance, untowardness, lack of discretion, ignorance, or want of experience which are oftentimes in them that offend us. This will seem very strict counsel, and hard to practise, yea hateful to many of our Frenchmen, chief to those of the Nobility, who are so curious in the preservation of their honour, with which title they would disguise the desire of worldly glory, whereunto they show themselves so much affectionated. But they testify sufficiently, that they never knew wherein true honour consisteth, which is no more separated from virtue then the shadow from the body: also that they know not what patience is, accounting it rather to be faint-heartedness and cowardliness, than a part and daughter of the virtue 
What the wicked judge of patience.  of Fortitude and Generosity, ye judging it a dishonour to a man that is contumeliously handled, not to tender the like again. But contrariwise we are to know, that to support & endure wrong and injury patiently, and even then when we have most means to revenge ourselves, is a note of a most absolute, noble, and excellent virtue. Yea it beseemeth a Christian most of all, and such a one as hath those words of the Scripture well engraven in his heart; Thou shalt not avenge, nor be mindful of wrong against the children of thy people, but shalt love thy neighbour as thyself: I am the Lord, vengeance and recompense are mine. But I hope that hereafter 
Levit. 19 18. Deut. 32. 35.  we shall discourse of this subject by itself, which deserveth to be handled more largely. Following therefore our matter, we must understand, that choler is bred of a custom to be angry 
Whereof choler is bred.  for small things, & afterward becometh easily afire of sudden wrath, a revenging bitterness, and an untractable sharpness, making a man froward and furious, disliking every thing. Wherhfore a wise man aught presently to oppose the judgement of reason to every little anger, and to suppress it. This will help to make the soul firm and of power to resist and beat back all fierceness of choler in matters of greater weight and consequence. For he that nourisheth not his anger in the beginning, nor inflameth it himself, may easily avoid, or at lest scatter it. Moreover this will be a great mean to overcome our choler if we obey it not, nor give credit unto it from the very first instant wherein it beginneth to appear, 
A good way to remedy choler.  imitating Socrates therein, who, whensoever he felt himself somewhat more eager moved against any man than he aught (like to a wise Pilot that getteth himself under the Lee of some rock) let fall his voice gently, showing a smiling countenance and more courteous look, thereby setting himself directly against his passion. Besides, it will greatly help us, if when we are moved with anger, we stay our tongue a certain space, and delay a little while our own revenge. For it is very certain that a man promiseth, speaketh, and doth many things in his anger, which afterward he wisheth had never been in his thought. Unto this fitly agreeth that counsel which Athenodorus taking his leave, gave to Augustus the 
The counsel that Athenodorus gave to Augustus.  Emperor to stay the pernicious effects of quick & ready choler. This Philosopher minding to teach some remedy to be opposed at the very instant when this monarch should feel himself overtaken with anger, whereunto he easily suffered himself to be carried; willed him to rehearse the four and twenty letters of the Greek alphabet before he did any thing in his anger. But knowing, this that it is a special property of man's imbecility to be stirred up to anger and to be troubled, let us follow that commandment of the Scripture. Not to sin in our anger, neither to let the Sun go down upon our wrath, lest we show ourselves to have less 
Eph 4. 26.  virtue and courtesy than the Ethnic Pythagorean Philosophers, who albeit they were neither kin nor allied, yet kept this custom inviolable, that if peradventure they were entered into 
A notable custom of the Pythagorean 〈◊〉 br●●ke his glasses to avoid o●●●●onss of wrath.  some contention and choler one against another, before the Sun went down, they appointed a meeting where they embraced and shook hands o●e with another. Further we have carefully to avoid all occasions which we know might induce and provoke us to anger. As Cotis king of Thracia wisely behaved himself, when one brought him a present of many goodly vessels curiously made and wrought, but very brittle, and easy to break, because they were of glass. After he had well recompensed the gift, he broke them all for fear, lest through choler, whereunto he knew himself subject, he should be moved with wrath against any of his servants that should break them, and so punish him too severely. And of this matter we may also draw a good instruction for all those that are placed in authority above others, 
Magistrates aught not to punish any in their choler.  namely, that they beware lest they correct or punish any body in their choler, but only when they are voided of all vehement passions, considering the fact in itself advisedly, and with quiet and settled senses: knowing that as bodies seem greater through a mist, so do faults through choler, which for the most part carrieth Princes headlong to commit execrable and cursed cruelties. Among many examples we may note that of the Emperor Theodosius, who being moved with anger against those of Thessalonica for a commotion which they made, and for slaying his lieutenant, sent his army thither, with commandment that they 
As Theodosius did.  should be utterly rooted out: whereupon fifteen thousand were slain, neither women nor children being spared. Of which fault repenting him, but too late, he made a law afterward, whereby he willed that the execution of his letters Patents and commandments should be held in suspense and deferred, thirty days after signification and knowledge of them, namely, when any were to be punished more rigorously than of custom he used. Neither is it less dangerous in an estate that the administration of public charges should be committed to such as suffer themselves to be over ruled with wrath, seeing there are not in a manner fewer matters which are to be winked at and dissembled, than to be punished and corrected. And although Magistrates have authority and just cause to punish vices, yet have they no licence to show themselves to be passionated. But this being a matter of Policy, let us continued our moral instructions, & note that which we read of Plato, deserving to be considered 
Plato refused to correct his servant in his anger.  of here, who being very angry with a servant of his for a great fault committed by him, and seeing Xenocrates to come towards him requested him if he were his friend, to correct that servant of his, because at this present (quoth he) anger surmounteth my reason. Whereby this wise Philosopher declared sufficiently, that if the first motions are not at all in our power through the imperfection of our nature, yet at the lest, reason may serve for a bridle to hinder every naughty execution: teaching us likewise, that we aught to use and exercise our power and authority over others without any extreme passion. Further that we may have such imperfections in greater hatred, we are to note that choler hath been the overthrow of many great men, as it was of the Emperor Aurelianus who was endued with notable virtues, but otherwise easily moved to anger, whose wrath was such, that their death with 
Aurelianus anger was the cause of his death.  whom he was displeased, was the only remidy to appease it. For being one day incensed against M●esteus his Secretary, he knowing his master's disposition, for the safeguard of his life devised to writ (counterfeiting the emperors hand) in a little scroll the names of the principal captains of his army, putting himself in the number of those whom he had fully purposed to put to death, and bearing it unto them, said, that he saw this bill fall out of the Emperors sleeve. Whereat they being astonished, and giving credit thereunto, resolved 
Valentinian● 〈…〉 & died thereof  with themselves to provent it, and so falling upon him, slew him. Moreover it is well known to every one, that choler may greatly hurt health, whereof men are for the most part desirous enough. It was cause of the Emperor Valentinians death, who through crying out in his his choler, broke a vein in his neck. From this vice proceedeth another detestable imperfection, 
Valentinian in his anger broke a vein and died thereof.  which is swearing, a thing directly contrary to a wise man's life, and condemned by the law both of God and man: whereof we might easily be cured by custom, if first we destroyed Impatiency and Choler, which provoke blasphemy. The Romans observed an ancient decree, which expressly commanded, that when young men would swear by the name 
Against the infamous vice of swearing. A notable decree of the Romans.  of some god, they should first go out of the house wherein they were. Which was a commendable mean both to retain and keep them from swearing lightly and upon the sudden, also that they might have good leisure and space to bethink themselves. This would be very profitable for us towards the correcting of this vice, the unmeasurable licence whereof aught to be kept back and chastised by some better means. Yea, it were very expedient and necessary to renew and put in practise that law of good king S. jews, that all blasphemers should 
S. jews his law against swearing. Charilaus.  be marked in the forehead with an hot iron, yea, punished with death, if they would not be corrected otherwise. Such contemners of the name of God aught to learn their lesson of Charilaus the Ethnic and Pagan, who being demanded why the images of the gods in Lacedemonia were armed, To the end (quoth he) that men might fear to blaspheme the gods, knowing that they are armed to take revengement. Concluding therefore our present discourse, let us learn to deck our lives so well with patience, (which is so profitable and necessary to salvation, and to a good and happy life) that we be patiented towards all men in all things, to the end we may obey the will of God, and reap the fruit of his promises, as the end of patience is the expectation of things promised. And let us know, that the learning and virtue of man is known 
1. Thes. 5. 14. Heb. 10. 36.  by patience, and that he is to be accounted to have less learning and virtue, that hath less patience. Further, let us learn that the office and duty of a prudent and noble minded man is to wink at many things that befall him, to redress other things, to hold his peace at some things, and to suffer much, so that he follow reason always, and fly opinion. Lastly, we are to know, that he which endureth evil patiently, shall know also how afterward he may easily bear prosperity, and that every christian offereth an acceptable sacrifice to God, when he yieldeth unto him daily thanks in the midst of infinite troubles and vexations: which benefit will work in us the utter overthrow of all impatiency, choler and wrath, sworn enemies to all reason and virtue.   

Of Meekness, Clemency, Mildness, Gentleness, and Humanity. Chap. 30.  ACHITOB. 
A Philosopher in a great assembly of people, taking a lantern & a candle lighted at midday, and going into an high place in all their sight, was demanded what he meant to do withal: I seek (said he) for a man but can see none, not not one. And truly it is a 
This word Man is in Latin Hom● from whence is derived Humanitatis, which signifieth courtesy or gentleness.  very rare and excellent thing to find one that indeed is a Man, which is as much to say, as courteous, or made of meekness, and gentleness: for which cause Plato calleth him a civil creature, and sociable by nature. Now therefore let us understand of you my companions, what worthy effects this virtue of meekness bringeth forth in man.  ASER. 
Mercy (saith Plato) aught no more to be taken away from the nature of man, than the altar out of the Temple. And every noble heart aught to be so courteous and gracious, that he be reverenced more than feared of his neighbours.  AMANA. 
There is no nation so barbarous, which loveth not meekness, courtesy, benevolence, and a thankful soul: and contrariwise, which hateth and contemneth not proud, 
No nation void of courtesy.  wicked, cruel, and ungrateful persons. But it belongeth to thee ARAM to discourse of this matter unto us.  ARAM. 
Sin having deprived man of the perfection of graces, wherewith the image of God in him had enriched and beautified him (namely, with perfect goodness and holy righteousness,) there remained nothing in his soul but a weak desire to aspire to that sovereign Good, of which she felt herself spoiled. For further confirmation whereof, this incomparable beauty of the visible shape of the body was left unto him, to the end that in his principal work, as in a rich picture, he might find large matter to move him to contemplate and to admire the excellency and greatness of his Creator, who is able to set him again in his former glory & brightness. By means of this knowledge a man feeleth himself effectually moved & touched with the love of his like, imprinted in every nature, which desireth usually to show forth the effects thereof to the profit of many, if it be not wholly depraved and accursed. This love aught to be so much the greater and more perfect in man, by how much the nearer he approacheth to the understanding of the incomprehensible secrets of the 
Reasons to move us to love our neighbours.  divinity. For what thing aught more to stir us up, and to move us with zeal to do good to our neighbours, than the consideration both of their creation after the image of God, whereunto we own all honour, love, and obedience, and also of their re-establishment into the same image by his pure grace and mercy: besides the contemplation of the excellent composition and building of this frame of man? These things being well considered in our minds whom shall we take for our enemy, for a stranger, as contemptible, unworthy, and of no account, seeing this brightness and grace of God shineth in every one, and especially in those whom the world despiseth? Moreover when we know by his word that Man is substituted of God in his place, that we should acknowledge towards him the inestimable benefits which we have and daily receive from the help and goodness of our common Father, who promiseth to accept as done to himself, what good thing soever we procure to his creatures, so that it be done with a gladsome and cheerful countenance, and with asweere and courteous kind of beneficence, void of arrogancy, and contumely, or reproach; shall any thing stay us from exercising towards every one all duties of humanity? We read in Macrobius, 
A Temple dedicated to Mercy.  that long sithence there was a Temple in Athens dedicated to Mercy, into which none was suffered to enter except he were beneficial and helpful, and then also with licence from the Senate. Insomuch that through a desire which the people had to have access into it, they studied earnestly to exercise works of pity and piety. Yea, the greatest reproach which an Athenian could utter to his neighbour, was to hit him in the teeth, that he was never in the Academy of the Philosophers, nor in the Temple of Mercy, girding him by this only reproach with two shameful things, the one of ignorance and want of prudence, the other of cruelty and inhumanity. Now if among those of old time the only natural seed of the love of theirlike, which also is seen in beasts, was so strong and powerful that it brought forth in them (notwithstanding they were destitute of the heavenly light) first-fruits worthy of perpetual memory, as they that had nothing in greater estimation than to show themselves meek, gentle, courteous, helpful and gracious towards others, even towards their enemies: what aught they to do, that say they are all members of that one head, who recommendeth so expressly unto them meekness, mildness, gentleness, grace, clemency, mercy, good will, compassion, and every good affection towards their neighbour? All which things are comprehended under this only sacred word of Charity, which is the indissoluble band of God with us, whereby we are inflamed with the love of him for that which we own unto him, and thereby 
What Charity is.  also are induced to love our neighbours for the love of God. But let us consider how the Ancients having but the shadow of this perfect Charity, praised and esteemed this virtue of Meekness, from which they knew how to draw so many good commodities for the profit and secure of every one, that after we may note here certain worthy examples to 
The definition & effects of meekness.  stir us up so much the more unto our duty. Meekness (saith Plato) is a virtue that belongeth to the courageous part of the soul, whereby we are hardly moved to anger. Her office and duty is to be able to support and endure patiently those crimes that are laid upon her, not to suffer herself to be hastily carried to revenge, nor to be too easily stirred to wrath, but to make him that possesseth her, mild, gracious, and of a stayed and settled mind. Meekness and gentleness (as he saith else where) is that virtue whereby a man easily appeaseth the motions and instigations of the soul caused by choler, and it standeth him in stead of a moderate temperance of the spirit, decking him with mildness & courtesy, which draweth unto him the love of strangers, and good service of his own. Whereby it appeareth, that whosoever is mild and courteous to others, receiveth much more profit and honour than those whom he honoureth. They are not to be credited (saith Cicero) who say that a man must use cruelty towards his enemies, esteeming that to be an act proper to a noble and courageous man. For nothing is more commendable or worthy a great and excellent man, than meekness and clemency. It seemeth also that liberality, beneficence, justice, fidelity, and many other good deeds, whereof many men taste, and which procure to a man greater good will of every one, are proper to mildness and meekness, called by an ancient man the characters of an holy soul, which never suffer innocency to be oppressed, and as Chilo said, which lead noble hearts slowly to the feasts of their friends, but speedily to the succouring of them in their calamities. This virtue of meekness is truly most necessary for a valiant man. For without it be should be in danger to commit some actions which might be judged cruel. And seeing that a noble minded man cometh near to the divine nature, he must resemble it as much as may be in gentleness and clemency which adorneth and honoureth those especially that are lift up in dignity, and have power to correct others. True it is also, that they are deceived that commend, and as it were adore the bounty of great men and Magistrates, who of a certain simplicity without prudence, show themselves gracious gentle, and courteous 
A mediocrity must be kept between mildness and cruelty.  towards all men. Which is no less pernicious to an Estate, than is the severity and cruelty of others. For of this over great lenity, among many other inconveniences, an impunity of the wicked is bred, and the sufferance of one fault quickly draweth on another. Therefore the mildness of those that have power and authority, aught to be accompanied with severity, their clemency mingled with rigour, and their facility with austerity. This is that which Plato learnedly teacheth us, saying: That the noble and strong man must be courageous and gracious, that he may both chastise the wicked, and also pardon when time requireth. And as for those offences which may be healed, he must think that no man is willingly unjust. Therefore Cicero saith, that it is the property of a noble minded man simply to punish those that are most in fault, and the authors of evil, but to save the multitude. And thus the rigour of discipline directing meekness, and meekness directing rigour, the one will set forth and commend the other: so that neither rigour shall be rigorous, nor gentleness dissolute. By the learned sentences of these Philosophers, it is very evident, that the virtue of meekness is not only a part of Fortitude, which cannot be perfect without it, but hath also some particular conjunction with all the other virtues, yea is as it were the seed of them, and induceth men to practise all duty towards their neighbours. But because the order of our discourses will offer us matter and occasion to entreat particularly hereafter aswell of justice, and of revenge of wrongs and injuries which a man receiveth of his enemy, as also of other virtues here briefly mentioned, we will now come to certain notable examples of meekness, gentleness, mildness, and goodness of nature. The first that cometh to my remembrance is Philip king of Macedonia, who giveth 
Philip a prince of a good and mild nature.  place to none in the perfection of these gifts and graces. When it was told this good Prince, that one Nicanor did openly speak ill of his majesty, his counsellors being of opinion that he was to be punished with death: I suppose (quoth he to them) that he is a good man. It were better to search whether the fault cometh not from us. And after he understood that the said Nicanor was a needy fellow, and complained that the king never succoured him in his necessity, he sent him a rich present. Whereupon afterward it was told Philip, that this Nicanor went up and down speaking much good of him. I see well (said he then to his counsellors) that I am a better Physician for backbiting than you are, and that it is in my power to 'cause either good or evil to be spoken of me. The good disposition of Antigonus king of Macedonia, cometh in here not unfitly upon the like occasion. For hearing certain soldiers speak ill of him hard 
Antigonus.  by his tent, who thought not that the king could overhear them, he showed himself, uttering these only words without farther hurting them: Good Lord could you not go further off to speak ill of me? And to say truth, such gifts and graces become a noble Prince very well: yea, he cannot more worthily and more beseeming himself give place to any wrongs, than to those that are done to his own person. As contrariwise those men are unworthy their sceptres, who cruelly revenge their own injuries, and pardon such as are done to others, yea such faults as are directly against the honour of God. A prince well instructed in virtue 
O that Princes would consider this.  (saith Xenophon in his Cyropaedia) aught so to behave himself towards his enemy, as to think and consider that at some time or other he may be his friend. Was there ever Monarch more feared of his enemies than Alexander the Great, invincible in all things he took in hand, insomuch that he would not only force all human powers, but also times 
Alexander.  and places themselves, and yet who hath left greater proofs of meekness and courtesy than he? As he was on his voyage undertaken for the conquest of the Indian's, Taxiles a king of those countries came and desired him that they might not war one against another. If thou (said this king unto him) art less than I, receive benefits: if greater, I will take them of thee. Alexander greatly admiring and commending the gravity and courteous speech of this Indian, answered thus: At the lest we must fight and contend for this: namely, whether of ut twain shall be most beneficial to his Companion: so loathe was this noble Monarch to give place 
A commendable combat.  to another in goodness, mildness, and courtesy. Hereof he gave a great argument, after he had vanquished Porus (a very valiant Prince) of whom demanding, how he would be entertained of him, this king answered, Royally. Neither would he give him any other answer, albeit Alexander urged him thereunto. For he said that all was contained under that word. As indeed the Monarch showed that he was nothing ignorant thereof. For he did not only restore his kingdom unto him, but enlarged it also; wherein he surmounted his victory, and procured to himself as much renown by his clemency, as by his valour. Had he ever any greater enemy than Darius vanquished and subdued by him? And yet when he saw himself letted from using towards him any bounty worthy his greatness. because Bessus one of his captains had slain him, he was so displeased therewith, that he caused the 
Bessus cruelly put to death for kill Darius.  murderer to be punished (albeit he was one of his familiar friends) with a most cruel death, causing him to be torn asunder with two great trees bowed down by main strength one against another, unto each of which a part of Bessus his body was fastened. Than the trees being suffered to return back again to their first nature, with their vehement force rend asunder the body of this poor and miserable wretch. julius Caesar was of such a courteous disposition, that having conquered Pompey and all his enemies, he wrote to his friends 
julius Caesar.  in Rome, that the greatest and most pleasant fruit which he gathered of his victory, consisteth in saving daily the lives of some of his country men who had borne arms against him: as in truth he did so. And for a great proof of his meekness, and gentleness, that speech may serve, which he uttered when he understood that Cato retiring into the town of Utica after the loss of the battle had killed himself. OH Cato (said this monarch, being then very pensive) I envy thee this thy death, seeing thou hast envied me the glory of saving thy life. I never yet denied clemency (said that good Emperor Marcus Aurelius) to him that demanded of me, much less have I evil entreated or offered dishonour to any that trusted in me. Neither can 
●● Aurelius.  any victory be called a true and perfect victory, but that which carrieth with it some clemency. To overcome is a human thing, but to pardon, is divine. Hereof it is (said the same virtuous Prince) that we esteem the greatness of the immortal gods not so much for the punishment, as for the mercy which they use. The clemency and bounty of Dion the Syracusian is worthy of perpetual memory. For having brought to ruin the tyranny of Dionysius 
Dion.  the younger, and recovered the liberty of his country, one of his greatest enemies named Heraclides, being a very pernicious fellow, fell into his hands: whereupon all his friends gave him counsel to put him to death. Unto which Dion wisely answered, that other captains and heads of armies used commonly to employ most of their study in the exercise of arms and of war, but as for himself he had long since studied and learned in the schools of the University to overcome anger, envy, and every evil affection and will: the proof whereof consisted not only in behaving himself well towards his friends, and towards good men, but also in pardoning, and in the exercise of gentleness and humanity towards his enemies, so that he had rather excel Heraclides in bounty and courtesy, than in power and worldly glory. And although (quoth he) men's laws avouch it 
All private revenge cometh of frailue.  to be more just, to revenge an injury received, than to offer it unto another, yet nature teacheth us, that both the one and the other proceed of the same imbecility: and howsoever that man is hardly altered, who hath gotten an habit of wickedness, yet are there few men of so brutish and untamed a nature, or so savage in reclaiming that their perverseness cannot in the end be well overcome by beneficence, when they see that men return good turns again and again into their bosom. By these learned discourses it appeareth that Dion forgave Heraclides, and bestowed upon him great benefits. Lycurgus' the reformer of the Lacedaemonian estate, by whose means that commonwealth so long-time flourished, 
Lycurgus.  doth yet pass all those before alleged through the goodness and mildness of his gentle nature. This grave and gracious parsonage having received such a blow with a staff, that one of his eyes was put out in a sedition stirred up against him in the city, because of the rigour of those laws which he had established there, after the sedition was appeased, had the offender delivered into his hands to punish him as he thought good. But he not hurting or displeasing him at all, kept him in his house, and instructed him in all virtue and good discipline, and within the years end he brought him forth into the public assembly, being no less virtuous and well nurtured than before he was vicious: using these words unto the people: Behold I restore him unto you, being mild gracious and fit to do you service whom ye gave to me proud, outrageous and dissolute. OH act beseeming the soul of a Christian rather than of an Ethinike! which aught to make them greatly ashamed, who for the lest wrong received of another, would not stick to slay not one man only, but a thousand, yea ten thousand rather than their worldly honour should be hurt or touched: which pretence of honour they use very often to colour their brutishness withal. Now leaving here the ancients of whom we have a million of testimonies in the reading of histories, I think we shall do well to propound here unto our Princes being too much inclined to revenge injuries, the clemency of king jews the 12. who succeeding 
jews the 12  Charles the eight in the kingdom, would never revenge himself of any outrage or injury done unto him, even then when he was but Duke of Orleans. In so much that being incited by some to punish one that was his great enemy during the life of his predecessor, he answered: That is would not beseem a king of France to go about to revenge injuries offered to a Duke of Orleans. Neither aught we to let pass in silence the goodness and clemency of that great king Francis, who going in person to chastise the rebellion of the Rochelers, forgave them, and put not one to death, saying: That albeit he had no less occasion to revenge this injury than the Emperor Charles, who punished very cruelly those of Ga●●, yet he had rather increase his praises by preserving than by destroying his subjects. After his example king Henry the 2. having given in 
Henry the 2.  commission to the Duke of Montmorencie Constable to chastise the rebellion of the country of Guienne, and especially the inhabitants of Bordeaux, afterward gave out a general absolution, and forgave the racing of the Townhouse, the payment of two hundred thousand pounds, and the defraying of the charges of the army wherein they were condemned. And truly as it belongeth to the Sun to lighten the earth with his beams: so it appertaineth to the virtue of a prince to have compassion upon the miserable. Yea so many, as stand in need of mercy, and being worthy thereof crave for it, aught to find harbour in the haven of his excellency. Now to come to the end of our present discourse, if by so many examples which we have touched, and innumerable others, of which histories are plentiful, we may note amongst the famous, noble and courageous men of old time, such effects of meekness, gentleness, bounty, mildness, clemency and humanity towards their enemies, no doubt but they endeavoured to do much more for their friends, brethren and countrymen, for whose safety they feared not many times to die, as heretofore we have seen examples thereof, and may see more hereafter. And how much less would they have failed to secure them in all other duties and charitable offices? So that if we be men and not monsters in nature, let us learn what are the first-fruits not only of true Christians, but also of true humanity, and of nature not being wholly depraved and corrupted: to the end that framing our manners, mild, gentle, and gracious, to the succour, benefit, and profit of every one, and following the steps and traces of the virtue of Fortitude and Magnanimity, which is never churlish, idle or proud; we may live a happy life directly to her proper end, expecting our renewing in that life which is immortal and everlasting.   

Of Good and Ill hap. Chap. 31.  ARAM. 
THere hath been always men of great human learning, but void of the sincere knowledge of the truth, that have maintained one of these two opinions: some, That all things were governed by nature: others, that they were ruled by fortune. They that acknowledge nature for the first cause of all things did attribute 
The Stoics.  unto her a constellation, which through the strength and efficacy of the stars governed the counsel & reason of men. The other sort acknowledging fortune, maintained that all things were done at adventure and by chance. Now albeit there are too many at this day that follow 
The Epicures  this error, yet is it so absurd a thing, that in the writings of Ethniks and Pagans', a thousand invincible reasons are found of sufficient force to convince such opinions of meerelying and over great sottishness, and to constrain those that are most impudent and shameless to acknowledge an infinite almighty power to be the Creator of nature, and of all things moving therein, and to dispose and order them with an eternal and everlasting providence. True it is, that I would not absolutely deny the marvelous effects which many have noted in heavenly bodies throughout nature: nevertheless I hold this for certain, that as all their virtue dependeth of one only God, so he withdraweth from them his power when and as soon as it pleaseth him. Of this I infer, that they greatly deceive themselves, who think that the seeking out of the stars, and of their secret virtues diminisheth any thing from the greatness and power of God: seeing that contrariwise his majesty is much more famous and wonderful in doing such great things by his creatures, as if he did them himself without any mean. Now that which I have touched here, my companions, is not to offer any occasion to discourse of the Mathematics, or of any part thereof, which would be to departed out of those bounds which we appointed to our Academy. But seeing nothing is so common amongst us to use, or rather to abuse these words of Good and ill hap, by attributing unto them some power and virtue over our doings: insomuch that we commonly say there is nothing but good or ill luck in this world, I think it will not be without fruit to consider narrowly that we aught to think of these words, and wherein we are to seek and desire good hap, & wherein to fear and fly ill luck. Now therefore let us be instructed of you touching this matter.  ACHITOB. 
Good hap consisteth in that contentation which proceedeth from the perfection of the subject thereof, being adorned with a perfect habit and entire possession of all kind of Good, in the privation whereof all ill hap consisteth. This cannot be verified of 
Wherein good and ill hap consist.  the passions and affections of men, nor of their worldly affairs, which are always intermingled with diverse and sundry accidents, turning one while on this manner, by and by after another, and carrying the soul continually up and down with these two perturbations, Desire and Grief. Therefore if there be a happy man in the world (said Socrates) it is he that hath a pure and clean soul, and a conscience defiled with no thing. For the mysteries of God may be seen and beheld of him only. 
Who is happy in Socrates' judgement.   ASER. 
A temperate and constant man that knoweth how to moderate fear, anger, excessive joy, and unbridled desire, is very happy: but he that placeth other fading Goods in his felicity, shall never have a quiet mind. Let us then hear of AMANA, wherein we aught to judge that happiness or unhappiness consisteth.  AMANA. 
The continual alteration and sudden change of one estate into another clean contrary, which might always be noted in the nature, disposition, and events of men's actions, counsels and desires, gave occasion to some of the ancient Philosophers to think the sick more happy than the sound: because (said they) sick folks look for health, where as the healthy expect sickness. For this very consideration it seemeth that Amasis, almost the 
The cause why Amasis forsook his alliance with Polycrates.  last of those kings that reigned peaceably in Egypt, shook off all the alliance and league with Polycrates king of Samos, who was so happy in worldly respects, that do what he could, yet could be not know what sorrow meant, but all things fell out unto him better than he desired. For proof whereof may serve that which happened unto him, after he had cast into the sea a ring of great value which he loved exceedingly. Now, although he did so of purpose, to the end he might taste of some sorrow and grief, yet he found it quickly again in the belly of a fish taken by Fisher men, and bought for his kitchen. Whereupon this wise Egyptian judged it a thing altogether impossible, but that some great misery was to follow hard at the heels of so great happiness: and therefore he would not be partaker thereof, as of necessity he should have been, if he had continued still that league which before was betwixt them. Neither was Amasis' any thing deceived in his opinion. For within a while after Polycrates was deprived of his kingdom, and shamefully hanged, serving for a common and notable example of the instability and variableness of man's estate, as also to show that it is a very absurd 
An ordinary imperfection in man.  thing to place happiness in so uncertain felicity. And yet among infinite imperfections borne with man, this is common in him, to lose quickly the remembrance of a benefit received, but to retain a long time the memory of a calamity fallen upon him. Which is the cause that he always supposeth his mishaps to be without comparison greater than all the good hap that he can have: so that he complaineth continually of his miseries and calamities, not remembering the innumerable benefits which are daily offered and presented unto him from the grace and bountifulness of God. Notwithstanding, if all men (as Socartes said) as well as rich as poor, brought their mishaps, and laid them in coming together, and if they were in such sort divided, that every one might have an equal portion, then should it be seen, that many who think themselves overcharged and oppressed, would with all their hearts take again unto them their fortune, and be contented withal. Wouldst thou (said Democritus) avoid the grief of thy misery? Behold the life of the afflicted, and by the comparison 
A means to avoid the grief of our misery.  thereof with thine thou shalt see that thou hast cause to think thyself very happy. He that will measure his burden (saith Martial) may well hear it. Now, with this common complaint in men of their estate and condition, this custom also is joined to lay the cause of that which they suffer upon cruel and intolerable destity, accusing that to accuse their own fault. 
Another imperfection.  Wherhfore we cannot more aptly compare them than to blind folks, who are angry, and oftentimes call them blind that unawares do meet and justle them. But if we desire to cure our souls of so many miserable passions, which deprive us of true rest and tranquility necessary for a happy life, let us be careful to learn how to discern true happiness from mishap, that we may rejoice in that which is good, and as readily give thanks to the Author thereof, as naturally, through a false opinion which we have of evil, we sustain human miseries and crosses unpatiently. First then let us hear the sundry and notable opinions of many ancient men touching good and ill hap. If thou knowest all that aught to be known in all things (said Pythagoras) thou art happy. Let them be accounted very happy (said Homer) to whom Fortune 
Notable opinions of good & ill hap.  hath equally weighed the good with the evil. The greatest misery of all (said Bias) is, not to be able to bear misery. That man is happy (said Dyonisius the elder) that hath learned from his youth to be unhappy. For he will bear the yoke better whereunto he hath been subject and accustomed of long time. Demetrius, surnamed the Besieger, said, that he judged none more unhappy than he th●t never tasted of adversity; as if he would have said that it was a sure argument, that Fortune judged him to be so base and abject, that he deserved not that she should busy herself about him. That man (saith Cicero) is very happy, who thinketh that no human matters, how grievous soever they may be, are intolerable or aught to discourage him: judging also nothing so excellent, whereby he should be moved to rejoice in such sort, that his heart be puffed and lift up thereby. Yea, he is very happy, who fitly and conveniently behaveth himself in all things necessary for him. Nothing is evil (saith Plutarch) that is necessary. By which word, Necessary, both he and Cicero understand whatsoever cometh to a wise man by 
Solon said that happiness consisted in a good life and death.  fatal destiny: because he beareth it patiently, as that which cannot be avoided, thereby increasing his virtue so much the more, and so no evil can come to a good man. Solon drawing nearer to the truth of sincere happiness, said, that it consisted in good life and death: and that to judge them happy that are alive, considering the danger of so many alterations wherein they are, were all one, as if a man should before hand appoint the reward of the victory for one that is yet fight, not being sure that he should overrome. Socrates speaking rather with a divine than a human spirit, said, that when we shall be delivered from this body wherein our soul is enclosed as an oyster in his shell, we may 
The doctrine of Socrates & of the papists is all one touching the hope of life and death.  then be happy, but not sooner: and that felicity cannot be obtained in this life, but that we must hope to enjoy it perfectly in the other life, as well for our virtues, as by the grace and mercy of God. Not the rich (said Plato) but the wise and prudent avoid misery. They that think (saith Aristotle) that eternal goods are the cause of happiness, deceive themselves no less than if they supposed, that cunning playing on the harp came from the instrument, and not from art: but we must seek for it in the good and quiet estate of the soul. For as we say not that a body is perfect because it is richly arrayed, but rather because it is well framed and healthful: so a soul well instructed, is the cause that both herself and the body wherein she 
The common opinion of men concerning happiness & unhappiness  is enclosed, are happy: which cannot be verified of a man because he is rich in gold and silver. When I consider all the above named wise opinions of these ethnics and Pagans', I cannot sufficiently marvel at the ignorance and blockishness of many in our age touching Good and ill hap, because they labour to make these words private, and to tie them to the success of their affections in worldly matters: which if they fall out according to their desire and liking, behold presently they are ravished with extreme joy, boasting of themselves, that they are most happy. But contrariwise, if they miss of their intents, by and by they despair, and think themselves the unhappiest men in the world. Do we not also see that most men judge them happy that possess riches, pleasure, delight, glory and honour: and those men miserable that want, especially if after they had abundance, they loose it by some mishap, the cause whereof they commonly attribute either to good or ill luck, which they say ruleth all human affairs? We read that Apollonius Thianaeus having traveled over all Asia, Africa and Europe, 
Whereat Apollonius marveleth most.  said that of two things whereat he marveled most in all the world, the first was, that he always saw the proud man command the humble, the quarrelous the quiet, the tyrant the just, the cruel the pitiful, the coward the hardy, the ignorant the skilful, & the greatest thieves hung the innocent. But in the mean while who may doubt whether of these were the happiest: that the good were not rather than the wicked? If happiness according to the Ancients, and to the truth, be perfected in good things, than it is certain, that whosoever enjoyeth all good 
Notable reasons to show that no worldly thing can be called good and that happiness cannot be perfected by any such thing.  things shall be perfectly happy. Now nothing can be called good but that which is profitable, and contrary to evil: so that whatsoever may as soon be evil as good, aught not to be called good. Moreover, it must be the possession of some firm, steadfast, & permanent Good that maketh a man happy. For nothing aught to wax old, to perish or decay of those things wherein a happy life consisteth, seeing he that feareth to loose them cannot be said to live quietly. Therefore neither beauty, nor strength, and disposition of body, neither riches, glory, honour or pleasure can be truly called Goods, seeing oftentimes they are the cause of so many evils, wax old, and vanish away many times as soon as a man hath received them; and lastly, work in us an unsatiable desire of them. How many men are there to whom all these men have been the occasion of evil? And how can we call that good which being possessed, and that in abundance, cannot yet keep the owner thereof from being unhappy and miserable? Wherhfore we may say, that happiness cannot be perfected by the possession of human and 
Wherein true happiness consisteth.  mortal things, neither unhappiness through the want of them, but that the true felicity which we aught to desire in this world, consisteth in the goodness of the soul, nourished in the hope of that unspeakable and everlasting happiness, which is promised and assured unto it in the second life. And so we say, that none are unhappy but they, who by reason of their 
Who are unhappy.  perverseness, feel their conscience a doubting of the expectation of eternal promises: as also they that give over themselves to vice, whose nature is to corrupt, destroy, and infect with the venom that is always about it, all things whereof it taketh hold. As for the common miseries of man's life, they cannot in any sort make him unhappy, whose natural disposition and manners being framed and decked with virtue, are able to give and to impart to every condition of his life, whether it be poor or rich, prosperous or adverse, honourable or contemptible; happiness, joy, pleasure and contentation, which flow in his soul abundantly from that fountain and lively spring which Philosophy hath discovered unto him in the fertile field of Graces and Sciences, whereby he enjoyeth true tranquillity and rest of spirit, as much as a man may have in this mortal life, moderating the perturbations of his soul, and commanding over the unpure affections of the flesh. And then as the shoe turneth with 
The happiness of man cometh from within him.  the fashion of the foot, and not contrary wise, so the inward disposition of a wife and moderate man causeth him toleade a life like unto the same, that is, mild, peaceable and quiet, being never carried away with unreasonable passions, because she never enjoyeth or rejoiceth immoderately in that which she hath, but useth well that which is put into her hand, without fear or repining if it be taken away: following therein in the saying of Democritus, that whoseever mindeth to line always happily, must propound to himself and desire things possible, and be content with things present. Therefore seeing the fountain of all felicity and contentation in this life is within us, let us cure and cleanse diligently all perturbations which seek to hinder the tranquillity of ourspirits, to the end that external things which come from without us against our will and expectation, may seem unto us friendly and familiar after we know how to use them well. Plato compared our life to table play, wherein both the dice must chance well, and the player must use that well which the dices shall cast. 
Our ●●● is compared to table-play.  Now of these two points the event and lot of the Dice is not in our power, but to receive mildly and moderately that which falleth unto us, and to dispose every thing in that place where it may either profit most if it be good, or do lest hurt if it be bad, that is in our power, and belongeth to our duty if we be wise men. Fortune (saith Plutarch) may well cast me into sickness, take away my goods, bring me in disgrace with the people: but she cannot make him wicked, a coward, slothful, base minded or envious, that is honest, valiant, and noble minded; nor take from him his settled and temperate disposition of prudence, which maketh him to judge, that no tedious, grievous or troublesome thing can befall him. For being grounded, not upon vanishing goods, but upon philosophical sententes, and firm discourses of reason, he may say, I have prevented thee fortune, I have closed up all thy chances, & stopped the ways of entrance in upon me: & so led a joyful life as long as virtue, and that part which is proper to man are strongest. And if peradventure some great inconvenience happen unto him against all hope, which human power is not able to overcome, then with joy of spirit he considereth that the haven of safety is at hand, wherein he may save himself by swimming out of the body as out of a skiff that leadeth, departing boldly and without fear from the miseries of the world, that he may enjoy absolute and perfect happiness. Alexander the Great, having under his dominion more than half the world, when he heard the Philosopher Anaxarchus dispute and maintain that there was innumerable worlds, he began to weep saying, Have I not good cause to be sorrowful and to mourn, if there be an infinite number of worlds, seeing as yet I have not been able to make myself Lord of one? But Crates the Philosopher being brought up in the school of wisdom, and having in stead of all wealth but an old cloak and a scrip, 
Alexander & Crates opposed one against another.  never wept in all his life, but was always seen merry, and passing over his days cheerfully. By which two kinds of life contrary one to another, it appeareth sufficiently that it is within ourselves, and not in outward things, wherein we must seek for the foundation of a certain joy, which is watered and flourisheth in strength by the remembrance of good and virtuous actions proceeding from the soul guided by right knowledge and reason. Homer bringeth in Agamemnon complaining greatly because he was to command so great a part of the world, as if he had an intolerable burden upon his shoulders. Whereas Diogenes when he 
Agamemnon.  was to be sold for a slave, lying all along, mocked the Sergeant that cried him to sale, and would not rise up when he commanded him, but scoffingly said unto him, If thou were to cell a fish, wouldst thou make it arise? Cry this rather, that if any man w●nt a master, he should buy me: for I can serve his turn well. Whereby we may fitly note this, that all the happiness, rest, and contentation of man dependeth of virtue only, and not of worldly greatness and glory. For this reason the self same Diogenes beholding a stranger come from Lacedemonia, more curiously decked on a festival day than he was wont, said unto him: What? Doth not an honest man think that every day is festival unto him? And truly there is nothing that aught to move us so much to show all outward signs of joy, or that breedeth such serevitie and calmness against the tempestuous waves of human miseries and calamities, than to have the soul pure and clean from all wicked deeds, wills, and counsels, and the manners undefiled, not troubled or infected with any vice. For then acknowledging the estate of mortal and corruptible things, we judge them unworthy the care of our souls, that we may wholly lift them up to the contemplation of heavenly & eternal things, wherein our happiness and perfect felicity consisteth. Hereby we learn, that in the second life only we are to seek for and to expect the fruition of true happiness, which can never increase or be diminished. For as no man can make a line straighter than that which is strait, and as nothing is more just 
Where we must seek for true happiness.  than that which is just: so he that is happy can not be more happy. Otherwise until a man had gotten all that might be had, his desires would never be settled, and so no man should be called happy. But felicity is perfect of itself. Cicero knew it well enough, when he said: That no man standeth in fear of great things, could be happy: and in that respect no man living can be so, but to speak in deed of a happy life, that is it which is perfect and absolute. To the end therefore that we may reap some profit by our present discourse, let us never think that any man may be called happy or unhappy, because he is advanced or disgraced, with honours, goods, and worldly commodities, or because he is partaker either of prosperity or adversity, throughout his whole life. But he only aught to be esteemed happy in this 
Who is happy in this world.  world, that knoweth in rest and quietness of soul how to use both estates, and never suffereth himself to be carried away or troubled with unclean desires, but with all his heart seeketh for the possession of a firm, steadfast, and abiding Good, being assured, as we said, that not one of those things wherein a happy life consisteth shall wax old, perish, or fall to decay. To conclude, he is happy that showeth in all his works and actions of this life a pattern of honesty and virtue, being moderate in prosperity, and constant in adversity. A man thus affected and disposed, will behave himself without reproof in the time present, will call to mind with joy and pleasure the time past, and will boldly and without distrust draw near to the time to come, even with a cheerful and joy full hope of better things, and with a steadfast expectation of that unspeakable and endless happiness, which is prepared for the elect.   

Of Prosperity and Adversity. Chap. 32.  AMANA. 
BEing in our former discourse entered into the divers and contrary effects which the nature and condition of worldly affairs draw with them, whereof every one in his particular place may daily have good and sufficient testimonies: and seeing through the malice and corruption of our age, all things are at that point, as if they meant to lay more hard and difficult crosses upon us to sustain, I think we shall not departed from our matter, if we seek for some instruction whereby to govern ourselves prudently in prosperity and in adversity, considering the effects of both of the one and the other, to the end we may avoid those that are most pernicious, and retain still with us that constancy and worthiness that is required in the virtue of Fortitude, which teacheth a man how he aught to behave himself nobly in every estate and condition of life. For as gold transfigured 
A pretty comparison.  by the workman, now into one fashion, and then into another, is transformed into sundry kinds of ornaments, and yet remaineth always that which it is, without any alteration of substance: so it behoveth a wise and noble minded man to continued always the same in things that are contrary and divers, without any alteration and change of his constancy and virtue. But I leave the discourse of this matter to you my Companions.  ARAM. 
As a man (saith Scipio) delivereth over his horses, (which because they have been in many skirmishes, are bec●me resty, furious, and untractable) to the yeomen of his horses, to bring them into 
A similitude.  good order again: so men that are grown to be unruly through prosperity, must be brought as it were to a round circle, that they may consider of the inconstancy of worldly things, and of the variableness of wrete bed fortune.  ACHITOB. 
In prosperity (saith Euripides) be not left up too much, and in adversity hope the best always. And as in a fire (said Socrates) it is good to behold a clear brightness: so is a moderate 
A similitude.  soul in felicity. But let us hear ASER: who will handle that which here is propounded more at large.  ASER. 
As men provide bulwarks and banks against a river that useth to overflow: so he that desireth to live happily, must fortify himself with powerful and convenient virtues, to 
Common effects of the frail nature of man.  resist the hurtful assaults which the unlooked for success of human affairs make upon him continually, both in prosperity and in adversity. For questionless nothing is hardlier kept within compass, than he that hath all things according to his hearts desire: neither is any thing so much cast down, or sooner discouraged than the same man, when he is afflicted and misseth of his purpose. All minds are not resolute and constant enough from slipping beside themselves, and beyond the limits of reason, neither in great prosperity, which puffeth and lifteth up men's hearts, especially theirs that are base by nature; nor yet in unlooked for adversity, which through the heavy burden thereof oftentimes astonisheth and amazeth them that are thought to be best settled and assured. But if we consider apart the pernicious effects which issue from these two contraries, when reason doth not guide and govern them, we shall find nothing but pride in the one, and faintness of heart, baseness of mind, & oftentimes 
Prosperity more hurtful than adversity  despair in the other. Notwithstanding we may well note this, that prosperity hath always been the cause of far greater evils to men than adversity, and that it is easier for a man to bear this patiently, than not to forget himself in the other. Whereof I think we may not unfitly allege for a reason that which Menander saith: that man of all other living creatures is aptest to fall suddenly down from high to low, because he dareth undertake the greatest matters although he be weakest. Whereupon being as it were naturally subject to falling, it is not so strange unto him, being better furnished for that (seeing he is or aught to be prepared thereto long before) than when against his natural disposition he ascendeth to some greatness not hoped for. Now, whether it be for this reason, or because vice is his proper inheritance, the memory of the time passed aswell as of the present time, furnisheth us with sufficient testimonies, seeing few are found that forgot not not themselves in their prosperity, whereas many have behaved themselves wisely, and taken occasion to be better in their adversity. Which being 
Plato was requested by the Cyrenians to give them law.  understood of Plato, when he was requested by the Cyrenians a people of Grecia, to writ down laws for them, and to appoint them some good form of government for their commonwealth: he answered, That it was a very hard matter to prescribe laws to so rich, happy, and wealthy a people as they were. For commonly those cities which in short time come suddenly to great felicity, grow to be insolent, arrogant, and uneasy to range in order: neither is there any thing for the most part prouder, than a poor man made rich: as contrariwise none are so ready to receive counsel and direction, as he whom fortune hath overrun. He that is pressed greatly with adversity, is seldom puffed up with pride, or vanquished of lust, or drowned in covetousness, or overtaken with giuttonie, or lift up with desire and worldly glory: all which imperfections happen commonly to those upon whom fortune too much fawneth. That felicity (saith Seneca) which hath not been hurt, cannot endure one blow: but when it hath had a long and continual combat with discommodities, and hath hardened itself by suffering and bearing injuries, then doth it not suffer itself to be overcome of any evil. Now one of the greatest benefits that a man may have in this life, is, neither to be changed by adversity, nor lift up with prosperity: but to be as a well rooted tree, which, although it be shaken with sundry winds, yet cannot be overthrown by any of them. And truly it is very ridiculous that that which cometh to all worldly things by an ordinary and natural course, even by the sequel of causes linked together and depending one of another, changing the estate of mortal things should have power to altar or to make any mutation in reason and wisdom, which aught to abide steadfast in the mind of man. For this cause Plato said that there was nothing but virtue could tame it, and that men furnished therewith behaved themselves constantly and courageously in both kinds of fortune. Virtue (saith Cicero abideth calm and quiet in the greatest tempest, and although she be driven into exile, yet she stirreth not out of her place and country, but shineth so always of herself, that she cannot be soiled with the spots of another. This excellent Orator and Philosopher giveth us also wholesome counsel to oppose against the dangerous effects that are to be feared in prosperity. When we are (saith he) in best estate we must use the counsel of our friends more 
Good counsel for those that are in prosperity.  than we do commonly, and as long as it continueth we are greatly to beware that we open not our ears to flatterers, who are the plague and destruction of the greater sort, because all their labour is to propound unto us occasions and means to enjoy delights and pleasures, and to show ourselves to be proud and arrogant, during the time of our prosperity: to the end we should put good men far from us, and reserve to them only that authority wherein they are settled. Whereas on the contrary side our true friends would lead us back to consider the inconstancy of human things, to the end that we abuse not our felicity, but behave ourselves as a wise Pilot doth, who always feareth a smiling calmness in the main sea. Which consideration maketh a man constance and resolute to bear and endure all sinister chances, and not so ready and easy to be deceived, because he always feareth and distrusteth fortune. Let us now come to examples of that which we have here alleged. As touching the pernicious effects of over great prosperity, they may well be noted in Alexander the 
Alexander.  Great, who although he was endued with notable and rare virtues, yet could not use moderately the great good speed and happy success of all his enterprises, but being conquered of the Persian delights, gave himself over to commit many insolences, and then filled with presumption and pride, would have been worshipped. julius Caesar being ascended in to the 
julius Caesar.  highest degree of favourable fortune that he could desire, and lending his ear over freely to flatterers, would be called and declared a king, (which name was most odious to the Romans since the time that Tarquinias' was banished, as we mentioned before) and retained always to himself the authority and power of a Dictator, which before continued but a certain time. He bestowed the public offices and places of honour upon whom he thought good, whereof proceeded the ill will of his subjects, and in the end his destruction. The greatness of Pompey was that which afterward overthrew him. For employing his credit to favour others 
Pompey.  unjustly, it fell out to him as to cities that suffer their enemies to enter even into their strongest places, diminishing so much of their own forces, as they add to others that wish them no good. Which thing Sylla the Dictator did very notably give him to understand, when he saw that Pompey by his countenance and favour had brought Lepidus a wicked man to the dignity of Consulship. I see well (quoth Sylla to him) thou art very glad because thou hast prevailed in this suit: and sure thou hast great cause so to be. For it is a goodly matter, and the point of a noble man to be so gracious with the people, that through thy favour Lepidus the wickedest man in the world hath carried away the Consulship before Catullus the honestest man in all the city. But I advise thee to beware of sleeping now, and to have a vigilant 
A wise foresight of Sylla.  eye to thy business, because thou hast armed and made strong an adversary against thyself. Whereof Pompey had experience afterward in those wars which Lepidus raised, against whom he was sent by the Senate, and in the end obtained the victory. But the favour he bore to Caesar, entering upon the government of public affairs, came not to that pass. For he was afterward overthrown by the same means wherewith he had strengthened Caesar against others. Out of which we may draw an excellent doctrine for all that are placed in authority, or that have the cares of great men at commandment, that they never 'cause the wicked to be advanced. For as the worm that is bred at the foot of a tree, groweth with it, and in the end destroyeth it: so a wicked man advanced by the favour of one greater than himself, becometh afterward unthankful and treacherous unto him. This moved Archdamides the Lacedaemonian to answer in this sort one that commended Charilaus king of Sparta, because he showed himself alike courteous to all: But how deserveth that man praise, who showeth himself courteous towards the wicked? Now to return to our speech touching the effects of prosperity, not ruled by the reason of true prudence, what is more hateful, or hath at any time been more hurtful to men than pride? Which (as Plato saith) dwelleth with solitariness, that is to say, is so hated, that in the end it is forsaken of all the world? And whereof it is bred sooner than of prosperity? Which that wise man and excellent Roman captain Paulus Aemelius knowing full well, after the victory gotten by him against Perses king of Macedonia, being desirous to admonish the men of war that were in his army, and to keep them within the compass of their duty, he used these or the like speeches unto them: Is there any man now my friends and companions, that aught to wax proud, and to glory in the posterity of his affairs, if he hath luck too his liking and not rather to fear the sicklenes of fortune, who even at this 
An excellent oraaion of P. Aemelius to his soldiers.  present setteth before our eyes such a notable example of the common frailty of man, subject to the ordinary course of fatal destiny, which turneth about continually: You see how in a moment of an hour we have beaten down and put under our feet the house of Alexander the Great, who was the mightiest and most redoubted Prince in the world. You see a King not long since followed and accompanied with so many thousand fight men brought to such misery, that being prisoner he must receive his meat and drink at the hands of his enemies. Aught we to trust more to our good hap, and to think it more firm and assured? Truly no. And therefore let us learn to humble ourselves, and to restrain this foolish arrogancy and proud insolency, wherewith our youth seemeth to be overcome by reason of the victory obtained by us: and let us expect to what end and issue fortune will guide the envy of this present prosperity. Marcus Aurelius after he had vanquished Popilion, General of the Parthians, spoke thus 
M. Aurelius  unto him: I tell thee of a truth that I stand in greater fear of Fortune at this present, than I did before the battle. For she careth not so much to overtake the conquered, as to subdue and vanquish the Conquerors. This self same consideration caused Philip king of Macedonia, after he received news of three great and sundry prosperities in one day, to utter this speech: OH fortune (said 
Philip king of Macedonia  he) (holding up his hands towards heaven) I pray thee sand me for a counterbuff some mean adversity. Likewise after he had overcome in battle the Athenians at Cherronensus, and by this victory obtained the Empire of Graecia, he commanded a little Page to cry unto him thrice a day, Philip, remember that thou art a man: so greatly did he fear lest through arrogancy arising of his prosperity, he should commit any thing that did not beseem him. The same thing did Archidamas the son of Agesilaus very well and wisely teach him, to whom 
Archidamas.  Philip after he was a Conquer or had written a very sharp and rough letter: If thou measurest thy shadow (answered Archidamas) thou shalt find that it is not waxed greater since thou didst overcome. The prosperity which Cyrus Monarch of the Persians' always had in all his enterprises, was the cause of that trusting too much thereunto, he would not give ear to the counsel 
〈◊〉.  of Croesus, when he dissuaded him from that war, which he purposed to undertake against Tomyris Queen of the Scythians, (which fell out hardly for him) using these words: Know that all worldly things have a certain course, which doth not suffer them to end happily that have always had fortune prosperous, which he might well speak by experience in himself. But Cyrus having already subdued all Asia, part of Graecia, the kingdom of Babylon, with infinite other places, and beholding his army to consist of six score thousand men, thought he could not be vanquished. Whereupon giving battle to Tomyris, he lost his life, together with the renown of so many goodly victories (being now overcome by a woman) his whole army also being hewn in pieces. And truly as one puff of wind causeth the goodliest first-fruits, which beautify the whole Orchard, to fall from the tree: so a little disgrace, a sudden mishap in one instant bringeth to nothing, and pulleth down the greatness, wealth, and prosperity of men. 
The instability of human things.  And when we think to lay a sure foundation of prosperity, even than is all changed, and the order of our conceits perverted and turned into an unlooked for disorder and confusion. Now let us come to consider particularly of the effects of adversity. There are few folks (if they 
The common effects of ad●●●sity  be not destitute of all good judgement) that are ignorant and understand not what belongeth to their duty, so long as prosperity lasteth: but few there are, who in great overthwarts and shake of fortune, have hearts sufficiently stayed to practise and imitate that which they commend and make account of, or to fly from that which they mislike and reprehend. Nay rather they are carried away, and through custom of living at ease, together with frailty and faintness of heart, they start aside, and altar their first discourses. This is that which Terence meaneth, where he saith, That when we are in good health, we give a great deal better counsel to the diseased, than we can take to ourselves when we stand in need thereof. Notwithstanding he that is beaten down and humbled by affliction, easily suffereth himself to be directed, gladly receiveth and hearkeneth to the advice of good men, and if there be any little seed of virtue in him, it increaseth daily, whereas prosperity would soon choke it. And if he hath profited well in the study of of wisdom, he doth as Bees do, 
The first-fruits of the study of Philosophy.  which draw the best and driest honey out of Time, although it be a very bitter herb. So out of most troublesome accidents he knoweth how to reap benefit and commodity, resolving with himself and taking counsel according to the mishaps that light upon him. He doubteth not of this, that it is the duty of wise and virtuous men not only to desire prosperity in all things, but also to endure adversity with constancy and modesty. He knoweth that as the fruition of prosperity is for the most part full of sweetness, when it is not abused, so the constant suffering of adversity is always replenished and accompanied with great honour; and such a one may truly be called noble and courageous, yea, he showeth himself a great deal better to be so in deed when he yieldeth not, nor fainteth in afflictions, than if he were in prosperity, which puffing up the hearts of cowards and base minds, causeth them sometimes to seem couragioous, when as they are lift up by fortune into a high degree of honour and felicity, whereas in truth there is no such matter in them. Croesus' king of the Lydians being thrown from his estate and made prisoner to Cyrus, showed greater virtue & 
Croesus.  generosity of hart at that time, than he did all the while he enjoyed his great wealth, through which being puffed up with pride, he would have had Solon judged him most happy. For being upon a block ready to be burued, and both remembering and fitly applying to himself those wise discourses which he heard Solon make unto him concerning the small assurance that we have in worldly felicity, and how no man aught to be called happy before the hour of his death, he resolved with himself to die constantly and cheerfully. And calling to mind this benefit which hereceived by the means of that wise man, whereupon he felt his soul filled with joy: he repeated aloud three times the name of Solon, using no other words. Whereof Cyrus ask the cause, he uttered unto him the self same discourses, which touched the heart of this Monarch in such sort, that presently changing the ill will he bore to Croesus, he fully restored him to the fruition of his kingdom, and kept him near unto himself for one of his chief and principal counsellors. The Romans (as Polybius saith) never observed their laws more straightly, never caused the discipline of war to be kept more severely, & 
The Romans were wise & constant in adversity.  were never so well advised and constant, as after the Carthaginians had obtained of them the third victory at the battle of Cannae. And contrariwise, there were nothing but partakeing and factions in Carthage, laws were never less esteemed, magistrates never less regarded, nor manners more corrupted than at that time. But within a little while after, they fell from the highest degree of their felicity, into utter ruin, and the Romans restored their own estate into greater glory than it was in before. Virtue is always like to the Date tree: 
The property of virtue oppressed.  For the more she is oppressed and burdened, the higher she lifteth up herself, and showeth her invincible power, and strength, over which fortune can nothing prevail. And although adversity somewhat troubleth a virtuous man, yet is it not able to alter his noble courage, but remaining firm and constant, he knoweth how to take all things as exercises of his virtue; which, as an ancient man said, withereth and loseth her vigour without adversity. It is evident therefore that the effects of adversity are not so perditious to a man, as those which prosperity commonly bringeth unto him. For this latter is of a proud and presumptuous nature, always envied; and as commonly it is not freely admonished so it giveth ear unto and receiveth as little: but the other is plain and simple, followed of compassion, and ready to receive counsel. Besides, it awaketh a Christian, and stirreth him up to humble himself before the majesty of God, to call upon him, and to trust wholly on his only grace and virtue. Now if some (as I have said) are so faint-hearted, that they suffer themselves to be overwhelmed under the burden of turmoils and calamities, let us attribute the causes thereof to ignorance, and want of good judgement, which depriveth them of learned and sound cogirations and discouries that tend to a constant disposition, wherein the happiness of this life consisteth. As for us, if we desire to approach near to that perfection which is required by the Sa, ges, let us propound to ourselves their examples to follow, that we may be temperate and constant in every estate and condition of life. We read of Socrates that one and the same countenance was noted in him all his life time, that it was neither sadder nor pleasanter for 
The wonderful constancy of Socrates.  any thing that happened unto him. He changed it not when he heard the sentence of his death pronounced, not not when he drank the poison, following therein the contents of his condemnation, albeit then he was above threescore years of age. Publius Rutilus a Roman, being unjustly banished, never changed his countenance or behaviour, neither would put one 
P. Rutilus.  any other gown than that he used to wear, although it was the custom of such as were banished, to alter the same. Neither would he leave off the marks of a Senator, nor request the judges to absolve him, but led the rest of his days with the same greatness, gravity and authority that he used before, not showing himelfe any thing beaten down with sorrow for the strange alteration of his first estate. Quintus Metellus surnamed Numidicus, because he had subdued that country of Numidia, being driven into exile through a popular faction and sedition, went into Asia, where as he beheld certain players, he received letters from the Senate, 
Q - Metellus.  whereby he was certified that the Senators and people with one common consent had called him back again. Which good news he bore with the like modesty that he did his banishment, not departing from the Theatre before the sports were ended, nor showing his letters to any of his friends that were round about him before he had assembled them together in his lodging to deliberate of his return to Rome. The same gravity and constancy caused Diogenes, when he heard one hit him in the teeth with his banishment from Pontus by the Synopians, to make this answer: And I have bounded them within the country of Pontus. 
Diogenes.  We must accounted the whole scope of the firmament for the bounds of our country as long as we live here. Neither aught any man within those limits to esteem himself either banished, or a stranger: seeing God governeth all things by the same elements. Therefore Socrates said, that he took not himself to be either an Athenian or a Grecian, but a worlding. And how shall we think that they who sustained so courageously their banishment from 
Socrates took the whole world for his country.  their country, (which was so dear unto them, that they preferred the benefit thereof before the safety of their life) their deprivation and absence from their families, friends and goods, would not much more virtuously have suffered all less adversities? Therefore to end our present discourse, let us learn that nothing belonging to this present life hath neither more evil nor good in it, than according to the end which befalleth it, and that it is our duty to keep ourselves moderate, constant, and upright, both in prosperity and in adversity, which is the property of true magnanimity and greatness of courage. Let us not lift up ourselves above measure for any temporal felicity, nor be too much discouraged because we are visited with adversity, but wisely expect what will be the end of both, which a good and virtuous man shall always found to be happy when he changeth his mortal estate for a life that is certain and everlasting.   
The end of the eight days work.   

The ninth days work.  

Of Richeses. Chap. 37.  ASER. 
YEsterday we bestowed the better part of the day in discoursing of good and ill hap, of prosperity and adversity, which with a swift pace following each other, seem to change, to turn, and to overturn incessantly the dealings and desires of men. Now for as much as we made mention of the ignorant multitude which placeth happiness and felicity in the fading goods of the world, and affirmed to the contrary, that this felicity was very miserable, because it maketh a man more insolent and arrogant, and giveth him greater occasion to bewail, than to rejoice in his fortune; I think we aught to consider more nearly of the nature of such goods as are no goods, beginning with riches whereunto men are slaves, more than to any other thing, albeit they procure them the greatest evils.  AMANA. 
Richeses (saith Epictetus') are not in the number of goods. For they stir us up to superfluity, and pull us back from temperance. And therefore it is a very hard matter for a rich man to be temperate, or for a temperate man to be rich. As a man cannot use a horse (saith Socrates) without a bridle, so he cannot use Richeses without reason.  ARAM. 
It is almost impossible (said Diogenes) that virtue should devil in a rich city or house. For riches bring with them pride to him that possesseth them, excessive 
The first-fruits of riches.  desire in gathering them, covetousness in keeping them, and filthiness and dissoluteness in the enjoying of them. But let us hear ACHITOB, who will handle this matter more at large.  ACHITOB. 
As children of three or four years of age have no more care or thought, but how they may play and pass away their time with the having of daily food according to their appetite, not considering or taking any care for the means which they might have, and which would be necessary for the nourishment of their old age: so it seemeth to me that the men of our time behave themselves, when through a more than childish ignorance they labour without ceasing together and to increase wealth, which will do them service but a little while, not caring in the mean time for certain and immortal goods which will nourish them for ever. And yet the soul created according to the image of God, cannot better preserve and show forth her divine nature in this mortal body, than by contemning all earthly, human, and fading things. But to the end we be not of the number of those that fill themselves with such passions, to purchase their own destruction, let us consider by the testimonies of the ancient Sages, of the nature and quality of riches, and of the visible effects which they daily bring forth in those that serve and possess them: next, we will behold some examples of these famous personages, that we may be induced thereby to contemn 
Of the nature quality, and effects of riches.  such pernicious goods. Men aught to make great account of riches (said Socrates) if they were joined with true joy, but they are wholly separated from it. For if rich men fall to using of them, they spoil themselves with over great pleasure; if they would keep them, care gnaweth and consumeth them within; and if they desire to get them, they become wicked and unhappy. It cannot be (saith Plato) that a man should be truly good, and very rich both together, but he may well be happy and good at one time. And it is a very miserable saying, to affirm that a rich man is happy: yea it belongeth to children and fools to say so, making them unhappy that believe and approve it. Sloth and sluggishness grow of riches, and they that are addicted to heap them up more and more, the greater account they make of them, they less esteem virtue. So that if riches and rich men are greatly set by in a Common wealth, virtue and good men will be much less regarded: and yet greater matters are brought to pass, and Common wealths preserved by virtue, and not by riches. Richeses (saith Isocrates) serve not so much for the practice of honesty as of wickedness seeing they draw the liberty of men to looseness and idleness, and stir up young men to voluptuousness. Men (said Thales) are by nature borne to virtue, but riches draw them back unto them, having a thousand sorts of sorceries to allure them to vices, and through a false opinion of good to turn them from those things that are truly good. They suffer not him that hath them to be able to know any thing, but draw him to external goods. They are passing arrogant and most fearful. If they use themselves, they are riotous, if they abstain, miserable. They never content their owners, nor leave them void of sorrow and care: but as they that are sick of the dropsy, the more they drink become the thirstier, so the more that men abound in wealth the more they desire to have. Richeses of themselves breed flatterers, who help to undo rich men. They are the cause of infinite murders and hired slaughters: they make covetous persons to contemn the goods of the soul, thinking to become happy without them. They provoke them also to delicacies and to gluttony, whereby their bodies are subject to diseases and infirmities. Briefly, riches greatly hurt both body and soul. They stir up domestical sedition, and that among brethren. They make children worse in behaviour towards their fathers, and cause fathers to deal more hardly with their children. Through them it cometh that friends suspect each other: for a true friend is credited no more by reason of a flatterer: Besides, rich men are angry with good men, saying, that they are arrogant: because they will not flatter them, and in like manner they hate such as flatter them, thinking that they keep about them only torob them and to diminish their wealth. These are the evils, which may be said to be commonly in riches. But these also accompany them, being execrable diseases, namely, presumption, pride, arrogancy, vile and abject cares, which are altogether earthly, naughty desires, wicked pleasures, and an insatiable coveting. Besides, if 
Richeses of themselves are the good gifts of God, but the evils wrought for or by them come from the corrupt nature of man  they were not pernicious of themselves, so many mischiefs would not take their beginning from them. For men commit a thousand murders for gain. They rob Churches, fidelity is lost and broken, friendship is violated, men betray their country, maidens are loosely given: briefly, no evils are left unexecuted through the desire of riches. They that give themselves (said Bian) to gather riches, are very ridiculous, seeing Fortune giveth them, covetousness keepeth them, and liberality casteth them away. Men must have rich souls, (saith Alexides) as for silver it is nothing but a show and veil of life. It is a naughty thing (saith Euripides) but common to all rich men, to live wickedly. The cause thereof as I take it, is this, because they have nothing but riches in their mind, which being blind, seal up likewise the eyes of their understanding. I pray God never send me a wealthy life, which hath always sorrow and care for her companions, nor riches to gnaw my heart. Speak not to me of Pluto, that is to say of riches, for I make no reckoning of that God, who is always possessed of 
The Poet's feigned Pluto to be the God of riches, appointing hell for his kingdom.  the most wicked upon the earth. OH riches, you are easy to bear, but infinite cares, miseries, and griefs keep you company. He (saith, Democritus) that woondereth at such as have great riches and are esteemed of the ignorant multitude to be happy, will surely through a desire of having, commit and undertake wicked things, and those oftentimes against the laws. As drunkenness (saith Aristotle) begetteth rage and madness, so ignorance joined with power, breedeth insolency and fury. And to those whose minds are not well disposed, neither riches, nor strength, nor beauty, can be judged good but the greater increase ariseth of them, the more harm they may procure to him that possesseth them. moreover, do we 
The evil disposition of the mind is the true cause of the hurt that cometh by riches.  not see that the most part of rich men, either use not their riches, because they are covetous, or abuse them, because they are given over to their pleasures, and so they are all the servants either of pleasures, or of traffic and gain, as long as they live? But he that would be (as Plato saith) truly rich, aught to labour not so much to augment his wealth, or to diminish his desire of having, because he that appointeth no bounds to his desires, is always poor and needy. For this cause the liberty of a wise man's soul, who knoweth nature of external goods belonging to this life, is never troubled with the care of them, being assured (as Plutarch saith) that as it is not apparel which giveth heat to a man, but only stayeth and keepeth in natural heat that proceedeth from the man himself, by hindering it from dispersing in the air: so no man liveth more happily or contentedly, because he is compassed about with much wealth, if tranquillity, joy, and rest, proceed not from within his soul. Heap up (saith 
From whence happiness and contentation cometh.  the same Philosopher) store of gold, gather silver together, build fair galleries, fill a whole house full of slaves, and a whole town with thy debtors: yet if thou dost not master the passions of thy soul, if thou quenchest not thy unsatiable desire, nor deliverest thy soul of all fear and carking care, thou dost as much to procure thy quietness, as if thou gavest wine to one that had an ague. Life of itself (saith Plato) is not joyful, unless care be chased away, which causeth us to wax grey headed, whilst we desire but mean store of riches. For the superfluous desire of having, always gnaweth our heart. Whereupon it cometh to pass, that oftentimes amongst men we see poverty to be better than riches, 
Great madness in coveting moony.  and death than life. And truly there is great madness in the greedy coveting of money. For they that are touched with this malady, follow after riches with such zeal, as if they supposed that when they had gotten them, no more evil should come near them. And then also they set so light by those which they have, that they burn with the desire of having more. How then shall we call that good, which hath no end or measure? Or that which be?ing gotten, is the beginning of a further desire to have more? A horse (saith Epictetus') is not said to be better, because he hath eaten more than another, or because he hath a gilt harness, but because he is stronger, swifier, and better made: for every beast is accounted of according to his virtue. And shall a man be esteemed according to his riches, ancestors, and beauty? If any think that his old age shall be borne more easily by the means of riches, he deceiveth himself. For they may well 'cause him to enjoy the hurtful pleasures of the body, but cannot take from him sadness, horror, and fear of death: nay rather double hisgriefe, when he thinketh that he must leave and forsake them. In this short discourse taken from ancient men, the vanity of riches appeareth sufficiently unto us, as also the hurtful effects that flow from them, if they be not ruled by the reason of true prudence. Hereafter we are to see how we may use those riches well, which God putteth into our hands, being justly gotten by us: which is a part of justice, whereof we are to entreat. In the mean time, that we fasten not our hearts to so frivolous and vain a thing, let us call to mind some examples 
Examples of the contempt of Richeses.  of wise and famous men, worthy of immortal renown, who have altogether contemned, eschewed, and despised the covetous desire and hoarding up of riches, as the plague and unavoideable ruin of the soul. We read of Marcus Curius a Roman Consul, (the first of his time that received thrice the dignity of triumphing for the notable victories which he 
M● Curius.  had obtained in the honour of his country) that he made so small account of worldly riches, that all his possession was but a little farm in the country sorily built, wherein he continued for the most part when public affairs suffered him, himself labouring and tilling that little ground which he had there. And when certain Ambassadors upon a day came to visit him, they found him in his chimney dressing of radish for his supper. And when they presented him with a great sum of money from their Comonalty, he refused it, saying: that they which contented themselves with such an ordinary as his was, had no need of it: and that he thought it far more honourable to command them that had gold, than to have it. Photion the 
Photion.  Athenian being visited with Ambassadors from Alexander, they presented him with a hundred talents (being in value threescore thousand crowns) which this Monarch sent unto him for a gift. Ph●c●on demanding the cause why, seeing there were so many Athenians besides him, they answered. Because their master judged him only among all the rest to be a virtuous and good man. Than (quoth he) let him suffer me both to seem and to be so indeed, and carry his present back again to him. Notwithstanding he was needy, as may be proved by the answer which he made to the Athenian Council, who demanded a voluntary contribution of every one towards a sacrifice, And when there were no more left to contribute but ●e, they were very importunate with him to give some what. It were a shame for me (said he unto me) to give you money, before I have paid this man, & therewithal he showed one unto them that had lent him acertaine sum of money. Philopaemen General of the Achaians, having procured a league of amity between the City of Sparta, and his own, the Lacedæmonians sent him a present 
Philopaemen.  of sixscore Talents, which were worth threescore & twelve thousand crowns. But refusing it, he went purposely to Sparta, where he declared to the Council, that they aught not to corrupt and win honest men, or their friends with money, seeing in their need they might be assured of them, and use their virtue freely without cost: but that they were to buy & gain with hired reward, the wicked, and such as by their seditious orations in the Senate house used to raise mutinies, and to set the city on fire; to the end that their mouths being stopped by gifts, they might procure less trouble to the government of the Commonwealth. A great Lord of Persia coming from his country to Athens, and perceiving that he stood in great need of his aid and favour of Cimon, who was one of the chief in the city, he presented unto him two cups that were both full, the one of Dariques of gold, 
Cimon.  the other of silver Dariques. This wise Grecian beginning to smile, demanded of him whether of the twain he had rather have him to be, his friend, or his hireling? The Persian answered, that he had a great deal rather have him his friend. Than (said Cimon c●ry back again thy gold and silver. For if I be thy friend, it will be always at my commandment to use as often as I shall need. Anacreon having received of Polycrates five talents for a gift, was so much troubled 
Anacreos.  for the space of two nights with care how he might keep them, and about what to employ them best, that he carried them back again, saying: That they be not worth the pains which he had already taken for them. Xenocrates refused thirty thousand crowns of Alexander, sent unto him for a present, saying: That he had no need of them. What (quoth Alexander) hath he 
Xenocrates.  never a friend? For mine own part, I am sure that all king Darius' treasure will scarce suffice me to distribute among my friends. Socrates being sent for by king Archelaus to come unto him, who promised him great riches, sent him word, that a measure of flower was sold in Athens 
Socrates.  for a Double, and that water cost nothing. And although it seemeth (quoth this Philosopher) that I have not goods enough, yet I have enough, seeing I am contented therewith. What is necessary (said Menander) for the use of our life besides these two things, Bread and Water? Bias flying out of his city which be fore saw would be besieged without hope of rescue, 
Five Doubles in France make ● penny of our coin.  would not load himself with his wealth as others did. And being demanded the cause why, I carry (quoth he) all my goods with me: meaning the invisible gifts and graces of his mind. Truly gold and silver are nothing but dust, and precious stones but the gravel of the sea. And (as Pythagoras said) we aught to persuade ourselves, that those riches are not ours which are not enclosed in our soul. According to which saying, Socrates when he saw that All cibiades waxed arrogant because of the great quantity of ground, which he possessed, showed him an universal Map of the world, and asked him whether he knew which were his lands in the territory of Athens. Whereunto when Alcibiades answered, that they were not described nor set down there: How is it then (quoth this wise man) that thou braggest of that thing which is no part of the world? One mean which Lycurgus used, and which helped him 
Lycurgus' abrogated the u●e of gold & silver coin.  much in the reforming of the Lacedaemonian estate, was the disannulling of all gold, and silver coin, and the appointing of iron money only to be currant, a pound weight whereof was worth but six ● pence. For by this means he banished from among them the desire of riches, which are no less cause of the overthrow of Common wealths than of private men. This moved Plato to say, that he would not have the Princes and governors of his Common wealth, nor his men of war and soldiers, to deal at all with gold & silver: but that they should have allowed them out of the common treasury whatsoever was necessary for them. For as long gowns hinder the body, so do much riches the soul. Therefore if we desire to live happily in tranquillity and rest of soul, and with joy of spirit, let us learn after the example of so many great men to withdraw our affections wholly from the desire of worldly riches, not taking delight and pleasure (as Diogenes said) in that which shall perish, and is not able to make a man better but oftentimes worse. Let us further know that (according to the Scripture) no man can serve God and riches together, but that all they which desire them greedily, fall 
Luk. 16. 13.  into temptations and snares, and into many foolish and noisome lusts which drown men in 
1. Tim. 6. 9  perdition, whereof we have eye-witnesses daily before us. This appeareth in that example which the self same word noteth unto us of the rich man that abounded in all things, so that he willed his soul to take her ease, and to make good cheer, because she had so much goods 
Luk. 12. 16.  laid up for many years: and yet the same night he was to pay tribute unto nature, to his overthrow and confusion. Being therefore instructed by the Spirit of wisdom, let us treasure up 
What riches we aught to treasure up.  in jesus Christ the permanent Richeses of wisdom, piety, and justice, which of themselves are sufficient through his grace to make us live with him for ever.   

Of Poverty. Chap. 34.  ACHITOB. 
NOw that we have seen the nature of Richeses with the most common effects which flow from them, and seeing the chief and principal cause that leadeth men so earnestly to desire them, is the fear of falling into poverty, which through error of judgement they accounted a very great evil, I am of opinion, that we are to enter into a particular consideration thereof, to the end that such a false persuasion may never deceive us, nor 'cause us to go astray out of the right path of Virtue. 
The chief cause why riches are so earnestly desired.   ASER. 
Poverty (said Diogenes) is a help to Philosophy, and is learned of itself. For that which Philosophy seeketh to make us know by words, poverty persuadeth us in the things themselves.  AMANA. 
Rich men stand in need of many precepts, as, That they live thriftily and soberly: that they exercise their bodies: that they delight not too much in the decking of them, and infinite others which poverty of herself teacheth us. But let us hear ARAM discourse more at large of that which is here propounded unto us.  ARAM. 
If we consider how our common mother the earth, being prodig all in giving unto us all things necessary for the life of man, hath notwithstanding cast all of us naked out of her bowels, and must receive us so again into her womb, I see no great reason we have to call some rich, and others poor; seeing the beginning, being, and end of the temporal life of all men are unlike in nothing, but that some during this little moment of life have that in abundance and superfluity, which others have only according to their necessity. But this is much more absurd, and without all show of reason, that they whom we call poor according to the opinion of men, should be accounted, yea commonly take themselves 
Against those that think poor men less happy than the rich.  to be less happy than rich men, and as I may so say, bastard children and not legitimate, because they are not equally and alike partakers of their mother's goods, which are the wealth of the world, for the having whereof we hear so many complaints and murmurings. For first we see none, not not the neediest and poorest that is (except it be by some great and strange mishap) to be so unprovided for, but with any labour and pains taking (which is the reward of sin) he is able to get so much as is necessary for the maintenance of his life, namely, food and raiment; neither yet any that for want of these things, howsoever oftentimes he suffer and abide much, is constrained to give up the ghost. But further, as touching the true, eternal, and incomparable goods of our common Father, their part and portion is nothing less than that of the richest. Yea many times they are rewarded and enriched above others, in the being withdrawn from the care and government of many earthly things, they feel themselves so much the more ravished with special and heavenly grace (if they hinder it not) in the meditation & contemplation of celestiallthing: from whence they may easily draw a great and an assured contentation in this life, through a certain hope that they 
A pretty comparison.  shall enjoy them perfectly, because they are prepared for them, in that blessed immortality of the secondlife. For nothing is more certain than this, that as the Sun is a great deal better seen in clear and clean water, than in that which is troubled, or in a miry and dirty puddle: so the brightness that cometh from God shineth more in minds not subjecteth to worldly goods, than in them that are defiled and troubled with those earthly affections which riches bring with them. This is that which jesus Christ himself hath taught, speaking to him that demanded what he should do to have eternal life: If thou wilt be perfect (saith he) cell that which thou hast, and give it to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: adding beside, 
Mat. 19 21. 23  that a rich man shall hardly enter into the kingdom of heaven. If a father dividing his substance among his children, should leave to one as his eldest or best beloved, the enjoying of his principal manner by inheritance, and to rest their mother's goods, which are of much less value, and that only for term of life, what folly were it to judge that these last were more preferred, and had better portions than the other? And I pray you what comparison is there between the greatest worldly and transitory riches that can be, and the permanent treasures 
No comparison between worldly and heavenly treasures.  of heaven, seeing those cannot be compared but to a thing of naught, than which they are weaker, being moreover accompanied with innumerable hurtful evils, as we have already showed? What happiness and felicity can wealth add to rich men above the poorer sort; that these should be accounted miserable and wretched? Take away (saith Lactantius) insolency and boasting from rich men, and there will be no difference between a poor man and a rich. And if he that made the condition both of the one and the other, and that provideth nourishment for unreasonable creatures, doth distribute unto us as much as he knoweth in his eternal prescience and foreknowledge to be needful for us, whereof shall we complain, except, as inheritors of that damnable vice of ingratitude from the first man, we forget so many benefits received, as also those that are daily proffered and promised unto us of his heaaenly goodness and grace? In a feast (said Epictetus) we content ourselves with that which is set before us, thinking it an impudent and vile part to ask any other thing of him that entertaineth us. And how can we be so impudent and shameless in this world, as to ask those things of God, which he will not give us, and not content ourselves with the use of that which he hath liberally and freely bestowed unto us? But there is a further matter. For if we would consider the great, yea the unspeakable first-fruits which poverty bringeth with her, and whereof she 
The first-fruits of poverty.  is able to make us partakers in this life, without doubt she will be found to be a thousand times more happy than riches. Poverty (saith Aristophanes) is the mistress of manners. Poverty (said Archesilaus') seemeth to be sharp, hard, and troublesome, but she is nurse to a good lineage, as she that acquainteth herself with frugality and abstinence. In a word, she is a school of virtue. Wealth is full of wickedness, (saith Euripides) but poverty is accompanied with wisdom, and all honest men are contented with necessary things. And if they offer sacrifice to the gods with a little incense in the palm of their hand, they are for the most part sooner heard than thny that kill many beasts for sacrifice. For (as Menander saith) the poor are under the protection of God, and it is better to possess a little wealth with joy, than a great deal with sadness. To desire but a little (said Democritus) maketh poverty equal with riches: & if thou desirest not many things, a little will seem to thee to be very great. Poverty (said Anaximenus) maketh the spirit more sharp, & men more excellent in all things belonging to this life. For she is a very good mistress of knowledge and skill. The life of poor men (said Aristonimus) is like to a navigation made along the shore of some sea: but the life of rich men to that which is in the main sea. For the first sort may easily cast anchor, come ashore, and save themselves, whereas the others cannot do so, because they are no more in their own power, but in Fortunes. Fly not from poverty (said Hipsaeus) but from injustice and wrong. For no man was ever punished because he was poor, but many because they were unjust. Neither is a man's life commended because he is rich, but because he is just. Hunger (saith Plutarch) never engendereth adultetery, nor want of money, lust: so that poverty is a short kind of temperance. If thou wert borne among the Persians' (said Epictetus) thou wouldst not wish to devil in Graecia, but to live there in happy estate. Art thou not then a very fool, because thou seekest not rather to live happily in poverty, seeing thou art borne therein, than to strive with so great labour for riches that thou mayest live? As it is better to lie down in a very little bed with health, than in a great and large bed, being sick: so is it a great deal better to live in rest with a little wealth, than in travel and care with abundance. For neither poverty procureth trouble, nor riches driveth away fear: but reason is that which causeth men neither to desire riches, nor to fear poverty. If other things (saith Bion the wise) could speak aswell as we, and were licensed to dispute with us, might not poverty justly say unto us after this manner? OH man wherefore fightest thou against me? Why art thou become mine enemy? Have I rob thee of any thing? Have I been the cause that thou hast received any injury, or have I deprived thee of any good thing? Have I taken from thee either Prudence, justice, or Fortitude? But thou fearest least necessary things should fail thee. What? Are not the 
An excellent defence for poverty.  ways full of herbs and first-fruits, and the fountains of water? Hast thou not as many beds as the earth is great, and as many coverlets and mattresses as there are leaves? Hast thou not a good Cook by my means, that maketh good sauce for thee in hunger? And he that is a thirst, doth he not take very great pleasure in drinking? Dost thou think that a man shall dye for hunger, because he hath no tart, or for thirst, if he have not very delicate wine cooled with snow? All such things are but for delicacy and niceness. Dost thou want a house, when there are so many goodly Churches in cities? What answer could be made to poverty, if she should speak thus? Truly he that hath virtue possesseth all goods, because that alone maketh men happy: which may be spoken aswell of a poor man as of a rich. For they (said Thales) that think poverty hindereth Philosophy, and that riches are a help unto it, greatly deceive themselves. For proof that it is not so, how many more have withdrawn themselves from study through riches, than through poverty? Do we not see that the poorest study Philosophy best, which the wealthy because of their money and many matters, cannot do? For this cause Theogius said very well, that many more have perished through surfeiting than through hunger. And to let you know that poverty is more happy, and better esteemed of than riches, consider the examples of Aristides surnamed the Just, who being very poor, was chosen to levy and to gather tribute before all the rich men 
Examples to show that poverty was more esteemed of than riches.  in Athens. And Callias the richest man of all the Athenians, sought by all means to have his friendship, whereas the other made no great account of him. Epaminondas was not called half a God, nor Lycurgus a Saviour, because they abounded in wealth and were slaves to their passions, but because they profited their country exceedingly, and were content with their poverty. Therefore we may gather out of the sayings of so many great and virtuous men, an assured testimony of the benefit and profit that commonly followeth the condition of poor men. And for invincible proofs, have we not the examples of the lives of infinite Sages and learned Philosophers, who willingly forsaking, and wholly contemning riches, went to the Academy, commonly called the School of Poverty, there to enjoy the treasures of wisdom and virtue? Yea, which is more, we find that poverty hath been the only and principal cause of enriching many with this unspeakable treasure, according to that saying of Aristotle, that calamity is oftentimes the occasion of virtue. Zeno the founder 
Zeno.  of the Stoicail Academy, after he had possessed much wealth, and suffered many losses, had no more left but one ship of merchandise, which being cast away, he uttered this speech: Thou dost well Fortune to bring me to the study of Philosophy, wherein he continued ever after. The exile and banishment of Diogenes driven from his country, was the cause and beginning 
Diogenes.  of his study of Philosophy. And if any man think it a difficult and strange matter that a poor man should be skilful seeing that whilst he studieth, he must have wherewith to nourish his body, let us see what Cleanthes answered to Antigonus king of Macedonia, who 
Cleanthes.  asked him if he turned the millstone always: Yea sir (said he) I turn it yet about to get my living, but forsake not Philosophy for all that. How great and noble was the mind of that man, who after his labour wrote of the nature of God and of the heavens, with the same hand wherewith he turned about the millstone? Others say, that he got his living by drawing water for a gardener: about which he bestowed the night only, that he might spend the day in hearing the Philosopher's dispute. This man calleth to my remembrance two other Philosophers, named Menendemus and Asclepiades, who being accused before the Areopagites the chief judges of Athens, as idle persons having no goods in possession, and being 
Menendemus & Asclepiades,  willed to declare how they lived, their answer was, that inquiry should be made of their Host who was a Baker. This man being called, said, that they bestowed the whole day in the study of letters, and the night in sifting and bolting his meal, for which he gave each of them a piece of money whereof they lived. But what? These ancient Sages wanted but few things to live withal, seeing the most of them contented themselves with bread and water, and many times with herbs and fruits in stead of bread, and so Pythagoras always lived. And yet they found so great contentation and felicity in such a life, that one Philoxenus having as yet but tasted of the first first-fruits of his profession of study, and being of that number which was 
Pythagoras kept 〈◊〉 d●●t. Philoxenus.  sent by the Athenians to inhabit a new city in Sicilia, wherein a good house with great commodities to live at ease, fell to him for his part; and seeing that delicacy, pleasure and idleness, without any exercise of letters reigned in those quarters, he forsook all and returned to Athens, saying, by the gods these goods shall not destroy me, but I will rather destroy them All these first-fruits which are noted to be in poverty, gave occasion to an ancient man to say, that it was a virtue of Fortitude to sustain poverty patiently, but to desire it was the praise of wisdom. Now forasmuch as it will be very hard if not altogether unpossible, notwithstanding all reason that can be alleged to men, to dispossess them of the hatred and fear of poverty, which naturally they shun, let us learn of the Ancients, who aught to accounted himself poor, that we abuse no more this word Poverty. Diogenes was upon a time visited by Alexander, who said unto him, I see well Diogenes that thou art poor, and hast need of many things, therefore 
Who ou●●t to be esteemed poor.  ask of me what thou wilt, and I will give it thee. Whereupon this excellent Philosopher despising such offers of goods whereof he stood not in need, answered: Whether of us twain Alexander seemeth to thee to have most need, and therefore poorest, either I that desire nothing but my 
Diogenes' sup●●●●d Alexander to be poor: than himself.  pile of wood and a little bread, or thou who being king of Macedonia, dost hazard thyself to so many dangers to enlarge thy kingdom, insomuch, that the whole world will hardly suffice to bond thy ambition, and to content thy covetousness? The Monarch so greatly admired the magnanimity of this man, that he uttered these words with a loud voice, If I were not Alexander, I would be Diogenes. Marius a Consul of Rome distributing land among his countrymen gave to every one fourteen acres only. And understanding that some were not contented therewith but demanded more, I would to God (quoth he then) that no Roman would care for any more land than would suffice to nourish him. So goodly and commendable a matter was it esteemed of these wise men to be content with a little, and with that which is sufficient, rather than to think those men only rich that were furnished with store of wealth. And to say truth, seeing God alone simply and absolutely standeth not in need of any thing whatsoever, it may easily be presupposed, that the most excellent virtue of man, and that which cometh nearest to the divine nature, consisteth in causing a man to stand in need of fewest things. This is that which Socrates said, That to desire nothing (meaning worldly things) is in some sort to resemble God. And how can we call him poor, whose soul is enriched with many great and rare perfections? Cicero writing to Atticus said, That a friend was bound to wish but three things unto his friend, namely, That he be healthy, that he be well accounted of, and that he be not needy 
A friend is to 〈…〉.  Now that all these things are found in a temperate and noble minded man, we may learn by the effects of Sobriety, whereof we have heretofore discoursed, and by those of honour, which is never separated from virtue, no more than the shadow is from the body. And as for the necessary use of food and raiment, it is not wanting to them that stand most in need thereof, as we have already touched it in our present speech: and so a virtuous man cannot be called poor. But let us yield a little to the common opinion of worldlings, that poverty and want of earthly riches is odious and contemptible, yet that poverty only which proceedeth 
What poverty is odious.  of sloth, Idleness, & ignorance, or otherwise of foolish expenses, of riot and superfluity, may be said to be full of reproach & shame, & is to be shunned. For when poverty is found in an honest, painful, diligent, just, valiant & wise man, it serveth for a great proof of his magnanimity & greatness of courage, because he hath set his mind unto great and high matters, and not upon such small and vile things as the riches of the world are. Among many others of this number we may say, that Aristides was, being captain and governor of the Athenian estate, as we have already mentioned, who after many excellent and great offices which he bore to the good of his country, was so smally enriched thereby, that being dead, all his 
Aristides.  goods would not suffice to bury him. He used to say, that none aught to be ashamed of poverty, but they that were poor against their will: and that it was a rarer matter, and worthy of greater praise, to sustain poverty virtuously and with a noble mind, than to know how to use riches well. And so poverty is never accompanied with shame, except it be to them that fall into it through negligence or misgovernment of those goods which God hath put into their hands, that they should be faithful keepers and disposers thereof in charitable works. This is that which Thucydides saith, that it is no shame for a man to confess his poverty, but very great to fall into it by his own default. Therefore to reap profit by that which hath been here discoursed, let us put off that old error which hath continued so long in men's brains, that poverty is such a great and troublesome evil, whereas it is rather the cause of infinite benefits: and let us say with Pythagoras, that it is a great deal better to have a quiet and settled mind, lying upon the ground, than to have much trouble in a golden bed. Moreover let us know, that to possess small store of earthly goods, aught not to be called poverty, because all fullness of wealth aboundeth in the knowledge and assurance of the fatherly grace and goodness of the author and creator of all things, which he offereth liberally 
Where the fullness of riches is to be sought  to all without accepting either of pomp or greatness. And further, when as, continuing the care which it pleaseth him to take of us, he giveth us although in travail & sweat, wherewith to feed and to cloth us in all simplicity and modesty, and that according to our necessity, we should be unthankful and altogether unworthy the assistance of his help and favour and of his eternal promises, if not not contented, nor glorifying him for our estate, we complained, or wondered at, and desired the calling of other men offering thereby in will and affection our birthrights through a gluttonous desire, whereas we aught to preserve to ourselves the possession of that heavenly inheritance, wherein consisteth the perfection of all glory, rest, and contentation.   

Of Idleness, Sloth, and Gaming. Chap. 35.  ARAM. 
TWo things being the cause of all passions in men, namely, Grief and Pleasure, they always desire the one, but fly from and fear the other. But the occasion of the greatest evil that befalleth them is, because these desires and affections being borne with them from the beginning, do also grow and increase 
Grief & pleasure the causes of all passions in men  along time before they can have any judgement framed in them through the right understanding of things. Whereupon as well by nature, which of itself is more inclined to evil than to good, as through a long continuing in vice, they are easily drawn to follow the appetite and lust of their sensuality, wherein they fastly judge that pleasure consisteth, and think it painful not to please it. Being thus guided by ignorance, and walking like blind men, they have experence for the most part of such an end as is clean contrary to their purposes. As we may see in those men, who purposing with themselves to live at their ease in joy, rest, and pleasure, give over all intermeddling in serious matters, and such as beseem the excellency of virtue, that they may live in idleness: wherewith being bewitched they are partakers of many false pleasures, which procure them a greater number of griefs and miseries, all which they thought to avoid very well. And this we may the better understand, if we discourse of Idleness, the enemy of all virtue, and clean contrary to Perseverance, which is a branch of Fortitude. Therefore I propound the handling of this matter to you my companions.  ACHITOB. 
Although we have not a singular excellency of spirit, yet we must not suffer it to be idle, but constantly follow after that which we have wisely hoped to obtain. For (as Erasmus saith) that which is often done and reiterated, and continually in hand, is finished at last.  ASER. 
They that do nothing (saith Cicero) learn to do ill, and through idleness the body and minds of men languish away: but by labour great things are obtained, yea travel is a work that continueth after death. Let us then give care to AMANA, who will handle more at large for our instruction that which is here propounded unto us.  AMANA. 
As we admire and honour them with very great commendation, in whom we may note as we think, some excellent and singular virtues, so we contemn them whom we judge to have neither virtue, courage, nor fortitude in them, and whom we see to be profitable neither to themselves nor to others, because they are not laborious, industrious, nor careful, but remain idle and slothful. And to say truth, the manners, conditions, and natural disposition of such men, are wholly corrupted, their conversation is odious, unprofitable, and to be avoided, seeing that Idleness is the mother and nurse of vice, which destroyeth and marreth all. Therefore it was very well ordained in the primitive Church, that 
Idleness is the 〈◊〉 and nur●● of 〈◊〉 vice.  every one should live of his own labour, that the Idle and slothful might not consume unprofitably the goods of the earth. Which reason brought in that ancient Roman edict, mentioned by Cicero in his book of Laws, That no Roman should go through the streets of the city, unless he carried about him the badge of that trade, whereby he lived. Insomuch that Marcus Aurelius speaking of the diligence of the ancient Romans, writeth: That all of them followed their labour and travel so earnestly, that having necessary occasion one day to sand a letter two or three days journey from the town, he could not find one idle body in all the city to carry it. The great Orator and Philosopher Cicero, minding to teach us how we aught to hate Idleness, as being against nature, showeth that men are in deed borne to good woke, whereof our soul may serve for a sufficient and invincible proof, seeing it is never 
Idleness is against nature.  still, but in continual motion and action. And for the same cause he greatly commendeth Scipio, who used to say, that he was never less quiet than when he was quiet. Whereby he 
Scipio was never ●dle.  giveth us to understand, that when he was not busied with weighty affairs of the Commonwealth, yet his own private matters, and the searching after knowledge, were no less troublesome unto him, so that even then in his solitariness he took counsel with himself. It seemeth (saith this father of eloquence) that nature doth more require of a man such actions as tend to the profit of men, than she doth the perfect knowledge of all things: seeing this knowledge and contemplation of the works of nature should seem to be maimed and unperfect, if no action followed it; whereas virtuous deeds are profitable to all men, for which end nature hath brought us forth, which showeth sufficiently that they are better and more excellent. So that unless the knowledge of things be joined with that virtue, which preserveth human society, it will seem to be dead and unprofitable. Therefore Chrysippus the Philosopher said, that the life of those men that give themselves to idle studies, differed nothing from that of voluptuous men. So that we must not study Philosophy by way of sport, but to the end we may profit both ourselves and others. Now, if action must of necessity be joined to study and contemplation, to make a happy life, so that otherwise it is as 
To what end we must study Philosophy.  it were dead and idle: what shall we say of that life that is void both of study and action, but that it is more beastlike than human? And how many millions of men are there in the world, who live in this sort, and more in France than in any other nation? Yea, how many are more idle and less careful than bruit beasts, neglecting the provision even of things necessary for this present life? Among the obscure precepts which Pythagoras gave to his Disciples, this was one: Take good heed that thou sit not upon a bushel: meaning, that Idleness and Sloth were especially to be eschewed. Likewise, when we shall enter into the consideration 
Pythagoras' 〈◊〉 against Idleness  on of those evils that issue from Idleness and Sloth, no doubt but we will fly from them, as from the plague, of our souls. They are greatly to be feared in a Commonwealth, because they open a gate to all injustice, and kindle the fire of sedition, which setteth afloat all kind of impiety. Furthermore, they are the cause of the finding out of infinite false and pernicious inventions, for the relieving of poverty, which for the most part floweth from the same fountain of Idleness. This moved the wise and ancient kings of Egypt, to employ their Idle people in digging of the earth, and in the drawing forth and building 
〈…〉.  of those Pyramids, the chief of which is by the Historiographers placed among the seven wonders o● the world It could not be perfectly finished before the space of twenty years, albeit that three hundred and threescore thousand men wrought about it continually. The Captains and Heads of the Roman armies fearing the dangerous effects of idleness, no less in their host, than in their towns, caused their soldiers to travel in making of trenches, when they were not urged of their enemies, as Marius did alongst the river of Rhone. The Emperor Claudius enjoying an assured peace, caused the channel Fucinus to be made, 
Claudius.  that Rome might have the commodity of good waters: about which work thirty thousand men were daily employed for the space of twelve years. Adrianus seeing a general peace within his Empire, continually undertook new and long journeys, one while into France another 
Adrianus.  while into Germany, sometimes into Asia, and into other strange countries, causing his men of war to march with him: saying, that he did it for fear, lest they being idle should be corrupted, and forget the discipline of war, and so be the cause of novelties. And it seemeth that this was the cause why a wise Roman counseled the Senate not to destroy Carthage, lest the Romans being in safety by the utter subversion thereof (which only at that time made head against them) should become idle. But now we may justly say of them, that through a lazy and cowardliness, they have lost the dignity and virtue of their forefathers. The Ephories, who were Governors of the Lacedaemonian estate, being moved 
The Ephories of Lacedemonia. Scipio Nasica.  with the same reason with which the Roman Scipio Nasica was touched, after intelligence had of the taking and sacking of a great town into which their men were entered, said: that the army of their youth was lost. Whereupon they sent word to the Captain of the army, that he should not after the same manner destroy another town, which he had besieged, writing these words unto him: Take not away the prick which stirreth forward the hearts of our young men. Gelon king of Syracuse led his people oftentimes into the fields, aswell to labour the ground, and to plant, as to fight, both that the earth might be better, being well 
Gelon.  dressed, as also because he feared least his people should wax worse for want of travel. So greatly did these ancient wise men fear the pernicious effects of idleness and sloth, which bring to nothing and corrupt the goodness of nature, whereas diligence and exercise in good education correcteth the naughtiness thereof. For as close waters (saith Plutarch) putrify quickly, because they are covered, shadowed, and standing: so they that busy not themselves, 
A similitude  but remain idle, albeit they have some good thing in them, yet if they bring it not forth, neither exercise those natural faculties that were borne with them, they corrupt and destroy them utterly. And which is worse, as concupiscence (saith Plato) and luxuriousness are quenched with great, sharp, and continual labour, so are they kindled through idleness. Aretchlesse and slothful man can find out nothing that is easy. But there is nothing (saith Seneca) whereunto continual labour is not able to attain, and through care and vigilancy men come to the end of most difficult matters. Fortune (saith a Poet) helpeth and favoureth them that boldly set their hand to the work, but giveth the repulse to fearful and base minded men. Let us believe (said Pythagoras) that laborious and painful things will sooner lead us to virtue, than those that are nice and delicate. And (as Hesiodus saith) the Gods have placed sweat before virtue: and the way that leadeth unto her long, difficult, and craggy. A 
Sweat is placed before virtue.  good Pilot seeing a tempest at hand, calleth upon the gods, that they would grant him grace to escape it: but in the mean while he taketh the helm into his hand, he veileth the foresail, and bringing about the main sail, laboureth to come out of the dark sea. Hesiodus commandeth the husbandman to make his vows to jupiter and to Ceres, before the either ploweth or soweth, but he must do it with his hand upon the plough tail. Plato writing his laws, forbiddeth a man to fetch water at his neighbour's house, before he hath digged and delved in his own ground even to the clay, and that it be perceived that no water springeth there. In like sort, laws must provide for necessity, and not favour sloth and idleness. By sloth we loose that which we have already gotten, but by diligence we attain to that which we have not, and which may be necessary for us. I passed (saith the wise man) by the field of the slothful, and by 
Prou. 24. 30. 31.  the vineyard of the man destitute of understanding: and lo it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had covered the face thereof, and the stone wall thereof was broken down. It is sloth and negligence that causeth a man through want of good understanding and judgement not to care for the getting of that which is needful for him, because he feareth lest he should loose it. Whereupon this would follow (which is a very absurd thing) that nothing how dear and precious soever it be, aught to be sought for or desired, seeing all things are subject to change, yea knowledge through great diseases, and other inconveniences may be lessened and lost. Idleness and sloth do not hurt the soul only, but impair also the health of the body. Yea that rest which a man taketh by negligence, is much more hurtful unto him, than 
Idleness decayeth the health of the body.  painful exercise. And they which think that health needeth necessarily a continual rest to preserve it well, using that goodly pretence because they would not be troubled with more matters than needs they must, especially with those which concern public commodities, as also because they would not take pains in the study of wisdom; they cannot be better compared than to such as will not use their eyes in beholding any thing, that they might keep them the better, neither will speak at all to preserve their voice well. Every kind of life hath both sickness and health, but a sound man cannot take a better course to preserve his health, than to employ himself in the practice of many good and honest duties of humanity. Yea, we must yet go farther, and say with Socrates, that diseased men aught not to be so careful of their health, that they leave the study and exercise of virtue, seeing we are to make but small account of death itself. And therefore Plutarch is very e●rnest against this Epicurian sentence, Hid thy life: which was set down by Neocles brothers to Epicurus, 
No man aught to hide his life.  meaning thereby to persuade them that would live happily, not to intermeddle with any public matter. But contrariwise (saith this Philosopher) it is dishonest to live so that no man may know any thing. Art thou vicious? show thyself to those that are able to admonish, to correct and to cure thee, that so thou mayest amend and repent. If in the knowledge of nature thou hast learned by songs to praise God, his justice, and heavenly providence: or in moral knowledge to commend the law, human society, the government of the commonwealth, and there in to respect honour, not profit, hide not this talon, but teach it others, and give thyself an example unto them of well doing, and of profiting every one. OH divine counsel proceeding out of the mouth of an Ethnik, as necessary to be practised at this day, as we see it contemned of so many wise worldlings, who say they have the absolute and sound reformation of our estate of France in their head, but that as yet there is no time to speak of it. Thus some live idly and like to recluses because they will take no pain, and others do worse in maintaining the corruption of the estate, and in cleaving wittingly to the destruction thereof. But let us proceed to look upon the first-fruits of idleness. It is of that fountain whereof cursed ignorance drinketh and maintaineth herself, and from thence flow all pleasures followed with bitterness and grief, which with draw us from all virtuous occupations, to employ ourselves about all kinds of trifles, that are neither good, honest nor profitable, but rather hurtful and very pernicious. Of which number we may note gaming, which is as common amongst us, and as blame worthy, as any other imperfection, 
Of gaming and of the estects thereof.  seeing her foundation is laid upon lucre and covetousness, or else upon the loss of time. Those cursed effects which it bringeth forth daily, as quarrels, murders, blasphemies, cogging, overthrow of houses and families, do sufficiently testify unto us the in famous nature thereof. Likewise it hath been so abhorred of the ancient Sages, that Chilon being sent from Lacedemonia to Corinth, to entreat of a league between those two peoples, and finding the rulers playing at dice, returning back again, and would not speak of his commission, 
Chilon refused to make a league with dicers.  saying, that he would not stain the glory of the Spartans with so great an ignominy as to join them in society with diceplaiers: How many happy ages have our forefathers passed over, and yet never heard word of so unhappy an exercise? And some say that the Lydians were the first inventors of games, but it was when their country was brought into great necessity of victuals: to the end that by playing, they might find some help and 
The occasion that moved the Lydians to invent games.  mean to sustain and to resist hunger the better, by spending every other day in gaming without any meat. Which they continued for the space of twenty and eight years, preserving their country by that means from a general famine through the great sparing of their provision. But now adays we see, that men are so far from recompensing the fault of so vile an occupation by fasting, that contrariwise it is followed with all kind of dissoluteness, gluttony, riot, and superfluity. And this is seen too much in these new faculties of careless men, who have taught us this goodly proverb, That a man were betrer lose than be idle. But if they knew their inestimable loss, not of money which they abuse, but of the richest and most precious thing that may be spent, and which can never be recovered, I mean of time, they would speak clean contrary: That to lose is worse than to be idle, because it is joined with a naughty action, which of necessity turneth to the detriment of himself or of his neighbour, and oftentimes of both. Among many goodly and holy ordinances, which Alphonsus son of Ferdinando king of Spain, caused those knights to observe, which he made of the order of the band, (himself and all his children being of the same order) this was straightly 
Alphonsus' de●ice against play.  kept, that no knight should presume to play for any money at cards or dices, or give his consent to any such play in his house, upon pain of forfaiting his wages for one month, and himself to be forbidden another month and a half from entering into the king's palace. But because the nature of man is not able to abide continual labour, and occasion of business is not always offered, it shall be lawful for us, according to the precept of Plato his Academy, to bestow our leisure upon some honest pastime and game of moderate pleasure, that is not 
How we may recreate ourselves.  far separated from study or virtue, which will not be blameworthy in us, so we use it as we do rest or sleep, after we have dispatched and ended grave and serious affairs, according to the gift and faculty of our spirits. Moreover let us propound to ourselves for example the lives of so many famous and grave men, who both in youth and age laboured to do good and to profit every one, esteeming it great honour to end their days in such a commendable exercise: according to that saying of Erasmus: That in vain men follow that which is 
Of perseverance.  good, and strive to do well, if they stand still before the end of their days. For that man loseth his time in running swiftly, who fainteth before he come to the end of his race. Nothing will be unpossible to thee (saith the same author) so that thy heart faint not. Not to go forward in the way of the Lord, is all one with turning backward: yea it were better never to begin, than not to persevere unto the end. This also is that which Cicero teacheth us, that it is not sufficient to know what aught to be done, but we must abide firm and steadfast in that wherein upon advised and good counsel we are once resolved. And though we are out of hope of attaining to perfection, yet we must strive to come unto it. Many (saith he) that are weakened with despair, will not undertake that thing which they fear they shall never be able to finish: but they that would obtain great things, and such as are most to be desired, must try every way. And if any man hath not this excellency of spirit and greatness of heart by nature, neither yet the knowledge of every good discipline, let him take that course which he is able to attain unto. For it is great praise to him that followeth after the excellentest and best things, to stay in the second and third place, if he can do no better. Those things are great, which are next to perfection. It is our duty therefore to abide firm and constant in that good and commendable kind of life, which we have chosen from the beginning, so that the end thereof be to live well. And let us shun idleness in such sort, as to say with Cato, that this is one thing whereof we aught to repent us most; if we know that we have spent a whole day, wherein we have neither done nor learned some good thing. Phocylides minding to instruct us in this matter, said, that in the evening we aught not to sleep, before we have thrice called to our remembrance whatsoever 
An excellent precept of Phocylides. Examples against idleness.  we have done the same day, repenting us of the evil, and rejoicing in our well doing. Apollo's the best painter that ever was, would not suffer one day to pass without drawing of some line, meaning thereby (as he said) to fight against idleness, as with an arrow. Aeleas king of Scythia said, that he seemed to himself to differ nothing form his horsekeeper, when he was idle. Dionysius the elder being demanded if he were never idle, answered: God keep me from that: for as a bow (according to the common proverb) is marred and breaketh by being too much bend: so is the soul through too much idleness. This is that which Masinissa the Aphrican would learnedly teach us, of whom Polybius writeth that he died when he was fourscore and ten years of age, leaving behind him a son that was but four years old. A little before he died, after he had discomfited the Carthaginians in a main battle, he was seen the next day eating of course brown bread, saying to some that marveled thereat, That as iron is bright and shineth so long as it is used by the band of man, where as a house falleth into decay when no man dwelleth therein, (as Sophocles saith) so fareth it with this brightness 
An excellent comparison.  and glistering light of the soul, whereby we discourse, understand, and remember. The same reason moved Xerxes' father to say to Darius, that in perilous times and dangerous affairs, he 
How political knowledge must be preserved.  increased in wisdom. Likewise political knowledge, which is such a prudence, settled mind, justice, and experience, as knoweth full well how to make choice of, and to take fit opportunity in all things that happen, cannot be maintained but by the practice and managing of affairs, by discoursing and judging. Now to conclude our present treatise, seeing we know that we are borne to all virtuous actions, let us fly from idleness and sloth, the welsprings of 
The first-fruits of idleness.  all injustice and poverty, the stirrers up of infinite passions in the soul, and the procurers of sundry diseases in the body, even to the utter destruction of them. And let us embrace diligence, care, travel, and study, which are sure guides to lead us to that end for which we 
The end of our life.  aught to live, that is, in glorifying God, to profit ourselves in honest things, and also all those with whom we live; wherein consisteth all the happiness and contentation of the life of good men. And let us not doubt but that all time otherwise spent, is lost time: knowing that all times in respect of themselves are alike, but that which is employed in virtue is good in regard of us, and that which is unprofitable wasted, and in vice is nought. Further, let u● learn never to give over the effecting and finishing of that which we once know to belong to our duty, seeing that without perseverance neither he that fighteth can obtain the victory, neither the conqueror the garland, but he that continueth to the end, shall be saved. Therefore let 
Math. 10. 12.  us be careful to make profit of that talon which is given us to keep, that we be not found evil and unprofitable servants before him, to whom we must yield an account even of every idle and vain word. 
Math. 12. 36.    

Of an Enemy, of Injury, and of Revenge. Chap. 36.  AMANA. 
Having hitherto in three days works discoursed (according to our judgement) of all the parts of the virtue of Fortitude, and of those commendable effects that issue from it, to the correcting of many vices and imperfections, which abound in man's nature, I think that to end this afternoon, we are yet to resume and to continued the speech already begun by us (as also we then promised) of one principal point concerning true magnanimity, and greatness of courage, which respecteth our enemies, thereby to know more particularly both our duty towards them, and also what good may come to us from them, if we sustain and bear courageously their injuries, forsaking all desire and lust of revenge.  ARAM. 
As industrious Bees gather the driest and most piercing honey of bitter Time: 
A pretty comparison.  so a wise and virtuous man (saith Xenophon) knoweth how to draw profit and commodity from his enemies, upon whom we must beware of revenging ourselves, lest (as Theophrastus saith) we hurt ourselves more than them.  ACHITOB. 
It is the property (saith Cicero) of famous personages and noble hearts to contemn injuries offered unto them by known wicked men, whose commendation of a man importeth some dishonesty in him. Now then ASER, teach us somewhat of this matter wherein we have so great need of instruction.  ASER. 
The Cynic Philosophers said, that if a man would be in safety and partaker of happiness, he must of necessity have good friends or sharp enemies, that the first sort by 
Good friends or sharp enemies are necessarily required to a happy life.  good and wise admonitions, and these by notable injuries, might withdraw him from doing of evil. And truly if we consider the profit and commodity which may come unto us from him that voluntarily without occasion given him, (as it is our duty not to offend any) is become our enemy, by governing ourselves therein with the reason of a true Academical prudence, besides that we shall show forth the effects of that title which we bear, and of the end of our being, we must be so far off from hating an enemy, that we should rather think ourselves beholding and bound unto him for that great good which he procureth unto us. That this is so, is not this one property of vice to make us more ashamed before our enemies when we have committed a fault, than before our friends? Do we not take our enemy 
Why men are beholding to their enemies.  for a spy and enuier of our life? If any imperfection reign in us, who will more freely give us to understand thereof than he that hateth us, who will not be slack to publish it every where? For this reason Plutarch calleth an enemy a Schoolmaster that costeth us nothing of whom we learn that which may greatly profit us, and which we know not. To this effect 
How men behave themselves now adays towards their enemies  he maketh mention in his Apothegms of an Athenian captain who complained to Aristo chief captain of the Lacedæmonians, that his soldiers blazed abroad the manners of the Athenians: If the Athenians (said Aristo. unto him) did look well to their doings, they should not need to care what the Spartans' could say of them. These things being well considered by us, if we have enemies, they will be a mean to make us more fearful and restrained from offending, and more earnest and diligent to order well our behaviour, to direct our doings, and to correct our imperfections. But let us mark a little how the noble and courageous youths of the world behave themselves now adays. The reproofs and injuries of an enemy, may peradventure be tolerated in some sort by the skilfullest sort of those that boast themselves to be so curious observers and ready defenders of their honour, so that they be not uttered in their presence: because they say that they cannot be offended at that which is spoken of them in their absence, and that they which speak so, will not avouch that slander before their faces, which they raised behind their backs. According to these weak reasons they would have other men judge of reproach and injury, either to credit or to discredit them according to their power, and not as the truth of the fact itself requireth: whereupon also they pass that over with profit & amendment of the life, which they knew was misliked in them. There are others, who upon a bore report made unto them, think themselves greatly misused and harmed by those that spoke ill of them, so that presently they purpose to be avenged of them. But herein they agreed all, that if any man voluntarily offereth injury to they would have the sword presently to decide the controversy, What say I, for an injury? Nay for a yea or a nay, they forth with think that the lie is given them, and that they are outfaced, so that nothing but the death of the one, or of both together, and oftentimes of their dearest and best friends, is able (as they think) to repair the prejudicate and supposed offence, and all for this vain honour of the world. OH detestable fury, not to be found in most cruel beasts, which spare the blood of their sex! It is not convenient, that any time should be lost in reproving the same, being of itself so odious, that it cannot so much as be once named but with shame, trembling and horror. For no man is so dull 
Murder forbidden.  of understanding, but he knoweth that effusion of blood is forbidden by God, and that outrage being in no sort permitted, much less may a Christian forget himself so far as to kill another, except it be through necessity in defending his own body, or in the service of his prince and country in a just war. Among all the sententious sayings of Socrates the wise, and the wonderful works of Plato his scholar, I found none more divine, or worthy of greater 
A notable sentence.  praise than the sentence so often repeated by them, That revenge is not in any sort to be used. It is not just (said the same Socrates) to offend any, although he had offered us wrong. For a good man never aught to do evil: yea it is a great deal better to suffer, than to offer contumely, to be slain, than to slay, because the one bringeth no detriment to man, who is the soul, but the other procureth the utter ruin and destruction thereof. This will sound very ill in many men's ears. But if they will judge without passion, and had eyes to see, and ears to understand the end of their being & calling, as also the reason of true prudence and geneosity taught us the by study of Philosophy, no doubt but they would subscribe to the opinion of these wise Philosophers, agreeing very well with that which is taught by the spirit of God, who condemneth the murderer, and him that 
Levit. 24. 17. Psal. 9 9 16. Mat. 5. 10.  offereth wrong and injury to another: but calleth himself the defender of innocency, and such a one as returneth a double reward and recompense to those that suffer for righteousness and equity. Who may therefore doubt but that it is far better to receive than to do evil, to be killed than to kill, seeing by the one the good hour of our perpetual rest and felicity is hastened forward, and by the other we are utterly frustrated thereof, and thrown into a hell of eternal fire? So that if we endeavour to show forth the effects of true Magnanimity and greatness of heart, there is no doubt but to bear and to endure withal modesty and 
To suffer injury patiently is a badge of a most absolute virtue.  patience the outrages and wrongs of our enemies, is the mark of that virtue which is most absolute and perfect. That it is so, doth it not appear in this, that virtue consisteth in difficult things? And that virtue that cometh nearest to the divine nature, which is hardest to be obtained, and least familiar with men, it is not more worthy and unbeseeming a noble and valiant man, than all the rest? Unto which may we attribute better this mark than to the virtue of patience, whereof we have already entreated? We see no man upon earth of so base estate, no woman so feeble and weak, no living creature so little, but if they be stricken they will revenge themselves very willingly as well as they can. How greatly then aught this virtue to be accounted of, which forceth this natural lust of revenge, bred in all living creatures, and how noble must the mind of that man needs be which is able to master such a violent passion, so common to all men, thereby procuring to itself the name of a mild and gracious spirit, and ready to forgive, which is proper and peculiar to the divine nature? Therefore that great Monarch Alexander, said, That a man wronged had need of a more noble heart to for give his enemy, than to be revenged of him, and to kill him. Behold the saying of as noble a prince as ever the earth bore. What can the Courtiers of these times say to the contrary? It is a great virtue (saith Epictetus') not to hurt him of whom thou art misused. It is a very commendable thing to pardon him whom thou mightest hurt, and it is a praise worthy kind of revenge, to let them go to peace that are overcome. Therefore Pittacus the Sage having one in his power that had dealt contumeliously 
A commendable king of revenge.  with him, he suffered him to departed unharmed, saying, That pardon was better than revenge, the one being proper to the spirit of a man, the other of a cruel beast. But further, although it were only in respect of our own benefit during our life, we aught to shun all motions of injury, and all desire of revenge: forasmuch as we cannot either determine or execute the same, but with a thousand perturbations, which cause us to want the rest and tranquillity of our souls, wherein all our happiness and felicity consisteth. And therefore Seneca saith, If 
Good counsel of Seneca.  he that wronged thee be weaker than thou, forgive him: if he be mightier, spare thyself. For whosoever nourisheth his neighbour's anger, whosoever provoketh and incenseth him more, when he seethe him vehement and importunate against him, he committeth two faults. First he hateth himself by procuring his own trouble and grief: Secondly, his brother, because he maketh him sad, and vexeth him. Moreover prudent men (as Theophrastus saith) aught to do nothing in choler. For that unreasonable part of the soul being moved, forseeth nothing wisely, but being driven forward with a contentious desire, suffereth itself to be carried hither and thither, as if it were drunken. Also we must take great heed, 
We must do nothing in choler.  that we do not always put in execution whatsoever we have a mind unto, but only that which moderate reason commandeth us. Wherein we shall deserve the praise of true Magnanimity, if I say, we can command ourselves and all vehemency of choler, which driveth men forward to be avenged on their enemies, and is in act that savoureth more of a vile and abject heart drawing near to brutish fierceness, than of a noble mind which despiseth whatsoever is earthly, mortal, and fading, that it may think of nothing but of heaven 
An apt similitude.  and immortality. This is that which the study of our Philosophy teacheth us: and even as expert Physicians know how to draw medicines apt for the preservation of life out of serpents, poisons, and other deadly and venomous things: so we aught to draw from our enemies, not their life, which aught to be only in the power of God and of his justice, but profit and commodity by their backbitings, reproaches, and injuries. Which will easily be done, if we make 
How a man may profit by the backbiting o● his enemies.  small account of their intent, and consider narrowly the fact which they speak ill of, to the end that if we be guilty of that which they condemn in us, we may purge and eorrect ourselves. And if so be they harm us wrongfully, their impudency will 'cause their reproaches and injuries to be turned back, and sent against themselves, together with that shame and damage, which they thought to procure unto us, whereas we shall be no less honest and virtuous men than before. So that the best revenge and most honourable victory, which we can carry away from our enemies, will be to surpass them in diligence, bounty, magnanimity, 
The best kind of revenge.  good turns, and in all virtuous actions: whereby they will sooner perceive and confess themselves vanquished and constrained to stop their mouth, and to repress their tongue, than by any other force, which we can oppose against them. Than may we say, that as he who enterprised to kill Pormethens the Thessalian, gave him so great a blow with asword upon an apostume which put him in danger of death, that by lancing they he saved his life contrary to his meaning: so the injurious speeches of our enemies uttered in wrath and of ill will to hurt us, have been the cause of curing many evils in us whereof we made no account, and of making us much better than we were before. But because injury seemeth so hard and uneasy to be tolerated by the imbecility of man's nature, which is so soon offended, and by the heart of man being full of revenge, let us yet see whether we can find any remedy, if not to cure that which is incurable, at lest wise to purge and to cleanse the accidents of this evil. Injury is offered either to the goods, to the honour, or to the person of a 
How many ways a man may receive injury.  man. As touching the first and last, namely, the spoiling of our goods, and violence offered to our person, what other revenge either by the law of God or of man can we have than to repulse force with force, I mean when we are constrained thereunto, or else by the way of the Prince his justice, which is open to every one? If any have rob thee, must thou become a thief or satisfy thyself by thine own strength? Much less oughtest thou to set thyself against him that is not faulty, as many do. If thou being the weaker are overtaken hurt and wronged, oughtest thou to use new force, violence and murder to revenge thyself, and to repair thy injury received? The sword is in the hands of the King and of the Magistrate that representeth his person: and it belongeth to him only to use it against them that trouble public tranquillity and civil society; to the end thereshould be no show, that any other either would or durst meddle with the sovereignty, whose greatness and preservation consisteth in the administration of justice. Yea the laws have always so abhorred violence and private force, that they have restored thieves and robbers into those places which 
Men must not take the law into their own hands, although it be not rightly executed.  they unjustly possessed, if they had been driven from them by violence. But some man will say, that these things aught indeed to be duly considered of, if justice were executed, and had not forsaken the earth to devil in heaven. And how then canst thou execute it, seeing thou art not called to do, but to demand justice? Tarry, and the just judge will return double that which hath been unjustly taken from thee, which thou hast suffered, or which hath been denied thee, even then when you shalt have greater need than now that thy days are are so short: and then shalt thou live for ever of that which thou hast reaped in this poor and miserable life. Concerning honour, the injury whereof we fear more than of the other let us know that it cannot be hurt in a good man, because virtue, which is invincible, protecteth 
Of the office done to honour.  & dependeth it. But now adays we fetch it not so far off. For we will have our honour tied to the vain opinion of the world, which rejecteth & contemneth those men as cowards and base minded, that have but once put up the lest injury offered by another, but honoureth as noble and courageous those that can lustily kill their enemies. This is the cause why many, who would willingly forget an injury received, dare not do it for love of their friends: as also because they see, that it would rather be imputed unto them as a token of a faint heart, than of a desire to follow reason. But let all these blood suckers, inclined 
The execuse of quarrelers  to revenge and to murder, cover their beastly cruelty as well as they can, yet have they no other reason to disguise it but this, that it is an usual kind of behaviour now adays amongst men, to the end they may be welcomed, praised, and favoured of Kings, Princes, and great Lords, otherwise they must take a Cowl, and shut up themselves in some cloister, But they must needs affirm this withal, that they had rather undo and condemn themselves with the multitude, so they may have worldly honour, than be saved with the small number of honest men, except peradventure they will say, that they know no other life but this, and that they will live only for the world, without belief or hope of a second and eternal life. And albeit they confess a second life with their mouth, yet their deeds declare sufficiently, that they are altogether ignorant of the nature and happiness of the other life, and that they care not greatly to come unto it. But let us that are better instructed imitate Socrates, who being counseled to revenge a wrong received made this answer, what● If a Mastiff had bit me, or an ass given me a blow, would you have me serve writs upon them? So let us behave our writs towards them that are froward and vicious, making a great deal less account of their injuries, than of a blow that hurteth, which they cannot 
Socrates' voided of revenge.  do at all to our honour. As for good men we shall never be hurt by them, Now, if we draw near, although never so little, to the perfection of such a nature, much less aught we to be provoked and stirred up through any laughter or gibing which cannot touch or offend any but those that are troubled and carried away with passions, Thus much did Socrates wisely give one to understand, who told him that certain mocked him, I do not (quoth he) think that I 
We must not be moved with mocks.  am mocked. Hereupon I remember a notable answer made by one Ptolemaeus king of Egypt, who was counseled to punish a Grammarian. The king demanding of him by the way of gibing, who was father to Peleus, he made this answer: that he desired first to know who was Lagus his father, nothing thereby that the king was borne of base parentage, If it be unseemelte (quoth Ptolemaeus to his friends) for a king to be mocked, it is also undecent for him to mock another. Now although it be our duty to tread under foot all desire of revenge, and to make no account 
Ptolemaeus.  of injuries and mocks, yet it is lawful for us sometime, if we be disposed, and no greater offences arise thereof, to stop the mouths of such as are injurious and impudent, 
How a man may repulse a mock.  with a little short reply, not in wrath or choler, but with a certain meekness and grave smiling, and somewhat nippingly, so that it pass not the bounds of modesty. Cato knew well how to be have himself after this sort, who being iniurously dealt withal by one that had always 
Cato.  lived wickedly, said thus unto him: I am not able to deal with thee in this manner by contending with injuries. For thou hast thoroughly used thyself both to utterreproches freely, & to suffer with ●ase when any man offereth thee wrong or injury, But as for me, I delight neither in hearing, nor in uttering them. Likewise Demosthenes answered another in this sort: I will not enter into this combat with thee, 
Demosthenes.  wherein the vanquished is better than the vanquisher. Plato also being touched with injurious speeches, said: Go on to speak ill, seeing thou didst never learn to speak well. Lysander, Admiral of 
Plato.  the Lacedæmonians, being reviled with many bitter speeches, said to him that offered the injury: Spew out boldly my friend, spew out boldly and often, and spare not, to see if thou canst empty thy 
Lysander.  soul of that evil and wickedness wherewith it is replenished. Shall we think now, that these famous men, making so small account of injuries and wrongs, had any other bound than right 
The limits that are to be used in hearing the wicked.  and justice only in the hatred of the vices of wicked men, or that they would have sought by any other way for the satisfying of those wrongs, which they received? Let us consider how Scaurus behaved himself towards his enemy Domitius against whom he was to put up a complaint by way of justice. There was one of Domitius his servants, who before judgement was given of their process, came to Scaurus, and said, that he would disclose unto him a 
Scaurus.  matter of great importance against his master, which undoubtedly would 'cause him that was his adverse party to gain his suit, But he not minding to hear him any further, took order that he should be straightly bound, & so sent him to his master. The means which Agesilaus used to make his enemies his friends, in stead of revenging himself upon them, are worthy of eternal praise, and aught to move us greatly to correct our natural imperfections, so much 
How Agesilaus made his enemies his friends.  inclined to revenge. For when he could come to the knowledge of them, without any further show, he thrust them into public offices and charges. And if it fell out so that they committed any offence whereby they were drawn to judgement, he holp them as much as he could, by that means winning the friendship of every one. For although we commonly say, that as one and the same Sun softeneth the wax, and hardeneth the clay, so good deeds win the hearts of good men, but provoke the wicked; yet there is no man of so perverse a nature, whom a man cannot make his friend by plying him often with benefits, and when occasion is offered, by binding him with some notable good turn. For this cause Augustus, after the cospiracy of Cinna was discovered, notwithstanding that he had him in his power, being convicted by his own letter, yet he did not only forgive him, but taking 
Augustus.  him by the hand, swore friendship with him, and bestowed upon him great estates and dignities, wherein Cinna afterward served him faithfully. And it seemeth that for the same reason 
The Venetian  the Venetians having taken the Duke of Mautua their deadly enemy, in stead of taking his estate from him, they made him their General captain: so that he ever abode their faithful friend. Pontinus also an ancient captain of the Samnites, said, That they were either freely to set 
Pontinus.  at liberty the Roman army, which was surprised in the straits of the mountain Apeninus, and so make them loyal friends through the bond of so great a good turn, or else to put them all to death, thereby to take from the enemy a great part of his strength. Neither may we here let go in silence the discretion of Dyonisius the elder, king of Syracuse, in punishing an injury. Which example 
The prudence of Dyonisius in punishing evil speakers.  aught to 'cause all themto blush: who in fury and choler, after an injury received, or after some report thereof, seek presently for some cruel revenge. This king being told that two young men as they were drinking together, had spoken many outrageous words of him, he invited them both to supper. And perceiving that one of them, after he had taken a little wine into his head, uttered and committed much folly, and that contrariwise the other was very stayed, and drunk but a little, he punished this fellow as one that was malicious, and had been his enemy of set purpose, but forgave the other, as being drunken, and moved by the wine to speak ill of him. Concluding therefore our present discourse, let us learn that it is the property of a great and noble mind to be mild, gracious, and ready to forgive. and that it is a greater point of Magnanimity to surmount the common nature of men by a wonderful divinity of the soul, than to follow after that which beasts are able to do better than we. For many of them in this earthly generosity, whereof many men make so great account, excel and surpass the best of them all. In all debates and controversies with our enemies, let us retain (as Cicero counseleth us) gravity and constancy, and chase away all choler: because nothing that is done through perturbation can be done constantly, or be approved of any. Let us not be afraid (said Antisthenes) to wish all the good in the world to our enemies, except valour, which may make them rash to venture upon our life: and let us give over all will to procure them any 
Antisthenes' counsa●le.  hurt or displeasure, or any manner of revenge. Let us rather desire not to be spared of them in those things which are blame worthy in us, in that so we may be more ready to amend and correct them. Let us love our enemies, bless them that curse us, do good to them that hate and persecute us, overcoming evil with good, and leaving all vengeance to him that hath reserved it to himself, who by his power directeth the 
Matth. 5. 44.  n●tss, swords, hatchets, instruments and scourges of his wrath, all which are our enemies for the amendment of our life: and then shall we show forth those true effects of the virtue of Fortitude and Magnanimity, 
Rom. 1●. 19  with our heavenly Father requireth of us.   
The end of the ninth days work.   

The tenth days work.  

Of justice. Chap. 37.  ASER, 
TRue Philosophy (saith Socrates) is to know and to practise both privately and publicly those things that are honest and just. This is that prudence which teacheth us well and nobly to govern both domestical 
What true Philosophy is  and civil affairs, the name whereof is Temperance and justice. By which speech this wise Philosopher taught us the strait and unseparable conjunction and knot of the four moral virtues, being nevertheless distinguished by their proper and particular effects. Which having hitherto offered us matter wherein to rejoice our spirits about the three first rivers flowing out of the fountain of honesty, thereremaineth now for us to consider of the last of them, which although it be but one particular, yet in truth it is the very perfection of all duty, and is called justice: the precepts whereof if we keep diligently, we shall truly become images of God his essence, and be made according to his likeness. Let us then begin my Companions, to entreat of this great and heavenly virtue.  AMANA. 
justice (saith Cicero) is the mistress of all the other virtues, and as it were their Queen. She is the groundwork of everlasting glory and renown, and without her nothing can be praise worthy. 
The first-fruits and effects of justice.  She putteth a difference between the good and the bad, which being taken away (saith Seneca) nothing followeth but confusion. For to reward the wicked and not the good, to afflict the virtuous, and not to chastise the evil man, is to make a gallimausrey of vice and virtue.  ARAM. 
What is justice but godliness (saith Lactantius) and what is godliness but the knowledge 
What justice is.  of God our Father? Notwithstanding in respect of us, justice is commonly taken for an equal distribution of right and of laws. But of thee (ACHITOB) we shall presently understand the greatness and riches of this precious virtue, and the unspeakable first-fruits which she distributeth liberally for the profit of all men.  ACHITOB. 
No kingdom, common wealth, or city (saith Plato) can be either well ruled or instituted 
Three things necessary in every commonwealth.  in the beginning, or preserved and kept in a happy estate without divine or human justice, without the counsel of the aged, or without the favour of the heavenly wisdom. Now that is divine justice (as Lactantius saith) whereby we are joined to God by devotion and good will: and human justice knitteth us unto men by mercy and humanity. Whereby we see that the foundation of all justice is grounded upon that honour and service which we own to God, whereupon we 
The ground of justice.  are induced to be dutiful to our neighbours according to charity. Therefore we must above all things love justice, and apply all our study thereunto, seeing it is the first and principal point that concerneth the direction of a Christian's man's life, yea more are partakers of the fruit thereof, than of any other virtue. justice (saith Seneca) is the law of God, and the bond of human society. For avoiding therefore of confusion in this matter, we say with Plato, that justice 
The distinction of justice.  observed and kept towards God, taketh unto it the name of piety. But we will enter into the handling of that justice only, which hath respect to our dealing with men, being by the same Plato called an equal distribution towards all the world, according to the deserts of every one, and a sure foundation of cities and commonwealths. He saith also, that justice requireth upright dealing throughout a man's calling and charge, and that nothing is more like to the greatness of God, than a man perfectly just. Aristotle calleth justice a general 
Whosoever hath justice perfectly hath all the virtues.  virtue, because he that hath her perfectly, may boast that he hath within him all the other virtues. For he could not know what were just and unjust, nor make choice of the one and fly from the other, if he were not prudent, to which virtue that thing doth properly belong. Neither could he exercise the precepts of justice, if by temperance he knew not how to moderate all his passions and private affections, not suffering himself to be overcome either with wine, gluttony, lust, covetousness, or with any other desires and motions, which hinder the use of reason. Besides, he could not practise one principal and divine point of justice, which is, to secure with all his might the afflicted and oppressed, and to provide that no man be wronged if it lie in his power, notwithstanding any danger whereunto he may fall, although it be certain loss of life, and of all earthly and transitory goods, I say he could not practise this, if through Fortitude and Generosity he contemn not death, the earth, and whatsoever savoureth of the world, that he may be (so far forth as his human nature will suffer) a follower of the divinity. justice (saith Cicero) is a constant and perpetual will and desire to give to every one his right. She is the proper virtue of a noble minded man, because she is profitable to others, but to herself fruitless, laborious, and perilous. Yea that man only may be called just that profiteth as many as he can, but hurteth none, that is always at agreement within himself, and is a friend to God, to men, and to himself. justice (saith Diogenes) worketh great tranquility and perfect felicity in our souls. For to be afraid of none, and not to blush at the sight of any man's person, bringeth with it great contentarion, and is as it were the perfection of life, which is proper only to a just soul. justice (saith Hesindus) is a chaste and reverent virgin, not violated or defiled, but lodged always with 
The praise of justice. Respect of persons is not to be used in the practice of justice.  shamefastness, chastity, and simplicity. Pindarus calleth her the Queen of all the world. Pythagoras' teaching by his riddlelike precepts, how a man aught to beware of transgressing justice, saith: Go not beyond the balance. If we purpose (saith Plato) to exercise justice perfectly, we must make no difference of men in regard either of their friendship, kindred, wealth, poverty, or dignity. This virtue (saith Cicero) requires of us the forsaking of our pleasures & private commodity, that we may procure the benefit of the Commonwealth, although it be to our peril and loss. And those men command and govern very well, who forbidden us to do any thing whereof we doubt whether it be just or unjust: because equity is so clear of itself, that when we doubt of any thing, we may be assured that there is some injustice in it. Aristotle and Cicero divide justice into these two parts, Distributive and Commutative. Distributive justice consisteth in giving to every one according to his desert, whether it be honour 
The division of justice. The disteren●e bet●●ene Commutative and Dissolutive justice. The 〈◊〉 of justice. The necessity of justice.  and dignity, or punishment. Commutative justice is in keeping fidelity, and in causing it to be kept in promises and contracts, and in behaving ourselves no otherwise to another, than we would be dealt withal. Many parts and particular duties are also attributed by the Philosophers to justice, as Liberality and sundry other, whereof we will particularly discourse hereafter. But we must here learn, that the end of all justice tendeth to the preservation of the common society of men. For the preservation of the laws (which are the Guardian & Tutor of good men, and a mortal enemy to the wicked) is so necessary for every estate & condition of life, that (as Cicero saith) the very pirates, thieves & robbers could not live together without some part thereof. If we desire to know more of her unspeakable first-fruits, let us consider that which Paulus the Pythagorean hath written, saying: justice among men aught in my opinion to be called the mother & nurse of all the other virtues. For without her no man could be either temperate, valiant or prudent: the profit whereof will be very evident if we consider all her effects. For the providence of God is that justice which governeth the world, & hath the principality over it. In cities & towns justice is 
divers ●●●es 〈◊〉 ●●st●●●● divers respects.  rightly called Equity and Peace: in particular houses between the husband and the wife, Unity & Concord: in respect of servants towards their masters, Goodwill: of masters towards their servants, Humanity and Gentleness: and in men's bodies, Health & Perfection of the members. Thus you see that justice is the beginning & perfection of all the virtues. By these short sayings of ancient & grave personages, the excellency of this holy and sacred virtue justice, appeareth sufficiently unto us. Yea it is so earnestly commanded by the spirit of God unto Magistrates in these words of exercising judgement and justice, so often repeated, that whosoever infringeth and violateth it, cannot 
jerem. 21. 12. & 22. 3.  avoid the curse and wrath of the Almighty, which will both light upon their own heads, and also work the destruction of them that are committed to their charge. It belongeth to justice, to receive the innocent into protection and safeguard, to maintain, defend, sustain, 
What justice and judgeare.  and deliver them: and to judgement, to resist the boldness of the wicked, to repress their violence, and to punish their offences: because Magistrates are therefore armed with the sword and with power, that public peace should not be disturbed. This also is that which Solon meant to teach us, when he said: That the greatness and preservation of all Commonwealths consisteth in two things in the reward of the good, and in the punishment of the wicked: which being taken away, the whole discipline of human society must needs be dissolved and come to nothing. For there are many that have no great care to do well, if they see not virtue recompensed with some honour: although this beseemeth not a noble minded man, who aught to do nothing but only for the love of virtue. And again, the malice of the wicked cannot be bridled, if they see not vengeance and punishment prepared for offenders. All these above specified considerations did so greatly recommend justice to the men of old time, and caused them to esteem so much of it, that whensoever occasion was offered to maintain and execute it, it was preferred before all things: insomuch that the father did not pardon his own son. The Egyptians were the ancientest Lawmakers, as Historiographers report, and were very careful and diligent observers of justice. In their cities they painted judges 
The Egyptians were zealous of justice How they painted judges.  without hands, and the Precedent or chief justice with his eyes blindfolded: to teach, that justice aught not to be either a briber or respecter of persons, that is, she must neither take any thing, nor judge for any favour. The kings of their country observed this order, to 'cause judges when they were installed by them in their offices, to swear, that albeit they were commanded by them to judge unjustly, yet they should not obey them. Since their time, the ancient Grecians and Romans showed themselves great, true, and zealous followers of this virtue of justice, and that towards their greatest enemies. They judged it a very noble 
The Grecians and Romans.  act to accuse the wicked, so it were not upon any any private occasion or passion: they delighted greatly to see young men by way of justice to pursue transgressors, as grayhounds well fl●●ht follow after w●lde beasts. This caused Solon being demanded what city seemed to him to be best governed, to answer: That city where in they that are not wronged, do as eagerly follow after satisfaction in the behalf of another man wronged, as if themselves had received the injury. 
What 〈◊〉 is be●●●overned.  For the truth is (quoth he) that they which violate and break laws, do not offend one man alone, but the whole city and commonwealth: therefore every aught to desire and seek after just punishment. Moreover, the severity which the Lacedæmonians observed in their judgements, procured such a public safety, that for a long time they used not to put either locks to coffers, or bars to gates. Aristotle maketh mention of a certain country, where the inhabitants were to assure the safety of the ways, and to repay unto passengers that loss, which they had received by thieves and robbers. Neither is it long since the like statute was observed in many places of Italy. But I stand greatly in doubt, that at this day it is ilfavoredlie kept. OH happy, yea an hundred times happy was the golden age of those famous men, full of heavenly spirit, because under their government justice was had in such honour and reverence. But let us rub up the memory hereof by some notable examples. If any thing causeth Magistrates to commit injustice, it is chiefly the favour which they bear, 
Examples of the love of justice. Cleon.  and the bond wherewith they are bound more to some than to others. Therefore Cleon the Lacedaemonian minding to deal in public affairs, gathered all his friends together, and told them that he renounced and discharged himself of all their friendship, because friendship many times caused men to yield, and to step aside from their good and right purposes in matters of judgement. True it is that when we have none but good men to our friends, who are moved and possessed with the same zeal to virtue that we are, as before was mentioned, we shall never fall into these inconveniences. The example of Aristides the Athenian his love 
Aristides.  unto justice, is worthy of special remembrance. For calling into the law an enemy of his, after he had set down his accusation, the judges were so moved against the accused party, for the impiety of the fact in controversy, that they would have condemned him unheard: so greatly did they trust to the honesty of the accuser, that he had set down nothing but the very truth. But Aristides, who for his great and rare virtue had before deserved the surname of Just, went with the accused party and cast himself at the judges feet, beseeching them, that he might be heard, to justify and to defend himself, according as the laws commanded. Further, one writeth of him, that when he was upon a time judge between two parties that pleaded before him, one said: My adversary hath done thee great wrong, Aristides. But he forthwith interrupting his talk, made this answer; My friend, declare only whether he hath wronged thee. For I am hereto do thee right, and not myself: showing thereby, that justice aught to be executed without any private passion, revenge, or choler, where withal many at this day are overcome. junius Brutus Consul of Rome, condemned his two sons, Titus and Tiberius to be beheaded, being convicted for conspiring the reentry of Tarqvinius race unto 
I B●tus.  the kingdom of Rome, from whence they had been vanquished for wickedness and whoredom. Truly a notable example, and clean contrary to those that are favourers and accepters of persons. Photion refused to help his son in law charilus in judgement, being accused for taking certain money unjustly, saying unto him: That he made him his Alley in all 
Photion.  just and reasonable matters only. Alexander the Great used this commendable custom as he sat in place of justice to hear criminal causes pleaded, that whilst the accuser declared his 
Alexander.  accusation, he stopped one of his ears with his hand, to the end he might keep it pure and upright, not admitting thereinto (as he gave them to understand) any prejudicate or false impression, that so he might hear the accused party speak in his own defence and justification. Truly an example meet for Kings and Princes, that they should not lightly believe slanderers, nor give sentence of execution presently upon their report and persuasion: because they aught not to take pleasure, or to glut themselves as it were, with some pleasant pastime, in the corrections and punishments of men, which is the property of a tyrant. Neither aught they, after the punishment is inflicted, to repent them thereof, which is a token of ignorance, and baseness of mind: but justice must see execution done when reason and judgement require, and that without either grief or pleasure. Augustus Caesar knowing that Asprenas a very familiar friend of his, was accused in judgement, and fearing that if he went 
Augustus.  to the place where the matter was to be heard, he should offer wrong to justice, as also if he went not, he should seem to abandon his friend, as judging him culpable: he asked counsel of the Senate, with whom he resolved to be present at the judgement of his friend, but to speak nothing, because in so doing he should neither do him wrong, nor violate justice. Agesilaus king of Lacedaemonia deserved likewise great praise for his virtue, albeit he were a very assured friend to his friend, and of a gentle nature, ready to employ himself in the behalf 
Agesilaus.  of all them that stood in need of him. Nevertheless, when a friend of his contended with him about a matter, which he desired to obtain of this Prince, saying, that he had made him a promise thereof: If the thing (quoth he) be just, I have promised it; but if it be unjust, I have not promised, but only spoken it. He used also to say, that he esteemed justice as chief of all the virtues, and that valour was of no value if it were not joined therewith, yea would be needless if all men were just. And when certain men who were sent unto him to 

prows without justice is worth nothing.  
The difference between a great and little king   confer about some agreement, said one day unto him, that the great king would have it so: wherein (quoth he unto them) is he greater than I, if he be not more just? Whereby he judged very well, that the difference between a great and a little king aught to be taken from justice, as from a kingly measure and rule, according unto which they aught to govern their subjects, seeing they were at the first established to do justice, as Herodotus speaking of the Medes, and Cicero of the Romans, make mention. This is that which a poor old woman signified to Philip king of Macedonia, when she came to him to have her complaint heard. To whom when the king made answer, that he had no leisure at that time to hear her, 
Philip.  she cried with a loud and clear voice, Be not then king. Whereupon this meek Prince (by which name he said he had rather be called for a long time, than by the name of Lord for a little while) was so touched at the heart with the consideration of his duty, that he returned presently into his palace, where setting aside all other affairs, he gave himself many days to hear all their complaints and requests that would come before him, beginning first with the said poor woman. Another time being overtaken with sleep, and not well hearing the justification and defence of one Machetas, he condemned him in a certain sum. Whereupon the said party cried out aloud, that he appealed to Philip after he should be thoroughly awake. Which being noted by the said Prince, he would needs hear him again: and afterward declared him not guilty, paying notwithstanding with his own money that sum wherein he had before condemned him, that so he might keep inviolable the authority of of his sentence. The Emperor Traian is justly commended of Historiographers, because he 
Tra●anus.  alighted from his horse, as he was going to war, only to hear the complaint which a poor woman was about to make unto him. And truly nothing doth so properly belong unto, or is so well beseeming a prince of a good and gentle nature, as the practice and exercise of justice. Therefore when the Hebrews asked a king of Samuel, they added this, To judge us like all nations. 
1. Sam. 8. 5.  Yea these heads which had the sovereignty over them before were only in the nature of judges. It is justice only, which through the grace of God causeth kingdoms and monarchies 
What causeth kingdoms to flourish.  to flourish: as Archidamus did very well signify to one, who asked of him what were those governors of the Lacedaemonian common wealth, by whose means it was maintained in such and so great glory as was then to be seen: They (are said he) the laws first, and next the magistrates observing the laws. Moreover, the law must be the rule of justice, as justice is the end of the law. In some other place we shall understand more at large by the grace of God, what the law is, and how we are to obey it, where also we will consider particularly of the duty of Magistrates and of their dignity. In the mean time let us mark well for our instruction the notable sayings and examples of ancient men here mentioned of us, which do sufficiently testify unto us how greatly they recommended the preservation of this virtue of justice. Whereof if we believe (as the truth is) that God is the author, that he doth continually exercise the same amongst us, by visible testimonies, and that he will bring it to a full period 
God is the author of justice.  and perfection at the appointed time, which is only known to him, let us take good heed that we neither contemn nor violate it. Let such as are decked with diadems for the administration of justice, who nevertheless commit this duty to others under them, make 
What manner of men magistrates aught to be.  choice of sufficient and able men to bear so heavy a charge, I mean able, both for their learning, and also for their good example of life. Otherwise let them be sure, that this great judge will require at their hands the wrong that is offered to innocency. To meet with which inconvenience, and to take away the cause of so many abuses and naughty dealings which now adays are known to such as are most ignorant, to the utter overthrow of a million of poor families, I think that this is one of the best and surest means, not to leave justice, which is so precious a thing, to the licence of any whosoever will take it upon him, whereby 
One mean whereby the ab●●● o●●ustice may be taken a●●●. The inconvenience that 〈…〉  it is set to open sale, as it were some merchandise of small account. Which dealing (that I may speak my mind freely) giveth occasion, yea constraineth those men to take bribes and to be covetous, who (according to the counsel of ●et●ro given to Moses) aught to be faithest from it. For so long as the places of judgement shall be u●ndible, and bestowed upon him that offereth most, we shall always see that for money, such as are most ignorant worst livers & unworthiest, will be the first and chiefest. Now what justice can be hoped for of s●●● men? For after they are once placed therein, the chiefest respect ●s to reap gain pron● and advantage, according to that value and rate of money which they laid out upon it. Did my office cost me so much? then it must be thus much worth unto me. For if I had employed my money elsewhere, I might have had thus much of revenues and inheritance. Truly this saying full of impiety never caused them to blush that have uttered it sundry times, although it hath wrought the same effect in many that have heard it. The Emperor Alexander, and after him 
The saying of Alexander and jews the 12.  jews the 12. used this speech long since by way of prophecy, That buyers of offices would cell by retail as dear as they could, that which they brought in grass. And for this cause a wise Politician of our time hath written very learnedly, that they which set to sale estates, offices and benefices, cell withal the most sacred thing in the world, which is justice They cell the commonwealth, they cell the blood of the subjects, they cell the laws: and taking away the reward of honour, of virtue, of knowledge, of godliness, of religion, they open a gate to thefts, to bribes, to covetousness, to injustice, to ignorance, to impiety: in a word, to all kind of vice and filthiness. Neither do I doubt but that they which buy them are as greatly to be reproved, 
Against buyers of offices.  and blamed, as those that cell them: because they minister life and nourishment, as much as in them lieth, to this monstrous Hydra of covetousness and lucre, which sucketh up and devoureth the substance of the poor. But they will say, if we lay not out our money hereupon, others will do it that are as well provided with coin, and yet peradventure are not so zealous of justice as we are. What? wilt thou do evil for fear lest another should do it before thee? Besides, if thou considerest thyself well, what leadeth thee hereunto but ambition or covetousness? And if peradventure some one among a hundred is touched with a good desire to profit and to serve his country, what can he do alone amongst ten that are corrupted? But let this be spoken without offence to good men, who for the most part bewail their estate and condition being in such company. And let not such buyers of offices think, that because of their bought estates they deserve any honour, (if for other respects they are not worthy) which is the reward of virtue only: but rather let them know, that they deceive themselves no less than those men did, who thought to fly with the golden wings, of Euripides: making that thing of the heaviest matter that could be, which aught to be most light. The Emperor Aurelianus was so fearful of placing an unworthy man in the 
Aurelianus.  seat of judgement, that he never preferred any to the dignity of a Senator, but with the consent of the whole Senate. But to end our speech, we will hold this, that nothing is more necessary to guide and to order the life of man to her proper and happy end, than the virtue of justice: which being taken from amongst us, all other virtues, sequester themselves far from us, giving place to the perturbations of our souls, which draw us into ruin and confusion. And when as the greater sort being well instructed in their duty, bestow the administration 
A mean to preserve policies.  of justice upon those men only that deserve it, opening that gate unto them only for their virtue, then do they put in ure the first point requisite for the preservation of their estates, namely, the recompensing of good men. This will 'cause every one to seek out the way that leadeth to virtue, whose property it is to bring men to honour. And from this good begiuning will proceed the other point no less necessary, being the entire ornament and preservation of justice, namely, the punishment of the wicked: so that all things shall be maintained in good order, to the benefit, rest, profit and greatness of this French Monarchy.   

Of Injustice, and of Severity. Chap. 38.  ACHITOB. 
AS there is but one only way to hit the white, and many to miss it, by shooting either higher or lower than is requisite: so fareth it with our actions, which 
A pretty comparison.  cannot be good but after one sort, but are evil many ways. This is that which we noted before in discoursing of three principal virtues, called Moral, which consist in the midst of two vices, namely: too little and too much. And this may also be noted in the fourth of 
Every virtue is in the midst of two vices.  those virtues, whereof we entreated even now, whose defect and contrary vice is Injustice, and her excess and sergeant follower is Severity. Of which vices, according to the order begun by us, we are now to discourse. This matter therefore I leave to you my Companions.  ASER. 
They make themselves guilty of great Injustice, who being appointed of God to persecute the wicked with the sword drawn, will (forsooth) keep their hands clean from blood, whereas the wicked in the mean while commit murder, and offer violence untroubled. But it is no less cruelty to punish no offence, than not to forgive any in whomsoever it be: the one being an abuse of clemency, the true ornament of a Sovereign: and the other, to turn authority into tyranny. Nevertheless Magistrates in the execution of justice aught to take great heed, ●east by overgreat severity they hurt more than they heal.  AMANA. 
As a Goldsmith can make what vessel he will, when the dross is taken from the silver: so when the froward man is taken away from the king's presence, his throne shall be established in justice. Notwithstanding the seat of a judge that is too severe, seemeth 
How the thrones of kings may be established in justice.  to be a Gibbet already erected. But we shall understand of thee ARAM, the nature and effects of these vices, Injustice, and Severity.  ARAM. 
None are so perverse, nor given over so much to the desires and concupiscencer 
All men have some knowledge of good and evil, and some inward sense of a divine nature.  of their flesh, that they can utterly deface through oblivion the knowledge of good & evil, or the inward apprehension of some divine nature, both which are joined together in all men. Insomuch that by reason of that which urgeth them within their souls, they are constrained to confess themselves culpable for their unjust deeds before the judicial throne of this Deity. Therefore with what impudence soever the wicked outwardly gloze their corrupt dealings, as if they gloried in them, yet seeing they have, as well by the testimony of their conscience, as by proof and experience, this knowledge even against their wills, that Injustice is unfruitful, barren, and ungrateful, bringing forth nothing worthy of any account; after many great labours and travels which it affordeth them, the remembrance of their unpure deeds abateth their courage, and maketh it full of trouble and confusion. So 
The first-fruits of Injustice in the wicked.  that although a corrupt and naughty man, during the sway of his vicious passion, persuadeth himself, that by committing a wicked and execrable deed, he shall enjoy some great and assured contentation, yet the hear, thirst, and fury of his passion being overpassed, nothing remaineth but vile and perilous perturbations of Injustice, nothing that is either profitable, necessary, or delectable. Moreover, this troubleth his mind, that through his dishonest desires he hath filled his life with shame, danger, distrust, and terror of the just judgement of God. For these causes the Philosophers speaking of injustice, said very well, that there was no vice whereof a man aught to be more ashamed than of that, because it is a malice and naughtiness that hath no excuse. For seeing men have this inward sense and feeling, that their very thoughts do accuse or absolve them before God, they aught to make account thereof, as of a watchman that watcheth and prieth into them to discover all those things which they would gladly hide if they could. This caused Cicero to say, that it is more against nature to spoil another man, and to see one man to increase his riches by the hurt of another, than either death, or poverty, or grief, or any loss of goods, belonging either to the body or to fortune. And if a good man neither may nor aught for profit sake, to slander, deceive, lie, or execute any such like things: it is certain, that there is nothing in this world of so great value, no treasure so precious, which should move us to forego the brightness and 
Virtue is to be preferred before all worldly things. Injustice is a general vice.  name of virtuous and just. Now as we learned before, that justice was a general virtue, so Injustice also comprehendeth all those vices whereinto men commonly fall. For this is Injustice, not to give to every one that which belongeth unto him. In respect of God it taketh the name of Impiety, in regard of men, of denial of rights and laws. Our discourse is of this latter, which bringeth forth pernicious effects after diverse manners, destroying all duties of honesty. But not to stay overlong in the kinds of Injustice we will note this, that we are so many 
How many ways a man may be unrust.  ways guilty of Injustice, as we deny to our neighbours those duties which we own unto them, and which our vocation requireth of us: as also when we seek to in rich ourselves by their hindrance, whether it be openly, or by sinister and subtle means against Christian sincerity, which aught to shine in all our dealings. Let us see how the Ancients hated this vice, and spoke of the pernicious effects thereof. No man (saith Socrates) aught to commit any unjust act, how small soever it be, for any treasure, wealth, or profit, which he may hope to reap thereby: because all the treasures of the earth are not to be compared to the lest virtue of the soul. For this cause all men jointly aught to have this one end and intent, that when they profit themselves, they should also be beneficial to every one. For if all men should have respect but to their own, their unity would soon be dissolved. And although it were so (said Cato) that Injustice did procure no peril to him that doth practise it, yet would it to all others. Plato calleth it a corruption of the soul, and a civil sedition which never looseth strength, not not in those that have it only within themselves. For it causeth a wicked man to be at variance within himself: it urgeth, troubleth, and turmoileth him continually, until it have plunged him in the gulf of all vices: whereupon afterward he easily over floweth in all impiety, not caring for any thing but to satisfy his unbridled desires. And if it fall out that they who have the sword in hand to correct Injustice, do either authorize or practise it themselves, then is the gate of all miseries opened upon every one, through the unruly licence of the wicked, who wallow in all kind of cruelty: from whence all disorder and confusion proceedeth to the utter ruin and and final subversion of most flourishing towns and cities, and in the end, of Empires, Kingdoms, and Monarchies. Thus doth Injustice disannul the force of laws, which are the foundation of every estate: it is an enemy to good men, and the guardian and tutor to the wicked. Briefly, it bringeth forth all effects contrary to those which we mentioned to be the first-fruits of justice, and is the well spring of the other vices that hinder duty. Is it not Injustice that giveth authority to murders, robberies, violent dealings, and to other damnable vices, which at this 
The effects of Injustice.  day are unpunished, and are the cause that of many great, goodly, and wealth families, poor widows only and orphans, quite undone, do remain, crying for vengeance, and expecting it from above, for the wrong that is offered to their innocency? How many such are set before our eyes by histories, which are the light of truth? But alas the unhappiness of our age is grown to greater measure. How many of the greater sort, I mean of the governors and magistrates of this desolate kingdom, may justly challenge that praise whereby Pericles' 
Pericles.  captain and governor of the Athenians, thought himself more honoured, than by all his brave exploits done in his life time, either in war, or in politic government, wherein he was the chiefest of his time, and which his friends laid before his eyes, being ready to die, thereby to assure him, and to 'cause him to rejoice in a true immortality of glory? OH my friends 
A notable example for every civil Magistrate.  (said he unto them) Fortune hath had her part in those exploits: but I make greater account of this, that I never caused any of my Countrymen to lament, or to wear a mourning gown, which only thing aught to be attributed to my virtue. OH excellent and honourable praise, which every good man aught to seek after, and to desire: namely, to be no cause of bringing sorrow and grief to the commonwealth through any act of Injustice. Moreover this virtuous Athenian died willingly and without repining, taking delight in an acceptable remembrance of those good turns, which he had done to his Countrymen. But contrariwise, it will be a very hard matter for others, who have been the cause of many evils to their country, and for all those that delight in committing Injustice, not to die in great fear, horror, and trembling, tormented with remorse of conscience for their life past. The whole course whereof cannot be 
Why the life of the wicked cannot be happy.  much more unhappy, seeing every wicked act engendering it own torment from the very instant wherein it is committed, through the continual remembrance thereof filleth the soul of the malefactor with shame and confusion, with frights and perturbations, with repining and terrible disquietness of spirit. This is that which Plutarch saith, That every wicked man committing a trespass, is the prisoner of justice as soon as he hath done it. This life is his prison, out of which he hath no mean to departed, or to fly, but is to receive the execution of that sentence which is given against him by the sovereign judge. And if in the mean time he feast it out, sand presents and gifts, yea if he solace himself with sundry sports, delights, and pleasures, it is all one as if condemned men that were prisoners should play at dices and cards, and use other 
A comparison.  pastime, with the halter over their heads wherewith they must be strangled. But there are many men that cannot be better compared than to little children, who seeing men worth nothing, to dance and play upon a Theatre, appareled with cloth of gold and silver, or with 
A comparison.  other rich garments, and crowned with precious ornaments, have them in great estimation and admiration, and think them happy, until in the end they see them pierced through with great thrusts of a spear, or hewn in pieces with swords, or behold fire coming out of those goodly precious robes of gold, which consumeth them. The self same thing is by them, 
The wrong conceit which men have of the wicked that prospero.  who when they see many wicked men, either placed in great authority and dignity, or descending of good and famous houses, they honour, admire, and esteem them the happiest men and most at ease in the world: never considering that they are chastised and punished for their offences, before they see them either put to death, or else quite fallen from the height of their fortune. Now seeing it is a thing flatly confessed of those that have any knowledge of our Philosophy, and proved sufficiently by our former discourse, that nothing can be called honourable or profitable which proceedeth of Injustice or of malice, that excuse which men given over to vice do commonly allege to cloak their impiety withal, namely, that Injustice bringeth with it very ripe and ready fruit, and that the punishment if there be any, cometh very late and long time after the delight taken by the offence, hath no more any show of reason in it. For, as we have already learned, the punishment of any sin is equal 
The punishment of sin is equal with it both for age & time. All things are present with God.  with it both for age and time. Furthermore God permitteth oftentimes his divine judgement to be publicly known and showed upon the unjust: yea he declareth himself so much the more openly, by how much the less men exercise justice and upright dealing. And yet in respect of his majesty, we must not look unto time, which is always one and the same to him, and not future or past: yea the whole continuance of man's life is as nothing unto him, and less than the present instant. But if according to our carnal senses, we desire examples of the greatness and swiftness of his wrath, justly kindled over our heads for our execrable impieties, contrary to the nature of his gentleness and benignity, which moved him to wait for us along time; who can be ignorant of them in the unspeakable affliction of this poor France, wherein it werevery hard in man's judgement to discern, whether is most lamentable, either injustice, or the misery and calamity, which by the vengeance of God followeth it, the horrible punishment whereof the fautors of iniquity both have and daily do feel upon their heads? Those commonwealths (saith Cicero) which are ready to be overthrown, 
A sure token 〈…〉 common wealth.  and have all things forlorn and desperate in them, fall into this miserable issue, that they whom the laws condemn are restored, and judgements given are recovered and broken. And when such things come to pass, let none be ignorant of this, that destruction is at hand, neither can any man justly conceive hope of safety. What other thing can I say of France (I would to God I were deceived) seeing that all justice is turned topsy-turvy therein, the wicked are placed in authority, and good men driven away: suits in law are commenced 
The miserable estate of France.  against every one more upon knavery than equity, corroption than integrity, favour than uprightness? But to the end that the greater sort, and every particular man may open his eyes and behold this shipwreck that threateneth us, let us consider in our Ancestors, through the reading of histories, the like causes of the ruin, alteration, and subversion of many very flourishing estates, proceeding from the reign of Injustice, which being the daughter of tyranny (as Dionrsius the elder said) must needs be of the same nature: namely, that by usurping an unjust and intolerable dominion, it must of necessity fall speedily into a miserable and wretched end. We have in all our former discourses alleged sundry examples of vices, which (as we said even now) take their beginning, or at lest wise are inseparably joined with Injustice, and hereafter we will make mention of others, when we handle certain points, 
The denial of justice is dangerous, Philip.  which properly depend of this self same original. In the mean while we will here note, that the denial of justice hath procured to many their death or undoing. Philip the first, king of Macedonia, was slain by Pausanias a mean gentleman, because he would not let him have justice against Antipater, who had offered him wrong. Demetrius the besieger, having received 
Demetrius.  many requests and supplications of his subjects, threw them all into the water, as he went over the bridge of a river: whereupon his subjects conceived such hatred against him, that within a while after his army forsook him, and yielded themselves to Pyrrhus his enemy, who drove him out of his kingdom without battle. In our time, Henry king of Sweathland, striking with a dagger a Gentleman that asked justice of him, stirred up the Nobility and people 
Henry King of Sweathland.  in such sort against him, that putting him into prison, where he is at this present, they elected his younger brother to be their king, who now reigneth. But for a more wonderful matter, we might here rehearse, how God, to show unto us his detestation of Injustice, hath sometime, suffered his judgement to fall out in that very hour and time, which such as were unjustly condemned did assign to their unjust judges. In the lives of the kings of Castille, we find that Ferdinando the fourth of that name, putting two knights to death more through anger than justly, one of them cried aloud in this sort: OH unjust king, we cite thee 
A notable histore of the death of Ferdinando the fourth.  to appear within thirty days before the tribunal seat of jesus Christ to receive judgement for thy Injustice, seeing there is no other judge in earth to whom we can appeal from thy unjust sentence. Upon the last of which days he died likewise. True it is, some man may say, that death is so natural, and the hour thereof so uncertain, although determined, that no other cause thereof aught to be supposed, but only necessity. But yet when it followeth so nearly some notable wickedness committed, and some disquietness and torment of mind is mingled therewith in the soul, as it commonly falleth out, we may take such a death for a testimony and beginning of the justice of God, who will not suffer the unjust man to rule any longer, but exerciseth his judgements diversly in due time and season, upon those that are not to give an account of their doings to men like themselves. And as for such as are of meaner estate, and lower in degree, God suffereth also many times their punishment to be notorious, and that sometime by such as are not much better than themselves. Hereupon Apollonius that great Philosopher said, that in his peregrination over three parts of the world, he marveled most at two things, whereof the first was, that he always saw the greater the eves hung the less and oftentimes the innocent. And thus it fell out in the time of king Philip the 
Notable Injustice comm●●ted by a Provost of Paris.  long, wherein a Provost of Paris, named Henry Lapperell, caused a poor man that was prisoner in the Castelet to be executed, by giving him the name of a rich man, who being guilty and condemned, was set at liberty by him. But this reward followed him hard at the heels: being for the same accused, convicted, hanged, and strangled. Not long after, a precedent of the Parliament, named Hugue of Crecy, met with the same fortune, for a certain corrupt judgement given by him. Therefore let every one of us learn to fly from this pernicious vice of injustice: 
Hugue of Crecy.  namely, from every action repugnant to the duty of Christian charity, & destroying the bond of human society, through the utter spoiling of the rivers that flow from the fountain of honesty. And let us be afraid through such impiety to fall into the indignation and wrath of the Almighty, to whom only (as to the author of justice, and to whom all time is as nothing) it belongeth to define and to determine thereof, when, after what sort, and how far it standeth with reason, all which things are unknown to us. If he defer sometime the punishment of Injustice, let us know that it is for their greater and more grievous condemnation, who multiply and heap daily upon their heads iniquity upon iniquity. And for an example, which great men aught to follow, and not suffer injustice to be practised according to every man's fancy, or under any other pretence whatsoever, we will propound unto them the fact of a Pagan king, who shall rise up in judgement against them, if they do otherwise. The prince I mean is Artaxerxes, surnamed Longhand, and 
Artaxerxes.  king of the Persians', who being requested by a Chamberlain of his whom he greatly favoured, to do some unjust thing, and having by his diligence found out, that he undertook this suit for another, who had promised him thirty thousand crowns, called of them Dariques, he commanded his treasurer to bring the like sum unto him, and then said unto his chamberlain, Take this money which I give thee. For in giving it unto thee, I shall be never the poorer, whereas If I had done that which thou requirest of me, I should have been more unjust. Alexander Severus the Emperor handled after another fashion, yea more justly, a servant of his, who used like a horseleech of 
Alexander Severus.  the court to suck their blood that had to deal with his master, by thrusting himself forward, & proffering his means to fulfil their request for a good reward, by reason of the favour which he bore him: which turned to the great dishonour of his imperial Majesty, because a Prince aught not to make greater account of any thing, than of the grace and favour of his gifts and benefits. This monarch caused him to be tied to a post and choked with smoke, making this proclamation by sound of trumpet, That they which cell smoke, should so perish with smoke. Now to enter into the last 
The punishment of one who sold his master's favour.  point of the matter which is here propounded unto us, we must diligently note, that as it is the duty of all magistrates, and of such as have authority over others to chastise and to punish every malefactor, so likewise they must beware lest under pretence of exercising justice they fall into another kind of injustice through overmuch rigour, which is as hurtful or rather more than that vice whereof we discoursed even now, namely, into Severity, which caused them to be misliked for 
Of Severity.  cruelty, and belongeth rather to a beastly & savage nature, than to the nature of man. For clemency, and compassion never aught to be separated from a good and just sentence, which is to hold small faults excused, or but lightly to punish them, provided always that justice be not violated. Clemency (saith the wise man) is the true preservation of the royal throne. And therefore one of the Ancients said, that it was i'll to be subject to a prince under whom nothing was tolerated, but worse 
Clemency preserve prince his throne. Prou 20. 28. M. Torquatus. Aufidius.  when all things were left at random. We may allege here for an example of over great severity the fact of Manlius Torquatus a Consul of Rome, who caused his sons head to be cut off, because he fought against his enemy body to body contrary to the Edicts, & out of his rank, albeit be came away victor. The act of Aufidius the Roman was more cruel & barbarous than just, when he slew his son for withdrawing himself to take part with Catiline: uttering this speech unto him: I did not, wretch as thou art, beget thee for Catiline, but for thy country. Such murders and cruelties defaced all the commendation of justice, whose ways aught to be ordinary and usual, ruling rigour with gentleness, as the rigour of discipline aught to be moderate gentleness, that the one may be commended by the other. Seneca rehearseth a crueler fact than any of the former, committed by Piso the Proconsul, who seeing a soldier return alone to the camp, condemned him to death, thinking 
Most cruel severity of Piso.  that he had slain his companion, notwithstanding he affirmed that his fellow came after him. At the very instant of the execution his companion came: whereupon the Captain that had charge to see the condemned party executed, returned to the Proconsul with both the soldiers. But Piso being offended therewith, put them all three to death: the first, because he was condemned: the second, because he was the cause of the condemnation: and the Captain, because he obeyed not: so that he put three to death for the innocency of one man, abusing his authority & power in most cruel manner, whatsoever rigour was used in those times in the ordinance of warlike discipline. Now to take from us all taste of such barbarousness, let us call to mind an act of Augustus Caesar worthy of eternal praise, who would not condemn one that was accused of seeking 
Augustus Caesar.  his death, because the arguments & profess were insufficient, but left him to the judgement of God. Let us learn therefore for the conclusion of our discourse to bate all kind of Injustice in such sort, that every one of us seek to profit his neighbour, rating at an high price (as Euripides saith) the violating of right, which is holy and sacred. And thus through the good order of magistrates, and reformation of every one by himself, the wicked shall have no means to rob, to spoil by force, to take bribes and to deceive others, when breakers of just laws shallbe punished. Than will the effect of those two sentences take place, which are taken out of the holy Scriptures, and written in a table in the great chamber of the palace belonging to the head city of this kingdom, and which aught to be well engraven in the hearts of all judges: the first sentence is contained in these words. Execute judgement and righteousness: or otherwise I have sworn by myself (saith the Lord) that this house shall be waist. The other sentence is this: OH ye judges, take heed what ye do: for ye execute 
jer. 22. ●●5.  not the judgement of man, but of the Lord: & With what judgement ye judge, ye shall be judged. For truly the crown of praise & immortal glory is kept & prepared for them that walk in truth and righteousness, 
1. Cor. ●. 9 ●. Mat. 17. 2.  but shame and dishonour, with eternal fire for those that persevere in unrighteousness.   

Of Fidelity, forswearing and of Treason. Chap. 39  ARAM. 
Such is the corruption of our age, wherein impiety and malice are come in the place of ancient innocency, that virtue seemeth very unfit to be received and employed in 
Of the corruption of ou● 〈◊〉. When virtue seemeth to be out of season.  affairs, seeing the gate is quite shut up against her. So that a man might aptly say, that whosoever should think to bring back again, amidst the perverselives and corrupt manners of this present time, the uprightness and integrity of ancient behaviour, he did as much as if he offered first-fruits out of season, which being fair in sight, were notwithstanding unfit to be used. Nevertheless we must not doubt to bring her in sight, and to maintain her with all our power, who knoweth how to 'cause her enemy Vice, both to reverence and fear her, and in the end also to triumph over him, maugre all the power and underproping, which he receiveth from the wicked In the midst therefore of so many treacheries and treasons, whereof men glory now a days, let us not be afraid to paint them out in their colours, thereby giving honour to fidelity, which is a part of justice, or rather justice itself: which I leave to you my companions to make plain unto us.  ACHITOB, 
It is the impiety to violate faith. For God who is truth, ● detesteth all lying: and is a terrible revenger of the contempt of his name. To love or to hate openly (saith Cicero doth better beseem a noble heart, than for a man to hide and to dissemble his will and affection.  ASER. 
Guile and fraud (saith Seneca) are meet weapons for a cowardly and base minded man. Therefore we must take good heed (as Pittacus said) That fame speak not evil of us to them unto whom we have given our faith. But it belongeth to thee AMANA to handle this matter.  AMANA. 
Among the famous and great personages of old time, no virtue was more commended, 
What f●●●h & fidelity ●ss.  or straightlier kept and observed than Faith and Fidelity, which they affirmed to be the foundation of justice, the indissoluble bond of friendship, & the sure supporter of human society. Of this faith we mind now to speak, not touching at all that religious & sacred faith, concerning the holy mysteries of true piety, which is a singular gift of God his Spirit, and peculiar to those that appertain to his eternal election. This therefore which respecteth the mutual conversation and promises of men, hath been always kept unviolable of honourable men, and aught to be so amongst 
O● the violating of faith.  us: because he that giveth his faith, layeth to pawn whatsoever is most precious & divine in his soul So that if he forget himself so much as to break & violate the same, he committeth manifest impiety showing that he careh not to offend God by abusing his name to colour his lying. It 
Levit. 19 12. Deut ● 11, Mat. 5. 34.  were a great deal better never to take God to witness, than to forswear him in mockery, seeing the Scripture so often forbiddeth us to take his name in vain, to swear falsely by it, or in any sort to defile the same. It is true that this question hath always been, & is at this day more than ever in controversy: namely, whether a man is bound to perform that which he hath promised and sworn to by compulsio, or no? And this sentence is received & approved of many, that nothing but our 
Whether a forced promise is to be kept.  will bindeth us to perform those things, which necessity forceth us to promise'. But to speak according to truth, & without any particular passion, we say, that true & perfect magnanimity suffereth us not to promise' any thing, & to pawn our faith thereunto, except we were willing to per, some it, because no virtuous & wise man aught to forget himself so far, as to do or to promise' any thing contrary to his duty for any necessity, not not for death itself. Neither is there any thing whereby a fool is sooner discerned from a wise man, that by promises: forasmuch as an undiscreet man 
A wise man must never promise' any thin●●●●ainst duty.  lightly promiseth whatsoever you will, & oftentimes more than is required of him: but a man of good judgement weigheth his speech with sense & reason, before he gauge it to any body, and having once given his word, he revoketh it not, what loss or damage soever may ensue thereof; as he that esteemeth a great deal more of the honour of truth & fidelity, than of his own life being touched with untruth & perjury, If it were lawful for every one to allege necessity or constraint, 
Psal 15. 4.  thereby to cloak the breach of faith, to whom might a man trust in any matter? Who doubteth but that all agreements made between men, whether in time of war or of peace, or in any particolar affairs between party and party, are grounded upon a benefit, which every one supposeth to be necessary and profitable for himself, and so consequently that they aught not to be kept? Who doubteth but that the breach of them may easily be coloured with the like necessity, and so under this goodly pretence of false right and equity, should be allowed? But what? May we be judges of ourselves, and in our own cause? First our adverse parties, to whom we are bound must be called, and must agreed of judges to determine of our promises, whether they were lawful or unlawful, forced and necessary or no: according to the law, which releaseth a man of his promise if it be unjust or unreasonable, or if it be too burdensome unto him, or if he were circumvented by deceit, fraud, error, force, just fear, or grievous hurt. But when we are both judge and party and in stead of justice seek after force and violence, it is soon seen, that all show of excusing the breach of faith given, is only grounded upon malice and subtlety. This did Lysander Admiral of the Lacedæmonians usually practise, who made no reckoning of justice but when it was profitable 
Lysander a forsworn & deceitful man  accounting only profit to be honesty, and saying, that children must be deceived with the play of cock all, and men with oaths. Which kind of dealing argueth a man to be in truth, worse in behaviour towards God than towards his enemies: because he that beguileth his enemy through the means of fidelity sworn unto him, doth sufficiently testify, that he feareth him, and dares not discover unto him that which lieth hid in his heart: and in the mean time he hath no reverence or fear of the divine Majesty from which nothing is hid, but useth that for a covering and mask of his wickedness. We must (saith Cicero) keep that promise inviolable, which we have made to our enemy, albeit the mishaps of war have constrained us to yield unto it. How much less therefore aught we to break our faith given to our friends, and 
We must keep promise with our enemy.  to those of whom we never received any thing but profit and pleasure? Through this neglect of faith we fill our souls with lying, nourishing and delighting them therein, and separating them far from the truth (the fountain of all goodness) to lie unto our neighbours, to deceive and beguile them in those things which we are able to perform, thereby destroying 
Of the neglect of fidelity cometh a custom of lying  the bond of human society, yea of nature itself, which bindeth us both to will and to procure their good. This is that which Epenetus the Lacedaemonian would teach us, when he said, that liars were the cause of all the sins and crimes in the world. And therefore Plutarch also saith, That to lie is a servile vice worthy to be hated of all, and not to be pardoned in any, not not in slaves themselves. All they (saith Cicero) that speak one thing, and mean another, aught to be taken for faithless, wicked and malicious men: whereas a good man will neither feign nor dissemble in any sort, either to buy better cheap or to cell dearer. It is not the point of a plain, open, and sincere man or of him that is just and virtuous, to conceal from the buyer the fault of that thing which he selleth, but rather of a malicious, deceitful, crafty, subtle, and wicked man. And if this be a vice & sin, not to declare the fault of that thing which is sold, how shall they be termed, who 
It is wickedness to conceal the fault of that which a man selleth.  use a thousand words and lies to set forth their merchandise? Whereas good men have always been very scrupulous & precise in keeping the truth from all kind of pollution, as that which aught to be as well in the heart as in the mouth, in the works as in the words of every honest man. But if lying procure blame and dishonour to all men, it doth much more to kings & princes. For seeing they are placed in such authority, that they may do what pleaseth them. what need they to lie? If Machiavelli and his followers favourers of tyranny, had well weighed that which we read in infinite places of Scripture, that God will overthrow dissemblers & liars 
Lying in a prince is most odious.  with all their lies & subtleties, hardly could they commend dissimulations, deceits, treacheries, and such like pranks, wherewith they seek to poison the noble minds of good princes, to 'cause them to degenerate both from their natural disposition, & from the steps of such virtuous men as have go before them. And to this purpose I remember a decision of right concerning princes, which deserveth to be graven in letters of gold within their lodgings & palaces: namely, That if the prince go against his promise, it aught to be reckoned amongst the cases that fall out by chance, neither may any man suppose the contrary. For the obligation is double: the one in respect of natural equity, which will have covenants & promises kept: the other in regard of the Prince his faith, which he must observe inviolable, although he receive loss thereby, because he is the formal Warranty unto all his subjects, of that fidelity which is amongst them 
The promise of a nutrice is tied with a double hand.  selves: so that no fault is more detestable in a prince then perjury. For if he that is debtor and pledge for justice be disloyal, there is no more trust to be given to him in all his oaths: but if he be upright, his bore word aught to be unto him for a law, & his faith for an oracle, God him self (saith the master of the Sentences) is bound by his promise. Gather together, (saith he) all the nations of the earth, that they may judge between me and my people, if there be any thing which I aught to have done, and have not performed it. What is he then that will call 
Of the word & faith of a prince.  into question, whether a prince is bound to that which he hath sworn to and promised, seeing all sovereign power is no less bound to the laws of God & of nature, than the simplest that is subject thereunto? If faith aught not to be kept with enemies, it is not to be given unto them: and if it be lawful to capitulate with them, it is as necessary to keep promise. Yea we may furt her add, that perjury is not to be revenged or called in question, after that peace and agreement together is made: otherwise there would never be any assurance of peace or end of perjury. From the self same fountain of the profanation of faith, & custom in lying, (it being the property of vice to engender another vice for a punishment of itself) proceedeth that pernicious plague of kingdoms and common wealths, I mean Treason, hated of God 
Of Treason.  and men, wherewith perjured persons being bewitched, fear not to betray themselves, so they may betray others also, and their country. Whereupon they become odious to every one, even to those who used them to serve their own turns in disloyal and wicked actions, and in the end they receive the reward due to their execrable impieties. For this is the common affection that men bear towards such people, to seek them out (which notwithstanding is not the property of a noble heart) when they stand in need of them, as they that want gall, or the poison of some venomous beast: afterward to give them over and reject them because of their wickedness. If a man be called slothful he may become diligent: If talkative hold his peace: if a glutton temperate himself: if an adulterer, abstain: if furious, dissemble, if ambitious, stay himself: if a sinner, amend: but he that is once called a traitor, there is no water to wash him clean, nor mean to excuse himself. Now let us come to the examples of the ancients, and know what zeal they bore to fidelity, and hatred to perjury and 
Notable examples.  treason, as also what recompense commonly followed and accompanied such things, and with what reward noble minded men did requited those that were disloyal and traitorous. Attilius Regulus a Roman of great credit, being taken prisoner in the Carthaginian war, and sent to Rome upon his faith to entreat about a peace and the exchange of captives, so soon as he arrived, gave clean contrary advice in the Senate: showing that it was not for the profit 
A. Regulus.  of the Common wealth to make such an agreement. Afterwards, having resolved with himself to keep faith with the enemy, he returned to Carthage, where he was put to death very cruelly. For his eye lids being cut off, and himself bound to an engine, he died with the force of waking. Demaratus king of Sparta, being in Persia with the king, against whom a great man of Persia had rebelled, was the means of their reconciliation. Afterwards 
Demaratus.  this barbarian king having his said vassal in his power, would have been revenged of him, thinking to put him to death. But the virtuous Lacedaemonian turned him from it, declaring unto him that it would redound to his great shame, not to know, how to punish him for his rebellion when he was his enemy, and now to put him to death being his servant and friend. A reason truly well worthy to be marked, but very slenderly put in ure at this day. Augustus' having made proclamation by sound of trumpet, that he would give 25000 Crowns to him that should take Crocotas, ringleader of the thieves in Spain, he offered 
Augustus.  himself to the Emperor, and required the sum promised by him, which he caused to be paid him, and pardoned him withal, to the end no man should think that he would take his life from him, thereby to frustrate him of the promised recompense: as also because he would have public faith and safety kept to every one that came according to order of justice: although in truth he might have proceeded and given out process against him, Cato the elder being in war against the Spaniards, was in great danger by reason of the multitude of enemies who sought to enclose him round about. And not being then in possibility to be succoured of any but of the Celtiberians, who demanded of him 200. Talents (which are 
Cato.  120000. crowns) in hand for their wages, the Council told him, that it was not by any means to be gotten presently, but yet promised to furnish them with such a sum, & that within any time which they would appoint: otherwise that it was more expedient not to meddle with them. But this wise and well advised captain used this occasion to very good purpose, by resolving with himself and with his souldiess, either to overcome their enemies, or else to die (after they had agreed with the Celtiberians) that the Roman glory should not be stained by the falsehood of their promises. For (quoth he to his soldiers) if we get the battle we will pay them, not of our own, but at the charges of our enemies: but if we lose the victory, none will be left alive either to pay, or to demand any payment There was no talk among the council of these noble Romans, how they might deceive their enemies, or those whose service they were urged to use, but they determined rather to die, than to be wanting in their promise. Likewise we may note, that as their enterprises thus grounded had good success, so perjury and violating of 
Perjured and faithless persons have always had ill success. Tissaphernes.  right were through the vengeance of God pursued for the most part with unhappy effects, contrary to the platforms and desires of perjured and faithless men: or at the leastwise that themselves were speedily punished for their wickedness. And therefore when Tissaphernes, lieutenant to the king of Persia had broken a truce, which he had made with the Grecians, they gave him thanks by his own Herald, because he had placed the Gods, in whose name the truce was sworn, on their side. And indeed he smally prospered after that in his enterprises. Cleomenes king of Lacedemonia, having taken a truce for seven days with the Argians, assaulted them the third night after, knowing that they were in a sound sleep, and discomfited 
Cleomenes.  them: which he did under this crafty subtlety, because (forsooth) in the foresaid truce mention was made of the day only, and not of the night. Whereupon the Grecians noted this as a just judgement of his perjury and breach of faith, in that he was my raculously frustrated of his principal intent, which was, by the means of that overthrow to have suddenly taken the city of Argos. For the women being full of wrath and just grief for the loss of their husbands, by the cowardly treachery of this Lacedaemonian, took those weapons that were in the said Town, & drove him from the walls, not without great murder & loss of the greatest part of his army. Whereupon within a while after he become furious, and taking a knife he ripped his body in smiling manner, and so died. Carcalla the Emperor traveling with his army towards the Parthians, under pretence of marrying the daughter of Artabanus 
Caracalla.  their King, who came for the same purpose to meet him, he set upon him contrary to his faith, and put him to flight with an incredible murder of his men. But within a while after being come down from his horse to make water, he was slain of his own men: which was noted as a just punishment sent from God for his unfaithfulness. The Corinthians saw before their eyes their cities razed to the ground, because they had offered violence to the Roman 
The Corinthians.  Ambassadors, contrary to the law of nations. The Emperor justinian received infinite losses and damages for breaking his faith with the Barbarians, and for violating the peace 
justinianus the Emperor.  which he had made with the Bulgarians. Which thing procured him so great hatred of his own subjects, by reason of the unlucky exploits of war which followed after, that being returned to Constantinople, Leontius usurped the kingdom upon him, sending him into banishment after he had cut off his nostrils. Rastrix Duke of Cleveland, having falsified his faith with Lewes' king of Germany, was put to the worst and vanquished: and being 
Rastrix Duke of Cleveland.  prisoner, his eyes were put out for a mark of his faithless dealing. But what need we search in antiquity for testimonies of the fruits which commonly proceed from the breach of faith, seeing examples are daily before our eyes to our cost? What do we behold at this day but a doubling, yea a heap of all miseries, because faith, which is so precious and exquisite a thing that it admitteth no comparison, hath so often been valued at so 
The cause of the present misery of France.  small a price? The history hereof is but to common, and the truth too apparent (to the great hurt of every one) to stand upon the proof thereof, whereas it aught rather to be buried from all memory, if it were possible, as well to deface all spots of infamy, for which we are blamed of nations farthest off, as to take away the distrust that one hath of another, which is so 
Examples of the entertainment which the Ancients gave to traitors.  great amongst us, that it hath been one principal cause of kindling the fire of division so often in this desolate kingdom. But to leave such a pitiful matter subject, let us consider what honour and entertainment men in old time gave to traitors, who are now adays so welcome to the greatest. Lasthenes having helped Philip king of Macedonia to become master of the city of Olynthum, whereof he was an inhabitant, and complaining to the king 
Lasthenes.  that certain called him traitor, he received this only answer that the Macedonians were naturally rude and gross, calling a spade a spade, and all things else by their proper name. When Caesar Augustus heard Rymetalces king of Thracia (who had forsaken Antonius to join with him) boast of his fact, the monarch drinking to others, said with a loud voice: I love 
Rymetalces.  treason well, but I love no traitors. And in truth what man of any good judgement will trust him? He that betrayeth his Prince, his benefactor, his city, his country, his kinsfolk and friends into their hands to whom he is nothing so much bound, how may not he betray them also another time? This did Agis, son of Archidamus king of Sparta very well signify to the Ephories, who had commanded him to take the young men of the city with him, and to go 
Agis.  to the country of one whom they would make known unto him, who had promised to guide & bring them within the castle of his city. What (quoth he unto them) is it a reasonable matter to commit the safety and life of so many valiant young men to one that betrayeth his country? Pausanias, captain of the Lacedæmonians, having received five hundred talents of gold of king Xerxes, promised to betray the city of Sparta unto him. But his enterprise being 
Pausanias.  discovered, Agesilaus his father pursued him into a temple where he thought to have saved himself, and causing the gates thereof to be walled up, suffered him to die there of of hunger: and afterward his mother cast his body to the dogs, and would not bury it. The like befell to Cassius Brutus, who would have sold Rome: his father handling him after the same sort. Darius' king of Persia, caused the head of his son Ariobarzanes to be cut off because 
Ariobarzanes.  he sought to betray his army to Alexander. Brutus did the like to his children, who had conspired against their country, that king Tarqvinius might re-enter into Rome. Mahomet having taken Constantinople through the cowardliness and treason of john justinian of Genua, after he had made him king according to promise, he cut off his head within three days. A meet 
justinian of Genua cause o● the ●●●ing of Constantinople.  recompense for such a wretch, who was the cause of so great a plague to christendom, whereby the Emperor Constantinus, the Patriarch, and all the Christians were slain. The Empress with her daughters, and with the noblest damsels she had, were led before Mahomet, and after a thousand villainies offered unto them, their bodies were cut in pieces. True it is that histories are diverse touching this fact of justinian. For some say, that perceiving himself to be hurt in fight, he fled: whereupon most of all the men of war were discouraged: and that after he had saved himself in the I'll of Chios he died, either of his wound, or for grief and sorrow, because he was the chief cause of so great a mischief to Christendom. Neither may we pass over in silence the heroical fact of Sultan Solyman the last that died, but propound it to princes as a pattern of the hatred and punishment of periory and treason. For 
A famous & heroical ●act o●●ultan Solyman.  sending a Bascha of his into Valona to pass into Italy both by sea and land, this General landed at the haven of Castro, whereat the inhabitants being astonished, yielded themselves unto him under his oath and fidelity, whereby he promised that they should departed, their lives saved, with bag and baggage. Nevertheless this Barbarian slew them all, except those whom he saw were fit to serve for slaves. But after his return to Constantinople, the great Signior being advertised of his disloyalty, caused him to be strangled, and sent back all his prisoners with their good, into Italy. Truly an act worthy such a Prince, who, if he had been endued with the true knowledge of God and of his Church, deserved the first place amongst the great ones of his time. Now to end our discourse, let us learn to know the excellency of faith, which is such a thing, that whosoever layeth it in pawn, bindeth his safety, his honour, and his soul to him, unto whom he giveth it, and committeth manifest impiety against God, when he breaketh and violateth the same: unless he had vowed it for the performance of some wicked deed, with which both divine and human law dispense. Let us know also, that it is the beginning and foundation of a great and notable virtue to be given to truth, that it was of such credit amongst the Ancients, that in Cato his time, when any man rehearsed a strange thing and hard to believed, this proverb went of him, (because he was known 
Cato commended for his truth.  throughout the whole course of his life to be a lover of truth) This is not credible, although Cato himself should speak it. And thus by the examples of so many famous men, let us in such sort be stirred to hate lying, whereof Satan is the father and author, that following the counsel of Saint Paul, we speak the truth every one to his neighbour, who is every one that needeth our help, and let all feigning and dissimulation be banished from us, and all roundness and 
Eph. 4. 25 Luke 10. 37.  integrity of heart and manners appear in all our actions: let us hate perjury and treason, perjured and traitorous persons, knowing that faith being taken away, the whole foundation of justice is overthrown, all bonds of friendship broken, and all human society confounded.   

Of Ingratitude. Chap. 40.  AMANA. 
AS the remembrance of an evil is kept a long time, because that which offendeth is very hardly forgotten: so we commonly see, that the memory of benefits 
The memory of evil things is 〈◊〉, ●ut osgood things ba●en.  received is as suddenly vanished and lost, as the fruit of the good turn is perceived. Which thing doth so ill beseem a man well brought up and instructed in virtue, that there is no kind of Injustice, which he aught more to eschew. And therefore my companions, I think that according to the order of our discourse we are now to speak of the vice of Ingratitude, that knowing the ignominy thereof, and the pernicious effects which flow from it, we may beware of spotting our life therewithal.  ARAM. 
An ungrateful person cannot be of a noble mind, nor yet just. And therefore (as Sophocles said) a man is to remember him often of whom he hath received courtesy and pleasure. For one good turn begetteth another, and every gentle heart easily pardoneth all injuries, except unthankfulness, which it hardly forgetteth.  ACHITOB. 
Ingratitude maketh men impudent, so that they dare ioyve together to hurt those that have been their friends, and them to whom they are bound both by blood and nature. Let us then hear ASER discourse more amply of this pernicious vice.  ASER 
If man had not showed himself unthankful for the unspeakable benefits which 
Ingratitude the cause of the sin and death of man.  he had received of his Creator, by eating of the fruit of the tree of life, at the persuasion of Satan, contrary to his express commandment to whom he owed all obedience, it is certain that neither sin nor death, neither through them any kind of misery and calamity should have had any power over him. But as by his Ingratitude he neglected his obedience to his Lord and Creator, so it seemeth also that his punishment was according to the manner of his offence. For his own members, which before were in subjection to the will of his spirit, rebelled against it, and that with such force, that they led him often captive into the bondage of sin. Now although we are necessarily and justly made inheritors of the same curse both of sin and death yet how become we so dull of understanding, as to desire with cheerfulness of heart, and without constraint, to succeed him in the cause thereof, I mean Ingratitude. which we aught to hate in greater measure, and to fly from it more than from death itself, by reason of the evils which it hath brought upon us? Notwithstanding if we look narrowly into the justest man's life that is, it will be a hard matter, yea altogether unpossible, to find it purged and exempted from this detestable vice, aswell towards God as towards his neighbours. But this is far worse, to behold the greatest part of men to nourish and feed their 
Not man's life void of Ingratitude.  souls with Ingratitude, as if they took singular delight therein, by accustoming their minds to keep very diligently the memory of the adversities and injuries which they suffer, and to let the remembrance of those graces and benefits which they receive slip away incontinently, even as soon as the pleasure of them is past. Whereas duty bindeth all persons to esteem as a great benefit, all favour, how little soever it be, which the heavens or m●n impart unto them, and to preserve it in perpetual memory as in a most safe treasury, wherein they may keep and lay up those good things which they receive. But contrariwise unthankful men suffer the remembrance of their greatest felicities to slide away suddenly: which is the cause that they are always void of happiness, of rest, and tranquillity, and full of unquietness and uncertain desires, which is an argument of the imperfection of their reason, and of their ignorance of that which is good. This is that which Seneca saith, that the life of the ignorant is unthankful, wavering, and unstaid in things present, through the desire of things to 
The life of the ignorant is unthankful.  come. And as it is the property of an ignorant man to be always troublesome to himself, so from Ingratitude and the forgetfulness of our prosperity, proceed cares and melancholy passions to no purpose, which consume men, and pull on age upon them more than years. For it is unthankfulness that causeth us to be never contented with our present estate, but to complain and murmur, in stead of giving praise (as it becometh us) to him that sendeth us far better things than we desire. Upon the lest touch of affliction, the Ingratitude for a million of graces received before, causeth us to cry out that we had never any thing but mishap: whereas rather we aught to take adversity for a blessing and testimony of the love of God towards us, being assured that by justice rightly ordained, he dispenseth poverty 
God disposeth all things by justice.  and riches, health and sickness, honour and contempt, according as he seethe it expedient for every one of us. Yea, it is necessary by reason of the intemperancy of our flesh, which is ready to cast off the yoke of the Lord when he handleth us over gently, that he should rain us in hard with the bridle, and keep us within the compass of some discipline, lest we wholly give over that service and obedience which we own unto him. But to vex ourselves upon every occasion, and as often as things fall out contrary to our inconstant and rebellious will, which for the most part is ignorant of that which belongeth unto it, is that which Pythagoras said, To eat our heart, or to offend and wound our soul and spirit, by consuming them with cares and griefs: as also not to know that one cause which most of all troubleth this miserable life, is the sudden entrance of sorrows and irksomeness in the heart, which afterward will not departed out of it but by little and little. These are melancholy passions void of reason, which (as Plato saith) proceed from naughty fumes and bitter vapours gathered together within us, and which ascend and mingle themselves amidst the passages of the soul. Even as our strange and unwonted dreams testify and signify, that there is within us repletion of gross and gluish humours, and perturbations of the vital spirits: so are those evil vapours which darken our senses, and dim the eyes of our soul: namely, ignorance, rebellion, 
The vapours wherewith the eyes of the mind are dimmed.  arrogancy, murmuring, unsatiable desires, and other inward corruptions which ingratitude stirreth up and nourisheth, and which hinder us from acknowledging the benefits that God bestoweth upon us, either towards him by thanksgiving, or towards his creatures by good deeds, which he accepteth as done to himself. For only God needeth nothing, neither asketh any thing for himself, but only willeth us not to be unthankful for that which it pleaseth him to give us. And through the self same fountain of the corruptions of our soul we are bewitched with unthankful forgetfulness of those good turns which we receive from our like: yea upon the lest dislike of them, which either with, or without reason we forge in our brains, we say, That never did any of us good. The vassal, for the lest denial or hard countenance which he receiveth of his Lord, forgetteth all the good turns, furtherances and favours, which before that time he had done unto him. The son complaineth of the father, the brother of the brother, the friend of the friend, the servant of the master. Alas we see but too many such ungrateful wretches in France, who even betray & cell daily them, of whom they hold all their advancement and greatness. And if unthankfulness be familiar with the meaner sort, let us not think that it is farther off from those of high calling. For upon every light occasion, especially if a man frame not himself to that vice which they have in greatest recommendation they easily forget all the service that hath been done unto them, by 
Of the ingratitude of great men.  reason of some new come guest, who will show himself a serviceable minister of their pleasures. This cometh to pass soon, when they grow up and increase in calling and greatness, because commonly as they mount up in calling (not being well instructed in virtue) they wax worse and worse in behaviour. But let them boldly take this for an infallible rule, that an unthankful prince cannot long retain a good man in his service. For the hope of reward (saith Plutarch) is one of the elements and grounds of virtue, and of that honour, bounty, and humanity, wherewith the prince recompenseth virtuous men, thereby provoking and alluring them to seek the welfare of his estate. This also is that which procureth the proceeding of Arts and Sciences, and that which bringeth forth notable wits, as contrariwise, 
Reward and honour nourisheth virtue and Artes. Impudency and Ingratitude are companions. The description of Impudency.  all those things languish that are extinguished by little and little through the ingratitude and covetousness of those that rule. The Ancients said not without cause, that impudence was the companion of ingratitude. For if no beast (as they say) is so shameless as an impudent, who is he that may be said to have less shame, than an unthankful body? Impudency (saith Theophrastus') is a contempt of glory, wrought in a man through the desire of vile and filthy gain: and that man is impudent that borroweth some thing of him whom he purposeth to deceive. Are not these the proper effects of the vice of Ingratitude, which seeketh nothing else but to draw away the commodity and profit of every one, being unwilling to do good to any, or to requited a pleasure received, neither caring for true glory and immortal honour, which followeth every virtuous action grounded upon duty and honesty? And truly it is a very hard matter for them to be answerable to their honour, who seek their own profit as much as may be. For we must know that in equity and reason there is a difference between duty, and that which we commonly 
Duty and profit are two distinct things.  call profit: yea they are distinct things, and separated one from the other, as honesty is from such earthly commodity. This latter maketh men void of fear to break asunder and to dissolve whatsoever was ordained and joined together both by the law of God, and man, so that they may gain thereby. But the other clean contrary, causeth them to employ liberally their goods, travel, industry, and whatsoever else is in their power, that they may profit every one, and that without hope of recompense: albeit they that receive good turns are bound to return again the like to their benefactors according to their ability, and to acknowledge their kindness. For this cause amongst the laws of Draco established among the Athenians, there was a commandment, that if any man had received a benefit of his neighbour, and it were proved against him long time after, that he had been unthankful for it, and had ill acknowledged the good turn received, I say, that such a one should be put to death. 
A law against unthinkefull persons.  And although no histories are able to show unto us any kings or princes which surmounted, yea which matched Alexander the Great in munificence and liberality, or julius Caesar in pardoning injuries; yet we read of them, that when they had knowledge of an ungrateful person, Alexander never gave unto him, nor Caesar ever for gave him: so greatly have virtuous men always hated ingratitude. It is reported of the Stork, that as often as she hath young she casteth one out of her nest for the hire of the house, and reward of him that lodged 
The Stork a grateful b●d.  her. OH barbarous ingratitude, to behold him that hath been lodged, served, and brought up in a house, and that with the sweat and labour of another, to seek and to endeavour the spoil of all that is therein, even to the honour, and oftentimes the life of his host! Is it not the same vice of unthankfulness that soweth dissensions and quarrels, between the children and the father, between brethren, kinsfolks, and friends, and all for want of acknowledging 
The first-fruits of ingratitude.  one towards another, that bond of nature wherewith we aught to be tied, and that secondary supply of good turns, which knit us unseparably, and make us daily beholding unto them, if we consider exactly the nature of our estate, which cannot stand without the succour and aid of many, how great soever we be? But what? We see by daily experience that which one of the Ancients said, That all human things grow to be old, and come to the end of their time, except Ingratitude. For the greater the increase of mortal men is, the more doth unthankfulness 
Examples against Ingratitude. Pyrrhus  augment. And yet we may note many examples in histories against this vice, which aught to awaken us in our duty. Pyrrhus is exceedingly commended by Historiographers, because he was gentle, and familiar with his friends, ready to pardon them when they had angered him, and very earnest and forward in requiting and recompensing those good turns which he had received. Which caused him to be grieved above measure at the death of a friend of his: not (as he said) because he saw that befall which is common and necessarily incident to the nature of man, but because he had lost all means of acknowledging unto him those benefits which he had received: whereupon he reproved and blamed himself for delaying and deferring it overlong. For truly money lent may well be restored to his heirs that did lend it: but it goeth to the heart of a man that is of a good, noble, and excellent nature, if he cannot make the self same man that benefited him, to feel the recompense of those pleasures which he received. This caused the Ancients not only to fear the note of Ingratitude towards their friends, but also to contend with their enemies, which of them should do most good, and show greatest courtesy to his companion, as the same Pyrrhus did behave himself towards the Romans, who had given him intelligence of a treason that was in hand against him. For he to acknowledge this good turn, sent back unto them a great number of prisoners taken in war, which were them in his custody, and would not let them pay any ransom. But the Romans being unwilling that he should excel them in any kind of beneficence, as also because they would not give occasion that any should think they meant to receive a reward for not consenting unto a wicked act, sent him as many prisoners of his for a counter change. Circerius who had been Secretary to the Great Scipio, when he perceived that he was a competitor, and joint-suiter for the Praetorship with the son of the 
Circerius.  same Scipio, be feared so greatly lest he should be noted with ingratitude towards his son, unto whom he was so greatly bound, and of whom he had received his advancement, that putting off the white garment which they used to wear that sued for offices, he become a solicitor for Scipio, and procured him that honourable estate wherewith himself might have been furnished, preferring immortal renown before that, as one that would not show himself unthankful towards them unto whom he was beholding. We read of a barbarous Turk, by country an Arabian, and Admiral of the Infidels in their war against Baldwin king 
A notable history of an Arabian Turk.  of jerusalem, who not willing to suffer himself to be overcome in beneficence, much less to bear the name of an unthankful body towards the said Prince, who had once set him & his wife at liberty when they were his prisoners, went by night unto him into a town whither he was retired after the loss of a battle, and declared unto him the purpose of his companions: whereupon he led him out of the town, and conducted him until he had brought him out of all dauger. Moreover as concerning that which we have already touched, that great men aught to have special regard to this, that they be not unthankful, but reward liberally men of desert, forasmuch as this point belongeth principally to the virtue of liberality, which subject is sufficient for a several discourse, we will content ourselves without any further addition, with the propounding of a notable example of Bajazet, Emperor of the 
Bajazet.  Turks touching this matter. This man being advertised at the taking of the town of Modona from the Venetians, of the valour of a young janitsarie of the age of 22. years, who was the first that mounted upon the wall, whereupon 30000. janitsaries mother being moved therewith were emboldened to do the like, gave him presently an office of Sangeat, which is one of the greatest and richest estates next to the Baschas, and is valued at 10000 ducats in yearly revenues. Now if we desire to follow to the uttermost of our power, the noble courage of those famous personages, that so we may not fall into the shameful vice of ingratitude, this will help us greatly, if we always esteem the benefit which we receive of another, 
A mean to keep us from ingratitude.  greater than it is: and contrariwise repute that less than it is which we give. For thereby we shall feel ourselves urged, and as it were bound voluntarily to continued to do good to our like, and so preserve the bond of human society inviolable. Neither let us (as proud and vainglorious men do, who vaunt that they stand in need of none) disdain to receive a pleasure of our friends, although they be of less calling than we, when they desire our friendship. For if it be an honest thing to do good to all, it cannot be dishonest to receive likewise of all, because a receiver is as needful as a giver for the accomplishing of a good turn. Furthermore, this will be another great occasion of preserving the common and mutual bond, 
Another mea●● for the same.  whereby we stand bound one to another, and of banishing all ingratitude from amongst men, if we observe this point always, to requited double if we can, that good turn which we receive of another. Artaxerxes king of Persia disdained not the water which a poor handicraftsman, as he saw him pass by, brought from a river in his hands and gave him, but received 
Artaxerxes thinkfully accepted a little water.  it with a smiling and cheerful countenance; measuring the grace of the gift, not according to the value of the present, but according to his good will that offered it. He thought it no less an act of magnanimity and kingly bounty to take small presents in good part, and to receive them with a good countenance, than to give greater. Again, we are to know, that a good man must never give over to do good to all, notwithstanding any pretence of Ingratitude wherewith they may be noted, whom he hath already bound unto him. For (as Plato saith) that is true virtue, which setteth itself on work in respect of no other end than of itself: yea, virtue is a very sufficient recompense unto itself. So although a man 
Virtue is a sufficient recompense to itself.  have occasion to be grieved at an unthanekfull person, yet he hath no liberty to repent him of the good turn which he hath done him. Yea, the unworthier he is that receiveth a benefit, the more is he to be commended from whom it cometh. And we may assure ourselves that that thing only is given, which is given without any respect. For if there be hope of recompense, the benefactor deserveth not at all the name of a liberal man, but of one that giveth out to usury. Therefore Cicero misliketh the rehearsing of duties done one to another, saying: that those men are odious which upbraid the good turns they have done, the remembrance of which the receiver aught to retain, and the giver must pass them over in silence: seeing the greatest contentation, which an excellent and noble minded man can take in his glorious deeds and actions, is to see himself adorned with that virtue which is profitable to others, but to itself is fruitless, painful, and perilous. To the end therefore that we may reap profit by all that hath been here discoursed, seeing we 
The sleep● of the 〈◊〉 is worse than death.  know by overmany experiences unto what mischief Ingratitude hath made us subject, let us awaken our spirits out of the deep sleep of ignorance, which hath so long time possessed them, considering that (as Pythagoras said) the sleep of the spirit is worse than death. Therefore let us watch in spirit, that both with heart and voice we may sing and set forth the unspeakable benefits that are daily offered unto us by the goodness of God, whereof we shall be made partakers through his grace, if our frowardness be no let unto us Let our joy, contentation and pleasure be in them that destroy and drive far from us all irksomeness and sad melancholy, and let us take singular delight in profiting one another by good turns and benefits: yea let us show that we have such noble minds, that no Ingratitude can turn us aside from the desire of doing good to all. Lastly, let us recompense double, and reward without reckoning those good turns, which we receive of others, rather fearing lest we should be overcome in beneficence, than in worldly reputation and glory.   
The end of the tenth days work.   

The eleventh days work.  

Of Liberality, and of the use of Richeses. Chap. 41.  ASER. 
Divine Plato handling good and evil things, saith: That Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude, and justice, are good things; and that their contraries are evil, namely, want of Prudence: Intemperance, Cowardliness, and injustice. As for the goods of Fortune, & of the body, as riches, glory, friends, and honour, beauty, health, strength, and dexterity, he calleth them mean or indifferent things, which of themselves are neither good nor bad, but become either the one or the other, as they are used with Prudence, or abused by Imprudence and want of discretion. Now seeing we entered yesterday into these points that depend of justice, I think the sequel 
What Liberality is.  of our matter requireth of us the handling of Liberality, which is nothing else but an excellent use of those means which God putteth into our hands for the succording of many: which virtue (as Cicero saith) is altogether joined to justice, and aught to be guided by moderation and reason. Now my Companions, I leave the discourse of this matter to you.  AMANA. 
The unstable riches of earthly treasure (as Agapetus wrote to justinianus) 
Richeses resemble the waters  imitate the course of the floating water. They abound for a little while to such as think they have them, and suddenly they return back again and go to others: but the treasure of Liberality and largesse, only abideth still with him that possesseth it.  ARAM. 
The habit of Liberality is a garment that never waxeth old, and charity towards the poor is an incorruptible ornament. Diligence is sufficient to make a man rich when means are offered, but nobility of mind is requisite in the bestowing of great riches upon commendable things. To this purpose Plato saith, that a niggard sometime is not wicked, but never good. Now than ACHITOB, instruct us sufficiently in this goodly matter.  ACHITOB. 
Seeing Liberality is a virtue between these two vices, Covetousness and Prodigality, and seeing the judgement of reason aught to be the director and master of giving, and of free Liberty, that it be not abused in delights, or favour of the wicked, but used with a prudent and ripe deliberation; Where, When, and as much as aught to be: I am of opinion that we may not unfitly appropriate the effects of this virtue of Liberality, to the good use of Richeses, which of themselves are not able to make a man better, or more happy, as we were before sufficiently taught: but if they be joined with the knowledge of truehonestie, and perfect goodness, they offer means unto him whereby he may the better 
How riches may be well used.  execute his good and honest iuclinations, to the profit and relief of all them that stand in need. Hereupon we must bestow only whatsoever we have more than necessary: first upon them that are of our blood and kindred, then upon all indifferently that want our help. And this is such an excellent and commendable deed, that Aristotle and all the Peripatecians maintained this opinion, that a happy life which consisteth in the perfect use of virtue, could 
Aristotle's opinion concerning a happy life destitute of bodily and outward goods.  not be in allrespects absolute, if it wanted the assistance of bodily and external goods, which are as instruments to further a man in the good and virtuous execution of his honest desires. But we showed heretofore by good reason, and according to the opinion of the Academics and Stoics, that virtue only is sufficient of itself to make a man live happily, and that his virtue cannot be either more honoured, or disgraced through the abundant having or not having of the goods of fortune, and of the body, seeing all other things receive their glory from virtue, and are not able to add any thereunto. And therefore a poor virtuous man 
A poor man may be liberal.  is not kept from any perfect use of virtue, not not of Liberality, which consisteth not in wasting much wealth, but in succording the afflicted willingly, and in helping every one according to ability. For this cause the poor woman's mite was esteemed of God for a greater gift, than were all the presents of the rich, because they gave of their abundance, and she of that little which she had. In this manner than every good man may justly deserve the name of liberal, neither may any man excuse himself for not practising liberality according to his abilty. But chief rich and mighty men are bound thereunto by that commandment given unto them in the Scripture, to make them friends with the riches of iniquity. 
Luke 16. 9  They must take good heed that they pass not the bounds of this virtue of Liberality, but strictly observe those three points already touched by me, namely: that they be liberal, Where, When, and as much as is requisite: For when Princes bestow estates, offices, or money, upon unworthy persons, they give where, and more than they aught. And if in time of war, or calamities of their people, they give to flatterers, dancers, and ministers of their pleasures, 
How princes pass the limits of liberality.  and consume much upon feasts, Plays, Turneiss, and Masks, they spend Where and When they aught not, deserving thereby the name of prodigal men, and lovers of riot and superfluity, howsoever flattering Courtiers labour to disguise such wasteful spend with the name of Largesse and Liberality. But such superfluous expenses bring forth effects contrary 
When the inferior sort pass the bounds of liberality.  to the virtue and duty of a king, causing princes to levy extraordinary taxes and tributes upon no just necessity, which is wholly to overthrow the use of Liberality. And this is done also by men of meaner calling, when in their actions and expenses they propound to themselves another end than good works grounded upon the love of their neighbours according to charity. Cicero giveth us a very good precept against the opinion of many in our time, who give out in speech, that they are borne to do great things, namely, to practise Liberality, and being poor of worldly goods, seek to enrich themselves by unlawful and unjust means, that they may bring to pass their lofty desires: thinking afterwards through good deeds and great Liberality to make amendss for that fault which they have committed. But (as that father of Philosophy saith) our goods and patrimony must be justly gotten, not by dishonest and hateful gain: secondly, we must profit as many as we can, so that they be worthy thereof. Moreover, a man may and aught to increase it by reason, diligence, and sparing, but to maintain Liberality rather than to minister unto lust, voluptuousness, or heaping up of treasures. And yet now adays these are the principal occasions for which riches are desired, which as they increase, so we will have our train augmented, and our table to be answerable thereunto. Than although over great abundance remain, yet we exercise very coldly the true works of Liberality, which are to secure the needy. But this is tobe far separated from the commendable end, and good use of riches, whereof all that we have 
About what we are to bestow the over plus of our wealth.  over and above our necessity aught to be employed in the service of the common wealth, in relieving the poor, diseased, afflicted, and prisoners, in procuring the good bringing up of youth, and generally in exercising all other deeds of piety: accounting it great gain to help the poor, seeing God is the rewarder thereof. Among the ancient Romans there was a law kept inviolably, That no man should presume to make a public feast, except before he 
A notable law amongst the Romans.  had provided for all the poor of his quarter. And they accounted it a great shame and offence to the common wealth to see any man beg in the streets. Therefore Plato said that where there are beggars in a town, there are also thieves and church robbers. Now if we that beareth name of Christians, and acknowledge the poor to be the members of jesus Christ, are not ashamed to banquet and feast, when in the mean time the needy cry at our gates, and almost die of hunger, do we not think that these Heathen men shall rise in judgement before that great and just judge, to accuse and condemn us as thieves and church robbers, and chief them that maintain their delights and pleasure with the goods of the poor, towards whom the liberal distribution of our own wealth especially aught to be extended both by the law of God and man? We must feed the poor, and not kill them: but to deny them nourishment, or to drive them from us, is to kill them. For this cause Epaminondas 
How Epaminondas compelled a rich man to be liberal.  captain general of the Thebans, having knowledge of a very rich man that had no care of the poor in the town, sent a poor needy fellow unto him, and commanded him under a great penalty to give presently without fail 600. crowns to that poor man. The citizen hearing this commandment, came unto him to know the occasion and cause thereof: It is (quoth Epaminondas) because this man being honest is poor, and thou which hast rob greatly the Common wealth, art rich: compelling him thereupon to be liberal in despite of his teeth. So careful were the Ancients to help them that had need, and to show themselves enemies unto them that made no account of the poor. But if we should diligently search all histories and deeds of famous men, yet could we not found a more notable example or worthy to be followed than that of Cimon the Athenian, who having gotten great wealth honourably, both for himself and his country, by the taking and overthrow of many 
Cimon a notable pattern of the true use of riches.  Barbarians and towns belonging unto them, knew nevertheless how to bestow it liberally with greater glory and honour, by relieving all his poor country men to whom his house was as an hospital, wherein they were all nourished and fed at an ordinary that was common to so many as would come thither; which was furnished not with dainty and delicate fare, thereby to occasion rich folks to seek it out, but with many common sorts of victuals in all plenty and abundance, and that for a great number of persons. This This he did chiefly, as he said, to the end that poor honest men might have the more leisure to employ themselves about the affairs and service of the common wealth, and not be diverted from that through travel and care to get their living by the exercise of handicrafts. Besides, he caused all the enclosures, hedges and ditches of his lands and inheritance to be taken away, that strangers which passed by, and his own country men that wanted, might take of the first-fruits that were there according to their necessity. Now if this virtue of Liberality be praiseworthy in all persons that use it well according to their ability, it is most of all necessary, 
Liberality most necessary for princes & great men.  honourable and profitable for king: and princes, heads and captains of armies, govenours of estates and common wealths, as that which procureth unto them more th●n any other thing, the good will of every one, wherein the chief strength and stay of their greatness consisteth. But withal they have great need of prudence and justice, especially sovereign princes, to distribute liberally and according to harmonical proportion their gifts, graces, and good turns, whether they be estates, offices, benefices, knighthoods, exemptions, freedoms, and other recompenses due as rewards to their subjects, according as every one deserveth. It belongeth principally to them to keep religiously and from point to point the jaws of Liberality, marking well to whom they give, how much is given, at what time, in what place, to what end, and their own ability that give. Moreover, a Sovereign 
The laws of liberality.  must look that recompense go before gift, by rewarding first those that have deserved, before he give to them that have deserved nothing: and above all things he must measure his largesse at the foot of his power. But when the just rewards of subjects and honest men are distributed among the vicious, strangers, and unworthy persons, this is that which oftentimes setteth flourishing estates on fire. There is never any want of flatterers and of impudent cravers about kings, whose only drift is to sup up the blood, gnaw the bones, and suck the marrow of princes and their subjects, to satisfy their foolish 
A common mischief which followeth the greater sort.  and unprofitable expenses; which are such and so great, that a man is well at ease to give them any thing, they are always so needy and money less, and stick not to say that they never receive good of their masters. In the mean while, they that have deserved of the common wealth, are commonly removed furthest from their majesties: which cometh to pass both by the ignorance of the greater sort, who make but a bad choice of servants worthy their favour, as also because the honour and credit of good men forbiddeth them by flattery and begging to seek after the rewards of virtue, which should be offered unto them. But not to wander from our matter subject, let us now consider of some notable examples of the Ancients concerning this whereof we have here discoursed. It was by his magnifical and incomparable Liberality, that Alexander the Great made a way for his noble platforms, 
The liberality of Alexander.  whereby he become Monarch of the three parts of the world, distributing liberally all his deamins amongst the Macedonians, as before we mentioned. But what a notable testimony of this his Liberality did he give a fresh, when during the war he caused this to be 
To the Macedonians.  published in his army, That all they that were indebted upon any occasion whatsoever, should bring their creditors unto him, and he would discharge all their debts? Which thing he likewise performed. Moreover, who will not admire the Liberality which all his life time he 
To all debtors in his army.  exercised towards the learned men of his time? We read that he gave at one time to his master Aristotle, 800. Talents, which amount to 480000. crowns, as a reward for his pains, 
To Aristotle.  traveles, and expense which he had been at in describing the nature and property of living creatures. He sent to Anaxarchus the Philosopher 50. Talents, which are 30000. crowns, but 
To Anaxarchus.  he refused them, saying: that he knew not what to do with so great a sum. What (said Alexander then) hath he no friends to pleasure, seeing all king Darius wealsh will not suffice me to distribute amongst mine own? Perillus besought him to give him some money towards the marriage of his daughters, whereupon he gave to him also 50. Talents. And when he told him that it was too 
To Perillus.  much by half, he replied thus: If half be enough for thee to take, yet it is not enough for me to give. Likewise he gave to a poor Egyptian ask his alms, a rich & populous city, & when the 
To an Egyptian.  other all astonished supposed that he mocked him: Take (quoth he to him) that which I give thee: for if thou art Bias that demandest, I am Alexander that giveth. The first Monarch of the Caesars, is he not also exceedingly praised of Historiographers for the liberallest Prince of his 
Caesar a liberal Prince.  time, & for such a one as showed indeed, that he loved not riches in war, that afterward he might at his pleasure live in delight, or abuse them about his own pleasures, but that they were the common price & reward of virtue, which he laid up to recompense valiant and honest men withal? Of which reward, he said, he would have no part, but only distribute it to every one according to his desert. Antonius' one of his successors, sought to imitate him 
Antonius a magnifical Prince, but voluptuous.  in his bountiful Liberality. For proof hereof may serve that commandment, which he gave to his Treasurer to double the half of 2500. crowns, which he had given to one of his favourites, whereas his Treasurer that brought him the said sum, when he beheld it, thought that he should have diminished the gift. But he stained this virtue with a perpetual blot and infamy, which caused his destruction, in that he applied it to the service, and maintenance of his delights and pleasures, and abused it in the favour and behalf of the wicked, which is all one in great men as if they themselves were authors of vice and iniquity, Archelaus king of Macedonia, may serve unto them for a notable example, whereby they may learn 
Archelaus gave not to the unworthy.  to keep themselves in their estates from such a pernicious evil. This king being requested by a Minion of his Court to give him a cup of gold wherein he drank, delivered it to his page, commanding him to bear and give the same to Euripides, who was there present, and then said to the other: As for thee, thou art worthy to ask, & to be denied also: but Euripides is worthy of gifts, although he ask not. Antigonus the elder being importunately desired by 
How Antigonus denied one that was importunate.  one that was good for nothing, and that counterfeited the Cynic Philosopher, to give him a drachma, which might be in value about four pence half penny, made answer: that it was no meet gift for a king. And when the other replied, that he should then give him a Talon, he answered: It is no present for a Cynic. Titus the Emperor was so greatly in love with Liberality all his life time, that remembering one evening with himself, that he 
Titus a good and liberal prince.  had given nothing the same day, he cried out: OH my friends, we have lost this day! He used to bless those days wherein the poor came unto him, or when he sought after them to do them good, putting in practice that precept of Phocylides, which saith: Sleep not at night before 
A notable precept of Phocylides.  thou hast thrice called to mind thy works that day, and repent thee of the evil, but rejoice in that which was well done. For this great good nature Titus was loved whilst he lived, and bewailed after his death, and upon his Tomb, was written this Epitaph: The delights of mankind are ended, Ptolemaeus the Theban, captain over a great army, had so acquainted himself not to deny 
Ptolemaeus the Theban.  any that stood in need of his Liberality, that when a poor soldier demanded his alms of him, he having at that present nothing to bestow upon him, gave him his shoes, saying: My friend, make thy profit of this, seeing I have no better thing to give thee, For I had rather go barefoot, than see thee suffer so much. Denys the elder, entering into his sons lodging, and beholding 
Denys the elder.  there great store of rich jewels of gold and silver, and of incredible treasure, said unto him: My son, I did not give thee these riches to use in this sort, but to impart of them unto thy friends. For thou must know, that no man in all the world is so rich as he that is liberal, who with his liberality preserveth his friends, and mollifieth his enemies. This is that which Cyrus by experience showed unto Croesus, 
Cyrus.  and how smally those gifts which he had bestowed upon worthy persons had impoverished him. For sending to every one of them to secure him with money, they sent him altogether as much as they had received by gift from him, bestowing moreover great rewards upon the bearer of his message. So that the wealth which proceedeth from liberality is unconsumeable, as that which is gotten by giving, and by scattering abroad, is gathered together. Pertinax, 
Pertinax.  who succeeded Commodus in the Empire, surpassed all the Emperors that ever were for exceeding liberality, which he used to the benefit and profit of all his subjects. For first he gave freely all the waste and desolate ground in Italy, and in other his provinces, to them that could and would till them, and to the labourers thereof he gave freedom and exemption from all taxes and subsidies for ten years, with perpetual assurance that they should not be troubled in their possession. He forbade also that his name should be set in any castle or place within his dominion, saying: That his lands were not proper to him only, but common to all the people of Rome. He abolished all customs, tributes, and tolles laid upon the havens of rivers, at the entries into towns, ways and passages; which he called inventions of tyranny to get money, and placed all such things in their ancient liberties. Which actions beseemed rather a father of the country, than a lord and master: and there are few princes that use to do so, but many to whom their own will seemeth to be a most just law. But contrariwise let them know, that they aught to be subject to the eternal Law, namely, to right, reason, truth, and justice, which are the proper will of God only, whose people they must rule with right and equity, by comforting them through beneficence, and continual good turns. Let us learn then by our present discourse to deck ourselves with this virtue of Liberality, every one according to those means that are given unto him from above, and are justly gotten by him: taking good heed, that we abuse it not in any kind of voluptuousness or vice, neither yet upon the wicked, as though we purposed to nourish and maintain their impieties. For this is utterly to destroy justice, and consequently the bond and preservative of human society. But if we, being well instructed by the Spirit of wisdom, feed the hungry, give drink to 
Math. 29.  the thirsty, lodge them that want harbour, and cloth the naked, sowing in this manner by the works of piety that talon which is committed to our keeping, we shall reap abundantly in heaven the permanent riches and treasures of eternal life.   

Of Covetousness, and of Prodigality. Chap. 42.  ACHITOB. 
IF that divine rule of Cicero were as well written in our heart, as he desired to have it settled in his son, That only that thing is to be judged profitable which is 
Not wicked thing aught to be judged profitable.  not wicked, and that nothing of that nature should seem profitable, we should not behold amongst us so many cursed acts, as are daily committed through the unbridled desire of the goods of this world. For that which most of all troubleth men, is when they think that the sin which they purpose to practise is but small in respect of the gain, thereby craftily separating profit from honesty, & so suffering themselves to be overcome of covetousness, which is the defect of liberality, whereof we discoursed even now, whose excess also is Prodigality, of which two vices we are now to entreat.  ASER. 
Every one that coveteth treasures (said Anacharsis, one of the wise men of Graecia) is hardly capable of good counsel and instruction. For the covetous man commonly murmureth at that which God permitteth and nature doth, so that he will sooner take upon him to correct God, than to amend his life.  AMANA 
It is a hard matter (said Socrates) for a man to bridle his desire, but he that addeth riches thereunto, is mad. For covetousness neither for shame of the world, nor fear of death, will not repress or moderate itself. But it belongeth to thee, ARAM, to instruct us in that which is here propounded.  ARAM. 
Since the greedy desire of heaping up gold and silver entered in amongst men, with the possession of riches, covetousness followed, and with the use of them pleasures and delights: whereupon they began to sail in a dangerous sea of all vices, which hath so overflown in this age of ours, that there are very few towers how high soever seated, 
Covetousness hath overflown all.  but it hath go up a great deal above them. For this cause I see no reason why men should esteem so much, or judge it such a happy thing to have much goodly land, many great houses, and huge sums of ready money, seeing all this doth not teach them, not to be carried away with passions for riches, and seeing the possession of them in that manner procureth not a contentation void of the desire of them, but rather inflameth us to desire them more through an unsatiable covetousness, which is such a poverty of the soul, that no worldly goods can remedy the same. For it is the nature of this vice to make a man poor 
Covetousness will never be satisfied.  all his life time that he may find himself rich only at his death. Moreover it is a desire that hath this thing proper and peculiar to itself, to resist and to refuse to be satisfied, whereas all other desires help forward the same, and seek to content those that serve them. Covetousness (saith Aristotle) is a vice of the soul, whereby a man desireth to have from all parts without reason, and unjustly with holdeth that which belongeth to another. It is sparing and skanty in giving, but excessive in receiving. The Poet Lucretius calleth it a blind desire of goods. And it mightily hindereth the light of the soul, causing the covetous man to be never contented, but the more he hath, the more to desire and wish for. The medicine which he seeketh, namely, gold and silver, increaseth his disease, as water doth the dropsy: and the obtaining thereof is always unto him the beginning of the desire of having. He is a Tantalus in hell, who between water and meat dieth of hunger. Now it is very sure, that to such as are wise and sound of 
Covetousness like to a dropsy.  judgement, nature hath limited certain bounds of wealth, which are traced out upon a certain Centre, and upon the circumference of their necessity. But covetousness working clean contrary effects in the spirits of fools, carrieth away the natural desire of necessary things, to a disordinate appetite of such things as are full of danger, rare, and hard to be gotten. And which is worse, compelling the avaricious to procure them with great pain and travel, it 
Stratonicus de rided the superfluity of the Rodians  forbiddeth him to enjoy them, and stirreth up his desire, depriveth him of the pleasure. Stratonicus mocked in old time the superfluity of the Rhodians, saying, that they builded as if they were immortal, and rushed into the kitchen as if they had but a little while to live. But covetous men scrape together like great and mighty men, and spend like mechanical and handicrafts men. They endure labour in procuring, but want the pleasure of enjoying. They are like Mules that carry great burdens of gold and silver on their backs, and yet eat but hay. They enjoy neither rest nor liberty which are most precious, and most desired of a wiseman, 
Covetous men compared to mules.  but live always in disquietness, being servants and slaves to their riches. Their greatest misery is, that to increase and keep their wealth, they care neither for equity or justice, they contemn all laws both divine and human, and all threatenings and punishments annexed unto them: they live without friendship and charity, and lay hold of nothing but gain. 
The miserable life of covetous men.  When they are placed in authority and power above others, they condemn the innocent, justify the guilty, and find always some cleanly cloak and colour of taking, and of excusing (as they think) their corruption & liberty, making no difference between duty and profit. Wherhfore we may wellsay in a word, That covetousness is the root of all evil. For, what mischiefs are not procured through this vice? From whence proceed quarrels, strifes, suits, hatred 
1 Tim. 6. 10. The first-fruits of covetousness.  and envy, thefts, polling sackings, wars, murders and poison, but from hence God is forgotten, our neighbour hated, & many times the son forgiveth not his father, neither the brother his brother. nor the subject his Lord, for the desire of gain. In a word, there is no kind of cruelty that covetousness putteth not in practice. It causeth hired and wilful murders (OH execrable impiety) to be well thought of amongst us, It causeth men to break their faith given, to violate all friendship, to betray their country. It causeth subjects to rebel against their princes, governors, and magistrates, when, not able to bear their insatible desires, nor their exactions and intolerable subsidies, they break forth into public and open sedition, which troubleth common tranquility, whereupon the body politic is changed, or for the most part utterly overthrown. Moreover, the excess of the virtue of liberality, which is prodigality, may be joined to covetousness, and then there is no kind of vice but reigneth with all licence in that soul that hath these two guests lodged together. And because it is a thing that may seem hard to conceive, how two vices so disagreeing by nature, may be found to agreed in the same subject, we will soon believe it, if we say with the 
How prodigality & covetousness may in some sort be linked together in one subject.  Ancients, that is is the point of covetousness, to gripe, and to take Where & When it aught not: and that this dealing is put in practice necessarily upon one of these two occasions, either of niggardliness and sparing, or for prodigality, as they do that unjustly seek for means to satisfy their fond desires, and their unprofitable and super fluous expenses. The common opinion is, that they who put to no use the riches that they get so covetously, are more miserable than those that abuse them after they have obtained them by ill means: because many may reap profit by these, but of the other none, not not their only heirs receive more benefit than they do of hogs, which is after their death. But it falleth not so out altogether with Kings and Princes, whose covetousness joined with prodigality is more hurtful 
Covetous men compared to hogs.  to their subjects than that which is joined with sparing. For this latter, although it maketh them commit much injustice, and polling of their people to fill their treasuries, yet when any need happeneth to the Common wealth, either of foreign war, or any other calamity, a good ground work is laid in the bottom of their cofersfor to redress the same. But the other maintained with the like injustice, leaveth nothing behind for prodigal princes, wherewith to help themselves in time of necessity. Whereupon oftentimes proceedeth the final subversion of their estate, weakened by exactions, to the overthrow and undoing of many who would have been the sinews of their strength: and all to enrich a few who then will stand them in small stead; or else because they wasted it upon riot and superfluities, whereby the warlike virtues both of themselves and of other subjects become degenerate and bastardlike. Of this we note, that after a prince groweth to be prodigal and desirous of superfluity and foolish expenses, no riches he hath will ever suffice him: so that to satisfy his spending, he must needs become covetous and unjust. The like happeneth many times to the meaner sort, and to men of all estates, that they are coverous and prodigal both together, namely, when they gather wealth by unlawful means, and spare to spend it in the works of piety, that they may sow it plentifully upon delights and pleasures. But the humour niggardliness and nearness, is most common in covetous wen, whom Plutarch compareth to rats and mice that are in gold mines, which eat the golden oar, and yet nothing can be gotten from them but after their death. Likewise he compareth them 
Covetous men compared to rats & cundat pipes.  to pipes through which, water being conveyed into a cistern, nothing remaineth for them. So covetous men heap up treasures to leave them to their heirs, that they also may afterward leave them to their heirs as their predecessors did: and so neither one nor the other reap any good or benefit by them, until in the end either some tyrant take all away by violence from that hold fast, or else some one that is the worst of the race succeedeth, spending all dissolutely upon pleasure. This caused Diogenes, jesting at covetous men, to say that he 
It is better to be the sheep than the son of a covetous man.  had rather be their sheep than their son, because they were very careful to give their cattle meet pasture, but in stead of feeding their youth with convenient and profitable nourishment, through good and virtuous education, they mar, spill, and corrupt them, by grafting covetousness in the souls of their children, as if they meant to build within them a strong sort wherein to keep their succession safely. Whereas contrariwise they should learn of Cicero, that the glory of virtue, and of praise worthy and honourable deeds, is the greatest riches which fathers can leave to their children, and more excellent than any other patrimony whatsoever. Socrates' called a young man brought up in ignorance, and rich withal, a golden slave. And that servant answered not unfitly, when, being demanded what his master did (●ho was a covetous man, and one that having great quantity of good wine, sold it to others, and sought for sour wine in Tanerns for his own drinking) he said: Albeit he hath great store of good, yet he seeketh for evil. But let us now consider of some notable examples: showing forth the pernicious effects, which, as we said, proceed from these two vices, Covetousness, and Prodigalitio. Muleasses king of Thunes, had his eyes put out by his son, that he 
Examples of the first-fruits of covetousness and of prodigality. Muleasses. Polymnestor.  might seize upon his treasures Priamus king of Troy, fearing the taking of his city, sent Polydorus his youngest son to his son in law Polymnestor, with a great quantity of gold and silver: but he being desirous to possess the same slew the child his brother in law, for which afterward he received his deserved hire. For Queen Hecuba coming unto him, and taking him aside into a chamber, not showing countenance of any discontentment, with the help of her woman put out his eyes. The Emperor Caligula was so much touched with covetousness, 
Caligula.  that there was no kind of lucre: or mean to get money by, how unlawful and wicked soever it were, which he sought not out: insomuch that he laid a tribute upon urine, and sold his sister's gowns, whom he had violated and sent into banishment. And yet in one year of his reign he spent prodigally 67. Million of gold, which Tiberius his predecessor had gathered together. Nero using great cruelty, polling, exaction, and confiscation towards his subjects, gave to the ministers of his tyranny in those fifteen years wherein he reigned, the 
Nero.  value of 55. Million of Crowns. He caused a very stately guilt palace to be built, which took in compass a great part of Rome, but it was overthrown after his death, that the memory of such a cruel tyrant might be rooted out of the earth. A notable example for such as think to get a vain glory by buildings that are more stately than necessary, and yet 
Against the superfluity of sumptuous buildings.  leave behind them a notorious mark of their tyranny, and perpetual testimony to posterity, that they have raised their houses with the blood of their subjects. Henry the seventh Emperor, a Prince endued with most excellent virtues, was poisoned with an Host, which an Italian Monk corrupted with money caused him to take. But what need we seek for 
An Italian Monk.  such examples of ancient men to know the first-fruits of covetousness, when as the unhappiness of our age daily affordeth us new before our eyes, wherein we hear nothing almost spoken of, but poison and murders hired with money, and all committed to this end, that the authors of them may have their goods whom they kill, for the satisfying of their insatiable covetousness? Among many other, who hath not heard of the cruel wilful murder of a 
A cruel murder of a Gentlewoman and of her household.  Gentlewoman of a good house, and of her men and maids, by her own brethren in law, done a few days past? A cruelty exceeding that of the Cannibals, who yet spare domestical blood. But God the just judge would not that such an execrable wickedness should belong concealed and unpunished. For when it could not be found out by any inquiry of man, one of the murderers touched with the hand of God, and taken with an extreme sickness, being as it were mad, and as Cain was in times past, disclosed his sin of himself, the heinousness whereof so troubled him, that he could hope for no mercy. Afterwards recovering his health, he was taken upon his own confession, and being convicted of the fact, accused all the authors thereof, of whom some are executed, and the rest expect no better event. That covetousness causeth subjects to rebel against their covetous Princes, and that oftentimes to their overthrow: we have an example in Mauritius the Emperor, who was deprived 
Mauritius deprived of the Empire for his covetousness.  of the Empire, and had his head cut off, besides the death of his five children, and of his wife, by reason of the ill will of his people and men of war, which he had purchased, who could bear no longer his covetousness, whereby he was moved to wink at spoils, and murders, and to keep back the pay of his soldiers. In the time of S. jews the king, the people of five cities and five villages of high Almaigne, which at this day we call Switserland, raised such a great tumult and sedition, that they put to the edge of the sword all their Princes, 
The Nobility of Switserland destroyed for the same cause. jews. 11.  Lords, and Noble men; the chief cause thereof was their covetousness, which made them oppress their subjects with unjust exactions. the niggardly sparing of king jews the eleventh, moved strangers greatly to contemn him, and was in part the cause of the rebellion of his subjects. For having put away in a manner all the Gentlemen of his household, he used his Tailor always for his Herald of Arms, his Barber for Ambassador, and his Physician for his Chancellor: and in derision of other kings, he wore a greasy hat of the coarsest wool. We find in the chamber of accounts a bill of his expenses, wherein is set down 20. souses for two new sleeves to his old doublet, and another clause of 15. deniers for grease to grease his boots. And yet he increased the charges of his people three millions more than his predecessors had done, and alienated a great part of his demain. Sparing may well be used (which at this day is more more necessary than ever) and yet the majesty of a King nothing diminished, neither the dignity of his house, and without the abusing of his greatness. Likewise those men, who after there they have hoardward much treasure, and are so besotted and blinded with a covetous love of their wealth, that they will not upon any necessity employ it, can no more avoid their destruction, than the other before mentioned. This doth the history of Calipha king of Persia teach us, who having filled a Tower with gold, silver, jewels, and precious stones, and being in war against alan king of the Tartarians, was so ill succoured 
Calipha.  of his own people, because he would not give them their pay, that he was taken in his town, and by alan committed prisoner in the said Tower, with these words: If thou hadst not kept this treasure so covetously, but distributed it amongst thy soldiers, thou mightest have preserved thyself, and thy city. Now therefore enjoy it at thine ease, and eat and drink thereof, seeing thou hast loved it so much. And so he suffered him to die there of hunger, in the midst of his riches. The punishment which Dionysius the elder, king of Syracuse, laid 
How Dionysius punished a covetous wretch.  upon a rich covetous subject of his, was more gentle, but worthy to be well noted, being full of instruction. For being advertised that he had hid great store of treasure in the ground, he commanded him upon pain of life to bring it unto him: which he did, although not all of it, but retained part, which he took with him, and went to devil in another city, where he bestowed his money upon inheritance: When Dionysius understood thereof, he sent for him, and restored all his gold and silver: saying unto him: Forasmuch as thou knowest now how to use riches, not making that unprofitable, which was appointed for the use of man, take that, which before thou wast unworthy to enjoy. And to speak the truth, there is no reason wherewith the covetousness of such men may be coloured. For if they say, that they spend not because they care nor for spending, it is a point of great folly in them to labour to gather more wealth than they want. But if they desire to spend, and yet dare not for niggardliness do so, nor enjoy the fruit of their labour, they are a great deal more miserable. Whereby it appeareth unto us what a goodly and commendable thing it is to be content and satisfied with a little, which freeth us from the desire of unnecessary things. Now if we are to take those things for superfluous, which we will not use, we aught, for the reasons already set down, to make no less account of those which we would abuse in riot and superfluity. The covetousness of Darius, king of the Persians', was beguiled and laughed to scorn through the subtle invention of Nitocris Queen of Babylon (some attribute 
How Darius his covetousness was beguiled.  it to Semiramis) who being desirous to welcome her successors that were touched with avarice, which she abhorred above all things, caused a high sepulchre to be erected over those gates of the city through which there was most passage, with these words engraven therein: If any king of Babylon that shall come after me find want in his treasury, let him open this tomb, and take as much as he will. Otherwise let him not open it, for it will not be best for him. After many ages were passed, and none of the kings of Babylon had touched the said sepulchre, Darius' conquering the kingdom causing the coffin to be opened, thinking to find there that which was promised. Nevertheless he found there nothing but a dead body, with this writing: If thou were not insatiable and very covetous, thou wouldst not have opened the tomb of the dead. Moreover that covetousness oftentimes blindeth men so far, as that it causeth them to take away their own life without fear of condemning their souls, many examples thereof are left in memory: of whom some through grief for some great loss of goods, others to leave their children rich, have voluntarily procured their own death. Cassius Licinius was of this 
Cassius Licinius strangled himself to leave his goods to his children.  number, who being accused, attainted, and convicted of many thefts and briberies, and beholding Cicero Precedent at that time, about to put on the purple gown to pronounce sentence of confiscation of goods, and of banishment, he sent word to Cicero that he was dead during the process and before condemnation: and presently in the field he smothered himself with a napkin, having no other meaning therein but to save his goods for his children: For then the laws concerning the punishment of such as had rob the commonwealth, or such as being prevented slew themselves, were not made: so that they that were accused might save their lives by forsaking their goods, yea by paying so much only as their accusers demanded. But there are some of a clean contrary disposition to Licinius, who being ready to give up the ghost, would gladly carry their wealth with them, as we read of Hermocrates, 
Hermocrates beque thed his goods to himself. A Rat sold for 200. pence. Covetousness caused Crassus to play on both ●●●ess.  who by his will made himself heir of his own goods. Athenaeus maketh mention of another, who at the hour of his death devoured many pieces of his gold, & sewed the rest in his coat, commanding that they should be all buried with him. Valerius Maximus telleth of one, who being besieged within the town of Cassilina by Hannibal, preferred the hope of gain before his own life. For he chose rather to cell a Rat, which he had taken, for 200. Roman pence, than to satisfy his hunger, whereof he died quickly after: and the buyer being the wiser man, saved his life by that dearemeate. Crassus' Consul of Rome is likewise noted by Historiographers to be extreme covetous, which caused him to swim between two factions divided for Caesar and Pompey, serving his own turn by them both, and changing many times from one side to another in the administration of the Common wealth. He showed himself neither a constant friend, nor a dangerous enemy, but soon forsook both amity and enmity, when he saw it would be profitable to him, whereof the increase of his substance gave great proof. For when he first began to intermeddle in affairs, his riches amounted but to 300. Talents, which according to our money came to about 180000. crowns: but after when he purposed to go from Rome to war with the Parthians, he would needs know how much all his wealth came to. And first he offered to Hercules the tenth of all his goods: secondly, he made a public feast for all the people 
Wonderful riches.  of Rome of a thousand tables: and thirdly, he gave to every citizen as much wheat as would find him three months. Notwithstanding all this, he found that he was worth 7100 talents, which amounted to four millions, two hundred and threescore thousand crowns. He used to say, that he accounted no man rich, except he were able of his own charges to hire and maintain an army: because as no man can set down a ready reckoning of the expenses of war: as king Archidamus said, so the riches that is to sustain it, may not be limited. But in the end his covetousness and ambition, which commonly are not far separated one from another, led him to a violent death, as we declared else where. Now as Crassus was blamed for covetousness, so Pompey was as much commended & well thought of, because he abhorred and condemned it. Whereof he gave good proof, as also of great 
Pompey abhorred covetousness.  piety at the taking of the city of jerusalem from the jews. For when he entered into the temple, and beheld the great riches thereof, the table of gold, the golden candlestick, a great number of vessels of gold, with great abundance of good and exquisite spice for smells, and knew moreover that there was in the treasury about two thousand talents of sacred silver, yet he would not touch it in any wise, nor suffer any thing to be taken from it. We that say we are Christians, follow a far off the piety of these heathen men, when as both great and small watch for nothing more than how to entrap the goods of the Church, to make them serve our delights and pleasures. Moreover we see that this cursed plant of covetousness groweth as much in the house of prayer, as in the courts of kings and princes. The corruption also that hath followed the same, is known sufficiently in those men, who to satisfy their unsatiable desires call themselves protectors of this Hydra Ignorance, to the destruction and perdition of their own souls, and of ten thousand more for whom they are to answer. jovian Pontanus rehearseth a pleasant history of a cardinal named Angelot, who 
The great covetousness of a cardinal.  was well punished for his covetousness. This cardinal used when his horse keepers had in the evening given oats to his horses, to come down all alone without a light by a trap door into the stable, and so steal their oats, and carry it into his garner whereof he kept the key himself. He continued his doings and come so often, that one one of his horsekeepers not knowing who was this thief, hide himself in the stable, and taking him at the deed doing (being ignorant who it was (bestowed so many blows on his with a pitchfork, that he left himself dead so that he was feign to be carried by four men into his chamber. john Maria Duke of Milan, chastised very justly, but over severely, the covetousness of a Curate, who denied the service of his office in the burying of a dead body, because his widow had not wherewith to 
The cruel punishment of a covetous curate.  pay him the charges of the burial. For the Duke himself going to the funerals of the dead, caused the priest to be taken and bound to the coarse, & so cast them both into one pit. A cruelty no less detestable than the vice of those wretches that sell the gifts of God, & make merchandise of that, which they aught to give freely to the people. Now to end our matter, we maintain this, that covetousness and unlawful desire of riches, is the root of all evil, misery and calamity. Moreover it is more to be misliked in great men when it followeth riot and prodigality, than if it be joined with niggardliness, as well for the reason before touched, as also because niggardly and covetous princes use more carefully in their estates and 
1. Tim. 6. 10.  dignities to provide such men as are prudent & stayed, for the preservation of their subjects, knowing that their own ruin dependeth of their undoing. Which thing voluptuous princes neglect, because they dream of nothing but of their pleasures, and so provide none but such as will serve their numor therein, and flatterers, or else such as will give them most money wherewith to maintain their delights. And let us further know, that all 
What magistrates are best liked of covetous princes.  covetous men go astray from the right way of truth, & enfold themselves in many griefs & miseries, & become odious to every one. Besides, not being content with their daily bread, when contrariwise their desire is infinite, they evidently mock God as often as they make that petition: because they labour to conceal and to dissemble before him that knoweth all things, their covetous and greedy affection, whereas true prayer aught to declare and to open the inward meaning of the heart. Let us therefore that are better instructed learn, that godliness with contentation is great gain: and let us not wearieour selves in the heaping up 
1. Tim. 6. 6. Matth. 6. 19 We must renounce unjust riches.  of treasure, which the rust and moth may consume and eat, and the thief steal, but let us renounce riches and the world, over which Satan beareth rule, lest in that terrible day he accuse us before the great judge, and convince us of taking something of his; and then the judge being upright and just, deliver us into his hands to throw us into darkness, where there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth for evermore.   

Of Envy, Hatred, and Backbiting. Chap. 43.  ARAM. 
THe mind of man, which of it own nature is created sociable, gracious, and ready to help every one, yea, which by the force of charity working together, with it, feeleth itself as it were constrained to mourn with those that weep, and to rejoice with them that laugh, is able to show nothing more unworthy itself, than to be be overcome of Envy, which is a wild plant in the soul, bringing 
Nothing more unworthy the spirit of man th●n envy.  forth clean contrary effects to that good will which we own to our neighbour, and comprehending in it all injustice generally, and all wickedness of men: as we may see if you think good (my companions) to search more narrowly into the nature of this vice.  ACHITOB. 
Envy proceedeth of a naughty disposition, and provoketh light brains (as Pindarus saith) to rejoice in beholding the adversity of some, and to be vexed at the happy 
The nature of Envy.  success of others: causing men also to delight in backbiting honest men, especially such as are praised. But take heed (saith Pittacus) lest, seeking to avoid envy, thou becomest miserable.  ASER. 
Glory and virtue (saith Virgil) are always envied: which vice is commonly accompanied with hatred and ill-will, whereby men are driven forward to detract and slander others. But he that keepeth 
Hatred and illwill are the companions of envy.  his mouth (saith the wise man) keepeth his soul. Let us then hear AMANA, who will instruct us more at large in this which is here propounded unto us.  AMANA. 
That wicked and subtle enemy of mankind, not being able to abide the glory whereunto God hath called men, of which he deprived himself through his pride, was driven with envy to tempt our first parents: whose in gratitude conceiving sin in the soul of man, the first fruit brought forth by this cursed plant, seemeth likewise to have been envy, 
What execrable first-fruits envy hath brought forth  with which Adam's eldest son being moved, slew his only brother. OH cursed and furious envy, o slothful branch of execrable evils, seeing by thee man was first beguiled, and induced afterward to admit murder into his heart, and to water the earth, being yet virgine-like, with his brother's blood: whereby he began his chief work upon innocency, to the end that wicked men might from father to son have this prerogative to oppress the good! Is there any vice then amongst us which we aught to hate and fly from more than from envy, which having nothing of her first evil nature diminished, leadeth men to most unjust and detestable actions? Nevertheless to what passion are we more inclined, or do we nourish more willingly than this? Let every one enter into himself and undoubtedly he shall find there a thousand envies, which are never without hatred and rancour, grafted in the secretest place of his soul. True it is, that envy according to the subjects which it meeteth withal, bringeth forth more pernicious effects in some, and less hurtful in others. But howsoever it be, this passion is always blameworthy, and aught to be eschewed of every good and virtuous man, whose desire is, not to wander out of the path of duty, and honesty. We say therefore that Envy is a grief arising of another man's prosperity, and that malignity is 
What envy is. Malignity is defined of some to be the effect of that malice which one man beareth to another. The difference between hatred and envy.  commonly joined with it, whether it be the fountain thereof, as some say, or one part thereof, as others will have it. This malignity is a delight and pleasure taken in another man's harm, although we receive no profit thereby: and it seemeth to be accidental, that is, procured by hatred or ill will, arising of some evil affection that one man beareth to another. For this cause Plutarch distinguisheth hatred from envy, saying: that hatred is bred in our hearts through an imagination and conceit which we have, that he whom we hate behaveth himself wickedly, either towards all men generally, or particularly towards us: but that men envy only those whom they know to be in prosperity. And so it seemeth, that envy is indefinite and not limited, much like to sore eyes, that are offended at every clearness and light, but that hatred is limited, being always grounded and stayed upon some certain objects in regard of itself. Moreover, no man hath just cause to envy another man's prosperity. For he doth no man wrong, because he is happy: whereas one the contrary side many are justly hated for their vices and impieties, and aught to be shunned of good men: which hatred of the wicked is a property that belongeth to good men. But the 
To hate the wicked is a property of good men.  hatred that is borne towards good men, is a passion not much separated from envy. And thus may these two passions resembling two plants, be said to be nourished, preserved, and increased by the self same means, albeit they succeed one another. The same Plutark being desirous to teach us, how we aught to abhor envy: calleth it sorcery: because through the 
Envy compared to sorcery.  poison thereof, it doth not only fill the envious body with a naughty and hurtful disposition, but the infection disperseth itself also through the eyes, even upon them that behold it, so that they are touched therewith, as it were by some poisonful influence. Likewise he compareth it to the flies called Cantharideses. For as they alight especially upon the fairest 
To Cantharideses.  wheat, and most blown roses: so envy commonly setteth itself against the honestest men, and such as have most glory and virtue. Power, honour, strength, riches, are but 
The firebrands of envy. Envy most of all hurtful to the envious.  brands to kindle the fire thereof. Therefore Thucydides saith, that a wise man desireth to be envied, to the end he may do great things. Bias said, that envy and an old house oftentimes light upon a man, and never knock at his gates. But if envy be hurtful to others, it is much more noisome to him that possesseth her, tormenting him within continually with a thousand turbulent passions, which shorten his days, diminish the powers of his body, and are a great deal more pernicious to his soul. For it will not suffer him to taste or conceive any good speech, or sound instruction, from whomsoever it cometh: but causeth him to reject and speak against it, as if he were jealous and envious of his own good. The occasion whereof is the ill will which naturally he beareth against all them that deserve more than himself, whereupon he striveth rather to blame, or to wrist in ill part whatsoever was well meant, than to reap any profit thereby. And if he hear a man commend other men's devices, or any of his own doings contrary to his mind, he thinketh that he had so many blows given him with a cudgel. Thus we see, that envy wishing well to none, doth no less torment and hurt the soul that is infected therewith. And to speak in a word, it comprehendeth the general injustice, which is all kind of wickedness, and destroyeth all duties of humanity, causing men to hurt those whom they aught to love and secure. Of this wild plant of envy, backbiting is a branch, which delighteth and feedeth itself with slandering 
Of backbiting.  and lying, whereupon good men commonly receive great plagues, when they overlightly give credit to backbiters. Therefore Diogenes the Cynic being demanded what biting of beasts was most dangerous, answered: Of furious and wild beasts, the backbiters: and of tame 
What biting of beasts is most dangerous.  beasts, the flatterers. To the same purpose Themistocles the Theban said, that It was the greatest grief in the world, to see the honour of a good man in the mercy of a venomous tongue, and wronged with slanderous speeches. For seeing good fame and credit is more precious than any treasure, a man hath no less injury offered him when his good name is taken away, than when he is spoiled of his substance. But backbiting and slandering do then bring forth most pernicious effects, when princes are ready to hear slanderers, of whom they themselves are in the end corrupted. 
When backbiting hurteth most.  For the envious and backbiting person doth as a naughty painter did, who having ill-favoredly painted certain cocks, commanded his boy to drive the natural cocks far from his picture: so he laboureth as much as may be to withdraw good men from those whom he would govern. But because he cannot do it openly, fearing their virtue whom he hateth from his heart, he will seem to welcome, to honour, and to admire them, and yet under hand, and behind their backs he will cast abroad and sow his slanders. And if so be that his privy and secrets reports, which prick behind, do not presently bring forth the end of his intent, yet he keepeth in memory that which Medius uttered long since, who was as it were the master and captain of the whole flock of flatterers, banded together about Alexander against all the honest men in the court. This fellow taught, that they should not spare to nip boldly, and to bite with store of slanders. For (quoth he) although he that is bitten should be 
A pestilent precept of Medius given to backbiters.  cured of the wound, yet the scar as the lest will still remain. And by such scars of lies and false accusations, or rather to give them a better name with Plutarch, by such fistuloes and cankers Alexander being gnawn, unjustly put to death Calisthenes, Parmenion and Philotas, giving himself over to the will and possession of three or four flatterers, of whom he was clothed, decked, set forth and adored as it were a barbarian image. Such is the force and efficacy, of lying joined with flattery, over that soul which hath no sound judgement of reason to discern truth from falsehood, or a good nature from a malicious. True it is, that this comfort cannot be taken away from good men, namely, to be persuaded that the sleights of backbiters and slanderers are able to prevail but little against the invincible tower of sacred 
The comfort which cannot be taken away from good men.  virtue, and of an assured hope well grounded, which, whatsoever cometh to pass, triumph always, and victoriously hold envy and backbiting under their feet. And although these vices by reason of their force 'cause them to suffer sometimes, yet patience keepeth them from being overcome, so that they never sink down under adversities, but even then lay hands upon the haven of their deliverance. So that if princes would not fall into those inconveniences, 

Good counsel for princes against flatterers.  
We must not lend our ears to slanderers.   nor be deceived as this great Macedonian Monarch was, they must, upon the reports of backbiters, thoroughly and with reason weigh all things, and not suffer themselves to be persuaded by slanderers, but discern their words with a sound judgement. Further let us note, that they which lend their ears to their lies and detractions, are no less to be blamed and reprehended, than the slanderers themselves, because they are both touched with the same imperfection, I mean, of taking delight in the evil report of another. And as the slanderer hurteth by accusing those that are not present, so doth he that suffereth himself to be persuaded before he hath learned the truth of things. Moreover, they that accustom themselves to hear willingly reports and lies, commonly also take more pleasure in reading and 
Who delight most in reading of fables.  learning fables and dreams, faults and vices noted in peoples and nations, than in true narrations and goodly sentences made and and written with good judgement and diligent study, or in perusing the honours, heroical facts, and commendations given to virtuous & famous men, which doth touch and grieve them no less than it doth the envious and backbiter: whereas they aught to accept of those things as of spurs to drive them forward unto virtue. Therefore whosoever considereth well all those pernicious effects that are procured through backbiting, he shall know that it is a great point of modesty, and most necessary for him that hath profited well in Moral Philosophy, not to suffer any man to be blamed, and evil spoken of in his presence, although he were his capital enemy. We see also that this crafty and subtle kind of wickedness is usually practised of backbiters and envious persons, 
A subtle practice of envious men.  when they perceive that they cannot 'cause themselves to be accounted as honest men as they are whom they purpose to slander, than they labour to prove that these men are not so honest, as some others whom they commend and prefer, seeking by that means to cover their hatred and ill-will, and to get credit to their slander by that praise, which they give indirectly to others. They spare not the dead many times, neither is there any let in them why through their envy they draw them not out of that rest wherein they are, which is detestable impiety. Now seeing we know what evil proceedeth from these wild and naughty plants of envy, hatred and backbiting, and that naturally, as inheritors of the vice and sin of our first parents, we carry in our hearts, I know not what envy, jealousy, and emulation against some one or other, let us beware that we nourish not such vicious passions, but weaken their force, and make them altogether unable to 'cause us to departed from duty: let us accustom 
A mean to resist envy and hatred.  ourselves not to envy the prosperity of our enemies, neither to backbite them in any sort. And if it be possible, let us not besparing in giving unto them their praise and honour, whensoever they do any thing that deserveth justly to be commended: because that also bringeth greater praise to him that giveth it. For then if it fall out so that he reproveth somewhat in his enemy, his accusation carrieth more credit and force with it, as that which proceedeth not from the hatred of his person, but from a dislike of his doings, thereby declaring that equity and justice only are the bounds of his hatred. Besides, we shall reap a greater benefit 
Equity and justice are the only bounds of a good man's hatred.  than is hitherto rehearsed. For when we accustom ourselves to praise our enemies for well doing, and are not grieved when any prosperity befalleth them, we shall utterly drive from us the vice of envy, and jealousy over the good success of our friends and acquaintance, when they attain to honour. Whereas on the contrary side if we acquaint ourselves and take delight in envying the welfare of our enemies, we shall do the like many times to our friends: as we see the experience thereof in many at this day, who are so touched with this vice, that they rejoice at the evil which happeneth to their well willers, and to such as are the occasion of their good and preferment. But if we be desirous to discharge our duty towards our neighbours for whose profit we are borne, let us seek to practise that sentence of Cicero, That an honest man and good citizen never aught to be moved with hatred or envy upon supposed crimes, not not towards his enemy, wishing to die rather than to offend against justice, which is an utter enemy to that vice. This also will be a good help and mean to keep us from backbiting, i● we 
What scoffing is and how it is to be avoided.  eschew all kind of scoffing, which (as Theophrastus saith) is nothing else but a close and coloured reproof of some fault, which by little and little inureth him that mocketh, to backbite another openly and untruly. This great imperfection of gibing is very familiar amongst us, although it be as unseemly for an honourable parsonage as some other more infamous vice. But to the end we may have better occasion to keep us from it, let us know that many times a man is more moved with a gibing gird, than with an injury: because this latter 
A scoff is many times worse taken than any other suspicious speech.  proceedeth commonly from the vehemency of sudden choler, even against his will that uttereth it, but the other is more taken to heart, as that which seemeth to come from a settled will and purpose to offer wrong, and from a voluntary maliciousness without any necessity. If we be disposed to be merry, as sometimes opportunity, place, and persons invite us thereunto, let it be done with a good grace, and without offence to any. Now although envy and backbiting, by reason of their pernicious effects are so odious to all honourable and 
How mirth is commendable.  virtuous personages, yet no other revenge is to be sought or desired, than that punishment which followeth and groweth with the vice itself, which never suffereth him that is touched therewith, to enjoy any rest in his soul, as we have already learned. Neither is there any great care to be had for the matter, seeing envious persons and backbiters are no ways able to bite the deserts of good men. But if we would have their punishment augmented and doubled, there is no better way, than to study so much the more to do well, as we see them labour more earnestly to envy and to condemn our dealings. For as the Sun being directly over the top of any thing whatsoever, if it leave any shadow at all, yet it is but short and little, because the light thereof is dispersed round about the same: so the excellency of virtue, glory 
A notable way how to be revenged upon the envious.  & honour, in the end constraineth the venomous tongue to drink and to swallow down her own poison, not daring to bring it again in sight, whereby envy and blame are as it were wholly extinguished, and unable to hurt good men any more. This reason caused Philip king of Macedonia to make this answer to certain, who told him, that the Grecians spoke ill 
Philip took occasion through backbiting to do better.  of him behind his back, notwithstanding he did them much good, and therefore willed him to chastise them: What would they do then (quoth this noble and gentle Prince) if we should do them any harm? But they make me become a better man. For I strive daily both by my words and deeds to prove them lairs. And another time, as his friends counseled him to put to death: or to banish a Gentleman of Macedonia, who continued in slandering him, he would not do either of both, saying: that it was no sufficient cause to condemn him to death: and as for banishing him, he said: that it was a great deal better if he stirred not out of Macedonia, where all men knew that he lied, than if he went amongst strangers to speak ill of him, who because they knew him not well, might peradventure admit his slander as true. Whereby this virtuous Prince at one time showed forth the effects of three excellent virtues: first, of Clemency, in that he would not put him to death, of whom he had received great injury: then of Magnanimity, in contemning injury: and lastly, of wonderful Prudence, in that he did not banish him. And indeed he was of such a gentle nature, that he would never punish them that gave him an evil report, but rather took away the occasion thereof, as heretofore we have in part mentioned it. And for a greater testimony of the goodness of this Monarch, the answer he made to them that counseled him to destroy the city of Athens, deserveth well to be here set down, I do all things (quoth he to them) for glory, how then should I destroy Athens, which by reason of learning, is the Theatre of glory? The examples of Demetrius Phalorius, a Prince of immortal renown, serveth fitly to teach us what small account we are to make of the dealings of envious men; so 
Athens the Theatre of glory.  far aught we to be from caring either for their doings or sayings. When word was brought to this Prince, that the Athenians: moved with envy against him, had broken down those three hundred images, which were before erected in their street of Ariopaguses to his honour, and thereupon was provoked by his Council to be revenged of them, he said: The Athenians way well throw down my images, but they are not able to abase my virtues, for whose sake my images were heretofore erected for a public spectale. And truly those acts of Princes, which, being done in their life time, are worthy of memory, may serve them for an everlasting monument, and not Images and Tombs made with men's hands, which length of time, besides a thousand other accidents may bring to powder. Neither are 
The best monument for a prince.  they deprived of the same glory that live under the government of great men, when, according to their places and callings, they direct their actions to the benefit and safety of the common wealth. For whensoever envy laboureth to hurt them with supposed crimes, their 
Innocency is a tower of brass against slanderers.  innocency (as Horace saith) will be unto them in place of an inexpugnable tower of brass: so that being assured of that, they need not stand in any fear of the cruel teeth of slanderers. Therefore Socrates being reproved by Hermogenes, because he did not once dream of defending himself when he was accused, made this answer: I have dreamt of that all my life time, by striving to live well. To conclude then our present discourse, let us learn to unclothe our hearts of all envy and hatred, which procure so many turbulent and hurtful passions in the soul, and overthrow all that charity and love, which we aught to bear towards every one. Let us fear this sentence pronounced by the holy Spirit. That whosoever hateth his brother is a man slayer. And if we see that vice and imperfections reign in our life, let us hate 
1. joh. 3. 15.  their evil manners, and love the welfare of their souls, by endeavouring to bring them back again into the path way of virtue, until we see that all hope of remedy is taken away, by reason of their long settled habit and continuance in vice: for than we are to shun altogether the hurtful conversation of such forlorn men. Let us take heed that we please not ourselves in detracting and backbiting, or in speaking rashly of any without advisement taken, of whom, to whom, and what we speak. Let us not be given to lying, or to hearken to slanderers, but following the counsel of the Scripture, let us lay aside all maliciousness, and all guile, and dissimulation, and envy, and all evil speaking, and as new borne babes desire the 
1. Pet. 2. 11.  milk of understanding, which we may as it were boast that we have in the true and right knowledge of justice, which is to tender to God that which is due to him, according to piety, and to our neighbours whatsoever belongeth to them, according to the duty of charity, which is gentle, not easily provoked to anger, nor envious, nor rejoicing in iniquity, but always in the truth. 
1. Cor. 13. 4.    

Of Fortune. Chap. 44.  AMANA. 
IF I be not deceived (my companions) we have hitherto sufficiently discoursed of the four Moral virtues, being rivers that flow from the fountain of duty and honesty, as also of all the parts that belong unto them, and of their contrary vices Therefore from henceforth we are to make choice of some other matter, and to apply that which we might have learned in the discourses of our Moral Philosophy, unto estates, charges, and conditions of life, whereunto every one of us may be called during this life: yea, let us assay to give advice and counsel to superiors, according to the measure of our judgement. But because, as I think, the entry to so high a matter, requireth some leisure to think upon it, I am of opinion, that we were best to defer this point until the next days work: and in the mean time, for the spending of the rest of this afternoon, look out some matter subject, apt, and sit to recreate our spirits withal: which, because naturally they delight in variety and diversity of things, cannot have a more convenient matter, than to make sport with the divers and sundry effects of Fortune, which according to the saying of the Ancients, is very constant in her inconstancy. Further, let us consider how we may use this word of Fortune, which 
Fortune is constant in her inconstancy.  is so common amongst us, and not abuse it.  ARAM. 
To him (saith Cicero) whose help, reason, and cogitation dependeth of Fortune, nothing can be so certain or assured unto him, that he may persuade himself it will abide by him, not not one day. But he is most happy that is of himself sufficient in every respect, and that placeth the hope of all his affairs in himself, in regard of men.  ACHITOB. 
I am she (saith Virtue, speaking in Mantuan) that surmounteth Fortune, and the scourge that punisheth sins. Vice and Virtue (saith Plutarch) have no masters, to rule over them: and they are very blind, who, calling Fortune blind, suffer themselves to be guided and led by her. But we must learn of thee (ASER) what we are to think of this counterfeit Goddess.  ASER 
If we are persuaded, that he who is justice itself, and the essential truth, maketh Princes contemptible (as it is said in the Scripture) and causeth them to err in desert places out of the way, raising up the poor out of misery, and making him families like a flock of 
Psal. 107. 40. 41.  sheep, there is no doubt but that Fortune, being an Epicurian word, rather than an Heathenish, is nothing else but a feigned device of man's spirit, and an imagination without truth: upon which (as Plutarch saith) a man cannot settle his judgement, nor yet comprehend it by the 
What Fortune is. God ordereth casual things necessarily.  discourse of reason. So that we must confess, that all things are guided and governed by the providence of God, who knoweth and ordereth casual things necessarily. Which albeit we easily contesse with the mouth, as also that prosperity and adversity depend only of the will of God, yet we may daily note in many of us, effects clean contrary to the word, in that, when we deliberate about our affairs, we presently cast our eye upon human means, to come to the end of them, although they are but second causes, casting behind our 
Human means are but second causes.  backs that help, which is from above. And when we want the blessings of God, through his anger and just indignation, (which we care not to appease) and so for the most part stumble upon the clean contrary of all our platforms and goodly enterprises; then we accuse, not our ignorance and ingratitude towards his Majesty, but the unfortunate mishap and chance of humanethings, which through the common error of men, we attribute to Fortune. Now, knowing that we live, and move, and have our being in God only; 
Act. 17. 28. Rom. 11. 33.  that his mysteries are great and wonderful, and such, that if we should go about to sound the bottom of them, it were all one as if we sought to pierce the heavens, after the manner of the Giants, set forth unto us by the Poets: that our way is not in our power, and that of ourselves we cannot direct our steps: that it is the Lord that offereth a man into his hands, who unwittingly killeth him with the head of his axe slipped from the helue: that 
jer. 10. 13. Exod 21. 13. Deut. 19 4. 5. Prou. 16. 33.  lots cast at adventure, fall out according to his judgement, and that generally all things are done by the ordinance of God: I say, knowing all these things, yet because the order, reason, end, and necessity of those things which are so strange, uncertain, and mutable in the world, are for the most part hidden in the counsel of God, and cannot be comprehended by the opinion and reach of man, we may well call them casual & changing, in respect of ourselves. The like we may both conceive of all future events, holding them in suspense, because they may fall out either of the one or the other side, (and yet being resolved of this, 
How we may use these words of Fortune & chance  that nothing shall come to pass which God hath not ordained;) and also note them out by this word Fortune, not attributing thereunto any power over their inconstancy and continual alteration of human things: especially seeing they are so changeable, that it would be a very hard matter speaking after the manner of men) to comprehend them under a more proper and fit word. The definition also, which the Ancients gave of Fortune, is very agreeable to the effect of the thing signified, and of that whereof we have daily experience: namely, that there is no other final end of change, and alteration in man, than that of his being. Plato saith, that Fortune is an accidental cause, and a consequence in those things which proceed from the counsel of man. Aristotle saith, that Fortune is a casual & accidental cause in things, which being purposely done for some certain end, have no apparent cause of their 
The opinion of ancient Philosophers touching Fortune.  falling out otherwise: so that a man may well say, that such a thing came to him by Fortune, which falleth out besides his thought, when he undertaketh any work with deliberation. Epicurus said, that Fortune was such a cause, as agreed neither to persons, times, or manners. Theophrastus' speaking of Fortune, saith that she looketh not whereat she shooteth; that oftentimes she delighteth in taking away that which is gotten with very great pain, but especially in overturning those felicities, which, as men think, are best stayed and assured, I●uenal saith, that when it pleaseth her, she maketh a Consul of a rhetorician: and likewise clean contrary, having this property in her to rejoice greatly in the variety of chances, and to deride all the devices of men, oftener lifting up into the place of sovereign authority such as are unworthy thereof, than those that deserve the same. Among the Ancients, 
The Romans gave great honour to Fortune.  the Romans honoured Fortune more than all the rest, esteeming of her (saith Pindarus) as of the patron, nurse, and upholder of the city of Rome. They builded for her many sumptuous Temples, wherein she was adored under sundry names, and honourable titles for a Goddess of singular power: insomuch that they thought themselves more beholding to her for the greatness and prosperity of their Empire than to virtue. Sylla having attained to the sovereign authority of a Monarch, and of Dictator, yielded himself and all his actions to the favour of Fortune, saying, that he reputed himself to be Fortune's child, and thereupon took unto him the surname of Happy. Which opinion seemeth to have prevailed greatly with him, in causing him, after he had committed infinite proscriptions, murders, and cruelties, voluntarily and without fear to give over the Dictatorship, to lead the rest of 
Sylla surnamed himself happy.  his years in all assurance and quietness, and as a private man to pass and repass through all Italy without any guard, even in the midst of them whom he had so much offended. We read also, that when Mithridates' king of Pontus wrote unto him concerning the war which he had undertaken against him, saying, that he marveled how Sylla durst buckle with his great fortune, especially knowing that she had not deceived him at any time, whras she never knew Sylla Consul, he returned this answer: For this self same reason thou shalt now see, how Fortune doing her duty, will take her leave of thee to come to me. julius Caesar gave a certain 
1. Caesar.  argument of the assurance he had in Fortune, when, entering upon the sea in a little Frigate in a very tempestuous weather, and the Pilot making some doubt of weighing up the Anchor, he said thus unto him: Be not afraid my friend, for thou carriest Caesar and his Fortune. Augustus' his successor sending his nephew to the war, wished that he might be as valiant as Scipio, as well beloved as Pompey, and and as fortunate as himself: attributing 
Augustus.  to Fortune, as a principal work, the honour of making him so great as he was. To this purpose also it is reported, that great acquaintance and familiarity growing between Augustus and Antonius his Companion in the Empire, they often passed away the time together with sundry sorts of plays and pastimes, wherein Antonius always went away vanquished. Whereupon one of his familiar friends well seen in the art of Divination, took occasion many times to utter his mind unto him in these or the like speeches: Sir, what do you so near this young man? Separate yourself far from him. Your fame is greater than 
A true foresight of a soothsayer.  his, you are elder than he, you command more men than he, you are better exercised in feats of Arms, you have greater experience: but your familiar spirit faileth his, and your Fortune, which of itself is great, flattereth his, and if you sequester not yourself far from him she will forsake you and go to him. Thus we see what great estimation the Roman had of Fortune, yea they stood in so great awe of her power, that Paulus Aemilius that great Captain said, that amongst human things, he never feared any one of them, but amongst 
P. Aemilius.  divine things he always stood in great fear of Fortune, as of her in whom there was small trust to be placed, because of her inconstancy and mutable variety, whereby she never useth to gratify men so liberally, or to bestow such absolute prosperity upon them, but that some envy is mingled withal. OH deceitful Fortune (said Demetrius) thou art easily found, 
The description of Fortune.  but hardly avoided! They that have laboured most in painting out this feigned Goddess, say, that she hath a swift pace, a lofty mind, and a haughty hope. They give her light wings, a globe under her feet, and in her hand a horn of abundance, full of all such heavenly and earthly things as are exquisite and precious, which she poureth forth liberally, when and where she pleaseth. Some put a wheel into her hands, which she turneth about continually, whereby that part which is above is presently turned downward: thereby giving 
What is mean● by Fortune's wheel.  us to understand, that from the highest preferment she throweth down in one instant such as are most happy, into the gulf of misery. In a word, we may well compare her to glass, which, the brighter it is, the sooner it is broken and dashed in pieces. Histories the treasury of antiquity, set before our eyes innumerable examples of common and contrary effects, which are wrought by this unconstant Fortune, and those oftentimes practised upon the same persons, whom of small she hath made very great, and after taken them doom lower, 
Examples of the contrary effects of F●tune. Hannibal.  yea made them more miserable (if I may so speak) than they were at the beginning. Hannibal, that renowned Captain of the Carthaginians, that redoubted enemy of the Romans, after notable victories obtained sundry times against them, was in the end utterly overthrown and compelled to fly hither and thither, and to have recourse to foreign princes, into whose arms he cast himself for the safety of his person: and after long wandering, being old and spent, he settled himself with the king of Bythinia. But Titus Flaminius whom the Romans had sent Ambassador to that king, required to have him, that he might 
Flaminius' oration against Hannibal.  put him to death. For (quoth he) as long as he liveth he will be a fire for the Roman Empire, which wanteth but some one or other to kindle it. When he was in the vigour and strength of his age, neither his hand nor his body had procured so great damage to the Romans, as his good understanding and sufficiency in the art of war had done, being joined with the hatred he bore them. Which is nothing diminished through old age, neither yet through the alteration of his estate and fortune: because the nature and quality of manners continueth always. Hannibal being advertised of this request of Titus, stieped poison in a cup of drink which he had kept a long time against an extremity. But before he drank thereof, he uttered these words. Go to, let us deliver the people of Rome from this great care, seeing it lieth so heavy upon them, and the time seemeth unto them overlong to stay for the natural 
What speech Hannibal used before he poisoned himself.  death of this poor old man, whom they hate so extremely. And yet Titus shall not obtain a victory greatly honourable, or worthy the praise of the ancient Romans, who, even then when Pyrrhus their enemy warred against them, and had won battles of them, sent him word to beware of poison that was prepared for him. Thus did this great and virtuous captain finish his days, being utterly overthrown, and trod under foot by Fortune, which for a time had placed him in the highest degree of honour that could be. Eumenes a Thracian, 
Eumenes.  one of Alexander's lieutenants, and one that after Alexander's death had great wars, and made his party good against Antigonus king of Macedonia, came to that greatness and authority from a poor Potter's son: and afterwards being overcome and taken prisoner, he died of hunger. But such preferments of Fortune will not seem very strange unto us if we consider how Pertinax came to the Empire, ascending from a simple soldier to the degree of a Captain and afterward of Governor of Rome, being borne of a poor country 
Pertinax.  woman. And having reigned only two months, he was slain by the soldiers of his guard. Aurelianus from the same place obtained the self same dignity. Probus was the son of a 
Aurelianus. Probus. Maximianus. justinus. Gregory 7. Henry 4.  Gardener, and Maximianus of a blacksmith. justinus, for his virtue surnamed the Great, from a hogheard in Thracia, attained to the Empire. Will you have a worthy example agreeable to that saying of juvenal which we alleged even now? Gregory the 7. from a poor monk was lift up to the dignity of chief bishop of Rome: and Henry the 4. Emperor, was brought to that extreme misery by wars, that he asked the said Gregory forgiveness, and cast himself down at his feet. And yet before this miserable Monarch could speak with him, he stood three days fasting and barefoot at the Pope's palace gate; as a poor suppliant waiting when he might have entrance and access to his Holiness. jews the meek Emperor, and king of France, was constrained to give over his estate, and to shut himself up in a monastery, 
jews the meek. Valerianus.  through the conspiracy of his own children Valerianus had a harder change of his estate, ending his days whilst he was prisoner in the hands of Sapor king of the Parthians, who used the throat of this miserable Emperor whensoever he mounted upon his horse. But was not that a wonderful effect of Fortune, which happened not long since in Munster, principal town in the country of Westphalia, wherein a silly botcher of Holland, being retired as a poor banished man from his country, called john of Leiden, was proclaimed king, was served and obeyed of all the people a long time, even until the taking and subversion of the said 
john of Leiden. Mahomet.  town after he had borne out the siege for the space of three years. Mahomet the first of that name, of a very small and abject place, being enriched by marrying his mistress, and serving his own turn very fitly with a mutiny raised by the Saracens against Heracleus the Emperor, made himself their captain, took Damascus, spoiled Egypt, and finally subdued Arabia, discomfited the Persians', and become both a Monarch and a Prophet. Will you see a most wonderful effect of Fortune? Look upon the proceed of that great Tamburlaine, who being a peasant's son and keeping cattle, corrupted 500 hundred shepherds his companions. These 
Tamburlaine.  men selling their cattle, betook them to arms, rob the merchants of that country, and watched the high ways. Which when the king of Persia understood of, he sent a captain with a 1000 horse to discomfit them. But Tamburlaine dealt so with them, that joining both together they wrought many incredible feats of arms. And when civil war grew betwixt the king and his brother, Tamberlane entered into the brother's pay, who obtained the victory by his means, and thereupon made him his lieutenant general. But he not long after spoiled the new king, weakened and subdued the whole kingdom of Persia. And when he saw himself captain of an army of 400000. horsemen, and 600000. footmen, he made war with Bajazet Emperor of the Turks, overcame him in battle, and took him prisoner. He obtained also a great victory against the soldan of Egypt, and the king of Arabia. This good success 
Bajazet.  (which is most to be marveled at and very rare) accompanied him always until his death, in so much that he ended his days amongst his children, as a peaceable governor of innumerable countries From him descended the great Sophy who reigneth at this day, and is greatly feared and redoubted of the Turk. But that miserable Bajazet who had conquered before so many peoples, and subdued innumerable cities, ended his days in an iron cage, wherein being prisoner, and overcome with grief to see his wife shamefully handled, in waiting at Tamburlanes' table with her gown cut down to her Navel, so that her secret parts were seen, this unfortunate Turk beat his head so often against the Cage, that he ended his life. But what need we draw out this discourse further to show the strange dealings, and marvelous changes of Fortune in the particular estates and conditions of men, which are to be seen daily amongst us, seeing the sovereign Empire of Babylon, of Persia, of Graecia, and of Rome, which in man's judgement seemed immutable and inexpugnable, are fallen from all their glittering show and 
Of the four sovereign Empires.  greatness, into utter ruin and subversion, so that of the last of them, which surpassed the rest in power, there remaineth only a commandment limited and restrained within the confines of Almaigne, which then was not the tenth part of the rich provinces subject to this Empire? Is there any cause then why we should be astonished, if little kingdoms, commonwealths, and other civil governments end, when they are come to the utmost, and full point of their greatness? And much less if it fall out so with men, who by nature are subject to change, 
We must prepare ourselves for all events.  and of themselves desire and seek for nothing else but alteration. Being assured therefore, that there is such uncertainty in all human things, let us wisely prepare ourselves, and apply our will to all events, whose causes are altogether incomprehensible in respect of our understandings, and quite out of our power. For he that is able to say, I have prevented thee OH Fortune, I have stopped all thy passages, and closed up all thy ways of entrance, that man putteth not all his assurance in bars or locked gates, nor yet in high walls, but stayeth himself upon Philosophical sentences and discourses of reason, whereof all they are capable that employ their wills, travel and study thereupon. Neither may we doubt of them or distrust ourselves, but rather admire and greatly esteem of them, being ravished with an affectionate spirit. He that taketh lest care for to morrow (saith Epicurus) cometh thereunto with greatest joy. And (as Plutarch saith) riches, glory, authority and credit, rejoice them most, that stand lest in fear of their contraries. For when a man seeketh after any of them with an overburning 
Who taketh greatest joy in outward goods.  desire, whereby also too great a fear of losing them is imprinted in him, the pleasure which he hath by enjoying the same, is very weak and unstable, much like to a flame blown up and down with the wind. But as for the power of Fortune (saith the same Philosopher) it bringeth down those men that of their own nature are cowards, fearful and of small courage. 
Of the power of Fortune.  Neither must we attribute cowardliness to misfortune, nor valour and prudence to Fortune, who is not able to make a man great without virtue. For what good will weapons do a man without experience, riches without liberality, victory without bounty and clemency, fight without valour and boldness; briefly, all fortunes goods without knowledge how to use them well? Let us learn also that it is too great blockishness to attribute the cause of the change of Monarchies, commonwealths, estates, of battles lost, and generally of all casual mishaps, both general and particular, to certain second causes: one while accusing the ambition of some, the ignorance or negligence of others, the small courage, want of money, of men, or of munitions. But we must look higher, and turn towards him who useth such means in the execution of his wonderful counsel, when he mindeth to chastise and punish 
Wither we must look in the change and success of things.  men for their offences. Examples hereof we have in those great monarchies of Babylon, of Persia, and of Graecia, whose marks are no more to be seen, than the path of a ship in the water, or way of a bird flying in the air. And yet they were overthrown and vanquished by such as had a thousand times less human force and chief sinews of war, as treasure, men, munition and other furniture, than their monarchs and Emperors had, who abounded every way. But God purposed to punish their pride and iniquity. Let us therefore stand in awe, not of the goddess Fortune, which is but the dream of man, and cannot (as Cicero saith) greatly hurt him, that judgeth hope grounded upon virtue more firm, than that which is built upon her forces; but let us fear him who directeth and disposeth in wisdom all things created to their proper end, which is the glory of his name, and salvation of his elect: 
The proper end of all things.  albeit the order which he observeth, the cause, reason, and necessity of them, are for the most part hid in his secret counsel, and cannot be comprehended by the sense of man. And yet not so hid, but that we aught prudently to consider of these means which he offereth unto us for our use, after we have endeavoured to mitigate and to appease his wrath and anger through the amendment of our life, and have called for aid and help of him in all our enterprises grounded by reason upon duty.   
The end of the eleventh days work.   

The twelfth days work.  

Of Marriage. Chap. 45.  ASER. 
IT is great perfection (as Seneca writeth) for a man to take in hand and desire to obtain but one only thing. But no man 
A wise man is not desirous of many things.  is one and the same, except a wise man: all other men are of divers forms. Who knoweth not with how great disquietness the mind of man is set on fire, with what lightness it is carried hither and thither, and with what ambition and desire it is stirred up to take hold of many sundry things at once? Notwithstanding we must diligently mark, how the heavenly Wisdom hath made a distinction of estates and kinds of life amongst men from the beginning of estates and kinds of life amongst men from the beginning, appointing that of Adam's two first children, the one should be a husbandman, the other a shepherd. Since that the self 
Distinctions of callings appointed from the beginning. Gen. 4. 2. Every one must abide in his calling. 1. Cor. 7 20. All things done in faith are precious in God's sight Gen. 2. 24.  same providence hath always commanded, that every one of us should look unto his calling in all the actions of his life, accounting thereof as of a station assigned unto us by his Majesty, and as of a perpetual rule whereby we must direct the end of our intents, and following the will of God, strive to continued such men to the end of our days, as we once purposed with ourselves to be. For we may assure ourselves, that there is no work so small and contemptible, which doth not shine and appear precious before the heavenly throne, if we do it in faith according to our calling, and give glory to the Eternal for our whole condition and state of life. Now we know that after God had created man by his almighty power and unspeakable goodness to make him partaker of his glory, and to rule over the earth, the sea, and all things contained in them, he gave him presently the woman for a faithful companion, and sweet solace to his life, and for the preservation of his kind, instituting and sanctifiing marriage from that time forward. Therefore I think my companions, that we aught to handle this first, because it is the first calling of man, most common, and most honourable: to the end that we may, as we said yesterday, begin to apply the actions and practice of the virtues, of which we have hitherto entreated, to estates and conditions of life, whereunto each of us may be called.  AMANA 
If we could (saith Plato) behold with bodily eyes the beauty that honesty hath in her, we would be far in love with her: but she is to be seen only with the eyes of the mind. And truly with the same eyes we may behold it in marriage, if we consider narrowly the 
Honesty is always beautiful.  honesty of the coupled life, when it is in every respect absolute, than the holy bond whereof, the earth hath nothing more beautiful or honest.  ARAM. 
Marriage (as the Scripture saith) is honourable among all, and the bed undefiled. He that findeth a wife, findeth a good thing, and receives favour of the Lord Therefore of 
Marriage is honourable among all. Heb. 13. 4. Prou. 18. 22. Man borne to live in society. The definition of society. The end of society.  thee (ACHITOB) we desire to understand more at large what thou hast learned concerning this matter discussed with so many contrary opinions both old and new.  ACHITOB. 
Nature having brought us forth to live in society, and not alone, like to brute beasts, it must needs be (saith Aristotle) that he which liveth solitarily is either a very beast, or more than a man. Now a society is an assembly and agreement of many in one, seeking after some good thing that is profitable, pleasant and honest, at lest that seemeth to be so: or else labouring to fly from and to eschew some evil. Every society respecteth the maintenance and preservation of Monarchies, kingdoms, and common wealth. But because no one whole and general thing can be known (as the Philosophers say) except the parts thereof be first known, it agreeth very fitly with the cause of our meeting together, and is also very necessary for us, to learn what the society of wedlock is, which being the seminary and preservation of all societies, is nothing else but a communion between the husband and the wife, extending itself to all the parts that belong to their house, of which we are to 
The definition of wedlock.  consider hereafter. The original and antiquity of this society, called Marriage, is especially worthy of memory, because God himself was the author thereof. For he had no sooner created the first man, but he purposed to give him a wife, for a faithful companion, a comfortress 
The author & antiquity of marriage. The end thereof. Another end  of his life, and a help like unto himself. Which he performed, assoon as he thought upon it: forasmuch as with him to will is to be able, and to do: as likewise to be able and to do, is to will. Furthermore, he instituted this divine mystery for the general increase of mankind, and lawful propagation of nature, even in the time of innocency before man had sinned, sanctifying it at the same time, with his blessing. Unto which necessity of Marriage, man had made himself a great deal more subject through the curse of sin, which hath given place in his soul to the concupiscences of the flesh. Whereby it appeareth that we have need of this remedy in two respects, namely: in regard of the end and condition 
The necessity and third end of marriage.  of our first nature, as also by reason of sin, which came in afterward, except in those to whom God hath granted the special grace and gift of continency, which is as rare a thing as any other whatsoever. Notwithstanding there hath always been a thousand contrary opinions as touching this matter, namely: whether marriage is to be desired and sought after, 
Continency a rare gift.  or rather to be hated and eschewed, neither part wanting reasons, oftentimes more glorious in show than forcible to conclude for the defence of their saying. Among the Philosophers, Pythagoras the first of them, was one of the greatest enemies of marriage, as may be 
The variety of opinions touching marriage.  proved by that which is written of him. For being requested to be at the marriage of a friend of his, he excused himself, saying: That he was never desirous to go to such a feast, or to be at such a funeral: judging that it was all on for a man to marry a wife, and to wed a coffin, and to put himself into a tomb, or to take a sheet for the beginning of his burial. Many other 
Pythagoras' opinion of marriage.  Philosophers were of his opinion, yea they said, that nature appointing a contrary to every living creature, hath also given to man (to whom all other things are subject) the woman for his contrary, whose malice is a sworn enemy to the reason of man. Secundus was of this sect, who being demanded what a wife was, The contrary (quoth he) of a husband. Moreover 
Secundus opinion of a wife.  they said, that a woman's nature was such, that although she had continued 30, years with her husband, yet he should daily find in her new fancies, and sundry sorts of behaviour: so that nature seemed a stepmother to men rather than to beasts, because these know and shun their contraries, but man is naturally led to love and to seek after his enemy. His misery therefore is very great, in that so weak flesh is able to force a heart that is at liberty, causing a man oftentimes to procure to himself that which doth him hurt, and to make great account of that which he contemneth, as experience showeth the same in regard of women. Thales one of the Sages of Grecia, minding to show that it was not good for a man to marry, when one asked 
Thales judgement of marriage.  him why he married not, being in the flower of his age, said, that it was not yet time. Afterwards, being grown to further age, and demanded the same question, he answered, that the time was passed. Marius the Roman asked Metellus, being a man also of great credit, why he would not take his daughter to wife, seeing she was beautiful in body stayed in countenance, eloquent 
Metellus would not give away himself to a wife.  in speech, noble by race, rich in dowry, happy in good name, & adorned with virtues? To whom he replied, That he knew all this to be true, yet (quoth he) I had rather be mine own than hers. They that follow this opinion now touched, and abhor marriage, allege commonly these or the like reasons: that although the name of husband be sweet and honourable, yet whosoever will well consider of it, shall found it full of great and intolerable burdens: and that the time is yet to come, wherein many thorns are not found amidst the roses of marriage, and 
Reasons against marriage.  wherein great store of hail falleth not together with that sweet rain. Who is able (say they) patiently to abide the charges of marriage, the care of children, the want which is sometimes in the house, the imperfections of servants, but especially the insolency and arrogancy of Wives, and the yoke of so unperfect a sex? Who is able fully to satisfy, either their fleshly lust, or their insatiable pomp? Doth not the old proverb say, that women and ships are never so well rigged, but that still there remaineth something to be amended? Whereupon 
Women compared to ships.  I would conclude willingly, that if a married man never loath his estate, yet he tireth himself at the lest. Richeses breed care, poverty grief, sailing terrifieth, eating hindereth, walking wearieth. All these troubles are (we see) dispersed or divided amongst many, but married men have them altogether. For if we mark a married man, we shall seldom see him, but either pensive or sad, or weary or hindered, or sometime amazed or afraid of that which may befall him, or may peradventure be committed by his wife. Concerning good advice, and choice for the obtaining of a good marriage: If thou takest a poor wife, she will be contemned 
How hard a matter it is to marry well.  and thyself less esteemed: if thou takest her rich, she will look to command thee, and of a free man to make thee a slave. So that when thou thinkest to take an equal companion to wife, thou shalt wed an intolerable mistress, I know not whether I should say a she devil: If thou marriest a fair woman, thou puttest thyself in great danger, lest thy round head become forked, which would be a fearful metamorphosis and alteration, if it were visible and apparent. Every castle is hard to keep, how well soever it be watched, when it is assaulted by many: and his victory is in a desperate case, who being alone, is compelled to fight against many. What shall I say more? Wealth maketh a woman proud, beauty suspected, and hardness of favour loathsome. Is there any thing (as Plutarch saith) more light than the tongue of an unbridled woman? more nipping than her injuries? more rash than her 
An unruly woman is full of all evil.  boldness? more execrable than her naughty disposition? more dangerous than her fury? These evil speakers of women further enrich their saying with a thousand histories and examples, as testimonies of the infinite miseries and inconveniences which have been procured by them. For they allege the deceiving of the first man by his wife, whereupon sin and death, and through them all miseries entered into the world. Samson betrayed by Dalila, Solomon become brutish through his concubines, Achab rooted out through jesabel, Marcus Automus slew himself for the love of Cleopatra, the destruction of Troy because of Helena, the 
Examples of miser●●●● events procured by women.  Pandora of Hesiodus, the pitiful death of Hercules by Deiamra, and many other miserable events procured chief by women, and plentifully declared in histories. Neither do they forget the saying of Hipponactus, That of one marriage, only two good days are to be hoped for, namely, the marriage day, and the day of the wives death. They say that the wedding day (according 
T●● good 〈◊〉 ●● marriage.  to Alexandreides speech) is the beginning of many evils, that in no estate Fortune showeth herself more inconstant, and less faithful in performing her promise than in marriage, as Polyhistor saith: because there is not one to be found, wherein there is not some deceit, or some occasion of complaint given to the man, They say as Philemon said: That a wife is a necessary and perpetual evil to her husband: that (as Diphilus said) nothing is hardlier found in all the world than a good wife. Whereunto that old proverb agreeth, that a good wife, a good mule, and a good goat, are three naughty beasts. The answer always made by a noble Roman, 
Three evil beasts.  is not forgotten of these severe Censurers of women, to whom when some of his acquaintance and friends said, that he had great cause to hold himself happy and contented, because he had a wife that was fair, rich, and come of noble parentage, he showed them his foot, saying: My friends, you see that my she is very new, fair and well made, but none of you can tell whereabout it pincheth me. Likewise the saying of Alphonsus king of Arragon is alleged by 
Alphonsus' opinion of a perfect marriage.  them that blame marriage, namely, that if a man would see a perfect and well agreeing marriage, the husband must be deaf, and the wife blind, that he may not hear his wives brawling, nor she see her husband's faults. He that trusteth to a woman (said Hesiodus) is as safe as he that hangeth by the leaves of a tree in the end of Autumn when the leaves begin to fall. I remember yet three things which I have heard uttered in contempt of marriage: the saying of a merry conceited man, the deed of another, & the answer of a good fellow that was in talk of a certain marriage. They have reason (quoth the first) who say, that when a young man is to be married, he must be 
Three merry conceits.  arrested. For truly I think we should fly up to heaven, if this arrest kept us not back. The second hearing this preached, that whosoever will be saved, must bear his cross, ran to his wife and laid her upon his neck. Thirdly, when one said to a good fellow that he should tarry until his son were wise before he married him: Be not deceived my friend (quoth he to him) for if he once grow to be wise he will never marry. These & such like reasons are commonly alleged by them that mislike marriage. But now mark what we say to the contrary. 
Notable reasons in the defence of marriage.  First we have to consider the beginning and antiquity of marriage, the place where it was instituted, & who was the author thereof, & that in the time of innocency, of which things we have already spoken. Moreover we must remember, that the heavenly word honoured with his presence, & set forth a wedding feast with a miracle, even with the first which he wrought 
Christ honoured awedding with his presence & with a miracle.  in this world. Can any thing then be found more holy, than that which the holy of holies. the Father & creator of all things hath established, honoured & consecrated with his presence? But what greater equity can we use than to leave to our successors that which we hold of our predecessors? By wedlock copulation we came into the world, and by the same we must leave others behind us, to continued that propagation which hath endured from our ancestors unto us. Can there be any greater want of consideration than to seek to fly from that as profane, which God hath taken for holy? as evil, which he hath reputed good? as detestable, which he esteemeth holy? Is there any greater inhumanity, than to reject the fountain of humanity? Is there any greater ingratitude than to deny to those that are to come, that which we hold of them that are past? When God created woman, not of the slime of the earth, as he did man, but of his bone, did he not show thereby that he would have 
Wherefore the woman was created of the rib of man. Gen. 2. 18.  nothing faster cleaving, nearer joining, or surer glued to him than his wife, especially when he added these words, That it was not good for man to be alone? as though he had said, that his life would be miserable, irksome & unpleasant, if he had not given him a wife for a faithful companion. How dare we say, that we know better what is meet for us than he that made us, and knew all our life before we came out of the bowels of our mother? then he that honoured the bond of matrimony so far as to say, that a man shall leave his father and mother, & cleave to his wife? Is there any thing more holy than that honour which we own to 
The great preheminéce of marriage.  them that have begotten us? & yet the fidelity of wedlock is preferred before fatherly and motherly honour, that it should be kept & preserved even to the last gasp of life. Further we see how the Spirit of God speaking by his Prophet honoureth marriage so far, as to use it for 
Psal 45.  a similitude and representation of that holy & sacred unity, which he hath with his Church. What could any man say more to extol the dignity thereof? That which God hath begun, only death endeth: what God hath conjoined, death only separateth: what God hath made sure, man cannot shake of: what he hath established, man cannot abolish. O what and how great is the dignity, pre-eminence, and prerogative of marriage? Again, do we not see how 
Marriage ever used & received of all nations.  it hath been continued throughout all ages past until this present, received and approved of all nations, both Hebrews, Greeks, Latins, and Barbarians, so that there is no nation under the cope of heaven, how barbarous soever it be, and far from civility, which showeth not great joy and delight at wedding feasts? Besides, who shall defend commonwealths without armour and weapons, and who shall were armour if men been wanting? If that be not supplied by generation which through death necessarily endeth, how can the lineage & race of mankind 
The Romans had l●●s 〈◊〉 favour of marriage  endure? The laws of the Romans (who where the pattern of virtue to all nations) with tigor punished such as would not marry, forbidding them all public dignities, and depriving them of those which they had obtained. And to invite them the rather to marry, they appointed privileges for them that had children, so that he was most benefited and preferred to public honours that had most children. When Augustus Caesar was Censor, inquiry was made by his authority of a Roman knight that had broken the law and would not marry, whereupon he should have been punished, but that he proved that he had been father of three children. The same Augustus being come to the Empire, and desirous to correct the detestable uncleanness of his subjects, and to compel them to contract matrimony, levied an 
Augustus' his 〈◊〉 to reprisal the uncleanness of h●e subjects.  impost by way of a fine, upon their legacies and windfalls coming by the death of others that did not marry after 25, years of age, or that had no children. Whereby he greatly chastised whoredoms, adulteries and sodomitry: and furnished Rome with good citizens which then was greatly destitute of them by reason of civil wars. What is the cause (saith Vlpanus the Lawyer) that women's dowries had such great privileges? It was for no other reason, than because 
Why the dowries of women have always had great pr●ledgeses.  of the profit that cometh to all common wealths by marriages. He that had three children amongst the Romans could not be compelled to carry a message, or public embassage: he that had five was exempted from personal charge & he that had thirteen from all charge. And in our time in the common wealth of Florence (as Rapbael Volateranus rehearseth in his philology Every citizen that is a father of five children either males or females, is exempted, freed, & discharged 
The privileges of them that had children.  of all public tax, loan, or subsidy. If nothing be more blessed, nor happiness more to be desired than immortality, line all propagation maketh us immortal through the continuing of kind. Whereupon we may infer by way of conclusion, that no greater happiness can come to a man and wife in this world than to leave issue as a testimony to posterity, that once they were in the world, and have left behind them a token of their life. It was enacted by Lycurgus' laws, that no citizen preferring the estate of continency before that of marriage, should be at public plays: which at that time was a note of great ignominy. We accounted not him a good gardener that painfully dresseth those fruitful 
A comparison between a good gardener & a citizen.  trees which he hath in his garden or orchard, if he have no care to plant and grafted new thereby to substitute others in their place, which by succession of time wax old and die. And how shall we take him for a good citizen, and such a one as zealously seeketh the good of the common wealth, that contenteth himself with those citizens that are alive, and neglecteth the engendering of new in good and lawful matrimony, whereby to supply the want of such as daily dicay? Further, if I should go about to rehearse here the happiness, pleasure and contentation which man and wife living holily together, and according to the duty of their vocation, do mutually receive one of another, who doubteth that a whole day would not suffice me? What greater solace in the whole world can befound than for a man to live with her unto whom he is coupled, not by good will only, but also by a mutual communication of bodies? If we take great delight to confer with our friends and 
The happiness pleasure and contentation in marriage.  familiar acquaintance about our secret affairs, shall we not receive greater joy without comparison to disclose our thoughts to her unto whom we speak as safely as to ourselves, who is also partaker as well of our adversity as prosperity, & accounteth our weal or w● to be her own? We are joined to our friends by good will & liking only, but to our wife we are conjoined and linked by sovereign charity, by bodily commixtion, by sacred confederacy, & by an 
The near comunction of married couples.  inseparable fellowship & society in all weathers. If the man abound in temporal goods, the wife will keep them faithfully for him, and increase them by her industry & labour. If he be poor & persecuted by Fortune, she will comfort him. If through fear, sickness, or any other mishap he be constrained to shut up himself in his house his wife will take away that irksomeness from him, which otherwise would seize upon him being solitary. If he go abroad, he is glad that he hath left that party in his house which he most trusteth. In youth she is a sweet and amiable companion, and in old age a very convenient comforter and solace. Moreover, by marriage a man increaseth his friends, allies, kinsfolks, and neighbours. which is a very great benefit 
Marriage in foreas●th friends and kinsfolks.  and invincible strength. Brethrens and sisters, nephews and nieces are doubled. Peace is many times procured between monarchs and princes by marriages, and infinite quarrels and diss●●●ionss appeased. But what unspeakable pleasure doth the very father take to see his lively picture engraven in the face of his children, and that so near the quick, as neither Lysippus, Men●or, Bolycletus, Phidias, Praxiteles, Zeuxis, Appelles, nor Parrhasius had ever the skill to grave or paint so well? Again, what joy receiveth he by hoping, that when his children shall wax great, they will be the staff of his age, the stay of his weakness, the pillar of his house, and that overliving him according to the course of nature, they shall close up his eyes, and 'cause such funerals and ceremonies to be done for him, as are requisite in that case? For the conclusion therefore of this present matter we say, that no man can justly blame marriage, unto which all laws both divine & human exhort us, nature provokes us, honesty draweth us, infinite commodities invite us, all nations show us the way thither, & lastly necessity 
Motives to marriage.  of continuing our kind constraineth us. And briefly to answer the grounds alleged to the contrary, they may be overthrown by one only distinction, which is; that most of them that dispraised marriage were heathens, and blinded in their vain wisdom, or to speak better, in their folly, wanting then that knowledge of the truth, which God of his grace hath since revealed unto us. And no marvel if they erred in dispraising marriage, seeing they could never attain to the knowledge of the true and sovereign good of man, as we have handled already. But yet it can never be found that Socrates, Plato, and such as were most excellent among the Philosophers, blamed it, but rather honoured and commended it, the most of them also being married, as namely, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Seneca, Plutarch, & others. 
The best Philosophers praised and used marriage.  As for their strongest reason that mislike marriage, namely, the deceiving of men by women the fault aught to be imputed rather to the men, than to the women, because men according to the perfection of their sex, aught to be wiser than women, who are by nature more changeable by will, and more frail in counsel, although all are not so. So that if there be any imperfection, it aught not to be objected to them, by way of reproach, but rather to nature than to them. And they that up braid them therewith, show that they wander out of the path of reason, are destitute of all good sense, and are unworthy that women should have conceived them, brought them into the world, given them suck and nourished them.   

Of a House and Family, and of the kinds of Marriage: of certain ancient customs observed in Marriage. Chap. 46.  ACHITOB. 
IN the beginning of my present speech of marriage, I noted this, that the communion of the husband and wife extendeth itself unto all the parts that depend of their house. Therefore I suppose (my Companions) that for the sequel and understanding of this matter which we have propounded to ourselves to entreat of, I mean economy or government of a family, we must seek after a more ample and large declaration of a house, which consisteth not in many stones, and long pieces of timber joined together with great cunning, but in stones that have life, and are partakers of reason, tending to the benefit and profit of the house, as to their end. Also if you think it good, & our hour give us leisure, we may enter into the considerations of the sundry sorts of marriages, and of 
A house consisteth in living stones.  certain ancient customs observed therein, which I touched not in my discourse, because I would not be over long.  ARAM. 
First, it is necessary (saith Aristotle) to join those together, which cannot be the one without the other, as the male and female for generation. Next, he that is able to execute 
What assemblies are most necessary for the institution of a family.  the commandments of his master by the strength of his body, is a subject and slave by nature. And of these two assemblies a house or family is first instituted.  AMANA. 
A family or house is an assembly framed by nature, to communicate daily together: and they are called of the Grecians 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, such as live of the same provision, 
The definition of a house.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, such as use the same chimney. But we shall understand of thee ARAM the whole discourse of that which is here propounded unto us,  ARAM. 
When I consider of the excellency & greatness of Plato his skill, who was grealy admired of the Grecians, as he that for virtue & honesty of life, for eloquence of speech, and 
Plato established a community of all things in his Commonwealth.  persuasion by true & learned Philosophy, went far beyond all other Philosophers, I cannot sufficiently wonder, how, amidst so many good laws & profitable statutes for a commonwealth which we have received from him, he imagined to establish therein the community of goods, wives, & children, amongst his Citizens, not suffering them to have any thing proper & peculiar: to the end (as he said) to banish from his city these two words, Thi●e and Mine. which in his opinion were the cause of all evils and desolations that befall Common wealths. The Nicholaites revived the same error in the primitive Church, and many others have laboured 
The Nicholaites received Plato's community.  by frivolous reasons to defend and maintain it, chief to root out (as they say) utterly from within the soul, those human affections, which commonly carry men rather towards their wives, children, and goods, than to other things. Which affections so long as they beat sway amongst the citizens, 'cause them oftentimes to turn aside from their duty towards the commonwealth, whereby it is made weaker, and of less continuance. Now among many grounds confuting this error, (which being received, would fill all with disorder & confusion, 
The confutation of this error.  to the overthrow of human society) that is most certain and cannot be impugned, that forasmuch as the lawful distribution of goods, & manner of marriages, are the ordinance of God, (as it is manifest) & seeing the ordinance of God may not be altered by any counsel of man, it followeth, that aswell the division of goods, as of wives and children, are immutable; and consequently, that the community of goods, wives, and children, is a thing flatly gainsaying the institution of God, and therefore to be reproved. Moreover, if goods were common, an infinite multitude of do-littles, of idle and negligent persons, borne (as Horace saith) only to devour and to consume the benefits of the earth, being unwilling to labour, and resembling wasps that eat the honey of the Bees, would feed and clothe themselves with their goods, who get their living with great sweat of their bodies, and vexation of their minds. Which is against the express commandment of God, who will have us eat our bread in the sweat of our face. But what greater shame and offence, utterly defacing all honesty of life, can there be amongst men, than the community of wives, whereby all fornications and adulteries would be maintained by authority? This shows plainly, that we are not to lose time in confuting such an opinion of theirs, who seek to take away from amongst men all marks of a commonwealth. For there would not be any public thing, if nothing were private, nor common, if nothing were peculiar. Yea Plato afterward did wisely leave that opinion, and quietly renounced his first Commonwealth, to give place to a second. And the Heralds of God's word condemned this error, when it was raised up in the Apostles time by an arch-heretic called Nicholas of Antioch, who maintained this opinion, that goods, wives, and children, aught to be common amongst Christians, and for example to others, communicated his wife to whomsoever would, albeit she was young and very beautiful. Thus following the order established of God, and continued always through so many ages, until our time, and having seen the first institution of marriage, we must also contain it within the house, which is a society and communion of life between the husband and the wife, the master and the servant, for daily profit. Hesiodus putteth the Ox in stead of the servant, so far forth (saith Aristotle) as the Ox being fit to labour, is to poor men in the place of a slave. This 
The definition of a house.  house thus described is simple, but when children are contained therein, it is absolute and complete. Therefore a house that is perfect and accomplished, may be divided, according to the saying of Philosophers, into these four parts: into Matrimonial, parental, Lordly or 
The division thereof.  Masterly, and Possessory part. The Matrimonial part comprehendeth the husband and the wife: the parental containeth the father, mother, and children: the Lordly hath under it the master, men servants, and maid servants: the Possessory part includeth within it movables, immooveables, and chattels. Now to follow our matter already begun, and to discourse of things in order, we have here to handle and to observe diligently this first part of a house, called the conjugal or wedlock part, and the sequel of our discourses shall instruct us in the other parts. He that hath tasted of learning, and been well instructed in the study of wisdom, shall find that there are four kinds of conjunctions and marriages, namely, the marriage of honour, the marriage of love, the marriage of labour, and the marriage of grief. 
Four kinds of marriage. The marriage of honour is of three sorts.  The marriage of honour is divided into the highest, middlemost, and lowest degree. The highest is that supernatural marriage, whereby God and man's nature meet together, even by a mystery, which overpasseth the understanding of all human capacity. We saw the effect and truth thereof in the incarnation and nativity of the eternal Son of God. The middlemost marriage of honour is, when God and the soul meet, and are joined together by grace and glory. The lowest degree of the marriage of honour, is when God and the Church are coupled together, and are made one mystical body. These three sorts of marriages are supernatural, and appointed of God after an unspeakable manner: but the cause of our assembly requireth not that we should speak any more of them. Now to come to the other kinds of conjunctions, which respect only the estate of mankind: the marriage of love, is that which is between an honest man and a virtuous woman, linked together by God, for the preservation 
2. The marriage of love.  of the lineage of man. It may be called a charitable conjunction, unity, and society of them that are good, being made by grace, peace and concord. Of this marriage spoke that wise jew, saying: That three things among others, were approved of God and men, The concord of brethren, the love of our neighbour, and the husband and wife that agreed well together. And to say 
Eccles 25. 1.  truth, it is one of the greatest benefits, yea one of the rarest felicities in the world, when a marriage is well and duly kept, when both the husband and wife fear God, and keep their promise one to another: according to that saying of the wise man: Blessed is the man that hath a 
Eccles. 26. 1. The marriage of labour.  virtuous wife: the wife also being no less happy that hath a good husband. The other kind of marriage, namely of labour, is that which is commonly practised in our days, wherein many, yea almost all marry for covetousness, not for the virtue, chastity, or good report, which they hear of women and maidens. Plautus the comical poet said, that in marriage a man 
Plautus would have a man choose his wife by the ears, not by the fingers. Lycurgus forbade all dowries. Themistocles.  must take his wife by the ears, and not by the fingers: that is to say, for her good report, not for her dowry, which is told with hands. Lycurgus' being desirous that his Citizens should put the same in practice, established a law, which forbade giving of dowries with maidens in marriage, to the end that every maid should labour to endow herself with virtue: for love whereof, and not of riches, they should be demanded in marriage. The same reason moved Themistocles, when two men required his daughter in marriage, to prefer the honest man before the wealth: saying, That, he had rather have a man to his son in law without goods, than goods without a man. We read that Olympias the mother of Alex. hearing of one had married a very fair woman, but scarce chaste, being ravished with her love; said, that he was a brainless 
We must not marry by the lust of our eyes nor by the report of our fingers.  man, otherwise he would not have married by here say, nor by the lust of his eyes. We may say as much of them that marry by the report of their fingers, counting upon them how much their wives bring to them by marriage, not considering before whether they be so qualified, that they may live with them. But let us know, that every marriage made through covetousness, especially where there is inequality of riches, as namely when the husband is poor, and the wife rich, will be always riotous, and very hardly will there be any peace between them. Which thing Menander desirous to teach us, said, that when a poor man marrieth a 
Menander.  rich wife, he giveth himself in marriage to the woman which he weddeth, and not the woman to him. And the Satirical Poet saith, that nothing is more intolerable than a rich wife. This caused a young man to go to Pittacus, one of the Sages of Graecia, and to ask his 
Pittacus answer to a young man that asked his advise in marriage.  counsel, saying: I have two wives offered me, the one is equal to me in goods and parentage, the other goeth far beyond me, which of them shall I take? Mark (said this wise man) where children are ready to play at fence, go to them, and they will counsel thee. He did so, and as he drew near, they began to set themselves one against another to skirmish. And when they saw this young man coming, who exceeding them in strength and bigness, and 
Every one must marry his equal. Martia.  supposed that he would make one among them, they said aloud, let every one go to his match. Whereby he learned what he was to do concerning his marriage. Martia a noble widow, being demanded why she married not again, seeing she was rich, and as yet in the flower of her youth; made this answer I can find none (said she) that loveth not my goods more than my person. The same reason moved Venda Queen of Ruscia to throw herself into the water 
Venda Queen of Ruscia.  thereby to revenge herself of them that made war with her, to have her in marriage, seeing they could not win her by gentleness. For she knew well, that they desired her for her kingdom, and not of any good will they bore unto her: as it is the custom of princes to respect only their alliance and profit, marrying oftentimes by substitutes and proxies those whom they never saw but by picture. But I find that Elizabeth that wise Queen of England, 
Against marriage by substitutes and proxies, Elizabeth Queen of England.  was of a better judgement, when she wrote to Henry Prince, and since king of Sweathland, who demanded her in marriage, That he was the only prince in the world, whom she aught to love most, because he required her when she was a prisoner: but she was resolved never to marry any man before she had seen him. The like answer she sent to the Archduke of Austria, which was in part the cause why neither of them would come unto her, fearing belike, that if they were not well liked, they should be sent back again into their country. Of this that hath been hitherto discoursed, together with the experience which is daily seen, we may infer, that marriages made through covetousness, are indeed marriages of labour. And of this 
Of marriages made only for beauty.  number may those be reckoned, wherein bodily beauty, and other outward graces are only regarded. For it seldom falleth out but that the spirit of dissension troubleth all those houses, and that all love and liking vanisheth together with age, which causeth the lively hue of colour to whither away. Likewise among these marriages of labour, we place those wherein 
Of the disparity of age & manners between married couples.  there is disparity of age, and especially of manners. Therefore Dionysius the elder said to his mother, who being very old, would needs marry a young man, that it was in her power to violate the laws of Syracuse, but not the law of nature. Aristotle saith, that men and women aught to marry together in such an age, that both of them should leave off to beget and to conceive children at the same time. According to this rule the husband must be twenty years, or thereabouts, elder than his wife: because naturally women conceive and bear children 
At what age men and women aught to marry.  until fifty years, and men may beget children until 70. Lycurgus also for bad that any man should marry before he were 37. years old, and a women before 17. Whereof this reason may rather be rendered, that the wife may more easily acquaint herself with her husband's manners, he being then of ripe judgement, and she coming into his power from her tender years. For (as the same Aristotle saith) diversity of manners and callings hindereth friendship and true love. But because of the shortness of man's days, I think it were good for him to marry at thirty years of age, taking a wife of twenty years old, to the end that 
Why a man on ●● to have ten years more than his ●ife.  her age may not be too much unlike his: that so living according to the common course of nature, they may leave their children provided at the same years, and such as might be well able to live without them. A maiden also of that age is able to judge a great deal better what is meet for her, and what duty she oweth to her husband, and of his commandments, than if she were younger. Now, seeing we are about this matter, I think I shall not digress from the same, if I speak of the marriage of widows. It is certain that those women that have already learned the disposition of their former husbands, are often times very hardly 
Of the marriage o● widows. Timotheus.  altered. Whereupon some allege the example of Timotheus, the best player on the flute of his time, who, when he took a scholar, used to demand of him whether he had made any entrance in that play: Which if he had, he took a greater reward by half than he did of them that knew nothing: saying, that his pains were greater in taking away from his scholars that which was nought and unskilful, than in teaching that which was good to such as understood nothing at all thereof. Chilon one of the wise men of Graecia, said, that he accounted him a very fool, who having saved himself from a perilous shipwreck by painful swimming, 
Chilons' opinion of second marriages.  would return to sea again, as though a tempest had not power over all barks. Plato's Androgy●a teacheth, that second marriages can never fitly be made. Concerning this matter, we can have no better counsel than that of S. Paul, whither I refer the resolution of this 
1. Cor. 7. 39  matter. But experience daily teacheth us what infinite miseries, quarrels, suits, & overthrow of houses, proceed from such marriages, through the donations and profits which youngmen 
The discommodities of second marriages. Valeria.  crave that marry widows, who forgetting all natural duty, doubt not to enrich strangers with the goods of their own children. Valeria of Rome may serve for a notable example to women, who said, that her husband died for other, but lived to her for ever. Saint Hieroms rehearseth a history quite contrary to this here spoken of, avouching that he saw at Rome a 
Of a woman that had been married to 22. husbands. The notorious looseness of a widow.  woman that had been married to 22. husbands, who afterwards marrying one that had 20. wives, died in his life time. Whereupon the Romans crowned him with Laurel, in victory, and caused him to carry a branch of Palm in his hand at his wives funeral. He maketh mention also of another widow, who of alms brought up a little child and abused it at the age of ten years, by whom she become great with child, contrary to the order of nature, God so permitting it, to discover the vile filthiness of that woman. Second marriages were a great deal more honourable for such widows. The fourth kind of marriage remaineth yet, which we called the marriage of grief, which is nothing else but the assembly and conjunction 
Of the marriage of grief.  of the wicked and reprobate, of whom that common proverb is spoken, that It is better one house be troubled with them than twain. Their life cannot be but full of wretchedness and misery, the grief whereof will abide by them for ever. But to return to our first speech of the marriage of love, which is holy and lawful, guided by good reason; and according to the ordinance of God; mortal men beholding the holiness and necessity of this mystery, have enriched and set forth the same with all kind of joy and delight, with the assembly of kinsfolks, and calling together of friends and guests, with banquets, feasts, ornaments, jewels, Tragedies, Comedies, and such like pastimes, uttering joy: and not to be misliked; so that all dissoluteness and over great super fluity be set a side, and honesty and comeliness observed. 
Commendable ornaments of marriages. Wedding songs used in old time. divers customs used at the celebration of marriages. The Assyrians customs.  But especially the wedding songs, used by the Ancients both Greeks and Latins, and made to beautify and enrich their weddings, are worthy of eternal praise. Moreover, they had amongst them infinite and sundry customs kept at the knitting up and celebration of marriages, some being good, others bad, of which we will here allege certain, because we may find instruction in them. The Assyrians had certain Magistrates called Triumuirs, and Precedents of weddings, approved and grave men, whose office was once a year in every Town and Village to bring all the young maidens that were to be married, into one public place, and to 'cause them to be proclaimed one after another, beginning with the fairest, who were given to them that offered most, & bad last. With this money that came by them, they married those that were hard favoured, as good cheap as they could: and otherwise than after this sort, it was not lawful for any body to contract matrimony. Wherein they showed a marvelous care in providing equally for all their daughters. The ancient Grecians had a custom to burn before the door of the new married wife, the axle-tree of that chariot 
The custom of the Grecians.  wherein she was brought to her husband's house: giving her to understand thereby, that she was to devil there with him, whether she were willing or not, and never to departed from thence. Lycurgus would not have the husband and wife to lie together in the beginning of their marriage, nor to see one another, but by stealth and secretly: To the end (said he) that amity and love might be the better preserved between them, that they might be healthy, and that their children which should come of them, might be stronger. The Romans passed all other nations in pomp, ceremonies, and comeliness of marriage. They observed this inviolably, 
The customs of the Romans.  that their maidens and widows should not be constrained to marry. On the wedding day they used that fashion, which at this day is very common. The new married wife was richly appareled, with her hair hanging about her shoulders, and her head crowned with a garland of flowers. The mother of the Bride went before her daughter bearing a coffer of trinkets, jewels, rings, and other little ornaments belonging to women. The maidens that came of wealthy houses, had a chariot prepared for them, drawn with two white horses, to declare the purity of body, and innocency of mind, which the young women aught to have. The new married wife was led from her father's house to her husband's house, along the broadest streets in the city, to note thereby, that a wife aught always to pass by the greatest way, and not to be found at any time in suspected and secret places, whereupon some suspicion of evil may arise. When she was come to the entry of her husband's house, before she went over the threshold of the door, he took her with both his arms by the wings, and lift her aloft in such sort, that he struck her head and the door post together, and so set her within the door before ever her feet touched the ground. This was done, that the married wife should remember through the grief of the blow, not to go often forth out of her husband's house, if she would have the report and name of an honest woman. Her garments, behaviour, gesture and gate, were correspondent to all modesty, honesty, and shamefastness. She wore a jewel hanging by a ribben about her neck, to signify, that she was bound and put in subjection to her husband. She presented also to her husband water in one hand, and fire in the other. Which some interpret thus, that as the 
The Roman brides used to present fire and water to their husbands.  communication of man's life consisteth chief in the use of these two elements, of fire and water, so there cannot be any fellowship more familiar or nearer linked together, than that of the husband and the wife. Now, because fire and water signify communication, others have thus understood it that as fire and water are clean contraries as well in the first as in the second qualities; so are man and wife, the one being hot and dry, of the nature of fire, and the other cold and moist, of the nature of water: which contraries being joined together, make a harmony and temperature of love. Again, some would have the dissensions, murmurings, and complaints that are often in marriages, signified thereby: wherein laughter is not without weeping, nor rest without labour, nor sweet without sour, according to the nature of all earthly things, in which we cannot taste honey without gall, nor sugar without Aloes. Many other ceremonies were used of the Ancients, which for brevity sake, as also because there is small instruction in them, I omit for this present. Therefore to conclude our discourse, we learn, that the name of a house doth not only signify the walls and roof of 
What is signified by the name of a house.  a building, but that it aught to be taken for a family gathered together to communicate one with another in all necessities. We learn also that in every marriage we aught to have regard to the ordinance and institution of God, and to those politic laws under which we live, to the end we trouble not common tranquility: that we must avoid all disparity of goods, of houses, of age, and especially of nature and manners. Let us not suffer ourselves to be carried away with any foolish passion, but look chief to this, that under a gracious and honest behaviour may shine forth clear and evident steps of an upright and sincere soul, void of dissimulation: saying with the Wise man, Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vanity, but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. We must also rid our wedding assemblies of all 
Pron. 31. 30.  dissoluteness, of all kind of allurements to voluptuousness and niceness, that they may rather seem to be schools of honour and chastity, than of intemperance and looseness. If we lay such foundations in marriages, no doubt but God will bless them, and make them happy and prosperous, to the glory of his name, and to the quietness and contentation of us all.   

Of the particular duty of a husband towards his wife. Chap. 47.  ARAM. 
AS Physicians stand more in fear of fevers engendered of hid causes gathered together by little and little of a long time, than of those which proceed of very apparent causes: so the small ●arress and daily quarrelings of married folks, being unknown to strangers, and drawing by little and little to an incurable hardness, 
Small ●arress must be avoided in a house  do more separate them one from another, than any other cause whatsoever. Therefore it is necessary that all the roots of such naughty sprigs should be cut off, and all occasions escheved, which might provoke one another to the lest and lightest anger that may be. The industry of the man aught to aim especiaily at this, being called to the honourable estate of Head of a family, looking diligently that he perform such duty towards her, who is so straighly linked unto him, that such dissensions never take their beginning through his default. Let us then (my Companions) take occasion of this subject to be better instructed in the duty of a husband towards his wife.  ACHITOB. 
Rejoice (saith the wise man) with the wife of thy youth. Let her be as the loving H●nde, and pleasant Roe: let her breasts satisfy thee all times, and delight in her love continually. For why 
Prou. 5. 18, 19, 20, 21. Eu●●●● man must content himself w●rh his own wi●e Ep●. 5. ●5, 26. How husbands aught to love their wives.  shouldest thou delight in a strange woman, or embrace the bosom of a stranger? For the ways of a man are before the eyes of the Lord, and he poudereth all his paths.  ASER 
Husbands (saith S. Paul) love your wives even as Christ loved the Church, and gave himself for i● So aught men to love their wives as their own bodies: he that loveth his wife, loveth himself But it belongeth to thee (AMANA) to handle us this point at large.  AMANA. 
Gorgias an excellent Orator, commended of Cicero in many places, exhorted the Grecians long since to peace and concord, by an oration of wonderful art. Which when he had ended, one Melanthus stood up before all the company that was present, and said: My Lords, behold Gorgias, who by his eloquent oration exhorteth us that are in number infinite to concord, and yet he cannot play the Orator so well as to 'cause his wife and his chambermaid to live quietly with him in his house, wherein there are but they three. For ye shall daily see them at strife and continual dissension. Therefore, my Lords, I think it great rashness in him to exhort us to concord, when he cannot have it himself in his private house. And truly, besides the unspeakable torment that is joined with such riots, janglings, and controversies in a house, it is a shameful offence when they are known to strangers. The Ancients had a private and household God, whom they called the God Lar, which we may translate into our language, the God of the Hearth. He was had in such veneration, 
●●●, the household God of the Heathen.  that if any man withdrew himself to the Hearth and house of his deadly enemy, his enemy durst not offer him any violence as long as he was there, the Hearth being unto him a sanctuary and place of immunity. For so we read of Themistocles, that be●ing banished from 
Themi●tocles●aved ●aued by flying to the ha●th of his enemy.  Athens, and pursued by some that would have laid violent hand upon him, he fled to the Hearth of his deadly enemy, who for that cause durst not strike him, nor offer him any injury. This Hearth was dedicated and consecrated to the Goddess Vesta, and was placed where the chief fire of the house was made. Now I pray you, if it were prohibited, and accounted an unjust thing for a man to quarrel, to injury, or to offer violence, even to his utter enemy, being fled to his Hearth, how infamous an act (think you) and unworthy the nature of man, did these men judge it to be, to offer any violence to them that were of the same Hearth, but chief to the Wife, who is a principal person belonging to the bed, table, Hearth, yea to the whole house of the Husband, and is called by the law, a companion both of the divine 
What place the wife, hath next to the man.  and human house? At this day we commonly observe this, not to offend in any sort those that come to see us: and if we have any occasion of quarreling, it shall not be showed as long as they are in our house, if we have any care not to be accounted uncivil, and void of discretion. And how shall we not use the same reason towards them that are unto us a second self, with whom we are to live and die? Let us then have regard to those principal points that are to be desired for the establishment and continuance of love, upon which every holy marriage aught first to be grounded, as we have already said. Secondly, it 
Love the first foundation of every holy marriage.  must be grounded upon the conformity and agreement of good and honest conditions: and lastly, it must hold and depend of prudence, which breedeth a continual, lively, and mutual affection of one towards another, the true testimony whereof is a reverend behaviour of each to other. It is a Maxim and principle granted by wise men, that no man is worthy and meet to command, unless he be better than they over whom he commandeth. Therefore it seemeth that nature commonly giveth more vigour, strength, authority, gravity, and prudence, in deeds and words to men than to women. 
The best must command.  The effects of which graces he cannot better show forth, than by governing himself with reason, and according to duty towards his Wife: first, in loving her, then in governing her graciously, as being a free person, (as Aristotle saith), persuading her more by reason than authority. He must not offer her any injury, either in deed or word, burr honour and make much of her. For the Husband that honoureth his Wife, honoureth himself. 
The husband must command over his wife as over a free person.  The Lawyer saith, that married women are and aught to be set forth with the beams of their Husbands, and that the Husband aught to give example to others to honour his wife: whereby also he shall i provoke his wife to honour him. But on the other side, by offering her wrong, he shall incense her, and give her occasion to reply upon him with bitter speeches, which in the end will provoke him to wrath, and to behave himself worse towards his wife, thereby constrainining her, as it falleth out oftentimes, to invent some mischief against him and his honour. There are a thousand examples hereof in good authors, and experience 
The first-fruits of hard dealing.  affoardeth too many proofs of the same. We read of Clytaemnestra the wife of Agamemnon, that, to revenge an injury received from her husband, she committed adultery, and afterward consented to his death. It is true that this is but a simple revenge of women, and such a 
Clytaemnestra.  one as lighteth upon themselves. But what? This sex is frail, spiteful, and given to revenge: and therefore men are to use the greater prudence in the governing and managing of them. The proverb is that a man is bitten of his dog, by provoking him overmuch, and that an Eel is oftentimes lost, when it is strained over hard. Therefore let a wise husband know this, that he must never deal injuriously with his wife: especially before other: and that 
A husband must never beaten his wife.  he must abstain most of all from laying violent hands upon her. If the Ancients would have their slaves corrected, rather with words, than blows, much more aught the wife to be dealt withal, whom God calleth a help like to us. To this effect Marcus Aurelius said, that a wise husband and one that mindeth to to live peaceably with his wife, aught above all 
Marcus Aurelius precept to husbands.  things to observe this rule, namely: To admonish her often, to reprehend her seldom, but never to lay hands upon her. Homer bringeth in jupiter reproving his wife, and threatening her when she is rebellious, but never maketh him go farther. We read in the life of Cato, of whom 
jupiter.  it was given out that he was a sworn enemy to women, that he never struck his wife, accounting 
Cato.  that sacrilege, and yet he knew well how to use the place and dignity of a husband, which keepeth his wife in obedience. But above all that hath been hitherto spoken, a husband must observe this as an inviolable law, that he abstain from touching any other woman but his own, as well in respect of the fear of God, who excludeth all whoremongers 
A husband must especially avoid adultery.  and adulterers from his heavenly mansion, as also because his wife should have no knowledge or suspicion thereof. For otherwise he will cast himself into a more dangerous Labyrinth, than was that of king Porsenna or of Dedalus: yea, he shall hardly have a good countenance of his wife at any time, except she dissemble the matter, that she may the better be revenged of him, either by rendering like for like, thinking that she hath just occasion to break her faith made to her husband, seeing he hath broken his to her, or else by some other mean upon his person. Of this suspicion which the wife hath of her husabnds' incontinency, or the husband of the wines, is bred a great passion, or to say better, a fury and rage, which we call jealousy. Chrysippus calleth it a disease of the mind, proceedidg from a fear which a man hath, that that thing is communicated to another, which he would 
What jealousy is.  not have common but private to himself. Or otherwise we may say, that jealousy is bred of that love, which will not suffer a partner in the things beloved. Some writ (saith Plutarch) that Cats are troubled with the smell of perfumes and sweet savours, insomuch that they wax mad withal. Likewise if it should so fall out that a woman should be offended and have her brain troubled with the perfumes of her husband, he were of a very strange nature if he would not abstain from it, but for the enjoying of a little pleasure would suffer her to fall into so great an inconvenience. Now seeing it is so that such accidents come upon them, not when their husbands are perfumed, but when they give over themselves to the love of harlots, it is great injustice in them to grieve, offend, and trouble their wives in such heinous sort. At lest wise they should behave themselves as they do that draw near 
Whordo●●e is great injustice  to Bees, who abstain from touching even their own wives. For it is reported of Bees, that they hate and make war more against them than against others, because they have such false hearts, as lie near their wives, being defiled and polluted with the company of any other women. The wild Boar (saith one of the Poets) pursued of dogs, the Lioness bitten with hunger, the Tiger rob of her young ones, or the Viper whose tail is trod upon, are not more terrible than a woman that is offended: but nothing will sooner cast her into a frenzy and fury, than jealousy. Ariadna buried alive Zeno Isauricus the Emperor, that she might be revenged of him. He that taketh to himself those pleasures which he forbiddeth his wife, doth as much as if he commanded her to fight against enemies. to 
The cruel revenge of Ariadna.  whom he had already yielded himself. And if vice, whoredom, curiosity, superfluity, choler, and other imperfections reign amongst men, how should they drive them away from women? So a husband must correct himself first, and after use learned in structions towards his wife. Let him (as Bees do) gather together and carry to his wife, so much of his studies as may serve for her profit. For seeing women (as Plato saith) have a soul as well as we, and as quick a spirit, yea oftentimes a more excellent spirit than we, we must not think 
Women are capable of Philosophy.  them uncapable of the goodly reasons of Philosophy, wherein many of them have go beyond many Philosophers. Knowledge and skill will keep a woman from other unmeet exercises, and being ravished with her husband's brave discourses, she will contemn the loss of time in unprofitable matters. She will never fall into that danger which oftentimes befalleth women, who conceive and bring forth by themselves strange counsels, & extravagant passions, when they receive not from else where the seeds of good speeches, and when their husbands impart not unto them any sound doctrine. The sun (as fables feign) prevailed more than the Northern wind. For the more the wind laboured to get away a man's gown, and to that end blewe more violently, the harder did he gird up and restrain his garment. 
A tale of the sun and the wind.  But when the Sun waxed hot after the wind, the man feeling himself heated, cast off his gown, and afterward burning with heat, he put off his coat and all. So if husbands go about to order their wives with their bore authority and by force, they will strive against it, and be offended: but contrariwise, being admonished with reason they yield of themselves and take it patiently. The fools of this world commonly gird and mock that man, who peradventure seemeth to be led a little too much by his lawful wife, and 
Women must be led more by reason, & gentleness than by force.  loyal spouse using more gentleness and courtesy towards her, than rigour and commanding and yet you shall see themselves so strangely bewitched by some strumpet, that they fear not to hazard their life and honour in her service. But it beseemeth a man a great deal better to be well liking, gentle and acceptable to an honest and virtuous wife, than to abase himself to a common harlot. And those men deceive themselves, who, having married rich 
The best way to bring an un ruly wife into good order is to make her more honest.  wives and of noble houses, study not to make them more honest and better qualified, but to pull them down, persuading themselves that they will come to better order when they have abased and brought them low. Whereas every one aught to maintain the dignity of his wife as he would do the just height of a horse, and be skilful both in the one and the other to use the bridle well as becometh him. Besides, a husband is not to rule his wife as a Lord or master doth his slave, but, as the soul doth a wise man's body, through a mutual love and joint affection, whereby he is bound unto her. And as the soul may well be careful over the body, although it become not a slave to the pleasures and inordinate affections thereof, so a wise husband will behave himself by pleasing and gratifying his wife in honest things, and by showing that he loveth honour and virtue above all things. This will be a mean to make her as wise, virtuous, and honest, as otherwise: if himself begiven to volupruousnes, he shall 'cause her to like of courtesans conditions, and to become slippery and lascivious. 
No man must chide or fawn upon his wife before others.  No man (saith Cle●bulus) aught to chide or to fawn upon his wife before others: for the one is the point of a fool, the other of a mad man. Socrates, practised one of these points very well: when Xantippa his wife, reviled & chiding him, in the end being carried headlog with wrath, overthrew table & al. Whereupon Euthydemns whom he had brought home to sup with him, rose up to departed. But Socrates not showing himself greatly moved, or angry with his wife, 
Socrates' patience in sustaining the infirmities of his wife.  stayed him, and said● What? do you not remember my friend, that as we were at dinner with you the other day, a hen leapt upon the table and did as much to us, and yet we were not angry therefore? Solon ordained that the husband should go see his wife thrice a month at the lest, not for pleasure, but to yield unto her, as it were by obligation, the pledges and gauges of friendship through honour, grace and loyalty, which aught to increase daily. 
Husband's must be careful in looking to then families.  And as cities at sundry times renew these alliances, which they have one with another, so this law maker would have the alliance of marriage, that I may sospeake, renewed by the speeches used at such greet and visitations. We see daily what miseries and offences light upon houses, when the head of the family hath no care to rule and guide. Whereupon also the women think that they are despised and smally beloved. And in truth they have occasion given them so to think, when their husbands seldom keep them company. The Pilot that giveth over his ship to the mercy of the waves, declareth evidently that he careth not for losing that which is in it. A Wife without her husband is exposed to many ambushes 
Women married their servants in the absence of their husbands  and assaults that are hardly sustained. To this purpose I remember a notable history written in the Chronicles of Ruscia, namely, that the inhabitants of Novogradum, which at this day is the chief and principal seat of that country, being go into Grecia to besiege the town of Corsun, where they continued for the space of seven years, their wives in mean while wearied with their long abode there, married their servants. The husbands afterward returning conquerors, found their slaves in the field, who gave them battle, and had the better of them. Nevertheless in the end the slaves were vanquished, and the most part of the women moved with indignation for that overthrow, hung themselves. Now as touching that other point mentioned by that wise man Cleobulus, namely, that a man must not dally with his Wife in the presence of others: Cato deprived a Senator of Rome from the Senatoriall dignity, because he kissed his Wife in his daughter's presence. This was somewhat 
Men must not dally with their wives in the presence of others.  too extreme. But howsoever it be, as Plato admonisheth men grown in years to show themselves shamefast before the younger sort, to the end that they also should learn to behave themselves reverently and warily, so surely this precept is specially to be kept between Wan and Wife, that they may be an example of honour and chastity unto all. Likewise the man must divide the offices and affairs of the house with his wife, giving her authority over all things in his absence: and in his presence also over household matters, & such things as are more proper and agreeable to that sex, causing her to be feared, reverenced, and obeyed 
What household affairs are to be divided between the man and the wife.  of the children, men servants and maid servants, as himself. But as if we take two sounds that agreed well, the base is always more heard: so in a well ruled and ordered house, all things are done by the consent of both parties, but yet so, that it is always apparent, that things are done by the direction, counsel and invention of the husband. For a family will suffer but one head, one master, and one lord: otherwise if there be many heads, the commandments 
There must be but one head in a family.  would be contrary, and the family in continual trouble. Now the foundation of all duties here mentioned by us of the husband towards the wife, and of all others which daily communication may require, is that true and unfeigned love that aught to be the unseparable bond of every good marriage. We have handled heretofore the great effects of 
Love the band of marriage.  friendship, which if they be required among common friends, no doubt but they are much more between those, whom God, nature, the laws, and love, have so straightly joined together. Also let husbands know, that they aught to reverence their wives more than any other person, and perceiving them to be wise and virtuous, (as they may make them if they be not altogether forlorn and corrupted) let them never seem to distrust them in any respect. The 
A husband must not distrust his wife.  Romans when they returned from a voyage, or from a far country, or only out of the country, into the city, if their wives were at home, they sent word before to give them intelligence of their coming, to the end they should not conceive this opinion, that they meant to deal craftily or maliciously with them. Forasmuch therefore as love and friendship is the fountain of every good duty of the husband towards his wife, and that which as it were stealeth away, and maketh the will of his halfepartner to be wholly his own, let us consider for the conclusion 
Examples of the love of husbands towards their wives.  of our speech, of some notable examples of great love in the behalf of men, to the end we may be drawn on to love and to honour them that are in the same place towards us that the Church is towards God; which he so loved, that he sent his only Son to die for the redemption thereof. Tiberius' Gracchus, a noble man of Rome, finding two serpents in the chamber where he slept, inquired for the meaning thereof by sooth saying, whereunto he 
T Gracchus.  gave absolute credit. Answer was made him, that if he slew the male first, he should die before his wife, but if the female, his wife before him. As soon as he understood thereof he slew the male, and within a little while after he died. Whereupon Historiographers doubt whether his wife Cornelia were more happy in finding a husband that loved her so well, than miserable in losing him. Baptista Fregosa maketh mention of a Neapolitan, whose wife being taken on the sea coast by the Moors, he presently cast himself after her into the sea, and following 
The great love of a Neapolitan towards his wife.  their foist, besought them to take him also. Which they did, so that both of them were brought before the king of Thunis to whom the vessel belonged: who hearing the discourse of the fact, and being moved with compassion over such perfect friendship, delivered them both. Orpheus (as the poets writ) loved his wife so entirely, that she dying on the wedding day, he kept his love inviolable, and would never set upon any other. Nynus king 
Orpheus.  of the Assyrians, falling in love with Semiramis the wife of Menon a vassal of his, besought him to let him have her to wife, in recompense whereof he offered him his daughter in marriage. But Menon bore such great love towards her, that he would not yield thereunto. Whereupon the king being moved with wrath, and threatening to pluck out his eyes, and 
Menon  to take her away by force, as he did indeed, Menon for very grief and sorrow hung himself. Periander king of Corinth loved his wife so tenderly, that after she was dead, he caused 
Periander. M Lepidus.  her to be laid by him certain days. Marcus Lepidus being driven into banishment, heard that his wife was married to another, whereupon he died for sorrow. When word was brought to Plantius Numidius a Roman Senator, that his wife, whom he loved as himself, was dead: 
P. Numidius. Sylanus.  he thrust himself into the bosom with a dagger, whereof he died, Sylanus a Roman slew himself after his wife, whom he singularly loved, was taken from him, and given to Nero the Emperor. Dominicus Catalusius Prince of Les bos loved his wife so well, that although she● grew very leprous, yet he never deprived her therefore of his board or bed. We read of a 
Dominicus Catalusius. Roderigo Sarmiento.  great Lord of Spain, called Roderigo Sarmiento, that through grief which he received for the loss of his wife, he slept for a years space in his clotheses, did never eat upon a table cloth, nor sat him down in any chair, but afflicted himself diversly. Therefore let us learn by our present discourse to love our wives perfectly, yielding due benevolence unto them, and behaving ourselves discreetly towards them, without offending them, or going beyond the bounds of our duty. And as nature mingleth us together by our bodies, to the end that taking part of the one and part of the other, and putting all together, she may make that which cometh thereof common to both, and that in such sort that neither party can discern or distinguish that which is proper to itself from that which belongeth to the other: so let us have all things common together, even our will, affection and authority. Nevertheless this must be done in such sort, that as in one cup although there be as much or more water than 
All things must be common between the husband and the wife.  wine, yet we call it wine, so in the authority of the wife the husband's name must be written, as he that directeth the same. But in the mean while let these words Mine and Thy be banished far from them, unless it be in this respect, that, according to the opinion of the Physicians, as blows given on the left side are felt on the right, so the wife must through compassion feel the harms of her husband, and the husband much more those of his wife: to the end that as knots have their strength by interlacing the ends one within another, so the society of marriage is preserved and strengthened when both the parties do afford a mutual affection of good will, being assured that both together shall be made heirs of grace and life.   

Of the duty of a Wife towards her Husband. Chap. 48.  AMANA 
NAture having honoured woman with a gracious alluring of the eyes, with a sweet speech, with a beautiful countenance and modest behaviour, hath given 
The natural gifts of women.  her great means to win the good liking and love of her husband, if she be honest and shamefast: as likewise she may easily deceive man by offering him pleasure, if she be wickedly minded. This did Olympias wife to king Philip. know full well, when she took the Thessalonian woman by the hand whom her husband loved so well, and by whom (as they said) he was charmed and bewitched. But the Queen seeing her so fair, and of so good a grace, and as her speech declared, a woman of a good house and well brought up: Away (quoth she) with all slander, for I see well that your charms are in yourself. And let us not think that the power of a lawful wedded wife is less, if by taking all things unto her, her wealth, her nobility, her charms, and the whole web of Venus, she study by meekness, good behaviour and virtue to obtain her husband's love. Go to then, let us see if we can give the wife some instructions touching this matter, how she may keep herself within the limits of her duty towards her husband.  ARAM. 
As the Church is in subjection to Christ, even so (saith the Scripture) let the wives be to their husbands in every thing. For the husband is the wives head, even as Christ is the head 
Eph 5. 23. 24.  of the Church.  ACHITOB. 
wives must be modest, wise, chaste, keepers at home, lovers of their husbands, and subject unto them. But it belongeth to the ASER, to be now unto them in stead 
wives must be subject to their husbands.  of a schoolmaster.  ASER. 
When Kings and Princes honour Philosophers and learned men, it is certain that they honour themselves? but philosophers that court it, and become servants to riches, are not thereby honoured. We may say as much of wives. For when they submit themselves to their husbands, they are praised: but if they will become mistresses over them, it beseemeth them as ill, as it doth such as yield to that subjection: and both of them reap 
It is an honour to a woman to obey ●●r husband.  more shame than honour thereby. Therefore those women that make choice of effeminate husbands, and delight in commanding them, are like to such as had rather guide the blind than follow the wise and clear sighted. So that if a wife love, esteem, and honour her husband, I think that all honest duty will flow from thence, to their common contentation and comfort, and to the benefit, quietness, and honour of the whole family: I mean if she love him as herself, and esteem and honour him, as her nearest Lord A wise woman aught to think that her husband's manners are the laws of her life, which (if they be good) she is wholly to follow, but if they be bad, she must patiently bear with them. For as a looking glass serveth to no purpose, although it be guilt and decked with precious stones, if it doth not 
A wife compared to a looking glass.  lively represent his face that looketh into it, so a woman is not to be liked albeit she have store of goods, if her life be not thereafter, and her behaviour and conditions be not conformable to her husband. If a looking glass represent a sad and mourning countenance to one that is joyful and merry, or contrariwise a smiling face to him that is sorrowful, it is a false glass and worth nothing. So is she a bad wife and unreasonable, which frowneth when her husband is desirous to be merry with her; and to take some honest recreation, or contrariwise, which laugheth and sporteth herself when she seethe him full of business and greatly troubled. For the one is a token of her froward disposition: and the other, that she despiseth the affections of her husband. And as lines and superficial parts, as the Geometricians say, move not of themselves, but as the bodies move wherein they are: so a wife must 
Notable similitudes.  have no proper and peculiar passion or affection to herself, but must be partaker of the past times, affairs, thoughts and laughters of her husband. The further the Moon is from the sun, the clea●er it is, and shines so much the more: and contrariwise it hath less light, and is obscured the more, as it cometh nearer thereunto, so evil women deal with their husbands when they love not their presence. For in their absence you shall see them as jocund 
Evil wives resembled to the Moon.  and frolic as may be, but when they are with their husbands and at home, then are they sorrowful and pensi●e. Moreover a wife must not trust too much either to her wealth or to the nobility of her race, or to her beauty, but to that which fits nearest her husband's heart, that is, to her behaviour, manners and conversation, taking order that these things be not heard, troublesome, or irksome to her husband every day, but such as please him & agreed with his conditions. For the troublesome conversation of a Wife that always jarreth, in the end maketh even her honest behaviour odious, as her over great pinching and niggardliness 
An o●erthwarting wife maketh herself odious.  causeth her sparing and good huswiferie to become hateful. As this custom was observed amongst the Permians, that when their enemies came rushing upon them with great clamours, they received them with silence, and contrariwise, if they were set upon with silence, they made head against them with open mouth: so discrete women hold their peace when their husbands cry out with choler, and contrariwise if they utter not a word, they labour to appease 
How a wife must deal with h●r choleric husband.  and pacify them with their comfortable speeches. A wise woman that loveth her husband as becometh her, sometime tolerateth and dissembleth an evil entreaty, trusting so much to her constancy and virtue, that by continuing in her duty she is able to bring him back again to his. She must govern herself so discretely, that neither her neighbours, nor other of her familiar friends be made acquainted in any sort with her complaints and grievances. 
A wife must not disclose her husband's imperfection to any body.  For by discovering them, either she shall make herself a laughing stock to others, or else give occasion to the enemies of her honour, to provoke and solicit her to naughtiness. And if any one knowing the imperfections of her husband, under this pretence of seeing her hardly dealt withal persuade her to decline from her duty, she must answer him after the example of king Philip, who being wronged by the Grecians entreated them courteously. What then would my husband do unto me, if I begin to hate him, and to offer him injury? If she perceive that any woman of her acquaintance laboureth by her talk either to sow or to increase some domestical dissension, she may wisely say with herself: In what case would this woman that seeketh to make me jealous, desire rather to see me, than maliciously to play the ●l● housewife with my husband, and to for sake my house & marriage bed, whereupon it may be she would gladly take my place? Thus a discreet woman will give small ear, & much less give place to the light speeches and feigned promises of such disturbers of domestical peace. Neither will she admit and nourish those vain and sottish opinions which commonly busy the minds of such women as are ruled and governed only by passions, but containing her desires through reason within a convenient compass, the confidence which she hath in her husband's virtue will breed perfect ease to her soul, by taking from her all doubting and occasion of complaining. Now upon this discourse we give this note by the way, that when any displeasure falleth out between married folks, they must have a special regard then that they make not two beds. For by this mean the anger will endure the lesser while. Also they must shun all occasions of quarrelling in bed. For as a 
Married couples must not make two beds for any jar between them.  great bellied woman ready to li● down, and even feeling the pangs of her travel, said to those that willed her to lie down upon the bed, How can the bed cure me of this evil which came unto ●e upon the bed: so those quarrels, injuries, wrath and choler that are bred within the bed, can hardly be appeased and healed at any other time or place. But to continued our matter of the duty of a Wife, she must never suffer any to enter into her husband's house without his 
When is the best time and place to pacify stri●e between man and wife.  express commandment or licence. For every honest wife aught to fear that which is commonly spoken of the looseness of women, and labour as much as may be to convince those slanderers of lying, who know no other song than to speak of their incontinency. Caesar said, that A woman must not only be free from the fault, but also from all suspicion thereof, which was the cause why he put away his own wife. And seeing it is the duty of an honest woman to 
A woman must be free from all suspicion of incontinency.  take upon her the care and oversight of household affairs, she must keep at home and not love to gad abroad, or be desirous of meetings, but so far forth as her husband would have her do so. The greatest virtue of a woman (said Euboides) is not to be known but of her husband: and her praise (said Argeus) in a strange mouth is nothing else but a secret blame. 
She must not love to gad abroad or to be seen.  A Wife aught to be modest in ●er garments and ornaments of her body, and not usesuch sumptuous apparel as the law or custom of the country permitteth: because neither rich works of gold, nor precious attire, nor bodily beauty make not a woman so praise worthy as 
She must be modest in her attire.  her modesty doth, which consisteth in deeds, words, countenance and apparel. That is an ornament (said the Philosopher Crates) that adorneth, and that thing adorneth a woman, 
The true ornaments of a woman.  which maketh her more honourable. And this is not done by jewels of gold, emeralds, precious stones, or purple garments, but by every thing that causeth her to be accounted honest, wise, humble and chaste. Those women that curiously prick up themselves, and enrich their bodies with ornaments full of pomp, make men more dissolute and inclined to looseness, especially when they make great window works before their dugs, and give licence to their eyes to wander and gaze about. Whereas contrariwise a wise woman through her honest behaviour, together with her lowly and settled look, leadeth so many as cast their eyes upon her to continency and chastity. But a discovered dug, a naked bres●, frizzled locks, paintings, perfumes, 
●●●●●ine ●o●●●ss of an adulterous heart.  and especially a rolling eye, and alascivious and unchaste look, are the forerunners of adultery. He that will not credit me, let him read Tibullus, Propertius, and O●id, who are of the same opinion. It may well be said of such women, whose number is too great amongst us, that they have lost all shame: albeit the best dowry, the best inheritance and most precious ie well which a woman can have, is to be shamefast. Yea the fortress and defence that nature 
Samefastnes is the best dow●e of a woman.  hath given to a woman for the preservation of her reputation, chastity, and honour, is shame, whereof whensoever she maketh no account, she is undone for ever Socrates used to counsel those young men that beheld themselves in looking glasses, if they were hard favoured to correct their deformity with virtue, by making themselves virtuous: and if they were fair, not to blot their beauty wi●● vice. In like manner it were very good, that when the married wife holdeth her looking glass in her hand, she would speak thus to herself if she be foul: What 
A● excellent u●e of looking glasses.  then should become of me if I were also wicked? and if she be fair, How shall this be accounted of, if I continued honest and wise? For if a hard favoured woman be loved for her good behaviour and honest conditions, it is far greater honour unto her than if it were for beauty. Moreover, a woman must have a special care to be silent, and to speak as seldom, as she● may, unless it be to her husband, or at his bidding: reserving household 
A woman must be silent and secret.  wants affairs secret to herself, and not publish them abroad. Thus doing, if any evil, any reproach or dishonour come to the house through any of them that are within it, the fault will be her husbands and not hers. Likewise a woman that respecteth her honour, aught to be ashamed to utter any dishonest speeches, flouts, and jests, and no less ashamed to give ear 
A woman must a●o●de f●●●h●● speech's ●●●estess.  unto them. For if she once give herself to gibing, they that laughed at some little word of hers will afterward mock the author thereof: seeing the honour of women is such a nice and chary thing, that it is not lawful for them so much as to think, much less to speak of many things, which men may freely both talk of and put in practice. Therefore those dames that mind to preserve their gravity, must be silent not only in unlawful but even in necessary matters, unless it be very requisite that they should speak of them. To he short, that woman that is borne to virtue, and purposeth to perform her duty towards her husband, must please him in all honest things, and in such as draw nearest to his inclination, she must love him entirely, 
A short sum of t●e duty of a wi●e.  and esteem of him above all others, she must be patiented and know how to wink at, and to bear with many things done by him, she must be prudent to govern her house, skilful in housewifery to preserve her goods, careful to bring up her children, fair spoken and courteous to her neighbours, plentiful in honourable works, a friend to honest company, and a very great enemy to the lightness of youth. Moreover she must bestow as much time as she 
A woman must be desirous of knowledge.  can steal from domestical affairs, in the study of notable sayings, and of the moral sentences of ancient Sages and good men. And it were a seemly and honourable thing to hear a woman speak to her hu●band in this sort: Husband, you are my teacher, my governor and master in Philosophy, and in the knowledge of most excellent and heavenly sciences. For by such honest occupations women are withdrawn and turned aside from other unworthy exercises, whereunto we see them so apt and inclined now adays, which maketh them ve●y offensive, as plays, dancing, masking, hunting, and discharging of harquebusses, 
Exercise unseemly for women.  with such other dealings very unmeet for their sex. Whereas if in am of all these things a wife would embrace the love of knowledge, so far forth as her wit and leisure require, and as her husband shall like of, she should be partaker not only of the flowers and songs, but also of the first-fruits, which the Muses bring forth and bestow upon them that love letters and Philosophy: which will greatly help her towards the leading of a happy life with her husband. Now considering that love is always the wellspring of every good duty, especially between those that are linked together by marriage, (which aught to be so great in regard 
What great love the law of nations requireth in a wife towards her husband. Examples of the great love of woman towards their husbands. Hipsicrates.  of the wife, that the Civil law, and law of nations, will have a woman follow her husband, although he have neither fire nor place to resort unto, or be banished and driven from place to place) let us here call to remembrance some notable examples of the great love that hath been in virtuous women towards their husbands, as well when they were alive, as after their death, by refusing to over live them. Queen Hipsicrates the wife of king Mithridates cometh first to mind, who bore such love towards her husband, that polling herself for his sake (although she was young and very fair) she acquainted herself with the wearing of armour, and road with him to the war. And when he was overcome by Pompey, she accompanied him in his flight through all Asia, whereby she mollified the grief and sorrow which he ●eceived by his loss. Triara wife to Lucius Vitellus, brother to the Emperor Vitellus, seeing her husband in a dangerous battle, thrust herself amongst the soldiers to bear him company, 
Triara.  and to help him both in death and life, and fought as well as the valiantest amongst them. When king Admetus his wife saw her husband very sick, and heard the answer of the Oracle, which was, that He could not recover except one of his best friends died for him, she sl●e herself. When the wife of Fredinando Goncales a prince of Italy, knew that her husband was prisoner, 
The wife of Ferdinando. Goncales.  and in danger of death, she went to visit him, and putting on his apparel, abode in his place, whilst he being clothed in her garments saved himself. Zenobia Queen of Armenia, seeing her husband Radamisus fly from a battle, and not being able to follow him because 
Zenobia.  she was great with child, besought him to kill her. Which when he thought to have done, she was stricken down with the blow of a sword: but being taken of the enemy and thoroughly healed, Tyridates the king, who had vanquished her husband, married her afterward for the great love that was in her. The princess Panthea loved her husband Abradatus so 
Panchea. Artemisia.  well, that when he died in Cyr●s' camp, she slew herself upon his body. Artemisia Queen of Caria, for the great love she bore to her husband that was dead, drank all the ashes of his body, meaning thereby to be his sepulchre. When julia the wife of Pompey saw a 
julia.  gown of her husbands all bloody, wherewith he had offered some sacrifice, she imagined that he was slain, and so died presently after. When Porcia the wife of Brutus heard of her husband's death, and perceived that her kinsfolks took away all means of kill herself, 
Porcia.  she drew hot burning coals out of the fire, and threw them into her mouth, which she closed so fast, that she was choked thereby. Sulpitia being carefully restrained by her mother julia from seeking her husband Lentulus in Sicilia, whither he was banished, she went thither being 
Sulpitia.  appareled like a slave, banishing herself voluntarily rather than she would forsake her husband. Octavia sister to Augustus, and wife to Antonius, not with standing the injury that her husband offered unto her in perferring before her a Queen that was nothing so young 
Octavia.  or fair as she, bore such great love towards him, that setting aside all entreaty of her brother, she would never leave her husband's house, but still brought up his children by his first marriage as carefully as if they had been her own. Moreover she ●ought by all means to reconcile those two Emperors, saying, that it was an unworthy thing, that two so mighty princes, the one for the evil entreaty of his sister, the other because he was bewitched by a wicked woman, should war one against another. As this virtuous princess had taken he● journey as far as Athens, where she meant to take shipping, and to seek out her husband being then in wa● with the Par●ians, bringing with her soldiers, money, furniture and other munitions, he sent her word that she should pass no farther, but stay for him at Rome. This she performed, and sent him all the above named things, not seeming at all to be offended with him. Whereas he in the mean while scorned her, sporting himself with Cleopatra in the sight and knowledge of all men, and afterward dealt worse with her when the war was begun between him and Augustus. For he sent a commandment to Octavia at Rome to go out of his house, which she presently obeyed, albeit she would not therefore forsake any of her husband's children, but wept and bewailed her mishap, which had brought her to be a principal cause of that civil war. Aria, the wife of C●cinna, followed in a little boat unto Rome her husband, who was taken prisoner because he had borne arms against the Emperor 
Aria.  Claudius. Being there condemned to die, she would have borne him company, but that her son in law and her daughter stayed her. When she saw that, she struck her head so hard against the wall, that she fell down amazed: and being come to herself again, said unto them: You see that you cannot hinder me from dying cruelly, if ye stay me from a more gentle death. They being a astonished at the fact, and at her words, suffered her to do what she would: who then ran to the place where her husband was, and slew herself first, after she had spoken thus courageously unto him: I am not, Cecinna, sorry for that which is done, but because the race of thy life must end. When Seneca was condemned to die by Nero, 
The manner of Seneca his death. Paulina.  and had liberty to choose what kind of death he would, he caused his veins to be opened in a bath: his wife Paulina of her own accord did the like to herself in the same bath, mingling together their blood for a greater union and coronation of their long and perfect love. Whereof Nero being advertised, presently commanded that her veins should be stopped, constraining her thereby to live a little longer in continual grief. Hipparchia, a very fair and rich woman, was so far in love with the Philosopher Crates, who was hard favoured 
Hipparchia.  and poor, that she married him against all her kinsfolks mind, & followed him throughout all the country, being poorly appareled and barefoot, after the Cynic fashion, Pisca seeing her husband pine away daily through a great and strange disease, which he had 
Pisca.  concealed from her of long time, having at the length knowledge thereof, and perceiving it to be incurable, she was moved with pity for the evil which he suffered, whom she loved better than herself: and thereupon counseled him with great courage to assuage his grie●e by death, and the better to stir him up thereunto, she offered to bear him company. Whereunto her husband agreeing, they embraced each other, and cast themselves headlong into the Sea from the top of a rock. The king of Persia taking prisoner the wife of Pando●rus, whom he had vanquished and slain, would have married her. But she slew herself after she had uttered 
Pandoerus wife.  these words: God forbidden, that to be a Queen, I should ever wed him that hath been the murder of my dear husband Pandoerus. Ca●ma, a Greekish woman of the country of Galatia, bore such love to her husband, even after his death, that to be revenged of a 
Camma.  great Lord called Synorix, who had put her husband to death, that he might marry her, she gently denied him at the first when he become a suitor unto her, but after, in process of time she consented thereunto. When they were come to the Temple of Diana to solemnize the marriage, before the altar she powered forth a little of that drink, which she had prepared in a cup, and drinking part thereof, she gave the residue to Synorix to drink. The liquor was made of water, honey, and poison, mingled together. When she saw that he had drunk all, she fetched a great and loud groan, and using reverence towards the Goddess, said unto her: I call thee to witness, that I have not overlived Sinatus my husband, for any other intent than to see this day: neither have I enjoyed any good or pleasure in all this time, wherein I have since lived, but only in hope that one day I should be able to revenge his death, which being now performed by me, I go cheerfully and with joy unto my husband. But as for thee most wicked man (quoth she to Synorix) take order now, that thy friends and kinsfolks, instead of a wedding bed, prepare a burial for thee. And so within a little while after, both of them ended their days. Macrina, the wife of Torquatus, loved her husband so fervently, and was so sorrowful for his absence, that for one years space, wherein he was go upon a voyage, she never 
Macrina.  went out of her house, nor looked out of her window. We may read that many women of Lacedaemonia, when their husbands were condemned to die for conspiring against their country, came one evening clothed in black to the prison, under colour to take their final farewell of them: and changing their apparel, they covered their husbands with their veils, who went out and left their wives in their place, which sustaining the punishment due to others, were beheaded, contrary to humanity, not without great patience showed on their behalf. Histories are plentiful in showing the great love of women towards their husbands. Yea, I will not be afraid to speak it, men are far inferior unto them in perfection of love. 
Men are inferior to women in perfection of love.  Wherhfore we will conclude that it is easier for them to be dutiful to their husbands, whom, as we have already said, if they love, esteem, and honour, no doubt but they are the chief cause of all peace and concord in their families, and of the prosperous success of their household affairs, to the quietness and contentation of their happy life, and to the immortal praise and honour of their good name.   
The end of the twelfth days work.   

The thirteenth days work.  

Of the duty of the Head of a family in other parts of the house, namely, in the parental, Masterly, and Possessory part. Chap. 49.  ASER. 
IT is not without great show of reason which many Philosophers maintain, that the Economical science, that is to 
The definition of Oeconomic and of Polic●●.  say, the art of ruling a house well, is one of the chiefest parts of policy, which is the art of skilful governing a great multitude of men. The reason is, because a Town or City is nothing else but an assembly of many families and houses together, which will be very hard for one only man to order well and justly, if he know not how to set that order in his family, which is necessary, and to guide it with ●ound reason and true prudence. Moreover, when families are well governed, no doubt but it goeth well with the commonwealth, as we see, that the whole body is in good health, when every several member doth his duty. Now that we have considered particularly of that which concerneth the first and principal 
Every head of a family must provide for his household. 1. Tim. 5. 8.  part of a house, and of the mutual duty of the husband and wife, I think (my Companions) we are to begin this days work with instructing ourselves in that which the Head of a family aught to keep and observe in other parts of his his house, mentioned before by us, namely, his children, servants, and possessions, seeing we are taught by the Apostle, that he which provideth not for his own, and namely for them of his household, denieth the faith, and is worse than an infidel.  AMANA. 
Every house must be ruled by the eldest, as by a king, who by nature commandeth over every part of the house, and they obey him for the good preservation thereof.  ARAM. 
Every man by right (saith Homer) hath rule over his wife and children; he is not worthy to have any, that wanteth sufficient virtue and prudence to govern them well. Go to then (ACHITOB) let us learn of thee what belongeth to the parts of a house now mentioned by us.  AHCITOB. 
A●acharsis, one of the wise men of Graecia, said, that a house is not to be called good, because it is well built, and of good stuff, but men must judge thereof by that which is within, and which belongeth to the house, as namely, by the children, wife, and servants: 
What maketh a house to be called good.  with whom, being wise and well qualified, if the father of a family communicateth and imparteth of that which he hath, whether it be in the bottom of a cave, or under the shade of a bough, he may be said to devil in a good and happy house. Therefore it is no small happiness and felicity for them that are called to the government of a family, when they see it wise and well nurtured in every part. But as nerves and sinews, being the instruments of sense and motion, proceed and are derived from the head, which by them infuseth into all parts of the body, the Animal spirit, without which the body could not exercise any natural function of the sense and moving: so the parts of a house commonly receive the habit of manners and conditions from the father of a family, as from the head thereof: but then especially, 
A good order in a house proceedeth from the head of the family. Where a householder must begin to rule his house well  when he is prudent and wise, and imploieth his care, diligence and industry thereupon. Therefore a good householder must begin the right government of his house at himself, by letting his household see, that he is prudent, chaste, sober, peaceable, but chief religious and godly: as also by bringing forth plentiful fruits of his duty towards those that are under his charge. For as the anger and threatenings of the head of a family astonisheth his children and servants, so his good works hearteneth them on to do well. Now, because there is variety of houses, whose difference is commonly taken from the goods and ability of men, which abound to some, and are wanting to others, I will propound here, as my purpose and meaning was before, a mean house, in all points perfect and as we use to say, neither poor nor rich, from which notwithstanding both great and small may draw instruction for their government. We have already seen, that a house is divided into four part, whereof the conjugal or wedlock part hath been already handled by us. Now we must consider of the other three, and I mean of the parental, Masterly, and Possessory parts. And I think it will be best to follow that order which is most usual in the perfection and progress of 
The progress of a family before it come to perfection.  marriage, and in the accomplishment of a house, which both before and after the consummation of marriage, is first compounded of the goods and wealth of men: next of men servants and maid servants: and lastly, it is made absolute and perfect by those children which God sendeth. The Possessory part than is that which we call movable goods, immooveables, and such goods as move of themselves. This part of a house (as Aristotle saith) belongeth so to oeconomy, that it should go before it, and serve it, to the end that victuals, and other necessary goods, might not be wanting in the house: wherein otherwise (saith the same Philosopher) 

What a householder must first look unto.  
Goods are instruments tending to the maintenance of life.  
Two sorts of goods.  
What interest a Father of a family hath in his goods.   a man cannot live, much less live well. For as in arts that have their limits determined, it is necessary that convenient and proper instruments be had to finish their work: so must it be in oeconomy, in which goods are instruments serving to maintain life: and to possess goods, is nothing else but to have a multitude of instruments serving that action wherein life consisteth. We may divide all these goods into two principal kinds: namely, into those that come from the father to the son by succession, which we call Patrimony, and those that are gotten by industry and labour. It is the duty of the father of a family to preserve that for his, which his predecessors left him, to have the use thereof only as they had, and to use them well, as a faithful guardian and disposer of those goods which God giveth for the succour and profit of his creatures. Yea, from that day wherein he taketh a Wife, and much more when he hath children, he must think that he is no more Lord of his goods, but only a Tutor: and that if they should be wasted or lost through his negligance, he were no less faulty than he that should steal them. Secondly, he must increase his Patrimony by travel, care, and good husbandry: he must get goods for his family, by just and civil means, observing decency and honesty in all things. After the first functions of a holy and Christian duty, which are to go before, and to be joined inseparably to all the actions of life, as elsewhere we have handled, and shall see more hereafter: we find two sorts of getting, the one natural, the other artificial. The natural way consisteth in pasturing, or feeding of 
Two sorts of getting goods  cattle, in tillage, in hunting and fishing, unto which we may say, that an honest prey and booty, agreeable to nature, is joined, if it be practised in just and lawful wars. Hereunto also is referred the vent and sale of his increase, that those things which are sold, and whereof we have abundance, may procure us from elsewhere such other things as we want. The artificial kind of getting, consisteth in works, arts, handicrafts, traffic, and merchandise, exercised for gain. The end of which kind of getting aught to be as well public profit as private. Therefore whatsoever is grounded upon domestical profit only in this second sort of acquisition, 
The end of arts, sciences, and traffic.  is to be avoided and misliked. For whereas it was first brought in of necessity to help men to live, this were craftily to turn it to another end, and to apply it only to one private man's gain, not without the oppressing and detriment of our neighbour, for whose benefit a man must labour no less than for his own. Among filthy gains, Usury is most to be misliked and most detestable, which the Hebrews call biting, and which doth not only gnaw the debtor to the bones, but also sucketh out all the blood and marrow from the bones, engendering 
Biting 〈◊〉 a detestable gain.  money of money, contrary to nature, and to that intent for which money was first brought in: namely, that exchange might be made of such things as are uneasy to be transported, 
Why money was first ininuented and used.  and that the commodity of traffic might be continued for public profit. Now adays there is no trade so common, as that of usury: although it be altogether reproved by the laws of God and men. And surely we have a goodly cloak to cover the shame thereof, I mean the name of 
* The question of Interest hath weighry reason on both sides. An ancient law against usury.  interest, or profit of money, when as it hath been always unpleasant in the sight of God who forbiddeth all kind of Usury whatsoever it be, and therefore it aught not to have any place amongst men that live uprightly. There was a law amongst the ancient Grecians and Romans, which forbade all usury surmounting one penny for a hundred in the year, and they called it Vnciary Usury. If any Usurer took greater profit, he was condemned to restore fourfold: because (as Cato saith) they judged, that a Usurer was a more wicked and vile man than a thief, who was condemned but in double as much. Again, this law was since that brought to a half penny a year among the Romans, and not long after, Usury was clean taken away by the law of Genutia, because of usual seditions which arose through the contempt of laws concerning Usury. Whereupon, we may note, that what moderation soever is appointed in Usury, if men 
The law Genutia fobad all usury.  be suffered to take never so little, they will ascend to the highest degree of all. Therefore we must conform ourselves to the law of God, which taketh away all liberty herein so plainly from us, that it cannot be called into question. Concerning arts exercised for gain, although 
Exod. 22. 25. Deut. 23. 19  there are some of them very vile and contemptible, yet those also after a sort respect public profit. But those arts wherein there is more prudence, or no small commodity, as Physic, Architecture, and other points of knowledge in liberal arts and sciences, are 
The praise of husbandry.  honest and seemly for them that exercise them according to their estate. Now in all these divers sorts of getting, and in many others about which men are but too diligent, husbandry is very commendable. yea, nothing is more fruitful, nothing more pleasant, nothing more worthy and beseeming a free man, and nothing more agreeable to nature. We will note therefore touching this part of a house, called Possessory, that it belongeth to the duty of a father of a family to attend diligently to his house, carefully to provide for his family whatsoever is needful and necessary for it, and to preserve for the same that which is already gotten only by well using the possession thereof. This is that which is signified by the Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or good husbandry: which is as much to say, as 
What good husbandry is.  industry in getting goods, and discreet government in spending them to good purpose. And truly he that hath no care over his goods and household, will be easily persuaded to live unjustly, and to take that which belongeth to another. For sloth and unwillingness to do anything, is the beginning and wellspring of all injustice. And so, whilst a good father of a family laboureth to profit every one, he must also be careful for himself and his. Let us now come to the second part of a house, called the masterly part, which comprehendeth under it men servants and maid servants. If prudence and reason are most necessary in all parts of house keeping, their effects are well worth the noting, and to be desired in 
Of the Masterly part of a house.  this part, of which we will now entreat. For power and authority are of themselves too surly and imperious in him that knoweth not how to repress them wisely, yea, they are easily turned into intolerable arrogancy, if the bridle of reasorestrain them not. Therefore seeing we live in a free country, wherein the ancient absolute power of life and death over slaves hath no place, they, to whom God hath granted this favour to excel and to go before others, whether it be in gifts of nature, or in graces of the soul, or otherwise in the goods of fortune, 
Instructions touching the duty of a master towards her servants.  they, I say, must in no wise contemn those that seem to have been forgotten and stripped of all these good things. Besides, a father of a family must consider, that he ruleth not slaves but free persons. Therefore he must use their service, although not frankly for nothing, yet as that which cometh from a willing and free mind, not dealing roughly with them upon every occasion, but rather handling them gently, as the creatures of God made after his image, seeing the poorest man is created for the self same principal end that the mightiest and richest is. Aristotle granteth this, that although a Master is not bound in any respect to 
The poor & rich are both created to one end.  his Vassal, so far forth as he is a Vassal, yet because slaves are men, he is of opinion, that all laws of humanity aught to be kept with them, What then aught we to do such as submit themselves freely unto us, to whom also we are united and linked by Christian charity, as as to brethren, and in heritors of the same goods and promises? And yet we see that masters fall into bittet anger, cry out, offer outrage, use violence, and lay hands on their servants upon small or no occasion at all, as if they were unreasonable creatures, yea handling them worse 
Against rigorous masters.  than they do their brute beasts. That this is true, we see not one of them but he hath great care that his horses be well fed, daily looked unto, harnessed and decked. Besides, he taketh great heed that they be not tired, nor overlaboured, but as for their servants they neither spare nor comfort them one whit, nor have any respect to their ease and rest. For mine own part, I think that such masters deserve rather to be seized upon, as mad men, than admonished as sociable persons. I wish therefore, that every master of a house had these two properties in him: namely, that with all clemency and meekness he would use the service and obedience of them that are under him, by considering of them with reason, and by looking rather to the good affection and desert of his servant, than to 
Two properties requisite in a master.  the great and profitable service, which he draweth from him. The other point is, that the master using the sweat and service of his, should not seem to be displeased, testy, or hard content, but rather always show forth a gentle kind of favour and courtesy, or at lest a severe familiarity, seasoned with a cheerful and merry countenance. Whosoever show themselves to be such men, besides the glory which they shall obtain by being taken generally for gentle and courteous men, their household servants will love them the more, and will reverence them as their fathers, not standing in such awe and fear of them, as men commonly do of intolerable tyrants. Moreover, as this assembly of a master and of servants tendeth, as every other society also, unto some good end, the master having regard to that which concerneth him and his house, and his servants to the hope of profit and commodity; order must be taken, that they, which have with all carefulness discharged their duty, and yielded that fidel tie and diligence that is requisite to their superior, be not defrauded of the price, reward, hire, and desert of their travels. For if we think it great 
servants must not be defrauded of then pay.  villainy to rob another man, let us esteem it nothing less to keep back the fruit of life, and to defraud the labours, perils, watchings, and excessive cares of our servants, in not recompensing them. Therefore concerning this part of a house, called the masterly part, we will note this, that as the Ancients made their slaves free, thereby to draw from them voluntary and unconstrained service, and to deliver themselves of that fear and distrust, which they always had of their slaves, accounting that proverb true: As many enemies as slaves: so aught we to bring up and to nourish our hired and mercenary servants which serve us in these days, with a free and liberal kind of love, by dealing graciously with them, by persuading them with reason, and by rewarding them liberally: and this will induce them to serve, honour, and esteem us, as if our weal and woe were wholly common with them. The last part of the house remaineth now to be entreated of, which is the perfection thereof, and is called the parental part, comprehending under it, the Father and Mother, or one of them, 

Of the parental part of a house.  
The difference between commanding over a wife & over children.  
The word Father is a kingly and sacred title.   with the children. The head of a family (saith Aristotle) commandeth over wife and children, but over both, as free persons, and yet not after one and the same manner of commanding, but over the wife, according to government used in a popular state, and over the children, royally or prince like. This commandment over the children, is called royal, because he that begetteth, commandeth by love, and by the prerogative of age, which is a kind of kingly commanding. Therefore Homer called jupiter the father of men and of the gods, that is, king of all. For a king must excel by nature, and must be of the same kind, as it is with the aged in respect of the younger sort, and with him that begetteth in regard of his child, over whom he aught to be as careful, as a king is over his subjects. Unto this part of the house a father of a family must have a careful eye, because hereupon chief dependeth the honour and quietness of his house, & the discharge of his duty towards God and his country: namely, by making his children honest and of good conditions. As the desire and prick of nature (saith Dion) driveth us forward to beget children: so is it a testimony of true love and charity, to bring them up, and to entreat them after afree manner, and to instruct them well. Therefore a Father of a family shall satisfy his duty concerning this part of a house, by the good education and instruction of his children, and by exercising them in virtue. For manners and conditions are qualities imprinted in us by long tract of time, and virtues are gotten by custom, care, and diligence. Hereafter we are to consider more amply and particularly of the instruction of youth, and therefore at this time we shall content ourselves with the giving of certain general precepts, worthy to be diligently observed of every good Father of a family towards his children. For in vain (saith Plato) doth he hope for a harvest, that hath been negligent in sowing. I say, he must be passing careful, and employ all possible labour, that his children and youth may be well instructed, because they are the seed corn of the city: insomuch that careful heed is to be had even of their words, gestures, sports, and other 
Youth is the seed of the common wealth.  actions, that nothing may lead them unto vice. For otherwise if no reckoning be made of this age, a man shall labour no less in vain to prescribe good laws for them afterward, than the Physician doth that ministereth plenty of medicines to a diseased party that keepeth no diet at all. The best gifts of nature, if they be not well trimmed and looked unto, become nought at the first, and afterward passing evil. Therefore a father of a family aught not to be more careful of any thing than of the bringing up of his children 
The gifts of virtue are soon corrupted.  according to whose good or evil education, the whole house will be governed. This first institution of their life from the first age, is called discipline, which by little and little leadeth the spirit of the child to the love of virtue, even of that virtue, whereby being come to man's estate, he knoweth both how to command, and how to obey, and to follow after nothing but that which the law commandeth and affirmeth to be good. The vices of children are swords which pass through the hearts of their fathers, who are for the most part the cause of them through their negligence in correcting them, & over great liberty which they grant to this age that needeth a stay and bridle, yea spurs, whereby to be broken and made tractable, as men use to deal with young Colts. Therefore Plato said, that it is not in our own power to 'cause our children to be borne such as we would have them, but yet that 
A father must be loved, feared, and reverenced of his children.  it lieth in us to make them good. Whereunto this will be a good mean, if from their young years we imprint in their hearts a love, fear, and reverence of us. For if these things concur not together in the child's heart, he will never yield due obedience to his father. Pythagoras said that a prudent father was better to be liked than a choleric, because prudence serveth to procure love and good will in those that aught to obey: whereas choler maketh them odious that command, and causeth their admonitions to profit but little. For this cause Aristotle requireth perfection of moral virtue in a father of a family, saying: that his office is a kind of building, and that reason is as it were the builder, by whom he guideth and bringeth that Economical work to his perfection. And indeed the Ancients took 

The office of a father resembled to buildings.  
A child will learn better of his father than of any other.   great pains in teaching their children themselves, not suffering them to be far from their presence during their youth, because they iugded (and that upon good reason) that son like respect and love were good pricks to drive them forward to the study of virtue. And no doubt but if a skilful Father would execute this duty of instructing his child in knowledge and learning, he would conceive and take it a great deal better of him than of any other. Therefore Marcus, Portius, Cato, would needs be school master to his own children, which institution did greatly avail them, not so much because he was Cato as because he was their father, whose virtue they imitated. julius Caesar adopted his nephew Octavian, and brought 
M. Cato. I Caesar.  him up himself. Which did him so much good, that being come to the Empire, he was called Augustus for his goodness. He also performed as much afterward to his nephews Lucius and Caius, whom in like manner he had adopted. Noah, Lot, jacob, and all the fathers, instructed 

Augustus. Noah, Lot, jacob, etc.  
God commandeth fathers to instruct their children.   their children themselves: and God commanded the Israelites in the wilderness to teach their children the Law, which themselves had received frontheir fathers. To this purpose an ancient man said, that it was the greatest sloth that could be, for a man to be negligent towards his children, and to teach them nothing. Great heed therefore must be taken, that they be not left to the government of their own fantasy, considering that youth is very tender toresist vice, and of itself uncapable of counsel. With hold not (saith the wise man) correction from the child: for in smiting with the rod, thou shalt deliver his soul from hell. He that spareth 

Prou. 23. 13. 14. & 13. 24. Correction necessary for children.  
Ecclus. 30. 8. 9 11. 12.   his rod hateth his son, but he that loveth him, chasteneth him betime. As an untamed horse becometh fierce: so a child suffered to do what he list, waxeth rebellious. If thou bring up thy son delicately, he shall make thee afraid, and if thou play with him, he shall bring thee to heaviness. Give him no liberty in his youth and wink not at his folly. Bow down his neck while he is young, & beat him on the sides while he is a child, lest he wax stubborn, and be disobedient unto thee, & so bring sorrow to thy hart. And yet I would not that fathers should be over sharp and hard to their children, not bearing with any fault in them. But as physicians 
Severity must be mingled with clemency in the correcting of children.  mingling and steeping their bitter drugs with some sweet juice, have found the means to make a passage for profit through the midst of pleasure: so must fathers intermingle the sharpness of their reprehensions and corrections with the facility of clemency, and sometime let lose a little the bridle to the desires of their children, so that they wander not far from that which becometh them. Again they must by and by let down the button, and hold them hard in with the bridle, but yet supporting gently and patiently their faults commitmitted through youth, and not of malice. And if it be so that they cannot but be angry, at the lest let their anger be presently appeased, For it is better that a father should be quickly angry (although that it be an imperfection) so that he besoone pacified, than to be slow to anger and hardly brought to forgive. But if a father be so severe that he will forget nothing, & be never reconciled, it is a great argument that he hateth his children. And then he maketh himself unworthy of so excellent and divine a name, showing forth effects clean contrary thereunto whereas parents commonly love their children too much, and use towards them rather too much lenity, than just severity. O how the father (saith Seneca, speaking of one that thrust his son out of his house) cutteth off his limbs with great grief, how many sighs he fetcheth in cutting them off, and how earnestly he wisheth to have them again in their place? Moreover, fathers must have a special care, that they commit no fault, nor omit any thing appertaining to their 
The father's life must be a mirror of virtue to the child.  duty, to the end they may be lively examples to their children, that looking into their life, as into a clear glass, they may abstain after their example from speaking any thing that bringeth shame. Again we know, that all those fathers which lead an evil life, leave not to themselves any courage so much as to reprove their salves only, so far off are they, that they can frankly chide their children. And which is worst of all, by their naughty life they 
When fathers may be justly charged with their children's faults.  are unto them in stead of Masters and counsellors of ill doing. For where old men are shameless, there it must needs be, that young men become impudent and graceless. Father's therefore must strive to do whatsoever their duty requireth, that their children may wax wise and well qualified. This we may comprehend in few words: namely, if they bring them up well in their infancy, and let them have due correction in their youth. Which two things being neglected of fathers, the faults of their children are for the most part justly imputed unto them. Hely the Priest was not punished for any sin which himself had committed, but because he winked at the sins of his children. We read in the story of the Heluitians or Swissers, of the judgement of a tyrant condemned to death, where order was taken that the execution 
1. Sam. 3. 13. The story of a father appointed to execute his own child. A father must bring up his children. in mutual love.  thereof should be done by the father, who was the cause of his evil education: that he might come to his death by the author of his life, and that the father might in some sort be punished for his negligence used towards his child. Moreover, they that have many children must be passing careful to bring them up in mutual friendship, causing them to give each to other that honour and duty, unto which nature bindeth them, and sharply chastising those that in any respect offend therein. The Ephories of Lacedaemonia long since condemned a notable citizen in a very great sum, when they understood that he suffered two of his children to quarrel together. The best mean which I found to avoid so great an evil, is to love and entreat them all alike, and to accustom them to give honour, duty, and obedience one to another according to their degrees of age. They must remove from them all partialities and not suffer them to have any thing several or divided one from another, that as it were in one heart and will all things may be common amongst them. Example hereof was that good father of a family Aelius Tubero, who had sixteen children of his own body, all of them married, and dwelling 
Aelius Tubero  all in one house with their children, and living with him in all peace and concord. For the conclusion therefore of our present discourse, we learn, that a father of a family must begin the government of his house with himself, and become an example to his of all honesty and virtue. That he must not neglect the care of providing goods, and necessary means for the maintenance of his family, remembering always that in nothing he go beyond the bounds of that seemliness & decency, which duty hath limited, and prescribed unto him. That he aught to love and to entreat his servants courteously, putting away threatenings, (as it is said in the 
Eph. 6. 9  Scripture) and knowing that both their and his master is in heaven, with whom there is no respect of persons. And for the last point, that it belongeth to his duty to bring up his children in the holy instruction and information of the Lord, not provoking them to wrath, that God may be glorified, and he their father may rejoice in the presence of his friends, and that his country generally may receive benefit, profit, and commodity.   

Of the duty of children towards their parents: of the mutual love that aught to be among brethren: of the duty of servants towards their masters. Chap. 50.  ACHITOB. 
Upon a day when one said in the hearing of Theopompus king of Sparta, that the estate of that city was preserved in such flourishing manner, because the kings knew how to command well, the Prince replied that it was not so much for that cause, as because the citizens knew how to obey well. And to speak the truth, to obey well (as also the virtue of commanding) is a great virtue, and proceedeth from a nature, which 
Obedience is a great virtue.  being noble of itself is helped by good education. Therefore Aristotle said, that it was necessary that he which obeyeth should be virtuous as well as he that commandeth. Now seeing we have entreated of the duty of a father and head of a family, exercising his office upon all the parts of his house, let us now consider of the duty and obedience that is requsite in servants and children, and of the mutual & reciprocal amity which aught to be between 
Col. 3. 20. Eph. 6 2. Obedience to parents commanded of God.  brethren, desirous to preserve the bond of Economical society in a happy estate.  ASER, 
Children (saith the Scripture) obey your parents in all things: for that is well pleasing unto the Lord Honour thy father and mother (which is the first commandment with promise) that it may be well with thee, and that thou mayest live long on earth.  AMANA. 
Who so honoureth his father, his sins shall he forgiven him, and he shall abstain from 
Eccles. 3. 45. 1. Pet. 2. 18. Obedience to masters commanded of God.  them, & shall have his daily desires. And he that honoureth his mother, is like one that gathereth treasure And you servants be subject to your masters with all fear, not only to the good and courteous, but also to the froward. Let us then hear ARAM discourse more at large of that which is here propounded unto us.  ARAM. 
Nature (saith Plutarch) and the law which preserveth nature, hath given the 
Reverence to parents placed next to the honour due to God.  first place of reverence and honour after God, unto the father and mother: and men cannot do any service more acceptable to God, than graciously and lovingly to pay to their parents that begot them, and to them that brought them up, the usury of new and old graces which they have lent them: as contrariwise, there is no sign of an Atheist more certain, than for a man to set light by, and to offend his parents. The father is the true image 
A token of an Aiheist. A father is the image of God.  of the great and sovereign God, the universal Father of all things, as Proclus the Academic said. Yea the child holdeth his life of the Father next after God, and whatsoever else he hath in this world. Therefore a man is forbidden to hurt others, but it is accounted great impiety and sacrilege for a man not to show himself ready to do and to speak all things, I will not say, whereby they can receive no displeasure, but whereby they may not receive pleasure. And indeed one of the greatest good turns that we can do to those of whom we are descended, is not to make them sad. Which cannot possibly be done, if God the leader & guide 
Ecclus. 3. 1. 2. etc.  to alknowledge, disposeth not the mind to all honest things The children of wisdom are the Church of the righteous, and their of spring is obedience and love. Children hear the judgement of your father, and do thereafter, that you may be safe. For the Lord will have the father honoured of the children, and hath confirmed the authority of a mother over the children. He that honoureth his father shall have joy of his own children, and when he maketh his prayer he shall be heard. He that honoureth his father shall have long life, and he that is obedient to the Lord, shall comfort his mother. He that feareth the Lord, honoureth his parents, and doth service unto his parents, as unto Lords. Honour thy father and mother indeed and inword, and in all patience, that thou mayest have the blessing of God, and that his blessing may abide with thee in the end. For the blessing of the father establisheth the houses of the children, and the mother's curse rooteth out the foundations. Help thy father in his age, and grieve him not as long as he liveth. And if his understanding fail, have patience with him, and despise him not when thou art in thy full strength. For the good entreaty of thy father shall not be forgotten, but it shall be a fortress for thee against sins. In the day of trouble thou shall be remembered, thy sins also shall melt away, as the ice in fair weather. He that forsaketh his father shall come to shame, and he that angreth his mother is cursed of God. By these holy speeches we see how we aught to love, honour, reverence, 
The fifth commandment only hath a special promise annexed unto it. Eph. 6. 2.  and fear our parents. This is comprehended under the first commandment of the second table, and this only of all the ten articles of the Decalogue beareth his reward with him, albeit no recompense is due to him that is bound to do any thing, namely, by so strait a bond as this whereof all laws both divine and human are full, and the law of nature also doth plentifully instruct us therein, as it hath been diligently observed of very Infidels, ethnics, and Pagans'. Among the Lacedæmonians this custom took place, that the younger sort rose up from their seats before the aged. Whereof when one asked the cause of Teleucrus. It is (qooth he) to the end that in doing this honour to whom it belongeth not, they should learn to yield great honour to their parents. The arrogancy of a child was the cause that one 
The law of Testaments to keep children in awe. Children might not sue out their liveries by way of action but of request.  of the Ephories published the Law of Testaments, whereby it was permitted to every one from that time forward to appoint whom he would his heir. This law served well to make children obedient & serviceable to their parents, & to 'cause them to be afraid of displeasing them. Among the Romans the child was not admitted to plead his father's will after his death by way of action, but only by way of request, using very humble, honourable, & reverent speech of his dead father, and leaving his whole matter to the discretion and religion of the judges. Contend not with thy father (said Pittacus the wise) although thou hast just cause of complaint: And therefore Teleucrus answered aptly to on, who complained unto him, that his father always speak ill of him: If (quoth he) there were no cause to speak ill of thee he would not do it. So that it belongeth to the duty of a child to believe that his father hath always right, and that age and experience hath endued him with greater knowledge of that which is good, than they that are of younger years. Philelpbus' said, that although we could not possibly tender the like good turns to our parents, nor satisfy those obligations by which we stand bound unto them, yet we must do the best we can unto them: we must entreat them 
The duty of children towards their parents.  courteously and lovingly, and not go far from them: we must harken unto their instructions, and be obedient to their commandments: we must not gainsay their deliberations and wills, no more than the will of God, whether it be that we are to departed from them, or to tarry still, or to enter into some calling agreeable to the will of God: we must not stand in contention with them when they are angry, but suffer and bear patiently, if they threaten or correct us. And if they be offended with us when we think there is no cause why, yet we must not lay us down to rest before we have by all kind of honest submissions appeased them. Humility is always commendable, but especially towards our parents. The more we abase ourselves before them, the more we increase in glory and honour, before God and 
Humility towards parents most commendable. The description of a disobedient child.  men. This is very badly put in ure at this day, when the son doth not only not honour his father, but even dishonoureth him, and is ashamed of him. He is so far from loving him, that he rather hateth him, so far from fearing him, that contrariwise he mocketh and contemneth him: and instead of serving and obeying him, he riseth up and conspireth against him. If he be angry, he laboureth to anger him more: briefly, scarce any duty of a child towards his father is seen now adays. And if some print thereof be found in any towards his father, yet it is clean put out in regard of the mother: as if he that commanded us to honour our father did not presently say, and thy mother, unto whom in truth we own no less honour, respect, and obedience, than to our father, as well in regard of the commandment 
The mother is no less to be honoured than the father.  of God, as of the unspeakable pains and travel which she suffered in bearing and bringing us into the world, in giving us suck, and in nourishing us. But alas, what shall we say of those that spoil their parents of their goods, houses and commodities, and desire nothing more than their death, that they may freely enjoy, even that which oftentimes their parents have purchased for them? OH execrable impiety! It is unworthy to be once thought upon amongst us, & the judgement of God doth of itself sufficiently appear upon such cursed children. Whose behaviour that it may be more odious unto us, let us learn of Pittucus, that our children will be such towards us as we have been towards our parents. But let us be more afraid to provoke our fathers in such fort through our default unto wrath, that instead of blessing us, they fall to curse us. For (as Plato saith) there is no prayer which God heareth more willingly than that of the father for the children. And therefore special regard is to be had unto the cursings and blessings, which fathers lay upon their children. 
The blessings and cursings of parents towards their children is of great weight. Torquatus.  Which was the cause (as the Scripture teacheth us) that children in old time were so jealous one of another who should carry away the father's blessing, and that they stood in greater fear of their curse, than of death itself. Torquatus the younger being banished from his father's house, slew himself for grief thereof. And to allege another example out of the writings of ancient men, of the love which they bore to their fathers, that of Antigonus the second son of Demetrius, is most worthy to be noted. For when his father being prisoner sent him word by one of his acquaintance to give no credit, nor to make account of any letters from him, if it so fell out that Seleucus, whose prisoner he was, should compel him thereunto, and therefore that he should not deliver up any of those Towns which he held: Antigonus contrariwise wrote to Selencus, that he would yield up unto him all 
An example of great love in a child towards his father. Another of a daughter towards her father.  the lands he had under his obedience, and would also himself become his pledge, if he would deliver his father. We may not here pass over with silence the rare example of daughter like piety, with which all the painters in the world have set forth their science, I mean of the daughter that gave suck to her father who was condemned to die of that ancient and usual punishment of famine, which never suffereth a sound man to pass the seventh day. The iailour espying this act of piety gave notice thereof to the magistrates, which being known to the people, the daughter obtained pardon for her father's life. Moreover, seeing we must labour to obey and to please our parents in all things, it is certain that no action, gift or disposition in us is more acceptable, or contenteth them better than to see 
Children can not please their parents better than to love one another.  good will, and an assured and certain friendship among brethren. Which may easily be known by these contrary signs. For if parents are offended when their children offer wrong to a servant whom they love, and if hearty old men are grieved when no account is made of a dog or horse bred in their house, and are vexed when they see their children mock and despise those pastimes, stories, and other such like things which they sometime loved, is it likely that they could patiently abide to see their children whom they love best of all, to hate one another, to be always quarreling one with another, to speak ill one of another, and in all their enterprises and actions to be divided, and set one against another, and to seek to supplant and defeat each other? I think no man will affirm it. Therefore contrariwise we may judge, that those brethren which love and cherish one another, which join together in one bond of self same wills, studies and affections, that which nature had disjoined and separated in bodies, and lastly, which have all their talk, exercises, plays, and pastimes common amongst them, they I say undoubtedly give occasion to their parents of a sweet and happy contentation in their old age for this brotherly friendship. For no father (saith Plutarch) ever loved learning, honour or silver so much as he did his children. And therefore they never took so great pleasure to see their children good orators, rich, or placed in great office; and dignities, as to see them love one another. To this purpose one rehearseth that Apollonida mother to king Eumenes and to three other of his brethren, accounted 
Apollonida.  herself happy as she said, and gave great thanks to God, not for her riches or principality but because she saw her three younger sons, as it were a guard to their elder brother, who lived freely and most safely in the midst of them with their swords by their sides, and and their javelins in their hands. Contrariwise, when king Xerxes perceived, that his son 
Xerxes.  Ochus lay in wait for his brethren to put them to death, he died for displeasure thereof. Therefore Euripides said, that wars between brethren are grievous, but most of all to their 
He that hateth his brother, hateth his parents.  parents: because he that hateth his brother and cannot abide to look upon him, must needs also be offended with him that begat him, and her that bore him. Whereas good children that love one another for the love of their parents, are so much the more provoked to love and honour them, saying and thinking always with themselves, that they are bound unto them for many causes, but chief in regard of their brethren, who are unto them as precious, pleasant and gracious an inheritance as any they could receive from them. This meant Homer to teach us when he brought in Telemachus reckoning this amongst his calamities, that jupiter had ended the race of his father in him, and had not given him a brother. Let us 
Telemachus.  not then doubt, but that this is a certain demonstration to the parents that their child loveth them, when he loveth his brethren. And this also serveth for as great an example and instruction to his children to love one another, as any can be. Therefore let us utterly banish away all hatred of our brethren, which is both condemned by God who commendeth above all things concord unto us, and also a naughty nurse for the old age of fathers and mothers, and a worse for the young years of children. And seeing we are about this matter of brotherly love, so precious and excellent, whereunto now adays men have so small regard, I think we aught to insist and stand longer upon it, and allege some precepts and examples of ancient men, whereby to confirm us in it more and more. First, nature hath 
The beginning of brotherly love is in our nativity.  bred from from our birth in regard of us the beginning and occasion of this amity, and hath taken away from our judgement all former motions, to procure love. Therefore we must beware that we seek not too exactly after the faults and imperfections one of another, but cover and bear with them, because they are of our own blood: knowing that no man's life can be sincere and clean from all vice, so that we were better to support the domestical imperfections of our brethren, than to make trial of those that are in strangers. That brother (saith Plutarch) that warreth with his brother, and seeketh to procure a stranger to friend, seemeth to me to cut off voluntarily a member of his own flesh belonging to him, that he 
The benefits that cometh to brethren by having common friends.  may apply and fasten to that place one taken from another man's body. We note also that nothing more preserveth the love of brethren, than to have the same common friends. For several familiarity, conversation and company keeping turneth aside and alienateth them one from another, because thereby they acquaint themselves with divers natures, and take pleasure in things that are contrary. But there is a further matter in it. For as tin doth solder and join together broken copper, by touching both ends of the broken pieces, because it agreeth as well with the one as with the other: so a common friend serveth to confirm, to preserve, to increase and to reunite their mutual friendship and good will, when upon light occasion sometimes it is as it were in danger of breaking. Which is so 
Enmity between brethren is prodigious and unnatural.  much the more to be feared, as it is certain, that all enmity breedeth within our souls a thousand passions that torment us, but especially that enmity which a man beareth towards his brother, as that which is most prodigious and against nature. And as bodies that were once joined together, if the glue or band wax lose, may be joined and glued again; but if a natural body break or rend asunder, it is hard to find any solder that is able to reunite and knit them well together again: so those mutual friendships, which we contract 
It is a hard matter to reconcile brethren once fallen at vatiance.  voluntarily with such as are not of kin or allied unto us, if peradventure they fall asunder sometimes, may easily be overtaken again; but when brethren are once estranged and fallen from that love whereby nature doth necessarily link them one with another, they are hardly reconciled again together. And if they be friends again, yet it is always with some distrust and suspicion. Questionless it is impossible but that affairs should breed in these times wherein we live, many occasions of dissension and debate between brethren, namely, for goods and successions, as this word of Parting importeth, and bringeth with it division, every one being desirous to have his own. But herein also they must suffer their matters to 
How brethren must behave themselves in the partition of lands and goods.  sight by themselves, without adding any headstrong passion, covetousness, or choler, which are as a hook that taketh hold of them, and seeketh to set them together by the ears. They must, as it were in a balance consider jointly together on which side right and equity declineth, and assoon as they can possible, let them remit the judgement and deciding of their controversies to the arbitrement of some good men. Yea, a good brother aught rather to rejoice and boast that he hath overcome and go beyond his brother, in gracious behaviour, in courtesy, in voluntary giving of place, and in every good duty towards him, than in the division of some goods. Now let us us consider of some notable examples amongst the Ancients, of great brotherly love. Although we had searched all histories, yet could we not 
Examples of brotherly love.  find a more memorable act, or worthy to be set forth at this day, and to be rather followed especially of the greater sort, who quartel for their possessions and revenues, than that which fell out between the children of Darius' monarch of the Persians'. Ariamenes the eldest, and Xerxes the younger, being in great strife together for the succession of the Empire, the eldest alleged, his birthright; the younger, that he was the son of Atossa, daughter to Cyrus the Great, and that he was borne since his father was crowned king, and so next inheritor of the kingdom now that Cambyses was dead. Each of them had great confederates, and many Persian lords were divided into factions about this matter. But Ariamenes came out of 
Ariamenes.  Media, not in arms to make war, although he had great means thereunto, but only with his ordinary train, as one that purposed to pursue his right by way of justice. Xerxes' 
Xerxes.  before his brothers coming, exercised in Persia all duties belonging to a king: but as soon as his brother was arrived, he willingly put off his kingly diadem and hat, and went out to meet him and to embrace him. After that he sent presents unto him, with commandment given to those that bore them, to say unto him in this manner: Xerxes thy brother honoureth thee now with these presents, but if by the sentence and judgement of the princes and lords of Persia he be declared king, his will is that thou shouldest be the second person in Persia after him. Ariamenes returned this answer, I receive my brother's gifts with all my heart, and think that the kingdom of Persia belongeth to me: but as concerning my brethren, I will give them that dignity and honour that is due unto them next to myself, and to Xerxes first of all. Now after that by their common consent Artabanus their uncle had decided and brought to an end their controversy, and adjudged the kingdom to Xerxes; Artamenes presently arose from his seat and went to do homage to his brother, and taking him by the right hand, led him to his royal and kingly throne. From that time forward he was always the greatest next unto him, and showed himself so well affected towards his right, that in the Salamine battle by Sea he died, fight valiantly in his service. Antiochus' surnamed the Holy, making war with his elder brother for his part in the kingdom of Macedonia, declared even in his ambition, that all brotherly 
Antiochus.  love was not quite extinguished and clean put out in him. For in the hottest time of their war, when his brother Seleucus had lost the battle with great destruction of his men, and was supposed to have been dead because no news was heard of him: Antiochus put off his purple rob and clothed himself in black, and shutting up his palace royal, mourned and lamented very much for his brother. But being afterward advertised that he was safe and sound and preparing another army, he went in open show from his lodging, and sacrificed to the gods by way of thanks giviag, commanding the Towns that were under his jurisdiction to offer the like sacrifices, and to wear hats of flowers in token of public joy. Athenodorus the Graecian having a brother elder than himself, called Zeno, 
Athenodorus.  who being convicted of a certain crime, had lost all his goods by confiscation, parted again with him all his own goods, and gave unto him the just half. When the king of Lydia demanded of Pittacus whether he had any goods, yea (quoth he) twice so much more than I would I had, being heir to my brother that is dead. The love of that Persian woman, of whom Plantarke maketh mention, was very great, who being asked why 
Pittacus.  she had rather save the life of her brother than of her own son, be cause (quoth she) I may 
Gre● loveo a Persian woman towardsher brother.  well have morechildrens, but no more brethren, seeing my father and mother are both dead How much more than aught we to prefer our brethren before all other our, friends and acquaintance. For many may be gotten of this kind, and others if these fail: but it is no more possible to get a new brother, than to get an hand again that is cut off, or an eye that is plucked 
Agrippa.  out. Agrippa, brother in law to the Emperor Augustus, used to say that he was greatly beholding to that sentence of Sallust, Small things increase by concord, but perish through discord: because it procured unto him all his wealth, by seeking to live in peace and friendship with his brother, and with every one. This is that which Scilurus leaving behind him four score male children, meant to teach them, and how they should be invincible being 
Scilurus left 80 sons behind him.  joined and united together, by offering to each of them a bundle of darts to break, which when they could not do, he broke them one after another before their eyes, I would further enlarge this discourse with examples of the love of brethren, shining greatly in ages past, were it not that we must here speak somewhat of the duty and obedience of servants towards their masters, according to that order which was propounded unto us. This 
The duty of setuants comprehended in four parts.  we will briefly comprehend in four general points. The first is, that they must be priest and always ready, to putin execution their masters will and commandment, and to do their business most diligently, not being slothful, slack and negligent, nor doing any thing grutchingly. The second point is, that they must be faithful unto them, not beguiling nor defrauding them of any thing, not affirming that before their faces to flatter them, which they will unsay behind their backs. The third thing is, that they must seek their master's profit and commodity more than there own, and take good heed that no harm, loss, or trouble come unto them. And if any go about to procure any such thing they must undertake the defence thereof diligently, even to the hazarding of their lives if need be. The last point which good servants are to keep, is to use a double silence: the first, that they reply not again to their master's commandments, although sometimes they suppose that they know better what is to be done than they that command them. The second, that they reveal not to others their master's secrets, nor sow them out of his house. To be short, we cannot give them better instruction than that of Saint 
Col. 3. 22. 23. 24.  Paul, saying, Servants be obedient unto them that are your masters according to the flesh in all things, not with eye service as men pleasers, but in singleness of heart, fearing God. And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, anp not unto men, knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of inheritance: for ye serve the Lord jesus Christ. And else where he exhorteth them again to be subject to their masters, and to please them in all things, not answering again, neither pickers, but that they may 
Tit. 2. 9 10.  show all good faithfulness, that they may adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour in all things. Now for examples to all servants that are desirous to effect their duty towards their masters, we will 
Examples of the love of servants towards their masters.  propound two, the one old, the other of late years, which give sufficient testimony of a son like rather than of a servile affection. Antonius being over come of Augustus, and despairing of his safety, urged the promise of Eros his servant in whom he trusted, because he had given his faith long before that he would kill him when he required the same at his hands. 
Erisychthon the servant of Autonius.  But the servant drawing his sword, and holding it out as though he would have killed him, turned his face on the one side, and thrust it into himself clean through his body. Maurice duke of Saxony being in Hungary against the Turk, and walking out of the camp only 
The servant of Mauritius duke of Saxony.  with his servant, was set upon by certain Turks, and his horse being slain, he was thrown to the ground. But his servant cast himself upon him, covered and defended him with his body, ●nstained and kept back the enemies until certain horsemen came and saved the Prince, but died himself not long after being wounded on every side. Therefore to end our present discourse, let us learn, that it is a great and commendable virtue, and be seeming every good and gentle nature, to know how to obey well, and to give honour and service to those that occupy the degree of fathers, Lords, and masters over us, as also to love our brethren with an indissoluble love, to reverence one an other, the younger honouring the elder, and the elder yielding all duties of sincere love to the younger. Let us not be less afraid of the curse repeated so often in the Scripture against disobedient children than the Ancients were of that law which condemned them to be stoned to death when they would not obey the voice of their parents, nor hearken unto them when they instructed them, but let us much more fear that punishment which will continued for ever, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.   

Of the education and instruction of Children. Chap. 51.  ARAM. 
WHen we entreated of the duty of a father of a family towards his children, we said, that the chief mark whereat he aught to aim, was to make them honest and good of condition, which was to be performed 
the chief foundation of a happy life.  by instruction and good bringing up in the knowledge and exercise of virtue. Now because the chief foundation of a happy life, is good instruction begun in youth, so that if the infancy of any be well brought up (as Plato saith) the rest of his life can not but be good, we aught as I think (my Companions) to take this matter again in hand to follow and handle it more at large, to the end to provoke fathers and all such as have authority over the younger sort, to be careful and diligent in the well ordering of the seed of youth, which is the spring and root of all prosperity both public and private.  ACHITOB. 
We must not (saith Plato) be more careful of any thing whatsoever, than of the good education of children. For if upon their good bringing up they become moderate and stayed men, they will easily discern every thing that is good. And if good wits 
A father of a family must be most careful to bring up his youth.  have like education they will grow from better to better every day.  ASER. 
The beginning, middle, and ending of a happy life (saith Plutarch) consisteth in good education and bringing up. But it belongeth to thee AMANA to instruct us in this so excellent a matter.  AMANA. 
As a man cannot reap good wheat if he hath not sown good seed, not gather good fruit of his trees, if he had no care at the beginning to dress them well, nor to 
A fit comparison.  grafted them with good sciences afterwrrd: so the corruption of man's nature, which of itself is more inclined to evil than to good, hindereth virtue from taking sure footing and root in the souls of men, if they be not from their very youth well and diligently instructed, stirred up, and pricked forward to that which is honest and decent. And truly that commonwealth is most miserable, wherein this tillage of infancy is neglected. For from this fountain proceed 
The spring of corruption in commonwealths.  rebellions, seditions, open murders, contempt of laws and commandments of Princes, pollings, briberies, heresies, and Atheism. Therefore nothing was more esteemed from time to time among the Ancients, than the institution of youth, which Plato calleth Discipline, whereby children are led to this reason, not to follow any thing but that which the law commandeth and alloweth for good. The Monarchy of the Persians', the commonwealth of the Lacedæmonians, and since, that also of the Romans had certain laws compelling 
Laws that constrained fathers to see their children instructed. The law. Falcidia.  fathers to provide that their children might be instructed, not suffering them to be cast away and corrupted to the detriment of the commonwealth. Among other laws there was one called Falcidia, whereby it was enacted, that the child should be admonished for the first offence, chastised for the second, and for the third hanged, and his father banished, as if he had been partaker in the fault, for want of good education and instruction of his son. Heretofore we heard many testimonies of the care and travel which famous and worthy men took to instruct their children themselves. Traian the Emperor, and after him Adrian at 
A worthy act of Traian and Adrian.  their own costs and charges caused five thousand noble men's children of Rome to be brought up in learning, virtue and feats of arms. Our ancient kings, knowing how necessary this education of youth was, builded long ago and caused to beframed so many goodly Colleges as we see in the Universities of France: yea, the monasteries were partly founded to this end. But how careful are we at this day to imitate those Ancients in this earnestness of good bringing up of children in the study of sciences and good discipline? Have we not very good occasion to say with Crates the Philosopher, that it is most necessary that one should ascend up into the highest place of this kingdom, and cry aloud: O ye men, whither 
Crates proclamation most necessary for these times.  do ye throw yourselves headlong, in taking all the pains that may be to heap up goods and treasures that perish, and in the mean while make no reckoning of your children, but suffer them to continued long, and to grow old in ignorance, which destroy them both body and soul, and turneth to the confusion and overthrow of your Country? For it is most certain, that a good nature●ll brought up, waxeth very pernicious, and that the minds and 
Evil education corrupteth a good nature  hearts of men that are corruptly instructed, become most wicked. Do you think (saith Plato) that execrable villainies and horrible vices proceed rather of a naughty nature than of a noble nature corrupted with evil education? In like manner a good nature well tilled will attain to the top of virtue, but if it be negligently looked unto, it will be nothing but vice. But let us see what goodly instructions the Ancients have given concerning this matter. The same Plato was so careful, and searched out so exactly the good education of 
Of the excellent education of children required by Plato.  children, as that which is as precious and necessary a thing as any can be in the life of man, that he taketh them even from their mother's womb yea before they are begotten. First he willeth that the husband and wife that are desirous of children, should keep themselves from drunkenness, and from entering into the bed when they are choleric and full of trouble, because that many times is the cause of vices in children. Next, he requireth that great bellied 
Women with child must walk much.  women should give themselves to walking, and beware of living either too delicately, or to sparingly: that they should have quiet minds, with many other things, which he allegeth to that purpose. He saith also, that children being in their mother's womb receive good and ill, as the fruits of the earth do. After they are borne, he carefully recommendeth their education. We will not here stand upon many points to be observed therein, as 
Every mother aught to nurse her own child.  namely upon the choice of Nurses, whereof few are ignorant, seeing it belongeth to the true and natural office of every mother to nourish that with her teat, which she hath brought into the world, except there be some great and lawful impediment. But let us go on with the saying of Plato. He chargeth nurses to lead their children oftentimes on their feet until 
Of the bringing up of infants.  they be three years old, because this moving is very profitable for them. He forbiddeth much crying in children, because it breedeth in them a habit and custom of sadness. From three years to six, he would have them moderately corrected when they commit a 
From 3. years  fault, and forbiddeth above all things to accustom them from that time forward unto daintiness, or to over great severity, saying, that delicateness maketh them froward, hard to please, choleric, and soonen ooved: and that severity maketh them hard hearted, cruel, abject, baseminded, very blocks and fools, and haters of men. At six years of age he 
From five years.  would have them put apart from the daughters, and begin to learn to ride a horse, to shoot, to practise all kind of feats of Arms, both with the right hand and with the left: to put in 〈◊〉 or her exercises of moderate labour, that they may wax strong, and acquainted with labour, and therefore to use such laborious pastimes. But he expressly forbiddeth to change every day for new, this age being very apt thereunto: saying, that nothing is more pernicious than ●o acquaint youth to despise antiquity. But above all things he commandeth that children should be so brought up, that they be not constrained to any thing whatsoever they shall take in hand, but as it were in sport, that so every one's nature may be known. Neither would he have them beaten without great discretion, because it is not seemly that a free 
youth must be taught as it were in sport, and not by compulsion.  man should learn liberal sciences by servitude and compulsion. And in truth no science forced upon a man, will continued steadfast with him. Moreover, he would have them apply themselves to Music, both to sing hymns and songs to the praise of God, to laud and magnify him, and ●o hope for all good success from him, as also to recreate their spirits. He greatly mishketh in them sloth and too much sleep, saying that much sound sleep is good 
A commendable end of music.  neither for the body nor for the soul: that it is nothing profitable for him that desireth to bring any good thing to pass, because as long as a man sleepeth, he doth nothing more than if he lived not. Therefore whosoever desireth to live, and to come to knowledge, let him watch as much as he may, having regard notwithstanding to his health, which is contented with a little, when a man is once acquainted therewith. Now, because a child (as he saith) is more unruly than a savage beast, he would never have him left without a wise and virtuous 
Great care is to be taken in the choice of schol masters  master. It is no less necessary (saith he) to consider what teachers a man hath, than what parents. For as children do in a manner carry away the spirits of their forefathers: so the vices of teachers are derived unto their scholars. Therefore let such be chosen as teach us their virtue by their works, and not such as only utter and speak many goodly words studied out of it. At ten years this divine Philosopher would have children to learn letters 
From the tenth year.  until fifteen. But because we are to learn languages that differ from ours, it were good to begin sooner, and to end a little after. I think it were very profitable for youth to begin at the above named age of six years, to teach him his mother tongue perfectly, that he may read, pronounce, and writ it well, After, at eight years, to teach him the rudiments of the Latin tongue, and to let him follow that until it be as a familiar unto him, or little less, than his natural speech. At fourteen years, the same Plato would have children learn Arithmetic, 
From the fourteenth year.  saying that it is very necessary both for a soldier, and for a Philosopher: next Geometry, and that part of Astronomy that is necessary for cosmography, which he would have likewise learned. He commandeth also that youth should practise hunting, because it is as it were an image of war, and an exercise that maketh men apt to sustain all labour and 
Hunting, an image of war.  travel. This institution of youth is surely worthy of that divine spirit of Plato, and that party were very unhappy, and of a froward and corrupt nature, who being thus diligently brought up, would not grow to be a virtuous and good man●, He putteth small difference between the education and bringing up of daughters, and that of sons, not depriving women from 
Of the education of daughters.  public administrations and charges, but only that he would have them employed about such things as require lest labour, and not to begin to meddle with public affairs, before they be forty years of age. He allegeth these reasons, because oftentimes many women 
Reasons why women may 〈◊〉 with unlike affairs.  have been more excellent than all the men of their country, and such are daily to be seen. And seeing they have a soul as well as we, as quick a spirit, and oftentimes more quick than we whereof those women are witness, who having given themselves wholly to any thing whatsoever, were not inferior, but rather went beyond many men) it were great folly in men, seeing God hath created man and woman with the like spirit, to cut off as it were the one half of their strength, and to help themselves but with a part thereof. Now, albeit these reasons are of great weight, yet sure it is that men and women, both by divine and human policy, have their distinct and several offices. It is very true, that I like not the opinion of 
Against ignorance in women.  many, who say, that women aught to know nothing, but to spin and sow: which saying cometh near to that of the Emperor, who would not have a woman to have more wit than is needful for her to discern her husband's shirt from his doublet. Such opinions are fit for ignorant persons, and proceed from a dark brain. For it cannot but be very 
Women must be able to give a reason of their being  seemly and profitable for a woman to be able to tender a reason of her being, as well by the knowledge of holy Scriptures, as by the precepts of good life, which we have from the Ancients. This aught parents to teach their daughters, that they may be withdrawn from all other foolish love, through the love of virtue, and be desirous of all honesty and chastity: as also, that when they are mothers in good and holy marriage, they may be a principal cause of the good bringing up of their children. Yea histories reckon up unto us a great many, that have been in stead of School masters in excellent sciences. Aretia taught her son 
Examples of learned women. Aretia. Zenobia. Cornelia.  Aristippus Philosophy. Zenobia Queen of the Palmyrians, being very well learned in the Greek, Latin, and A Egyptian tongues, taught them to her two sons, and wrote an Epitome of the Eastern histories. Cornelia taught the Gracchies her two sons, the Latin eloquence. But let us follow our discourse of the general instruction of children. Aristotle seemeth 
Of the institution of youth according to Aristotle.  unto me to be a good teacher and master, where he saith, that there are two ages, in which it is necessary to divide the institution of those disciplines, which we would have our children learn: namely, from seven years until fourteen, which he calleth the age of puberty: and again from this age until the one and twentieth year. He saith, that in the 
Two things to be respected in the institution of youth.  institution of youth, two things must be looked unto, the one, wherein children are to be instructed, the o●●er, how they aught to be instructed. For all men are not agreed of this, what things children are to learn, neither yet is it decided, or resolved upon, to what end their institution aught to be directed, whether to profit, or to manners, or to understanding and contemplation; which proceedeth from the variable opinions of men, who place their end in diverse things. But howsoever it is, we must, as we said before, refer all our studies to the 
The end of all studies.  glory of God, and to the service of our neighbours, in living well according to those charges and vocations whereunto we may be called. We have already seen the division of sciences and arts, and spoken of those that are most necessary for a happy life. Aristotle following the 
Aristotle appointed that children should learn four things. Of Grammar The commodity thereof.  custom then used in Graecia, appointed that children should learn four things, Grammar, bodily exercise, Music, and painting, for certain commodities meet for the life of man. Grammar is the entry to all sciences, whereby we learn to speak exactly, also to read and to writ. And this is necessary for all estates of life, whether public or private, in peace or in war, in a quiet life, or in multitude of business, for merchandise, for the guiding of a house, for the obtaining of knowledge, for the continuance and perpetuity of the memory of man. Briefly, as nature is the cause of our being, so the knowledge of letters, which Grammar teacheth us, worketh in us the knowledge how to live well. For this cause Charondas the lawmaker, as Diodorus the Scilian writeth, preferred Grammar before all other sciences, as that 
A notable law for the common instruction of children.  which is most necessary for man's life, appointing that all the children of his city should learn their letters at the charge of the commonwealth, which was to maintain public masters to teach both poor and rich. Truly this law aught to be put in practice in all the towns of this kingdom, to resist that pernicious Hydra of ignorance, which the richer sort defend, making no account of knowledge, to the treading down and oppression of the poor, who would gladly have the means whereby they might be instructed. The Gymmasticall part was that art, which, as the ancients affirmed, did serve for health and strength, preparing the 
Of Gymnasticke, or bodily exercise.  bodies of children by honest and moderate exercises, as fencing, shooting, throwing of a stone, riding, wrestling, running, leaping, swimming, and such like. These according to Aristotle's opinion, are to be moderately practised by children, until they be fourteen years old, exercising them lightly, and not with forced labours, that their growth be not hindered thereby. This age being past, after they have bestowed three years in other Moral disciplines, and followed their studies in deeper sciences, until the one and twentieth year, then may they be exercised with more sharp and hard labours of the body. They must also be taught Music, 
The end of Music. The use of painting.  for the solacing and recreation of their minds after travels: and painting, that they may the better consider of the beauty of the body, and understand the symmetry and apt composition of all things, to the end that they may be the better advised either in buying or selling them. Let them also know how to draw platforms of public and private buildings, to set forth Countries, Towns, and Castles, their height, breadth, and length for the war, living creatures of alsorts, with their parts, herbs, trees, roots leaves, flowers, first-fruits for medicine, and for the knowledge of simples. In this institution of children. Aristotle had respect to that which was convenient, and drew nearest to the form of a happy Commonwealth established by him, and to that which was necessary for the preservation and maintetenance thereof. Now, let us apply to our use that which we may learn both of him, and of the rest of the Ancients, for the framing of young men to honesty and virtue, leaving to the liberty of Fathers to make choice of those arts & sciences wherein they purpose to bring up their children, having regard to that whereunto nature maketh them most apt and pliable. 
Four things to be used in the institution of youth. Instruction, which consisteth in six precepts. 1. The first precept. The first thing that youth must learn, is to worship God We can do nothing without the grace of God. 2. The second precept. Youth must not glory in transitory goods. Not in bodily virtue. The first-fruits of true knowledge and virtue. 3. The third precept. The common diseases of youth. Modesty is the best remedy for them. 4. The fourth precept hath 4. branches.  We shall take a good way in the institution of youth, if we observe and use these five things, Instruction, Admonition, Promise', Praises, and threatenings. We will comprehend all Instruction under six precepts. The first shall be to show unto children, that they must worship God and honour him chiefly and above all things, referring all their thoughts and deeds to the glory of his name: that it is he that hath created and preserveth all things, that he suffereth no wickedness to pass unpunished, nor good work unrewarded, but giveth eternal happiness to good men, and everlasting pain and punishment to them that are evil. Let them know that without his grace and favour they can do nothing, not not so much as live one moment: and therefore that they must continually and before every work call upon him, and beware that they offend him not by neglecting his commanudements which for this cause they must diligently learn. The second instruction which I find most necessary for youth, is to teach them not to glory in earthly and worldly goods, but to learn rather to despise them, and to trasport the love of the body and of carnal goods, which it desireth, to the love of the soul and eternal goods, which properly belong unto them. They must not make great account of the beauty of the body, which having enclosed within it the soul that is defiled with vice and sin, is nothing else but a precious and proud sepulchre, under which is contained a stinking and putrefied carrion. They must not put their hope and confidence in riches, but be persuaded that they are rich and happy, if they be wise, learned, and virtuous. And whilst their understanding is good and in vigour, and themselves have time, they must put all their strength to the obtaining of that which will be profitable unto them in their oldage: namely, of knowledge and virtue, which will procure unto them, honour, safety, praise, happiness, rest, and tranquility in their life time, and will in the end guide them to eternal life, to be made coheirs of the kingdom of heaven with jesus Christ. Thirdly, they must be taught to eschew and fly from all such things which they see are hurtful to others, and learn to be wise by their dangers and perils. Now that which marreth and hurteth others, is disobedience, lying, pride, infidelity, naughtiness, hazarding games, whoredom, drunkenness, prodigality, idleness, and evil company. Against the contagion of which vices, no better preservative can be had, than to imagine modesty in their hearts, by the rule and measure whereof they may easily be directed to behave themselves vertuoufly. For this cause Plutarch saith very elegantly, that the foolish opinion and presumption, which young men commonly conceive of themselves, aught rather to be emptied, than the air wherewith bottles and Kids skins are puffed up when any good thing is to be put into them. Otherwise, being full of the wind of overweening, they receive none of that good instruction which men think to power into them. For the fourth precept of their instruction, we will set down these four things which will stand them in great stead towards the attaining of a happy life. Let them not be delicate or super fluous in any thing: Let them bridle their tongue, and not be full of words, nor utter filthy 
1  and dishonest talk at any time, but be gracious and courteous in speaking to all men, saluting every one 
2  gladly, and willingly giving place in those things wherein the truth is not hurt. Let them master their choler by cutting off impatiency as much as may be, which is a singular virtue. Lastly, let them have 
3  pure hands, seeing many great men by taking money unjustly have spilt all that honour which they had 
4  gathered together all the former time of their life. Fiftly, the examples of good and bad men, are to be laid before their eyes through the reading and understanding of histories, that they may 
5. The fifth precept.  know that virtuous men have been well rewarded, and the vicious received an evil and miserable end. For this cause we read that the old men of Rome used at feasts to sing the famous Acts of their Ancestors before their youth. For the sixt and last precept, we say, 
6. The sixth precept.  that it is needful for youth to be used to labour and wearisomeness, to keep them from idleness, and from falling into any dishonest pleasure. We have seen what exercises and pastimes are meet for them, according to the opinion of the Ancients: and at this day we know how to make choice of them, as shall be meetest for the nobility. Now, to speak briefly of the other three general precepts given by us for the institution of youth: Admonition 
Of admonition.  is very necessary for that age. For although youth be well borne and brought up, yet hath it such active and vehement provocations, that it is easily brought to stumble. Wherhfore young men must be often admonished of their duty, and spoken unto of honesty, and 〈◊〉 virtuous men; because words move their minds. The steps of their honest predecessors are 
Of promises. Youth is to be drawn on with the promises of eternal life.  to be laid before their eyes, to induce them to follow their paths. Above all things, the promisé of that life, which is eternally happy for those that persevere in uprightness and justice, is to be propounded unto them. OH man well affected (saith Horace) go joyfully whither thy virtue leadeth thee, and thou shalt reap great rewards for thy deserts! OH ye young men (saith Plautus walk on in that way wherein virtue will direct you, and ye shall be very well recompensed! For he that hath virtue, hath all things necessary for him, and wanteth nothing. These are the promises which aught to be beaten into the hearts of children: adding further to them that are very young a promise to give them what they will, so that they learn well that which is taught them. Last of all, praises and threatenings must be added, by commending children when we see them profit in virtue and honesty, to encourage them 
Of praises & threatenings.  to go forward, and to be better and better. Glory (saith Onid) giveth no small strength to the mind, and the desire and love of praise, causeth the heart to be resolute and ready to undertake all things. Quintilian would have young men praised, when they profit, and are willing to learn; as likewise they are to be threatened, if they be slothful and negligent in the obtaining of virtue and honesty, and will neither hear nor understand, nor yet put in practise those good admonitions that are given them. And if they amend not with threatenings, they must have good discipline and correction used towards them, and be chastised with discretion. To this purpose Plutarch saith, that the hope of reward, and fear of punishment, are as it were the two elements and foundation of virtue. For hope maketh young men prompt 
Hope and fear are the foundation of virtue.  and ready to undertake all good and commendable things, and fear maketh them slow in presuming to commit such things as are vile and full of reproach. So that if we practise diligently these precepts in the education and instruction of our children: there is no doubt, but as seals and signets do easily make a print in soft wax, so we may quickly cast in the minds of little children, as it were in a mould, whatsoever we would have them learn for the leading of a good and happy life, to the Glory of God, the profit of their neighbours, and discharge of our consciences which are bound thereunto.   

Of the division of the ages of man, and of the offices and duties that are to be observed in them. Chap. 52.  AMANA. 
Among the most common and notorious faults, which fathers now adays commit in the education and bringing up of their children, this deserveth great blame and reprehension, that in their first age they usually provide teachers for them, sending them to Colleges, where they are kept in awe, when they cannot commit any greater evil than that which cometh from the young years of their infancy, 
Adolescency is the a●e between 14. and 28.  not very hurtful to any, being light faults, and soon amended: but when the vehemency of adolescency beginneth to tickle them with foul and infamous desires, and when they have greatest need of a bridle, than they let lose the rains, and withdraw them from the subjection of their guides, giving them liberty to make choice of their estate of life, when their perturbations are most violent, and in danger to bring forth most pernicious effects. Whereas on the contrary side then aught they most diligently to look unto them, and to set a most careful watch over them, that their first discipline and instruction may be framed in virtue, and in the perfection of a most happy life. For this cause my companions I think that by continuing our former discourse (seeing all men enjoy not commonly this benefit of the forenamed education and instruction from their infancy unto the end) we aught to search out some way whereby to amend the first faults, by handling the division of the ages of man, according to the ancient writers, and by setting down a brief instruction of that which is most necessarily required, and to be observed in every of them, especially in adolescency, for the obtaining of true fecilicity through good behaviour and instructions, which are the means thereof.  ARAM. 
It is true (as Plato saith) that virtue must be learned from the first infancy. Yea, there is no part of our age, which aught to be employed in any other study. But adolescency especially must not only inquire and seek after the decrees of honesty and virtue, but also have them already imprinted and engraven in his heart.  ACHITOB. 
As no man ever saw a Bee become a Beetle through age: so no part of our life aught to leave the first election grounded upon virtue, if the end thereof be to live well. But let u● he are ASER discourse of this present matter.  ASER. 
It cannot be denied, that plaee and time are a great help to honesty and virtue: insomuch, that if we consider not of them, the knowledge and practice of that which belongeth to our duty, cannot greatly profit us. For all things are to be applied in time and place, some things are decent and lawful upon one occasion, which would be very unseemly in another. The proverb saith, That the way to handle a sound man is divers from the guiding of him, to whom the diet is enjoined. Even so, although virtue and honesty are always 
Place & time are to be considered in all things.  requisite in a man, because it is the only ornament of his life: yet in divers ages diversity of honest behaviour is required, and the self same things are not decent in them, but some kind of behaviour is proper to the age of child hood, some to youth, and another to old age, because as nature altereth with age, so it behoveth that manners should change. Now, 
All kind of behaviour not convenient in all ages.  among them that have most diligently observed the secrets of man's nature, there have been two sundry opinions concerning the division of the ages of man. Some have made seven parts, adding decrepit or bed read age after old age & they would ground their principal reason of this division upon this, that the number of 7. is an universal and absolute number. So we reckon 7. planets, whose motion worketh all generations and corruptions in the earth. By a stronger reason therefore this number of 7. will be applied to the continuance of time. Moreover, the growth of men according to age increaseth at the seventh number. For 
Of the division of the ages of man. The number of seven accounted a perfect number.  teeth are bred in the seventh month, and in the seven year they change and altar. Besides, in the same year doubled, that is, in the fourteenth year, man receiveth ability of seed, that is to say of engendering. True it is, that the number of six worketh alteration in females. Yet the number of 7. in other things worketh augmentation, or else the rest and quietness of men, and showeth the difference or judgement of diseases, The whole time of the creation of the world is comprehended therein, and likewise the rest and ceasing of the workemaster thereof. All the ancient writers have also noted, that the number of 63. which is the multiplication of seven by nine, carrieth with it commonly the end of old men: because that in the whole course of our life we live under one only climate, which is either from seven or from nine years, except in the year of 63. wherein two terminations or climates end, that is to say, nine seven times seven, or seven nine times nine: and therefore this year is called climacterical, wherein we may note out of histories the death of many great men, and the change 
Of the climacterical year 63. The whole age of man divided into six parts.  of estates and kingdoms. As touching the other the division of the age of man into six parts only, of which opinion Isidorus is, we will now enter into the particular handling thereof. The parts are these, Infancy, Childhood, Youth, Adolescency, Virility, and old age, Infancy is the first age of man, beginning after his nativity: and it is so called, because at that time he hath no use of speech, and therefore cannot then learn manners and virtue, having nosence or understanding to comprehend them. Childhood is when children begin to speak; albeit as yet they have not the full use of reason, in which estate a man may say 
Of infancy.  they are until the age of seven years, during which time fathers and mothers aught to nourish and bring them up in the fear of God, and reverence of their parents, and frame them 
Of Childhood.  gently, unto all good manners, as we have already declared. This age is called of the Latins Pu●ritia, as it were pure and neat from 
* He meaneth not common & natural infirmities, but malicious offences.  sin: forasmuch as children have then no use of discretion, so that judgement cannot be attributed to their works, whereby they may be called good or evil. Youth is reckoned from seven years of age until fourteen, at which time children aught to be delivered unto skilful and honest masters and teachers to be instructed. Than must parents look well whether these two things are in them, to whose direction they commit the keeping of such a precious pledge: lest that befall them, which Hyp●rides an Orator of Gr●cia said to him that told him that he had sent a slave with his son to govern him you have (quoth he) done very well: for instead of one slave, you 
Two things requisite in a scholmaster, skill, & honesty of life. The benefit that cometh by good schol masters.  shall receive twain, Therefore it is very necessary that such masters should be chosen for them as are learned, and of good life and conversation, that, as good Gardiners stick down certain props hard by young plants to keep them upright: so wise teachers may plant good instructions and precepts about young men, that their manners may be according to virtue, Let fathers beware least being moved with covetousness, they make choice of masters unworthy their charge, that they may pay the less stipend, seeking for good cheapeignorance, seeing that (as Plato saith) as children bear away as it were the minds of their progenitors, so the vices of the schoolmaster flow upon their scholars. At this age of youth the children of 
A strange custom used by the children of Rome.  Rome, did hung in the Temple a little collar or jewel which they woore about their necks, during the time of their infancy, declaring thereby that they renounced all childishness and that they were to change their manners for the time to come. In token whereof one gave them a white rob, and a purple coat, to teach them by the white colour to shun vices, which made the soul black, and by the purple to strive to make their life glister and shine with good manners and virtue. And it seemeth that the Latins called this age juventus, because of the aid & help which men promised to themselves through the virtuous inclination that 
The reason of the word juventus.  appeared in young children. We saw sufficiently before what is further required of this age, in regard of their instruction. Adolescency is the fourth age of man, beginning at the foureteeneth year, and continuing until the 28. and it is derived of this verb Adolesco, which 
Of adolescency.  signifieth to grow. For then do men grow in body, in strength, and reason, in vice, and virtue. And at that age the nature of man is known, and whereunto he bendeth his mind, which before could not be discerned by reason of the ignorance of his age. This is that which Cicero saith. that the studies unto which we addict ourselves in the time of our adolescency, like to herbs and fruits that are come to their fashion, declare what virtue there will be in time of ripeness, and what manner of harvest will follow. Therefore young men (saith this Father of eloquence) must make choice of one certain kind of life, whereunto they are to give themselves all their life time, without any manner of contradiction, and being constant therein, they must draw all their actions to that only end, as an arrow is drawn towards a white. But forasmuch as in the corruption of our time we see poor first-fruits of this age when it is left to it itself, we may well say, that in this season of adolescency, children have greatest need to be governed, ruled, and kept in great awe. For the inclination to 
The first-fruits of adolescency being left to itself.  pleasures, and the esch●ing of labour, which are natural in man, commonly begin then to assault him with such violence, that if young men be not well followed, they quickly turn to vice, hate those that give them good instruction, become presumptuous, and ready to leave that which before they loved: and taking no care for thee time to come, like beasts seek for nothing but to satisfy their lustful desires. For this cause that good Emperor Marcus Aurelius said to those unto whom he recommended his son after his death. Beware that he bathe not himself in slippery pleasures and desires, seeing it is a hard matter to moderate 
Aurelius' exhortation to his sons governors.  and to stay the burning affections of a young man, especially when he seethe in his own hand a licence not limited, which offereth unto him all kind of contentation. And truly this unbridled licence of not being in subjection to any, which young men desire and seek after so earnestly, and for want of right understanding falsely call and imagine it to be liberty bringing them in bondage to severer and sharper masters, than were those teachers and scholmasters, which they had in their infancy: namely, to their lusts and disordered desires, which 
Con●npiscence ●eigneth ●ost in Adolescency Who are to be accounted free.  are then as it were unchained and let lose. But he which knoweth that to follow God, and to obey right reason, are reciprocal and necessarily following each other, must thinks that to leave his infancy and first youth, and to enter into the rank of men, is no freedom from subjection, but only change of commandment, because our life in am of a hired master, who governed us before, hath then a heavenly guide, that is, reason, to whom they only that obey, are to be reputed and taken for free men. For after they have learned to will that which they aught, they live as they will, whereas the freedom of the will in disordered actions and affections is small, feeble and weak, and mingled with much repentance. These are those good reasons, which aught to sound often in the ears of young men, and be supplied by little and little through the study of good letters, and Moral Philosophy of ancient men, until they have wholly in possession that place of manners, which is 
Knowledge and judgement are of the guard of adolescency.  soon moved and most easily led, and are lodged therein by knowledge and judgement, which will be as a guard to preserve and defend that age from corruption. Unto which things the ancients looked very diligently, both to repress boldness which commonly is the companion of adolescency, and also to chastise their faults severely. We read that one of Cato's 
Cato's son banished for breaking an earthen pot.  sons of the age of 15. years, was banished for breaking a pot of earth in a maid● hand that went for water: so was Cinna his soon, because he entered into a garden, and gathered fruit without leave. Therefore if a young man be well guided with reason, he will choose and propound to himself that kind of life, which he purposeth to keep until death, and begin some 
And Cinnes son for gathering fruit without leave How the Romans taught their young men to forsake the follies of their youth.  commendable life that is had in commendation among virtuous men. The ancient Romans minding to make declaration hereof, when their children were come to that age, they brought them to the common market place clothed with a man's gown, and caused them to scatter nuts here and there, and after that to forsake all play: signifying thereby that they must leave the follies of their first age, to embrace more grave and serious matters. It belongeth to their duty (saith Cicero) to honour their elders, and to mark who are the honestest men, and of best report, that by their council they may learn to live according to virtue and good manners, and have honour always before their eyes. And as in calm weather when a man is upon the sea, he must provide such things as are necessary against a storm: so in 
The duty of young men.  time of adolesency, men must furnish themselves with temperance, sobriety, and continency, laying up store of provision in due time, whereby to sustain old age the better. This is that which Plato saith, that a moderate youth maketh an easy old age: but that which is immoderate 
A moderate youth maketh a happy old age.  maketh it grievous and irksome. The defect of our strength (saith Cicero) cometh rather of the vices of our youth, than of old age. Now, because youth is at this day more than ever, given over to all kind of dissoluteness, so that their greatest glory consisteth in going one beyond another in vice, let us here propound to those that will make their profit thereof, some examples drawn from the Ancients of rare virtue that shined in young men. joseph, Daniel, Solomon, deserve 
Examples of virtuous young men.  the first place, who being very young men, executed deeds of wonderful prudence. The holy Scriptures afford us a sufficient number of testimonies, but we have some also amongst the heathens and Pagans', that aught to stir up youth unto virtue. That great monarch Alexander in his youth despised all kind of pleasure and delight, eschewed women, contemned money, 
Alexander a pattern of virtue in his youth.  and all plays and pastimes that were unprofitable, and to no good use, loving nothing but virtue and glory gotten thereby. This was the cause why, being demanded whether he would not be present at the Olympian games, to try whether he could win the prize of running, seeing he was well made, and wonderful light of foot, he answered: Yes, if they were kings that ran. Whensoever he heard news that his father had taken any famous Town, or won some great battle, he showed no token of joy, but said to his equals in years: My father, Sirs, will take all, and leave no goodly or great matter for me to do, and to conquer with you. Among other his commendable gifts of nature which men admired in him at that age, he was greatly praised for a good horseman, which he showed full well when Bucephalus the horse was brought to his father, and was to be sold for thirty Talents, that is in value, 
Bucephalus Alexander's horse.  7800. crowns: which the yeomen of the king's horse perceived to be so skittish and wild, that they durst not undertake to break him. But Alexander mounted on him, and handled him so cunningly, that all those that were present, cried out by way of admiration: and Philip kissing him, said: O my son, thou must seek out a kingdom that is meet for thee, for Macedonia is not able to contain thee! This horse always served Alexander after that, and died in a battle against the Barbarians, when he was thirty years old. Pompey from his very youth showed in his countenance (as Historiographers writ) a pleasant mildness, joined with a manly gravity, and in his conditions and behaviour a reverend excellency of kingly majesty. When he was yet very young, he committed an act of a wise and advised captain, being in the Roman army whereof Strabo his father was captain against Cinna. For when the soldiers began to rebel and to conspire the death of their captain, Pompey discovered the same, and took order for his father's safety. After, perceiving that the soldiers trussed up bag and baggage, to go yield themselves to Cinna, he thrust himself 
Pompey.  into the midst of them, beseeching them most humbly with tears in his eyes not to deal so grossly with their captain. In the end when he saw that they persisted in their opinion, he threw him prostrate all along overthwart the gate of the camp, saying unto them, that if they were so desirous to departed, both they and their horse should go over his body. Whereupon they were so ashamed, that changing their minds, every one be took him again to his quarter, and reconciled themselves unto their general. The prudence of Papyrius deserveth to be alleged here, who according to the custom of the young gentlemen of Rome, was brought into the Senate, after he had put on the gown woven about with purple, which they used to give to young men, to the end to frame them by little & little to the managing of affairs. In his return from the Senate, which was longer in breaking up than usually they were wont to do, his mother asked him the cause thereof. And after many threatenings and compulsions, Papyrius not willing to reveal the secret of the council, as it had been expressly forbidden him, be thought himself of a subtle lie, saying, that the Senators 
Papyrius.  were in great contention whether it were more expedient to agreed that one man should have two wives, or one woman two husbands: which (quoth he) shall be determined tomorrow. His mother believing it, told the same to the Roman ladies her companions, who met all the next day at the entry of the Senate, beseeching the judges to give a favourable sentence for them. The matter being known, procured a great laughter, and made the prudence of this young man to be greatly esteemed. But let us speak of the other two ages of man, Man's estate beginneth when a man is even now ripe, and settled, & groweth no more in body. This only age is most apt and fit to attain to virtue and honesty. For than is reason 
Of virility, or man's estate.  strong and powerful in him, then is his judgement sound, and his bodily vigour of source and strength to labour and travel. Of the name of this age, I mean of this Latin word Virro, did virtue first take her name, which in Latin is Virtus: because this word Virro, signifieth him that is in the age of virility, or man's estate, as if you would say, apt to be a minister and practitioner of virtue. It is true that Isidorus confoundeth Youth (which he placeth after Adolescency) and Virility together: saying, that this word Virro, is a word of sex & not of age. But herein he agreeth with us, that the perfection of man's strength beginneth at 29. years, where we said that adolescency, ended. In this strength a man continueth until 50. years, and then beginneth to grow weak, & to decline continually until death. The whole age of virility aught to be full of honesty and virtue, and to bring forth the effects of prudence, temperance, fortitude 
The duty of a man at the perfection of his age.  and justice, whereof we have discoursed at large. And if any man before he came to this age, had not that education and instruction which was necessary for him (whereof we have al-already discoursed) by reason of his father's negligence, or through the licentiousness of adolescency, then especially is he to take the bridle between his teeth in good earnest; because yet there is good time and season, yea opportunity of great fruit, to profit in learning & virtue, so that he cannot allege this excuse, that he was not instructed in youth. Clitomachus of 
Clitomachus.  Carthage when he was above 40. years of age, came to Athens to learn under Carneades, with whom he profited so well, that after his death he succeeded in his place & taught others. Lucius being at Rome, and meeting with the Emperor Marcus Aurelius in the stre●te with 
M. Aurelius.  one man after him, demanded of him whither he went. It becometh even an old man (quoth he) to learn. I am going (said he) to Sextus the Philos. to learn that which I know not. Than Lucius lifting up his hands towards heaven, cried out, OH good God, I see an emperor even grey headed carrying his book as if he were a child to hear a lecture and to be instructed thereby: & yet most kings of the earth will not vouch safe to look upon a book at eighteen years of age. Solon had this sentence commonly in his mouth, that he waxed old as he learned. The same day and hour 
Solon learned to the hour of his death.  that he died, being above 80. years old, and hearing some of his friends disputing of a certain point of Philosophy, he lift up himself upon his bed after his manner as well as he could. And being asked why he did so, To the end (quoth he) that when I have learned that whereof you dispute, I might end my days: and so indeed he did. For the disputation was no sooner ended but he died. Socrates' learned music when he was very old. Terentius Varro, and Marcus 
Socrates' learned music being old. T. Varro, and M. Cato learned Greek when they were old. julianus. Alphonsus. O● oldage.  Portius Cato learned Greek when they were old. julianus the great lawyer used to say when he was very old, that although he had one foot in the grave, yet he was desirous to learn Alphonsus' king of Arragon, when he was 50. years old, learned the Latin tongue and translated Titus Lucius out of Latin into Spanish. The sixt and last age of man is callled Old age, which according to Marcus Varro, and other authors beginneth at 50. years, because at this age the natural power and strength of man beginneth to decline & fade away. Isidorus calleth this time Gravity, which he maketh to last unto 70. years, & termeth the overplus of age beyond that, old age. But as neither the division of ages here set down, nor the terms wherein we have enclosed them, could agreed to the ages of our first fathers, either in the first or second age, wherein they lived commonly as many years as we do months; so considering the shortness of our days, which the Psalmist limiteth within 80. years at the most, I think we 
Psal. 90. 10.  are to follow the opinion of Varro, who calleth old age whatsoever is above fifty years. In which age prudence is a very meet and necessary ornament, which those ancient men might 
Prudence is the ornament of old age.  attain unto through long use of life, through knowledge, and through experience. Therefore it is their office to secure and help the younger sort, their friends and the common wealth, by their prudence and counsel. For this cause Romulus the first founder of the city of Rome, chose an hundred of the eldest in the city, by whose counsel he willed that it should be governed. And of these old men called in Latin Se●eses, came that word Senatus, which is as much to say, as an assembly or gathering together of old men, whom we now call counsellors or Senators. 
What Senate is, a●d from whence it came.  And albeit that men now adays greatly abuse those charges, yet surely they properly belong to old men, to whom it appertaineth to govern towns, to administer justice, and to be a pattern and example of honesty to the younger sort. For then have they no time to take their ease, but (as Cicero saith) they must increase the exercises of the soul, as they diminish the labours of the body. Let them remember that saying of the Lacedaemonian, who being asked why he suffered his beard to grow so long: To the end (quoth he) that by looking upon my white hair, I should be put in mind not to do any act unbeseeming this hoary whiteness. In this age that sentence of Plato aught especially to be well thought upon, That 
What use is to be made of a white beard. Epaminondas salutation used to men according to their ages. Cato.  young men die very soon, but that old men cannot live long. To which effect Epaminondas said, that until 30. years it may be thus said to men, You are welcome: for until that time they seem still to be coming into the world. From 30. until 50. years, they must be saluted in this manner, You are in a good hour, because they are then to know what the world is. And from 50. to the end a man must say unto them, Go in a good hour, because than they go fair and softly, taking their leave of the world. Old age (said Cato to an old man that lived ill) hath sufficient deformities of itself, do not thou add such as proceed from vice. For it is not grisled hair, 
What breedeth authority in a man. Sophocles. To whom old age is not grievous.  nor a wrinkled visage that bringeth authority, but a life that is honestly led and guided according to the best end of our being, whereunto every age is to be referred. To such old men (●aith Sophocles) as have their souls nourished with heavenly light, old age is not grievous, and in such the desire of contemplation and knowledge increaseth as much as the pleasures of their body decrease. Therefore when we have passed over the greatest part of our days to the profit of many, if then through weakness of extreme age we are constrained to leave the managing of public affairs, it will be very great honour, comfort, and contentation of mind unto us, to run the rest of our race quietly and peaceably in the study of letters, wherein delight is joined with honest contemplation.   
The end of the thirteenth days work.   

The fourteenth days work.  

Of Policy, and of the sundry sorts of Government. Chap. 53.  ASER. 
IF we are able to discern between the body and the soul, between this present transitory life and the life to come which is eternal; we will not think it strange, that one part of man's building should be created to remain free for ever, and to be exempted from the yoke of human power, acknowledging 
The soul is not subject to man's jurisdiction.  only the spiritual jurisdiction; and the other part to be in servitude, and to receive commandment from those human and civil offices, which are to be kept amongst men. In the kingdoms of God, (saith Paul) there is neither jew nor Grecian, neither bond nor free, neither Barbarian nor Scythian, but jesus Christ is all in al. Stand fast in the liberty wherewith you are made 
Gal. 3. 18. Col. 3. 11. Gal. 5. 1. 13. Rom. 13. 1. 2. A●l power is of God.  free. And by and by after he addeth: Only use not your liberty as an occasion to the flesh, but by love serve one another. And elsewhere he saith; Let every soul be subject to the higher powers: for there is no power but of God. Woosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God. Whereby it appeareth that they which think that the maintenance of civil policies are the work of man only, are greatly deceived. For we must of necessity believe, that it proceedeth from the counsel of God, and from his eternal providence, without which neither the round frame of the world, nor cities and towns could in any sort abide steadfast: and so that it is very necessary for their preservation, that certain laws should be appointed, according unto 
The beginning and preservation of policy is from God.  which men may live honestly and justly one with another. As there are then two chief regiments and governments in man, of which one respecteth the soul, and acknowledgeth no temporal king or master, but holdeth of one only jesus Christ according to the ministry of his word; and the other is to ordain a civil justice only, and to reform outward manners, whereunto the body during this life is wholly subject; reserving the first estate of man in his freedom according to the divine rule and piety, we are all diligently to look to this second estate of subjection and servitude, which is most necessary for the maintenance of common peace and tranquillity amongst men. Now forasmuch (my Companions) as we have hitherto according to our weak judgement noted the moral virtues of the soul, for the better framing of men's actions to that which is decent, and honest in this life; and following the same order have also given rules and instructions for the government of a family, we are now to enter into this large field of human policy, and to consider of the parts that belong unto it, referring the chief scope of the handling of this matter, which otherwise would be infinite, to the ruling and preserving of our French Monarchy, for the instruction of all estates that are therein. And first we will see what civil policy is, and entreat briefly of the divers kinds of governments among the ancients, that we may so much the better attain to the knowledge of that under which we live.  ARAM. 
To command and to obey (saith Aristotle) are not only necessary but also 
Of commanding and obeying.  profitable: yea somethings are borne to obey, and others to command, whose common end is public benefit and civil justice, which are preserved by a well established policy, and right government according to the laws of nature.  AMANA. 
Every civil society must be kept in order by some policy, which 
Policy is the bond of all society.  is a necessary help to 'cause a man to walk in his vocation. But as the elements cannot be intermingled one with another, except it be by an unequal proportion and temperature: so I think that civil policies cannot well be preserved but by a certain inequality, which is to be seen in all countries by divers sorts of governments. But let us hear ACHITOB discourse to this effect.  ACHITOB. 
In all things compounded of matter and form, commanding and 
There is a show of commanding and obeying in all things.  obeying are so natural, that there is some show thereof even in all things without life: as we see in that harmony which consisteth in voice, and in sounds; wherein the contra-tenor seemeth to command over the base. This whole inferior world obeyeth the superior, and is governed thereby, through a certain virtue accompanied with light 
As in harmony.  and heat, called of many Philosophers the spirit of the world, or as Plato saith, the soul of the world, which descending from the celestial nature, and intermingling itself throughout 

The superior part of the world ruleth the inferior.  
The Sun is king and the Moon  
Queen among the stairs.   the whole mass of this great body, penetrateth, quickeneth, nourisheth and moderateth all changeable things under the Moon. The chief minister and disposer of this virtue is the Sun, whom we acknowledge as king amongst the stars, lightning the unisersall ●rame with his beams. The Moon is as it were the Queen, ruling over all moistures, and among other marvels, showing her manifest power over the flowing and ebbing of the Ocean seas. We see among the Elements that the Fire and Air through their first qualities are Active, and that the water and earth are Passive, as being more material. Among all kinds of birds the Eagle is precedent, amongst beasts the Lyon. In fresh and 

The Moon ruleth over all moistures.  
The Fire and air chief amongst the elements.   salted waters the mightiest fishes rule, as the Whale in the sea, and the Pike in pools. Man ruleth over all living creatures, and in man compounded of body, soul, and understanding the soul commandeth over the body, and the understanding over the desire. We have also seen by proceeding from one particular man to a family made of many persons, how the head commandeth diversly over the parts of his house. Even so it is necessary, that every civil society, which is made one of many families tending to a general good, 
The Eagle, Lion While and Pike over their kinds.  should be kept in by some policy consisting in commanding and obeying. In many places of the world there are countries where the cities are not enclosed, where there is no use of learning, and where there are no kings. Other people there are that devil in no houses, that use no money, that live with raw flesh: in a word, that seem to 
No people without all policy.  hold more of the nature of beasts than of men. And yet there are none that have no kind of policy established among them, or that use no laws or customs, whereunto they willingly submit themselves. Neither are they without some apprehension and reverence of the divine nature, using prayers and sacrifices, although damnable: so straightly are these two things, Divine justice and human Policy joined together, that the one cannot in any sort remain amongst men without the other. Therefore Plutarch saith, that a city will sooner 
Divine justice and human policy always linked together.  stand without a foundation, than civil policy can be framed and established without any religion and opinion of God, or without the preservation thereof after it is once received. Moreover the first agreement of people forsaking their barbarous and rustical life, to join in civil society, was to this end, that they might have a place of Religion to keep them together. Religion surely is the foundation of all commonwealths, of the execution of laws, 
Religion is the foundation of all estates.  of the obedience of subjects towards their Magistrates, of their fear towards Princes, of mutual love among themselves, and of justice towards others. Lycurgus' reform the estate of the Lacedæmonians, Nu●●a Pompilius of the Romans, Solon of the Athenians, and Deucalion of all the Grecians generally, by making them devout and affectionate towards the gods in 
The ancient lawmakers established their ordinances through the means of religion. Religion the greatest means of enlarging the Roman Empire.  prayers, oaths, oracles, and prophecies, through the means of fear and hope of the divine nature, which they imprinted in them. Polybius governor and lieutenant to Scipio Africanus, and taken for the wisest Politician of his time, saith, that the Romans had never any greater means than religion to extend the borders of their Empire, and the glory of their famous acts over all the earth. Desiring therefore that religion, the truth and the law of God, all which are one, & published by the mouth of God, may continued and devil amongst us, let us see what Policy is, whereunto it aught chief to tend, and what sundry sorts there are of establishing it, by the contrary kinds of government used among the Ancients. Policy is a word derived of this Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifieth the regiment of a city or common wealth: and that which the Grecians call Political government, the Latins call the government of a commonwealth, or of a civil society. This word Policy hath been taken 
What Policy is, and from whence the word is derived.  in many significations amongst the ancients: sometime it signifieth a Burgesie, that is to say, the participation and enjoying of the rights and privileges of a town: sometime the manner of life used by some political person: as when one commendeth the policy of Pericles, or of Bias, that is, their kind of government: sometime also when they would note some worthy 
The divers significations of this word Policy.  deed in the government of the common wealth, they said, That man hath wrought an act of policy this day. But the chief signification of this word, and that which answereth to our present discourse, is, The order and estate, whereby one or many towns are governed, and public affairs w●ll managed & administered. But before we begin to speak of the divers sorts of Policies, that is to say, of governments of towns, of which all common wealths and Monarchies are compounded, let us speak a word of the end of Policy, and of that mark whereat it aught 
Of the end of policy.  especially to aim. As all Cities and civil societies are appointed for the obtaining of some Good, so all policy respecteth the same, and tendeth to no other thing, than to unite & frame us to the company of men so long as we live among them: to conform our manners to a civil justice, to set us at agreement one with another and to maintain and preserve common peace and tranquillity, by procuring that every one may have his own. It is the cause that men do communicate together without fraud or hurt, that the insolency of the wicked is bridled and punished: briefly, that not only all duties of humanity are used amongst men, but also that some public form of religion appeareth, and that blasphemies against the divine nature, and other offences which trouble common quietness, are not openly broached. For although it falleth not within the compass of man's power, as we said, to prescribe 
Civil ordinance aught to maintain the worship of God.  and appoint by their authority any regiment and government over souls, yet every one is not to be suffered to forge at his pleasure laws concerning religion, and the manner of serving God. But civil ordinance must carefully provide, that the true service of God be not publicly violated and polluted through an uncontrolled liberty, especially considering that the conversation of every well ordered policy dependeth thereupon. But we shall understand this matter more at large hereafter in the particular handling of the parts of an estate, which 

Every estate consisteth of three parts, of the magistrate the law and the people.  
When commonwwealths are right and when corrupt.   we will divide into three principal and general heads, following therein the ancient Politiks, namely, into the Magistrate, the law, and the people. Now to go on with that which was propounded unto us, let us speak of those kinds of governments which were amongst the ancients. The ordinance of a city, or order amongst Magistrates, especially amongst them that had the sovereign rule over all, was called of the ancients, Commonwealth, or as some others will have it, Weal-public, which in her kind of government was named according to the quality of the chief rulers thereof. And those commonwealths that tended to common benefit, were said to be right, and simply just: but if they respected the profit of the superiors only, they were said to be corrupt, and were called transgressions of right Common wealths, these being the cause of as much evil to the whole body of the city, as the others are of Good. For as the good or evil of an house dependeth of the father of the family; the safety or loss of a ship, of the Pilot or master; the good or ill success of an army, of the 
The good or evil estate of commonwealths dependeth of the magistrates next under God.  General thereof: so the happiness or unhappiness of Towns and peoples dependeth of magistrates, and yet so that God ruleth over all. Common wealths than are either good or bad, right or corrupted. That is a good Common wealth, wherein the governors seek the public profit of the citizens, and the benefit of the whole civil society. It is called right and just, because it hath such an end, and seeketh after the same, taking no counsel about any thing, but only about the preservation of justice. A corrupt common wealth is that which repugneth and is directly contrary to that which is good and just, and chief to the end 
The division of commonwealths in general.  thereof. For it seeketh only the increase of private commodity, having no care of public profit. There are three kinds of good common wealths, and three of bad, whose government always consisteth in the superiors of the estate, taking their appellation and name of them, 
The subdivision of them. Of a Monarchy.  as hath been said. The first kind of good common wealths is a Monarchy which taketh place when the sovereignty is in one alone: This respecting public profit only, and preferring common benefit always before her own private and particular commodity, taketh upon her the name of a kingdom, or of kingly power. But if she look unto his particular benefit that ruleth, seeking to reign by an absolute will without any observation of just laws, than she hath the name of tyranny, which is the first bad kind of common wealth. 
Of a tyranny.  Now forasmuch as we live in this kingdom, under the first kind of common wealth, called a kingly monarchy, we will dilate this matter, and consider thereof at large in a several treatise, that we may the better know the excellency of it, when it is well and justly ordained. The second kind of a right and good common wealth is of a Greek word called an Aristocraty, 
Of an Aristocraty, & what it signifieth.  which in our language we may interpret, the power of the best men, whom we call in Latin Optimates because they are accounted for the best and most virtuous men. This form of government taketh place, when a few tried and approved men for manners and learning have the sovereignty jointly together, and make laws for the rest of the people, whether it be generally or particularly, directing their thoughts to no other mark than to public utility and profit. This was seen most excellently among the Lacedæmonians, whose common wealth surpassed all others of her time, as well for her policy and establishment, whereof there 
The Lacedaemonian estate was an excellent pattern of this government.  was never the like, and wherein she continued about 500 years, as also for the glory of her warlike acts, whereby she held the Empire of Graecia a long time, under the laws of that happy Aristocratical government, which Lycurgus established there. This man seeing their estate to incline one while to tyranny, when the kings had too much power, and another while to popular confusion, when the common people began to usurp too great authority, devised with himself to give them a counterpoise, that should be healthful for the whole 
Why the Senate o● Lacedae no●● was first instituted  body of the Common wealth, by establishing there a Senate, which was a strong bar, holding both the extremities in equal balance, and giving firm and steadfast footing to their estate. For the 28. Senators making the body of the Senate, sometimes took part with the two kings who were deprived of all sovereignty, so far forth as was thought needful to resist the rashness of the people: and contrariwise, sometimes they strengthened the people's 
What power the kings of Lacedaemonia had.  side against the kings, who had then but the voices of two Senators in the council, thereby to keep them from usurping any tyrannical power. True it is that their estate was not purely Aristocratical, until one hundred years after the first establishment thereof by Lycurgus, because he had left the confirmation and abrogation of the advice and decrees of the Senate in the people's power. But Polydorus and Theopompus being kings, and seeing how hard a matter it was to assemble all the people together, and how they overthrew many times the sacred 
The policy of Polydorus & Theopompus to get the power out of the were cut of t●e people's hands. Why the Ephories were appointed in Lacedaemonian Of an oligarchy.  decrees of the Senate, holp themselves with an Oracle from Apollo, whereby it was signified that the Senate of thirty should from thenceforth have all power in matters of estate, in so much that of Senators they become sovereign Lords. And to content the people, they appointed five Ephories who were chosen out of the people, as Tribunes to keep away tyranny. That policy than is truly Aristocratical, wherein virtue only is respected in the distribution of magistracies, and the benefit of the subjects is chief considered in the government thereof. oligarchy is opposite and contrary to this, and is the second kind of a corrupted common wealth. This is when a few noble or rich men occupy the authority and administration of the common wealth, rejecting the poorer and base sort, and aiming at nothing but at their own private and particular profit, without all care of public commodity. These men always use to take part with their like in nobility or riches, to the treading down and oppression of the meaner sort of people. Moreover, they rule all matters according to their affections, and through ambition and covetousness take them into their own hands, until some one that is mightiest among them, find the means to rule absolutely, and to change the Oligarchy into a tyranny. Aristotle affirmeth that all the ancient governments in Sicilia were Oligarchies, among which that of the Leontines was translated into the tyranny of Pan●cus, 
How an Oligarchy is changed into a tyranny with examples thereof. Of a Timocraty.  that of G●la into the tyranny of Cleander, that of Rhegium into the tyranny of An●xilas, and so of many others. The third kind of a good and right common wealth, is of a Greeeke word called Timocraty, which we may call The power of mean ro indifferent wealth. This kind of government was after a peculiar sort called of the Ancients by the name of Common wealth: because this policy tended most of all to public profit, and was guided by laws and 
* His meaning is, that it is ruled by some laws taken from each of these.  compounded of an Oligarchy and a Democraty, which are two extremes, and of themselves vicious and corrupt. For of their mediocrities this form of commonwealth was instituted after three sorts. First, by taking the laws and institutions of both: secondly, by holding the mediocrity of things commanded by them: thirdly, by following the constitutions, partly of the one, and partly of the other. Aristotle speaketh of this kind of commonwealth when he saith, That civil society consisting of mean persons is very good, and that those cities are well governed wherein there are many of the middle sort, who have more power then both of the other parties, or at lest than any one of them. For whereas many are passing rich, or extreme poor, there followeth either an extreme Democraty, or an intolerable Oligarchy, or else through their excess, a tyranny. Now the last kind of corrupt common wealths remaineth to be seen, which is called Democraty, where free and poor 
Of a Democraty. Five kinds thereof, according to Aristotle in his 4. book of Polit. cap. 4.  men being the greater number, are Lords of the estate. I here were five sorts of them, the first, where the government was equally communicated to all, the second where regard was had to wealth, although it was but small, the third, where all the citizens were partakers of the government under the ruling of the law: the fourth, where every one might attain to the magistracy, so that he were a citizen, and the law ruled: the fift, where other things being equal, the multitude commanded and not the law: and then the people only governed, according to their fancy by decrees and provisoes, which they gave out daily, oppressing the virtuous, rich and noble, that they might live in all liberty. This kind is not to be called a common wealth, seeing the laws bear no sway, but being answerable to a tyranny, it is passing ill, and unworthy to be numbered among Common wealths. Plato and Xenophon wrote that the Democraty of Athens was such a one, where the people was given over to all licentious●e, without either fear of Magistrates, or observation of laws. Now of the three kinds 
Athens a democratical Estate.  of good Common wealths mentioned by us, Aristotle, Polybius, Dionysius Halicarnassaeus and Cicero, compound another, that is partaker of all three: saying, that every kind of Common wealth established simply, and alone by itself, soon degenerateth in to the next vice, if it be 
Of a mixed kind of commonwealth.  not moderated and kept back by the rest. Therefore they say that a common wealth erected with a right government to continued long, must have the virtues and properties of the other Common wealths, joined together in her, to the end that nothing grow out of proportion, which may 'cause her to degenerate into her next evil, and so consequently overthrow her. Likewise many ancient and late politics have maintained, that the Commonwealths of the Lacedæmonians, Carthaginians, Romans, and others that are famous, as that 
Examples hereof.  of the Venetians, were compound and mildly intermingled with the royal, Aristocratical, and popular power. But this subject deserveth well a several discourse, which being needless for the understanding of the matter here propounded unto us, we will not stay any longer in the curious searching out of sundry other kinds of estates and policies, which the Ancients have drawn out of these already described. We will note therefore for the conclusion of our speech, that the reason why so many kinds of Common wealths are mentioned by the Ancients is this, because every city is compounded of many parts, the diversity of which, according as they were in greater number and power, caused them to vary the names of governments. 
The perfectest distinction of commonwealths.  But to avoid confusion and obscurity, we may say, that if the sovereignty consisteth in one only Prince, the Estate is Monarchical: if all the people have interest in it, the Estate is popular: and if only the lest part of them have the chief power, the Estate is 
There is difference between the estate and the government of a commonwealth.  Aristocratical. But if their form of government be contrary to their nature, they take another quality, but change not their essence. Moreover we say, that the preservation of every public society dependeth of the policy well ordained, without which there can be nothing but disorder and confusion among men. We say, that policy is the order of a city in the offices of Magistracy, namely, in the chief of all, in whose government the whole Commonwealth consisteth: which if it be in the people's hands, is called Popular, as in the Cantons of Switzerland, and leagues of the Grisons, in many free towns in Germany, and in old 
Examples of the popular estate. Of the Aristocratical. Of the Monarchy.  time was in Athens: if in the hands of certain persons, as of the gentlemen of Venice, and of some families in Genes, it is called Aristocratical: if it dependeth of the will of one alone, it is called a Monarchy, as in France, Spain, Portugal, England, Scotland, Sweathland, Polonia. Further we say, that the diversity of government among cities and peoples, dependeth of their end: if they tend to a good end, which is to public benefit, they are good and just: but if to an ill end, namely, to the particular profit of such as command, they are evil and unjust.   

Of the sovereign Magistrate, and of his authority and office. Chap. 54.  ACHITOB. 
WE commonly say that that thing is rightly done, which is done according to the order and institution of policy. Neither is right any other 
What right is.  thing amongst us, than the order of that estate under which we live, the sovereignty whereof is the sure foundation, union and bond of all the particulars in one 
The foundation of every estate is the sovereignty thereof. Every estate consisteth of three parts.  perfect body of a commonwealth. And when judgements are exercised by the Magistrates, when the will of justice is declared by the exposition of the laws and of right, and when we direct our actions under justice, then is the order of civil society duly observed. Hereupon in our last discourse we said, that the estate of a Commonwealth was compounded of three general parts, of the Magistrate, of the Law, and of the People. Thus following our purpose, let us entreat particularly of these parts, whereof every Common wealth consisteth: and first let us consider of the chief Magistrate, and of his authority and office.  ASER. 
All civil superiority is a holy and lawful vocation before God. And as justice is the end of the law, and the law a work of the Magistrate, so also the Magistrate is the image of God, who ruleth and governeth all, according to which mould and pattern he 
The magistrate is the image of God  must fashion himself through the means of virtue.  AMANA. 
As in a man that is well disposed both in body and soul according to nature not corrupted, the soul ruleth and commandeth with reason, being the better part, and the body with the affections thereof serve and obey, as the worse part: so is it in every human assembly. It belongeth to the wisest to rule, and to such as are less advised to obey. Therefore 
The wisest must rule.  the Magistrate must above all things labour, that he be not unworthy of that person which he sustaineth. But let us hear ARAM discourse of this matter which is here propounded unto us.  ARAM. 
God being careful of all things, even of the very lest, and comprehending in himself the beginning, end, and midst of them, according to his good pleasure, and making all in all by his only Spirit; respecting the common good of this whole frame, and preservation of human society, hath from time to time distributed to sundry persons distinct and 
Why God distributeth his gifts diversly ●o divers men.  different graces, that in exercising divers estates, charges, administrations, offices, handicrafts, and occupations, they might through mutual succour and interchangeable help preserve and maintain themselves. This is that which we see in cities amongst civil companies, which is as much to say, as a multitude of men unlike in qualities and conditions, as rich, poor, free, bond, noble, vile, skilful, ignorant, artificers, labourers: some obeying, others commanding, and all communicating together in one place their arts, handicrafts, occupations, and exercises, to this end that they may live the better, and more commodiously. They obey also the same Magistrates, laws, and sovereign counsel, which Plato calleth the Anchor, 
A well governed family resembleth the kingly regiment.  head, and soul of the city: which naturally tendeth to some order and rule of dominion, as that which took beginning and increase from persons acquainted with a government that resembleth the royal regiment, as appeareth in every well ordered family, and hath already been touched of us. The first sovereign government was established either by the violence of the mightiest, as Thucydides, Caesar, Plutarch, and others writ: and the holy history testifieth the same unto us, and putteth this opinion out of doubt, where it is said, 
Gen. 10. 10. Of the original of kingdoms.  that Nimrod Cha●s nephew, was the first that brought men into subjection by force and violence, establishing his principality in the kingdom of Assyria: Or if any will believe Demosthenes, Aristotle, and Cicero, the first sovereign was instituted upon their will and good liking, who for their own commodity, rest and security, submitted themselves to such as excelled most in virtue in those times, which they called heroical. Who knoweth not (saith Cicero in his oration for Sestius) that the nature of men was sometimes such, that 
Cicero his opinion therein.  not having natural equity as yet written, they wandered up and down being dispersed in the fields, and had nothing but that which they could catch and keep forcibly by murders and wounds? Wherhfore some excelling in virtue and council, and knowing the docility and understanding of man, gathered the dispersed together into one place, and brought them from the rudeness wherein they were, unto justice and gentleness. Than they established those things that belonged to common profit, which we call public, and appointed assemblies, afterward called cities, and walled about, their buildings joined together, which we call towns, having first found out both divine and human equity. At the same time the authority of Magistrates took place, who were instituted by the consent of the people, for that excellent heroical virtue, which they saw in those first Rectors and Ordainers of civil society, to whom was committed the jurisdiction of laws, or received customs, and the disposition of written equity to rule and govern their people thereafter. But not to stay long about the diversity or those opinions, which we have here alleged for the establishment of the sovereignty, this is out of question, that the foundation of every common wealth dependeth thereupon, and that it is the absolute and perpetual power of the common wealth, and is not limited either in power, or charge, or for a certain time. 
What sovereignty i●.  This sovereignty is in him or them that are chief of the Estate: and a little king is as much a sovereign as the greatest Monarch of the earth. For a great-kingdome (saith Cassiodorus) is nothing else but a great common wealth, under the keeping of one chief sovereign. 
A little king a much a Sovereign as the greatest Monarch. Of the name of Magistrate.  But before we entreat more amply of his authority and office, it behoveth us to tender a reason of the name of Magistrate, which is here given unto him. This word Magistrate, hath been taken of the Ancients in divers significations: and Plato maketh seventeen sorts of them, calling some necessary Magistrates, others honourable. Aristotle said, that they aught chief to be called Magistrates, that have power to take counsel, to judge, and to command, but especially to command. And this doth the Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, sufficiently declare, as if he would say, Commanders; and the Latin word Magistratus, being a word of commanding, signifieth to master, and to exercise dominion. Also the Dictator, who had the greatest power to command, was called of the Ancients, Magister popule. Therefore 
The Dictator of Rome was called Magister popule.  albeit the name of Magistrate hath been heretofore, and is yet given to all that have public and ordinary charge in the Estate, yet we will as it were abuse this name a little, by transferring it to the Sovereign of all, of whom all Magistrates, laws, and ordinances of the Common wealth depend. Now let us see whether this vocation of the Magistrate be 
The calling of Magistrate proved to be lawful. Psal. 82. 6.  lawful and approo●ed of God. We have not only infinite testimonies in the Scripture, that the estate of Magistrates is acceptable before God, but which is more, it is adorned with honourable titles that the dignity thereof might be singularly commended unto us. When we see that all men placed in authority are called gods, we must not esteem this title to be of small importance, seeing it appeareth thereby, that they are authorised by him, and represent his Majesty in the ruling and governing of us. If the Scripture (as that heavenly Word saith) called them gods, unto whom the word of God was given, what is that else but that 
joh. 10. 35.  they have charge and commission from God to serve him in there office, and (as Mises and josoph●t said to their judges, whom they appointed over every city of judah) to exercise 
2. Chr●n. 19 6  justice, not in the name of men, but in the name of God? By me (saith the wisdom of God) kings reign, and princes decree justice. By me princes rule, and the nobles, 
Pro. 8. 15. 16.  and all the judges of the earth. Moreover we see, that many holy men have obtained kingdoms, as David, josias, Ezechias: some governments and great estates under Kings, as joseph and Daniel: others the guiding of a free people, as Moses, josua, and the judges, whose calling and estate was acceptable to God, as he hath declared by his Spirit. Wherhfore no man aught to doubt of this, that civil superiority is not only a holy and lawful calling before 
The calling of the magistrate is most holy.  God, but also the holiest and most honourable of all other, whereunto all the people is subject, as well by the establishment of the right of the estate, as by the holy and heavenly ordinance of God. And if the Magistrate be persuaded (as it is most certain, that many Estates have had that foundation) that the cause of his first institution, and voluntary subjection whereunto the people submitted themselves for their common benefit, was that excellency of virtue, which appeared in some above the rest, aught he not to think himself unworthy of so honourable a title, if he want the cause of the beginning thereof? But further, if the magistrate know that he is appointed the minister of God's justice, unto what great integrity, prudence, clemency, moderation, and innocency, aught he to conform 
He is the minister of God's justice. Good counsel for magistrates  and frame himself? With what confidence dare he suffer any iniquity to have entrance into his seat, which he understandeth to be the throne of the living God? With what boldness will he pronounce any unjust sentence out of his mouth, which he knoweth is appointed to be an instrument of the truth of God? With what conscience will he subscribe to, or seal any evil statute with his hand, which he knoweth is ordained to writ the decrees of God? To be short, if the Magistrate call to mind, that as God hath placed the Sun and Moon in the heavens as a token of his divinity, so he is also appointed in the earth for the like representation & light, will he not think that he is to employ & bestow all his care and study, that he may represent unto men in all his doings: as it were an image of the providence, defence, goodness, clemency, & justice of God? It is certain that the Magistrate is the same thing in the Common wealth, which the heart is in the body of a living creature. If the heart be sound & pure, it giveth life unto the whole body, because it is the fountain of the 
The Magistrate compared: oath hart of a living creature.  blood and of the spirits: but being corrupted, it bringeth death and destruction to all the members. So fareth it with the Magistrate, who is the soul of the people, their glass, and the white whereat all his subjects aim. If he live under right reason, truth, & justice, which are the proper will of God only, he is not unlike to a line or rule, which being first right itself, afterward correcteth all other crooked things that are applied unto it. For nothing is more natural, 
And to a car. penters' rule.  than that subjects should conform themselves to the manners, deeds, & words of their prince The wife Hebrew, Plato, Cicoro, and Titus, Livius, have left this Maxim unto posterity as an infallible rule of Estate. And Theodor●cus king of the Goths, writing to the Senate of Rome goeth yet farther, using these words, as C●ssiodorus rehearseth them: That the course of nature would sooner fail, than the people would leave off to be like their prince. but further, as the heart in the bodies of living creatures is last corrupted, insomuch that the last relics of life seem to abide therein, so it is meet, that, if any disease corrupt the people, the sovereign Magistrate should continued pure and sound unto the end from all that pollution. If there be any evil in the soul, it proceedeth from the wickedness of the body, being subject to perverse affections, and look what good thing soever is in the body, it floweth from the soul, as from the fountain thereof. Now as it would be against nature, i● the evils of the body should come from the soul, and the good gifts of the body should be corrupted by the vices of the spirit, so would it be very absurd, that corrupt manners, evil laws, vice, and ungodliness should proceed from the Magistrate unto the people, seeing (as Plato saith, he holdeth the same place in the common wealth, that reason doth in the soul, which guideth the other parts 
The Magistrate is in the Common wealth that which reason is in the soul The example of the magistrate is the best way to teach the people.  by wisdom. And forasmuch as the whole Common wealth representeth but one certain body compounded of divers members, whereof the Magistrate is the Head and most excellent of all, he must also usesuch equity, that he profit every one of them, and beware that he be not contagious to the whole public body through his evil example. The people (saith Seneca) give more credit to their eyes, than to their ears, that is to say, they believe that which they see, sooner than that which they hear. And to instruct the people by precepts, is a long and difficult way; but to teach them by examples is very short, and of greater efficacy. Therefore the Magislrate must be more careful of that which he doth, than of that which he speaketh. And that which he prescribeth his subjects for a rule, as it were by law, 
Whereunto the prince is bound as well as his subject.  must be confirmed of him by his works and deeds. For as he is chief bound to follow the laws of God and nature, so he must make all those laws and statutes, which he establisheth in his estate, according to that pattern. And therefore one of the Ancients said very well, that the prince together with his subjects, had one and the same God to serve, one law to keep, and one death to fear. We will then briefly comprehend the duty of the Magistrate 
The duty of the Magistrate consisteth in three thin s. The art royal Philosophical and political is all one.  in these three things, in ruling, in teaching, and in judging his people: which are so nearly knit and joined together, that the one cannot be well exercised without the other, and he that faithfully dischargeth one, fulfilleth them all. For this cause Plato saith, that the art & science of the King, of the philosopher, and of the Politian, is one and the same, because they consist all three in knowing how to rule, to teach, and to judge well. He saith also, that the only way to procure true quietness and most happic felicity in Common wealths is when by some divine providence the sovereign authority of Magistracy meeteth with the will of a wise Philosopher in one person, that virtue may be superior, and vice suppressed. And if such a governor over people is to be accounted very happy, they are no less happy that may hear the excellent discourses, and good instructions which proceed from his mouth. Besides, when they see virtue after a lively sort imprinted in a visible pattern, and that the Magistrates life is such an example, they become wise of their own accord. Than is force, constraint, or threatening, needless to bring them to their duty, as they that conform themselves to an upright and good life in friendship, charity, and concord, one with another. So that we may boldly say, that he is by nature most worthy of sovereign 
Who is most worthy of sovereign authority. Why there are so few virtuous Princes.  authority, who is able by his virtue to imprint in men's hearts the like disposition and affection to live well and virtuously. But forasmuch as few virtuous men are found, and sovereign Magistrates are not commonly chosen out of that small number, but come to that authority for the most part by succession: it is no marvel if there be but few such Magistrates, as we have here described: nay, it is rather greatly to be wondered at, if any one among a great many become very excellent. Notwithstanding, as their sovereignty is nothing less over their subjects, who own fidelity and obedience unto them: so are they always bound to do their duty and office toward them, which consisteth in ministering justice, counsel, comfort, aid, and protection. Moreover, because insolency and rebellious wickedness is always to 
Wherein the duty of the chief Magistrate consisteth.  be found in some corrupt person●, who neither by teaching, nor by example of good life will be brought to virtue, but persevere in committing a thousand impious and unjust actions: for the punishment of such, the sword is put into the Magistrate's hand, both by the law of God and man, that as the Minister of God he should serve his wrath, and take vengeance of 
Why the sword is put into the Magistrate's hand jer. 22. 3.  them that do evil. This is that which is so expressly commanded to Magistrates in infinite places of the Scripture, under these words: Do judgement and justice: justice in delivering him that i● oppressed by force, from the hand of the oppressor, in not grieving strangers, widows, and orphans, in offering no injury to any, in shedding no innocent blood, and in 
What is meant by this precept. Do judgement and justice. Pro. 16. 12. & 20. 8, 16.  dealing uprightly with every one: and judgement in resisting the boldness of the wicked, in repressing their impudence and violence, and in punishing their faults. It is an abomination to kings (saith the wise man) to commit wickedness: for the throne is established by justice. A king that sitteth in the throne of judgement, chaseth away all ●evill with his eyes. A wise king scattereth the wicked, and causeth the wheel to turn over them. Take the dross from the silver, and there shall proceed a vessel for the finer. Take away the wicked from the king, and his throne shall be established in righteousness As well he that justifieth the wicked, as he that condemneth the just, is an abomination unto God. The 
Pro. 25. 4. 5.  people and nations curse him that saith to the wicked, thou art just. Yea, an offence is to be imputed as much or more to him that suffereth it to be done, when he may and is bound to stay it, than to him that committeth the same. And if it be a point of true justice in Magistrates to persecute the wicked with drawnesword, let not them that will needs (forsooth) abstain from all severity, 
He that suffereth evil, is culpable aswell as he that committeth it  and keep their hands pure from blood, whilst the swords of the wicked are drawn out to commit murder and violence: I say, let them not doubt but they themselves shall be judged guilty of great injustice before the divine Majesty. It is true, that gentleness and clemency most of all beseem a great and excellent man, and is one principal virtue necessary for a Magistrate. Notwithstanding it must be so ruled, that for the benefit of the Commonwealth, severity and rigour be joined therewith: because it is unpossible to rule and govern a multitude without this. And yet it is not the part either of a wise Physician, or of a good governor of an estate, to set hand to the iron, except in great necessity, when there is no other remedy. For if 
Severity and clemency are to be linked together in a Magistrate.  they do otherwise, as there is want of discretion in both, so most of all in the Magistrate, be cause injustice also is joined with cruelty. So that it is necessary both in clemency and rigour to keep some honest mean by right reason, and prudence, to the end that the inconveniences of both may be eschewed. This is that which Isocrates, speaking of the manner of reigning well teacheth, when he saith, that man must be severe in searching out of faults, and merciful in imposing punishments that are less than the faults, governing men more by clemency and prudence than by rigour and cruelty. And seeing it falleth out so, that an oversevere Magistrate becometh odious, and that he is contemned and despised who is too gracious, a wise man must be both civil and grave: gravity being comely in commanding, and civility necessary for him that converseth with men. For the conclusion therefore of our discourse, we 
Civility and gravity must be joined both together in a Magistrate.  learn, that both by the establishment of every estate and policy, and by a holy and heavenly decree, we are subject to the sovereign Magistrate, who is lawfully ordained to rule, to teach, and to judge us in all things that respect this present life, and the preservation of civillsociety. We learn that seeing he is the image of God upon earth, he must conform himself as much as he is able to the▪ perfection of all goodness and justice, that he may 
The duty of the Magistrate.  bring on them that are committed to his charge, to godliness and virtue by his example: and that it is his duty to honour the good, and to punish the evil, declaring thereby that he is the protector and preserver of public tranquillity, honesty, innocency, and modesty, and appointed to maintain the common safety, and peace of all men.   

Of the Law. Chap. 55.  ARAM. 
AS we note in the universal frame of the world, that many unlike motions 
All motions contained under one, & all cause under the first.  are contained within one heavenly motion, which is always to itself, and all causes by the first cause, as in every living creature many sundry members distinct in office, are comprised and brought into union and agreement by the soul & hart: so in every Common wealth compounded of many differing parts, necessary for the establishment thereof, the law is the blood that giveth virtue and life unto it, the bond that reduceth all the parts thereof to unity, and the firm preserver of civil society. Therefore seeing (my Companions) we have discoursed of the first part of every civil estate and government, which is the chief Magistrate, let us consider now of the second, no less necessary 
The law is the blood and bond of the Commonwealth.  therein, which is the law, whereby he is loyned and united to the rest of the public body for the maintenance and preservation thereof.  ACHITOB. 
The law is in the city, as the spirit is in the body. For as the body without the spirit undoubtedly perisheth, in like manner every city and Common wealth that hath no law, falleth into ruin and perdition. Therefore Cicero calleth laws the souls of Common 
The law is the spirit and soul of the commonwealth.  wealths.  ASER. 
As the soul guideth the body, and induceth it with ability to work: so the Law is the direction and maintenance of every estate. By the Law is the Magistrate obeyed, and the subjects kept in peace and quietness. Bus let us hear AMANA handle this matter.  AMANA. 
We see that naturally all living creatures, whether earthly, airy, or flying 
All creatures are sociable by nature.  tame, or wild, seek after the companies and assemblies of their kinds, to live with them, as Sheep by flocks, Cows Oxen, Hearts, and Hinds, feeding by herds, Horses, Asses, and Mules by companies: Choughs, stars, Cranes, & other birds by Flights, Fish both in fresh and salted waters following one another in shoals, Bees dwelling in hives, Pigeons in dove houses, Aunts in littie hollow places. No marvel therefore if men singularly adorned with an immortal soul, with reason and speech, and by these prerogatives more communicable 
The prerogatives of men about other creatures.  than other creatures, as borne to honour God, to love one another, to live together in a civil policy with laws, Magistrates, and judgements, having proper to themselves only the knowledge of good and evil, of honesty, and of dishonesty, of justice and injustice, knowing the beginnings and causes of things, their proceed, antecedents, and consequents, their similitudes and contrarieties, no marvel I say, if they live more commodiously and happily together, and do that by right and equity, which other living creatures do only by a natural instinct, seeing also they may be assured (as Cicero saith) that nothing here below is more acceptable to God the governor of all the world, than the congregations and assemblies of men linked together by 
What a city is The divers end o● the three good Commonwealths.  right and equity, which we call cities. Now we are to note, that all those which obey the same laws & Magistrates, make jointly together but one city, which (as Aristotle saith) is every company assembly together for some benefit. If a city be assembled in a Monarch wise, it is to be defended against strangers, and to live peaceably among themselves, according to law: if Aristocratically under certain chief lords, it is to be respected according to their riches, nobility & virtue, if in a popular community, it is to enjoy liberty & equality, & the better that the city is guided by policy, the greater benefit they hope for thereby. Therefore as the Venetians make out one city, living under an Aristocratical government: the Bernians another, living under a Democracy, whether they live within or without the walls, or far from the chief towns so all the natural subjects of this Monarchy, acknowledging one king for their sovereign lord, and obeying his commandments, and the decrees of his council, represent one city & political communion, compounded of many villages, towns, and provinces, provostshippes, bal●weekeses, Seneshalships, governments, Parliaments, Baronies, Counties, Marquesies, Dukedoms, Cures, bishoprics, Archbishoprickes, being in and of itself sufficiently furnished with all necssary and honest things, for the leading of a good and virtuous life, and obeying the statutes, laws and ordinances established therein, according to which the Magistrate aught to rule and to govern his subjects, showing thereby, that albeit they be not subject to the law, yet he will (as it becometh him) live and 
A king must live under a law, albeit he be not subject to the law. The mark of a sovereign. W s. 6. 3.  govern himself under the law. Therefore the Magistrates is very well called by some a● living law, and the law a mute Magistrate. Moreover, the mark of a sovereign prince, of which dependeth whatsoever he doth by his imperial authority, is the power to prescribe laws unto all in general, and to every one in particular, and not to receive any but of God, who is the judge of Princes, (saith Marcus Aurelius) as Princes are the judges of their subjects; yea it is God (saith the wise man) that will proceed with rigour against them for the contempt of his law. So 
How far princes are subject to laws. Where●n the absolute power of princes consisteth.  that they which say generally, that princes are no more subject to laws, than to their own covenants, if they except not the laws of God and of nature, and those just covenants and bargains that are made with them, they are injurious to God. And as for their power to abrogate such laws by their absolute authority, it is no more permitted unto them than the other seeing the power of a sovereign is only over the civil or positive laws. But that we may have some certain understanding of the matter here propounded unto usto entreat of, we must first see what the law is, into how many kinds it is divided, whereunto it aught to tend, the profit of it, and how we must obey it. The law is a singular reason imprinted in nature, 
The definition of the law. The division of it.  commanding those things that are to be done, and forbidding the contrary. We have both the law of nature, and the law written. The law of nature is a sense and feeling, which every one hath in himself, and in his conscience, whereby he discerneth between good & evil, as much as sufficeth to take from him the cloak of ignorance, in that he is reproved 
What the law of nature is. The division of the written law.  even by his own witness, The written law is double, divine, and civil. The divine law is divided into three parts, that is, into Manners, Ceremonies, and judgements. That of manners was called of the ancient writers the Moral law, being the true and eternal rule of justice, 
The division of the law of God.  appointed for all men, in what country or time soever they live, if they will direct their life according to the will of God. And as for the Ceremonies and judgements, although they have some relation to manners, yet because both of them might be altered and abolished 
Of the Moral law.  without the corruption or diminution of good manners, the ancients did not comprehend those two parts under the word Moral, but attributed his name particularly to the first part of the law, of which the sincere integrity of Manners dependeth, which neither may nor aught in any sort to be altered or changed, and whereunto the end of all other laws is to be referred, in honouring God by a pure faith, and by godliness, a●nd in being joined unto our neighbour by true love. The creremoniall law was a pedagogy of the jews, that is to say, 
Of the Ceremonial law. Of the judicial law.  a doctrine of infancy given to that people to exercise them under the obedience to God, until the manifestation of these things which are then figured in shadows. The judicial law given unto them for policy, taught them certain rules of justice and equity, whereby they might live peaceably together without hurting one another. Now, as the exercise of ceremonies appertained to the doctrine of piety, which is the first part of the Moral law (because it nourished the jewish Church in the reverence of God) and yet was distinct from true piety: in like manner, albeit the judicial law tended to no other end than to the preservation of the self same charity that is commanded in the Moral law, yet it had a distinct property, which was not expressly declared in the commandment of charity. As therefore the ceremonies were abrogated, and true religion and piety, I mean Christian, substituted in place of the judicial law: so the judiciary laws were canceled and abolished, without violating in any sort the duty of charity. So that all nations have liberty to make for themselves such laws as they shall think expedient for them, called of us civil laws, which must be squared according 
Of civil or positive laws. The division of civil laws. What civil laws may not be changed. The Salic law immutable.  to the eternal rule of charity, and differing only in form, they must all have one end, commanding always honest and virtuous things, and contrariwise forbidding those that are dishonest and vicicious. Now of these civil laws, there are two chief kinds amongst us. The first consisteth in laws that are ratified and established, upon which every Monarchy and public government is first grounded, and hath his beginning, which aught not in any wise to be infringed or changed: such are those which we call the laws of the French men: namely, the Salic law. established by Pharamont, who was the first that took upon him the name of king over them. Such laws also are annexed & united to the crown, & therefore the prince cannot so abrogate them, but that his successor may disannul whatsoever he hath done in prejudice of them, much less are subjects permitted to attempt any such matter, yea all those that go about it, seek nothing but to move sedition in the Estate, and to cause subjects to revolt from their superiors. As for the other civil laws, as Constitutions, Ordinances, Edicts, 
What civil laws may be changed.  and Customs, which have been made and received according to the condition and circumstance of times and places, they are in the power of the sovereign Prince, to change and to correct them as occasion shall serve. And yet in the general and particular customs of this Realm, none have been commonly changed, but after the lawful assembly of three general Estates of France, or else of the particular Estates of every Province: not 
A prince may deny the request of his three estates, having reason and justice on his side.  as if the king were necessarily bound to stand to their advice, or might not do contrary to that which they demand, if natural reason and justice stand with his will. And then whatsoever it pleaseth him to like or dislike, to command or forbidden, is held for a Law, an Edict, and Decree, and every subject is bound to obey it. But to speak generally of the laws of an Estate, the changing and gainsaying of them is a very pernicious plague in every commonwealth. This ancient rule and Maxim of wise politics, is well worth the marking: 
The change of laws in a well settled Estate is dangerous.  That nothing is to be changed in the laws of a Common wealth which hath a long time preserved itself in good estate, what apparent profit soever a man may pretend. And for this cause in the popular government of the Romans under Publius Philo the Dictator, that Athenian Edict was received, and past by force of Law, whereby it was not lawful for any to present a request to the people, without the advice of the Senate. But there was a far more strict and severe decree amongst the Locrians. For it was to this effect (as Demosthenes rehearseth) that every citizen that was 
A severe decree of the Locrians against such as would bring in new laws.  desirous to bring in a new law, should come and declare it publicly before the people with a halter about his neck, to the end that if his new law was not thought meet to be received, and very profitable for the common wealth he might presently be strangled as a worthy reward for his rashness. In every society (saith Aristotle) that is well instituted and ordained by laws, great care is to be taken that no part of the law, although never so little be diminished or changed: yea, most heed is to be had of that which is done by little and little. For if resistance be not then made, it falleth out in the Common wealth, as in the diseased body of a man, wherein the disease, if speedy remedy be not used in the beginning thereof, 
Mischiefs in a commonwealth must be resisted in the beginning.  increaseth by little and little, and that which might easily have been cured, through negligence is made incurable. Men never begin (said Paulus Aemilius the Roman Consul) to altar and change the estate of a Common wealth, but by making their first entrance with some notorious resisting of the laws. And therefore we must think that the preservation of the principal foundation of a Politic Estate is left at random, when men neglect the care 
The Law is the foundation of civil societies.  of keeping diligently the constitutions thereof, how light, or of small importance soever they seem to be For seeing the law is the sure foundation of every civil society, if that fail, it must needs be, that the whole political building will fall to ruin. Therefore Bias the wise said, that the Estate of that Commonwealth is happy, wherein all the inhabitants fear the law as a severe Tyrant. For than whatsoever it requireth, is undoubtedly performed. After the 
Bias.  law is once established and approved (saith Isidorus) we must not judge of it, but judge according unto it. That is the best policy (said Chilon one of the Sages of Graecia) where the people 
We must not judge of the law but according to the law  hearken more to laws, than to the Orators. This also was the cause that Pausanias the Lacedaemonian made this answer to one who demanded of him, why it was not lawful in their country to altar any of their ancient laws. The reason is (quoth he) because the laws must be Mistresses over men, and not men Masters over the laws. Moreover, the antiquity and profit of laws are so evident, that it is so needless to make any long discourse thereof here. Moses was the first law maker of the Hebrews; Mercurius Trismegistus one of the Egyptians; Phoronius the king of the Grecians: Solon of the Athenians: 
Why the Lacedaemonian laws might not be changed.  Lycurgus of the Lacedæmonians: Auacarsis of the Scythians: Numa Pompilius of the Romans. Ten noble men were chosen by the Senate and people of Rome, to translate and to expound the laws of the twelve tables. We have already declared how Pharamont made ours. The greatest and best part of the laws of Germany was established by Charles the great, Emperor and King of France. And so all regians have had divers lawmakers, according to the condition and circumstance of time, place, and country. True it is, that before the publishing of the law of God, there was no lawmaker of whom we have any knowledge: 
The ancient lawmakers.  and surely not so much as one word of a law is to be found in all the works of Homer, or Orpheus, or of any before Moses. But Princes judged and commanded all things by their sovereign power, which kind of government being more tyrannical than kingly, could 
No law before the law of God.  not be of any continuance or assurance, because there was no bond to knit the great with the small, and so consequently no agreement. Besides, this is out of doubt, that all the subjects of an Estate stand in need of a law, as of a light to guide them in the darkness of 
The necessity and profit of a law  human actions: especially it is necessary for the terrifying of the wicked, who might pretend some true cause of their ignorance, or some probable colour of their wickedness, or at lest some show why they should escape the punishment, which is not imprinted in our hearts, as things forbidden by nature. Nevertheless it is not the law that maketh a right government, but upright justice, and the equal distribution thereof, which aught to be surer engraven in the minds of good kings and princes, than in tables of stone. And 
The upright & equal distribution of the law maketh a good government.  it is to small purpose to multiply Edicts and Decrees, if they be not severely observed: yea the first sign that a man may have of the loss of an Estate, is when there appeareth an unbridled licence and a facility in dispensing with good statutes, and when new decrees are daily consulted of. And if the estate be already troubled, the heaping up of laws upon laws 
To dispense with good statutes, & d●●●y to make new, is a token of the decay of a commonwealth.  is no less dangerous for it, than a multitude of medicines in a weak stomach; whereas contrariwise, new introductions and abuses are then especially to be taken away, and things brought back again to their first and ancient form. Histories teach us, that when Edicts and decrees were most of all multiplied, then did tyranny gather greatest strength. As it fell out under the tyrant Caligula, who published decrees of all sorts both good and bad, and those written in so small a letter, that men could not read them, to the end that he might thereby snare those that were ignorant. His successor Claudius made twenty edicts in one 
Examples thereof in Caligula, and in Claudius  day, and yet tyranny was neverso cruel, nor men more wicked than at that time. Therefore let the laws and good ordinances of an estate be inviolable, straightly kept, and subject to dispensation, not favourable to great men, but common and equal to all, and then shall the bond of civil society be surely tied. Now whereas I said, that all nations have liberty to prescribe and frame civil laws for themselves, my meaning was not to approve certain barbarous and beastly laws received of some people: as those laws which allowed thieves a certain reward, which permitted the company of men and women indifferently, and innumerable 
How laws may be kept inviolable.  others more dishonest, which are not only void of all justice, but even of all humanity. But these two things must be kept inviolably in all laws, namely, The ordinance of the Law, and the equity of it, upon the reason whereof the ordinance is grounded. Equity is always one and the same to all people, because it is natural. Therefore all the laws in 

Two things required in the keeping of every law.  
Equity is always one & the same to all people.   the world, of what matter soever they are, must meet in the same equity. Concerning the ordinance of the law, because it is joined with circumstances, no inconvenience letteth but that it may be divers among sundry nations, provided always, that they all tend alike to the same mark of equity. Now seeing the divine law which we call moral, is nothing else but a testimony of the law of nature, and of the conscience that is imprinted in all men's hearts, no doubt but this equity whereof we now speak, is wholly declared and comprehended therein. Therefore it is meet that this equity only should be the white, 
The equity of the moral law aught to be the end and rule of all other laws.  rule and end of all laws. For (as S. Augustine saith in his book of the city of God) every law that beareth not the image of the divine law, is a vain censure. And justice is the end of every law well established; which is the cause why S. Paul so greatly extolleth the vigour of the law, calling it the bond of perfection. Those laws then which are squared out by this heavenly rule, which tend to this end, and are limited out by this measure, aught to be received and followed cheerfully, albeit they differ from the Mosaical law, or otherwise one from another. For many have denied (and some amongst us are yet of that opinion) that no common wealth can be well and justly instituted and ordained, if leaving the policy of Moses, it 
Their opinion confuted, who would t●e all nations to the policies of Moses.  be governed by the common laws of other nations: which is so absurd a thing, and would be the cause of so great confusion in the policies of the world, that there needeth no great store of arguments to prove it vain and frivolous. Moreover, by that distinction of the law which we have already set down in our discourse, it appeareth sufficiently, that the opinion of these doters is grounded upon a mere ignorance of the will of God. The Law of God forbiddeth stealing, and divers pains and punishments are appointed for the same in the policy of the jews, according to the kind, time, and place of the theft. The ancientest 
These punished diversely in divers nations.  laws of other nations punished thieves by causing them to restore double that which they had stol●e. Those laws which followed made a distinction between open & secret theft: others used banishments, & some death. The law of God forbids false witness bearing which was punished amongst the jews with the same punishment that the party falsely accused 
How false witness was punished among the jews.  should have incurred, if he had been found guilty. In some other Countries there was no punishment for it but public ignominy and shame: and in some also the gibbet. Briefly, all the laws in the world with one common consent, how different soever they be, ●end to one and the same end, pronouncing sentence of condemnation against those crimes that are condemned by the eternal Law of God: only they agreed not in equality of punishment, which is neither necessary nor expedient. There is some such country that would speedily become desolate through murders and robberies, if it did not exercise horrible and grievous punishments upon the offenders in those crimes. There falleth out some such time as requireth increase of punishments. Some such nation there is that standeth in need of some grievous correction to be appointed for some special vice, whereunto otherwise it would be more given than other nations. He that should be offended at this diversity, which is most meet to maintain the observation of the Law of God, would he not be thought to have a malicious mind, and to envy public benefit and quietness. For the conclusion of our present speech, let us learn, that civil laws and ordinances depend only of the sovereign ruler, and that he may change them according to the occurrence and benefit of state affairs. Let us learn that all laws must be referred to the infallible rule of 
Civil ordinances depend only of the sovereign ruler.  the justice and will of God, and to the common profit of civil society: that he which commandeth us to obey Magistrates not only for fear of punishment, but also for conscience sake, requireth of us such obedience to their laws and ordinances: so that he is accursed that infringeth or contemneth them. Therefore we must voluntarily submit ourselves unto them, so that their general end be to set an order and policy amongst us, and not dispute of their 
The end whereunto all laws are to be referred.  reason and cause, as long as their jurisdiction extendeth not to our souls to lay upon them a new rule of justice.   

Of the People, and of their obedience due to the Magistrate, and to the Law. Chap. 56.  AMANA 
WE have hitherto seen, that the preservation of policies dependeth on the observation of the law; that the sovereign magistrate ruleth thereby, and useth it as a bond to reduce to unity and agreement all the Citizens of one Common wealth, being unlike in calling, and living under his dominion: at which mark every good politic governor aught chief to aim. Now (my Companions) we are to entreat of this third part of a city, which maketh the politic body perfect and absolute, namely, of the people, and of that obedience which they aught to yield to the magistrate and to the law.  ARAM. 
The whole common wealth fareth well or ill, as all her parts, even to the lest, are ruled, and contain themselves within the compass of their duty. For all of them together 
The Magistrate is the head, the law, the soul, and the people, the body of the commonwealth.  make but one body, whereof the migistrate is the head, and the law the soul that giveth life unto it. Wherhfore it is very needful that these should always command, and the other obey.  ACHITOB. 
Whatsoever profiteth the whole profiteth the part, and that which is commodious to the part, is also commodious to the whole: and so contrariwise. Wherhfore to obey well, which is necessarily required of the people, is greatly available to the whole political body. Now let us hear ASER handle this matter unto us more at large.  ASER. 
In every discipline the beginning is commonly taken from the lest parts thereof. Grammar taketh his beginning from letters, which are the lest things in it: Logic from the two least parts thereof, namely, the Noun, and the Verb. Geometric from the 
The n●wn & verb are no parts of Logic but of Grammar.  point: Arithmetic from Unity: Music from the Minnem and Sembriefe, which are likewise the lest parts thereof. Therefore having seen that policy is the order and life of the city, and that the city is a multitude of citizens; before we speak of the whole body of them, we must (as I think) entreat first of a citizen, who, although he differ according to the diversity of common wealths, yet to take him properly, may be said to be every one that hath right to judge in his city, and hath a deliberative voice in the general or common council thereof. This definition of a citizen cannot fitly be applied to all citizens of all Common 

The definition of a citizen in a popular state Other definitions of a citizen.  
A general definition of a citizen.   wealths, but only to those that are ruled popularly, wherein they are all equal, and govern themselves by assemblies, in which every one hath liberty to speak his advice. Some define a citizen to be he whose parents are citizens: or else, to be a free subject holding of the sovereignty of another: wherein they add this word Free, to distinguish him from slaves and strangers. But generally we may say, that whosoever may bear offices, or magistracy, in what form of government soever, it is reputed and taked for a citizen: & such are all the natural Frenchmen in this monarchy, amongst whom there is not one, how base soever he be, that may not be made noble by virtue, or that may not by skill and integrity of life attain to the greatest estates of justice, of treasury, & of other public charges. This is not seen in all common wealths. For in the Seignory of Venice it seemeth that none are truly citizens, but the lords and and nobles, who only enjoy the office of magistracy, and may enter into the great Council after they have attained the age of five and twenty years. As 
Of the state of Venice.  for the people they intermeddle not with any matter of government, this only excepted, that they may be Secretaries and Chancellors, as Contarenus reporteth. The city of Rome having many times sundry governments, the appellation of a citizen was likewise divers therein. For as long as the first king's rules, the common people were altogether excluded from public honours and offices. But after when the regal power was changed into the 
Of the ancient estate in Rome.  government of a certain number of men, chosen by suffrages and common voices, the people were admitted to magistracies, and to the managing of affairs, being present at the public assembly had in Mars his field, which was distributed by tribes, wards, companies, and centuries, to deliberate of the common estate, to created magistrates, and to decree new laws: where he was reputed for a citizen indeed, that was a free man, that had both house and tribe, and possibility to attain to honour, enjoying besides many other privileges and prerogatives. But when the sovereignty came into the Emperor's hands, those assemblies continued only under julius and Octavius, and after were abrogated by Tiberius, and translated to the Senate, and to the absolute power of the Prnice, taking away all authority from the people in public matters. Now to return to our former assertion, we say, that all they are citizens to whom the gate that leadeth to the government of the city lieth open, I mean 
Who are truly citizens.  the whole company of them that live under the same laws and sovereign magistrates. Such are all the subjects and natural vassals of our king, of whom the people and the nobility are 
The division of the whole people into three orders or estates.  the two orders of estates, and of them is the estate of the Church compounded, which maketh one part of the commonwealth of France. This selfsame distinction of citizens is observed almost throughout all Europe. But besides this general division, there are some more special in many common wealths, as at Venice, into the Gentlemen, Burgesses, and Common people: 

The division of citizens in Venice and F●orence.  
In Egypt and among the ancient Gauls.   And our ancient Gauls, had the Druids, the Horsemen, and the inferior people. In Egypt were the Priests, the Soldiers, and the Artificers. And although Plato laboured to make all the citizens of his common wealth equal in rights and prerogatives, yet he divided them into three estates, into Guards, Soldiers, and Labourers. Whereupon we must necassarily infer this conclusion, that there never was, nor can be Common wealth, wherein the citizens were equal in all rights and prerogatives, but that some had more or less than others, and yet so, that wise politics have carefully provided; that the meanest should have no cause to complain 
These guards were the Senate & council for state affairs, consisting of 400. Burgesses.  of their estate. Moreover, the conveniency and proportionable agreement of our French estates, hath been the cause why this kingdom (until this our infortunate age) hath continued and prospered so long amongst other kingdoms both of ancient and late times, namely, when Goods, Honours, and public charges were ordinarily distributed, according to the condition of every estate, and their rights and privileges preserved: especially 
Of the agreement that is to be kept between the estate of a commonwealth.  when it was carefully provided, that one estate should not grow too great above the other, I mean, that the nobility should not keep the people too much under, and bring them to a desperate estate: and that the people through their traffic, offices of judgements, and receipts for the prince which they exercised, and benefits which they enjoyed, should not excessively enrich themselves, to the prejudice of the Nobility, nor get into their hands, the land of the Nobles, who being impoverished could not sustain the charges of war, nor serve the king in his armies. But the neglect of this foresight, and the great inequality of riches among the estates (that one part which was wont to be poorest, being now become richer 
One cause of the misery of France at this present.  than both the other two) is the cause of great wounds in the body of this monarchy. The poor people being oppressed by both the other estates, is fallen under the burden like to Aesop's ass, And the horse that would carry nothing, I mean the nobility and clergy, are constrained, some to bear their tenths and extraordinary subsidies, and others to sell their living to go to war at their own charges. But this thing deserve a long discourse by itself, and may hereafter be touched more fitly than at this time. Let us then generally consider 
The office and duty of subjects.  of our proposition, namely, of the duty of all those subjects which live under one estate and policy. First, it is necessary that they should have the estate of the magistrate in great eestimation, acknowledging it to be a commission and charge given by God, and therefore they must honour and reverence him, as one that representeth unto them the heavenly Empire over all creatures. For as God hath placed the Sun in the heavens as an image of his 
The sovereign magistrate compared to the Sun.  divine nature, which lighteneth, heateth, quickeneth, and nourisheth all things created for man's use, either in heaven or earth: so the sovereign magistrate is the like representation and light in a city or kingdom, especially so long as the fear of God, and observation of justice are imprinted in his heart. Some are obedient enough to their magistrates, and would not but that there should be some superior unto whom they might be subject, because they know it to be expedient for common benefit: yet they have no other opinion 
Against them that think the magistrate to be a necessary evil.  of a magistrate, but that he is a necessary evil for mankind. But when we know that we are commanded to honour the king, to fear God and the king, which we find often in the Scripture, we must understand that this word to honour, comprehendeth under it a good opinion and estimation, which we must have of the sovereign magistrate, and that the joining of the 
Prou. 24. 21. What is meant by honouring the king.  king with God, must 'cause us to attribute great dignity and reverence unto him, in respect of that power which is given him from his majesty. Likewise when it is said, that we must be subject to the higher powers, not because of wrath only, but also for conscience sake, it is to honour them with an excellent title and to bind us to obey them for the fear of God, and as we 
Rom. 13 5. subjects must obey their prince for the fear of God.  will obey his ordinance, because their power dependeth of him. Of this honour and reverence it followeth, that we must submit ourselves unto them in all obedience, whether it be in yielding to their ordinances or hests, in the payment of imposts and subsidies, or in receiving such public charges, as it shall please them to commit unto us. Briefly, every subject 
Of the service due to the prince. Rom. 13. 1, 2. Tit. 3. 1.  is bound to serve his prince with goods and life, which is the personal service of a natural subject, not as a hireling that serves at will, whereas the other service is necessary. Let every soul (saith Saint Paul) be subject to the higher powers. For whosoever resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God. He writeth also to Titus in this manner. Put them in remembrance that they be obedient and ready to every good work. Submit yourselves (saith S. Peter) unto all manner ordinance 
1. Pet. 2. 13, 14.  of man for the Lords sake, whether it be unto the king, as unto the superior, or unto governors, as unto them that are sent of him for the punishment of evil doers, and for the praise of them that do well. Moreover, to the end that subjects should testify, that they obey not dissemblingly, but of a free and willing mind, Saint Paul addeth, that they must by prayers to God recommend their preservation and prosperity under whom they live. I exhort (saith he) that first of all supplications, 
1. Tim. 2. 1, 2.  praters, intercessions, and giving of thanks be made for all m●n, for kings and for all that are in authority, that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty. Neither let any man deceive himself herein. For seeing no man can resist the Magistrates without resisting God, howsoever some may think, that a weak and powerless magistrate may be contemned without punishment, yet God is strong and mighty to revenge the contempt of his ordinance. Besides, under this obedience is contained that moderation which all private persons aught to observe in public affairs, namely, that they must not of their own motion 
Private men must not bu●i● themselves in public affairs.  intermeddle in the government or reformation of them, nor take upon them rashly any part of the magistrates office, nor to attempt any public thing. If there be any fault in the common policy that needeth amendment, they must not therefore stir at all therein, nor take to themselves authority to redress it, or once to put too their helping hands, which in that respect are as it were bound behind them. But they are to show it to the superior, who only ●ath his hand unbound to dispose and order public matters, and if he than command them to deal therein, they may put it in execution, as being furnished with public authority. 
The counsellors of a prince are his eyes and ears: and his officers are his hands.  For, as we use to call the counsellors of a prince, his eyes and ears, because they must be vigilant for him, so we may also call those men his hands, whom he hath appointed to execute such things as are to be done. And to these we own honour and obedience, seeing the force of the laws consisteth in their commandment. These are the magistrates and officers established by the sovereign, and armed with power to compel the subjects to obey his laws, 
Two kinds of public power.  or else to punish them. Whereby we see two kinds of commanding with public power, the one in chief, which is absolute, indefinite and above the laws, above magistrates and private men: the other is lawful, subject to the laws and to the sovereign, which power 
The difference between the prince, the magistrate, and the private man. How far subjects are bound to obey their prince and his laws.  properly belongeth to them that have extraordinary power to command, as long as their commission lasteth. The sovereign prince acknowledgeth (after God) none greater than himself: the magistrate holdeth his power (after God) of the sovereign prince, and is always subject to him and to his laws. Private men acknowledge after God (who must always be first) their sovereign prince, his laws and his magistrates, every one in his place of jurisdiction. They are bound to obey them, even then (which is repeated in many laws) when they command anything contrary to public profit, or against civil justice, so that it be not against the law of God and of nature. Now forasmuch as when we entreated of the sovereign magistrate, we described him such a one as he aught to be, answering truly to his 
The titles of a good magistrate.  title, that is to say, a father of the country which he governeth, a shepherd of his people, the guardian of peace, protector of justice, and preserver of innocency, that man might well be judged to be beside himself that would reprehend such a government. But because it commonly falleth out, that most princes wander far out of the right way, and that some having no care to do their duty, sleep in their delights and pleasures, others fixing their hearts upon 
The behaviour of evil princes.  covetousness, set to sale all laws, privileges, rights and judgements: some spoil the poor people by overcharging them with imposts and exactions to furnish their prodigality and unmeasurable dissoluteness: others exercise open robberies, in sacking houses, violating of virgins and married women, in murdering innocents, or suffering such violence to be done under them by the ministers and bands of their pleasures: some also oppress the nobility, even the princes of their blood, to show favour to base persons, and those strangers, despising worthy men that are their natural subjects and vassals: I say, considering these things, it will be very hard, yea altogether impossible, to persuade a great many, that such are to be acknowledged for princes and true superiors, and that we must of necessity obey them so far as we may without offending our consciences confecrated to God only. For this affection 
Tyrant's are naturally hated.  is rooted in the hearts of men, to hate and detest tyrants no less than they love and reverence just kings. So that when amongst such loathsome vices, so far estranged not only from the duty of a magistrate, but also from all humanity, they see in their sovereign no form of the image of God, which aught to shine in him, no show of a minister given from above for the praise of good men, and execution of vengeance upon the wicked, they are easily driven forward to hate and to contemn him, and finally, to rebel against him. But if we direct our sight to the word of God, it will lead us a great deal further. For it will make us obedient, not only to the rule of those princes which execute their office according to justice, but to them also that do nothing less than their duty. It telleth us, that whatsoever they are, they have their authority from God only: the good, as mirrors of his goodness; 
We must obey and reverence unjust princes as well as just.  the bad, as scourges of his wrath to punish the iniquity of the people: but both the one and the other, authorised from him with the same dignity and majesty in regard of their subjects. Therefore in respect of obedience and reverence, we own as much to the unjust, as to the just Prince. Which thing because it is so hardly believed amongst men, and less practised now than ever, I will insist a little longer in the proof of my saying by testimonies of the Scripture, than we have used to do in our other discourses. First I desire every one diligently to consider and mark the providence of God, and that special working whereby he useth to distribute kingdoms, and to establish such kings as he thinks good, whereof mention is often made in the Scripture. As it is written in Daniel: He changeth the time and seasons: he taketh 
Dan. 2. 21. & 4. 14.  away kings: he setteth up kings, that living men may know, that the most High hath power over the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will, and appointeth over it the most abject among men. It is well known what manner of king Nabuchadnezzar was, even he that took jerusalem, 
Nabuchadnezzar. Eze. 29. 18. 19  namely, a great thief, and a robber: Notwithstanding God affirmeth by the prophet Ezechiel, That he gave him the land of Egypt for the reward of his work, and for the wages of his army wherewith he had served him in spoiling and sacking Tyrus. And Daniel said unto him: OH king thou art a king of kings: for the God of heaven hath given thee a kingdom, power, strength and glory. When we 
Dan. 2. 37.  hear that he was appointed king by God, we must withal call to mind the heavenly ordinance, which commandeth us to fear and honour the king, and then we will not doubt to yield to a wicked tyrant that honour which God hath thought him meet for. When Samuel declared to the people of Israel what they should suffer of their kings, not only according to the rights and privileges of his, majesty, but by tyrannical customs and fashions, namely, that they 
1. Sam. ●.  would take their sons and daughters to serve them, their lands, vines and gardens, to give them to their servants, contrary to the commandment of the law of God: yet he enjoined them all obedience, leaving them no lawful occasion to resist their king. I have (saith the Lord in jere●y) made 
jer. 27. 5 etc.  the earth, the man, and the beast that are upon the ground, by my great power, and by my outstretched arm, and have given it unto whom it pleased me. But now I have given all these lands into the hand of Nabuchadnezzar the king of Babel my servant, and the beasts of the fields have I also given him to serve 
A tyrant called the servant of God  him. And all nations shall serve him and his sons son, until the very time of his land come also. And the nation and kingdom which will not-serue the same Nabuchadnezzar king of Babel, and that will not put their neck under the yoke of the king of Babel, the same nation will I visit (saith the Lord) with the sword femine, and pestilence. Wherhfore serve the king of Babel and live. We know by these words with what great obedience God would have this perverse and cruel tyrant to be honoured, only for this reason, because he was lift up by his hand unto that royal majesty. Now if we are bound to believe as much of all the kings of the earth, these foolish & seditious thoughts should never come unto our minds, that a king must be handled according as he deserveth, and that it standeth not with reason, that we should accounted ourselves his subjects, who for his part behaveth not himself towards us as a king. There is in the same prophet a commandment of God to his people to desire the prosperity of Babylon, wherein they were held captives, and to pray for it, because in the peace thereof they should have peace. Behold how the 
jer. 29. 7.  Israelites were commanded to pray for his prosperity, who had spoiled them of their goods and possessions, carried them into exile, and brought them into miserable bondage: so far off is it, that they were permitted to rebel against him. Although David already elected king by the will of God, and anointed with holy oil, was unjustly pursued of Saul, yet he said. The Lord keep me from doing that thing to my master the Lords anointed, to lay my hand upon him. 
1. Sam. 24 7. & 26. 10 David would not lay violent hands upon Saul● person.  For who can lay his hand upon the Lords anointed and be guiltless? As the Lord liveth either the Lord shall smite him, or his day shall come to die, or be shall descend into battle and perish. The Lord keep me from laying my hand upon the Lords anointed. This word is directed to us all, and it aught to teach us not to sift out the life of our sovereign prince, but to content ourselves with this knowledge, that by the will of God he is established and set in an estate, that is full of inviolable majesty. Moreover, we read in josephus, that the holiest men that ever were among 
These Essaei, or assai, were a superstitious sect among the jews, that pretended to lead a most perfect kind of life. Exod. 22. 28.  the Hebrews, called Essaei, that is to say, true practisers of the law of God, maintained this, that sovereign princes, whatsoever they were, aught to be inviolable to their subjects, as they that were sacred and sent of God. Neither is there any thing more usual in all the holy Scriptures, than the prohibition to kill or to seek the life or honour, not only of the prince, but also of inferior magistrates, although (saith the Scripture) they be wicked. And it is said in Exodus, Thou shalt not rail upon the judges, neither speak evil of the ruler of thy people. Now, if he that doth so is guilty of treason, both against the divine and human majesty, what punishment is sufficient for him that seeketh after their life? According to men's laws, not only that subject is guilty of high treason that hath killed his sovereign prince, but he also that attempted it, that gave counsel, that consented to it, that thought it. Yea, he that was never prevented nor taken in the manner, in this point of the sovereign the law accounteth him as condemned already: and judgeth him culpable of death that thought once in times past to have seized upon the life of his Prince, notwithstanding any repentance that followed. And truly there was a gentleman of Normandy, who confessed to a Franciscan friar, that he once minded to have killed king Francis the first, but repent him of that evil thought. The 
A gentleman judged to d●e, because he once thought to have killed his prince.  friar gave him absolution, but yet afterward told the king thereof, who sent the gentleman to the Parliament of Paris there to be tried, where he was by common consent condemned to die, and after executed. Among the Macedonians there was a law that condemned to death five of their next kinsfolks that were convicted of conspiracy against their prince. We see then the strait obligation whereby we are bound unto our princes both by divine and 
A severe law against treason.  human right. Wherhfore if it so fall out that we are cruelly vexed by a prince void of humanity, or else polled and burdened with exactions by one that is covetous or prodigal: or despised and ill defended by a careless prince, yea afflicted for true piety by a sacrilegious and unbelieving sovereign, or otherwise most unjustly and cruelly entreated, first let us call to mind our offences committed against God, which undoubtedly he correcteth by such scourges. Secondly, let us think thus with ourselves that it belongeth not to us to remedy 
How we must behave ourselves under a tyrant. Psal. 82. 1. & 2. 1●. Easie 10. 1.  such evils, being permitted only to call upon God for help, in whose hands are the hearts of kings, & alteration of kingdoms. It is God, who (as David saith) sitteth among the gods, that shall judge them: at whose only look all those kings and judges of the earth, shall fall and be confounded, who have not kissed his Son jesus Christ, but have decreed unjust laws, to oppress the poor in judgement, and to scatter the lawful right of the weak, that they may prey upon the widows, and poll the orphans. Thus let all people learn, that it is their duty above all things to beware of contemning or violating the authority of their superiors, which aught to be full of majesty unto them, seeing it is confirmed by God with so many sentences and testimonies, yea although it be in the hands of most unworthy persons, who by their wickedness make it odious (as much as in them lieth) and contemptible. Moreover, they must learn that they must obey their laws and ordinances, and take nothing in hand that is against the privileges and marks of sovereignty. Than shall we be most happy, if we consecrated our souls to God only, and dedicated our bodies, lives and goods, to the service of our Prince.   
The end of the fourteenth days work.   

Of a Monarchy. The fifteenth days work.  

Of a Monarchy, or Regal power. Chap. 57  ASER 
WHen we began yesterday to entreat of the sundry kinds of estates and governments that have been in force amongst men, and of the excellency or deformity of them, we reserved to a further consideration the monarchy or kingly power, under which we live in France. This form of regiment by the common consent of the worthiest Philosophers and most excellent men, hath been always taken for the best, happiest, and most assured common wealth of all others, as that wherein all the laws of nature guide us: whether we look to this little world, which hath but one body, and over all the members one only head, of which the will, motion and sense depend, or whether we take this great world, which hath but one sovereign God, whether we cast up our eyes to 
The laws of nature lead us to a monarchy.  heaven, we shall see but one sun, or look upon these sociable creatures below, we see that they cannot abide the rule of many amongst them. But I leave to you (my Companions) the discourse of this matter. 
In every kind of thing one excelleth.   AMANA. 
Among all creatures, both with & without life, we always find one that hath the prehemince above the rest of his kind. Among all reasonable creatures, Man: among beasts the Lion is taken for chief, among birds, the Eagle, among grain, wheat, among drinks, wine among spices, balm among all metals, gold: among all the elements, the fire. By which natural demonstration we may judge, that the kingly monarchical government draweth nearest to nature of all others.  ARAM. 
The principality of one alone is more conformable, and more significant to represent 
A Monarchy most significantly representeth the divine regiment  the divine and ineffable principality of God, who alone ruleth all things, than the power of many over a political body. Notwithstanding there hath been many notable men that have judged a monarchy, not to be the best form of government that may be among men. But it is your duty (ACHITOB) to handle us this matter.  ACHITOB. 
This controversy hath always been very great among those that have entreated of the forms of policies and governments of estates, namely, Whether it be more agreeable to nature, and more profitable for mankind to live under the rule of one alone, than of many, neither side wanting arguments to prove their opinion. Now although it be but a vain occupation for private men, who have no authority to ordain public matters, to dispute which is the best estate of policy, and a greater point of rashness to determine thereof simply, seeing the chiefest things consisteth in circumstances, yet to content curious minds, and to make them more willing to bear that yoke unto which both divine and human nature and equity hath subjecteth them, I purpose here to weigh their strongest reasons that have misliked a Monarchy, to the end that by contrary concluding arguments, which maintain and defendit, both they and we may be so much the more stirred up, to range ourselves willingly under the happy and lawful rule of our king, considering the agreement and participiation which it hath with all the good policies that can be named, as also the happiness and certain benefit that cometh to us, as well in respect of this our our private life, as of the common prosperity of the public body, unto which we own ourselves. First, we will note that a Monarchy, a kingdom, or royal power, signify one and the same thing, namely, one kind of Common wealth, wherein the absolute sovereignty 
What a Monarchy or kingly power is.  consisteth in one only Prince, who may not be commanded by any, but may command all. If there be two princes of equal power in one estate, neither the one nor the other is sovereign. But a man may well say, that both together have the sovereignty of the Estate, 
Of a Duarchy, that is of the rule of two.  which is comprehended under this word Oligarchy, and is properly called a Duarchie, which may continued so long as these two princes agreed, otherwise it must needs be that the one will overthrow the other. Therefore to avoid discord, the Emperors divided the estate into 
The division of the Empire  two parts, the one taking himself for Emperor of the East, the other of the West: and yet the edicts and ordinances were published by the common consent of both princes, to serve both their Empires. But as soon as they fell in debate, both the Empires were indeed divided, both for power, for laws, and for estate. He therefore may be called a Monarch that of himself alone hath power to prescribe laws to all in general, and to every one in particular. And under this power are comprehended all the other rights & marks of sovereignty, which the lawyers call legal rights, & handle them severally, which nevertheless we may comprehend under eight sovereign marks: namely, to make and to abrogate a law: to proclaim war, or 
Eight marks of sovereignty  to make peace, to take knowledge in the last appeal of the judgement of all Magistrates, to appoint or to disappoint the greatest officers, to charge or discharge the subjects of taxes and subsidies, to grant tolerations and dispensations against the rigour of laws, to enhance or to pull down the title, value, and constant rate of money, to 'cause subjects and liege people to swear that they will be faithful without exception, to him unto whom the oath is 
Their reasons whom mislike a Monarchy. What excellency is required in him that ruleth others  due. Now, to enter into that matter, which we purposed especially to handle, namely, whether a Monarchy be more profitable, than any other form of estate, many have maintained that it is a dangerous thing to live under the rule of one only king or prince, because it is a very hard matter to find one perfect in all points, as every King or Prince must of necessity be, if he will deserve that name, according to that which Cyrus' Monarch of the Persians' said, That it belonged to none to command, if he were not better than all those over whom he commanded. Moreover, although it were possible to find one of that perfection which is required, yet were it a thing always to be greatly feared, that by reason of human frailty, and of the great licence that kings have to execute their wills, he would change both condition and nature, and of a king become a tyrant, of which there are infinite examples set down in histories, yea it is certain and granted by the greatest part of them that have written of state matters, that every kind of common wealth that is established simply, and alone by itself, quickly degenerateth into the next vice, if it be not moderated and held back by the rest. As a king doom is soon changed into a tyranny, an Aristocraty into an Oligarchy, and so of the other. But this danger is greater in a Monarchy (as they say that mislike it) than under the rule of many, because it is unlikely, that all of them should be wicked, and if any one be so, the good men may bridle him. And so they conclude, that it is not so dangerous a matter to live under the government of many, as of one, who may more easily corrupt his nature, being a Monarch, than many can do that are elected in a Aristocraty, as the Areopagiticall Lord in Athens, the Ephories in Lacedemonia, and the Senate in Rome. After the death of Cambyses Monarch of the Persians', when the chief Lords of the kingdom had slain that 
The persian council held for the establishing of their estate. Otanes oration.  Magus who under the name S●erdis, had usurped the rule of the estate, they deliberated of the affairs, and held a general Council, wherein (as Herodotus writeth) many very worthy and memorable speeches were uttered. Otanes moved this, that the affairs might be governed in common by the Persians', speaking unto them in this manner. I am not of opinion, that one of us from hence forward should be sole Monarch over all, because it is neither pleasant nor good to have it so. For ye know to what insolency Cambyses was grown; ye have also thoroughly seen the boldness of the Magus, and ye may think with yourselves how perilous a thing it is to have a Monarchy, which may do what it list, not being subject to correction. The best man in the world placed in his estate, will soon be carried away with his wonted thoughts. Insolency possesseth him, because of present prosperity and hatred is soon bred in such a man. Now having these two vices, he aboundeth in all iniquity, & committeth great injustice, one while through insolency, another while of hatred. 
The effects of a Tyrant.  Although a tyrant, having abundance of all good things, should be far from envy, yet the contrary falleth out in him towards his subjects. For he hateth good men that live and prospero well, he delighteth in the wicked, and gladly heareth evil reports of other men. And which becometh him very ill, if you admire and praise him moderately, he is angry that you do it not excessively, and yet if you do so, he will mislike it, thinking that you flatter him. Besides, which is worst of all, he changeth the laws and customs of the country, 
Megabyses' oration ●or ●n Aristocraty  forceth women, killeth good men, not taking knowledge of their cause. This did this persian lord conclude, that a Monarchy was to be left, and a Democraty to be chosen. Megabyses' one of his companions, liked well the abolishing of a Monarchy, but persuaded the Aristocratical government, saying, that nothing was more ignorant, or more insolent, than an unprofitable multitude. Therefore it was in no wise tolerable, that eschewing the insolency of a tyrant, they should fall into the hands of an unbridled and disordered people. Many others 
The dangers o● a Monarchy.  have noted great dangers and discommodities in a Monarchy, especially in the change of the Monarch, whether it be from ill to good, or from good to better. For we commonly see at the changing of princes, new devices, new laws, new officers, new friends, new form of living. Because princes ordinarily take delight in changing, and in removing almost all things, that men might speak of them, which many times bringeth great discommodities to their subjects. But if this were not so, and the prince as wise as heart could wish, yet the alliances, and leagues made by a man's predecessor, end with him which is the cause that aliances ending, the neighbours betake them to arms, and the strongest assaulteth the weakest, or else prescribeth him laws. For many maintain, that the successors of Princes are not bound to the treaties and obligations of their Predecessors, if they be not their heirs. Another inconvenience to be feared in a Monarchy, is the danger of falling into civil war, through the division of those that aspire to the crown, and namely, if there be right of election, which oftentimes draweth after it the ruin of the estate. But put the case there where no strife for the Monarchy, yet if the Monarch be a child, there will be division for the government of him, between the mother and the Princes, or betwixt the Princes themselves. Also when God purposeth to be revenged upon nations, he threateneth to give them children for princes. And although the Child hath a tutor by the appointment of the predecessor, or by custom yet is there danger of making himself sovereign Lord, of which thing histories set down many examples before our 
A childprince is a token of God's wrath.  eyes. If a young Prince freed from tutors, come to the crown, his government is no less to be feared. For being then set at liberty when his lusts are most violent, you shall see nothing in his court but fooleries, maskings, and lose behaviour. If he be warlie, he will hazard his subjects, his estate, & his person, to make trial of his valour. Briefly, a crafty and wicked Monarch will establish a tyranny: a cruel man will make a slaughter house of the Common wealth: a whore master will make it a stews: a covetous wretch will pull off both hair and skin from his subjects: aprodigall prince will suck the blood and marrow, to glut a dozen of horse leeches about his person: a foolish and ignorant prince will do worse, falling easily into the most of these vices, for want of judgement to know and to make choice of counsel, necssary for the government of his Estate. These are the chief reasons of them that mislike a Monarchy. Now we will allege the other reasons in the defence of it, and begin with Darius his declaration upon the speeches of his companions, rehearsed by us in 
Darius' oration for a Monarchy.  the general Council of the Persians', because it is well worthy to be remembered, according unto which the Monarchy was concluded of in the council. In my judgement (said he to the assembly) Megabyses said well concerning the multitude, but ill in that which belongeth to an Oligarchy. For although there be three kinds of Policies, a Democraty, an Oligaachy, and a Monarchy, and all good, yet I say this last is far better than the other, because there is nothing so good as the government of one virtuous man alone, who judging thereafter, governeth his people without reprehension. I will not speak of the counsels which he taketh in like manner against his enemies and ill willers. But in an oligarchy, where many busy themselves with public affairs, great enmities arise between them, from 
Against an Oligarchy.  whence proceed seditions, and from seditions Murders, and by murders some one attaineth to a Monarchy. Whereby you may easily know how much better a Monarchy is. As touching the people, it is impossible but that where they rule, there should be much wickedness, which increasing in the evil governors of the Common wealth, breedeth not hatred between them, but great friendship. For they that are evil affected towards the Common wealth, hide one another's counsel, until some one man being set over the people, 'cause them to give over. Than is that man admired, and therewithal made a Monarch, whereby also it is evident, that a Monarchy is best. Wherhfore my advice is, that, seeing we have been set set at liberty by one only man, we should maintain that Estate, otherwise we shall disannul the laws of our country, that are already well established, which will not turn to the best for us. Dyonisius Halicarnassaeus in his antiquities of Rome, affirmeth that the like speech was used before Romulus, where he first established the government in Rome, where Aurelius 
A Monarchy concluded up on in the coucel of the Persians', of Romulus, and of Augustus.  concluded for the Monarchy, as Darius did among the Persians'. The same question was deliberated of by Augustus among his friends, because he desired nothing more than to live in rest, and to give over the Estate: but it was then concluded, that a Monarchy was best for the Common wealth, and the event proved the same. For before the Romans could not live ten years without civil war or sedition: whereas Augustus preserved them almost fifty years in perfect peace, which continued also long time after his death. Demosthenes in his first Olynthiacke oration, showeth the Athenians what advantage a Monarch hath in the 
The commodities of a Monarchy.  deliberation and execution of great enterprises, speaking in this manner. It is greatly available for the speedy and commodious execution of warlike exploits, when one man alone hath the oversight of all enterprises, both secret and open, and withal is Captain, Lord, and treasurer, and always present at the affairs. But who can deny, that it is not a great deal better for great and mighty nations to be governed Monarchically, to the end that they may maintain themselves in unity at home, and abroad in reputation? Especially those nations where there are Princes, Dukes, Marquesses, Earls, Barons, and other Gentlemen, who possess in the highest, lowest, & middle sort of justice, Villages, Boroughs Towns, Castles, with vassals holding and relying of them by fealty and homage: as namely, in France, Spain, and other countries, wherein the Monarch by absolute power and force when need is, holdeth in the greater sort with the less, staying the insolency of the one, and relieving others from oppression. Otherwise, if they were divided into many heads, disagreeing among themselves, and acknowledging no sovereign Lord, who doubteth but that they would be continually troubled with civil wars, set upon by strangers, and spoiled of all sides? Italy proveth this sufficiently unto us, which commanded the greatest part of the world, when it was united in one: but being now divided into many Potentates and Seignories, after unspeakable calamities of civil wars, which it hath suffered a long time it is yet without doubt exposed for a prey to all the neighbours, if they were not stayed with other wars: If we consider the antiquity of the royal government, and how it hath 
Italy a prey to all her neighbours, & why  been practised of all nations almost either whole, or in part, to their great honour & felicity, we shall be constrained to prefer it before all others, & to accounted all those happy that live under a Monarchy. As men lived in old time (saith Aristotle) under kings so they thought that the gods had 
Of the antiquity of a kingdom.  a king. All nations (saith Cicrro) obeyed kings in old time, which kind of rule was at the first bestowed upon most just men. And it hath greatly profited our common wealth, that from the beginning thereof it hath been ruled by a kingly government. The first name of Empire and rule, known in the earth (saith Sallust) was the royal estate, but then men lived without covetousness, every one being content with his own. From the beginning (as Trogus Po●peius' writeth) of countries and nations, the government was in the hands of kings, who were not lift up to that high degree of majesty by popular ambition, but for thetr modesty, which was known and approved of good men. Than the people were not kept in awe by any laws, but the pleasure and will of princes stood for laws. They were more given to keep the ●frontiress of their Empire, than to enlarge them. Kingdoms were bounded by his Country, that reigned therein. Ninus king of the Assyrians, whom the Scripture 
Ninus was the first that extended the limits of his kingdom. What estates were ruled Monarchically.  calleth Nimrod, (that is a rebel) and a mighty hunter, was the first that changed the ancient custom of the nations, through greedy desire of ruling, and that began to war upon his neighbours. For finding that the people knew not as yet how to resist, he subdued them all, from his kingdom to the end of Lybia. Almost all the ancient nations of greatest renown lived under the royal government, as the Scythians, Ethiopians, Indian's, Assyrians, Medes, Egyptians, Bactrians, Armenians, Macedonians, jews, and Romans, after they were weary of other government. Those also that are most famous at this day, live after the same sort as the French men, Spaniards, Englishmen, Polonians, Danes, Moscovites, Tartars, Turks, Abyssines, Moors, Agiamesques, Zagathians, Cathains, yea the savage people newly discovered, are in manner all under kings. And they that live in other kinds of Commonwealths, as the Venetians, do retain an outward show of a King, whom they call a Duke, who is elective, and to continued his estate as long as he liveth. In other places they have Gonfalonners, as at Lucques, the like whereof they were wont to have at Florence, and at Sienna. In some places they have Aduoyers, or Bourge masters, as in the Cantons of 
The Duke doom of Venice is elective What this ●o●d Emperor imports  Switzerland, and in the free Towns of Germany, which acknowledge and Emperor. Upon which name we will note by the way, that it importeth no more than the name of a king, although amongst the Lawyers and others, there have been infinite questions as touchching the authority and pre-eminence of both: namely, that the Emperors have usurped over other kings until this present, albeit the power and Majesty of the Empire is greatly diminished, so that nothing else remaineth in a manner but the name and shadow of it within Germany. As for this title of Emperor, which the Roman monarch took to themselves, and before used to call their Generals in war by that name, it was upon this 
Upon what occasion the name of Emperor was first given to a Monarch. The reasons alleged against a Monarchy answered.  occasion taken up. After they had deprived Tarquin of the kingdom of Rome, by reason of his pride and insolency, this name of king become so odious amongst the Romans, that it was forbidden to be used, by an edict and solemn oath. Whereupon when their popular Estate was changed into a Monarchy, they would not call their Monarch by the name of king, by reason of their ancient oath, but called him Emperor, as Appian writeth. But to continued the discourse of our principal matter, and to answer briefly to the reasons alleged against a Monarchy, we have first to note, that the most part of the dangers mentioned do cease, where the Monarchy goeth by succession, as it doth in ours. For there is no cause of fear in regard of any that might aspire to the crown, or of the treaties and aliances; which are not broken by the prince his death, but renewed and confirmed by his successor and heir, unless before they were greatly prejudicial to the Estate. That new princes seek after novelties, it may be said of some: but it is much more usual in Aristocratical and Popular estates. For Magistrates that are renewed so often, would be very sorrowful that their year should run out before they had done some thing that might 'cause men to speak either good or evil of them. As for the troubles about the government of a young king, peradventure it falleth not out once in a hundredth years: whereas if a Gonfalonner of Genes be chosen but only for two years, and the common wealth will be all on fire. To put into the balance the cruelties and robberies of a tyrant, whereby to counterpoise many good Princes, there is no show of reason in so doing. For we know well enough, that a peaceable Aristocraty wisely guided, if it may be so, is better than a cruel tyranny. But the chief matter subject to our discourse, is to know whether it be not better to have one just and perfect king, than many good Lords: and by the contrary argument, whether the tyranny of 
One just prince better than many good Lords: and many Tyrant's worse than one.  fifty tyrants is not more perilous then of one only tyrant. Now, if many Masters, Pilots, how wise soever they are, hinder one another, when every one desireth to hold the rudder, then surely many Lords will do the like, when they seek altogether to govern the commonwealth, albeit they are wise and virtuous. And truly no Aristocratical or Popular estate can be named, that hath lasted above 600. years together, and few have endured so long: But many Monarchies have continued 1000 and 1200. years in the same estate. Moreover, they are agreeable to the upright laws of nature, which (as we have before discoursed) do all 
Monarchies have continued longest.  lead us to a Monarchy. But there is more to be considered of in our French kingdom, which aught to move all French hearts very much to desire the preservation thereof, and to think themselves happy, that they may live under it: I mean that which we touched in the beginning of our speech: namely, the agreement and participation, which it hath with all good policies. Many Politics have given this out, that no common wealth instituted to continued long, aught to be simple of one only kind: but that the virtues and properties of 
The opinion of many Politics touching a mixed estate of a Common wealth.  the other estates must meet together in it, to the end that nothing grow out of proportion, which might 'cause it to degenerate to the next evil, and so consequently overthrow it. This was first observed by Lycurgus, who in ordaining the Lacedaemonian Common wealth, mingled the Senate with the kings, and after the Ephories were established above the Kings, insomuch that they were mingled and weighed so equally together, that a man could not well 
The Lacedaemonian estate mingled.  discern under what kind of government it was erected. The Carthaginnian commonwealth also, most flourishing for a long time was so instituted in the beginning thereof. It had 
The Carthaginian Common wealth was mixed.  kings, the Aristocratical power of Senators, and the common people, who had their pre-eminence in things belonging unto them. The Romance Commonwealth, during the time of her greatest glory, had these three parts so equally and proportionably tempered, that a man 
The Roman estate mingled.  could not tell, whether it were altogether Aristocratical, or democratical, or Monarchical. In looking to the power of the Consuls, a man would have judged it Monarchical and Royal: to the Senators, Aristocratical: to the Tribunes and common sort, democratical. The Venetians in their Commonwealth represent all these estates. Their great Council having 
The estate of Venics compounded.  sovereign power, whereof the Senate and the authority of all their Magistrates dependeth, doth represent the Popular estate. The Duke, who is Precedent as long as he liveth, representeth the royal power, because he especially retaineth the gravity and dignity thereof. And the College often men, with the College of Ancients, commonly ca●led Sages, representeth 
What agreement the French Monarchy hath with every good policy.  the Aristocraty, as Contarenus writeth. As for our French Monarchy, it may well be said also to be partaker of all 3. in regard of the government thereof, albeit in truth the estate thereof is a simple and pure Monarchy. For the king is the Monarch, beloved, obeyed, and reverenced: who although he have all power and sovereign authority to command, and to do what he will, yet this great and sovereign liberty seemeth in some fort to be ruled and limited by good laws and ordinances: and by the multitude and great authority of Officers, and Counsellors, who are aswell near his person, as in sundry places of his kingdom. The 12. Peers, the secret and privy counsels, the Parliament and great Council, the Chambers of accounts, the Treasurers, and Generals of charges, resemble in some sort the Aristocrity. The States yearly held in the Provinces, the Miralties of towns, Shreevalties, Consulships, Capitolats', and Church wardens, are as it were the form of a Democraty, as Siessel declareth more at large. Moreover the general Estates of the Realm, which are wont to be gathered together to deliberate (the king being Precedent) of all matters concerning the Estate, do they not sufficiently testify the happy order thereof, drawing near to the government of a good OH economist, when the king (as Aristotle saith (commandeth in his kingdom, as a good father of a family ruleth over his children, with love, and according to right and justice? Wherhfore although all the authority of Officers, Counsellors, Parliaments, and Estates, dependeth (as rivers of a fountain) of the only power of their king and prince, yet of his fatherly and royal goodness he granteth them such authority, that hardly could he do any thing that were very violent, or too prejudicial to his subjects. And if some such actions may be noted, they come rather through the fault of his Counselors, than from his Majesty. Thus let us conclude with Plato, that the royal government and authority aught to be pre●rred before all other policies, as that which draweth nearest to the divinity. But it must have a Senate of good men joined unto it, after the form of an Aristocraty, as our kings have always used to have, of their natural benignity, which maketh them inclinable to all exercises of virtue, piety, and justice.   

Of divers kinds of Monarchies, and of a Tyranny. Chap. 58.  ACHITOB. 
THe variety of manners, and inclinations to divers things, which is (we see) 
Why men are diversly affected unto divers forms of governments.  particularly in every one from his birth, and generally throughout all nations of the world, disposeth without doubt the people as they grow in age and judgement, and according to their bringing up, to like one kind of government rather than another. But Frenchmen have even to these last times, carried away the praise of a more natural and constant disposition, love, obedience, and fidelity towards the majesty of a king, than other nations 
The pra●se of the French nation for their love to a Monarchy.  ever showed to their form of estate and government. For amongst them all, there is not one nation to be found, that hath so constantly continued in their laws and ancient customs without any alteration and change, as this flourishing Monarchy, which hath also go beyond them in all goodness and mildness of government, as we may see better (my Companions) if we compare with it those sundry sorts of Monarchies, which have been heretofore, and do at this day flourish, of which many come as near to a tyranny, as ours is far distant from it. And to make a tyranny appear more odious, we will consider the pernicious and miserable estate thereof.  ASER. 
As it properly belongeth to a royal estate to govern and to rule subjects, not 
The difference between the rule o● a king & of a tyrant.  according to the sensual appeti●e, and disordered will of the Prince, but by maturity of counsel, and by observation of laws and of justice: so it agreeth with a tyrant to reign by his absolute will, without all regard either of laws, or of the precepts of justice.  AMANA. 
A tyrant (saith Seneca) differeth from a king in effect, not in name. The one seeketh his own good only, and the other, the profit of the commonwealth. Now let us hear ARAM, who will teach us to discern them well by their works.  ARAM. 
Among all the Monarchies that ever were, or are at this day among men, most of the ancient Authors and great Politics have noted out five sundry sorts, of which I purpose 
Five kinds of Monarchies.  here to discourse particularly with brief examples, that the excellency of ours may the better appear over others, especially over those that decline much unto tyranny, whose shame and infamy I will here display. The first and most ancient kind of Monarchy was 
How the first Monarchy came up.  that, which was voluntarily offered by the people for some heroical virtue appearing in those men whom they judged worthy to govern them justly and uprightly. And when they continued in this sort to declare themselves benefactors of the multitude, in gathering them together, in giving unto them territories, and in distributing lands among them, in finding out of arts, in making of war, and in the administration of justice unto them, their authority and power did lawfully descend to their successors, who had sovereign power in time of war, and were chief in certain solemn ceremonies of their sacrifices. Herodo●us, Demosthenes, Aristotle, Cicero, and many others, make mention of this kind of Monarchy. After the flood, when the number of men increased, Noah persuaded his children, and others of his posterity, to disperse themselves in divers countries, to till the ground, and to build 
Gen. 10. 8. Of the reign of Nim●od. Nim●od was the first king that war●ed upon his neighbours.  towns, and to this end he assigned to every one his Province by lot. Nimrod the son of Cush, whose grandfather Noah was, abode with his men in the land of the Chaldeans, and was their first king, and the first king of Babylon. He was the first that began to extend his bounds by force upon his neighbours, sending whole companies of people into many and divers countries, to lay the foundations of other kingdoms, as histories do give us certain knowledge thereof. This is the cause why many establish the first Monarchy in Assyria under him. We read also in good authors that the first and ancient kings of Egypt kept themselves a long time in this heroical virtue, which had procured unto 
Of the happy reign of the ancient kings of Egypt.  them their dignity. They lived not disorderly as those do, who because of their dominion, judge their own will to be a just law for them, but they followed the constitutions of laws, as well in the gathering of their duties and tributes, as in their manner of life. They used the service of noblemen's and Prince's children only, who were of the age of twenty years, and were instructed in all sciences. The reason whereof was, that the king being 
They used the service only of Noble men's children, and they well learned.  pricked forward with the sight of them that were about him, might beware how he committed any thing worthy of reproach. And truly there is nothing that corrupteth Princes so much as vicious servants, who seek to please their sensual desires and affections. When the king arose in the morning, he was bound first to take and receive all the letters and requests that were brought unto him, that answering necessary matters first; all his affairs might be guided by order & reason. Than he went to the temple to offer sacrifice to the gods, where the Prelate & chief Priest, after the sacrifice & prayers were ended, rehearsed with a loud voice in the presence of the people, what virtues were in the king, what reverence and religion towards the gods was in him, and what clemency and humanity towards men. Moreover, he told that he was continent, just, noble minded, true liberal, one that bridled his desires, & punished malefactors with a more mild & light punishment 
The Priests of Egypt used to praise their Princes in the Temple before the people.  than the greatness of their sin and offence required, rewarding also his subjects with graces and gifts that were greater than their deserts. This done, he exhorted the king to a happy life agreeable to the gods, & likewise to good manners, by following after honour and virtue, and therewithal propounded unto him certain examples of the excellent deeds of ancient kings, thereby to provoke him the rather thereunto. These kings lived with simple meats, as with veal and birds for all dishes: they kept very exactly all the laws and ordinances of their country in every point of their life, which was no less directed even in the lest things, than the simplest of their subjects. And truly so long as the kings of Egypt were such zealous observers of their laws, and of justice, and reigned peaceably among their subjects, they brought many strange nations into their subjection, and gathered together infinite riches, whereby they adorned their country with great buildings and sumptuous works, and decked their towns with many gifts and benefits. The barbarian kingdoms 
The diet of the ancient kings of Egypt.  were the second kind of Monarchy: namely the ancient Monarchies of the Assyrians, Medes and Persians', whose princes usurped lordly rule over their goods and persons, and governed their subjects as a father of a family doth his slaves. Which kind of government savoureth more of a tyranny, than of a kingdom: beside, it is directly against the law of nature, which keepeth every one in his liberty, and in the possession of his own goods. Notwithstanding when by the law of arms, and of just war, a prince is made lord over any people they properly belong to him that conquereth, and they that are overcome, are made his 
Of the second land of Monarchy.  slaves by the ancient consent of all nations: and this maketh the difference between the Lord like Monarchy, and a tyranny, which abuseth free subjects as slaves. Of the second kind of Monarchy was the kingdom of Persia (as Plato writeth) under Cambyses, Xerxes, and and other kings, until the last Darius. For usurping more absolute authority to rule than was convenient, they began to contemn their Vassals, and to accounted of them as of sl●ueses: and putting no more confidence in them, they entertained into their service mercenary soldiers 
The difference between a lord like Monarchy and a tyranny.  and strangers, whereby they made their own subjects unfit for war, and so in the end lost their estate, when it seemed to have attianed to the top of worldly prosperity. Such is the estate of the Turk at this day, wherein he is sole Lord, commanding over his subjects in rigorous manner, aswell over the Musulmanss, as Christians and jews, He useth in his principal affairs, which concern peace and war, and matters of government, the service of runagate slaves, whom he placeth in authority, changeth or deposeth as he thinks good with 
Marks of a tyrannical government.  out peril and envy: yea he strangleth them upon the lest suspicion or dislike conceived of them, not sparing his own children and others of his blood, if they anger him. So did Sultan Solyman deal with Hibrahim Bascha, who was almost of equal authority with him: in so much that he was there called the Signior, king of the sanitzaries, the Bascha, and 
Of the estate of the Turk.  king of the men of arms. Nevertheless in one night, wherein he made him stay and sup with him, and lie in his own chamber, he caused him to be slain, and his body to be call into the sea. The morrow after he seized upon his goods, as confiscate: and carried them 
The death of Hibrahim Bascha.  away: and yet no man ever knew the cause of his death, except it were this, that he was grown too great, and consequently suspected of his master, who was a tyrant, rather than a king. Likewise he keepeth in his hands all the Lordships of his kingdom, which he distributeth to men of war, who are charged to maintain a certain number of men 
The Turk disposeth of all Lordships at his pleasure  of arms, and of horses, according to the rate of their revenue: and when it pleaseth him he taketh them away again. Neither is there any man in all the countries under his obcence, that possesseth Towns, Castles, and Villages, or dwelleth in strong houses, or that dare build higher than one story or than a dove house. The great Knees, or Duke of Moscovia, 
Of the Estate of Moscovia.  exceedeth for severity, and rigour of commanding all the Monarches in the world, having obtained such authority over his subjects both Ecclesiastical and secular, that he may dispose of their goods and lives at his pleasure, so that none dare gain say him in any thing. They confess publicly, that the will of their prince is the will of God, and that whatsoever he doth, is done by the will of God. The king of Ethiopia is also a Lordly 
Of the king of Ethiopia. The king of Ethiopia whipped his Lords like slaves.  Monarch having (as Paulus iovius affirmeth) fifty kings no less subject unto him than slaves. And Francis Au●rez writeth, that he hath seen the great Chancellor of that Country scourged stark naked with other Lords, as the very slaves of the Prince, where in they think themselves greatly honoured. The Emperor Charles the fift, having brought under his obedience the kingdom of Per●, made himself sovereign Lord thereof in regard of goods, which the subjects have not, but as they farm them, or for term of life at 
Of the kingdom of Peru Of the third kind of Monarchy.  the most. The third kind of Monarchy, whereof the Ancients made mention, was that of Lacedemonia, wherein the king had not absolute power, but in time of war out of the country, and a certain pre-eminence over the sacrifices. We made mention of their government before. The first kings in Rome were sacrificers also, and afterward, the Emperors 
Where kings took upon them sovereignty of religion  called themselves Pontifices, that is, chief Bishops, and those of Constantinople were consecrated, as our kings of France are. In like manner the Caliphaes' of the Saracens were kings and chief Bishops in their religion, the one in Bagdet, the other in Cayre. The king of Calecuth is chief of his religion, and for this cause goeth before the other kings of India in dignity, and is called Samory, that is to say, God on earth. The Pope commandeth over the temporalities of the Church, called S. Peter's patrimony, as king, and is held of the latin Christian churches, as head of religion, I mean in those places, and of those persons, where he is so taken and acknowledged. The king of England certain years past took upon him the title of king and supreme governor of the Church. The fourth kind of Monarchy is elective, not hereditary. in some places for term of life, as the Empire of Almaigne, the kingdom 
Of the 4 kind of Monarchy which is elective.  of Polonia, of Bohemia, and of Hungaria, in other places for a certain time, as was the Dictatorship at Rome. These estates are not commonly so sure and durable as those that are hereditary, because of the practices and forestall of voices, which are for the most part used 
The dangerous state of an elective kingdom when the prince is dead  whereupon seditions arise, to the great detriment of those kingdoms. For the Prince being dead, the estate remaineth in a pure Anarchy, without king, without lord, without government, and in danger of ruin, like to a ship without a Pilot, which is ready to be cast away with the first wind that bloweth. Also a gate is set open to thieves, and murderers, who kill and slay at their pleasure upon hope of impunity, as it is commonly to be seen (as histories rehearse) after the death of the kings of Thunes, of the Sultan's of Egypt, and of the Popes 
Examples thereof in the kingdoms of Thunes, of Egypt.  of Rome, where the seat being vacant, the first thing that is commonly done, is the breaking open of prisons, the kill of jailer's, the letting out of guilty persons, and the revenging of injuries by all possible means, and this continueth until the college of Cardinals have agreed upon a successor. And indeed in the year 1522. two were executed, against whom 
The great disorder in Rome upon the death of the Pope. In the empire of Germany. In the Popedom.  it was proved, that in sundry tumults moved at this election, they had slain an hundred and sixteen men. As touching the Empire of Almaigne, their histories are full of impoverishments fallen upon them through the election of their Emperors, as well by civil wars as by murders and poisonings. So that within three hundred and three score years since the Empire fell under the election of seven Princes, eight or nine Emperors have been slain or poisoned, besides those that have shamefully been thrust out of their imperial seat. Ecclesiastical persons also have not wanted civil wars about their elections, where in no such provision could be made, but that two and twenty Popes were cut off and many 
All elective Princes are either taken indefinitely, or out of certain estates.  thrust out of their seat, as may be seen in the Registers of the Vatican. Now we must note further, that among the elective estates, every election is either of such as the Electors like of, as in Germany they do not only choose for Emperors the Princes of Almaigne out of their divers families, but sometime strangers have been chosen, as Alphonsus' king of Spain, and Richard Duke of Cornwall, and brother to knig Henry the third, or else it is out of certain inferior estates, as the Pope out of the College of Cardinals, and not long since the soldan of Cayre out of the Mammelucks: unto which degree of honour 
The Souldan's of Cayre chosen out of the Manmelucks.  none could ascend, except before he had been a slave and a runagate Christian: so that afterward he commanded absolutely in Egypt and Soria. This estate having continued about three hundred years, was not long since quite overthrown by Sultan Selym king of the Turks, who took the last soldan, and caused him to be carried upon an old Camel all 
The great mastership of Malta elective, and that also of Prussia.  along Cayre, and then to be hanged upon of the gates of that city. The great Master of Malta is chosen by the chief Priors of his religion: as that also of Prussia was before the agreement made with the king of Polonia, by which composition his estate was turned into a Duchy, subject to the crown of Poland, and of elective made hereditary. The fift kind of Monarchy is hereditary, and is properly called royal and lawful: whether the king come 
Of the fift kind of Monarchy which is hereditary. The Salic law excludeth daughters and their sons.  to the estate by right of succession, as Thucydides writeth of the ancient kings: or whether the kingdom be given by virtue of the law, without regard had to daughters, or to males descending of them, as it is in this kingdom, by the Salic law: or whether it be given as a mere gift, as the kingdom of Naples and Sicill were given to Charles of France, and since given again to jews of France, first Duke of Anjou: whether it be left by will, as the kings of Thunis, Fez, and Marocke used to do, and as it was practised also by Henry the eight, king of England, who left his kingdom to his son Edward, appointing Marie after him, and after 
Kingdoms left by will.  her Elizabeth; or by what other means soever the Prince becometh Lord of the estate, his monarchy is always royal and lawful, if he in like manner be obedient to the laws of nature, as he desireth that his subjects should be towards him, leaving to every one his natural liberty and property of his goods, and looking to the profit and commodity of the Common wealth. This kingly government Aristotle compareth to oeconomy. For although a father of a family govern his house after his pleasure, yet he respecteth the commodity of his family. Under this happy form of government, being the best of all, we may boast that we live in France, through the goodness of our kings, who neither ordain, nor put any thing in execution, but by mature deliberation and counsel, which they take with the Princes 
Of the happy government of the estate of France.  of their blood, and with other notable and grave persons whom they call near unto them, as though their sovereign power were ruled and moderated. For first the king commandeth nothing that taketh effect, if it be not signed by his Secretaries, and sealed with his great seal: that is to say, seen and approved by the Chancellor, who is a severe controller of all matters that pass. All the king's letters must always of necessity be approved by the judges to whom they are directed, and examined not only whether they were obtained 
The Chancellor of France must approve all matters before they can pass.  by privy insinuation or fraudulent dealing, but also whether they be lawful or unlawful. Yea in criminal matters, the re-inabling of such as before were not capable of offices or dignities, writs of repeal from banishment, pardons and remissions, are scanned with such rigour by them, that the procurers of such letters are compelled to deliver them bore headed and kneeling, and to offer themselves prisoners of what estate soever they be: in so much that oftentimes men are condemned and executed with their pardons about them. As for the gifts and expenses of the king, whether they be ordinary or extraordinary, the chamber of 
Officers in France sworn to let nothing pass, that is hurtful to the realm, notwithstanding the king his commandment.  accounts examineth them narrowly, and many times of such as have no good ground by reason that the officers are sworn to let nothing pass to detriment of the realm, notwithstanding any letters of commandment whatsoever. Among other things the king may not alienate his crownerevenewes without some cause known to the said officers of accounts and to the Parliaments. And which is more, public treaties with neighbour states, edicts, and decrees have no authority before they are published in the high courts. By which moderation his power is not lessened, but made surer, more durable, and less burdensome to his subjects, being wholly separated from tyranny, which is hated of God and men, as we may have further knowledge by discoursing thereof particularly. So that over and beside those five kinds of monarchies, mentioned of us, tyranny may be put for the sixt, which we may call that, wherein the monarch treading under foot the laws of nature, abuseth the liberty of free subjects, as if they were slaves, and other men's goods as his own. Among the Ancients the name of Tyrant was honourable, and signified nothing else (being a Greek word) but a Prince that had gotten the government of the estate without the consent of his subjects, and of a companion had made himself a master, whether he were a wise and just Prince, or cruel and unjust. And indeed most of them become wicked to make sure their 
Of tyranny and of the name of a tyrant.  estate, life and goods, knowing that they were fallen into many men's hatred, because they had invaded the sovereignty. In this respect therefore was this dominion and rule called tyrannical, because it governed in lordlike manner without right over free men, compelled and forced to obey. But generally we may call that a tyranny, when the prince accounteth all his will as a just law, and hath no care either of piety, justice or faith, but doth all things for his private profit, revenge, or pleasure. And as a good king conformeth himself to the 
The difference between a good king and a tyrant.  laws of God and nature, so a tyrant treadeth them under foot: the one striveth to enrich his subjects, the other to destroy them: the one taketh revenge of public injuries and pardoneth his own, the other cruelly revengeth injuries done to himself, and forgiveth those that are offered to others: the one spareth the honour of chaste women, the other triumpheth in their shame: the one taketh pleasure to be freely admonished, and wisely reproved when he hath done amiss, the other misliketh nothing so much, as a grave, free, and virtuous man: the one maketh great account of the love of his people, the other of their fear: the one is never in fear but for his subjects, the other standeth in awe of none more than of them: the one burdeneth his as little as may be, and then upon public necessity, the other suppeth up their blood, g●aweth their bones, and sucketh the marrow of his subjects to satisfy his desires: the one giveth estates and offices to meet with bribery and oppression of the people, the other selleth them as dear as may be, & careth not for the oppression of his subjects,: the one in time of war hath no recourse but to his subjects, the other warreth against none but them: the one hath no guard or garrison but his own people, the other none but of strangers: the one rejoiceth in assured rest, the other languisheth in perpetual fear: the one is honoured in his life time, and longed for after his death, the other is defamed in his life, and rend in pieces after his death. Examples hereof are in every man's sight. And therefore Diogenes the Sinopian meeting one day in the city of Corinth with 
Diogenesgirdeth Dionysius.  Dionysius the younger, tyrant of Syracuse, who was then brought into the estate of a private man, banished from his country, and fallen from his dignity, spoke thus unto him: Truly Dionysius thou art now in an estate, unworthy of thee. The tyrant standing still withal, made him this answer: I like thee well Diogenes, because thou hast compassion of my miserable fortune. What? (replied the Philosopher) dost thou think that I pity thee? I am rather grieved to see such a slave as thou, who deservest to grow old and to die in that cursed estate of a tyrant, as thy father did, to take thy pleasure in such safety, and to pass away thy time freely amongst us without fear. And to say truth, tyranny is such a miserable condition, that even they that practise it and glory therein, are constrained many times to confess with 
Of the miserable condition of tyrants.  their own mouth, that no kind of life is so wretched as theirs. This self same tyrant Dionysius, when he was in the greatest glory of his estate, declared as much to Democles, one of his familiar friends, who had said that he was most happy. Will't thou (quoth Dionysius to him) enjoy my felicity but for one day only? Whereunto when Democles agreed, he caused him to be served at the table as himself was wont to be, with all the magnificence that could be devised, hanging in the mean while a sword right over his head, which was tied to the roof aloft only by one hair of a horse tail. When Democles perceived that, he was well contented to make a short dinner, and to pass away the rest of the day in his former estate. Lo, 

Democles was quickly wear e of the estate of Dionysius.  
A tyrant cannot long continued.   (quoth the tyrant then unto him) how happy our life is, which with all our armed guard hangeth but by a little thread. Moreover, the reign of tyrants being without measure and reason, and guided only by violence cannot be of any long continuance, This is that which Thales the wise man said, that there was nothing so strange or rare, as an old tyrant. And albeit they live miserably in perpetual distrust of every one, yea, of their kindred, yet there end is more wretched. For there were few of them that died not a cruel and extraordinary death: most of them being slain and murdered, and others persecuted with strange griefs, died 
Tyrant's have commonly an evil end.  like mad and desperate men, through the remembrance of their corrupt life, and of the cruelties which they had committed. In ancient time tyranny was detestable, that even scholars and women sought to win the reward of honour by kill tyrants: as Aristotle the Logician did, who slew a tyrant of Sicionia, and as Thebes, who killed her husband Alexander, tyrant 
Examples of the extraordinary deaths of tyrants.  of the Phereans. Thirty tyrants were slain in one day in the city of Athens, by Theramenes, Thrasibulus, and Archippus, who had but threescore and ten men to execute that enterprise. Leander tyrant of Cyrena, was taken alive, and being sewed into a leather bag, was cast into the sea. Aristodemus tyrant of Cumes took Xenocrita by force, being a wealth citizens daughter whom he had banished, and keeping her with him as his wife, she stirred up Thymotecles and others to recover the liberty of their country, who being safely let into the tyrant's 
Rewards appointed for murderers of tyrants.  chamber by her, slew Aristodemus. Besides, the Ancients had appointed great rewards and recompenses for the murderers of tyrants; namely, titles of Nobility, of Prowess, of Chivalry, images, and honourable titles: to be short, the goods of the tyrants were given unto them, as to the true deliverers of their country. Now albeit we said, that this word, Tyrant, was taken amongst them for him that made himself sovereign prince of his own authority, without election, or right of succession, or lot, or just war, or special calling of God, yet we must not infer this consequent, that therefore it is lawful to kill every Prince that 
It is not lawful for any to kill his Prince, although a tyrant.  exerciseth tyranny. For it belongeth in no wise either to any particular subject, or to all in general, to seek the honour or life of the Prince that is absolutely and lawfully sovereign, as we have already discoursed. Now to conclude our present speech, we may see how far the establishment of this French Monarchy is from any inclination, and from all things that may seem to give any entrance, life and preservation to a tyranny: nay it is clean contrary thereunto, and goeth beyond all monarchies that ever were or are amongst the sundry nations of men, for goodness and mildness of government: which aught wonderfully to stir up Frenchmen to persevere in love, obedience, and fidelity towards their king: for which strangers have always praised them.   

Of the Education of a Prince in good manners and conditions. Chap. 59  ARAM. 
THe effect of custom is wonderful, yea it is so powerful, that it passeth nature, especially, in vice and dissoluteness. Wherein if men be once plunged, it is a 
Custom goeth beyond nature in that which is evil.  very hard matter, especially if they be young, to draw them out of it. But further when they know that they have in their hands an unbridled licence, and a sovereign authority to enjoy their lusts and desires at their pleasure, a man may then say, that all hope of amendment is utterly perished in them, and that it is altogether impossible to gain any thing of them by counsel, instruction or reason. Therefore it is very certain, that the principal hope and expectation of a Prince (after request made to God, that 
The chief hope of a prince dependeth next to God of his institution.  by nature he may be of a good and teach able disposition) aught to be grounded always in his education and first institution, which being either good or bad, will bring forth like effects, to the great good or hurt of his subjects. Now then (my Companions) let us discourse of that which we think aught to be observed in the right instruction of a Prince in all kind of good manners, and commendable conditions, as well for his own profit, as for the common utility of all those over whom he is to command.  ACHITOB. 
Men are commonly careful to strengthen with rampires the banks of rivers, which receive into them great quantity of waters. But it is needful that more diligence be used in preserving and fortifying the mind of a young prince with strong reasons, grave 
A notable comparison.  sentences, and most learned precepts of wisdom, against the greatness of his fortune, the great abundance of wealth, riot, delights, and flattery, disguised with fidelity; which, like to a mighty stream, fall from some rock to over whelm and to drown the weak seeds of virtue naturally in a Prince.  ASER. 
Men must be so much the more careful in the dressing and tillage of that spirit 
Why great care is to be had in the institution of a prince.  and soul, which they know aught to be vigilant, wise, prudent, and just for the benefit of many. Such a one is the king or magistrate, or any other man that is to deal in government, and in public affairs. For to fill that soul with virtue and goodness, is to profit an infinite number by the means of one. Now let us hear AMANA discourse upon this matter.  AMANA. 
All kingdoms under which men do live at this day, are either hereditary, or given by election. Some that are hereditary go by succession from male to male only, as 
The kingdom of France goeth only from male to male.  this kingdom of France. And this did the Frenchmen wisely ordain in the beginning of their Monarchy by the Salickelaw, by which providence and foresight they have continued in the same kind of government almost one thousand and two hundred years, so that the crown never went out of their nation, neither hath the royal lineage changed oftener than thrice in so long continuance: which thing never happened to any other Monarchy or signory to any man's knowledge. In other kingdoms, when males are wanting daughters succeed, as in Spain, England, and Scotland. Moreover in hereditary kingdoms where males succeed, in some places that honour is always reserved for the eldest, who giveth an honest pension to his younger brethren, as it is in France: or if no regard be had to birthright, either he is preferred that is fittest to govern, or he that is most warlike, and in greatest favour with the soldiers, as in Turkey, Selim the first of that name, being the third and youngest son of Bajazet the second, usurped the Empire by the aid of the laniezaries upon his 
This barbarous cruelty of Selim.  father, whom he caused to be poisoned, and slew, Achmath and Corcuth his two eldr brothers, with all his nephews, and others of Ottomans race, saying that nothing was pleasanter than to rule when all fear of kindred was taken away. In some places they kill not their brethren and kindred, but shut them up in some most sure and safe place of custody, as they use or are accustomed to do in Ethiopia, where he that must bear rule, is kept alone, the 
The custom of electing of a king in Ethiopia.  rest are sent to a very high and strong mountain, called the mountain of the Israelites: from whence none of the male kind may ever come forth, except Prester john die without heir of his body to succeed him in the crown: for than he that is next unto it, and known to be worthiest and fittest, is taken forth. By this means that great kingdom hath continued very long without civil war or murder, and never wanted of spring of the royal race In Calecuth, when the king dieth, although he have male children, or nephews by his brother, yet none of them succeed in the kingdom, but his sister's son: and if they fail, the 
The custom of succession in Calecuth.  next of the blood royal cometh to the crown. They ground this upon a foolish and fond superstition which they have in causing the Queen to be deflowered by some young priest called Bramen, in whose custody she remaineth ever after, so long as the king is abroad. Whereupon they presume, and peradventure not without good cause, that the children which descend or are borne of that lady, hold more of the priest than of the prince. Concerning kingdoms that go by election, we have spoken of them already. Now because it is a very hard matter to change him that is once chosen in such a kingdom, greater consideration must be had in making the election, lest the oversight of one hour procure a perpetual repentance. But where the prince is by nature and not by election, men must labour by careful industry 
When a prince may best be corrected.  and diligence to bring him up, and to instruct him well in replenishing his mind with sound opinions from his infancy, and by casting upon his new ground seeds of virtue and honesty which by little and little may grow and wax ripe with age, and having once taken root, may abide steadfast and firm to his lives end. For there is no time better and fit to frame and to correct a prince in, than when he knows not that he is a prince. For if he learn to obey from his infancy, when he cometh to the degree of commanding, he applieth and behaveth himself a great deal better with his subjects, than they that from their youth have been always free and exempted from subjection. For by such education or bringing up, a prince addeth to his royal greatness, and to those fashions which great men have 
The best token of remembrance that a prince can leave behind him.  by nature, courtesy and gentle behaviour, which cannot but be very acceptable to his people, and contain them more willingly in the duty of obedience. Therefore the prince in his young and tender years must be diligently employed, not only in withdrawing him from dishonest things, but also in causing him to taste of virtue, and to have some precepts thereof engraven in his brain, until in the end he understand all that belongeth to his duty, and whatsoever else may help him forward to lead a good and happy life. If wife fathers with great care bring up, and instruct their children, who shall succeed them but in the government of some little house in the country, how much greater care and labour aught to be taken in teaching him well and wisely, who is to succeed in the Empire over much people, 
How a prince aught to live himself, and to bring up his children.  and whose life aught to be the discipline of their manners and conditions? For this cause a good and prudent prince must take pains in causing his children to be brought up, that he remember he hath begotten them for the Commonwealth, not to serve his private affections. Let him know, that although he erect a great number of images, build sumptuous houses, establish good and wholesome ordinances, yet he cannot leave a more excellent mark of his, than a son, who degenerating in nothing, representeth the goodness of his father by virtuous actions. For he dieth not that leaveth behind him a lively image of himself. And truly it is the perfection of an excellent prince to rule in such sort, as if he would strive, that his like for goodness and justice could not succeed him, and so to bring up his children, as if he desired that they should surmournt him in virtue. To this end therefore let him make choice of all his subjects, yea from what place soever, and gather together virtuous and sinceremen, uncorrupted, grave and such as are learned not only through precepts, but also through the experience of many things, to whom their age breedeth reverence, their good life authority and their mildness and gentle behaviour love, and good will: that the tender spirit of the young prince, offended with the rough dealing of his teachers, may not 
What teachers a young prince must have.  begin to hate virtue before he know it, nor yet corrupted through their over great gentleness, degenerate and start aside where it aught not. Wherhfore Seneca said, that a Prince his teacher must have these two properties. He must know how to chide without shaming of him, & how to praise him without flattery. Moreover, great care must be had in making choice 
Two properties requisite to him that teacheth a prince.  of all such persons, whether they are men, women, children, or servants, as come near about him, either to govern, or to serve him, or to keep him company. For seeing the most part of men's minds incline to evil, and no child is so happily borne, but he may be corrupted through wicked education: what may a man look for but very great evils from 
What manner of personsmust be about the prince.  that prince, who, of what nature and spirit soever he be, presently after he is out of his cradle, is stuffed with foolish and false opinions, nourished among fond women, brought up in the midst of lascivious maidens, of lost children, vile and abject flatterers, of jugglers and players, of drunkards, of dice players and inventors of pleasures: briefly, in the midst of such caitiffs, amongst whom he heareth and learneth nothing but pleasure, delight, pride, arrogancy, covetousness, choler and tyranny, and so departing from this school, takes unto him thescepter and government of his Empire? Now he that is elected and chosen to undertake 
The duty of him that is chosen to bring up the prince.  such a great and difficult charge, as is the education and instruction of the prince, must bring with him a will worthy the same, considering with himself, not how many benefices and bishoprics he may get into his hands, but how he may deliver up a virtuous prince into his country, which putteth all histrust and confidence in him. Let him know that 
To make a good prince is to do good to all his people.  they do good to all the people, who make them good men whom the people cannot want: as contrariwise, they that mar and corrupt princes and kings, aught to be an abomination to all men, and punished no less than they that put poison, not into a cup, but into a common 
The inclination of a young prince, must first be known  fountain, of which they see every body drink. First then he that hath taken this charge upon him, must narrowly note wheet unto the naaure of the prince is inclined, seeing it may be known by some signs even in his young years: as whether he be not given ●o anger, to ambition, to desire of renown, to riot, to play, to covetousness, to revenge, to war, or to tyranny. After, when he knoweth to what vice he is inclined, he must fortify his mind against the same with good opinions and with holy resolutions, and labour to change his hart which is yet tender into a habit that is contrary to his nature. And when he perceiveth that his tender nature inclineth to honest and commendable things, or to such vices as will easily change into virtues in princes well brought up, as to ambition and prodigality, he must prick him forward, and help his good nature by diligent travel. Neither must he use precepts only to withdraw the prince from dishonest things, and to procure in him a longing desire to 
How a young prince must be taught.  do those things that are virtuous, but he must labour to imprint and to root them in his memory by divers forms, now by sentences, another while by fables, after by comparisons, then by examples, or by some notable sayings, engraven in rings, and planted in tables. Briefly, if there be any other thing wherein this age taketh pleasure, let that be a mean to work in him a taste of virtue. Above all things specially regard is to he had, what opinions are engraven in the Prince his brain. For the whole order of his life proceedeth from that fountain. And therefore he must labour immediately to imprint in his mind holy and good opinions, which may serve for a counterpoison against the common errors of the ignorant people: ●ut chiefly to instruct him thoroughly in God's truth, and in that which concerneth his salvation. He must persuade him, that whatsoever is taught in the law of God, belongeth 
Deut. 17. 18. 19  to none so much as to the prince, and that as he is to reign by him, so likewise it belongeth to his office to reign according to his will, that he may enjoy prosperity in this world, and 
The law of God belongeth to the prince.  eternal felicity in the blessed life to come. Let him be taught to love virtue as the only good and to hate vice as the only evil: let him know that the one is followed no less with shame and dishonour, than the other with glory and honour, especially in a prince, in whom if virtue take place, as it were in a high watch tower, it shineth so clearly; that the brightness thereof remaineth long after his death. As for all worldly pomp, antiquity of pedigree, imagery, and riches, they are but mere vanity and folly, not worthy to be cared for, or to be admired by a virtuous prince. Let him be persuaded that dignity, greatness and majesty are not to be sought after by the help of fortune, or by human means, but by wisdom, integrity of life and manners, and by virtuous and noble deeds. Plato saith not without cause, that a 
When a commonwealth is happy.  Common wealth will never be happy until princes play the Philosophers, or Philosophers take the rudder of the Empire in hand. Now his meaning is not to call him a Philosopher, that 
The agreement between a Philosopher & a Christian.  is learned in Logic, in natural Philosophy, and in the Mathematics, but him, who with an untamed heart despiseth the vain shadows of things, and followeth after true goods. A Philosopher and a Christian differ but in name: and a prince well instructed in piety, is truly both the one and the other. Therefore he aught to learn nothing sooner (next to the law law of God) than the moral Philosophy of the ancients, which teacheth all virtue. Is there any thing more foolish than to esteem highly of a prince if he vault well, if he play well at Tennis, if he be stout and strong: briefly, if he be cunning in some things, which peradventure a peasant would do better than he, and in the mean while he is puffed up with pride, he polleth his people, and sporteth himself in all kind of dissoluteness and pleasure? What honour is it for a prince to go far beyond the common sort in precious stones, gold, purple, train of servants, and in other ornaments of the body, and in every thing that is falsely called good, and in the mean while to be far inferior in the true goods of the soul to many of his people, and those of lowest calling? These opinions, as holy and inviolable laws, must be engraven in the heart of a young prince, and must be, as it were the first lines that are to be drawn in the void table of his soul, namely, that he must strive that none excel him in the goods of the soul, in wisdom, magnanimity, temperance and justice. 
Wherein a Prince aught to excel others.  Frugality, wodesty, and sobriety in other men may be attributed either to poverty or to niggardliness, but in a prince they cannot but be a note of temperance, I mean, when he useth good modesty, who hath as much as he will. Ancient men called that prudence miserable, which was gotten by the experience of things, because it is bought with public loss and calamity. But such kind of experience aught to be farthest off from a prince, because the longer it is a learning, the greater cause is it of many evils unto all his people. If Scipio Africanus had reason to say, that this speech, I had not thought it, did not beseem a wise man, how much more unseemly is it for a prince, who cannot utter the same without his great harm, and greater 
The fault of a prince is much more hurtful than that of a private man.  to the commonwealth? For as in a voyage the fault of a common Mariner (said Agapetus) doth but little hurt, whereas the slip of a Pilot bringeth shipwreck: so in Monarchies the offence of a private man is more hurtful to himself than to the commonwealth, but if the Prince begin to fail, he hurteth every one. This is the cause why the mind of a prince must especially be instructed with good resolutions and sentences, to the end he may be skilful by 
A prince aught to be skilful by reason and not by use  reason and not by use. For then the counsel of aged men will supply that experience of things which is wanting in him. He must be given to understand, that his life is in the face of all the world, that he can do nothing that will be hid, and therefore if he be good, it must needs turn to the great benefit of many; if wicked, to their hurt likewise, because the prince is always the very portarature after which subjects conform themselves. He must know that the greater honour is given unto him, the more he is to strive that he may be worthy of it, looking more to his own doings and actions, than to the praises that men give him, which 
How a prince is to receive the praises that are given him.  he must believe and receive according as he behaveth himself. For if he rule well, they are due unto him, if ill, he is honoured and praised, either through constraint, or of flattery, or else it is to show him under hand what he aught to be. Let him know that as God hath placed the Sun and the Moon in the heavens for a resemblance of his divinity: so a prince is the like representation and light in a kingdom, as long as he hath the fear of God, and the observation of justice imprinted in him. For these two things make their life divine and celestial, that are in placed in high degree of power and authority: as contrariwise, the contempt of piety and justice, maketh it beast like and savage. As God the giver of all things standeth not in need of any man's service to receive a good turn of him: so it is the duty of a worthy prince, who representeth the figure of the eternal king, to profit every one without respect of his own commodity and glory. As God is not touched with any affections or 
Good precepts for princes set out by comparison.  passions, but ruleth and governeth all things perfectly by his providence; so after his example a Prince laying a side the perturbation● of his soul, must follow reason only in all his doings. As there is nothing more common than the Sun, which imparteth of her light to all the celestial bodies, so a Prince must be always ready to profit the common wealth & have within him the light of wisdom, to the end that if others lose their brightness, yet he may never be overtaken with darkness. As the Sun when it is highest in the zodiac moveth slowest, so the higher that a prince ●s lift up in greatness and authority, the more gentle and gracious he aught to be, keeping himself from doing any thing that beseemeth not a prince. Therefore let him think, that nothing is more vile and abject, than for him that is called a king and prince of free men, to become a slave to riot, choler, covetousness, ambition and other vices of like quality, which are most vile & cruel masters. He must be so affected towards his subjects as a good father of a family is toward those of his household, because a kingdom is nothing else but a great family, and a king the father of a great many. For although 
A kingdom is but a great family.  he pass them in greatness & authority, yet he i● of one & the same kind with them, a man commanding men, and free over those that are free, not over beasts or slaves, as Aristotle saith very well. And if he would have that excellent title, which we give to God, the prince of all men, calling him Our Father, he must procure it not by threatenings and fear, but by good deeds, by meekness and humanity, which will stand him in stead of a sure Guard to preserve his estate. For the love and loyalty of his subjects will greatly increase thereby, of which the assurance of Monarchies dependeth. When the nobility and common 
The safety of Monarchies dependeth of the love and loyalty of subjects.  people use to fear, not him, but for his sake that commandeth them, than he seethe with many eyes, heareth with many ears, and perceiveth a far of whatsoever is done. Let the prince have this saying of Plutarch always engraven in his soul: That nothing here below pleaseth God more, or draweth nearer to his divine nature, than to rule well in all justice and equity, which is the chiefest charge of his vocation, and that unto which he is straightly bound in respect of his subjects. For as the subject oweth obedience, aid, and reverence to his Lord: so the prince oweth justice, defence, and protection to his subjects. When a Prince showeth himself upright, indifferent, and true of his word to all, it is the greatest felicity that can happen 
The mutual duties of the Prince & his subjects. What praise a prince is to seek after.  to a Common wealth, and that which crowneth the Monarch thereof with greater glory and honour. And truly a prince aught to be more careful to obtain that praise and reputation which proceedeth of goodness and virtue, than that which cometh of strength and power. For as the divine nature, unto which kings must endeavour to conform their works and actions, excelleth all other essences and natures chief in three things, that is, in immortality, power and goodness, so a prince must strive to excel his subjects, not so much in the immortality of his name, or in power, as in goodness, which virtue is certainly much more venerable, and draweth nearest to the divinity. For to be incorruptible and immortal, the four Elements, and the whole frame are endued with that quality, as natural Philosophers maintain. And as for strength and power, earth quakes, lightnings, tempestuous 
The whole world is immortal in respect of substance, but not of qualities.  whirl winds, floods and inundations of waters, are full of force and might: but nothing is partaker of justice, uprightness, and equity, except it be divine and that by the means of reason and understanding. So that (as the same Plutarch saith) we only are capable of that Good of virtue that cometh from God, To be short, let the prince be diligently taught whilst he is young, and labour to know how he may adorn his name with works answerable to those excellent Epithets and titles, wherewith julius Pollux, who was governor to the Emperor Commodus in his young years, setteth forth a good king. He calleth him Father, gentle, acceptable, merciful, prudent, just, courteous, noble minded, free, a contemner of money, not subject to passions, 
Excellent titles of a good prince.  but commanding over himself, one that over cometh pleasures, and useth reason, quick of judgement, sharp, provident, good in counseling, just, sober, godly and full of good religion, careful over the welfare of men, constant, firm, no deceiver, minding great things, decked with authority, industrious, a quick dispatcher of affairs, careful over those whom he commandeth, a Saviour, ready to do good, slow to revenge, always one and the same without turning aside, inclining greatly to justice, easy to have access unto, courteous in speech, gentle to them that have to deal with him, plain, a lover of a virtuous and valiant man, who nevertheless are desirous of war, a lover of peace, a peace maker, a precise observer thereof, borne to correct the manners of people, skilful in discharging the duty of a king and prince, having knowledge to make goodlawes, borne to profit every one, and of a divine form. A prince of noble 
Examples of former ages must be propounded to princes.  birth shall feel himself greatly provoked to desire and seek after these excellent gifts and graces, through the consideration of examples propounded unto him, concerning the lives and deeds of so many famous and worthy men, as are at this day after innumerable ages received again by means of histories. And it cannot be but he willbe greatly pricked forward to conform himself unto them, thereby to give like occasion to good wits, to writ, sing, and pubilsh his praises. What Prince will not burn with a jealous desire of virtue when he heareth that the only fame thereof in the person of Scipio Africanus alured and ravished thieves and robbers with such an admiration, that when they understood that he was 
Scipio Africanus  in a house far from any town, they did beset it round, and as he stood in his defence to drive them away, they threw down their weapons, assuring, him, that they came thither only to see and to reverence him, as indeed they did? What Prince will not be possessed with joy when he heareth that Menander king of the Bactrians was so beloved of his subjects for his justice and virtue, that after his death the cities were in great contention, which of them 
Menander.  should have the honour of his burial, for the appeasing of which strife, order was taken that each of them should make a tomb? Who will not be moved with love towards the goodness of Traian Emperor of the Romans. when he heareth his panegyrical Oration, wherein Pliny, 
Traian.  after he had extolled him to heaven, concludeth thus. That the greatest happiness, which could come to the Empire, was, that the Gods took example by the life of Traian. Who will not desire the honour that king Agesilaus received when he was fined by the Ephories, because he had stolen away the hearts, and won the love of all his citizens to himself alone? Who will not wish to 
Agesilaus.  have the surname of Aristides the Just, as divine and royal a title as ever king could obtain, 
Aristides.  rather than as many use to be called Corquerors, Besiegers, Thunderers? Briefly, unto these examples oppose the reprehension and mark of perpetual infamy, which histories set upon evil Princes, and it cannot be but that a Prince well brought up, and exercised in the love and study of virtue, will be very desirous to show forth the first-fruits and effects thereof, especially if he be well instructed in the fear of God, and knowledge of his duty, whereof he shall have perfect understanding in the law of God, which he is commanded by the sovereign King of all to have with him, to read in it all the days of his life, and to obey it, to the end he may reign happily in earth, and finally in heaven. 
Deut. 17. 19    

Of the office and duty of a King. Chap. 60.  AMANA 
AUgustus Caesar hearing some rehearse, that Alexander the Great after he had finished most of his conquests at two and thirty years of age, said that he took great care to know what he should do afterward: I wonder (said the wise Monarch) 
It is as hard a matter to govern well as to get an Empire.  ●t the speech of that great Prince, whereby it seemeth he thought that there was less to do in well ordering, ruling, and preserving a great Empire once entirely gotten, than in conquering the same. And surely to speak truth, there is nothing more difficult than to reign well. Moreover it is better ●or a prince to govern prudently and to rule according to his estate, than to invade and possess another man's country: namely, if he consider, that God, being so gracious unto him as to bring innumerable persons under his obedience, hath chiefly established him to 
Why princes are placed in their thrones.  keep them in the knowledge and observation of true religion, to rule them by good laws, to defend them by arms, and in all things to be so careful of their good, that they may esteem of him, as of their father and shepherd. Now seeing we have summarily entreated of the education and institution of a Prince under the charge of a teacher and governor, let us in this place (my Companions) consider of his office and duty, when he reigneth with full authority over his subjects.  ARAM. 
Forasmuch as integrity of religion, and the good will of the people are two principal pillars upon which the safety of every Estate standeth, the king aught to procure 
The good will of the people dependeth of the integrity of religion.  the first, being therefore appointed by God over so many millions of men: and the second without doubt dependeth of the former, which is the only difference between a king and a tyrant, who ruleth by constraint.  ACHITOB 
In a king is seen the ordinance of God, who is the author and preserver of policies, and of good order. Therefore his fear, and reason, must never departed out of his mind 
The 〈◊〉 of the seven wise men of Graecia touching the estate of princes.  to the end that serving God, he may profit all those that live under his dominion. But from thee ASER, we look for the discourse of this matter.  ASER. 
The seven Sages of Graecia being invited to a feast by Periander prince of Corinth, were requested by him to enter into the discourse of the estate of great men. Solon speaking first, said, That a sovereign king or Prince cannot any way procure greater glory to himself than by making a popular estate of his monarchy: that is to say, by communicating his sovereign authority with his subjects. Bias speaking next said, By submitting himself first of all to the laws of his country. Thales, I accounted that Lord happy that attaineth to old age, & dieth a natural death. A●acharsis, If he be the only wise man. Cleobulus, If he trust none of these that are about him. Pittacus, If he be able to prevail so much, that his subjects fear not him, but for him. Chilon, a prince must not set his mind upon any transitory or mortal thing, but upon that which is eternal & immortal. Periandor concluding upon these opinions said, that all these sentences seemed to him to dissuade a man of good judgement, from desiring at any time to command over others. The Emperor Traian 
〈…〉.  writing to the Senate of Rome, among other things unsed these very words. I freely confess unto ●ou, that since I began to taste of the travels & cares which this imperial estate bringeth with it, I have repent me a thousand times that I took it upon me. For if there be great honour in having an Empire, there is also very great pain and travel in governing the same. But over and beside, to what envy 〈◊〉 he exposed, and to how many mislikings is he subject that hath others to govern? If he be just, he is called cruel: if pitiful, he is dispersed: if liberal, he is thought to be prodigal: If he lay up money, he is taken for covetous: if he be addicted to peace, he is supposed to be a coward: if he be courageous he is judged ambitious: if grave, they will call him proud: if affable and courteous, he is termed simple: if solitary, an hypocrite: and if he be merry, they will say he is dissolute. After many other speeches, this good Emperor concluded, that although he willingly accepted of his estate at the first, yet he was very sorrowful afterward that he had so great a charge: because the Sea and the Empire were two pleasant things t● look upon, but perilous to taste. Divine Plato wrote also, that none was fit to govern an Empire, and to be a Prince, but he that cometh unto it through 
Who is fittest to rule.  constraint, and against his will For whosoever desireth the charge of a Prince, it must needs be, that he is either a fool, not knowing how dangerous and full of care the charge of a king is: or if he be a wicked man, that he mindeth nothing but how he may reign to satisfy his pleasure and private profit, to the great hurt of the Commonwealth: or else if he be ignorant, that he considere●h not how heavy the burden is which he taketh upon him. Therefore a wise prince will not think himself the happier because he succeedeth in a greater Empire and kingdom, but remember rather, that he layeth so much the more care and pain upon his shoulders, and that he beginneth then to have less leisure, less rest and happiness in passing away his ti●e. In other persons, a fault is pardoned in youth, and growing old, they are suffered to take ●heir ease: but he that is Head of a Commonwealth, because he is to travel for all, must be neither young nor old. For he cannot commit a fault how small soever it be, without the hurt o● many men, nor yet rest from his study, but it will turn to the misery of his subjects. This ●aused the Philosophers to say, that a prince aught not to dedicated the Commonwealth to hi●selfe, but to addict himself to the Commonwealth, and for the profit thereof always to be diligent, virtuous, and wise, and so to govern his Empire, that he may be able easily to give a reason of his charge. And because no man asketh an account of him in this life, he aught to be so much the more stirred up to demand a straighter reckoning of himself, being assired that the time will come, and that speedily, wherein he must 
The Prince must give account to none but to God.  yield it up before him, wi●h whom there is no respect of princes, except in this, that they shall have the judge more rigorous against them, that have abused greater power and authority. To begin therefore to handle the duty and office of a Prince: first he must have the law of God continually before ●is eyes: he must engrave it in his soul, and meditate upon the 
The first and principal duty of a prince is to have the law of God before his eyes Psal. 119.  words and ordinances thereof, all the days of his life, desiring of God to grant him the spirit of understanding to conceive them well, and according to that divine rule to direct all his intents and actions to the glory of that great, eternal, and Almighty King of kings: as well for the salvation of his oune soul, which he aught to prefer before the rule of the whole world: as for the good of those that are committed to his charge to govern, teach and judge them. For it is most centaine, that of the knowledge of the truth in the Prince his heart, all good order of his Estate dependeth: and that his piety is of great force to awaken his subjects 
The piety of the prince is of great force with his subjects to stir them up to their duty.  to their duty: namely, when they see him follow and cleave to true religion without feigning and dissimulation. Therefore he must carefully provide, that false doctrines, heresies, blasphemies against the name of God and his truth, with other offences in matters of religion, be not openly broached and sown amongst the people, but that some public form of Christian religion may always be seen in his kingdom, which is the sure foundation of every well established Monarchy. But herein that which I said before, is diligently to be noted: 
The Prince must be sure that the religion he maintaineth is the just will of God.  namely, that the Prince through wisdom craved before at the hands of God, must be well assured of his divine just, and eternal will, and according to that, take order that true piety may not be publicly violated and polluted by an uncorrected liberty. Next, we will briefly comprehend all those points, which ancient men, both Philosophers and Christians, have required in an absolute and perfect Prince, into three principal duties and action: that is, in ruling, judging, and defending. He must rule by good laws, 
The duties of a prince comprehended in three points. Isocrates argument, whereby he proveth the good reign of a Prince.  and by good example; judge by wisdom, providence, and justice; and defend by prowess, care, and vigilancy. These duties, that excellent Greek Orator and Philosopher. Isocrates seemeth to have covertly contained in these words: which he wrote to Nicocles the prince. This may prove unto t●ee that thou hast reigned well, if thou seest that the people, which is subject unto thee, increase in modesty and wealth under thy government. For good laws, justice, and good example of life, make subject better, and prudence joined with fortitude and prowess, richer. Now that a good prince (I call hi● good and just that employeth all his power to be such a one, being ready to spend his blood and life for his people) may attain to these excellent qualities, his love and 
A prince must love his subjects.  affection towards his subjects is very necessary, as that which is able to preserve the indissoluble bond of mutual good will between them and him, which is one of the surest means to maintain great estates and Monarchies. Next, he is to begin the good ordering of his Estate at himself, and reform first of all, all disorder in his own life and manners, and correct those things that are most secret in his court: knowing that from thence forward he 
He must begin reformation at himself.  must live as it were in an open Theatre, where he is seen on every side, so that his life will be a discipline and instruction of good or ill living unto others. Therefore let him strive to excel those whom he ruleth, and to surmount them as far in virtues, as he surpasseth them in riches and honour. Among all those that follow him, he must always have the wisest next 
He must have the wisest next his person.  his person, and all other from all parts near unto him, not refusing or contemning any man of skill and reputation. He must often hear them, learn of them, and being a judge amongst such as are less skilful, strive to go beyond the best learned through diligence and study. By which kind of exercises he shall know how to govern the estate of his kingdom uprightly, and cannot but do such things as are praiseworthy. And forasmuch as common tranquility and public quietness is one principal end of civil society, the first duty of a good king towards his subject, is to maintain them in peace and concord. For it is unpossible that a 
The first duty of a king towards his subjects.  Commonwealth should flourish in religion, justice, charity, integrity of life: briefly, in all things necessary for the preservation thereof, if the subjects enjoy not an exceeding great and assured peace. Let the prince then without intermission, seek after the safest means to keep his kingdom in quietness and rest: let him deliver his subjects from calamity: let him be careful of all things which may be profitable and commodious unto them, and let him command them with mildness, and teach them obedience by the uprightness of his commandments. Let him not suffer his people to be very insolent, ●or yet to be trodden under foot and oppressed: but let him take order, that such as are most ●onest may be preferred to 
Good precept ●●r a Prince.  honours and offices, and that the rest may not any way be wronged. He must altar those civil laws and customs of living, which being ill established, are prejudicial to his subjects, and ordain all just and profitable laws, agreeing with themselves and such as breeding but 
What manner of laws are to be established in a Commonwealth. jerem. 22. 3.  few suits among his people, may briefly judge and decide them according to right and equity. In this point a good prince must use great care and diligence that justice may be well administered, to the preservation of every man's right, and to the punishment of the wicked. This is that which the Spirit of God so often commandeth: namely, To execute judgement and righteousness, to deliver the oppressed from the hands of the oppressor, no●o vex the stranger, the fatherless, nor the widow, to do no violence, nor shed innocent blood. And the●e selfsame things must he 'cause to be observed by them that are appointed to exercise justice in his name. Which because it was neglected by many kings, they lost both life and kingdom, as we read of Philip 
Philip lost his life because he dela●ed justice.  king of Macedonia, a very mild prince, and of an excellent nature, who was nevertheless slain by Pausanias, because he delayed a long time to let him have right and justice, concerning an injury which another had offered him. Demetrius also lost his kingdom, because he could not abide to hear his subjects, but especially for this matter. One day when many supplications were presented unto him, he put them into the plaits of his cloak, and passing 
Demetrius threw the supplication of his subjects into a water.  over a bridge he threw them all into the water, and would not once vouchsafe to read them: whereupon the people being filled with indignation, rebelled against him. On the other side, a good prince aught freely, & at all hours of the day, to hear the complaints of his subjects, and to provide thereafter, as one that is truly zealous of justice, clemenc●, & goodness, which are rather divine than human qualities, and most proper to him that will conform himself as much as may be (as it becometh him) to that heavenly virtue, which is always just and merciful, and (as Plutarch saith) ruleth all things without compulsion, molifying the necessity of obeying by admonition and persuasion of reason. Nothing is more convenient for a 
A Prince must execute justice upon the transgressors of the law of God & of nature.  sovereign than gentleness, for a prince than clemency, for a king than merry: and yet severity and rigour of justice are no less necessary ornaments, for the discharge of his duty, and the good of his subjects. Therefore in that which concerneth divine and naturallright, and the punishment established for the transgression thereof, he must always use justice and beware jest his facility in granting favour and dispensations, make him a promoter ●f evil, which (as Sen●ca saith (if he leave unpunished, is transferred unto his posterity. But when the prince 
When it is commendable in h●m to show mercy. How a Prince may preserve his kingdom a great while without danger.  only is offended through some light contempt, or excusable breach of his Idicts, it cannot but be commendable in him to use pardon and pity. These are those str●ng and mighty chains, which (as Dion said to Dionysius the king of Syracuse) will preserve ●is kingdom in a happy, flourishing, and peaceable estate, I mean goodness and justice. Fo● force, fear, and the multitude of his guard, assure not the estate of a prince so well, as the good will, affection, favour, and love of his subjects, which he may obtain by goodness and justice. They only (said Marcus Aurelius instructing his son) are to hold a kingdom long time without danger, who by good behaviour and iustdealing imprint in the hearts of their subjects, not a fear of their power: but a mutual love of their virtue. For those subjects are to be suspected that serve through constraint and etxremity, not they that obey being moved with reason and gentleness, These holy precepts were so well put in practice by this good Emperor Marcus Aurelius, that all his subjects had very easy access unto him: insomuch 
Marcus Aurelius stood not in fear of his subjects.  that albeit he were a great Monarch, yet he had never any guard, not not so much as a Porter to his Palace. Likewise king Numa put from him those three hundred Archers, which Romulus used to have for his guard: saying, that he would not distrust that people which 
Numa refused the guard of three hundred archers which Romulus had.  put their trust in him, nor command over that people that disinherited him. To this purpose when Plato saw the above named Dyonisius compassed about with many soldiers of his guard, he said unto him: What? Hast thou committed so many evils, that thou standest in need of such a guard of armed fellows? Now it is most certain, that the obedience of the subject springeth and proceedeth from the love of his Lord, as also that the love of 
Plato his speech to Dionysius concerning his guard.  the Lord increaseth through the obedience of the subject. But because the wickedness of men is so great at this day, that they which strive to be very gracious, are contemned and despised, it is very necessary that the prince should show forth a certain kind of gravity and severity, and according to the times, places, persons, and occasions that are offered, 
Gravity and severity requisite in a Prince.  'cause his power, and the majesty of his commandments to be perceived, being always the stronger: because in matters of Estate a man may hold this for an undoubted principle, that he is master of the estate, who is master of the forces. Thus the gentleness of the 
A principle in state ma●matters.  prince accompanied with severity, his bounty mingled with rigour, and his facility with austerity will be the means that his virtue shall attain to a harmonical justice, which distributeth uprightly that which appertaineth to every one: reward to whom reward, and punishment 
The effects of harmonical justice.  to whom punishment belongeth. From these duties and offices of a good prince towards his subjects, already mentioned, proceedeth the fatherly care which he hath of 
What authority a Prince hath over his subjects goods.  their prosperity in the preservation and increase of their commodities and riches, so far off is he from all headlong desire to invade and spoil them. He considereth wisely, that although he hath authority and power over the goods of his subjects, yet not in such sort as he hath over his own demain, or as if the property thereof belonged to him, but only to this end to demand aid and secure for the good and profit of the Common wealth. Homer bringing in Achilles offering great injuries to Agamemnon, against whom he was sore incensed saith that he called him Devourer of the people: and contrariwise when he would in other places praise the king, he termeth him Shepherd of his people. And truly they are unworthy of the title of Prince, that lending their ears to such as invent new subsidies, impose them daily on their subjects, and having against all humanity spoilt them of their goods and riches, consume them miserably upon pleasures, or cruelly in war, when they might as well suffer their poor subjects to live in peace. When Marcus Antonius was in Asia, he doubled the tax, and laid a second charge upon them, that he might have wherewith to furnish his immoderate expenses. The estates of the country sent Hebreas to show him how the case stood with them, 
Hebreas freedom of speech in reproving Antonius.  who using a marvelous freedom of speech, spoke unto him in this manner, If thou wilt have power to lay upon us two taxes in one year, thou must also have power to give us two summers and two Antumnes, two harvests and two Vintages. Further, he added this, Asia hath paid thee 200000. Talents, (that was six score millions of gold) if all this sum came not into thy coffers, call them to accounted that have received it. But if thou hast received it, and yet hast nothing left, we are cast away and undone. These words aught to be well noted of a prudent prince, that he may thoroughly consider with himself and keep a register of all that is levied of the poor people in his name: lest some few about him fat themselves with the oppression and overthrow of many as it commonly falleth out, and let him be so careful of the blood and substance of that body whereof he is head, that he profit all the members equally. Ezechiel crieth out against such princes as devour the substance of their Vassals by 
Some gold more vile and base than iron.  loans and taxes Apollonius saith, that the gold which is taken from subjects by tyranny, is more vile than iron, because it is wet with the tears of the poor subjects. Artaxerxes said, that it was a great deal more seemelier for the majesty of a king to give, than to take by polling, and to clothe than to unclothe, the one belonging to the eves, and not to Princes and Kings, unless they will falsify and stain their name. King Darius sent for all the governors of the Provinces under his subjection, and inquired of them among other things, whether 
Darius' diminished his tribute.  the taxes and tributes were not to excessive, whereunto when they made answer that they thought them moderate, he presently commanded that they should raise but the one half thereof: esteeeming the love of his subjects a richer treasure, than all the heaps of gold, which he might have gathered. We may not here forget to propound to kings the example of that good king. S. jews the ninth of that name, who was the first that raised a tax in his 
jews the 9 was the first that raised a tax in France.  kingdom, but it was only by way of a necessary subsidy during the war, not using it as an ordinary receipt. Directing his speech to Philip his eldest son and successor, he uttered these words in his Testament, which is yet to be found in the treasury of France, and is registered in the Chamber of accounts. Be devout in the service of God, have a pitiful 
His exhortati on to his eldest son.  and charitable heart towards the poor, and comfort them with thy good deeds. Observe the good laws of thy kingdom: take no taxes or benevolences of thy subjects, unless urgent necessity, and evident commodity force thee unto it, & then upon a just cause, & not usually, if thou dost otherwise, thou shalt not be accounted a king, but a tyrant, etc. I leave the rest of the clauses in his Testament. Moreover liberality well used, as we have else where hand led the same, is a very comely ornament for a Prince. Socrates' said, that it was the duty of a 
Liberality necessary in a prince.  king to be beneficial to his friends, and of his enemies to make good friends, to which purpose nothing will help him more than Liberality. Neither must he be only liberal, but magnifical also and sumptuons, provided always that of magnifical, he become not prodigal which would soon make him an exactor, and in the end a tyrant. But a sovereign prince must especially have an eye to this, that the rewards of virtue due to worthy men be preferred before all his gifts and good turns, and th' the recompeuce such as have deserved any thing, before he give to them that have deserved nothing. For an ungrateful prince will hardly 
The difference between a reward and a benefit.  retain an honourable and virtuous man any long time in his service. Neither is the estimation of a reward, and of a good turn all one: because a reward is given for a desert, and a benefit by grace. Besides, a prince must be always true, and as good as his promise, that men 
A king must be as good as his word.  may give greater credit to his ba●e word, than to another man's oath. For it aught to be as an oracle, which looseth his dignity, when men have conceived such an evil opinion of him, that he may not be believed unless he swear. And if he pawn his faith at any time, he must accounted it sacred and inviolable: because faith is the foundation and stay of justice, upon which the estate of great men is grounded, as we discoursed else where. That saying of Theopompus king of Sparta, is also to be well noted by the prince. When a friend of his asked him how a 
The saying of Theopompus  king might keep his kingdom in safety, he answered: By granting liberty to his friends freely to tell him the truth. He must take their advice in doubtful matters, that he may govern his estate more assuredly, weighing and judging of their opinions with great prudence. Neither must he think them his best servants that praise all his sayings and doings, but those that with modesty reprove his faults: he must discern wisely between them that cunningly flatter 
A prince must discern wisely between faithful servants and flatterers.  him, and those that love and serve him faithfully, that wicked men may not be in greater credit with him than good men. For this cause also he must carefully inquire after his household servants and familiar friends, that he may know them well: because all other men will take him to be such a one as they are with whom he converseth ordinarily. Osiris' king of Egypt had for his Arms a Sceptre with an eye in the top of it: noting thereby the wisdom 
Wisdom necessary in a King.  that aught to be in a king: namely, that it belongeth not to one that wandereth out of his way, to direct others; that seethe not, to guide: that knoweth nothing, to teach: and that will not obey reason, to command. Likewise in all his actions he must use reason as a heavenly guide, having chased away the perturbations of his soul, and esteem it a greater and more royal matter to command himself, than others. He must think that it is the true and proper office of a king, not to submit himself to his pleasures, but to contain his 
Temperance requisite in a Prince.  own affections rather than his subjects. Further, he must use to take pleasure in those exercises, which may procure him honour, and 'cause him to appear better to the world. He 
What manner of exercise a prince must use.  must not seek for reputation in vile things, which men of base estate and naughty behaviour commonly practise, but follow after virtue only, wherein wicked persons have no part. Let him remember always that he is a king, and therefore that he must strive to do nothing unworthy so high a dignity, but continued his memory by valiant and noble acts. This is that wherein one of the wise Interpreters knew well how to instruct king Ptolemy, who demanded of him how he might behave himself, that neither idleness nor pleasure might distracted him. It is (said he) in thine own power, as long as thou commandest over a great kingdom, and hast so many great affairs to manage continually, which will not suffer thee to distracted thy mind upon other matters. If private men, borne to virtue, are willing many times to die, that they may purchase honour: much more aught kings to do those things which will procure them honour, fear, and estimation every where during their life, and also through their brightness shine a great while after their death. Moreover, a Prince must be warlike, and skilful in warfare, providing carefully all things necessary for war, and yet he must love 
A prince must be skilful in water, and yet love peace.  peace, and usurp nothing that belongeth to another man contrary to right; nor enter into war, but to repel violence in extreme necessity. Above all things he must fear civil dissensions, as most pernicious to his Estate, and ●ake advice prudently concerning the means 
A prince must carefully avoid civil dissension.  whereby all occasions of their entrance may be taken from his people. Herein learning will help him well, and the knowledge of Histories, which set before his eyes the adventures that have befallen both small and great, and call to his remembrance the times past, whereby he may better provide for the time to come. Unto which if he add the counsel of wise men as we have already touched, he shall know more perfectly whatsoever concerneth the good of his estate. But above all he must know how to make choice of men, and not think them 
What counsellors a prince must use.  wise that dispute curiously of small things, but those that speak very aptly of great matters. Neither let him accounted those men best, and worthiest of credit, that have gotten most authority, but try and judge them by their profitable works: namely, if he see that they give him wise and free counsel, according as occasions concur, and affairs require: and then let him always with speed execute those things, which by their counsel he findeth good and necessary. For the conclusion thereof of our present discourse, we will comprehend the office and duty of a good Prince in few words: namely, if he serve God in sincerity and purity 
The sun me of the duty of a prince.  of heart, if he inquire diligently after the truth of his word, and 'cause his subjects to live thereafter: if he provide for their profit, redress their miseries, and ease them of oppression, exaction, and polling. If he be pliable to hear the requests and complaints of the lest, indifferent and moderate in answering them, ready to distribute right to every one, by propounding reward for virtue, and punishment for vice. If he be prudent in his enterprises, bold in his exploits, modest in prosperity, constant in adversity, steadfast in word, wise in counsel: briefly, if he govern in such sort, and reign so well, that all his subjects may have what to imitate, and strangers to commend.   
The end of the fifteenth days work.   

The sixteenth days work.  

Of a Council, and of Counsellors of estate. Chap. 61.  ASER. 
DIoclesian the Emperor said: That the condition of Princes was miserable 
A common misery incident to the estate of Princes.  and dangerous, because they were commonly deceived by them whom they trusted most, being themselves almost always shut up in their palaces, and understanding no more of their affairs, than their Ministers would declare unto them, who consult many times together how they may disguise the truth of their estate. For this cause although it 
Counsellors are the eyes and ears of a prince.  be necessary for a Prince to have many eyes and ears, for which intent we say that his counsellors serve, yet he must look himself as much as he can even to the depth of his affairs. And truly it belongeth to the dumb, blind, and deaf, to speak, see and hear nothing, but by the mouth, eyes, and ears of other men. But in those things wherein the Prince is constrained to rely upon another man's report, he must use great prudence to discern flatterers and disguisers of matters, who are not touched but only with their private profit, from those that are moved with the zeal of public benefit, and of 
What counsellors are to be used by princes.  his service; and use these men in matters of counsel, which is most necessary for the sound preservation of all estates. And indeed there was never any estate but used counsel and counsellors in the establishing and government thereof, as we may understand more of you my companions, if you think good to discourse of this matter.  AMANA. 
Counsel (said Socrates) is a sacred thing, and (as Plato calleth it) the anchor 
Counsel is the anchor of the City.  of the whole City, whereby it is fastened and stayed, as a ship in the water. Yea, all the great and goodly exploits of arms and Laws, are nothing else but the execution of a wise council.  ARAM. 
Counsel (saith the same Plato) hath the selfsame place in a Commonwealth 
The excellency of counsel.  that the soul and head hath in living creatures. For the understanding is infused into the soul, and sight and hearing are placed in the head: so that the understanding being joined to these two goodly senses, and reduced into one, preserveth every thing. But of thee (ACHITOB) we expect a whole discourse upon this matter.  ACHITOB. 
All Commonwealths consist chief of two things, of council and of 
All commonwealths consist chief of two things.  judgement, according to the disposition of which, the affairs of the estate are well or ill handled. Therefore to enter into this matter here propounded, and to leave judgements to be considered of hereafter, we must first know that the ordinary Council of an Estate, which the Ancients commonly called a Senate, is the lawful assembly of Counsellors of estate, to give advice to them that have sovereign power in every commonwealth. When 
What a Council is  we say a lawful assembly, it is to be understood of that power which is given unto them by the sovereign to meet together in time and place appointed. And whereas we call them counsellors of estate, it is to distinguish them from other counsellors and officers, who are often called to give advice to princes, every one according to his vocation and quality, and yet are neither counsellors of estate, nor ordinary counsellors. Of this Council all the rest 
The profit of council.  of the public government dependeth, and by this all the parts the Commonwealth are tied, united, and knit together, through that direction of religion, justice, war, treasures, laws, magistrates and manners, which proceedeth from i●. Therefore the Senate is very well 
A council or Senate is the soul of the Commonwealth.  called by Cicero, the soul, reason, and understanding of a commonwealth: whereby he meaneth, that it can be no more maintained without a council, than a body without a soul, or a men without reason. The Hebrews likewise called the council a foundation whereupon all goodly and commendable actions are built, and without which all enterprises are overthrown. Now forasmuch as there hath been, and are at this day among sundry nations, sundry sorts of governments and policies, so there is no less difference in the establishment of a council in them, as also many alterations in the institution and power thereof. 
The Hebrews compared it to a foundation.  And namely, among the ancient Grecians, beside the several council of every Commonwealth, there was the sacred council of the Amphictions, so called, because it was instituted by Amphiction the son of Deucalion. This council was as it were the general assembly of the estates of all Graecia, and was held twice a year, in Spring time, and in Autumn, at Delphos in the Temple of Apollo, for the commodity of the seat thereof, being as it were in the midst of all Graecia. The authority thereof was so great, that whatsoever was concluded upon there, the Grecians observed and kept it inviolable, whether it were 
The council of the Amphictions  in matters concerning religion and piety towards their gods, or peace and unity among themselves. The Lacedæmonians and Messenians met together certain days in the year at the Temple of Diana upon the borders of Laconia, and there after sacrifice, consulted of their weightiest affairs. And yet both they and the rest of Graecia had certain general counsels concerning the government of their estate, besides those that were particular, which 
The Senate of the Lacedæmonians.  they used daily. The Senate of thirty counsellors established by Lycurgus when he reform the Lacedaemonian estate, obtained the sovereignty not long after, and of Senators become absolute Lords. Solon ordained amongst the Athenians, besides the Senate of four hundred which was changeable every year, a privy and perpetual council of the Areopagites, compounded 
The Senate of the Athenians.  of threescore of the wisest, and of such as were blameless, who had the managing of those affairs that were most secret. Romulus the first founder of Rome, compounded the Senate of a hundred of the notablest citizens: and having received the Sabines into his protection, he doubled the number of Senators, which after Brutus increased with another hundred. As long as the happy popular government of the Romans lasted, the Consuls, albeit in dignity they represented a royal person, yet they had no other power but to lead the armies, 
The Senate of the Romans.  to assemble the Senate, to receive the letters of Captains, and of their ●lliess, and to present them to the Senate, to hear Ambassadors before the people, or before the Senate, to assemble the great estates, and to ask the people's advice concerning the creation of officers, 
The power of the Consuls of Rome.  or publishing of laws. But the Senate disposed the revenues of the Empire, and the common expenses: appointed lieutenants to all governors of provinces, determined of the triumphs, ordered religion, received and licensed Ambassadors of kings and nations, and took order for such as were sent to them. The punishment of all offences committed through out Italy, which deserved public execution, as treason, conspiracy, poisoning, wilful murder, 
The power of the Senate of Rome.  belonged to the Senate. If any private person or any city stood in need of some special favour, or of reprehension, or of succour and protection, the Senate had all the charge thereof It was forbidden under pain of high treason to present any request of the people without advice taken of the Senate. Nevertheless, the sovereignty always belonged to the people, who might confirm or infringe the decrees of the Senate. Since that time according to the 
The power of the people of Rome.  sundry alteration of their estate and government, the council varied in form. Augustus' established a particular council of the wisest Senators, and those but few in number: and after that another strict council of M●ca●as and Agrippa, with whom he decided the chiefest matters. In Turkey the council is kept four days in a week by the Bassas wheresoever 
Of the council of the Turk.  the Prince soiourneth. If it be in time of peace, at Constantinople, or in some other town within his dominion: If in war, it is kept within his pavilion. In this council called Divan, where audience is open to every one, they consult of embassages and of answers to be made unto them, of matters of estate, and of sovereignty, of the means how to provide for decayed provinces, of murders, and condemnations. The suppliant, complainant, or suitor, speaketh without an advocate, and is forced to answer presently to the objection of his adversary if he be present, or to prove his saying by witnesses: and forthwith the definitive sentence is given, which may not be revoked. When the council hath continued seven or eight hours, the Bassa Uiser maketh true relation to the Prince of all that hath been handled: if he lie it is present death. For the Prince oftentimes listeneth at a Window, called Dangerous, right against the Divan, which is made in such sort, that he may hear and see, and not be perceived: and although he were never there, yet they think he is always there. After he hath heard the discourse and advice of his council, he seldom gainsayeth, but confirmeth or moderateth the same. These things being thus ordered, they are written and registered by officers appointed thereunto. Concerning his treasure, the Bassas meddle not therewith, but two general treasures are overseers and chief dealers therein, the one being of Romania, the other of Anatolia. Two Cadelisquers have the administration of all justice, who sit with the Bassas in the Divan: neither doth any other sit there but the twelve Bellerbeiss, the Prince his children being Precedents in their father's absence. The Muphtie is chief of the Religion, and looketh upon matters of conscience. At Venice the general 
Of the council of the Venetians.  assembly of Lords and Gentlemen is called the Great Council, which hath the soveriagne power of the estate, and of which the Senate and the authority of all their magistrates dependeth. Besides this Great Council and Senate compounded of threescore persons, there are four other counsels, that is, the council of Sages for Sea matters, the council of Sages for land matters, the council of ten, and the council of seven, where the Duke maketh the seventh, and this is called the signory. If there arise any hard matter among the Sages, it is referred to the council of ten, and if they be divided, the council of seven is joined to the council of ten. B●t if the matter be of great weight, the Senate is called, and sometimes also (albeit rarely) the great Council of all the Venetian Gentlemen, in which the last resolution is made. At Rhagusium they created a Precedent from month to 
Of the council of Rhagusium.  month, who dwelleth in the place, and hath twelve councillors, which assembly is called the little council. There is also another council called the council de Pregadie, into which a hundred of the ancientest citizens may enter. Next, there is the great council, at which all the Nobility above twenty years of age are present. At Genes the whole commonwealth 
Of the council of Genes.  is governed by them that are borne of eight and twenty families: neither is any man called to hear any office whatsoever, unless he be of this assembly, which they call an Aggregation. Out of this are taken four hundred, which make the great council, that hath all the power and authority of the estate, and is chosen from year to year. They created the Duke and the eight governors of the Commonwealth, who are renewed from two years to two years. In Switzerland there are two councils in every Cauton, a little 
The council of Switzerland.  one, and a great one. But if any great matter fall out, that is common to all the leagues, they hold their general council, called a journey, or a Diet. The like is used in Almaigne, where the Emperor can ordain nothing that concerneth the common benefit of Germany, 
The council of Germany.  or the authority and preservation of the Empire, without the counsel and consent of all the Estates, especially of the seven electors. He may not of himself undertake any war at his pleasure, neither levy tributes, nor raise soldiers of that nation, nor call in any foreign soldiers. They have also a council established at Spira, which is called the Imperial chamber, being as it were a Parliament of Almains, for the administration of justice among them. In Polonia there is an assembly of estates every year, especially for these two causes: the one, to administer justice in sovereignty, unto which are brought appeals from all the judges of the country: the other to provide for the defence and safety of the country against their next enemies, namely, the Tartars, who make often incursions upon them. None is received for a Senator amongst them, if he be no Palatine, Bishop, Governor of some Fort, or other Captain, or hath not been Ambassador. In Spain there are seven counsels, besides the privy Council, which are always near the King in several Chambers under one roof, that the King may be the better informed of all affairs. Their names are 
Of the council of Spain. Seven several counsels in Spain.  these, the council of Spain, of the Indieses, of Italy, of the low Countries, of War, of the order of Saint john, and of the Inquisition. In the Realm of England there is a privy Council, which never exceeded the number of twenty persons. The first establishment thereof was but of fifteen, although it appeareth by the conclusion of a peace made between 
Of the council of England  jews the ninth, and Henry king of England, that seventeen of the privy Council swear unto it, namely, one Archbishop Chancellor, one Bishop, six Earls, and six other lords besides the high Treasurer, and the two Magistrates, whom they call the chief justices of England. From three years to three years they hold a Parliament, where all the Estates are called together to deliberate about the affairs of the kingdom. But enough of strangers. Let us now come to the establishment and institution of the council in this French Monarchy, where we shall see that it is not inferior (if it go not beyond them) in excellency and and good order to all that are already set down, or that ever were. First we know, that the King hath all sovereignty by right of the estate, as heretofore we have discoursed, The first council near about him is the strict or secret council, called the council of state affairs, which is commonly held in the morning after his Majesty i● up. None have entrance into to this, but a few whom the king judgeth wisest, or of greatest experience and most trusty 
OH the secret council of France.  to his majesty, with whom he communicateth his weightiest affairs as they fall out, and determineth with them of such principal matters as were deliberated of before in the privy council, and in the council of the treasury if they be such as deserve to be brought thither In the secret council the letter of princes, of ambassadors, of governors and captains are opened, resolutions & matters agreed upon are commended to the Secretaries of the estate, gifts and rewards granted with the rolls and records thereof, letters and commandments signed with the king's hand. The privy council is compounded of divers great personages 
Of the privy council of France.  called thereunto by his Majesty, either for the nobility of their blood and greatness of their house, or for their worthiness, wisdom, knowledge and experience, who have places and deliberative voices in the council as long as it pleaseth him. Sometime the king sitteth among them when any great matter is in question, in his absence the first Prince of the blood is Precedent. The Constable and Chancellor, two chief officers of the crown, have great authority therein, the one being principal of war, the other of justice. They sit on each side in equal degree, being always one right before another, This council is held either for matters belonging to the treasury, or for other things concerning state affairs 
What matter are handled therein.  of the kingdom, and then none enter therein but the Secrataries of the estate, the Treasurer of the privy treasure, the Over seers of the treasures, appointed to take knowledge of the levying and laying out of money, and the Secretaries belonging to the same, or else it is held for parties, that is, for the affairs of justice depending of the sovereignty. Than the masters of the Requests serving in their turns enter therein, who bring in requests, informations, suits called thither by injunctions, and other weighty matters which the king hath reserved to his own knowledge, or such as cannot be decided elsewhere. Sometimes also the parties themselves are heard, or else they speak by Advocates. This is greatly to be commended therein, that every one that hath entry into the council (although peradventure he hath neither deliberative voice nor place) may being in any man's request, and advertise 
A commendable custom used in the privy council of France.  the council of that which is profitable for the Common wealth, that order may be taken for the same. And many times their counsel is first demanded, than the advice of the counsellors of estate, so that the greatest Lords give their opinion last, to the end that freedom of speech may not be taken away by the authority of the princes, especially of factious and ambitious men, who never suffer any contradictions but against their wills. By this means also they that have consulting voices only, prepare the way and make it easy for them that have deliberative voices, to conclude of matters, and many times furnish the council with good and forcible reasons: and if they ●rre at any time, they are brought back again by the residue without jealousy. This privy council deliberateth and finally determineth (under the sovereign will of the king) of the complaints of private men in matters concerning the estate, of the suits of towns and provinces, judgeth of the appeals made from parliaments, considereth upon extraordinary days of the decrees of Parliaments, concerning their order and discipline how it is kept: dealeth with the transporting of wheat & wines also with all merchandises either brought in or carried out of the realm, and with the imposts laid upon them: taketh order for the currant and fineness of money: hath regard to the domains of the crown, to lones and taxes, and other revenues of the king, and to the chief customs, prolonging their years, abating the rents of Farmers, or discharging them altogether, taking knowledge of their cause and of former informations, joining therewith the advice of the Treasurer, and of the Generals of those charges. All matters whatsoever being agreed upon and appointed to take effect, wust be signed to one Secretary at the lest, and sometimes also by one of the masters of Requests before it be sealed by the Chancellor, who overlooketh and examineth narrowly all matters concluded upon: which maketh his authority very great, and sometimes odious. The great council, which at the first institution thereof was seldom employed about states affairs, was made an ordinary court of 17. 
Of the great council.  counsellors by Charles the 8. and jews the 12. made it up 20. besides the Chancellor, who was Precedent of that court: but under K. Francis another Precedent was appointed. This council had the knowledge of extraordinary causes by way of commission sent from the privy Council, and ordinarily of appellations made from the Marshal of the king's house. The court of Parliament was the Senate of France in old time, and erected by jews the young 
Of the court of Parliament  according to the truest opinion, to give advice to the king: in which twelve Peers were established, so that the name of the court of Peers remaineth with it to this day. But Philip the fair made it an ordinary court, and granted unto it jurisdiction and seat at Paris, but took from it the knowledge of state affairs. For, as we have already declared, there are no counsellors of estate amongst all the magistrates of France, but those that are ordinary of the privy council. But besides the counsels specified by us. Princes have always had a strict council of two or three of the dearest and trustiest about them, wherein the resolution of the advices and deliberations of other counsels is bad, yea many times of the greatest affairs of the estate, before others have deliberated of them. Nevertheless, this ancient 
Of the strict council.  custom of calling the general estates of the realm together when they saw it necessary, hath been always observed by Kings and Princes. Our first progenitors the Gauls, before either Romans or kings ruled over them assembled together out of Aquitane, out of the province of Narbone, of Lions, and of other quarters, about the number of threescore nations, to take advice and counsel of their general affairs. Since that time our ancient kings of France have used oftentimes to hold the Estates, which is the assembly of all their subjects or of their deputies. For to hold the Estates is nothing else, but when the king communicat●th his greatest affairs with his subjects, taketh advice and counsel of them, heareth 
What it is to hold the estates.  their complaints and griefs, and provideth for them according to reason. This was called in old time the holding of a Parliament, which name it retaineth yet in England and Scotland. But at this day the name of Purliament belongeth only to private and particular 
The name of Parliament belongeth to private courts in France.  Courts of Audience, consisting of a certain number of judges established by the king in sundry of his Provinces, and the public and general courts of Audience have taken the name of estates. The estates were assembled for diverse causes, accordings as matters were offered: either to demand succour and money of the people, or to take order for justice, and for men of war, or for the revenues of the children of France, or to provide for the 
Causes of the assembly of estates.  government of the kingdom, or for other matters. The kings sat amongst them, and were Precedents, except at one assembly, wherein was debated the noblest cause that ever was, namely, to whom the kingdom of France belonged after the death of Charles the fair, whether to his cousin Philip de Valois, or to Edward king of England his brother in law, King Philip was not Precedent, not being at that time king, and besides a party. No doubt but the people receive great benefit by this assembly of Estates. For this good cometh unto them, that they may draweneere to the king's person, to make their complaints unto him, to present him their requests and to obtain remedy and necessary provision for redress. Whereby we may easily judge, that many, who have written of the duty of Magistrates and such like treatises, are greatly deceived in maintaining this, That the estates of the people are above the prince: which layeth open a gap to the rebellions of subjects against their 
The assembly of the estate is not above the prince.  sovereign, so that this opinion can have no reason or good ground to lean upon, for if this were true, the Common wealth would not be a kingdom or monarchy, but a pure Aristocraty, as we have declared heretofore. Yea, whatshewe of reason is there to maintain this error, seeing every one in particular, and all in general bow their knees before the king use humble requests and supplications, which his majesty receiveth or rejecteth, as it seemeth best unto him? But in this case we except a king that is captive, beside himself, or in his infancy. For that which is then decreed by the estates, is authorised as from the soneveraigne power of the Prince. Moreover, we may see what great good cometh to the king by the assembly of his estates, in the first speech, which master Michael de le' Hospital Chancellor of France made at the lest assembly of estates in Orleans. Where he confuteth at large their opinion that say, that the king after a sort diminisheth his power by taking advice and counsel of his subjects, seeing he is not bound so to do: as also that he maketh himself too familiar with them, which breedeth contempt, and abaseth his royal dignity. But we may answer them as Theopompus king of Sparta did his wife, who objected this 
The opompus answer to his wife.  unto him by way of reproach, that by bringing in the Ephories, and mingling their government with his, he would leave his authority and power less to his children than he received it from his predecessors. Nay (said this Prince unto her) I will leave it greater, because it shall be more assured. The Emperor Aurelius said as much to his mother, because he freely heard 
An excellent comparison.  every one. Besides, as we see in any great peril of sea, or fire kindled to the danger of public profit, no man's service or succour is rejected, how base soever his calling is: so it cannot but be profitable for the estate, when it is threatened with ruin and the affairs thereof are of greatest importance, to receive the counsel of all that have interest therein, laying the opinions in balance, rather than the persons from whom they come. And hereby the sovereign majesty and prudence of a prince is known, when he hath both power and skill to weigh and to judge of their advice that give him counsel, and to conclude with the soundest, not the greatest side. But to go forward with that which remaineth, let so many as have this honour to be ordinary counsellors to Princes, remember the saying of Solon the wise. That they are 
The duties & qualities of counsellors of estate.  not called thither to please, and to speak to their liking, but to utter the truth, & to give them good counsel for common safety: that they must bring with them for an assured and certain foundation of their conference about state affairs, a good intent moved with reason and judgement to profit him, not with passions or desires of vain glory, of covetousness, emulation, of any other imperfection that leadeth them to their private profit: that they must at the entry of the council chamber unclothe themselves of favour towards some, of hatred towards others, and of ambition in themselves, and aim at no other mark, than at the honour of God, and safety of the Common wealth. To this end they must necessarily 
Three things necessary in a counsellor of estate.  be furnished with wisdom, justice and loyalty. As for skill and knowledge, although it be requisite in counsellors of estate, namely, the knowledge of the laws, of histories, and of the estate of commonwealths, yet sound judgement, integrity & prudence are much more necessary. Above all things they must hold nothing of other Princes and Seignories, that 
counsellors may not be Pensioners to foreign princes.  may bind them to their service. And yet now adays to receive a pension of them is so common a matter (but very pernicious in any estate) that it is grown to a custom. Agesilaus would not so much as receive a letter, which the king of Persia wrote unto him, but said to his messenger, that if the king were friend to the Lacedæmonians, he need not writ 
Example here of in Agesilaus.  particularly to him, because he would also remain his friend: but if he were their enemy, neither letter or any thing else, should make him for his part otherwise affected. To be short, let counsellors of estate learn of Plutarch, that it is necessary for them to be free from all passions and affections, because in giving of counsel the mind hath most force towards that whereunto the will is most inclined. As for fear, danger, or threatenings, they must never stay them from doing their duty, but let them constantly propound and maintain that 
counsellors must not through fear shrink from their duty.  which they judge to be good and profitable for the Common wealth. We read that the Thracians making war with great vehemency against the Athenians, published a decree, that whosoever counseled or spoke at any time of concluding a peace between them, should die the death. Within a while after one of the citizens considering what great hurt his country received by that war, came one day into the assembly of the people with a halter about his 
Examples hereof.  neck, and cried with a loud voice, that he was come thither to deliver the common wealth by his death: that they should put him to death when they would, and that for his part he gave them counsel to abrogate that law, and to make peace: which was done, and he pardoned. Consilius a Roman Senator would never be from the Senate, not not when Caesar ruled all by violence and did what pleased him, and when none of the other Senators came 
Consilius' answer to Caesar.  any more through fear of his force. And when Caesar asked him how he durst be there alone to stand against him: because (quoth he) my age taketh all fear from me. For having from hence forward such a short time to live in, I am not greatly careful to save my life. If kings did correct all those that give them ill counsel, as Solyman did one of his Bassas, who was his kinsman, they would not so readily consent to the passions of great men. This Infidel caused him to be hanged, because he counseled him to put a gentleman to death unjustly (which he had done) that he might enjoy his wife more easily. Now for the conclusion of our discourse, we will here set down the answer of one of the Hebrew interpreters to king Ptolemie, who asked him, To whom a Prince should trust or commit himself. To those (said this wise man) that love him so entirely, that they cannot be drawn from him neither through fear, gifts, or gain: because he that aspireth to riches, is naturally a traitor. Let us learn that a council well instituted and compounded of good men is a most necessary point in the establishment and preservation of every estate: and as the old prover be saith, Good counsel is better than many hands. Let us learn, that all those that 
Good counsel better than many hands.  are called thereunto, aught to aim at nothing but at public profit, of which the happiness and greatness of the Prince dependeth, who must not contemn the counsel and service of the lest when they can profit the Common wealth, but hear them willingly, and satisfy just requests.   

Of judgements, and of judges. Chap. 62.  ACHITOB. 
WE are now (my Companions) according as the sequel of our speech requireth, to consider of judgements, which I affirmed in the beginning to be one of those two things whereof every common wealth consisteth and that according as they are ordained, the affairs of the estate proceed well or ill. Therefore I leave the discourse of this matter to you,  ASER. 
No city (saith Plato) can truly be called a city if it want judgement well instituted, and consequently judges to exercise them. 
Rom. 13. 4.   AMANA. 
judgements are lawful to such as use them aright, and judges are to us the ministers of God for our good, as S. Paul saith. But let us hear ARAM upon this matter.  ARAM. 
As it is a very dangerous matter for an estate to waver daily in deliberations, and not to be well resolved touching the affairs thereof, or after resolution to leave them without 
The common breach of law breedeth contempt of the magistrate.  speedy execution: so the establishment of many good laws and ordinances, bringeth greater peril than profit to the same estate, if they be not severely observed and kept. For the authority of the sovereign magistrate, in whose name they are made, is so much the more contemptible amongst his subjects, as they know that they are less obeyed: as though the fault proceeded from his insufficiency of skill to command. He that leadeth well before, is the cause why he is well followed, and the perfection of the art of a good query of the stable, consisteth in making the horse obedient, and in bringing him to good order; so the 
judgements are the sinews of an estate.  principal effect of the knowledge of a king is to instruct well his subjects in obedience. To this purpose the establishment of good judges over them will help well that they may take knowledge of such as gainsay and resist the public laws and ordinances of his majesty, 
A certain token of the ●u●e of an estate.  who is to anthorize their judgements, as the chief sinews of the whole body of his estate For nothing ever caused commonwealths to flourish so much as the constant keeping of their country laws, and the strict execution of judgements agreeable unto them. And as 
The prince standeth bound for justice, & must answer before God for the breach thereof  Cicero saith) those estates that are near their overthrow, all things being in a desperate case, fall into this miserable issue, that men condemned by the laws, are restored, and judgements given are canceled, which things when they come to pass, every one knoweth, that their ruin is at hand without all hope of safety. Moreover, forasmuch as the Prince knoweth that he is as it were bound and indebted for justice, he aught to be so much the more careful, that it may be rightly administered by those to whom he committeth that office specially, seeing he must answer for it himself before God, to whom he may not say, that he charged the consciences of his judges therewith, and so discharged his own. Wherhfore if he adorn his estate with resolute and prudent officers, who will exactly preserve the bond of the Common wealth by the severity of their judgements, and upright holding of the balance: no doubt but all kind of public felicity will issue from the same. But let us briefly consider what judgement is, the division of judgements, their administration, and what manner of judges aught to exercise them. judgement is properly that which is ordained by the Magistrate, observing the tenor of the law. But for as much as through the infinite 
What judgement is.  variety of causes, times, places, and persons, which cannot be comprehended in any laws or statutes whatsoever, punishments were referred to the will and power of the Magistrates, and the damages of civil matters to the conscience and religion of the judges; that which they determine by resolute sentences according to their opinion, is also called judgement, although more properly it may be called a decree. For this cause we say, that as there are two principal points in every Common wealth, which Magistrates must have before their 
Magistrates must always have the law and equity before their eyes.  eyes, that is, the law and equity: so also there is the execution of the law and the duty of the Magistrate, which consisteth either in commanding, in decreeing, or in executing. Of judgements, some are called private, some public, some criminal, others civil. Private judgements are of bondage, prescriptions, Gardianships, Wardshippes, contracts, testaments, 
The division of judgements.  successions, marriages. Public judgements concern heinous offences against God and man, as sacrilege, treason, restitution of money, or other bribe's taken by Magistrates, robbery of the king's treasure, forgeries, theft, wilful and constrained murders. Plato speaketh at large of these in his book of laws, and it would be an infinite matter, and smally to our instruction, to seek out the divers kinds of judgements, which either have been or are among men. But this is well worth the noting, that amongst the ancient Grecians and Romans, all judgements both private and public, were from point to point followed, & with all rigour observed, and they, that stood against them were prosecuted and set upon with fire and sword. Among other examples Diodorus rehearseth a story of the Phocians, a people of Graecia condemned by the judgement of the Amphictions in a certain sum of money, because 
A rigorous judgement of the Phocians  they had tilled a great deal of ground that was consecrated to the gods. Which sum when they refused to pay, they pronounced their country as confiscate and consecrated to the gods, whereupon arose a war, called the holy war, made by the rest of the Grecians against them, and in the end their utter ruin and subversion. Whosoever was once accused of any crime before the judges in Lacaedemonia, although he were absolved, yet he abode a certain time after in that estate of a criminal person, during which time inquiry might be made again of him, and new judgement given according to his desert. I● the Ephories condemned their Kings in any sum, yea if it were to death, their judgements were executed with all rigour. The judgements of the Romans were for a long time in the hands of three 
Of the judgements o● the Romans. Who were judges amongst them, and how they were chosen. Three kinds of Praetors in Rome.  Orders or Estates: namely, of Senators, Knights, and Tribunes of the treasure. Nevertheless, the same persons did not always judge, but the Praetors, who were annual judges & chief amongst them, took a certain number of judges by lot out of those three estates. And if they that were taken were first refused by any one of the parties, others were chosen by an after lot, who being agreed upon & sworn, were distributed by decuries or ten. There were three sorts of Praetors, the Praetor of the City, who took knowledge of particular causes, namely, of land and criminal matters amongst the citizens of Rome: the Praetor established for matters between strangers and citizens: and the Praetor apyointed for public causes. The Senators were once the only judges of all processes: but Tiberius and Caius Gracchus being popular persons, to diminish the authority of the Senate, and to increase the people's power, joined unto them 300. Knights, according to the number of the Senators, and brought it so about, that the judgements of all causes were divided between these 600. men. Under Sylla all authority of judging was restored again to the Senate: but Pompey after that brought in the Knights again, and all judgements were equally communicated unto the three Orders above mentioned. Afterwards, when Caesar was Dictator, he reduced them to two orders only that is, to Senators, and to Knights. Budaeus in his annotations upon the Pandects, hath observed many good things belonging to the Roman judgements, which curious spirits may look into; among the rest, of the great respect and honour that was given to Magistrates. Concerning which matter, we may use as a good testimony, that which we read in Plutarch of Fabius Maximus his son, who seeing a far off his father come towards him on 
Of the reverence and honour which was given to Magistrates. An excellent way to decide all controversies between parties at discord.  horseback, and that his sergeants in regard of fatherly reverence had not caused him to alight, commanded him to set foot on ground, Which the father presently obeyed, and embracing his son, made greater account of him, than if he had done otherwise. The same author writeth, that one Uectius was presently slain, because he rose not when the Tribune of the people passed before him. And Valerius Maximus saith that the Censor did note with ignominy, and withal disfranchised a citizen of Rome, because he breathed and yawned a little too loud in their presence. But what? Estates and dignities were then given to virtue, and not to him that offered most. And oftentimes the places of judgement were necessarily, and as it were by force laid upon judges, being more honourable than profitable, yea very incommodious to such as would discharge themselves uprightly therein. I remember an excellent judgement given by Archidamus the Lacedaemonian, when he was chosen arbitrator to decide a certain contention between two friends. After he had brought them both into the temple of Diana, and made them swear upon the altar, that they should observe precisely whatsoever he determined, whereunto they yielded. I judge then (quoth he) that none of you departed out of this temple before you have ended your strife. Thus were they both constrained to agreed among themselves, and Archidamus freed from peril of losing one of their friendships, against whom he must needs have given judgement. By this means he put in practise that saying of Pittacus, That a man must not be judge or Arbitrator in the controversy of two friends, lest by judging profitably for one, he lose the friendship of the other. But let us speak of our own Estate. In old time (as many histories report) judgements were so well administered in France, that strangers did willingly submit themselves unto them. Frederick the second, submitted to the judgements of the king and his 
Of the ancient reputation of judgements in France.  Parliament, the deciding of many contentions and controversies between him and Pope Innocent the fourth. In the time of Philip the Fair, the Earl of Namure did the like, albeit that Charles of Valois the king's brother, was his adverse party: so great confidence had he in the equity of those judges. At the same time Philip Prince of Tarentum willingly accepted for judge, the king sitting in his Parliament, about the controversy that he had with the Duke of Burgundy, for certain charges which he should defray towards the recovery of the Empire of Constantinople. The like did the Duke of Lorraine in the suit which he had against Guy of Castillon his brother in law, for their division of lands. And in the year 1402. the kings of Castille and of Portugal sent an agreement made and passed between them, that it might be published and proclaimed in the Court of Parliament, to have greater authority thereby. Truly these testimonies are as famous for the glory of justice used in France, as any that can be alleged by the Grecians or Romans, for the proof of their just judgements, of the reputation of their laws, and renown of their Magistrates. But let us consider how far justice is fallen at this 
The justice of France ●allen From the ancient glory. Tokens of a corrupted estate.  day from the ancient opinion and credit, judgements being now brought to that length, and entangled in so many formalities, that it is a thing greatly to be pitied, and full of calamity, to see this Realm so infected, as it were with a general contagious disease, wherein such an innumerable company of men live by that miserable exercise of pleading, called Practice. Plato saith, that it is an evident token of a corrupted estate, where there are many judges and Physicians: because the multitude of judges is maintained by the unfaithfulness and contention of men, and the great number of physicians by idleness, dainty fare, and gluttony. There was never any nation of which this might be more tavely spoken of than ours, as it is notoriously known to every one. Paulus Aemilius writeth, that in the beginning, French men have behaved themselves simply & plainly in matters of judgement, resting in the determinations given by the baliffs 
The proceeding of justice in France from time to time.  & Seneshals, who had the administration almost of all right & jurisdiction, and thinking it unseemly and void of honesty, to seek a far off for right by means of appeal. But after that slanders arose amongst them, and suits were multiplied, sovereign justice began to be exercised once a year, and that for a few days together: afterward, twice a year, always changing the place. In the end it was determined, that the chief judgements should be held in a certain place, and that a house should be built for that purpose at Paris, the principal city of the kingdom. Whereupon, in the reign of Philip the Fair, the Palace was erected according to that greatness and magnificence wherein you now see it, with hals and chambers, into which were distributed by certain companies those judges that gave the last sentence from which no appeal might be made, both in civil and criminal matters. The erection of this Parliament into an ordinary Court, doth give us to understand that there should be one or two Precedents. The first Precedent was the 
The officers of the Court of Parliament in Paris.  Earl of Burgundy, a Prince of the blood: as in the Imperial Chamber, the Precedent is always one of the Princes of the Empire. And it was a custom for a certain time, that the chief Precedent should be a man of war, as indeed to this day he taketh upon him the estate of knight. Besides, there were eight Clerks, and twelve lay men, four Princes of the blood for Requests, two Chambers of Inquiries, where there were eight Lay men, and eight Clerks judges, and four and twenty Relators, They were called Clerks that 
The present estate of the Parliament.  wore long gowns, whether married or unmarried, and the others Lay men, At this day there is the great Chamber, which is the first and chiefest, and is called the Pleading place where first of all, matters belonging to the Peers and to the King, are decided, and ordinarily those verbal appellations that are made upon the Pleas of the Advocates; or if they cannot be readily determined, they are remitted to the Council, for which there is a Chamber appointed. Next, there are five Chambers of inquiry, wherein processes in writing are examined and determined. There also is the Tournel, or place where criminal actions are judged, and the Treasure-chamber for causes touching the King's revennes. There is the court of Requests, wherein chief matters of privileges belonging to the king's train and to others, are judged. There is the Auditory of the masters of Requests for the household, who judge of the titles of offices: the Chamber of the Generals of the justice of the Releefes, and the Chancery. On the other side is the chamber of Accounts, and that of the general Receivers. Some of the counsellors are married, others are Ecclesiastical persons, and are divided by chambers according as the court is furnished. In the great chamber there are for the most 4. part precedents, unto whom the necessity of times have added two others, who may be suppressed when there is no need of them. In the other Chambers there are but two Precedents. Moreover, there is one Procurator for the king, and two Advocates, to look to the king's prerogatives, and to all such matters: two Scribes to collect, in roll, and to deliver both civil and criminal deeds: four Notaries and Secretaries to ease them, besides a great number of other writers. Budaus, a very skilful man, and a diligent searcher out of all antiquity, hath observed in his first annotations upon the Pandects, that there were three sorts of judges in the time of Philip the Long. In the first bench, which was properly called the Parliament of Prelates and Barons, unto whom certain Lawyers were assistants, or 
Of the ancient estate of the parliament.  other learned men, called Clerks and Laymen, three Prelates and three Barons were Precedents, and judgement was not given so much by the pluraltie of voices, as by the sufficiency of those that gave their verdicts. He saith also, that the Lay-counsellours were taken from amongst gentlemen and others, of whom it was not required that they should be Graduars in the law, but it was sufficient if they had indifferent skill in other learning, as we see that some short gowned men have. They did not then study the Roman laws, as they have done since: whereupon they have erected at this day Universities of the law in the best towns of France: from whence many think that the multitude of suits have proceeded, because they learned by this means the occupation or craft of pleading, as the Lord Chancellor de le Hospital declared in his second Oration 
Ferdinando forbade that any Lawyers should go into the West Indians.  which he made to the Estates at Orleans. We read that when Ferdinando king of Spain, sent Pedrarias as governor into the West islands newly discovered, he forbade him to take any lawyer or Advocate with him, that he might not carry the seed of suits thither where there were none at all. Cicero complained of his time, that many notable decrees of laws were corrupted and depraved by the curious heads of the lawyers. What would he do if he were now alive, and saw the great heaps and piles of books, with our practice in the law? If he saw that holy Temple of laws so vilely polluted, and miserably profaned? Where a thousand cavils and quiddities are continually coined by such writings. according to the saying of that Comical Poet: That through craft and subtlety one mischief is begotten upon another? Moreover, in those happy days, of which we made mention, there were few statutes and edicts, because men thought that good manners were the best laws, and that natural sense helped with an upright conscience, and joined with due experience, was the rightest rule to judge by. But after that men become so skilful in suits, and that offices of justice, from honourable but smally profitable, being freely given 
The springs of all corruptions of justice.  to those that deserved them, came to be gainful, free from yielding any account of their doings, and set forth to sale, as merchandise, for them that bade most, and offered last: after that men began to spice their first-fruits with great sums of money, and to forsake that ancient plainness, which consisted in giving of a few iunckets to the judges: after that profit began to grow by determining of by matters, and such as happen before the main cause, and by deciding of suits by Commissioners: after that Precedents and Counsellors began to take delight in this, that they were followed, solicited, and sought to by suitors, contrary to the customs of the Areopagites, who judged by night, and in the dark, and contrary to 
The Areopagites judged by night, and in the dark. ● The Swissers forbade their judges to take any thing for judging.  the opinion of Marcus Cato, who said, that it was not seemly for a man to recommend his right to the judges, or to prale them to commit no injustice, because these two things aught to be dearer to the judges than to the parties, who can lose but mortal and fading goods, whereas the others pawn their souls to hell fire that lasteth for ever: after that gifts were received of both sides against express prohibitions given out by public laws and statutes, wherein the Swissers may serve unto us for a notable example, amongst whom it is, forbidden under pain of life, to take any thing either directly or indirectly for judging: after that advocates began to consider slightly of causes, not having so much patience to end one matter, because they would speedily to another: whereby they give occasion many times to their Clients to say as a Peasant said not long since to three famous Advocates, whose counsel he had used: Truly (quoth he) yea have laboured fair, for you have left me in greater doubting than I was in before: after they began to writ in sheets with seven or eight lines on a side, and to disguise 
The saying of a Peasant to three Lawyers  matters with frivolous answers that lay open their griefs, with contradictions, replications, admonitions: after the Proctors, who in former times were to be had for nothing, and appointed for certain causes, become hirelings and perpetual, yea at this day their offices are set to sale: after that Solicitors were suffered in the midst of them all to be, as it were the skum-gatherers of suits, with all that rabblement of practitioners, who devour the substance of poor men, as drones eat up the honey of Bees: lastly, after the Chancery did let lose the bridle of all sorts of expeditions, and went about to teach the judges, I say, after these things began to be practised, we fell into this misery of long suits, gainful to wicked and faithless men, who seek nothing but delays, 
Of the misery which length of suits bring with it.  and very prejudicial to good men, who many times had rather lose their right, than undo themselves by following it so long time by way of justice. For they commonly see the rightest cause frustrated by delays, which are granted at their pleasure that are favoured, and by infinite other unjust means. Sometimes many judgements are given 
The great abuse of justice in France.  upon on matter, and yet nothing concluded: or if there be any definitive sentence, it is by and by suspended from execution, upon the lest objection that is made, or else it is called into doubt by some civil request, or by a writ of error. Thrice happy were we, if we might continued in that ancient simplicity and natural goodness, rather than after this manner to enfold ourselves in so many proceed and captious subtleties, which have corrupted and extinguished the light of justice; imprinted in the hearts and minds of all men well borne. We see that suits are heaped up one upon another, and made immortal: and nothing is so certain which is not made uncertain: that no controversy is so clear, which is not obscured: no contract so sure, which is not undone: no sentence or judgement so advisedly given, which is not made void: all men's actions open to the slanders, craft, malice, redemptions, and pollings of lawyers: the majesty and integrity of ancient justice lost: and last of all, that in the dealings of men now adays, no show of upright justice, but only a shadow thereof remaineth. This evil being so great, and grown to such extremity, it is impossible but that, according to the course of worldly things, the ruin thereof should be at hand, or at lest it is to receive some notable change within short space. For (as Plato saith) in a corrupt Commonwealth defiled with many vices, 
How a corrupt Commonwealth must be corrected.  if a man should think to bring it back again to her first brightness and dignity, by correcting small faults, and by curing the contagion thereof by little and little, it were all one as if he should cut off one of Hydra's heads, in whose place seven more did spring up: but that alteration and disorder whereby all evil and vice was brought into the commonwealth, must be plucked up by the roots. Therefore let us not think it strange, if they that have the rains of the government of this Estate in their hands, find so many difficulties and so small means, in the reformation thereof. For as Demades said, they govern nothing but the shipwreck of the Commonwealth, Nevertheless, honest men, endued with some gifts, and with good judgement, aught not to be discouraged in so great a storm, but the more that the tempestuous rage thereof seemeth to torment the Vessel of our commonwealth, and that with such violence, that the Patron himself and the Pilots are in a manner tired, and faint with continual travel, so much the more diligently aught the passengers to le●d their hands, some to the sail, some to the tackling, 
When it is jawfull to seek after public offices.  and some to the anchor, yea now is the time (following the counsel of Cicero in the like case) that all that are endued with singular gifts of nature, fit for the managing of affairs, aught boldly to take upon them public Offices and Estates without fear, to the end that all entrance may be shut up against the wicked, who are the nourishers of this present corruption. Now if these three things, which Aristotle requireth in the all good judges, and Magistrates, did abound in them that should hereafter be called to administer justice and judgement: namely, a love to the present estate, a sufficiency to exercise those duties that are required in their offices, with virtue and justice, we might yet see some Idea and form of that golden age, wherein your predecessors lived, we might see piety and justice flourish, to the great benefits and felicity of this French Monarchy. Concerning that which may be further be required in the duties, qualities and conditions of good judges, we may be instructed by our other treatise, wherein we entreated of Counsellors of Estates, and also by calling to mind the former discourses of virtue and justice. I only will add here, that it were very commendable and full of profit, yea nececessary for the Estate, that all the companies of judges should be compounded of such notable old men, as with their knowledge have experience of many things. And indeed 
judges aught to be such old men ●ss have experience joined with their knowledge.  this title of Senator, which was given them in ancient time, signifieth an old man: neither did the Grecians or Romans call any to that degree, but old men. But how can we desire a more heavenly ordinance than that which God himself appointed, when he established a Senate? Gather together (said he) threescore and ten of the ancientest of the people, wise men, and such as fear God. Surely in this election of judges, it behoveth Kings to use great prudence, and (as Isocrates said) to take trial of them, to know whether they are of good judgement, whether they have a sharp sight in affairs, and whether they are not troubled with the change of their life, but behave themselves wisely in every estate, both in prosperity and in adversity: especially to take good order that they be not such a● are subject to lucre, from whence all injustice proceedeth Therefore Cicero would have the contempt of temporal goods, from whence all quietness 
Magistrates must not be covetous.  of our minds, cometh, to be no less in Magistrates, than in true Philosophers. Yea, he saith, that they aught to be more careful and laborious to attain unto it than the others, because worldly affairs toucheth them nearer, so that they have greater cause to stand in fear of the alteration of fortune, of adversity, and of poverty. Unto which agreeth fitly that saying of Pl●n●e the younger: That no point of Philosophy is more excellent than to deal in public affairs, and to do justice, whereby they practise that which Philosophers teach. But out 
The chiefest point of Philosophy.  of question, the form and manner, which of late time hath been used in calling judges and Officers to their charge, is so far from that which we desire here, that in this respect a man may call it the mother of all corruption and injustice. For when a judge is 
A corrupt making of judges.  made, his knowledge is not examined, his integrity and uprightness of life is not weighed, his long experience is not considered, his age and virtue is not regarded, but only his crowns are viewed to see whether they are weight. Now since that such men grew rich, although they are found insufficient, yet they obtain so many letters of commandment, so many Mandatums one in another's neck, that in the end they are received whatsoever they are, to the great prejudice of the whole commonwealth. We are therefore to wish that all valuing and sale of offices, especially of judgement and justice, may be abolished and disannulled, that all means of favour and ambition may be taken away, t●at the ancient and happy ordinances of our kings may be restored: especially that decree of Saint jews the king, whereby he enacted, that all public offices, should be bestowed upon the election of three persons, chosen by the officers and citizens 
The statute of S. jews concerning the election of officers.  of those places, to one of which so elected, the king was to give freely without money, the office then void. This holy ordinance hath since that time been often re●ued by king Philip the Fair, Charles the Wise, Charles the 7. jews the 11. and Charles the ninth that dead is, when his Estates were held at Orleans. So that if the king and his Council would advisedly consider of these things in the establishing of judges and Magistrates in his kingdom, and would strengthen them in the execution of their judgements, the obedience of his subjects would be greater, and the foundation of all good order and policy more sure.   

Of Seditions. Chap. 63.  ARAM. 
AS it is necessary that all things which have a beginning should end, and which increase should diminish and wax old, some sooner, others later, according to the disposition of that matter whereof they are compounded, 
Not earthly thing perpetual.  and through the influence of the heavenly bodies, from which (nature working in them by her author) this continual and mutual succession of generation and corruption proce●deth: so are public estates first instituted, increased, maintained, lessened, changed, destroyed, turned and returned one from another by the disposition of God. Those that are best grounded in religion and justice, have their power most assured, and are of longest continuance, but none are perpetual, although their policy and manner of government be never so good. For we see that all are corrupt in process of time, and in the end perish through their 
No Commonwealth perpetual.  own vices that follow and accompany them, being first hooved and stirred up by nothing so much as by sedition, and civil war. This bringeth to light all evil that lurketh in those members of the politic body that are most pernicious, until ●he infection be wholly spread, and hath taken hold of the noblest parts thereof, whereby it is brought to extreme misery without hope of remedy. Now, although every one of us have sufficient feeling hereof in himself by his own harm, yet we may know it better by taking occasion upon this subject to discourse of the nature of seditions, and of their common effects, that we may have them in greater detestation, and bring every one of us his heart and mind to help this Estate, if there remain never so little show or means whereby the subversion thereof may yet be kept back. But I leave the discourse of this matter to you my companions.  ACHITOB. 
All sedition is evil and perditious, although it seemeth to have a good and 
No injury is a sufficient cause for any man to move sedition.  honest cause. For it were better for him that is author of sedition, to suffer any loss or injury, than to be the occasion of so great an evil, as to raise civil war in his country.  ASER. 
Nature (saith Empedocles) useth no other means to destroy and overthrow her creatures than discord and disjunction: and sedition (as Thucytides●aith ●aith) comprehendeth in it all kind of evils. Let us then hear AMANA, who will prove this sufficiently unto us.  AMANA. 
If we consider, how God minding to punish Adam for his ingratitude and disobedience, made his own members ●ebell against the sp●rit, unto which they obeyed before, whereby he become captive under the law of sin, no doubt but we may say, that after the same manner he chastiseth Kings, Princes, and Heads of Commonwealths, that have no 
The original of all sedition  care to obey his commandments and to 'cause others to keep them, by the rebellion of their own subjects, not without great danger of deprivation from all authority by them, and of receiving the law at their hands to whom they should give it, as it hath been seen practised in many Estates and governments. Religion and the love of God bri●geth with it all union and concord, preserveth Kingdoms and Monarchy, in their integrity, and is the nursing 
The cause of union and concord in kingdoms. The first-fruits of the contempt of religion.  mother of peace and amity amongst men. But the contempt of religion bringeth discord and confusion, overturneth all order, treadeth virtue under foot, giveth authority to vice, and soaketh quarrel● and dissentious amongst men, from whence seditions and private murders proceed, and in the end civil and open wars, which are as flaming fir●ss to take hold of, and to consume most flourishing Estates. For without doubt, if men had in the● the true love and fear of God, which cannot be without the love of our neighbour, no such effects would ever proceed from their works and actions. Politics have laboured infinite ways to maintain the people in peace, and to 'cause civil justice to flourish. They have made many laws & edicts, many statutes, appointed many punishments, to bridle the boldness of seditious fellows, to repress extortions, wrongs, & murders: but because they built without a foundation, that is, without the fear of God, all their labour taken therein was fruitless. It is the fear of God only that causeth swords to be broken and turned into mattocks, and spears 
Peace and concord effects of the fear of God. Isaias 2. 4. Micah. 4 3.  into scythes, as Isaias and Micah speak: that is to say, which breedeth humanity a●d gentleness, mollifieth men's hearts, and causeth them to suffer much to avoid strife and debate, in a word, which is able to unite in one with us most strange and barbarous nations. Besides, it is the profession of godliness to suffer, and not to offer violence, neither can it bring forth evil effects contrary to their cause. This deserveth to be handled at large, but our present subject leadeth us to discourse of the nature of seditions, and to set before our eyes the evils that proceed thereof, both by reasons and examples, referring the consideration of their causes unto some other time hereafter. Sedition then being taken generally, is nothing else but civil war, so hurtful to all estates and Monarchies, that it is the seed of all kind of evils in 
What sedition is. The first-fruits of sedition.  them, even of those that are most execrable. It engendereth and nourisheth want of reverence towards God, disobedience to Magistrates, corruption of manners, change of laws, contempt of justice, & base estimation of learning & sciences. It causeth horrible revenging, forgetfulness of consanguinity, parentage, & friendship, extortions, violence, robberies, wasting of countries, sacking of towns, burning of buildings, confiscations, flights, banishments, cruel proscriptions, savage murders, alterations and overthrows of Policies, with other infinite excesses & intolerable miseries, pitiful to behold, and sorrowful to rehearse. Sedition armeth the father against the son, the brother against the brother, kinsman against kinsman, men of the same nation, province, and city, one against another. Hereupon the fields, which before were fertile, are left untilled, sumptuous and rich houses remain empty and forsaken, famous and wealth towns stand desolate, by reason of the loss of their ancient ornaments, I mean their private and public buildings, and their notable Inhabitants and Citizens. And, which is worst of all, no man will acknowledge a Sovereign, but every Province will seek to withdraw itself, and to be made a Canton. In the end, the body thus dismembered, and the parts thereof infected with the same poison of discord, destroy themselves: that the prophesy of jesus Christ, who is the truth itself, might be fulfilled, where he saith: that every kingdom divided in itself shall be desolate. Therefore David did rather choose a plague amongst 
Math. 12. 25. 2. Sam. 24. 14.  his subjects, than war or Tumults. And Pythagoras said, that three things were by all means to be removed: A disease from the body, ignorance from the soul, and sedition from the city. Plato also affirmeth, that no evil is worse in a City than that which divideth it, and of one maketh it two: and that nothing is better than that thing which tieth and uniteth it together. Whereupon he wished, that there might be a communion, not only of all 
What community Plato required in his Common ●●●lth.  goods, but also of that which nature hath appropriated to every one, as of eyes, ears, and hands, to the end that whosoever saw, heard, or did any thing, he might employ all to common profit and use, thereby to maintain better the mutual love of citizens, who having nothing private, would by this means be always touched with the same joy and grief, praising and disliking all jointly together the same things. There are two sorts of war mentioned also ●y Plato, who calleth the one sedition, which is the worst, & the other which is more gentle 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of war.  i● that against strangers. Nestor, a wise and prudent counsellor among the Grecians, said in a council, (as Homer reporteth) that he which loveth civil war, is a most wretched, cruel, and detestable man, and unworthy to live. And truly if we look to the example of those fruits, which have always proceeded of civil wars, we shall see that they have been guided after a most cruel and horrible kind of hostility, and that their issue hath been the loss and o●●●throw of many flourishing commonwealths. Thucydides speaking of the general dissension 
〈…〉 Grecians.  among the Grecians for diversity of governments, which they sought to bring in amongst themselves, some desiring to be governed in a Democraty, others in an oligarchy, rehearseth incredible evils which arose of that war. As soon (saith he) as any insolency was known to be committed in one place, others were encouraged to do worse, to enterprise some new thing, and to show that they were more diligent than others, or more insolent and hot in revenging themselves. They disguised all the evils which they committed with commendable titles, ca●ling rashness Magnanimity, and modesty Baseness of mind: headlong indignation Manliness and Hardiness: prudent counsel and deliberation, Coloured back sliding. Whereby it came to pass that whosoever always showed himself furious, was accounted a loyal friend, and he that gainsaid, was suspected. If any one of the contrary faction gave any good and honest counsel, it was not accepted: but if they could withstand it by any notorious deed, they had rather be revenged so, than they would not give occasion to others to offer the like wrong to them. When any agreement was made and confirmed with a solemn oath, it lasted until one of the parties grew to be the stronger, that he might break and violate the same, and by extreme wickedness overcome the other; which proceeded of covetousness and desire of other men's goods. Hereupon those factions and part take were kindled, which procured infinite evils to the whole country of Graecia, wherein there was no quietness, until it was quite overthrown by seditions and civil wars. This is that which Demades objected to the Athenians by way of reproach, that they never entreated 
Demades reproacheth the Athemans'.  of peace but in mourning gowns, namely, after they had lost many of their kinsfolk and friends in battles and skirmishes. Agesilaus king of Lacedaemonia bewailed this misery, when he saw such cruel wars between the Athenians and Lacedæmonians, people of one country, and although he had won a great battle near unto Co●●●th with great loss of his enemies, and small hurt to his own men, yet not rejoicing, but rather being very sorrowful, he uttered these words with a loud voice: OH poor Graecia, how miserable art thou to slay with thine own hands so many of thy valiant men, as would have sufficed to discomfit in one battle all the Barbari●●●●oyned 
A●●●il●us' bewaileth the c●●●li dissension of Grae●●●.  together. Histories tell us that the Romans came to that great Empire more by dis●entionss and civil wars, which they sowed amongst their neighbours, than by force of arms. For after they had kindled the fire in one nation, they maintained one side a certain time, until in the end they overwhelmed both the one and the other. Thus they deceived 
The 〈◊〉 of Englishmen.  the Carthaginians, the Asians, the Gauls, and Graecia. Only England was not quite subdued because it knew their practices, and turned all domestical choler against the enemy when the danger was common. Traian the Emperor writing to the Senate of Rome amongst other things sent these words: I recommend unto you above all things, friendship and brotherhood among yourselves: because you know that in great commonwealths homewarres are more hurtful than those 
Traian's letter to the Senate of Rome.  that are made against strangers. For if kinsmen and neighbours had never began to ha●e one another, and to war one upon another, D●metrius' had never overthrown R●odes, nor Alexander Tyrus, nor Marcellus Syracuse, nor Scipio Numantium. And indeed the Roman Empire fell from her greatness 

The Roman Emp●●e decayed through seditions.  
The original of the Roman seditions.   by the same means of civil war which they had long time nourished among others. Yea it is certain, that in no place part-taking full of all kind of cruelty, were so usual and so long time practised, or factions, and seditions were more cruel than in Rome. The first occasion thereof was their government, wherein the people always set themselves against the Senate and the Nobility, the Senate seeking to r●le without measure, and the people to increase their liberty. During these dissensions it came to pass, that at one time 4000 and 500 slaves and banished men invaded the Capitol, and wanted little of making themselves lords of Rome. Appian hath written at large of their seditions and partialities, and saith that through ambition and covetousness one side daily sought to diminish the authority of the other. He ●aith that Martius Cort●lanus being upon this occasion, and in these dissensions driven out of 

M. Cori●lanus being banished contrary to right, took a●mes a arnst his country.  
●. Grac●hus' the first that was ●●ain● in Rome by sedition.   the city contrary to right and reason, went to the Volsc●, and warred on either side against his country, being the first banished person that took arms against Rome. And in deed, neither in the council, nor in the city, there was no sword drawn, nor man slain in civil sedition, until Tiberius Gracchus favouring the people, and making laws in their behalf was killed, and many others that were with him in the Capitol near the temple. Whereupon hatred and rancour increasing openly amongst them, infinite murders followed, and many of the chiefest even the Consuls were slaire, the contempt of laws and judgements ensued, and in the end open war, armies and troops one against another with incredible thefts and cruelties. At last Cornelius Sylla, one of the seditious persons, seeking to redress one evil with another (after these dissensions had continued about 50 years) made himself prince over the rest in many things, taking upon him the office of a Dictator, who was wont in former time to be created in the greatest dangers of the commonwealth only for 6 months. But Sylla was chosen perpetual Dictator, because necessity so required, as he said himself. After he had practised much violence, he continued in quietness like a conqueror, & was thereupon surnamed 
Sylla made himsel●● perpetual Dictator.  the H●ppy After his death seditions began afresh & revenging of those cruelties which he had committed, until Ca●us Caesar laid hold of the signory & principality, having discomfited & overcome Pompey, to whom he was before allied. For when they 2. sought by their plat-forms and devices to command all, they could not abide one another within a while after, Pompey being unwilling to have an equal, and Caesar a superior. Afterwards Brutus and Cassius being moved with desire either of rule, or of public liberty, slew Caesar: whereupon the seditions grew greater than they were before, and the triumuerate war was opened against them, which prevailing for a time, was itself dissolved and brought to nothing. For Octavius only of the three remained a peaceable possessor of the Roman Empire, being happy in all things, and feared of all men, leaving heirs of his race to rule the Monarchy after him. Augustus' being dead, the estate began under Tiberius his successor, a voluptuous Prince, to decline by 
The Roman Empire began first to decline under Tiberius.  little and little from the period of her greatness, until in the end there remained no more than that which we see enclosed within the limits of Germany. Alexander's Empire being the greatest that ever was, vanished away as a fire of Tow, through the division and disorder that was amongst his successors. The Empire of Constantinople through the part take of 

Division overthrew Alexander's Empire.  
The cause of the ruin of Constantinople.   Princes, is brought under the tyrannous and miserable power of an Ethnic and barbarous Turk. We read in josephus, that the kingdom of judaea become subject and tributary to the Romans, through the civil wars between Hircanus and Aristobulus, who were brothers. For Pompey being of Hircanus' side, took the city of Jerusalem, and led away Aristobulus and his children prisoners with him, after the country had suffered infinite calamities by their domestical divisions. Which when Onias a holy man did well foresee, he withdrew 
The cause of the subjection of judaea to the Romans.  himself into a secret place and would not take part either with the one or the other side. And being taken by Hircanus his men, they required him, that as once he obtained rain by his prayers in the time of a drought, so he would now curse Aristobulus and all those of his faction: ●ut he contrariwise lifting up his hands to heaven, uttered these words. OH God, king of the whole world, seeing these men among whom I stand, are thy people and they that are assailed thy Priests, I beseech 
Onias' prayer.  thee humbly, that thou wouldst hearken neither to these men against the other, nor to the other against these: for which holy prayer he was stoned to death, such was the poisoned rage of this people one against another. Was there ever any folly, or rather fury like to that of the Guelphs 
Civil wars in Italy between the Guelphs and the Gibellins.  and Gybellines in Italy, of whom the one side held with the Pope, and the other with the Emperor? The Italians upon no other occasion but only in favour of these two names, entered into so extreme a quarrel throughout the whole country, that greater cruelty could not be wrought between the Infidels and Christians, than was committed amongst them. This contention continueth yet, insomuch that murders are every where committed in the towns, even between natural brethren, yea between the father and his sons, without all regard either of blood, or parentage. Their goods are spoiled, their houses razed, some banished, others slain: and whilst every one feareth lest any revenge should be 
The great cruelty of the Guelphs and Gybellines.  laid up in store for him, or for some other of his side, they kill many times little infants, whom the most barbarous men in the world would spare. These two factions fought continually through mortal hatred, so that they could not devil together in one city, but the stronger always drove out and expelled the other. They knew one another by feathers, by 
By what tokens they know one another.  the fashion of their hose, by cutting of bread, slicing of oranges, and by other marks: which is a very pernicious thing, and hath procured great destruction of people, and overthrow of towns. The Italians say, that this fire was first kindled at Pistoya between two brethren, the one called Guelph, and the other Gibellin, who quarreling together, divided the town 
The original of this contention.  between them, whereupon the Gibellins were driven out. This separation, like to a contagious disease, upon no other occasion was spread over all Italy, insomuch that afterward all that were at contention any where, were divided into Guelphs and Gibellines. The Germans think that these names came from their country and language: and that the Emperor Fredrick the second, in whose time this division began, called his friends Gibellines, because he leaned upon them, as a house doth upon two strong walls that keep it from falling: and those that were against him of the faction of Pope Gregory the ninth, he called Guelphs, that is to say, wolves. What did England suffer by the division of the houses of York and Lancaster, that gave the white and read Roses in their arms? Which contention although it 
The division of the houses of York and Lancaster.  began when Henry the fourth who was Duke of Lancaster and Earl of Derby, usurped the kingdom upon his cousin Richard the second, whom he caused to be slain in prison, after he had compelled him to resign his kingly power and crown of England, yet it was hottest in the reign of king Henry the sixt, who succeeding his father and grandfather, was at Paris crowned king of England and France. Afterwards, favouring the house of Lancaster against the house of York, they that held with the read Rose took arms against him, so that in the 
Henry the 6. deprived of his kingdom by the house of York.  end he was deprived of his Estate, and shut up as prisoner in the Tower of London, where he was after put to death. These factions and civil wars (as Philip Cominaeus writeth) endured about eight and twenty years, wherein there died at sundry battles and skirmishes above fourscore persons of the blood royal, with the flower of the nobility of England, besides an infinite number of the valiantest men and best warriors among the people. Many Lords were put in prison, or banished, leading the rest of their lives miserably in strange countries: the ancient policy of the kingdom corrupted, justice contemned, and the Island impoverished, until in the end the Earl of Richmond, overcame king Richard, enjoyed the kingdom quietly, and was called Henry the seventh: having married Elizabeth daughter to 
The union of the house of Lancaster and York.  Edward the fourth, both of them being the sole heirs of the families of Lancaster and York. By means of this marriage the dissension ceased in England, and the read and white Roses were joined together in one arms. There was no country more afflicted than Spain, both by civil wars and by neighbour states, when it was divided into many kingdoms. The 
Of civil wars in Spain.  Moors over r●nne it on the one side, the French and Englishmen devoured it on the other, taking part at the first with the dissensions that were in Castille between Don Pedro and Don Henry; next with the contentions that arose betwixt Castille and Portugal, which caused much evil to both the kingdoms. But since that Spain hath been united, it hath extended her dominion into Africa, and into the new found islands, borne arms in Germany, 
The great jurisdiction of Spain.  and in Hungary, commanded over the chief islands of the Mediterranean sea, over Naples and Sicilia, over Milan and Flanders. Contrariwise, Italy having in former times her forces knit together, obtained the Empire of the world, but being now divided into many Seignories and Potentates that agreed badly together, and having suffered all the calamities 
Of civil dissension in Italy.  in the world by civil wars, lieth open to the injuries of strangers. Through the same cause the power of Germany is greatly diminished, whereni not long since the princes of Saxony were banded one against another: john Frederick, Philip Landgrave of Hesse, the Duke of 
Germany vexed with civil wars.  Wittemburg, with many free cities rebelled against the Emperor: the peasants arose against the Nobility to set themselves at liberty: the Anabaptiss possessed Munster, make a botcher their king, and held out the siege for the space of two years. Hungaria, which had valiantly resisted the Turks almost two hundred years together, was at length subdued by 
Hungaria lost by civil dissension.  them, through the divisions that were in the country, as Polonia is greatly threatened by the Moscovite. In Persia, after the death of king jacob, his two sons strove for the government of the country, but the Sophy Ishmael coming in the mean time upon them with 
Persia was subdued by the dissension of two brethren. Dinan and Bovines subdued through dissension.  his new religion, slew one of them in battle, and compelled the other to fly into Arabia, and so possessed the kingdom, which he left to his children. Philip the eleventh, Duke of Burgundy, easily subdued Dinan and Bovines in the country of Liege, which were separated only by a river, after they had overthrown themselves by their dissensions, whereas before he could not obtain his purpose. And whilst the kings of Marrocke warred one with another for the estate, the Governor of Thunis and of Telensin made himself king, renting asunder his two provinces from the rest to erect a kingdom. Concerning Frenchmen, they have been often and many times molested with Seditions and civil wars as well as others. 
France much troubled with civil wars. Women in champaign made their husband's noble.  The Nobility of France was almost all slain at the battle of Fountenay near to Auxerre, by the civil wars between Lotharius, jews, and Charles the bald. And Champaign lost so many of the Nobility in war, that the Gentlewomen had this special privilege granted them, to make their husband's noble. When king john was prisoner in England, Charles his son R●gent of France, being at Paris to gather money for his ransom, there fell such a division between the king of Navarre, who took part with the Parisians, and the Regent, that the people under the guiding of Marcel, Provost of the merchants, ran to Charles his lodging, where the Marshals of Cleremount and champaign were slain, even in his chamber and presence, and their bodies drawn over the marble stones. The like was done to Reignold Dacy the king's Attorney, besides many other murders, so that the Regent had much ado to save himself without Paris. But the forest factions that ever were in France, were those of Burgundy and of Orleans, which caused a most grievous and civil war, that 
Cruel war between the house of Burgundy and of Orleans.  lasted 70. years, with murders, robberies, and unspeakable cruelties. Both of them, one after another, called in the Englishmen to secure them, who afterward seized upon the crown. It was a pitiful thing to see France cruelly tormented both by her own subjects and by strangers, to see it void of right and equity, without magistrates, without judgements, without laws, which had no abiding place amongst fire and force, where violence only reigned. All this was procured by the ambition of these two houses, each of them seeking to obtain the government of the kingdom under Charles the sixt, whose wits failed him 
The cause thereof. Henry the 5. proclaimed king of France.  By the means of these divisions, Henry the fift king of England, taking to wife Katherine the youngest daughter of king Charles, was put in possession of Paris by the Duke of Burgundy, and proclaimed heir and Regent of France by the consent of three Estates held at Troy. But the death of this Henry, and the Duke of Burgundy forsaking the alliance of the Englishmen, with that valour and good behaviour of king Charles the seventh, as also the love and fidelity of the Frenchmen, restored the kingdom to that estate wherein it is at this present. Now if France hath heretofore suffered so much by civil wars, and domestical seditions, if all foreign estates have received so many sundry alterations and incredible wounds by the same means, how can we look for less, nay rather have we not already seen the like or greater calamities amongst us, through our dissensions and private quarrels between certain houses contending one with another, being chief moved with ambition and 
Ambition and desire of government the chief cause of the troubles in France.  desire to govern? Why do we not acknowledge this first cause of our miseries, that we may lay aside all hatred crept in amongst us under pretence of diversity of religion? that we may reunite our minds so much divided, to the good and common quietness of us all, and live under the obedience of our prince, with that fidelity for which Frenchmen have been always praised above other nations? Do not so many examples, both of ancient and later times make us see thus much, that if we redress not this contention, this goodly and flourishing kingdom, which heretofore hath grown great by the concord and obedience of our ancestors, is ready to fall into utter ruin and subversion, through our factions, divisions, and part take? Shall this little that remaineth of the French monarchy, which informer 
The ancient limits of the French monarchy.  times hath had all the Empire of Germany, the kingdoms of Hungary, Spain, and Italy, and all the bounds of the Gauls to the river of Rhine, under the obedience of her laws, shall it I say, be thus laid open as a prey, and that by her own subjects, carried headlong with such passions, that they make the way plain and ready for strangers to bring them under their miserable bondage? Shall it be said among our posterity that ourselves have encouraged them to undertake that, which not long since, Spain, Italy, England, the Low countries, the Pope, the Venetians, being all joined together against the house of France, durst not take in hand after the taking of Francis the first, and the loss of that famous battle? Not one of them durst enter into France to conquer it, knowing the laws and nature of this Monarchy. For as a building laid upon deep foundations, and made of lasting stuff, well knit and joined together in every part, feareth neither winds nor 
A comparison.  storms, but easily resisteth all assaults and violence: so this kingdom will not easily admit any alteration and change, as long as all the members continued u●i●ed and joined together 
Good counsel for all kings & soveraign● princes.  upon the foundation of their laws. Therefore let the king, princes, their counsel, great and small, every one in his place take order, that God may be truly known, and sincerely served according to his just and righteous will: that honest behaviour may be maintained, the authority of laws kept, justice administered, magistracy duly exercised, rewards and punishments distributed equally, that virtuous men may be honoured, and the wicked corrected. Otherwise, if we continued long divided into companies, with defiances passing and repassing, if we persist in our wonted inu●ctiveses and riots, and refer not all our actions to some good end, let us not look for less than for a general desolation and pitiful overthrow of our country, appearing already in many places thereof, or at lest for some ho●●●● mutation and change of the Estate.   

Of the causes that breed the change, corruption, and final ruin of Monarchies and Policies. Chap 64.  AMANA. 
AS long as the physician knoweth not the cause of his Patient's disease, it is impossible for him to remedy the same, and to prescribe a medicine to the sick party. A disease known (saith the Proverb) is in a manner cured. So fareth it with Estates and Monarchies that are changed, marred, and in the end brought to ruin by divers causes: which if they were well known to their princes and governors, might easily 
A disease known is almost cured.  be prevented by prudence and reason, and fit remedies then applied to those evils that dispose & lead them to mutation, when the natural corruption that is in them (as every thing hath his proper and inward corruption of which it is eaten and consumed) beginneth to spread itself in the best part to mar all. Go to then (my Companions) having seen the nature of seditions, let us seek out the causes that stir them up, whereby Estates and Monarchies are changed, marred, and in the end overthrown.  ARAM. 
The division that is between subjects of one and the same Prince, ariseth for 
The causes of division between subjects  the most part of discontentment, wherewith some are moved upon injury and contempt, or else of fear that men have of the light, or to avoid some evil, or of great idleness, poverty and need.  ACHIOTB 
There are (as I take it) two causes intermingled, which breed this frantic fever of our France, the one proceeding from the Estate, the other from religion. But 
Two causes of the frantic fever of French divisions.  let us hear ASER, to whom the handling of this subject offered now unto us, belongeth.  ASER. 
There is no beginning of any thing whatsoever so small, which through continuance and perfeverance is not soon made great and strong, if upon slight account thereof it be not stayed. Every will (as Cicero saith) in the first sprout thereof may be easily stopped, but being inveterate, is more strong and uneasy to be suppressed. So that if it be met withal before it appear and break forth, the danger is less, although it proceed from the necessity of natural corruption, which is in all things that are created, and is to be seen even 
Corruption is natural in all things.  in things without sense, as Mil dew in wheat, rottenness in wood, rust in brass and iron: yea every thing is corrupted by it own evil, howsoever it escapeth all outward harms Therefore as a good Physician preventeth diseases, and if one part be suddenly touched with raging pain, assuageth the present evil, and then applieth remedies to the causes of the disease: so a wise prince or governor of a Common wealth aught to prevent as much as is possible the ordinary changes of all Estates, which overtake them either by outward force, 
A prince compared to a Physician. To know the causes of evils is the readiest way to cure them.  or by inward diseases. When they begin, he must stay them whatsoever it cost him, and then look what the causes are of those diseases, that are farthest from effect, and apply convenient and apt remedies unto them. Now it is certain, that if a man would thoroughly meet with all hurtful things, or otherwise cure any such evil when it happeneth, he must know their causes whereof the effect dependeth, which is the very entrance to all good helps & remedies whatsoever. Foreseen mischiefs (as the Poet saith) hurt not so much as those that come unlooked for. A wise man premeditateth all that may happen, but it falleth out contrary to fools. And if we have never so small an insight into the condition and state of worldly things, we cannot in any wise doubt of this, that every Commonwealth, after it is to come to the top of perfection, which is the flourishing estate thereof, hath but a short time of continuance: 
When common wealth begin to altar  whether her overthrow proceedeth from the violence of her enemies, when she thinks herself safest: or whether she wax old through long tract of time, and so end by her inward diseases, or whether she suddenly decay and fall down with her own weight by reason of some other hidden cause. Which changes of Commonwealths being matter sufficient to make a great book, we are, according to the sequel of our discourse, to consider chief of the causes that for the most part stir up sedition, and breed the alteration and final overthrow of Estates and Monarchies. The Philosophers propound four causes of every thing: The efficient, the material, the formal, and the final cause. The efficient cause of seditions is double, the one near, the other removed a far off. The near or next cause, are the authors 
Four causes of all things. The efficient cause of seditions.  of seditions, by whose counsel, direction and help they are stirred up and brought to pass. By the cause removed a far off, I mean those things for which men are provoked to raise seditions, and of which we are chief to entreat in this place. They are the matter of seditions against whom they are raised, as princes and magistrates, who are superiors, and sometime their subjects, being inferiors. The form of seditions is the stirring up of the 
The material cause of seditions. The formal cause. The difference between a rebellion and a faction. ● Four final causes of seditions.  people, noise, outcries, batteries, murders, civil war, the taking of towns, spoiling of countries, burning and banishment. If it be of subjects, towards their lords and superiors, it is called rebellion: if between subjects or equals, it is called a faction. The end of seditions is that for which they are first moved and stirred up. Aristotle setteth down four ends of seditions, namely, profit, and honour, with their contraries, loss and dishonour. For men are commonly moved to sedition either through hope of profit and honour, or else through fear of loss and dishonour towards themselves or their friends, so that they desire the one and shun the other. Unto profit we refer riches: to honour, magistracy, public offices and charges: to loss, poverty: to dishonour, continual injury, contempt, and such like means. Which things although they are reckoned among the motives, or efficient causes of seditions, so far forth they provoke men to stir up seditions, yet they may be ends also, because men conspire together either to obtain or to eschew them. Therefore let us handle the causes which move the people to murmur, & lead them from private and secret grudging, to public and open sedition, from which the changes, alterations, and final ruins of Estates and Monarchies proceed. The covetousness of magistrates, and governors seemeth to be a chief cause thereof, when they lay upon their subjects 
Covetousness a principal cause of sedition. 1. King. 12. 14. 16.  great exactions, taxes, loans, and other intolerable subsidies, whereby their patience is oftentimes turned into fury, and their hearts set upon revolting, are driven forward to imitate them that forsook Roboam for the same cause as the Scripture rehearseth. But for as much as all civil society is appointed to the end that men might keep their goods safely under the protection and guiding of good governors, they that bear chief rule in estates, aught especially to provide that not only public goods may be distributed and employed 
Which are public goods  according to common necessity and profit, but also that every man's private goods may be in safety. Public goods are the revenues of Signories, kingdoms and Empires, domains, taxes, tributes, confiscations, exchetes, subsidies, grants, and impositions brought in for the supply of public necessity A. man may say that covetousness, which is a wrongful desire of another man's goods, is committed in the public revenues, when the money that 
When covetousness is committed in public good●.  cometh of them, is converted rather to private than to public use, by those that have the disposing thereof: which fault the Romans called peculatus, and the judgement given against it, Repetundarum. Now when such goods are wasted unprofitable, or superfluously, princes, and Magistrates use to lay immoderate and strange exactions upon their subjects. Covetousness also is used in private goods, when the poorer or weaker sort are spoiled of their own by the mightier. The people will hardly bear this kind of usurping, when they consider that they are tormented by those that should defend them: and this dealing is subject 
God requireth restitution of oppressors.  to restitution before God. Histories are full of changes, seditions and destructions of commonwealths, arising of these causes of covetousness, whereof we have alleged many examples in our discourses. Under Charles the 6. king of France great seditions and robberies were practised by the Parisions, by reason of imposts and subsidies that were levied of their 
Great seditions began up on a small occasion.  subjects. The occasion of these commotions was because the farmers exacted a halfpenny of a poor woman that sold water cressets. The covetousness, bribery, and polling used by the Lords & Nobles of Switzerland, caused the Common people to fall to mutiny, and to deliver themselves out of their slavery and bondage by horrible massacres, which they made 
Covetousness cause of the death of the nobility of Switzerland. 1. Sam. 8. 5. Ambition the second cause of seditions. Honour the only reward of virtue.  of them, Under I●el, and Abiah the sons of Samuel & judges over the Israelites, the people oppressed through their covetousness, asked a king, whereupon the Estate of their government was changed. The second cause that breedeth the alteration and ruin of Common wealth● is ambition, or desire of honour, which then especially moveth men to murmur, when the unworthy are advanced & preferred before men of desert. Honour is the only reward of virtue, & that which is more esteemed of every lofty and noble heart, than all worldly goods. Therefore it is meet that in the distribution of public charges, rewards & honours, regard be had to the quality, merit & sufficiency of men, that they may be given to worthy persons, & that such as are unfit may be put back. Let virtue only & diligence open the gates of honour, and not money or favour. We saw before many examples of the first-fruits of ambition, & we taste daily 
Only virtue aught to open the gates of honour. Injury the third cause of sedition.  of some that are very bitter. The third cause that changeth and over turneth Estates and monarchies is injury, which happeneth when they that are highest in authority, through too much insolency and pride offer wrong to the honour or person of their inferiors. A kingdom (saith the wise man) is translated from one nation to another through the injustice, injuries and contumelies offered by superiors. Cy●u●'s the great revolted from his grandfather Astyages, overcame him in battle, and translated the Monarchy of the Medes unto the Persians', because of that injury which he offered unto him, in casting him out into the fields as soon as 
Why Cyrus revolted from his grandfather Astyages. Coriolanus.  he was borne, Coriolanus being unjustly banished his country, took arms, conquered a great part of the Roman dominion, and burned all to the gates of Rome, bringing their Estate to such an extremity, that it was ready to be destroyed, had not the women come towards him to pacify him. Childeric king of France caused Bodilus to be whipped with rods, whereupon he slew him and his wife great with child. justine the third Emperor, was slain by Atelius general 
Childeric slain by Bodilus. justine 3 Fear the forth cause of seditions. Catiline. What manner of men are afraid of peace.  of his army, whose son he had murdered, & abused his wife to despite him therewith. Fear also is many times the cause of alteration & danger to a Common wealth, when guilty and convicted persons move sedition, and rebel against the Magistrates to prevent & avoid the punishment that is due to their faults. Catiline urged with the consideration of his manifold wicked pranks, and with the fear of judgement, conspired against his country, being assisted by Le●tulus', Cethegus with many sacrilegious persons, murderers, adulterers, bankrupts, and other naughty livers that stood in fear of justice by reason of their misbehaviour. Neither may any man doubt but wicked men will rather trouble the Estate then stand in danger of their lives, or hazard their goods. For besides the assurance which they have conceived to escape the judgement of men by this means, they have this further advantage to fish in troubled waters: so that they are no less afraid of peace than of the plague, having in all events the same resolution before their eyes that Catiline had, who said that he could not quench the first begun in his house, with water, and therefore would pull 
Fear was one cause that moved Caesar to seek the Empire Excess in authority and power is the fift cause of seditions. What the Ostracis●●e was among the Athenians. Many kings overthrown by suffering their servants grow too great.  it down and so quench it. This was one reason that moved C●sar to lay hold of the estate, because his enemies threatened, that as soon as he was out of his offices they would 'cause him to give an account how he had discharged them. I would to God we had not bought as dearly the same causes of our civil wars. Likewise too much authority and power both for wealth and friendship is dangerous in every kind of government, so that great heed is to be taken that none grow to be unmeasurable great. For men are subject to corruption, neither can every one sustain wisely the prosperity of fortune: which causeth them to seek the alteration of popular and Aristocratical Commonwealths into Monarchies, and others to usurp kingdoms and Empires. This reason brought in the Ostraciseme amongst the Athenians, which was a banishment for a time, whereby they brought down them that seemed to exceed in greatness. This they used (as Plutarch rehearseth) against Themistocles, Aristides, and other excellent men, fearing lest their authority, credit, and good will of all men, should procure them a kingly power with the change of their popular government. Many kings and princes that had some of their friends and servants two great, were themselves or their children overthrown by them afterward. Tiberius' making S●ian two mighty: Commodus, Perenn●us: Theodosius the second, E●tropius: just●nian, Bellisari●s: Xerxes, Artaban, were in danger of their estate. The unmeasurable authority of the Majors of the palace, and of the Constables, changed the crown of France from the race of Clo●is to that of Charles martel: and upon the same 
Contempt is the sixt cause of seditions.  occasion it was aftrwa●rd taken from that line, and transferred to another. Contempt also is another cause greatly to be feared in every Estate and Monarchy, as that which oftentimes breedeth their change and overthrow. It is very dangerous in two considerations especial first, when some are contemned and excluded from public offices and dignities which they deserve, and yet see them wholly in the power and disposition of some particular men. Whereupon both one and the other are moved to sedition, the contemned persons through envy and desire of revenge; they that have the great charges in their hands, through contempt of the others, whom they seek utterly to exclude, and to drive them further off from all public honours and authorities. Secondly, contempt is very pernicious, when inferiors contemn their superiors. They are commonly despised that have neither virtue, 
Who are most subject to contempt. Contempt breedeth disobedience.  courage, nor fortitude, that are not able to profit themselves or others, that are not laborious, painful, nor any manner of way careful. Where contempt is, there no obedience is to be had. This maketh the son disobedient to the father, the wife to the husband, the learner to the teacher, the servant to the master. The opinion of prudence, justice, constancy, knowledge, goodness, modesty, and of other virtues, nourisheth and preserveth the obedience of subjects towards their princes, and the contrary vices provoke them to rebellion. Therefore as policies prospero when they are governed by prudent, just, constant, valiant, and moderate men: so they are troubled with seditions through the ignorance, cowardliness, 
Causes that move subjects to contemn their Princes. A rule of estate  and intemperancy of princes, or else when they are too familiar with their inferiors, or when they are suddenly lift up from base estate, or seem too aged, or too young, or poor, or miserable, all which things breed contempt. Wherefore this is set down as a good rule to preserve the estate of a Monarchy: That the Prince must procure to himself love, without the contempt or hatred of any, if it may be. For the obtaining whereof, there is no better way, than the just distribution of rewards. The princes and Lords of France, because they were contemned by king jews the 11. who had none about him, nor favoured any but men of low and base estate, gave him battle at Montlhery (whereof the battle hath ever since retained 
jews the 11. fought withal by his Nobles because he contemned them.  the name) to the great peril of the Estate, and danger of the king's life if he had not appeased the indignation and fury of the said Princes and Lords, by his great prudence and policy. Moreover, too much increase and unproportionable growth is one cause that procureth the change and ruin of Common wealths. For as the body is made and compounded of parts, and aught to grow by proportion, that it may keep a just measure: so every common wealth, being compounded of orders or Estates, as it were of parts, they must be maintained in concord one with another, by equal and due proportion observed between each of them. For if one estate be advanced too much above another, dissension ariseth. 
Over great inequality between Estates in a commonwealth is the seventh cause of seditions.  As long as the three orders and Estates at Rome, namely, the Senators, the Knights, and the People, were carried proportionably, their policy flourished: but after they dealt one against another through envy, ambition, and covetousness; divisions, and part-taking began. This caused many to commend equality so much, calling it the nursing mother of peace and amity between subjects: and contrariwise inequality, the beginning of all enmities, factions, hatred, and partaking. But seeing it is meet that in every well established policy there should be a difference of rights and privileges betwixt every estate, equality may continued, if careful provision be made, that one estate go not too much before the other. The 
Equality the mother of peace. Impunity of offences the eight cause of seditions. The meaning of this precept Be not surety for another. 1. King. 20. 42 Other causes of sedition.  impunity of offences is one cause also from whence seditions and civil wars proceed, yea it is a matter of very great weight, and yet men make lest account thereof. We spoke of it before, but we mu●t of necessity often rub up the remembrance thereof, as the wise Hebrew doth by repeating so many times that admonition, that we should not be surety for another: not that he forbiddeth charity towards the poor, but that none should be a means to let the wicked escape, unless he will bear the punishment himself. This is that word which God sent to king Achab, after he had saved the life of Benhadad king of Syria, that he made himself a pledge for another man, by suffering the wicked to live, and therefore that it should cost him his life. Hitherto we have seen how the covetousness of princes, the ambition or desire of honour in private men, injury, and reprocah, fear in the guilty, excess of authority and wealth, contempt, over great increase, or advancement without proportion: and lastly, impunity of offences, procure commonly seditions in Estates and monarchies. Besides all these, extreme poverty and excess of wealth, idleness, & want of fear of the foreign enemy, as we have elsewhere declared, change of Princes & laws, too great licence to seditious. Orators & Preachers, the natural disposition of places where men are borne, which maketh them more inclined to commotions & seditions, as Historiographers have noted of Genes, Floremce, & Flanders, with many other things may be said to be causes of civil wars, of alterations, changes, and ruin of Estates and policies. Among which we note that shame is sometime a cause of change in the government of Common wealths, but it is without tumult or sedition. Thus it fell out in He●ea, a town of Arcadia, which was governed popularly, 
Shame is sometime ●ause of alteration of Estates.  where men of no account were elected Magistrates by others like themselves: whereupon being mocked, they changed their manner of election in choosing by lot; that so they might have a more lawful excuse. There wa● seen not long since in the Council of France such a number of Masters of Requests, and of Secretaries of the treasure, that very shame caused them to be sent away, because it was not meet to entreat of great and weighty matters before such a multitude. Negligence likewise breedeth the change & overthrow 
Negligence a cause of change. Two sorts of negligence.  of a politic estate. There are two sorts of negligence, the one in those that call, choose: o● receive into any great office, such men as are unworthy, and care not for their charges: o● that suffer such persons to ascend to the chiefest places of Magistracy, that are enemies to that form of Common wealth, as if the chief men in Berne should choose an Auoyer, which office is contrary to the manner of living: or if the Venetians should choose a Duke, or the Cardinals a Pope, that were not of their religion: or if the king of France should created a Constable or Chancellor, that liked not a Royal or Monarchical Estate. The other kind of negligence, which is much more common, is in them that are called to a dignity, office, or Magistracy, and show themselves reckless in that administration and exercise: as we see that most Bishops and Prelates neglect the duty of their charges, to employ 
Bishop's neglecting their charge to deal in worldly affairs, bring themselves into contempt. An Estate is not changed all at one time but by little and little.  or bestow their time in worldly affairs, for which cause they grow into misliking and contempt. From hence have proceeded great offences, and marvelous troubles, which may more easily be lamented, than taken away, or reform, being such abuses as have taken deep root. Moreover, the alteration of policy is bred by other means by little and little, as when through dissimulation or otherwise, men suffer some part, albeit never so little of the law or politic Estate to be cut off. Changes seldom fall out all at one time, if they are not very violent, but for the most part go one by little and little, as the seasons of the year slide away softly from great ●eates to hard frosts, and from the frost and cold of winter to the heat of summer. A lingering fever afflicteth the patiented so easily, that he hardly perceiveth himself therein, but if it be suffered to continued without redress in due time, it will turn to a hectic fever, and so consequently become incurable. So fareth it with an Estate and policy, whose authority waxeth contemptible, and is lost by little and little, when men are negligent in preventing the same in due ●ime. He that will consider the alteration happened in France within these thirty years, ●hall find it to be very great, as well in regard of religions, as of manners and laws, which nevertheless came by little and little, and so continueth still, greatly threatening a change of the estate. Here therefore I will distinguish between the change of laws, customs, religion, and place, which is properly but an alteration, and the change of an estate, which is when the sovereignty goeth from one into the power of another. Dissimilitude also is the cause many times of ●edition, and of change in the common wealth, which cometh to pass when the inhabitants of a place are not of the 
Dissimilitude a cause of change.  same nation, but many strangers are received into it, who perceiving themselves to be the stronger part, have many times thrust the natural Citizens out of their towns: whereof Aristotle allegeth many examples that fell so out in the Grecians cities. At Sienna, at Genes, at 
Examples of strangers that have excelled natural Citizens out of their towns.  Zurick, at Cullen, the strangers being multiplied, drove out the Lords of those places, & slew most of them, because they were overcharged with exactions, evil entreated, and excluded from bearing of offices. They of Lindavia slew the Lords of the country, and changed the Aristocraty into a popular estate: & so did the inhabitants of Straus borough, who hated the Nobilty in such sort, that they would not suffer any of them to enjoy the great Estates and public charges, unless he proved that his grandfather was one of the base sort of the people. These examples move natural Inhabitants many times to over run strangers when 
The Inhabitants of G●neva conspired against strangers in their city. Calu●ne hazarded his life to appease a 〈◊〉 in Geneva. Exod. 1. 16.  they see the number of them wax over great amongst them. One example hereof we may note in the city of Geneva, into which when many strangers, as well Frenchmen as others retired for religion, the natural citizens could never brookethem, although they were profitable to the city, making it rich and populous, whereas before it was poor, and smally in habited: but conspired many times to drive them out, as namely that conspiracy of one Perin, in the year 1556. which began to be put in execution, when Cal●in ran into the midst of their naked swords to appease the tumult, as Beza writeth in his life. The same fear moved Pharaoh, when he saw the Hebrews increase over fast amongst his subjects, to decree, that the Midwives should from that time forward, kill the male children at their birth. Now in receiving of strangers, regard must be had to the number, that it be not over great, and that their authority be not unmeasurable. For otherwise it is necessary for traffic sake, and for many other public commodities, that some ●e received, of others. Many other kinds of 
divers kind's of dissi●●litudeses ●● commonwealths.  dissimilitude are found in Commonwealths, as dissimilitude of lineage between the Nobility and Common people: of offices, between judges, Treasures, Soldiers, Priests: of profes●ionss, between Lawyers, Physicians, Divines, and Philosophers: of occupations, between Bakers, Butchers, Shoemakers, Painters, Smiths, Carpenters: without which dissimilitudes no Common wealth can consist. Therefore they are not to be taken quite away, but only the disorder that groweth amongst them, that so they may be reduced to a convenient agreement, like to that which is between the divers parts that are in the constitution of the world and of man. We may also call a dissimilitude, that difference which is of religions, as of the jews, Christians, Mahometists, Caphrans, Armenians, Grecians, Latins, jacobites, Ethiopians: then between the Christians themselves, as Catholics, Lutherans: Zwinglians, and Caluinists. Many have said, and are yet of this opinion, that the chief cause of civil wars in France, proceedeth from this diversity of religion. And to say truth, there is nothing that carrieth men away with such vehement passions, as zeal of religion, for which 
Whether diversity of religion be a cause of civil war.  they fight more willingly than for their lives, goods, wives, and children. Through the diversity hereof they that are nearest of kin lose their natural love, they that are of the same country and language persecute one another as mortal enemies, and sundry nations abhor one another for the same. These things are too well known amongst us to require proofs thereof. And truly in respect of sedition and tumult, nothing is more dangerous, 
Diversity of opinion among subjects dangerous in an Estate.  than for subjects to ●e divided in opinion, whether it be in matters of estate, or of laws and customs, or for religion. For if they be of divers opinions, some labour for peace, and seek to make others agreed unto it, who will never agreed amongst themselves. And in truth it is a very hard matter to maintain public exercises of any religion whatsoever, when it is contrary to the religion of the people, or of the most of them, who many times cannot be kept within compass neither by laws nor Magistrates, unless the force appointed to keep them in be very great. For we saw that Thomas Emperor of Constantinople was cruelly slain by the people amidst a great congregation in the Church, because he went about to 
Thomas Emperor of Constantinople slain for ●ulling down of Images.  pull down Images. But I am of this opinion (yet ready to yield a better judgement) that if men were honest and upright, and walked in their calling, holily, they would never fight among themselves for religion. And if there had been no other cause mingled there with in our civil wars, we should not have had experience of those miseries which daily overwhelm us. The authority of a holy and free council may by the grace of God end all these dissensions: in the mean time let every one seek by good life and amendment of manners, to serve for a light to those that are out of the way, laying aside all part taking, forgetting all injuries, and taking up again ou● first unity, concord, and friendship. Yea I doubt not, but that a Prince embracing with a true zeal the opinion of his religion, and neglecting the contrary, would abolish it without for●e or constraint, if God maintain it not. For the minds of men resolved in a religion, are more confirmed therein if they be resisted, but shrink of themselves if compulsion be not used. Now for the end and conclusion of our discourse, laying apart the causes of seditions and civil wars, which bring alteration, and overthrow many times to Estates and Monarchies, whereof we have particularly entreated, we will here comprehend, and reduce to a certain number the causes of the changes of all commonwealths: namely, when the posterity of Princes faileth, and the greatest amongst them enter into civil war for the Estate: when most of the subjects are extreme poor, and a few 
The causes that breed the change of all commonwealths.  exceeding rich: when the division of offices and honours are unequal: or else through extreme ambition and desire of commanding: through the revenge of injuries: through the cruelty and oppression of tyrants: through the fear of chastisement, which some have that deserve it through the change of laws and religion: through the greedy desire that some have to enjoy at will those pleasures which they seek after: lastly, through the expulsion of such as defile the places of honour with excessive and ●eastly pleasures. All these things breed the change, corruption, and final overthrow of flourishing Estates, and great Monarchies, and therefore all Princes, Governors, & public Rulers, aught carefully to look unto them.   
The end of the sixteenth days work.   

The seventeenth days work.  

Of the preservation of Estates and Monarchies, and of remedies to keep them from sedition. Chap. 65.  ASER. 
Wisdom (saith Lactantius) is given of God to all men, that every one according to his ability and capacity might seek 
Why Wisdom is given of God.  after things unknown, and examine that which he knoweth. And we must not think, that such as have go before us many years and ages, did so possess and use her, that she is now less forcible in us. She cannot be wholly possessed no more than the light of the Sun: and as the Sun is the light of our eyes, so is wisdom the light of man's heart. If your delight then (saith the Wse man) be in thrones and sceptres, OH kings of the people, honour 
Wisd. 6. 21. The praise of wisdom.  wisdom, that ye may reign for ever. Truly she is necessary provision for them that would reign, that they may do it worthily, and safely maintain their estate: yea she is no lesserequisite in every calling. For she illuminateth and sharpeneth the discourse of reason by the knowledge of things, she ruleth and conducteth the will to that which is the true and only Good. Therefore seeing that wisdom, which is as much to say in regard of us, as the searching out of the truth, is both offered, and needful for all men, every one aught to be stirred up to embrace it with a burning zeal and affection, that he may bring forth the fruits of perfect charity, by applying it (next after the service of God) to the common profit of men. Which thing, seeing it hath provoked our young and unexperienced years to utter our former Moral and Political discourses, and to handle yesterday the causes that breed change and ruin to Estates and Monarchies; although such high matters surpasseth the capacity of our understanding, yet let us (my companions) follow with the same zeal our venturous enterprise, and as we have profited in the school of this self same wisdom, let us enter into the consideration of those means and remedies that are contrary to the causes of corruption in policies and that may serve to their preservation. Albeit they may be known by the same causes that corrupt them, seeing contrary effects proceed from contrary causes, and corruption 
Contrary causes bring forth contrary effects.  is contrary to preservation. But the understanding of this matter will be more clear and profitable hereby, to them that will take the benefit thereof.  AMANA. 
If all callings were content with their own fortune and goods, if they would abstain from other men's goods, and from offering them wrong, if they would be more intentive to amend their own life, than to reprehend others, and submit themselves willingly to the obedience of their Magistrates, laws, and ordinances, I think it would be a mean to 'cause every monarchy to flourish and to continued happy a long time.  ARAM. 
Equality (said Solon) never breedeth sedition in the government of a Commonwealth, but is the nursing mother of peace and concord, and the maintainer of love, whereby the unity of his subjects is preserved. But as the grave and destruction are never glutted, (according 
Prou. 27. 20.  to the saying of the Wiseman) so me●s eyes are never satisfied. But the discourse of this matter here propounded belongeth to thee ACHITOB.  ACHIOTB. 
That great lover of knowledge and virtue, Ptolemey king of Egypt, as he feasted one day seven Ambassadors of the best and most flourishing Commonwealths in his time, reasoned with them about their governments, that he might know which of them had the best policy, and was furnished with the best laws & most commendable customs. The disputation was long, and the matter thoroughly debated among them with many reasons. But Ptolemey being desirous to be instructed by them in the best and rarest points, necessary for the preservation of an Estate, prayed them to propound every one three of those customs and laws that were most perfect in his Common wealth. The Ambassador of the Romans began, and said: We have the Temples in great respect and reverence: we are 
Choice customs of seven flourishing Estates.  very obedient to our governors: and we punish wicked men and evil livers severely. The Carthaginian Ambassador said: In the Commonwealth of Carthage, the Nobles never cease fight, nor the Common people and Artificers labouring, nor the Philosophers teaching. The Sicilian Ambassador said: In our Commonwealth justice is exactly kept, merchandise exercised with truth, and all men accounted themselves equal. The Rhodian said: At Rbodes old men are honest, yo●ng men shamefast, and women soluarie, and of few words. The Athenian said: In our Commonwealth rich men are not suffered to be divided into factions, nor poor men to be idle, nor the governors to be ignorant. The Lacedaemonian said: In Sparta en●ie reigneth not, for all are equal; nor covetousness, for all goods are common; nor sl●th, for all labour. In our Commonwealth (said the Ambassador of the Sicyonians) voyages are not permitted, that they should not bring home new fashions at their return: Physicians are not suffered, lest they should kill the ●●und: nor Orator's to take upon them the defence of causes and suits. If all these good customs were jointly kept in any one Estate, I doubt not but the greatness of it might be continued long, and all causes of seditions cut off. But to speak more plainly and particularly, and to handle the preservation of Monarchies and Commonwealths, with the remedies that keep them from sedition, I say first that Horace, that most learned Poet, had reason to begin his satires or profitable speeches with those men that are never contented, considering that the discontentment of mortal men is the fountain and spring of all vices. For I pray you, what vice is not grounded upon 
Discontent is the spring of all vices. The effects of covetousness.  an unsatiable desire of having, as may appear in all them that cannot content themselves with their present Estate, nor appoint an end in that which they have, but place it always in that which they would have. Covetousneesse committeth robberies, executeth murders, exerciseth spoiling, causeth battles, breedeth schisms, hindereth reformation, and the general Council, cloketh abuses, nourisheth ignorance, asketh injustly, receiveth dishonestly, dissolveth bargains, breaketh faith, perverteth judgements, and to conclude, it overturneth and confoundeth all right, both divine and human. Therefore covetousness is very fitly called an unquenchable fire, an unsatiable desire, a bottomless gulf. So that the contentation 
The contented mind of Magistrates is the first mean to preserve an estate  both of sovereign Magistrates, and of such as are underneath them, and their moderate affections whereby they seek to invade and possess other men's right, nor to heap up treasures and riches, but direct their level to common profit only, to govern prudently, and to order as it becometh them whatsoever is under their authority: this I say, is a strong bond to keep every Commonwealth in a flourishing estate, and an unconquerable bulwark against all sedition. Many Princes being desirous to extend their limits unjustly, and to conquer new estates, have oftentimes lost or diminished their own dominion, besides the burdensome calamities, which they have brought upon 
Exod. 18. 21.  their people. And when they have placed under them covetous Governors and Magistrates, that were slaves to their purses, the ruin, or great trouble at lest of 
Why Tiherius would not change his Lieutenants.  their Estates followed after. Therefore jethro said to Moses: Provide thou among all the people, men of courage, fearing God, men dealing truly, hating covetousness: and appoint such over them to be Rulers over thousands, over hundreds, over fifties over tens, to judge the people at all times. Tiberius Nero knowing that his subjects were naturally given to tender greatly their own profit, would not sand any to succeed (as the custom was before) and to take the place of the Governors and lieutenants of his Provinces, unless the other were dead. For (said he) when they perceive that they draw near the end of their office, they 
Anotable custom used by Severus in making under-governors  double their polling, and a new Governor doth as much: whereas otherwise, when they are once full gorged and satisfied, they are at the lest occasioned thereby to cease from ravening, and to ease their people: namely, when they know than they shall always enjoy their power and authority. The custom that Aurelius Severus used, is much more praise worthy For when he sent Governors into the provinces, ●ee caused their names to be published many days before, to the end that whosoever knew any thing in them worthy of reprehension, he should give notice thereof: and they that reported truly, were promoted to honour 
The second mean● to proserue an Estate.  by him and slanderers grievously punished. He ga●eto all Magistrate's gold, silver, servants, and all necessary things. yea Concubines also, to the end that in their charges they should not be constrained by necessity to commit injustice, or to extort upon the people. Moreover, the modesty of Magistrates in commanding, serves for a good remedy to retain their subjects within their duty, especially, if to bring them forward the better, they add t● their commandments gentle persuasions grounded upon lively reasons, and holy admonitions, whereby they seem willing rather to instruct their people, than by force to compel them to obedience. Thou shalt govern thy kingdom very well (said one of the interpreters of Ptolemy) if imitating the gentleness of God in all things, thou usest patience and long suffering. This is also one point that greatly stayeth the alteration and change of Commonwealths, when both great and small are contented with that Estate whereunto they are called, and are not carried away with ambition, to desire higher degrees of honour than their condition requireth. Again, they aught not to respect their own valour and desert so much, as to think that great Estates and honours are a due and necessary reward for their virtue: and that upon their denial, they have just cause to make some commotion in the Common wealth. But let them rather consider that the prince holdeth 
Of whom a prince holdeth his sovereignty.  his sovereignty of God, and of the ancient laws of the Estate: and that all his subjects in respect of him are but as a set of Counters, whereof he maketh one to be one in value now, then to stand for a thousand, by and by for a hundred thousand, and afterward for 
Subjects compared to a set of counters. The fourth mean.  nothing. If we have less favour and grace, we shall be less envied, which always taketh hold of the greatest. Exact and precise observation of justice is no less necessary for the preservation of Estates and Monarchies, as we have else where discoursed: and it aught to be exercised not only upon the simple people, but also upon Magistrates when they abuse 
Magistrates must be punished as well as the common people.  their calling and dignity. For when their faults are unpunished and winked at to the oppression of the meaner sort, they are easily induced to murmur and to move sedition. Arist●tle approved not this custom in Lacedemonia, that the power of the Senators was perpetual during their life, and that they were exempted from correction, and from yielding an account 
Aristotle misliked perpetual Magistrates  of their doings: because (as he said) to appoint perpetual Magistrates, is to kindle the fire of sedition in the Common wealth. But this is contrary to the opinion of Plato, and of many Politics, albeit there is no want of arguments and excellent reasons, as well on their side who would have Magistrates annual, as on theirs that would have them perpetual. But as contrary Estates aught to be governed by contrary means, so it is necessary that in a Monarchy some offices should be perpetual, and other mutable. And if need be, general Commissioners 
General commissioners requisite in a Monarchy. The fi●● mean.  may be appointed, as it was practised in the time of jews the ninth, and of Philip the Fair. To this purpose Buda complaineth, because the Commissioners, had no authority over the Magistrates of France, especially over the Parliaments, as also because they were not perpetualll. He maketh a goodly discourse of them, and showeth what manner of men aught to be chosen thereunto. The speedy punishment of wicked and condemned persons, all delay set aside, is a good remedy to preserve policies. For when they see that for their offences and mischifeous dealings they are daily taken, and examined, put to torture, condemned and executed, according to their deserts: if before 
Delay in punishing the wicked is dangerous. The ●ixt mean.  their execution they have any leisure and respite through the negligence of Magistrates, they seek by all means to move sedition and trouble in the Common wealth, hoping thereby to save their lives, and to avoid that punishment unto which their consciences judge them to be indebted. The equal proportion and measure of all and every particular part in a Politic body, according to the degrees of callings and persons, is necessary for the preservation of Estates and Monarchies, that there may be equality not of things, but of proportions, and that degrees may be kept. As for example, albeit the divine Lawyer, Captain, Counsellor, Treasurer, differ one from another, yet they must of necessity agreed, and be made equal, not in their calling, but by like proportion, that every one may execute his office without the hindrance of another. Therefore Plato said, that the public estate is in a good case, if it be instituted according to Geometrical proportion, and all benefits bestowed accordingly. If the King give the office of Chauncellorship to a wise and learned 
Geometrical proportion aught to be observed in Commonwealths.  man that loveth justice and public quietness: the office of Constableship, or of the Marshalship of France, to good Captains and such as are experienced in State affairs: the government of the Church to a Divine of good life and manners, and one that is well skilled in Ecclesiastical government: the office of justice to an honest Lawyer: the keeping of the treasure to a Treasurer of an upright conscience: Than if every one keep his own place, 
Upon what men public charges are to be bestowed.  and performeth his duty without encroaching upon another, or hindering of him to the end that public conveniency and agreement may not be troubled, this order will make an equality: between unlike persons. For we find two sorts of equality namely, equality of quantity, and of proportion. Equality of quantity is requisite in commutative justice, that 

Two sorts of equality.  
The seventh mean.  
The eight.  
The beginning of evils must be stayed.   every one may take as much as he aught, Equality of proportion is requisite in distributive justice, and in rewarding men according to their desert. This equality (saith Plato) giveth the greatest honours to them that excel most in virtue, and the lesser places of dignity to such as are inferior in virtue and learning, distributing to both that which belongeth unto them by reason. Besides, the means alleged already by us for the preservation of Estates and Monarchies, Aristotle setteth down these that follow. Let nothing (saith he) be done against the laws and customs, which, as before we discoursed, are the chains and bonds of all Emp●●eses, Powers, and Common wealth. Let remedy be used against the beginning of an evil, how small soever it be. For oftentimes of a small occasion, as it were of one sparkle, a great fire of troubles is kindled in the Commonwealth. And as great storms and tempests proceed from exhalations and vapours that are not seen: so seditions and civil wars begin for the most part of very light matters, which a man would never think should have such an issue. Let no credit be given to crafty and subtle devices, invented to deceive commonwealths withal. These are means commonly practised by foreign and domestical 
The ninth.  enemies to Estates, who thereby disguise the truth of matter: whereof we have had good experience in France, when in the Council of our Prince's information hath been given clean contrary to the truth: insomuch that we have felt the cruel hand of strangers before ever we would have believed that they had taken horse in their own country. And therefore among such nourishers of our miseries, this proverb is ri●e: That a lie is always good how little a while s●●uer it be believed. Let those that are placed in the offices of Magistracy, behave themselves modestly both towards those that deal not at all in public affairs and 
The tenth.  towards them that meddle therewith: offering no injury to the one sort, and living friendly with the other. Let them that are to care for the safety of the Estate, watch always, and stand upon their guard, and oftentimes propound causes of fear, to make the subjects more 
The eleventh  attentive and heedful to that which they should do. Let there be no contentions or quarrels 
The twelfth.  between the Nobles, and let others be prevented that are not yet joined to those dissensions before they enter into them. This is the chiefest thing at this day, whereunto our Kings and Princes aught especially to look. For amongst their trains their is nothing but 
Contentious persons must be removed from the Court.  leagues and part-taking, from which nothing will proceed in the end but trouble and hurt to their Estate. Therefore they must take away all occasions of hatred and quarreling, and remove such far from their court that love contentions: because that as quarrelers of themselves tarry not long in service, so by their means princes lose other good servants. And if they will not, or are afraid to put them from the Court, at leastwise let them take knowledge of all their enmities, ●actionss, and discontentments that are amongst them & labour to end them, not in outward show only, but by some good effect. Let them content such as are not well pleased, if they can justly do it: let them grant means of safety to them 
Prince's must labour by all means to end the contentions of their subjects. They must not be party's in their subjects quarrels. The thirteenth. The fourteenth.  that say they have cause to distrust others: and let them reconcile professed enemies. But above all things let not the prince make himself a party in the contentions of his subjects, if the occasion of their strife be not grounded upon the Estate. For in stead of keeping to himself the place of sovereign judge, he shall be only the chief of a faction, and so bring his estate and life into danger. The punishment of rebels is one mean also to preserve estates and Commonwealths, and to prevent seditions, whereby they are altered and changed. But regard must be had (according to the counsel of Hypocrates) that medicines be not applied to incurable diseases. For when all the people, or the most of them are culpable, to punish all, is as much as to overthrow the Commonwealth. It is also a good mean and most usual for the avoiding of seditions, to take from the people their armour, and to have fortresses fenced and furnished with all things necessary for them. For the neglecting of this giveth occasion to troublesome heads and to such as desire novelties to execute their wicked purposes, and to trouble the estate: and the liberty of armour maketh them more fierce and insolent therein. Moreover we may comprehend that which is requisite and necessary for the preservation 
Five necessary things for the preservation of every commom-wealth.  of every good Commonwealth, under five things: namely, let it be loved faithfully, defended manfully, adorned with nobility, ordered profitably, and governed prudently. It is naturally engrafted into every living creature, to love that place where it took beginning. The savage beasts (saith Cassiodorus) love woods and forests: birds love the air: fishes the sea and rivers: men love the original place of their birth and being: in a word, both men 
All living creatures love the p●ace of their birth.  and beasts love those places where they purpose and to live continued long. He that is more in love (saith Aristotle) with his private profit, than with public wealth, looseth the name of a good citizen, and taketh unto him the name of a wicked subject. Therefore every one both great and small aught to dedicated all good gifts in them to the benefit of their country, loving 
It is the duty of every subject to de●end his country.  their fellow subjects, and exercising their charges and callings faithfully. It is their duty also manfully to defend the Commonwealth against all foreign incursions: and he that defendeth his country, defendeth himself and his. He that refuseth to die (as Cicero saith) in the defence of his country, dieth together with it: which being overthrown, the inhabitants are there withal destroyed. No man therefore aught to fear danger in defence of his country: and it is better to die for many, than with many. They that die (said I●stiman the Emperor) in the defence of their Commonwealth, live always by glory. Therefore every one aught to arm himself with manhood, which is one kind of heroical fortitude, as the moral Philosophers say that he may be serviceable for the safeguard of his country in time of need, and of a just war. The Nobility is the ornament of every Commonwealth. For commonly the Nobles are of greater ability, of better behaviour and more civil than the 
The nobility is the ornament o● a Commonwealth.  common people, than artificers, and men of base estate, because they have been brought up from their infancy in all civility and amongst men of honour. Moreover, to have a noble heart and invincible to resist the enemy, great to exercise liberality, courteousness and honest in talk, bold to execute, gentle to forgive, are graces and virtues proceeding from honesty, which are not so commonly found among men of base condition, as among those that come of good and ancient stocks. For this cause there was in Rome a law called Prosap●a, that is to say, the law of lineage, whereby it was ordained, that they which descended 
Of the law prosapia.  from the race of the Fuluians, Torquates, and Fabritians, should have the Consulship, when it so fell out, that the Senate disagreed about the election of Consuls. In like manner they that came of Lycurgus in Lacedaemon, of Cato in Utica, of Thucydides in Galatia, were not only privileged in their own Provinces, but also greatly honoured of all nations. The defence and preservation of the country belongeth chief to the Nobles, as they that have 
To whom the defence of a country chie fly belongeth  greater use and practise of weapons, than the common people have, whom God and nature hath subjecteth to them, that they should be their defenders and protectors. In this sort then i● the commonwealth decked and adorned of the nobility, and by their means honoured of neighbour friends, and feared of her enemies. Next it must be ordered profitably. Where no order is, there is all confusion. And therefore as a good father of a family taketh order in his house, and a Pilot in his ship: so the magistrate must appoint an order in his city and commonwealth. For all community is confusion, if by order it be not brought to unity. Order is the due disposition of all things, The order of the heavens, times, and seasons 
What order is.  teacheth us among other things the wisdom of the Creator, who hath appointed all divine, celestial and earthly things by a wonderful disposition. Neither doth any thing make Magistrates of commonwealths more admired and commended, than the good order which they establish in them. The end of all good order tendeth to profit, as the end of confusion to loss and destruction. And if profit be to be considered in any thing, it is chief 
The end of order.  to be thought upon in a politic body, The more common and general a good thing is (saith Aristotle) so much the more is it to be esteemed above another. Therefore if it be a good thing and commendable to appoint a profitable order in a house or ship: it is a great deal better, yea most excellent, to order a Commonwealth profitably. Last of all, a Commonwealth must be governed prudently. Government presupposeth order, because no man can rightly 
What government is.  and duly govern without order. Government is a right disposition of those things of which a man taketh charge upon him to bring upon them to a convenient end. Every Monarch Emperor, King, Prince, Lord, Magistrate, Prelate, judge and such like, may be called a Governor: in whom wisdom, patience, and diligence, are necessarily required for the discharge of their duties. Neither may ignorance or any error be received for sufficient excuse of him that hath taken upon him a public charge, and much less if he required and sought for it himself. Yea he may be charged with the lest fault, especially when it concerneth the Estate, or some great matter wherein the Commonwealth hath interest. For 
Ignorance is no sufficient excuse for a magistrate.  this cause we said, that the Commonwealth must be governed with Prudence. But Prudence (saith Aristotle) presupposeth wisdom, and the right reason of things that are to be done. Without Prudence (saith Xe●ophon) we can have no use at all of virtue. For in the administration either of private or public matters, we can come to no good end, without the direction of Prudence, which teacheth us to provide for all things to come, to order 
What prudence is.  things present, and to call to mind things past. We have heretofore discoursed more at large both of that virtue, and also of others requisite in every Magistrate for the faithful execution of his charge. Whereunto we will add this thing only, that every governor must remember, that Lordship, Empire, kingdom, majesty, dominion and power are rather heathen than Christian words: & that the Empire of a Christian prince is nothing else but a just 
What Christistian Empire is.  administration, protection and mean to do good. Therefore when he beholdeth an innumerable multitude of his subjects, he is to think that so many millions of men depend of his carefulness, not to do with them what pleaseth him, but to labour and travel to make them better than when he received them. And in all things wherein the safety of the Commonwealth consisteth, whether it be in preventing the cau●eses of change therein, or in redressing seditions which trouble it, he must always resolve with himself to bring his purpose to pass, how difficult soever the way be, releasing rather somewhat of the extremity of right, (as L●ci●s' Papin●●ss said) seeing the quietness and safety of the people is the chiefest, and most upright law among men that can be. So that when the Common wealth is in danger or in necessity, we must freely bestow upon that blood and name, which is common to us with all the members of the politic body, whatsoever cannot be kept back without violating that common kindred, and the Estate of the Common wealth. So that if he 
We must spare no cost to help the common wealth.  hinder pulike benefits, and hurt the Estate, it is not to be called right any longer, as Ap●ius' Claudius said, speaking of the authority of the Tribunes among the people of Rome. And it is a point of true and natural prudence sometime to give place to the times, But to necessity always. A good Pilot never opposeth himself wilfully against a tempest, but striketh s●ile and keepeth himself still: then weighing his anchors, he floateth safely upon the waves, which not long before were swollen and lift up to drown him. If a man strive against a tempest and against heaven, doth he not even blindfold cast himself down headlong, and as it were desperately seek his own● destruction? Now if all these things hitherto mentioned by us be diligently observed, there is no doubt (God prospering all) but that the preservation of Estates and Monarchies, with good remedies to keep them from trouble and ●edition will follow after.   

Of the Harmony and agreement that aught to be in the Dissi militude or unlike callings of subjects, by reason of the duty and office of every estate. Chap. 66.  A●HITOB. 
WE saw before (my Companions) that a city or civil company is nothing else but a multitude of men unlike in estates or conditions, which communicate together in one place their arts, occupations, works and exercises, that they may live the better, and are obedient to the same laws and magistrates. We learned also, that of such a dissimilitude and harmonical agreement ariseth by due proportion of one towards another in their divers orders and estates, even as the harmony in music consisteth of unequal voices o● sounds agreeing equally together. I am of opinion therefore, that to provoke every one particularly to seek after and to practise this apt agreement, we are to consider severally of all the principal parts that are in a politic body well ordered, and to handle the several duty and office of every one of them, But I leave this discourse of this matter to you.  ASER. 
As there is but one Lord, one faith, one Baptism, one God and father of all, 
Eph. 4. 5. 6.  which is above all and through all, and in us all: so all that believe in him aught to be one, and to have but one heart and one soul, every one referring his gifts and graces to the exercise of perfect charity.  AMANA. 
OH how happy a thing is it to see one flock guided under one God and one king in one religion and policy. Although they ●e many members: yet they make but one body, of which every one hath a like care. But let us hear ARAM discourse at large up on that which is here propounded unto us.  ARAM. 
As we see that in the body of this universal frame, there is (as the Philosophers say) matter, form, privation, simplicity, mixture, substance, quantity, action, and passion, 
All things stand by proportion.  and that the whole world being compounded of unlike elements, of earth, water, air, and fire, is notwithstanding preserved by Analogy and proportion, which they have together: and as we see in a man's body, head, hands, feet, eyes, nose, ears, in a house, the husband, wife children, master servants: in a politic body, Magistrates, Nobles, Common people, artificers: and that every body mingled with heat, cold, dry and moist, is pre●erued by the sam● reason of analogy and proportion which they have together: So it is in every Commonwealth, well appointed and ordered. which consisting of many and sundry subjects, is main tained by their unity, being brought to be of one consent and will, and to communicate their works, arts, and exercises together for common beenefite and profit. For 
Six● sundry callings of men necessary in every good common wealth.  every one is best in his own art, neither can all men do all things. And if it be a very hard matter to be excellent in any one vocation, i● is impossible to excel in all, and to exercise. them duly. Now we may say that six things are necessarily required to frame a happy city & civil society, namely, sacrifices, judgements, arms, riches arts, & aliments, unto which six things & works, six sorts of men are answerable, Pastors, magistrates, nobles, burgesses, artificers, and husbandmen. Therefore to begin the particular handling of the duty and office of these callings, and that as briefly as I can, we are first to note, that never any nation in all the world was so barbarous, or so far estranged from civility, that did not acknowledge & ador● some di●ine nature, and use some kind of sacrifices, and so consequently that had not some priests to exercise them, and some proper ceremonies. Aristotle in his politics saith expressly 
No nation but adoreth some divinity.  that it is a necessary thing to have priests in every city, to take care of the worship of the gods and of sacrifices. Every work that we do (saith Augustine) to be joined nearer to God by a holy society, is a sacrifice. There are three general sorts of sacrifices: the first is the sacrifice of the soul, which we offer to God by contritio, devotion, contemplation & prayer, the second 
The sacrifices of Christians Three sorts of sacrifices.  is of the body, which we offer to God by fasting, abstinence, or by suffering martyrdom to maintain his law, justice, & tru●h. The third sacrifice is of outward goods, when we offer them unto him in the works of charity according to his holy ordinance. So that if sacrifices & priests always took place among the Barbarians, much more careful aught they to be to maintain this divine mystery, that adore & perfectly know God. And as men have lived under 3. laws, the law of nature, the written law, & the law of Grace, so there were sacrifices & priests under every one of them. Melchisedech lived under the law of nature, Aaron under the 
Of priests ●nd pastors.  written law, and under the law of Grace, under which we live at this present, ●esus Christ that great and eternal Priest and sacrificer, who hath offered himself a sacrifice for our redemption, and hath left us his disciples and Apostles & their successors to be our Pastors in the guiding of our souls under his testament & new covenant, which is the infallible rule of his holy and just wil Therefore let them that boast, that they are called of God to such an excellent charge, look to discharge themselves faithfully, by teaching the truth, & leading alive agreeable 
Wherein the office of tru● pastors con●isteth.  to their doctrine. Otherwise if they sit in the chair of pestilence (as David speaketh) let them look for an horrible judgement of God upon their souls, when he shall say unto them by way of reproach, that in this world they sat in their pontifical seats, as the Scribes and Pharisies did long since in the chair of Moses. Their watchmen (saith Easie speaking of evil Pastors) 
Esa. 56. 10. 11 Against dumb dogs & covetous shepherds.  are all blind, they have no knowledge, they are dumb dogs: they cannot bark: they lie & sleeepe, & delight in sleeping. These greedy dogs can never have, enough, & these sleepheards cannot understand, for they all look to their own way, every one for his advantage, and for his own purpose. But contrariwise, A pastor (saith Saint Paul) must be unreprovable, as God's steward, not froward, not angry, not given 
Tit. 1. 7. S. 9 The qualities of a good Pastor.  to wine, no striker, not given to filthy lucre, but harberous, one that lo●eth goodness: wise, righteous, ●oly temperate, holding fast the faithful word according to doctrine, that he also may be able to exhort with wholesome doctrine, and improve them that say against i●. Feed the flock of Christ, which dependeth 
1. Pet. 5. 2. 3.  upon you (saith Saint Peter) caring not for it by constraint, but willingly, not for filthy lucre, but of a ready wind: not as though ye were lords over God's heritage, but that ye may be ensamples to the flock. Therefore if Pastors preach the Gospel, give example of good life by their works, fight against the enemies of the truth with the weapons of charity, prayers, persuasions, testimonies of the holy Scripture: if they remove from them covetousness, pride, dissoluteness, 
Vi●es to be a voided in a Pastor.  and superfluitic of expenses, and walk in this sort in their vocation, the first place of honour is due to them amongst men, and a greater and unspeakable prepared for them in heaven. The second thing that is necessary in every Commonwealth and city, are judgements, and consequently magistrates to execute them. But because we discoursed at large of this matter before, we will not stand long upon it, but comprehend in few words the whole duty and office of a good Magistrate, which consisteth in four things: in taking nothing unjustly 
The duty of a good magistrate consisteth in four things. justice distributed into seven parts.  from any body, in giving to every one his own, in despi●ing his own profit, and in preserving public profit. He performeth these duties perfectly by the distribution of justice into seven parts: By procuring that God may be worshipped, that reverence be given to superiors, that concord be amongst equals, that discipline be used towards inferiors, patience towards enemies, mercy towards the poor, and that integrity of life proceed from himself. Now let us consider of Arms, and of Nobles. Arms (as Varro saith) are all warlike instruments, serving both to set upon our enemies, and to defend ourselves from their assaults and enterprises. They are necessary in a Commonwealth and city for these three causes, to resist the outward force of 
Of arms & of the necessity of them What nobility ●●.  enemies, and to keep them in fear: to repress naughty citizens, both by compelling them to obey magistrates and laws, and by punishing the guilty: and last of all, to defend the liberty of subjects. The exercise and use of arms, wars and battles, ●ath from all antiquity been committed to the Noble men. Nobility (as Aristotle saith) is a glittering excellency proceeding from ancestors, and an honour that cometh from an ancient lineage and stock, Or according (to Bo●tius Severinus) Nobility: is a praise that proceedeth from the desert of our Elders, and forefathers. Many make three kinds of Nobility one 
Three kinds of nobility.  that is bred of virtue and of excellent deeds: thesecond that proceedeth from the knowledge of honest disciplines and true sciences, and the third that cometh from the scut●bionss and Arms of our ancestors, or from riches. But to speak truly, there is no right 
Which inright nobility.  Nobility, but that which springeth of virtue, and good conditions. For as he i●● thief that stealeth, and he unjust that do●h unjustly: so he is a base and vile person, that dealeth villainously. He boasteth in vain of his great lineage, and seeketh to be esteemed for the nobility and virtue of his ancestors, that hath no goodness in him, nor commendable quality of his own to join with those of his predecessors. Let no m●● please himself too much (saith Agapetus) in the nobility of his ancestors, for all men have dung for their stock from whence they come: both they that are pricked up in purple and fine linen, and they that are afflicted with poverty and sickness: a● well they that are decked with crowns as they that lie naked upon the straw. Let us not therefore brag of our earthly race, but let us glory in the integrity of manners. Although vice be in one that cometh of noble blood, yet it is always loathsome and infamous: yea it doth so much the more appear shameful and odious, as it is joined with greater nobility. But virtue is the very lively colour and ornament of nobility, and causeth it to be honoured for love of itself only. All kings and princes saith Plato came of sl●ueses, and all slaves of kings. What profit is there saith Macrine the emperor writing to the Senate of Rome) in nobility, if the he art of a prince be not replenished with bounty and 
Macrines' letter to the Senate of Rome touching nobility.  g●utlenes towards his subjects? The goods of fortune come oftentimes to the unworthy, but the virtue of the soul always maketh a man worthy of the greatest praise. Nobility, riches, & such like, come from with out a man, and are subject to corruption, but justice, bounty, and other virtues, are not only wonderful because they come from the soul, but procure also to him that hath them and useth them virtuously, a perfection of all felicity. Yea it is far better and more commendable in a man, to learn to his posterity a good beginning of nobility by virtue, than to defame by villainy and wicked behaviour that praise which he hath receivod from his predecessors. Therefore we aught not to be puffed up with pride because we come of a great race, seeing that honour belongeth more to our progenitors than to us, if we be not noble by our own virtue. Is not one God (as Malachy saith) father of us al●he 
Malach. 2. ●●  made the first kings of a poor, & base stock, to teach us that men aught not through arrogancy & vain boasting of their nobility, esteem themselves better than others, but so far forth only as his holy gifts & graces are more abundantly in them, Saul was chosen king as he was seeking his father's asse●: David when he was shepherd, & the youngest of his brethren The brier & the rose came of one & the same root, so noble m●n & vile persons came of one mass and lump. The brier is rejected because it pricketh, & the rose for her good smell is esteemed & held in men's hands. So he that maketh himself vile through vice, aught to be rejected, & he that is odoriferous and smellerh sweetly by good virtues and noble actions, aught to be esteemed, honoured and accounted noble of what race & stock soever he cometh. True it is, that ancient nobility joined with excellent virtue, is very commendable among men, especial in every Monarchy well established of which the nobility is the chiefest 
When nobility o● birth is to be esteemed.  pillar, being appointed by God, and approved by the law of man, for their fidelity towards their kings, and defence of their subjects, wherein the true duty and office of noble men consisteth. Richeses are the fourth thing necessary in every commonwealth, and consequently Citizens, who commonly possess them, and are settled from all antiquity in towns, having rents, reveneus and possessions, and being as it were the strong pillars of cities, and 
Of riches & burgesses.  of the whole political body. Cicer● saith, that riches are the sinews of battles. For as the whole body of a man feeleth and moveth by the sinews: so the body of the commonwealth receiveth strength and power by riches to gather men of war together in defence of her liberty 
Richeses are the sinews of war.  For this cause Aristotle in his platform of a happy commonwealth requireth abundance of wealth and money to help public affairs at home, and warlike matters abroad. 
They are necessary in a Commonwealth.  And in another place he saith, that a happy life consisteth in the perfect use of virtue, assisted with bodily and external goods, as with instruments that serve to execute honest actions well & virtuously. It is certain that gold and silver in respect of the soul, are neither good norill, but by good usage they are made profitable for this life, and the abuse of them is hurt 
The exce●ding riches that David left to Sal● m●n.  f●l both to the body & soul. And indeed riches of their own nature are not to be condemned Abraham, Lot, jacob, and job, were rich and holy men. josephus writeth that never any king, either of the Hebrews, or of any other nation, left so great riches to his successor as, david ●●d to Solomon. For he left him to build the temple withal, 10000 talents of gold, and 10000 of silver, besides infinite store of stuff, of wonderful cost and value, which he had caused to be prepared and made ready. The sumptuousness of that Temple, as it is described by this Historiographer, is wonderful. He saith that it was made and finished in seven year, by 80000. Masons. 3200. Overseers, 30000. Hebrews that hewed wood in the forest. & 7000. 
The number of workmen about Salomons temple Augustus maintained yearly 44. Legions of soldiers. The ●ruitss of the Roman Empire in the t●me of Augustus.  other that brought stones and such like matter for the work. If the riches of the Roman Empire had not been great, I means both the public and private wealth, it is certain, that it had not so long time maintained itself in such a glorious and flourishing Estate, as the like was never before, causing the farthest and most unknown nations to stand in fear of her weapons. Hereof we have good proof by that which we read of Augustus Caesar, who ordinarily defrayed the charges of 44. Legions, which amounted yearly to twelve millions of gold. But the Roman Empire was then come to the top of her greatness, having for her bounds the river of Euphrates on the East side, the Ocean sea on the West, on the South side the fruitful religion of Africa, and on the North side the rivers of Rhine and Danubius. At this day 50. kingdoms and estates are divided out of that Monarchy. Therefore if the citizens of the common wealth possess riches, if they employ them upon good works, and that liberally for the tuition, defence and setting forth of their country, they behave themselves like good citizens, borne to do good, and to profit the Commonwealth. The fift thing necessary in every good Common wealth and city, are occupations, and consequently craftsmen. An art is an habit of working according to right reason, as Aristides, saith. Or else, an art is the knowledge of some certain thing gotten by 
Of arts and Artificers. What an Art or occupation ●●.  use, instruction, or reason, tending to necessary uses for man's life. Some arts consists in Speculation, and others in practice. We call Speculation Theorical, that is to say, Speculative: and Action practical, that is to say, Active, This word Artificer is derived of the of the word Arte. Now because that nature is most perfect next to God, the nearer that art approacheth to nature, the better and perfecter it is, as appeareth in images and pictures: so that art is nothing less but an imitation of nature. Those Arts that are commonly called Mechanical, or handy crafts, whereby they differ from liberal arts, of which we have already 
Art is an imitation of nature.  discovered, are of divers sorts. For the better understanding of them we will presuppose that man hath need of three temporal things for the maintenance of this life, namely of Aliments, Houses, and Clothing. He standeth in need of Aliments to restore the consumption of radical moisture, wasted by natural heat, (as the week consumeth the oil in the 
Three things necessary for the life of man. The use of Aliments.  lamp) I say to restore it again by moist nourishment, as by bread, wine, flesh, and other aliments, without which a man could not live. These nutriments are provided and prepared by men of Occupations, as by Butchers, Fishmoongers, Bakers, Cooks, Vintner's, and other handicraftsmen, which serve and look to the provision of victuals. Next, men have need of houses, that every one may have his private place of refuge to keep his body, family, and goods, under covert: and these are edifices and frames erected by the art and building, and made by Masons, Carpenters Geometricians, Sawyers, joiners, and other 
The use of money.  handy crafts that are occupied in carving Likewise a city, in respect both of ornament and of defence, standeth in need of walls, towers, bulwarks, rampires, and other things of defence, as also of temples and other common places, all which cannot be made without the arts of building and of Masonry. The third thing which men stand in need of, are garments to cloth themselves withal, to preserve natural heat, & to keep out external cold, & 
The use of garments.  these are provided by Mercers, Drapers. Tailors, Hosiers, & such like. Besides the above named, things, we stand in need of armour & of horses to defend our liberty & for our great commodity, & so consequently Armerors, Glazers, Sadlers, Spurmakers, Smiths, & such like are necessary. Likewise for the preservation and recovery of our health, we must honour the Physician, Chirurgeon, Apothecary, Drug seller and such like. The duty and office of all artificers, 
The duty of all artificers.  is to avoid idleness sloth, and negligence, and especially to use no deceit in their arts, but to refer the end of their labours more to common● profit than to their private gain. 
Artificers of one Science aught not to devil all together.  And for the avoiding of Engrossers, it is very expedient that the craft's men should be divided into divers parts of the city, and not placed all on a row in one quarter thereof, as they do in the towns of Africa, and in many cities of Europe. For besides the discommodities in great towns, when every quarter hath not in it such artificers as are commonly necessary, it is to be feared that there will be among them Engrossers to forestall the merchandise and wares: or else jealousy and quarrels are to be feared, if one cell better cheap than an other, even before his eyes that refused to take that money. It is true that such artificers as are lest required, as men that live by the hammer, may be ranged in one quarter, that thereby they may be separated from men of learning & quietness. The sixt & last thing necessary in a Commonwealth remaineth to be considered of, namely, Aliments, and consequently labourers. We have already spoken of Aliments: but as for that which concerneth husbandry especially, there is no other art, that doth more awaken the mind of 
Of' Aliments and labourers The praise of husbandry.  man, that ravisheth his senses more, that affoardeth greater pleasure, or is more necessary and profitable for the life of man, than husbandry. Moreover nothing savoureth of greater antiquity, nothing doth better discover the greatness of the works, of God, nothing doth cast forth more lively marks and beams, of a wonderful divinity, than husbandry. For most of other arts were invented long time after man was created of God, and augmented 
The Antiqui. Thereof.  since by the industry of many. Only husbandry gave sufficient testimony of itself, and of the incomprehensible power of God, when presently after the creation of the elements, there came out of the bowels of the earth all kind of herbs and plants garnished with their proper virtues for the service and commodity of men. Man himself also by a divine and natural instinct hath been from the beginning more inclined and disposed to the tillage of 
Men have been always more inclined to husbandry than to any other vocation. Princes have forsaken their diadems to fall to husbandry. Cyrus. Dioclesianus.  the earth, than to any other study and vocation whatsoever: as we read of our first Fathers, who commonly called themselves labourers of the earth, and feeders of cattle. Husbandry and the country life were so much commended and esteemed of the ancients, that many of them have written sundry books thereof in Greek, and Latin: and many monarchs have heretofore left their great places, and contemned their purple robes and diadems, that they might give themselves to the manuring of the country commodities. Cirus was never better pleased and contented, than when he might be dressing of some goodly piece of ground, and setting of certain number of trees checkerwise. Dioclesian forsook the sceptre of his Empire, that he might withdraw himself into the filds, and time with his own hands, trees grafts, several plots of ground, and gardens. Besides in husbandry and the country life, profit aboundeth with pleasure, and gain with delight. As for profit it is very evident. For a good husbandman is always provided for bread, wine, flesh, fruit, wood, and other aliments. 
Profit and pleasure are joined together in husbandry.  And concerning pleasure, it is incredible to one that hath skill and will to consider of the marvels of nature, besides a thousand delights, with exercises as pleasant & profitable for his health as can be. And that benefit which is most excellent & chiefest of all, I mean tranquility of mind, may more easily be obtained by the Muses, darlings, and lovers of knowledge in the midst of the open filds and pleasant found of waters, than amongst the noise of 
The country fit for students than the city.  suits and dissensions wherewith cities are replenished. It belongeth to the duty of labourers to live in their simplicity, and to do their endeavour in tilling the fields. For the performing hereof they stand in need of three things: of skill to know the nature of the soil, and the seasons of sowing and gathering: of will to be diligent and careful to continued in their country labour: 
The duty of husbandmen Three things necessary for them.  and lastly of ability to provide oxen, horses, cattles, and other instruments of husbandry. By this discourse therefore we may see what things are most requisite and necessary for the institution of a happy commmonwealth, & that no man is so industrious, witty or prudent, that of himself without the help of another he can live without society, and minister to himself all necessary things. For this cause the fellowship of many together was found out, that by teaching, judging, defending, giving, taking, changing, serving and communicating their works and exercises one with another, they might live well and commodiously together. Which thing will undoubtedly come to pass in every commonwealth, when every one walking in his vocation, directeth his will and work to the service of God, his Prince and country.   

Of Peace, and War. Chap. 67  ARAM. 
IVstinian the Emperor in the Preface of his Institutions saith: That it is necessary for the imperial majesty to have respect to two times, namely, of peace and war, 
Every commonwealth must be always provided against all events both of peace and war.  that it may be provided against all events either of the one or the other. Laws and good politic statutes are necessary for it in time of peace, that the provinces may be quietly governed: but in the time of war it must always have armour ready and convenient forces, to help friends, to resist enemies, and to contain disobedient subjects within compass. Now having hitherto entreated of that policy, which chief respecteth the time of peace, we must hereafter? (my companions) refer to our discourses that small knowledge which we have of warlike discipline. And first I think we must oppose these times of peace and war one against the other, and consider of their clean contrary effects, that we may be so much the more easily led and persuaded to desire and procure that which is best and most profitable for every estate and monarchy. Therefore I propound unto you this matter to discourse upon.  ACHITOB. 
If it be possible, as much as in you is (saith the Apostle) have peace with all men: and let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which ye are called in one body. For truly without peace 
Rom. 12. 18. Col 3. 15.  all riches is but poverty, all mirth but mourning, all life but death. But no man can perfectly know the benefit of peace, that hath had no trial of the burden of war.  ASER. 
If ye walk in my ordinances (saith the eternal God) I will sand peace in the land: but if ye will not obey me, but despise mine ordinances, I will sand a sword upon you, that shall avenge the quarrel 
Levit. 26. 3. 6. 14, 15, 16.  of my covenant, and ye shall be delivered into the hand of the enemy. Now let us hear AMANA discourse upon that which is here propounded unto us.  AMANA. 
Lycurg●s' entering into the government of the Lacedæmonians, and finding their estate greatly corrupted, determined with himself to change their whole Policy. For he thought that if he should only make some particular laws and ordinances, it would do no more good, than a slender medicine would profit a corrupt body full of many diseases, before order were taken for the purging, resolving, and consuming of the evil humours, that a new form and rule of life might afterward be prescribed. His enterprise although great and difficult, yet fell out very well, and his laws were received and approved of the people, after a little force and fear wherewith at first they were restrained. But this lawmaker referred all his laws to war and to victory, and kept his subjects in continual exercise of arms, not 
Lycurgus' referred all his laws to war, appointing the Il●teses only to deal with occupations.  suffering them to learn any other science or handicraft, unto which he appointed the Ilotes only, who were men brought in subjection by the right of war. Whereby Lycurgus seemeth to have been of this mind, that force aught to be mistress in all worldly matters, and that other things serve to no purpose if they want Arms, which by a certain right of war that shall always continued amongst men, bring in subjection to Conquerors the persons and goods of those whom they overcome. It seemeth also he thought that there was never any true peace among men, but only in name, and that all Princes and people live in continual distrust one of another, and do nothing else for the most part but watch how to surprise each other, (as Plutarch elegantly setteth it out) notwithstanding all leagues and goodly agreements that pass between them. Numa Pompilius, second king of the Romans clean contrary to Lycurgus, was so far in love with peace, and referred all his laws 
Numa referred all his laws to peace.  in such sort thereunto, that during his reign, there was neither war, nor civil dissension, nor any motion of novelty in the government of the Commonwealth. Much less was there any enmity or envy conceived against him particularly, or conspiracy against his person through desire of ruling, but all occasions of war being extinguished and removed, the Temple of janus was continually kept shut for the space of forty years, which was a sign of 
The keeping o● janus temple shut, was a sign of peace among the Romans.  peace amongst the Romans. For not only at Rome the people were tractable through the example of the justice, clemency, and goodness of king Numa, but also in the towns round about there was a marvelous alteration of manners: insomuch that as the beams of a clear Sun are dispersed abroad, so there was shed in the hearts of men a secret desire to live in peace, to labour the ground, to bring up their children quietly, and to serve and honour their gods. And Plutarch writeth in his life, that in his time there was nothing but feasts, plays, sacrifices, and banquets throughout all Italy: so that a man might say, that the wisdom of Numa was a lively fountain of all goodness and honesty, out of which many rivers issued to water all Italy; and that his peaceable prudence was communicated as it were from hand to hand unto the whole world. Now, although these two men have been greatly praised and commended for sundry rare virtues, yet all men approve not the extremities which they followed in this form of government. For as he is pernicious that moveth and continueth war only to subdue his neighbours, to enlarge the borders of his Country, and to usurp other men's right, which savoureth more of brutishness than of humanity: so a long peace bringeth with it many discommodities, making men insolent commonly through too great prosperity, as also nice, lavish, and effeminate, through abundance of wealth and idleness. Therefore Plato, Aristotle, and Polybius, reprove Lycurgus, because he propounded only the exercise of the virtue of war to his Citizens, which is the 
The discommodities of a long peace.  lest of those four, that are necessary for the establishment & preservation of every Empire: saying, that all his laws were well ordained to make men valiant, but not just, temperate, and prudent. On the other side, they that are too much affected to peace and quietness, weaken themselves by little and little before they be ware, and by their example mollify the courage of youth, whereby they lie open to the injuries of those that invade them, and so lose their liberty, not being able to defend their persons and goods. But as the world is compounded of four elements, by whose mixture it is so made, that it is both seen and touched, 
Excellent comparisons between the composition of the world, and of every happy Common wealth.  and withal is preserved in such love and concord, that it cannot be dissolved by any other than by him that made it: so every public estate must be established by four virtues, by whose harmony and agreement it is preserved. And as the fire and the earth were first created to make the whole frame subject to sight and feeling, and then the water and the air mingled with them, that the dissimilitude of those extremes might be tempered according to proportion: so fortitude and justice are first required in the ordaining of commonwealths, because they cannot continued without law and strength; and next prudence and temperance being joined with them, moderate rigour and remissness of both. Again, as by these natures of which all things are made, being dispersed above and beneath, and on all sides, the world is preserved and continued, so that light things are kept from ascending through the weight of heavy things, and contrariwise heavy things held aloft, that they fall not: so by these four virtues dispersed amongst men, a commonwealth well instituted and guided by discipline, is maintained. And although by reason of the variety and change of human affiaires it cannot continued so long, and so adorned as the world, yet it will abide many years. Moreover, as the elements are bred one of another, & altar to and fro, going into, and returning continually from the first matter, which receiveth them into itself, for which cause they cannot be seen simple, but mixed: whereupon ariseth such a temperature of all things, that they whither not by drought, nor borne with heat, neither are overwhelmed with two great moisture, nor grow stiff with excessive cold: so these virtues whereby cities are instituted, must be mingled one with another, and agreed together for the mutual preservation, wisdom being Precedent over them, in which they are all contained. For they cannot maintain themselves one without another, nor keep their vigour and dignity. justice without temperance is rigour: fortitude separated from justice is rashness and 
How the virtues are knit together and depend one of another.  cruelty, and without prudence justice is but craft and subtlety. To conclude, temperance without fortitude aught rather to be called cowardliness and niceness: whereby we see that they are so interlaced, and depend in such sort one of another, that they cannot be separated. If it fall out otherwise, that estate wherein such disorder taketh place, must of necessity be utterly overthrown or changed. Out of these learned Philosophical discourses we will draw a very good lesson: namely, that in every Estate well instituted for continuance, this temperature of the four virtues must necessarily be kept, that men may be instructed how to govern themselves well both in time of peace and of war, and observe such a moderation therein, that knowing how to deal in both times they may be ready and fit for war when necessity urgeth, having this end before them to attain to peace, which must always be preferred, as rest is before travel, and good before evil, as we shall easily understand by considering 
Peace is to be preferred before war.  their contrary effects. It is certain that Philosophy is best exercised in time of peace. For when there is no trouble of war, the spirit is quiet, and fit for every honest kind of rest, so that arts and sciences go well forward, laws are in force, justice flourisheth, virtue showeth 
The effect of peace. The effect of war.  her effects better, vicelanguisheth, the zeal of piety increaseth, the discipline of the church is authorised, both the noble & mean man preserveth and augmenteth his wealth, trade and traffic is free: briefly, every one receiveth good & commodity, & so consequently the whole body of the commonwealth. But if we look to those effects, which the time of war commonly bringeth forth, the desire of having is awaked, covetousness increaseth, justice falleth to the ground, force and violence beareth sway, spoiling reigneth, riot is set at liberty, wicked men, are in authority, good men oppressed, innocency trodden under foot, maidens & wives deflowered, countries wasted, houses burnt, Churches destroyed, tombs broken down, goods spoiled, murders committed, all virtue banished from amongst men, vice honoured, the laws contemned & broken, the service of God forsaken, the estate of the Church derided, the nobility and people burdened with infinite charges and costs, all kind of trades hindered: briefly, there is no calamity or misery that aboundeth not in the commonwealth, in time of war. We may judge that kingdom happy, wherein the Prince is obedient to the law of God and nature, Magistrates to the Prince, private men to Magistrates, children to their Fathers, servants to their Masters, and subjects being linked in love one with another, and all of them with their Prince, enjoy the sweetness of peace, and true quietness of mind. 
War maketh men cruel, & peace gentle.  But war is clean contrary thereunto, and soldiers are sworn enemies to that kind of life. For war maketh men barbarous, mutinous, and cruel, as peace maketh them courteous and tractable. We read that Englishmen were in times passed so seditious and untameable, that not only their Princes could not do what they would, but also the English merchants were of necessity lodged apart by themselves. For so the town of Antwerp was constrained to do, where there was one house common for all merchant strangers, except Englishmen, who had a house by themselves, because they could not abide to be joined with others. The chief cause of that strange quality was because their country bordered upon two estates and nations that were their enemies: namely, upon the Frenchmen and Scots, with whom they had continual war: but since they concluded a peace, and joined in league with France and Scotland, they become very mild and civil. And contrariwise the Frenchmen, who were inferior to no nation whatsoever, in courtesy and humanity, are greatly changed from their natural disposition, and become savage since the civil wars began. The like (as Plutarch saith) happened to the Inhabitants of Sicilia, who by means of continual war grew to be like brute beasts. Archidamus king of Lacedaemonia, knowing well the effects of peace and war here briefly touched by us, and hearing that the Elians sent succours to the Archadians to war against him, took occasion to writ unto them after the laconical manner, in stead of a long discourse. Archidamus to the Elians: Peace is a goodly thing. And another time he gave a notable testimony how far he preferred peace before 
Archidamus letter to the Elians.  war, when he made this answer to one that commended him, because he had obtained a battle against the foresaid Archadians: It had been better if we had overcome them by prudence rather than by force. The self same reason of loving peace, and abhorring the breakers thereof, was the cause why Cato in a full Senate opposed himself against the request which Caesar's friends made, that the people should offer sacrifice by way of thanksgiving to the gods, for the notable victories which he had gotten against the Germans, of whom he had surprised and discomfited 300000. I am (said Cato) rather of this opinion, that he should be delivered 
Cato misliked Caesar for breaking of peace.  into their hands whom he hath wronged without cause by violating the peace, which they had with the people of Rome, that they may punish him as they think good, to the end that the whole fault of breaking faith and promise with them, may be cast upon him alone, and not be laid upon the city, which is no cause at all thereof. And to say truth, wise men are greatly to fear all beginnings of war. For being in the end grown to some ripeness, after that some men wanting experience in worldly affairs, have rashly and unskilfully sown the seed thereof, hardly can the greatest and wisest kings pluck it up again without great labour and peril. Therefore they that are too desirous and hasty to begin war, pervert the order of reason: because they begin by execution and force, which aught to be last, after due consultation. But he deserveth greater honour and praise that procureth peace and winneth the enemy's hearts by love, than he that obtaineth victory by shedding their blood cruelly. For this only reason (saith Cicero) we must begin war, that we may live in peace, and not receive wrong: but this must be done after we have required satisfaction for the injury offered. It was 
Wherhfore and when we must begin to war. Photion dissuaded the Athenians from war.  for these considerations that Photion, the great Athenian captain laboured to stop the war, which the people of Athens had determined to make against the Macedonians, at the persuasion of Leosthenes. And being demanded when he would counsel the Athenians to make war, when I see (quoth he) that the young men are fully resolved not to leave their ranks, that rich men contribute money willingly, and Orators abstain from robbing the Commonwealth. Nevertheless the army was levied against his counsel, and many wondering at the greatness & beauty thereof, asked him how he liked that preparation: It is fair for one brunt (said Photion) but I fear the return and continuance of the war: because I see not that the city hath any other means to get money, or other Vessels and men of war, beside these. And his foresight was approved by the event. For although Leostheves prospered in the beginning of his enterprise (whereupon Photion being demanded whether he would not gladly have done all those great and excellent things, answered that he would, but not have omitted that counsel which he gave) yet in the end he was slain in that voyage, the Grecian army overthrown by Antipater and Craterus two Macedonians, and the city of Athens brought to that extremity, that it was constrained to sand a blank for capitulations of peace, and to receive within it a garrison of strangers. Thus it falleth out commonly to those that seek for war by all means either by right or wrong. Every prince that desireth it in that manner, stirreth up against himself both the hatred and weapons of his neighbours, he vexeth and grieveth his subjects unworthily, seeking rather to rule over them by violence, than to gain their good will by justice; he quite overthroweth his country, 
The first-fruits of unjust war.  preferring dominion, and greatness of his own glory, before the benefit, quietness, and safety thereof: and oftentime he diminisheth his own authority, and is brought in subjection to his enemies, whilst he laboureth to possess another man's right by force. Augustus' the Emperor said, that to have a good and lawful war, it must be commended by the gods, and justified by the Philosophers. And Aelius Spartianus affirmeth, that Traian only 
When a war is lawful. Traian never undertook unjust war. Antigonus' testimony of the injustice of war. Caesar.  of all the Roman Emperors was never overcome in battle, because he undertook no war, except the cause thereof was very just. But we may say, that no war between Christians is so justified, but that still there remaineth some cause of scruple. The testimony of Antigonus the Elder, wherein he accuseth himself, is very notable to show what great wickedness and injustice is in war, when he used this speech to a Philosopher that offered and dedicated unto him a treatise, which he had made of justice. Thou art a fool, my friend, to come and tell me of justice, when thou seest me beat down other men's towns. Caesar answered little less to Metellus a Tribune of the people, who being desirous to keep him from taking the money that was in the common treasury, alleged unto him the laws that forbade it: to whom this Monarch replied, that the time of war, and the time of laws were twain. Moreover, we see, that famine and the pestilence commonly follow war. For the abundance of all things being wasted, want of victuals must of necessity succeed, whereupon many diseases grow. Briefly, 
Famine & the plague follow war. Malcontents are glad of war. Causes why the exercise of arms must always continued.  it bringeth with it nothing but a heap of ●ll evils and miseries, and easily draweth and allureth the violence and evil disposition of many to follow the state of the time. For they that desire a change, are very glad of such an occasion to ground their platforms upon: which they could not do in time of peace, because men are then of a better judgement and affection, as well in public as in private matters. But whatsoever we have spoken of the miseries that follow war, warlike discipline must not be suffered to degenerate in a commonwealth well established: seeing there is never want of evil neighbours that are desirous to encroach upon other men borders, and seeing the laws, justice, subjects, and the whole state, are under the protection of Arms, as it were under a mighty buckler. And forasmuch as the defence of our life, and pursuit of thieves is warranted both by the law of God, of nature, and of man, it followeth that the subjects must needs be trained up in feats of Arms, both defensive and offensive, that they may be a buckler to the good, and a bar to the bad. Wherein the example of Augustus is very notable, who in time of an assured peace would not dissolve 
Augustus kept 40. legions in continual exercise of warlike discipline. Constantine the great.  and dismiss the forty legions, but sent them to the Provinces and borders of those nations that were most barbarous, to keep them in warlike discipline, and withal to take away as near as he could, all occasion of civil war. Whereof Constantine the Great, had sorrowful experience, when he discharged his bands of soldiers, whereby he opened the gates unto his enemies, who after that invaded the Roman Empire on all sides. For the conclusion therefore of our discourse, let us learn to desire peace rather than war, the one being a certain sign of the blessing of God upon his people, and the other of his wrath and maledicti on. Let the Prince think with himself (as Traian wrote to the Senate) that he is called not 
Good considerations for a prince.  to war, but to govern: not to kill his enemies, but to root out vices: not so much to go forth to war, as to tarry in the common wealth: not to take another man's goods from him, but to do justice to every one, especially considering that in war a Prince can fight but in the place of one, at which times he is wanting to many in the common wealth. And yet because the sword is put into the Magistrate's hand, for the preservation of public peace, he cannot employ or use it better than in resisting, breaking, and beating down their attempts, that tyrannically seek to trouble it, being led with ambition and desire to enlarge their bounds with other men's right. Now, because the greater part of Potentates, and neighbour Princes direct their purposes to this mark, it is very expedient and necessary in every well ordered estate, that the youth, especially the nobility should br trained up and exercised in feats of Arms, to the end that in time of necessity, and for common profit, they may be apt and ready to serve their Prince and country.   

Of the ancient Discipline, and order of War. Chap. 68  AMANA. 
But following our purpose, which is to discourse of the state of war, according to the small experience that our age affordeth, and our state hath gathered, we are now to speak my (companions) of warlike discipline, which for the excellent order thereof used in ancient time, is so much the more worthy to be noted, as ours is to be contemned, for the great disorder that is seen in it. Therefore I leave the handling of this matter to you.  ARAM 
Discipline among souldi●rss is the cause that order is kept in all matters of war, which procureth in army's obedience and victory.  ACHITO● 
The unbridled licence that is used now adays among souldi●rss, breedeth such boldness in them, that all 〈◊〉 discipline is supplanted thereby. But let us hear ASER discourse of this matter.  ASER. 
If we appoint to every one (saith S●crat●s' in Plato) his several art whereunto he is aptest by nature, and which he must use all his life time, ● forsaking all other trades, to the end that observing opportunities, he may discharge it the better, there is no doubt but 
It is not the weapon that maketh a warrior. From whence valour proceedeth.  that in warlike discipline, which is a great deal more excellent than any other trade, greater leisure, greater cunning and practice is necessarily required. For if a man take a Target, or some other warlike weapon and instrument in his hand, he is not by and by fit to fight, much less of sufficient courage to serve manfully, if he be not long before prepared thereunto by sound reasons and resolutions. It is no workeof an hour, or of a day, to persuade men, that if they will get praise, they must settle themselves to sustain all travels, to assay all p●rils, and to hold this opinion constantly, that it is more to be desired to die fight in a good and just quarrel, than to escape with life by flying away. But that which breedeth and nourisheth such thoughts in men's hearts, is the good education and institution of youth in the discipline of virtue, and in the knowledge of Fortitude and Magnanimity, which are inseparably followed of honour and immortal glory: whereby all fear of enemies is taken away, and watching' traveling, suffering obeying, well liked of, that they may bring to pass their noble enterprises. The assyrians, Persians', Grecians and Romans, whose deeds of Arms are almost incredible, had always in singular recommendation the maintenance of warlike discipline, but their chief desire was to imprint these three things in the hearts of their soldiers. Willingues, Re●erence, and Obedience of which things the happy conduct of all 
Three things necessarily required in men of war●e. Good will cometh from good institution. Reverence from the wisdom and experience of Captains. Obedience is wrought in them by the diligence of Heads.  war dependeth. They that were well brought up and instructed in virtue, could not want good will to execute virtuous actions. Those Heads and leaders of armies that were well chosen, and had wisdom and experience, did by their wonderful virtue provoke every one to reverence them. Moreover, this Maxim of war was diligenrly practised of the Heads: namely, to make their soldiers more devout and obedient to their commandments, than affectioned to any other thing, how gainful soever it were. At this day, as the former education and instruction is wanting, so the Heads and Captains are insufficient. And from thence proceedeth the disorder and disobedience of men of war, whereupon loss of the battle and destruction of the Army followeth instead of victory. But that we may begin to consider of this ancient warlike discipline, we will here only weigh the order of the Roman arm●es and battles, who excelled all nations in feats of Arms: and then we will look into that great obedience & severe rule of living, that was observed among the men of war. We shall not found in all the Roman Histories any battle of greater or more importance between the people of Rome, and any other nation, than that which they had with the Latins when Torquatus and Decius were Consuls. For as the Latins by losing the battle were brought in to bondage, so should the Romans have been, if they had not won it. Titus Livius is of this opinion, who maketh both the armies in all respects alike, both for number, virtue, resolution and order, and putteth the difference only in the virtue of the Captains, which he 
The virtue of the Captains is much in war.  supposeth was greater on the Roman● side, and so consequently 'cause of their victory, The likeness and equality of these two h●astss proceeded of this, because they had long time followed and practised feats of arms together, using the same order, language, and weapons, and keeping the self same manner of ordering their battles, insomuch that both their orders and their Captains had the same names. Now this was the order of the Roman army: their whole host was divided into three principal parts, whereof the first consisted of pikemen, the second of the chief Gentlemen and Lords, the third was called the rear ward, and 
The ancient order of the Romans army.  every part was chiefly compounded offoot men, being accompanied with a certain number of horsemen. Their battles being ordered in this sort, they placed pike men in the forward, right behind them were the noble men, and in the third place behind they appointed their rear ward, which they called by the ●ame of Triarii. They had also certain troops 
The Romans divided their army into three parts.  of horsemen, both on the right and left side of every part of their army, whom they called wings, in respect of the place which they had, because they seemed to be the wings of that body. They set the forward close together in the forefront, that it might both break in upon the enemy, and sustain the on set. The battle because it was not to fight first, but to sucsuccour the forward when it was either put to the worst or driven back, was not joined so close, but kept their ranks wider asunder, so that it might without disorder to itself receive the forward within it, if by any mishap or breach of array, it should be constrained to retire. The rearward had their ranks farther distant one fro● another than the battle, that it might be able to receive within it both the forward and the battle when need required. Their battles then being thus ranged, they began the skirmish, and if their pike men were driven back and vanquished, they retired into the distances, and void spaces of the noblemen. Than both of them being knit together in one, made one body of two battles, and so began the fight again. But if they both being joined together were put to the worst, they gathered themselves together in the wide & large ranks that were left for them in there reward of the Triarii. And then these three parts joined in one, renewed the fight, and so either lost or won the battle, being unable ●o repair themselves again. Therefore when the rearward entered into the conflict, the army was in danger: whereupon arose that proverb, Resredactaest adTriarios, which is as much to say in English, as The matter is brought to the Rearward, and to the extremity. Now the captains of these our times, having forsaken all order of ancient discipline, make no account of this ordinance of war although 
The benefit of this Roman order.  if it be well considered, it will be found a matter of great importance. For he that ordereth his host so that he may repair himself thrice in one battle, must have fortune his enemy three sundry times before he can lose it, and be utterly overthrown. Whereas he that trusteth only to the first encounter, as the most do at this day, offereth himself ras●ly unto danger and loss. For one only disorder, one small virtue may carry the victory from him. Now that whith hindereth our armies from repairing themselves thrice, is the lack of skill to gather one battle into another. We also appoint only a forward and a main battle for the most part, and lay the hope and strength of the army upon the horsemen: whereas the ancient made most account of the footmen. So that if the horsemen receiving the onset should have the repulse, and their array broken, the rest were easily to be dealt withal: beside, that commonly the footmen are disordered by their own horsemen, being compelled to retire. For this the Swissers, called by some masters of these late wars, when 
The wisdom of the Swissers fight on the Frenchmens' side.  they purpose to fight, especially on the Frenchmens' side, are very careful to have the horsemen on the one side, and not to follow next after them, to the end that being wide of them if by mishap they should be repulsed, yet they might not overrun and disorder them. And this hath been oftentimes noted, that the Frenchmen according to the advantage or discommodity of the first brunt given by their forward or battle, have been partakers of the like issue and event afterward: so that if they were put the worst in the first encounter, their 
Frenchmen losing the first encounter, lose also the victory  enemy was in a manner assured of the victory. This caused Titus Livius to writ in many places, that Frenchmen in the beginning of a battle are more than men, but in the endless than women. But that which causeth them to break their order so quickly, may be better known if we set down here 2. kinds of armies, the one where there is fury & order, as there was in the Roman army, in which, according to the testimony of all histories, good order through continuance of time had planted such a warlike discipline, that nothing was done amongst them but by rule. They did neither eat nor sleep, nor deal in any other warlike or private action, without the appointment of the Council, or Head of the army. So 
Some armies are furious, & yet keep good order.  that all virtue being thus settled amongst them, they exercise their fury by mea●es, and as time and occasion served: neither could any difficulty arise, that could quail their resolution well begun, or 'cause them to be discouraged, by reason of their good order which refreshed them and strengthened their courage, that was nourished with the hope of victory, which is never wanting as long as good orders ar● truly observed. But in the other kind of army, there fury beareth sway, and not orders, as it falleth out often in the French armies, if 
Good orders in armies is never without hope of victory.  victory doth not follow their first assay. For their fury, wherein their hope consisted, is not succoured with settled virtue, neither have they any other confidence but in their fury, so that as soon as they are somewhat cooled, and see never so little disorder and breach of array, they are presently discomfited. Contrariwise, the Romans being less afraid of perils, because 
In the French armies is fury without order  of their good order, fought firmly and resolutely together without any distrust of the victory, being as courageous & virtuous in the end as in the beginning: yea the harder they were charged with weapons, the more were they inflamed and set one fire. Moreover, concerning their warlike discipline, it may easily be known by that speech which Titus Livi●s' rehearseth of Papirius Cursor, who complained of the corruption that began to grow in their army, for the which he would have punished Fabius General of the horsemen. No man (saith he) beareth any reverence either to men, or to the gods. The Edicts of the captain, of the C●r●●ell, and of the sooths●ireses are not observed. The soldiers go wandering up and down like vagabonds, both in countries that are a● peace with us, & also in our enemy's lands: they discharge themselves at their 
The ancient warlike discipline of the Romans.  pleasure, and forget their ●ath. The Ensigns are desol●te, and not● followed. Besides, they ●oine not together as they are commanded, nor consider whether it be by day or by night, whether in a place of advantage, or of disadvantage, They fight without the captains commandment; they keep not their ranks and signs. Briefly, whereas war was woost to be solemn and sacred, it is disordered, inconsiderate and guided at all adventure, after the manner of the every. But as long as warlike discipline took place among the ancient Romans, their camp was a school of honour, of sobriety, of chastity, 

What manner of camp the ancient Romans had.  
Of the ancient obedience of soldiers to their captains.   of justice, & of all virtue, so that no man might revenge his own injuries, or proceed of himself peremptorily. They knew not what it was to live at discretion, much less to go a foraging, to rob, steal, beat, or murder, as men do now adays. And as touching obedience towards their captains, it was very wonderful. For they feared not to prefer it before the safety of their own lives, and before all victory. At the battle of Cannae the Roman knights seeing the Consul alight and certain others with him because he was hurt, & thinking that he had commanded them all to do so, they presently left their horses, which was the cause of their overthrow. And this did Hannibal then declare with a loud voice, saying: I would not desire rather to have them delivered to me bound, than as they be. The executions 
Of the execution that was showed upon soldiers that offended.  that were showed upon the disobedient and offenders were full of rigour, and the qualyty of their punishments marvelous strange. For the Heads of armies sometime sticked not to 'cause a whole legion to pass through the dikes, (which consisted of 6000. ●ootmens, & 500 horsemen) for some notable fault committed by them. But among all their terrible executitions, the tithing of armies was most severe, when every tenth man throughout a whole host was by lot put to death. Now kind of punishment could be found that was more fearful for the correcting of a multitude than this which they practised especially when the 
The tithing of armies was most severe.  chief author, and they that were the procurers of some notorious fact, were not known. For than had it been too much to have chastised the whole company: and if some had been corrected, and others left unpunished, innocents preaduenture should have suffered, and the guilty escaped scotfree. Whereas by tithing, they that were punished, could not complain but of the lot: and the rest were kept in fear, lest the like faults should fall out again amongst them. Whereupon they observed one another, that as many as did not their duty might be known and chastised. The Captains and Heads of armies were no less rigorously 
How Captains were punished of they o●●ended.  handled by them that had the sovereignty of the Estate, if they did capitulate, or make any agreement with the enemies, to the detriment and disadvantage of the Common wealth For they sent them back again naked, and not the Heads only, but also all that had any charge in the army, and consented to the composition that the enemies might return upon their heads all the sin of breaking that oath which they had taken, and that appointment which they had sworn to. The Emperor Aurelius laboured earnestly to bring in again the ancient discipline of war, and to 'cause it to be strictly observed: whereof his letter is a sufficient testimony, being written by him to a Tribune of war, in these words. If thou wil● be a Tribune, or rather if thou wilt live,, restrain the soldiers hands, that none steal another man's hen or touch his sheep. Let ●o man take a grape, or spoil and tread down the corn. Let no man●exact of 
Aurclius le●ter to a Tribune touching warlike discipline.  his Oast oil, salt, or wood, but let every one be content with his allowance. Let them enrich themselves with the pray of their enemies, and not with the tears of our subjects. Let their armour be glaced and ●l●a●e: their h●s● and shoes good and strong. Let new apparel, drive away the old and let them keep their wages in their purse, and not spend it in taverns. Let them lay aside bracelets & rings. Let every one dress his own horse, and one help another. Let the Physicians and chirurgeons look to them without m●ny, & let soothsayerss have nothing given them. Let them live chastened in their Oasts houses: and let such as are mutivous and given to quarreling, be punished and corrected. Let them trench their camp 
The corruption of warlike discipline in these days.  every day as if they were near their enemy. Behold surely an excellent form of warlike discipline expressly in few words, which is so far from our behaviour, that the people in these days would think they were favourably dealt withal, if the soldiers took no more from them, but that which this Emperor forbiddeth his to take upon pain of life. And truly the unmeasurable licence that is granted them, causeth the soldiers to enter into the field only to spoil and rob, and to eschew the fight. And in stead of helping one another, and taking care every one of his own horse, there is not a soldier so beggarlike, but will have his four Lackeiss, so that a thousand soldiers in these days will be more chargeable to the people, than twenty thousand that are well ordered would be. If a Roman soldier had committed adultery with his Oasts wife, Aurelius caused him to be torn in sunder with two trees bowed down one against another. It was death also to take an egg. If he went out of his 

Aurelius punished adultery and theft committed by his soldiers, with death.  
True payment of soldiers redresseth many disorders amongst them.   rank whilst the army marched, he had the bastannado. Oftentimes for one simple fault a whole Legion was discharged and the captain severely punished: and yet for all this rigour, the soldiers loved the Emperor as their father. He also gave them their pay well and truly, and rewarded liberally such as did their duty. This is the way to redress so many disorders and calamities as are seen in our armies, and to restore in some sort that warlike discipline which is abolished. For soldiers allege this as an excuse for all their wicked deeds, that they are not paid, and many would not be paid, that so they might cloak their robberies. When the small tax, and since that the payment of fifty thousand footmen, was laid upon the subjects, the king promised to employ that money upon no other use, than upon the payment of his men at war, as also to keep that money apart from his ordinary receipts. But because this is not duly observed, the people are doubly vexed: for they pay their money, & yet are polled on all sides. Notwithstanding all these ordinary charges, the poor peasants would think themselves happy if they were discharged by erecting of victualling tents for the men of war, as they have been forced to do of late years. Now what good issue can be hoped for, when the soldiers through an unbridled licence, sack, spoil, and burn the poor subjects? This hath always been seen, that houses, families, kingdoms and Empires, have come to ruin and poverty, because the poor were contemned, and the subjects given over to the robberies of soldiers. The immoderate licence of the Praetorian soldiers (who were to the Emperors as the janissaries are to the Turk) and of other men of war, was no 
The unruliness of the Praetorian soldiers.  small help to overthrow the Roman Empire. For taking upon them to elect Emperors at their pleasure, one was chosen in one army and another elsewhere, and presently murdered by those that had elected them. Their insolency also caused seditions and civil wars, whereupon those kingdoms & countries that were under the Roman obedience, revolted. And it cometh to pass oftentimes, that their unruly behaviour incenseth the people in such sort against them, that their destruction followeth. As it happened to all the Frenchmen that were in the I'll of Sicilia, in the year 1281. upon Easter day, at the first peal of Evensong, at what time they were all put to death by a secret conspiracy for their insolences and whoordomes: whereupon this Proverb doth yet remain among us, The Sicilian Evensong. There 
The Sicilian Evensong.  is no corner of this kingdom where the people being half mad through the injuries received from the men of war, have not committed infinite and cruel massacres. We may not here forget to propound the wise and warlike discipline of Belizarius, lieutenant General to 
Belizarius.  the Emperor justinian, who for valour and temperance was equal to the ancient Romans (as histories testify of him) which was the cause that he conquered all Italy possessed by the Barbarians. Not long since during the war of Piemount (which was a very school of virtue, 
The mild war of Piemount.  and of warlike knowledge) the peasant, husbandman, and artificer, were suffered quietly at the work, the war continuing between warriors only for the possession, and not the ruin of the country. And as the people were then glad to receive amongst them such armies, so they despair no less at this day, because all warlike discipline, all policy both divine and human, is in such sort extinguished, yea all kind of humanity and society which is to 
The cruelty of these late French wars.  be seen amongst barbarous people; that it is lawful for Frenchmen to sack, spoil, and put to ransom Frenchmen that are many times of the same side, faith and condition, and that without punishment. But let us not look for prosperity and good success in our enterprises, before there be some other order and discipline observed.   
The end of the seventeenth days work.   

The eighteenth days work.  

Of the Office and duty of a General. Chap. 67.  ASER. 
THose men commonly prospero in their affairs that understand them thoroughly, and manage them well and diligently: considering advisedly what hath been heretofore, that they may in some sort judge of that which is to come, because all worldly things have evermore some agreement with the ages past. Which cometh of this, that being the works of men, they have had, and will always have like forms, and therefore must of necessity have like effects. But the cause of the good or evil success of men (in respect of man's nature) consisteth in this, that the means and 
Time and occasion are diligently to be weighed in all matters.  manner of proceeding jump with the time, wherein the very condition thereof, and the occasion offered, is diligently to be observed. And if this consideration taketh place in all private affairs, it is much more necessary in war, wherein a light fault oftentimes procureth loss and overthrow to a whole army, whose good or ill hap dependeth 
The good or i'll success of an army dependeth of the captain's  of the Head and leader thereof, according as he is either worthy or unworthy of his charge. My opinion therefore is (my Companions) ●hat we allege in this place what soever we know belongeth to his duty and office. I propound now the discourse of this matter to you.  AMANA. 
Men disdain commonly to obey such as know not how to command well. Therefore every General of an army aught to labour carefully, that men may behold & see a certain greatness, magnanimity and constancy in all his doings.  ARAM. 
A General must be had in estimation of his soldiers, and of that reputation, that they may give credit to his prudence: otherwise an army doth quickly become rebellious, and troublesome to be guided. But let us learn more amply of ACHITOB whatsoever concerneth this matter.  ACHITOB. 
L●●achus a great Athenian Captain said, that no man must offend twice war, because the faults are of so great weight, that for the most part they bring with them the overthrow of the state, or loss of life to those that committee them, and therefore 

A captain must not of●end twice in war.  
Prudence gotten by use must be hastened forward by knowledge   that it was a hard and dangerous matter to have experience thereof. So that prudence gotten by use aught to be hastened forward, because it is dearly bought and so long a coming that oftentimes death preventeth it. It must be hastened forward by the diligent inquiry of those things that have fallen out both before and since our time, that we may become wise by other men's perils. For this cause it is very necessary, that whosoever taketh upon him the honour of guiding an army should exercise his mind as much as in science, and in the knowledge of Histories, as he doth his body in all martial acts, that so he may diligently observe the deeds of famous personages, see how they governed themselves in wars, and examine the causes of their victory, thereby to fly the one and to follow the other. And because it is against reason, that a well armed man should obey him that is unarmed, or that they should take the rudder out of the Pilots hand to save the ship in a storm, that have no skill in seafaring matters: it is very requisite that whosoever undertaketh to command an army, should first have gotten a good report of all men for his valour and greatness of courage whereby 
No man aught to be general before he have obtained the renown of a valiant man.  by his authority will be reverenced, as being bestowed upon one that is worthy of it: forasmuch as titles of dignity do not honour men, but men are an ornament to titles. Now if soldiers have conceived a good opinion of the desert and valour of their Captain, it will be a sharp spur to prick them forward in well doing, and 'cause them to honour and to love his commandments. For true zeal of virtue, that is to say, the desire to imitate it, is not imprinted in men's hearts, but through a singular good will and reverence towards that party that worketh the impression. It was not then without good cause, that the Ancients greatly esteemed the dignity of a General, being joined with prowess, knowledge & experience: seeing the happy or unhappy events of war ordinarily depend thereof (next to the chief cause proceeding from God) as we showed yesterday what Titus Livius wrote of the battle between the Romans and the Latins. For this reason Cimon a great man of 

Cimon preferred an army of Hearts before an army of Lions.  
What Captains are worthiest of their charge. Coruinius ora●ion to his soldiers.   Athens said, that he had rather have an army of Hearts guided by a Lion, than an army of Lions having a Hart to their Captain. Now if we desire to understand in few words what manner of men are most worthy of such charges, we may learn it by the answer that one of the wisest Interpreters made to ptolemy concerning this matter: They (said he) that ex●lel in prowess and justice, prefer the safety of men's lives before victory. But to discourse more particularly of the duty and office of the head of an army, Valerius corvinus General of the Romans against the Samnites, to whom he was ready to give battle, encouraged his soldiers to do well in few words, and taught every one how he should proceed to obtain the place and degree of a Captain. A man must consider well (quoth he unto them) under whose conduction he entereth into battle, whether under one that can 'cause himself to be heard as if he were some goodly Orator, that hath a bra●e tongue, but otherwise is a Novice and unskilful in all points of war, or under-such a one as hath skill himself to handle his weapon, to march first before the ensigns, and to do his duty in the ●ottest of his fight. I would not soldiers, that ye should follow ●y words, but my deeds I set before you an example joined with the instruction and discipline as he that hath gotten three Consulships with his arm not without exceeding praise. Hereby we learn, that the ancient Captains and heads of armies had this laudable custom to make Orations to their men of war 
Captains used in old time to make orations to their soldiers.  thereby to make them more courageous, as appeareth in all histories both Greek and Latin. This fashion is now lost together with the rest of warlike discipline: at lest wise theris no account made of it in France, whereupon it cometh to pass, that many great men are but badly followed and served in war. For as he that standeth in need of the faithful service of men aught to win them rather by gentleness & good turns, than by authority & rigour: so he that would have prompt & resolute soldiers for war, that he may use their service in time of need, must make much of them, and allure them to his obedience by liberality, 
captains aught to make much of their soldiers.  and by good and gracious speeches. For in truth they must be good friends and affectionate servitors unto a man, that setting all excuses aside (of which there is never any want) are to fight for him: they must neither be envious at his prosperity, nor traitorous in his adversity. And there is no doubt but that in a matter of great importance, the grave exhortations of a General, grounded upon good reasons and examples, greatly encourage and hearten 
The benefit of making orations to soldiers  a whole army, insomuch that it will make them as hardy as Lions that before were as fearful as sheep. Moreover, if he that is esteemed and judged to be valiant and noble minded, showeth forth effects answerable thereunto, he doubleth the courage and strength of his army: as contrariwise, the lest show of cowardliness, discouragement or astonishment showed by him, draweth after it the utter ruin of his soldiers. But to return to the duty and office of a good Captain of an army, as the best work that a man can do, is first to be honest and virtuous: and then to take order that himself and his family may have abundantly all things necessary for this life: so every wise and well advised leader of men of war, must dispose and prepare himself to the same end, and foresee that nothing be wanting 
A goo● captain must b● always furnished with munitions and victuals.  unto them, neither munitions of war nor victuals. He must not think to make new provision when necessity urgeth him, but even then when he is best furnished, he must be careful for the time to come. Whereby taking all occasion of complaining from the soldiers, he shall be better beloved and obeyed, and more feared and redoubted of his enemies. To this purpose Cyrus said to his chief men of war: My friends, I rejoice greatly that you and your men are contented that ye have abundance of all things, and that we have wherewith to do good to 
Cyrus' Oration to his captains.  every one according to his virtue. Notwithstanding we must consider what were the principal causes of these good things, and if ye look narrowly ye shall found, that watching, travel, continuance in labour, and diligence have given us these riches. Therefore ye must show yourselves virtuous also hereafter, holding this for certain, that ye shall obtain great store of riches and contentation of mind by obedience, constancy virtue, sustaining of travel, and by courage in virtuous and perilous enterprises. Moreover, a good captain of an army must be very careful that he never suffer his host to be idle: but 'cause 
A good captain must never suffer his army to be idle.  his soldiers either to annoyed the enemy, or to do themselves good. It is a burden something to nourish an idle body, much more a whole family, but especially an army, and not to keep them occupied. His meaning that warreth of necessity, or through ambition, is to get or keep that which is gotten, and to proceed in such sort, that he may enrich, and not impoverish his country. Therefore both for conquering, and for the maintenance and preservation of that which is his own already, he must necessarily beware of unprofitable expenses and do all things for common commodity. So that whosoever would thoroughly put in 
War aught to be speedily ended.  practi●e these two points, he had need to follow that custom, which the ancient Romans used, namely, at the beginning to make them short and terrible, as we use to say. For entering into the field with great power and strength, they dispatched their war speedily within few days: insomuch that all their journeys made against their Latins, Samnites, and Tuscans were ended, some in six, other in ten, and the longest in twenty days And although afterward they were constrained to keep the fields a longer time, by reason of the distance of places and countries, yet they did not therefore give over the following of their first purpose, but ended as soon as they could, their enterprises of war by quick battles, according as place and time suffered. True it is, that a prudent captain must be skilful to take the enemy at advantage: but if it be so that he cannot, the better and more venturous man he thinks himself 
A good captain must not be over venturous.  & those that follow him to be, so much the more pains is required of him for his own & their preservation, as men use to keep safely those things which they accounted dearest, & to lay them up in a sure place. The dignity of a Head of an army, is in truth greatly to be accounted of, especially when it is joined with prowess and experience, the chief point whereof is to save him that must save all the rest. Therefore Timotb●●ss and Athenian Captain, and Chares also another captain) showed one day openly unto the Athenians, the scars of many 
A general must not rashly hazard himself.  wounds which he had received in his body, and his shield also that was spoiled and thrust through with many bushes of a pike: but now (quoth he) I am of another mind. For when I besieged the city of Samos, I was very much ashamed that an arrow shot from the walls fell hard by me, being then two venturous a young man, and hazarding myself more rashly than become the Head of so great an army. And yet when it greatly profiteth the whole enterprise, and is a matter of no small importante, that the General of the army should put his life in danger, than he must yield, and employ his person, not sparing himself, nor giving place to their words who say, that a good and wise Captain aught to die of age, or at lest to be old. But where small benefit ariseth if he prospero well, and contrariwise, an universal loss and general hurt to all, if any thing but well betid him, no wise man will require it, or be of the opinion, that he should venture himself as a common soldier doth, 
When he aught to venture himself.  whereby he being the General should be in danger of destruction. And yet in the mean while he must not be less careful over the safety of those valiant men that follow him, or thrust them into danger but very warily, remembering the saying of that good Emperor Antonius, That he had rather save one citizen, than put a thousand enemies to death. The answer of 
Antonius' preferred the life of one citizen before the death of a thousand enemies.  Scipio was very like it, when he was earnestly requested by the soldiers at the siege of Numantia to give an assault. I had rather (quoth he) have the life of one Roman, than the death of all the Numan●ineses. He used also to say, that all things aught to be assayed in war before the sword be taken in hand. And indeed there is no greater victory than that which is gotten without shedding of blood. Sylla, Tiberius, Caligula and Nero had no skill, out to command and to kill: but that good Augustus, Titus, and Tratan, were always ready to solicit, to request, 
Scipio would have all ways tried before the sword were used in war. When Augustus would have battle given.  and to agreed by forgiving. Augustus also said, that although a prince were mighty, yet if he were wise, he would never give battle unless there were more apparent profit in the victory, than loss if the enemy should overcome. And indeed he never gave battle but upon necessity. We read of that great captain Narses, who subdued the Goths, vanquished the Bactrians, and overcame the Germans, that he never gave his enemy's battle, but he wept in the Temple the night before. Theodosius the Emperor suffered not his men to assault any town, nor to lay siege unto it before ten days were passed, causing this proclamation 
Narses always wept the night before he gave battle  to be made unto them, that he granted these ten days to the end they might accept and taste of his clemency before they had experience of his power. It is a common saying, that it is not enough for a Captain to know how to lead his men well to the fight, unless he foresee also the means to retire and to save them in time of need. And it is no less fault in a Captain 
Two faults to be eschewed of every captain.  to fall into an inconvenience unlooked for, than through too much mistrust to let slip an occasion of doing some great exploit when it is offered. For want of experience breedeth rashness in the one, and taketh away boldness from the other. Neither must a good Captain 
A good general must always fear the worst.  only use present occasion well, but he must also judge wisely of that which is to come, distrusting always the doubtful issue of all enterprises of war. For this cause the ancient Generals of armies, both Greeks' and Latins never marched but in armour, nor encamped, although they were far from their enemies, but they closed their camp round about with a trench. And when Leonidas was demanded the reason hereof, he answered, Because as the 
I had not thought it, a dangerous speech in a captain.  sea hath his sands, gulfs, and rocks, so hath war his, among which none is more perilous and hurtful than this of, I had not thought it. Among other things necessary in a captain, the knowledge of nature and of the situation of places is very requisite: which is to know how the mountains are lift up, how the valleys hung, how the champions fields are couched together, and 
A good captain must have skill to discern the situation of places.  to know the nature and course of rivers, & the breadth of marshes. This is profitable in two respects. First a man learneth thereby to know his own country, and so to be more skilful to defend it. Secondly, having by that means had good practice of the seat of that country, he may easily conceive the situation of another place, of which sometime he must necessarily consider. So that if a General be wanting herein, he is destitute of the chief virtue which a good captain aught to have. For it is that which teacheth him to find out the enemy, to encamp himself, to guide an host, to set his men in array for the battle, and to 
The benefit of Geometry in a General. Philopaemenus in time of peace studied the discipline of war.  take the advantage at the siege of a town. Among other great praises that authors give to Philopaemenus prince of the Acheans, they forget not this, that in time of peace he studied diligently how he might war more skilfully. And when he was in the fields with his friends, he would stand still many times and confer with them, using such like speeches: If the enemy were in this mountain, and we here with our camp, who shall have the advantage, and how might we seek him out, marching on in battle? If we would retire, how should we do? If they retired, how should we follow them? Thus in the way he set before them all the chances that might happen to a camp than he would hear their opinions, and after set down his own, confirming it with reasons. This he did so well, that by reason of these continual disputations and cogitations, no hindrance could befall him when he guided an army, which he could not redress. Xenophon 
Cyrus resembleth his going to war to hunting.  showeth in Cyrus his life, that being ready to set forward in that voyage which he undertook against the king of Armenia, he said familiarly to his men, that this journey was but one of those hunt which they had so often practised with him. He willed those whom he sent to lie in ambush upon the mountains, to remember when & how they went to pitch their nets upon the small hills: and to those that went to begin the skirmish, he said, that they resembled such as went to rouse a beast out of his den, to drive him to their nets. This noble prince she & ed well that his exercise of hunting was not unprofitable unto him (as indeed it is a 
Hunting is an image of war.  true pattern of war) but that it did help him greatly to judge of the nature and seat of thoseplaces which he frequented in his countries. And because all lands are like in some things, the perfect knowledge of one country (which often use of hunting bringeth) may help one to judge well of another, Publius' Decius' Tribune of the soldiers in the army which Cornelius the Consulled against the Samnites, beholding the Roman host brought into a 
P. Decius.  valley where they might easily be enclosed of the enemies, went to the Consul, and said, Do you mark, OH Cornelius, the top of this mountain above our enemy? It is the fortress of our hope and safety if we make haste to take it, seeing the blind Samnites have forsaken it. We see then how profitable, yea how necessary it is for a Captain to know the being and nature of countries, which helpeth a man much in that principal point touched before by me, namely, to compel our enemies to fight when he perceiveth that he is the stronger, & hath the advantage of them: and if he be the weaker, to keep himself from such places where he may be compelled thereunto. This is that whereby Caius Marius, who was six times Consul, got the renown to be one of the greatest captains in his time. For although he were gegenerall 
C. Marius never gave his enemy's occasion to force him to fight.  of many armies, and fought three great battles, yet he was so wary in all his enterprises, that he never gave his enemy's occasion to set upon him, and to force him to fight. And that was a notable answer which he made to the General of his enemies, who willed him to come out of his camp to battle, if he were such a great captain as men reported him to be. Not so (quoth he,) but if thou art the great captain, compel me to it whether I will or no. This is one thing also wherein the Head of an army must be very vigilant, that all secrecies be closely kept among the captains of his host. For great affairs never have good 
The captains of an army must be very secret.  success when they are discovered before they take effect. To this purpose Suetonius saith, that no man ever heard julius Caesar say, To morrow we will do that, and to day this thing: but we will do this now, and as for to morrow we wilconsider what is then to be done. And Plutarch saith in his treatise of Policy, that Lucius Metellus being demanded by a Captain of his when he 
I Caesar very secret in time of war. L. Metellus. Affairs of war must be debated by many, but concluded by few Urgent occasions in war require short deliberation.  would give battle, said, If I were sure that my shirt knew the lest thought in my hart, I would present lie burn it, and never wear any other. Therefore affairs of war may be handled and debated of by many, but the resolution of them must be done secretly, and known of few men: otherwise, they would be sooner disclosed and published than concluded. Notwithstanding it is very necessary, that the General should oftentimes call a council, so that it be of expert and auncieut men, and of such as are prudent and void of rashness. But in all cares of necessity a man must not stand long in seeking for reason, but suddenly set upon them. For many times sundry captains have undone themselves in wars upon no other occasion, but because they lingered in taking counsel, when they should without loss of time have wrought some notable enterprise. Moreover, for the instruction and pattern of the duty and office of a good head and captain of an army, we can allege none more worthy to be imitated than Cato of Utica, a Consul of Rome, who had the guiding of alegion when he first took charge 
Cato a notable pattern for all captains to follow  upon him. For from that time forward he thought, that it was not royal or magnifical to bevertuous alone, being but one body: and therefore he studied to make all that were under his charge like himself. Which that he might bring to pass, he took not from them the fear of his authority, but added reason thereunto, showing and teaching them their duty in every point, and always joining to his exhortations reward, for those that did well, and punishment for such as did evil. So that it was hard to say, whether he had made them more apt for peace or for war, more valiant or more just, because they were so stout and eager against their enemies and so gentle and gracious to their friends, so fearful to do evil, and so ready to obtain honour. The virtue of Pompey is also worthy to be followed, of every great captain, for the temperance that was in him, for his skill in arms, eloquence in speech, 
Pompey.  fidelity in word, as also because he was to be spoken with, and so lovingly entertained every one. And if with these things the example of the same Cato be followed in his prudent liberality, and division of the spoils and riches of the enemies, that captain that so behaveth 
How Cato divided the spoil.  himself shall deserve eternal praise, and please all those that follow him. For when this virtuous captain had taken many towns in Spain, he never reserved more for himself then what he did eat and drink there. He delivered to every one of his soldiers a pound weight of silver, saying, that it was better that many should return to their houses from the war with silver, than a few with gold: and as for the captains he said, that during their charges and governments they should not grow and increase in any thing but in honour and glory. For the conclusion therefore of our speech, we note, that a General of an army desirous to be obeyed (which is necessary) must behave himself so, that his soldiers may think him worthy to provide and care for their necessary affairs. Which thing will come to pass, when they see that he is courageous and careful, that he keepeth his place and the majesty of his degree well, that he punisheth offenders, and laboureth not his men in vain, but is liberal, and performeth his promises made unto them.   

Of the choice of Soldiers, of the manner how to exhort them to fight, and how victory is to be used. Chap 70.  ACHITOB. 
AGamemnon general Captain of the Grecians before Troy, speaking of Achilles, and being grieved because he refused to secure them, having been 
One godly man in a camp is in place of many.  offended by him, said, That a man beloved of God is in the place of many men in a camp, and far better than a whole company that is unruly, and cannot be governed but with great pain and care. This reason was the cause that good men here-tofore were greatly honoured in war, and much sought after by great captains, because they were very religious, and undertook nothing before they had prayed to their gods, and offered sacrifices after the manner of their country. Also after they had done some great exploit, they were not slothful to give them thanks, by offerings and hymns sung to their praise. But all these good considerations have no more place amongst us, than the rest of their warlike discipline, principally in 
Soldiers aught to begin their war with prayer, and end with praise and thanksgiving  that no regard is had what manner of men are to be used in service, but only how a great number may be had. And many times he that is known to be a bold murderer, and given over to all wickedness, shall be preferred to an office before an honest man: and which is more, we despise our own countrymen, whom the welfare of our country concerneth as well as ourselves, and rather trust strangers & hirelings, who seek nothing but destruction, so that we ourselves also bewail, but too late, the mischiefs that have light upon us. For this cause I propound unto you (my Companions) to discourse upon, the election and choice which is to be considered of, in taking such men of war to whom a man may safely commit himself: and if you think good you may speak somewhat also of the manner of exhortation to fight used by the Ancients, because I touched it by the way in my former discourse: and lastly how victory aught to be used, which commonly followeth good order and discipline of war, whereof we have hitherto discoursed.  ASER. 
Forasmuch as the chief force of an army consisteth in the sincere and constant 
Why a man must use his own subjects in war.  good will of the soldiers toward him for whom they fight, it is not to be sought for elsewhere than in his own natural Subjects, to whom prosperity and good success is common with the Prince.  AMANA. 
My friends (quoth Cyrus to his men of war) I have chosen you, not because I have had proof heretofore of your manhood, but because from my young years I have known you ready to do those things, which we in this Country accounted honest, and to eschew all dishonesty. This cannot be truly said of strangers never seen before, who come out of their Country to enrich themselves with the overthrow of their neighbours. But it belongeth to thee ARAM to handle this matter here propounded unto us.  ARAM. 
If we consider diligently of the causes, from whence came the ruin of the Roman Empire, we shall find, that those means which the wisest Emperors invented for the 
Three causes from whence proceeded the ruin of the Roman Empire.  safety and preservation thereof, turned in the end to the destruction of it. First, the ordinary armies placed by Augustus near to Rome, and in the borders of his estate, overthrew many of his successors, and even the Empire itself, which they would sometimes set to sale, and deliver up unto him that gave most for it. Next, the translation of the Empire which Constantine the great made from Rome to Byzantium, afterward called by his name Constantinople, thereby to make it more sure against the Persians' and other people of Asia, greatly 
The division of the Empire weakened the same.  hastened forward the overthrow of the same. For when he carried thither the chief strength and wealth of Rome, and divided the Empire into the East and West, he weakened it very much, so that the West was first destroyed, and then the East, which if they had continued united and knit together, might for a long time, and in a manner for ever, have resisted all invasions. Thirdly, when the Emperourrs thought to strengthen themselves with strange hired, and foreign power, called to their succour, as namely, the Goths, thereby weakening their own forces and natural strength of the Empire, they put ere they were ware, Rome and Italy, and consequently the other Provinces, into the hands of the Barbarians. Yea we find, that the greatest calamities that ever happened to Common wealths divided was when the Citizens were severed among themselves, and called in strangers to help them who using often to go that way, at the lest made themselves masters over them. The Germans called by the Sequani to their succour against those of Antun: compelled them to deliver half their land unto them: and at length they drove away all the natural people of the country, and become Lords of the greatest part of the Gauls territory. But not to 
Dangerous to an Estate to call in foreign succours. As appeareth by the Sequani.  go so far off, it is high time for us to grow wise by our own peril. The factions of the houses of Orleans and of Burgundy, called in the Englishmen into France, who by this mean set such footing therein, that they possessed a great part thereof a long time after. What lacked in our time why the French men blinded and carried away with partialities (and God grant they may thoroughly know it) did not bring their country to that extremity of miseries, as to submit it to the service and slavery of a strange yoke, under the colour of begging help at their hands? What letted why there was not played among us, of us, and by us, the cruelest 
By the french men.  and most sorrowful tragedy that ever was, when men came hither from all quarters to behold the sight? Would not a man have thought, that both great and small had wittingly purposed to overthrow the goodliest & most noble kingdom of the world, and themselves withal, and so in the end have shamefully lost the glory & renown, which their ancestors had worthily gotten for them? Now if any good hap hath turned this tempest from us against our wills, at the lest let us call to mind the danger wherein we had willingly cast ourselves, and let us not forget the admonition that was given us by those barbarous fellows, whose Captains and counsellors asked us why we called them in, when a little before their departure out of this kingdom, they were complained unto for the extortions and cruelties which their men practised. What think you (said they) is the intent and purpose of our men 
The end that foreign soldiers propound to themselves  in following us, but to enrich themselves with your overthrow? Agreed among yourselves and never call us more, except ye mind to taste of that which shall be worse. But let us enter into the particular consideration of the peril and hurt that cometh by foreign and mercenary soldier, that we may know whom we aught rather to use. The arms wherewith a Prince defendeth his country, are either his own, or hired of strangers, or sent to his succour by some Prince his friend, or else mingled of both together. They that maintain, that it is necessary for 
Reasons why foreign force is worth nothing.  the prosperity and preservation of every happy Common wealth, not to use foreign help, say, that hired force and secure of strangers is worth nothing, but rather dangerous, and that if a Prince think to ground the assurance of his Estate upon foreign force, he cannot safely do it. For they agreed not easily together, they do all for profit, and will be neither well ordered nor obedient. On the other side, they are not over faithful, they are all in their bravery among friends, but heartless among enemies. They neither fear God, nor are faithful to men. The reason thereof is this, because no love, nor any other occasion holdeth them but pay, and hope of spoil. Which is no sufficient cause to move them to die willingly 
The cause of the last cestruction of Italy  in his service, whose subjects they are not, and whose ruin they desire, rather than his increase. The last destruction of Italy came by no other thing, than because it trusted a long time to foreign & hired forces, which brought something to pass for some men, but as soon as another stranger came, they showed what they were. Hereupon it came, that king Charlys' the eight easily over ran all Italy with chalk, as we use to speak, that is to say, that without resistance he sent before to take up his lodging, because they that should have withstood him, and were called in to keep the country, did of their own accord take his 
The discommodity of bringing in hired captains  part. But there is a further matter. Strange hired Captains either are excellent men, or have nothing in them. If they be valiant, the Prince is not to trust them. For out of doubt they will seek to make themselves great, either by his overthrow that is their master, or by destroying others against his will. And if the Captains have no valour in them, he cannot hope for any thing but for the cause of his own perdition. Succour is most hurtful to an Estate, when some Potentate is called in with his forces for aid and defence. Those soldiers may well be good and profitable for themselves, but are always hurtful to such as call them. For if a man lose the field, he is overthrown: if he win it, he is their prisoner. Such succour is a great deal more to be feared, than hired strength, which obeyeth the Prince that calleth them, and requireth their help. But when a man receiveth in an army 
Dangerous for a Prince to call in a Potentate to secure him.  united, and accustomed to obey the Captain that conducteth and bringeth them in, his destruction is already prepared, and cannot be avoided, who openeth the door of his own house to let, in an enemy stronger than himself. Therefore it were expedient for every Prince to try always before he have recourse to such men for help and secure. And whosoever shall read and consider well the times that are past, and run over the present state of things, he shall see, that whereas one prospered well, an infinite number were deceived and abused. For a Commonwealth, or an ambitious Prince, could not wish to have a better occasion whereby to get the possession of a City, signory, or Province, than when he is required to sand his army to defend it. But what? The ambition, desire of revenge, or some other affection of men is so great, that to accomplish once their present will, they forget all duty, and cast behind them the care of all danger and inconvenience whatsoever, that may light upon them. The Herules, Goths, and Lumbards' by these means become Lords of Italy: the Frenchmen of the Gauls country, the Englishmen of great Britain, the Scots of 
Examples of the change of Estates by means of foreign succour  Scotland after they had driven out the Britons, and Picts, who called them in for secure. The Turks made themselves Lords of the East Empire, and of the kingdom of Hungary, being likewise required of help by the Emperors of Constantinople, and by the States of Hungary. Not long since Cairadin a Pirate, being called by the inhabitants of Alger to drive the Spaniards out of the fortress, after he had vanquished them, he slew Selim Prince of the town, and made himself king, leaving the estate to his brother Arradin Barberossa. And Saladine a Tartarian Captain, being called by the Calipha and Inhabitants of Cairo to drive the Christians out of Soria, after the victory slew the Calipha, and become absolute Lord thereof. The foresight which the Princes of Germany had of the peril and hurt that all strangers bring to an estate, caused them to bind the Emperor Charles the fift, by the twelfth article of conditions, unto which he swore before he received the Imperial 
Charles the fift, bound by oath not to bring any foreign soldiers into Germany.  crown, that he should not bring in any foreign soldiers into Germany. And yet through the great number of Spaniards, Italians, and Flemings that came into the country, being called in against the Protestant's, there wanted little of changing the estate of Almaign into an hereditary kingdom. Which had been soon done if king Henry the second had not stayed it by his French power: for which cause he was called by books published, and arches erected in their country, Protector of the Empire, and deliverer of the Princes; who since have concluded among themselves, that they will never choose a foreign Prince. Charles 
Charles 7. made decrees for French soldiers.  the seventh king of France, having by his great good success and virtue, delivered France of Englishmen, and knowing well that it was necessary for him to be furnished with his own forces, instituted the decrees of horsemen, and of the companies of footmen. After that, king jews his son abolished his footmen, and began to levy Swissers: which being likewise practised by other kings his successors, many men have noted, that by countenancing the Swissers, they have caused their own forces to degenerate and grow out of use, disannulled the footmen, and tied their horsemen to other footmen: insomuch that since they 
What inconveniences France is fallen into by hiring Swissers.  have been used to fight in company of the Swissers, they think that they cannot obtain the victory, nor yet fight without them. Therefore the prudence of king Francis the first, must needs be honoured with exceeding great praise, in that he established seven legions of footmen, accounting 6000. men to a legion: so that there could be no better device for the maintenance of warlike discipline, nor more necessary for the preservation of this kingdom, 
Francis the first established 7. legions of footmen.  if those good ordinances that were made to this end be well marked. Nevertheless they were abolished in his reign, established again by Henry the second his successor, and after that abrogated. I am of opinion that if these ancient institutions both of horsemen and footmen were revived, they would be a good mean, whereby we might always have men of war to defend this kingdom, to conquer that which is taken from it, and to help our friends: whereas now we are feign to use the service of unskilful men that are made captains before ever they were soldiers, or else of necessity compelled to beg and to buy very dear the succour of foreign nations. My meaning is not that a Prince should never use the help of others, but always take his own forces collected among his subjects: Nay I say to the contrary, that it must needs be profitable for him to use the succours of his Allies, so that they be joined with him in league offensive & defensive. For by this means, he doth not only make himself stronger, but withal taketh away both that aid from his enemy, which he 
How a Prince may use the succours of his Allies.  might otherwise have drawn from thence, and occasion also from all men to make war with the one, except they will have the other also their enemy. But above allthings, let no Prince trust so much to the succour of his allies, except himself with his subjects be of greater strength. And if allies are to be feared when they are stronger in another country, what assurance may a man have of foreign soldiers, that are at no league either offensive or defensive with us? Now if upon the due consideration of these things, soldiers be carefully trained up in good discipline of war, which may be collected out of many institutions that are extant, and if the guiding of them be given to good, virtuous, and expert Captains, led only with a desire to do their duty to their King and country, this kingdom will be feared of strangers, and without fear itself of their assaults and enterprises. Especially if in the Prince his absence, the sovereign authority of commanding absolutely in the army, be committed into the hands of a captain worthy his charge, as we have discoursed, who is able to win the hearts of men, and to provoke them to their duty by lively and learned reasons: as namely, That all men must 
How a Captain should exhort his soldiers.  die, and therefore that it were two great folly in a man to refuse to die for public profit, which bringeth unto us immortal glory, seeing that he must once of necessity yield up his life: that a glorious death is always to be preferred before a shameful life stained with reproach: briefly, if he can ground his exhortations upon the occasion of taking arms, of time, place, estate and condition of the enemies, and of the good that will come to them, if they obtain victory. But in all these things the justice and equity of the cause of war, is that which most of all maketh good men courageous, who otherwise never aught to fight We may read a million of goodly oratios made in the time of war, & set forth in one volume, with which every wise and prudent Captain may help himself according as occasion is offered. Now, if that ancient order and discipline, of which we have hitherto discoursed, and which may be learned more at large in their excellent writings, were renewed and 
How victory is to be used:  imitated by our armies, as the late use and practise of Arms exercised at this day, is apt and fit for the same, being more terrible than that of the Ancients, who had no gunpowder, no doubt but great obedience of soldiers towards their Captains would arise of it, whereas now adays in stead of commanding, they have nothing left but an humble request to be used towards their soldiers, who nevertheless turn it into contempt and want of courage. But if true obedience were joined with good order, the hope of prosperous success in our enterprises would be far greater. Now whenour affairs succeed happily, so that we have our enemies at advantage, or have gotten some victory, we must beware lest insolency blind us in such sort, that trusting to our good hap, we go beyond our bounds, and lose the occasion of certain and sure benefit, through hope of some greater good as yet uncertain. Hannibal, 
Examples of such as knew not how to use victory wisely & to take opportunity offered.  after the discomfiture of the Romans, at Cannas, sent men to Carthage to carry news of his victory, and withal to demand a new supply. Whereupon the Senate was long in deliberating what was to be done. Hannon, a prudent old man was of opinion, that they were to use the victory wisely, and to make peace with the Romans, which they might obtain of them with honest conditions, and not to expect the hazard of an other battle. He said that the Carthaginians aught to be satisfied with this declaration already made to the Romans, that they were such men as could stand against them: and therefore seeing they had won one victory of them, they should not venture the loss of it, in hope of a greater. This prudent counsel was not followed, although afterward the Senate did acknowledge it for the best, when that occasion was lost. Alexander the Great had already conquered all the East, when the commonwealth of Tyrus, being great and mighty, because the city was situated in the water (as Venice is) and astonished at the greatness and fame of that Monarch's power, sent their Ambassadors unto him to offer what obedience and subjection he would require, upon condition that neither he nor his men would enter into the city. Alexander disdaining that one city should shut their gates against him, to whom the whole world was open, sent them 
The Tyrians besieged and subdued by Alexander.  back again without accepting their offer, & went thither to pitch his Camp against it. After he had continued the siege four months, he thought within himself, that one only. Town would shorten his glory more than all his other conquests had done before: whereupon he purposed to try an agreement by offering that unto them which themselves had required before. But then the Tyrians were waxen so lusty and bold, that they did not only refuse his proffers, but also executed as many as came to conclude with them: Whereupon Alexander being moved with indignation, caused an assault to be made with such heat and violence, that he took and sacked the town, put some of the inhabitants to the edge of the sword, and made the residue servants and slaves, Agreement and composition is always to be preferred before continuance of war. And how soever a man may seem to be assured, and as it were certain of the victory, yet aught he to doubt the uncertainty of human things. That courageous and valiant Hannibal, being called out of Italy by his country men to secure them against the Ramen, by whom they were besieged, when his army was yet whole, demanded peace of them before he would enter into battle, because he saw that if he lost it, he brought his country into bondage. What then would another do, that hath less virtue and experience than he? But men fall into the error of the unmeasurable hope, upon which staying themselves without further consideration, they are overthrown. Sometimes when we contemn our enemy too much, and bring him into a desperate estate, we make him more venturous to undertake, and violent to execute any dangerous matter. Despair (said 
It is not good to right with desperate men.  Tubero) is the last but the strongest assault, and a most invincible tower. For this cause the ancient Roman Captains were very diligent and careful to lay all kind of necessity to fight upon their men, and to take it from their enemies by opening unto them passages to escape, which they might have shut up against them. King john, because he would not make peace with the English host, which desired to escape only with life, was taken and carried prisoner into England, and his army consisting of forty or fifty thousand men, was discomfited 
john king of France taken by the Englishmen.  by ten thousand Englishmen, some say more, somelesse. Gaston de Foix, having won the battle at Ravenna, and following a squadron of Spaniards that fled, lost life, and made all that a prey unto the enemy, which he had conqeured before in Italy. Ancient histories are full of such examples, and namely of small armies that overcame those that were great and mighty. Darius against Alexander, Pompey against Caesar, Hannibal against 
Gaston de Foix.  Scipio, Marcus Antonius against Augustus, Mithridates against Sylla, had greater forces without comparison than their enemies. Therefore good Traian said, that To accept, of war, to gather a great number of men, to put them in order, to give battle, appertaineth to men; but 
Small armies that overcame great.  to give victory was the work of God only: so that great armies prevail but little against the wrath of the Highest. If then we would know a good way how we shall never be vanquished, we must not trust to our armour or force, but always call upon God to direct our counsels for the best. By this also we shall be persuaded to use victory mildly, seeing it is the property of valiant 
Victory cometh only from God. Valiant men are full of compassion.  men to be gentle and gracious, ready to forgive, and to have compassion of them that suffer and endure affliction. There is no true victory (as Marcus Aurelius wrote to Popilion captain of the Parthians) but that which carrieth with it some clemency: so that a rigorous and cruel man may not in reason be called victorious. And it is most true, that to overcome is human, but the action of pardoning is divine. As touching the sacking and overthrow of 
Not true victory without clemency. Ringleaders of evil are to be punished, and the multitude to be pardoned  towns taken in war, careful heed (saith Cicero) must be taken, that nothing be done rashly or cruelty. For it is the property of a noble heart to punish such only as are most guilty and the authors of evil, and to save the multitude. Briefly, to observe in all things whatsoever is right and honest, to be valiant and gentle, to be an enemy to those that do unjustly, favourable to the afflicted, severe to quarrelers, and full of equity to suppliants, are those praise worthy qualities for which Alexander, julius Caesar, Scipio, Hannibal, Cyrus, and many other both Greek and Roman Captains are most commended, who aught to be imitated in the art of war by all excellent men.   

Of a happy Life. Chap. 71.  ARAM 
WE have hitherto discoursed (my companions) of virtues and vices, for which the life of man is praised or dispraised in all estates and conditions whereunto the variety of manners, and inclinations to sundry studies and works all men, and make them fit. Wherein we have chief followed the ends and bounds of honesty & equity propounded by Moral Philosophers, from whence they draw particular duties, and all actions of virtue, using a very commendable and excellent order and disposition. Now seeing we are come to the end of the cause of our assembly, as we began 
Human sciences are but darkness in regard of the word of God  it with the true and Christrian knowledge of the creation of man, and of the end of his being unknown to so many great personages in the world, who are lightened only with human sciences, which are but darkness in regard of that heavenly light, the eternal word of God that guideth the souls of the believers; I think that we aught also to end and break up this our meeting together with the manner of a happy life and death, according to those ends that are propounded unto us by the infallible rule of all virtue and truth, which if they be not so subtlety set down and disputed, as the Philosophy of the Ancients is, yet the lest they are without comparison better and more certain. Go to then, let us hear you discourse 
Psal. 84. 5. 11.  first of a happy Life.  ACHITOB. 
Blessed are they (saith the Prophet) that devil in the house of God, and that evermore praise him, having his ways in their hearts, He will give them grace and glory, and will withhold no good thing from them that that walk uprightly. 
john. 17. 3.   ASER. 
What happier life can we require, than that which Saint john calleth eternal life: namely. To know on only truly God, and jesus Christ whom he hath sent? But it belongeth to thee AMANA to feed our spirits with this excellent subject.  AMANA. 
Although the spirit of God, teaching his just and holy will by a doctrine that is simple and void of all vain show of words, hath not always observed and kept so strictly such a certain order and method, to prepare and to direct their lives that shall believe in him, as the Philosophers did, who affected the greatest show outwardly that they 
Of the love of righteousness. Levit. 19 2. 1. Pet. 1. 15. 16  could, thereby to make manifest the sharpness of their wit, and the greatness of their human understanding, yet may we easily gather out of this divine doctrine (which doth more deface all glittering show and beauty of human sciences, than the Sun excelleth darkness) a most excellent order, teaching us to frame a happy life according to the mould & pattern of true and heavenly virtue. This order consisteth of two parts, the one imprinting in our haerts the love of justice, the other giving unto us a certain rule, that will not suffer us to wander, hither and thither, nor to slip aside in the framing of our life. Concerning the first point, the Scripture is full of very good reasons to incline our hearts to love that Good, which 
Holiness is the end of our ●alling.  indeed is to be desired, I mean perfect righteousness. With what foundation could it begin better, than by admonishing us to be sanctified, because our God is holly? Whereunto the reason is added, that although we were go astray as sheep scattered and dispersed in the Labyrinth of this world, yet he hath gathered us together, to join us to himself. When we hear mention made of the conjunction of God with us, we must remember, that the bond thereof is holiness, and that we must direct our steps thither, as to the end of our calling, that we may be 
Christ is a pattern of righteousness unto us.  transformed into the true image of God, which through sin was defaced in the first man, and consequently in us. Moreover, to move us the more to embrace that only & true God the spirit of God teacheth us, that as he hath reconciled us unto himself in his son jesus Christ, so he hath appointed him to be unto us an example & pattern, unto which we must, conform ourselves. This heavenly word also taketh occasion to exhort us thereunto in infinite places, drawing his reasons from all the benefits of God, and from all the parts of our salvation. 
Malach. 1. 6. Eph. 5. 26. 30  As when it is said: That seeing God hath given himself to be our Father, we are to be accused of notable ingratitude. if we behave not ourselves as his children. Seeing jesus Christ hath cleansed us by the washing of his blood, and hath communicated this purification unto us by baptism, there is no reason why we should defile ourselves with new filthiness. Seeing he hath joined and engrafted us into his body, we must carefully look, that we defile not ourselves in any 
Col. 3. 1. 2. 1. Cor 6. 19 1. Thes. 59  sort, being members of his body. Seeing he that is our Head is go up to heaven, we must lay aside all earthly affections, and aspire with all our heart to that heavenly life. Seeing the holy Ghost hath consecrated us to be the temples of God, we must labour and strive that the glory of God may be exalted in us, and beware that we receive no pollution. Seeing our souls and bodies are foreappointed to enjoy that immmortalitie of the kingdom of heaven, and the incorruptible crown of God his glory, we must endeavour to keep both one and the other pure and unspotted, until the day of the Lord Behold surely good grounds, meet to frame and institute a happy life, by and to move a christian to bring forth the effects of such an excellent and worthy title through the love of righteousness, having this mark always before his eyes to direct all his actions thereunto: namely, to aspire to that perfection which God commandeth. From which although the affections of our flesh 
We must always strive to come to perfection.  seek to separate us, and the difficulties are great, so that is impossible for us to attain perfection in this mortal prison, yet let us leave off to follow that way which we have once begun, looikng to our mark in purity, uprightness, and simplicity, & striving to come to our end, until we perfectly see that sovereign goodness, when having cut off the infirmity of our flesh, & being made partakers of that goodness in full measure, we shall be received of God into his heavenly kingdom. Let us now come to the second point. Although the Law of God comprised in ten Commandments, and those ten also contained only in two, hath a most excellent method and well ordered disposition, whereby to direct our life, and to make it happy, yet it hath pleased our good Master, his eternal Son, to frame them that are his by an exquisite doctrine, according to that rule which he had given unto them in his Law. The beginning of that way which he taketh, is after this sort: namely, to teach them that it is the duty of every faithful man, to offer his body a living, holy, and 
What the duty of every faithful man is. Rom. 13. 12.  acceptable sacrifice to God, wherein consisteth the chiefest point of that service which we own unto him. Than he goeth on to exhort us, that we would not fashion ourselves to this world, but be changed by the renewing of our mind, that we may prove what is the good will of God. That is no small reason to say that we must consecrated and dedicated ourselves to God, that from hence forward we should neither think, speak, meditate, or do any thing but to his glory. For it is not lawful to apply any thing that is consecrated to a profane use. Now if we be not our own, but belong to the Lord, we may thereby see both how to avoid 
What it is to consecrated ourselves to God  error, and whither we must direct all the parts of our life: namely, to the rule of his holy and just will. Let us not propound to ourselves this end, to seek after that which is expedient for us according to the flesh. Let us forget ourselves as much as may be, and all things that are about us, We are the Lords, let us live and die to him: and let his will and wisdom govern all our actions. Let all the parts of our life be referred to him as to their only end: and let all our human reason yield and retire that the holy Ghost may have a place in us, and that our reason may be subject to his direction, to the end we may no more live of ourselves, but having jesus Christ to live & reign within us. I live (saith Saint Paul) yet not I now, but Christ liveth in me. Truly he that hath jesus Christ living in him, and that liveth in jesus 
Gal. 2. 20.  Christ, liveth no more in himself, and careth least for himself. For if all true love hath such force within the heart where it is placed, that it careth not for itself, but delighteth in, and is altogether partaker of the thing that it loveth: how much stronger shall the heavenly love be to withdraw all our affections from the earth unto the things of the Spirit? OH good jesus, 
The love of God breedeth in us a dislike of ourselves.  OH love of my soul (saith Saint Augustine) as often as love beginneth in me, it endeth with hatred in thee: but when it beginneth in thee, I come to the hatred of myself: so that the scope of thy love is nothing else but dislike of ourselves. Therefore our Saviour said to his disciples, that if any man would follow him, he should forsake himself. Moreover, after the heart of man is once possessed with this denial of himself, first, all pride, haughtiness, and 
Math. 16. 24.  ostentation, are banished out of the soul: next covetousness, intemperance, superfluity, desire of honour, and of all delights, with the rest of those vices that are engendered through the 
Fruits of the denial of ourselves.  love of ourselves. Contrariwise, where the denial of ourselves reigneth, not, there is man given over to all kind of villainy, without shame or blushing: or if any show of virtue appear in his actions it is corrupted before God through a wicked desire of glory. Most of our imperfections proceed from the love of ourselves, which hindereth us from discharging our duty 
self-love is cause of the most of our imperfections The definition of charity  towards God and towards our neighbours, according to charity. Charity is nothing else but to love God for himself, and our neighbour for his sake: I say, to love God, because he is the sovereign good, and because the greatness of his goodness deserveth it: to love our neighbours, because the image of God shineth in them, whom he hath substituted in his place, that we should acknowledge towards them the benefits which he hath bestowed upon us. And who is able to perform those duties that S. Paul requireth in charity, unless he hath renounced himself, that he may seek nothing but the profit of his neighbour, Love (saith he) suffereth long: it is bountiful, it envieth not: it doth not boast itself: it is not puffed up: it disdaineth not, it 
1. Cor. 1. 3 4.  seeketh not her own things: it is not provoked to anger, and so forth. If that only saying were there that we must not seek our own profit, it should be of no small force with our nature, which draweth us so much to the love of ourselves, that we forget what we own to our neighbours. But if we would faithfully discharge this duty, let us whilst we do good, and exercise the offices of humanity, remember this rule: That we are Stewards of all that God hath given us, whereby we 
The effect of true charity towards our neighbour.  may help our neighbour, and that one day we shall give account how we have executed our charge limited unto us in the practice of charity, by a true and sound affection of friendship. Which thing will have place amongst us, when we take upon us their persons that stand in need of succour, when we pity their misery, as if we felt and sustained it, and when we are touched with the same affection of mercy to help them, that is in us to help ourselves. As for that which only concerneth our duty towards God, the denial of ourselves will make us 
The natural inclination of man.  patiented and meek. And when our affections prick us forward to seek how we may live in rest and ease, the scripture always bringeth us back to this, that resigning ourselves and all that we have, into the hands of God, we should submit the desires of our heart to him, that we may tame them, and bring them under his yoke. We are led with a furious kind of intemperance, and with an unbridled lust, in desiring credit and honour, in seeking after power and might, in heaping up of riches, and in gathering together whatsoever we judge meet for pomp and magnificence. On the other side, we marvelously fear and hate poverty, baseness, and ignominy, and fly from them as much as we can. Hereupon we see in what disquietness of mind all they are, that order their lives after their own counsel, how many ways they assay to attain to that, unto which their ambition and covetousness carrieth them. But they that submit themselves wholly under the yoke of God's will, never entangle themselves in these snares. For first, they neither desire, hope or imagine of any other means to prospero by, than the blessing of God: and therefore they stay and rest themselves assuredly thereupon, as upon that which is able to give them a good issue in all things, & true felicity, which cannot in any wise be in the doings of wicked men, what false prosperity soever appeareth in the eyes of flesh. Hereof it cometh, that they aspire not through injustice or other sinister means to any worldly goods, but contemn them, seeking after the only true goods, which turn them not aside from innocency. For they are assuredly persuaded that the blessing of god is not extended upon the workers of iniquity, but only upon such as are upright in their thoughts and works. Moreover it serveth for a bridle to restrain them, that they burn not with a disordered desire of worldly goods, because they hold this for certain, that the blessing of God cannot help them to obtain that which is clean contrary to his word, whereby we are commanded to withdraw our whole heart from this world, that we may lift it up in the meditation of eternal happiness. The Lord (saith justine Martyr) will not honour his children with worldly happiness, for a reward of their piety. For those things that are subject 
Corruptible things are no sufficient recompense for virtuous men  to corruption cannot be a recompense to good men for their virtue: because they are circumscribed and limited by the change of the mortal estate of virtuous men, who are deprived altogether of them at the time of their death. And as good men are not said or accounted to be of the world, so their glory, riches, and wealth, are not in the earth. So that in what estate soever a Christian man is, he feeleth himself always moved to give glory to God, and judgeth that all things are appointed by him in such sort, as is most expedient for his salvation. 
Rome, 8. 28.  If adversity press him, and the miseries of man's life seek to make him distrust the grace & favour of God, or to murmur against him through impatiency, he striveth so much the more on the other side to consider of his heavenly justice and goodness, in that he chasticeth him justly, and for his benefit: and arming himself with patience, he expecteth with a quiet and thankful mind the issue of God his ordinance, whereunto he wholly submitteth himself. Besides, he considereth how God calleth all his to bear their cross, and teacheth them to prepare themselves to sustain a hard and laborious life, full of travel and of infinite kinds of evils, unto which jesus Christ their head was first made subject. Where this consolation followeth presently upon it, that such a life is a preparation to follow him 
Matth. 16. 24.  into his eternal glory. Yea the more we are afflicted and endure miseries, the more is our society with Christ jesus certainly confirmed unto us. Now the chief rule propounded unto 
Rom. 8. 17.  us by the spirit of God concerning this matter is, that with what kind of tribulation soever we are afflicted, we should look to this end, to acquaint ourselves with the contempt of this present life, that we may thereby be brought on to meditate upon the life to come. But because this divine wisdom knoweth full well that we are inclined and led with a blind and even brutish love of this world, it useth a very apt reason to draw us back and to awake our sluggishness, that our heart should not be too much settled upon such a foolish love. There is none of us that will not seem to aspire throughout the whole course of his life to a heavenly immortality: yea to strive for the obtaining of it. For we are ashamed not to excel the bruit beasts in something, whose condition would seem to be more happy than ours, if we had no hope of eternity after death. Nevertheless, if a man examine the counsels, deliberations, enterprises and works of every one, he shall find nothing but earth in them, being such as tend altogether to the commodity of this life. Now this blockishness proceedeth from hence, that our understanding is as it were dimmed with that vain brightness which riches, honours, and powers have in outward show, whereby it is hindered from looking farther. In like manner our heart being pressed with the affections of the flesh, which propounded unto it covetousness, ambition, and all other carnal desires, our soul is at length persuaded to seek for her felicity upon earth. The Lord therefore to meet with this mischief teacheth his servants to know the vanity of this present life, by exercising them daily with divers 
How God teacheth us to know the vanity of this life.  miseries. He sendeth them no prosperity, which is not mingled with greater adversity, that by learning to contemn altogether this earthly life, they may frame their hearts to desire and to meditate upon the life to come. Wherhfore when they try by afflictions, that this present life, considered in itself, is full of disquietness, of troubles, altogether miserable, and in no respect happy, that all the wealth thereof and in so great estimation, is transitory and uncertain, vain, and mingled with infinite miseries, they conclude thereupon that nothing is to be sought or hoped for in this world but calamity, and that the crown of glory and true felicity is to be looked for elsewhere, namely, in heaven. Notwithstanding, as long as they enjoy this life. he would not have them so to contemn it, as to grow into a hatred 
We must not hate the blessings of this life.  thereof, or to be unthankful to God for the benefits which they daily receive therein of his Majesty, but rather to accounted it a special gift of his heavenly clemency, in that through the midst of those tribulatiens which they endure, he maketh a way and entrance for them unto eternalllife. For which, and for those infinite blessings which they receive also in this life of his goodness, they acknowledge that they are bound to yield unto him immortal thanks, labouring only to unfold themselves out of this over great desire of man, carried away with the disordinate love of this life, that they may transfer their chief affection to the celestial and heavenly life. And seeing it is so, that all the faithful, as long as they remain upon earth, are as sheep appointed to the slaughter, to the end they might be made conformable to their head Christ jesus, surely they should be accounted passing wretched, if they did not lift their minds on high to surmount all that is in the world, and to go beyond the regard and care of things present. On the contrary side, if they have once lift up their thoughts above the earth, when they shall see the unjust prospero in the world, when 
The comfort of the godly in the midst of troubles.  themsemselues shall be ungently handled by them, when they shall endure reproach, when they shall be polled or afflicted with any kind of injury, their comfort in all these evils will be to have the last day before their eyes, in which they know that the Lord will gather his faithful ones together into the rest of his kingdom, that he will wipe away the tears from their eyes, crown them with glory, cloth them with gladness, satisfy them with the exceeding sweetness of his delicacies, exalt them unto his high mansion, in a word, make them partakers of his happiness. In the meantime going on their course with all tranquillity and 
Isai. 25. 8.  joy of spirit, they are cheefully to give unto God that homage and worship that is due unto 
Apoc. 7. 17.  him, submitting themselves wholly to his greatness, and receiving with all reverence his commandments. Next, they must put that trust and hearty assurance in him, which they have received 
The some of our duty towerds God.  by knowing him aright, atributing to him all wisdom, justice, goodness, virtue & truth, and making this account, that all their happiness is in communicating with him. Invocation followeth, whereby their souls must have recourse unto him as to their only hope, when they are pressed with any necessity. In the last place is thanksgiving, which is that acknowledgement, whereby all praise is given unto him. Under these four points, of worship, trust, prayer, and thanksgiving, all those innumerable duties which we own to God, may well be comprehended. Moreover, the contempt of this present life, and the meditation of that which is immortal and heavenly, will teach us the right use of earthly goods created of God for the sevice of man, as necessary helps for his life. Which things we must 
The true use of temporal things.  not neglect in such sort, that we never use them but upon constraint and necessity, taking no delight in them as if we were senseless blocks. Much less may we abuse them by over great lust in superfluity and delights, but apply them to that end for which God hath created and appointed them for our good, and not for our hurt, namely, that should sustain, nourish, preserve and delight our nature, using them in all temperance and mediocrity with thanksgiving. So that we are to use these goods as though we used them not, that is to say our chief affection and desire must be so smally set upon them as if we were wholly deprived of them: and we must be disposed and affected as well to sustain poverty patiently and with a quiet mind, as to use abundance moderately. Especially let us refer the true and holy use of all our earthly commodities to the works of charity, as we have already touched knowing that all things are so given unto us by the goodness of God, and appointed for our commodity, as things committed to our trust, of which we must one day give account before his majesty. For the conclusion therefore of our speech, we learn that the life of a Christian is a perpetual study and exercise of the mortification of the flesh, until it be so thoroughly dead, that the Spirit of God may reign fully in his soul We learn also that our whole life aught to be a meditation & exercise of godliness, because we are called to sanctification: that true happiness of life in this world consists therein, namely, 
Wherein a happy life consisteth.  when being regenerated by baptism & the Spirit of God, we have the love of righteousness thoroughly imprinted in our hearts, & follow the divine rule thereof by directing all our actions to the glory of our God & profit of our neighbours. Wherefore every one of us must take his calling for a principle and ground, and for a station assigned of God, unto which we must direct our level, withdrawing our minds from the yoke and bondage of those natural perturbations that are in us. We must not be led with ambition and desire to take hold of many sundry matters at once, being assured, that every work done according to our calling, how contemptible soever it be among men, shineth before God, and shall be rewarded by him, being accounted very precious in his sight.   

Of death. Chap. 72  AMANA 
NO man aught to be ignorant of this, that after God had created man in the beginning, he placed him in a garden and paradise full of all pleasures, and delights, and gave him leave to use all things contained therein, the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil only excepted, which was expressly forbidden. Nevertheless being unable to keep himself in that high degree and great dignity, he fell by disobedience: so that thinking to make choice of life, he chose the fruit of death, as God had foretold 
Gen. 2 17.  him saying, Whensoever thou eatest of this fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt die the death: which thing fell upon him, and upon all his posterity. Whereby we see, that the reward and recompense of sin, is death, not only bodily death, but which is more, spiritual, whereby we are banished and shut out of the heavenly kingdom and inheritance, if 
Rom. 6. 23.  we apprehended not that great grace and mercy of the father offered to all that draw near unto him by true confidence in jesus Christ: to the end (as the Apostle saith) that as sin reigned unto death, so grace might reign by righteousness unto eternallife through jesus Christ our Lord And this is the only way whereby to pass from death to life, when we 
Rom. 5. 21.  shall be subject to no condemnation or affliction. Moreover, neither sword, famine, nor any 
Temporal death is the way that leadeth the godly from bondage to blessedness.  other misery can hurt us, not not temporal death, which (according to man's judgement) is the extremest of all miseries, shall in any sort confounded us, but rather be a mean and pleasant way for us to pass by from prison and bondage to joyful liberty, and from misery to happiness. Therefore my companions, as death is the end of all men, happy to the elect, and unhappy to the reprobate, so let us finish our discourses with the handling thereof.  ARAM. 
Nothing but death and the end of this bodily life is able to accomplish the wish and desire of a faithful Christian. For the spirit being then delivered, as it were out of a noisome and filthy prison, rejoiceth with freedom and liberty in those pleasant places, which it seeketh after and desireth so earnestly. 
Heb. 9 27. Ecclus. 7. 36.   ACHITOB. 
It is declared that all men must once die. And therefore (as the Wis-man saith) whatsoever thou taketh in hand, remember the end, and thou shalt never do amiss. Now ASER, as thou beganst to lay the foundation of our Academy, so make thou an end of it with the treatise of Death that endeth all things.  ASER. 
It is no marvel if natural sense be moved & astonished, when we hear that our body must be separated from the soul. But it is in no wise tolerable, that a Christian heart should not have so much light as to surmount and suppress this fear whatsoever it be, by a greater comfort and consolation. For if we consider that this tabernacle of our body which is weak, vicious, corruptible, casual, & inclining to putrefaction, is dissolved and as it were 
The comfort of every true christian against death.  pulled down by death, that it may afterward be restored to a perfect, firm, incorruptible and heavenly glory, shall not this certain assurance compel us to desire earnestly that which nature flieth and abhorreth? If we consider that by death we are called home from a miserable exile, to devil in our country, yea in our celestial country, shall we not conceive singular consolation thereby? But some men may say, that all things desire to continued in their being. For the same cause I say, we aught to aspire to the immortality to come, where 
Rom. 8. 22.  we have a settled estate, which is not seen at all upon earth. How cometh it to pass, that the bruit beasts and senseless creatures, even wood and stones, having as it were some feeling of their vanity and corruption, are in expectation of the judgement day that they may be delivered from their corruption, & yet we that have some light of nature, and boast that we are illuminated by the spirit of God, lift not up our eyes above this earthly putrefaction, when we talk of our being? But what shall we say of those men (whose number alas is very great) who quenching all natural light, & apposing themselves directly against the testimonies of truth, which press their consciences and sound daily in their ears, dare yet doubt of, yea impudently deny this day of judgement, & the change of this mortal life in a second, which is immortal? If the word of God so expressly set down for our assurance be of so little credit that it will not satisfy them, yet how is it that they are not convinced by the writings of so many Ethnic and heathen Philosophers, who make the immortality of the soul out of 
Against Atheists and Epicures that deny the immortality of the soul.  doubt, and by the consideration of the being of this life conclude a judgement to come, which bringeth perpetual happiness and felicity to the souls of the blessed, and everlasting misery and pain to them that are unhappy? Plato under the name of Socrates may serve for a fit teacher for such Epicures and Atheists that will not hear the heavenly word of the Almighty. From whence cometh it (saith he) that we see so many wicked men pass the course of their days in worldly happiness and felicity, and die in great rest and quietness, whereas on the other side so many good men live and die in great afflictions, and most hard calamities. The reason is, because God doth not punish and chastise all the wicked upon the earth, to the end men may know, that there is a judgement to 
Plato proveth that there is a judgement to come, & a second life.  come wherein the ungodliness of such men shall be corrected. Neither doth he recompense all good men with blessings in this world, to the end they may hope that there is a place in the other life where the vertueus shall be rewarded. Likewise he doth not punish all the wicked, nor reward all good men here beneath left men should think that the virtuous followed virtue in hope of a carnal & earthly eeward, or esc●u edvice for fear of punishments, and torments in this world. For so virtue should be no more virtue, seeing there is no action that may carry the surname of virtuous, if the intent of him that d●th it be in hope of some earthly and ●arnall recompense, and not for the l●ue of virtue itself, and that he may be accepted of God, and so conceive hope of eternal rewards in the other life. Also he punisheth and correcteth some wicked men upon earth, and rewardeth some good men, lest if good men only were afflicted, & the wicked suffered in quiet, men might be brought to believe that there were no providence, and that the divine nature had no care of us, and so all men would give over themselves to follow injustice. By the sequel of this speech Plato inferreth and proveth, that there is one God that hath care over his creatures, and that naturally every spirit loveth him better that striveth to resemble him in manners and fashions of living, that reverenceth and honoureth him, than those that fear him not, but despise him whose conditions are altogether unlike his. Moreover, he proveth 
How good men are discerned from the wicked.  evidently, that good men infeare and reverence of the De●ty, strive to imitate it by good works done to the benefit and safety of others: and contrariwise, that the wicked despise God and all laws both divin● and human: whereupon it followeth that God loveth good men, and hateth the wicked. And because we see that good men are subject to calamity and ignominy in this world, we must therefore undoubtedly confess that there is another life after this, wherein good men are eternally rewarded, and the wicked punished. 
The afflictions of the godly in this world prove a second life.  Otherwise, it would follow, that God cared more for the wicked than for the good, which were too absurd to grant. From hence that divine Philosopher draweth this conclusion: that the life of a wise man aught to be a perpetual meditatiton of death, and that the very fear to die, and not any desire to live, is that which maketh death fearful to them that know not the immortality of the soul, Now then aught not these men to blush for shame, that dare doubt of the second life, and future judgement, when they hear this discourse of an Ethnic and Pagan, destitute of that true light of God, and sincere religion which is manifested to us in jesus Christ? Truly nothing is more clear in all the holy Scripture, than that as before the first day mentioned in Genesis, all things were possessed of Eternity, so that there was neither time, nor year, nor month, nor season, but all things were in that Eternity, so when the last day shall come, all shall be eternal for the felicity of the good, and torment of the wicked. But to return to our speech of death the word of God giveth us to understand of three kinds of death: the one is the separation 
Three kinds of death.  of the soul from the body, with the dissolution of the body until the resurrection, and of this is our present discourse. The second is the death of sin, as it is said oftentimes, that they are dead that nourish themselves in sin. The third is called in the Apocalyps, the second 
Apoc. 20. 6.  death, and sometimes eternal death, unto which the wicked shall be condemned in the last judgement. Therefore to continued our speech of corporal and temporal death, if the doctrine of the Son of God be never so little apprehended of us by faith, we shall see clearly enough that the faithful aught to have that in great request, which to human sense seemeth 
Why the faithful aught to desire death.  neither happy, nor to he desired, seeing it turneth to their salvation. It belongeth to him that will not go unto jesus Christ, to fear death: and to be unwilling to go to Christ, is a badge of such a one as will not reign with him. What traveler having passed many dangerous ways, rejoiceth not when he draweth near to his country? and who is not content to departed out of an old ruinous house? What pleasure have we in this world, which draweth near to an end every day, and which selleth unto us so dearethose pleasures that we receive 
What the life of man is.  therein? What other thing is this life but a perpetual battle and a sharp skirmish, wherein we are one while hurt with envy, an other while with ambition, and by and by with some other vice, besides the sudden onsets given upon our bodies by a thousand sort of diseases, and floods of adversities upon our spirits? Who then will not say with Saint Paul, I desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ? Why do we daily pray that the kingdom of God should come, if it be not for the desire which we aught to have to see the fulfilling thereof in the other life? We have a thousand testimonies in the Scripture, that the death of the body is a certain way by which we pass into that true and eternal life, and into our own country. Flesh and blood (saith S. Paul) cannot inherit the kingdom of God, neither doth corruption inherit incorruption. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality: 
1. Cor. 15. 50 53, 54, 55, 56 57  then shall be fulfilled that which is written: Death is swallowed up in victory. They that believe in jesus Christ have already overcome death, sin, and hell. And therefore contemning death they may say: OH death, where is thy sting? OH grave where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law: but thanks be unto God which hath given us victory through our Lord jesus Christ. He that hathraised up the Lord jesus, shall raise us up also. Our conversation is in heaven, from whence also we look for the Saviour, even the Lord jesus Christ, who shall change our 
2. Cor. 4. 14. Phil. 3. 20, 21  vile body that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to the working, whereby he is even able to subdue all things under himself. You are dead (saith he to the Colossians) and your life is hid 
Col. 3. 3. 4.  with jesus Christ in God. When Christ which is our life shall appear, then shall ye also appear with him in glory. My brethren (saith he to the Thessalonians) I would not have you ignorant concerning 
1. Thess. 4. 13. 14.  them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not even as other which have no hope. For if ●e believe that jesus is dead, and is risen, even so them which sleep in jesus will God bring with him. jesus Christ (saith he to the Hebrews) was partaker of flesh and blood: that is to say, was truly man, that he might destroy 
Heb. 2. 14. 11.  through death, him that had the power of death, that is, the devil. And that he might deliver all them, who for fear of death were all their life time subiest to bondage. God hath saved us, and called us with an holy calling (as he saith to Timothy) not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace, which was given to us through Christ jesus before the world was, but is now made manifest by the 
2. Tim. 1. 9, 10.  appearing of our Saviour jesus Christ, who hath abolished de●th, and hath brought life and immortality unto light through the Gospel. I am sure (saith job) that my redeemer liveth, and he shall stand the last on the earth. And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet shall I see God in my flesh. Whom I 
job 19 25, 26, 27.  myself shall see and mine eyes shall behold, and none other for me. jesus Christ is our head, and we are his members. This head cannot be without his members, neither can forsake them. Where Christ 
joh. 12. & 17  is, there shall we be also. He that considereth diligently these places of Scripture, and infinite others contained therein, it cannot be but he should have great joy and comfort in his heart against all fear and horror of death. And then coming to compare the miseries which never leave this life, with that unspeakable happiness and felicity, which eye hath not seen, neither ●are hath heard, neither came into man's heart, which God hath prepared in the second and eternal 
1. Cor. 2. 9  life for all faithful believers: a Christian will not only pass over this mortal life with ease and without trouble, but will even contemn and make no account of it, in respect of that which is immortal. But to whom is death sweet if not to them that labour? The poor hireling is well at ease when he hath done his days work. So death is always sweet to the 
Who they be that fear not death.  afflicted, but to them that put their trust in worldly things, the remembrance thereof is bitter. Now than the children of God are not afraid of death, but (as Cyprian writeth in an Epistle sent to the Martyrs of Christ) he that once hath overcome death in his own person, doth daily overcome him in his members: so that we have jesus Christ not only a beholder of our combats, but also an assistant and fighter with us. And by his grace abounding in the hearts of the faithful, they are so much the more bend to meditate upon the benefits of the future and eternal life, as they see that they are environed with greater store of miseries in this fading and transitory life. Than comparing both together they found nothing more easy than to finish sweetly their race, and to value the one as little, as they accounted the other absolute in all felicity. Moreover, seeing heaven is our country, what is the earth else but a passage in a strange land? And because it is accursed unto us for sin, it is nothing else but the place of our banishment. If our departure out of this world be an entrance to li●e, what is this world but a sepulchre? And to devil here what is it else but to be plunged in death? If it be liberty to be delivered out of this body, what is the body but a prison? And if it be our chief happiness to enjoy the presence of our God, is it not a misery not to enjoy it? Now until we go out of this world, we shall be as it were separated from God. Wherhfore if 
A comparison between this li●e and that which is eternal.  this earthly life be compared with the heavenly, no doubt but it may be contemned and accounted as it were dung. True it is that we must not hate it, but so far forth as it keepeth us in subjection to sin. And yet whilst we desire to see the end of it, we must not be careless to keep ourselves in it to the good pleasure of God, that our longing may be far from all murmuring and impatiency. For our life is as a station, wherein the Lord God hath placed us, that we should abide in it until he call us back again. S. Paul indeed bewailed his estate, 
Psal. 1. 23.  because he was kept as it were bound in the prison of his body longer than he would, and groaned with a burning desire until he was delivered: but withal to show his obedience to the will of God, he protested that he was ready for both, because he knew himself indebted for the glorifying of his name, whether it were by death or by life. For it belongeth to him to determine what is expedient for his glory. Wherefore it behoveth us to li●e & die unto him, let us leave both our life & death to his good pleasure, but yet so that we always desire ra ther to die them to live, & be ready cheerfully to renounce this life, whensoever it pleaseth the Lord, because it holds us under sin. And let us hold this Maxim, that no man hath thoroughly profited in the school of Christ jesus, but he that with joy & gladness expecteth the day of death, & of the last resurrectio. S. Paul in his Epistle to Titus describeth all the faithful by this mark: and the Scripture when it propoundeth unto us matter of rejoicing, calleth us back 
T●t. 2. 13.  thither: Re●o●ce (saith the Lord in Luke) and lif● up our heads, for your redemption draweth ne●re. It 
Lu●. 21. 28.  were absurd that that thing should breed nothing but sorrow and astonishment in us, which Christ thought was fit matter to work joy in us. Now then, seeing death is dead to them that believe in him, there is nothing in death which a man aught to fear. It is true that the image thereof is hideous and terrible, because that besides the violent taking away of life, it representeth unto us the wrath of God, which biteth like a serpent: but now the venom of it is taken away and cannot hurt us. And as through the brazen serpent which Moses lift up in the wilderness, the living serpents died, and their venom hurt not the israelites: so our death dieth, and is notable in any sort to hurt us, if we behold with the eyes of faith the death of ●esus Christ. Briefly, it is nothing but an image and shadow of death, and the beginning 
How death cannot hurt.  and entrance unto true life. Wherefore concluding our present speech, let us learn that as our miserable nature had brought us to the like condition of death: so the grace of God maketh this difference, that some, namely the wicked, die to their destruction, and others which are 
Psal. 116. 19  the children of God led by his Spirit and word, die to live more happily, so that their very death is precious in the sight of God. And although the ●ust of our flesh, being blind and earthly, striveth continually against the desires of the spirit, seeking to separate us as far as it can from our sovereign Good: yet let us have this engraven in our hearts, that they are happy that know the vanity of this world, more happy that set not their affections upon it, and they most happy that are taken out of it to be with God in the kingdom of heaven.   
The end of this Academy.  
Πάν τοπ● δόξα θεῷ.   

THE SECOND PART OF THE FRENCH ACADEMY.  
Wherein, as it were by a natural history of the body and soul of man, the creation, matter, composition, form, nature, profit and use of all the parts of the frame of man are handled, with the natural causes of all affections, virtues and vices, and chief the nature, powers, works and immortality of the Soul.  
By PETER DE LA PRIMAUDAYE Esquire, Lord of the same place and of Bar.  
And translated out of the second Edition, which was reviewed and augmented by the Author.   printer's or publisher's device 
LONDON, Printed for Thomas Adams.  
1618.   

TO THE CHRISTIAN READER GRACE. AND PEACE.  
SENECA the Philosopher reporteth (gentle Reader) that the looking glass was firct innented to this end, that man might use it as a mean to know himself the better by. Now besides that in a glass we may attain to some kind of knowledge of ourselves when we take a view of our own countenance, and of the liveaments and proportion of our bodies outwardly, Socrates applied the same to a further use for the instruction of manners. For as Apuleius writeth of him, he earnestly persuaded his Auditors to look often into a glass, and to behold themselves therein, to this intent, that he which thought himself beautiful and fair, might take occasion thereby to avoid all kind of deformity in manners and conversation, whereby that beauty of his would be greatly blemished: and that whosoever perceived by the glass any defect of comeliness in his countenance, might labour so much the more seriously by the help of virtue and inward graces of the mind to recompense the outward wants and imperfections of his body. In which respect this book may most fitly be resembled to a glass, as that which affordeth unto us both these uses in far more excellent manner than can be performed by any looking glass how rare and surpassing soever it be. For even the best of that kind doth represent unto our eyes only so much of the surface of our on we bodies as is directly before it, but as for the hinder parts we take no view of them by a glass, much less is it able to give us a sight of the intern 〈◊〉 members of our bodies, whereby we may attain to any profitable knowledge of them. But if we take a diligent view of this book, and with th● eyes both of body and mind look intentively upon the same, it will in most evident manner represent unto us not only the outward members of man's body both before and behind and on every side, but even the most hidden and inward parts thereof, which otherwise before life have left the body cannot possibly be seen of any man. Here may you behold all the bones as it were the frame and timberworke of man's body, yea the very foundation upon which all the residue of the building is laid. Hear may you see the exquisite frame and composition of the head, as it were the upper lodging of this house, the several ventricles of the brain, as so many sundry chambers for the entertainment of the Animal spirits: the singular workmanship of the eyes, as of the lights and windows, appertaining to this palace of man's body: the matter and four me of the humours in the eyes, as it were the crystal glass set in the windows, together with the eyelids, as casements to open & shut, to receive in or keep out the light as need requireth, besides the eyebrows as penthouses to defend those windows from the violence of stormy weather, What should I speak of the ears, as of high watch towers whereby warning is given to the internal senses so often as any adversary noise giveth notice of enemies approaching to annoy this good castle? The mouth is it not as the door that receiveth in all kind of provision meet for't he reparation and maintenance of this great building, as occasion serveth? It is a world to think what excellent workmanship appeareth in the voice and tongue of man, and singular uses it hath very requisite for the perfection of this piece of work. Now if we shall descend and enter into the contemplation, as of the breast, as of the middle story of this building, and consider what with what goodly household stuff those rooms are adorned, who is able either with tongue to utter, or with heart to conceive, the rare devices, the precious jewels the singular art there to be found? What an exceeding fair room is the dining chamber of the heart, the receptable of the will and affections, the shaped wherein the vital spirits are wrought, and the forge from whence is derived that fire and heat which warmeth the whole house? And lest this fire should break forth into such a flame as might bring peril of burning to this goodly building, the chamber of the heart is daily and continually refreshed with cool blasts proceeding from the lungs as from an outward room that is built round about a great part thereof. Here also is to be seen the Artery which as a lively conduit carrieth forth continually most crystal streams of vital spirits into every r●●me and office of the house. Betwixt this second story and the third is laid the Midriffs as a store that maketh a separation between the instruments of the vital parts being the implements of that middle room, and the natural instruments of the neither story which serve both for the upholding and maintenance of the whole building, and also containeth in it matter for the erecting of a new frame, which is to s●and after the former is come to his full period. In this third story or partition is to be seen the stomach, which being as it were the kitchen of the body receiveth at the door of the mouth all such meats and drinks as are requisite for the keeping of it in sufficient repar●tionss and for the defence of it against two mighty enemies Hunger and Thirst, who by continual undermining of the same, labour, to lay it even with the ground. And because nothing can be prepared in the kitchen without heat, and the maintenance thereof besides the natural heat of the stomach it is compassed on the rightside with the liver, on the left with the spleen, behind with the muscles of the ch●●●●on● before with kal, abo●e it hath the haert and midriff, and within it are sundry vital spirits, from all which as from so many several fires, it receiveth heat for the better dressing and concocting of that which is conveyed into it. Neither are the gutters and sinks necessarily belonging to every house, wanting to the perfection of this beautiful building of man's body: as may appear by the guts and other parts of base service, without which it is not possible that this frame should, long continued. N●w besides the singular delight & pleasure, which this natural knowledge of our own bodies yieldeth unto our minds, the profit and commodity that issueth here from is great and manifold. For first in regard of ourselves, if we were thoroughly acquainted with the Anatomy of our bodies, with the substance and situation, with the form and qualities, with the 
P●ou. 4. 6. 1. Cor. 12.  uses and offices of every part and member of the same, it is out of all question, that by the knowledge thereof, we might both prevent many diseases and infirmities, which through want thereof would seize upon us, and being overtaken with any, might recover ourselves more speedily by a wise and skilful carriage of ourselves according to the same. Neither is it laid upon every one to have so much skill as is requisite for him that maketh profession of that art towards all men, but only so far forth as may serve for the preservation of his own health either in employing the talon of his private knowledge, or in yielding himself more readily unto the wise direction of the skilful Physician. Secondly as Solomon sendeth us to the industryous nature of the Pismire to learn diligence and forecast in our calling, so the Apostle taketh occasion by the variety of members in one body, to reprehend two sorts of people in the Church of C●rint●, both such as were carried away with e●●y towards their superiors, themselves being endued with meaner gifts, and those also who being furnished with more excellent ornaments of God's spirit, were puffed, up with pride in themselves and with disdain towards others of fewer graces. And this being the second use that ariseth from this natural knowledge of our bodies, offereth itself in most plentiful man●er to be observed by us, in every part and member of the same. What a notable lesson of good neighbourhood are we taught by the view and contemplation of man's face? For as many several members of different uses are so artificially knit and linked together in one face, that not one of them is any impediment or hindrance, unto another in the execution of his office: so we are instructed thereby how to carry ourselves towards our neighbours, every one to contain himself within the limits of his several calling, and not to encroach one upon another as the manner of a great many is, that are not contented with their own estate. Again, in the second story of this frame when we consider the lungs, which are the bellows of the voice, are placed so ●eere the heart that they compass it round about, are not all men thereby admonished, that their speech is but the interpreter of the heart, and the messenger thereof? that the mouth must like a good servant attend upon the heart, and utter nothing but that which it receiveth first from the same? that no man aught to imitate the example of Hippolytus in E●rip●des, who being admonished of his Nurse to remember his Oath, made her this misshapen answer, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: The tongu● hath sworn, but the mind is u●sworne? As many ●ollow hearted subjects of late days behaved 
job. 33. 3. Psal. 12. 2.  themselves towards her Majesty, having received a dispensation so to do from Pope Gregory the thirteenth, whose goodly posy was set down in certain tokens sent to all such as were to be reconciled unto him, Fil●mi da ●ihicor & sufficet, My son, give me thy hart, and it sufficeth, which is all one as if he bade said swear and for swear thyself if thou wilt, say thou art a good subject, go to the church, do whatsoever 
Prou. 15. 27. and ●6. ●3.  is commanded thee, so thou let me have thy heart, it skilleth not who have thy tongue, thy hands, and all the rest of thy body. Elihu being of another spirit, was better instructed in the knowledge of this near conjunction, which naturally aught to be between the heart and the tongue: and therefore speaking to his friend job he telleth him, that his words would be in the uprightness of his heart: Whereas they that follow not this course of nature, but violently draw their tongue to utter that which is far disagreeing from the meaning of the heart, are branded for the same by the kingly Prophet David with this mark of infamy, that they are men of two hearts, or of a double heart, which is monstrous in nature. The like instruction to this we are taught in that the tongue is placed so near under the brain, which is the seat of the mind and understanding part of man, as it were at the feet of her schoolmaster, to the intent is should not speak unadvisedly & hand over head, as we use to say, but with great deliberation, both in regard of the matter itself to be delivered by speech and also of the circumstances of time, place, and persons, which are not to be neglected. For look how preposterous it is to set the cart before the horse, so is it for the tongue to run before ●he wit, and to utter it knoweth not well what, having received no direction from the same. And therefore Solomon putting the name of heart for the mind and understanding part of man, saith, that a righteous man's heart meditateth or pondereth what it shall answer: and that the hart 
Prou. 15. 28. and 16. 23.  of the wise guideth his mouth prudently. Neither is it slightly to be passed ●uer, that every one having two eyes that serve for seeing, two ears for hearing, two nostrils for smelling, two feet for going, hath yet but one soft and fleshy tongue for sundry uses, and that tied fast with strings, and compassed about with gums, teeth, and lips, as with a double wall to teach men thereby, that the tongue being a very unruly member, had need to be bridled and hemmed in on every side, lest it break ●orth into a world of wickedness, and breed destruction to the whole body. Now if we look into the middle story of this building, there we shall see that although the heart be the fountain of life, and the root of all the vital spirits that are dispersed into every part and member of the body, yet it cannot want either the cool refreshing it hath from the lungs, or the veine-pipes proceeding from the liver, or the moving strings it hath from the sinews, or the necessary defence of the ribs and bon●ss, which as strong bulwarks and rampires fence it in on every side. Even so fareth it with the great and mighty men of this world; who although in regard of their power and authority over others, they seem to have their lives and livelihoods at their beck and commandment, yet they are so far from being able of themselves to maintain their honours and high places without the necessary aid of the inferior sort, as that without them they should want wherewith to uphold their own lives. But this appeareth yet more evident in the lower story of this frame, where the guts and entrails of the body as it were the sink● of an house have their a biding. For although in regard of their use they may seem to be the basest and most abject parts of the body, yet if we consider the necessity of them, we shall see that a man may better spare a principal member of his body then the lest gut that is in his belly. Even so fareth it with the politic body of a commonwealth, in which the base Artisan will sooner be miss oftentimes, than he that carrieth a greater port, and is advanced to a higher room and office in the same. A third use that may be made of this book as it were of a crystal glass worthy the looking into, is that singular delight and pleasure which may be reaped, by the view and consideration of the harmony between this terrestrial frame, and the celestial habitation of the heavens, when they are compared together. And as that famous sentence, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Know thyself, is reported of many to have descended from the heavens, so surely it will be small furtherance to a man whereby he may attain to a better knowledge of himself, if he seriously observe what a great agreement there is between him and the heavens, whereunto the very situation of his countenance lift up towards heaven, doth as it were lead him by the hand. First therefore if we consider the original of them both, we find in holy Writ, that as God is said to have made the heavens in the beginning, so also it is there related, that not long after he made man after his own image and committed unto him the sovereignty over the earth and over all living and moving creatures under the cope of heaven. Neither can it be truly said that howsoever the Lord himself form the first man, and breathed in his face the breath of life, yet since that first creation he hath not intermeddled at all with the continual propagation of mankind, but hath surrendered all his working power into the hands of nature, by whose powerful operation the matter of men's bodies is brought to this glorious perfection, 
Gen. 1. 1. 26.  which we see it hath when it first appeareth in the world. For this is to speak after the manner of mere natural men, that have not as yet learned the language of Canaan, as is plain if we call to mind what the kingly Prophet saith unto the Lord, that it was he that possessed his reigns, and that covered him in his mother's womb. Which also is more manifestly taught by that holy man job, who confidently 
Psal. 139. 13. job. 10. 10. 11  affirmeth, that it was the Lord who had powered him out as milk, & turned him to cruddes like cheese: that he had clothed him with skin & flesh, & joined him together with bones and sinews. Wherhfore as it was the eternal God, who first turned the body of the heavens into that roundness, gathered the light into the bodies of the celestial lamps, fixed the stars in the firmament, endued each planet with his several motion, & clothed the inferior world with this glorious circumference: s● the same God at the first planted Adam as the root of mankind, and ever since hath caused his whole race and every several person as so many branches to issue and grow out of his loins. He turned the eyes into that roundness, he planted the ears as watch towers in the upper part of the head, ●e placed the tongue, fastened the teeth, stretched out the sinews: he watered the veins with blood, gave massines to the bones and clothed the flesh with a fine skin as with a garment, he severed the fingers and toes, caused the feet to walk, and the hands to gripe. He, and none but he giveth sight to the eyes, hearing to the cares, taste, to the tongue, smelling to the nostrils, and feeling to the fingers. Who but he hath endued the lungs with breathing, the heart with the spirits of life, the stomach with concoction, the liver with the making of blood, and women's breasts, with the making of milk? Who hath fashioned the instruments of hearing in the head like to a h●●er and an anvil, the hart in the body like a pyramid, and made the spleen in substance like a sponge? Who hath covered the head with hair for comeliness, & boared the skin through with infinite pores for enacuation? In a word, who hath given beauty to the whole body, and to each member his several operation? What father, what mother, what workman hath wrought these things, but the only wise and immortal God? But to proceed, as the sun, moon, & celestial stars and planets have a double motion, the one common with the whole body of the heavens, the other proper and peculiar according to the nature of every several star: so have the parts of man's body two motions, whereof the one dependeth of the motion of the whole body, and is therefore universal, and the other is particular according to the inset nature and disposition of each several member. And to descond to a more special comparison of one particular thing with another, how doth the diverse operations of the animal spirit (whose seat is in the brain) concur with the different workings of the sun in the firmament upon the inferior bodies here below upon the face of the earth? We see that through the self same reflection of the sun beams, the the clay is hardened, and the wax made soft: that the light of the sun is comfortable to some eyes, whereas other become worse through the brightness of the same, that it worketh otherwise upon a thick body then upon a thin, upon a hard then upon a soft, upon a plant then upon a stone, upon the earth then upon the water. So the Animal spirit being distributed into sundry parts and members of the body worketh diversly in each of them according to the diverse nature, composition and temperament of every one. For being imparted to the eyes by the optic sinews it giveth sight: to the ears by certain passages, it worketh hearing: to the tongues by small Nerves, it breedeth tasting: in a word, being dispersed into the muscles and skin by means of certain sinewy threads concurring in manner of a net, it infuseth feeling throughout the whole body. And as it often falleth out that we are diprived of the heat and light of the Sun, when either some thick cloud, or the body of the Moon, or some such thing is interposed & put between us and the same: so we quickly see and feel the want of the Animal spirit, when any thick clammy humour, or wind, or melancholic fumes, or any such impediment stop the passages and hinder the working thereof, as is to be seen in them that are taken with the palsy, apoplexy, madness, numbness, and such like. It is no less delectable than strange to consider in how many things the Sun as it were the heart of the heavens, agreeth with the heart of man, which may not unfitely be called the sun of the body. For as the Sun being the chiefest of the Planets occupieth the middle place among those wandering stars, having the rest as his guard both above and beneath him, to employ as need requireth both for their own safety and the good of the inferior world: so the heart being the chiefest member of the body, is seated in the middle story of the same, having the other parts both above and beneath it & on every side, employing them according to their several offices for the upholding and preservation of the whole frame. And as the Sun is the storehouse of that celestial heat, which together with a divine and quickening spirit working in the bowels of the earth maketh it a fruitful Mother, & tender Nurse for the bringing forth and preservation of all things: so the heart is the barth from whence proceedeth all that inset and native heat, which being conveyed with the vital spirits into every member of the body maketh them lively and powerful to perform those duties that are enjoined them. Concerning the motion of the heart, as it agreeth with the Sun in this that they both have a double motion, so in that the heart being the first that receiveth life and motion, is the Original of all motion in the body it resembleth the whole heavens, of which dependeth all natural motions of inferior bodies whatsoever. Again the two eyes in the head represent the two chief lights in the firmament. And as there are both simple stars in the heavens, namely the Sun, Moon, Saturn, jupiter, Mercury with the rest, and also compound as the Charles-wain, the Lion, both the bears and others: so in the body there are simple or similar parts, as the sinews, bones, arteries, vienes, etc. and compound parts, as the heart, liver, brain, stomach, lungs & such like. Moreoever, it is certain, that the Planets, howsoever in regard of their moving to and fro they are said to be wandering stars, have yet their certain limits in the heavens, especially in the Zodiac, in which as in their dwelling houses they exercise those natural powers wherewithal they are endued, as the proper mansion of the sun is in Leo, of the Moon in Cancer, of Saturn in Capricorn, of jupiter in Sagittarius, and so of the rest. In like manner, although the body of man be so framed, as that there is no one part but it is serviceable unto all, yet there are certain several places appointed as peculiar shops for each faculty to work in especially, as the brain for the Animal spirit, the heart for the Vital, and the liver for the Natural: the gall is the receptacle for choler, the spleen for Melancholy, the sucking veins serve to purge the blood from the serous substance of it, & so of the other powers and parts of the body. To conclude this third use (for a day would not suffice to utter all that might be spoken in this matter) as the Sun by reason of his Annual progress through the twelve signs maketh a sensible division of the year into four parts, which have their different seasons & qualities: if they fall out according to the course of nature, and so likewise the Moon by her race quartereth the moveth accordingly: even so fareth it with the body of man in regard of his whole age, which being considered from the beginning unto the ending, agreeth very fitly to those several seasons both for number and predominant qualities, if the thread of life be not cut off in the midway by the razor of death. For the body of man in his first age, which is his childhood, is moist & hot, and so is the former part of the year called the spring, as also the first part of the month from the new moon to the ending of the 1 quarter. In the second part of men's age, which is his flourishing & youthful time, the body of man is hot & dry, such as are the qualities of the second part of the year or summer season, & of the second part of the month, which is from the first quarter to the full Moon. Thirdly, the body of man in the third part of his age, commonly called man's age, is cold & moist, according to the disposition of the third part of the year called Autumn, & of that season of the moon which is from the full to the last quarter. To conclude, in the 4 and last quarter of man's age, called old age, his body is cold and dry, like to the winter season, and to the fourth part of the month, which is from the last quarter to the next new moon. Now as these three former uses of the Anatomy of man's man's body, serve for the commodity and delight of man, so the fourth is the same that aught to be made, not only of the body of man, but as Solomon teacheth us of all the creatures both in heaven & earth, & that is the glory of God. For the Lord having set in his visible creatures evident marks of himself and of his eternity, power, goodness, wisdom & providence, as the Apostle teacheth, what remaineth but that man for whose sake & service the Lord created all things, should thereby acknowledge his sovereign Lord, and return unto him all glory, praise, and dutiful 
Rom. 1. 20.  obedience for the same. That we aught to make this use of the anatomical consideration of our bodies, the king lie prophet David teacheth us most divinely by his own example, when after a view taken of the admirable work of God in fashioning him in his mother's womb, be breaketh forth into this saying, I will praise thee, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made, marvelous are thy works: & my soul knoweth it well. And surely unless we tread in the steps of this worthy king and propound this as the scope of all our travels in 
Psal. 139 24  searching out the several parts of our bodies, that God our creator and gracious preserver may be praised, worshipped, & feared thereby, we shall never know ourselves aright, & as we aught to do, but rather join with the most part of men who not using their skill in this behalf as a ladder to climb up by unto God, stick fast in the very matter and form of their bodies, so that many of them become mere Naturalists and very Atheists One special cause whereof, as I take it, is because they lay not the ground and foundation of their skill in the holy Scriptures, the fountain of all sound knowledge, which teach us, that it is the Lord that made us and that form us from the womb, but follow after some small streams of this knowledge, even such as are polluted with 
isaiah 44. 2.  the invention of man's brain, placing the course of nature in the procreation of mankind (which is but an effect of God's almighty working power,) in the room of God himself the supreme cause of al. In which respect they may not unfitly be resemmbled to Moles that are always plodding in the earth, or to swine that finding acorns upon the ground, never look up to the tree from which they fall. They forget that man's eyes are therefore set in the head, which is the upper part of the body rather than in his breast, belly, or feet, because he should be admonished thereby to lift up his mind unto heaven & heavenly things: & therefore Plato saith that men's eyes were set in a body erected & looking upward, that they might be as guides to lead them to the knowledge of God, upon the sight of the celestial light, & notice taken of the heavenly motions. Otherwise, although a man's skill be never so great, although he knoweth the way of the stars, the walls of the world, the foundations of the earth the top of the heavens, yet if he be ignorant of the creator & moderator of them all, it shall profit him nothing. But as no man is to look for grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles, so we must not think that Epicures & Atheists will once either labour to know God or open their lips to praise him, when as yet they have not learned to believe 
Heb. 11. 6.  that he is, much less that he is a rewarder of them that seek him. And surely of all Satan's delusions wrought by him in the hearts of unbelievers, this monstrous error of Atheism is most ugly, as that which is destitute of all show of reason, whereby it might insinuate itself into the hart of man. For howsoever in regard of man's natural corruption, hunger & thirst is not more incident unto him than is error in religion & aberration in manners, yet for any man not to see and acknowledge by the dim candle of nature, that God is, that his providence watcheth over all, that the soul of man is immortal, and that after this life there is a place of happiness for the good and of torments for the wicked, is as I may term it, a supernatural error, or rather clean against reason, religion, and nature & all. The truth whereof appeareth both by the common consent of all nations, who have generally approved those points, as inviolable principles & maxims in nature, and also by the judgement of the sounder sort of Philosophers and Lawmakers amongst the heathen, who knowing that all men's consciences did naturally acknowledge not only a being of a divine power, but a subjection also thereunto pretended that their Laws and superstitions came from some one or other of their supposed gods and goddesses: as Minos' King of the Cretensians made the people believe that he had received his laws of jupiter, Lycurgus the Lacedaemonian lawmaker of Apollo's oracle, Numa Pompilius a Roman king of Aegeria the Nymph, and so the rest of others. And in truth, they that deny the divine essence, what do they but deny themselves, and the being of all things in the world beside? For as Aratus the heathen poet teacheth, which 
Act. 17.  is also conformed unto us by the Apostle Paul, In God we live, move and have our being: so that with out him it is impossible we should have any being one moment of an hour. And it is strange to consider how these reasonable beasts (for men I dare not call them) standing so much upon reason & sense as they would seem to do, cannot inreason conceive that this great variety and exquisite order, which they behold and see in nature & natural things, must of necessity have some superior cause from which they received both their first being, & their continual perservation in the same. When they look upon any excellent picture, they presently judge, as the truth is, that is was wrought by some cunning painter, & every curious building leadeth all men to the consideration of some exquisite master builder that framed it. And shall not the view of the world, & the knowledge of so many admirable things therein as are subject to all our senses, constrain us to acknowledge a superior cause and creator of them all? Doth any ship sail his right course without a Pilot? or is there any city well governed without a Magistrate? And shall any surmise, that the celestial lights could observe their right motion without the direction of him that made them? or that the terrestrial globe of the earth could continued so well ordered by the course of nature, were it not that all things are upholden by him that framed them all? But such is the blockishness of these Epicurian beasts that they will believe nothing but that which they may see with their eyes, and take knowledge of by the light of their bodies. As though, if their eyes were plucked out of their head there could be no sun in the heavens, nor light in the world because themselves were in darkness and could see nothing. How many things are there in nature which cannot be seen, & yet no man maketh any question of their being, not not they themselves, who notwithstanding deny that there is any divine nature, any immortallsoule, Angel or spirit, because they are not visible & subject to sight. Can any of them see the ●ind, look upon the voice of man, behold the sweet harmony of music? Nay, can they take a view of the hearts in their bodies, or of the brains in their heads? Are they therefore without heart & brainless? Surely it seemeth they are clean void of brain, wit, and common sense, that nail all their belief so fast to the sight of their bodily eyes. And yet were it so that they would not most wilfully contradict theevidence of their own hearts, they should there behold with the eyes of their mind as it were in a crystal glass that which may be known of God. Nay the holy Ghost proceedeth further, and telleth us, that even our bodily ●iess may and do after asort look upon the eternal power and Godhead, which are seen by the 
Rom. 1. 19  creation of the world, being viewed in the works thereof. And because it may so fall out by the just judgement of God, that these beetle eyed Atheists may aswell be deprived of their bodily eyes, as they want the 
Psal. 20.  sighed of their minds, the creator and Lord of the whole world, hath set such marks of his Deity in his works that such as have only the direction of nature may even with their eyes closed up, touch & handle him ifthey will but grope after him, in whom we all live, moo●e and have our being. What should I press them with the certain testimony of their own hearts and consciences, wh●ch will they, ●ill they, draw them ●o a fear full acknowledgement of the mighty power of God, whensoever either by his terrible voice of thunder he shaketh 
Act. 17, 27  their hearts, or by some irrecoverable disease, as a messenger of death, he summo●eth them to appear be fore his tribunal seat and throne of justice. But there needeth no other proof to convince than then the words of the●r own mouths. For do not their horrible oaths whereby they blaspheme the majesty of God, & as much as lieth in them tear him in pieces, ●eare witness against themselves that the Lord wh●m they despite in that moustrous manner hath a being, howsoever otherwise they deny the same? And if no reason will sink into their brains, yet me thinks the weight of God's judgements which have from time to time seized extraordinarily up●● these Atheists that have sprung upin the world, should 'cause them more seriously to consider of their miserable estate.  
It is reported of Protagoras, who was one of the first of that stamp, that being banished from Athens, and his books publicly burnt, he was drowned in the sea as he sailed into S●cilia. Diagoras was violently slain by 
Protagoras D●agoras. Epi●urus. Lucianus.  certain men whom the Athenians had hired with money for that purpose, Epicurus also, who placed his felicity in corporal pleasures, d●ed miserably in a vessel of hot water, after that he had been fourteen days together extremely tormented with the stone in the bladder. Lucianus, surnamed by his own countrymen the blasphemer, as he behaved himself most currishly in barking both against the gods of the heathen, and against Christ jesus the Saviour of the world, so his end was thereafter by being torn in pieces & devoured of dogs. Pliny the elder denying the immortality of the soul of man and placing Nature acreature in stead of God the 
Pliny Sen.  Creator, whilst he was over curious inseaching out the cause of the burning of Aetna, was choked with the smoke that issued from it. A just punishment for him to end his life by smoke, who esteemed his soul to be no better than a little vapour. Cassius being aprofessed Scholar of Epicurus & Brutus most brutishly railing upon the providence of God because his enterprises against Caesar succeeded not to his desire, were both overtaken with the revenging hand of God, the one of them causing his servant to be his Butcher, & the other imbruing 
Cassius. Brutus.  his hands in his own blood. The like befell Lucretius a most notorious Atheist, who being deprived of the right use of his senses, abused by him to the denying of God and of all religion, slew himself in the midst of 
Lucretius. Pope john 13.  his madness. Pope john the 13. may worthily be enrolled in this band, as he that was not ashamed to put up a supplication to the devil to sand him good luck at dice: and one day in the midst of his jollity he took a cup of wine and drank to the devil. But by the tust ●udgement of God he was stabbed in with a dagger by one who took him committing adultery with his wife, so that he died thereof within eight days after. Leo the tenth 
Pope Leo. 10.  Pope of that name, who thought there was neither heaven nor ●ell after this life, and blasphemously said that that the Gospel of Christ was but a fable, was suddenly stricken dead with an extreme laughter which he fell into by reason of news brought him of the slaughter and overthrow of certain French men in Italy by his means. The French histories make mention of one Frances Rabelais, who having sucked in this poison of A 
F. Rabela is  theisme made a m●cke at alreligion, as Lucretius his forerunner had done before him: but the self same author & defender of true religion, that took from Lucretius all use of reason, did so deprive this beast of of all sense, that as heled a brutish life, so he died like a swine in the midst of his drunkenness, deriding those that spoke unto him of God & of his mercy. jodellus likewise a French poet, & a professed Atheist, as he 
jodell us.  gave himselfin his life time to writ tragedies, sothe made a right tragical end. For having through gluttony & riot wasted his patrimony and wealth, he fell into such extreme need, that he was miserably famished for want of sustenance, It would ask a long time to set down the judgements of God that have justly o●ertaken sundry others of the abominable crew: only I will rehearse one history worthy our knowledge concerning this matter, mentioned by Enguerran in the second volume of his histories. In the reign of jews the 11. and upon the fift day of june 1464. there happened (saith he) a wonderful accident in the palace at Paris, whilst there was a controversy in pleading between the Bishop of Angiers and a rich citizen of that town whom the Bishop accused of notorious Atheism, namely, that he had said in the hearing of many, that he believed not there was any God or devil, either any heaven or hell. Now as the Bishop's advocate rehearsedthese 
A citizen of Angiers.  words the place wherein they were pleading trembledvery sore, in somuch that with the shaking a stone fell down from the top to the bottom, but hurt no body, albeit they were taken with a greatfeare. Whereupon they went all presently out out of the place until the next day when the matter was to be heard again. And then also the said room began to shake again, so that one of the summers of the chamber sprang out of the mortesse, and bowed downward two feet, but fell not. All that were present supposed they should have died no other death, which caused them so violently to rush out, that for hast some left their hats, some their caps, some their slippers behind them, neither durst a●y pled more there before it was thoroughly mended. Now albeit Enguer●an speaketh nothing of the determination of that suit, yet forasmuch as nothing cometh to pass by hapha zard (as they use to speak) but all things are guided by the good providence of God, it is out of question, that the Lord would teach us hereby, how we should detest and abhor such execrable thoughts & speeches, seeing the very dumb creatures, as the stones, the timber, and the earth itself (which of it own nature is unmove able) were it so affected with the horror thereof, that they could not abide it so much as to hear it spoken of without shaking. But here some will say unto me, that this labour might well have binspared, considering that the sunshine of the Gospel which breaketh forth so clearly in all quarters of the land will quickly descry ●f any such ugly bird should once begin to peep out of the shell within the ●est of this Island. And if the Athenians being mere heathen men banished Protagoras out of the territories, and burned the Books in a public place because in the beginning of one of them he calledthe deity into question, we may not think but that in this land over spread with the knowledge of God, this monstrous brood shall be ●ipped in the head so soon as ever it shall dare to show itself. Indeed a man would think that Atheism should not once be dreamt of, or named amongst us, considering that we live in those times of which the Prophetforetold, That the earth should 
Isaiah 11. 9 & 54. 13. Ier 31. 34.  be full of the knowledge of the Lord's the waters that cover the sea, that all the children of the Church should be taught of the Lord, so that one neighbour shall not teach another, saying, know the Lord, for they shall all know me from the lest of them to the greatest, saith the Lord So a man would think that France, having been for these these 30. years & upward almost continually scourged with civil wars, & that for the cause of religion, should be so far from being steinedwith the lest spot of Atheism, as that it might now at the length truly say with the Prophet David. It is good for me that I was afflicted, for thereby I have learned tokeepe thy law. And yet both this our author and some 
Psal. 119. 71  other of that nation, knowing that this infection have sezed upon many of their country men, have laboured by their writings to suppress the same. And surely it is greatly to be feared, that as their disguised attire ●overeth the bodies of many of our people & maketh them deformed, so this poison of Atheism hath praised i●eanrrow seas & islanded in the hearts of no small number, to their utter destruction both of body and soul, Neither is this the fear of some few with out any ground, but of a great many wise & godly Christians, who seeing the general propha●●esse of men's li●eses almost every where, both publicly ●ry out against the present infection, & plainly bewail the future evils that necessarily follow the same. And albeit peradventure there be noneamongst us, th●t are so far go in Atheism, as Ligneroles a French Courtier of late days was, who i● said to have made open profession thereof, yet if the tree may be judged by the fruits, & the outward effects of men's lives do show show the inward affections of their hearts, he that hath but half an eye ●ay see, that there are a great many amongst us of th●se foolish men of whom David speaks. Who say in their 
Psal. 14. 1.  hearts that there is no God. In the forefront of which company, the students of Machi●uels' principles & practis●rss of his precepts may worthily be ranged. This bad fellow whose works are no less accounted of among his followers, than were Apollo's Oracles amongst the Heathen, nay then the sacred Scriptures are among sound Christians, blushed not to be●ch out these horrible blasphemies against purereligió, & soagainst God the Author thereof, namely, That the religion of the heathen made them stout and courageous, whereas Christia● religion maketh the professors thereof base minded, timorous, and fit to become a prey to every one: that since men fell from the religion of the Heathen, they become so corrupt that they would believe neither God nor the Devil, that Moses so possessed the land of judea, as the Goths did by strong hand usurp part of the Roman Empire. These & such like positions are sp●ed out by this hell hound sometime against true religion, other whiles ●gianst the religion and Church of Rome, sometimes also taxing the religion of the heathen, of falsehood and cozenage, so that in truth he would have all religion to be of like account with his disciples, except it be so far forth as the pretence & show of religion may serve to set forward & effect their wicked policies. And for this cause he setteth down this rule for every Prince and Magistrate to frame his religion by, namely, that he should pretend to be very religious and devout, although it be but in hypocrisy. And to this he addeth a second precept no less impious, that a Prince should with tooth and nail maietaine false miracles and untruths in religion, so long as his people may thereby be kept in greater obedience. Now what first-fruits we are to expect from the students of this profession, let all men judge that have any sparks of pure religion glowing in their hearts. Unto these may be added, such as tread in the steps of Lamech, who derided the judgement of God up●n Cain: such as walk in the ways of Ishmael, who mocked Isaac inregard of the promise: & such as th●●● irreligious persons were of whom Peter speaketh, who in jesting wise asked what was become of the promise of Christ his coming to judgement. That there are such amongst us, even in these times wherein we li●● l●● the testimony which one of that crew g●ue lately of himself when the heavy hand of God by sickness 〈◊〉 him to give him an account of his desolate life. He being one day admonished of his friends to lea●e his b●d course of life, which otherwise would bring him to utter destruction, scoffing returned them this answer: Tu●h (quoth ●e) what is he better that dieth in his bed then he that endeth his life at Tyburn? And being f●rther urged to doubt the loss of his soul in he●l fire for eve● although he feared not death in this world, he replied, Hell? What talk you of Hell to me? I know if I once come there, I shall have the company of better than myself: I shall also meet with some knaves in that place, and so long a● I shall not sit there alone, my care is the less. But you are mad folks (quoth he) for if I feared the judges of the Bench no more than I dread the judgements of God, I would before I slept dive into one karles bags or other, & make merry with the shells I found in them so long as they would last. The voice of a mere Atheist, and so afterwards he pronounced of himself when he was checked in conscience by the mighty hand of GOD. And yet this fellow in his life time and in the midst of his greatest ruff, had the Press at commandment to publish his lascivious Pamphlets, whereby he infected the hearts of many young Gentlemen and others with his poisonful platforms of love, & divelsshed discourses of fancy's fits? so that their minds were no less possessed with the toys of his irreligious brain, than their chamber's & studies were pestered with his lewd and wanton books. And if the rest of his crew may be permitted so easily as he did without controlment to instill their venomous inventions into the minds of our English youth by means of printing, what other thing can we look for, but that the whole land should speedily be overflown with the deadly waters of all impieties, when as the flood gates of Atheism are thus set wide open? Are they not grown already to this boldness, that they dare to gird at the greatest personages of all estates and callings under the fables of savage beasts, not sparing the u●ry dead that lie in their graves, that the holy Apostles, the blessed virgin Marry the glorious kingdom of Heaven itself must be brought in as it were upon a stage to play their several parts, according as the humour of every irreligious head shall dispose them? And whereas godly learned men, and some that have spoken of their own experience, have in their books that are allowed by authority, termed Stage players and theatres, The school of abuse, the school of bawdry, the nest of the devil & sink of all sin, the chair of pestilance, the pomp of the devil, the sovereign place of Satan, yet this commendation of them hath lately passed the Press that they are rare exercises of virtue. It were too l●g to set down the Catalogue of those lewd & lascivious books, which have mustered themselves of late years in Paul's Churchyard, as chosen soldiers ready to fight under the devils banner: of which it may be truly said that they prevail no less (if not more) to the upholding of Atheism in this light of the Gospel, than the Legend of Lies, H●on of Bordeaux, King Arthur, with the rest of that rabble, were of force to maintain Popery in the days of ignorance. Wherefore my humble suit is to all such as may by virtue of authority stay the violent course of Atheism daily spread abroad by these pernicious Pamphlets, that they would lay to their helping hand for the speedy redress thereof. And as for those that reap the gain of iniquity by the sale of such in fe●●ious stuff, o what a sweet smelling sacrifice should they offer unto the Lord, if they would gather all such h●●tful Books together, & 'cause them to pass through the fire in the midst of that yard, where now they are so commonly sold. Hereby it would come to pass, that the land being purged of so great contagion as droppeth out of the ●e●ss of such godless brains, the Lord would withdraw his be any hand, which now many ways presseth u● sore, the preaching of the Gospel would prevail mightily, as it did in Ephesus after the like sacrifice, 
Act. 19 19 20.  and young Gentlemen and others would employ good hours, upon better studies: which the Lord grant for his mercy's sake,  
AMEN.   

THE FORESPEACH OF THE INTERSPEAKERS IN THIS ACADEMY, WHEREIN IS HANDLED the cause of their future discourses touching the natural history of man.  The names of the discoursers. ASER, which signifieth Felicity, AMANA, Truth, ARAM, Excellency, ACHITOB, Brother of goodness. ASER, 
My companions, I greatly bewail the misery of ourage, wherein so many Epicures and Atheists live, as are daily discovered amongst us in all estates and callings. True it is, that the disagreement in matters of Religion amongst them that bear the name of Christians is very great, and causeth much trouble in the Church: nevertheless, I doubt not but that agreement might soon be made, if the word of God only might be the judge of true and false religion. For all that fear God, and are careful to do nothing contrary to their duty, that accounted the holy scriptures to be the true doctrine of the Spirit of God, and are assuredly persuaded, that there is another life after this, and a judge before whom they must appear, they, I say, are not so hardly induced to peace and concord, but that a man may hope well of them. But they that fear nothing, that call all things into question, that esteem all religion to be opinions only tormenting men's brains: they likewise that stiffly resist even the truth itself, whereof their own consciences convince them, labouring as much as lieth in them to extinguish not only the light of God within them, but that also which they learn in his word, such monsters, I say, will trouble all Christendom more than the contentions about religion, unless the goodness of God provide some convenient remedy for the same. For they must be taught to believe one God, one jesus Christ, the immortality of the soul, the resurrection of the body, a second everlasting life full of joy and happiness for good and just men, but full of grief and pain for the wicked and unjust: generally, they must be taught to believe whatsoever we learn in the holy scriptures concerning the creation and end of every nature. These things being spiritual and heavenly cannot be seen nor comprehended without a celestial and supernatural light, nor without spiritual eyes, joined with the virtue and power of the spirit of God, who only is able to clarify our eyes and to give them sight. For albeit God gave spiritual eyes to man, when he endued him with a reasonable and understanding soul, yet they are even blind through sin, if they always have not God that great and everlasting Sun to illuminate them with his divine light: as the eyes of the body remain in darkness, when bodily light is taken from them. Hereupon they are called blind in the holy scripture, that have not the true knowledge 
Matth. 15. 14. john 9 39  of God by the light of his word. For although they that are most ignorant have some little knowledge and sense of the divinity by that small remnant of natural light, which man received at his first creation, nevertheless because this sparkle is so small in regard of that darkness, which filleth the mind of man, it is not sufficient to lead them to God, and to the right way of salvation. Therefore they soon go astray and wander hither and thither, and for the most part follow superstition in place of religion, and lies in stead of truth: because it is an easy matter for the devil to disguise his inventions under a false show of piety, that they may not discern between truth and falsehood, between that which God liketh and which he disliketh. For seeing the spark of natural light in man's understanding is so small, there needeth no great troubling of the spirit, neither any great impediments to be cast in his way to confounded and amaze him, and to take away, or utterly to overthrow his judgement, whereby to make him at unable to judge of the truth, as a blind man is to judge of colours. But they are in far worse case that voluntarily separate themselves from all truth, both natural and supernatural. For they easily believe that, which the Epicures long since taught against the immortality of souls, and against the providence of God towards men: insomuch that they hold this for most certain, that the soul perisheth as the body doth, and that there is no God that intermeddleth in the government of human affairs, but that they are guided either by fortune or by prudence, or by the folly of men, according as matters fall out.  
I quake to think that such monsters are to be found amongst them that bear the name of Christians, and have in former times received the marks & seals of Christianity in the Church of jesus Christ. But my quaking is doubled, when I consider, that many of them that profess learning and human philosophy, and that are thought to have most skilful sharp and subtle wits, are not only infected with this execrable Atheism, but profess it, open a school thereof, and know how to poison many with it. For as there was never yet opinion, error or heresy so strange or monstrous in the world that hath not always found men enough to receive it, so long as there were Authors and masters to set it abroach, so these professors of Atheism are never without great store of disciples: because after this manner God punisheth the curiosity ingratitude, and perverseness of men, the contempt of his word and hatred of the truth, which is commonly in them, as also the pleasure they take in vanity and lies. Therefore God by his just judgement giveth them over into a reprobate sense, so that they cannot but always reject the truth, and embrace error and lying, as he often threateneth them by the mouth of his Prophets and Apostles. Examples hereof we see daily in such as think themselves the wisest men, who have this in their cogitation (if they dare not speak it openly) that it belongeth not to men of 
Easie. 29. 14. 2. Tim. 3. 13. 2. Thess. 2. 10, 11, 12.  wit to believe in God and his word, but to such as are simple and foolish: not to these great and noble spirits that fly above the clouds, who in truth know more than they should, to bring them to that place of weeping and gnashing of teeth.  
We are to live (my companions) amongst such kind of men, and I suppose that ye, as well as myself, have heard some of them speak: especially since of late times the service of Princes hath longer retained us near unto them, than we were wont in our young years when the study of good letters did wholly possess us. Therefore we aught to be very desirous to fortify ourselves daily with strong and powerful reasons against whatsoever we may hear uttered by these scorners of all piety: not for fear that we shall at any time be deceived by them (for I am most assured of the graces and gifts, which we have received from God) but that we may have abundantly wherewith to resist the vain and weak arguments of these deceivers, when we light among them, especially in the company of ignorant folks, whom they may easily draw to their side if we should be silent. Besides, although we should not be able to confounded them by reason of their obstinacy, yet we shall at the last give them occasion to think more seriously of their error. I know well what small account they make of the testimonies of holy Scriptures, and how they esteem of them but as of fables and dreams made by some doters and idle persons: for so they call the patriarchs, Prophets, and Apostles. As for the writings of Philosophers, they will believe Epicurus, Pliny, Lucretius, Lucian, and others of their sect, who deny all divinity, and the immortality of souls. But they will give no credit to any thing that we fetch from the sayings of Pythagoras, and Socrates, and from the writings of Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, Plutarch, and an infinite number of other excellent Philosophers of all Nations, who have all taught, that there is a divine providence and justice, & that the soul is immortal. What shall we say then? Where shall we seek for arguments which they will vouchsafe to hear? I have heard them say sometimes, that they would give credit to natural Philosophy in those things wherein the causes are proved by their effects. Now if we take this course to prove unto them a god head, his providence, his future judgement, and the immortality of the soul, which way soever we turn ourselves, either upward or downward, on the right hand or on the left, we shall found testimonies every where, which they may not in any wise reject. For we have nature, the necessity of causes, proportion & similitude, the life, decency & dignity of man, the goodness of God, the utility that cometh by mankind proceeding from the bounty of God, all which with one common consent, and as it were with one voice do teach and cry, that there is one God creator and governor of the whole world, and that the soul of man cannot be mortal. Hereof it is, that the holy Ghost doth often propound unto usin holy scriptures this whole visible world as a great book of nature and of true natural divinity all the creatures as preachers and general witnesses of God their creator of his works and of his glory. Nevertheless there are but few that have such eyes as are requisite for the reading of this book, or fit ears to hear the voice, & to understand the sermons of these natural preachers, not not amongst them that are most skilful and best studied in the searching out of nature, & have greatest knowledge of natural things, of liberal arts, & of all human philosophy. For there are as many, yea more, to whom in this respect the self same thing is befallen, which long since befell to the first and greatest Philosophers, unto whom Saint Paul objecteth this by way of reproach, that when they knew God by the works of the 
Rom. 1. 18. 19, etc.  creation of the world (wherein he maketh his power, his eternal and invisible God head, as it were visible unto us) they did not glorify him as God, but withheld the truth in unrighteousness. And yet it will not be a hard matter for us (God being our helper) to make it manifest, by the consideration, not only of the whole frame, but of the lest creature therein, especially of the body and soul of man (who is a little world,) and of the creation, nature, dignity and excellency of both his parts, how not only the simplest and most ignorant may and aught to learn to know God and his providence over every nature, and so to honour and to glorify him, as he hath bound them thereunto, but also how the wisest aught too direct all their skill and knowledge which they have in natural philosophy, to this self same end. As for those that make open profession of Atheism and refuse the testimonies, which God in his word setteth down unto us, of himself, of his providence, and of all things belonging to the salvation and sovereign good of men, they shall have yet, will they nile they, enough probable reasons to prove all these things, so that we may easily convince and prove unto them by these testimonies, which every one of them carrieth about in himself, both the immortality of the soul, as also the religion of God and of his providence. For these three things are so linked together, that in no wise they cannot, neither aught to be separated: so that he which admitteth the one, must of necessity approve the others, and if he doubt of the one, he rejecteth all.  
As therefore (my companions) some years passed after our return from war, we took occasion upon the corruption that then was in all the estates of France, and the forlorn manners which reigned in every one, to meet together and to discourse in our Academy of the institution in good manners, and of the means to live well and happily, to the end in reneving the memory of our former studies we might begin to direct our life to that principal end, which the Philosophers appoint thereof, namely virtuous actions: So I think that even now we have an other good occasion to read in this great book of nature; and to bring one to another whatsoever we have learned concerning the nature of man. For first we have leave in regard of our Prince's service, to recreate ourselves for a while in our own houses. Again, the self same place where we met so fitly, and wherein we began our former discourses of Philosophy, doth invite us to proceed in them. Moreover, we doubt not of the combat, which is prepared for us when we shall visit our neighbours and friends. amongst whom many profess themselves better Philosophers than good Christians. We know also into what straits we have been brought in our master's courts: and let us not hope that the peril will be less when their service recall us near unto them. Wherhfore we shall do well to arm ourselves now with all the reasons & testimonies which we have in nature against that Epicurian doctrine, whose only drift, is by denying the immortality of the soul to turn men from all religion and fear of God. For thus doing, we shall not only greatly profit ourselves, but them also, who being in danger to be seduced by such deceivers shall hear us now and then reason with them: who feeling themselves convinced by natural reasons wherein they supposed to have greatest strength will not be so bold to vomit their passion before others, but shall be constrained to digest it by themselves to their own confusion and overthrow. I desire therefore (my companions) to know how you stand affected towards this my intent and purpose. 
Mat. 24.   AMANA. 
If ever there were age, wherein those signs of the end of the world which the spirit of God hath foretold us, have been seen, it is this, wherein they are so apparent, that there is no one body, if he be no● deprined of all discourse of reason, who doth not acknowledge them very evidently. For we are fallen into those times wherein store of false prophets are arisen, and have seduced many, wherein all iniquity is increased, and charity altogether frozen. Which thing hath discovered not only many false religions, but also Atheism, which is far worse. For without doubt they that are altogether voided of religion, are farther off from true religion than they that follow one that is false. And yet there are as many, yea more at this day that do openly show themselves to be Atheists and Epicures, than there are of those that are taken for good Christians. If in outward show they profess religion, it is but to cover themselves under the vale thereof, to the end that men should not take them for such ●● they are indeed, as also that they might keep company with the best. But in their hearts, and amongst their companions they mock and laugh at all religion, at all fear of God, and whatsoever else is taught us by his word touching any other life then this, wherein joy is prepared for the good, and torments for the wicked. Now if there were nothing else to do, but convince such men of error and lying, the matter were easy: for they carry all their witnesses and their condemnation with them: but they are not so easily confounded. For a man is convinced when he is constrained to acknowledge in his conscience that he hath no reason whereby he is able to withstand and gain say that truth, which is showed unto him and which condemneth him. But if he be obstinate, headstrong, wickedly given, and froward he will never leave kicking against the prick, but persevere in his headiness and obstinacy, and in his maliciousness and perverseness. For when reason faileth him, he armeth himself with impudency, like to a bold murderer, or to a shameless harlot that will blush at nothing. Therefore chrusostom said not without reason, that heretics may well be convinced, but not confounded. For they do but wipe their mouth, as Solomon speaketh of an harlot, which presently after boasteth that she is an honest woman. But howsoever wicked men strive to blindfold their understanding, and to harden their hart against the judgement of God, yet it is never propounded unto them, but will they ●il they, they feel themselves pricked and pressed with some sense thereof. True it is, that it is not so with them as the children of God are touched, as they of whom it is written, that after they had heard the preaching of Saint Peter, they were pricked in their hearts, whereby they were led to true repentance, because they had been touched to the quick by the word. But it is said of the reprobate and of them that are 
Act. 2. 37.  hardened, of which sort are all Atheists, that God hath given them a pricking spirit, by reason of their bitter heart, which causeth them always to increase in bitterness, to fret and cha●e against God, when they feel themselves pressed by his word and by his judgement.  
Therefore I am of opinion (my companions) that for this cause, and for those reason's which ASER recited unto us, we are now to call to memory all the testimonies that we can bring of God and of his providence, of his judgement, and of the immortality of men's souls, by the consideration of the nature of man, and of his parts, the body and soul expecting when sometime hereafter God shall give us grace to contemplate the self same things in every nature, and in all this great visible world. For no doubt but such kind of contemplation will furnish us sufficiently with arguments to convince all Epicures and Atheists, and to constrain them to acknowledge in their conscience a divine justice, and an eternal life. The 
Psal. 19 1.  heavens (saith the Prophet) declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth the work of his hands. This ●ie ornament, this firmament so clear, and face of heaven so sumptuous to behold, is a thing full of greatness. Therein we may behold the Master builder thereof, clothed with the whole frame as with a garment, which is a sure testimony of his power and 
What we learn by the view of the world.  virtue. He who cannot fall within the compass of man's gross senses, maketh himself as it were visible in his terrible works. This world is unto us a learned school, wherein the praise of God doth preach itself. It is a goodly large and rich shop, wherein this sovereign and most excellent workman layeth open all his works, to this end, that he might be known by them. It is a temple, wherein there is no creature so little, but it is as it were a similitude and resemblance of the creator thereof, to show and manifest him unto us. In a word, it is a Theatre, where the divine essence, his justice, his providence, his love, his wisdom have their working by a wondered virtue in every creature, even from the highest heaven unto the centre of the earth. Ask the beasts (saith job) and they shall teach thee, and the fowls of the heaven and they shall tell thee, or speak to the earth and it shall show thee, or the fishes of the sea, & they shall declare unto thee. Who is ignorant of all these, but that the hand of the Lord hath made these? But truly there shineth in man more than in all other creatures, a beam of the divinity, and a proportionable image and similitude of his nature, in that God hath framed him of an immortal soul, capable of understanding, and of reason, to make him partaker of his eternal glory and felicity. OH Lord (saith the Psalmist) How marvelous is thy name in all the world? What is man that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man that thou visitest him? Thou hast made him a little lower 
Psa. 8. 1, 4, 5, ●  than God, and crowned him with glory and worship. Thou hast made him to have dominion in the works of thine hands, thou hast put all things under his feet. But withal, as God hath more expressly created man after his own image, than any other visible nature, & therefore more excellent than the heavens or the earth, or any thing contained in them, so he hath singularly bound him to know and to honour him, in which thing he hath placed his sovereign Good. But man being exalted by God to that honour, that he might attain to so great felicity, could not conceive or acknowledge it: which is the cause that we see so many, who following the corruption of man's nature, are not only become like to brute beasts, but much more unthankful, yea far more forgetful and miserable than they. The Ox knoweth his owner, and the Ass his master's crib, but man will not know God his create our, of whom he holdeth body, 
Psal. 32. 9 Isai. 1. 3.  soul, and goods What a horrible shame is it, that the Ox and the Ass, which are such dull beasts, should give greater honour and obedience to man, of whom they receive their food, than man doth to God, of whom he hath and daily doth receive so many benefits? Let us make haste therefore (my companions) to go to the school of nature. For if we profit well therein, I doubt not but we shall easily come to the knowledge of the creator thereof, and of the chief end of our being.  ARAM. 
All things created have their proper motion, which they follow according to that love that every one of them beareth to his natural disposition. For the heavens con●●nue 
Every creat●●e hath his proper motion and disposition.  always constant in their natural motions. And as the fire and air naturally love to be above, and therefore draw thitherward without ceasing: so the water and earth love to keep below, so that they always bend that ways. So that none of the elements can ●●nde any stay or resting place until they be come to those places which God hath appointed for th●m. Piants cast their roots downward, and their branches upward, every one following therein his nature. For a plant being to receive his nourishment from the earth by means of his roots, which are unto it instead of mouths and veins to suck & draw necessary sustenance for the preservation of itself, sendeth them always into the ground, and disperseth them all about according as they can find nourishment: but the stalk, stock branches and boughs, which are to be nourished in the air, always disperse themselves, draw and ascend upward. Beasts having sense, do much more show that liking which they have to follow their natural inclination. For we see that by their proper apprehension & appetite, they are driven hither and thither to seek & follow after that which they desire and love, being agreeable to their nature: and to fly from that which they hate, as being contrary thereunto. Likewise men, who only of all other mortal creatures were by creation made partakers of reason, have their proper motion convenient to their nature. For being created to attain to that sovereign and eternal Good, which is set before them in the divine essence, they have received from the infinite goodness power and virtue to wish for that Good, with a desire to apply and join themselves thereunto. Wherhfore all men are naturally pricked and driven forward with a love & desire tending to that Good: aswell because of that natural agreement which they have with the same Idea of Good, which is God (their souls being of a celestial and immortal essence) as also because this Good is of that nature that it aught to be loved of every nature, yea so much the more loved as there is greater measure of reason in the creature to know it. But this desire naturally engrafted in every man's heart, which provoketh and keepeth men in a love and liking of every thing which they think meet to content and satisfy 
The difference between the natural & supernatural desire of man to good.  them, & which they seek after in divers things as their affections lead them, differeth much from that desire, which by heavenly grace is planted a new in those, whom God according to his good pleasure and always just will, hath chosen and elected to everlasting happiness, and pricked forward, guideth & leadeth them to that principal end for which they were created. For although the other sort of men, being heirs of that corruption that hath overspread the whole nature of man by the means of the sin of the first father of all, he driven forward in soul & spirit, yea many times not thinking thereof to their natural desire of obtaining that Good: yet they seek it as blind men that go by groping, but cannot find it, because the darkness of error & ignorance, wherewith their understanding is over whelmed, hinders them from looking directly towards that Good, and causeth them to wa●der out of that only way that could lead them unto it. So that instead of looking unto God, and to celestial and heavenly things, they stay themselves about earthly & corruptible things, unto which the nearer they labour to approach, the farther off they are from the end of their wishes & desires. For this cause the blessed Apostle saith, that the natural man perceiveth not the things of the spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him, neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned. But they 
1. Cor. 2. 14.  that are illuminated, and guided by heavenly and supernatural light, and whose understanding is framed by the spirit of God, to receive it, know then how they are carried by their proper motion to the contemplation of the true Good, in the enjoying whereof they shall once for ever be made partakers of a felicity, which eye never saw, nor ear heard, neither 
isaiah. 64. 4.  came into man's heart: I mean, when by dissolving the mortal tabernacle of this body, they shall be clothed with glorious immortality, and shall see him face to face who is all in all: in whom they shall be satisfied, according to the doctrine of the Prophet, In thy presence is the fullness of joy, and at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore. This is that (my 
Psal. 16. 11.  companions) which aught to whet us on to direct our sight straight to that place whereat we aught to levill, namely to heaven, and not look to any other thing then to God, who is the scope, which we desire and shall one day attain unto. Now if we can not see this white so far off, and much less come unto it without direction, GOD is come near unto us in the person of his Son jesus Christ, who being the brightness of his glory, hath left us his word for a sure guide, beside so many testimonies of his providence and goodness 
How we may see God.  over all creatures, that we daily behold him as it were visible in them. For the ruled mo●●onss of the heavens, the wonderful workmanship of so many starry tents, the connexion, agreement, force, virtue and beauty of the Elements: the situation, firmness, and spreading of the earth amidst the waters, and so many sundry natures and creatures in this whole frame of the world: all these things I say, are so many interpreters to teach us that God is th● efficient cause of them, and that he is manifested in them and by them, as their final cause. But the glass wherein we may yet better behold him is man: in whom shineth and is imprinted an image of the divine essence, which is not found again in any visible creature; and that is reason and understanding, whereof by creation he was made partaker aswell as the Angels. This is the chief and principal work of the creation, whereby God meant to give such a Being to his creatures and spiritual natures, to the end he might communicate his wisdom and goodness with them, and thereby lead them to eternal felicity. Wherhfore if it be good for men to consider the works of God in his creatures, and in their nature created by him, and that for the reasons and ends declared by us, it is better and more necessary that they should do the same thing in their own person and nature, wherein there are almost as many marvelous works of the almighty power of God, as there are in that whole frame beside, and in all other creatures. Therefore that sentence which saith, Know thyself, was not without good reason so much praised and renowned amongst all the ancient Greek & Latin Philosophers, as that which is worthy to be taken for a heavenly oracle, and a sentence pronounced by the mouth of God. For whosoever shall know himself well, cannot fail to know God his creator, and to honour him as he aught, if he follow the chief and for which man was created, as well as the residue of the creatures. Plato in his Phaedrus, and in the tenth book of Laws, searching and enquiring by the means of motion, what 
How Plato came to the knowledge of God.  was the substance, nature and immortality of the soul, attained to the understanding of the divine essence. Aristotle also taking the same way in his 8. book of natural Philosophy, showeth that he knew God under the name of the first mover, who was perpetual and unmovable. But we may attain to the knowledge of God and of ourselves, a great deal better than all the Philosophers could, who were ignorant of the true beginning and end of things, if we be guided by the word, which is the light of the truth, and whereof all the human philosophy of the wisest that were, is but a little shadow. Now then, if under this heavenly guide we feed our spirits with a doctrine that teacheth man to know himself well, we begin at that science which of all other is most necessary, profitable, and pleasant: I say necessary, as that which guideth and leadeth us as it were by the hand to find out God; profitable, because it bringeth a marvelous commodity to this present life, both in regard of bodily health, as also of ruling all our actions according to virtue; and pleasant, because a man may see therein as it were in a sacred temple all the images of the wonderful works of the world.  ACHITOB. 
I cannot but greatly commend those Philosophers that reprehended and condemned them, who spent all their time only in the contemplation of heaven and earth, and of the nature of other creatures, and in the mean while descended not into themselves, to know themselves and their nature, but especially their soul. For what will it profit a man to take so great pains as to measure the whole world, and to compass on every side all the elementary region, to know the things that are contained in them, and their nature, and yet in the mean time he can not measure or know himself being but a little handful of earth? For although the knowledge of the rest of the creatures that are in this great visible world, will greatly help to lead him to the knowledge of God the Creator, nevertheless he shall never be able to know him well: if withal he know not himself well. Yea these two knowledges 
The knowledge of God and of ourselves joined together  are so joined together, that it is a very hard matter to sever them. For as a man cannot know himself if he know not God, so he cannot know God well, if in like sort he know not himself. So that I take this for most certain, that neither Astronomy, Geomotry, Geography, or cosmography, nor any other Mathematical science is so necessary for man, as that whereby he may learn to know himself well, & to measure himself well by the measure of his own nature, that he may thereby know how to contain himself within the limits thereof. As for Mathematicians, natural Philosophers and Phisiitons, who bestow their travail in the knowledge of nature and natural things, & in the mean time forget God and themselves, whereas they aught to learn both the one and the other, by that knowledge that God hath given them of his works, I say they are not worthy to be taken for natural Philosophers, Physicians or Mathematicians, but rather for blockheaded beasts. In my opinion they behave themselves, as if a man should be always occupied in looking upon his house, and handling of his movables and household stuff, and in the mean time did not put them to those principal and special uses, for which they aught to serve, but were altogether forgetful of himself, of his wife, and of his children. Moreover concerning Physicians, if their care to know their own soul, with the nature and parts thereof, be not more to minister that food and physic which is necessary for it to live well and happily, and that for ever, then to know the nature of men's bodies that they may cure others, it may worthily be said unto them Physician heal thyself. For if he be worthily derided that taketh in hand the cure of other men & cannot heal himself, or at lest hath no care to do it, surely that man is well worthy to be had in greater derision that is more careful not only of his own, but also of other men's bodies, than he is of his own soul, whereby he differeth from brute beasts, and is made partaker of an immortal nature. Wherefore it is very requisite, that all students in natural philosophy should profit so well in the study thereof, as to be able to turn it into true natural divinity, whereby they may learn to know God their creator, in that nature which he hath created to this end to make himself seen & known therein to all men.  
We have therefore good cause (my companions) to bestow all possible pains and travail, that we may proceed on in so necessary and profitable a knowledge. Wherefore we must lay before our eyes two books which God hath given unto us to instruct us by, & to lead us to the knowledge of himself, namely the book of nature, and the book of his word, which we must join both together, as also that doctrine, which is set forth unto us in them concerning 
Two books that teach us to know God  the knowledge of ourselves, especially of the soul, which is the true man. For the first book would stand us in small stead without the second, as we see it daily by experience, yea every one of us hath trial thereof in himself. Therefore God of his great mercy hath added the second book unto the first, to supply the want that is in our nature through sin. For if man had not sinned, this book of nature would have sufficed to have kept him always in the knowledge, contemplation, and obedience of God his creator. For than he should himself have carried the book whole & perfect imprinted in his heart & mind: neither should his soul have needed any teacher to know itself, but in itself it should have clearly beheld and contemplated itself, so long as she preserved her first light and abode in that harmony wherein God had created her. But now that she is in the body, as it were some excellent picture of Apelles fallen into a sink of mire, covered & compassed about with thick mists, & obscure darkness, it is very needful that we should have another new light, brought unto us from heaven, which is not natural as the first but supernatural. For this cause God hath farther given us this second book, of which I spoke even now, by means whereof and by the virtue of his holy spirit, he communicateth unto us as much celestial and heavenly light as is needful for the knowledge of ourselves and of his Majesty. Being therefore guided by the spirit of God, whereby our spirit doth see and contemplate, let us read in these two books, & diligently 
The necessity of the word.  note in them the parts, and powers, force and virtue aswell of the body as of the soul of man, especially the immortality thereof: whereby we shall make the way easy, for us to walk & sport our minds hereafter in the large and goodly fields of the whole world, by discoursing of all natures contained therein, if it shall please God to give us grace, as he hath given us wills to perform it. True it is, that we have now taken in hand a very long piece of work, and not greatly necessary in respect of the principal cause of our meeting together, if we meant here to make an entire and perfect Anatomy of man's body. This duty belongeth to Physicians, which we will not take upon us: but it shall suffice us to open a gap to the consideration, first of the matter whereof the body is made, and of the diversity thereof: then of the form which God hath given unto it: and lastly of the profit and use of them both. For through a little understanding and knowledge, which we may have of these things, if we consider them as we aught, we shall have great occasion to marvel at the work of God in the frame of the body: yea we shall see therein store of testimonies of his almighty power, knowledge, wisdom, goodness and providence. But as for the soul, we will labour to make her to behold herself in the glass of her wonderful actions, so far forth as she is able to contemplate herself, and to measure her greatness by her own compass. Wherhfore we will ●●eere make as it were an Anatomy of the soul, and of all her parts powers, virtues, and faculties, instructing ourselves at large in the consideration of her nature, creation and immortality: and eschewing in all our discourses as much as we may, obscure words and phrases, subtle, curious and unprofitable disputations, which the ancient Philosophers have used in the searching out of such matters, we will apply ourselves to the greatest number of such as have not haunted the schools of Philosophy, that we may profit many, and instruct ourselves in the truth by familiar speeches, so far forth as our weak judgement is able to comprehend, being directed by the gift and grace of God, and made conformable to his word, which is the true touch stone whereby all doctrine is to be examined. Moreover we will observe in our discourses the same order which we kept in our Academical treatises: but only that I think it meetest for our present purpose, that every one of us after he hath discoursed of some point, should offer matter subject to his companion to prosecute and speak of, as if he gave him instructions concerning that thing which he propoundeth unto him. And we will deal all four of us, every one in his course, making one discourse round in the morning, and another in the afternoon: continuing until we have finished as it were a natural history of man, and of his parts, the body and soul. First therefore thou shalt instruct us ASER, in the creation of the first man, and in the matter whereof man's body is made.  
Par la prieres Dieu m'ayde.   

THE FIRST DAYS WORK of the second part of the French Academy.  

Of the creation of the first man, and of the matter whereof the body of man is made. CHAP. I  
ASER. God only hath his being of himself, therefore he is eternal, without beginning and without end. But because he would not be alone, he created the creatures, and by their creation gave being to that which was nothing before. Therefore all natures took their being and essence, and do hold it of that first everlasting essence. Thus also he answered to Moses, who asked of him what his name was: I will be that I will be: or, I am that I am. Moreover he said, Thus shalt thou say to the children of Israel: I am hath sent me unto you. We see here what name he giveth 
The name of God. Exod. 3. 14.  himself, whereby he showeth that he only is, and hath an immutable essence and existence, which only, to speak properly, a man may call a Being. Wherhfore seeing God is the first essence, and that only that hath being of itself, and from which all others proceed, as rivers from their spring and fountain, we shall easily come unto the Eternity of God, if we know how to ascend thither by the degrees of the essences of all those creatures, which descended from his eternal and unchangeable essence, by reason whereof he is called jehovah by the Hebrews.  
If then we consider ourselves, every one of us shall know that he had a beginning, that he made not himself, neither came he into the world but by the help of another. This consideration will lead every one to his father and mother that begat him: and being come so far, he will pass on and ascend step by step to his ancestors, making the like judgement of all his predecessors as of himself. For he will by and by think, that they came into the world after the same manner that he did, and not otherwise, and that they were not the 
Steps to ascend up by to the knowledge of God.  first men. Thus if a man ascend up still from father to father, he must needs in the end come to some one father, that was the first father of all, of whom all others took their beginning, as he that was the stock of all mankind. This first father must either have his being of one, or be eternal, or come of some eternal matter like to God, or be God himself. Which because he could not be, he must needs have some beginning, and be borne after another fashion than they were that descended of him. Now what father can we say he had but the Creator of the whole world? Being come to his first beginning we can mount no higher, but must stay there, and conclude, that this first builder of nature was without beginning, that he is infinite and eternal, otherwise we shall never found place to stay at. Thus we see how the creature leadeth us from essence to essence, proceeding from one to another, until it come to the first essence which is infinite and eternal, the spring and fountain of all others, which we call God. But let us speak of this creation of the first man.  
After the almighty power of the Eternal had with nothing and of nothing made the only matter of the world, and had severed out of this Cha●ss, the air, the fire, the earth and the water, and enriched the whole with celestial lights, herbs, planets, earthly, eyrie, and watery living creatures, Let us (said he) make man in our own image according to our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea, and over the foul of the heaven, and over the beasts, and over all the earth, 
Gen. 1. ●6.  and over every thing that creepeth, and moveth on the earth. Now we will note here in the 1. place three things well worthy of consideration. First, that God did not barely command that man 
Three things to be considered in the creation of man.  should be made and created, as he commanded for the other creatures, but he that speaketh as though some great king or prince should deliberate with his Counsel about the making of some great work, declaring afterward himself why he took this way in the creation of man only, and not in the creation of the other creatures, likewise, when he saith, According to our own image and likeness, which is the second thing we have to note. For by these words he plainly declareth, that he mindeth to make a work, the like whereof was not before, & to draw out an image more agreeable to his nature and more worthy his majesty, than he had done before amongst all the works of his hands. For although he had already adorned and replenished the whole heavens with goodly lights, yea all the elements and residue of the world with all sorts of creatures, ye● there was not one creature under heaven which he had made capable of understanding and reason, to know and glorify God the creator of the whole world. And albeit the Angels being heavenly spirits had this understanding and knowledge, yet he would have man beside upon earth, for whose sake chief he had created the world, to the end he might know and glorify him together with his Angels. Therefore Moses addeth the the third thing which we have to consider in this deliberation of man's creation, thereby the better to let us know the excellency of this creature above the re●●, when he declareth, that God would created him, that he might rule over the rest of the living creatures, and over the whole earth, as if men should be his Lieutenanant, and as it were a little terrene god, under the great and sovereign God that created him. But some man may ask with whom God maketh this deliberation? For he speaketh, as though he would have some helpers and companions in the making of this so excellent a work. The prophet Isaiah answereth to this saying. Who was his counsellor? or hath given to him first, and he shall be recompensed? For he had no other counsel or help but of himself, & of his heavenly & eternal wisdom, 
Isa. 40 13. 14. Rom. 11. 34. P●o. 8. 22, etc.  as it is testified by Solomon. Therefore we must not think that he had the Angels for counsellors & helpers, either in the creation of man, or of any other creature whatsoever, as some have presumed to imagine and to affirm. For that were to derogate too much from the nature & majesty of God, and to take from him the title of Almighty, which agreeth to him only. For the creature cannot be a creator. And as there is but one only God, so there is but one creator of all things. For the work of the creation can agreed to none but to God only. 
The trinity of persons in the Unity of the godhead.  But Moses by this manner of speaking in the plural number, meant to give out some obscure knowledge of the trinity of persons that is in the unity of God, and that union which they have together in the work of the creation, which is common to the Father, with the Son and the holy Ghost, as are all the other works of God. For although there be distinction of persons in one and the same divine essence, yet there is no division between them nor separation. And as they are united together in one and the same essence, so likewise they are in all their works. For the Father doth nothing but by the Son, and that in the virtue of the holy spirit. Therefore the prophet addeth immediately. God created the man in his image: in the image 
Gen. 1. 27.  of God created he him: he created them male and female. We see here that Moses doth not propound unto us three Gods or three creators, but one only. And in that he doth twice repeat this, that God created man in his image, it is to let us understand, that this point aught well to be well considered of, and weighed, as that wherein consisteth all the excellency of man, and the true difference that is between him, and the other living creatures, which are but brute beasts. We shall now where we aught to seek this image of God in man, after we have heard the rest of the history of his creation. For after Moses hath briefly and summarily spoken as 
Gen. 2. 7.  we have said: he taketh the same matter again into his hand, and entreateth thereof more specially. He saith then, That the Lord made man of the dust of the ground, & breathed in his face breath of life, & that the man was a living soul, Whereby he showeth evidently, that God did not create the body and soul of man both at one time as he had created the beasts, but the body first & then the soul, which he joined therewith, not only to give life unto it, as it is given to brute beasts by the soul which they have, but also to make it capable of understanding as we shall understand more at large hereafter. For we speak not now by what means or at what time the soul is joined with the body in the common & ordinary generation of men, but only of the mean & order which god observed in the creation of the 1. man, according to the rehearsal which Moses maketh. Now touching the matter whereof he made him, because the chiefest & most apparent was taken from the earth, it is said expressly, that he was made thereof, and that he should return thither, as we see it true, in the death of every one. But this is most certain & granted of all the great philosophers, yea evident to be seen, that man's body is compounded of the 4. elements, & of all their qualities, as also all the other bodies of creatures under heaven. And because the greatest part which remaineth of that which we see of man, is of the earth, therefore 
Gen. 3. 19 Man's body compounded of the four elements. Of what element every sense holdeth most.  it is said, that he returneth to earth, although whatsoever is taken of the other elements in the composition of his body, doth likewise turn again into them. For the flesh of man agreeth aptly with the earth, his vital spirits with the air & the fire, his humours with the water. The sense of seeing agreeth with the fire: that of hearing with the air: that of tasting with the element of water, the sense of touching with the earth, & that of smelling with the air & fire, as we shall understand more at large hereafter when we handle them. Yea there is no piece so small in the whole frame of man, wherein every one of the elements doth not intermeddle his power and qualities, although one of them doth always command above the rest. This is to be seen in the blood, which is the first & chiefest of those 4. humuors in the body, and is properly of the nature of the air. For the muddy dregss, which commonly thicken and settle in the bottom of it, are of the nature of the earth, & are called Melancholy, the pure blood that swimmeth in the midst doth represent unto us the air: that humour that swimmeth in a round circle is watery phlegm, and the scum that appeareth above, is the choler, which is of the nature of the fire. If we consider the ordinary generation of men, the matter is humour: natural heat is as it were the master builder, dryness hardeneth the body: and cold refresh do not only moderate the heat that the moist matter should be consumed, but have also their proper action to congeal and gather it together.  
Now we must understand that of this first matter which contained all the elements, and which God made the mother of all things, and capable of all forms, every body is compounded, 
The 1. matter the mother of allthings.  and every one returneth to the same again, and of that taketh a new form, so that the true matter of corporal things doth not turn into nothing, neither increaseth or decreaseth in any sort. So that ever since the eternal that can do all things made this whole great frame of nothing, not one thing is made of nothing, neither doth any thing vanish into nothing, but the change of every thing that is bred or that dieth, is only in form. Now by this knowledge of the matter of the first man's body, we may easily understand of what matter all men's bodies are made. For certain it is, that of one only man all others have had their beginning, being all his seed and offspring and multiplying daily according to his first virtue. The reason hereof is this, because this power is naturally engraffed in every thing to bring forth his like, and to continued itself in the same kind, being enabled thereunto through a quickening virtue infused into it by that divine reason, which is the efficient and preserving cause of all creatures. Now I doubt not but that Epicures and Atheists, and such like deriders of God and his word, with whom this age is pestered more than any age past, will accounted all this to be a very fable, that hath been hitherto spoken of the creation of the first man. For they give no more credit to the writings of Moses, and of all the Prophets and Apostles, then to an old wives tale, or to the fables of do●ing dreamers. Neither will they believe any more of God, of his providence and of his works, than they are able to understand, know, and comprehend by their natural reason. They will say then, that they have not seen the like works in nature, (which they 
An argument of all Atheists against man's creation.  put in stead of God:) and by the same reason they will accounted for lies whatsoever the word of God teacheth us concerning the creation of this great visible world, and of all things contained therein, as also that which we shall hear an on touching the creation of woman. And thus because they saw not when God created the world, and because he did set another order in nature after the creation thereof, then there was before he had created nature, therefore according to their goodly philosophy, there shall be neither God nor creator, nor difference betwixt the works of the creation, in which nature itself w●● created, and those that followed after God had disposed the order of nature created by him What then shall we say of man, & of all the world. Shall he be without a creator, and eternal, or made of some matter that was eternal with God, or shall he be God himself? For either he was created, or he was not created. If he were not created, then is he eternal, as even Aristotle saith, following the discourse of human reason, which notwithstanding blinded him in this matter of creation, 
Aristotle's error was that the world ha● no beginning  wherein he is not only contrary to the word, but also to his master Plato & to the best and most excellent amongst the Philosophers. But if the world was created, it must needs be that it had some beginning, and that the first man (as likewise every other creature) was begotten after another manner than the use is at this present. But what would these sharp wits, or rather dull beasts say, if they had not seen by experience the work of God (which they call the work of nature only) in the generation of men? For of what are they daily begotten and concevie but of a superfluity, and as it were of an excrement of man's body, as hereafter we shall understand more at large? Is this far more easy to digest in human reason then the first creation of man? If these skorners had never seen such a thing and if they were not convicted hereof by daily experience, they would give as little credit to those that should tell them of it, as they do to the spirit of God speaking of his works by the mouth of his prophets. As for those that set nature in the place of God, what greater brutishness can proceed from 
Nature cometh of the Latin word Na●cor which signifieth to be borne.  them? For doth not the very name of nature declare sufficiently, that nature is a thing made and created, and so consequently, hath her creation & her birth of God, as all other creatures have? But God punisheth these poor ignorant fellows with the like judgement that he doth many other skilful and great Philosophers, whom he oftentimes giveth over into are probate sense, because through their pride and ingratitude they abuse the knowledge of natural things which God giveth them: & so that science which should lead them to a greater knowledge of God, maketh them more beastlike than any other, through their own fault. For it cannot be otherwise but that every one, considering the nature & composition even of one only member of man's body, must of necessity acknowledge and confess, that some Work master made it, and that this Work master is of no bodily or human nature, but of a spiritual and divine being, that he hath not only understanding and knowledge of all things, but also that he is understanding itself: that he knoweth, loveth, and is the author of all order, and that his wisdom and virtue is so infinite, that it surmounteth all men's understandings. Hereupon it followeth, that he is worthy to be esteemed for God, and to be worshipped of all men. There are others that ask, why man was not created an infinite spa●e of time before he began to be by the testimony of the holy Scripture, which teacheth us, that it is not yet fully 6000. years since his creation, as though he had been created very late. But if the shortness of time offendeth them, because they think that there are so few years, since we read in holy Scripture, that man was created, let them consider that nothing lasteth long if it have any end, and that the whole space of ages past, if it be compared with eternity that is endless, is not only to be thought little, but none at all. Therefore that question which now they ask after 5000. years they might with the same curiosity demand after six hundred thousand years, if the world had endured so long They also that were before us when man was but newly created, might have moved this question: yea the first man might have inquired also assoon as he was made, why he was not made before. And so this controversy about the beginning of man's being, had never at any time heretofore any other reasons than it hath now, neither shall have hereafter. Let us know then that God being eternal and without beginning began time, and in time made man whom he had never made before, being led thereunto not by any new and sudden motion, but by an immutable and eternal counsel. For no new thing can befall him, neither is there any thing in him that is mutable: but according to the height and depth of his riches he hath multiplied the children of men. And let them think, imagine and dispute what they list, yet all things have had their beginning according to the good providence of God, which no man in the world can sufficiently comprehend. OH great mystery, that God hath always been, and that it pleased him sometime past to make man first, who was never made before, and yet not to change his purpose and will. Thus you see how we must step by step ascend by the works of God unto himself, as we have already touched in the beginning of our speech, and as we can do 
How we must ascend up to the knowledge of God by his creatures.  it well enough in men's works. For when I behold a work, it by and by putteth me in mind of the instruments wherewith it was made, and the instruments, of him that made them, and of him that set them a work. Than the Work master putteth me in mind of him that made him such a one, namely, both of his master that taught him, and also of his parents that begat him. Thus climingg up still from one to one, and from degree to degree, I must needs in the end conclude, that there is one chief Work master, of whom all others are descended by their order & degree. And there I must stay: as in like manner proceeding from one essence to another, I may come to the contemplation of that infinite & eternal esence, which is the spring & first cause of every nature, namely, unto God, who hath given to that matter whereof he made allthings a form meet & convenient for that work which he would make of it. This is that which I think we aught to conceive touching the creation of the matter of man's body. Now before we consider the disposition thereof I think we aught to entreat of the creation of woman, who is one self same flesh, differing only in sex, and appointed of God to be a necessary help for the original and preservation of mankind: which I desire to hear you discourse of, AMANA.   

Of the creation of Woman. Chap. 2.  
AMANA. Not marvel, if the eye of man's soul be often dimmed, yea looseth all light in the diligent consideration of the wonderful works of God's providence. For as the eye of the body although clear of itself, cannot behold colours, figures, and other visible things, except it be illuminated with light from heaven, or from some other lightsome-body: so albeit our understanding of it own nature be very clear sighted, as being a beam of the divine brightness, yet by reason of the bond that conjoineth it to the body, wherein it is overwhelmed with the darkness of the matter, it can in no wise attain to the glittering conceptions of eternal wisdom, unless it always have God that great and everlasting Sun, and his heavenly light to illuminate it, & to guide it to the faithful contemplation of the works of his almighty hand. This hath been the cause why so many great wits discoursing philosophically of the original and beginning of things, and looking on every side, yea doubting and fearing many things, which they found contrary to human reason, have been carried hither & thither with divers opinions, like to a vessel tossed in a deep sea, but could never come near to the knowledge of the truth. But if we follow the bright star of truth fixed in the heavenly book of life, as we have learned therein the creation of man, so we may as easily be instructed in the creation of the woman, to the confusion of the wisemen of the world, and of all Epicures and Atheists. The holy Scriptures teach as that after God hath created man & placed him in the garden of Eden, to dress it, and keep it, and had forbidden him to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, which was a sign and token of the homage, obedience, and subjection he did owe to God his creator & Lord, and of that blessed life appointed for him as a recompense and crown of this obedience. It is not good (than said he) that man should be himself alone, I will make him an help meet for him. And to show the better how this help 
Gen. 2. 15. 18  was, not only meet, but also necessary for man, Moses saith, that God hath already brought all the beasts before Adam, that he might name them according to their natures and kinds, 
What great knowledge of natural things was in Adam.  which he performed. Whereby we may judge what great knowledge of natural things was in Adam before he sinned. For otherwise he could not have given to all living creatures names agreeable to their nature, and if he had not named them as he should, he had brought in great confusion in nature. Afterwards Moses addeth that amongst all those living creatures he found no help meet for Adam, yea the Lord hath spoken of him before, as if he had been alone in the world. For although all the beasts, and all the residue of the creatures were given to man to assist him, so that being in the estate of innocency wherein he was then, he might receive all service and ready obedience from all the creatures, nevertheless he had not as yet any help of his kind. For he could not have that familiarity and conversation with the beasts, nor receive such help from them, as he could from creatures of his own kind. Therefore when the Lord said, that it was not good for man to be alone, he declared plainly, that he did not created him to live alone and solitary in the world, but with company, and that his will was, that there should be men upon earth, who should live in society & fellowship together. Now seeing that man was created for this end he could not live in company with others of his kind without generation and multiplication thereof, which could not be except he were joined to a wife, seeing it pleased GOD to appoint it so. Wherhfore as he created the other living and sensible creatures of two sexes in one kind, namely, some males and others females, that they might 
Man was created for society  increase and multiply by generation, so likewise dealt he with mankind. But as he took another course in the creation of man, than he did in that of beasts, so also dealt he in the creation of the woman, whom he purposed to give unto man for a companion. For he created not man and woman both together, but man first, and then woman afterward, as we will declare by and by. Now, because there is no conjunction or communion in any human society, wherein that holy bond, which aught to knit all men together, and join them one to another is better declared, then in that whereby man and wife are joined and united as it were in one self same body, and in one soul, therefore it pleased God not without cause to begin this holy society by that conjunction, which is the bond and foundation of all the rest, and as it were the spring head and fountain of all mankind. Therefore it is written, that GOD minding to created woman and to give her to man for an helper, caused an heavy sleep to fall upon Adam, (which name is as much to say as, Of earth) and when he slept he took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh in stead thereof. And the Lord God made a woman of the rib, which he had taken from man: then the man said, This now is bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh, she shall be called Man's, or Mannish, because she was taken out of man. First we see 
The creation of Woman, and use thereof. In Hebrew I●h signifieth man & Ishah woman.  in this history, that God would not that the male and female should have two beginnings, but only one, and that they should be as it were one stock of mankind, to the end that the conjunction thereof should be more strait, firm and inviolable. For if it had been otherwise, the diversity of beginnings might have given occasion either of contemning one another, or of envy, dissension, and brawlings. Therefore God created in the person of Adam the fountain of mankind, and after framed evah, (which is as much to say, as alive, or living) to the end we might know, that the Woman was not created as a new creature of an other race or kind, but was only a portion and part of the nature of man. By this means Adam had in the woman as it were a glass to behold and contemplate himself, as evah also had the like in him, and as yet to this day every husband hath the like in his wife, and every wife in her husband. For the Woman was flesh of the flesh of man, blood of his blood, and bone of his bones, even as it were his own body, and a second-selfe. How then can the husband despise and hate his wife, and not hate himself? For as Saint Paul witnesseth, No man ever yet hated his own flesh. And what cause hath a Woman to be loathe to be obedient to 
Ephes 5. 2●.  her husband, if she consider that she is taken out of him, and that in setting herself against him, she striveth against herself, and doth herself great wrong and injury? Therefore as the ●ord hath declared what place he would have the husband and wife to keep, every one in their degree, by that order which he hath observed in creating the man first, and then the woman: so he hath done the like in that he created the woman neither of the man's head nor of his feet, but of his rib. Whereby as on the one side, he admonisheth the wife not to lif● up herself above her husband by taking authority over him, & so making herself his head: so on the other side he admonisheth the husband not to abuse his authority, by putting his wife under his feet, as if she were a slave, but to accounted of her as of his sister and companion. We are therefore to consider the great wisdom and providence of God in this creation of the Woman. But Atheists, and other contemners of the word of God, besides that goodly ground and foundation of their impiety, whereof we heard before, take farther occasion to deride this history of the creation of woman, because it is said, that she was builded of a rib which God took from Adam. Truly the works of God in the creation of things are not usual, because they are the first: but they which will not believe them, may as well give no credit neither to the miracles that have been in times past, nor to those that are daily seen. For they were not to be called by this name of miracles, if they were wrought by an ordinary course of nature. They conclude then out of Moses speech, either that Adam had then one rib more than he should have had, or else that he had one less than 
Ho● Atheists scoff at the woman's creation.  he should after the woman's creation: so that what side soever you take they will find a great absurdity. They that seek for occasions in this sort to scoff at the works of God, that study and take delight to cavil at them, will always find absurdities enough in them according to their corrupt will & judgement. For they will daily coin as many as they list to hinder themselves from the knowledge of God and of his works, lest they should be constrained by them to glorify him. But indeed what can they do else but bark against God and his proprovidence, and laugh at all that is taught us by the holy spirit concerning the creation of all things contained in the world, seeing they are not capable of the knowledge and understanding of heavenly mysteries? But I demand of them, what strange matter they find in this, if it were so that Adam was created with one rib more than men commonly have, which God prepared in his creation for the woman's creation: or otherwise, if he had one less after her creation, which is more likely? For it is said expressly, that Godfilled up with flesh that place out of which he took the rib whereof he framed evah. So that Adam lost nothing, neither was 
Gen. 2. 21.  he less perfect in respect of that. For God did very well recompense it two ways. First, because that which he put in stead thereof, did serve Adam's turn as well if his rib had remained still. Secondly, it turned to his great good, in that he had a whole woman for one of his ribs, yea such an help was given unto him, that she was as it were another half of his body to make him a perfect man. Besides all this, we have further to note the significations of those things which God meant to represent unto us, and to teach us by that manner of proceeding, which he observed in creating the woman, of which I have already spoken. But we have also to mark herein a notable prophecy of jesus Christ, and of his Church, and a lively 
Of the mystery of Christ & his Church in the creation of the woman.  image of her union, conjunction, and communication with him being her husband. For as the rib was taken from the man's side whilst he was a sleep, that the woman might be made: so in the death of jesus Christ, signified by this sleep, and whilst he hung upon the cross, his side was pierced, out of which issued blood and water which resemble the Sacraments that tend to the edification of the Church. And as evah was taken from Adam according to the flesh, who was the first stock of mankind, and then joined unto him in marriage, that of twain they might be one in one flesh: so the Church was taken from jesus Christ according to the spirit, who is the true stock of mankind regenerated and reform after the image of God, that she might be one mystical body with jesus Christ, who was given unto her by God for her husband and head. For this cause we may say the same things of him & of his Church, which we spoke before of the authority and sovereignty of the husband over his wife, and of the subjection of the wife towards her husband. For the Church was not first, but jesus Christ who is eternal, very God and very man, neither was jesus Christ taken from her, but she from him. Therefore that which Adam said of evah, when God brought her unto him, and when he had seen her after he awoke from sleep, namely. This now is bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh, Saint Paul applieth to jesus Christ and to his Church, because she is 
Ephes. 5. 30.  made bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh, and partaker of the very nature of jesus Christ by faith in him, and by that union, conjunction, and fellowship which she hath with him, whereby she is conjoined unto him as his spouse. Wherhfore the faithful have good cause to rejoice, knowing that there is the like spiritual union, conjunction and communicaon between jesus Christ and them, as there is between the husband & the wife according to the flesh.  
Now as we have answered to the frivolous speeches which Atheists commonly make about the Creation of the Woman, so we will not passover with silence the opinion of natural 
The opinion of natural philosophers touching the nature of women.  Philosophers, who say, that the male is as it were a perfect man in comparison of the woman, and that she is an imperfect man. For they do teach, that nature tendeth always to the greatest perfection that she can attain unto: and because the male is more perfect than the female, therefore that she always endeavoureth to bring forth males. But when she wanteth power and strength to do that she would, she engendereth females in stead of males. Whereupon it should follow, that the generation of the woman, as also that of the other females of all living creatures, is an infirmity, a defect, and an imperfection of nature. But I would gladly demand of them, whether GOD made an imperfect work or not, when he created the first woman: and whether he did not created her as perfect in her kind, & in that degree for which he created her, as he did the man in his. Moreover, seeing God is the creator of nature, it is certain that he created it perfect in all things belonging unto it, and that he hath made it subject to certain Laws, under which it is always guided by his providence as well in the generation of females as of males, of the woman as of the man. And if some creatures excel others, yet that hindereth not why every one should not be perfect in his order and nature, having regard to their Creator, and to the end forth which he created them We must not therefore allege any imperfection in the creation of the woman, more than in that of the man: seeing that if she had been created otherwise then she was, she should not have been so perfect in her nature, as she is, because she would not so fitly serve that turn for the which she was created, namely to help man, both in the generation & continuance of his kind, and also in being a succour unto him in such things as belong to his nourishment and in the guiding and government of them.  
Besides, is it not said as well of the woman as of the man, that she was created in the image of GOD, as we have already heard? For Moses, after he had said that God created man in his image, addeth immediately, In the image (I say) of God created he him, he created them male and female. And, as man is the image and glory of God, so the woman is the glory of the man: neither 
Genes. 1. 27. 1. Cor. 11. 7. What the word Built importeth in the creation of the woman. Genes. 2. 22.  can the one be without the other. For as the woman is of the man, so the man is by the woman, but all things are of God. Therefore the word of Building, which the Prophet useth in setting down the creation of the woman, is duly to be considered in this matter. For when he saith that God built the woman of Adam's rib, this word importeth more than if he had simply said, that he made and form the woman. For thereby he would have us know the perfection of man, and of mankind in the creation of the woman, because without her his building could not be finished.  
So that man as it were the first foundation, upon whom the woman was builded, as likewise by generation of children proceeding from them both, this building is not only preserved and continued still, but also furthered and augmented. Upon the like reason the word that signifieth a child in the Hebrew tongue, is taken from a word that signifieth to build in the same language: as indeed children also are the true building of a house. But before we enter into any larger discourse of this matter to know the generation and multiplication of mankind, I am of opinion that we shall do well to entreat first of the disposition of that matter, whereof we heard before his body was made, as also of the parts thereof. For generation respecteth chief the third kind of the natural powers and faculties of man: whose virtue and properties we are not to consider of, before we have been instructed in all things that concern the particular composition of man's body and of every part thereof: to this end, that we might have the true knowledge of that lodging which God hath given to man to devil in upon earth, and that step by step we might come to consider of the host or tenant of this tabernacle, namely, of the spirit and soul, which is truly man. Let us then begin to take a view of the division of the chief parts of the body, and so handle first the simple or similary parts, of which all the rest are compounded. This matter subject I offer to thee ARAM for thy discourse.   

Of the simple or similary parts of the body, namely the bones, ligaments, gristles, sinews, pannicles, cords or filaments, veins, arteries, and flesh. Chap. 3.  
ARAM. If we take pleasure in beholding material frames builded with men's hands, especially if they be made by rare workmen, and such as excel in their, Art, and in viewing attentively the goodly works that are in them, we aught to be a great deal more delighted without all comparison, in looking upon the stately edifices builded with the very hand of God, and upon the exquisite and wondered works wherewith he hath adorned & set them forth. Curiosity causeth many men to wander all their life time in lands and seas unknown, to feed their minds with a vain knowledge of the manners and customs of strangers: but very few will be found who have a care to know themselves. Insomuch that being able to discourse of the situation of divers regions, and of the beauty of those places & fortresses that are therein, yet they know not their own house wherein they always devil, and much less themselves, namely their souls, which are the inhabitants. But if we think it a shame for a man to be ignorant of those things that belong, or bring commodity or pleasure to the life of man, the ignorance of ourselves, which hurteth this life and the other we look for, is a great deal more shameful and dishonest. Now a man may easily perceive how commendable, excellent and profitable the knowledge of the nature of our bodies, and of every part thereof was judged to be by men in ancient time, in that they had public schools amongst them, in which every one might daily behold Anatomies: yea Anatomies were showed to every one that would see them in the private houses of Philosophers and Physicians. And for this cause Galen saith, that the Ancients would not writ of this science. But after when this diligence of the first lovers thereof began to be despised and rejected of the most part of men, it was necessary that some should writ thereof for their good, as also for the benefit of posterity. Otherwise they would have fallen within short space into a dangerous ignorance of their nature, and of the causes and remedies of such diseases as daily trouble them. But we must refer that knowledge, which in our discourses we seek for out of this science, to another end. Neither do we undertake to speak of that Art and Science that belongeth 
The true end and use of knowing this book.  to Physicians, as though we made profession thereof, but only to show the true use of it, and how it may be referred to the honour of God, and to the knowledge of his wisdom and providence, as also to the end, that in beholding the wonderful composition and disposition of the members of our body, we should remember the creator thereof, who seethe whatsoever lieth most secret & hidden therein, & who is able to make as it pleaseth him an Anatomy both of body & soul and to sand them both to everlasting hell fire, when they will not acknowledge him to be the efficient and final causes of their being. Having regard therefore to this end, we will consider of the parts of man's body according to the subject propounded unto us.  
The parts then of the body are divided into two sorts or kinds: the first is, the simple or similary parts, the other the compound parts. The simple parts are of that nature, that every portion of them, how great or little soever it be, retaineth always the name that is given to 
What the simple or similary parts of man's body are.  the whole, whereof it is a part: and of these simple parts the other kind is named, whereof we will entreat hereafter, because they are compounded parts, and obtain the place of members, whose parts are not called by the name of the whole member, but every part hath his special name. For all the parts of the head are not called by the name of the head, and so it is in the other members of the body. But if a bone be broken into many pieces, every piece is still called a bone: and the like may be said of the other simple parts, which are nine in number, namely, the bone, the ligament, the gristle, the sinew, the pannicle, the cord or filament, the vein, the artery and the flesh. Our speech therefore must be of these. No man is ignorant, that the foundation of every building is as much a part thereof or rather more (although it appear not) than any other part how sumptuous soever it be. For the rest are laid and planted upon the foundation, neither can they long continued in their beauty, unless that be good and firm. We may say the like of the bones of a man's body: (which are made of the seed in generation, when the thickest part of it is hardened by heat, as stones are baked in 
Of the bones of man's body.  the earth by great heat.) For they are not only like to foundations and pillars, which sustain the body and all the members thereof, but they are as it were pales and fences unto it to contain all things that are within the building of the body, and to invirone all the parts of it, as it were with walls and rampires. For this cause they are more earthly, drier, and colder than any other part of the body. And therefore the providence of God appeareth most wonderful in this composition of the bones, seeing that of one self same piece of earth or clay he maketh the bones so strong and hard in comparison of the ligaments, gristles, and other simple parts: so that in respect of these the other are for strength and hardness like to stones and metals in comparison of the other part of the earth. Neither is the wisdom of 
God's providence great in the creation of the bones.  God worthy of great admiration in this respect only, but also because he made not the bones all of one piece, nor yet of one fashion and form. For minding to give motion, not only to man but also to all other living and sensible creatures, the bones were to be divided and distinguished into divers pieces, to the end they should not hinder this motion, which is so necessary for those creatures: the manner whereof we may see in men armed at all points. For the harness must be made of divers pieces, according to the joints of the members, 
A fit similitude.  that their moving may have no impediment. But because the bones being divided and separated one from another, cannot be so conjoined or united together, that every one should sustain that charge which it hath to bear, therefore that they might serve more fitly for motion to the creatures, God hath framed them in such wise, that they have their joints in so good proportion and so aptly interserted one within another, as that the whole combination and uniting of them altogether is marvelous exquisite and goodly to behold like to a work made of many pieces, which all meet together in one body. For some of them are hollow like to a round box, that they may be conjoined with the other that are round in the ends, to the end they might be knit together more conveniently. To be short, they have all their fashions proportionable one with another according to that manner of uniting, which is most meet and convenient for them. Now because this conjunction of joints cannot keep itself at that stay if it have no other band, therefore hath God placed their certain ligaments, 
Of the Ligaments.  or strings of the bones which are white parts, without blood, void of sense, not hollow, proceeding from the bones, and differing from them in nature, although not so much as the gristles do. For the gristles (which serve also for a stay that is softer than the bones, to the end they should not rub together over hardly one within another) are more earthly, drier, 
Of the Gristles.  and harder than the ligaments, and yet not so much as the bones: so that they are as it were of a middle substance and nature between the bones and the ligaments, which are also very earthly, dry, and hard, but less than the gristles and the bones, and more than the sinews, which also in some sort draw near to the nature of the ligaments. But they differ both in that they have divers originals, as also because the ligaments are altogether insensible, as the bones and gristles are, neither can they give any motion or sense as the sinews can, but serve only for bands to tie the bones one to another, and to knit the other members unto them. But the sinews, which proceed either from the brain, or from the marrow of the 
Of the sinews.  backbone whose original is from the brain, are of a tender, soft, and white substance, and of that nature that they have all sense, which they impair to all the sinewy parts of the body. And of them also some give both sense and motion together. Therefore their substance is not so dry, nor so hard as that of the ligaments: neither yet is it so soft and tender as is the substance of the flesh, or of the kernels, or of the skins, and of such other like parts, whereof we will speak hereafter. As for the pannicles, and cords or filaments, which are little long 
Of pannicles and ●●lamentss  threads, slender and white, solid and strong, we may comprehended them under thename of sinews and ligaments, because they take part of both natures. For some of them have sense with the s●neweses, others have none with the ligaments. The office of the pannicles (which are little skins made of sinews and sigaments) is to defend and to knit together the members, and to impart to many of them sense, as to the liver, the heart, the lungs, the spleen, and the kidneys. And as for the filaments, they serve the body, some to draw nourishment, others to retain and keep that which is meet to nourish the body, and some to drive forward and to cast forth those excrements and super fluities, which help not to nourish it, but are only a burden and grief unto it. The veins are thin and slender pipes carrying the thicker 
Of the veins  blood where with the body is nourished, and they have their beginning from the liver. For in that the hollow vein is greater and larger than the rest, and out of that all the other veins extend themselves into all the body, as it were branches proceeding from the body of a tree. Herein (as we will do in all our discourses) we follow the common opinion approved of the late learned Philosophers, Physicians and Antomists. For Aristotle wrote that the heart was the original of the veins. But Hypocrates taught otherwise, whom Galen followed confuting Aristotle's opinion. As for the Arteries or pulses they are pipes that proceed from the heart. For in that is the great artery planted, which is the stock of all the rest, which 
Of the arteries.  serve to carry the vital spirits throughout the body: they are covered with little skins, that are strong and thick to keep the spirits from breathing out, and for the same cause they have their passages more straight. So that they have two skins or coverings, whereof that which is underneath is fivetimes thicker than the skin of a vein. To conclude, the Arteries and veins are joined together, to the end that the vital spirits might draw and receive from the veins convenient matter for their nourishment, as also that by their heat they might warm the blood that is within them. For there are certain mouths in them both for this mutual commmunication, both that the spirit might draw his nourishment from the veins, as flame fetcheth the preservation of his light from the lamp, and also that the veins might receive spirit and heat fró the Arteries. As for the flesh it is a substance of blood, which is then made when the thickest part of it is as it were congealed: and with that all the members of the body are clothed outwardly. We must speak more largely of the uses and properties 
Of the flesh.  of all these simple parts, which we have here laid open in few words. In the mean time in this little that hath been discoursed, we see a marvelous providence of God, who hath disposed and tempered the matter of the body in such wise, that he made it so apt to effect that work which he purposed, and that by proportions and mixtures so well contrived from one degree to another, as he hath done in the elements, to the end that all the parts of the body might the better be preserved one by an other. And although men's bodies are compounded of earth and of the other elements, as we have already touched, yet God showeth himself very wonderful in this whole work and matter of man. For as he turneth the earth into divers natures, so that of one piece he maketh gold, of another silver, of this brasiron, and other metals, of that minerals, of another precious stones of sundry sorts which are as it were the bones of the earth, besides a great many other things ofdivers kinds which were infinite to rehearse: so of one self same matter appointed for the composition of the body, he maketh variety of works that it may be framed & furnished in all respects. For we see what difference there is between the bones, which parts are most earthy, & so consequently 
The bones most earthy of all the parts.  driest, hardest and coldest, because of all other parts they draw nearest to the nature of earth. Than the gristles obtain the second degree next after the bones for agreement of nature, as that which is in the midst between the bones & the ligaments, as the ligaments are of a middle nature between the gristles and the filaments, and the filaments between the ligaments and the sinews, and so of the rest. Therefore as God the great workemaster of nature hath framed all the parts of man's body of matter taken from all the elements, so also he hath tempered his matter according to the work he meant to make, & to that office, which it pleased him to appoint unto every part and member of the body. So that matter of some parts holdeth more of the earth, of other parts it hath more water, air, or fire, or else is more or less mingled of all together. Whereby it appeareth how aptly this work master can apply himself unto this work. We have also another notable testimony of his providence in that he hath made the ligaments so strong and firm according to the necessity of their office, haning ordained them to knit the bones in their joints, and to be as it were hands and cords to tie and conjoin them together, even as the thongs of harness keep the parts thereof bound and tied one to another. We may say as much of the filaments, but chief of the sinews, which in their places serve for bands to the body. And here we have also to note, that because God hath created them to give both motion and sense to the body, therefore he hath planted their root partly in the brain, partly in the marrow of the backebone, which is also derived from the brain: as the original of the ligaments is either in the bones, or in the gristles, or in the skin, and the beginning of the filaments both in the ligaments and in the sinews, according to that use for which they were made. And that the motion of living creatures might not be hindered, he hath not made the ligaments, nor the filaments nor the sinews of any such boisterous or stiff matter, but that the creatures may easily bend every way whether soever they list to move and turn their members. Neither hath he made them of so tender and soft matter, but that they are strong and powerful enough to hold fast all the members within their joints, to the end they might not easily become bore and thrust out of their places, as also to furnish the creatures with strength and power, which consisteth principally in the force and might of these parts. It is requisite also that they should be such, because they are as it were in continual labour, and sustain great stresses. Wherhfore they mustneedes be of such matter as will not easily yield or wear away, or break in pieces. And because all the members and all the joints are not to sustain labours and brunts alike, therefore the Lord hath very well provided for that, as he hath done the like also in the composition and distribution of the bones. For those members that must sustain the heaviest burdens and greatest brunts, that are to dispatch most laboursome business, and therefore require the greater strength, have biggest, strongest, and mightiest bones, ligaments, and sinews, so that their bulk, bigness, breadth, and thickness are answerable to their necessary uses. The lesser members and and such as are to undergo less pain, which are ordained to effect more fine and witty works wherein art is more required than force, have also their bones, ligaments and sinews lesser and smaller, so that in certain places there are some bones passing small, and sinews, which are only as it were little threads. Thus much I thought meet for us to understand concerning the simple parts of the body, now we must consider the compound parts: and first entreat of the outermost parts, and so follow that which we speak of the foundation of man's building, to the end that by little and little we may set him upright, and consider him thoroughly in all his parts. Therefore thy speech ACHITOB, shall be of the feet and legs, and of the arms and hands.   

Of the compound parts of the body, and first of the feet and legs and of the arms and hands. Chap. 4.  
ACHITOB. Among the manifold and great commodities, which we may reap by the diligent consideration of the Anatomy of the body, there are two of greatest weight. The first is, to put us in mind of our mortality in regard of our bodies, to 
A double use of Anatomy.  the end that we should not please ourselves too much in the beauty of them, and so wax proud and abuse ourselves, as also that we should remember all those testimonies, which we have in the holy Scriptures of the frailty of man, and of his whole nature. For when we see that those parts of the body that are hardest, strongest, most firm, and such as after the death of a man continued longest before they return into powder, and into that first matter out of which they were taken, as namely those parts that were propounded untous in the former discourse, especially the bones: I say, when we see that these notwithstanding their hardness, must in the end return to dust as well as the rest, what shall we think of the other parts that are softer and more tender, and less able to resist corruption? Therefore the spirit of God doth so often by his word call and sand us back to that iustruction, which he giveth us by the matter whereof he made and framed our bodies, and by the consideration of our own original and birth: to the end we should learn to contain ourselves evermore within the compass of all humility and modesty, as well towards him, as one towards another. Here of it was that I saiah had commandment given him from the Lord to cry, that all flesh is grass, and all the grace thereof as the flower of the field. Man that is borne 
Easie 40. 6. job 14. 1. 2.  of a woman (saith job) is of short continuance, and full of trouble. He shoteth forth as a flower, and is cut down: he vanisheth also as a shadow, and continueth not. Again for the second point, we are taught to consider and to know by that providence of God, which showeth itself in the composition of the vilest and most earthly parts, and in that frame which he maketh for the building of the whole body, how great and wonderful it aught to be in the residue, namely in the noblest parts thereof, especially in the soul, if we could see it with our eyes, as we behold the body. Wherhfore, that we may the better know the excellent work of God in this building, we must raise it upright before our eyes, to the end we may behold it on the outside (as it were a frame ready made) from the foot to the top, and from the foundation to the covering and highest part thereof.  
The whole body of man is commonly divided into four principal outward parts, which 
Four principal parts of the body.  are called compound, in respect of the simple parts spoken of before, which serve for matter to make them of: whereupon afterward they take the name of member, according to that form that is given to each of them. These four principal parts are, the head, the breast, the belly, the outward parts, namely, the arms, and hands, the legs, and feet. The head endeth where the neck beginneth. The breast comprehendeth that part which we commonly call the breast, also the back, the ribs, and whatsoever else is contained in them from the neck unto the midriff, which is a skin that separateth the heart and the lungs on the one side, and the inferior entrails on the other. The belly reacheth from thence where the breast 
Of the midriff.  endeth unto the bone above the privy members and near to the groin. The extreme or outward parts are already named by us; and of them our present discourse shall be, beginning, as it were at the foundation, upon which all the body is laid. First therefore we see how God hath so aptly fashioned the feet, that they do not only bear up all the rest of the body, but also carry and recarry it wheresoever a man will. Next, the legs are set upon them as it were the pillars of this whole building, being closed in such sort unto them as need requireth, to help the feet to sustain and bear up all the rest of the frame laid upon them. For this cause Solomon calleth them the strong men that stoop in old age, when their virtue and 
Eccles. 12. 3.  strength faileth them. For they how through weakness, and tremble as the hands do, which the same Prophet calleth the keepers of the house. Now because the chief strength of the body lieth in the bones, when the scriptures mean to set forth any violent grief, as when a man is extremely pressed, and as it were altogether oppressed, they say that his bones are vexed, or 
Psal. 6. 2. and 22. 14. isaiah 38. 13.  broken, or out of joint, that is to say, all his strength and power, so that he is as a body whose bones are wholly broken and shivered. And when the Scripture would signify the contrary, it saith that, their bones run full of marrow, and that they flourish like an herb. Now if we take the whole leg, namely from the huckle bone unto the ends of the toes, it hath three great 
job. 21. 24. isaiah 66. 14.  parts answerable to the three parts of the whole arm, which part of the body reacheth from the shoulders unto the ends of the fingers. In the first place is the foot, which is the nethermost part of the whole leg, and it consisteth of three parts which also are answerable to to the 3. parts of the hand. The 1. is the heel, which by a joint and convenient knitting together, 
Three patts of the leg  uniteth the foot to that part of the leg which reacheth from thence up to the knee or gartering place. The 2. is the sole, & as it were the back of the foot, being long, large and hollow in the midst, to the end it might be more fit to stand fast & to walk upon. The toes are the 3. part of the foot, being set and placed in such wise as is most convenient for that duty of the foot. For they differ much from the fingers, not only in length, but also in situation, because the office of the hand and the foot is not all one. Therefore as the fingers are longer than the toes, so the thumbs are otherwise placed then the great toes. For if the great toe were placed as the thumb is, it would hinder the foot in stead of helping it: and the like may be said of the other toes. The two other parts of the leg are, first, that which is from the knee to the foot, which is commonly called the leg for want of an other proper name in our tongue, next the thigh, which is from the huckle bone unto the knee. And as this hath his joint and hand to fasten him to the knee, so the other by the like means is joined to the foot. Therefore both the foot and the whole leg have their necessary motions through the help of the Sinews and Muscles, as well to stretch itself out, as to bow and bend forward and backward, upward and downward, as also to turn itself on the right hand and on the left, and round about: both to set forward and to retire, to ascend and to descend, and for all the motions that are meet and convenient both for this member and for all the parts of it. Thus much for the lowest foundation of the frame of man's body, and for the pillars that hold it up. Now we must consider of the other outward parts, the arms and the hands. 
Of the arms and hands.   
As God hath given to man two legs and two feet to hold him up, and to carry him whithersoever he would go, so he hath given him two arms and two hands, to dispatch all business which he thinketh good. Therefore the hand is rightly called by Aristotle, the instrument of instruments. For there is no member in all the body nor instrument whatsoever, that maketh more or more sundry works. This instrument maketh all other instruments, and setteth them a work, as we see by experience. And because man only of all other living creatures is capable of Arts, and knoweth how to use them, therefore hath God given to him only this instrument to exercise them. We see also that there is no work which he cannot do with his hands. And what work of God is there which he doth not sergeant, as if he were some little god upon earth, that had undertaken to make an other visible world within this world created by God? For if we consider the Sciences and Arts of men, & those excellent works which they make by the means of their hands, who will not be ravished with admiration? That sentence of Anaxagoras may well be approved wherein he saith, that the hand is the cause of knowledge and wisdom: (although Plutarch doth learnedly understand experience, by the hand.) For if it did not frame letters and figures, nor made instruments requisite and necessary for all Sciences and Arts, they could not in any wise be either taught or learned. Therefore considering well that which we say, man may be called a second Creator, who taking pattern by the work of God in the creation of the world hath endeavoured to make works answerable unto those which God hath given him in the world for a pattern to imitate. But there is great difference betwixt the works of m●● and the works of God, especially in three points: namely, in the matter, in the form, and in the life of them, together 
The agreement & difference between the works of God and the works of man. Psal. 33. 9 Rom. 4. 17.  with all those things which it bringeth with it. For first man can not work without matter, which he cannot find in himself, as God who made all things of nothing, and made that to be which was not. But man dealeth contrarily. For he can make nothing of nothing, but must of necessity have matter meet for the work he taketh in hand, unto which he is able to add the form only. And yet he cannot give it any fashion except he first had the pattern thereof in the works of God. For although he can make very strange figures, and such as the very like hath not been seen in all nature, nor amongst all the creatures, yet he cannot pourtraite any so new, or so strange, whereof he had not before some resemblance in the works of God in sundry creatures. For he taketh divers pieces of many sundry figures, with which afterward heaped together, he counterfaiteth one altogether new and strange. As for example: never man saw a mountain all of gold, yet a man may imagine one in his mind, and frame an image thereof in his imagination. For albeit he never saw such a mountain, yet because he hath seen both mountains and also gold, by joining these two together which he knoweth, he can frame the image of such a mountain in his mind, and then having in this sort form and conceived it, he can counterfeit it with his hand. But as God taketh not the matter of his works without himself, and without the treasures of his infinite power, so he needeth not to seek else where for forms and patterns then in the treasures of his eternal wisdom and infinite knowledge. Again, there is this beside, which is chiefest of all, that he is able to give, not only being, but also life, sense, and motion to his works, yea such nature and properties as pleaseth him: which man can not do. For he cannot change the nature of that matter upon which he worketh, but it must still not continued the same in nature and disposition. And although he can draw sundry effects from those matters about which he is occupied according as he may mingle and compound them together, nevertheless he altereth not their nature, but they retain it still according to their portion, every one in his place. Neither can he give to the best of his works so much life as is in a radish, or in any other lesser herb or plant: nor so much motion, sense, and industry as a Fly or an Ant hath, or the lest worm in the earth. Now to proceed in beholding the use of the hand, we must understand that God gave unto men arms and hands chief to help one another, more than with any other member of their body, insomuch that they aught to refer all their works, arts and exercises to common benefits and profit. But it is far otherwise. For there is no member 
All handy works aught to tend to common profit.  whatsoever with which they hurt one another more: so that their hands are more dangerous without all comparison, than the paws of all savage beasts. For those beasts that are most cruel spare the blood of their kind, but men delight to embrew their hands in man's blood, yea in the blood of their nearest kindred. There are some also who shamefully abuse their hands in causing them to serve for divinations: from whence the Art of Palmistry proceeded, which is full of superstition, and of fooleries well worthy to be laughed at: and 
Of the Art of palmistry.  such are all the other kinds of divinations invented by the vanity of man's brain. They that would seem to allege some show and likelihood of foundation for it, say, that nature hath imprinted in the lines of the hands wondered significations of the temperature & disposition of the whole body.  
Therefore they call the long line in the midst of the hand, the line of life, and say, that they who have it whole throughout, are long lived. But suppose this were so, yet what probability is there for any to seek in the lines of the hand for the knowledge and signification of all things that shall befall men, and to foretell them, as they say, their good and ill Fortune? For although it were so that by looking upon the hands, a man might in some sort, judge of the temperature and disposition of the body, yet what reason is there to extend this consideration to the foretelling of allthinges. as if God or nature, as they speak, had set marks in the hands, so that a man might know I say not by the Science, but by the vanity of Chiromancy, whatsoever good or evil shall come unto men? For they that deal with this kind of divination do not only foretell wherereunto the body may be disposed according to the temperature thereof, as a Physician may judge of the sickness or soundness of the body by those tokens which he seethe therein following his Art, but they go a great deal further. For they take upon them to foretell all good and ill adventures, namely, whether a man shall be rich or poor, married or not, and whether he shall have many wives, and what they will be, whether maidens or widows, whether rich or poor, with such other toys and old wives tales, where of their Books of Palmisty are full. They therefore are very fools that give credit to such predictions. 
spalme 〈◊〉  But Christians have a true and sure kind of Chiromancy which they may use. For if men consider only their hands, with what workmanship they are made, for how many uses they may serve, and how profitable and necessary they are for them, they shall find in them an infinite number of marks to make them good diviners, yea it will teach them to divine that of necessity there was a God and Creator, who was the workemaster that made that work and so excellent instruments, whose use and commodity can not sufficiently be conceived. For although we had never heard of God or of his providence, this only consideration aught to be sufficient to teach us to seek him, and to hold up towards him those hands which he hath given us. If therefore by the contemplation of our hands, and by those marks of the power, wisdom, goodness and providence of God, which are imprinted in them, we can learn such a Science and Art and Divination, as will the better induce us to glorify God in the Workmanship of our bodies, then do we profit greatly therein. And this we aught to do, not only by the contemplation of our hands, but also of all the residue of the members and parts of our body even unto our very hairs and nails. For we have not so many Preachers only of his glory and magnificence in our bodies, as we have members, but also as there are hairs in the head. For there is nothing, not not so much as a little hair (as we shall see hereafter) whereby God doth not testify his divine providence. Wherhfore if we should by piece-meal lay open only those principal things which are to be considered in all the parts of the arm and hand, and those testimonies of the great providence of God that may be found and noted in them, a whole day would not suffice: although we did only behold the great workmanship that is, I say notin the whole hand, but in one finger thereof. For it is an instrument which God hath given only to man, to touch and to take with, to gripe 
The use of the hand.  and to use in his own behalf in stead of all kind of defensive weapons. In this respect he made it of such a fashion that he can lay hold of, and apprehend all things either great or small, of what form or figure soever they be, whether round, square, or otherwise. And therefore it was requisite that the fingers of the hand should be unequal, that they should be placed, and disposed as they are, thereby the better to gripe and to lay hold of all things. For albeit some of them belonger than others, yet when we close our hand, and gripe any thing, they are all equal. And as God hath given to man a mind capable of understanding & knowledge, so also he hath adorned him with this excellent instrument, which is so necessary for all Arts, that without this, those other would remain idle. In a word it is an instrument, which man could not want neither in peace nor wa●. Neither is there any thing to be found ther●●, which doth not serve very fitly for all duties of the hand, as also nothing is wanting that 
The properties of the nails.  is necessary. The very nails have two excellent properties, the one is, that they serve for a covering and an ornament to the end of the fingers, the other, that they help to take hold of & together little & hard things. For this cause also they are so convenient both for matter & fo●●, & so fitly fastened & set in their places, as better could not be devised. But let us consider of the whole arm or hand, to see the composition and division thereof. As we said before of the legg●, so there is in the whole arm three great and principal parts, taking all that member 
Of the three parts of the whole arm.  which is from the shoulders unto the ends of the fingers. The first is the hand, which likewise hath three chief parts, namely, that which is joined with the lower part of the arm from the elbow unto itself, and it is called the Wrist: the second is the hollow palm which 
Three parts of the hand.  is apt to gripe with, together with the back of it on the other side: then the fingers make the third part, being so made and placed as they are fittest to take easily, to gripe, to close, and to crush. Insomuch that whatsoever hath been spoken by me worthy consideration in the legs and feet touching their office, and all those motions that are apt, and necessary for them, the same also may be plainly seen in the whole hand and arm. The second principal part of the whole arm is that which is taken from the elbow unto the hand: the third is from the shoulder unto the elbow, and both the one and the other are so coupled together with their joints and bands, as is most requisite for all their motions. Thus ye see what in my opinion aught chief to be known in this our present matter. Now seeing we have begun to take a view of the foundation of the frame of man by the consideration of the fourth compounded part of the body, I think that before we handle the other three, we shall do well to behold the wonderful composition of many bones, which serve also to sustain the whole stock of the body, and upon which the backbone is chief grounded. Therefore thou ASER entreating thereof, and of the ribs and other bones of man's body shalt prepare the way for us to proceed in the description of our building, even unto the top and highest place of the whole frame.   

Of the backbone and of the marrow thereof: of the ribs and of other bones of man's body. Chap. 5.  
ASER. Those Philosophers that were endued with greatest knowledge of those excellent things that are hid in man's nature, stood much upon the contemplation of this, that his face was lift up towards heaven: whereupon they concluded, that he aught to abandon all carking care of base & earthly things to contemplate those things that are above and heavenly, and in the knowledge of them to satisfy the desires of his soul. And truly this is worthy to be considered, that amongst terrestrial creatures which walk upon the earth, God hath created none with two legs only, or that is made strait and bolt upright, but man. Therefore he only and no other hath the ridgebone made according to the straightness of the legs: which is neither in four-footed beasts, nor in birds, albeit they go upon two feet, and have their head lifted upward. For as well their legs, as those of four-footed beasts are so placed in regard of the backbone when they walk, as men's legs are when they sit down, namely cornerwise, not downright. But when men go, their legs are stretched strait with the backbone, (which is like the keel of a ship) unto which all the bones belonging to the stock of the body are conjoined, every one being answerable each to other according to their proportion: as the other pieces of wood whereof a ship is made, are joined with the keel by that knitting together which they have therewith. For this cause the whole body of man is strait, and can stand upright, and sit down. But no beast can do either of them, because there is no such uprightness void of corners between their backbone and their legs, as there is in man. Therefore they can neither hold nor do any thing either standing or sitting. For although they can stay themselves upon their haunches, yet they cannot sit altogether like to man. And contrariwise, man can do nothing well lying along or with his belly downward as beasts use: but standing or sitting he can do all his affairs very easily. To this end hath GOD given him legs and feet, arms and hands, of which we spoke before. Now as hitherto we have seen the lowest foundation of man's building, namely his feet and legs, so here we must know that there is yet another wondered frame of bones, as it were a new foundation for the whole stock of the body, and residue thereof. Among others some are very strong, being placed crosswise to uphold the rest: they serve also for the defence of many inward parts that are against them. Upon this second 
Of the Backbone.  foundation the backbone is laid, which reaches up to the head, & is very artificially made. For first, because a man cannot always stand upright, but must sometime bend himself, or lie down, or turn from one side to another, it is not made all one bone, but it consisteth of many bones, namely of four and twenty, which are called the knuckles or turning joints of the backbone. For this cause Solomon very fitly calleth it the silver chain or cord, which lengtheneth, or shrinketh being consumed with extreme old age. For it is framed after the 
Eccles. 12. 6  fashion of a chain, and holdeth the lower parts of the body, as it were tied and chained unto the highest part, which is the head. Again it is not without good cause called a chain of silver. For it is a very precious part of the body, and aught to be greatly accounted of, both because the body standeth in need of it, and also for many great benefits which it receiveth there by. True it is that some understand by this chain of silver, the uniting and agreement of matters whereof the body of man is made, being taken from all the Elements, and joined together by a goodly harmony and proportion. But the former exposition seemeth to me most fit, because of that similitude which the backbone and joints of it with their use, have with a chain and the use thereof. For if the chaine-bone were all of one piece, a man should be always stiff like to a pale, or like to a log or body of a tree: and so the stock of the body could not enjoy these motions that are necessary for it, as we see all the members have agreeable to their nature. For they are not planted into the stock of the body, as boughs and branches are into the stock of a tree, which are without motion aswell as their stock. Likewise man (whom the Philosophers called a Tree turned upward, because he hath his roots in his head) is a far other kind of plant then those are, which being in the earth, stir not out of one place. For it is a tree to be carried about, whose branches have their natural motion. And as touching those bones whereof the chine-bone is made, they are so ordered, that the first which sustained all the rest, as the principal foundation (being called Os sacrum, that is, The holy bone) is the largest, biggest and strongest: and being joined to the hips is very 
Of the holy bone.  artificially framed of three bones, and sometimes of five or six. Wherhfore some think that it is so called by reason of the artificial composition thereof: others, because of the greatness: and some, because it helpeth women in their travail, as that whose knitting together openeth with the hip bones in them that bring forth children. Others say, that there is no opening, but only that it stretcheth forth & enlargeth itself. There are some also that think it is so called, because it is so necessary unto life, that after it is once hurt, death followeth. After this bone, the rest that follow are less & less until you come to the highest: insomuch that the lowest are biggest, and the highest least, to the end that as they are the foundation one of another, so they might be able to bear that charge which they are to sustain, and be the less burdened. And as for the conjunction and uniting of them together it is so well contrived, that it hath so much strength as is necessary for it, and is neither too soft, nor too hard, too dry nor too wet and slippery, but that which is meet for their motions.  
This order of bones and turning joints thus ranged, is properly called the Backbone or Chine, and in Latin Spina dorsi, because of the sharp ends or points which each of them hath on every side for his defence, as it were thorns. This whole chine hath a marrow proceeding 
Of the marrow of the chine.  from the hinderpart of the brain, and reaching down to the neither end of the backbone: which being round in shape, is as a river whose springe is in the brain, from whence it proceedeth as the great Artery doth out of the heart, and the hollow vein out of the liver, as we have already declared, and many entreat thereof more at large in speaking of the inner parts of the body. Therefore as the great artery is as it were the stock of all the rest, being planted in the heart from whence it springeth, and the hollow vein whose fountain is in the liver, is as it were the stock of the other veins: so the marrow of the chine is as it were the stock and spring from whence all the sinews issue, which afterward like to little rivers impart their sense and motion. And because the fountain of this river is in the brain, therefore also the original of sinews is attributed thereunto, notwithstanding that all those sinews which give motion and sense to the parts that are under the head except it be to the entrails and guts proceed from the marrow of the chine. Hereby we may note once again, that that place alleged by me out of Solomon where he calleth the backbone a silver chain, agreeth also very fitly with that which is here spoken. For seeing the sinews distribute sense and motion to all the members of the body, as it hath been already 
Eccles. 12.  told us, and have their beginning from the brain and marrow of the chine, we may well say, that it is a chain and chord of a great length, which extendeth itself very far by reason of other chains and strings proceeding from it. For as the backbone may be resembled to a chain, so the marrow within it is like to a chord, whereof all the sinews, which are as it were the little strings of all the members of the body, have their beginning and increase. And therefore some in stead of a silver chain translate a chord or thread of silver, as we read in the common Latin translation: but the sense is all one. And that which Solomon addeth after of the golden ewer which is broken in old-age, with the exposition of the best learned given thereof, agreeth also very well to this effect. For by this golden Ewer they understand the skin that covereth the brain, which is of a yellowish colour, resembling the colour 
Of the skin of the brain called the Solden Ewer.  of gold it is very fitly called an Ewer, because it is a vessel containing the matter & nourishment of the sinews, and as it were the fountain of all the motions and senses of the body: it is as it were the lodging of all the animal parts, & the original of all the senses both in ternall and external. Wherefore the matter of the brain contained within it is of a more celestial nature than any other part of the body, and cometh nearest to the spiritual & divine nature. So that this vessel is not without good & just cause called by Solomon the Ewer of gold. For there is in it a fountain out of which man receiveth great treasures. Now because the sinews, arteries and veins were to have their passage and issue from their fountain without let or hindrance, it was requisite that the backbone should have such holes as it hath, & that the bone thereof should be of that fashion as they are, to the end that neither themselves, nor the marrow within might be easily broken, & that the next parts & members might not be hurt. For it is very dangerous to have any rapture or hurt in the chine aswell by reason of the marrow as of the sinews. And because it pleased God to lodge there those internal members of the body, that are most necessary for life & for the preservation thereof, he fastened the ribs to both sides of the back bone, namely twelve on every side: and have left a sufficient space betwixt them, that the place might be able to receive those members, for whose cause they were so built and disposed. So that there are before & behind, especially about the noblest members, very long and large bones, to defend them on all sides (as it were good harness and strong bulwarks) but chief behind, because the arms and hands, cannot so well defend them, as they may the other before. Therefore God hath better armed them 
Of the ribs  with bones, making those of the shoulders so large behind as they are, and knitting them also unto the back bone by their band, but yet so that they touch it not. Likewise they are fastened to the highest bone in the breast which reacheth up to the throat, above the first rib, by two little bones which pass over the ribs that are betwixt them. For this cause these bones are called the keys of the throat. For they close and shut up these parts as it were keys, so that without them the shoulder blades would fall backward, being no more 
Toe keys of the throat.  able to keep close together, than the poldron of an harness not being fastened to the gorget. The arms likewise are fastened to the shoulders, as also the thighs & legs to the hips than the hands are joined to the arms with their joints and bands, as hath been touched before. Now we are to note further, according to that I spoke even now, that the backebone is in a man's body, as the keel in a ship: so that as the rest of the matter and form of the ship must be well proportioned and framed according to the keel, so is it in the composition of man's body, and in that correspondency, which all the members aught to have with the ridgebone of which they all depend, otherwise there would be no good agreement but great deformity. And as for the ribs and breast bones, they have such workmanship as is requisite for the members contained within the ribs. For seeing the members of man's breathing are clothed within, needful it is that they should not only be defended 
Of the workmanship of the ribs & of other bones  and armed with bones for their guard & preservation, but also that these bones should be so placed, that they might enlarge and restrain themselves, open and close again, in such wise that the breathing and members thereof be not hindered in the motions. Therefore they are all by naturelesse hard than the other: beside they are many, to the end there might be spaces betwixt them, not only for the enlarging and restraining of the breast, but also that the Muscles might be placed between the ribs. And this is one cause, why it was needful that the backbone should be framed as it is, namely that it might be more commodious for respiration. And because the stomach also standeth in need of enlargement and restraint according to the quantity of the meat which it receiveth, and according, as it is lift up and pressed down thereby, therefore it was requisite that it should have the like help. But forasmuch as it might soon be hurt by reason of the hardness of the ribs, if they were driven and forced against it, God hath so disposed those ribs wherewith he hath defended the stomach, that they are neither so long nor so hard as the rest. For they are of a softer kind of bone, drawing nearer to the nature of gristles than the other, & the more they descend downward, the shorter they are. Therefore the lower part of the ribs are commonly called the false ribs, or bastard ribs, which on each side are five in number: the other seven ending at the breastbone, to the end they may defend and guard the heart and lungs, which are vital parts. Hereupon when any hath been wounded to death, it is often said in the holy 
How many false rib there are.  scripture, that he was stricken un●der the fifis rib, because no blow pierceth those parts, but it hurteth some one of the vital members which cannot be wounded, but that death followeth thereupon. We see then how the providence of God did well foresee whatsoever was requisite in this work of man's body, and hath provided thereafter as need required: as we 
2. Sam. 2. 23. & 3. 27.  may easily judge by that which we have heard of the bones only, which parts are most earthy and massy, and are void of all sense. Wherhfore we may well conceive how excellently this wisdom hath wrought in the other parts and members that are more noble. But we may judge a great deal better of all this, if we consider that our treatise of the bones only, is but very little in comparison of that which might be spoken, if a man would utter it as Physicians do, and distinguish properly of all the kinds of bones, and of their uses. Now to end the outward composition of the body touching the bones, we must consider of the share bone, and of the bones of the head, and of the marrow that is within the bones, and of the use of the neck. Last of all, we will clothe with flesh this dry Anatomy, that afterward we may come to those parts of our building that are most noble and excellent. Therefore it belongeth to thee AMANA to entreat of this subject.   

Of the share bone and marrow of the bones in the head, and of the flesh: of the musclus and of their office. Cap. 6.  
AMANA. Nothing maketh the work of God in the composition of man's body more wonderful, than the beauty of his shape, and the exquisite art used in the work wherein a man cannot change so much as a nail or an eyelid, which is but hair, but that some imferpection must be acknowledged therein, and some discommodity following there upon will 'cause it to be perceived. For this cause the kingly Prophet considering his 
Psal. 139. 14.  creation speaketh as one ravished with admiration. I will (saith he) praise thee, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works, and my soul knoweth it well. He could not in all that Psalm marvel sufficiently at so excellent a work of God. Therefore he useth a word which signifieth as much in the Hebrew tongue, as if in stead of our speech thou hast framed or fashioned me, he should have said, I have been woven or wrought in tissue and interlaced and fashioned artificially as it were in broadery work●. And truly no image or picture, how well soever it be painted & purtrayted, is to be compared with the form and figure of man's body: neither is there any work of tapistry, so well wrought and embroidered, or that hath such variety of exquisite art, and such diversity of figures, as that hath. And from what patterns do Painters and Ingravers take the fashion and form of those Images and pictures which they would draw forth, but from this? What is a piece of tapistry or embroidered work in comparison of man's body, which is as it were an image of the whole world, and wherein a man may find almost the variety and draughts of all things contained in the whole frame of the world? This will evidently appear unto us in the sequel of our speeches, touching the compounded parts of the body.  
Therefore to finish the external composition of this human building concerning the bones, we will first note, that God in creating the belly hath not compassed it about with bones, as he hath done the other parts of the body, and that chief for two causes. First, it is most meet it should be so, by reason of the meat it receiveth. Secondly, for the benefit of 
Why the belly is not environed with bones.  women that bear children. But to the end it might be upholden together with that burden it beareth, God hath given unto it the share bone for a foundation, which also standeth in steed of a bulwark for the bowels. And because a man cannot always stand upright, but must oftentimes sit down, not only to rest himself, but also to dispatch many works 
Of the Share bone, or tail bone.  which he hath to do, therefore he hath the buttock bones and the flesh wherewith they are covered, which are unto him in stead of a stool & a cushion to sit at his ease. And for as much as the bones are to be nourished, they have for their familiar food, the marrow, which by 
Of the buttock bones. Of the marrow. job. 21. 24.  nature is moist, soft, fat and sweet. Therefore it hath neither sinew nor sense, but is within the bones, as the sap of trees is in the midst of their stocks & branches. For this cause job speaking of the prosperity of the wicked, saith, His breasts are full of milk, and his bones run full of marrow. But this is strange, that seeing it is made of the thickest of the blood, as it were a supper fluity of the meat, how it can be engendered within the bones, and draw nourishment from the veins, as other parts of the body do. But God knew well how to provide for that, and to make way for nourishment through the hardness of the bones, which are not all alike full of marrow. For as some of them are more dry or moister, more hard or softer than others, so they have more or less marrow: and some have none at all, because they need it not. Now this marrow whereof we speak now, differeth from that in the chine bone, which the Arabians call Nucha, and is of the nature of the substance of the 
Nucha.  brain, from whence it proceedeth as a river from his fountain, for the generation of sinews, to which end the other marrow is not appointed of God, but only for the nourishment and preservation of the bones. Seeing then we are come to the brain, we must consider with what bones God hath enclosed it on every side for the defence thereof how many in all there are in the head both before and behind, on the right side and on the left, above and beneath: of what form, breadth, lengeh, and hardness, and how they are joined one with another by seams and bands, and that not without great reason and consideration of 
Of the bones of the head.  the Work master, which made such an excellent piece of work. For first there are commonly six bones, which compass the brain on each side, besides that which is called the Wedge like bone, which is under the palate of the mouth, and unto which all the rest are fastened. And because there are many vessels and members in the brain and head, God hath made the head of a round figure, reaching somewhat in length, & bulking out somewhat more both before and behind. Now forasmuch as vapours, fumes, and smoky excrements mount upward, therefore he hath created the head, and those bones of the head that are highest not so solid and thick as the rest, to the end the vapours and fumes should not continued enclosed within the brain, but might evaporate, and so disburden the brain, otherwise it would be very ill at ease, and subject to many diseases. Therefore all of them together are so made one bone, that yet they are not all of one & the same piece, but joined together, not by ligaments, as many sundry and several bones are, but by such a proper and apt conjunction, that there appeareth between them as it it were a seam made after the manner of a Saw● or Combe, as if they were very finely sewed together. And because the bones behind could not have that help of the hands, for their defence which the bones before may have, God hath created them more hard and stronger. Besides, they all are to she brain and to every part thereof, in stead of an helmet and murrion to defend it on every side. Thus you see the composition of the head touching the bones thereof, which is so joined to the body by the bockaone, that nothing but the neck which is the upper end of the chine, is between 
Of the neck & use thereof.  them. For it was necessarily to have motion both above and beneath, before and behind, and on both sides: which could not have been if it had been fastened to the shoulders without any space between, which is necessary also both for breathing for voice, and for many other purposes that may be noted hereafter. And albeit the neck served for nothing else but for voice, yet it is so necessary, that without it a man could have no voice, nor any other creature to which it is given, as appeareth in those that have no neck. For all beasts that want the neck, want also the voice, as we may see both in fishes, and in those beasts which the Latins call Insecta animalia: the reason is because they have no neck whereby to join their head with the rest of their body, but only as it were a little thread, which holdeth both the one and the other close together. Now that we are to come to the top of the building of man's body, and have set him upright, as it were a dried Anatomy, we must come next to the covering of the bones, sinews and other parts mentioned by us, to the end that after we have finished the description of the outward parts, we may speak also of those that are within. The flesh than is the first garment wherewith the bones are covered: and 
Of the flesh.  it is properly called by that name which is given to that part whereof the Muscles are compounded. For some under the name of Flesh comprehend the Kernels and the fat because of the agreement which these parts have one with another, and by reason of their use. For as for the flesh, it hath this in common with the Kernels and fat, that it is soft and tender: but here in it differeth from that matter whereof Kernels are made, in that the matter of Kernelles is more Sponge like. We learned before that Flesh is a substance of blood, and how it is made thereof. Concerning the Muscles, we use to 
Of the Muscles.  call by that name the proper instrument that moveth voluntarily all the members of the body. Therefore it is compounded and made of threads proceeding from the Sinews, and of Ligaments, compassed about with a great deal of flesh, insomuch that when the Muscles are taken away from the body, there remaineth almost nothing but bore bones. Their proper place is in all places of the body where there are joints and where motion is requred.  
For without them the body cannot have that voluntary motion whereof I spoke even now, and which is so called, because thereby a man may move and remove his members from one place to another as he thinketh good, and as he shall judge it needful for himself Wherefore we must know that the brain which is the seat of the animal parts, & the original 
What voluntary motion is  of all the sinews, and of all motions and senses given to the body by them, is in respect of the whole body like to a wagoner that gui●eth his Wagon, and the Muscles are like to the bits and bridles of horses, to 'cause them to retire or set forward as the wagoner pleaseth either to draw them backward, or to drive them forward, to pull in or to let lose the bridle. The sinews are as it were the reins and leathers fastened to the bridles, to hold them in, or to let them lose, and to turn them both on the right hand and on the left, than those members of the body which move it from one place to another, are as it were the horses that are led and guided by this means, and the rest of the body is like to the Chariot and 
A comparison betwixt the body and a chariot.  the burden which it carrieth. And for this cause the Muscles are compounded of ligaments, Sinews and flesh. For as the Ligaments serve to knit them together, and the sinews minister sense and motion, so the flesh serveth to the benefit of those little strings that proceed from the Ligaments and Sinews: first to nourish them, then to hold them up softly, as if they leaned upon little cushions and pillows, and lastly, to keep them aswell against the vehemency of internal heat as against the heat, cold, and hardness that comes from without. Likewise the flesh performeth all these things unto the rest of the threads that are throughout the whole body, both in the heart and in the stomach, and in other parts that have flesh. But we have further to note the great differences of flesh that are in all the parts of the body, that we may still increase in the knowledge of the marvelous works of GOD, and of his divine providence. For there is great difference between that flesh wherewith the bones ligaments and sinews are covered and clothed, and that of the internal parts of the body which also differeth in quality, albeit all is compounded of one and the same matter. For what difference is there betwixt that flesh which is between the skin and the bones, and that of the brain: as also that of the lungs, heart, liver, spleen and kidneys? Not one of all 
The differences of flesh.  these members hath his flesh like to any of the rest, but they all differ very much according to the nature and office of the compounded members. For the flesh of the brains is by nature apt for the generation of the animal spirits, as that of the heart for the vital spirits, and that of the lungs for air and breathing, that of the liver to turn the matter which it receiveth from the stomach into blood and into nourishment for all the members: that of the spleen to draw the gross blood which is as it were the Leeses of the blood, and to nourish itself thereby: that of the kidneys also to draw so much blood as is requisite for their nourishment, and likewise to draw the urine, which after they sand into the bladder. Thus you see how every of these internal parts of the body is compounded of flesh meet for his nature and office. Whereby we see many and sundry shops within man's body, whereof every one hath his proper work about which it is busied, and such a nature as is agreeable to that work which GOD hath assigned unto it, who is the Creator and the workmaster, and effecteth al●nese works by his heavenly providence.  
Moreover, we have to note that the flesh generally serveth the whole body for matter of filling, to keep close all the members thereof, and namely all the bowels, and to fill all the 
diverse uses of the ●lesh.  spaces between them, as also to strengthen all those parts that are environed therewith, to the end they might not easily be shaken in pieces. It defendeth also all the members both against heat and cold. Likewise if any man fall, or lie down, it serveth him for a bolster or soft pillow, and for a shelter against bruises, and a defence against wounds, for a shadow against heat, and a gown against cold. And thus much I think sufficient to be known concerning this present subject. Now before we take any other matter in hand, we are to consider of the Kernels that are in the body, because of their excellent use and property, especially we are to consider of the Dugs, wherein appeareth a singular work of God, namely, in Women, as we may presently hear of ARAM.   

Of the kernels in the body, and of their sundry uses especially of the breasts of women, of their beauty and profit in nourishing of children, and of the generation of milk. Chap. 7.  
ARAM. He that should only stay in considering the lump and confused matter whereof man is daily made, he should see therein but a little slime, yea such vile corruption and rottenness, that a man would be even ashamed to name it. But as a painter with his colours and draughts of his pencil, giveth a form to that matter whereof he maketh his piece of work, and painteth limb after limb, and piece after piece: so the Lord giveth by little and little and by piece-meal to that confused mass and lump, such form and fashion as it pleaseth him to bestow upon it in that time which he hath appointed for that purpose: and, as he useth to do, beginning always at the lest and weakest part, and at that which is as it were nothing, he still continueth and increaseth his work until it be perfect and absolute.  
Likewise after we have considered of the lest and most earthy parts that are in the corruptible matter of the body, we will look into them that are more excellent, and then come to the contemplation of that immortal essence, which dwelleth in him. Therefore I will now go one with our matter Subject.  
Those parts of the body that are called Kernels (by reason of the similitude they have with nuts) are of two sorts, and have their use and commodity very great, especially in two respects. 
Two kinds of Kernels in the body.  For some are by nature more thick and dry, and serve to fasten the upper partition of the members and vessels of the body, to the end they should neither break or cleave. Therefore we have such Kernels in the neck, in the arm pits, in the groynes, and in those parts where the elbow and the ham bend, and in certain other parts. There are others not so thick by nature, and more spongy and moist, and full either of milk, or of seed●, or else of a phlegmatic and gluish humour. Now albeit all kinds of Kernels are given to the body to drink up the humours, and to moisten the other parts, nevertheless those that are of this latter kind, serve chief for the first use. We have such also to moisten all the parts of the mouth, and of the throat by the means of spittle, that so they may be kept from drought, and that thirst may be repelled and moderated. Likewise they are very serviceable to the life of man, in that they soak and drink up, as it were spoonges, the phlegm that descendeth from the brain, that it should not fall upon the lungs, or into the stomach, or upon other parts of the body, to the great damage and danger thereof, as it happeneth to such as are short breathed and in consumptions, and to them that are troubled with rheums. And as these serve in the mouth and throat for spittle, so there are many, and those very great ones in women's paps, especially when they have milk to the making whereof they serve, as also those that are in more secret parts which serve for seeds, namely to keep it, to dress it, and to prepare it for generation. Therefore it is that those kernels which are in the breasts of men and of young maidens are less and harder. We aught not here to pass over without 
The lest part in man full of admiration, & very profitable.  great admiration, the good temperature and disposition, which GOD hath made of the whole matter and form, and of all the parts and members of man's body, insomuch that there is nothing how little or vile soever, which is superfluous, which is not very commodious and profitable, and which is not wonderfully well applied and appropriated to such places as are most fit for it, and to those uses whereunto it aught to serve. For who would have thought that these kernels thus dispersed throughout the body, were so many ways serviceable unto it as we see they are? Yea we might here rehearse many more uses if we would speak more particularly of this matter, whereof we mean to speak but generally, as also of all the rest that concern the anatomy of the body, according to that end which we propounded to ourselves in the entry of our speeches, namely, to open a gap only to the consideration, first of the matter whereof man's body is compounded, and of the diversity thereof: then of that form which God hath given unto it: and lastly of the profit and use of both: to the end we might daily learn the better to know the great power, skill, wisdom, goodness and providence of him that hath created and disposed all things in so good order. 
Of the paps, and of their situation, and use.  But as touching that which we spoke of the paps, and of their substance, we have yet to consider of two points well worthy the noting, concerning the place where God hath seated them. First, they are there placed where they serve to shroud and to defend the noblest and most necessary parts for life that are in the breast, namely the heart and the lungs. For they are set before them to countergard and keep them, both from over great heat, and from excessive cold, and from many other inconveniences. And as they serve for heat of the heart, so their own heat is increased by reason they are so near the heart, whereby the milk that is engendered in them is the better baked. So that we see, that although GOD hath not given men paps for the generation of milk and nourishing of children, as women have, nevertheless they are not without profit, and use of them, as we have heard. Whereunto also we may add the beautifying of that part of the body where they are placed, especially in women Again, could they possibly be set in any place, that were more fit and more easy, both for Mothers and Nurses, and for the children to whom they give suck and nourishment? For if the mother be disposed to give her child suck, she hath this commodity to sit down if she will, to hold it in her bosom, and upon her knees, and likewise to embrace it in her arms, whether she sit, lie down, or stand: also she may carry it up and down whether she please, even whilst she giveth it suck, and feedeth it. This commodity is not granted to the females of beasts when they give suck and nourish their little ones with their teats. Wherein we have to mark one notable difference which GOD hath put between men and beasts. For beasts have no other care of their young ones, but only to nourish their bodies with food until they be able to feed and govern 
The diff●●en●e between the c●●e o● men & beast's ●u●r their little ones  themselves: afterward, both sire and dam and little ones forget one another, taking no more knowledge each of other, nor loving one another more than other beasts of their kind. But amongst men, both the father and the mother are carried with an affection towards their little children, which is the cause why they forget them not as beasts do. And as they love their children, so are they loved of them, insomuch that there is a mutual love proceeding from that natural affection which they bear one towards another. On the other side, this love causeth parents to let their children have instruction, that they may be wise and virtuous. And therefore it is not without good cause that women's paps are placed in the breast, namely, to to the end they should be unto them as signs and testimonies of the affection of the heart, and of that love which they aught to bear towards their children, whereof they aught to make them partakers aswell as of the milk of their breasts, and as if they gave unto them their heart, as they gave them their blood turned into milk. Likewise, children are by the selfsame means to be admonished of that mutual affection and love, which they aught to carry towards their mothers, as if they had sucked it out of their breasts, and from their heart together with their milk, that they may return the like 
A good lesson for children  unto them again. Wherhfore, mothers and children have a wise mistress in nature, and in the providence of God that appeareth therein, if they knew how to follow it well. Again, for this cause mothers aught to take greater delight in nourishing their own children, then in committing them into the hands of strangers and hired Nurses. For out of doubt, the mutual affection and love of each to other would greatly increase thereby. Now having spoken of the place which God hath assigned to the paps, let us consider his providence in their form, which is such, that fairer and more fit for that office of theirs could not be devised. For we see how they hung there in the breast of the mother and Nurse, as it were two bottles, having nipples and holes made fit for the infant's mouth, that he might take hold 
Of the form of the paps  of them, and draw and suck the milk that is within the dugs, which are filled presently after the child is borne, so that he is no sooner come into the world, but he hath such food and nourishment ready dressed as is meet for him.  
For albeit the infant bringeth his teeth with him from his mother's womb, yet because they are hid within the gums, and are not yet come forth, he must have such meat as needeth no chewing, but may be sucked, which GOD hath provided for him. Wherein we have a wonderful testimony of the care he hath over us, and what kind of Father and cherisher he is. For this cause David had good reason to say, Out of the mouth of babes and suckelings hast thou ordained strength, because of thine enemies. For if one consider the providence of 
Psalm. 8. 2.  GOD, which daily showeth itself over children only, there is no Atheist, Epicure, or other enemy of GOD so great, which shall not be confounded, convinced, and constrained, 
How children are f●d in their mother's belly  will he nill he, to give glory to God. For before children can speak, even from their mother's breasts, they show forth and preach the providence of GOD in providing milk for them. But we shall find it a mattrer of greater admiration, if we consider not only what manner they are nourished in their mother's womb. For there they are not sustained by the mouth, not with milk, as they are after birth, but with their mothers own blood received by the Navel, which is in the midst of the body. But GOD hath made such an agreement between the womb in which the little Child is nourished in his mother's belly, & betwixt her breasts, that that blood wherewith the Infant was fed before it was borne, presently after the birth ascendeth into her paps, in which, by reason of the abode it maketh there, it becometh white, and is so well heated and prepared that 
How & whereof milk is made.  it hath as convenient and pleasant a taste, as can be put into the infant's mouth. And as for the substance of the milk, there cannot be any that is more fit to nourish it or more natural, seeing it is the accustomed and usual sustenance: neither is there any difference, but only in that it is otherwise coloured, being somewhat changed in taste and savour, as also in this, that the infant receiveth it by an other passage than it did before. Wherhfore it is needful that it should have a convenient and pleasant taste for the mouth that receiveth it: as also it is very requisite that it should be of that colour which it receiveth in the paps. For it would be strange to see the infant draw blood from his mother's breast, to have his throat full of it, and his mouth bloody. All these things show well that the Prophets had good cause to say, that the mothers of little infants preach the praises of God's providence, and confounded his enemies. For when that food which God giveth to nourish them in their mother's womb can feed them no more there, it hath pipes whereby to retire to that place in which it may perform the same duty, and that so fitly, that if that blood which is turned into milk did descend, as it ascendeth by veins which pass from the womb to the breasts, the providence of GOD would not so manifestly appear as it doth.  
And therefore we see by experience, that so long as the child is nourished in his mother's womb, there is no milk in the breasts, but after it is borne, the blood that ran even unto the womb, ascendeth upward by the veins, making a good long journey before it come to the breasts. For these veins reach up hard to the throat on every side, insomuch that the 
How the milk is wrought & w●ited.  blood which they carry to the pap● ascendeth above the breasts, and then descendeth into them: to this end, that through the length of time wherein it abideth in the veins, it might have more leisure to be the better wrought, and to be turned into milk, & into that white colour which it receiveth. And the milk is to be made the whiter, not only through the abode which it maketh in the breasts, but also by the means of that kernelly flesh whereof they are compounded. For it is of a whitish colour, that it might give the same colour to the milk, whereof the paps are the vessels. So that here we may the better know (as we touched before) why GOD by his providence made the breasts of that matter and colour whereof they consist. Now we have further to note another point wherein God hath very well provided for the comfort of women, as it were a recompense for the pains and travail which they have both in the bearing and bringing up of their children, namely, that whilst a woman is with child, and giveth suck to her infant, she hath not her monthly and usual purgations, because her superfluous blood, and that which at other times is an excrement 
Whereof women milk is made.  and must be voided, is not then any longer a superfluous excrement, (if she be not otherwise evil affected in body by sickness) but is turned into the food of the child, whether she beareth it in her belly, or giveth it suck with her breasts. Wherein we see a marvelous work of God. For it is all one as if he turned poison or venom into good meat and nourishment yea into most dainty food, for the use of such a delicate mouth and tender nature as an infant hath that is newly borne. Further also we will note hear, that so long as the infant is in his mother's belly, it is nourished more like to a plant, then to those living creatures which receive their food by their throat. And yet after he is borne, he knoweth well wherefore his mouth serveth before ever he used it, without any other Master or Mistress to teach him this skill then the providence of God, which showeth itself also in other creatures in the like case, but not in such evident and excellent manner. We may say the like of the breath which the infant receiveth not in his mother's womb by his mouth, no more than the meat 
How and where an infant receiveth breath and food in the womb.  wherewith he is fed, nor yet by the nosethriles, which are more specially given to the body for that purpose, but by the navel which is appointed to be the pipe to convey both unto him before he be borne. But the discourse of this matter will fall out more fitly hearafter to be handled at large, when we shall speak of the natural and internal powers of the soul. Wherhfore it is time to finish the covering of our building, & so make an end of the speeches of this days work. Therefore it belongeth to thee ACITOB, to cover it with skin and hair, unless you think good first to tell us something of the fat that is found within the skin.   

Of the fat and skins of man's body and of their use, of the hairs thereof. Chap. 8.  
ACITOB. Hitherto our intent hath been, after speech had of man's creation, first to erect up his tabernacle, as it were a dry Anatomy, which is a body consisting only of bones. After we clothed it with sinews, muscles, ligaments flesh, & kernels, which serve it for agarment, or standeth in stead of mortar or plaster for the walls of a building For in this deifice of man's body, the bones occupy the place of stone, which must afterward 
A similitude.  be committed to the Mason to 'cause them to keep close together, every one in his place. But yet we have to white it over, which is the last covering, to make it fairer, better polished, and more perfect. For if we consider it only as hitherto it hath been set out unto us, we shall see it but as it were a frame not polished, nor made perfect without: or as it were a body without a skin, which is not very pleasant to sight. Therefore we will now put on the last garment, which covereth all the rest, namely the skin: but first a word of the fat which being within, is of great force ●o preserve and keep it.  
I will not stay hear to declare how and by what means the fat, as also the kernels and paps are made of the blood, because our principal scope is to show the providence of God in the use of all the parts of the body, leaving to the Physicians that which appertaineth to their office, touching the entire and perfect knowledge of the Anatomy of the body. Seeing then we are to speak of the fat that is found in the body, it serveth for the defence 
The uses of fat in the body.  and preservation of those parts that are covered therewith, not only against heat & cold, and other things that come from without, which might endamage those parts, but also to keep in natural heat the longer, by whose virtue concoction of meat (commonly called digestion) is made in the body. Likewise it is very profitable for those parts that are in greatest and most usual motion, to suppling and anoint them, as well to make them more nimble and ready to move, as to preserve them from drying, and so consequently from bruising and wasting, There is also in many places a certain humour which serveth to anoint the joints and their ligaments, and the seal ends of the gristles. For moisture helpeth motion very much, and preserveth those parts that are moved, as we see by experience in chariot wheels. For when the axaltrees are greased, about which they move, they do not only turn about more easily, but also last and continued longer: whereas although they were all of iron, yet they would wear away and be set on fire of thmeselues, if they were not anointed and moistened with some humour. Now let us come to consider of the covering of man's body. As therefore a man useth not one only garment, but divers, so is it with the body. For first he is clothed with three skins, that are great, long and large, with which he is covered clean over from the sole of the foot to the top of the head. The first is a 
Three skins o● the body The first skin hath no feeling nor blood.  little skin very thin, which of itself hath no feeling, being made of the second skin which it covereth: and this second skin is made of sinews, flesh and little veins, and in some places of little arteries, being as it were of a middle nature between the sinews and the flesh. Therefore this skin hath feeling throughout, and is not without blood as the first is. There is also a third skin under the second, which is more fleshy, and therefore it is thicker and more strong, unto which the Muscles cleave, and through which very thin arteries and productions of sinews pass, which tie it with the other skin. The fat of the body is between these two skins, which serve the whole body not only for a covering, but also for an ornament, especially those that are most without, which in men's bodies stand in stead of that skin wherewith the bodies of beasts are covered. Besides these three skins that cover all the body, there are within, many other particular skins of divers sorts, to cover the 
Of membranes and tunicles.  members that are there, which the Physicians call Membranes and Tunicles, with such other names agreeable to their Art, to distinguish them one from another according to each of their offices. For there are many in the head to cover, fold up, and to contain the inward parts thereof and of the brain: as also in the breast, and consequently in other parts & members within. Among the rest some are like to nets and coiffes, others resemble little sacks or bands, according as those members are which they are to cover, serving also for the defence unto them, and to distinguish and separate the parts one from an other. We will leave to the Physician to number and to distinguish them, and to name every one by their proper name: and now come to consider the last covering which is upon the body in certain places, especially upon the head, and that is the hair, which principally aboundeth in the head both in men and women, because it proceedeth out of a moist and soft place. And to the 
Of the hairs  end it might take the better root there, the skin that is underneath it, is very thick and fleshy. The profit of the hair is great, and serveth for many things. First, it is the ornament and beauty of the head. For as the face would be evil favoured and unsightly, if it were hairy, so contrariwise, the head would be very deformed if it were skinnelesse, where it is covered with hair, as we may judge by them that have bald heads. Therefore because it is the top of the building of man's body, God would have it adorned with such a covering: which also standeth him in so me stead to defend high brain, and to consume the grossest and most ●umy excrements, of which the hairs of the head are engendered, so that they are a kind of purgation for it. Besides, it serveth for a covering to the head, which it may use at pleasure, as need requireth, against both heat and cold. For it doth not always need to be alike covered at one time and in one age as at another. Therefore a man 
Good lessons for the grey headed.  may let them grow, or cut them, or shave them clean off, as is most commodious to every one. And when they wax grey and white through age, they put men in mind of two things. First, that they draw towards the grave and death, to the end they might in good time frame themselves thitherward, and if they have go astray in youth and forgotten. God that then at length they should bethink themselves, and consider that they are no more young, and that they must shortly dye: for although it be late, yet better late than never. But it is best to follow Salomons counsel, who admonisheth young men to remember God before the Almond three flourish, comparing an old man that is grey and white with age, to a blossomed tree, by reason of the whiteness of the flowers. For when a men flourisheth in 
Eccles. 12. ●5.  this sort, his flowers put him in mind that the tree of the body drieth up, and that it looseth his natural strength: whereas the flowers of trees are testimonies of the vigour that is yet in them to bear fruit. Therefore we are very miserable, if we do not glorify God in our youth, neither think upon any other life then this. For we come far short of the life of trees, and are not of so long continuance, neither are we yearly renewed as they are, which seeming to be dead in winter flourish and wax green in spring time, as if they become young again. Which thing we are not to look for in this world, wherein we flourish contrary to trees, namely in winter, which is our old age. Secondly, grey and white hairs warneth men to have such manners as becometh that age and colour, that they may make old age 
Prou. 20. 29. Levit. 19 32. Of the beard  reverent, according to that saying of the wise man. The glory of the aged is the grayhead. For such are these ancient men, whom God in his law commandeth to be honoured, when he saith, Thou shalt rise up before the horehead, and honour the person of the old man, and dread thy God. I am the Lord The same consideration also aught to be in the beard, which is a great ornament to the face, and serveth to distinguish the sexes, & otherwise the ages of men unto us unto whom they bring authority and majesty. For this cause the ancients did shave or poll their beards and hair in the time of mourning and affliction: so that when the Prophets denounced some great adversity and desolation, they foretold that every head should be bald and cut and shaven, and the beards in like manner as it appeareth in the Prophecy of Easie against Moab and such like, we read also that H●●un king of the Ammonites shaved of the half 
Easie. 15. 2. 2 Sam. 10. 4.  of the beards of David's messengers to bring them in derison, whereupon they would not show themselves openly to the people until their beards were grown. Concerning women's hair. Saint Paul testifieth expressly, that God hath given it unto them to admonish them of the subjection they own to their husbands, and of that power which they have over them, in token whereof they aught to have the head covered, especially in the assemblies of the 
Of women's hair.  Church. Therefore he saith, Every woman that prayeth or prophesieth bore headed, dishonoureth her head; for it is even on every thing, as though she were shaven. Therefore if the woman be not covered, let her also be shorn: and if it be shame for a woman to be pulled or shaven, let her be covered. And 
1. Cor 11. 5●  a little after: judge in yourselves, is it comely that a woman pray unto God uncovered? doth not nature itself teach you, that if a man have long hair, it is a shame unto him? But if a woman have long 
Ver. 13. 14 15  hair, it is a praise unto her: for her hair is given her for a covering. Wherein the Apostle laboureth chiefly to admonish women, that nature hath given to them longer hair then to men, and that it becometh them best to have it so, to the end they should keep their head● covered with some vail and honest covering, for the reasons declared by him, sending them to the school of nature to learn of her what modesty & honesty they aught to follow and 
The school of nature is the school of God.  to show in their hair. For indeed this school of nature is the school of God the creator of nature, in which he teacheth us by our own body, and by the nature thereof, what is convenient and honest for us. Therefore God hath not covered some parts of the body with hair for an ornament only, as the beard in men, and hair of the head, both in men & women, and for other causes whereof I have spoken, but also to admonish them to cover that, which they cannot discover without shame and villainy, whether it be by deed or word. Hereupon it is, that not only those parts of the body that are more honourable and noble, as the head and face, are adorned with hair to give them greater majesty, but also places more secret are covered therewith, to teach us, that the honour we own to them is to keep them covered and hid, and that they dishonour them greatly, and themselves also, who discover them not only by vile and shameless handling, but also by infamous and dishonest words, as many do, that always have filthy speeches of whoredom in their mouths. For that which is dishonest to be seen and to be discovered to the eyes, is also dishonest to be heard, and to be disclosed to the ears which we must keep, chaste, as likewise the eyes, the tongue, the mouth, and the heart. Therefore they that behave themselves otherwise, do as if they meant to despite God and nature, whom they will not follow as Mistress. Wherefore when Saint Paul sendeth women to the school of Nature to learn that lesson which is there taught them, he openeth unto us a great gap, whereby we may know what Mistress God hath given us in nature, and what instructions we may receive from her, if we can understand her, and have the wit to know, and to comprehend all that she showeth us, even in our own bodies and go no further into her school, considering that there is not so little as one hair therein, from which we cannot take instruction. How great then would the profit be, if we would consider as we aught, other things that are more excellent, and of greater importance? Now that we have raised up the frame of man's body from the foundation unto the very top, we must to morrow by the help of God in continuing our speech of the compound parts of the body, enter into the consideration of those goodly outward members wherewith the head is adorned, and of the senses of the body, unto which those serve as instruments. Therefore it belongeth to thee ASER to begin the handling of such an excellent matter.   
The end of the first days work   

The second days work.  

Of the bodily and external senses, especially of touching, of their members, instruments and offices. Chap. 9  
ASER. They that have the greatest knowledge in human Arts, although it be in natural Philosophy, are not therefore more happy than others, unless they have learned to join therewith the knowledge of divinity. For albeit they have greater understanding of the nature of things created by God, than other men that have not been conversant in such studies, yet all their skill, being blind in respect of true & eternal wisdom, will profit them nothing, but only to make them more guilty before God & worthy of greater condemnation, then if he had given them no more understanding than beasts have. And who knoweth not that the felicity ● sovereign Good of man, consists not in the knowledge of the creatures & of their 
Wherein true felicity consisteth.  nature, but in the knowledge of the Creator that made them? Therefore we should labour in vain to know ourselves, if it did not lead us to the knowledge of God: yea it would help us nothing at all, but to manifest more evidently our ingratitude towards his Majesty, & to aggravate, so much the more his just & fearful judgement upon our heads. Likewise we should reap little benefit by our careful inquiry into the matter & form of the frame of man, whereof we discoursed yesterday, if it served not unto us for an entrance into a deeper contemplation of the goodly works that appear outwardly therein, and of those corporal senses that have their seats and instruments in them. And all this knowledge would do us little or no good at all, if we were not led thereby to the understanding of the internal senses of the soul, unto which the former serve as messengers and ministers, as these latter do unto the mind and understanding, Therefore in following this order let us ascend step by step to those things that are most excellent: and although the eye of our mind should dazzle when we draw near unto them, yet we shall gain greatly, because those things are very great which draw nearest to perfection.  
Having before compared the composition of man's body to a building, and having raised up all the outward parts of it unto the very top, it remaineth now that we set on the gates and windows. When a man would signify that a house is very lightsome and hath air enough, we commonly say that it is well boared or pierced. Which may truly be spoken of man's body in respect of those outward members, which God hath fashioned in the 
Of the beauty that is in the face.  head, especially in the face, which he hath appointed for servants to the chief bodily senses, whose service also is afterward required for the spiritual and internal senses. It is in this part of our building and tabernacle, wherein God causeth the greatest beauty thereof to shine, I mean in the face, which as it were an Image of goodly, orient, and lively colours, enriched with many excellent works, not only in regard of the skin and painting, but also of the form, and of so many goodly and pleasant members as are ornaments unto it: yea, which are so necessary, that without them all the rest as it were unprofitable, neither could they preserve and keep themselves.  
I speak not yet of those parts that are hidden, and contained within the head, but only of those members which appear outwardly, which are in such wise disposed every one in his place, that albeit they be not far distant one from another, yet the near joining of them together doth not 'cause them one to hinder the office of another, notwithstanding their diversity, as we see evidently, and shall know more at large by the sequel of our speeches. Hereby doth God admonish us how we aught to behave ourselves one toward an other, 
A good instruction for every one.  and devil every man within his bounds and limits, not setting one upon an other, and not encroaching upon any thing that is our neighbours. For as there is space and room enough in the head for all the senses and members that are there, and the like in the rest of the body for all the members whereof it is compounded, by reason of the good order, concord and consent that is amongst them: so the earth and the world is big enough, and hath goods enough for all, if we had skill and could bear one with another, and be content every one with his estate and office, and with those gifts which we have received from God, as members of one and the same body. If this good accord and consent were amongst us, a little place would please us: but if we do otherwise, all the world will not be great enough to suffice us. No rivers, seas, or mountains will be sufficient to keep us within our bounds and borders. Therefore let us learn of the senses and members of our body, what rule we aught to keep one with another. The bodily senses, which God hath given to man to be ministers and messengers to the spiritual senses of the mind, are five in number: namely, the 
Five corporal senses.  sight, hearing, smelling, taste, and touching. To all the members and instruments of these senses, which shall be hereafter declared unto us, the faculty of sense is generally given by the sinews, which have their original from the brain, as we have already touched. So that hereby we see what is the dignity and excellency of the head, seeing God hath placed therein the fountain and spring not only of all the senses, but also of all the motions of the body, which are wrought by means of the sinews. For we must know, that four things are required 
Four things required in bodily senses.  in the office and use of the bodily senses. The first is the power and virtue of the soul, which giveth sense by the animal spirit guided by the sinews. The second is the instrument being well applied and made fit for his use and office, by which the soul effecteth her work. The third is that thing that is to be perceived by sense, about which the soul exerciseth her office. The fourth is the mean or way, which receiveth the object of the sensible quality, and carrieth it to the instrument. As for example: If the question were of sight, first there must be this power and virtue of seeing in the soul. Next, the eyes is necessarily required thereunto: for it is the proper instrument appointed to receive light. Than there must be light, without which all things are covered with darkness and made invisible. For although the eyes by nature are partakers of light, yet that which they have naturally, & which they carry within themselves, will afford them as small light as if they had none at all, except they receive a greater light that cometh from the heavens, or from some lightsome body, as from fire, or from a candle lighted, as we see by experience in the night time. Lastly, the mean or middle way is of necessity required, by which the light is to be brought and communicated with the eye, and that is the air, through which it passeth, as through a glass or crystal or such like bodies, which are not so thick that they keep back the light from piercing through them. For if there be nothing between them, I mean between the eye and the light, and those colours which it must be hold, it can not apprehended and perceive them. The like is to be said of the senses of hearing, smelling, and tasting, as we shall understand better, when we speak of them here after particularly. But as for the sense of touching, it is most earthy of all the rest. Therefore it agreeth with the earth, and is common 
Of the sense of touching  to all the parts & members of the body that have sense, although it be more or less in some places then in others. This sense is given to the body to discern the first qualities by, namely, hot, cold, moist, and dry, from others that accompany them, as heavy, and light, hard, and soft, sour, and sweet, thick and thin: which are compounded qualities, taken from the four first, as also corporal things are made or the four elements. Concerning greatness, figures, members, motion, and rest, they are common to many of the senses. Thus much for the sense of touching, from which the rest do differ, in that every one hath his proper sense, which is not communicated with any other. For only the eyes see, the ears hear, the nose breatheth, the tongue and palate taste. And here we have to consider the great providence of God in many points. First, forasmuch as the body cannot live without the sense of 
No body can 〈◊〉 ●●●●out 〈◊〉 ●●●se of ●ou●ning.  touching, which hath for the object the elementary qualities, it is given to all living creatures in every part of the body, to the end, that thereby they might know according to the proportion of the qualities, what is profitable or hurtful to their bodies in the participation of these qualities, and so eschew more easily that which might hurt them. But men have this sense chief in the ends of their fingers, that touching slightly with them, they might make the first trial of all qualities. For if they feel that the thing which they touch is too hot, or cold, or that there is some other excess in the quality which might hurt them, they are admonished thereby to the end that by a very little hurt, they might avoid a greater. For a man may better cheap feel a little grief and that very lightly in the end of one finger, or of many, then in a whole member, or in all the rest of his body. Besides, God hath further provided for this sense, in that it is not so sharp to feel suddenly and to the quick, as the sight or hearing, to the end the body should receivelesse damage by that which it toucheth if it be hurtful for it. Now the eyes, because they do not touch that which they see, nor the ears that which they hear, therefore they cannot be so damnified, as the residue of the members may, which feel not except they touch.  
Moreover, we have yet to note the providence of God herein, that amongst the members 
Some members of the body absolutely necessary to life.  given by him to the body, he hath created some of that nature, that a man can in no w●se live without them: and others so, that albeit they be not necessary for life, yet he can not live at his ease, and not receive great work if he want them. The members of the first sort are, the brain, the heart, the lungs, the liver, the spleen, the stomach, and such like, that are the seats of the animal, vital and natural virtues, without which there could be no stay of life. For after these members are hurt or perished, farewell life. The other sort are the eyes, the ears, the nose, the tongue, the feet, the hands and suchlike. For although a man lose some or many of these members, yet he doth not therefore lose his life, but he shall surely feel the detriment, which such a loss bringeth upon him. And as we commonly say, that the Ox knoweth not the value of his horn until he have lost it, so we may with great reason say, 
A proverb.  that no man knoweth of what value the parts of his body are until he want them, or until they be so hindered that they cannot fulfil their office. Wherhfore we aught to pray to God to preserve them for us whilst we have them, and give him thanks because he hath not created us lame or maimed of any member. And when we see any that were borne without them, or that have lost them since, we aught to be so much the more stirred up to glorify him, acknowledging it to come from his grace in that he hath dealt better with us then with them, although we have deserved no more than they. Now because we do not so neither have this consideration as we aught, to give him thanks, and to use them to his honour and glory, therefore he depriveth us of them many times, to punish this ingratitude, and to 'cause us to know better the value of these gifts, after they are taken from us, and that we have lost them, seeing we could not know it whilst we had them, nor yet him that gave them unto us. And by the same means also he would admonish and put us in mind of the damage, we receive by the defects of our soul, by those which we feel by experience in our bodies. Whereupon we have an other goodly point of the providence of God to note, in that he hath given us almost all double members, without which we could not live but with 
An other point of God's providence.  great pain & trouble: to the end that if we lost one we might yet use the other, & in some sort supply the loss of that which is wanting. For this cause he did not created only one eye, or one nosethril, one ear, one arm, one hand, one leg, or one foot, but twain. This aught to be well considered, that we might have the better knowledge of the care that God hath over us, seeing he hath so well provided for all things, that he will not only have us to live, but also furnish us with all necessary things, whereby we might live more commodiously, more easily, and with less pain and trouble. And when it falleth out, that some one of these members or both are wanting, God supplieth this defect by marvellous means. For sometimes we see that maimed folks have done many things with their feet, or with their neck and head, that others could hardly do with their hands: at leastwise they have done things without hands, that would seem altogether incredible to such as have not seen them. And many times we see dumb men, whose hands stand them in stead both of tongue and ears. 
The hands sometimes stand in stead of the tongue and ears.  For by the signs and gestures of their hands they signify their meaning to others, as if they themselves did speak: and understand the mind of others that make the like signs. Yea, there are some that conceive what others say unto them, only by seeing them open and move their lips, so that we must needs acknowledge it as a miracle of God. Now having spoken generally of the senses of the body, and specially of touching, as also of their members and instruments, we must come to their particulars. Therefore AMANA, thou shalt discourse unto us first of the eyes, which are as it were the principal windows of this building which we have undertaken to pourtraite and set forth.   

Of the eyes, and of their excellency, profit, and use: of the matter and humours whereof they are made. Chap. 10.  
AMANA It hath always been the opinion of the Stoick● and Academics, that the bodily senses did rather ●●nder then help to obtain wisdom: that no man could know 
The opinion of Stoics and Academics.  or understand any thing: that the senses were feeble and slow: that sensible things were so small, that they could not be perceived: or else so subject to motion, that no certainty could be found in them: that our life is short, and full of opinions and customs: that all was compassed about with darkness, and ●id: and therefore that nothing could be perceived or understood, so that men were to profess that they would affirm or approve, of nothing. Plato writeth in many places, that we must believe nothing but the understanding, which beholdeth that that is simple and uniform, and as it is indeed: and that there is no science, 
In Phaed. & in Tim.  but only in those reasons & discourses, which the soul maketh when it is not troubled with bodily lets, as with sight, and hearing, or with grief and pleasure. Eusebi●ss disputing against 
14. de Praepar. evang. c. 7.  this, showeth that the senses help much towards the obtaining of wisdom: and that when they are rightly affected, and in their natural habit, they never deceive the mind that is attentive. But we shall know more at large what their profit is by continuing our discourses of the instruments of the senses.  
Let us know therefore, that the eyes were given of God to men to 'cause them to see, and to 
Of the ●i●ss and of their use.  be as it were their watchtowers and sentinels, the guide's and leaders of the whole body: as also they are as it were the chief windows of the body, or rather of the soul, which is lodged within it. For it is a most excellent work of God, whether we consider the matter whereof they are made, and how diverse or agreeable it is to the office that is assigned them: or the beauty that is in their form, and in the diversity of their colours: or the commodity and use of their motions, and how they are set in their places, as it were goodly precious stones laid in some curious piece of work: and how they are environed and armed both above and beneath, on the right hand and on the left, with the eyelids, and the eyebrows, not only for their protection and defence, but also to adorn, & to make them show more beautifully. And surely it is not without cause that God hath put such great excellency in them, & hath created & framed them so artificially. For first, they are the chiefest members of all the bodily senses, whose nature approacheth nearer to the nature of the soul and spirit, than any other, by reason of the similitude and agreement that is between them. Therefore by good right they 
The eyes draw nearest to the nature of the soul.  bear rule among all the senses, and all the other members of the body, as being their guides. For they are given to man chief to guide and lead him to the knowledge of God, by the contemplation of his goodly works, which appear principally in the heavens and in all the order thereof, and whereof we can have no true knowledge & instruction by any other sense but by the eyes. For without them who could ever have noted the divers course and motions of the celestial bodies? yea we see by experience, that the Mathematical sciences, among which Astronomy is one of the chiefest, cannot be well and rightly showed and taught, as many others may, without the help of the eyes: because a man must make their demonstrations by figures, which are their letters and images. I pass over many other Sciences, as that of the Anatomy of man's body and such like, which are very hard, yea impossible to be learned and known certainly unless they may be seen with the eye. Wherhfore seeing the bodily senses are the chiefest masters of man, in whose house the spirit and understanding is lodged and enclosed, the greatest and first honour is by good right to be given to the eyes and sight. Likewise it is the first Mistress that provoked men forward to the study and searching 
Sight is our first mis●●sle.  out of science and wisdom. For of sight is engendered admiration and wondering at things that are seen: and this admiration causeth men afterward to consider more seriously of things, and to mark them better: and from thence it is that men fall to inquire of matters more carefully, and to sound them deeper. In the end they come to the study of science and wisdom, which is the knowledge of supernatural light, namely of the light of the mind, unto which, science and doctrine is as light is to the eye, so that it contemplateth and museth by that, as the eye seethe by light. Therefore we have to note, that it hath pleased God the creator of all things to scatter his light throughout the whole world, and over all creatures as well spiritual and invisible, as corporal and visible. His spiritual light he hath infused into spiritual creatures, and bodily light into bodily creatures, to the end that by this benefit the spirits might have understanding, and the eyes sight. So that Angels and the spirits of men, which are spiritual and invisible creatures, are illuminated by the means of 
Of spiritual eyes and spiritual light.  understanding, with that spiritual and heavenly light whereof God hath made them partakers: as the bodies of living creatures, and chief of man are illuminated with the corporal light of the Sun by means of the eyes. For as bodies have their hodily eyes, so spirits have their spiritual eyes. For that understanding wherewith God hath induced them, is unto them as the eyes are to the body. Wherhfore by that they see God, who is their heavenly Sun, and the fountain of all divine and spiritual light, as bodily eyes behold the material sun, wherein as in a fountain God hath placed corporal light, which he would have us see and know by means of the eyes: which we aught to acknowledge as a great benefit. For the light is a work of God worthy of great admiration, which discovereth and showeth to us a great part of nature, and is unto us in stead of an image of the best and most 
What the light is.  excellent natures, which without doubt are lights and shining natures. Neither could any man possibly express in words or teach in any sort what the light is which showeth all other things, and what is the beauty and excellency thereof, unless the eyes did behold & know it, and distinguish it from darkness. For by means of the eyes we may judge what our life would be, if it were buried in perpetual darkness, or if man had no instrument to apprehended and to receive the light when it shineth. Therefore as God hath created the light to discover and show all things by it, so he hath given eyes to man, whereby he may apprehended and receive it. To this end he hath made them of a matter that is partaker of light, & meet to receive it, that by the agreement of nature that is between them & the light, they might enjoy it, and by the self same means they might be messengers to the mind to induce and lead it to the consideration of the divine light, whereof corporal light is a very small resemblance: and hereby also the mind might know that God, who dwelleth in a light that none can 
1. Tim. 6. 16.  attain unto, is a marvelous light, as holy men know by experience when he showeth himself unto them. For as the eye is like to a glass that receiveth the Images of things offered unto it, so God imprinteth Images of himself in our mind as in a glass. Wherhfore as a glass cannot receive any Image, but of such things as are set before it: so the image of God cannot shine nor be imprinted in the mind of man, unless he always set God before his eyes, that he may receive his Image. And as the eye is illuminated by the beams that proceed from the Sun, so the mind is illuminated by the brightness of the divine light, in which we consider the Father in the unity of the god head, as the spring and fountain of all light, and the Son, as the beams & brightness engendered thereof, and the holy Ghost, as a flame proceeding from it, which causeth the eye of the mind to receive it, and to be made partaker thereof. We see then how our eyes together with the light admonish us of great things, of most excellent works of God, and of great secrets of spiritual & heavenly things, whose images he hath imprinted in the light & in our eyes, to the end, that by these corporal & visible images, we may have some knowledge of those things whereof they are images, which cannot be seen & perceived with corporal senses, but only with the spiritual senses of the soul. Wherefore we aught greatly to praise God for his goodly gift, both of the light & of the eyes, which cannot sufficiently be valued. For although it did us no more service than it doth to brute beasts, namely to guide & lead us in this corporal life, yet we aught seriously to acknowledge the excellency of so great a gift of God, & how profitable & necessary it is for us. But there is a great deal more in it, by reason of the mind and understanding which God hath 
The difference betwixt sight of men and of beasts.  given to the spirit and soul of man, as it were spiritual eyes, to the end there might be an agreement and proportion between them and the eyes of the body. For the eyes declare to the mind what they see, that it might take knowledge thereof: so when the mind hath seen with spiritual eyes those images that are offered unto it by the bodily eyes, it causeth them to see a great deal more clearly, than the eyes of brute beasts do. For because they want minds, and understanding, their eye sight pierceth no further than unto those corporal things which they behold. Wherefore when they see the light of the Sun, they only prepare themselves to be guided by it, & never consider or look any further. But man, if he be not altogether brutish as beasts are, stayeth not there, but passing further he considereth the beauty of the sun, and those great benefits which it bringeth with it. And being ascended so high by the means of corporal light, he ascendeth even to the spiritual & divine light, and to God, who is the eternal and infinite Sun. Man also hath so much the more knowledge of the nature of corporal light, and the effects thereof, & hath also so much the more celestial & heavenly light whereof bodily light is an image, as his mind is illuminated by the word & spirit of God. For otherwise men see little clearer and not much farther by the light of the body, than brute beasts do. Moreover we made mention in our former speech of 4, things requisite to see by: which also are to be used in the other senses I will only add a little of the fourth thing, which is of the mean that receiveth the object of the sensible quality, & beareth it to the instrument. If those bodies that are set before our eyes, are so thick by nature that the light cannot pierce through them, than doth the light appear upon them, but not in so great measure, nor so clear as in the air & in other bodies, as in glass, crystal or such like that are not so thick, that they will hinder the light from piercing through them. This part of light that is upon thick bodies, is called colour, which is of divers sorts, according to 
Of colours and of their nature variety, and use.  the mixture of light & darkness that is in them. For first there are 2. kinds of simple colours, by mingling of which together all other colours are compounded. The one is white, which hath most light in it of all others, & therefore will take any other colour. Than there is black colour, which hath least light in it: and therefore, it will take no other colour. Now according as these 2. kinds of colours are mingled together, all other colours, being infinite in number, are compounded, taking their diversity & difference, as they have more white or black mingled in them. For this cause some are read, others yellow, these green, those ski-colour, others 
All compound colours made of black and white mingled.  grey, or blue, or tawny. In a word, it would be a difficult matter, yea impossible to rehearse all their differences & varieties. But God showeth himself yet more wonderful in the diver fity that is seen even in one kind of colour. For let us consider in a meadow or garden all the herbs, trees, & plants that are there with leaves & flowers, & we shall see no green in any one of them, which differeth not in some thing from the green of another kind, although they be white, or black, or, red, or yellow, or azare, or of any other colour, we shall not found one that differeth not in something from others of the same colour, but of a divers kind. So is it with divers feathers and colours of birds, amongst which there are such sundry colours, that a man can not tell what certain name to give them: as for example, we see about the neck of a Ringdove. And although Painter's endeavour as much as lieth in them to counterfeit all these diversities in their paintings mingled with many colours, and howsoever, as followers of nature, they come very near her, yet they can never approach so near as to be able to represent 
Nothing seen but by colours.  any colour so lively as she brings it forth. Now if the eyes were not capable of light, they could not see any colour, nor discern one from another: and if they could not see colours, they should see nothing. For nothing can be seem but by means of colours, no more than it may be seen without light, of which those are made. And as the eyes can not well see if they have not as much light as is needful for them: so if they have two much, and more than they want, they will see a great deal less: or if it be very great, they will be dazzled, and as it were blind. Therefore it must be dispensed unto them by just measure and proportion according to their capacity: and then through the reflection of those things which it discovereth unto them, it imprinteth their images in them, as the image of a ring is imprinted in sealed wax. Now having spoken of the principal use of our eyes, if I should enter into a more particular consideration of their nature, I know not almost at which end to begin. For there is nothing in the matter of which they are made, or in their form, composition and use, how small soever it be which is not able to cast all men into great admiration. For first, if you ask after their matter, they are compounded of three sorts of humours, of which the one is like to water, the other to glass melted, or to the white of an egg, and the third to ice or crystal: and therefore they 
Of the matter & humours of the eyes.  take their names of those things which they resemble. Concerning the Crystalline humour, it is not so thin, but more firm than the other twain, much like to wax melted. Nevertheless it is a great deal more clear and more glistering than both the other: so that there is the same difference between these three humours, and that which may be seen through them, which is between crystal glass, and water, and that which a man may see through them. The Crystalline humour is given to the eye to impart light unto it, therefore it is in the eye, as it were a little round crystal glass, very glistering. And although the other twain 
Of the crystalline humour.  are very bright, so that the light may pass through them, as it were through water and glass yet they have no light of themselves, as the crystalline humour hath, which could not receive that light which it doth from without, if of itself it were not partaker of light, and if by that participation which it hath, there were not in it a natural agreement with the other. The other twain are joined unto it not only to nourish and moisten it, that it dry not to fast, but also to help to preserve it, and to moderate the vehemency both of those spirits and colours that might hurt it. Now because these humours are liquid and soft, they had need of fit vessels to keep every one in his place appointed, for the executing of their office. The crystalline humour is in the midst of the other twain, because it is the 
How the humours are placed.  glass of the eye, which receiveth the light, and the images of those things that by the ●ight are disclosed unto it. Therefore it hath behind it that which resembleth melted glass, or the white of an egg, which is not altogether so soft and liquid, as the other before that resemble water. Thus hath God disposed them according to that natural conveniency which is between them, that they might be so knit one to another, as is meetest both for them, and their uses. And being all joined together, they serve to fill up that hollow place within which the eyes are enclosed, so also the other parts, and namely the fat, whereof they are well provided, serveth not only to fill up voided room, but also is appointed to this end, that the eyes might rest them more at ease, & be moistened the better. In all which things great wonders of God's providence appear most clearly: namely, in this, that the humours are so distinguished, 
How Gods providence appeareth in the eyes.  every one keeping his place without mixture or confusion, as also in this that the crystalline humour, which is partaker of light & which aught to receive it, is so well compassed about & fortified on all sides. For this cause it is more firm than the other, that it might both keep & distribute better the light which it receiveth, & also preserve itself, & help the other humours that are joined unto it, which being as it were Nurses unto it, do in like manner help it again. Moreover, we are greatly to marvel at the providence of God, in considering the coats and skins of the eyes, their form and motions, their divers colours, and the sinews whereby they receive sight: the discourse of which matters, I lay upon thee, ARAM.   

Of the tunicles and skins of the eyes: of their form and motions: of their sundry colours: of the sinews whereby they receive sight, and of other parts about the eyes. Chap. 11.  
ARAM. If we would stand to consider of all those things that are worthy of admiration, but in one eye only, aswell in respect of the matter, as of the form, and means whereby they receive the virtue of seeing, and perform their duty, as the Physicians show these things in an Anatomy, a man might make a very great book thereof, as likewise of all the other members. For there is no member so little, wherein there is not most exquisite art, and wherein a man may not see marvelous works of God's providence, so that I should be wonderfully abashed to see any Physician prove an Atheist, if he have never so little knowledge of the nature of man's body, and of the composition and Anatomy of the parts of it, were it not that God punished them with the like judgement that he hath done other great Philosophers, whom he casteth into a reprobate sense, because through pride and ingratitude, they abuse that knowledge of natural things, which he hath given them. Let us learn therefore to know the Creator by the knowledge of the creatures, and let us look upon the worke-master in the excellency of his works. And now to this end, according to our intent, let us with the eyes of the mind, behold the eyes of the body, seeing they looking upon all things, yet cannot see themselves.  
Now as we have perceived, that God hath disposed the matter and humours of the eyes according to that office whereunto he hath assigned them so he hath appointed tunicles or coats which are little skins, in which they are contained as it were in their vessels, and compassed 
Of the tunicles and skins of the eyes.  about with them as it were with little bands, to keep them united and close together, and to preserve them, that they move not forth, and run out, and withal to be unto them azure defence. These skins according to their offices and uses are disposed one after another, and interlaced between the humours of the eyes, according to that agreement of nature which they have, both amongst themselves, as also with those humours which they serve & which in like sort serveth them, to the end that neither the one nor the other should easily receive hurt. And among those five several tunicles, which there are of them, according as the Physicians and Anatomists distinguish them one is very slender, like to a small spider's web, or to a very little fine white skin, that is between the parts of an onion. Than there 
Five tunicles.  is another that is like to a little thread: and the third resembleth in colour the stone of a red grape, I mean the outward side of it. They are named by the Grecians and Latins according to the similitudes and likeness of those things which they resemble. But the chiefest, strongest, and hardest of them is like to a slender and clear horn, I mean that horn whereof Lanterns are made, but that it is not so hard and thick by a great deal: and by reason of the similitude which it hath with horn, it is called by the same name. This hath God created in this sort, both that it might be a stronger defence to all the humours of the eyes, and 
A testimony of God's providence.  also that it might serve for the light which they are to receive, through which it shineth, as the light that is in a Lantern besides the horn of which it is made. There is yet another white skin, which serve to keep in the whole eye unto the head, in the place assigned for it: and this is the first, as that like the spider's web is the last, and then the other are placed between these in the same order that I have named. Herein appeareth the work of God, namely his providence is to be well marked in this, that he hath not placed the eyes so far out 
Of the form● of the eye.  in the face and head, as he hath done the nose, ears, and lips, but more inward as it were in holes and little dens, by reason of the humours whereof they are compounded, to keep them so much the more fast and close together, because they are liquid. Therefore they are shut up in their holes, as the water of a Well is in that place where it is gathered together. For this cause the Hebrews often use the selfsame word to signify both the eyes and fountains. Next, God hath created them of a round form, both because it is the fairest, most seemly and most perfect, as also because it is most movable, and easiest to turn and return on every side, as the office of the eye requireth. For seeing they are given to man, and to all creatures for the direction of the whole body, and of all the members thereof, they aught not to be sofastned in the place where they are, that they can never look but one way, nor stir themselves on any side. Therefore God hath appointed to every eye seven muscles, both to keep them firm and steady, as also to 'cause them to remove and turn upward and downward, on the right hand and on the left, crosswise and round. And as the round 
Of the muscles of the eyes.  form is most perfect, so it is most fit for the office of the eyes, to the end they may see all things better, and comprehend all sorts of shapes better than if they were flat, or hollow, or square, or of some other fashion beside round: as a man may judge by the diversity of looking-glasses, and of their figures and make, according to the variety of which, they represent diversly those things whose images they receive. Now because man, as also all other creatures go forward, and not backward or sidewise, there God hath not placed the eyes either in the hinder part of the head, or on any side thereof, but before. And although the eyes be movable and made to turn on every side, yet they never turn clean backward, but only sidewise, so far as they can see and behold well. For they have nothing to look upon within the head, but only without. Therefore they have this advantage beside, that being set in that place which is assigned unto them in the head, they may turn from one part to another, and see, not only on the right hand and on the left, but also behind, by that motion which the head hath from his sinews by means of the neck: which motion the head should not have, if it were seated upon the shoulders without a neck: and this is another commodity of the neck, whereof we spoke not before.  
Now before we go any further in the discourse of those parts that are about the eyes for their defence and preservation, it shall be good for us to consider here of the goodly painting, and variety of colours that are in them. For first we have a white colour, which covereth the greatest part of the eye: next that goodly small circle, which is round about the eye: then the apple of the eye, which the Hebrews call the daughter of the eye, being in the midst of it, as it were a little glass, wherein a man may always see some image, as it were in a glass when one looketh into it. This little circle is called by some a Crown, and by others a Rainbow, because of the diversity of colours that are seen in it: which are not all alike in all men. For some have this circle more black, others more grey, others more yellow, or more red Moreover, besides the sinews of those muscles that are given to the eyes to move them every way, each of them hath one proper unto itself, whereby the life and virtue of seeing ● communicated unto it from the brain, by means of the soul that giveth life to all the body. Therefore these sinews differ from all the rest, in that they are not solid, but hollow within, like to little water pipes, to carry unto the eyes the spirits of sight, which are as it were 
Of the usual sinews.  a little flame of light, whereby they receive from the brain, life and virtue of seeing.  
Next we are to consider how God hath placed them near the nose, to the end they may purge also by that on each side, aswell as the other humours of the brain. Therefore there are kernels hard by them in the head, which serve both to moisten and to water them according as they have need, by reason of their burning nature and perpetual motion, and 
The use of the ke●ne●ss ne●re the eyes.  also to retain and soak in humours, lest they should descend and fall down upon them two fast, and so hurt them. Besides this commodity, the nose in his place is unto both the eyes instead of bulwarks, and so also are the bones which close them in on every side, and balls of the cheeks, which are higher than the holes of the eyen, that they also might serve to defend them. Moreover. God hath further armed them with eye lids, which serve them both for ornament, and are also instead of gates unto them, having muscles to open and to shut them, either wholly or in part as need shall require, both for sight, for sleeping and waking, and for defence. And besides the eyebrows wherewith God hath covered them above the lids, there are little baires growing at their brims, which God hath not given in 
Of the ●●●●●ss and of their hairs.  vain. For first, they serve to direct the beams of the sight, that they may see more directly: next they serve for defence against little flies, against dust, moats, and other small things that might enter in, and trouble them. Moreover, they serve for ornament, as it were some pretty border round about them. And because the hairs of the eyeliddes have another office than those of the eyebrows, therefore they are otherwise disposed: for they are not so thick, nor mingled one within and above another, as the hair of the eyebrows are, but 
The use of the eyebrows.  they are ranged and set all in rank, even orderly one by another. And as for the eyebrows they do not only serve to set forth the eyes, that their beauty may the better appear, but also to defend them against the rain, against the sweat of the head and forehead, and other things that might descend and fall upon them if they had not this to stay them. And to this purpose we see the agreement which they have with the nose on each side, and how the providence of God hath made them like to a half a circle, or a half moon, or a little arch, or else after the fashion of a little penthouse, to the end that the sweat and rain might have an easy course and descend on both sides, and not run into the eyes. And because they should not hinder instead of helping, God hath created them of that nature, that they grow not like the hair, beard, or nails, but continued always at one stay. What then will those women say for themselves, who take so great pains in twitching and plucking off the 
Against the ●ride of women.  hair of the eyebrows, to the end they should not be so thick or great as nature hath made them. For they think it greater beauty when they are shorter and thinner. But in this, as in all their paintings and pranking they do not only lift up themselves against nature, as though they would work her a spite, but also behave themselves as if of set purpose they meant to reproach God for creating them as he did. Now in speaking of the eyes, let us beware that we be not so blind, as that we cannot see that thing by them, which they teach us, or take no heed of that which they show unto us. For the consideration of one of them alone, or of one eyelid or browlidde only, aught to teach us to open and to lift them on high that they may search out & contemplate him that created, them & hath given them unto us 
Psal. 94. 9  even to him who saith, I that form the eye, shall not I see? Therefore we aught to be afraid, lest our eyes be given unto us as judges, to convince us of our ingratitude towards God their and our Creator, and to condemn us. For there are but too many miracles to be seen of of his almighty power in their creation, and too many witnesses of his providence towards us, to make us more than ashamed and confounded. We have yet another point to be noted touching their situation, which causeth a certain proportion and agreement to be between 
Of the proportion between the heavens and he head.  the heavens and the head, and between the eyes of the great and little world, and those of the body and soul. For it is most certain, that they could not be placed more conveniently, then in the highest part of all the body, as it were in the highest tower, seeing they are to serve all the other members in place of Warders and Watchmen, and of guides and leaders. Therefore Solomon had reason to call them the Looker's out by the windows. For the holes of the head in which they are placed as it were Looking glasses, are their windows 
Eccles. 12. 3.  through which they see and behold. We may also say as much of the appl● of the eye, which looketh within this little circle, as it were by a window. For this cause, as God hath placed the sun, moon, and all the rest of the lights above in the heavens: so he would that there should be some proportion between the heavens and the head of man, and between those goodly lights above named, and the eyes that are created to receive light from them, and to be that in man who is the little world, which the sun, moon, and other lights of heaven are in this great universal world. Therefore for as much as the eyes are as it were the images of these goodly bodies and celestial glasses, they occupy the highest place in this body of the little world, as the lights do in the great body of the world, whereof they are as it were the eyes, to give it light on every side. For this cause also the eyes are more fiery, and have more agreement with the nature of fire, than any other member that belongeth 
The eiesdraw nearest to the nature of fire  to the corporal senses. And as they are in a high place, so they are admonished thereby of the place unto which they aught to look, according to that which David saith I lift mine eyes to thee that dwellest in the heavens. In all these things we see a goodly harmony and agreement 
Psal. 123. 1.  between the great and the little world, the like whereof we shall also find between the world and the spiritual heaven, whose sun and light is God, and between the eyes of the soul and of the mind. Therefore jesus Christ said very well, The light of the body is the eye: if then thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be light: but if thine eye be wicked then all thy body shall be dark. Wherhfore, if the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness. So that the 
Math. 6. 22. 23  eyes being as it were the lantern, lamp and flame of the whole body, they could not have a more apt place, or more convenient for their nature, then that where God hath placed them The like also may be said of the spiritual eyes of the soul and of the mind. For God hath lodged the understanding & reason in the brain of m●, as it were in a high tower, in which it aught to reign as a Queen and Princess, and guild under her laws all the affections & ctions of men, as eyes guide all the members of the body. And when God, who is the Sun & light of the world, and of the spiritual heaven, reacheth out his beams to these eyes of the 
The agreement between the eyes of the soul & those of the body.  soul by his eternal Son and giveth them life, vigour and virtue by his spirit, then is the mind well lightened, and then doth she happily and to her proper end direct all the parts of the soul. Now for the conclusion of our speech, seeing we have spoken largely enough of the eyes of the body, and of their nature, beauty, and excellency, and what goodly images of the spiritual eyes they represent unto us, let us yet a little better acknowledge the greatness of their Workmaster, by considering apart the matter whereof they are made, I mean by itself and without the workmanship: as if we should now behold their substance without that disposition and form which he hath given them. What is an eye plucked out of the head but a little clay and mire? as indeed it is the matter whereof it is made. Now what a wonderful ●hing is it, that God hath so appropriated it, as to make such a goodly piece of work thereof and such a fair instrument for the serucie of men? And therefore our Saviour jesu● Christ meant to represent this divine work, when he made the blind to see by putting clay upon his eye●. Let us therefore use their sight, which is such an excellent gift of God, to behold his works, and those goodly images of the divine nature, which on every side, and continually 
john. 9 6.  are before our eyes: and let us beware that we feed them not with the sight of profane and dishonest things, lest they serve to poison the mind and soul, whereas they aught to become messengers, to declare unto it honest & healthful things. For he that doth otherwise is worthy to have, not only his bodily eyes put out, & plucked out of his head but also the eyes his of his mind, that so he be may blind both in body & soul, as it commonly falleth out to many. But let us follow our matter propounded touching the senses, and their members: speak unto us ACHITOB, of the ears, and of their composition, offices, and use.   

Of the Ears, and of their composition, offices, and uses. Chap. 5.  
ACHITOB. The wisdom of God is so great, and he provideth so well for all things by his providence: that he never doth any thing in vain: insomuch that there is nothing whatsoever in all nature, which hath not his proper use, and which is not compounded of matter and form agreeable thereto, for the instruction of men. But for as much as men are rude of understanding, and by reason of their natural corruption easily turned aside from the chief end of their being, namely the contemplation of celestial and heavenly things, in place whereof they betake themselves to the care of those things that are earthly and corruptible it cometh to pass, that having eyes and ears, they neither see nor hear any spituall, thing, so that their very light is become darkness. And then how great may we think the darkness to be in those parts that aught be guided by them that are capable of light? Therefore as we have learned, that the eyes are the first guides and houshould-masters that God hath given to every one, and the first authors and inventors almost of all arts, sciences and disciplines, because by their sight we know the light, colour, greatness, figure, number, situation, and motion of the bodily things, both near and far off: so now we are to know, that the hearing and the ears are very convenient for one man to communicate his knowledge with another, as if one should power wine or water out of one vessel into another. But they are especially given by God to men, that they might serve to receive the doctrine and instruction of wisdom, as we may perceive if we consider diligently their nature and use.  
The ears then, in mine opinion, are also as it were watchmen over the whole body aswelas the eyes. For it is not only required, that a watchman should see, but also that he should 
The situation of the ears.  both hear and speak. Therefore are the ears placed hard by the eyes on each side, aswell for an ornament to the head, as for the commodity and use of the whole body. For that place is fit for them that they may so much the more conveniently receive those sounds that come unto them, and 'cause them to hear, even as the eyes receive the light, which causeth them to see. Therefore as God hath disposed the matter whereof it pleased him to make the eyes, and hath given them such a form as agreeth best to that office, which he would have them perform, so hath he done in regard of the ears, as also of all the other members of the body. For this cause he hath made them of gristles, which are a great deal harder and more 
Of their making.  firm than either flesh, kernels, sinews, or ligaments: but yet nothing so hard as the bones are, as we have already learned by that which was spoken before. Besides, near about the place where the ears are, he hath set the hardest and firmest bones that are about the head. Therefore they are called stony bones by reason of their hardness, and of their natural agreement with stones: whereby the ears are strongly fortified, and that very agreeable to their nature and office. As for their form, it is half round, and very well compassed. They are also doubled in about the ends, as if nature had wrought them about with little ledges turned 
Of their form. The ea●eses of men and a●eses only are with out moving. Of their use.  in of the same matter, in most excellent and decent manner. And among all living creatures God hath given unmovable ears to none, but only to man, and to an ape: for the rest can move them up and down. And as for this external and eminent part of the ear that appeareth without, if it served only to beautify the head, the use of it were not to be disposed For it is evident by such as have their ears cut off, how deformed and unseemly the head would be to look upon, if it were not decked with that part of the ears planted there by God for their greater ornament, as it were two goodly bruches. Hereof it is, that those men have this part cut off, who are to be made deformed and infamous for some notorious offence. But besides the honour and ornament, which this part of the ears bringeth to the head, it serveth also to cover the brain which is next to the ears, lest it should be hurt. And to the end that they might not be easily bruised, or broken, nor yet hung downward, they are as I have said, of a gristly substance, as are all those parts that are bore and appear outward, and which are in danger to receive injuries and discommodities from without. Likewise this outward growing of the ears bringeth a double commodity with it to the rest of that member. The first is, that it keepeth back the rain and sweat of the head, and much filth that might enter into the ears, if those places were flat, and had nothing but the holes of the ears without these bulwarks. Therefore their form is made so, that they ascend and bend upward without, but are hollow within. The other is, that it helpeth much for the better receiving in of the sounds that are brought to the ears by the air, because thereby the sounds are better conveyed unto that place, which is properly appointed for the hearing For this cause the ears are not pierced strait outright, but their holes are made windeing in, like the shell of asnayle, whose form they represent, so that one cannot thrust straightfoorth so much as a little thread, or the bristle of a hog. For if they were boared outright many inconveniences would befall them. The first is, that the sounds would not be convey ed in so well, as they are in places that bend and give backward, where they have rebound, which causeth them to stay and sound better. The second is, that the ears should receive overgreat sounds and too thick, and so being more confused, they could not be discerned and understood so well. Again, as too great light doth not only dezell the eyes, but hurteth them withal: so over great sounds would mar the instrument of hearing, if they were not distributed and compassed according to the capacity thereof: For there must always be an answerable and apt proportion between the sense, the thing subject to sense, and the mean by which the sense is made. Hereupon it falleth out often, that many become deaf by hearing over great sounds, whereof we have experience in Smiths, amongst whom many are thick of hearing, because their ears are continually dulled with the noise and sound of their hammers & anvils. The like oftentimes happeneth to those that deal 
Of the place of hearing.  with artillery, by reason of the continual use and greatness of the sound. Moreover we must note, that there is a very little hole in each of those stony bones, in which the hearing is properly made, and within which also there are three very small bones, whereof the one is 
Three small bones in the ears.  called an anvil, the other the hammer, because they are made almost of the same fashion, so that a man would say, that nature had framed a little anvil and a little hammer to make sounds, and to 'cause them to be heard. The third small bone was found out by certain Physicians and Anatomists, and being boared in the midst is fashioned like to a little stirrup, and is always less than any of the other twain. Physicians that writ of Anatomy make no mention of this last, or if any speak of it, they are but few, and of late time. And in deed it is a hard matter, even for them that are most skilful and expert, to look unto all how diligent and able soever they be in Anatomy, especially in the view of many instruments, and of their sundry parts, which are so small, that hardly can we discern them with our eyes if we look not very narrowly unto them, and that after we are told thereof before. As for these small bones whereof I speak now, and namely the third, a man may perceive them better in a dry Anatomy, and in some skull that hath nothing but the bore bones, than he shall in a whole body. Therefore the skilfullest Physicians and Anatomists confess, that the body of man hath such wonderful art in it, that every day they found some new thing in it, which was not observed by any in former times. But let us return to our speech concerning that which remaineth of the composition of the ears. Besides these little bones, there are two small skins full of nerves, which hold and bind these bones in such wise, that 
Of two skins within the ears.  they are as it were a little ●abour stretched out in that place. These small skins have their original from those sinews, by which the virtue of hearing proceedeth from the brain to the ears. For after the sounds are made in the air, they are carried to these skins, and then heard and discerned by them. Hereupon they are made hollow, to receive the sounds that come from without, having a nature that agreeth very much with the air, as the eyes do with the fire, I mean in respect of their virtue which is burning and glistering, albeit their substance be moist. Therefore as the eyes judge of light and colours, and by that 
What profit and pleasure is received by the ears.  means bring great pleasure and profit to men: so the ears judge of sounds and of the voice, of notes harmony, and of melodies, whereby man receiveth commodity and delight. And if there were but the sundry notes of Birds, what solace doth he receive by it? But beside, how many instruments are there of most excellent and melodious Music, what voices and pleasant songs, framed very cunningly, and with great grace and harmony by the art of Music? For we see by experience, that this science is given of God to men, that it might be chiefly dedicated to their eats, to the end that by the sounds and songs which they hear, they might be stirred up to praise God the giver of them. Therefore Solomon not without good reason called them the daughters of singing or of Music, because 
Eccles. 12. 4.  of the delight which they take therein, and also because this whole art, and all songs and melody would be vain and unprofitable to the life of man without hearing. But above all, the chiefest profit that the ears bring to men, is by the means of speech, whereby they communicate one with another all their conceits, imaginations, thoughts and counsels, so that without them the whole life of man would be not only deaf, but dumb also and very unperfect, as if man had neither tongue, mouth nor speech.  
And on the other side, seeing man hath always need of doctrine and instruction, albeit all the other bodily senses help him therein, nevertheless, none is so fit or more serviceable to this purpose, next to the eyes, than the ears. Wherefore if Solomon for the cause above rehearsed, called them the daughters of singing, a man may also call them the daughters of discipline & of knowledge. For as man hath nothing more proper than speech, whereby he others know what he hath in his mind and heart, so he hath nothing more fit than that, to teach all things by, whose doctrine is already begun by means of the other senses, but principally of the eyes. For the other senses together with the sense of seeing, are as 
How doctrine is learned.  masons, that lay the first foundation of the frame of doctrine, and afterward speech buildeth upon this groundwork: which it cannot do, if it be not helped by the ears and by hearing, which agreed with the voice pronounced by the ears, that it may be heard and understood of them.  
Thus after the knowledge of things is found out, and arts begun by means of the sight, after the same manner that was declared before by us when we entreated of the eyes, than the sense of hearing teacheth a great deal more, both greater matters and sooner. For we receive and understand in a short space, that which our master who teacheth us, hath obtained and prepared in a very long time. For how many things must we see, and what books must we read before we shalt attain to the knowledge of that, which we may learn 
The benefit of Lectures.  by hearing of one lecture, at which we shall be auditors only one hour or less? Let us consider then how conveniently and bountifully God dealeth with men in this behalf, when that thing which is very profitable and most necessary is made so easy for them. For nothing is more profitable or more necessary then to learn much, nor any thing more easy then to hear much. Therefore Solomon saith, That a wise man shall hear and increase in learning, and a man of understanding shall attain unto wise Counsels, to understand a parable and the 
Prou. 1. 5. 6.  interpretation, the words of the wise and their dark sayings. This also is the means whereby God hath appointed, that men shall learn and understand his will. And therefore, as we heard that eyes were given unto us, to this end specially, that they should contemplate the works of God, their & our Creator: so we aught to know that ears were given us, that before all things we should hear & understand his voice & word, & consecrated them wholly to that purpose: to the end that after the ears of the body have heard it, they should be the messengers to declare it to the ears of the soul and mind, to 'cause them also to hear and understand the same. For this cause, as the air that entereth into the ears, and bringeth unto them the sound made in itself, when it is stricken and moved, moveth the little hammer 
How hearing is framed in the ears.  of the ears, and causeth it to strike upon the anvil, and so maketh a sound by means of the little taber, through whose sound the spirits of hearing are awakened: so God by inspiration worketh in his Prophets and ministers, who receive his voice after a divine manner: and then are they as it were the hammers that strike upon the anvils of men's minds and hearts, by which sound the spirits of the hearers are awakened and stirred up. But my desire is, that we should thoroughly consider here this great secret of God that lieth hid in nature, namely, the means whereby the hearing is made and framed. Nevertheless, God giveth us great light thereunto by the matter and form of the instruments, which he hath made for the hearing. Wherefore seeing the ears are framed so artificially as we have heard, as appeareth to the eye by their Anatomy, we cannot doubt but that God would have their use and artificial composition known to them that may behold with their eyes the instruments of hearing, when they are laid open unto them, as they are to Anatomists, to the end that by the view and contemplation of them, they might judge of that secret work of nature which God hath wrought in hearing, which cannot be seen with eyes when it is in doing. For we know by experience whereto serveth a hammer, an anvil, and a taber, and what sound they make when the one striketh, and the other is stricken, and how that hollow things are more fit to receive sounds, and to 'cause them to be heard better, than things that are solid and more thick. So that when we see instruments like to these in the composition of the ears, we may easily judge, that God hath not placed them there, but to do that service which may be performed by such instruments, to the end we should know the great skill and wisdom of the Workmaster that made them. Now for the conclusion of our speech, let us learn, that although our ears did us no more service than the ears of brute beasts do to them, and reached only to the use of this life, yet could we not sufficiently acknowledge that good, which God doth to us by them. But we must make a greater account of this, that by the means of his word which he will have declared to our ears, he causeth them to serve to his honour and glory, & to our own salvation. Therefore let us apply these so beautiful & artificial members, with all the rest of our senses to their principal end, yea to the end of all nature, namely, to the glory of their Maker: & let them be deaf, & stopped up against all dishonest things that might poison them, & so consequently minds by them. For that which Saint Paul saith, That evil words corrupt good manners, aught to be extended to every vile, dishonest, and wicked thing which the ears may hear. Wherefore 
1. Cor. 15. 33  they that abuse them so vilely, deserve that God should pluck them off, and stop them, and make them altogether deaf, not only their bodily ears, but also those that are spiritual, as he maketh them blind according to that threatening which he giveth out by Easie. Now to follow our purpose touching corporal senses & their instruments, I think we 
Easie 6. 9 10.  aught to entreat of the tongue, because it serveth chief for speech, whereof we have already made some mention, & for the sense of taste, in which we must be instructed. Therefore ASER, declare unto us the divers uses of the tongue, and what instruments are necessary both for voice and speech.   

Of the divers uses of the tongue: of the instruments necessary both for voice & speech: how there is a double speech: of the form thereof: how the spirit of man is represented thereby. Chap. 13.  
ASER. If we were only of a spiritual nature as the Angels are, it is certain we should by and by understand one another, by that mind and understanding, whereof we are partakers, as they understand each other; neither should we need speech, tongue, ears or eyes, to hear & see by, no more than those natures that consist only of spirit, having all those things spiritual whereby they communicate both with God & amongst themselves. But we can have no such communication among ourselves by the understanding of the mind & spirit only, because of that corporal nature which cometh between the souls and spirits one of another. Wherhfore the help of speech, aswell as of the other external senses, is very requisite for us in every part of life. Also because our souls, being kept under our flesh as under a veil, useth cogitations & discourses, it standeth in need of speech, of words & of names, by means of which it may utter and publish that, that lieth hid as it were in a deep and dark place, where nothing is seen. Forasmuch therefore as the tongue is the principal instrument, whereby God giveth speech to men, and without which they would be dumb, and seeing also it serveth the sense of fast as well as the roof of the mouth, it shall not be without good consideration, if entreating now of this member and of the use thereof, we place it in the order of our discourses, between the instruments of hearing whereof we spoke before, & those of taste, of which we will speak hereafter, for the agreement it hath with them both.  
God hath given the tongue to man not for one use alone, but for many: & namely for 3. at 
Three uses of the tongue.  the lest, which are all necessary for the life of man. The first is to frame the speech: the second for the taste: the third, to help to prepare them meat that is chewed in the mouth for the nourishing of the body. And because the first is the noblest of all, & given to man only, whereas the other twain are common to him with beasts, I will begin with that: whereunto this may be added, that because of the conveniency it hath with the hearing and with the ears, these two matters will agreed the better, being joined in order one after another. Next we will handle the other uses that appertain properly to the sense of taste and to the nourishing of man. Now we have first to note that God hath placed many instruments in the body, without which speech could not be well pronounced & expressed. For first, speech could not be without voice, for the which God hath created many instruments that are all necessary for that purpose, as namely the weasel of the throat, the wind pipe, the throat, the lungs, the breast, & certain back-running sinews appointed thereunto by reciprocal motions. All these parts help 
The instruments of the voice.  only to make the voice of man, without any framing of speech, except it be the vessel of the throat, which is a little fleshy and spongy body, in figure like to a pine apple, hanging at the end of the palate, whose use is manifold. For it serveth first to stay the air from rushing in over 
The use of the weasel of the throat.  fast & violently into the lungs, & from entering in too cold & over suddenly unto them. Then it serveth also to divide & distribute the air when it ascendeth from the lungs, that it may be the better scattered & dispersed into all parts of the mouth. And by this means this instrument fashioneth the voice, & causeth it to yield a sound, & so prepareth it for the tongue, that 
Five instruments requisite to frame the voice into speech.  it may be articulated & framed into speech by the same. Therefore besides the weasel of the throat which serveth for these two uses, there are five other instruments which in regard of this present matter serve only to frame the voice into speech, that otherwise would be but a confused voice. The first is the tongue, which hath the chief place among the rest: then the palate, the teeth, the lips, & the nose. For although a man may speak when he hath not all these parts perfect, yet his speech will not be well framed if he want any one of them, as we see by experience in them that have lost their teeth, or their lips, or the roof of the mouth, or that have their nose cut, stuffed, or otherwise troubled. For this cause the Hebrews name their letters, some guttural, because they are pronounced more in the throat: others, dental, because a man cannot well pronounce them without the teeth: and so they call others, labial, that is, letters of the lips: and others, letters of the palate, because they cannot be well expressed without those parts of the mouth. The like is in all other languages, albeit they do not distinguish their letters by such names. Now in such variety of instruments made for the service and use of one only thing, we aught to acknowledge the great nobility and dignity of speech, with which God hath endued and honoured man above all other creatures. For he hath not given it to any of them, but to him only, & by that he hath put a difference 
Of the dignity of speech.  between him and the beasts; as also by reason and understanding, whereof he hath made him partaker, and in respect whereof he hath given him speech, which is as natural unto him as reason, which is the springhead thereof, and from whence it proceedeth, as a river from his fountain. For how could men make known their counsels and thoughts without speech? And what good should they receive by that sense and understanding which God hath given them more than to beasts, if they had no more speech than they have, whereby to make it known? And to what purpose would speech serve them, if they knew not what to say? And what should they have to speak, if they had no more understanding & reason then other living creatures have? Were it not sufficient then to have a confused voice only as they have? Therefore also we see how God hath joined these two things together, granting speech unto man, because he hath created him partaker of reason and understanding. And having deprived beasts of the one, he hath also deprived them of the other, so that they are partakers neither of reason nor speech. For this cause Ecclesiasticus hath joined these things together, saying, That God hath given to men counsel, and tongue, & eyes, ears, & an heart to understand, & sixthly, he gave them a spirit, and seventhly, he gave them speech to declare his 
Eccles. 17. 5. 6  works. He filled them with knowledge of understanding, and showed them good and evil. Whereby he teacheth us plainly, what is the right & true use of speech, to what end it is given to man, & from whence it springeth. For he placeth counsel in the first place, and next the tongue. Again, after the heart and spirit, he placeth speech, that we might know who is their messenger. Whereupon we may conclude; that the one is given for the other, and both to glorify God, by showing forth his works and marvelous acts. To which effect basil the great saith very well, that God hath created us and granted us the use of speech, to the end we might have ability and means to lay open one to another the counsel and thoughts of 
Basil. in sermo  our hearts, and to distribute amongst us that which is in every one, by reason of that communicable nature in which we are created. For the heart aught to be in man as a secret treasure, or as a larder or pantry in a house, out of which all things necessary for the use thereof and for the maintenance of the whole family are daily taken. The hart also is like to a cellar or garner, wherein counsels & thoughts are locked and closed up, and the tongue is like to the steward who draweth out and dispenseth whatsoever is to be distributed. For as we said in the beginning of our speech, our soul useth thoughts and discourses, which cannot be declared so long as it is enclosed in this tabernacle of flesh, without speech, words, and names, by means of which, she bringeth forth and publisheth that which was enclosed & hidden in the secret closet of her understanding. And so we say, that there are two kinds 
Two sorts of speech in man.  of speech in man, one internal and of the mind, the other external, which is pronounced, and is the messenger of the internal, that speaketh in the heart. Therefore that which is framed in voice, pronounced in speech, & brought into use, is as a river sent from the thought with the voice, as from his fountain. For before the thought can utter any outward speech by mean of the voice, first the mind must receive the images of things presented unto is by the corporal senses. And then having received them by the imaginative virtue that is in it, reason must discourse to know & to consider of them well, & to separate or join things 
The degrees by which we come to speech.  according to that agreement or difference, that concord or discord, which they may have amongst them. Next, it is necessary that judgement should follow this discourse, to make choice of, & to follow that which it shall judge to be meet & convenient, & to reject & shun the contrary. Lastly, all must be uttered by significations apt and convenient for every thing: so that when the mind hath given over to the office of the vocal instruments, that which it hath comprised and resolved upon in manner aforesaid, the same is manifestly declared outwardly by the air framed into voice, I mean by the moving of the articulate and distinct voice, whereas before it was hid & covered. Now when this voice and speech speech is propounded with the mouth, as it is invisible to the eyes, so it hath no body whereby the hands may take hold of it, but is insensible to all the senses, except the hearing; which nevertheless cannot lay hold of it or keep it fast, as it were with griping hands, but entering in of itself, it is so long detained there whilst the sound reboundeth in the ears, and then vanisheth away suddenly. But albeit the sound & the voice passeth so suddenly, as ●f presently it flew away, having respect to the outward speech, nevertheless the internal speech remaineth, not only in the spirit, hart, & thought that engendered it, being not in any sort divided, cut off, or separated, but also it filleth all the hearers, by reason of the agreement that is between the spirits & minds of men, & the speech that is bred there, and because it differeth not much from the mind, & from the thought where it first began and was bred. And thus the thoughts and counsels of the mind & spirit are discovered & manifested by speech. So that all voice is not speech. For the name of voice generally taken comprehendeth all sounds & things which bring any noise to the ears. Nevertheless it is more properly and 
What voice is  specially attributed to those sounds, which all sorts of living creatures are able to make with their throat to signify any thing thereby. But man only hath articulate & well distinguished sounds: unto which, birds of all other beasts approach nearest, so that even many of them are taught in some sort to frame man's voice: but it is without understanding. And because that instruments of music do after a sort imitate the distinct voice of men, we attribute voice to them: although the sounds which they make be more without judgement and understanding them that of beasts. But in men, voices framed into words are signs and significations 
Speech representeth all the parts of the soul.  of the whole soul and mind, both generally and specially, namely of the fantasy and imagination of reason and judgement, of understanding & memory, of will and affections. Wherhfore it is an easy matter to judge by his speech how all these parts are affected, namely, whether they be sound, or have any defect in them. For if a man be dull witted, or have his fantasy and imagination troubled, and his memory slow and heavy, he shall have much a do to speak that which he thinketh and conceiveth in his mind, and have as we use to say, but a bad utterance. Which thing may also happen to good wits, either for want of exercise and use, or through some defect that may be in the body, or in the instruments of the voice, or because the matter whereof they speak may be profound, obscure, and difficult, so that a man cannot easily find words fitly to express the nature of it, as the worthiness thereof requireth. Which reason oftentimes maketh wise and skilful men slow to speak, because they know what a hard matter it is to utter in good sort that which is to be spoken, in so much that they had rather keep silence, then speak ill or unpoperly. But a light head and a cockbraine that is void of this consideration, will think he hath a more ready wit. For he will speak before he ponder or discourse in his mind. So that whosoever hath not a ripe and stayed reason, nor temperate & settled senses, he can not have his words set in good order, nor his speeches well knit and agreeing one with another, as we have example hereof in children and fools. And if a man have reason & judgement ready at hand, but not stayed and pithy, he may well prove some great babbling pleader, but not eloquent. For he only is to be accounted eloquent, who can conceive well in his spirit and 
Who is to be accounted e●loquent.  mind that which he aught to speak, and then is able to express it well, both by apt words and by sentences that are well tied and knit together. We see then how the voice and speech of man lay open his whole heart, mind, and spirit. But the voices of beasts have no significations but only affections, I mean such as are in men, and which the Grammarians call Interjections, because they are not framed into speech, nor well distinguished as others are. Now if we understand all these things well, they may help very much to instruct and confirm us in the doctrine of the Trinity of persons, of the Unity of the Godhead, and of the eternal generation of the Son of God, who is his divine and everlasting word. Likewise they will 'cause us to receive more easily, how this heavenly and eternal word, namely, jesus Christ, is the Image and Character of God, the express and engraved form of his person, as it is in the Epist. to the Heb. & not in shadow or painting. For the glory, majesty, and virtue of the Father is always hid from us, but only so far forth as it showeth itself engraved in his 
Heb. 1. 3.  son & in his word, as the image of the mind appeareth imprinted & engraven in the speech that is uttered. And as the internal word bred in the mind departeth not from it neither is 
Of the image of the heavenly word in the speech of man  separated, & yet it imprinteth an image thereof in the minds of the hearers, to whom it is declared: so the divine & eternal word begotten of the Father, is always resident in God, & yet imprinteth his image in the hearts & minds of men, to whom it is manifested by those means which he hath appointed for that purpose. Thus you see a gap laid open into these high and great secrets of God, which we aught to mark well, following such phrases of speech as are taken from human things, & used by the spirit of God in the holy scriptures, to the end we might more easily understand them. Wherhfore if there were no other reason, this were sufficient to induce us to consider more diligently the excellent work, and great providence of God, which appeareth in the framing of the voice and speech of man, and in the nature and use thereof, and in those members & instruments of the body, which serve to that purpose. Therefore AMANA, let this matter be the subject of thy discourse.   

Of the agreement which the instruments of the voice and speech have with a pair of Organs: what things are to be considered in the placing of the lungs next the heart: of the pipes and instruments of the voice. Chap. 14  
AMANA. When we consider diligently all the instruments created by God in the body, as well for the ministry of the voice as of speech, we shall find amongst them all things requisite in the best and most perfect instrument of music that can be, to make a good harmony: and we shall know, that no Organs are so well made, or disposed in such good order for the compassing of their sound and melody, as the instruments of the voice and speech of man are. And by the consideration of this concordance, we are admonished always to have the something in the mouth which we have in the thought, to the end that from such an agreement, as it were in every part of an Organ an of an instrument 
There must be an harmony betwixt the heart and the tongue.  of music, there should proceed a good harmony and pleasant melody. For if there should be discord between the heart, the tongue, and the speech, the harmony could not be good, especially before God the judge of most secret thoughts, no more than the harmony of a musical instrument quite out of tune would be pleasant in the ears of men, and namely of good Musicians, who can judge best of concord's and discords.  
First then we must note, that the breast, neck, and head, are as it were the instrument and the body of the Organs, within which they are put and enclosed, & by which they are sustained: next, that the lungs are as it were their bellowss to blow them. Therefore it is made of two pieces joined together, like to a pair of bellows, to draw in & to thrust forth the air, and to help each other in respiration and breathing. Wherein we must call to mind how needful it was, that the backbone and breast, and the building of the ribs should be framed in that sort that we heard before, that they might serve to this use, and make room for these bellowss to enlarge themselves, and to do their duty. We see also what their nature 
Of the ●●ture of the lungs  is, what motion they have, and from whence they receive it. For God hath created them of that nature, that they move and remove of themselves, by the virtue of the soul and life in the body, without which they would be void of motion, and could not do their office as we see in dead bodies. And because the lungs are the bellows that blow wind into the instruments of the voice, without which it could not be made; therefore they are lodged next to the heart, so that they cover it, to this end that men should be admonished, that their 
Why the hart & speech must agreed together.  voice and their speech is the messenger of their heart: and that for this cause the heart and the mouth, and the voice and speech which proceed from them, always aught to consent and agreed together. For it would be great dissoluteness, if the heart, which aught to be the original and fountain of the speech, should think one thing; and the speech, which is the messenger of the heart, should utter and declare another. For before the tongue and mouth speak, or speech be framed in them, it must first be conceived and bred in the heart and mind, and then brought forth and pronounced by the tongue and mouth. Therefore Elihu saith to job, I pray thee hear my talk, and harken unto all my words, Behold now, I have opened my mouth, my tongue hath spoken in my mouth. My words are in the uprightness of my heart, and my lips shall speak pure knowledge. We see here, how Elihu joineth the heart with the mouth, the 
●ob. 33. 1 2 3  tongue, the palate and the lips, all which are instruments of the, speech, as we heard before. Therefore there must always be a good and general agreement between all these things. This good concord beginning in ourselves, according to every man's particular place aught to stretch itself generally to all, that we may all agreed together, as the spirit of God so often exhorteth us thereunto in his holy word. And therefore it calleth them, m●n of double hearts and 
jam. 4. 11. 〈…〉.  double tongues, that are not upright in heart, nor true and certain in word. Our Lord saith, that of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, and that a good man out of the good treasure of his heart bringeth forth good things, and an evil man out of an evil treasure bringeth forth evil things. 
Mat. 12. 34. 35 Luk. 6. 46.  For as the tree is known by his fruit, so speech maketh manifest both the heart and mind of a man. Therefore he shall be a great deal better known by his speech, then by the sight of his face. For his face doth not so well lay open to the eyes his heart, mind, and manners, as his speech discloseth them to the ears: as we may judge by that which we learned to this effect in the former discourse. Therefore before the bellowss of the lungs blow to frame afterward voice and speech in the tongue and mouth, the draft must be first drawn and framed in the heart, that the tongue and mouth may represent and express it afterward: otherwise they will speak to no purpose, but only give testimony, that there is little wisdom and upright affection in the heart. Hereof it is, that Solomon showeth oftentimes, that a wise man's tongue is not lightly set on work without the direction & counsel of the hart and mind, whose servant and messenger it aught to be: but a fool poureth forth all his mind at once. For he uttereth all that cometh in his mouth, and speaketh before he hath considered what he aught to say, so that his words are sooner spoken then thought upon. The heart of the wise guideth his mouth wisely, and addeth doctrine to his lips. Fair words are as an honey comb, sweetness to the soul and health to the bones. The wise in heart shall be called prudent: and 
Prou. 16. 22. 23. 24.  the sweetness of the lips shall increase doctrine. A wise man concealeth knowledge: but the heart of 
Pro. 12. 23.  fools publisheth foolishness. A fo●le poureth out all his mind: but a wise man keepeth it in till afterward. There are many such like places in the Proverbs, which I could allege to this purpose. 
Pro. 29. 11.  And we know what is commonly spoken when a man speaketh of a good affection and in truth, that he speaks from his heart: but if he be known to be a liar, crafty, and deceitful, we say that he speaketh not from his heart. Which is as much as if one should say, that the same thing is not in his heart, which he hath in his mouth. Although in truth when those speeches are thought upon before, such contrarieties are found as well in the heart as in the tongue and mouth. For if they were not first in that, they would not be in the tongue which is the messenger of the heart. This is the cause of that double heart which we said was in wicked, close, and disguised persons. You see then what we have to note, both in regard of the bellows that blow the Organs of man's body, and also of the player that aught 
Of the pipes and instruments of the voice.  to blow and direct them. Now let us speak of the instruments and pipes into which the wind and breath of these bellows doth enter, and giveth motion and convenient sound to every one of them. They have been named all unto us before. Wherhfore we have to consider of that pipe which is called the rough Artery or windpipe, which is made like to a 
Of the windpipe.  flute, and in regard of the matter, is of the nature of a gristle and of skin. It was necessary that it should be of such matter, because it is to move when it recuiveth in, or giveth out the air, and to be enlarged or restrained as need requireth. Needful therefore it was that it should be compounded of such skins as are easy to move, and to open, and shut, and which might serve for soft and tender ligaments. And because the voice cannot be framed, if the air whereof it is made, be not beaten back with some thing, it was in like manner requisite, that some gristles should be mingled therewith, and linked together: as it was needful for the ears to be made winding in that the air might rebound the better, and receive the sounds, as we heard before. For this cause it is called a rough artery, as well in respect of the matter whereof it is compounded, as of the figure. For it is made after the manner of small circles and rings, placed in a rank one by another throughout the whole length thereof, like to the tail of a Crevice: and that with such moderation, that it is thick, slender 
From whence proceedeth the change of voice in sickness.  and dry, according as need requireth to make the voice of a reasonable bigness. If it be too dry, it maketh the voice shrill and hard to be pronounced: as experience showeth in burning fevers, and in great droughts. Again the pipe thereof is larger beneath than above, and so lesseneth upward where need is, like to the pipe of a Bag pipe, to the end that the blast should neither be two slow and weak in ascending, nor yet over hasty and sudden. For if it be slow and languishing, it will turn to wind without any noise and sound: and if it be hasty and sudden, it will breed sighs in stead of voice: as it falleth out to them that are diseased and weak whose breath is short, and to old men, who have small virtue of respiration, and much less of singing. Therefore some expound that place of Ecclesiastes where 
Eccles. 12. 4.  it is said, that all the daughters of singing shall be abased, of the voice of old men, and of the instruments which breed and pronounce it, and of their virtue and strength: although others will have it to be understood of the ears. But it may be referred to them both. Now the principal instrument of the voice is in the head of the rough artery, namely in that place which is commonly called the knot or joint of the neck, or Adam's morsel, being fashioned 
The Anatomist. call it Larinx.  like to an Almain flute. I abstain from speaking more specially of the rest of these pipes and instruments, which are only quills to receive the blowing of the lungs, as also of the three gristles, which make the distinction of the voice, and namely that in the midst, which in form is like to that end of the bagpipe that is put into the mouth, or like to the lips of certain pots made to power out wine, or of oil pots and such like things, as we may see in Apothecaries earthen pots.  
Besides, in the midst of that gristle, there is a deep slit or cleft called glottis, that is, a little tongue, because it is the proper instrument of the voice, and hath both the sides in larged or closed up by muscles proper to that use & purpose. As touching the gristle before, it is fashioned like to a little shield, so that a man may both see and touch it in the neck. That which is behind, is of the fashion of a ring which is put upon the thumb. And as these gristles are dilated and opened, or pressed and shut by their muscles, especially both the sides of that cloven whereof I spoke even now, so do they make the diversities of voices, For as when 
How the voice is made great or small.  they are opened, they make the voice big and obscure, as it were the base in singing: so contrariwise when they are pressed, they make it small, clear, and shrill, like to the countertenor: and as they are more or less restrained or opened, so they make divers notes of the voice, as the tenor, the mean, and such like. And because the pipes cannot make this variety of voices in this cleft, therefore there are chinks which serve for the same purpose. In this sort then, this instrument of the voice, which is placed in the top of the artery and called Larinx by the Physicians, being aided by gristles and their muscles, and by that little tongue where of I spoke not long before, together with these chinks, frameth of itself as many sundry voices and notes as all the pipes and flutes of a pair of Organs being set together, and furnished 
A testimony of the providence of God  with all sorts of pipes, both great, small, and mean. Wherein we see a wonderful providence of God, whether we consider the instruments named by us, or the place that containeth them. For the artery, which cometh up from the lights to the throat, occupieth but one part of the neck: and yet it doth as much alone, taking it whole with the other instruments of which I have spoken, as a whole pair of Organs. For in a pair of Organs there must be many pipes, some great, some small, and others of a middle sort that are greater or lesser as it falleth out, according to the diversity of notes for which they are made because they cannot be either enlarged or restrained, open or shut, but as they are first framed Therefore there needeth as many of each sorts as the parts of Music are divers, and as there wanteth variety of notes to fill every place, and to furnish both the base and the mean, the tenor and the countertenor. But, as might be gathered by our speech, the pipe and instrument of the voice is made of such a fashion, that when a man is disposed, he may enlarge it for the base, and then restrain it for a countertenor, or else open and shut it in middle sort either more or less to make the tenor or the mean, and to 'cause the voice to ascend and descend according to those notes and tunes which he would have it make, and that by the means before touched. The like may be done in speech. For as every one is disposed to lift up or to depress his voice, to enlarge or restrain the pipes & instruments thereof, he may speak either higher or lower, bigger or smaller, or clearer, and set what sound, tune, and accent he please upon the speech, which he will pronounce. Wherhfore we may very well say, that every one carrieth about with him and within himself very fair and strange Organs, upon which he may play at all hours at his pleasure, either in 
Fair Organs within every man.  singing or speaking: yea they are so whole and perfect, that they want neither the bellows, nor the cross beam, nor the cords, nor the hollowness for sound, nor the seat, nor the posts, nor the porters, nor the bearer of the keys, nor the table whereon they are set, nor the Organ pipes. For all this is in a few small instruments which discharge their duties, yea they are more perfect in man then in any artificial Organs. And if any organ-maker could, I will not say make such, but only sergeant them, and make as many sundry sounds and tunes with one pipe, as others do with many, all men would greatly admire such a workman & his work, especially Organists & Musicians that understood the art of music. How much more than aught we to admire that great and divine Organist, that hath made those goodly Organs of man's body, & given them such a good sound? And how greatly aught we to desire, that we may be the true temples of God, & good Organ-players therein, to 'cause these fair Organs to sound again, and to sing and preach his praises by them? For I doubt not but that these are the true Organs, whereby he will be praised and glorified by us. But there is yet a great deal more to be considered of this matter, of which both this and the former discourse hath been made. For these Organs being prepared as I have set them in sight, have nothing more than the sound of the voice, as it were an instrument, without speech. Wherhfore we must now make a speaking instrument, which hath not his like neither in all the works of nature, neither in all human and artificial works. This Art and office belongeth properly to the tongue, of whose nature and use, and of the excellency and utility of the Art it hath, which is the speech, thou ARAM shalt give us some profitable instruction.   

Of the tongue, and of the nature and office thereof: of the excellency, and profit of speech which is the Art of the tongue; what is to be considered touching the situation thereof in the head, and near the brain. Chap. 15.  
ARAM. The Ancients being desirous to extol eloquence, very much propounded the image of an Orator, as it were of one that spoke of gold, who in speaking drew out 
The praise of eloquence.  a golden chain, which coming from his tongue was fastened to the ears of a great many men that heard him, whereby he drew and led them after him whither he would. Thus they compared the speech and eloquence of an Orator to a chain of gold, because of the virtue and power which it hath with men, being able to keep and stay them, to moderate their affections, and to guide and govern them easily without force and violence, as if one should lead them tied with a chain, whom they would voluntarily follow not being constrained, but only of their own good will, which nevertheless should be so drawn that it could not resist. As indeed that persuasion which proceedeth from speech draweth the wills and affections of men, with a sweet and pleasant kind of violence, which they follow with great desire, and cannot gainsay it. Now this art and office belongeth properly to the tongue, of which we are now to speak.  
The tongue than is a fleshly and musely member, but soft and like to the substance of a toadstool, being full of sinews, arteries, and veins. For it had need have good store of sinews, 
The descriptition of the tongue.  both because of those sundry motions which it hath necessarily, as also for the sense of ●ast and of touching, which agreed to the nature thereof Likewise it had need of many arteries, that so it might have great abundance of spirit and heat, by reason of the diversity of motions which it hath. And to the end it should not want nourishment, it hath in like manner great plenty of veins: and that it should not dry up through continual moving, it hath humidity to wet and moisten it. Whereupon we aught to note well the providence of God in this, that although spittle be but an excrement & superfluity, which partly distilleth 
Of spittle and the profit thereof.  from the brain into the throat, & partly is sent up thither from the boiling stomach, yet it is not unprofitable, because it wetteth & moisteneth the tongue. For being very dry it is more slow in moving, as we see by experience in them that are subject to great drought. Therefore God hath provided a remedy for that inconvenience, by means of two fleshly kernels like to sponges, on each side one at the root of the tongue, which are commonly called Almonds because they are fashioned like unto them: these through passages ordained for that purpose moisten all parts of the mouth. Moreover, the tongue is tied to a forked bone with many muscles by two branches, which hold it up as it were two near pillars, and that with such a counterpoise, that it can move and remove itself equally on each side. For if it were tied by one branch only, it could not keep itself upright, but should go crosswise only from 
Our speech aught to be upright.  one side. But God hath provided very well for that: and if we did know and consider it well, we are admonished thereby, that speech pronounced by our tongue aught first to be well weighed as it were in a balance, to the end it decline not, or turn on any side more than it aught, but hold itself upright, and directly follow reason. Moreover, it cannot easily be declared, by what Art the tongue stretcheth forth itself so diversly by the means of muscles, and how it hath so many sorts of motions from all sides, so ready, and so sudden, and 
The profit of speech.  for so many things as it hath both to speak and to do. But it is far more difficult, yea impossible to tell the causes, how a man can by the tongue frame so many sorts of words and so divers, which are as it were the marks and paintings, not only of all visible things, but also of all things invisible, & of all the thoughts of m●. For if we would entreat of any matter one with another, we know already by that which hath been spoken, how it can hardly be done without speech, as also that we cannot speak without certain words & names to name and signify those things by, whereof we mind to speak. For if we have no words and names to make them known by, we must always have the things themselves present, that we may point at them with the finger, which is imporsible. And although it were so that we had them always before our eyes, yet that were not sufficient. For we should be forced to speak to the eyes by signs, & yet we could never without comparison inve●t so many signs, nor counterfeit and imagine so many things with all the senses and members of our body, as the tongue alone would afford us by means of speech. For it giveth a name to every thing. Therefore it is able to make the natures of things known, and to set before us as well things absent as present, invisible as visible, spiritual as corporal. In a word, God hath given this benefit to man, by means of the tongue and the ears, that they can represent one to another, and 'cause each other to know and understand as well divine things as human. And although God made this diversity and confusion of languages amongst men, 
Gen 11. 7.  to punish them for their arrogancy and ingratitude, nevertheless he hath so provided for this evil, that he hath manifested the more his great goodness towards them, and the riches of his eternal providence, by that knowledge of so many sundry tongues which he hath given them, and chief that by them his Gospel might be published. And if this benefit of 
Acts. 2. 34. A miracle of letters.  God be worthy of great admiration, aught we not also to marvel much at this, that such a variety of sounds proceeding out of the mouth of man, can be comprehended in so small a number of letters, whereby so many sorts of words, and such divers languages are expressed? By this means also, we see that speech, which cannot be perceived by any of the senses but by the ears, is made as it were visible, so that by the help of letters a man may speak to the eyes, and not see them, as he may also to the ears by means of the voice. And although voice and speech fly into the air as if they had wings, insomuch that a man can neither behold them with his eyes, nor smell them with his nose, nor hold them with his hands; nevertheless speech is kept still before the eyes, and may be called back when a man will by means of writing, and by the benefit of letters. Yea, it may be sent to them that are absent, and as far as one will, that they may understand it, even to them also that are not yet borne. For we see how our predecessors teach us after their death by their books and writings, 
The benefit of letters.  and how by this means their words are not only visible unto us, but also as it were immortal. Wherhfore the less we can conceive how this may be done by the tongue and by letters, the more aught we to wonder at this great work of God in man, praise him for it, and give him thanks. Now albeit the eye of our understanding dazzle, and cannot wholly comprehend this work of God, nevertheless we see this well enough, that the tongue doth so help to frame the voice into speech, and to make the diversity of words whereof speech is compounded, as the hands and fingers of the Organ-player who toucheth the Organs, and of the Musician that playeth upon an instrument of Music whatsoever it be, serveth to 'cause the sound thereof to be heard. For although, when one bloweth the Organs, the pipes thereof will yield divers sounds and tunes, if they be open, according as they are either great or small, long or short, wide or narrow, as we have said: yet these sounds will be but confused, without harmony and melody, if the Organist doth not play with his hands, thereby to dispense as need requireth that wind and breath which is to be distributed into the pipes, and if he touch not the keys of the Organs according to those tunes & notes, which he would have the pipes to make, following the Art of Music. And this we may see yet more plainly in a bagpipe. For although it soundeth by reason of the wind, within the leather bag, which receiveth and keepeth it as it were a little sack, yet it always yieldeth forth but one sound, without distinction and harmony, until the Minstrel play with his fingers upon the holes of the pipe that belongeth unto it. Therefore as there is great difference between 
The difference between 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉  a simple confused voice, and that which is distinct and artificial, so is there between voice and speech. So that when the tongue hath received the wind & breath, which ascendeth up from the lungs by the rough Artery, and is fashioned into voice by the means afore mentioned: than it formeth the same afterward into distinct speech by such an Art and Science, as nor: can understand much less express it, but GOD only, who hath given, it to the tongue, in which consisteth the chief dignity thereof. For it is that science, which is the mother of Eloquence, which men have in such great admiration: and because of this, the Arts of Grammar; Logic, and Rhetoric have been published by the best learned men. For all these three Arts are specially appointed for speech: the one to make it proper 
〈…〉  pure, and neat, namely Grammar, the other, namely Logic, to knit well together all discourses made by speech, and all sentences in them, according as they agreed among themselves, depend and follow one another, and are grounded upon good reason: Thirdly, Rhetoric is joined unto them, to adorn and polish speech, to make it more significant and very eloquent: so that whereas Logic maketh speech as it were a simple picture, that hath nothing but bore draughts, which serve to make it whole, and furnished in regard of every part and lineament thereof, Rhetoric maketh it not only as it were a picture well set forth with fair and lively colours of all sorts, but also adorned and enriched with goodly hil● and dales and such like paintings, that it may show the better, and be made fairer and leasanter, to behold. Wherhfore as there is great difference to look upon between these two pictures, so is there of speech in respects of the ears, as it is propounded either more plainly and simply, or more decked and garnished. For this cause seeing God hath vouchsafed us so much honour as to give us speech, especially to praise and glorify him with our tongue, and for to benefit the common society of men, we must not be content only to speak, but we must study to speak well, in fit terms, and wisely, to the glory of God, and to the good and profit as well of ourselves as of them that hear us. This cannot be done but by the knowledge of God & of his word, without which all the Logic and Rhetoric of men is but vain babbling. But when the one is joined with the other, 
We cannot, speak wisely without the knowledge of God and his word.  and the arts that teach men to speak elegantly are applied to this purpose, then is the use thereof verygood, and worthy of great commendation. Therefore we must all acknowledge ourselves to be as it were Organ-pipes, having of ourselves neither sound, nor voice, nor tongue, nor mouth to speak of God, and of his works as we aught, and to praise and glorify him, but only so far forth as he being the Organ player bloweth within, and inspireth us by his holy Spirit, giving unto us wisdom and tongue and mouth, and virtue in speaking. Now here we must not only call to mind what we have already spoken of the causes, why the lungs, which is one chief instrument of the voice, & without which it cannot be made, is placed so near the heart, but also we must consider how near the tongue & the instruments of voice and speech next unto it, are unto the brain, wherein is the principal seat of the spirit, and which is chief assigned to the mind of man, & to that part of his soul that is most diviue. For seeing God would have the tongue to be the messeger, & as it were the interpreter of the spirit & mind, and of all the thoughts thereof, that men might teach one another both the knowledge of God his worship, and of all other good things, and seeing he would have speech to be the bond of human society and of that communication, which men aught to have one with another, therefore it was very requisite, that being the instrument of speaking it should be near the brain, which is the lodging of all the internal senses, of which, if God 
Why the tongue is placed near the brain.  will, we will entreat hereafter in their place. For as all the external senses do carry to the internal, and the bodily to the spiritual, whatsoever they perceive by sense according to their nature and office, thereby to admonish and instruct them, that they may think and judge thereof and lay it up in memory: so the internal and spiritual senses carry the same things afterward to the tongue, that it might declare and make them known to those, unto whom they would communicate their mind and cogitation. Hereof it is, that the tongue is oftentimes taken for doctrine, and for all speech both good and evil: in which sense Solomon taketh it when he saith, The tongue of the wicked shall perish. And S. Paul calleth speaking with the tongue, when one useth speech that is not understood of the hearers: and speaking with the spirit 
1. Cor. 14. 2. 14. 15.  and with understanding also, when such a language is used as is understood of every one, and which serveth to the edification of them that hear it. Therefore the tongue must not stir, nor the mouth open itself to speak, before it have received a commandment and 
The Mistress of the tongue  charge from reason, which is the Lady and mistress thereof, to guide and govern it, whose messenger and servant it is to give notice of that which the reason and mind would have known. Wherhfore it is very convenient that the lady and mistress of the tongue should have her lodging over and near about her, and not to be far from her, to the end she forget not herself, nor attempt any thing without a commandment from reason. So that as before we gave the heart to be the governor, guide, and counsellor of the tongue: so now we appoint the brain as lord and master thereof, to the end it should have a good guide both above and beneath it. For no member in all the body hath greater need. Therefore S. 
james 3. 6.  james calleth the tongue a fire, yea a world of iniquity, which defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature, and is set on fire of hell. Such are the first-fruits of an unbridled tongue that is misled & ill governed: as contrariwise it is an excellent treasure in man, when it is moderated and used wisely and soberly, and in time and place convenient as need requireth. For all these things God giveth us good instructions in the matter and composition of this member. For first, he doth not content himself in giving to man but one only tongue for so many offices as are assigned unto it; whereas many other members are double, and yet seru● chief but for one thing: but also hath made it tender, soft and pleasant, and tied it fast with many bands, as it were so many small cords and threads, to restrain and bridle it, to the 〈◊〉 it should not run over or be too forward, and that it should not bring forth bitter●●●●steade 
Why the tongue is so fashioned & fenced on every side  of sweetness, nor prick and hurt any body. Therefore it is made blunt on every side, not sharp or forked, like to the stings of Scorpions and other venomous beasts. Moreover, hath the gums and teeth, with which it is environed & closed in on every side as it were wit● a quickset, and with a strong rampire to keep it fast shut within the bounds and limits thereof, as it were within a cave. Besides it hath lips as it were gates to open unto it, or to shut it up and muzzle it, lest it should take too much licence. Therefore seeing God doth guard the ●ong so on every side, he giveth men to understand that they aught not to abuse it, and teacheth them what care they aught to have of this little member, seeing that of all the outward members, none is so hid, covered, compassed about, & locked up with such a natural covering and enclosure, as that is. And to end ourspeach, we know that when the hart & mind, which aught to be the guides & governors of the tongue, shall be reform in purity and true knowledge of God by his grace, there will be nothing but good speech & all truth in the tongue, to the setting forth of the glory of his divine Majesty, and to the profit of every one according to the duty of true charity. But if the mind and heart be evil, and blinded with error and ignorance, they will bring forth like fruits and speeches. Now having discoursed at large of the first office of the tongue, which consisteth in framing of the speech, we must consider of the other two uses thereof, which are in tasting, & in preparing meat that is chewed in the mouth for the nourishment of the body. Therefore, thou shalt begin, ACHITOB, to discourse of these two offices, & of those instruments, which serve the tongue to this purpose.   

Of the office of the tongue in tasting, and in preparing meat for the nourishment of the body: of the teeth, and of their nature and office: of the conduit or pipe that receiveth & swalloweth down meats. Chap. 16.  
ACHITOB. The more we consider the work and providence of God in the composition of man's body, the more we shall marvel at it, and daily find therein new matter and occasion to glorify his name. Before we considered thereof, as of the frame of an house: now we shall see it as it were a town or city that hath miles and Ovens, and Artificers of all arts and occupations. And, which is more wonderful, we shall perceive such industry in 
One member may serve for many offices.  many of the members, that oftentimes one alone will serve for many offices, for the due performance whereof man's reason would require many members: and yet God hath so well provided therefore, that one alone doth better discharge them, and with less trouble than many together could do. Which may evidently be known by those uses and offices of the tongue, whereof we are yet to entreat.  
One, and that the chiefest reason why the tongue is fitly placed in the head near the brain, was declared unto us in the former speech: now we must note others, especially why it is necessary that it should be in the mouth, as likewise in the head. For the tongue could not have satisfied any one office committed unto it, if it had been placed barely and openly in the face, as the eyes, nose, or ears are. And seeing it was requisite to have it covered, it could have no better covering then the mouth, as may be proved by many reasons. The first is, that seeing it is the instrument of speech, which must be helped by many other parts 
Why the mouth is the fittest place for the tongue.  to have it well framed, as we heard before, it was to be lodged in a place where it might have near at hand all instruments needful for that service. Now this use of speech is proper to the tongue of man only, and not to that of brute beasts: but to the other twain following, are common to man with beasts; namely the sense of taste, for which God hath appointed both that and the palate: to which cause it was requisite also that it should be near the brain and in the head, as the other instruments and members of the senses are, as also in the place appointed for the preparation of bodily food. For it must first judge of tastes and discern 
The office of the tongue.  between good and bad meat, and between good and bad drinks, to the end, that whatsoever is good for the nourishment of the body, may be kept, and that which is bad, rejected: and that afterward, which is the last office, it may help the teeth and mouth to chew the meat, and so to swallow it down. For the jaws and teeth are as it were the stones of the mill, which serve to prepare the meat for all the body. Wherhfore as there are two stones in every mill, namely, one beneath, which abideth always steadfast, & turneth no way, and another above, which always turneth about to bruise & grinned the grains of wheat that are between them: so in the mill of man's body there are two jaws like to two millstones, of which 
Of the mill of man's body.  the one is always firm, & the other moveth. But there is this difference between these & millstones, that the neither jaw only moveth, which is true, not only in man, but also in all other living creatures, except in the Crocodile, who in this point quite differeth from all other living creatures that have jaws & teeth. Now God hath so appointed this motion of the mill●oneses of man's body not without good reason. For seeing the brain is so near, & that there are so many goodly members in the head above the uppermost jaw bone, it were to be feared, that the continual and great moving thereof would shake them, and bring them into some inconvenience. And that the jaws might bruise & break whatsoever is put between them, as the stones of the mill grind the grains of corn, the teeth are planted in them to serve them in this work.  
And instead of wind or water, which drive artificial mills about, this natural mill of which we speak, hath his muscles and sinews to move it, and to set it a working when need requireth. For this cause Solomon, meaning to show ●he defect of teeth in old age, & what small strength old men have to chew their meat, saith, that the grinders sh●ll cease because they are few, and the doors shall be shut without by the base sound of the grinding. These doors are the lips, because 
Eccles. 12. 3. 4.  they serve the mouth, and the mill which is within them. For we understand by the mouth, all that is from the lips unto the throat & wind pipe, wherein not only the mill of man's body is contained, but also as it were a part of the bakehouse, in which the meat that is grinded is to be kneaded, & so made ready for the oven, that afterward it may be baked in 
Of the kitchen of the body  the stomach, which is as it were the oven and kitchen of the whole body to dress meat for it, wherewith all the members thereof are to be fed & nourished. For food cannot nourish the body if it still continued such as it is put into the mouth, unless it be better prepared & dressed in such sort, that it may easily be turned into the substance of the body that receiveth it. As then the jaws & teeth are the mill & millstones, which bruise & turn to meal the wheat that is put between them, that is to say, all kinds of meats, both hard and tender, for the nourishing of the body: so we may say, that the tongue in this respect playeth the miller, and serveth in stead of a hopper, into which those grains that otherwise would scatter from between the millstones are put that they may be ground. For when the meat falleth on any side from between the teeth, the tongue serveth to sand it back again, that it may be well chewed, & not avoid the grinding of the jaws & teeth. Thus we daily come to greater knowledge of strange instruments in the body of man. For we heard before what Organs & what kind of musical instrument God hath made in him for the voice & for speech: now we may see how there are within him, a mill and a miller, a bakehouse and a kitchen, Hereupon we aught to think, that the Master & maker of these, hath not created them that they should be idle, as though he had given them nothing to grind, or to bake. For he is no such workmaster as to make any work, ●● not to set it a working, or to leave it unfurnished of things necessary: neither any such master or Lord, but that he can easily do it. Wherhfore although there 
God ministereth food to all creatures.  are as many of these mills and ovens, as there are not only reasonable creatures but also beasts, and although he hath undertaken to maintain them always, even from the creation of the world until the consummation thereof, yet he never wanted matter to set them on work when it pleased him. Hereby we may know whether we have a rich Father or not, and what cause we have to fear that he will leave our mills and ovens empty, although we had many houses full of them, as indeed we have in ourselves, our wives & children, so long as we acknowledge him to be such a one, and that we yield obedience unto him, as becometh his children. But we have further to note, that as our mill is not without a Miller, & such tools as are necessary for him, so the Oven & Kitchen have their Baker & cooks. For first, the teeth do not only serve for a mill, but they discharge some part of a cooks office, because the more they chop the meat, & chew it well, it is the better prepared for the stomach to bake it so much the sooner. Therefore we say commonly, that the first preparation & digestion of meat is made in the teeth. For this cause God hath given a great number of them to man, & hath made them of bone, & distinguished them into sundry sorts, according to that office whereunto he hath assigned every one of them. For right afore there are four above, and 
Of teeth & of their divers kinds.  as many beneath, that are broad, sharp & cutting, which are called Incis●rie teeth, because they are apt to divide and to cut the meat as a knife doth: and these have but one root. Than there are other twain on each side commonly called Dogg-teeths, because they resemble teeth of dogs, which are broad towards their root, but sharp and pointed above: and these also have but one root of a reasonable length. Their office is to break the meats and other things, which by reason of their over great hardness could not cut by the first. Next, the other teeth are appointed to bruise very small those meats which have already passed through the former, even as millstones bruise wheat. Therefore they are sharp, broad, hard, and great, and have more roots than the other. And because of the similitude which they have with millstones, they are called by the same name both of the Grecians and Latins, as also jaw-teeths and grinders. All teeth are planted in the jawebones by means of the Gums, being fastened within them, as it were nails, so that they cannot easily be moved, shaken, or plucked out. And although bones naturally have no feeling, yet teeth are very sensible, by reason of certain branches or small soft sinews which enter into their substance. For this feeling is necessary for them, both because they are bore and covered with flesh, as other bones are as also for the meats sake & for taste: as they that in some●sort are serviceable to the taste, aswell as all the other parts of the mouth. Thus you see how the teeth serve at one time both for a mill and a cook together with the tongue & the rest of the mouth. Again, the tongue serveth for a baker, 
The tongue like to a baker.  having this office laid upon it, together the meat together after it is well ground and chewed, and to fashion it round like to pills or small loves that are yet but dough, to this end that it may with more ease be swallowed down. Wherein it dealeth like a Baker, who first fashioneth his bread into loves. Next it playeth the part of a baker and of a peel both together, as that which setteth in the meat, and causeth it to descend into the stomach, which is the oven wherein it must be baked, that afterward it may nourish the whole body. For this cause it was necessary that the tongue both in breadth and length, should be answerable to the whole mouth in such sort, that it might touch all parts of it to discharge so many offices.  
We see then that man's body is not only like to such a frame of a house as we considered of before, but also like to a great City, wherein there are miles and Ovens, and Artificers of all occupations.  
Now upon this that hath been discoursed touching this last use of the tongue in preparing and swallowing down meat, we must further note, that as there is a pipe that reacheth from the lungs unto the mouth for respiration, & for the breath of the voice, as hath been declared unto us: so there is another from the stomach unto the same place, properly called the Gullet 
Of the Gullet or Weazand.  which the Physicians commonly call by the Greek name 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: whose office is to carry the meats & drinks into the stomach. And as the other pipe is in the former part of the neck, that it may go right to the mouth to draw in the air, so this second is behind in the neck, that it may keep more heat in it, and it is longer than the first. Nevertheless, many think that there is but one pipe for breath and for meat and drink: as there are some also, who albeit they know well there are twain, yet they suppose that the one is for meat, and the other for drinks, that the lights also might be moistened thereby. Yea, there have been skilful and great Philosophers, who seem to have been in this error, or at leastwise hath disputed thereof. But because GOD hath so distinguished these passages, and that the first is the breathing pipe, for the reason uttered before, this excellent Workemaster hath made another little instrument, called Epigl●t by the Physicians, made of gristly matter, reasonable hard, and fashioned like to a little tongue that is of 
Of the Epiglot or little tongue.  a triangle form, or like to an ivy leaf. This instrument serveth to cover the pipe for breath at the very top of Larinx, as it were a cover of a pot. It serveth the pipe to this use, not to keep every thing out of it, but to suffer no meat or drink, or any other thing to enter in, in any such quantity as might hinder breathing and respiration. For a little thing will stop a man's breath and strangle him, as appeareth in those whom Histories affirm to have been strangled, some by a little hair, others by a stone of a grape, some in supping up milk, and others by such like trifles. Yea many times we have experience of this peril when we eat and drink, if never so little meat or drink enter into this passage. Therefore God teacheth us two things thereby: the first is, upon what a 
Good lessons ●or every one.  slender thread our life dependeth, seeing so little a matter is sufficient to deprive us of it. The other is to admonish us how quiet and sober we aught to be in eating and drinking, not gluttonlike; and also in speaking, when we take our refection. For than is the danger greatest, if we speak whilst we eat: because we cannot speak without voice, nor have voice without breathing, nor breath without opening this little cover. And because the breathing pipe is foremost, the meat and drink must needs pass over this little tongue as it were ●uer a little draw bridge. So that if the small cover were lift up and opened, in stead of going beyond the pipe of breathing, it would enter into it. But it must not be so fast shut up, but ●hat breath may always issue out, and that some thin humour and liquor may enter in, to moisten and suppling both the artery and the lungs: otherwise potio●s appointed for that purpose by the Physicians; were vain and unprofitable. Having now spoken sufficiently of those instruments which are serviceable to voice and speech, and of all the proper offices of the tongue, it will be thy part, ASER, to morrow, to take in hand again, and to pursue our matter of the senses, and of their instruments, and first to instruct us what the sense of taste is, and what the palate is that serveth it.   
The end of the second days work.   

The third days work.  

Of the sense of taste given to the Palate: what tastes are good to nourish the body: of the diversity of them: of hunger and thirst, and of their causes. Chap. 17.  
ASER. It is wonderful that God causeth all things whatsoever they be to serve his work in such sort, that nothing is in vain, idle or unprofitable: whereof we have already seen many testimonies in our former discourses of the lest parts of the body. But, which is yet more wondered in his providence, he hath created, made & disposed nothing throughout all nature without great order, excellent measure, & moderation in all things: which gave occasion to the first Philosophers to call the whole frame of the world, Mundus, which is as much to say, as an Ornament, or a well disposed order of all thinsg. Whereby God would have us especially learn to know, how greatly order pleaseth him and how he abhorreth all disorder and confusion, and how greatly he desireth, that men after his example, should observe measure and moderation in all their works. Hereof we may have a goodly instruction in this place, if we consider how all the senses, & namely, the taste with those savoury relishes that agreed with it, receive their strength, virtue and nature from all the elements, according to that agreement, which their nature and offices have with them: as also what pleasure we take in the relish of all things, when it agreeth with our taste: and contrariwise how it troubleth us, when it is unpleasant and not agreeable to our taste.  
Yesterday we discoursed of the corporal senses, and of their members and instruments: whereupon we spoke of the tongue, both because of the agreement it hath with the ears by reason of speech, as also because it is the instrument of taste together with the palate, which is 
What the palate is. job, 12. 11. & 34. 3. Of the providence of God in the variety of tastes.  the upper part of the mouth, made like to a prettty vault, and to a little heaven. Therefore job said, Doth not the ear discern the words, and the palate taste meat for itself? And again, The ear trieth the words as the mouth tasteth meat. The sense of taste than is that sense, whereby the mouth judgeth of all kinds of tastes, which are many in number. And this is a notable gift of God, in that he hath given such relishes to meats and drinks, whereby not only men, but also all living creatures can presently know by their taste what things are good to eat & drink, and what are otherwise. For if God had not given the sense of taste to all living creatures, that they might judge thereby of all meats & drinks, what would their life be? But we are to know this thing further, that men judge by their taste, not only of such things as may serve to nourish them, hut also of medicines. For Physicians know the qualities of 
The sense of taste necessary for Physicians  herbs & simples more by their taste, then by any other sense: afterward by this knowledge they judge easily of their natures & properties, & for what remedies & uses of Physic they will serve. Therefore this judgement of the taste is very necessary for the life of man, especially for the nourishment of all living creatures: because all things which the earth bringeth forth are not good to feed them. For some things are divers from nourishment, as earth, clay, wood & stones: other things are altogether unsavoury, and have no taste, and some have but a very little. But God hath provided a remedy for this, by the means of sal●, and of sundry sorts of sauces and spices, whereby they may be made to have a pleasant taste. There are some things also, which are clean contrary, either by reason of their evil taste, as gall and wormwood or else because of the hurt which they may bring with them, as those things that are animous, and very poison. But God hath very well met with this inconvenience both this gift of the sense of tasting, and also by putting into such things as might hurt either man or any other living creature, a certain quality, which we call relish or taste, that is contrary and very unpleasant to the sense of tasting: as likewise he hath given to those things that are healthful and good to nourish, a relish that is agreeable and pleasant to our taste, if it be not corrupted, either by sickened, or by some unbridled appetite: the like is to be said of the spittle, which beside the use before named, hath this also, that it helpeth the taste. Wherefore if it be already infected with some evil taste, it will not well receive others, but will 
Another use of Hospital.  'cause every thing to be of the same taste wherewith it is infected and corrupted. Now those things are most savoury, and have the best relish, that have in them the best mixture of heat and moisture, which two qualities make the relish of things, and without which we see that all extreme cold and dry things have no smack or tase, as flax or tow, and dry wood, or water that is very pure. In other things, those that have more moisture than heat, have their taste less sharp, so that according as heat and humidity are tempered together, the diversity of tastes is framed. For if humidity doth not exceed and surmount earthy dryness, or both of them be consumed by heat, there is no taste. So that as all bodily things are compounded of all the elements, and differ one from another, according as they have more or less of the elements, so is it in tastes. For this cause 
How the Senses agreed with the elements.  this sense of taste answereth to the element of water, and holdeth most of the nature thereof: as the sense of touching hath more affinity with the earth, to the end it might agreed better with those things that are to be felt thereby. For the vigour and sense thereof aught to be close together and throughout, and such as taketh faster hold than any of the rest. So likewise the sense of sight agreeth with the fire, and that of hearing with the air, as we have already touched it. And as for the sense of smelling, it agreeth both with the fire and with the thick air, because smells are stirred up by heat, as smoke is by fire, which afterwards are by the means of the air carried to the sense of smelling, whereof we will speak hereafter.  
But let us go on with our discourse of tasting, and of such things as are apt to nourish the body. For we cannot live without the help of many things: amongst which, meats and drinks are chiefest: because that as hunger requireth meat, so thirst desireth drink. We must therefore understand, that this soul and life which is called Uegetative or nourishing, and which is common to man with all other living creatures, hath two principal 
The heat & humidity the preservers of life.  instruments in the body, namely heat and humidity: of which, heat is first and chief, belonging properly to the virtue of nourishing: next: humidity is joined to heat, that it may feed and preserve it. For life is preserved in the body by heat, which is the chief instrument thereof: so that as soon as heat is go, it becometh stark dead. And because this heat would easily and quickly consume itself, if it were not nourished and maintained, the moisture is joined unto it in living bodies, as it were a bridle to keep it back, to the end that life might be prolonged, which otherwise would fail presently after it were forsaken of heat, as heat also would decay, if it were not nourished and preserved by humidity, which it necessarily requireth. For heat draweth humour unto itself, and sucketh and drinketh it up: likewise humour refresheth heat, and slaketh the vehemency thereof: all which we may plainly see in a lamp. For let us compare the light of a lamp with life, and then let us consider, whether this light can be preserved without fire, and whether this fire can continued any long time and not be extinguished, unless it have two things. The first is matter, as namely the wieke of the lamp: which matter cannot be firm if it have no dryness in it whereof fire may take hold. For fire being hot and dry, cannot have any fellowship with coldness and humidity, without some middle quality agreeable to his nature. On the other side it will soon consume the dry matter, on the which it delighteth, if the vehement heat thereof be not abated and tempered by some humidity, which both resisteth the dryness, and also by the coldness it hath, moderateth the heat of the fire. Therefore we see, that the matter of the wieke of a lamp cannot continued long being once lighted, if it be not greased with some tallow, or some humid matter to preserve both that and the fire of which it receiveth light. For when it is burnt out, the fire also dieth with it through want of nourishment that might maintain it. But it is not enough although the fire have meet matter to nourish it. For they must be so well wrought and mingled one with another, that there be neither too much no● to ●ttle of either, but as much as need requireth. For if there be a great deal of wieke and ●ut a little oil and tallow, it will endure so much the less while: and if there be too much ●yle or tallow in respect of the wieke, it will slake the fire overmuch, yea it may be in such ●●eat quantity, that it will put it quite out. But if due proportion be kept between the cotton and the oil or tallow, the fire will preserve itself very well, and give a goodly clear light.  
The like is done in our bodies. For if they were without natural heat, there would be 
A comparison between a lamp and man's body.  no life in them: and if this heat had not meet matter to preserve itself within them, it would quickly be extinguished. Now seeing it must be nourished and maintained, this cannot be done unless it have some solid and firm matter, which cannot be consumed so quickly, but that it may preserve itself sometime. Again, forasmuch as there is no matter so solid and firm, which is able any long time to resist the fire that consumeth all, if the violence thereof be not moderated, this matter must of necessity be moistened. Hear then the meat, which is most solid, standeth in stead of match or week to this natural fire, from whence proceedeth life to the body: and drinks are as it were oil in a lamp, to moisten the meat, to the end that this fire should not consume it so quickly. And because it must always be kept burning, (otherwise the light thereof, which is the life, will die together with it) it must have new matter continually ministered unto it, as it were to a fire that cannot always continued kindled in the chimney and not go out, if it be not preserved by wood or coal, or in a candle or lamp, if it have not always cotton, or week and oil, or some other tallowy and moist matter. Therefore we see that when either of them beginneth to fail, another is put in to supply the place of it. And thus as fire and the light thereof are maintained in a lamp or candle by means of that nourishment they have both in the week and in the tallow thereof: so life and that natural fire which giveth life to the body, are maintained by that food, which they receive ordinarily in eating and drinking. The meat then in man's body, is to nourish and preserve the natural heat thereof, as the week is in a candle or lamp: and the moisture which it receiveth by drink, is unto it as the oil and tallow.  
For this cause if heat be stronger in a man, he sh●ll feel thirst, which is an appetite and 
The causes of thirst and hunger.  desire of that which is moist and cold, that is, of such qualities as are contrary to the fire, which is hot and dry. For the moisture must be confirmed and strengthened to moderate the burning heat, as it is when oil is powered into a lamp. And if both heat and moisture consuming each other, begin to wax faint and to fail, they must both be helped, that they may gather more strength: as when we put not only oil, but wieke also into a lamp. And this is the cause of hunger, which is a desire of that which is hot and moist.  
But there is difference between the humidity required in hunger, and that which is required in thirst, because the moisture desired in thirst is more thin and less earthy, then that which is required in hunger. And if the moisture be increased over much, so that the heat decreaseth and languisheth, and consequently the appetite to meat and drink and to receive nourishment, decayeth, it must be restored again by Physic. For although all 
Of Physic, and the causes thereof.  nourishment be as it were Physic to the body, nevertheless, there is this difference, in that food repaireth the whole person and all the body, whereas Physic repaireth only the instruments of the body, which are to serve for nourishment. For this cause food is always necessary for all, at all times, and in all places: but besides that all stand not in need of Physic, they that want it, use it but at certain times as necessity requireth. For if those members that serve to nourish the body be well disposed, and discharge their office so well, that all the parts of the body receive due nourishment, and the whole body be healthy and sound, there needeth nothing but ordinary food to preserve the body, and to keep it is good health. But if any member be weakened, and doth not his duty well, especially any of those that aught to serve to nourish the whole body, it must be restored again to strength by the means of Physic. Now albeit the sense of taste whereof we have presently discoursed, be not so apt to teach, especially, the knowledge of spiritual and divine things, as the senses of seeing and hearing, of which we have spoken heretofore: yet we may receive much good doctrine thereby. For as the body cannot live except it have such corporal food as agreeth to the nature thereof, so the soul cannot live if it have not that knowledge, which God hath appointed for it. And as life is kept in the body by heat, 
Instructions from the sense of taste.  which is the chief instrument thereof, so the life of our souls consisteth and is preserved and increased by heat, namely, by the love and charity of God, without which it cannot live that life that is agreeable to it own nature. For the soul that is separated from the love of God, is dead in respect of the true and blessed life, seeing God liveth not in it, nor it in God. For this cause this love must be always nourished and maintained therein by the celestial and divine moisture, agreeable to the nature thereof. Wherhfore as it is of a heavenly and celestial nature, so the food thereof must be answerable thereunto. This food therefore cannot be had but of God, who is the life of the soul, as the soul is the life of the body: and the means which he hath appointed to minister this food unto it, is his heavenly and eternal word, and those spiritual graces which he communicateth unto us thereby. But let us follow our matter subject of corporal senses. And seeing we have entreated of the means whereby the body is nourished, we aught to consider more particularly of those things that are meet and convenient to maintain and preserve the body of man, and see how God prepareth them to this end: in which thou shalt instruct us, AMANA.   

Of helps and creatures meet for the preservation and nourishment of the body: how God prepareth them to serve for that purpose: of their use. Chap. 18.  
AMANA. God being careful over the welfare of his creatures that have life, hath put in them a desire to preserve themselves, to the end they should follow after such things as are profitable for their health, and shun that which is hurtful and contrary unto it. Now this preservation consisteth either in the equality that may easily be reduced 
The equality of heat and moisture preserveth life.  and brought to an equality by that which we eat and drink. For if there be so great excess of heat or moisture that the one consumeth the other, death followeth necessarily: if there be no excess of either, but a good equality, the body is very well affected. But it is very hard to found a body so tempered. And although such a one might be found, yet it could not long continued in that estate, but that it would quickly change, as we may judge by that which we have learned in the former discourse. But when this change doth not bring with it so great excess and inequality, but that it may be kept upright by nourishment, the body is nevertheless well disposed, until such time as the excess is greater than can be repaired by food. For then if food will not serve the turn, we must have recourse to Physic: and if the inequality be so great, that by the help of Physic no remedy can be found, there is no other natural aid to be had.  
Now this inequality that approacheth so near to equality, is very pleasant, as that which 
Of the inequality that is in the nature of the body.  is the prick and procurer of natural pleasures, necessary for the life of man to incite him to desire them, and as it were the sauce to make them toothsome. For if there were always equality, we should never be affected with hunger or thirst, nor with any appetite to eat or drink. And if this appetite were not, we should not have those pleasures, which we receive by meats and drinks, and by their divers tastes and relishes. So that we should not have such a notable testimony of the goodness and bountifulness of God towards us, 
A testimony of the great providence of God.  and of his care, as we have by the sense of taste which he hath given unto us. Wherein also he admonisheth us in such sort of our mortal nature through the necessity we have of food for the preservation of our life, as that withal he supplieth this want and necessity, that we may the better know and taste the sweetness of his love toward us. For, whereto would those creatures serve that are good for our nourishment, if we had no use of them? And how could we use them, if we stood not in need of them? Therefore seeing the matter standeth thus, it appeareth evidently, that we are nourished by such things as are familiar and like to our nature, and are healed by things contrary to that which hurteth us. For the nearer any thing approacheth to our nature, the sooner it is converted into it. So that amongst those meats that are familiar unto us, they nourish best that draw nearest to our nature. For this cause babes new borne that are little and tender, have milk for their food, which is very meet for them by reason of the agreement that is between it and the 
What meat is fittest for infants.  matter whereof their bodies are made. For, as we have already heard, the milk is made of the self same blood wherewith they were nourished in their mother's womb, and whreof they were before engendered and conceived: forasmuch as the parent's seed, of which they were framed, is derived from their own blood. Whereupon it followeth, that the matter of their bodies is of the same substance: and so that food which draweth nearest unto it, is most natural and meet for them. For this cause we said before, that all things are not serviceable for meat, drink and nourishment, but those only that have a nature agreeable thereto, and that for the reasons specified by us. Hear then we must call to mind that which we have already touched else where, namely that seeing the body of man is compounded of all the elements, it is therefore needful that the nourishment wherewith it is to be preserved and upholden, should participate of all the elements, to the end that all and every part of man's body should be maintained and preserved by that which is like to itself. Therefore God hath well provided to this purpose, as we see in the matter whereof our bodies are made. For we have heard what difference there is according to the sundry parts and diversity of members in the body: and yet the whole matter of them all is taken from the substance of the same elements, and the difference between them cometh of this only, that some parts participate more of some elements, & others of other elements. Hereof it is, that the hardest parts of the body, as the bones, are most earthy: and so consequently all the other parts, as they have either more or less of all the elements and of 
From whence cometh the different substance of our members.  their qualities. For this cause all the parts and members of the body must have food agreeable to the nature of the elements whereof they participate, according to that portion of matter which is in every one of them. Wherein we see a goodly testimony of the bond and agreement that is among all creatures, yea in all nature itself, together with the correspondency that every creature hath with it like. Therefore if we want air for breathing, we draw it in even as it is of it own nature, together with those qualities which it bringeth with itself. If we desire drink, only to refresh and to moisten the body and the meat it taketh, pure water serveth that turn, which is common drink for all creatures, and sufficient for the whole life of man, although there were no other. But God hath given this advantage 
Men have more variety of drinks than beasts.  to men above beasts, that besides this drink common to them both, they have others, not only more pleasant to their taste, but also more forcible to nourish them. For if the question be of taking sustenance either by meat or drink, we must have such meats and drinks as are more firm than the air & the water, and which are able to sustain the body according to it own substance and nature. For as the water and the air, whereof the body is made, could not consist in the composition thereof, but would slide and fall away, if they were not intermingled with some other matter that is more earthy and solid, thereby to keep and knit them together: even so, if food consisted only in liquid and moist things, that had no other substance of more earthy and solid quality, in which the virtue of heat might remain, and which might be converted into the greatness and massiness of the body, the living creature would always have an appetite, and never leave eating. Therefore God hath so framed those creatures, which he hath given to man for meat, that whatsoever is earthy therein doth not still retain the nature of the earth, as if it were nothing but simple earth: and so likewise that which is of the nature of fire, or of the water, or of the air: but all is so well mingled and tempered one with another, that the taste and savour thereof is pleasant and fit for all the parts of the body, that are to be nourished. And according as the qualities of the elements are mingled one with another, so the meats and drinks compounded of them, have their sundry tastes together with their other qualities. For if God had not so provided for it, man could have no taste therein: and if he tasted not, he would have no appetite, and so could neither eat nor drink. And if he could neither eat nor drink, he could not live, as we may judge by that which we have already heard.  
Now as he cannot live without eating and drinking, so it is requisite that he eat & drink with that moderation, that he take in no more meat & drink than he aught to do. For if 
We must eat neither too much nor too little.  he take to little, he cannot be sufficiently nourished: & if he take too much, in stead of being satisfied, he shallbe burdened, & in stead of preserving his life, he will kill himself. Therefore it is very necessary that every one should always observe great sobriety, otherwise God will correct our riot, our gluttony and drunkenness. But the danger that cometh by not keeping a mediocrity, is a great deal more to be feared on the one side then on the other. For there are but few that break not square oftener in eating & drinking too much then to little. Now to end this speech, we have farther to gather such good instructions as all men have in those things which God hath given them for nourishment, yea in their mouth also, to the 
The chief● end of 〈◊〉.  end to tender unto him honour, glory & praise. Whensoever beasts do eat, their tongue serveth to feed them, not otherwise then that of men doth help them: but they praise not God with that tongue which serveth to nourish them, because he hath not given them that gift of speech, wherewith he hath endued man, and that for the cause which we have already heard. For as a fountain cannot be without a river, so a river cannot be without a fountain. For this cause seeing reason, of which God hath made man partaker, is as it were a fountain in him, and speech as the river that issueth from it, the Grecians express both reason and speech with one and the same word, which Saint john also used, when speaking of th● Deity of jesus Christ, he said, In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and th● 
john. 1.  word was God. For as all the worked of God are perfect in their kind, so he maketh nothin without cause, and which hath not his use. So likewise he giveth nothing to any creature but withal he giveth the instruments and means which it aught to use, thereby to be mad● serviceable as the thing itself requireth. Hereof it is that he gave not speech to beasts, because he made them not partakets of reason, without which speech would stand them in no stead: so that it would have been a supper fluous work of God. Therefore seeing it is so, God requireth not of beasts that they should by speech praise him with their tongue, as he requireth it of men, unto whom he hath given the means to perform it. For beasts have neither reason to understand what is spoken, nor speech to utter any thing thereby, whereas man hath both the one and the other. He hath both the fountain, and also the river that runneth from it. Wherhfore when he sitteth down to meat, and whiles he is taking his refection (to which use his tongue serveth him, according as we heard before) and when he riseth from table, truly he is much more brutish than any brute beast, if with the self same tongue he doth not praise and glorify GOD, acknowledging as he aught the goodness 
Unthankful men are like to hogs.  of that celestial Father, that giveth him that food, and that nourisheth him. If he● do otherwise, he looketh no more from whence the meat cometh unto him than doth the hog, who with his snout always towards the earth, feedeth upon the Acorns that are underneath the Oaks, and never looketh or considereth from whence they fall. Yea, the Hog doth a great deal better discharge his duty in praising GOD then such men do, that eat and drink as brute beasts without giving thanks to GOD for the benefits he distributeth amongst them. For he praiseth God in his kind, as all other creatures do in theirs, according as the kingly Psalmist testifieth in many places of his Psalms. Neither doth God require more of them then he hath given unto them. But seeing he hath given more to man then to all other visible and bodily creatures, he requireth so much the more of him, and that very justly. For as it is written, To whom much is committed, more shall be demanded 
Luke 12. 48.  of him. Wherhfore man is not only too too inexcusable, but more vile and savage than any brute beast, if his tongue serve him no farther at the table for the praising of God thereby, then if (beastlike) his snout and nose were in a cratch or manger. For how shall the food in the use thereof be sanctified by the word of GOD and prayer, if he take it after that sort? And if it be not sanctified unto him by that mean, as Saint Paul teacheth, he useth it not as the child of GOD, but as a thief and a very profane man. For as Every creature of GOD is good when it is received with thanksgiving, so it is defiled to the filthy, not 
1. Tim. 4. 4.  through any fault of the creature, but of such as abuse it like to Infidels. But all they abuse it that give not thanks for it to the Creator. Wherhfore as every thing is clean to the clean, that have their hearts purified by the word of GOD which they have received by 
Food must be received with thansgiu●ng.  faith, so nothing is clean to the defiled and to Infidels. But if these men of whom we speak, be unworthy to be taken for men, yea, to be compared with hogs, than whom they are much more vile and detestable, we may easily judge what is to be said of those that do not only not praise God or give him any thanks, but which is worse, blaspheme, and as it were despite him in lieu of recompensing him for the benefits they have received of him, which is usually done by gluttons, drunkards, and swearers. What shall we say of 
Some mo●e like to mad dogs than men.  such men, but that they deserve rather to be called mad dogs than men? except we had rather call them children of the Devil, whose instrument, tongue and mouth they are. And as for those that cease not to prattle and babble about vain and unprofitable matters, and that take delight in back biting and slandering every one, we may with good reason compare their tongue to the clacket of a Mill. For seeing every one of us carrieth a mill in his mouth, as we showed before, these men may truly boast that their Mill is better furnished with all kind of instruments than others are. But they are not the more to be esteemed for that, but rather the less, for the reasons which we have already heard. And when they add to their clacking evil speech and backbiting, infecting all tables where they come with their tongue, they may well be compared to dogs that do not only bark but also bite. But it is time to draw the last draft of the pencil upon the face of man's body, by considering the sense of smelling with the member that belongeth unto it: wherein we look to be instructed by thee, ARAM.   

Of the Nose, and of the sense of smelling, and of their profit and use: of the composition, matter, and form of the Nose. Chap. 19  
ARAM. Forasmuch as beauty is a grace that proceedeth of the proportion, agreement and harmony of things, it is then very seemly in man's body, when it followeth 
What beauty is, and wherein it consisteth.  nature only, and is without any blemish or defect. Now this beauty consisteth in four things, namely, in figure, in number, in greatness and in situation. For the members of the body are well or ill coloured according to the disposition of the matter. And the correspondency of the members one towards another, aswell in the number, as in the length and greatness of each of them well compassed and proportioned together, is one cause also of beauty: as likewise the placing of every one of them in his proper place, most convenient and agreeable to his nature and use. For if any thing be wanting of all these things in any member of the body, there is deformity in stead of beauty.  
But if we consider only the beauty of the head and of the face thereof, whereof we discoursed yesterday, we shall not find any one member that hath not singular beauty in it, and that agreeth not very fitly with the rest, being of so good proportion and measure, and having such a great and excellent grace, that a man may truly say that the whole work hath in each part thereof so great perfection, that nothing can be added or taken away nothing can be wished to make it more fair, profitable, excellent or perfect than it is in it own nature. To the setting forth of this beauty, the Nose, whereof we are to speak, serveth very much, yea so much, that hardly any member in all the face or head so disfigureth a man, or maketh him more deformed than the nose, if it be evil favoured, disfigured, or taken clean away. But besides this beauty, which it bringeth to a man's head, we are to know that it is very serviceable to the whole body, and chief to the brain lodged in the top 
The nose is very serviceable to the brain.  thereof, as it were the Lord and Master: that as it giveth motion and sense to all the members: so it might be compassed about with all the senses as it were with servitors and men of guard. Therefore as it hath near about it, the eyes, ears, tongue, and palate, which are the instruments of seeing, hearing and tasting: so the nose is needful to serve the sense of smelling. Neither is it placed so near the sense of tasting without the great providence of God. For there are many things in nature, which if they be tasted only are deadly, or at lest wise very dangerous and hurtful, as appeareth chief in things that are venomous and poisonful. 
Why the sense of smelling is placed so near to that of tasting.  For this cause, albeit the sense of smelling be not altogether so necessary for living creatures, namely, for such as are most perfect, as the other senses, so that they may more easily want it, nevertheless GOD hath given it them, to the end it might be as it were a messenger to the taste to show what is good for it and what not, and this chief for two reasons. The first is, to keep men from hazarding themselves through an immoderate desire to eat and drink, before they have discerned by the smell of such things as are to be taken, whether they be profitable or hurtful for them. The second reason, is to take all suspicion and fear from them, which otherwise might 'cause them to abstain from those things that are good and profitable for them. And therefore this sense of smelling is nearly conjoined, and hath great agreement with the sense of tasting. For this is a general rule, that, albeit every thing that smelleth well hath not always a good taste, yet whatsoever a man findeth 
Of the agreement of these two senses.  good to his taste, the same hath also a good smell: and contrariwise, that which is found to have an ill relish, the same hath also the like smell. For the taste and smell are given not only for profit, but for pleasure also and delight. Neither do those things which serve for delectation, always bring profit, but sometime the contrary, principally through their fault that know not how to use them moderately. For they are so subject to their pleasures that they can never keep measure in any thing, as we see by experience, especially in these 
How men abuse these senses.  two senses of taste and smell. For as the ordinary meats satisfy not the delicate appetites of men, but they must have new dainties daily invented to provoke their appetite further, and to 'cause them to eat and drink more than is needful, to their great hurt: so men are not contented with natural odours which nature bringeth forth of itself, but now they must have musks & perfumes, with infinite variety of distilled waters & artificial smells, in regard of which, natural savours are nothing set by. And yet if they were used with sobriety, there were no cause of reprehension, seeing all the creatures of God are good, if they be used moderately, and as they aught with thanksgiving. Hereof it is that they are ofte● mentioned in Scripture in the good part. And not to seek far off for examples, we have the testimonies of the holy Evangelists, as our Lord jesus Christ himself, who was neither nice nor voluptuous, but the perfect pattern of all sobriety and temperance, did n●● 
joh. 12. 3.  reject no● condemn precious ointments and sweet odours, but sometime permitted th● use of them upon his own person. Moreover, it is certain, that the animal spirits in the brain are greatly relieved and recreated by those good and natural smells that are conveyed 
How the spirits are refreshed with sweet odours.  unto them by means of the nose, and of the sense of smelling placed therein: as contrariwise they are greatly offended by evil odours, yea oftentimes by artificial savours, which commonly cause rheums, catarrhs, and great headaches. For the spirits of the head are subtle, pure, and very neat, so that sweet smells are good for them, and stinking savours contrary unto them. To this end therefore that the brain might receive this benefit of good odours, God hath placed both the sense and instrument of smelling so near unto it: the instrument to keep & convey odours unto it, the sense to discern & judge of them. Therefore 
Of the divers uses of the nose.  this sense of smelling hath some agreement both with the fire, and with thick air, because smells are stirred up by heat, as smoke is by fire, which are after carried by means of the air unto the sense, and received and kept by the nose. Forasmuch also as the brain needeth air to nourish and preserve the animal spirits, the nose in this respect also standeth it in great stead. Therefore God hath created it not only to serve the sense of smelling, but also for respiration, that it should be the principal pipe and passage, by which both the brain and lungs may draw in or let out breathe as need requireth. For this cause the brain doth stretch out and restrain itself: and as by stretching forth itself it draweth in the air by the nostrils, so by keeping itself close together it retaineth the air. And so the external air being drawn in by the nostrils, is distributed by the crannies that are open in the palate, in such sort, that the greatest part is drawn into the lungs, and the residue goeth to the brain by the passages and holes that lead unto it. And although the mouth serveth also for respiration, yet the nose is appointed more especially for that purpose, and is much more fit and ap● for the same. Therefore God hath given it both matter and form agreeable for that office. For first concerning the matter, it is not made all of bone, nor all of gristles: because if it were all of bone, a double inconvenience would ensue thereof. 
Of the matter of the nose.  The first is, that the bones would be in danger of breaking, chiefly about the end of the nose when it should hit against any hard thing, because they would not bend and give place easily, as sinews will do. The second inconvenience would be this, that the ends of the nostrils could neither open nor shut, neither enlarge nor restrain themselves, but would continued always at one stay: whereupon two other mischiefs would follow. First, the nose could not open and enlarge itself so much as were requisite many times to draw in great store of air to cool and refresh both the lungs and the brain, especially when they are heated and set on fire. For at such a time there is peril of strangling. Secondly, for as much as the nose is given to man that it might serve the brain in stead of a pipe and spout to purge it of phlegmatic humours, a man could not by blowing, close it together & strain 
How the Nose is in stead of a● spout to the brain.  it to get the filth out of it, as need requireth many times. For the humours that distil from the brain are not always very liquid and running, but sometimes so gross and thick, that a man cannot easily purge the brain or nose, except it be closed and strained hard. Thus you see two evident causes why it was needful that the nose should be compounded of gristles, and not of bones only, at leastwise from the middle downward. On the other side, if this lower part had been made of flesh only, or of kernels, or of skins, the nostrils could not so well have been enlarged or restrained, nor continued so open, as is requisite for the service of all those duties and offices already mentioned: besides that those parts could not so well withstand the inconveniences whereunto they might be subject, if they were of a more tender matter. Lastly, as it was needful that one part of the nose should consist of that matter for those causes spoken of, so also it was necessary that the upper part should be made of bones, not only to keep the sense of smelling the better, which is in that part, and to be as it were a bluckler unto, it but also to serve in stead of rampires both for the eyes and for the brain. As for the inward parts, there are two nostrils distinguished one from another by a gristle which is between them both, as it were a little wall to divide them, to the end that if the one be stopped, the other may always discharge 
Of the nostrils, and of their parting asunder.  the offices assigned to them both. And to the end they may more easily draw in the air for the service as well of the lungs as of the brain, and also receive in the odours, they are larger at the first entrance, and after as they ascend up they wax more narrow, and that not without good reason of the providence of God. For he hath in a manner taken the self same course that he did in the composition of the ears, which he made large and wide at the entry, having that form, and that hole within, which we heard spoken of before, together with the causes why. The self same reason in a manner may be rendered here. For as it is to be feared that over great sounds would hurt the ears if they entered in all at once, so the lungs and much more the brain might be over cooled by the air that should enter in at the nostrils, if it should ascend up too fast at once, too suddenly, or too vehemently. By reason whereof it is requisite, that it should be retained in some sort, to the end that by the tarriance which it maketh it should be heated and better tempered. The like consideration is to be had of the vapours and smells in regard of the brain, not only of evil savours, but also of those that are good. For some are so violent by reason of the abundance of heat in them, which falleth out chief in such as are most excellent, that if they be not dispensed moderately, they hurt the brain. This cometh to pass in some persons, through the weakness of their brain. There are others, and namely such as care not for sweet things, who take no pleasure, not not in good smells, so that often times the sweetest and most delicate odours are hurtful to their head. Now God hath well provided for all these things, having placed a little bone in the top of the nose, which is pierced through like to a little siue. Hereupon it is called by the Physicians the sive-bone, or otherwise, and 
Of the spongy or sive-bone.  that more properly, the spongy bone, because the holes thereof are not straight, as are those of a siue, but somewhat slopewise like to the holes of a sponge. And this serveth for the better and more commodious discharging of all those uses declared by us, and for the avoiding of those discommodities which we have heard of. Whereunto may be added, that the humours which descend from the brain may not fall down so fast together, but distil better by little and little, and the good humours be kept more easily from falling down all at once together with the evil. I pass over here briefly the muscles given to the nostrils to move them, as also the nerves, which are sent from the brain to the sense of smelling to bring unto it the virtue of smelling, as the eyes, ears, palate, and tongue receive from thence 
Of the muscles of the nostrils & of the sinews of smelling.  their nerves also, which bring unto them that faculty and virtue that is meet for their nature. Wherein we may further note one goodly point of the providence God, in that giving motion and sense to every member of the body by the sinews, he giveth a special and proper sense to those nerves that are to minister virtue and power to every one of the corporal senses, which the other sinews have not. For there is none that giveth the sense meet for sight, but those that are allotted to the eyes for that purpose. The same may be said of those that are given to the ears for hearing, and to the tongue and palate for the taste, and to the nose for smelling. Now to end this speech, we are to draw out some instruction meat for the mind, according as we have done in our discourses of the other senses of the body. As than we judge by the nose and sense of smelling which God hath given unto us, what difference there is between a good and stinking smell, and how the one is pleasant and delightsome, and the other unpleasant and abominable: so likewise we aught to consider 
Notable instructions for the soul.  what small pleasure God taketh in the infection and stench of our sins, and how he is delighted with the sweet smell of the justice and virtues of Christ jesus, when we are perfumed therewith, and when he smelleth the savour thereof in us. Therefore whensoever, and as often as we feel some stinch and abhor the same, that evil smell aught to admonish us of the filthiness of our sins, and teach us to have them in greater abomination than any carrion smell whatsoever, and to abhor ourselves when we present ourselves before God, perfumed with such an infernal savour. For if we turn our faces aside, and stop our nose, and even spit upon the ground when we meet with some great infection, shall we not think that God turneth his face from us when he findeth us so stinking & infected? Contrariwise when we smell some good savour, it aught to bring into our remembrance the odour of jesus Christ his sacrifice, & of those virtues that are well pleasing & agreeable in the sight of God, and stir us up with all endeavour to present him with such smells, to the end we may be of good odour before God and men. Which the holy word will teach us, after he hath given us a spiritual nose whereby we may attain to the right sense and smell of that good odour of jesus Christ and of the Gospel, working in us the spirit of discretion to discern truth from lying, that our souls may be refreshed, as the brain is by those good smells that are brought unto it by the bodily nose, and by the sense of smelling that is therein. Now therefore being come to the end of this goodly matter of the five corporal and external senses, me thinks we should profit much by a brief collection of their use, and the commodity which they bring to men: considering also the diversity that is in the faces and visages, in which these goodly organical instruments of the senses are painte● and how their faces are images and pictures of their heart and mind. The discourse this matter appertaineth to thee ACHITOB.   

Of the use briefly of all the outward senses for the service of man, namely in purging the superfluities and ordures of his body: of the diversity that is in men's faces, and of the image of the mind and heart in them. Chap. 20.  
ACHITOB. When we taste some pleasure by considering the works of God, namely those which we bear about us in our nature, (as indeed such contemplation affordeth great delight to their souls that are not buried in ignorance) we aught to think that we have great occasions and certain means to consider, what pleasure and joy it would be to see and behold the Creator and Workmaster, who hath made and given to man such excellent senses, such wonderful virtues and faculties: what delight ariseth of hearing and smelling only some small odour, and of tasting a little of his providence, wisdom, goodness, benignity, grace, and mercy, much more, when they are thoroughly tasted and relished of us. Which may be performed by them that employ all care and diligence in meditating on his eternal word, and in considering the works of his Almighty power, until such time as by the dissolution of this mortal tabernacle of the body, they shall have put on immortality to enjoy true contemplation, that is, to behold him face to face, who only is able to satisfy the soul with goodness and felicity, as the Prophet teacheth us where he saith. In thy presence is the fullness of joy, and at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore. Now than 
Psal. 16. 1●.  we may know by that which we have hitherto heard in these our discourses, what testimonies God hath planted of his great providence in all the parts of our bodies, what care he hath had and still hath of man, and how he hath given him as many corporal senses as he needeth for the use and fruition of all those visible and bodily creatures which he hath created. For he hath eyes, whereby he useth and enjoyeth the light, and the pleasure 
Of the use of the external senses.  of such diversity of colours as may be seen in the world, as well natural as artificial and compounded, with the sundry mixtures of natural things. Than by the ears he hath the use of all kinds of sounds, and principally of speech, together with the pleasure of harmonies and melodies consisting in the variety of tunes and songs, as well of man's voice as of birds and other creatures, and also of instruments of music, which are so many and of such diversity amongst men. And by means of the nose & nostrils he hath the fruition & pleasure of odours and smells so divers in nature, both natural and artificial: and by means of the mouth, tongue, and palate he enjoyeth and judgeth of all sorts of tastes, which also are very divers, and chief of meats and drinks wherewithal he is nourished. For this good God hath appointed a mean for the preservation of man's life, whereunto he hath joined pleasure with profit, if men know how to use the same with moderation and measure, rather to make supply to necessity then to satisfy pleasures. The like may be said of all the rest of the feelings and touchings of all the bodily members, of which there is great variety.  
But having spoken sufficiently of the composition of the external parts of man's body, & of the outward members, of the natural senses of man and of their uses, we aught to consider also what instructions God giveth by them unto men concerning their infirmity. For although 
Of the superfluities that proceed out of the body.  the body of man be so beautiful and excellent outwardly as we have declared, yet it hath infection within, which of necessity must appear and break forth outwardly, that it may be purged and unburdened. For the body cannot reap that profit of the nourishment it receiveth by all the elements, and chief of that which it eateth and drinketh, as that it can convert and turn all of it into nourishment and substance, and avoid all those accidents and inconveniences whereunto it is subject by reason of the infirmity of it own nature. Therefore it cometh to pass necessarily, that the body is full of excrements, of much superfluity and ordure, which would kill it if it were not disburdened thereof. For these excrements would be poison unto it in stead of nourishment. Therefore the providence of God hath so provided a remedy for the same, that admonishing man of his infirmity, to the end he should always remember that he is created of clay and of earth, and that he shall return unto it again, it hath withal ordained the means whereby man shall be comforted, & discharged of those excrements and superfluities which might hurt him. And for this cause there is no member but hath his proper passages appropriated for purgatio & serving in his place, yea even the noblest members. For I speak not only of those members, which we accounted most vile, abject, & shameful, & which nature teaches us to cover & hide, being appointed 
Of the passages meet to purge the body by.  for the voiding of the grossest, vilest, & most filthy excrements, but also of those that are the excellentest and chiefest in the head and face, so that there is no part of our body out of which there proceedeth not some infection & filthiness. Insomuch that a man may well say, that our whole body is within as it were a stinking draft or puddle that emptieth itself on every side as it were by sinks & gutters. For if we consider it generally, there is no part that is not subject to sweated, (which oftentimes favoureth very strongly) & that purgeth not itself by sweeting from that superfluity, which it casteth forth by that means. Therefore the providence of God hath so well provided for this, that the skin hath in it little holes called by the Physicians, Pores: which are so subtle & so small, that they cannot be perceived by the eye. Through these pores, the superfluities that are evaporated by sweat have their issue so that 
Of the pores in the skin.  it cometh to pass oftentimes, that sick persons are cured by this only remedy, or at lest are greatly comforted thereby. But let us come to the noblest members in the head; and in the goodliest part of man, which is the face. The eyes, ears, nose, & mouth serve for pipes & spouts to the brain and head, to purge it of those superfluities that otherwise might oppress it. Wherein we are again to consider of the providence of God, & of that care which he 
Of the spouts of the brain and head.  hath of us. For seeing the head is the principal member of the whole body, and seeing the brain within the head is so noble a part, God hath given unto it more passages for the purging of it, than he hath done to all the other members. Therefore we see what store of phlegm doth daily issue out by the nose & mouth, so that a man is many times much troubled both in blowing his nose & inspitting. In this respect it seemeth the nose maketh the face to look like a Limbeck, albeit the water that distilleth through it hath no very good smell, neither is 
The face compared to a Limbeck.  pleasant to look upon, no more is the spittle that cometh out of the mouth. As for the ears they are not without filth, so that they must be oftentimes looked unto & cleansed, and the wax that is in them taken forth: which differeth much from the wax that is made by Bees. For as Physicians testify, this earwax is nothing else but the superfluity of the choleric humour, which is purged there by those pipes: as they say also, that the melancholy humour is purged by the eyes, which are many times waterish & very sou●e by reason of the rheums and sundry humours that fall down upon them. Whereby we see, how God doth admonish 
Good instructions for all men.  us on all sides through the infirmities of all our members, what account we are to make of ourselves. For if the goodliest and most noble members, if the pleasantest, most delicate, and neatest parts are so soul & filthy, what shall we say of the rest that are of the basest and most abject, which are appointed for no other uses then to be as it were the draughts and sinks of the whole body? But on the other side, let us consider how God by humbling us on the one side, doth yet on the other side provide for our necessities by those means of purging which he appointed for the body of man. Where we have further to observe, that there are many superfluities and excrements purged from the brain, which are profitable for those members that are assigned to be the instruments of their evacuation: as we see it plainly in the 
The profit of earwax.  yellow humour that is purged by the ears. For it defendeth them against fleas, little flies & other small worms and beasts, that might otherwise enter within them.  
We have further to consider for our better humiliation, that God hath so created all the members and instruments belonging to our corporal senses, as that he admonisheth us thereby of their nature, and what they can do of themselves. For there is not one of them, but it is in some sort made hollow, to give us to understand thereby, that they exercise their principal and chief office by receiving from without, that which belongeth to their nature, and not by sending forth any thing of their own. For when the eyes see, they receive into them images of those things that are before them. And if they sand forth any thing, it is so far from helping them to see better, that it hindereth and dimmeth the sight, as we see when men weep, or when any humour runneth out of their eyes. Likewise our nose hath no sense of the odours by means of that wind and breath which proceedeth out of it, but when it draweth in the air with which the odours are conveyed unto it. And so it is of the other senses. Whereby we are taught to know the nature of our soul, which can bring forth no good thing, if it have not received it before of God, to whom she can give nothing, but only receiveth from him. You see then many good less●●, which we are taught by the instruments of our senses & by our own nature; but we commonly pass them over and never think of them at all, or if we muse upon them sometimes, we say as much indeed, and confess it in word, but in the mean time we are nothing humbled thereby. Now than we have bestowed doors and windows upon the frame of man's body, and may with ease behold the outward excellency and show thereof, in regard of so many goodly works as are cut out and engraven in every external part of it. We are by and by to look upon the inward furniture, being enriched with all sorts of rare, great, and sumptuous works. But for the end of our present matter, seeing we are taught that so many profitable and pleasant senses and members are planted chiefly in the face and visage of man, it cannot be without fruit and great admiration at the providence of God, if we consider that amongst so many faces as there are of men, 
The diversity o● face is wonderful.  women, and children, a man shall hardly find two in all the world, that resemble each other so near, but still some difference will appear to him that looketh narrowly upon them. And if there be any so apparent resemblance that a man cannot find any difference, yet that falleth out very seldom. Neither is this seen only in the whole countenance, but also in the several parts thereof, and namely in the nose, whereof there is so great variety, 
The greatest variety of ●●●ess.  as that you shall find very few that are like in all points: so that it is to be wondered at, that in such a great similitude of faces there is so great dissimilitude. For there is great likeness in that they are all human faces, made of the same matter, and having the same parts: but yet they are very unlike in respect of the particular differences, which are in each of them and of their parts. Now if we have occasion to admire this diversity that is among many, what shall we say to the dissimilitude and difference of countenance that is to 
Variety of countenance in one man.  be seen in one and the same man, as if he had many faces to use & change at his pleasure, as we see men may change masks before their faces? It is certain that there appeareth great difference in the countenance of one and the same man, as he is either young or old, sound or sick. For as a man's years altar, so there will be some change in his face, bearing his countenance according to the health or sickness that is in him. But I speak not now of this diversity, but of another which happeneth to men in all ages, & at all times. For there is great difference to be seen in a man's face according as he is either merry or sad, angry or pacified, humble & modest, or lofty and proud. For if he be quiet and modest, he will have a sweet, mild, & gracious countenance: if he be angry, he will have a furious face, as though he 
The description of an angry village.  were transfigured into a savage beast, having fiery eyes as if he cast from them flames of fire: he will cast forth smoke at his nostrils, as if he had a furnace kindled within him: his whole countenance will be red as if fire came out of it. Therefore it was not without reason said of a Philosopher, that angry and furious men should behold themselves in a glass: to the end they might know thereby how such passions change the countenance, and how they are transformed thereby and look hideous and fearful. And if a man be lofty and arrogant, his visage will testify the same sufficiently, especially 
Of an arrogant countenance.  his eyes and eyelids, which will be lifted up, as if pride and arrogancy had there placed their seat. For if we deny or grant any thing that pleaseth or displeaseth us, we declare it by them, speaking by signs as the tongue doth by words. And although pride be 
Pride is seated upon the eyelids.  conceived and bred in the heart, yet it is seated on the eyelids, where it showeth and manifesteth itself. For seeing it desireth always to be advanced and to be lift up above all, yea to be alone without any companion, that place is very fit and convenient for it, being high, eminent, and apparent. But a proud person aught to consider, that, that place is very much declining, to the end he may think of the danger of falling down, as they that are in some high and steep place where they can take no hold. For it can not be but that pride will have a fall, howsoever it may seem very long first. For that sentence of jesus Christ is always true, who sayeth, that, Whosoever will ex●l● himself shall be brought low, and whoseuer will humble himself, he shall be exalted. The 
Math. 23. 12. Luke 14 11.  eye▪ also so speak and testify of the heart within. For if the heart be humble, modest, chaste, and well stayed, the eyes will be so answerable thereunto, that their very looks will declare sufficiently how it standeth affected. Contrariwise, if the heart be proud, unchaste, lose, impudent, and lascivious, the look and countenance of the eyes will openly bewray the same. Also we say commonly of such as are past all shame, that they have brazen and shameless foreheads. And it seemeth that the French word Affront●ur, is derived from thence, because they that are of that occupation must have good foreheads, they must be bold and shameless, like to harlots and murderers. And as shame is seated 
The seat of shame.  and appeareth principally in the forehead and cheeks, so is it a note of impudence when shame is banished from thence: as that which then possesseth the place assigned to shame and modesty.  
Therefore the Scripture attributeth a brow of brass and of iron, a hard forehead, and a strong face to them that are impudent and past grace, to such as are untractable and rebellious. 
Easie 48. 4. Ezech. 3 ●.  By these things than we know how the face is the image, messenger, and witness of all the affections of the heart, insomuch that it is very hard for him, do what he can, to cover and conceal them. Also it is the image and witness of a good and evil conscience. For as a good conscience causeth it to appear joyful and open, so contrariwise an evil conscience maketh it sad and hidden, as it were the visage of a condemned person. We commonly call Physiognomy the Science whereby men judge of the nature, complexion, and manners of every one, by the contemplation of all the members of the body, and chief of the face and countenance, But there is no Physiognomy so certain as that which we have now touched, 
Of the true Physiognomy  whereby men may be easily convinced of that which they think to hide in their hearts, which notwithstanding is quickly descried in their countenances, as if we read it in a Book. Now it is time to enter into our edifice & building, there to contemplate the internal and spiritual senses, which the soul useth in her works and operations, But first we will make the way more easy to attain to so high a matter, by learning briefly what is the nature, faculties, and powers of man's soul, and what are the sundry kinds of the souls, the burden whereof I lay upon thee, ASER.   

Of the nature, faculties, and powers of man's soul: of the knowledge which we may have in this life, and how excellent and necessary it is: into what kinds the life and soul are divided. Chap. 21.  
ASER. If God hath showed himself wonderful in the creation, composition, nature, and use of the external senses and members of man's body (of which we have hitherto discoursed) both in the matter whereof they are made and in the form given unto them, and in all other things that belong unto them: no doubt but we shall have much more cause to marvel at the excellent workmanship of his providence in the composition, nature, and use of the internal senses and members, which lie hidden within the body, whereof the sequel of our speech requireth that we should entreat. For these are the principal, by means of which the other receive life, and are kept and preserved in life. But forasmuch as the soul giveth life to the whole body and to all the members thereof, we are withal to consider of the nature thereof, what faculties and virtues it hath, and how it worketh in all the parts of the body, according to the knowledge which GOD hath given to men, both by the testimony of his word, and by the effects of the soul. For neither the body nor any member thereof should have any more motion or feeling then is in a block or stone, if it had no Soul to give it life. For this cause after job hath spoken of the creation and composition of the body, he addeth, Thou hast given me 
job. 10. 12.  life and grace, and thy ●●sitation (that is to say, thy providence) hath preserved my spirit. This agreeth with that, which we have heard before of Moses, where he sayeth, That the Lord 
Gen. 2. 7.  made man of the dust of the ground, and breathed in his face breath of life, and the man was a living soul.  
First therefore we must understand that there are in man three kinds of faculties and virtues that work continually within him and never cease: the first is commonly called Animal, 
Three sorts of faculties in man.  the second Vital, the third Natural. Of these two latter we will speak hereafter. Concerning the Animal faculty, it is divided into 3. kinds: the first is called Principal, the second Sensitive, the third Motive. The Principal is divided by some into three kinds, by others into five. They which make five sorts, distinguish between the commonsence, the imagination, 
Of the Animal power.  and the fantasy, making them three: and for the fourth they add Reason, or the ●udging faculty: and for the fift, Memory. They that make but three kinds differ not from the other, but only in that they comprehend all the former three under the common sense, or under one of the twain, whether it be the other imagination or the fantasy. As for the Sensitive faculty, it comprehendeth the virtues of the five corporal senses, of which we 
Of the Sensitive.  have spoken before. As for the Motive virtue, it comprehendeth the moving of all the outward parts of the body from one place to another, especially of the feet and legs which is 
of the motive  to walk, and of the hands which is to apprehended & to gripe. This moving is done by the sinews, muscles, and filaments, as we have already declared: but not without knowledge & will, as the other that are more properly called natural motions, of which we may speak in their order. And this notion is led by the imagination in regard of beasts, but in regard of men, by reason. But because we have already handled at large these two last powers of the soul, namely, the Sensitive and Motive, when we spoke of the external members of the body, we will now speak especially of the first, which comprehendeth the internal senses spoken of by me even now, which answer to the external senses, according to the bond, agreement, and communication which the body and soul have together. And because we 
How we come to the knowledge of the soul.  cannot know the faculties and virtues of the soul, but only by means of those instruments whereby it worketh, as we showed in our former discourses the nature and use of the external members, and how the soul is served by them: so now we will do the like by the internal parts, to the end that we may the better know the nature of the soul by her operations and instruments, as the labourer that worketh by his instruments, and frameth those works that are before our eyes. For the soul being of a spiritual nature and notbodily, we cannot see it in it own substance & nature, nor have any knowledge thereof but by the effects, by which we may judge and conclude of their cause, as also by those testimonies of the soul, which the Lord affordeth us in his word. And although the understanding of man can not attain to an entire and perfect knowledge of the soul, yet that small knowledge which we may have, doth exceedingly profit and delight us. For seeing it is the most excellent creature that is created under the cope of heaven, yea more excellent than the heavens themselves, or any of the celestial bodies, because the soul only is endued with reason and understanding, thereiss no doubt but the knowledge thereof is more excellent, profitable, pleasant, and necessary, yea more worthy admiration then of any other thing whatsoever, as that which always yieldeth profit to the greatest things that can be. Therefore we aught not to set light by that knowledge of it which we may attain unto. For there is in it so great variety, beauty, and harmony, yea it is so well adorned and set forth, that no heaven 
The knowledge of the soul how necessary and excellent it is.  nor earth is so well painted or bedecked with such beautiful, lively, and excellent images and pictures as that is. On the other side, she is the Mistress and Author from whence proceedeth the invention of all Arts and Sciences, and of all those wonderful works that are made throughout the whole course of man's life. Therefore no man can behold her or think upon her without great pleasure and admiration. And seeing the fountain and wellspring of all good and evil that befalleth us is in the soul, there is nothing more profitable for men then to know it well, to the end they may labour more carefully to keep this fountain pure and well purged, that all the rivers of their actions and works may issue & flow pure and clean from thence. For that man can never govern his soul well, nor be master of himself, that doth not know himself. If we desire to know what works we are to look for of a workman, what he can do, or what may befall him, what he is good for, and for 
The knowledge of ourselves very necessary.  what he is unmeet, he must first of all be known what he is. Therefore that sentence of which we have already spoken, that saith, Know thyself, aught here especially to take place and to be practised. For it is a harder matter to know the nature and quality of our soul & of ourminde, the virtues & affections thereof, to inquire & consider of it well, & to know what may be known thereof, as also the diverse & hollow lurking holes, the turnings & windings therein, them to know the bones, flesh, sinews, & blood of our bodies, withal the matter whereof it is made, & all the parts & members thereof. Seeing then we are to make inquiry of the nature & power of the soul by the effects thereof, according as I have already spoken, and seeing the principal effects is the life which it giveth to all living creatures, let us first consider of the difference that is between the creatures voided of life, & of those that have life in them. Afterwards let us look into the sundry sorts of lives that are in living creatures, as that which will help us well to the understanding of that we seek for. First then we must note that all creatures 
The division of 〈◊〉.  are either spiritual or bodily. Albina they are spiritual creatures that are without bodies, & which cannot be perceived by any bodily sense, & such are the Angels both good & bad, & the souls & spirits of men. The bodily creatures are all those that are visible, & that may be felt & perceived by corporal senses: amongst which some have no life, and some have life. Again, 
Of creatures without life.  those creatures that have no life, differ in two respects; for some of them have no natural ●otion, as stones, metals, minerals, & such like creatures. Others have their natural moon: among which some are mutable, corruptible and subject to change, others are immu●ble and incorruptible, continuing always firm in their estate during the course of this ●orld. The water, the air, the winds, and the fire, are creatures having motion, albeit they ●ave no life: but they are subject to corruption, and so are all the creatures that are compounded of the elements, whether they have life or no. For being made of contrary matters and qualities they corrupt and change, not in respect of their first matter and substance, which can never perish, according to the testimony of Philosophers, notwithstanding it alters in form, but always returneth to the first nature. Stones & metals, albeit they be very hard, yet are they not freed from corruption and consuming through use. But the celestial be●dieses 
The celestial bodies are immutable.  are of that matter and nature, that they move continually, and yet abide always entire and in their first form, not being subject to any change in respect of their bodies, neither do they wear or consume away as other creatures do that are underneath them. Insomuch that none of the celestrall spheres are either wearied, worn or spent more with all the labour they have undergone by the space of so many years, than they were the first day of their creation. For we must not take it for a change of their natures and qualities, that according to their diverse course, the sun, moon, and other planets and stars are sometimes further off, sometimes nearer each to other; that they have their oppositions, conjunctions, diverse and different aspects, according to the diversity and difference of their course and motion. We may say as much of the Eclipses both of the Sun and Moon. For the change that is amongst them is not in their own bodies, substance, and qualities, but only in regard of us and of ou● sight. Concerning the creatures that have life, they are for the most part divided into three kinds: but they that distinguish more subtly make four kinds. 
Of creatures having life.  And because life is given by the soul, the Philosophers make as may sorts of souls as they do of lives, and call them by the same names. They call the first, the nourishing or vegetative soul or life: the second the sensitive: the third, the cogitatine: & the fourth, the reasonable soul, or the soul partaker of reason. Touching the first, there is a kind of life, that hath no other virtue in the creature to which it is given of God, then to nourish and 'cause it to increase, and 
Of the vegetative life.  to keep it in being, until this life fail it. The soul that giveth life with these effects is called nourishing or vegetative: and this is proper to all herbs, trees, and plants that are maintained and kept in their kinds by the seeds, or by planting, setting, and such like propagations. The second kind of life named sensitive, is so called, because it giveth not only nourishment and groweth as the first, but sense also and feeling. They that will have but three kinds, 
Of the sensitive.  make but one of this, and of that which is called cogitative by them that make four, who attribute the sensitive soul to the sea sponges, to oysters, cockles, and to those creatures which the Grecians and Latins call by a name, which in our language signifieth as much as plant-living creatures, because that they are of a middle nature between plants and living creatures having life and sense, as if they were compounded of both these natures together: so that they are more than simple plants, and yet are not perfect living creatures, as those are to whom is attributed the Cogatative or knowing soul. And this is a soul and life, which not only giveth whatsoever the two former imparteth to the creatures in whom they are, 
Of the cogitative.  but also a certain virtue and vigour; as of cogitation, of knowledge and of memory, that they may have skill to preserve their life, and know how to guide and govern themselves according to their natural inclination. This soul is proper to brute beasts, whom some think to be partakers after a sort of reason, so far forth as it concerneth things belonging to their nature. But we will proceed no further at this time in this disputation: only let us note that they which make but three kinds of soul of life, do give to brute beasts that which we called Sensitive, comprehending them under that kind of life, unto which they attribute the same virtue and vigour whereof we now spoke, and which is distinguished by others, from that kind of soul that giveth only simple sense unto the creature. The fourth kind of soul and life is that of men, which hath all whatsoever is 
Of the reasonable soul.  in the former kinds, and over & beside that (which is more excellent) is partaker of reason and understanding: wherein it agreeth with the life of Angels, as we will declare more at large inplace convenient, and show also the difference that is between them. For this cause the soul of man given unto him, is commonly called a reasonable soul, as all the former are called by names agreeing to, their nature, as we have declared. Therefore seeing the kind of soul and life comprehendeth all the virtues and properties of the rest, it must be called Vegetative, Sensitive, Cogitative and Reasonable altogether. But we must note here, that there i● great difference between the souls of men, and those other of which we spoke before. For beside that the soul of man is partaker of reason and understanding, with all properties that are in the rest, it hath that common with the Angels, who are spirits created of GOD, to live a spiritual life without bodies, that it is immortal also as well as they. But of this, immortality we hope (GOD willing) to entreat at large hereafter, as also of the creation and 
The soul of man differeth from that of beasts in understanding & immortality,  proper nature of the soul. In these two points then of understanding and of immortality, the soul of man doth much differre from that of beasts. For although they have a soul that giveth unto them life, motion, and sense, with all other things touched by me, yet it is not partaker of understanding, nor of an immortal nature as the Angels & souls of men are, but it is of a mortal nature, which endeth and dieth with the body. Therefore albeit the soul of man hath in it whatsoever is in the rest, beside that which is proper unto it above the rest, and that which it hath common with the Angels, nevertheless it is called only by the name of that thing which is the principal, chiefest and most excellent in it; as also the like is done with all the other kinds of soul and life. But me thinks we aught to consider more fully of that which man hath either common or divers in his nature from the soul of beasts, and what are the proper actions of the soul joined with the body, and how it is hindered by the body without any change of nature. For the consideration hereof will greatly further our knowledge of the internal and spiritual senses, of which we are to discourse, that we may step by step ascend up to the highest understanding and knowledge which the mind of man can attain unto concerning the soul. Let us therefore hear AMAMA of this matter.   

Of the two natures of which man is compounded: how the body is the lodge and instrument of the soul: how the soul may be letted from doing her proper actions by the body, and be separated from it, and yet remain in her perfection. Chap. 22.  
AMANA. Albeit the greatest excellency of man, which far passeth that of all other living creatures, aught to be valued according to the soul that God hath given him, differing from the soul of all other living creatures, his body being mortal and corruptible as that of beasts is; yet there are other points of excellency in the matter, form, and use of all the parts and members of which the body of man is made, that are not found in any of the other, as we have sufficiently showed in our former discourses upon this matter. Where by God would teach us, that he hath prepared and built this lodging for an other manner of inhabitant than he built the bodies of beasts, even for a soul that differeth far from theirs 
The soul is the proper inhabitant of man's body.  For seeing he maketh nothing without good reason, or that is without his profit, he showeth by the instruments prepared for the workman whom he will set on work, what manner of one he aught to be, and what works he hath to make. And because he hath appointed works and offices for the soul of man, which he would not have in the soul of brute beasts, he hath given to man such members and instruments as he hath not given to other living creatures. As for those instruments which he hath common with beasts, God hath otherwise disposed and placed in his body according to the office every one hath, as we may learn by their discourses.  
It is very evident, that man is not only this mass and lump of skin, flesh, sinews, bones, and of such other matter gathered altogether in one body, whereof we have spoken already; 
Two natures in man.  but that there is yet in him another nature whose substance is invisible, over and above this bodily nature which we see. For experience showeth us what difference there is betwixt one and the same body when it is dead. When there is no life in it, none of all those faculties and virtues whereof the former discourse entreated, appear within it, as we see they do so long as life dwelleth therein. And yet then the body is not deprived of those members which it had before death, but keepeth them still until such time as they corrupt and waste away of themselves, & finally fail all together for want of the soul and life that should preserve and keep them sound. In the mean time we see, that they are without force, as unfit for use, as if they were not at all, because they want soul and life which giveth them vigour and setteth them a working. It is very clear then by death, that the body hath no life of itself, nor any of those faculties and virtues which life bringeth with it, but that it receiveth them fr another nature then from it own. And this nature is called Soul, having sundry offices in man, as we have already understood, & will hereafter handle them more particularly and in order. But in the mean time we must note, that although the soul be not bodily, nevertheless it useth a bodily nature and instruments which it receiveth from that, for the performance of those works that are assigned unto it: which the soul could not do without such instruments as are necessary thereunto. For as we heard in the former speech, that among the creatures of God some are spiritual, others corporal, 
Two sorts of spirits. The description of Angels  so we are to know also, that among the spiritual creatures, there are two sorts of spirits, of which some, namely, the Angels, were created to live a spiritual life agreeable to their nature, approaching nearer to the nature and life that is in God then any other: not being united or conjoined to any bodies that belong unto them, unto which they should give life, as if they were creatures, compounded of body and spirit. Therefore we call them not by the name of souls, as we do the spirits of men, which God hath created to devil in bodies, to give them life, and to be joined with them in one person made of two natures, to wit, of a spirit and of a body. These spirits, which are also called human souls, can live well enough, 
Man's souls have always life in them.  and preserve themselves in their substance, having life always in them, even after they are separated from their bodies. But the like cannot be said of the bodies, which can not live, nor be preserved in their substance without their souls and spirits. Therefore jesus Christ said, Fear not them that kill the body, and cannot kill the soul: but rather fear him that can destroy 
Math. 10. 28. Luk. 12. 4. 5.  both body and soul in Hell. Wherhfore albeit we cannot see the soul, neither when it entereth into the body, and is joined unto it, nor when it dwelleth there, nor yet when it departeth: yet it followeth not thereupon that it is not at all, or that it cometh to nothing. For the effects thereof show us the contrary, so long as that life which it giveth to the body continueth therein. And albeit we see no more effects of it, when it is severed by death, yet it followeth not thereupon that the same thing should befall it that doth to the body, and so corrupt therewith For it is so far from corrupting with the body, that it keepeth the same from corruption so long as it is therein. And being separated, no marvel if it effect no more that which it did in the body by those instruments which it had, because it hath them no longer.  
Wherhfore in this respect it is like to an excellent Workman, who cannot labour in his occupation without such instruments as necessarily belong thereunto. Yet in the mean season the Workman continueth always in the same estate, and hath no less knowledge 
The soul compared to cunning Workman.  and art in him without his instruments, then when he hath them, albeit he use them not when they are away. And although he enjoyeth both his instruments and his art, yet can he not well use them, nor perform those works which he hath to make, if they be not sound, but corrupted or spoiled, as we see in an instrument of Music. For if the chanter or Musician by very expert in his art, and handle his instrument as he aught to do, yet can he never deliver those sounds, tunes and harmony which otherwise he would, if his 
To a Musició  instrument were good. And yet that shall not hinder the Musician from being always as skilful and expert in his art, as if his instrument were very good and sound. Likewise if a man devil in a dark lodging, he cannot see so well & clearly, as in an other that is very light some: and yet he shall not have sundry eyes, but the self same in both places. So that it followeth, 
To an inhabitant.  that his dimness of his sight in one lodging rather than in the other, proceedeth not of any defect in his eyes, but of the house and habitation where he is. The like may be said of the soul lodged in the body, whose action and works therein are much hindered if it be badly lodged, if any part of the lodging be not good, or if it want those instruments and tools that are necessary for it. For although it hath the virtue of sight in itself, yet it cannot without eyes see those things, which by means of them it beholdeth. And although it hath in itself the virtue to 'cause the hands and feet to move, and to set them on work according to their office, yet it cannot do those works by a maimed and lame hand, which it will do by him that hath both his hands, nor 'cause a lame cripple wanting a foot or leg, or having some defect in those parts, to walk as well as an other that hath all these sound and perfect. And a man may judge of my speech, by that which happeneth not only to them that fall into an Apoplexy, but also to such as have some quaume about their hart, so that they faint and sown, and are for the time as it were dead: and yet afterward pluck up their spirits, and come again to their former estate. But before they be revived, they seem as though they had no soul in their bodies, because it is not perceived by the work● thereof, as it is when the body is well affected. And this is chief to be seen in a stron● Apoplexy, or falling sickness, in which the patiented loseth all motion and sense. Where upon it hath come to pass oftentimes, that many have been buried for dead in that cas● who were notwithstanding alive, and some have recovered and done well afterward, as ●● have many examples both in common experience, and in histories old and new. Now w● jest the soul is thus letted from performing her actions by such inconveniences, who woul● not judge, that she were clean extinguished with the body? Nevertheless afterward wh● she can use her instruments, she showeth plainly that the fault cometh not of her, but of the instruments that fail her. Therefore when we speak of the soul and of the body, we 
The soul is the Workman the body, the ●oole.  must put the same difference between them that is betwixt a workman and his tools, considering the nature of both, and what they can do both jointly and severally. For an instrument hath neither knowledge nor force, nor virtue of itself, being able to do nothing alone, but only so far forth as it is set on work by some workman. But there is another reason in the workman. For although he cannot use his art without those instruments that are necessary thereunto, yet he hath always abiding within him that art, power, force, and dexterity, whereby he worketh. So that when we speak of the soul, we are to consider what she can do of herself and of her own nature without the body, and what she cannot do without it. For we learn in the holy Scriptures, that when Angels appeared to men, because they are spirits, and have no speech like to that of men, as being bodiless and wanting instruments necessary for the framing thereof, therefore they took men's bodies to appear and speak to men in and by them. No marvel then if the soul, which is created to use the members of the body as instruments, speaketh not without a tongue, as it doth with one, and with the other Organs of voice and speech. Now forasmuch as we know, that the soul giveth life, motion and sense to all the body, and that it hath sundry instruments in the body, in which, and by which it performeth those works for which they were created of God, we are now to consider what faculty, power and virtue it hath in every part of the body. For albeit that we cannot assign to the soul, especially to the spirit and understanding which is the most excellent part therein, any certain place of lodging, as if it were enclosed within any one part, or within all the parts of the body, nevertheless we may judge of the nature thereof by those instruments whereby it worketh, and by their nature, and by the works it produceth. And in this consideration we have a 
A glass to see God in.  goodly glass, wherein we may contemplate God that is invisible, making him visible and known unto us by his works: even as the soul is become as it were visible, and showeth itself to us by the body, in which it dwelleth, and by the works which it doth therein. Therefore let us propound unto ourselves this whole visible world as it were one great body, than all the parts as members thereof: next let us consider how the soul of all this great body, namely the virtue and power of God worketh therein, and effecteth all the works that are done therein, according to that order he hath set therein, as the soul, worketh in the body of man and in every member thereof. Thus doing, as we know that there is a soul in the body, and another nature beside that which is bodily, and which worketh therein, and this we perceive by the effects thereof: so let us mark withal by the works done in this visible world, that there is another nature that effecteth them, which being invisible differeth from all this world we see, as that which is far more excellent, which filleth the whole, and by virtue and power is in all the parts thereof, as a soul in a body. But in propounding this glass before our eyes, we must take heed, that we fall not into their dotage, who have thought and affirmed that the world is the body of God, and that himself 
The world is not the body of God.  is the soul thereof. For thereupon it would follow, that God is mortal and corruptible in regard of his body, and that some part or other thereof would always corrupt, as we daily see corporal things do. Again, if it were so, God should not be infinite and incomprehensible as he is: for the world doth not comprehend and contain him, but he all the world, whereof he is the Creator, and by whom the world is and consisteth. Seeing then the soul is the image of God in man, as the body of man is the image of this great world, in which 
How the soul in the body 〈◊〉 G●● in the world.  God worketh as the soul doth in the body of man, let us consider how God hath distributed the powers, virtues, and offices of the soul in the body, and in every part thereof, as he manifesteth his glory and virtue in all this visible world, and in all the parts of it. For first, they agreed herein, that as there is but one soul in one body, which is sufficient for all the parts and members thereof, so there is but one God in the world, sufficient for all the creatures. Next, if we cannot conceive how the soul is lodged in the body, or how it giveth l●fe unto it, neither yet how it worketh and displaieth therein the virtues which it hath, but only so far forth as it testifieth the same by those divers effects, which we see and perceive in every part and member thereof; no marvel then if we cannot with our eyes discern or comprehend how God is throughout all, filling heaven and earth, how he displaieth his power and virtue, how he worketh in all his creatures, and how he guideth, governeth, and preserveth them by his heavenly providence. For if we cannot comprehend the creature, nor the nature thereof, how shall we comprehend the nature of the Creator? And if it be not in our power to know the works of God wrought in us, neither the works of our own soul, how shall we know his works done in the whole world? And if we be not able to understand or comprehend them, doth it follow therefore that he doth them not? yet there are many that conclude after that sort. For they believe nothing but that which they are able to conceive, know, and comprehend by their natural reason. And so, because they 
The absurd collection of Atheists.  cannot know how the soul being of a spiritual nature is joined with the body, which is clean of another nature, nor conceive how it is lodged and worketh therein, therefore they must conclude that they have no soul, which worketh that in them that is there done. For they see not, neither can they show how it worketh by those instruments, which it hath in the body, but only so far forth, as they behold the work. But we shall have occasion else where to handle this more at large. For this time let us go forward with our speech of the powers and faculties of the soul, considering first of the brain, which is the principal instrument thereof, and the seat of the internal senses already mentioned by us, of which we are to be instructed particularly.   

Of the brain, and of the nature thereof: of the sundry kinds of knowledge that are in man: of the similitude that is between the actions and works of the natural virtues of the soul, and of the internal Senses. Chap. 23.  
ARAM. The workmanship which God hath wrought in the whole course of nature aswell in the nature of the heavens as of the elements, of living things, of plants, metals and other creatures, doth undoubtedly contain in it great miracles, and very excellent and evident testimonies: which show plainly unto us, that the nature of all things, yea of the whole world, cometh not by fortune and adventure, but that they were created and ordained by a more excellent nature than any can be found in all the world. But there is not a more express and clearer image of the divine nature, then in that part of man, wherein are to be found those great and marvelous properties, which are commonly called Animales, as namely the Thought, Understanding, and knowledge of numbers, and of Order, Reason, judgement, Memory, with the discerning of honest things from those that are dishonest, of 
Of the animal virtues.  good things from bad, together with the Election or Re●ection of them. Therefore the contemplation of these virtues and powers is very necessary for us, that by the knowledge of them we may daily learn to know GOD the better, by that resemblance and similitude of his wisdom, which he hath vouchsafed to transfer & to imprint in man's nature: an● that we might be induced thereby to glorify him: and that we should labour to the uttermost of our power, to have this image shine in us more and more, and daily to increase in likeness unto the pattern from whence it is taken.  
Now let us follow that division which we have already made of the sundry faculties, virtues, properties and offices which the soul hath in the body, namely, the Animal, Vital, and Natural: and that division also which we made of man's body, unto which many attribute three several parts, and call them bellies, the first and highest of which they place 
Three bellies attributed to man's body.  in the head, for the Animal faculties and virtues: the second, which is the middle most belly, in the breast and stomach for the Vital virtues: and the last, from the Midriff to the share bone, for the Natural faculties. They understand by the first the whole brain, which they divide also into sundry parts, and call them likewise Bellies, and little Bellies. We have already heard of the excellency of the head, of the place and situation thereof, of the goodly outward members wherewith it is beautified, of the bones whereof it is made, and of the covering wherewith they are covered, that the brain might have his convenient lodging, and such a one as is requisite for the nature and office it hath: that it might be well fortified and defended on every side to preserve & keep it well, against all outward inconveniences that might come unto it: & to the end also it might have near about it all those servants and senses which it guideth and governeth, and all those instruments which it standeth most it need of, both in regard of the works it is charged with, as also for the purging thereof. Fo● as much then as it is lodged in the head, we are to know, that as the head hath a certain agreement with the heavens, and the eyes with the celestial lights, as we have already touched, so is it likewise with the brain. For it is of a more heavenly nature, and approacheth ne●rer 
Of the brain and of the image of God therein.  to the spiritual and divine nature then any other part of the whole body, as that wherein a man may find all those excellent virtues and Animal powers of which I made mention in the beginning of my speech, and which are no actions or works of a brutish nature. Whereof also it followeth very well, that the Workemaster and author thereof, cannot be of a brutish nature, without understanding and knowledge of order, of things honest and dishonest, and of good and bad. Which teacheth us moreover, that he greatly esteemeth of the preservation of nature and of human society, and detesteth whatsoever is contrary thereunto, seeing he hath imprinted in man such an image of his divine nature, as he would not willingly have defaced and blotted out. Wherhfore, although we cannot thoroughly know, either the nature of the brain, or the actions thereof, or of the soul which it serveth: yet that which may come to our knowledge will greatly help to confirm more and more this testimony of God and of his providence, which is already imprinted in our hearts by the light and law of nature. Therefore it were very good and profitable for us, to consider diligently of that resemblance of God, which every one of us beareth in a very small image, that we may give him thanks, and refer to their proper end all those gifts and excellent parts, which he hath placed in our nature. We are to note then for the first point, that as GOD manifesteth more excellently his divine nature, and the glory of his majesty in the heavens, and in the highest parts of this great visible world, than he doth in other part● 
The brain most resembles the heavens.  more base and terrestrial, as we may easily know by the contemplation of them: so dealeth he with the head and brain of man, which is at it were the lodging of the internal senses already named, which are far more excellent and noble than the outward senses. For if living creatures, and chief man, should only and barely apprehended those things that are before them, without any imagination, thought, or consideration of them, thereby to know how to choose or reject them, as they may be either profitable or hurtful, it would not be greatly profitable, to have them presented to the outward senses. For this cause God hath joined unto them another faculty and virtue, which is more excellent and wonderful then is the simple apprehending of them. This faculty and power is given for the knowledge of things, and that to the instruments in the brain, as it appeareth by experience in this, that according as the brain and the parts thereof are well or ill affected, it is perceived in the internal senses, of which they are the instruments, as we will express more plainly in the sequel of our speech. But concerning this present matter in the hand, we are to note, that there are three kinds of knowledge.  
The first knoweth those bodies only that are present before it: the second knoweth those also that are absent: and the third those things that have no bodies. We see by experience, 
Three kinds of knowledge  that although plants have a certain agreement with other living creatures, namely in this, that they enjoy the same life with them, which we called before the Uegetative or Nourishing life, nevertheless, other living creatures have this more than they, that they know, see, hear, taste, smell, and touch, which things are without them: whereas the whole life of plant● hath nothing but that which is within them, having no sense or knowledge outwardly. Concerning that knowledge, which taketh notice only of corporal things that 
Of the first kind● of knowledge common ●o 〈…〉 cre●tures  are present before it, it is the same that belongeth properly to the external senses, of which we spoke before, and which are given by GOD to living creatures for their preservation. For seeing they are bodily natures, and must live amongst bodies, he hath endued them with a certain knowledge of those bodies, to the end they may desire and follow after such things as are agreeable to their nature, and eschew that which is hurtful. Now that which is hidden within any thing, is known by some outward means. And therefore the bodily senses were given unto them, to the end that by them they might know whatsoever is external, being annexed to the things that are perceived. And although GOD hath not given to all living creatures outward senses alike, yet they that are perfect have all those five senses spoken o● in our former discourses, by which they are able to perceive and know all outward things, so that nothing can be found, which is not comprehended under the knowledge of the senses. Wherein God hath so provided, that according to man's judgement we see that all perfect living creatures aught to have just so many and not one more or less. For if they had less, they should not be so perfect as they are: and if they had more, they would be superfluous and for no use, at least wise so far forth as our small capacity could conceive, leaving in the mean while to the incomprehensible wisdom, and infinite power of God, that which we are not able to comprehend. For we own him this reverence, seeing he alone knoweth all things that are necessary and expedient for all creatures. Now besides this outward knowledge of things present, we see plainly, that there is another knowledge 
Of the second kind of knowledge.  within of things that are absent. For our own experience teacheth us, that even then when our external senses are retired and withdrawn from doing their duties, the imagination, thought, consideration and remembrance of those things we have seen, heard, t●sted, smelled, touched and perceived with corporal senses, remain still in us both waking and sleeping: as it appeareth by our dreams, in which the images & resemblance of those things which the bodily senses perceived waking are represented to our internal senses when we are asleep. We see testimonies of some part of this knowledge even in brute beasts, which causeth them to have respect to such things as they need: but yet they have it not as men have, who have far greater knowledge, and more internal senses than beasts, as being partakers of reason and understanding. The third kind of knowledge, which is 
Of the third kind of knowledge.  of things that are not bodily, is the principal effect of the understanding, which lifteth up all the senses of man to the contemplation of the divinity, and of the spiritual and supernatural things: which kind of knowledge is proper to man and to no other living creature. Of this knowledge we will entreat more at large hereafter, when we shall speak of those principal and most noble senses of the soul, namely understanding, and reason. In the mean time that we may the better know the faculty, virtue and office of every one of those internal senses of which we will entreat, we are to understand, that the soul worketh by them in their places, almost after the same manner it doth in the divers kinds of her natural faculties and virtues, according to the nature of every one of them. For this power and virtue which we call natural, and which before we said was the third faculty that continually worketh in man and never ceaseth, is divided into three sorts. 
Of the natural virtue and of the kinds thereof.  The first is the virtue of nourishing, the second of augmenting, the third of engendering: and these have six other virtues and faculties common to them altogether. The first draweth unto it, the second holdeth fast, the third digesteth, the fourth distributeth, the fift assimilateth and incorporateth, that is, converteth into it own substance that which is dispensed unto it, and so turneth it into the substance of the body that receiveth it: the sixt driveth forth whatsoever is superfluous. For the nourishment which the body receiveth would do it no good, unless it had some virtue in it to draw the same unto itself, as also members and instruments meet for this work, as we will declare more at large by the help of God, when we shall speak more particularly of this matter. Besides, it is not enough for the body to draw food to itself, but it must also retain the same. And because the things that are taken cannot nourish the body except they be turned into the nature thereof, therefore they must first be digested and prepared by this means, as we use to prepare such meat● as have need of dressing before we eat them. But because they are not sufficiently prepared by this first dressing, they must be once again dressed by the natural heat that is in the body, without which neither the heat of the material fire, nor the heat of the Sun will serve the turn, unless this natural heat also do his duty. Now after the meat is thus digested and prepared, it must be distributed and parted to all the members, that every one may take such nourishment as is meet for it. And because the matter is divers in the whole composition of the body, as namely bones, gristles, ●ligamentss, sinews, arteries, veins, flesh, and other kinds of matter whereof we have spoken heretofore: therefore must the food also be so converted in every member, as that it is to be altered into a substance altogether like to every several part it hath to nourish. Now forasmuch as all that the body taketh in for nourishment, is not fit for that purpose, after that nature hath taken that which may do her good, she rejecteth the residue, which is not only not profitable but also very hurtful for her, unless she did cast it forth, and so discharge and purge the 
Of the Animal virtues and powers in the internal senses.  body thereof. Now let us see how the like is wrought in the brain between the internal senses and the Animal virtues. For first there must be some faculty and virtue that receiveth the images imprinted in the senses, the knowledge whereof is as single and plain as may be, because it is only of things that are bodily and present, as I have already declared. This virtue is called Imagination, or the Imaginative virtue, which is in the soul as the eye in the body, by beholding to receive the images that are offered unto it by the outward 
Of Imagination.  senses: and therefore it knoweth also the things that are absent, and is amongst the internal senses as it were the mouth of the vessel of memory, which is the faculty an● 
Of Memory.  virtue that retaineth and keepeth whatsoever is committed to the custody thereof by the other senses, that it may be found and brought forth when need requires. Therefore Memory is as it were their treasure to keep that which they commit unto it, and to bring it forth in due time and season. Now after that the Imagination hath received the images of the senses, singly and particularly as they are offered unto it, then doth it as it were prepare and digest them, either by joining them together, or by separating them according as their natures require.  
They that distinguish Imagination from Fantasy, attribute this office to Fantasy: others say it belongeth to the Common sense, under which they comprehend both the former faculties, 
Of Fantasy and common sense.  because the office thereof is to receive the images that are offered unto it, and to discern the things as they are presented by all the external senses, and to distinguish them as they do. Afterwards it is requisite, that all these things thus heaped together, should be distributed and compared one with another, to consider how they may be conjoined or severed, how one followeth another, or how far asunder they are, that so a man may 
Of reason & judgement.  judge what is to be retained and what to be refused. And this office belongeth to Reason, after which judgement followeth, whereby men choose or refuse that which reason alloweth or disalloweth. For it belongeth to reason to discourse, and memory afterward, as I have already touched, hath this office to retain and keep all. Thus you see the similitude & comparison that may be considered of between the actions and works of the natural virtues of the soul, and those of the Animal virtues in the internal senses: which may greatly help us to the better understanding of that which we have already touched before, concerning the spiritual food of our souls, which properly belongeth to the internal senses. Now because all these senses, faculties and virtues have their instruments in the brain, before we speak more at large and particularly of their office and nature, we must see how these parts are placed in the head, and what vessels and members they have in the brain: and this ACHITOB shall teach us.   

Of the composition of the Brain, with the members and parts thereof: of their offices, and of that knowledge which aught to content us, touching the principal cause of the virtues and wonderful powers of the soul. Chap. 24.  
ACHITOB. The actions, faculties and virtues of the soul are so high and obscure, that their excellency far surmounteth the capacity of our understanding. For we have no other soul above this that effecteth these works, whereby we might see and know the nature hereof, as by this we come to the knowledge of corporal things, whose nature being of less excellency and more base, our soul which is of a more high & noble nature is able to know, comprehend and judge of them. But because there is no nature in us more high and excellent than our soul, none can know it as it is, but only the creator that made it, especially that reasonable part of the soul, wherein the image of God is more lively, and shineth more clearly then in the rest. Therefore we may in some sort know by this part, 
The nature of the reasonable part in the soul is hard to be known.  faculty and virtue which is the chiefest, what is the nature of the rest, that are inferior unto it. But because there is no part in us above that, we cannot perceive and know how it useth the internal senses, with their vessels & instruments, as by this we may judge of the Vital virtue, which it showeth unto us in the heart, and of the Nutritive virtue which it discovereth unto us in the liver, and in other parts and members serving to these faculties, as also to the virtue of generation. Therefore we must wait for a more ample knowledge of ourselves, chiefly of our souls, and above all of that part which is most excellent in it, when we shall by the goodness and grace of GOD behold face to face the creator that created it, and shall behold and know ourselves in him, and contemplate him in all perfection and truth. But seeing we understood by the former speech, that all the Animal faculties and virtues, and all the internal senses (in the knowledge whereof we desire to be instructed more at large) have their seats and instruments in the brain, let us now consider how these parts are placed within the head. And first of all we must call to mind what we heard before of the outward parts thereof. As for that which is within, there are hollow places, called Little Bellies, distinguished by distance of place, as it were divers chambers in on● building. Therefore there are certain membranes or skins both to distinguish 
Of the little Bellies of the brain.  ●hem and knit them together, as also to preserve and keep them from all hurt and danger.  
Now albeit these skins have this office, yet it is much to be marveled at, how this whole frame can keep itself and continued so firm, as it were the roof of a house or Church, considering that the matter there is great, spongy, and very tender. The first of these skins is a thick coveting, which is one of the chiefest skins that belong to our body. The substance thereof is thick, and harder than any other skin, and therefore it is 
Of Dura matter, or the hard mother.  called the Hard mother, because it bringeth forth and preserveth all the rest.  
The use and profit thereof is to wrap and fold in round about the whole brain, and to keep it, that whilst it moveth, it should not be hurt with the bone of the head, which is commonly called the skull. For nature useth to set a mean between two contraries, as well 
Of the skull.  to knit them together, as to preserve both the one & the other. Therefore because the bones of the skull are hard, and the brain is soft and tender, God hath placed this covering, which 
Three uses of the hard Mother.  is of a middle substance between them both, and is so tied to the one and the other, that it hangeth as it were between both, and toucheth neither of them, but there is space between them, to the end that motion of the brain might be free without any let or hindrance The second use thereof is, to serve for a passage to the veins and arteries, for the nourishing of the brain and governing of the vital spirits. Last of all, it serveth to distinguish the whole brain, first into two parts, namely into that before, and that behind: then into the right side and the left. It is of this skin whereof some men think Solomon spoke, when he made mention of a golden Euerbroken in the extremity of old age, & so we expounded it when 
Eccles. 12. 6.  we entreated of the marrow in the chine-bone. Besides this skin, there is another named the godly mother, which is fine and very slender, woven of many veins and arteries, serving 
Of Pia matter or the godly mother.  not only for it own life and nourishment, but also for that of the brain. Neither doth it only compass and wrap in the brain round about, as the Hard mother doth, but entereth also into the bowels and windings thereof, to tie and knit it together on all sides. As for the brain, which is the fountain and beginning of the sinews and of the voluntary motion, 
Of the brain and office thereof.  and the instrument of the chiefest faculty of the soul, namely, the Animal and reasonable faculty, it is greater in man then in any other creature, as that which filleth almost the whole skull. I say almost, because if it filled it fully and wholly, the motion thereof could not be perfect. His office and use is, to work and make fine the Animal spirit, which is necessary for the whole body, and to serve as an instrument to the faculty of reason, which is the chiefest faculty and virtue of the soul. The first part of the brain retaineth the name of the whole, being divided into two parts, namely into the right part 
The division of the brain  and the left. The hinder part is called the little brain, and that in comparison of the other parts. So that when a man considereth the whole brain, he shall find within the substance thereof four Ventricles, or hollow places, which are joined together by certain ways. Now although we cannot see with our eyes, nor well understand and conceive how the soul worketh by her instruments, nevertheless God giveth us a certain entrance into some knowledge thereof by the matter and form which they have. And therefore it seemeth, that these little bellies of the brain have such ways from one to another, to this end, that by them, the spirits that are made and imprinted by the sensible and intelligible kinds and images, might pass and be communicated one with another. Now because they must not only be well wrought, but also thoroughly cleansed of all excrements, God hath created those vessels and instruments, in which this work is to be begun, greater than the others, which are to receive the spirits already wrought and almost perfected. Therefore the two first are the greatest, having the situation before, namely on each side one, and being in fashion like to two half moons. The third is underneath them right in the midst of the brain. The fourth and last is upon the bending down of the nape of the neck. As for the two first ventricles, they are so conjoined the one with the other, that they end in one common pipe or passage, like to two pair of smiths bellows. And it seemeth that God hath made them of that fashion as if he meant thereby to show us, that the spirit of the said ventricles having received his form of the kinds and images propounded unto it, is carried by this passage into the middle ventricle or belly. I omit to speak at large of many vessels and instruments, which serve the brain for sundry purposes, amongst the which there is one, which both the Greek & Latin Physicians call by a name that signifieth a Press, because the blood is pressed into for the nourishing of the brain: and another is called a Vault, both in respect of the fashion 
Of the Press and the Vault in the head.  and of the use. For it is like a Vault or arch roof set upon three pillars, and is as it were the roof and covering of the middle ventricle, that there might be a more free and eas● space for the motion of the Animal spirit that is made therein: and also that it might more easily sustain and bear the great quantity of brain●, that leaneth unto each side of it I omit also other instruments, which serve in like manner to strengthen and support the parts thereof. There is also one instrument made as it were of many pieces joined together like little wheels, which is called Like-worme, because of the likelihood it hath 
Of the Likworme and of his office.  with those great white worms that are found in rotten wood. In seemeth that this piece was placed there, to be as it were the porter, to shuts and open the passage of the spirit that go into the hinder most ventricle, to the end they should enter therein measurable, and so avoid the confusion of the memory that is placed there: which otherwise would happen if they should enter in too suddenly and too much at once. There is likewise a pipe, to evacuate the gross and thick excrements of the brain, aswell by the roof of 
Of the passage whereby the superfluities of the brain are voided.  the mouth, as by the nose: and therefore because it resembleth a little basin, or rather a funnel, it is called by those names.  
Moreover, there is a pipe that passeth from the middle ventricle to the last, which is as it were the chariot of the spirit, to pass from one to the other. In all which things, and in many others particularly observed by Physicians and Anatomists, in this part of the brain, we may note a wonderful workmanship both for the variety of instruments, and for their fit application to those duties that are assigned them. Wherhfore we may well say, that it is in this part of man chief, wherein GOD doth most excellently manifest his divine nature, and the glory of his majesty. And this we shall better perceive, by considering particularly and in order unto which of the internal senses all these parts of the brain are vessels and instruments, in which the faculties and virtues of the soul are contained and do show themselves. But as was said in the beginning of our speech, let us 
None can here attain to a perfect knowledge of the essential power of the soul  not here look for a sound and perfect knowledge of that substantial power, whereby the soul effecteth so many marvelous works by the means of these senses. For so high a secret being laid up and hid in wisdom and truth itself, cannot fall within the small capacity of man's sense and understanding, until the light thereof be purged from that corporal darkness wherewith it is covered and compassed about during this life.  
Nevertheless by a diligent contemplation of that matter, which we have noted worthy of admiration, we shall find sufficient wherewith to content our minds, by causing them to look to themselves, in respect of that which it hath pleased GOD here to reveal and manifest two manner of ways. First, because we may in some sort take a view of nature, by searching out therein those things, of which she doth here set before us very evident testimonies: even those things which may be demonstrated (although grossly) according to the capacity of our dull understandings. The second way, which is the chiefest and most sure, is by that testimony which himself affordeth us in his word. For let us not think that the mind can pronounce any thing for certain, but as it is directed by the testimony of GOD, seeing the senses which he hath given us, come short herein, and are not able to ascend up so high. For the excellency of this creature, and of the nature thereof is such and so great, that it cannot perfectly know and comprehend itself, 
The mind cannot perfectly know itself.  especially where it is of greatest dignity. So that if we desire to have certain knowledge, whither should we have recourse in this defect of our senses, but unto him that is able to certify us truly in this point? And who can testify the truth of the work, but the workemaster that made it, and therefore knoweth it better than any other, and all the perfection that is in it? Why then do we not yield to GOD that honour in a thing not to be comprehended by us, which we do to men of whom we are well persuaded in things which we cannot know but by their testimony? For how many things do we believe of which we know not the causes, and for which we have no other reason showed us, but only the testimony and authority of men, whom we judge worthy of credit? who notwithstanding may themselves be deceived, and deceive others. But GOD cannot be deceived, nor deceive those that give credit ●o his testimony, which he hath not so hidden from men, but that it is manifested unto 
God cannot deceive, nor be deceived.  them, yea he hath chosen some amongst them to testify the same from him to others. And if it hath pleased him to have such witnesses amongst them, a man may soon see that he hath chosen them in whom he hath caused his image to shine most excellently, and whom he hath made more like to himself, aswell by the revelation of his holy Spirit, in all those excellent graces and virtues wherewith he hath endued them, as also by those holy and heavenly works which he effecteth by them, whereby he hath as it were marked them with his seal to give them authority, and to 'cause them to be acknowledged of all for his faithful witnesses and servants. If then we desire to have certain and true witness in any such matter, where can we find them sooner than amongst the patriarchs, Prophets and Apostles, with all those Martyrs and other holy personages, whose doctrine and life testify unto us how far they differ from other men? But above all, how highly aught we to esteem the testimony of the very Son of GOD, who is to be preferred before all others? 
The testimony of the Scriptures most firm.  Seeing therefore we have so many faithful witnesses, let us keep us to their testimony, waiting for that perfect light, and more clear and ample knowledge which shall be revealed unto us in that heavenly glory. In the mean time let us consider how we are able to comprehend the infinite nature of the Creator of our soul, seeing we cannot conceive the nature of the soul, which he hath created: and let us reject those dogs and hogs, those Atheists and Epicures, who judge of God and of the soul of man so far forth only as they are able to know and comprehend by their natural sense; whereby they see no further into the soul of man than they do into the souls of beasts, whom themselves resemble. But suppose they had no other testimony of the celestial and divine nature of the soul, but that which it affordeth us daily by those faculties and virtues wherewith God hath endued it, and the effects it showeth us, yet aught they to learn to judge otherwise. Now to morrow it will be thy part ASER, to begin the particular handling of these goodly internal senses, whose vessels and instruments we have considered of in this speech: as also thou art to teach us who be the chiefeministers of the soul for all her actions.   
The end of the third days work.   

The fourth days work.  

Of the seat of voluntary motion and sense: of the office and nature of the common sense: of imagination and of fantasy, and how light and dangerous fantasy is: of the power which both good and bad spirits have to move it. Chap. 25.  
ASER. The knowledge of many things is so natural to men, that being borne with them, it is like to a light attending upon the mind, as the sight doth upon the eyes. For the knowledge of numbers, and of order, the Principles and beginning of Arts, the knowledge and distinction of things honest and dishonest, proceed from such a light. And when Saint Paul saith, that the Gentiles, and all that have not received of God the Law of the two Tables as the people of Israel did, have notwithstanding a Law written in their hearts that doth accuse or excuse them, no doubt but by this Law he understandeth that natural knowledge 
Rom. ●. 1●.  which men have both of God, and of good, & evil, which issueth from a higher spring than from the outward senses, and which every one hath for a schoolmistress within himself, even they also that would extinguish wholly this light if they could. For although God hath imprinted many similitudes and testimonies of himself in all creatures, whereby he manifesteth himself unto us, yet should we know nothing more than the brute beasts do, if there were not a light in our minds that causeth us to see & know them, & to conclude that which we do: which light is not in beasts, albeit they have outward senses as well as we. But it is commonly said, that there is nothing in the understanding, which hath not first been in the outward senses: that is to say, that it can know nothing, which is not first discovered and manifested unto it by them. But we must understand that saying of such things a fall under their powers and faculties, which being known and noted by the senses, do awake● and stir up the understanding, which after by that virtue it hath in itself, proceedeth forward, namely, from signs and effects unto causes, from accidents to substances, an● from particular things to universalities. But let us consider how.  
We must first remember the division which before we made of the animal faculty & power, and thereupon we note that the sensitive & motive powers, whereby the soul, using the means of the sinews and muscles, giveth voluntary sense and motion to ●ll the body, have no special place or seat in the brain, as the other internal senses have, but are dispersed 
Of the seat● of voluntary sense and motion.  throughout the whole substance thereof. Concerning the chief power and faculty we were told before, how some distinguish between Imagination, fantasy, and the Common sense: and how others comprehend them all in one. But be it that we join or separate them, let us now consider of the nature and places of each of them. The Common sense is so called, because it is the first of all the internal senses of which we are to speak, as also the Prince 
Of the Common sense & of his offic●.  and Lord of all the external senses, who are his messengers and servants to minister and make relation unto him of things in common. For it receiveth all the images and shapes that are offered and brought unto it by them, yea all the kinds and resemblances of material things, which they have received only from without, as a glass doth: and all this for no other cause but that they should discern and sever every thing according to it own nature and property, and afterward communicate them to the internal senses. For although all the knowledge that is in the mind of man proceedeth not from the outward senses as we showed in the beginning of our speech, nevertheless they are created of God, to the end they should sand to the understanding the similitudes of things without, and be the messengers of the mind, and witnesses of experience: and also to the end they should awaken and stir up the mind● to behold & mark the things that are without it, that by considering of them, it may judge of, and correct the faults. We must then observe, that the external senses have no judgement of that which they outwardly receive but by means of the common sense, unto which they make relation, and then that judgeth: so that they end where that beginneth. In this manner therefore as the Common sense of all the internal senses is next unto the external, so is it the means whereby they communicate one with an other. For afterward it carrieth to the other internal senses whatsoever hath been communicated unto it by the external. Now after this sense hath done his duty, Imagination and Fantasy execute their offices, both which are taken by many for one and the same faculty and virtue of the soul, 
Of Imagination and of Fantasy.  but yet distinguished from the Common sense: others join them both with the Common sense, because these three senses, whether they be distinguished or taken all for one, have their seats, vessels, and instruments in the former part of the brain. Therefore there will be no danger if we use these two names Fantasy and Imagination indifferently. For Fantasy is derived from a Greek word that signifieth as much as Imagination: and it is translated by Cicero into a Latin word, which is as much as Vision. This faculty therefore and virtue of the soul is called Fantasy, because the visions, kinds, and images of such things as it receiveth, are diversly framed therein, according to the forms & shapes that are brought to the Common sense. Therefore Daniel called the dream of Nabuchadnezzar, the visions of the head, which he had upon his bed, according to the thoughts whereupon he mused & fell on sleep. 
Dan. 2. 2●. 29  For although this was a heavenly dream, yet God used therein the internal senses, which he had given to Nabuchadnezzar, unto which he presented the image of those things he would have him to understand and know, as afterward they were expounded unto him by Daniel.  
Moreover this faculty of the fantasy is sudden, and so far from s●ayednes, that even in the time of sleep it hardly taketh any rest, but is always occupied in dreaming and doting, 
Th● giddiness of Fantasy.  yea even about those things which never have been, shall be, or can be. For it stayeth not in that which is showed unto it by the senses that serve it, but taketh what pleaseth it, and addeth thereunto or diminisheth, changeth & rechangeth, mingleth and unmingleth, so that it cutteth asunder and seweth up again as it listeth. So that there is nothing but the fantasy will imagine and counterfeit, if it have any matter and foundation to work upon, without which it can build nothing, as we may judge by that which hath been already showed, namely that man can neither think, imagine, or do any thing else, of which he hath not some beginning and ground in nature and in the works of GOD, from which after he hath his inventions. But although fantasy can do nothing without this gap and entrance, ●et it is a wonder to see the inventions it hath after some occasion is given it, and what new and monstrous things it forgeth and coyneth, by sundry imaginations arising of those images and similitudes, from whence it hath the first pattern. So that in truth, fantasy is a very dangerous thing. For if it be not guided and bridled by reason, it troubleth and mo●eth 
Fantasy is dangerous.  all the sense and understanding, as a tempest doth the sea. For it is easily stirred up not only by the external senses, but also by the complexion and disposition of the body. Hereof it proceedeth that even the spirits both good and bad have great access unto it, to stir 
It is very subject to the motions of good or ill spirits.  it either to good or evil, & that by means unknown to us. For as we have many means to provoke one another's imagination and fantasy, which are not in beasts, neither can be comprehended by them; so these spiritual natures (by reason of the agreement of their nature) have one towards an other, which we neither know nor can comprehend, whereby they have access to move our fantasy divers ways. Wherefore as the Angels have means to represent to our minds the images of good, heavenly, and divine things, both waking & 
How socreres are deluded by the Devil.  sleeping: so can evil spirits greatly trouble them by divers illusions: the proof whereof we have in many, whom bad spirits find apt and disposed thereunto, and namely in socerers, whose mind they trouble in such sort by sundry strange illusions, that they verily think that they have seen, heard spoken, and done that which the devil representeth to their fantasy, yea such things as neither men nor devils themselves can possibly perform: and yet all that while they stir not out of their bed, or out of some one place. But the devil, having once power over them, doth in such sort print in their fantasy the images of those things he representeth unto them, and which he would have them believe to be true, that they can not think otherwise but it is so, that they have done such things, and that they were awake when indeed they slept. For as God appeareth to his servants by heavenly visions, both when they sleep and when they wake, and printeth in their minds the images of those things which it pleaseth him to reveal unto them: so the devil, who endeavoureth to counterfeit all the works of GOD to deceive men, hath his devilish illusions for his visions, 
The Devil counterfaiteth the works of God.  whereby he moveth and troubleth the fantasy and minds of those, over whom he reigneth through their infidelity and wickedness. Therefore it is very needful, that men should recommend themselves to God, to the end these evil spirits have no such power over them, and that their judgements may be sound to discern the images of those things which he representeth to their minds, from all Diabolical illusions. And surely no marvel if wicked spirits so oftentimes deceive men, when as jugglers have so many ways to abuse them, showing them such strange sights, that if they were not wrought by those kind of men, a great many would take them for miracles. Yea although they be done after this manner, yet we wonder thereat, being hardly able by the sharpness of our wits to attain to the knowledge thereof, so that many are persuaded that such things cannot be done without the power of the devil. But let us return to our matter. 
Of the force of imaginatian.  This imaginative power of the soul, hath moreover such virtue, that oftentimes the imagination printeth in the body, the images of those things which it doth vehemently think of and apprehended, the experience whereof is very evident, especially in 
The strong fantasy of women with child,  the long and imaginations of Women with child. Many times also we see some that can hardly go over a bridge without falling, by reason of the apprehension of the danger, which they have conceived in their fantasy and imagination. But which is yet more strange, it falleth out oftententimes, that the fantasies and imaginations of great bellied women are so vehement and violent, that upon the bodies of the children they go withal they print the images and shapes of those things upon which they have fixed their fancies, and unto which by reason of their fancy, they are most affectionated. We see examples hereof a great many continually. Neither is is it altogether without reason which we use commonly to say: that fancy breeds the fact which it imagineth. For we see many fall into those mishaps and inconveniences, which they imprint in their fantasy and imagination. We may also observe here, how we are provoked to yawn and gape when we see others do so, and driven into a desire of many things of which we should not have dreamt, unless we had been incited thereunto by the example of others, or by some object presented to our senses, & provoking us thereunto. Yea this imaginative virtue can do much 
Imagination prevaileth much in beast's.  in beasts, as among other things we may see it in this, that they desire rather to make water in a puddle, or in a siver, or in some other water, or upon adunghil or in a stable, then elsewhere. For the things that are offered to their senses soon move their fantasy and imagination, which afterward stirreth them up, either in respect of the agreement that is betwixt those things, namely, water, and urine, or because of their custom to do such a thing in such a place, which putteth them in mind and helpeth them to do it more readily, by reason of the imaginative virtue that is in them.  
Now if imagination hath such virtue in beasts, we may judge also what it is able to do 
Good counsel for every one.  in the mind of man, which is a great deal more quick and ready. Therefore we aught to esche● all occasions of evil, that may be presented to our senses, to stir up our imagination and fantasy to wicked and dishonest things. For one only wicked look, or one dishonest speech, is sufficient to trouble our minds with divers imaginations & fantasies. Which as it is well known to the devil, so knoweth he also how to give occasion, and to offer the means of stirring all the stuff in our fantasies. But we keep such bad watch in this respect that instead of eschewing occasions of evil, we seek after them, and where we should shut the door against evil, we set it wide open, that it may enter more easily into us. Wherein we follow not the example of the Prophet, who prayed unto the Lord, saying, Turn away mine eyes that they behold ●● vanity: but we rather take a contrary course to whet ourselves forward to all beastliness. Seeing therefore Imagination and Fantasy have so little hold of themselves, 
Psal. 119. 37.  we have need of an other faculty and virtue above that, to be able to judge of things imagined and perceived by sense (of which we have higherto spoken) and that is reason, the discourse whereof I refer to thee, AMANA, as also of memory, which is the fift and last internal sense of the soul.   

Of Reason and Memory: and of their seat, nature and office, of the agreement which all the senses both external and internal have one with another, and of their virtue. Chap. 26.  
AMANA. They that have curiously searched into the nature of beasts, have found in them, especially in such as were most perfect, as many external and internal senses as are in man: yea they perceived, that their brain & all the parts thereof, did not differ much from that of men, whether we respect the substance or the fashion. But all these excellent gifts of nature reach no further in them, then to the uses of this present life, and the necessities thereof. For they have no reason given them to inquire after that which is good, to the 
Beasts search only after corporal things belonging to this life.  end their will might follow and embrace the same. Moreover their Good, consisteth only in corporal things belonging to the body, which they easily know and discern as standing in need of no other reason or understanding to make inquiry after it, them of that bore knowledge & natural inclination that is given them. But the Good that belongeth to man, is hidden in the soul and spirit. For this cause he must of necessity inquire after it, that he may come to the knowledge thereof, jest he choose evil instead of good, for want of knowledge of his proper and true Good, and so be deceived by the appearance of a false Good, which is not so in truth, but in opinion only and by error: whereby the greatest part of men are commonly beguiled, preferring the supposed Goods of the body, before the true goods of the soul, and temporal things before eternal. Therefore as our eyes stand in need of light to keep us, and to 'cause us to see in darkness, so our soul and spirit hath need of reason to guide it in the midst of error and ignorance, that it may discern truth from lying, the true Good from the false, and that which is profitable from the contrary.  
This faculty and virtue of the soul, so necessary in man, and which is able to judge of things imagined and perceived by the other senses, (of which we have spoken before) to know whether they be good or bad, and what is to be embraced or eschewed, is called, the judging or discoursing faculty, namely, Reason, which is the principal part and virtue of the 
Of the seat of reason and of his office.  soul, and beareth rule among all the other senses. For this cause he hath his seat by good right assigned him in the midst of the brain, as in the highest & safest fortress of the whole frame of man, to reign amidst all the other senses, as Prince and Lord over them all. For it is he that discourseth and judgeth of truth from falsehood, that knoweth the agreement and disagreement of things, that joineth together whatsoever is to be joined, and separateth that which aught to be separated, that distinguisheth things which follow, or are contrary each to other, by comparing one thing with another by considering all circumstances, by referring every thing whither it aught to be referred. It is requisite therefore, that he should keep his own place, and not be shuffled up and confounded with Imagination and Fantasy, of which he is the judge to approve of condemn 
Reason is th● judge of falsy  that which is good or evil, as also to correct, to stay, and to keep them in awe. For if reason intermeddle and mingle itself with them, it will be so troubled, that it will not be able to judge as it aught of those things, which they present and bring unto it, but will be so carried away, as if it were deposed and thrust out of it own place, and as if maids should rule their Mistress, and take place before her. The like also happeneth unto it, when it is carried away with the affections which it aught to rule, moderate, and govern. But if it be upright and sound, after it hath well considered and debated of the whole matter brought and laid before it by the former senses, it giveth sentence as judge, and judgeth finally without appeal. For there is no other judgement after that. Hereof it is, that it hath a judicial seat in the midst, wherein being placed it heareth suses and causes. Besides, it hath near unto it Memory, which is in place of a Notary and Secretary, and as it 
Of memory & of his office  were a Register book, in which is entered whatsoever is ordained and decreed by reason. For as we have need of such a judge as reason is, to conclude and determine finally in the mind, whatsoever may be called into question and doubted of, so it is requisite, that the conclusion & definitive sentence should be registered in Memory, as it were in a roll or book of account, that it may always be ready and found when need requireth. For what good should we get by that, which imagination, fantasy, and reason conceive and gather together, if it should all vanish away presently through forgetfulness, and no more memory thereof should remain in man, then if nothing at all had been done? The like would daily happen to us, that befell Nabuchadnezzar, when God revealed unto him by dream in the 
Dan. ●.  vision of an Image, what should become of his Monarchy and Empire and of those that followed him. For he remembered well, as himself testifieth, that he had dreamt a dream, whereupon his spirit was troubled, whilst he laboured to understand it: but he was so far from knowing the signification of his dream, that he remembered not what he had dreamt and seen therein. Where we see that his imagination and fantasy were so moved by the image and vision represented unto them in this dream, that they imprinted in his memory how they had seen a vision, & that it was very strange and wonderful. Yea reason itself judged, that the vision and image was of another nature, than those that are commonly in the imagination or fantasy, or those which they coin themselves in sleeping and dreaming, & that it had some divine signification. And this did reason imprint in the King's memory, who remembered all these things generally, but when he began to inquire of the ma●ter more specially and particularly, he could not call to mind the kind and manner of his dream, but confessed that the thing was go from him. Afterwards, having heard and understood Daniel, he knew that he spoke a truth, & then remembered what he had dreamt and was go from him, because it was not well imprinted in his memory, but had passed over lightly by it. Here than we see how necessary this secretary and register, whom we call Memory, is for the understanding and spirit, not only to mark lightly such things as pass by it, but also to note and engrave them, as it were in tables or pillars of stone or brass. Therefore hath God assigned his seat and lodging in the hindermost part of the brain, to the end, that after such things as are to be committed unto it, have passed by all 
Of the seat of memory.  the other senses, they should be committed to it to keep, as to their secretary. And for this cause that part of the brain is less moist, and most solid and firm, for two manifest and apparent reasons. First, because it is the fountain of the marrow in the back bone, of which those sinews are derived that give the strongest motions to all the members of the body. Therefore also it was requisite, that they should be of a more firm and solid matter then the rest that are taken from the substance of other parts of the brain: which are not to sustain 
Causes of good and bad memories.  so great stress. Secondly, forasmuch as the memory is as it were the Register & Chancery Court of all the other senses, the images of all things brought and committed unto it by them, are to be imprinted therein, as the image and sign of a ring or seal is imprinted and set in the wax that is sealed. Therefore it is needful that the matter of the instrument of Memory should be so well tempered, that it be neither too soft nor to hard. For if it be too soft, the images will be soon engraven, but they will not stay there any long time, as they that will be quickly blotted out. Contrariwise, if it be over hard, it will be a harder matter to imprint them therein. But when it is well tempered, it receiveth the images easily, and keepeth them well. For the Memory hath two duties as well as the hand, namely, to receive & to hold fast. Therefore they that are of a moist brain receive more easily into their memories that which is offered unto them, & they that have a dry brain, retain & keep better in memory.  
But following that which we have hitherto spoken of all the internal senses, we ar● 
Of the agreement between all the senses.  now to observe and note this, that the knowledge of things which we have by the outward senses, is as if we beheld the shadows of them: and that knowledge which we have by th● common sense, by Imagination and Fantasy, is as if we did look upon the images, whic● represent unto us those things whereof they are images more lively and clearly then the● shadows can do. And the knowledge we have by understanding, of which faculty we will entreat hereafter, is as if we viewed, not only the shadows or images of things, but also their very bodies, which is more. And that knowledge which we have by reason is as if, besides all this, we saw their effects and virtues: Therefore there is as much difference between the knowledge that a man may have by every one of these faculties and powers, as there is betwixt the shadow, and image, and body, and effects or virtues of one and the same thing, to the end that the nature thereof may be thoroughly known. For all these senses and virtues of man's mind agreed so well together, that as the outward senses serve the common sense, so the common sense serveth Imagination, and imagination fantasy, and fantasy understanding and consideration, and consideration recordation, & recordation conference, & conference reason, & lastly memory serveth them all, as they also serve memory. Therefore it is not without great wisdom & providence of God, that the seat and shop thereof is in the hindermost part of the head, because it must look to the things that are past. So that we have in that part as it were a spiritual eye, which is much more excellent and profitable, then if we had bodily eyes there, as we have before, or else a face before and 
The memory is a spiritual eye.  another behind, as the Poets feigned that janus had. Thus we may learn by our speech what reason is, and the discourse thereof, and how it causeth the nature of man to approach in some sort to that nature which is divine and heavenly, making man far to excel all other natures 
Of the effects of Reasons.  in the world. For it goeth from things known, to them that are unknown, and descendeth from generals to specials, and from them to particulars, and mounteth aloft again by the same steps from one to another, and compareth one with another. For after that imagination hath received the images and impressions of things offered unto it by the outward senses, the consideration of Reason followeth, which inquireth of all that may be in the mind, of the plenty or want that is there, and causeth it to return to itself: as if it did behold and consider itself, to take knowedge what it hath, or what it hath not▪ how much it hath, & of what quality and nature it is. After this, reason draweth out and concludeth invisible things of visible, of corporal things it concludeth things without bodies, and secret things of plain and evident matters, and generals of particulars: than it referreth all this to the understanding which is the chief virtue and power of the soul, and that which comprehendeth all the faculties thereof, as we will discourse in place convenient, yea that which finally resteth in the contemplation of the spirit, which is the end of all inquiry of truth, and as it were a settled and assured view of all those things that have been culled out by reason, and received and approved by judgement. 
Of understanding and contemplation. A double discourse of reason in man.   
Hereof it is that we say, there is a double discourse of Reason in man, whereof the one consisteth in speculation, having Truth for the scope and end thereof, and goeth no farther after it hath found the truth. The other consisteth in practice, and hath Good for his end, which after it hath found, it stayeth not there, but goeth on to Will, which is an other power of the soul of great virtue, as we will declare hereafter, and is given of God to man, that he should love, desire, and follow that which is good, and hate, eschew, and rurne from evil. But these things shall be handled more at large in the sequel of our speeches.  
Now to resume and finish this present matter, as we learn that man by the discourse of reason that is in him, lifteth up himself above the outward senses, yea above Imagination and fantasy, and knoweth well that he is enclosed within the body as in a prison, which nevertheless cannot altogether hinder him from understanding and contemplating the things he seethe not: so also he useth the help of Memory to keep and retain in his mind whatsoever he hath known by any of the senses, either external or internal. Therefore is the Memory compared to a picture. For as a Picture by the sight of the eyes giveth the knowledge of that which is painted therein, so is it with Memory, by the sight of the mind 
Memory 〈◊〉 to a 〈◊〉.  endued with understanding and knowledge: for it doth not only look upon things simply as beasts do, but considereth of them, and diligently inquireth into them, and having found them, it placeth them in the Memory, & there keepeth them. And the better to have them in Memory, it often thinketh and meditateth of those things, it turneth and tosseth them to and fro, that they may be the better imprinted therein. For this cause some Philosopher's attribute unto man beside Memory, both recordation & remembrance, which is one recordation upon another, whereby we call to mind that which was slipped out of it. 
What remembrance is.  For it cometh to pass oftentimes, that that which before we have seen, heard, and known, and even kept a while in our memory, is escaped us and so forgotten, that we think of it no more than if we had never understood or known it, neither should we ever remember it, unless some body did put us in mind of it, or some evident token made us to think of it. Some things also there are, which albeit they are not clean go from us, but are somewhat better registered in our memory, yet we cannot readily remember them and bring them forth, without great and long inquiry. Therefore must the mind turn over all the leaves of this Book or Register of Memory, or at leastwise a great part thereof to find them out, as if a 
The mind compared to the keeper of Rolls.  Chancellor or Secretary should search all his Papers and Registers, and all his Rolls of Chancery, until he had found that which he sought for. And we see among ourselves, what notes and observations we use, that they might be as it were a memorial book unto our memories. You see then why some have attributed to man both recordation & remembrance, thereby to put a difference between them and bore memory without any other consideration, which they say is in beasts, who forgetting presently what they perceived by their senses, when they see those things again, that in some sort putteth them in mind thereof, than they call them to mind as if they had known them before. But now that we understand the nature, office, order, and seats of the internal senses of the soul, that all may be more easily perceived, I think we aught to show by some familiar examples, how a man may know, that these internal senses are so distinguished, disposed, and ordained, and that they have their seats and instruments in the brain in such sort as we have already spoken. Let us then hear ARAM discourse to this purpose.   

That the internal senses are so distinguished, that some of them may be troubled and hindered, and the rest be safe and whole, according as their places and instruments assigned unto them in the body are sound or perished: and of those that are possessed with Devils. Chap. 27.  
ARAM. Howsoever it pleased God to enrich man with heavenly gifts & graces above all visible creatures, yet foreseeing the future pride of mankind, he always & in all things gave him great matter of humility and modesty, to the end that they which know how to profit thereby, should never forget the graces received from the goodness of their Creator, & so never become ungrateful towards him. And truly we aught to be very careful to keep ourselves from pride and vain boasting of the senses of our mind and spirit, which God hath given us, how ingenious, excellent, and divine soever they be: yea, rather humbling ourselves before his Majesty, we are to yield him continual thanks, and pray that it would please him to keep them always sound and safe, and to augment his gifts and graces in our minds. For he showeth us by experience every day, that he can trouble our minds with a small matter, yea the minds of those that are most witty, prudent, wise, and skilful, and the most divine spirits that can be found amongst men. How many do we see daily, yea many times of those that are admired of all for their singular wit, great prudence, 
A good admonition to humble us.  knowledge, wisdom, virtue, credit, and authority, that lose the use of their senses and understanding, insomuch that they do not only grow foolish, as if they were become little children again, but also have less direction and government in them, than the poor beasts have? And how many do we fee, that become frenzy and mad, behaving themselves as it were brute and savage beasts, and continued in that estate unto the death? The consideration of these things will 'cause us to understand better that which we have heard of the distinction, disposition, order, and seats of the internal senses of the soul, and of their vessels and instruments. We have then daily great testimonies & very evident signs hereof in frantic and bedlam persons, in such as are oppressed with melancholy, in furious folks, and in all those that are beside themselves. For there are sundry sorts of them, some 
divers kinds of mad folks  being troubled but in one part of the mind only, having the other parts sound: some more troubled than the former, and othersome that have nothing sound and untouched. Hereof it is that we see some, whose imagination and fantasy only are out of frame, insomuch that they judge a thing to be that which it is not. Therefore they conceive strange opinions, which they imprint so deed in their brain, that they are not easily ●o●ted out again. Some imagine and believe that they have horns: others, that they have a serpent, or some other beast in their bodies: others, that they are become water pots or 
The imagination troubled  glasses, and thereupon are afraid jest some body should justle against them, and break them in pieces. There have been some that were so verily persuaded in their fancy, th● they were dead, that they could never after be brought to eat or drink any thing, but died in that opinion. And yet all these did understand very well and conceive what was sai● unto them, and remembered it as well afterward. Whereby it appeareth, that they have reason and memory more sound than imagination and fancy, as Galen and other Physicians mention many examples of such, and ourselves do often see some like to those of whom I speak now. There are others also, that have their imagination, fancy, yea and their memory 
Reason troubled.  also sound, but their reason is so troubled, that they cannot understand nor conceive that which is told them, nor make any discourse themselves, neither examine or conclude any thing by reason. Galen allegeth an example of one, who after he had cast down out of a window certain glasses and viols, with other vessels of brittle matter, threw down a little child, which was slain. This man knew well enough that he held in his hand glasses and other vessels of such matter, and that the child he threw down was a child, and he remembered well what he had seen, heard, and done: but he had not his wits so advised nor his reason so stayed, as to discourse, consider, and judge thus with himself, that he could not cast those vessels down but he must break them, considering the matter whereof they were made, nor the child, but he must kill it. I omit many other examples I could allege to this purpose, which many skilful Physicians speak of in their books, because I mean not to touch this matter but as it were by the way.  
Concerning them that loose their memory, and yet keep the other parts sound, we have 
The memory lost.  many examples of them. For there have been plagues sometimes, whereby many have lost their memories in such sort, that they clean forgot whatsoever they knew before, yea their own names, their parents and their friends. And the disease called the Lethargy bringeth with it forgetfulness and want of memory, as the name itself giveth us to understand in the Greek tongue, from whence it is taken. Therefore we see how the internal senses of the soul may be perished severally one without another: whereupon we may well conclude, that as they may be all sound together, so they may all be perished at one and the same time. Example hereof is daily seen in many that are frenzy and mad, having all their senses troubled, which sometimes they had sound and perfect. Yea there are some that behave themselves like dogs and wolves as Physicians report, because they think they are transformed into those kind of beasts, by reason of the violence of Melancholy, and of that malady, which is thereupon named by the Grecians Cynanthropie and lycanthropy. It pleased God to punish Nebuchadnez●r with this kind of chastisemeut, to beat down his glory and 
Daniel ●.  pride, when his wits were taken from him, in so much that he did not think himself to be a man any more but a beast, & so indeed lived in the fields like to a wildbeast. Now therefore we may know by the sequel of our speech, and by the examples which we have alleged, how the internal senses are distinguished one from another, in such sort that every one hath his office apart, as the members that are in man's body. And if any desire to know more particularly in what part and place of the brain every particular sense hath his lodging and seat for to exercise his office in, we may judge hereof somewhat by experience, 
How a man may judge of the seats of the senses.  which teacheth us, that they who have received some blow, or are vexed by sickness about the former ventricles of the brain, have their common sense, their imagination and fantasy perished, when the instruments about those parts either suffer or have suffered violence. If the same happen to the middle ventricle, the like is seen in the defect of reason: if to the hindermost ventricle, the memory faileth, as it hath befallen many upon the receipt of a blow in that place: yea, which is more than that, experience doth not only show this when blows and diseases light upon the head and brain, but it appeareth also in the composition and making of all that part of the body. For according as the head shall be either well or ill framed and proportioned either before, in the midst, or in the hinder part thereof, or in all three together, so shall a man find greater excellency, moderation, or defect, in the internal senses, which exercise their offices in the head, as well particularly as generally. Therefore it is not without reason said in our common speech of him that hath a good spirit, sense, and judgement, that his head is well made: and contrariwise, that his head is ill made that wanteth these things. For whatsoever the inhabitant or workman is that laboureth, the lodging in which he dwelleth, or the tools and instruments which he useth, are ●f great moment to further or hinder him in his work.  
But now that we are in hand with frenetike persons, and have said before, that good ●d ill spirits have great means, and such as we cannot comprehend, whereby they move the imagination and fantasy of men; it shall not be altogether fruitless, if we speak somewhat of them that are possessed with spirits. For there are some who think not, that 
Of such as are possessed with devils.  〈◊〉▪ devils in their very substance enter into the bodies or souls, hearts or minds of men. speak not here of such as think there is neither God, nor Angels, nor devils, but even of them that believe all these things: who nevertheless think, that evil spirits trouble the hearts and minds of men only by provocations, temptations, and illusions. Others there are, that refer all the madness of Lunatic folks, to natural causes, as if they proceeded either from melancholic or choleric humours, or some such like causes, as frenziness, madness, and fury, or some such diseases whereby men are carried beside themselves. True it is, and cannot be denied, that many are thought to be possessed with devils, when in deed they are nothing so. For there are some sergeant cranks as many have been taken with the manner, who upon some occasion have by mere knavery feigned themselves such. And some also there are that be but melancholy mad, and carried away by some disease of the brain: but because their melancholy and fury is very violent and strange, ignorant people suppose they are possessed with some spirit, Notwithstanding we may not doubt, but that evil spirits, desirous to hurt men both in their goods, bodies, and souls, use all the means and occasions they can possibly invent and found out, to execute their malice, when it pleaseth God to give them leave● For they can drive forward and move the hearts and minds of men, and set them in such a fury, that even● their 
The power of evil spirits.  reason and judgement will be wholly confounded, and as it were clean extinguished. Hereupon it cometh: that many being carried headlong with such madness, tear, and kill themselves, or their own wives, children, or others, whereof we may daily see many examples. Nevertheless we say not, that the natural light which God hath given them is wholly put out in them, much less in those that are not so far go: but the Devil doth stir them forward with such violence, that they are as it were taken perforce from themselves, when they are forsaken of God. Which examples aught to admonish us to call upon God incessantly, that he would govern us by his Son jesus Christ, who is come to destroy the works of the Devil, that so the light of reason and of judgement may not be darkened or put out in us, and that our hearts be not so possessed and pushed on by Satan, that we rush ourselves through a devilish fury against the will of God. And this did our Saviour teach us to demand of him when he said, Pray that ye enter not into tentation: and when he taught us to say, Lead us not into tentation, but deliver us from evil. For if evil spirits 
Math. 26. 41 and 6. 13.  durst set upon those that were sound both in body and soul, after that manner which I have spoken of, according to that power that was given them, we may not think that they spare such as are sick: especially those that are already troubled in brain and beside themselves. For the Devil, as our mortal enemy, continually watcheth for those occasions that are fittest, and most for his advantage to hurt us withal. Therefore he intrudeth himself amidst our diseases and miseries, chief when there is weakness of brain joined therewith, using against us those weapons, which he findeth in our own nature, as also those which his own malice and rage ministereth unto him, whereof we have a very profitable example in the history of job. He declareth plainly by his speech, that if the fear of God had not kept him back, he had rather have strangled himself, then lived in that miserable estate wherein he was. And no doubt, if God had not held a strong hand over 
job. 7. 15.  his servant job, and bridled the rage and evil will of Satan that persecuted him, the Devil had had great power over this good man, to have persuaded him to make away himself desperately, as Achitophel and judas did. Now if the Devil prevailed so far with job, by that leave which God gave him to afflict and trouble him, we may well think what he can do with the wicked and reprobate, whom GOD wholly abandoneth and giveth over unto him. We have a very plain example in Saul, of whom it is written, that the spirit of the Lord went from him, and that he was given over of the Lord to an evil spirit, which troubled and vexed him, and that in the end he fell into such desperation, 
1. Sam. 16. 14 15. & 31 4.  that he utterly forsook God and slew himself. We may know also by that which the holy Evangelists have written of such as were possessed, and were healed by jesus Christ and by his Apostles, what power evil spirits have over them, whilst God suffered them to execute their rage and fury. A man may easily judge, that such persons are not only out of their wits through sickness, but that evil spirits possess them. For he so troubleth their mind and spirit, that they know no more what they do, than the veriest bedlams that can be. And although he horribly vexeth their bodies, yet they feel not his torments, or if they do feel them, yet they cannot abstain from vexing themselves. So that it is easily known, that the devil is in them, and that it proceedeth not only of a simple frenzy, or melancholy hume●, seeing some of them have done such things as could not possibly be performed by the power of man, whereof some of those are witnesses, whom the holy Scripture rehearseth unto us. Wherhfore it is out of all question, that evil spirits have wrought both in them and by them. Therefore we have good occasion offered unto us by all that hath been hitherto spoken, to humble ourselves before God, and to pray unto him continually, as we said in the beginning of our speech. For being as we are, we aught still to praise God, who distributeth his graces as it pleaseth him, and that by a most exquisite kind of justice. And when we 
Good instruction for all men.  see those that are infirm and beside themselves, some for a certain time, and by fits, other continually and after divers manners, let us not mock or despise them, but rather have pity and compassion over them, pray to God in their behalf, and secure them as much as we can, acknowledging the grace of God towards us in keeping us from such inconveniences, and beseeching him to preserve and keep us continually. For whatsoever befalleth others, should as it were hung before our eyes, as often as it pleaseth him to beaten them with such scourges, which we ourselves have no less deserved than they that are beaten, yea oftentimes a great deal more. The Lord striketh whom it pleaseth him, that by them others might take instruction. Therefore if we cannot profit by such teaching, nor learn at other men's cost to fear & honour him, to call upon him and to give him thanks, it is to be feared that he will sand us as much, that so we may learn at our own charges. Yea and then also he is very gracious unto us, if he suffer us to have our understandings, to know how to profit by his rods and chastisements, and give us not wholly over into the hands of Satan our adversary. But enough of this matter. And now that we have seen the nature and office of the internal senses of the soul, with their seats and instruments, the sequel of our speech requireth (as I think) that we should entreat of understanding and will, which are two faculties and virtues in the highest and most principal part and power of the soul of man, and in regard of which it is properly called by the name of a reasonable soul & life: as we shall presently learn of ACHITOB.   

Of the reasonable soul and life, and of virtue: of the understanding and Will, that are in the soul, and of their dignity and excellency. Chap. 28.  
ACHITOB. Although beasts without any judgement & reason follow after that which they conceive to be agreeable to their nature, and eschew the contrary, according as their natural inclination driveth them thereunto: yet they pass not those bounds of nature which God hath set them, nor violate the laws thereof. Whereby we see, that through a secret sense of nature, they draw always towards God their Creator, in that their nature bendeth still towards that which God hath appointed to be the chief Good, unto which they can attain. And no doubt but God hath given them such inclinations to be as it were rules to direct them to that which is their proper and natural Good, which consisteth only in corporal things belonging to their bodies. Now if he be thus careful for beasts, we may not think that he hath deprived man of such a benefit, but that he hath also given him his inclination to lead him to his proper Good, and to the truth which in respect thereof is necessary for him. For what likelihood is there, that such a workman as God is, would created Man, the most excellent creature under heaven, in worse estate not only than beasts, but also then all other bodily creatures, which are nothing in comparison of the excellency which is in him? who notwithstanding following their natural disposition, Praise GOD, and fulfil his word, as the Psalmist sayeth. 
Psal. 148. 8.   
As therefore God hath ordained and prepared a far greater Good for men then for beasts, and hath laid up the same in his soul and spirit, so hath he given them the means to inquire and find it out. But the difficulty that is in finding it out, proceedeth through their own fault. For the darkness of ignorance and error, which sin hath brought into their minds, is that which hindereth them, and which had not taken hold of them, if mankind had continued in the perfection of his first nature. Nevertheless, what defect soever there be, yet we see, that in the mind of man there shineth always this natural light that is given unto him above that which beasts have, I mean Reason, which serveth to guide the soul and spirit amidst the darkness of error & ignorance, to the end they may be able to discern truth ●o falsehood, & the true Good from the false, as we see the light serveth the eyes to keep us, & to 'cause us to see in darkness. Therefore we said before, that there was a double discourse of reason in man; whereof the one is Theorical and Speculatine, which hath Truth for his end, 
Of contemplation and action.  and having found it goeth no farther. The other is Practical, having Good for his end, which being found it stayeth not there, but passeth forward to the Will, which God hath joined unto it, to the end it should love, desire and follow after the Good, and contrariwise hate eschew and turn away from evil. Therefore when the question ariseth of contemplation, reason hath truth for her utmost bounds, and when she is come into action, she draweth towards Good, and having conferred together, that which is true and good, she pronounceth judgement. So that reason considereth of things with great deliberation, and being sometimes in doubt which way to take, she stayeth and returneth as it were to herself, and maketh many discourses before she judge and conclude. But sin hath so troubled out spirit, that these natural rules, which should evermore 'cause us to incline to that which is right and good, are greatly depraved and corrupted. Nevertheless there remaineth in us a small remnant of that great Good, which testifieth sofficiently unto us what loss and damage we received by our fall. Therefore both the internal and external senses serve us not only for the good of the body, and for this life as they do to beasts: but also for the good of the soul, & help us to lift up the mind higher, to seek for a better life, & for a greater Good, then can be found among all the creatures, and in which alone the mind findeth true felicity, agreeable to such a nature as itself is. Hereof it cometh, that it cannot content 
The senses of man serve for the good of his soul.  itself with that where with beasts are contented, nor stay there where they stay. For after the spirit is somewhat settled upon that knowledge, which it hath by imagination and fantasy, he lifteth up himself higher by the means of reason, namely to the understanding of spiritual and divine things. For he knoweth well, that because he is as it were shut-vp in an obscure prison, and compassed about with darkness, he is hindered from attaining of the understanding and knowledge of many things whereof he is ignorant, and can neither see nor know that which he would so nearly, clearly, and perfectly as if he were at greater liberty, nor use that natural vigour that he hath, being in this prison of the body. In this sort doth man consider of himself and of his nature; and from that knowledge which he hath of the highest and most excellent things in nature, there springeth in him a love towards them, insomuch that the spirit ascendeth up and attaineth unto God, who is the author and Creator of all. For this cause there ariseth contention betwixt reason and fantasy. For imagination and fantasy, being nearer to the corporal senses draw the soul to those things that are bodily: but reason and the spirit prick it forward, and 'cause it to 
Contention betwixt the spirit and fantasy.  lift up itself to more excellent things. For the spirit (which the Philosophers express by Understanding) mounteth up unto those things that cannot be known nor comprehended of imagination and fantasy, nor of any other sense. Moreover it keepeth fantasy bridled and bringeth it into the right way, which otherwise wandereth far wide, and entereth into many turnings and windings. Neither doth the spirit wholly yield unto every present profit, or decline the contrary, but calleth things past to remembrance, conjectureth and forseeth things to come, and searcheth out what is true and what false to give judgement thereafter, and then to follow after or to eschew that which aught to be followed or fled from. Thus you see what the reasonable soul bringeth to men, which is not in beasts, nor in their soul. Besides, from this vigour and nature of the spirit, speech proceedeth, which being his messenger, is wanting unto beasts, because they are void of reason and understanding, 
What is means by the reasonable soul.  in regard whereof speech is given, as we have already heard. Therefore we understand by the reasonable soul and life, such a soul and life as hath counsel, judgement and reason, and which was created to this end, that knowing God her Creator, & loving him in respect thereof, she might honour & serve him, and finally by degrees attain to immortal life and happiness, which is appointed for her end. For as nothing is more excellent than reason, whereof God hath made man partaker, so there is nothing more beseeming reason than to know love & honour God, seeing there is nothing greater, more excellent, or that may be compared unto him. Therefore as man differeth from brute beasts in respect of reason, wherewith God hath endued him, so he differeth from them in that he is capable of religion, created & born thereto, which consisteth in the things already touched. But beasts are not capable of any kind of religion, being altogether void thereof: as on the other side, there is no man but he hath some sense of it. Whereby we may gather a good argument, that beasts are not only void of reason, but also that their souls are mortal, & the souls of men immortal. For the 
Proof that the soul of beasts is mortal, but of men immortal.  fountain and fruit of the religion and service of God, consisteth not in this mortal life, and therefore it must needs be in some other that followeth. And for this cause reason, which is so great and excellent a gift of God in man, is not bestowed upon us for things of so small price & so transitory as these are which we use and enjoy in this life, and in which it is wholly busied: much less for those whereby the life of beasts is preserved, but in regard of these things the which I have now declared. Therefore as God hath not given such a life to 
What is in plants above stones, and in beasts above plants, and in men above beasts.  stones as he hath given to trees and plants, nor yet sense, imagination and fantasy to trees and plants, as he hath done to beasts: so he hath not granted reason to beasts, as he hath to men, and that not without just cause. For as it is enough for stones in regard of the perfection of their nature, to be heavy and such as they are, & sufficient likewise for trees and plants to have a Vegetative soul, seeing they want not that which beasts have more than they: so beasts stand not in need of that which men have above them. For it sufficeth for the preservation & defence of their life and being, that they have some kind of cogitation joined with imagination and fantasy, although they want reason, which is not necessary for them as it is for men, for the causes already specified: and chief because they were not created by means of the knowledge of God & of true religion to come to a better life, than their brutish life is. Therefore as man is created, to the end that the light of the knowledge of God might shine in him, and that God might communicate with him his wisdom and goodness, so he would that the soul of man should be an evident testimony of himself. For 
The end of man's being.  this cause it was said in his creation, that God made man after his own image and likeness, as we have already heard. Seeing then there are in the reasonable soul so clear and excellent testimonies of God, and that by it especially the difference appeareth between man & beasts, as also in the divers governments of their lives, it behoveth us to consider thereof very diligently. And albeit this glass of God cannot be so evidently seen, as those that are made of steel, or of glass & lead by the hand of man, to represent the image of our bodies, nevertheless the actions & works of the soul do plainly show, that there is such a power & virtue in us, which God hath given us more to use for our benefit, then to know it, and that for the causes already touched by us. For the true & perfect knowledge thereof belongeth to God 
Only God knoweth the soul perfectly.  only, who being above it, hath created and given it, and will 'cause us to know it better when we shall be in that eternal light, in which we shall know those things that are now hidden from us. In the mean time let us in this life consider of and distinguish the actions & works of the soul, whereby we are severed from beasts, and which being very evident testimonies of God in us, govern the life of man, and bring forth all honest sciences and arts. We have spoken already of the powers and virtues of the soul which by the use of corporal instruments 
What actions men do, which beasts cannot.  labour and manifest themselves: but it appeareth evidently, that there is in man another higher power, because we have many actions and do many works, which beasts cannot perform nor imitate. For man hath the knowledge of numbers and can reckon, he understandeth not only particular things, but also general and universal things, he discourneth, that is, gathereth and concludeth one thing of another, and that very far, he inventeth arts and disposeth them, he judgeth of his own reasons and discourses, and marking his own faults, he correcteth them, he changeth his intents & purposes, he discerneth virtues from vices, & honest things from those that are dishonest: finally he deliberateth by a long discourse of reason. As for beasts they have not these things common with us, as they have the use of the senses, as of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and other such like things, wherein they oftentimes excel us in many respects. For many of them have these senses more sharp than we have. And although they have some imagination, fantasy and apprehension of things offered to their bodily senses, yet that holdeth but for the present, and in the place or field where the things are offered unto them. The like may be said 
How beasts discourse.  of those discourses of reason, which many think are in the perfectest of them. For they have some kind of discourse in that they can pass from one thing to another. But all their judge ments are but of particular things, neither do they ascend higher. In like manner, they know not things absent, nor pass from them to others, whether it be from things absent to them that are present, or from present things to those that are absent. For they take or leave incontinently those present and particular things which they know, & make a stop there without any further discourse. So that this intellectual and reasonable power is proper to man only, and is the highest and most sovereign virtue of the soul of man. And although the internal senses are serviceable unto it, as they are served of the external senses, nevertheless it hath proper actions, virtues and motions, which it can and doth exercise without the help of bodily instruments, when it is separated from the body. And even while it is in the body, it is sometime ravished, as if it were altogether out of it, as it hath often fallen ou● to holy men, who have been ravished in spirit in the contemplation of celestial and divine 
Ezech. 37. 1.  things, and that by the revelation of the spiririt of God: insomuch that Saint Paul testifieth of himself, that He was taken up into the third heaven and into Paradise, not knowing whether he were in the body or out of the body, but God he knew. We will consider therefore in this chief 
Act. 10. 3. 10. 11. 2 Cor. 12. 2. 3.  and most sovereign part of the soul, two faculties and virtues, namely the Understanding and the William For it being so that man is created to attain to that sovereign and eternal Good, which GOD hath propounded unto him, therefore GOD hath given him the power 
Of the Understanding and o● William  and virtue to wish for that Good, to the end he might desire to apply and join himself unto it.  
This power and virtue is called William But the soul cannot have this appetite and desire, if first it understand or know not that Good which it aught to desire and follow after. For this cause hath God given unto it another power and virtue, which we call Understanding. And forasmuch as our spirit stayeth not always in one thought, but discourseth and goeth from one matter to another, it had need of a receptacle and storehouse, wherein it may lay up the first thoughts when others come, as if it placed them in a treasury, that they should not be lost, but might be found out, and called forth when need should require. But we learned by our former speech, that this office appertaineth to memory, which is as it were the Rolls of a Chancery Court, in which the seals of images framed by the 
The memory compared to the Rolls of Chancery.  thought; are imprinted, and upon which the understanding doth look as often as it pleaseth And even as it serveth to the other internal senses, unto which it succeedeth in order, so also it serveth the Understanding and William  
Concerning the Understanding, if we consider it generally, it comprehendeth the whole mind: but being taken more specially, we mean a certain particular office thereof. For it understandeth the things that come from without, as we conceive them: than it layeth up that which it hath understood in some little coffer by itself for a time, out of which it may take them again when need requireth. This repetition and taking again, which is as it were an inquiry and searching out, is called Consideration: and from thence it cometh to recordation and remembrance, and so conferreth together the things it hath understood, and compareth them one with another: which being done, a discourse thereof is had with others, after which discourse it determineth and judgeth what is true and what false, what good and what evil. Than doth the Will choose that which is good, and refuseth the evil. And as we come from the understanding to the will by these degrees, so we must ascend up by the same steps, even from the last to the first, namely from Will to Understanding. For Will doth not follow after or refuse any thing, which the judgement hath not first determined to be good or evil: and the judgement decreeth nothing before it hath taken advice of reason, and reason adviseth not before she have conferred the things one with another, & thoroughly examined them. Neither can this conferring be without consideration, nor consideration without requiring that of Memory which was committed unto it to keep, and the memory will keep nothing safe, but that which it hath first known and understood. So that the reasonable soul hath all these things, namely Understanding, Will, and Memory. And under this faculty of understanding, there is simple and particular intelligence, after 
What degrees are between judgement & William  which Consideration followeth, next Recordation, then Conferring, and discoursing after that, next judgement, and last of all Contemplation, which is as it were the rest of the soul and spirit● Now these things being so excellent and wonderful, and somewhat obseure withal, deserve to be discoursed of more at large, and to be uttered more clearly. And therefore before we go to any other matter, we shall do well to consider of the diversity that is found in the operations and discourses of the Understanding, according to that gift of light, which is in it and what is the end of all discourses. Prepare therefore they self ASER to entreat of this matter.   

Of the variety and contrariety that is found in the opinions, deliberations, counsels, discourses and judgements of men, with the cause thereof: and of the good order and end of all discourses. Chap. 29.  
ASER. All things whatsoever can be rehearsed, are either of this mutable and temporary nature, or of the other, which is immutable, perpetual, and above that nature. If the question be of the first, either the variety and change is such, that no certain rule or determination can be given, or else there is a perpetual tenor and constancy in them according to their in bred inclination, through a steadfast and continual order of nature, which is alike in all, according to their nature and kinds. If the variety and change be very uncertain, there can no certain science & knowledge be had of them, nor any determination set down so general, but that there will be always some exception. For touching the first sort, we can have no sure knowledge of things that are infinite, and that have infinite alterations. And because particularities, and particular things are infinite in regard of our capacity, there can no entire & certain knowledge be had of them all in special. As for generals, howbeit 
What knowledge we may have of variable things.  they also are variable, yet some rules may well be given of them, of which the art followeth afterward: and yet no such certain rules, but often it falleth out otherwise, as we may see in many arts, & in sundry experiences. For although it be ordinary for women to love their children, yet there are some that murder them cruelly. So that howsoever it be▪ very common to love them, yet it falleth not out so always. Therefore we may well say of a woman, if she be a Mother, it is very like that she loveth her child, because it is natural. But we cannot conclude certainly, that it was always so, seeing we often see the contrary. There are also oftentimes many signs, which have such apparent significations, that they seem to signify things unto us certainly enough, wherein nevertheless we are deciued, as it falleth out often in our suspicions and opinions, which are not grounded upon certain and firm arguments, and most evident reasons. Wherhfore the knowledge that we may have of such things cannot properly be called Science, but only conjecture, opinion, probability or likelihood, because there is great show of truth, but yet not very certain. 
In what things conjecture taketh place.   
Now albeit the nature of things be mutable, yet if they always keep one and the same tenor and constancy, which continueth alike always to itself, a man may have a certain knowledge of them, and that is called science: example whereof we have in celestial bodies and in natural things, which always keep one and the self same order and nature, both in the elements, and in living creatures, in plants also and such like things. 
Of what things science or knowledge may be had.  For as for the heavens, although they be mutable creatures, yet they have also certain courses and motions, which follow their accustomed order without ceasing. In like manner we see that all these things mentioned even now, are distinguished in their kinds, and have their natural means whereby they are maintained and preserved. For it is natural in man to beget man, and by this means mankind is preserved. The same may be said of other living creatures, of plants also and of such other things which never fail in keeping their order. We have this light in us by nature. Wherhfore when I see a child or a man I may always say certainly, that no painter hath painted and fashioned him in that sort, and that it is none of his work: but that he was begotten and bred of man and a woman that were his parents. For God doth not created men and women, as he created Adam and Eve in the beginning, and as we showed in our first discourse; but by the common order 
In what things wisdom taketh place.  which he established at that time, and in regard of which he instituted the holy estate of Marriage, as we will entreat hereafter. But if the question be concerning immutable, perpetual and supernatural things, we have need of another light, that is greater and more agreeable to their nature, which is given to men by divine inspiration. This light or knowledge is called Sapience or Wisdom. For this cause Saint Paul writing to the Ephesians saith, I cease not to give thanks for you, making mention of you in my prayers, that the God of our Lord jesus Christ the Father of glory, might give unto you the spirit of wisdom and revelation through the knowledge 
Ephes 1. 16. 17▪ 18.  of him: that the eyes of your understanding may be lightened, that ye may know what the hope is of his calling, and what the riches of his glorious inheritance is in the Saints. We see here how the Apostle joineth together wisdom, revelation, and illumination of the understanding, 
The author of Wisdom  the author of which he maketh the spirit of God, by whose revelation and lightning we 
The author of Wisdom Ephe. 3. 19  obtain true wisdom, of which the wisdom of the world is not capable. And therefore afterward he calleth this wisdom, the knowledge that passeth all knowledge. For although by our natural light we have some obscure knowledge of God, as we have already touched it, ●et it cannot so far lighten us, nor 'cause us to ascend so high, except God give us this also, of which I speak even now. Therefore how great soever the natural light be which we have, ●et if we follow it any thing far, we are presently compassed with darkness, which proceedeth 
Much darkness mingled with our natural light.  not of the things we are to know, but from our own minds, which being pressed with the heavy burden of our body, are hindered and made more slow: or else it is because our minds are troubled, as if some cloud troubled the sight of our eyes. So that the more light is in our mind, the greater knowledge we have there, and the less doubting. If there be no light at all, or so little that it be no better than none at all, than ignorance spreadeth itself as it were darkness in an obscure and troubled night, insomuch that there is neither science, nor opinion, nor likelihood, nor doubting. Hereof it is that we commonly say, ignorant persons cast no perils. Thus then as every one hath more light in the mind, he beholdeth obscure things more clearly, because his understanding is better, either by the benefit of nature, or by study & exercise, or by a special gift of God. Others see nothing at 
The cause of the diversity of knowledge & ignorance. in men.  all or very little, not not into those things that are very clear and manifest, so that they are like to men compassed and covered with darkness at Midday. This befalleth them either through the ignorance that is in their understanding, or by reason of their blockish slothfulness that neglecteth exercise, or by the just judgement of God, who because of their sins hath blinded their minds, given them over to Satan, to blind them, who useth to shut up the 
2. Cor. 4. 4.  eyes of worldly, carnal & unfaithful men, whom he hath in his power. So that if there be any error in the minds of men, if they approve and follow after lying in stead of truth, & evil in place of goodness, this cometh not from the natural or supernatural light that God hath given them, nor of the knowledge they have thereby, how great or small soever it be, but of the darkness that is mingled amidst this light, which sin hath made more dark & wholly overwhelmed, & the Devil daily increaseth to the uttermost of his power, because he would gladly have all light in us, as well natural as supernatural, clean extinguished & put out. For as brightness breedeth not clouds & obscurity, so science & knowledge doth not bringforth ignorance & error. For contraries are not made one of another. Wherhfore that cometh to pass in the lightning of our understandings, which we see to happen in the change of light in regard of our eyes. For according to that which is put betwixt, so doth the quality & virtue of the light change in respect of our sight. If it be a very thick body, which the light can not pierce through, then is it wholly taken from us, & as it is more or less thick, or thin and transparent, so do our eyes receive more or less light. In like manner the lightning of our understanding is wonderful variable, because of the great diversity of things that are set before it in this life, to hinder it sundry ways, in some more, in some less, according to those objects that are offered to every one, or as men procure to themselves. From hence it is that there are so many divers opinions, sentences and judgements amongst men, in all deliberations and in all matters, especially in the controversy of discerning truth from falsehood, good from bad, & what is to be followed, what is to be fled. Now concerning those 
Causes of the variety of men's opinions.  things, which chief 'cause this great diversity, we have first to consider of the composition, complexion and disposition of man's body, whether it be sound, or whether it be sick. Also the Age, strength, or weakness, the perfection or imperfection thereof, common custom, the present disposition of vading qualities engendered by nourishment, time and place, with those actions and things that may outwardly happen to the body. For we see by experience, that the understanding and spirit with all the parts and offices of the soul receive great help or hindrance, according as the body, and all the members thereof are well or ill disposed, and that the manners follow the complexion and disposition of the body. For God hath so tempered the nature thereof with that of the soul to make them agreed well together, that the one taketh much of the other, either to 
The manners of men follow the disposition of their bodies.  good or bad purpose, according as they are either well or ill affected. Concerning the soul, we have to consider therein all the affections, beside, the nature of the understanding, whether it be slow and heavy, or quick and light, and of a ready conceit and discourse, and whether it be sharp or dull. Again, consideration must be had of the teaching and instruction which it hath had, what opinions are already rooted in it, and what persuasions have forestalled it, as also how far the behaviour, custom & authority of others can prevail with it. For all these things greatly trouble the minds of men, and procure not only diversity, but also contrariety of opinions, sentences and wills of men, which causeth them to change and rechange so often, insomuch that they do not only differ & are contrary one to another, but every one also to himself. For we have daily trial in ourselves, that we change our opinions from hour to hour, & minute to minute, insomuch that whatsoever we have now approved, determined and set down for a certain decree, we condemn and reject it by and by after, and utterly overthrow it: & contrariwise we approve & ratify that which we had a little before condemned and refused. Whereupon we have to note, according to that we heard before in the discourse of reason, which is the proper effect of the understanding, that there are two kinds of it. For there are discourses, wherein reason goeth on by degrees in continual order, one discourse 
Two kinds of discourses.  always following another, by considering and examining whatsoever appertaineth to the matter in hand, that so a certain and sound judgement thereof may be rendered afterward. Again, there is another kind of discoursing, wherein reason doth not only run amain, but withal skippeth hither and thither, as though it took here a little & there a little, tasting only of things very slightly & by the way, as Bees that fly from one flower to another, and leave others between untouched. Which course whilst reason taketh, it omitteth some step or other which it aught to trace: and that either through ignorance of the right path it aught to follow, or because it thinketh it needless to stay about that which it passeth by, or because it delighteth not, or is not disposed so to do.  
Moreover, we must know, that there is great diversity of discourses, according to the variety of men's understandings. For sharp wits sound to the bottom, that matter which is propounded unto them: wise and subtle heads, even by small conjectures far fetched, conceive that which they seek after & attain thereunto. There are some also of such great spirits, that conceive many things at once, and as it were in the twinkling of an eye, & at one look behold all that is pertinent to the matter. Whereby it appeareth, that they have ready imagination and fantasy, their memory like to an open treasure, a quick consideration, and a perfect and sound remembrance. For if the imagination and fantasy be slow, or the memory shut up, or if consideration cease, or recordation be weak, the discourse will be backward, and fall out but hadly, as it is with children, and those that are very aged, with sick folks, and those that have their minds troubled. Now the end of all discoursing in the 
Of the end of all discourses.  mind, tendeth either to the invention or conclusion of the thing that a man seeketh for. And if he attain not to his end, it is either because he taketh not the way which he aught to take, as they that know not what way to follow, which cometh to pass by diverse means: or because his understanding is not good, but full of darkness: through some perturbation that troubleth it for a time, as when the affections are much moved: or by reason of the variety of cogitations, which trouble and hinder one another.  
There are some also which go on without any regard had to that thing they seek after, as it falleth out with them that are too much moved, & that have a very hasty imagination & fantasy. For these men go beyond the place, where they might find the thing which they seek for: and so leaving the chief matter behind, they fall into unnecessary & buy matter, into foolish trifling and strange thing●eses, without all compass of reason, and such as belong nothing to the purpose. Wherhfore, so soon as the discourse is begun, fantasy is presently to be bridled and kept in, and the inquisition also of memory, to the end the understanding may commodiously take hold of that which it is to follow, & that no such hasty & light commotion carry it awy, and so 'cause it to loose all. Wherein we may say, that it falleth out with the understanding, as it doth with a hound that is in chase. For if he cannot by scent find out the game he seeketh, or if after he hath found it and is in chase he fall to hunt riot, or if he give in, either for want of courage, or because he is spent, or because the course is too long, he shall never take the pray for which he was brought to 
A comparison  field, but loose it without recovery: So in these discourses of the mind, whreof we speak, there are others also beside them that are already mentioned, who because they are of a slow spirit, and the matters they search for are far off and hard to find, have not vigour nor force sufficient to attain unto them. The self same thing also happeneth to some, not so much for want of strength & quickness of spirit, as because they are commonly idle and slothful, as it is with them that will not be attentive, & cannot away to occupy theirs minds when they should take some pains to learn. There are many of these, whose being more careful for their bodies than for their souls, & that they may more freely attend to the body and the desire a thereof, are soon persuaded to give over all care to seek for, and to provide things necessary for the soul. And if the body he never so little out of square, yea the very fear jest they should procure it any grief, causeth them wholly to abstain from labouring the mind in the searching out of wisdom and truth, so that they voluntary become ignorant. There are others that have running heads, who will never continued and stay in one thing: and some also that when they should harken to that which they are about, have their with a wool gathering, and, as we use commonly to say, are building of castles in Spain. But above all we must herein acknowledge that God distributeth his gifts and graces to men, and bestoweth wit and understanding as it pleaseth him. Now that we have entreated sufficiently of the understanding, and of the discourses of reason therein, let us speak of judgement which followeth it, and of his office. This than shall be the matter subject of thy speech, AMANA.   

Of judgement, and of his office, after the discourse of reason: and how Belief, Opinion, or doubting follow it: of the difference that is between them. Chap. 30.  
AMANA. If I judge aright of the doctrine contained in our former discourses, which handled the nature, powers, faculties and virtues of the soul, I find that the spirit is as it were the chief part therein, in which is the Mind, the Understanding, and Memory. The 
The several powers of the soul.  Mind is as it were a white paper, wherein as a man groweth in yeetes & judgement, so he writeth his cogitations & thoughts, which he hath by learning & by the instruction of wisdom, Understanding, is framed by the knowledge of reason, and last of all Memory followeth. For there is great difference between that which the senses and the understanding are able to do in the time of infancy, and that which is done by them in other ages, wherein there is greater use of them. And although the seeds of all the operations of the soul, are included within it even from the beginning of the creation thereof, nevertheless God hath created is of that nature, that as he hath joined it to the body, which hath his degrees of growth in every part thereof, so the soul hath some agreement therewith in this respect, touching the manifestation of her powers and virtues. If then any man be endued with an excellent spirit, that is quick and ready to conceive, and with a memory apt to retain and hold fast, it is a great mean for him whereby to attain to the knowledge of the truth. But for the perfection of these two great gifts of nature, it is necessary he should have a good and sound▪ judgement proceeding from a sound disputing and discoursing of reason lightened by the spirit of God, and by it purged of error, illusion, and of all vain opinions, which the nature of man hath of his own inheritance, and which hindereth him from judging aright of the truth.  
Now the offices of judgement is to like or dislike the discourses of reason, and the 
Of the office of judgement.  conclusions which are made thereby. For it belongeth to judgement, to judge whether reason discourse and conclude well as it aught to do. And therefore it is in the spirit and in the mind, as a rule, or as the skoles in a pair of balance: and whilst reason is a working, it is quiet. But when she hath concluded and done, judgement afterward examineth and considereth whether there be any fault in the discoursing, or in the conclusion, or in both, or whether all be well referred, before it either approve or mislike any thing. And if it find any thing that breedeth fear lest it be deceived, than it beginneth again to advise of the matter. Now the greatest cause it hath to fear jest it be deceived, ariseth of probable reasons, which albeit they be like to be true, yet indeed are not true. And because there are some, which have such great show of truth, that it is a very hard matter to be able to discern them from true reasons, and not take them to be such indeed, therefore the judgement may be often deceived by this means. For it will not easily slip aside, but abide constant in that wherein it is once setoed, if it be not led and induced to allow and disallow of a thing, either by virtue of true and certain reasons that may move it, or of such reasons as are so very likely, and carry so great a show of truth, that they cannot be known and difcerned 
A sound judgement is an excellent gift of God.  for others. Therefore we may well say, that a good, upright and sound judgement is an excellent gift of God: neither is there any thing more necessary to all arts and disciplines, yea in the whole course of man's life, and chief for the principal end of our being, which is to know and to serus God. For as Good is a thing agreeable to the Will, so is Truth agreeable to the Mind: whereupon it followeth likewise, that as Evil is contrary and an enemy to the will, so is lying in this respect of the mind. Wherhfore if judgement judgeth that the conclusion made by reason is true and followeth well, it joineth itself thereunto, receiving and embracing it as agreeable to itself. This approbation is called Consent. But if it judge the conclusion to be false, it turneth it aside & rejecteth it, and this refusal may be called dissent, because it is contrary to consent, when there is no agreement of sentences, but disagreement and contrariety. As touching consent, we may divide it into two kinds. For one kind thereof is firm and steadfast, and avother weak and unstaid. If the consent befirme, certain, and thoroughly resolved, it is called Belief. But there is difference 
Two kinds of consents.  betwixt that belief or faith, which concerneth human matters, and that which is of divine things. For then do we give credit to human things, when we take them to be so certain, that we doubt nothing thereof, as namely when we are so persuaded either by very evident reasons which remove all doubting from us, or else, by testimonies which we take to be most certain. Wherhfore we may say, that there is great agreement betwixt this kind of 
Agreement betwixt belief and science.  belief and between Science, because there is a certain resolution both in the one and in the other. For Science is a kind of knowledge in which the demonstration made unto us, compelleth us to approve that which is spoken, because we see the reasons so certain, that we cannot gainsay them nor think otherwise. The like is done in belief, which is a kind of knowledge, that causeth us without doubting to give credit unto that which is told▪ us, because we are overcome by witnesses and authority which we approve. For if we doubted any thing, our consent would be yet weak, & so it could not properly be called belief, but rather Comecture or Opinion. For considering that in this there is some kind of consent, which inclineth to one part rather than to another, therefore it tendeth to disliking, which is wholly against consent. For this cause we call Opinion, a knowledge that moveth us to incline rather 
What opinion is.  on the one side, then on the other, in regard of the appearance and show of reason that it hath: so that we are not fully resolved therein. Now albeit this consent, which is called opinion or conjecture, be not altogether so firm, as that which we call belief: never thelesse it differeth from Doubting, which is as it were a neuter judgement, hanging between consent & his contrary, & inclining neither to the one side nor to the other. As for 
What doubting is.  that belief which is of divine things, there is such a firm consent required therein, as that all doubting must be utterly excluded. For faith is not perfect, if it do not allow for certain, whatsoever God hath revealed unto men by his word, which is a certain testimony 
Of faith in diviue things.  of his will. And although he hath given unto us the same means to instruct us by in these things, that he hath done in human things, yet he goeth further. For he doth not only teach us by experience, by reasons and demonstrations, which appear manifestly to our senses both external and internal, and of which our mind can judge as well as of human things, but he requireth chief of us, that we should believe his testimony, and those witnesses which he sendeth unto us, and that we should content ourselves with his authority. And because heavenly things surpass the capacity of our understanding, God maketh them capable by the light of faith, which is a supernatural and divine light, whereby we see 
Of the light of faith.  that in God, which we cannot behold in all the creatures, and which our human reason cannot naturally comprehend.  
Now as much as this light is more certain than all other natural light, either external of the eyes of the body, or internal in respect of the eyes of the soul and mind, so much more certain is our sight and knowledge of that, which we see and know by means of that light. For this cause when our understandings are lightened with this light, we believe more firmly that which it manifesteth unto us, I say not only then that whereunto we may be persuaded by all the human reasons which can be alleged: but also then that which we see with our own eyes, and hear with our ears, and touch with our hands. For these external senses, and those internal senses also whose messengers the other are, are not so certain witnesses to our spirit, as the senses of faith, which are more than human. For they are heavenly. 
Of the senses of faith.  Wherhfore she hath eyes whereby she seethe divinely and not humanly, which can never be deceived as the eyes of the body may. The like we may say of her ears and of her hands. For there is no sense so certain as all hers are, because she receiveth them divinely by the spirit. Therefore as she hath not in her any imagination or fantasy that can deceive her, so she can never fail, either in her discourses or in her judgements whereupon she resolveth: because she is always guided in them by the holy spirit, whom she followeth for her rule in all things, and who assureth her by his testimony, as if she bore the marks and seals imprinted in herself, and in their minds and hearts in whom she dwelleth. Hereof it is that Saint Paul so often saith, that God hath sealed us by his holy Spirit, speaking as it were of a seal imprinted in our hearts and minds, and as of an earnest and gage which God hath given us, 
Ees. 4. 30. 2. Cor. 1. 22.  for the best and most certain assurance that can be. No marvel therefore if the children of God endued with the true faith become so resolute, so firm and constant, that no authority, power, wisdom, force, eloquence, no human reasons, nor any thing that men or devils can imagine, think, say, or do, is able to make them to change their minds; whereof we have most evident examples, especially in the person of all the Martyrs, who could never by any violence in the world be overcome, but their faith hath evermore gotten the victory and triumphed over all their enemies. And by this we may assuredly know, that it is better grounded then upon all the reasons and persuasions of men that may be. Therefore it is not without cause that Saint Paul calleth it the gift of God, neither is it without great reason 
Ephes. 2. Heb. 11.  commended so much in the Epistle to the Hebrews. For being come to that point, that it hath such an illumination, as to account all that God revealeth in his word to be more certain than any thing that we see with our eyes, or touch with our hands, & hereof to have a true sense and feeling of the testimony of the holy spirit, then doth it exclude all doubting, which is contrary thereunto, and differeth much from that which we hold only in opinion, wherein there is as yet no great assurance. So that we may conclude hereupon, 
The conclusions of Faith are most true and unchange able.  that according as faith is more or less in us, we shall never conclude ill, nor at any time give over our conclusions. For faith never concludeth any thing which God hath not before spoken, whose word and authority is unto it, as indeed it aught to be, in stead of all reason. For seeing it is that wisdom and truth which can never fail or lie, it needeth not to doubt in any respect to conclude always therewith, neither hath it cause at anytime afterward to forsake or change the conclusion it hath set down. Wherhfore when our faith is shaken and beginneth to altar, it is a sign and testimony, that it holdeth more of the nature of opinion then of belief, and that it hath not yet a judgement thoroughly resolved in the conclusion which it hath taken. So that here we may learn what difference there is 
Increduitie contrary to belief and opinion.  betwixt belief, opinion, doubting and infidelity or incredulity. For seeing incredulity is contrary to belief, it goeth farther than doubting, which concludeth nothing on either side, as both belief and opinion do, but incredulity concludeth contrary to them both. For it giveth no consent, as belief and opinion do, but taketh the clean contrary: and therefore it may well be called different or disagreement, as being opposite to that consent that is in belief.  
Now to end this speech, and to take away all doubting that may arise of this word Belief 
Of the divers acceptions of this word, belief or Faith.  or Faith, I will only add this, that we are to know that it is diversly taken in the holy scriptures. For the name which it hath in the Hebrew tongue, is taken from the word, whereby they express verity or truth, which they also take for constancy and assurance. The word which the Evangelists and Apostles use according to the Grecians in whose language they wrote, signifieth properly Persuasion. And the name used by the Latins, from whom we have taken our Faith, signifieth that constancy and truth, which men keep in their words and promises: whereupon they call it the Fountain of justice. Therefore faithful signifieth as much as true, constant, and firm in that which a man hath spoken and promised, namely, when one hath kept his faith. Hereof it is also that God is so often in the holy Scriptures called Faithful, in respect of us, because he neverfalsifieth his faith, but is always firm and constant in all his words and works. But when the Scripture speaketh of Faith in regard of men towards God, it doth not only comprehend a belief, whereby we believe that to be true which we hear, and which is spoken unto us, as when one telleth us some history, but it is also a trust, which assureth us, that God will perform that unto us which he hath promised us. Therefore true faith includeth in it a certain and undoubted confidence 
The descriptlon of Faith.  of heavenly things, and an assured persuasion of the accomplishment of God's promises towards us. Now to prosecute our purpose, seeing we have learned, that the knowledge of the truth, which is the principal object of reason and understanding, is very hard for men to attain unto, let us consider of the means whereby we may be certain and sure of those things which we are to believe. This discourse ARAM, belongeth unto thee.   

Of the means whereby a man may have certain knowledge of those things which he aught to believe and take for true: of the natural and supernatural light that is in man, and how they bear witness of the Image of God in him. Chap. 31  
ARAM. For a man to know himself to be ignorant, is a goodly science and so necessary for men, that without it they cannot be truly skilful. For the ignorant person that knoweth not himself to be such a one, but supposeth he knoweth that which he doth 
It is good for a manto know his own ignorance.  not in deed, is as unteachable a beast as can be: because he will never seek for a master to be instructed by, but if any offer themselves he will reject them, and rather himself take upon him to teach them.  
Therefore Socrates was greatly commended by the ancients, because he said, that he knew but one only thing, namely, that he was ignorant and knew nothing. True is, that if we speak of things which may be known by the corporal and spiritual senses of men, even as nature hath given them unto us, and of things belonging to natural and moral Philosophy, there are many men to be found whose knowledge therein is so great, that other men in respect of them may seem to be but poor beasts. But when we must ascend up to the knowledge of things revealed unto us in jesus Christ, and in the Gospel, no sense or understanding of man is able to comprehend any thing therein, if the Spirit of God do not teach him, and dwell in him, to seal and to confirm in his soul the doctrine of those heavenly mysteries, wherein the skilfullest men are no better taught of themselves, than those that are most ignorant. For that abideth always true which S. Paul wrote to the Corinthians, that the natural man parceiveth not the things of the spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.  
Now I find four means, whereby men may be made certain of those things unto which 
1 Cor. 2. 14.  they aught to give credit, whereof three of them are natural and according to natural Philosophy, the fourth goeth further, and is proper to divinity. The first is general 
Four means to know certainly those things that are to be believed. Of general experience.  experience: the second, the knowledge of principles: the third, natural judgement: of these three we will first speak, and then come to the fourth. General experience is that judgement which all men of sound minds do give all after one sort, of those things whereof they have certain experience by their corporal senses: as to be seen in natural things. For who knoweth not that the fire is hot? And who would not take him for a senseless man that should affirm the contrary? Yea, who could affirm it, being convinced of the truth thereof by his own senses? Likewise who seethe not the difference that is between death and life, and what are the effects both of the one and the other? For every one knoweth these things by a general experience common to all. Wherhfore this knowledge is certain and where it is so, there needeth no other proof or demonstration fetched farther than from such experience. For God hath so created the nature of things, that men must needs confess it to be so, as general experience doth declare it to be. And he that will not believe it, let him take trial thereof himself, and he shall know whether it be so or no. So that whosoever would stand against this common and general experience, he should make open war against God and nature, in denying alorder which he hath set down therein. Concerning the knowledge of principles, we must first know that there is understood by principles, that natural knowledge that is borne with us, which is the seed of all Arts, and a beam of the light of God in us, to the end that by this means all Arts necessary for life, should be invented and put in use. As for example, every one knoweth naturally, that the whole of any thing is more than the half, or then a part of it only, and that three are more than two. To be brief the knowledge of numbers, of measures, and of other such like things is natural unto us, 
Of the knowledge of principles.  and is not found in the nature of beasts: and therefore they have neither the invention not use of any Art, as we have already heard. But let us proceed farther and consider, whether there be no natural knowledge in men, whereby they understand that there is a divine nature, wise, just, true, good, that loveth goodness, and hateth and punisheth evil, with which nature the soul of man hath some agreement, and is as it were an image thereof: for which cause he aught to be made conformable to God, by following after wisdom, truth justice, goodness, and all virtue, and by shunning the contrary vices. In this respect, he that 
Of the natural knowledge of God in men.  followeth this rule obeyeth God, doing that which is pleasant and right in his eyes: and he that leaveth this rule, disobeyeth and displeaseth him, committing wicked and dishonest things, whereby he becometh worthy of punishment. In a word, we may refer to those natural principles, whatsoever God hath imprinted in men's hearts and minds of the law of nature, which serveth all men for natural divinity, the Books of which they carry printed in their souls. And yet out of all question, this divinity will scarce serve us butto condemnation, if we go no farther, because the book thereof is so blotted in us, that there is not so much as one small piece or leaf thereof whole and sound, and which is not very much blurred and torn. Nevertheless that which remaineth is a sufficient process against us before God, and able to convince and condemn us at his judgement. Of this we ourselves may judge, in that we see, that there is no nation or people that live with no religion at all, but they have one either true or false, whereby they labour to appease the wrath of God, and to be under his favour and protection, according to that measure of knowledge, which they have of him. Whereby they plainly declare, that there is a certain law within them taken from the Book of this natural divinity, which condemneth them in their hearts, and urgeth & constraineth them to do that which they do, even as we feel ourselves pressed & condemned by the written law which God hath given unto us. Wherhfore if we knew 
The use both of the natural and of the written law.  how to profit by them both, they would both serve us in stead of a Schoolmaster to direct & lead us unto jesus Christ. For both of them, if we understand them well, testify sufficiently unto us, that we stand in need of a Mediator, by whom we may have access to God & be reconciled unto him, seeing we feel our condemnation within ourselves & in our own consciences. As for the third mean to make a man certain of that which he is to accounted for true, which we said was natural judgement, it is the understanding of that order that aught to be in things, & of the consequence of them, whereby to judge in some sort of the agreement or 
Of natural judgement.  disagreement they have one with another: insomuch that every one hath within himself as it were a natural logic, whereby he is able to judge at lest wise of common things. It remaineth now that we learn the fourth mean, which passeth all the former, & that is divine 
Of the fourth mean of knowledge.  revelation, whereof we have made mention, & those certain and infallible testimonies, which we learn of the holy Scriptures, I mean the Books of the Prophets & Apostles, with the confirmation & understanding of them by the holy Spirit. For it were not enough for us to have the word of God delivered unto us by them, except the holy Ghost had his working both in them & in us. Wherefore although naturally we more easily & firmly believe that which our mind is able to see, know & comprehend by the natural light thereof, then that which goeth beyond it, yet forasmuch as God hath made us capable of understanding and reason, we aught to give no less credit to all that he hath revealed unto us by his word, yea much more to this, howsoever by that light of nature which remaineth in us we neither see nor know how true and firm it is, and that for the causes before uttered. Here of it is that in the Epistle to the Hebrews, faith is called the substance and ground of things hoped for, and such an evident demonstration of things not seen, that it convinceth men & causeth them to perceive 
Hebr. 11.  and know the truth of them very clearly. Whereupon we have to note, that this natural light, and that which we call supernatural, are not (to speak properly) two divers and different lights, but one and the same, as we should well have known, if our nature had continued in perfection, and in that image of God in which it was created and framed, far differing 
Of the image of God in man  from all other creatures. For although there is in them some image of God, yet they have not understanding to know it as it is, neither to know God their creator, who hath imprinted it in them. But it is far otherwise in man. For God will be known of him, and therefore he hath so imprinted his image in his nature, that he will have him to see and know it. For this cause he hath given him a mind and understanding able to receive this knowledge. For the greatest likeness and resemblance that a man can have with God, consisteth in the agreement with him in wisdom and justice, which cannot be but in a nature that is capable and partaker of reason and understanding. Now because God is good, yea a common and general Good, he will not withhold this good in himself without communicating it, but maketh all his creatures partakers thereof, especially man, with whom it hath pleased him to communicate this Good of wisdom and justice, which is the greatest and most excellent good that is in him. Therefore did God together with his image imprint his knowledge in the nature of man. For man could not otherwise know this image and similitude, neither what it is to be like or unlike to God, if he had no more knowledge of God, who, and what manner a one he is, than other creatures that want this knowledge, because they are not capable of understanding and reason, nor of this image of wisdom and justice which is in God, and by which man is made like unto him. Wherhfore the first degree of this image and similitude that is in man, appeareth in that power and faculty of understanding which God hath given him, and in that wisdom whereof he hath made him partaker, and which hath some agreement with the wisdom of God. So that before man sinned, the image of God was such in him, that there was a perfect agreement of all the powers and virtues of the soul between God and him. For the divine light did so shine in his mind, that he had certain and firm knowledge of GOD, neither was there any resistance against him either in his heart or in his will, but a sound and perpetual concord and consent. So that there was always between the mind and the will an uprightness and justice agreeable with God, neither was the freedom of the will hindered or driven forward to evil, because man had not yet made himself the subject and slave of sin. As long therefore as man kept this image of God within him, the Lord dwelled therein as in his own lodging: and by that means would have given to men such perpetual life and joy, as should never have been broken off or extinguished either by sorrow or by death, if he had suffered himself to be always guided by God, and never turned aside nor severed himself from him. Therefore Saint Paul speaking of this first image and of the renewing thereof in man, 
Ephes. 4. 24.  saith, Put out he new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness. Seeing then it is thus, there is no doubt but that, if man had continued in his integrity, the light which is now supernatural in him, would have been natural in all that knowledge of God, which is necessary for him to that end whereunto he was created. For he had never been overwhelmed with darkness, which dimmed and hindered this heavenly light that shined in him, and made him the habitation and temple of God, but had seen clearly the image of the Father, of the Son, and of the holy Ghost shining in his soul, in which it was imprinted, the draughts and beams whereof are yet evident enough in him, I mean to them that consider of them as it appertaineth, following the light of the word of God. But forasmuch as the darkness which sin hath brought with it, keepeth man from having any sound and perfect knowledge of God, or of heavenly things as he had in his first estate, it is necessary therefore that he should restore and kindle again in him, this divine and perfect life which he hath lost by the benefit of regeneration and spiritual renovation, as if he created him anew, giving him a mind to understand his word, and a will to follow and to embrace it, This is that, which I thought we were to note and learn concerning the means that bring us certain knowledge of such things as we aught to judge & account for true. Let us now consider, how the spirit of man being enriched in measure with heavenly gifts and graces, doth finally attain to the end of all inquisition and searching out of truth, which is contemplation, that followeth judgement, as judgement followeth reason and the discourse thereof. Therefore do thou, ACHITOB, take upon thee to discourse of this matter subject, and so end all speeches of this days work concerning understanding, that afterward we may look particularly into the will, which is the second part and virtue of the highest and most sovereign power of the soul.   

How the virtues and powers of the soul show themselves by little and little, and by degrees of contemplation, and of the good that is in it▪ of that true and divine contemplation which we look for after this life. Chap. 32.  
ACHITOB. I was much troubled oftentimes about the understanding of these two words, Soul & Spirit, in seeking to found what difference or agreement they have one with another: seeing that many times I saw one of them taken for the other, & also opposed as repugnant one to another. In the end I learned of skilful men, that we might use the word Soul to signify man as he is borne, having only the gifts of a human soul, namely, the human senses, and those other powers and virtues both animal and natural, of which 
The difference betwixt soul & spirit  we have already spoken. And as for the Spirit, that we must understand thereby, whatsoever heavenly grace and knowledge of the truth is given to man by the Spirit of GOD dwelling in him, which guideth and leadeth him to the contemplation of the divine nature, wherein consisteth his good and felicity. Moreover we may see in sundry places of the Scriptures according to the Hebrew phrase, the word Soul, taken not only for the life of 
Matth. 10. 39 Rom. 13. 1 Easie 40. 5. 6 Luc. 3. 6 Rom. 8. 6  man, and for all things belonging thereto, but also for the whole nature of man: and thus also is the word Flesh taken. Therefore when the flesh is opposed and set against the spirit in man, we understand thereby, not the body only, but also the soul of man, I mean such a one as it was at the beginning, when being left unto itself it followed the corruption of it own nature. And likewise by the Spirit, we mean that which is regenerated in every part of man, whereby he being withdrawn from the perverse desires and corrupt affections of his nature, is lift up to the contemplation of celestial and eternal things.  
But our God useth in such sort to apply himself to the nature and ability of his creatures, that by little and little, and by degrees he dispenseth unto them those things, which he will bestow upon them, always keeping that order, which he hath used and followed in the creation of the world. For, as Moses testifieth, he first created it of nothing. Than having created the matter of all natures, he brought it into a work, and gave unto it a form, 
Genes. 1  and so polishing it by degrees and day by day, at length he set it in that perfection, which he minded to bestow upon it. We see likewise, that in the continuation of his works, he beginneth always at the basest and lest thing, and so goeth on increasing, augmenting, and ascending up until he hath placed them in their perfection, whereof we have daily experience, 
How God proceedeth in the creation of his Works.  principally in plants and living creatures. For the generation of plants cometh of their seeds, from which they take their beginning. And when the seed, which is the lest part of the whole plant, is put into the ground, it taketh root therein and then cometh forth, increasing daily until it come to those bounds, that are allotted unto it by the Creator, which it cannot pass: because it cannot attain to greater perfection being of that kind, but then daily falleth to decay, until it be wholly consumed and returned to the Elements from whence it was taken. The like is done in the generation of all living creatures, and namely in that of man. For what is his beginning? and what is his conception, nativity, childhood, adolescency, youth, man's estate, and then old age? We see how small his beginning is, and how he groweth step by step, and from age to age until he cometh to the flower of his age, and to his full strength, as plants do: and from thence the nearer he draweth to old age, the more he fadeth and decayeth until he come to death, whereby the body returneth to the Elements out of which it is taken. For as God hath given him a beginning, so hath he appointed him limits, unto which he may ascend up until he come to his highest, and then he is to descend, as the ordinance of God shall lead him. As for the soul, the same cannot befall it in regard of bigness, seeing it is not corporal as the body is, neither yet in respect of death, seeing it is immortal. For it cannot be resolved as the body may, to return into the Elements, out of which it is not taken, but it abideth always in that substance and nature which first it had, because it is of a celestial and divine nature. But if the question be of the faculties, powers, and virtues thereof, the seeds of which it hath in itself, we see by experience how they show themselves more and more perfect, and how the use of them is greater in one age then in another. For as long as the infant is in his mother's womb, no man can perceive that as yet he useth any other virtue and faculty of the soul that is in him, then that which heretofore 
How the powers of the soul manifest themselves.  we called the vegetative or nourishing faculty, by which he is nourished as plants are. After, when he is borne, he continueth a long time like to other living creatures, as though he had only a vegetative and sensitive soul as they have. Than by little and little as he groweth from one age to another, those virtues of the soul whereby he differeth from beasts, appear every day more and more. And yet he hath no other soul in substance, nor any other senses and mind throughout his whole life, than he had when it first moved: as also he hath no other body. But a man may easily judge, that this cometh not of the nature of the soul, but of the instruments it hath in the body, which in the infancy of man, hinder it from doing that which it doth by them in other ages. Besides, we may truly say, that God hath created it of that nature, that as he hath joined it unto the body, which hath his 
How they have their degrees in growth.  degrees of growth, so the soul hath some agreement therewith in this respect, touching the manifestation of her natural powers and virtues. Neither is it any strange thing if God deal so with it in this matter. In the mean time we see, that although the soul of man seemeth in nothing or very little to differ from that of plants, as long as it is in the mother's womb, nor from the soul of beasts during the time of his infancy: nevertheless afterward it showeth very well wherein it differeth from them, and that it hath certain virtues, which are not in any other soul. For if this were not so both in respect of the age & growth of the body, as also in regard of that property which is in the nature thereof, it would be always like to that which it is in the beginning, as we see it is with plants and beasts, in whose soul we can perceive no more change in the end and when they grow up, then in their beginning and first birth. According then to that I have now say de, we see by experience, that in the gifts and graces, wherewith GOD daily adorneth and enricheth his children, he doth not communicate all at once unto them, but by little and little and by degrees, as he judgeth it expedient, and as they are capable of reason and understanding. Therefore it is written of john Baptist, that the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit: which is as much to 
Luke 1. 80.  say, as that according as he grew in age, God increased the graces of his holy spirit upon him wherewith he had endued him even from his mother's womb.  
And when we have profited well in his school, so that we are assured of, and instructed in those things, which we aught to follow according to the word of GOD, we easily attain to that Good, which is the end of all inquiry of the truth, namely to contemplation, which followeth judgement, as judgement followeth reason and the discourse thereof. For reason 
The difference betwixt reason and judgement and contemplation.  discoursing, is as it were the inquisition of the truth that is sought for, and judgement is as the election that maketh choice of the truth, & of that which it taketh to be most certain: and Contemplation is as it were a quiet and settled beholding of all those things which were gathered togethered by reason, and received with approbation by judgement. For there is no more place for disputation, seeing all things are certain and clear. Now all pleasure and delight proceedeth from the convenience & agreement, that is betwixt the thing that pleaseth, and him whom it doth please. And because there is nothing more agreeable to the nature of the spirit and mind of man then truth, hereof it cometh, that not withstanding all corruption that is in him, there is no man but naturally desireth knowledge and skill, accounting science to be excellent and worthy of great praise, and ignorance to be full of shame, yea, he judgeth it a very ill thing to be deceived. Wherhfore we may not doubt, but that as knowledge is more true and certain, so doth the spirit receive greater pleasure: and when it hath found the truth, it delighteth greatly therein. And if for the causes before touched by us, it cannot find the truth so certainly as it desireth, yet it taketh singular pleasure in approaching so near unto it as it can. For this cause the more certain the truth is which it knoweth, it is the more agreeable and pleasant unto it, especially when it knoweth the true spring & first causes thereof, Therefore as the minds of men delight more in those things that resemble them most, of so much the more noble & excellent nature they are, yea more heavenly and divine, and so will take pleasure in such things as are more excellent and celestial. Contrariwise, the more earthly, vile, and abject they shall be, the more will they delight in mortal, 
Why some have preferred Philosophy before riches.  base and contemptible things, and despise such as are of greatest value. For this cause many Philosophers have esteemed more of the study of Philosophy, and the knowledge thereof, then of kingdoms and great riches, being provoked and pricked thereunto, by an unspeakable pleasure which their spirit took in the knowledge of those things that were revealed unto them therein. On the other side, we see that ambitious men delight more in honours and worldly greatness, than they would do, at lest wise in their own opinion, in all the skill of the Philosophers. A covetous man pleaseth himself a great deal more in telling and beholding his crowns, then in any other thing whatsoever. It is no marvel therefore if ambitious, covetous, and voluptuous men, and such like do commonly deride those that take delight in learning, and chief in the doctrine and contemplation of these celestial and eternal things, which they set before their eyes, or if they prefer greatly their own estate and condition, before others that take pleasure in such things. For they are pearls cast before swine, which are not valued as they are worth but only of such as know them and their value.  
Now if heathen Philosophers have oftentimes willingly abandoned all their goods, that they might wholly addict themselves to the study of their human Philosophy, and to the contemplation of such things as they could know thereby, not withstanding that it was always accompanied with some doubting, and that they could never attain to a certain knowledge either of the beginning or end of things: what aught Christians to do when the question is of Divine Philosophy and Wisdom, the treasures of which are opened and offered unto them in the word of God? For it is without all comparison far more certain than any science, and containeth in it other truths, and matters that are a great deal more profound, excellent, and more worthy of contemplation. And they to whom God hath been so gracious, as to give some taste and experience of these things, are able to judge well of them, yea far better than any others. For it is certain that even for a little true knowledge 
Of the benefit that cometh by the contemplation of divine things.  of God, & of the truth of those things which he hath revealed unto us in his doctrine, we receive singular delight, with greatioy, and sweet consolation. So that every man may perceive, how much greater the pleasure will be when the knowledge shall be greater. If then this smmal taste, which we may have in this world of these delicates & spiritual delights, bringeth unto us such singular joy, we may easily judge how great it will be in that most happy contemplation, which we shall have in heaven with God, when we shall behold him face to face, and know him as we are known, whereas here we see him but as it were in a glass, & through a cloud. For that is the contemplation of all contemplations, seeing it is the beholding of God, with whom nothing may be compared. Than there shall be no cloud of ignorance, 
Of the contemplation that is after this life.  when we shall have, not a likely or probable, but a most certain and true knowledge. For the truth shall be showed unto us most certain in GOD who is the Author and Father thereof, in whom we shall thoroughly and perfectly see and know the causes of all things. For our spirits shall be held no longer in such an obscure and dark prison, as here they are constrained to suffer in our mortal bodies. Therefore there shall be no more diversities, disagreements, or contrarieties of opinions and judgements, that some should condemn that which others approve, but all shall be of the same judgement. But seeing we are fallen into 
When all men shallbe of one judgement.  the matter of contemplation, it shall not be unprofitable, if upon occasion of that division, which is commonly made of the active and contemplative life, we note, that although the spirit desireth above all things the pleasure that is in contemplation, as the proper food and delight thereof, yet we must always consider, that we are not only borne for ourselves, but also for others, and to this end, that we should all in common serve one another, both genenerally and specially. For God doth not only command the performance of that service, which he requireth of us towards his own person according to that which is contained in the first Table of the Law, but he commandeth us also in the second Table to do that which he requireth of us towards other men. Therefore he will not have us devil always 
The active life▪ must be joined with the comtemplative.  in contemplation, but we must put to our hand, and discharge us of our duty towards every one, according as he teacheth us by his word. We are then to learn, that so long as we live in this world we must not separate the active life from the contemplative, but always join them both together, until we come to that blessed life, which shall be altogether contemplative, when we shall be delivered from all the miseries and necessities, and from all the troubles and lets in which we are wrapped & detained in this mortal life. God grant us his grace to use all our senses so well, both external and internal, and all the powers, faculties and virtues of our soul and spirit, of which we have hitherto spoken, that we may 'cause them all to serve to his glory, and that we may attain to that blessed contemplation, which is prepared for all his elect in his celestial palace: and that to this end he would dispose in us our will, and all the affections of our soul, of the nature of which we will begin to morrow to discourse. And first, ASER, I think thou art to entreat of those appetites that are naturally in man, seeing Desire is the proper subject of the Will as thou shalt instruct us more at large.   
The end of the fourth days work.   

The fifth days work.  

Of the Appetites that are in all living creatures, and namely in man, and of their kinds: and particularly of the Natural and Sensitive Appetite. Chap. 33.  
ASER. As God and all that is in the world, is propounded to the mind of man, that he might know him so far forth as is needful for him▪ so is he also propounded to the will, that he might will, desire, and follow him as far as his nature is capable thereof. Wherhfore if man had not 
The object of the will is as large as that of the mind  sinned, but had continued in his first estate wherein God created him, this great and eternal Goodness had shed in our souls that divine word, together with his holy spirit: which word being the eternal Son of God, would have always taught and showed us the Father, of whom he was begotten before all time, and would have lightened our minds with the light of all wisdom that we might have beheld and seen him: and the holy spirit would have joined our hearts and wills unto the Father and to the Son, through a mutual love replenished with all joy and gladness, and through certain motions agreeable to the divine nature. By which means there should have been in our hearts a great fire of love towards God, and next to him we should have loved other good things, according to that order which is showed unto us in his heavenly wisdom and doctrine, and should have desired them for the love of him. But now in the estate of natural corruption in which we are, all this goodly agreement, harmony and 
What great confusion is in our corrupt nature.  concord which aught to be between God and man, is wholly perverted and overthrown. For in place of the true knowledge of God, there is nothing but ignorance and doubting in our minds: and as for the Will, it searcheth after and desireth other things whereunto it applieth itself, and seeketh not after God. Neitherdoth it keep any order in those things which it hath for objects, and which it setteth down in stead of the things commanded in his word. So that while it thinketh to attain to that good whereunto naturally it aspireth, it obtaineth nothing to itself but a very great evil.  
Now when we spoke before of the brain, and of the internal senses of the soul, and of the principal part and virtue thereof, we made some mention of the will, which aught to be directed and led by understanding and reason. It remaineth now that we look more narrowly into the nature thereof, and of the affections of the soul, of the vital virtue, of the heart, and of other members, which are the seats and instruments thereof, even as when we entreated of the animal virtues of the soul, we considered of their seats & instruments. First then we must mark what hath been hitherto spoken, namely, that God hath given to all his creatures a natural inclination, that leadeth every one of them to that which is natural and agreeable to itself. Beasts have an appetite to follow that good that is fit for them, and therefore also hath God given them the knowledge of that good, and senses meet for that purpose, to the end they might show unto them, what is good for their preservation 
Of the desires that are in creatures.  to follow it, and to shun the contrary. We have learned also how God hath given both the one and the other to man, and unto what degree concerning both of them, he hath lifted him above all living creatures. For as he hath created him to enjoy a far greater and more excellent Good than he hath beasts, and hath given unto him a will to wish and desire it, so he hath endued him with a deeper knowledge whereby to know that Good: because he could not wish for it and desire it, except he did know it, and he could not know it, if he had not a mind capable thereof, and endued with greater knowledge than that is, which he hath given to beasts. For this cause as they have a kind of knowledge agreeable to their nature, and to the quality of that Good, which being fit for them is the greatest they can attain unto: so also hath man a knowledge according to his nature, and to the end for the which he was created. So that the knowledge that God hath given him, serveth to stir up his appetite and desire of that Good which he knoweth: and his appetite also serveth his knowledge, so far forth as man being moved and pricked forward to love God, rejoiceth and reposeth himself in him, having known him to be his sovereign Good.  
But to the end we may the better understand this whole matter, we must note, that there are three kinds of appetites among the creatures, which are commonly called, the one natural, 
Three kinds of appetites.  the other sensitive, and the third voluntary. As for the natural, we may divide it into two sorts. For there is one general to all creatures, whether living or without life, which is nothing else but a natural inclination without any action, proceeding from any soul or 
Of the Natural appetite.  life: as when we say, that heavy things desire to go downward, and light things upward, as we see it in the nature of the Elements, which are without soul and life. But beside this natural appetite common to all creatures, there is an other that hath action joined with the inclination, which nevertheless proceedeth not of any sense. This appetite is proper to the vegetative and nourishing soul and life, whereof plants are partakers. For we see by experience, that they have a natural appetite to draw unto them, and to retain that which is meet for their nature and food, and to expel the contrary. For if a plant wax dry, it desireth to be watered, and draweth and keepeth humour and moisture necessary for itself. We see the like in men's bodies. For when the members want nourishment, they suck the veins, and the veins draw unto them blood. And as the members desire their food, so they desire to be unburdened when they have too much. The appetite which we call 
Of hunger and thirst.  hunger and thirst, may be referred to this kind of natural appetite, if this be excepted, that we cannot say it is without sense and feeling. For beside the desire of eating and drinking, there is withal a sense of this attraction, whereby the members suck the veins, and the veins the blood: and this sense is not without grief and displeasure. So that every living creature is stirred up to seek for his food, and to take his refection, Whereupon we may divide this natural appetite also into two kinds, whereof the one shall 
Two kinds of Appetite.  be proper to plants that have no sense, and the other belong to living Creatures that have this feeling, of which I made mention even now, and which differeth from that sense that is proper to the outward senses already spoken of. The reason whereof is, because it is properly such a kind of feeling, as those creatures have, which keep a mean between plants and living creatures, being partakers of both their natures, and yet are neither simply plants, nor perfect living creatures, as it hath been already showed. As therefore we heard in our former discourse, speaking of the growing up of man's body, and of the manifestation by little and little of the powers of the soul, namely, that as long as the child is in the mother's womb, he is like to plants; so also he hath then great agreement with these middle sorts of creatures in regard of this kind of appetite, and of the manner of nourishing whereby it is fed. For the seed, whereof he is begotten and conceived, is nourished and groweth up as plants do, until such time as the Infant that is fashioned, have sense and feeling, much like to that sense of the foresaid creatures, which are partakers of the nature both of plants and of living creatures. For as yet he hath no use of his external senses, until such time as he be borne. Now the seat of this kind of 
Of the seat of the natural appetite.  natural appetite, is chiefly in the liver and in the stomach, and generally in all the members that serve for nourishment. For these members have that appetite that is joined with this kind of sense, of which I spoke even now. And as for the appetite of the other members, which serve not for the nourishing of the whole body, but only for themselves, it is more like to that appetite that is in plants. For they feel neither hunger nor thirst as other members do. And thus much for the natural appetite and the kinds thereof. Concerning this sensitive appetite, it is that which accompanieth the sense, and belongeth only to living creatures. There are two sorts of this. For either it is made with touching, or without touching. Pleasure and grief belong properly to the first kind, and 
Of the sensitive appetite and kinds thereof.  the instruments and seats thereof are in the sinews, or else in that small sinewy skin, which giveth the sense. For those things delight the sinews which agreed with their nature, and look what is contrary unto them, the same affecteth them with grief, which tendeth to their destruction, as delight procureth their preservation. So that heat, cold, dryness, and moisture, rejoice, help and comfort the sinews; or else grieve, hurt, and endamage them▪ according as they are either well or ill applied unto them. Therefore the sinews were 
The use of the sinews.  created, to the end they might be instruments of sense and motion, and that they should receive pleasure and pain. Now all these sorts of appetites, are not in the will & power of man, neither proceed they from his imagination. For whether he will or not, he shall be subject to hunger & thirst, and shall in the same manner feel and perceive things as they are applied unto him, if he be so disposed in body as he aught to be. True it is, he may well abstain from eating & drinking, & from touching whatsoever he pleaseth, but this abstinence in the mean time will not take from him that appetite which he hath, but will increase it the more. For it cannot hinder, but that all the members will still desire their nourishment, and the body will always have this sense and feeling. And as for the sense of touching, it will always feel that which it toucheth, and even such as it is when it shall be touched. But there are appetites of another kind, which are bred without any touch at all, and follow the thought and imagination of a man. These are properly called affections, and have their seat in the heart. Therefore they must be distinguished from others that having sense of delectation and of grief, are placed in the stomach, or in the sinews, or in the rest of the body. Now by the affections we mean properly those motions of the heart, which follow knowledge, and 
Of the affections.  either seek after or reject, that which is offered unto them: so that according to the order of nature, knowledge goeth before these motions. Hereof it is, that we commonly say, that a man must know before he love, that no man desireth that which he knoweth not. But before we enter into a deeper and more particular consideration of the affections of the soul 
The end of knowledge.  and of the heart, we must note this, that all knowledge is given of God to this end, to desire that Good which it knoweth, and in desiring to follow the same, until it hath joined and knit it unto itself, as near as is possible. For in this manner Good will be good unto it, and not otherwise. To this end sensual knowledge is given for sensual goods, and spiritual knowledge for those goods that are spiritual. And as the knowledge both of the one and the other is given to desire it, so also it is given that it might turn aside and flee from evil, which is contrary to good, to the end that the Will might not join itself thereunto, by which means evil would indeed become evil unto it, and could not otherwise be avoided. For as good could not be good unto us, but only so far forth as we did apply it and join ourselves thereunto, so fareth it also with evil. And because God hath not created beasts to enjoy any other good then corporal goods, and such as belong to their brutish life, which goeth not beyond this temporal life, therefore he hath not given them the knowledge or appetite of any other good. So that as they have no other 
The best things in beasts are sensual.  knowledge but that which is sensual, so they have no other appetite but sensual, which is guided only by natural inclination, wherein they have nature only for their Mistress, which pricketh forward both their outward and inward senses without any direction at all of Understanding and of reason. Therefore this sensual appetite common to all living creatures, cannot properly be called Will. For as we cannot call by the name of Understanding and Reason, that natural inclination which is given to beasts for their direction, seeing men only are endued with Understanding and Reason, so is it with Will, the name 
Beasts have no William  whereof agreeth not to that sensual appetite, except we would call it sensual Will, in respect of the resemblance of Will, which it hath, wherein it differeth much from the Will in man: as the sequel of our speech requireth that we should now learn, to the end we may know the third kind of appetite which we set down in the beginning of this discourse, namely the voluntary appetite, which is proper and peculiar to man, and the subject of his William Thou shalt tell us therefore, AMANA, what Will is properly, what her actions are, what liberty and freedom she hath, and what power Reason may have over her.   

Of Will, and of the divers significations and uses of these words, Reason and Will: of the actions, freedom, and nature thereof: of the power which Reason may have over her. Chap. 34.  
AMANA. The love of GOD towards men hath always been and is such, that albeit he hath just occasion to hate us as sinners, yet that hindereth him not from loving us always as men. For he considereth man otherwise in the nature and substance with which he created him, and as he is his work, then in that order and confusion, which after entered unto his nature by the work of Satan in him. For this cause we see that he 
Matth. 5.  causeth his Sun to shine aswell upon the evil as upon the good, sendeth rain to the one as well as to the other, poureth many benefits upon all in general. But besides this love, whereof every one receiveth fruit, there is another more special towards his elect, whom he loveth not only as he loved us all in Adam, the stock of mankind, and as his creatures created after his Image, but loveth them also as regenerated and new creatures in jesus Christ his Son, the latter and just Adam, GOD and man, and the stock of Spiritual men framed again▪ by him to the image and similitude of God. Therefore we must understand, that GOD hath and doth love men in regard of the good he hath put into them, (which is wrought chief through the benefit of spiritual regeneration) the remnant of which Good he still loveth. And in loving that, he loveth himself, because he is the sovereign and only good, which is worthy to be loved in respect of itself. Whereby we may see, what is the true fountain of all love, and of all 
From whence the desires of all creatures aught to be 〈◊〉.  the desires, appetites and wills of all creatures. For they must all be drawn out of one & the same spring and fountain, namely, the love and will of God, and that good which he loveth and willeth. And the greater the Good is, the more it aught to be loved, so that every Will should desire to join itself theeunto, to follow after it, & to have the fruition thereof. And because there can be no Good greater than God, therefore no other can be loved but that. So that whilst he loveth himself, he loveth all the good that may be, because there is none but in him & from him. Therefore this followeth necessarily, that as all good things proceed from him, so they must be all referred to him, & return thither as to the Wel-head, even as all waters return into the Sea from whence they came first of all. Having then learned of our former discourse, that God hath given to man understanding to know good, & will to desire & follow it, it is his duty always to refer all the good things he hath, unto him that is sovereign and eternal Good, and to accounted nothing good, as in truth it cannot be, but him that aught to be so accounted, and to look at him as the last and most blessed end.  
We understand then properly by Will, that faculty and virtue of the soul, whereby we 
What Will is, and how it worketh.  desire that which is good, and eschew evil by the direction and guiding of reason. Therefore there are two actions of will, whereof the first is that inclination to good by which it embraceth the same, and the second is the turning aside from evil. And when it is idle and inclineth to neither side, it is deprived of both these actions. Now although we said before, that reason held the sovereignty amongst the powers, virtues and offices of the soul, yet we must know, that reason reigneth not over will as Lady and Princess, but only as Mistress to teach and show it, what it aught to follow & what to fly from. For the will hath no light of itself, but is lightened by the mind, that is to say, by reason and judgement, which are joined with it, not to govern and turn it from one side to another by commandment and authority, either by force or violence, as a Prince or Magistrate, but as a counsellor or 
How reason is set over the Will.  director, to admonish and to conduct it. And so the will desireth or refuseth nothing, which reason hath not first showed that it is to be desired or disdained. Therefore the act of Will proceedeth indeed from Will, but it is judged of and counseled by reason: so that it is as it were begotten by reason, and brought forth by William But that we deceive not ourselves in these names of reason and Will, we are to know, that both of them are taken diversly, as the names of Mind and Understanding are. For sometime they are taken for that virtue 
divers acceptions of the Words, Reason and William  of understanding which is in the soul, & sometime for the action thereof and the thing which it doth understand: as when we say that we have the understanding of something. So reason is sometime taken for the mind that giveth direction and counsel, and for the will which obeyeth it, and restraineth the affections: and in this sense, it comprehendeth both the Understanding and the will. But sometime it is taken only for that part, which understandeth and hath knowledge to conduct and guide, as now we must so take it, in making it the Mistress and counsellor of the will. Besides, reason is also taken oftentimes for the arguments and discourses of reason, as when we say of a man, He hath good reason in that: or else, He hath proved his saying by good & pregnant reasons, that is to say, by good arguments. And if we take reason so, it signifieth not only that power & virtue of discoursing which is in the soul and in the mind, but also the act and effect thereof. The like may be said of this word Will. For it is commonly taken not so much for that power & virtue which the soul hath to Will, as for the Will itself, which is the action and effect thereof: as when one speaking of tyrants saith, that their Will is all their reason. For than we mean; that they take not reason for their counsellor, neither follow the advice thereof, but only their Will, and that which pleaseth them. So then we use this word Will for that which proceedeth from it: and so likewise it is often taken in the holy Scriptures, when they 
Psal. 115.  speak of the Will of God, whereby we do not understand that power of Will that is in him, but that which he willeth & commandeth us. And therefore we crave that his Will may 
Matth. 6.  be done, and not that which we will. But speaking now of the Will of man, we take it not in this sense. But we use it for the power and virtue of Willing that is in the soul, which power is above the sensitive appetite, whereof we have already spoken. For we see by experience that there are certain degrees of appetites, & that the appetite of the senses is subject to the Will, as I hope we shall entreat more at large in the sequel of our speech. Wherefore the Will is the highest and most sovereign virtue of desiring, far above all other appetites, and that 
The Will is the chiefest appetite.  which worketh with liberty, after the mind hath showed unto it what it aught to follow, and what to eschew, what to make choice of, and what to refuse. The actions thereof are to Will, and not to Will: and the mean or middle thing which she hath between them twain, is to suspend her action, until she decline either on the one side or on the other. And as concerning the natural disposition of the Will: it is to will that good which is truly good, or that which seemeth to be so: and to shun evil, either that which is evil indeed, or that which it thinketh to be so. Now if she choose and follow evil for good, it followeth not therefore, but that she would always follow the 
The Will aimeth always at Good.  good, as that which properly appertaineth unto her, and reject evil as her enemy. But the reason why she maketh choice of evil for good, is because she is deceived, taking one for another, which cometh to pass through the ignorance and corruption that is in the nature of man. For albeit she can will and not will that thing which is propounded unto her, yet she cannot simply will and not will one and the same thing all at one time, nor yet make choice of clean contraries. For she can desire nothing but only under some show of good, nor refuse any thing but under some show of evil. Wherefore it may well be that it will not desire that which shall be showed under some appearance of good, but it cannot hate or reject it. Likewise it may peradventure abstain from rejecting or flying from that, which shall be presented before it with show of evil and not of good; but it cannot desire, love, and pursue the same.  
Whereupon it followeth, that our Will is at liberty and free, and cannot be constrained: yea God the Creator and Lord thereof would have it so, otherwise it should not be a William 
The Will is free and unconstrained.  It is very true, that it followeth reason always, because the Will hath no light of itself, but only so far forth as it receiveth the same from reason, which guideth and directeth it. And therefore it never applieth itself to any thing whatsoever, but hath reason always for a guide, whom it followeth. Nevertheless it is not so subject thereunto, as that it may compel it to follow all the reasons that are propounded unto it by reason, or tie it to any of them, but that always she hath her liberty to make choice of which reason she please, out of all those that are set before her. And so it is always a Will, although it change sometime, being persuaded by reasons to will when it was unwilling, or dissuaded from Will to be unwilling. But in the mean time she willeth whatsoever she will, and that as long as it pleaseth her to remain in one opinion. For not only no creature whatsoever is able to take from her that which GOD her Creator hath given her, but she cannot deprive herself thereof, no more than she may not be that which she is. For as God will have this image shine in the mind of man by understanding and wisdom, 
Of the image of God in the William  of which he hath made it partaker, so he will have his image also to shine in the Will by that freedom and liberty which he hath given unto it. As therefore he cannot he constrained, but worketh and doth what pleaseth him with all liberty, as being a Sovereign that hath no superior; so he hath appointed, that the Will which he hath given to men and Angels, should be always frank and free, and not be subject to violence or constraint: to the end he might have them children, not slaves, because he requireth of them a voluntary obedience, and such a service as is not forced or constrained, but agreeable to his own nature. For as he doth nothing himself by constraint, so he will not constrain those by whom he will be obeyed: neither delighteth he in any service that is not voluntary and proceeding from a good heart, and from a sincere and pure affection towards him. Therefore seeing God hath so loved us, and done us so great honour, as to created us after his own image, and likeness, we are vile and ingrateful wretches, if we do not acknowledge the same, and 'cause our Will to be serviceable to him that hath bestowed it freely upon us: as we aught also to perform the like service unto him with our mind and reason, wherewith he hath endued us for the ruling and direction of the William But when our Will taketh any other object beside obedience to God, it proceedeth from the same cause that blindeth our mind and reason, namely, sin, which reigneth in us through the corruption of our nature, as we have already touched it. Nevertheless that which I said is always true, that the will hath Good in such 
Good is always the object of the Will.  sort for her object, that she cannot truly love & without dissembling will that which is evil, if it hath no show or reason of some good. But notwithstanding she hath free liberty, yet is she so ordained of God, that she cannot will that which is evil, but only that which is good, whether it be good in truth, or in opinion only. For if she were not created and ordained of GOD to desire and follow after good, there would be no cause why she should love or desire virtue more than vice, or love GOD rather than hate him. But we must consider divers degrees in the actions of Will, and in the freedom 
divers degrees in the actions of Will.  thereof. For some there are whose heart and Will, agreed so together, that there is no dissimulation, neither any commandment of the Will either towards itself or towards any other, but it hearty desireth or refuseth that, which it seeketh after or escheweth. As we may say of an ambitious man, that he doth truly and with all his heart desire honour and glory, as also a covetous man doth riches. But there are other actions of the will, wherein she commandeth herself, or else the inferior powers that are subject unto her: as we see in a man infected with the dropsy, who being very dry and thirsty, desireth greatly to drink. But this appetite that cometh from the senses of the body, is restrained by the will that hath power over it, which knowing what hurt would issue thereof to the sick party, commandeth this appetite, and appointeth that he shall not drink. The reason why she will have it so, is, to the end that the patient might avoid greater evil than that which he requireth, knowing well, that to drink would hurt him more than help him, because the thirstiness would not be taken from him, but increased. Wherhfore although the sensual appetite putteth the patiented in mind to desire drink, yet Will following the judgement of Reason, opposeth itself against this appetite, and commandeth itself to abstain, and also the outward members, as namely the mouth not to drink, and the hands not to give it any drink. Now if it so 
How the Will commandeth the appetite.  fall out, that the will give place to the appetite, it is always with her consent, and that because she agreeth rather unto the sensual appetite then unto Reason. Which agreement proceedeth of her impatiency and incontinency, because she hath not patience to stay for the better, but rusheth upon that pleasure, which at that present seemeth best unto her and nearest at hand. Therefore it is always requisite that the grace of God should govern our mind and will, to persuade them evermore to counsel and to embrace the best: otherwise we shall make choice of the worst, and of evil rather than of good. Which we shall easily understand, if we consider what good things the wisest and most virtuous men, guided only by the light of nature, are able to propound to themselves, and to follow: and what difference in that point there is betwixt them, and those God doth guide and govern by his spirit. The discourse then of this matter belongeth to thee, ARAM.   

Of those good things, which both men, guided only by the light of nature, are able to propound to themselves, and to follow, and they also that are guided by the spirit of God: of the power and liberty of the Will in her actions, both external and internal. Chap. 35.  
ARAM. Among the heathen Philosophers there have always been some great personages endued with excellent doctrine, who seemed to have been led with a burning affection towards good and virtuous things: this no man can deny. But if we compare them that have had none but natural light, with them who believing the word of 
The difference betwixt the natural & regenerate man.  life, have received that light, which the spirit of GOD hath kindled in their hearts & minds, we shall find very great difference betwixt them. For they that follow the light of nature, take not an infinite, spiritual and eternal good, which is God, for the object of that good which they desire, but a finite, carnal & temporary good; and that also no farther than their reason and sense judge it good for mankind, or for the society of men or for themselves, and those whom they love. The like respect they have in eschewing evil, which they judge contrary to such a good. And yet there are very few that go so far, who give not themselves to virtue, rather for their own profit and glory, then for the love they bear to virtue▪ or to the benefit of the common society of men. And surely, I think that if glory had not more moved so many excellent men, as have been heretofore among the Grecians, Latins, and other heathen people and nations, than their love to virtue, and to things profitable for the common wealth, they would not willingly have incurred so great dangers to effect so many valiant deeds as Histories specify of them: neither would they have set virtue at so high a price, if no glory or profit should have redounded to them in following her, or at lest wise in seeming to seek after her. If any have been found to have done otherwise, as we read of some, it is to be attributed to a special grace that God hath bestowed upon them in their ignorance, more than to others. But yet all this would be nothing, or very little, seeing the good which the will propoundeth to itself, and pursueth in this sort, is not the true and sovereign good, which of itself is able to make men blessed.  
We are then to know, that the wisest and most virtuous men, guided only by the light of natural reason, do not propound to themselves, nor seek after any other 
What is the chief good that mere natural men seek after.  good then that, which consisteth in civil honesty, in worldly honour and glory, in this bodily life, and in the commodities thereof, and in those delights and pleasures, which their human sense and reason desire, according as some delight either in the knowledge of things, or in civil and moral virtues, or in honours, or in riches and in such like things. Yea the best that ever were among the Heathen, and the wisest of this world that are like unto them, never went farther, neither indeed could. For seeing they know not GOD truly, they can neither love him nor seek after him, either because they are not thoroughly persuaded that there is a God, or if they be sure of that, yet they stand doubtful what he is, whether he have care of men or not, and whether he hear and help them when they call upon him. And if they be in adversity, than they love him much less. For if they think that their miseries come from their own nature, or at all adventure, they suppose they are not bound unto him, neither aught to love him, seeing he hath provided no better for their affairs. And if they think, that himself doth sand them because of their sins▪ they are so far from loving him, that contrariwise they hate him, and storm against him: as it is most manifest by infinite blasphemies contained in the books of Heathen Poets, Historiographers, and Philosophers, aswell against God, as against his providence, judgements and all his works, when they fell not out to their liking. Now if their Understanding was so blinded in the knowledge of God, their Will was much turned out of the way. For it is always like to a ship carried hither & thither by divers tempests, which seeketh still some haven to arrive at, but can found none. So the Will seeking after the good which it desireth, runneth and skippeth from one to another without order, & can found no rest, except that heavenly light shine into the mind, which may teach it the true good & frame it to the seeking and embracing thereof. Therefore when this light is in the Spirit of man, it first presenteth 
What good men are taught to aim at by the heavenly light.  to the will that infinite good, namely God, in whom alone she may satisfy herself, & then all other good things that depend of that, all which she desireth, every one in his order. Thus shall God have the first place, and the next his creatures, all which we aught to love so far forth as he hath created them, and so consequently are good. And if we place God in the highest degree of love, as the sovereign good, with whose love we aught to be as it were wholly swallowed up, we will love nothing but in him & by him, and for his sake: and consequently we will desire nothing but according to his Will, because we can will or desire nothing but that which we shall love, & we shall love nothing, but that which we aught to love, neither with any other affection nor to any other end. Which is the proper effect of the spirit of God in them that are regenerated and guided by him. And thus when the darkness of our mind is driven out by light from heaven, which is brought unto it by jesus Christ, and the Will inflamed by the holy Ghost, then do our hearts rejoice in the goodness of God and our conscience resteth therein, then do we love him, and begin to obey him not desiring any other thing. Therefore we beseech him to guide & govern us, to reform us daily more and more after his own image and similitude, to the end we may be made conformable to him both in mind & will, and become true Temples for him to devil in. And whatsoever he sendeth us, whether it be prosperity or adversity, we take and receive all as from his hand 
How we must carry our selves both in prosperity & adversity.  giving him thanks in prosperity, & not abusing or extolling ourselves against him: and calling upon him in adversity without murmuring or despising his Majesty, which we adore always, whether we understand & comprehend his judgements, or no. Likewise we are led by him to love all good things, according to that order which is showed unto us by his heavenly wisdom, namely, other men made after the image of God as we are, & those virtues, life and things that are agreeable unto him, desiring them for the love of God, and knowing that we serve him in the lawful use of all these things, yielding praises & thanks unto him, as to the author & creator of them. Nevertheless it cometh to pass that we see oftentimes a very great confusion in the manners and works, even of the holiest and best men that may be: but that is when God withdraweth from them his spirit and grace, although it be never 
Of the frailty of man's estate.  so little a while, or when he doth manifest & show forth his virtue and power in them. For without God we can do nothing, and through him nothing is impossible unto us. It is very certain, that there remaineth always natural infirmity & corruption in man, and that the mind, reason and memory may be troubled by the affections of the heart, which resembleth a fiery furnace, & is like to a thick smoke ascending out of a great fire which would dim the eyes & make them as it were blind. And when the light of the mind is thus darkened, reason cannot discourse so well, nor judgement judge so uprightly, nor memory retain so firmly, or bring forth so readily that which it hath kept, as if none of them were thus hindered with darkness, which compasseth about the light that aught to guide them. Now if there be such a let & impediment in regard of the mind, the Will is much more troubled by this fire of affections that heateth and kindleth it, whereby it is made▪ a great deal more untoward to follow the counsel & advise of reason, than reason is well affected to admonish and counsel it in that which is to be followed, or to be fled. And when these two principal parts & powers of the soul are thus troubled and moved, it is no marvel if man forget God & himself, and if with all his soul and body he turn aside from that which he aught to follow after. As contrariwise there is no doubt, but that as long as the celestial and eternal father disperseth his divine light into our minds by his son, who is his eternal word and wisdom, preparing them by his holy▪ Spirit to receive the same, and by this means also kindleth the heart and Will with the heat thereof, disposing and framing them to follow this light, no doubt I say, but there will ensue a good agreement and great conformity of the mind and heart, of the Reason and Will, and of all the affections, yea of all the senses and members of man. But let us return to the sequel of our speech, which hath an especial respect unto the Will, we have then to consider more narrowly of the power and freedom of the Will, both in her internal and external actions. For the first, if the question be of deliberating 
Of the power of the will in all actions.  about any thing, it is in the choice of the Will to propound the same to the mind, to advise and consult thereupon, or otherwise not to propound the same unto it. After whilst the matter is in deliberation, she may command either to prosecute the same, or to defer it to some other time, or to give it over quite, and to turn the mind to some other thing, as it were a Prince among his Council. And if the consultation be finished, and sentence given by judgement, yet may the Will stay itself from desiring and following after that which is counseled, and judged to be good by reason. So that the whole consultation lieth in the liberty and choice of William For men are not drawn by an immutable violence of nature as beasts are, but reason inquireth what way is to be taken or left, and weigheth and examineth what good or evil is in every thing. Therefore Will may go about again with that which was once deliberated of, to the end the first conclusion be not approved & stayed in, but that greater inquiry may be made, to found out, if it may be, some better or more profitable thing. And thus, when many things are showed and set before her, she may choose what pleaseth her, although it be not that which was best approved by judgement, and which reason upon very evident arguments counseled her to follow. For if there be another side that hath some show of good, albeit never so small, she turneth to that if she please: so that upon only conjecture, or opinion of good, she will lay hold upon that, & reject the other side in which peradventure the true good is to be found. The chief cause whereof is in the corruption of our nature, and in those impediments of good discoursing, & of upright judging whereof we have already heard, and which hinder reason and judgement divers and sundry ways. And this also taketh place in respect of will, which likewise hath great occasions offered to beguile & deceive itself, because all the affairs of men are intermingled with good and evil things. Therefore it is very hard to be able to discern and separate them well one from another. For men being compounded of divers natures, namely of a body and of a soul, they propound also a diversity of good and evil things unto themselves: and because they know corporal and terrestrial things better than spiritual and eternal things, therefore 
Why men prefer earthly things before heavenly  they prefer them oftentimes before the other. Which is the cause why there are so many that love this life a great deal better, & those outward good things belonging thereunto, than they do eternal life, and those goods, which are able to lead men thither, and give them full fruition thereof when they come thither. Therefore in so great diversity of good and evil things, it is no marvel if there came nothing into deliberation, wherein reason findeth not some good or evil, which in the end it counseleth us to follow or to avoid, according to the circumstances of times, places, persons, qualities and other such like things. It cometh to pass also oftentimes, that Will refuseth all counsel & exhortation to do that 
Will sometime rejecteth all counsel  only which she pleaseth, thereby to show that she is Lady and Mistress and subject to none. And being mounted up to that pride, she accounteth this Lordship which she taketh to herself to be a great good, and so maketh known her power and magnificence, as it were a tyrannical Prince, making choice in the mean time of a false kind of good, which is no way good, but a very great evil. And thus much concerning the liberty of the Will in her internal actions: which freedom also appeareth plainly enough in the outward actions. 
What freedom the will hath in outward actions.  For after she hath liked of a thing, she may put it in execution, or stay execution: yea after she hath begun, she may give it clean over, or do not so much, or so speedily as she might. And although it falleth out oftentimes, that men are so hindered from executing their Will, yea are forced and compelled to do the clean contrary, yet their Will, if we consider the matter well, is neither hindered, forced or constrained. For that keepeth it not from willing still that which it pleaseth: but the violence offered outwardly stayeth the effects and execution thereof. Hereof it is that we commonly say, that a man's Will is taken for his deed, although it be not put in execution. Now to conclude our speech, we know that the Will hath hindrances to let her from choosing those good things which she aught to follow, and refusing those evils she aught to eschew and avoid. For Reason being appointed as Mistress, to guide and direct Will by her judgement, the self same things that move Reason and judgement, do move Will also, as if the one touched the other, or as if there were a certain knitting and joining of them together, not unlike 
The near conjunction of reason & William  to the links of a chain, of which if ye move or touch one, the like is done to the others that are near unto it by reason of the conjunction they have one with another. We aught also to know, that although the Will often choose evil in stead of good, yet it ceaseth not therefore ever to desire good naturally, which is most fit & agreeable to the nature thereof: but it is deceived in that it hath no skill to discern between true and false goods, and to distinguish the greater from the less. And as we have heard, that evil spirits may trouble and move the fantasy and mind, so no doubt they can do the like towards the heart and 
Evil spirits have power over the William  will, to induce them to evil, and to drive them to do greater things then weak nature would do of itself, if it were not helped by them, even to 'cause them to commit such crimes as nature abhorreth. Therefore we must without ceasing watch and pray that we enter not into temptation, and if we be tempted, that we fail not, neither be overcome. And this we may assuredly believe we shall obtain, if through regeneration by the Spirit of God our mind be taught, and our will guided by his light. Now then having spoken enough of Understanding and of Will, which are the principal powers of the soul, let us come to the affections thereof: and first it shall be good for us to consider of the distinction that aught to be made betwixt all these faculties of the soul, and between their seats and instruments, which they have in the body. But we shall learn these things of thee, ACHITOB.   

Of the distinction that aught to be between the Understanding and Knowledge, and the Will and Affections in the soul, and between the seats and instruments which they have in the body: of the agreement that is between the heart and the brain. Chap. 36.  
ACHITOB. The heavens and the earth and all the elements, the stones, plants, beasts and all the other creatures that want reason and understanding, obey God in their kind, but yet they know him not: and the obedience which▪ they yield unto him proceedeth not of any knowledge they have of his will, or of judgement in them to discern good from evil, but only so far forth as they are drawn by their natural inclination in 
The differencs of man's obedience to God from that of other creatures.  those things that concern their nature. But Angels and men, in whom God would have his Image to shine in every part of them, and after all sorts, were created by him of that nature, that he would be known of them, and that they should follow his Will, not without Understanding and judgement thereof, nor without agreement of their wills with his. Therefore he hath given them a nature that is partaker of Understanding, and prescribed unto them rules of judgement and of certain knowledge, which are unto them as it were laws ordained by a sovereign Prince for the ruling of his subjects. And to the end that these laws should not be in vain, he hath placed in man a Will to execute them, & an affection of joy, that is brought to him by means of the good which he receiveth or expecteth, when he obeyeth these laws that command nothing but just things. So that he would have the nature of man to lead a joyful life, and by this means be preserved, that he might solace himself in the knowledge of God his Creator, and in obeying him, settle & rest himself in him. As contrariwise, it pleased him to place there an affection of sadness, to take vengeance of rebellion against his laws, and of the transgression of them, to the end there might be a flame of anger and grief to destroy that nature, when it doth not conform itself to the rule of his divine wisdom and will. Hereby we know by experience what difference is between a joyful life, and that which is sad and full of grief, and how joy preserveth and maintaineth the one, and sorrow consumeth and extinguisheth the other.  
But to the end we may fully understand these things, and be able to judge aright of the divers powers, virtues and offices of the soul, we must diligently consider, that as GOD 
Difference betwixt knowledge and affections  hath distinguished the Understanding from the Will and affections, and the Animal virtue and life from the Vital, so also he hath given them divers Seats and Instruments in the body. There is likewise great difference betwixt Understanding and Knowledge, and the Will and Affections, as we see it by experience in common life. For it falleth out often, that after we know a man, we either love him or hate him. And if at the first we loved him well, yet after he is known unto us, we may fall to hate him: or if we first hated him, afterward upon better knowledge we may receive him into our love. Now although these affections of lo●e and of hatred be thus mutable in us, yet the self same knowledge remaineth always with us. For if we did not still know him, we could neither love nor hate him: because as a man cannot love without knowing the thing loved, so he cannot hate that which is unknown. Therefore it is no difficult matter to judge, that the Understanding differeth from the Will and affections, and that they are distinct offices, and several properties and virtues of the soul: which have also their divers Seats and instruments. For the internal senses are joined with that power which the soul hath to know: and the heart with the power of the Will and Affections. Hereof it is, that we see many endued with great knowledge of honest and virtuous things, but they have no good affection to follow after them and to put them in practice: so that their heart agreeth not with their brain, nor their 
Of the discord between the heart and the brain.  will and affections with their understanding and reason. Contrariwise, there are others that have not so great knowledge of goodness and of their duty, and yet they have a good affection and will to do well, but for want of understanding what is right and just, they observe and keep it not according to that measure of desire which is in them. Where we see again how and in what sort there is no good agreement between the brain and the heart, and between those powers and virtues of the soul, which we have already named. So that we may compare the former sort of men to one that hath eyes to guide him, but no legs or feet to go upon, or if he have any, yet he will not set them on 
A comparison  work. As for the other sort, they are like to blind men that long to go and to walk, and have legs to carry them, but they cannot go whither they would, because they have neither eyes nor sight to direct them, nor guides to lead them. Now by the consideration of these two sorts of men, we may conclude and judge with ourselves what they are, that want all these things mentioned by us, because they have neither sound knowledge of the truth and of that which is good, nor Will and desire tó have any, nor any affection to follow that which is good: whom I would compare to them that are blind, and withal have both hands and feet lame at one time. But this matter may yet be understood better, if we make this our speech to agreed with that which Saint Paul writeth to the Romans, where he sayeth, That the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness, and unrighteousness of men, which with hold the 
Rom. 1. 18.  truth in unrighteousness. For we may understand by truth, those true and natural impressions of the knowledge of God, and of his Law, and of the good and honest things which are in men as beams of the Divine wisdom▪, shining in that part of the soul whereby he knoweth. But because the Will and the affections of the heart agreed not with this knowledge, and there are no divine motions, nor celestial flames to stir upand to kindle the heart with the love of GOD, and to procure it to follow after that knowledge, therefore men are detained in unrighteousness, and yield not unto God that honour and obedience that they own unto him: Wherein they show themselves unthankful and unrighteous, And therefore the Apostle expounding himself sayeth by and by after, That when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither▪ were thankful, but become vain in their imagination, and their heart void of understanding was full of darkness. Whereby 
verse 21.  he declareth, that their ingratitude and naughty heart was the cause why they abused that understanding and knowledge which they had received of God, and afterward also he deprived them of these excellent gifts of his grace, which he attributeth to the heart for certain reasons which we are to note. For we may see in many places of the Scripture, and in their writings and exhortations that follow the doctrine and style thereof, that the heart is often taken for the seat of the mind, of the understanding and of reason, as well as sort 
How the scripture taketh the word heart.  the affections of the soul. Nevertherlesse the Philosophers and they that follow them in such discourses, attribute these sovereign powers of the soul only to the brain, which they make the seat of them, as we have sufficiently showed heretofore: and as for the affections of the soul, they assign the seat of them to the heart. Now one body hath not two, but one soul. Therefore although it have many faculties, powers, virtues, and offices, yet they are all comprehended under those two and depend of them, even as in one body there are many members appointed to divers operations. Now because reason aught to be the Governess and mistress of the affections, it is necessary they should agreed together. For as reason guideth before, the affections will follow after. Therefore vice may always judge of reason by the affections which it aught to govern, as of the government of a good Prince by the estate of his subjects, and of a good father of a family by those of his household. Moreover, seeing the affections proceed from the heart, there is a seat of that love which we aught to bear as well towards God, as towards men, which comprehendeth the whole law of God and all justice. For he that loveth God, is not only afraid to offend and displease him, but desireth also to serve and please him: and he that loveth his neighbour, 
Mat. 22. 40.  doth not only abstain from procuring him any dishonour or loss, and laboureth also to advance his honour and profit. Therefore if the mind be lightened and inflamed with divine light, and the reason also that ruleth therein, than the heart will wax hot, and burn with the love of God and of his neighbour. Which if it fall out so, the heart will not be slack 
Of the agreement that aught to be between the mind and the heart.  in showing forth those heavenly motions that are within it, and giving matter to the soul to glorify God, and to the tongue and mouth, which will speak out of the abundance thereof. Likewise there will be an accord and consent between it, and the voice and tongue, which then will utter nothing but the truth. And this is the cause of that which we are taught before, namely, that God by his providence and wise counsel hath joined near unto the heart the chief instrument of the voice, which is the lungs: as the other instruments that are higher, are lodged near to the brain, and chiefly the tongue, as the Orators and Ambassadors of Kings are placed next unto them. Wherhfore if man's nature had not been corrupted through sin, but had continued perfect and sound, there would always have been a goodly concord and consent between the heart and the brain, the voice and the tongue, the reason and the affections. Next, we must note, that seeing the heart is the first member of the whole body that receiveth life, and then giveth the same to others, as also the last that 
Why the h●rt is taken sometime for the ●ea● of reason.  leaveth life, and seeing it is the shop of all the vital spirits, without which neither the brain nor the rest of the members can have life, or perform their duties; it is not without cause, that this member is taken to be as it were the seat not only of the affections, but also of reason. Therefore it is taken in the Scripture one while for the mind, as when Moses 
Deut. 29. 4.  saith to the people of Israel, Yet the Lord hath not given you a heart to know: and another while it is taken for the affections, as when our Saviour Christ saith, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
Mat. 22. 3.  with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. For we see here how he putteth a difference between the heart and the mind. Sometime they are put indifferently one for another, or one for both, especially the heart, as when the Lord said to Solomon, Behold I have given thee a wise and an understanding heart, the heart is taken for the senses and mind, as it appeareth very 
1. King. 3. 12.  evidently. For the same cause Saint Paul continuing his speech of God's punishment above mentioned, against the ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, he addeth to that before recited, this saying: Wherhfore also God gave them up to their hearts lusts, unto uncleanness, to defile 
Rom. 1. 24. 35  their own bodies between themselves, which turned the truth of God unto a lie. In which place we see how the Apostle maketh the heart to be the Seat of the appetites and of the affections, and how he calleth the unruly and disordered affections of the heart by the name of lusts; for so he expoundeth himself by and by after, calling them Vile affections, unto which God gave them up. Whereupon we will note this, that the natural affections of the heart, which 
Pleasure of it own nature a gift of God.  prick it forward to the desire of pleasure, and which minister pleasure unto it, should be no sin at all unto men, but a benefit given them of God in the perfection of their nature, were it not that by reason of the corruption which hath taken hold of it, such desires and affections can not contain themselves within the limits of their sound nature, but there is always some excess even in the perfectest, and that being sin, is properly called evil concupiscence, because it continually provoketh us to evil, and causeth us to go beyond the bounds which God had set to our affections. Whereof it is come to pass, that that which should be a benefit unto men in natural pleasures, is become hurtful to them. Now forasmuch as the order of our discourses hath brought us to the tractate of affections which have their seat in the heart, before we go any further, we must say somewhat of the nature of this part of the body, as we have done of the brain, to the end we may the better know the seat and instruments of the vital power and virtue of the soul, and of the will and affections, as those which belong to the animal power and virtue, have been declared unto us. Let us then hear ASER handle this matter.   

Of the nature and composition of the heart: and of the midriff: of the tunicles or skinnie coverings of the breast, and of the Pericardion, or cawl about the heart: of the motion, office, and use of the lungs, of the heart, and of the arteries. Chap. 37.  
ASER. It is not without good & just cause, that God hath ordained that reason should lodge in the highest part of the frame of man, and that the will and affections should lodge lower, namely in the heart. For by this order he would admonish and tell us, what part and power of the soul aught to bear greatest sway therein, and that understanding and wisdom, which teach us the true rules according to which we must square our whole 
The end of man's creation  life, aught to reign and have the first place, seeing the principal cause wherefore God hath created us, is to know him, to the end that knowing him we should love and honour him as we aught: and as for the affections, they are to be guided and governed by wisdom & understanding. Wherhfore if this order appointed by God be confounded and turned topsie turuy in us, he causeth us to feel and know it well enough. For although sin be the cause, yet the impression of that divine image, which God hath set in the nature of man, cannot be so wholly defaced in us, but there will always remain very evident and wonderful testimonies thereof. And therefore presently after we have overthrown this order, and that the will lifteth herself up against reason, even than doth reason condemn that fault of hers, and compelleth the heart to take vengeance thereof, and to punish in itself her disobedience and rebellion, with great torments and griefs: insomuch that either it must consume away and perish, or else return to his due order and place; and the will must know, that she hath a mistress, not only to teach her, but also to correct her when she shall do amiss, and pervert her order.  
But let us speak of that, which more particularly concerneth so wonderful a part of the body, namely, the heart. First we must remember how we divided before the internal parts of the frame and building of man into three bellies and lodgings, of which the first, I mean the brain, was showed unto us with all his parts. Now we will come to the second, 
Of the second belly of the body.  which is in the midst between the other two, namely, in the breast, which containeth the vessels and instruments of the vital faculty and virtue, and those are the heart, the arteries, the lungs, the rough artery, with the appurtenances thereof. Hereof it is that the name of the heart is oftentimes taken in the holy Scriptures for the midst, or for the inward and secret 
Ezech 27. 4. jonas 2. 4. Mat. 12. 40.  part of a thing, as when it speaketh of the heart of the earth and of the sea, and of the heavens. Now, as we have heard how reason hath his throne and judicial seat in the brain, what ministers and what secretary he hath near about him, and in what chambers & lodgings they are placed, and also what ministers and officers are joined with him for the execution of his judgements and decrees, namely, the will and the affections: so also we must consider what manner of lodgings and habitations are as signed to these latter sort in the heart. And although these officers and ministers are not always obedient to reason, but rise up against it oftentimes, and do clean contrary to that which it judgeth and appointeth to be done, yet by that order which God set down, they were to obey, and agreed well amongst themselves, as he showeth it by the disposition of their lodgings. We have heard before that the heart and the lungs are lodged within the breast, as in a strong hold, and are compassed round about therewith for their safeguard and defence. But we must note, that there 
Of the midtrifle and of his use.  is a partition called Diaphragma by the Grecians, which separateth the instruments of the vital parts, from the nourishing parts that are in the third belly and lodging of the body, of which we will speak hereafter in his order. This partition is above in respect of the natural instruments appointed for nourishment, and beneath in regard of the spiritual instruments that serve the vital parts. And because it is a great round muscle of the breast about the end of the neither part thereof, it hath two uses, of which the first and greatest is 
Of the skins of the breast and of their use.  to be an instrument of breathing: the second is to help, to purge and expel the excrements of the body. Next to that there is a tunicle or skin which is very thin & slender, much like to a Spider's web, and is spread over the whole capacity of the breast, out of which two others proceed that divide it throughout, to the end there might be two distinct places of receipt, that if a man had some great wound in one part thereof, whereby the office of respiration and breathing which it hath, should utterly perish, yet the other part that is unhurt, might at lest wise retain the one half. These skins serve also to cover and bind together all the vessels and instruments contained within the breast: and the former of them, which hemmeth in the ribs, serveth chief to defend the lungs on that side where it is joined to the bones of the ribs, to the end they should not touch the bore bones, when they execute their office, namely, when we breath. Concerning the heart, it hath for his next dwelling house a membrane or skin called by the Grecians Pericardion, which signifieth 
Of the cawl of the heart.  as much as if in our language we should say in a word, a compass heart. And therefore this skin is made of the same fashion the heart is, namely, very large and ample beneath, but afterward it narroweth by little and little, so that it endeth pointwise, being in proportion like to a pine apple or to a pyramid, which is the figure of a flame of fire. Whereby it seemeth that God hath made the heart of this fashion to admonish us, that it is the place of that natural 
Of the fashion of the heart.  fire which is in the body, and appointed to give it so much natural heat as is necessary for the life thereof. This skin which is also called the little closet of the heart, is of such capacity, that it is severed from the same on every side as much as is requisite, that his motion might no ways be impeached. Some think, that there is some water within this vessel, or some moisture like to a dew to water the heart, that it should not dry up through the great heat that cometh of continual motion, in which it is without ceasing. Now because 
Of the water in the cawl of the heart.  this humour cannot be seen but only in dead bodies, there be that think it is made there only after death, through the exhalation and gathering together of the spirits, which are there dissolved. And indeed it seemeth to be a hard matter to know this by Anatomy, because it is not commonly practised but upon dead bodies. And although a man would try the experiment upon quick and living bodies, yet they would be always dead before he should come to that part, or at lest wise there would be such a change and alteration, that it would be very hard for a man to give a right judgement. Nevertheless this might be known by cutting up that part in some beast or other. For there is always some moisture found there even before it be stark dead, although indeed it cannot live long after that part is opened. But let us return to that which we begun to speak of the heart, which being the root and fountain of natural heat, disperseth it abroad by the arteries into the whole body, and giveth life to every part thereof. For albeit the instruments of respiration serve the 
Of the office of the heart.  voice, yet they were created principally for the heart's sake, that the natural heat which is in it, might be refreshed, increased and fed by them. For this cause hath the Divine providence 
Of the lungs and of their ●se,  made the lungs to be as it were the forge and shop of respiration, to this end, that the air without might be sent even to the heart, for the causes and ends before spoken of. For the air that is to be brought to the heart, is first prepared in the lungs, to the end it might moderate the heat of the heart & spirits, and not enter in thither, either too hot, or too cold, or in too great abundance, whereby it might be damnified or quite choked up. Therefore hath God made the flesh and substance of the lungs very light, soft and spongy, more than any other part of the body, so that it holdeth much of the nature of the air, and that for two notable causes. For first, seeing the lungs have not their motion of themselves, neither are fastened to the body to receive the motion from it, it was needful to have them of such matter, that they might be easily moved and follow the motion of the breast. Next, they will receive the air more easily without any violence, if at any time it enter in vehemently and in great quantity. To conclude this point, they are so seated in regard of the heart, that they wrap it 
How the lungs cover the heart.  and cloth it both on the right side and on the left, and serve to defend it against all the neighbour bones near about it.  
But here we are to note the agreement and mutual relation, which the heart hath with the heavens, in that as the first motion of the whole world beginneth by the heavens, of which all the other motions that are in nature do depend, so the heart is that member in man's body, which first receiveth life and motion, and which is the well spring and fountain 
How the hart agreeth with the heavens. Of the 〈◊〉 and their office.  thereof: whereupon also it is the first that liveth, and the last that dieth. And because God hath created it to put into it the vital faculty and virtue from whence the life of living creatures proceedeth, he hath also appointed the arteries, who receiving their original from the heart, are afterward distributed and spread throughout all the members of the body, as the sinews and veins are, to give unto them air and vital spirits necessary for life, even as the blood is likewise distributed by means of the veins that come from the liver, to nourish them withal, and as sense and motion are carried by the sinews that are derived from the brain and marrow of the back bone, as we have already showed. Therefore as the air hath his motion, and the winds their course, even such as GOD hath appointed them in the whole body of this great world: so we see that the air and vital spirits are in man's body, which is the little world, as winds that have their course and passages 
How the vital spirits agreed with the air and winds.  therein, to be carried unto all the members, and to be distributed and communicated unto them by means of the arteries. Hereof it is that they heave and beat in those places where arteries are appointed to be, so that by their peace and quietness, Physicians judge of the virtue and strength of the heart, and consequently of the whole body, of health & sickness, of life and death, and of the whole position thereof. Therefore the heart hath a double motion to serve for this use: which I speak, because it hath yet a third motion, and that of another nature, of which we will speak hereafter. But as for this first double motion which 
Of the double motion of the heart, and the uses thereof.  is here mentioned, it is so called because the one is made when the heart giveth out, and the other when it shrinketh in. For when it extendeth itself forth, than it is refreshed and cooled thereby, and when it gathereth inward and restraineth itself, then doth it expel and drive out those fuliginous and smoky excrements, which otherwise would stifle it. This twofold motion is natural, proceeding from the proper nature of the heart, and not voluntary as that of the muscles, which is governed by the motion of the brain and sinews that come from it. For the heart hath his filaments or small threads, aprand convenient for that purpose. Now this motion serveth not only for the uses already spoken of, but also for the nourishing of the vital spirit, I mean, to draw the blood wherewith it is nourished, and also to prepare food for the lungs, thereby to return such mutual help unto them as it receiveth from them. For as the lungs serve to sand breath unto it, thereby to cool it and to further it in the execution of that office which it hath, so the heart serveth to nourish and feed the lungs. Whereby we have a goodly advertisement concerning that natural agreement that aught to be in us, and of that reciprocal help which we own one 
An admonition to natural love.  to another, and how we aught to acknowledge the good turns that are done unto us, and do the like again to them, according to that ability which every one shall have so to do. For if we deal not in that sort, it will be all one with us human society, as if one should separate in our body the heart from the lungs, that the one might not do his duty towards the other: which questionless would 'cause the death and overthrow of the whole body.  
Moreover, we must note, that between these two motions of the heart now spoken of, there is some small space, in which there is a little rest: and then doth the heart restrain itself and draw from all sides round about the air which is drawn in by the lungs, which it enjoyeth and hath use of. And for this cause the Heart, whose flesh is hard and can hardly suffer, hath three kinds of filaments called Fibres, which serve for all these motions. Thus you see the heart that is Lord of man's life, how he hangeth as it were in his coffer, and withdraweth himself into his chamber or closet, being in a manner separated from the rest of the body to which he giveth life, but only that he is joined thereunto by veins, arteries, and sinews, which he useth as pipes, some to receive the benefits that come unto him from others, and some to distribute his good things by. Wherein we have a fair resemblance of that mutual communicating which aught to be among men. For although the heart be as the fountain of life, which it imparteth to all the rest of the members and parts of the body, yet can it not live alone, without those necessary helps of the other members unto which it is serviceable. Now we are to consider the substance, situation, and counterpoise thereof, with the nature and use of the vital spirit: which shall be the matter subject of thy discourse, AMAMA.   

Of the substance, situation, and counterpoise of the heart: of the nature and use of the vital Spirit, and of the forge, vessels, and instruments thereof: of the sundry doors and pipes of the heart, and of their uses. Chap. 38.  
AMANA. All men, how ignorant and brutish soever they be, carry about with them in their hearts a great testimony, that they have both a God and a judge, who approveth that which is good, and punisheth the evil. For although they never heard one word of his word, yet they cannot be ignorant of this, which they sensibly feel and know by experience in themselves, that nothing but evil can befall them for evil, howsoever it be long a coming, and that they cannot feel the evil which their sin hath brought upon them, but they will repent them for committing it, and wish it had never been done. This is natural divinity, which no body can be ignorant of. Whereunto S. john leading us, saith very well, If our heart 〈◊〉 us, God is greater than our heart, & knoweth all things. And we see that repentance 
1 john 3. 20.  ordinarily followeth sin, and that a sinner cannot but feel some heaviness & grief. Yea nature itself teacheth us, when we are displeased for some thing whereof we repent us, to strike our breast, because the heart is within it, as also to hung down our eyes for shame. 
Whereof the striking of the breast arose.  But the vexation, sadness & sorrow, which after the fault committed, a man is stricken with, because of the hurt that taketh hold of him, and the punishment he expecteth or endureth already, serveth not but for a continual torment unto him, as if he were in a hell, except he change his mind, amend his fault & return to God again, and so betake himself again to that place and order of his, which God had as signed him. Behold what good instructions we have in ourselves, which aught to prick us forward to goodness, and draw us back from wickedness: especially our heart beareth us certain testimony of that which is acceptable in the sight of God.  
Now as we have heard, that the form thereof is aptest for the motion it hath, so the substance 
Of the substance of the heart. The situation of the heart.  & matter whereof it is made, is a kind of flesh that hath none like it in all the other parts of the body. For it is needful it should be so thick and fast, that it may the better discharge that office and duty that is laid upon the heart. On the other side, it is so seated in the breast, that the foundation and foot thereof is directly in the midst of it: but the narrow end of it bendeth somewhat towards the left side. Which is done in regard of two great commodities, whereof the one is, that it should not rush against the bones of the breast: the other that it should heat the left side the more, seeing the right side is helped by the heat of the liver, which is on that side. And although the left part of the heart be very big, and hard, & consequently more heavy than the right, which is more subtle, thin and soft, and therefore lighter, nevertheless God hath given it such a counterpoise, that both sides are of equal weight: so that although there be no ligament or band to tie it unto the other parts 
Of the counterpoise of the heart. A good lesson for every one.  that are near about it, yet without inclining or bending any one way more than other, it hangeth in the midst of the vessel and skin that compasseth it round about. For the left part, which of it own nature is heaviest, containeth in it a lighter matter, namely, the vital spirit, and the right side that is not so heavy hath in it a more heavy matter, which is the blood. Whereby we see how the providence of God hah so well framed the counterpoise, that both parts are equal, like to an even and just pair of balance. From whence also we may take a good lesson concerning the uprightness that aught to be in our heart and will, and in all our affections, & with what heart we aught to follow the ordinances of God, and that way which he showeth us in his word, how we should continued & abide steadfast therein, and turn neither to the right hand nor the left, as we are often commanded in the holy Scriptures. 
Deuter. 5. Ezech. 2 S.  Moreover, forasmuch as the skin that compasseth the heart, hath the bones of the breast on the oneside, & the lungs on the other, it was requisite that it should be of a matter so well tempered, that it might receive no harm by the hardness of the bones &, on the other side should not be so hard as to be able to hurt the lungs, which are of as soft & tender a flesh as any is in all the body. Which teacheth us sufficiently, that the providence of God hath forgotten nothing in any respect. But we must further know, that there are two capacities or hollow places in the heart distinguished one from another by a partition, the one being on the right 
Of the two voided places in the heart, and of their use.  side, the other on the left. That place on the right side serveth to receive the blood that cometh from the liver to the heart by veins; both for the nourishing of itself & of the lungs and for the generation of the vital spirits, whose forge and shop is in the other void place on the left side, where the heart doth exercise his chief office, which is to engender the vital spirits of the finest & thinnest blood, which resolveth itself there, as if it came of the sweat that proceeds out of the right capacity. Now the vital spirit is as it were a most bright & lively 
What the vital spirit is.  flame, like to the celestial nature, which carrieth heat & life to the whole body, and is the instrument of the chief actions & works thereof. In this left hollow place there is a great artery, which is as it were the stock of all the arteries in the body, which a little from the heart 
Of the great artery.  divideth itself into two branches, whereof the one ascendeth upward, to carry the vital spirit into the upper parts of the body: the other, which is somewhat bigger, descendeth downward. By means of these arteries, which are as it were the pipes of the heart, the greatest benefit of all is communicated to all parts of the body.  
Now because the arteries & veins have need one of another's help, they meet one another, and are so linked & joined together, that the arteries are seldom alone without the veins. For the arteries being joined unto the veins do give them air and spirit, which through the vital heat stirreth the blood, and helpeth to bring it to perfection, and to preserve it. In like manner the arteries suck some small quantity of blood out of the veins, whereby the vital spirit is carried, sprinkled, and increased. Wherein we have again a notable example and goodly pattern of that mutual communicating, that aught to be among men, 
An example of mutual succour.  without which neither nature nor human society can be preserved: the like also hereof we see between the heart and the lungs, in which there are pipes that pass from the one to the other for their mutual helping & succouring one of another. For the Arterial vein, that proceedeth out of the right side of the heart, carrieth blood to the lungs to nourish it: and the veiny artery, which cometh out of the left side of the heart, carrieth air unto it from the lungs to refresh it. For after it is brought to the lungs by the artery or windpipe, the lungs communicate the same unto the heart. Likewise by that same veiny artery, the over 
Of the veiny arterry.  heated air and fumes are carried from the heart: and serveth beside to carry the spirit and the arterial blood unto the lungs to heat them. Therefore this artery is not altogether so thick as the rest are, nor so thin as the veins, to the end it may easily enlarge or straighten itself, or give and receive the air, & that through hardness it hinder not the motion of the lungs, as also that the foggy blood may not evaporate & sweat through. For this cause it is called the veiny artery, because it holdeth of the nature both of an artery and of a vein, and hath this office belonging properly unto it, to carry the air and the spirit.  
There are also in the heart other small pieces, which Anatomists distinguish from it, as 
Of the doors and pipes of the heart.  the two little ears, the right and the left, which are as it were little doors, as there is also in all the pipes thereof, which are so small, that uneath may they be discerned by the eyes. These doors and pipes that are in them serve partly to this end, that when the heart sucketh such blood as is necessary for itself, the vein wherewith it draweth should not break, through any overgreat, vehement, and sudden attraction: and partly, that the air might enter in more gently and better wrought, according as need requireth. For this cause also it is, why the heart doth not draw the air immediately from the mouth, both because if this space were not between, it could not draw so much as it wanteth, and so would be choked, as also because it should receive it in too cold, whereupon it would be greatly hurt. Therefore it hath pipes, passages, and instruments, not only to bring this air unto it, as it is brought to the lungs, but also to dispense and prepare it as it is most convenient for it, as we have learned already by our speech of the rough artery, and of other instruments of the voice and respiration. Out of which we are to note two goodly points of the providence 
Good instructions for all men.  and wisdom, whereby he doth admonish us of that moderation, which we aught to keep in all things, and how we aught to behave ourselves, not only in one work, but also in all things that we take in hand. For concerning the first, God hath provided always throughout the whole work of man's body in such sort, that there should be no violent thing, but hath so well framed, disposed and linked altogether, that no one part or member should receive hurt of another, but all might help and support each other. Therefore if there be any burden to carry from one to another, God hath so distributed it by little and little, and by such convenient means, that no part is pressed: teaching us thereby, that he loveth moderation and hateth violence in all things: for which cause he dispenseth all & distributeth 
Moderation is to be kept in all things.  drop by drop, as it were by distillation. And to the end he may conjoin in one, things of a contrary nature, he always placeth between two contraries things of a middle disposition which are most apt to tie them together and to keep them. Besides, we see how he hath ordered all the parts of the body so well that one only member and instrument serveth oftentimes for many offices and uses, as we have already touched it. The first is, that we aught to look so well unto all things, that we neither forget nor omit any thing that shall be requisite and necessary. The other, that we should employ ourselves about every thing that we can and may do, according to those gifts and graces, which we have received of God, and that we should use all things to every such purpose as they will serve, and so avoid all vain 
Superfluity to be avoided in all things.  and superfluous charges. For (as it is commonly said) nothing is to be done by many things that can be performed by fewer: otherwise there will be more hindrance than help, and greater loss than profit. For this cause as God hath not given to the body one member less than there aught to be, so he hath not given it one more. For if there were either more or less, it would not only be monstrous, but there would be either some want or some let and hindrance. And when as one member is able to satisfy two offices, he hath not created many to do it, if either profit or necessity required not the help of many. Whereupon governors of Commonwealths aught to learn, that their people are not to be burdened with 
〈…〉  unprofitable and unnecessary offices and persons. If therefore men would learn those lessons that God giveth them in their own bodies, and in the members thereof, they would always keep a mean in all things, following this heavenly example, and never offend either with too little or too much. But notwithstanding we have all Nature to be our Mistress, so that she keep a school within us, and teach us these things herself, yet we profit little thereby. Now leaving this speech, seeing we have taken a view of the nature of the body, and of the natural motion thereof, which is commonly called the Pulse, and what use it hath in this corporal life, as also of other things concerning this matter, it shall be good for us now to speak of another motion that is in the nature of the soul, which serveth not only for this life, but also for the spiritual, in respect of which especially it is given unto it, an image and representation whereof we have had in this motion of which we have already spoken. It belongeth to thee ARAM, to discourse upon this matter.   

Of the second motion of the Heart, which belongeth to the affections of the Soul, and of those that go before or follow after judgement: of the agreement that is between the temperature of the body, and the affections of the Soul. Chap. 39  
ARAM. As God is not only an eternal & infinite essence, but also infinitely good & happy, so hath he not rested in giving unto his creatures life and being, as it were imparting to them some part of his being, but it hath pleased him also to make them partakers of that Good which is essential in him, and of his blessedness and felicity, according as every one was capable thereof in his kind. For he will not only have them to be, but also to be well. For this cause we see, that although men desire much to be, and therefore are greatly afraid 
Man was created not only to be, but also to be well.  of death, as of an enemy that seeketh to undo them, yet many times it falleth out so that they desire death, to the end they might be no more, because they think it a greater good or at lest wise a less evil to be no more, then to be miserable and unhappy. And by this we may know, that man was not created of God only to be, neither was that his principal end, but also to be blessed. For this cause as God hath given to the creatures an inclination to preserve themselves in their life, to the end they might be, so he hath put into them, a natural appetite and desire of that which is good, to the end they might be well, and that good might befall them, but man specially is thus affected: which desire of good is also joined with an eschewing of evil. For in the pursuit of good, his contrary, which is evil, must of necessity be fled from. And of this natural inclination to good proceed all those affections of the soul that draw it hither and thither to seek for it: but because of her bad judgement, proceeding of the darkness of ignorance which is in the mind, she chooseth oftentimes the clean contrary to that which she desireth, as we have already touched.  
We call then properly by the name of affections, the motions and acts of that natural 
What the affections are.  power of the soul, which consisteth in following after good, and eschewing of evil. For receiving of God in our first creation to be and to be well, we have still some natural seeedes of the perfection of these two great gifts, which teach us naturally, that it is a good thing for one to preserve himself and his being, as also to be well and happy in his being: but this is only generally. For when we are to come from these generalities unto particulars, there are wonderful errors and disorders throughout the whole course of man's life. Now among 
Two kinds of affections.  the motions of the soul, some go before judgement, others follow after: although oftentimes they are so sudden and headstrong withal, that it appeareth plainly they have shaken off the bridle, and never expected and stayed for any judgement. Notwithstanding it is true, that the heart is not moved before there hath been some judgement to determine, whether that which is then offered unto it be good or evil. But because the motions of our spirit and mind are very light and sudden, and need not so long time, as otherwise is requisite 
What affections go before judgement.  for us if we will take good heed to our matters, hereof it is that they seem to us many times to prevent and go before judgement given, when indeed they follow it. And as for those natural motions, which in truth go before it, they are such as are bred and borne of the disposition of the body, as the desire to eat in hunger, and to drink in thirst, and sorrow in time of sickness, or the motion of a melancholic humour, or joy proceeding from good and pure blood in the heart. But the other motions follow the advice of judgement, and as that is moved and changed diversly by such means as have already been declared, so the affections altar, and increase or decrease, or otherwise vanish clean away and come to nothing. Whereof it followeth, that they are appeased by the same means by which they are moved, according as they are applied unto them. But although it behoveth that the affections should be pricked forward by judgement, yet it followeth not thereupon, that they cannot be stirred up, except this mature and ripe judgement be always there, which ordaineth things to be done after the discourse of reason. For it is enough for them if they have another judgement, that observeth not such an exact and diligent examination, but only that which fantasy offereth without any other discoursing. And this judgement thus moved by fancy, is most usual and ordinary, and that which most guideth and ruleth the affections of men. Therefore it is a sudden and tumultuous judgement, of which a man may truly say, A short sentence of a sottish judge. Thus fancy being very turbulent and skittish, and drawing to itself confusedly some show and appearance of opinion and judgement, whereby it deemeth that which is offered unto it to be either good or bad, is the cause that we live in the midst of marvelous troubles in respect of our affections of fear, of desire, of sorrow, of joy, and that one while we weep, and suddenly we laugh again. And because it hath great power over the body, as we have already declared, these perturbations do manifestly incline that way. We see also by experience, that there is great agreement be tween the qualities and temperature of the body, and the affections of the soul: insomuch 
Agreement between the temperature of the body & the affections of the soul.  that as the bodies of men are compounded of the qualities of heat, cold, moisture, and dryness, so among the affections some are hot, others cold; some moist, others dry, and some mingled of these divers qualities. So that every one is most subject to those affections that come nearest to the nature, temperature, and complexion of his body. As for example, the affection of joy is hot and moist, and therefore they that are hot and moist, as children, young men, sound and healthy folks, and idle persons, are more easily inclined to that affection. Contrariwise, sorrow is a cold and dry affection, and therefore they that are cold and dry are most given to that affection; and such are old folks and they that are of a melancholy humour, which is earthy, cold and dry. For the like reason, they that have a soft and tender heart, receive more easily the impression of joy & grief, as wax taketh the print of a seal: and they that have a hard and hot heart, quickly receive joy and keep it a long time. And on the other side, they that have hard and cold hearts, receive sorrow and grief very soon, and retain it long, as appeareth in melancholy and melancholic persons. And as the affections follow the temperature and complexion of the body, so they for their 
The affections can do much with the body.  parts have great virtue and power over the body. Therefore we see, that joy is as it were a medicine to the body: and food to the natural heat and moisture, in which two qualities life chief consisteth, as we have already heard. For it greatly preserveth and increaseth them: forasmuch as it strengtheneth the animal and natural virtues, stirreth up the spirits, helpeth digestion, and generally profiteth the habit and disposition of the whole body. For the heart thereby sendeth with the blood, much natural heat, and more spirits unto all parts of the body. By means whereof the members are watered and moistened by the humidity contained in the fountain of blood: whereupon it followeth, that all the parts increase in bigness and wax fat. For this cause Physicians always exhort sick persons to be as merry as they may, and to avoid sorrow and sadness, which being cold 
joy good for the body, and Grief hurtful to it.  and dry is contrary to life, and so consumeth men. For it drieth up the whole body, because the heart thereby is closed up and restrained: so that no great quantity of spirits can be made there, and those few that are there, cannot easily be distributed and dispersed with the blood throughout the members. Whereupon the vital virtue and her companions being weakened, the lively colour of the face waxeth wan and pale, and in a manner vanisheth clean away: and so consequently the whole body becometh lean and consumeth, as if it took no nourishment, yea death oftentimes followeth thereupon. This agreement therefore, which is (as we see) between the temperature and complexion of the body, & the affections of the soul, aught to teach us to be very temperate in our eating and drinking, and in all other things belonging to our life. For as we are either temperate or intemperate, so will the qualities be whereof our bodies are compounded: and so consequently according to the temperancy or intemperancy that is in us, the affections of the soul also will be more moderate or immoderate, and the perturbations which they shall bring with them, will be greater or less, and more easy or uneasy to be provoked or appeased. Whereby we might know what great agreement God hath made between the body and the soul. For notwithstanding their natures differ much one from another, yet seeing they must be linked together, it is necessary they should have some agreement between them, to the end they may be conjoined and united in one. It is true, that by the reasons of human Philosophy, we know well how the conjunction of corporal things and of their qualities, what contrariety so ever it is between them, may be effected and wrought. But as we cannot see or know our soul, or any spiritual nature, as we know our bodies and bodily natures, so can we not judge so easily of the means whereby the body agreeth with the soul, and corporal natures with spiritual, but only as experience and the effects give us some 
How the agreement between the body and the soul may be discerned.  sight thereof. For we see by experience from whence the good or ill disposition of the body, and health and sickness proceed, namely, from the good or ill temperature of the qualities thereof. We see also, that according to the nourishment which the body taketh, and that sobriety or gluttony it useth in eating and drinking, and according to the abstinency or the effects it bringeth forth in all things, it is either better or worse affected and disposed. We see likewise the changes and alterations that befall it, according to the ages and exercises it hath. Wherhfore although we had nothing else to look unto, but to maintain and preserve our health, yet aught we to desire to be sober, moderate, and very temperate in all things, seeing moderation beareth so great sway in all the parts of man's life. But it aught to be more precious in our eyes, when we see that the temperance or intemperance that may be in our bodies, extendeth itself unto the estate of our soul, and that it can do much either in the helping and maintaining, or in the hurting and troubling thereof. For we know already by experience, that which is of a choleric nature, is more subject to those diseases that are bred of a choleric humour, than a phlegmatic person that is of a contrary temperature, and that a phlegmatic body is most subject to diseases proceeding of phlegm. The like may be said of all the other qualities & complexions. If then every one incline more to such diseases, as may proceed from those natural qualities which abound most in his body, it is an easy matter to judge, what is like to fall upon him if they exceed, whereby they are 
Natural qualities breed diseases.  increased much more. And if that humour which naturally exceedeth most in a man (and of which his temperature and complexion hath his name) 'cause him to incline most to those diseases that may be bred thereof, a man may judge into what disposition of body he may fall through excess of other qualities, which are more repugnant to his nature & complexion, if there be no such counterpoise and equality, that one contrary may serve as a remedy against another. But having considered of these things, we must go forward and prosecute our speech of the affections of the soul, which are as it were health & sickness therein according as they shall be either well or ill moderated, and see what conveniency there is between corporal and spiritual physic. Finish therefore this days work, ACHITOB, with some discourse upon this point, which may serve to instruct us in the matter of the affections of the soul, of which to morrow we are to entreat particularly and in order.   

Of the Health and diseases of the soul: of the agreement between corporal and spiritual Physic: how necessary the knowledge of the nature of the body and of the soul, is for every one. Chap. 40.  
ACHITOB. It is always in his power who hath given us being, namely God the spring and fountain of all essences, to preserve and keep us therein, and to take it also from us when it pleaseth him. But forasmuch as he delighteth not in destroying the works which himself hath wrought, he hath given unto his creatures certain means to preserve themselves in that nature wherein he created them. And that they might have those means near at hand, he hath placed them even in their own nature. For they have by nature an inclination, that moveth and urgeth to keep and defend themselves as much as they can possible, from every thing that may corrupt their nature, that is contrary unto it, or that will bring 
Men are more careful for the health of their bodies then of their souls  to an end that being, which they have received of God. But that which herein is most to be lamented in man, is his over great care and curiosity in searching out remedies meet for the maintenance and preservation of his body, the lest grief and ill disposition whereof seemeth unto him to be very burdensome: but as for thinking either upon those means, whereby God hath appointed him to attain to an eternal and blessed life, or upon the diseases of the soul, which in stead of life will bring death unto it, and far more dangerous, stubborn, and uneasy to be cured then those of the body, he dreameth little thereof, his care is very small, he esteems them not great, and therefore is very slothful in seeking remedy for them.  
We are to know then, that the affections of the soul are as it were health and sickness 
The affections breed the health of sickness of the soul.  therein, according as they are either temperate or intemperate. For as there is no evil disposition or sickness in the body, but contrariwise good health, if there be not some excess in the qualities of which it is compounded, which may destroy that equality that is requisite for the keeping of it sound: so is it with the faculties, powers, qualities and affections of the soul, which according to her nature hath her health & diseases. Wherefore when the harmony, conveniency and temperature of her powers and affections, is such as her nature requireth, then is she well disposed and in health: as contrariwise she is ill affected and diseased when in place of temperance and mediocrity, there is intemperance and excess. Now according to that which we heard in the speech of the conveniency between the temperature and complexion of the body, and the affections of the soul, we see that a man of a choleric nature is a great deal more easily stirred up to anger, than an other that is of a phlegmatic or melancholy nature. For seeing the choleric humour is by nature hot & burning, 
How the soul receiveth from the body in regard of the divers temperatures thereof.  like to fire, that man in whom this humour reigneth is sooner inflamed with anger and wrath, than another that is of a contrary nature. For fire will more speedily kindle in a matter that cometh nearer to it own nature, and of which it may more easily take hold, then in another that is more contrary to it. It is otherwise with flegmatige or melancholic men, according as the humours which rule in them, dispose and incline them more to be carried with one affection rather than with another. Therefore we see that they which are of a choleric complexion as they are of a more hot and dry nature: so their affections are more sudden, burning and violent, like to fire. Phlegmatic and melancholy persons as they are colder, so they are not so easily moved, but are more slow and heavy, and have also other inclinations and other affections. And as they that are commonly said to be sanguine, are of the best temperature, so their affections are for the most part more cheerful and more temperate. And as there are divers mixctions of bodily qualities, so there are sundry sorts of temperatures and complexions of the body, and consequently of souls in regard 
Agreement between corporal and spiritual Physic.  of their faculties and affections. Therefore also there is great agreement between corporal and spiritual Physic. For this cause the Physicians both of the bodies and souls of men are to follow almost one and the same method, and observe a like order in their art and practice, every one according to the subject propounded unto them: insomuch that look what the one doth unto the body, the other is to deal so with the soul, such things being applied as best agreed with their several natures. Wherein they may further each others work greatly, observing that end at which both of them aim, which to the one is the health of the body, and to the other the cure of the soul, considering that the one may help the other, as hath been already touched. For if the body be not temperant, hardly will the soul be: and if the soul be intemperate, the body desireth not to be temperant. Therefore also we see, that not only Physicians for the body appoint men diets, both for the preservation of their bodily health, and also for the recovery and restoring thereof again, but also spiritual Physicians do the like in regard of the soul's health, so far forth as bodily sobriety will serve greatly to that purpose. For this cause not only ordinary sobriety and moderation, which aught to be kept throughout the whole life of man, is so greatly recommended 
Luke. 21. 34. Rom. 13. 13. Ephes. 5. 18. Act. 13. 2.  unto us in the holy scriptures, but fasts also, which being more strict abstinences, are very profitable, yea necessary oftentimes according to times, places and persons. For they serve to tame and humble the flesh, that it may be the better kept in, and less hinder the spirit, which thereby is the better enabled to attend to every good work, and to the contemplation of the divine and celestial things. Therefore the people of God and holy men fasted often, whereof we have many testimonies in the scriptures. And as it is necessary that bodily 
judge 20. 26. Psal. 69. 10. Esth. 4. 16.  Physicians should know well the temperatures and complexions of men's bodies, and their natures, their health and diseases also with their convenient and apt remedies, so is it needful, that spiritual Physicians should know the nature of souls, of their faculties, powers and affections, and the natures of virtues, which are their health, and of vices, which are their diseases, together with those medicines and remedies that are necessary for the preservation and increase of virtues, and for the diminution and abolishing of vices. For without this knowledge, neither of them can be good Physicians, but it may be feared, lest they make the diseases worse, or in steed of curing the sick persons, kill them outright.  
But we must yet draw more instruction out of this matter here offered unto us. For whatsoever hath been hitherto spoken concerning the agreement between the temperature of the body, and the affections of the soul, or concerning the health and diseases of them both, or the knowledge, that is requisite in Physicians to follow a good method in their art and practise for the healing of their patients, I say the understanding of 
The knowledge of Physic necessary for all.  all these things is not only necessary for the Physicians both of souls and bodies, but even for every one of us particularly. For if we were all skilful in the art of corporal Physic, I mean not such skill as is needful for them that make public profession thereof to all, but only so much as is necessary for the preservation of our own health, I doubt not but we might easily avoid many infirmities and diseases, whereinto we fall daily for want of good diet, good government, and the use of those means, which might either retain us in health, or restore it quickly unto us, when it is somewhat altered or impeached. Moreover we should have this advantage beside, if we fell into any disease: that we should know the better how to keep and govern ourselves more moderately and wisely, and obey the Physicians counsel the better, because we should have greater knowledge of that which we aught to do, and of the danger whereinto we might fall, or which we might easily avoid. We may say as much of the soul's physic, the knowledge whereof is a great deal more necessary for us, not only because the soul is more noble and precious than the body, but also because it is a harder matter to know the nature and diseases of the soul, then of the body. And if we prove so happy as to be able to comprehend any thing, we shall know daily better and better what things are in us of God, and what is his order, as also what there is of Satan's, & what is that disorder & confusion, which by means of sin he hath brought into all things. For as sin is cause of that excess, which is in the qualities of which our bodies are made & consequently of the diseases that proceed from thence, which afterward bring death to the 
Sin is the cause of all disorder, diseases and of death.  body; so is it in respect of the soul, & of the excess that is in the affections thereof & in all the other parts of it, contrary to that nature in which God created the same. And as sin is the cause of disorder & confusion in both of them, so it is the cause that one helpeth to spoil another, whereas there sholdbe a pleasant harmony & concord, not only of the bodily qualities among themselves & so likewise of the qualities of the soul among themselves, but also of the qualities both of soul & body one with another. For GOD hath put, not only into our souls, but in to our bodies also the seeds of all the virtues, & the pricks & means to incite and to lead us unto them, in such manner & form as shall be declared hereafter. Although we may learn somewhat by that which we have heard already of the conveniency that is between the body & the soul, between the temperature of the one and the affections of the other. For if the one be answerable and correspondent to the other, no doubt but God so disposeth of the temperatures and complexions of the body, as he hath disposed of the nature of the affections in the soul, seeing the one is to serve the other through that mutual agreement, which they aught to have one with another. Now to morrow we will prosecute our speech begun concerning the affections of the soul, to the end that we may fully understand this goodly and large matter, which may procure to the soul and body, both life and death. And first, me thinks we are to enter into the consideration of four things, which are in the will and in the power to desire, that is in the soul, namely, natural inclinations, actions, habits, and affections. This shall be then, ASER, the subject of thy discourse.   
The end of the fift days work.   

The sixt days work.  

Of four things to be considered in the Will, and in the of power of desiring in the soul: and first, of the natural inclinations: of self-love and the unruliness thereof. Chap. 41.  
ASER. All the actions of the soul are bred of the powers and faculties thereof: and therefore by the benefit of nature, which is the gift of God, she hath received power for all things, which she aught to do. Now concerning the faculty of knowing in the soul, and in the understanding 
Three things to be considered in the faculty of knowledge.  part thereof, of which we have entreated heretofore, we found three things worthy of diligent consideration, namely, natural principles, actions, & habits gotten by long custom. We may remember those sundry degrees, which we said were in the knowledge of the mind, and how by this faculty it doth not only know simple and particular things as beasts do, but also compoundeth and joineth them together: how it compareth one with another, separateth them and discourseth upon them: finally how it judgeth, and either approveth or refuseth them. All which things are actions of the mind, proceeding from those notices, and natural principles of knowledge that are therein. Now if these actions be sudden, and pass lightly, so that the mind doth not stay in them, nor acquaint itself with them, the bore & simple name of action belongeth to them. But if the mind doth one and the same thing often, museth much upon it, calleth it often to memory, and accustometh itself thereunto, so that it is in a manner 
How habits are bred in the mind.  imprinted in it, and thereby the mind becometh prompt and ready in regard of the long continuance therein, then do these actions take the name of habit, which is bred by the often repeating and reiterating of the same things. Whereby the mind is made more fit and apt to perform those exercises, unto which they have addicted themselves, and wherein they have continued. So that such a habit is as it were a light in the spirit and in the soul, whereby the actions thereof are governed.  
In like manner we find in the Will, and in that power of desiring, which is in the soul, 
Four things to be considered in the will and desires.  four things to be considered, namely, natural inclinations, actions, habits, and affections which intermingle themselves in every one of the other. All these things are good of their own nature, even as nature itself, being considered as God hath created her. But as nature was corrupted through sin, so is it with these things by reason of that disorder which the nature of sin hath brought unto them. But let us first speak of natural inclinations, and then we will prosecute the rest. As therefore the mind hath his natural principles of knowledge, so the will hath her natural inclinations and affections, which of their 
Of natural inclinations & affections.  own nature are good, as they are taken from that first nature created of God: neither would they at any time be wicked, if there were no excess in them proceeding from nature corrupted, which afterward breedeth in us such inclinations and affections as are altogether evil and damnable. We love ourselves naturally, our wives, our children, our kins folks, and our friends, yea we are by nature so inclined to this love, that if it were not in us we should not only not be men, but not deserve so much as to be accounted and taken for beasts, not not for the wildest, most savage and venomous beasts that can be. For we see by experience what great inclination and affection there is in every one of them towards their little ones. Therefore when S. Paul maketh a boadroll of the vices and sins of such men as are most vicious and execrable, and as it were monsters of nature, he saith expressly, that 
Rom. 1. 30. 2. Tim. 3. 3  they are without natural affection: which indeed cannot be clean rooted out of any nature living, unless it be altogether monstrous and unnatural: For it is an affection which is as it were a beam of the love that God beareth towards all his creatures, and which he causeth to shine in them, so that it is not possible, that they which are capable of any affection of love, should not love their own blood and their like, especially men. Wherhfore if this love and this affection were well ruled and ordered, it is so far from being vicious, that contrariwise the spirit of God condemneth as monsters those men that want it. And therefore God doth not forbidden and condemn this love and affection in his Law, so far forth as it is ruled thereby, but he approveth it, and appointeth it to be the rule of our love towards our neighbour, when he saith, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. But when this love & affection is 
Levit. 19 18. Math. 5. 43.  disordered in us, it is not only vicious, but also as it were the original & fountain of all other vices & sins, whereas if it were well ordered & ruled according to the will and law of God, it would be as it were the original and wellspring of all virtues. For we should not love ourselves but in God and through him, nor consequently our wives, nor our children, nor our friends, nor any other creature whatsoever: whereas clean contrariwise, we set God aside, and seek nothing but ourselves & the things of the world. Therefore this love & affection being now so unruly through sin, is so violent in us, that it withdraweth us from the love of God and of his creatures, to love the devil & his wicked works, because it seemeth to us, that he is a greater friend unto us then God. For whereas the holy Spirit doth resist & set himself against our evil affections, & will have us to bridle them, Satan on the contrary part letteth 
Of the unruliness of our natural affections.  them lose, & not only giveth us over to follow our perverse & vicious affections with full sway & liberty, but also provoketh & thrusteth us forward with great vehemency. Whereby we may judge what love and affection a man may carry towards creatures in those things wherein they may be contrary unto him, and with what fury and rage he may be led against them that resist his disordered affections, seeing he carrieth such an affection toward God his Creator. Therefore S. Paul speaking of wicked men that should be in the latter times, sayeth first, That they should be self lovers: and having set down this disordered love as the root, after he cometh to the branches & first-fruits of such a tree, saying, That they shall be covetous, boasters, 
2. Tim. 3. 2.  proud, cursed speakers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, without natural affection, truce breakers, false accusers, intemperate, fierce, despisers of them that are good, traitors, heady, hie minded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God, having a show of godliness, but denying the power thereof. And in the Epistle to the Romans he expressly mentioneth haters of God. Thus we see what the love of men is towards themselves being left in the corruption of their nature, 
Rom. 1.  in respect of that which aught to be, if it were not unruly and disordered. For man should love himself as the gift of God, as also his life & being which God hath given him, and that blessed estate for the enjoying of which he hath his being, and that Good wherein it consisteth, & whereby he may attain unto it, and should love no other thing, nor otherwise. But 
Of true love towards a man's self, and towards his.  the great excess that is in the love of ourselves, causeth it to be clean contrary, both to that love which aught naturally to be in us, and also to our love towards God, so that it overthroweth & confoundeth all heavenly order, and the whole course of man's life. Nevertheless, when it so falleth out that this love & affection is moderate in us, although indeed it be never so as it aught to be according to the rule of God's will, yet are they acceptable in his sight, as our other natural affections & friendships are, which we bear towards them that belong to us: provided always that they be ruled and guided by faith and true love, and kindled with the flames of the holy Ghost, as they were in Zacharie and Elizabeth towards their son john, and in so many other holy men, as have loved both themselves and theirs according to God, whereof we have a notable example in Abraham. For out of all question if 
Gen. 22.  ever father loved his children, he loved his son Isaac. But he showed evidently by the effect, that he did not only love him with the love of flesh & blood, as commonly we love our children, but he loved him also in God, towards whom yet his love was far greater, seeing he was very ready to offer him up in sacrifice unto him, when he so commanded it. But although this natural love & affection be not so pure in us as in these holy men, but that still there is mingled with it some thing of our own, because of sin, which we have by inheritance; yet is it always acceptable to God, so that he be first and chief loved. For through his mercy he beareth with our infirmity which evermore accompanieth our desires and wills. As for those that are guided only by the light of nature, and are not regenerated by the spirit of God, albeit these natural affections are too unclean in them, yet they do not somuch displease him, as inhumanity and cruelty do, that are clean contrary to the other, & which do utterly dispossess men of love and charity. We may consider the same things in all the other natural inclinations. For we see that some are by nature inclined to civil justice, some to liberality, & others to such like virtues. Now if these inclinations be well guided, they are goodly seeds of virtues, but if they be not well ordered and ruled, they corrupt and degenerate, 
Natural inclinations are seeds of virtues or vices.  yea they turn into the vices that are contrary to those virtues. For justice which is never without moderation may be turned into over great rigour, or into cruelty, as we see it in many, who being naturally inclined to severity, which many times is very necessary, in justice, become so rigorous and extreme, that their severity, which aught to be virtue, is turned into cruelty. The like may be said of other inclinations and affections. Now that which befalleth these inclinations, is procured also unto them by the humours and qualities of the body, which have a certain agreement with the affections. For a sanguine man, in whose nature blood beareth greatest sway amongst the other hmours and qualities, will naturally be more inclined to love, to joy, to liberality, and to such other affections as are most agreeable to his nature. But if this complexion be not moderated and well guided, it will easily pass measure in every affection, so that it will fall into foolish and unlawful loves, into excessive and unmeasurable joys, and into prodigality instead of following liberality. The same may be said of all the other temperatures and complexions for their part, in that they may be seeds and provocations, either to virtues or to vices, according to that correspondency, which is between the bodies & the soul, and the temperature of the one with the affections of the other. Therefore we may well conclude, that as diseases engender in the body of the humours that are in it, according to their change, mingling & corruption: so it 
The original of all diseases  falleth out in the nature of the soul & in the affections thereof. For as good natural humours become evil by corruption that seizeth upon them, & turn that health which before they afforded into diseases, so the inclinations and natural affections of our soul, which of their own nature are good & the seeds of virtues, are turned into vices & into their seeds, through that corruption which sin bringeth unto them. Behold then what we have to consider of those natural inclinations that are in the Will and in the desiring power of the soul, and of the actions thereof, namely to will and not to will, and to suspend and stay her action, and to command over the power of the appetites, of all which we have largely entreated in our discourse of the William Wherhfore we will come to the Habits, of which thou shalt now discourse, AMANA.   

Of the Habit of the soul in the matter of the affections, and of what force it is: of the causes why the affections are given to the soul with the use of them: of the fountain of virtues and vices. Chap. 42.  
AMANA. If a man will learn an occupation, he proves not a workman the first day, but learneth by little and little, and beginneth to labour therein: afterward by long continuance and custom he groweth more ready in his art, and practiseth it with greater facility and ease. A painter waxeth expert in his science by often painting, and his hand wherewith he laboureth by long continuance becometh more steady, more ready and able, so that he can handle his pencil with greater ease, & is far more expert therein then he was in the beginning. We may note the like in the soul, and in the chief powers & actions thereof. For there are some of them, which incontinently follow the nature of the faculties of the soul, when they have their just times, & are come, as a man would say, unto their ripeness, as we may see by experience in the corporal senses. For not long after the child is borne he seethe and heareth, the reason whereof is because the senses of seeing and hearing are by nature absolute and perfect. Therefore in such actions there needeth no exercise to 'cause them to perform that which they do well, but only a good vigour and strength, because in them nature is a great Mistress that hath all efficacy. But there are far more excellent actions, as science, art, prudence, fidelity, & such like, which had need of use and exercise to 'cause them to do readily and well. This use bringeth custom, which hath in it a faculty to work, and a disposition tending thereunto. And then such actions take the name of Habit, which is bred by the reiterating.  
Thus the actions of the Will and power of desire in the soul, of which we have spoken before, when they are often reiterated, so that they grow to be firm and steadfast, are called habits, because the Will is so accustomed thereunto, that it becometh more constant either in desiring one certain thing, or in eschewing the same. Therefore as the affections are more or less forward, more seldom or often used, more weak or strong, so they are called either inclinations or actions, or habits. But we are to note, that habits extend not themselves only to those things which we do, but also to those which we suffer and abide, which displease 
What a habit is.  us & are contrary to our nature. For custom diminisheth & moderateth by little and little the sense of that grief & pain which they bring us, whereof we have trial in all diseases, which commonly seem not so grievous & intolerable after we have been long accustomed unto them, as in the beginning of them. And although poverty be a heavy burden, nevertheless custom maketh it familiar unto us, & familiarity causeth us to think it lighter. Wherefore we 
Of the force of custom.  aught not to marvel, if our God doth usually sand affliction to his children to acquaint them therewith, as also to the end they might obtain the virtue of patience, which is learned by often suffering: insomuch that there remaineth a habit in men, which being nothing else but a common custom, causeth them mildly to bear and sustain all events. Whereas there are some that like furious and desperate men are carried away with great impatience, either because they never suffered much before, or if they did suffer, yet they never accustomed themselves to bear their afflictions patiently. Moreover we know by experience, that although the way of virtue at our first entering thereinto, seem unto us very difficult to tread in, yet afterward we find it very easy, when we have walked in it a certain time. For 
Sweat is Gentleman usher to virtue.  there is no honest trade of life in which we find not great difficulty. And the more excellent it is, so much the more troublesome and tedious it will seem to our flesh, whereas the path of pleasure will seem to be very delectable and easy, because it is a great deal more natural to our corrupt nature. But how hard soever it be to our flesh to follow after a virtuous, honest, and sober life, yet custom will make it easy to overpass, as likewise to forsake that which is contrary unto it. Therefore it hath not without just cause been given out long since by wise and skilful men, that it is very good and profitable to be accustomed to good things, especially from ones infancy: that it skilleth much how every one hath hath been brought up from his youth: that nothing is of greater force than custom, either to good or to evil, as that which seemeth to be an other nature. Now upon 
The cause and profit of an habit.  this speech of Habits we are to note further, that as all other natural things in the soul are given unto it for the good thereof, so is this habit, which is no other thing but a custom rooted therein. For except continuance of time did confirm this power of the soul, I mean, that it aught not only to do a thing, but to do it well and as it aught to be done, that is, to get a faculty therein through use and exercise, to the end it may do the same thing afterward more freely and readily, and be more willing to occupy itself about the same thing, and that after the same manner, I say, except this be so, many inconveniences will ensue thereupon. The first is, that it should labour altogether in vain. The second, that it should always come rude and unskilful, as it were a new apprentice, to the exercising of these excellent actions and works. Whereof this would follow, that having profited nothing with the time, it would not do any thing perfectly. And this we aught not only to understand of those things we do willingly, but even of that which we suffer and endure mangre our wills: wherewith of all other things we had need to be best acquainted. For seeing we are compassed about daily with so many miseries, seeing we must suffer and undergo so many sharp and unworthy assaults, how much greater will our misery be, if long custom and an habit in suffering should afford us no ease and refreshing? But let us come now to that which particularly concerneth the affections of the soul, that we may be fully instructed in the nature and sundry kinds of them. First, we will note, that we understand by affection that natural power in the soul, which openeth 
What affection is, and from whence virtue and vice first spring.  itself towards Good, and withdraweth itself from evil, as we have already declared, before. Now when the actions of an affection are grown to be habits, then are they called either virtues or vices, according as they are well or ill done. And from hence proceed good or ill manners, of which moral Philosophy took that name, because it entreateth of them. For that showeth what virtue and vice is, how many kinds there are of them, and what difference there is not only between virtues and vices, but also between the sundry sorts of them, as we have discoursed at large in our first Academical assembly. But let us understand this, that the knowledge of the soul and of the powers 
The fountain of Moral Philosophy.  of it, about which we now labour, is the right springhead and fountain of that Moral Phisolophy and doctrine. This knowledge therefore is very profitable and necessary, to the end that by it we may know the original and beginning of all virtues and vices, of their whole generation, and their sundry kinds. For if we be well instructed in all the parts and powers of the soul, we know the causes of these actions: we know how the mind judgeth, how the will chooseth & commandeth as we have already spoken. And thus we see, that there are most sure and certain principles of knowledge, which shine in the mind as it were a light, which are the rules whereby the soul squareth out her actions, and which discern between truth and falsehood, good and evil, to the end that all the actions thereof might agreed with those rules, which are the beams of heavenly wisdom in ourselves. For it is an order which God hath so ordained and established. And forasmuch 
Why the affections are given to the soul.  as the soul was to devil in the body, God gave unto it this natural power of the affections, that it might be wakened and stirred up by them as it were with pricks, thereby to be kept from idleness, and from being lulled asleep and oppressed with the heaviness of the body, and so neglect all care of good things, and of that which is very expedient & profitable for itself. For this cause the soul hath her affections, of which some serve for spurs to prick her hither and thither, and as often as need requireth: others serve for a bridle to keep her back and to stay her from rushing unto evil, and from following those things that are hurtful for her. And indeed we stand in need of such spurs and bridles: but herein we err greatly in that we know not how to keep a moderation between these twain. For because we make these spurs too sharp, and prick the horse too much which we have to guide, the bridle on the other side is two grievous unto him, so that he lifteth up and girdeth forward over furiously. And this cometh to pass because we do not content ourselves with that which is requisite for the succouring of our natural necessities, but we add thereunto infinite superfluities. For upon some light necessity that might soon be dispatched, we torment ourselves a great deal more than need is, because we persuade ourselves that our necessities are greater than they be, & so seek after more remedies & help then is requisite. Of this we have daily experience in that care which we take for things necessary for this life, which is the cause that we burn continually with insatiable covetousness, which is such a marvelous spur unto us, that we take very little rest for it. For if we would be contented with enough, it would not put us to that torment, which we daily suffer. But nothing sufficeth 
The affections compared to the winds.  us: and therefore the affections are in our soul, as the winds upon the sea. For some winds are very small, and move the water but a little: others are more vehement, & raise up certain waves: and some again are so tempestuous, and make such horrible storms and gusts, whereby the Sea is so moved, that sea and sand and fish and all seem to be turned topsie turnie.  
The like may be said of the motions of the soul. For some are so light, that they seem to be nothing else but small beginnings of moving. There are others stronger, which move it somewhat more. And some also are so violent, that they altogether trouble the soul, even in such a vehement manner, that they drive her from the seat of judgement. Therefore these two first kinds of motions are properly called affections, and the other that are so violent are termed Commotions and Perturbations. For they bring a kind of blindness 
Of commotions and perturbations.  with them, which is the cause that judgement and reason see never a whit. Whereupon it followeth, seeing neither Reason nor judgement hear any more rule, that the Soul is as if she had no more power over herself, but were subject to the jurisdiction of some other. The Grecians term such affections with a word that signifieth as much as if we should say passions.  
And in deed we commonly say, that a man is passionate, when he is tormented by such violent affections. For as the whole body suffereth when it is moved, or thrust too and fro, and stricken on every side: so is it with the Soul being violently moved every way. And as the moving is more or less moderate, so she suffereth more or less: and if the motion be very violent, confusion followeth thereupon. Now for the sequel of this speech, let us consider how the affections are more or less moderate, according to the disposition of the judgement: and what is the spring and original of so many sundry affections, as we see in men. It belongeth then to thee ARAM, to handle this matter.   

That according to the disposition of the judgement, the affections are more or less moderate or immoderate: of the cause of all the motions of the soul and heart: of the variety of affections: of the generation, nature, and kinds of them. Chap. 43.  
ARAM. Whatsoever we do or wish for, we do or desire it for some Good, whether that which we judge to be good be so in truth, or in opinion only. And therein we resemble God our Creator, who is not only good, but also goodness itself, even the perfection of all Good. Wherefore if we desire to know what is the true Good, we must understand, that there is but one only true Good, even the same, by participation of which we are first made good, and then of good, most happy. For we cannot be happy and blessed, which is the end we all look for, but we must first become good. For as there is no true felicity and blessedness but in Good, being the source and fountain, yea the perfection of all happiness and contentation, so also there is no felicity nor blessedness but in goodness, which is as proper to God as his very divinity: because that as he cannot be God except he be good, so he cannot be good with that goodness that is in him, but he must be God. And as he is the essence of all essences, so he is the essential Good, and the essential Goodness of all Goods & of all Goodnesses. But although our nature doth of itself always tend to that which is Good, as we have showed in the handling of the chief powers of the soul, Understanding and Will, nevertheless we differ much, nay we are clean contrary to GOD, when we come to the election of Good, because of the bad judgement we have, by reason of the darkness of ignorance wherewith our minds are blinded.  
Hereof it cometh, that the more the judgement is corrupted, infected and deeper plunged in the flesh, the more evil and carnal are the affections, the more in number and the more violent: yea such as do not only trouble and pervert the internal senses of the soul, 
How far the judgement can prevail over the affections  but the external senses also of the body. This we may observe in them that are carried away with love, who think oftentimes, and are verily persuaded, that they see and hear those things, which indeed are nothing so. Contrariwise, the purer the judgement is, and the higher it is lifted up from the flesh and from the earth, the fewer and lighter are the affections which trouble and molest it. For than it taketh greater heed and marketh what truth or what falsehood, what good or what evil there is in all things. Whereupon it cometh to pass, that the judgement is not so often nor so easily moved. And when it is 
Thr original of violent motions in the soul.  moved, it is not so violent nor heady, but more mature and moderate. For all great, violent, and turbulent motions proceed of ignorance and inconsiderateness, or through a false persuasion, which maketh us to think, that the Good or Evil is greater than indeed it is. And this cometh for want of experience, which being as it were a dark cloud and mist before the eyes of our mind, do greatly trouble it: insomuch that we aim not at that certain Good, after which we aught to seek, but contrariwise we propound to ourselves many sorts of Goods, with many and sundry ends and means to attain unto them, which we change and rechange from hour to hour, very inconstantly according to places, times and occasions, whereby it is evident that there is no staidness io us. Besides all this, there is another great mischief, namely that we have not that prudence which beasts have by natural instinct only without reason or judgement, whereby to know how we may keep ourselves from those tempests, which our affections may move in us. For when beasts perceive any tempest coming, they suddenly withdraw themselves, and seek for means 
A similitude showing the perilous motions of the soul.  to avoid it. And they that sail one the Sea, foreseeing the tempestuous storms which threaten them, provide thereafter in good time, lest they should be carried away therewith. For otherwise they bring themselves within the compass of this danger, that afterward they cannot be Masters of their Ship neither arrive at their desired haven, but rather hazard the breaking of their Ship against some rock, or of sticking fast in some sand, or of being swallowed up and overwhelmed with some whirlwinds and tempests. The like may be said of the motions of the soul made by affections. For there are not so many sorts of winds, whirlwinds, or tempests in the Sea, as there is variety of motions that come from the affections in our hearts. Therefore we aught to be very careful that when we see and perceive any beginnings in our souls, we straightways give not ourselves over into the power and swinge of our affections. But we are so far from looking to this, that we throw ourselves into the midst of the tempest, that it may carry us, not whither we would, but whither that will. For seeing we enterprise our affairs, not by the appointment and decree of an upright judgement directed by reason, but at the judgement and lust of our corrupt and crooked nature, we are so much moved as our nature hath power. For natural actions are not bounded by our will, but extend themselves as far as the power and virtue thereof is able to permit. But it is clean contrary with a prudent and wise man. For he is not deceived in the election 
The effects of a prudent wise man.  and choice of that which is good, because he chooseth with good judgement, and propoundeth not to himself many uncertain Goods, but one only, which is the true and certain Good. Likewise he chooseth not many ways and means to come unto it, but a few that are well sifted out, and infallible: beside, he is not governed by his affairs and affections, but governeth them, neither giveth himself over into their power, but abideth always in his own: insomuch that if any affection he ginneth to move by virtue of his natural inclinations, he presently stayeth it, compelling it to give place and to obey, right judgement. Thus much generally of the nature of affections: now it remaineth, that we should say something of the number and variety of them. Surely it is very difficult 
Of the variety of affections.  yea impossible to set down a certain number of an infinite thing: although indeed the number of the affections is not infinite by nature, but only in regard of us, that cannot comprehend them all. But we will reckon up the chiefest of them, which are the fountain of the rest.  
Hear than we have first to note, that all motion: of the soul are in regard of some good which they seek, or of some evil which they would avoid, because it is contrary to that good. Therefore every motion of itself tendeth always to that which is good, or withdraweth itself from evil, or else setteth itself against it, as we have already heard in the handling of William Now every good, and every evil, is either present, or 
The cause of all motions in the soul.  to come, or past, either possible or impossible. And as we take the absence of evil for a good, so we judge the absence of good to be an evil. For this cause the Divines make two kinds of pain or punishment, whereof the first is the pain of loss and damage, and the other is the pain of sense and feeling. By the first they understand that pain which 
Two kinds of punishments.  a man hath because he wanteth some good that he should and would have. For men accounted it damage, to loose that profit, which they aught to have. By the second they understand that pain which is felt, not only when some good is wanting, which a man should or would have, but when some evil is present, that is contrary to this good, which men feel by effect. Therefore they say that the pain of the loss and damage, is the privation of the joys of Paradise. For although there were no torments of hell for the wicked, but only a privation of that eternal life and happiness, for the which man was created of GOD, yet were this no small punishment to be deprived thereof. But there is a great deal more, when the wicked are not only deprived of a blessed life, but besides that are detained in perpetual torments, as a malefactor that doth not only want good company, but is withal kept in perpetual prison and torture. But let us proceed with our matter.  
When any good is propounded, so soon as ever the soul and mind knoweth it, it is 
Of the generation, nature & kinds of the affections.  well liked of. And this liking or delight is as it were a little pleasant wind of motion in the heart, which beginneth to arise and to follow after this good. Now when this pleasure and liking is confirmed and waxeth strong, it is turned into love. And the motion of that present Good, which we have already gotten is called joy: and the motion of some Good to come is called Desire, which is enclosed within the bounds of love. If the matter be of some evil, it is called offence, because the soul is offended thereby: and therefore she is displeased therewith and disliketh it, whereas she is well pleased with Good. If this displeasure or dislike be confirmed, it is turned into hatred. And as grief is for some present evil, so is fear of some evil to come. The motion against a present evil, is anger, envy, indignation: and against an evil to come, is confidence and boldness. Now all these affections have others under them. For favour, reverence, and mercy are comprised under love, delight under joy, hope under desire, and desire under grief. As for pride, it is a monster compounded of divers affections, as of joy, of desire, and of boldness. And as the affections are quickly bred one of another, so some of them are bridled & restrained by others. 
How the affections are bred or bridled one of another.  For the first, envy, hatred and anger spring of love. For they are motions of the heart that loveth, against him that hateth or hurteth her who is dear or beloved. And desire riseth of revenge, and the joy that cometh thereby, proceeds from anger and malace. If a man love anything, he wisheth it would come, and hopeth also that he shall enjoy it: and contrariwise, he feareth that it will not come to pass. If it come to pass, he rejoiceth. If it come not to pass when he thinketh it will, or when he expecteth it, he is grieved. In like manner, great joy is lessened through grief, and envy through mercy, or through fear. And one grief altereth another, when it is greater: and fear maketh grief to be forgotten, and causeth the lame to run. To be short, these sundry motions of affections are like to stormy waves and billows, which being driven one of another, do either augment, or diminish, or wholly oppress one another. Wherhfore the like happeneth in the motion of our affections, that cometh to pass in a sedition and civil dissension, 
Good similitudes.  in which no man considereth who is the worthier person to obey and follow him, but who is the stronger and most mighty. So in the fight of the affections there is no respect had to that which is most just, but only to that which is strongest and most violent, and which hath gotten such power over the soul that it hath wholly subdued her to itself which thing we aught to stand in great fear of. But whatsoever affections are in us, there is always some grief or some joy joined with them. Therefore following our matter, it shall be good for us to consider particularly of the nature of these two contrary motions, of which, joy serveth greatly for the preservation of life, but grief drieth up and consumeth the heart, even unto the death of it, as we shall now learn of ACHITOB.   

That joy, or Grief are always joined to the affections: and what joy and Grief are properly, Chap. 44.  
ACHITOB, The knowledge of the Affections of the heart and soul is very necessary for every onery one, because they are very evil and dangerous diseases in the soul, but yet being known they may be cured more easily. This cause hath moved us, after we have spoken of the heart and of the natural motion thereof, & of the use it hath in this life of the body, to enter into the consideration of a second motion it hath, which serveth not only for this corporal life, but also for that spiritual life, in regard of which it was chiefly given, 
The first motion of the hart is an image of this seconds  and of which we said, that there was as it were an image and representation thereof in the first motion. Now we shall better understand this by the subject of this discourse dead unto us, being handled particularly as we intent to do. For as by the first natural motion of the heart, it receiveth such refreshing as is necessary for the sending of life unto the whole body, and for the maintenance and preservation of the same, as also for the expelling and driving out of all such things as might hurt and stifle it: even so is it in this second motion, as far as we can conceive of the nature of it. For seeing God hath appointed joy as a means to preserve life, he hath likewise put this affection in the heart, whereby it is as it were enlarged to receive within itself, and to embrace all Good that is offered unto it: as also it restraineth and shutteth itself up through grief which is contrary thereunto.  
Moreover we shall find, that there is no affection in us, which is not intermingled with some grief or else with some joy. For seeing the heart is the proper seat and instrument of 
Grief or joy in all the affections.  all the affections, when it is as it were stricken and beaten with some unpleasant thing that is offered unto it, then doth it retire, close up itself & feel grief, as if it had received a wound, then doth it fly from the thing it liketh not. Yea the heart doth always either enlarge or shut up itself according to those affections that are within it, the causes of which are in it own nature, GOD having so disposed and willed the same, for the reasons which we have have already touched. For if the heart be joyful, the joy that it hath, doth bring so great pleasure unto it, that thereby it is opened and enlarged, as if it would receive, embrace, and lay hold upon that thing which rejoiceth it, and bringeth unto it that pleasure, which it hath in this joy. Now because there is joy in love and hope, the blood & spirits are gently & mildly dispersed by their movings, by reason of the rejoicing at the Good that is present, or that is expected, as if it were already present. And forasmuch as such motions are made by the enlarging of the heart, whereby we embrace the thing offered unto us, the face also appeareth 
joy appeareth in the face.  smiling, cheerful, and ruddy. For a man may easily judge, that the object presented to the heart, moveth that power whereby it is stirred up, because that before the heart doth move itself, it must know the thing that offereth occasion unto it to be moved, either with joy or grief, or some such like affection. For as we have learned already, the outward senses do first perceive the things that are offered unto them, and then they present them unto the common sense, which presently by a singular providence of God sendeth them to all the other senses, and to all those powers that are in the sundry parts of the soul and body. This done, if there be matter of joy, the heart being stricken with that which is acceptable unto it, enlargeth itself, and being thus gently enlarged, as it were to embrace the same, it disperseth much natural heat with the blood, besides great quantity of spirits, of which it sendeth a good portion to the face, if the joy be so great that it moveth a man to hearty laughter. For the face itself is in some sort blown up and enlarged: the forehead is made clecre and smooth, the eyes glister and shine, the cheeks become ruddy, and the lips gather 
The effects of laughter in the face.  in themselves. In a word, the heart doth so enlarge itself, that it is represented in the face, as it were in a glass, or in an image framed to express the joy and gladness which it hath.  
Moreover, experience teacheth us sufficiently, what difference there is between a cheerful and a sad countenance. Therefore when we love one, we embrace him as if we would join him to ourselves, & put him into our bosom & heart, as some decree and very precious thing. Which we see chief in mothers, when they hold their little infants between their arms, and embrace them with great affection of the heart. For this cause Saint Paul being desirous to let the Corinthians understand what good will he bore them, how loving, ready & cheerful his affection was towards them, what joy he received thereby, as himself speaking plainly doth with his mouth give full testimony of his hart, writeth thus unto them, OH Corinthians, our mouth is open unto you: our heart is made large: you are not kept strait in us. And then complaining of them that their heart was not so bend towards him, 
2. Cor. 6. 11. 12.  he saith: But ye are kept strait in your own bowels. And here we may note, that by this word Bowels is meant generally all the internal members and parts of man, especially the heart, 
what is meant by bowels in the Scripture.  and those that are next unto it. Now because the heart is the seat of the affections, and the other members near unto it serve for his use, therefore the bowels are taken in the holy Scriptures for all the motions of the heart, & for all the affections of men that proceed from it, but chiefly for love; also for joy, pity and compassion, which have their beginning from love, whose nature is to open the hart: which in stead of opening shutteth up itself against those that are not loved, or that a man hateth. Therefore as love or hatred is great or small, hot or cold, so doth the heart open or close itself. Hereof it is said in the history of the two 
1. King 3. 26.  women that stood before Salomons judgement seat about their two children, whereof the one was dead and the other alive, that the bowels of the true mother were moved towards her child. 
1. King. 3. 26.   
And Saint Paul exhorting the Colossians to charity and compassion, saith, Now therefore, as 
Col. 3. 12. 13, 14. The true works of a Christian.  the elect of God, holy and beloved put on the bowels of mercy (that is to say of, tender affection) kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long suffering: for bearing one another, forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel to another: even as Christ forgave you, so do ye. And above all these things put on love, which is the bond of perfectness: and let the peace of God (namely that which God hath established among his) rule in your hearts, to the which ye are called in one body, and be gracious, or amiable. We see here what virtues accompany these bowels of mercy, of which he spoke in the beginning, as in deed all these virtues and heavenly gifts are so knit together, that they cannot be separated one from an other. And Saint john speaking of 
1. john 3. 17, 18.  that liberality and love, which aught to be among Christians, saith, Whosoever hath this world's good, and seethe his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him? Than he addeth, Let us not love in word, neither in tongue only, but in work and in truth. And to this purpose Esaias saith, If thou power out thy soul to the hungry, and refresh the troubled soul, then shall thy light spring out of darkness, and thy darkness shall be as the noonday. 
isaiah. 58. 10.  All which places agreed very well to that which we have touched concerning the motion of the heart, whereby it is either opened or closed up, as the affections are disposed that move it. But let us consider more narrowly the nature of these affections of joy and sorrow, and what difference is between them, seeing we have taken them for the ground of our speech. For the first, let us know, that joy is properly a amotion or an affection of the heart, whereby it taketh pleasure and stayeth itself in that Good, which is offered unto it: or if we had rather thus, it is a motion of the soul, proceeding from the judgement of 
What joy is.  some Good, which is already present, or certainly near at hand. And therefore when the heart is enlarged therewith, not only laughter is bred, but all the body also leapeth when the joy is so great that the breast cannot contain nor keep in the heart. But when the joy is moderate, it purgeth the blood by heat, it confirmeth health, and bringeth with it a lively and vigorous heat, which is very wholesome and acceptable to the heart. True it is, that the heart and will often deceive themselves in the choice and election of that which is Good: whether it be that following reason and judgement corrupted, which should show what is Good, they embrace their error: or whether it be that Will being corrupted of itself 
How the hart chooseth evil for good.  through sin, letteth lose the bridle against the judgement of reason, and so suffereth herself to be carried headlong by her evil affections, in following some false show of good. Whereupon it commonly cometh to pass, that in stead of joy which the heart should receive of Good, unto which the will tendeth naturally, it receiveth great sorrow and grief after knowledge taken of the fault. This is the cause why we are so often admonished by the spirit of God, to renounce our own sense, reason, prudence, and wisdom, to submit ourselves wholly to the counsel and wisdom of God, and to judge of good and of evil, of the true and false Goods according to his judgement, and not according to our own: as also to renounce our own desires to follow his will. As for grief or sorrow, we may judge of this affection by the contrary, which is joy, namely, that it is a motion and an affection of the heart, whereby it is restrained and pressed either with some present evil, or 
What sorrow is.  with some that is in a manner present: which displeaseth the heart as if it had received some grievous wound. Therefore it trembleth and languisheth, as a sick body, who drying up with grief by little & little, in the end dieth, except he have some remedy against his sickness. For the like happeneth to the heart of man through grief as long as it is within it, insomuch that it never forsaketh it, until it hath quiet dried up and consumed the same. And therefore as there is pleasure and rest in joy, so in sorrow there is a dolour & torment. For it engendereth 
Of Melancholy.  melancholy, & melancholy engendereth it, & increaseth it more, so that we often see melancholy men very sad, although no harm hath befallen them, neither can they give any reason of their heaviness. Moreover, this black melancholy humour is of this nature that it will make the spirit & mind darkish, whereby it groweth to be blockish, & the heart loseth all his cheerfulness. And because the brain is cooled thereby, it waxeth very heavy & drowsy. Now when grief is in great measure, it bringeth withal a kind of loathing & tediousness, 
The effect of sorrow.  which causeth a man to hate & to be weary of all things, even of the light & of a man's self so that he shall take pleasure in nothing but in his melancholy, in feeding himself therewithal, in plunging himselsef deeper into it, & refusing all joy & consolation. To conclude, some grow so far as to hate themselves, & so fall to despair, yea many kill & destroy themselves. And as the heart by enlarging itself with joy appeareth in the countenance, so doth it also in sorrow and grief. For as in sorrow the heart drieth up and gathereth itself in, so it causeth the face, which is the image of it, to retire and draw back, yea it depriveth the face of all colour, & causeth it to fall away. Briefly, it marreth all health, and hath for continual companions, sighs, plaints, groans, tears, and weeping, and oftentimes gnashing of teeth, as it is written of the damned, because of that sorrow & indignation in which they are, by reason of the torments which they suffer. It is true that the most of these things serve as a remedy against sorrow. For howsoever grief shutteth up the heart as we have said, yet by groaning, sighing and weeping the heart doth in some sort open itself, as if it would come forth to 
A commendable use of tears.  breath, lest being wholly shut up with sorrow it should be stifled. Again, tears are given un to us to testify our grief & to manifest it to others, that we may move them to have pity and compassion on us, and to help & secure us. They serve us further to declare what compassion we have of other men's sorrow and grief, which use is very necessary for us to get and preserve friendship one towards an other, & for our mutual comfort & consolation. For we are greatly comforted, when we see any take pity and compassion of us. Wherhfore when we can not otherwise solace them that are grieved, but only by declaring that we are sorrowful for their heaviness, and for those evils which they suffer, yet doth that afford great consolation. And although it seemeth an easy matter to give this comfort, yet is it harder than many think it is. For before we can find this in us, we must first have love in our hearts, which causeth us to open our bowels, & moveth us to compassion towards our like, that we may weep with them that weep, as we must rejoice also with them that rejoice according as Saint Paul exhorteth us thereunto. For by this means we testify that union & 
Rom. 12. 15.  conjunction which we have one with another, as members of one and the same body, and as if we felt in ourselves all that good and evil which others feel. Now because in our definition of those affection's joy and grief, we made two sorts of those that men feel in their hearts, namely, either of that good and evil which is present, or of that which they look for, we must consider more particularly of these things, and see first, why God hath put these affections in the soul, and what is true and present joy, as also what that other kind of joy is, which hath regard to that which is to come, which is properly called Hope. Now let us hear thee, ASER, upon this matter.   

Of the causes why God hath placed these affections of joy and Sorrow in the heart: of true and false joy, and of good and bad Hope. Chap. 45.  
ASER. Men have commonly sharp wits to know vain, earthly and carnal things: but as for heavenly, true and eternal things, they are able for the most part to understand nothing. So that we may compare the eyes of their soul to the eyes of an Owl, which seethe clearly by night, but when the Sun is risen, seethe never a whit. Even so man hath some knowledge of the troublesome things of this world, but his sight cannot 
A comparison.  pierce into the celestial and divine light. Therefore it falleth out often, that being beguiled by his own sense and reason, in stead of Good and of joy, he chooseth and followeth after that which is evil and full of grief. For when the affection of the heart, which naturally desireth Good and seeketh after joy, is misled and deceived by human reason, it easily embraceth evil in place of Good, and that under some vain show of good, which seemeth to be in that evil thing it chooseth. And although at the first the heart feeleth not that which happeneth unto it, yet hath it leisure enough after to complain of the torment which is always equal both for age and time, to the fault committed, and to the abuse of those gifts and graces which God hath placed in the nature of the soul.  
Forasmuch then as the heart is the beginning of life, we may well know, that God hath not without good cause placed therein such vehement affections of joy & grief, which serve either to preserve or to destroy it, and have for their companions hope and fear, as we will declare hereafter. For by these affections God would give us pricks & solicitors, to 'cause us to think seriously of that lesson, which David giveth us, when he saith, Taste ye and see how 
Psa 34. 8. 9 10  gracious the Lord is: blessed is the man that trusteth in him. Fear the Lord ye his Saints: for nothing wanteth to them that fear him. The Lions do lack and suffer hunger, but they which seek the Lord shall want nothing that is good. What man is he that desireth life, and loveth long days for to see good? Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips that they speak no guile. Eschew evil and do good, seek peace and follow it. The Prophet showeth here plainly, wherein true life and felicity consisteth: and the reason thereof he setteth down afterward, namely that the Lord looketh upon the good and bad, and that as he preserveth the good, so he rooteth out the remembrance of the wicked from off the earth. Therefore he saith, Great are the troubles of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth him out of all. Malice shall slay the wicked, and they that hate the righteous shall perish. The Lord redeemeth the souls of his servants, and none that 
Ver. 19 21.  trust in him shall perish. Wherefore as the children of God that are partakers of his promises, cannot be without great joy in their hearts, which feedeth and preserveth them, and 
Of the joy of the godly.  causeth them to live happily, through the testimony and taste which they have of the sweetness, goodness and favour of God towards them: so contrariwise, perpetual sorrow dwelleth in the heart of the wicked, who cannot have that joy in them, because they want that which should bring it unto them. For howsoever it seemeth that there is no joy in the world but theirs, yet they never have any true joy, neither indeed can have. For they seek not for it, neither do they know what it is. And therefore instead of seeking it in God in whom only it resteth, they seek it in creatures, and in all kind of vanity, and yet find nothing but in offending the majesty of God. For this cause jesus Christ hath long since pronounced their sentence, saying, Woe be to you that laugh, for ye shall weep. Contrariwise, ye that weep are happy, for ye shall laugh. Blessed are they that mourn: that is 
Luke 6. 21. Math. 5. 4. Easie. 61. 3. joh 16. 20. 21  to say, that feel their miseries, and seek for joy and consolation in God: for they shall be comforted. After speaking to his disciples, he saith, Verily, verily I say unto you, that ye shall weep and lament, and the world shall reioyee: ye shall sorrow, but your sorrow shall be turned into joy. And then he compareth their sorrow & their joy to that which a woman with child hath, which is pained so long as she is in travail, but when she seethe it borne, she receiveth joy, and soon forgetteth her anguish. Whereby the word of God teacheth us, that the grief of good men shall be turned into double joy, that their sorrow shall be short, and their felicity of long continuance. For there is one joy even in being delivered from evil, although it be not so great as when any Good happeneth unto us. But the joy is doubled, when besides this deliverance, there cometh unto us some joy which we had not, which is procured unto us by means of that pain and evil which we suffered. Therefore our Saviour saith further to this effect, You are now in sorrow: but I will see you again, and your hearts shall rejoice, and your joy shall no man take from you. If this joy can not be taken away, it is eternal, so that death itself can not abolish it. Whereupon it followeth, that it remaineth yet after death, & that there is an other life after this in which we shall have fullness of joy. Therefore we may well call it our own, seeing it always continueth with us. For if it were not so, jesus Christ who is the truth itself should not be true. But as he cannot lie, so we may assure ourselves of his promise. For seeing it is grounded on him, and upon his grace, resurrection, & immortal life, we may be as certainly persuaded of it, as we are assured of his resurrection, and of his eternal joy and life, wherein he liveth and reigneth for evermore. Wherhfore all those to whom it is promised, & that are assured of the fruition thereof by faith in him, have just occasion to live in great joy. So that Saint Paul not without good cause saith, Rejoice always in the 
Philip 4. 4. Eccles 7. 4. 8. Prou. 6. 25.  Lord, and again I say rejoice. But of the joy of carnal men we must say as Solomon writeth, That it is better to go to a house of mourning, then to the house of feasting. And that there is a way that seemeth right to a man, but the issue thereof is the way of death: yea, in laughter, the heart shall be grieved, and the end of joy is sorrow. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth. For they think of nothing but of io●●itie, whereas wise men meditate on the miseries of this world. Therefore we may know how greatly Epicures, and such as give themselves to pleasures and dissoluteness beguile themselves. For 
How worldlings deceive themselves  they think there is no joy nor pleasures, but in their life, and that there is no life more sador melancholy, then that of the children and servants of GOD. But it is clean contrary. For they that fear and honour GOD, have more joy in their heart in the midst of their greatest sorrows, by reason of that sense and feeling engraven in them of heavenly and eternal joy, which they certainly expect & begin already to taste here, than all worldlings and carnal men can have in the greatest triumphs of all their pleasures. Now, as there are two kinds of joy in the heart of men, so are there also of sorrows. For we do not only feel joy for some Good, or sorrow for some evil, which we now taste of, but also for that which we attend and look for. Concerning this latter kind of joy, it is 
What hope is  properly called Hope, which is an affection and motion of the heart, whereby it wisheth some Good to come, and prepareth to open itself and to receive it. Therefore we we said before, that Hope was comprehended under desire, unto which it giveth form and being. For hope is a desire joined with confidence, that the Good which we wish for will come to pass. Therefore the motions of joy and Hope are very like, seeing Hope is always mingled with joy, neither is there any difference but in the time, because the one is of a present 
Difference between joy & hope.  Good, and the other of that which is looked for. In the mean time Hope hath no evidence of science, but is grounded only upon conjecture of opinion, or likelihood and probability or possibility. And yet there is nothing so light, or so small, or strange, unto which the heart will not easy join itself and take hold of it, when it seeketh for helps & props to ground and stay itself upon. Nevertheless there is great difference between having already, and hoping for a thing, namely, in respect of men, and of hope, which hath no other grounds, than those of which I now made mention. But when the expectation is grounded upon God and his promises, it is as sure of that which it expecteth, as if it did already possess it: which is very comfortable to a man, in respect of that which happeneth to them who can have no certain 
Of the true & certain hope.  hope or expectation of Good. For although there be hope, yet if it be not grounded upon God it can bring no certain joy, or of any long continuance. Besides, when such a one shall fail of his hope, his grief will be doubled. Wherhfore they that build not their hope upon the word of God, can have no true and certain hope, but they feed themselves only with their fantasies, as they that dream they found riches, which vanish away when they awake. Such is the hope of the wicked, and of all worldly & carnal men. Nevertheless the persuasion of hope which holdeth us up with the expectation of better things, is very pleasant and necessary 
The profit & necessity of hope.  for the life of man, in the midst of so many miseries, of so many sharp and almost intolerable pains and travails which accompany them. So that it bringeth great comfort to men, and is in stead of sauce unto them, without which they would found all things to be not only without taste, but also of a very bitter and unpleasant taste. Therefore hath the providence of God provided a remedy for this, namely, that hope should breed of very light causes, and should lean & stay itself easily upon them: as if itself were very light, or very hooked & gluish, being ready to take hold of, & to retain whatsoever it meeteth withal, or can lay hands upon, to ground & lean thereon.  
Now if men find so great comfort in hope such as it is, and being laid upon so weak a foundation, it is easy to judge, what joy the faithful receive by that most certain hope of eternal life, and of all the good things that God hath promised them: in regard whereof Saint Paul saith, There is one body and one spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your vocation. 
Ephes. 4. 4. Rom. 5. 3. 4. 5.  It is not then without cause that he saith in another place, We rejoice in tribulations, knowing that tribulation bringeth forth patience, and patience experience, and experience hope, and hope maketh not ashamed: because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the holy Ghost, which is given unto us: as if he should say, that they which stay themselves upon such a hope, shall never be ashamed nor deceived. For the expectation thereof is never frustrated, but it hath always a 
Psal 25. 3.  good & happy issue. For when we perceive that we are deceived of our hope, we are ashamed & confounded. But this never happeneth to true hope, which proceedeth of a sound faith in jesus Christ, by means whereof we have access through him unto this grace wherein we stand 
Rom. 5. 2.  & rejoice under the hope of the glory of God, as Saint Paul said a little before. Therefore he exhorteth christians to rejoice in hope, & calleth God the God of hope, praying that he would fill the Romans with all joy and peace in believing, that they may abound in hope through the 
Rom. 12. 12. and 15. 13.  power of the holy Ghost. And in the epistle to the Hebrews, hope is compared to a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul. For this cause God is often called in the holy Scriptures the hope & fortress of his people & of his. It is written also, that they which hope in the Lord, do rejoice. For he 
Heb. 6. 19 jer. 17. 7. 13. 17. Psal. 65. 5. and 91. 2. 9 Psal. 31. 1 and 71. Psal. 1 18 8. 9 Pro. 10. 28. job. 8. 13. 14. 15.  that hopeth in him shall be healed & preserved. Therefore it is not without cause, that the spirit of God so often repeateth unto us this sentence, Blessed are they that put their trust in the Lord: for they shall never be confounded. It is better to hope in him then to put any confidence in Princes. But unfaithful & wicked men can never be partakers of such a Good, because they have no such hope. For it is written, The expectation of the just is gladness, but the hope of the wicked shall perish. And again, The hope of the hypocrite shall perish, his confidence shall be cut off, and his trust shall be as the house of a spider. He shall leave upon his house, but it shall not stand, he shall hold him fast by it, yet shall it not endure. But to prosecute our matter, now that we have seen the hope of good men together with their joy, let us consider what remaineth to the wicked of their vain & false joy, namely, Fear, which is the second kind of sorrow mentioned by us. Tell us then AMANA, what Fear is, with the nature and effects thereof.   

Of fear, and of the nature and effects thereof towards the body, the mind, and soul, and how it troubleth them: of the true harness and armour against Fear. Chap. 46.  
AMANA. As wicked men can have no certain hope of any good they look for, so they never have any true joy of any present good, because they always forsake the true Good, and stay in that which is not Good but in their opinion and fantasy, neither do they at any time refer the end of good things unto God, but look only upon the things themselves. Therefore it is never in their power to rejoice in that joy which they account to be their true joy, but only by offending God, as we heard before. Which is the cause why they seek after nothing more than to hide themselves, and to departed from him as 
The wicked cannot abide to speak or hear of God.  much as they can possible, so that they would never hear any speech of him, but desire to bury the remembrance of him for ever, because they can hear nothing spoken of him but as of their judge, neither think of him; but he awakeneth their conscience, which they labour with might and main to rock asleep. Wherein they take a clean contrary course to that which they aught to follow to obtain the true Good. For seeing God is the sovereign Good of all creatures, what Good can they find that is greater, wherein they can fully rejoice and satisfy themselves? Or what other Good, dare they promise' to themselves to find without him, and when they have him for their enemy? But they are like to drunken men, who cannot understand this Divinity, until they have slept out their Wine, and are awaked out of their drunkenness. Than shall they know what is true and false joy, what is good and bad Hope, when their joy shall be turned into sorrow, their expectation and hope into fear and terror, wherewith the wicked shall be continually haunted, as the Spirit of God teacheth us.  
Now, as sorrow is a grief for some evil which a man presently feeleth, shutting up the heart as unwilling to receive it: so fear is a sorrow, which the heart conceiveth of some 
What fear is.  looked for evil, that may come unto it. Therefore it restraineth the heart also and closeth it up, as being desirous to avoid the evil. We see then that there is the same difference betwixt sorrow and fear in respect of evil, that is between joy and Hope in regard of Good. So that we may well say, that Fear is not only a fantasy and imagination of evil approaching, or a perturbation of the soul proceeding from the opinion it hath of some evil to come, but it is also a contraction and closing up of the heart, which cometh from that which every one judgeth to be evil for himself, when he thinketh it is at hand & will light upon him. Therefore first of all it draweth in and shutteth up the heart, and so weakeneth the same. Whereupon nature being desirous to relieve and secure it, sendeth heat unto it from the upper parts: and if that be not sufficient, she draweth away that heat also which is in the neither parts. By which doing she suddenly calleth back the blood and spirits 
How paleness, cold, and shaking are bred in the body.  unto the heart, and then followeth a general paleness and cold in all the outward parts, and chief in the face, with a shivering throughout the whole body. For seeing the first moving thereof is in the heart, the other always followeth: so that when the heart trembleth, the whole body doth so likewise. Whereupon it followeth, that by reason of the great beating and panting of the heart, the tongue faltreth and the voice is interrupted. Yea it cometh to pass sometimes, that present death followeth a great and sudden fear, because all the blood retiring to the heart choketh it, and utterly extinguisheth natural heat 
How death cometh through fear.  and the spirits, so that death must needs ensue thereof. Therefore we cannot doubt but that fear hath great power over all the body, and over life itself, For this cause Esaias, after he had denounced the judgement of God against the Babylonians, and the coming of the Medes and Persians' by whom their City should be taken, and themselves slain, saith thus: Therefore shall all hands be weakened, and all men's hearts shall melt: which is as much 
Easie 13. 7. 8.  to say, as that their hearts shall fail them for fear. And therefore he addeth, They shall be afraid: anguish and sorrow shall take them, and they shall have pain as a woman that traveleth: every one shall be amazed at his neighbour, and their faces shall be like flames of fire. But here we will note what he meaneth by these flames of fire. For if the face wax pale through 
A place of Easie expounded.  fear as it falleth out for the most part, it seemeth that it cannot be inflamed, for them it would be read rather than pale. But we are to know, that when nature will strengthen the heart, she sendeth unto is from all parts, succours of heat & blood to encourage it the more. Therefore they that have but a little warm blood in the hart are naturally the greater cowards: so that it is a better token of courage when the face is pale through fear, then when it waxeth read. For this cause Cato misliked that a child should become pale in the face through shame, in stead of being read: & that a soldier should look read in time of danger, in stead of being pale. For 
The cause of cowardness and the sign of courage.  as it is a token of impudency in a child not to blush for shame, so is it a sign of cowardliness in a man of war to look red when he seethe himself in any danger. Therefore a pale countenance showeth that the blood and natural heat are go to the heart to strengthen it: but when it is red, that argueth that the blood and heat are not much go inward to strengthen the heart: whereupon it is made more weak, and so the fear of it is greater & the trembling much more. And because the blood & natural heat mount upward in stead of descending, therefore doth the face look read. Which argueth want of courage and a fainting heart: as it befell the Babylonians, whose hearts were possessed with fear and terror at the coming of their enemies, because God would give them over into their hands. We might also refer this redness and inflammation of visage to the pains and griefs which they were to endure. For when one is pressed with grief, his countenance is read and fiery: because men are then as it were shut up in a fire.  
And as the face is read through Fear, for the reasons set down by us: so if the natural heat leave the heart and go downward, the fear is not only increased, but it bringeth withal a looseness of the belly. Therefore it is written in the Books of job, where it is spoken of the fear that Liviathan bringeth upon men, that the mighty tremble at his majesty, and 
job. 41. 16.  Purge themselves through his movings: that is, through fear of him. Hereupon a heathen Poet, when he would note a fearful & dastardly fellow, saith to this purpose, that his heart was fallen into his hoeles. Now if fear moveth all the body in this sort, no doubt but it greatly 
Effects of fear in the soul.  moveth also the mind and the whole soul of man. For it so troubleth the mind, that it confoundeth all the thoughts thereof; as we may try by this, that many times the lest fancy of evil that entereth into our brain, is enough to trouble the mind very much. For as imagination and fancy bear great sway over the affections, so they show what power they have, chiefly in the affection of Fear. And surely among all living creatures, none hath such a confused fear, or is more amazed therewith then man it. Therefore we may well say, that no misery is greater, no bondage more shameful, servile or vile, than fear is. For it maketh men very abjects, flatterers, and suspicious, and so daunteth their courage, that it leaveth them as it were half dead, yea, causeth them sometimes to despair utterly, so that they are as it were Images destitute of counsel, not knowing which ways to help themselves. For this cause the holy Scriptures make often mention of a heart that is powered out like water for fear, or that melteth like wax. And in jeremy it is said, In that day, saith the Lord, the heart of the King shall perish, and the heart of the Princes, and the Priests shall be astonished, and the Prophets shall wonder. For truly if a man be once 
josua 7. 5. Psal. 22. 14. jerem. 4. 9  possessed with fear, especially if he be inclined thereunto by nature, but above all, if God terrify him, a man may well exhort him to boldness and to take courage unto him, and allege all the reasons that can be to strengthen him, against Fear, but it will be to small purpose. Therefore one saith very well, that no harness can be found, which is able to encourage fear and to make it hardy. For if any Armourers had the skill to make such harness, they should want no customers. But only God is able to arm us against this, because it is he that giveth or taketh away the heart of man, that sendeth fear or boldness, as pleaseth him. For although he hath sowed the seeds of them both in the nature of the body and soul of man, with the means also that lead thereunto, yet he hath not subjecteth himself to all those means, no more than he hath to the whole order of nature, but hath always reserved in his power both Fear & faintness of heart, and boldness and assurance, which are their contraries. For assurance is a certain persuasion and trust, whereby we are confirmed in danger against evils that threaten us and come near u●● 
The definitions of assurance and boldness.  and boldness is a confidence, which pricketh forward the courage either to repulse evils or to follow after good things, which are excellent and hard to obtain. Therefore when GOD is minded to punish men, he taketh away their hearts whom he will destroy, causing them to tremble and to fly for fear, as it is written in josuah, where Rahab speaking to thespies of the Israelites that were sent to jericho, useth these words. I 
josua 2. 9  know that the Lord hath given you this land, for the fear of you is fallen upon us, & all the inhabitants of the land faint because of you. Contrariwise, our GOD heartneth and emboldeneth those by whom he will overthrow others, and to whom he mindeth to grant victory. Therefore it is written, that he will 'cause the fear of his servants to fall upon his enemies, that the wicked and such as have not called upon GOD, shall fear where there is no cause 
Psal. 53. 5.  of fear, & shall tremble and fly for fear although there be none that persecute them. So that if we do desire to find a harness that will arm our heart thoroughly against all fear, let us put on the armour of the true fear of GOD, and of sound Faith in him. For as the Prophet David saith, Blessed is the man that feareth the Lord: the just shall live in assured hope: he shall never be moved, he shall not be afraid of evil tidings, for his heart is fixed 
Ps. 112. 1. 7. 8  and believeth in the Lord: his heart is established, therefore he will not fear. For whosoever feareth God and walketh in innocency, God is with him: and he that hath God on his side, what can he or aught he to fear? For when he is with us, who shall be against v? May he not well say with David, When I was afraid, I trusted in thee. In God do I trust, I will not be 
Psal. 56. 3. 1 1. and 1 18. 6. Pro. 14. 26. joh 14 1.  afraid what man can do unto me. In the fear of the Lord (saith the wise man,) there is assured strength, and his children so all have hope. Therefore jesus Christ saith to his Disciples, Let not you heart be troubled. And then he showeth them the means, saying, Ye believe in God, believe also in me. For nothing but Faith in God through jesus Christ is able to give us this assurance. On the other side, if we be not armed with the fear of God, and with true faith, that we may be certain of his help and providence, and of his love towards us, there is nothing that can assure us: but rather that which is written in the Law will befall us, I will, saith the Lord, sand a faintness into their hearts in the land of their enemies, and the 
Levit. 26. 36.  sound of a leaf shaken shall chase them, and, They shall flee: as fleeing from a sword, and they shall fall, no man pursuing them. And in another place where mention is made of them that despise the Law of God, and rebel against the Lord, it is said, The Lord shall give thee a trembling heart, and looking to return till thine eyes fall out, and a sorrowful mind. Thy life shall hung 
Den 28. 65. 66. 67.  before thee, thou shalt fear both night and day, and shalt have none assurance of thy life. In the morning thou shalt say, would God it were evening, and at evening thou shalt say, would God it were morning, for the fear of thine heart which thou shalt fear, and for the sight of thine eyes, which thou shalt see. Therefore when we see, that in any great and dangerous affairs, the boldest and most courageous are oftentimes the greatest cowards, and most astonished and carried away with fear and terror, and even many times without any great cause are amazed and void of counsel, whereas contrariwise cowards by nature grow to be most hardy in the midst of dangers, thereby God showeth very well, whether strength and courage come 
God is the author of courage.  from him or from men, and who is to have the praise thereof. But now that we have seen the first motions of the heart in the affections of joy, of sorrow, of hope, and of fear, and know that they have respect to good or evil, either present or to come, let us learn in the next place, that as contemplation consisteth in the rest of the Spirit after the discourse of reason and judgement, so after the heart hath the fruition of that Good which belongeth unto it, it is still and quiet, resting itself therein: which rest is called Delight or pleasure, of which the order of our speech requireth that thou shouldest dilate, ARAM, at this present.   

Of the delight and pleasure that followeth every joy, and of the moderation that is required therein: of divers degrees of pleasures, and how men abuse them, especially those pleasures, which are received by the corporal senses. Chap. 47.  
ARAM. It is certain, that all the affections which God hath placed in the nature of man, were given unto him in regard of so many good things, which were meet and convenient for his will to long after and to desire. For joy and hope, which afford pleasure and consolation to the heart, were bestowed upon him to be spurs and solicitors to induce him to seek after God his sovereign Good; in whom alone he may find all delight rest and 
Why God hath given men affections  pleasure. As for sorrow and fear, they are sure testimonies unto men of the judgement of God, and executioners of his vengeance to this end that the fear of evil, which may come unto them, should keep the● 〈◊〉 we, and that sorrow and grief for evil which they have already committed, should be unto them both hangman & punishment. It is true that these affections being natural in every one, bring forth contrary effects both in the good & in the bad. For the children of God never separate his power from his goodness, & the fear which they have of him, is not joined with hatred, but with trust in his mercy, which moveth 
The divers effects of fear in the godly and in the wicked.  them to be grieved for offending him, and to love him, to seek him and to rejoice in him, and to have him in singular honour and veneration. But the wicked who fear and tremble, like to malefactors fearing their judge, hate and despite God, desiring nothing more than to escape his hands, and to flee from him as far as they can. If they be grieved, it is because they may not enjoy false joys, and unlawful pleasures. Therefore that which is given them for Good, is turned by them into sin and evil, and pleasure and grief.  
But here we must call to mind what we have spoken already concerning the signification of this word Good, as it is commonly taken, not considering whether it be true or false, but only according to that opinion which men have of it. For there are many whose fancy is sufficient to afford them as much pleasure, as if indeed they enjoyed that Good, which they think to have. We see many such fools in the world. For some are Popes or Cardinals 
A fantastical Good.  by fantasy: others Emperors or Kings and great princes, or otherwise very rich, or possessors of some great Good. And yet such fantastical fellows are better contented & pleased with that which they think they have in their foolish imagination, than they that have them in truth, unto whom commonly they serve for nothing but to torment them more. Therefore I know not which of them I should esteem more foolish and fantastical. 
Who are to be accounted wise men.  For none aught to be taken for truly wise men, and of ripe judgement, but they who know that all things in the world and under the Sun, are only vanity, as Solomon showeth in his book of the Preacher. Therefore he saith thus: I said in mine heart, Go to now, I will prove thee with joy: therefore take thou pleasure in pleasant things: and behold 
Ecles. 2. 1.  this also is vanity. I said of laughter, thou art mad, and of joy, what is this that thou dost? But to go forward with our matter, let us consider what delight and pleasure is, so far as men may enjoy it in this life. It is then a rest which the heart taketh in the enjoying of some Good that it liketh: even as contemplation is the rest of the spirit after the discourse of Reason & judgement. 
Of delight & pleasure what it is, and how it is received  Now we are to note, that there is no delight & pleasure in any thing, except there be some agreement between that part or power that requireth pleasure, & that which bringeth the same unto it. This agreement cannot be without good proportion of the one with the other, whereby there is some similitude and resemblance between them. For this cause also, the thing that bringeth delight must not exceed too much, either in greatness, or in smallness above the power which receiveth it, in regard of that part or instrument whereby the pleasure is received.  
Hereupon when we spoke of the eyes and ears, we showed that light was to be dispensed to the eyes, and sound to the ears, in good measure and moderation. For if the light be too great, the eyes cannot receive it: insomuch that they will be hurt and offended, in stead of receiving delight. On the other side if it be too little, it will not suffice them: and therefore it must be between both. And as every man's sight is sharper and stronger, or more dull and weaker, so must the light be dispensed according to that measure. The like may be said of sounds in regard of the ears, and of all other things in respect of those senses unto which they agreed. And if this moderation be requisite for the outward senses, it is no less necessary in respect of the inward senses, and of all the powers of the soul. Therefore as God is incomprehensible and infinite, so is he received with delight of that part of the soul, which cometh nearest unto his nature, and which is most incomprehensible, most ample, and most infinite in regard of other parts, and that is the Spirit and Understanding. On the other side, because there is no porportion or agreement in greatness and infiniteness between GOD and the Soul, she receiveth and comprehendeth 
How God communicateth himself unto men.  him by such means, whereby he may be applied unto her, and she made after a sort capable of him. For if he should present himself unto her, such as he is in his high and divine majesty, especially man being in this estate wherein he is in this mortal life, she could not bear so high majesty, as being too exceeding great for her. So that instead of receiving pleasure, joy & delight, she should not only be very much frighted, but even wholly overwhelmed & swallowed up as a drop of water would be consumed being thrown into a great fire: as we may judge by so many examples as are in the holy Scriptures to this purpose. For when GOD maniefested himself to the patriarchs, he never appeared unto them in the greatness of his majesty, but took unto him always some shape, and used such means as were a agreeable to their nature. Therefore also it is very requisite, that God should descend & apply himself unto our small capacity, to the end we may enjoy him and his Goods, and take pleasure and delight in them. For this cause, he hath not only appointed the ministery of his word and Sacraments to show and communicate himself unto us by them, applying himself unto our nature and capacity, but hath also manifested himself in flesh, in the person of his son jesus Christ, to become more like unto us, and to draw nearer unto us in our own nature, to this end that we might enjoy him and all his benefits the better, and receive more true and entire delight in them.  
And thus much for this point of the agreement that aught to be between the thing that delighteth, and that which receiveth pleasure. Next we are to note, that a man may take pleasure by all those parts whereby he may know, as well by the internal as the external senses, and by all the powers of the mind and soul. Whereupon it followeth, 
Of the divers degrees of pleasures according to every man's nature.  that as every one is more or less addicted to any of these parts, so he delighteth most in those pleasures, which he may receive by that part unto which he is most given. Therefore we see that the base and more vile sort of people, and such as are most rude and ignorant, are more moved by corporal and external things, which move the bodily senses, then by spiritual and high things, that are more meet for the spirit, and wherein it taketh greater pleasures. But with prudent and wise men, and such as are more spiritual, it is otherwise. So that as every one's nature is more noble and excellent, or more vile and abject, and according to the nature of those things wherein every one delighteth, so is the delight, either more noble and excellent, or more base and contemptible, more pure and quiet, or more impure and troublesome, of longer or of shorter continuance, and hath more or fewer pleasures, and those either more or less tedious. Now among those delights which a man may take by the bodily senses, the basest & most abject of all, is that which is received 
The delights of the bodily senses.  by the sense of touching. For as it is most earthy of all the external senses, so are the pleasures that are taken by it. That delight which is taken by the sense of tasting, is a little more honest and less contemptible, and yet is it brutish enough. As for the delight that may be received by the sense of smelling, it is very light, and nothing so pleasant, as the irksomeness that cometh of the contrary, is unpleasant. For a good smell bringeth not so great pleasure as an evil smell causeth displeasure: beside, that this sense of smelling is not so sharp in man as in beasts. And concerning those pleasures, which a man may receive by the ears, they have some more beauty and excellency in them. For the more they hold of the nature of the air, they are so much the less earthy and brutish. And those which we receive by the eyes, are yet more excellent than all the rest, because the eyes are of the nature of the fire, which cometh nearest to the celestial nature. And thus much for those pleasures, which a man may receive by the corporal senses, of which the noblest & best are base & of less excellency than the lest of those, which we may receive by the basest parts and powers of the soul. For, as much as the soul is more noble & more worthy than the body, so much is the lest thing in it greater and more magnifical, then that which is most noble and most excellent 
The delights of the internal senses.  in the body. And as there are divers degrees of pleasures according to the variety of the external senses, & according to the difference that is betwixt them and the powers of the soul: so is it between the powers of the soul, as some of them are more noble & more divine than others. For those which appertain to the nourishing and generative powers, are more corporal, earthy and brutish, than those that belong to the vital parts & to the heart. And those that are proper to the spirit and mind, are purest and best of all: among 
Contemplation is the greatest delight of the soul.  which that delight that is in contemplation is the chiefest, as we may judge by that which we have already spoken. Wherhfore if we would consider well of all these degrees of delight and pleasure, and could judge well of them, we should not be so deceived in them as commonly we are, preferring the lest before the greatest, the basest before the noblest, those that are most earthy before them that are most heavenly, and those that fade soon before them that continued longest. Besides, the very enjoying of every one of them aught to suffice to make us know their nature, & the difference between the one & the other, & how far one is to be preferred before an other. For how do we see men given over to those pleasures 
Of the abuse of pleasure.  wherein they delight, not only in eating and drinking, in dainty morsels and delicate drinks, but also in other carnal pleasures that are more earthy & vile, especially when they are excessive and unmeasurable; as they are in whoredom? For those which we receive in eating and drinking, belong to the sense of taste, which is brutish enough: but these others to the sense of touching, which is a great deal more brutish. We know by experience also, that these senses are sooner wearied and tired with their pleasures, than any other, and that such delights commonly bring with them more irksomeness & loathing then joy & pleasure: leaving many times behind them a long & shameful repentance for pollutions received by them. The pleasures that belong to the other senses, as they are of longer continuance, so they 
Against the immoderate use of pleasures.  weary not a man so quickly, especially those that delight the sight. Yea the base and more vile the pleasures are, the sooner do they loathe a man, as they know by experience that are given to whoredom. For how insatiable soever they be, yet can they not but be glutted therewith: neither are they able to continued their unruliness so long in that pleasure (howsoever they want no good will) as in the pleasures that come by eating and drinking. Neither can the greatest gluttons, drunkards, and dainty mouthed persons follow so long together after the delights of their gluttony, drunkenness, and dainty diet, as they may after those which they receive either in smelling, or in hearing, or in seeing. As for the pains that are to be taken in the obtaining and using of these pleasures, the more earthly and brutish the delight is, the greater labour is to be had about it: and the more excessively the pleasure it used, the greater hurt cometh thereby, as we daily see in gluttons, drunkards, and whoremongers, by the testimony of those diseases, which take hold of them through their excess. Thus than we may learn by the use of those pleasures, which are received by the bodily and outward senses, which of them are to be preferred before others, with the agreement necessary therein, and the moderation that always aught to be observed in them. But to go forward with our matter, we are now to compare together the delights and pleasures that are received by the spiritual and internal senses, and to understand what difference there is between the use of the pleasures of the spirit and of the body, and how the one drive away the other. Now let us hear what ACHITOB will tell us of this point.   

Of the comparison of pleasures received by the internal senses: and how men descend by degrees from the best to the basest pleasures: of the difference between the use of spiritual delights and corporal: and how the one chase the other. Chap. 48.  
ACHITOB. Experience daily teacheth us, that we need but a little grief to diminish a great pleasure, or otherwise to take it clean away, and to change it into great displeasure, yea to turn a great joy into extreme sorrow and sadness. But few there are that meditate and know the cause thereof. The truth is, we can think of no other cause, then 
The cause why a little grief is stronger in us then a great pleasure.  of the corruption of our nature, of the estate and disposition of our body, of the course of our age and life, which decline continually and wax worse and worse. Therefore a small grief findeth greater strength within us to 'cause our heart to give back and to close up itself, and wholly to cast us down, than a great joy and delight is able to to open and enlarge it, and to sustain and hold us up. For a little force will throw down this shaking and reeling body, but there had need to be a great deal of strength to underprop and stay it up firm and steadfast. On the other side we can more easily want pleasures, than not feel their contrary griefs.  
For we do not perceive so much the want of a good which we have not, as the presence of an evil which we suffer. For in the first, it seemeth that we want nothing, but in the other the sense is afflicted, and the sound estate and disposition thereof is clean taken away and overthrown. Now if we desire to feel such grief as little as we may, and to approach as near as our nature will permit, to true delight & pleasures, we must withdraw ourselves from vile and abject things, and contemplate most high and excellent things.  
Now as we have learned by the former discourse that those delights and pleasures, which are received by the chiefest senses that savour lest of the earth, are of longer continuance 
Of the pleasures of fantasy.  than the other, so we are to know, that the pleasures of the fancy are more stable and firm than those which come by the corporal senses. Hereof it is, that men are cloyed a great deal sooner not only with the pleasures of eating and drinking and of other more abject things, but also of sweet smells, of music, of harmonical sounds, and of the beholding of goodly sights, then with those goods that are in the fancy and in opinion, whereby the mind is deceived, as namely the getting and possessing of silver, of riches, of power, of honours, and of glory. For these Goods are goods rather in opinion then in truth. But because fancy propoundeth them unto herself for Goods, therefore she taketh pleasure and delight in them. Therefore the covetous man delighteth in his gold, silver, and riches: and the ambitious man in power, glory, and honours, which are the pleasure of fancy, and with which she is not so soon wearied, as the body is with corporal pleasures, but contrariwise the more she hath, the more her delight increaseth, and becometh insatiable. But the pleasures of reason, of the mind and of the spirit, continued a great deal longer than they, 
The pleasures of reason and of the mind.  because the spirit is not weary or tired, but is recreated and refreshed. But none can judge well of this, but those that have had experience thereof. No marvel therefore if such men as are addicted to these other more base and earthly pleasures, mock and deride them that contemn their delights, and make so great account of these spiritual and heavenly pleasures, that they are content to renounce all the rest, and to forego all the goods in the world that they may enjoy these, as we see it was with those holy person ages that have tasted of them. As for those carnal and beastlike men, we may say of them as we do of hogs, that delight more in a puddle or sink, then in precious stones or sweet odours, namely that they follow that which is most agreeable to their natural disposition, because they want judgement to discern the value of those things which they contemn and make no account of.  
Now among the pleasures of the spirit, those that consist in contemplation are of their nature by which we shall become blessed in the life that lasteth for ever. Therefore it is no strange thing, if many of the Philosophers affirmed, that this kind of life was the best of all and most excellent: and if Aristotle placed the end of all Goods and of beatitude in contemplation. Now if these Philosophers that never knew what was the true and chief Good, did notwithstanding mount up so high, what a shame is it for us to whom the sovereign Good is revealed from heaven, if we stay and as it were rot in these base, brutish and supposed pleasures? Therefore we must consider, how we come down by degrees from the 
How we descend from true pleasures to false delights.  highest unto the lowest step, by reason of this heavy burden wherewith our nature corrupted through sin, is sore charged: whereupon she is driven downward to seek for delights and pleasures, and to recreate herself in these earthly things. But according as she retaineth more or less of her first purity and nobility, so she keepeth higher, or descendeth lower from the contemplation of the highest and most excellent things, to those that belong to the affections of this life. Therefore some take pleasure in the administration either of the commonwealth, or of their domestical affairs. There are others who not being able to soar up so high, delight themselves in the knowledge and remembrance only of those things that were done by other men, yea many times in histories and fables. Some take pleasure in handy-workes, and in such arts & occupations as belong to them. There are many, that cannot apply their minds to so good things as those, but give them the bridle to recreate and delight themselves either in unprofitable sports and pastimes, or in vile and abject idleness. Yea there are others that come lower. For they suffer themselves to be overcome by the allurements of their corporal senses, so that they fall into brutish pleasures, as if they were become brute beasts, and as if their mind and spirit were wholly swallowed up and plunged in the most bomtomlesse gulf of immoderate and excessive pleasure. And when a man is come down follow, he can descend no lower. But yet he may 
Of pleasures which men seek crosseways.  seek after pleasures cross-wise, and turn clean out of the way from reason and judgement, feeding and delighting his fancy and imagination with false opinions. From hence it is that he hath found out nobility, renown, glory, popularity, favour of Princes, and all other vain things that consist in external goods. Yea if he could, he would gladly be deprived of that spirit and mind which God hath given him, that he might not retain & keep any gravity or severity beseeming his nature, but plunge and give over himself with full fail to follow all kind of pleasure, voluptuousness and delight. For his nature is become so nice and tender, that he can away with nothing that would molest him: so that every little burden waieth very heavy upon him. Again, it is already so pressed with the farthel of corruption, that of itself it draweth downward continually, and needeth not be driven that way by any other means. Therefore a great many, that of themselves would not seem to stoop so low, fearing to loose any part of their reputation, if they should not keep that gravity that be seemeth their person, find means to do that by others which they durst not do of themselves. Hereof it cometh, that they delight in Mummers, fools, tumblers and other of like trades, which are not only unprofitable for the life of man, but very hurtful also, by reason of the corruptions which they bring with them. In all which things we may see the vanity of our corrupt nature, and of those pleasures it taketh delight in. But there are other notable reasons, whereby we know what difference there is between the pleasures of the mind and spirit, and those of the corporal senses. For the spirit needeth no space of time wherein to intermit his pleasures, and then to take them in hand again, but only changeth them from one to another, namely from the greater to the less, or from the less to the greater. In the mean time I say, there is no intermission, but it is continually 
Of the use of the delights of the spirit.  busied: only it changeth from one delight to another. For seeing our spirit is in continual motion, it can in no wise cease from doing, unless the power from whence the motion thereof proceedeth, be stayed by some impediment of the instruments which it useth. As indeed 
How the spirit is hundred in his actions.  it falleth out in a drunken man, whose spirit and mind is as it were buried by those vapours that trouble it, of which the brain is full. The like is in an Apoplexy or falling sickness. For these are violent things and such as resist the nature of the spirit. But presently after the violence ceaseth which hindereth his power, he falleth to his accustomed action again, for the doing whereof he needeth no external aid, but only that all lets and impediments should be removed and taken out of the way. Which being removed the spirit & mind cannot be idle, but necessarily thinketh of somewhat continually, about which it is occupied. Therefore whosoever laboureth to stay it altogether from thinking, so that it should not be busied about something, it is all one as if he went about to change the nature of the fire, and to keep it from burning, after it hath found convenient matter and is already kindled. For either it will be utterly extinguished, if the impediment it hath be stronger than it, or else being of greater force it will make way for itself. Therefore we had need to be well advised always what matter we minister to our spirit, and look that it be agreeable to the nature thereof, and beseeming the same, lest it should be distracted and wander after those things that might hurt it. And when we would recreate the mind, seeing it is in continual action, we must so change the matters about which it is to be employed, that 
How the spirit must be occupied.  they be good and honest, howsoever they be divers and sundry. But it is not so with the corporal senses.  
For they must necessarily have some space of time to rest in even from their pleasures, & to cease for a while from using them: because they are more fresh and pleasant after they have abstained for a time. But the spirit cannot rest. In the mean time the pleasures of the body, and those of the soul and spirit have one another in chase. Therefore they that are addicted to corporal pleasures, have less knowledge and feeling of those that are spiritual; and contrariwise they that delight in spiritual pleasures abstain from those that are corporal. 
How corporal and spiritual pleasures chase each other.  For these delights are in continual combat one against another, so that they cannot be acquainted together, because they are contraries. This combat is such another as that which is between the flesh and the spirit.  
Moreover, we see by experience, that those delights which we receive of natural things have more force and are purer, and continued lower then artificial pleasures. For let a man show us the goodliest works that can be, either of gold or of silver, or pictures, or garments, 
Natural pleasures are more pure than artificial.  or houses as curiously wrought as can be devised, either for beauty or cost, yet when we have seen them four or five times, we begin to be full of it, and take not so great pleasure therein as we did. But who is ever weary of beholding, I will not say the heavens, the Sun, the Moon, and the Stars, but the earth, the sea, rivers, mountains, valleys, gardens, trees, herbs and flowers? The cause hereof is the agreement of nature. For we being natural, natural things are more agreeable unto us then artificial. And because we were created and made, not by the hand of a Painter and mortal man, but by the hand of the living GOD, who painteth living images and pictures, therefore we take greater delight in his handy works, then in the works of any other, how excellent a workman soever he be. And indeed they are of far greater perfection than those that are made by the art of man. Therefore Art laboureth always to follow nature, and to express her works as near as it can: insomuch that they are accounted the best work men, and men delight most in their doings, that come nearest unto nature. How much more than aught we to like the works of nature, and consequently GOD himself, who is the Author and Creator of nature, and of all her works? For the lest work of his in nature is more excellent in his kind, than the perfectest work that human art is able to show. Now if we come from his natural works, to those that are supernatural and above the reach of nature, we shall find in them a great deal more matter of all kind of delight. For if we could consider aright of these things, we would ascend up from 
Degrees to ascend up to sound & perfect delight.  artificial things, and from that delight which they afford us, even unto natural things, and from these unto the Author and Creator of them and of all nature, & there we would seek for our true delight and pleasure. Herein nature herself is our good Mistress, as she that leadeth us thereunto as it were by the hand. But our inconsiderateness, or blockishness and ingratitude is the cause, why we cannot learn this lesson of her and why we have not the marvelous and excellent works of God and nature in such due admiration as we aught to have.  
Whereupon it cometh to pass also, that we take not so great delight and pleasure in them, and that custom which aught to increase this delight in us, is a mean rather to diminish the same. And by this means also we are kept from that admiration which we aught to have of God the Workemaster of them, and of that delight and pleasure, which we should find in him, if we mounted up so high and sought him there. But because we are always musing about vile and abject things, we have no leisure to consider of, and to contemplate higher and more wonderful things. Now to end this days speech, seeing we are taught that God hath given us the affections of joy and of sorrow, to induce and move us to seek him, to the end that by eschewing the evil that is contrary unto us, we might attain to that sovereign Good, which he hath prepared for us, and to that true delight, pleasure and bliss, which we may find in him; let us know, that we have good occasion to pray unto him incessantly, that he would vouchsafe so to lighten our senses and mind, and to rule all our affections and wills in such sort, that we may at the length attain thereunto. For than we shall not only be delivered from all sorrow and grief, but have the full fruition of perfect joy and perpetual delight. And to the end that we may go forward to morrow with our matter of the affections of the heart and soul, thou shalt entreat ASER, of the affections of Love, which follow those of which we have already spoken.   
The end of the sixt days work   

The seventh days work.  

Of the affection of Love, of the nature, kinds, and object of it: of the beginning of friendship: of the virtue and force of alluring that is in likeness and in beauty: of the agreement that is between beauty and goodness. Chap. 49.  
ASER. If we know not thoroughly the affections of our soul, which by reason of the corruption of our nature, are so many diseases in us, we shall never know ourselves well, nor the Image of God, which is imprinted in our soul, nor the affection of his goodness towards us. Likewise we can never learn what pure and sound parts of the nature of the affections remain yet in man, and what 
The knowledge of the affections very requisite.  is added thereunto by reason of sin that is in us, neither yet what virtue and vice are, except we truly know the nature of the affections. Moreover, without this knowledge, we can never make choice of good from evil, or of truth from lying. For being, as we must needs be during this life, subject unto, and tossed on every side with an infinite number of strange passions, if they be unknown unto us, we cannot discern amongst a multitude of contrary opinions, which of them is soundest, every one of them pretending some show of good & of truth. Therefore as we saw yesterday the affections of joy and of sorrow, of hope and of fear, and of delight and pleasure, which follow joy, whereby we may conceive the contrary unto it, namely, grief and torment which follow sorrow; so this day we are to proceed in learning what other affections there are of the heart and soul.  
I will begin then with the affection of love, which is a motion whereby the heart lusteth after that which is good indeed, or which seemeth unto it to be so, desiring to draw 
What love is.  the good to itself, to the end it may enjoy the same. This affection cometh near to the nature of hope, but it is a great deal more hot. Therefore after the heart is once moved, it presently draweth unto it that thing which is offered for good, labouring as it were to have the fruition of some great Good. But let us consider how this affection is bred in the heart. 
How love is engendered.  After that judgement hath judged a thing to be good, so soon as the same things is presented to the Will, it doth by and by move, allure and draw the same unto itself by a certain natural agreement, even as the like is between the mind and the truth, and between the eye and beauty. This motion of the heart and will, hath even then joined with a certain kind of rejoicing, as testifying thereby, that the thing pleaseth it, and is very good and agreeable unto it. Now when this rejoicing is confirmed, it is called love, which is an inclination or a proceeding of the will towards that which is good. For it fareth with the Will, as if it went before to meet with the good that is coming, to receive & embrace it. Whereupon ariseth a desire of conjunction to knit the same thing to itself, and this love is called cupidity, Lusting, or Coveting. But because this affection is so out of square in this our corrupt nature, these names are commonly taken more in the evil then in the good part. Now this affection of desire or coveting, hath respect either to that good which we enjoy already, or which we have yet in hope only and in expectation. If it be already present, this cupidity 
Of the kinds of desire.  breedeth a desire to retain and keep it still: if it be yet in expectation, it bringeth forth a desire & longing to enjoy it. And in this sort we love all those things which we esteem and take to be profitable for us, either for the soul, or for the body, or for the external goods. For this cause many love God, because they know that it is he who giveth good things unto men. But this is not that true love wherewith we must love him. For although they are very wicked 
Of the love of men towards God.  and too unthankful, which love him not, at leastwise with such a love and for that cause, yet if we go no further, we love ourselves more than we do him in this kind of love, seeing the chief cause for which we love him, is not in respect of himself, but of us. For we love him by reason of that good, which we receive from him. But true love is that, which causeth us to love a thing, because it is good in itself, and not in respect of any profit that may come unto us thereby. With this love we aught to love God, & our neighbours & friends: & of this love we have a very clear & manifest image in the love of fathers & mothers towards their children. For they love them, not because they have respect to some good, which they may receive of them, but because they are their children. For although they receive nothing 
The love of parents towards their children. The love of God towards men.  but trouble by them from the time of their childhood, and expenses rather than profit, yet that letteth them not from loving them tenderly & with great affection. Now if by this love grounded upon such a cause, we judge the like of the love of God towards us, seeing it is he that hath imprinted the same in the hearts of parents towards their children, as an image of his love towards us, we conclude well. For seeing he is the fountain of all true and perfect love, all other loves are but as it wee little rivers, which flow from this lively spring. But there is none so express an image thereof in all the creatures, as the love of fathers and mothers towards their children. For doth God love us in respect of any profit, which he looketh for at our hand? Hereof it is that he setteth forth himself unto u● as a Father, to the end we may the better know, that he loveth us with a right fatherly love. Therefore also he will have us to call him father, & so to accounted of him: yea he will not have us to take any other for our Father of whom we depend wholly, but him alone. And no doubt but we should receive wonderful joy and consolation, if we could as well feel within us that love which this good Father beareth us, as we feel the love which we bear towards our children. Now when love is reciprocal and mutual, so that he which is loved doth also love for his part the party that loveth him, then is friendship bred of love, wherein is mutual 
The original of friendship.  benevolece and good will. Wherhfore as God loveth us, so must we for our parts love him, seeing this is the chief cause why he hath created man according to his image and similitude, and hath given him a soul that is immortal, and endued with understanding and reason, to know him first and then to love him. Therefore if we consider by what steps we ascend up to God, we shall find that as by the love which he first bore us, we descended from the highest to the lowest, so likewise we mount up again from the lowest unto the 
In what sort by love we ascend up to God, and descend again.  highest by that love, which we bear him. For our soul descendeth from the highest, which is God, unto the lowest which is the body, by the love of the Creator towards her, who by means of this descending and conjunction communicateth his blessedness both with the soul and with the body. And as she came down from him, so by the knowledge which she hath of God, and love which she beareth him, she ascendeth up again and returneth to her first birth. Concerning those degrees by which we come thither, we begin first at material and corporal things, as the beginning of man's generation and birth teacheth us: then we come to the senses of the body, by that use which we have of them. Afterwards we use imagination and fantaste, and from that we come to reason and judgement, next to contemplation, and last of all to love. Hereby we may learn also to know the steps of descending, seeing they are the same, but begun at the contrary end. Wherhfore if judgement be governed and overcome by the affections, and reason by fantasy, the estate of the soul is wholly overturned and perverted, as if the body being minded to walk, should set the head upon the ground, and lift the heels upward. So likewise is it if in stead of mounting up to God by love, we descend in such sort to the creatures, that we ascend up no more to 
Of the union that is in love  him, that we may be one with him. For love maketh all things one. Therefore if we be united with God, there must needs be perfect friendship between him and us. For as he loveth us, so we love him, & then ourselves for love of him. And from the love of ourselves springeth our love towards our wives and children, as though they were a part of us, as also towards our like and towards our works. For similitude and likeness is a great cause of love, seeing that when one resembleth us, it is as if we ourselves were another: because similitude 
Similitude is a cause of love.  maketh many things to be as one and the same thing. Wherhfore seeing God hath created us to his image and likeness, it cannot be but that he loveth his image and similitude in us, and us also in respect of that, as if it were himself. For this cause the more this image is reform and renewed in us, the more (no doubt) he loveth us: and the like also may be said of our love towards him. In like manner beauty hath great virtue to procure 
Beauty draweth love.  love, and that for many causes. For first, the beauty which appeareth without in any body, is as it were a witness and testimony of the beauty in the soul, according to that which we have already spoken of the agreement of the powers and affections thereof with the temperature of the body. For God hath created all things in such manner, that he hath commonly joined beauty and goodness together. And as it is written in Genesis, That he created 
Genes. 1.  nothing but that which was very good, so there was nothing made, but it was very beautiful in his kind. Therefore as there is agreement between the body and soul, so bodily beauty is as it were an image of the beauty of the soul, and promiseth after a sort some good thing of the inward beauty. For internal perfection breedeth the external. Whereupon the internal 
Beauty a flower of goodness.  is called goodness, and the external beauty, which is as it were a flower of goodness, that is the seed. It is true that this which we say doth not always fall out so, but that oftentimes a man may see the clean contrary: whereupon we have this common proverb, Proper fellows at the gallows; & fair women in the stows. For ordinarily the goodliest men & such as are 
A caveat for fair women.  best furnished with the gifts of nature in the disposition of their body, are most wicked and vicious: and more beautiful women are strumpets, then foul women, at leastwise they are in greatest danger, & have much more ado to keep their chastity. For there is always great 
The force of Beauty.  strife between chastity & beauty, which is so much the more increased, as beauty is the greater, because it is so violent, that oftentimes many desire willingly to die for the beauty of others, and some are so tossed and tormented, that they become senseless and out of their wits being overtaken with looking upon a beautiful face, which hath such pricks, that they pierce even to the liveliest part of their heart and soul.  
Whereupon it cometh to pass, that the poor silly lovers are so tormented and full of passions, that they stand altogether amazed, and are like to them that are roasted by a soft fire: yea their soul is so subjecteth to their concupiscence & desire, that she must obey them, as if she were some poor chambermaid and drudge. Whereby we may know what good there is in such Beauty, and what good cometh with it, also what conjunction and agreement it may have with goodness, and whether a man may not truly say according to our common proverb, That Beauty without goodness is worth nothing. But we are to consider what is the 
The causes of the abuse of Beauty.  cause hereof. For we speak not of that which is now done, but of that which should be done, if the nature of man had continued sound: and of that which yet would most commonly be put in use, were it not that evil education, besides that natural corruption which is already in every one, did infect even that little good of natural inclination which remaineth man. But howsoever it be, bodily beauty doth always promise' more good of the soul, than deformity doth. If it fall out otherwise, it is because God will show, that all good things come from his only grace, and not from nature: and therefore he doth not always follow one course and one self same order without any change. Besides, he commonly recompenseth in one thing that which is wanting in another, so that he supplieth that in the spirit which is wanting in the body, or in the body which is wanting in the spirit. On the other side, because many abuse that beauty of the body which God hath bestowed upon them, as they do all other his gifts, he letteth them fall oftentimes into great vices, whereby they show the deformity of the soul, which bringeth also their bodily beauty into great obloquy and shame. For as beauty causeth virtue to appear more fair, when it is joined therewith, so contrariwise it maketh vice more ugly and loathsome to look upon. Therefore Socrates had reason to say, that it was good for every one to behold himself in a glass, 
●●ood use 〈◊〉 Looking-glasses.  that they which saw themselves fair should be the more afraid to blot their beauty with vices, and that they which were foul should labour to beautify themselves with virtues. Now seeing we are entered into the causes why beauty draweth Love, following this matter, we would know of thee AMANA, what other things are to be considered herein, with the sundry degrees and kinds of Beauty, and what is the proper effect of Love.   

Of other causes why Beauty procureth Love, and of divers degrees and kinds of Beauty: how it is the nature of Love always to unite, and what other effects it hath: how Love descendeth and ascendeth not: what power it hath to allure and breed Love. Chap. 50.  
AMANA. Many amongst the Philosophers have made three kinds of good, or of good things: namely, that which is pleasant, profitable, and honest. Hereupon, forasmuch as 
Three kinds of Love.  Love is a desire of good or goodly things, or at leastwise of things so accounted: they have also made three kinds or sorts of Love, of which the first is towards delightful and pleasant things, and such are those things which tickle and delight our senses, being properly called the goods of the body. The second kind of Love is towards profitable things, as honours, riches, greatness and such other like things, called external goods or the goods of Fortune. The third kind is towards honest things, as wisdom, prudence and other virtues, which are the goods of the soul. As for the two kinds of Love, we may well place them amongst the perturbations of the soul, because so many evil affections spring from them that all confusion proceedeth from them, yea every man's life is thereby made miserable. But to love and desire good and honest things, is that which truly maketh a man famous. For this love maketh the chief part of his soul excellent, even that part whereby he is man, and which is farthest removed from bodily matter and from obscurity, and nearest to divine brightness, I mean the spirit and understanding, which of all the other parts and powers of man, only is void of the blot of mortality. The consideration of the divers degrees and sundry sorts of beauty doth prepare the way whereby we may come to this laudable and honest love. For by them we may ascend up from the lowest to the highest, and turn our corporal and earthly loves into spiritual and heavenly.  
They that are most ignorant know that love is a desire of beauty, and that Beauty draweth Love. Yea some of the learned Heathens have taught, that it was Love which moved 
God created the world by love.  God not only to created the world, but also to created it beautiful, and of so goodly a form in every part of it. And the name whereby it is called, yieldeth testimony of the beauty of it. For world signifieth as much as a goodly and well decked ornament. Therefore seeing God hath created and framed it by love, no doubt but love is despersed and shed throughout the whole world, & is continually drawn & procured by beauty, to the end it might be conformable & like to the fountain from whence it came. On the other side, all beauty is as it were a beam of that infinite and divine beauty that is in God: and therefore as the divine form draweth unto it true and perfect loves, so the image and similitude thereof draweth the images of loves. And that love whereby Almighty God was moved to created all things, proceeded from his own goodness. Now forasmuch as beauty is a beam of that goodness which is shed over all, as the Sun spreadeth his light by his beams; the goodly, any thing is, so much the more amiable and lovely it is. For the mother of Love is goodness, and the mother also of Beauty is goodness: so that both of them are bred and borne as it were of one mother. And according to the diversity of natures created by God, so are there 
divers kinds of Beauty and Love.  divers kinds of beauty, which are all as it were beams, flames, and lights of that heavenly & infinite beauty, which is the fountain of all the rest. The first, chiefest, and most excellent kind of all, is that beam of heavenly beauty, whereby the spirit and mind is adorned and polished with understanding and contemplation. The second is, in that illumination whereby the soul receiveth knowledge. Therefore the understanding mounteth up to those two first degrees of Love, which is drawn by such beauties: and from thence proceedeth the love of spiritual things. The third kind, which is as it were an other beam of divine beauty appeareth in the effects of lower degrees, which are in that fruitfulness which God hath given unto the creatures, putting into them seeds to preserve and to increase their kinds. The last and lowest, yea, the most troublesome and earthly kind, is in corporal matters, which are purtraied and painted with great variety of forms and shapes. And as the understanding ascendeth up to the two first degrees, of which I have already spoken: so the imagination stayeth itself in the two last, and from thence proceedeth the love of the body and of bodily things, and the affection to beget of that goodly thing thing, thereby to draw out a form like to that beauty towards the which a man is affectionated.  
Now when we shall consider aright of all these degrees and beams of beauty, it is certain that we will strive to ascend up from the lowest to the highest, whereas commonly we descend from the highest to the lowest, feeding out spirits with corporal and terrestrial loves, which differ from their nature, in stead of spiritual and celestial loves, which is their proper food. But we must note further, that the greatest, last and chiefest force or love, is of many and divers things to make one and the same. Therefore he that loveth our friend, or 
Love tendeth to unity.  doth him any good, seemeth to do that to us which is done to him, and we esteem of it, as if we received it ourselves. For it is the nature of love, which way soever it turn, always to join and knit unto itself: as on the contrary side, hatred is of this nature, that it will evermore disjoin and separate. For this cause jesus Christ prayed so earnestly for his unto his Father, to the end (saith he) that they all may be one, as thou OH Father art in me, and I in thee, even that they may be also one in us. And Saint john saith likewise of him, that he should gather together 
john 17. 21. john. 11. 52. 1. john 3. 8.  in one the children of God which were scattered. For seeing he came to destroy the works of the devil, (as he sayeth elsewhere) and seeing it is the nature of this enemy of mankind to scatter, to disjoin and separate, by reason of the envy and hatred which he beareth to God & men, it must needs be that jesus Christ should gather together that which the devil hath scattered, & unite in one that which he hath separated: to the end that as man was one with God, before he was severed by sin through the envy and malice of Satan, so he might return into unity and union with his Creator by the abolishing of sin, which is the cause of 
Sin the cause of our separation from God  the separation, and by the likeness of virtue with God through the means of jesus Christ. Therefore so great goodness and beneficence of God towards us, aught to inflame our love towards him, and moreover to increase the same, when we daily feel new benefits powered upon us, which proceed & come from his burning love and charity wherewith he loveth us, although he receive no benefit thereby. For we are to understand, that although he which hath received a benefit from another, aught to carry greater love towards him, than he that bestowed the benefit is bound towards the other to whom he hath done a good turn, yet the contrary oftentimes falleth out. The cause whereof is, because his love that bestoweth a good turn proceedeth from his own bounty and goodness, whereas the love of him that 
A double ground of love  receiveth a benefit, cometh of necessity. So that the one hath a great deal better foundation than the other. For that love which proceedeth of necessity respecteth ourselves, because we love for the good which we have received, and not in regard of the person from whom the good cometh. And this love proceedeth from the love we bear to ourselves, so that it aught rather to be called Love of concupiscence, then true Love. For as we love the person that doth us good, because of the good which we receive, so we love him & wish his good, not so much for itself as for one selves, and for that profit, which we hope will come to us thereby. But after we have begun with this kind of Love, it serveth us oftentimes as a step for to pass by afterwards unto true and perfect love. For acquainting ourselves to love them that do us good, we learn afterward to love them, not only for love of that good which they do unto us, but also because of themselves: insomuch that we will not cease to love them although it fall not so that they can do us no more good, yea although they stand in need of the like good at our hands again. Now when we are come to this degree, our love is a great deal more pure, yea, then is it true love which now loveth not the person beloved only for love of itself, but for love of him, even with the like one wherewith it hath been and yet is loved of him. And as he that loveth, is voided of true love if he love only in respect of the good he receiveth, so he that doth good, loveth not with true love, if he do it to receive some profit thereby, and with hope of recompense, & 
Love is free,  not merely for his love, to whom he doth it. For such a man respecteth himself more than him whom he pretendeth to love. Such is the love of hypocrites towards God. Therefore they honour and serve him as hirelings do, so long as he useth them well, and they see reward, 
job 1. 9  as Satan accused and slandered job before God, as though he served him for no other cause but for the benefits which he received of his goodness. Whereupon it pleased God to take trial of that love which his servant bore unto him, to confounded the slanderer, and to propound to every one in the person of his servant job, an example and pattern of true fear, of true love, of true faith, & of true patience. We see then that there are two sorts 
Two sorts of hired love.  of hired love, because it may be such, not only in respect of him that receiveth a benefit, but of him also that bestoweth it when he doth it for the causes aforesaid. But he that doth good only of charity and love hath no such scope, but looketh only to the good, which he delighteth to communicate to others in respect of that goodness which is in himself. Therefore he hath a more sure and excellent beginning of his love, namely, his own goodness & will, than he hath that receiveth the good, whose love beginneth at need and want. That love also which is grounded upon goodness goeth on more easily and with greater courage from good to better, then that which cometh from necessity proceedeth to good. For he that doth good, imparteth the same frankly of his own good will because he will do so: and therefore it redoundeth to his great honour. But he that receiveth a good turn, taketh it because he hath need of it: and therefore he must acknowledge himself bound to his Benefactor. For this cause he is somewhat ashamed of his need & want. For as S. Paul witnesseth according to the saying of jesus Christ, It is a blessed thing to give rather than to receive. Therefore that may well be said in this respect, which is commonly spoken, namely, that although 
Acts. 20. 35.  Love be of the nature of fire, which always mounteth upward, yet doth it descend but never 
Love descendeth but doth not ascend.  ascend. For Fathers and Mothers always love their children, yea their children's children better then their children love them. The like may be said of others that are in the place of parents. And by a greater reason this may be spoken of the love of God our Father towards us, as also of the love of Christ jesus. For he did not only love us before we loved him, yea, even then when we were yet his enemies, but now also we come far short of loving him as he loveth us. Therefore he is called by Saint john, not only loving and charitable, but 
1. joh. 4. 8.  even Love itself. For as he is the Creator of all things, so he loveth, perfecteth, and preferueth them all, and turneth them unto himself. But among all other things which draw Love, nothing is of greater force then love itself. For as one fire draweth another, so is it with love: for one draweth and engendereth another. Therefore if we would be loved, we ourselves must love. But when the contrary falleth out, namely, that we are hated of them 
Love breedeth Love.  towards whom we are well affected, it is because he that is loved doth not know nor feel the love that is borne him. For likeness hath such force and virtue in love, that it is as it were the mother thereof. For seeing every one by nature loveth himself greatly, and similitude is as it were the same in many, it causeth him that resembleth us, to be as it were ourselves, whereupon it followeth, that the same likeness which causeth us to love one another, induceth him also to love us. And again, love causeth him that doth love to engrave and imprint in his heart, that face and image which he loveth: so that the heart of him that loveth is made like to a looking glass, in which the image of the party beloved shineth and is represented. 
The heart of a lover compared to a looking glass  Therefore when he that is loved, beholdeth and acknowledgeth himself in him that loveth him, he is moved and whetted on to love him again, as one within whom he knoweth himself to be as it were Inhabitant, yea as a second self. Moreover, he that loveth doth as it were deprive himself of himself, and giveth himself to whom he loveth. Therefore he that is beloved accounteth him dear, and is as careful of him as of a thing of his own. So that if we love God, we shall be in his heart, as if our image were engraven there: and his image also shall be in ours, yea, he will be careful of us, as of his own children, as we likewise will be very careful of his honour and glory. And the more we know his love towards us, the liker we shall be unto him, and shall love him the more: as he in like manner will love us the more. Now because men can neither see nor know one another's heart and will to judge of their love, we must declare the same by outward works. For none but God 
Love aught to show itself by works.  knoweth the hearts and wills of men. Nevertheless he will have us to manifest by works our love towards him and our neighbours, as he hath showed us his love by giving himself with all his benefits unto us. Therefore we must yield testimony of our love, by obeying his word & keeping his holy commandments, the fulfilling of which consisteth in true and perfect charity. But forasmuch as the love of men is so disordered now adays, we are to take good heed, and to look diligently that we deceive not ourselves, by loving that which we aught not to love, esteeming that to be a good thing which is wicked, and well done that which is il done: to the end, that our love be not inordinate, and bestowed upon false and evil things, and so prove a vicious desire rather than true love. Therefore it shall be good, if following our matter, we consider what this affection of cupidity or desire is properly, and what are the kinds of it, and how we may separate it from Love. Let us then harken to ARAM discoursing of this matter.   

Of Desire and Coveting, and of the kinds of ill: of the infiniteness of men's desire, and what Good is able to satisfy and content it: of the difference between Desire and Love, and of the uttermost limit and end of Love. Chap. 51.  
ARAM. As at the entry of a forest some one path may seem to be broad and beaten enough, yet afterward when a travailer is well entered into it, he beginneth to lose it by little and little, and being amazed, the farther he walketh on, the more he wandereth out of his way: even so when as sensuality inviteth us to the fruition of some object, we think it an easy matter to attain thereunto, and hope to get some great good thereby: but the further we enter into and follow that path, which our concupiscence doth show unto us, the worse we find the way to be and can see nothing before us but a large field full of thorns and thistles, which notwithstanding seem for a time unto sore eyes to be fair flowers of very goodly fruit. But the tasting of them always bringeth with it a long and late repentance in the end. Now as the body of the Sun when he first riseth may be easily looked upon, but after being mounted up certain degrees in the Zodiac, dazzleth the eyes of them that behold it: so we may in some sort know our evil when it beginneth first; but when it hath gathered full force it wholly dimmeth our reason, and yieldeth to no counsel. Therefore before 
Evils must be resisted in the beginning.  any passion grow to be strong, we must labour, that whatsoever shall be rashly desired, may be suppressed by a prudent and an advised discourse.  
We have heard by our former speech, that Desire and Coveting is an appetite or longing to obtain some Good which we judge is profitable unto us, or to preserve it if we have it already. 
What desire is  For this cause we must always consider advisedly what Goods we want, whether they be necessary for us or not, whether we seek after them, either because we need them, or for profit sake, or else only to satisfy the vanity of our mind, and our foolish and carnal affections. For there are some Goods so necessary for us, that without them we can neither live, nor 
Diversity of Goods.  preserve our life. The necessity and want of these is fitly called natural, and aught rather in deed to be termed appetites than desires. In the number of these Goods are meats, drinks, clothing, dwelling places, Physic, fire, water, and such like things which man's life cannot be 
Goods belonging to this life.  without. Therefore our appetite to these things is wakened as it were by a certain natural instigation, which pricketh and provoketh the soul to make it desire and seek them, so that they stay not until judgement have given sentence, but proceed on forward as we may see, by experience in hunger and thirst. It is not therefore without cause said, that the belly hath no ears. But there are other goods not altogether so necessary for man's life, which yet we cannot be without when need requireth, and they serve to this use, that men might live more commodiously and better at ease: as wine, exquisiteness in dressing and preparing of meats, spices, and many such like things. For it is certain, that although there were no wine nor any artificial drink, yet nature would be content and could well away with water: and although meat be not so delicate, nor so well and finely dressed as it might be, yet will it nourish well enough, so it be natural. The same may be said of the rest, of which there is great use in the life of man, and of those pleasures and delights which we take by all the corporal senses. The desires of these things are not to be condemned, seeing they are natural also, provided always that moderation be kept in them. For God hath not created any creature, which he will not have man to use, so that he abuse it not, but being contented with those pleasures which he permitteth unto him, keep himself within the limits thereof & fall into no excess, neither lash out beyond all reason and measure.  
There is yet an other sort of goods whereof we have spoken before, which is more in fancy and in opinion then in any other thing, namely, the getting & possessing of silver, of riches, 
Goods of fancy & in opinion only.  of power, of honour, and of glory. These goods fill men full of innumerable desires, which have neither measure, term, nor end, insomuch that amongst all creatures living none is so burdened with them as man: who notwithstanding might well satisfy himself with a few, if he could be content with that which will suffice nature, and follow her. And therefore of all these sorts of desires mentioned by us, we may well say, that those which concern natural things have some limitation; but such as concern things found and invented by men, have no bounds nor measure at all in them. For what end is there in the coveting of riches, honours, glory and such like things? True it is, that of their own nature, and as being the creatures and gifts of God, they are not ill: but they become such through the fault of men, I mean through their insatiable coveting & abusing of them, and through that false opinion, which commonly we have of them. For we propound these things to ourselves, that we may live with greater ease, pleasure and rest: but it falleth out clean contrary. For being such goods as reach not unto the spirit, they cannot profit the same: or if they do reach unto it, yet the profit that cometh by them is very light and vain. For they are not able to sound the bottom thereof, it is so profound & capable, much less are we to think that they can make us happy. Nay, they are so far from performing this, that it is impossible to believe how troublesome it is to the spirit to search and found them out, and to obtain & keep them. For after that ambition and covetousness be once moved & pricked forward through false 
The effects of ambition & covetousness.  opinions and vain judgements, they grow and wax disordered out of measure. For the spirit thinketh in itself, that if once it could get either those honours & glory, or that money & riches which it wisheth for, it should be very happy, and live at great ease and rest. But when it hath obtained that, it is not only in the same estate wherein it was before, but oftentimes far worse, and less contented. The reason is, because the spirit considereth not, that those things which it laboureth to get, are unable of their own nature to afford that which it requireth of them. Whereupon, not knowing his own vice and foolish imagination, it is persuaded that this falleth out so in respect of the greatness & excellency of that thing whereunto it aspireth, and therefore not having gotten so much as is requisite fully to satisfy the desire it hath, it settleth itself to get more. And when it hath proceeded in this sort, yet it is always new to begin, being as far from contentation, yea a great deal further than it was before. So that we may conclude, that desire or coveting is bottomless, and void of all stay. Therefore we must know, that the mere wants of this life, do neither breed not increase these desires in us, but they proceed from a false opinion and persuasion, which we have of them. For it is 
Of the false opinion of want.  certain, that the opinion we conceive of those wants, which we imagine we have, breedeth such a fear in us, as engendereth & increaseth these desires. And the carking care to preserve those things that are without us, namely, external goods, proceedeth from the same fountain. For our foresight stretcheth itself not only to urgent necessities, or to such as we verily think are to come to pass, but even to all those that may any way happen: so that we propound to ourselves all the wants in the world, as if heaven and earth should fail us. Besides, many do not only look to those necessities which they may fear, but also to those pleasures, which they would have. For they suppose that by means of power, riches, authority, and dignities, they may attain to the fruition of all the pleasures & delights which they wish for. And when a man hath tasted of pleasure, this taste doth breed another desire to continued therein, and to preserve those means whereby they may always enjoy such pleasure. Whereby we may judge how the desire & coveting that is in man, wandereth & goeth astray, when as notwithstanding it is given him of God, to the end he might wish for that which he judgeth to be good for him, and that he might follow after it, and having obtained the same might hold and keep it fast.  
Now forasmuch as God is the true, steadfast, and firm good of man, he doth naturally 
The right use of coveting.  wish and desire him: and because this good is infinite, it falleth out thereupon that the largeness, length, and depth of our coveting is infinite, and can be filled with no other thing but with God, Wherhfore when it is come thither, there it slayeth and resteth itself. But whilst it wandereth hither and thither, there will be no end, but one desire begetteth another: insomuch that there are infinite kinds of them, which take their particular names of 
The divers kinds of Desires.  those things which they cover. For the unmeasurable coveting of honours is called ambition: of gold and silver, covetousness: of meats and drinks, gluttony and drunkenness the unlawful and immoderate desire and conjunction between man & woman, is called Whoredom: which also hath divers kinds under it, accordings to the desire of their filthiness and enormities in whom it aboundeth. The virtues opposite and contrary to these vicious desires, are justice, liberality, continency, chastity, and temperance: of which virtues & vices, and of others proceeding of them, we have discoursed at large in our first moral institution. Therefore to conclude that which hath been hitherto spoken of Love and of Desire, I 
Two sorts of Love.  think we aught to make two sorts of Love, the one in virtue, the other in vice. For that Love proceeding of Desire and Coveting, such as we see commonly in men, is false and feigned. And because it counterfaiteth often the actions of true love, therefore we aught to be very wary, that it beguile us not, and that we take not the one for the other. Concerning the first, we must remember, that all love is begotten of Good, that is bendeth and draweth towards Good, as we have already learned. Now Good is of that nature, that it breedeth in us a desire to be joined unto it, in regard of that agreement which it hath with us: of which agreement and conjunction cometh delight, and then blessedness and felicity. So 
The last end of Love.  that the utmost bounds and limits of Love is to be knit together in unity as much as may be. And the straighter and closer the bond of love is tied and conjoined in one and the same essence, so much the more truly and perfectly is love come unto his end, & consisteth in the perfection of his nature. Therefore desire of conjunction which is in Love is given to man, to the end be should wish and covet to be united with God his true Good, that being made as it were a little God like unto him, he might be partaker of his eternal blessedness. This is the true, firm, and fruitful conjunction of Love, and the great and excellent reward thereof. For all the rest are nothing in comparison of this, but only vain and fruitless. Now the love of the body desireth the conjunction of the body, and the love of souls desireth to be joined with souls, that there may be as it were one soul in many bodies. And this conjunction is the greatest, truest, and of longest continuance, which causeth but one heart and one will among friends, as if they were one only body, and one only soul, and as if he that loveth were the same party that is beloved. Therefore it is written of the first Christians that were in the Church of jerusalem, that the multitude of them that believed were of one heart and one soul; neither any of them said, that any thing of that which he 
Act. 4. 32.  possessed, was his own, but they had all things common. Neither is it said without reason in common proverb, That allthings are common among friends: which is the cause that a friend calleth 
Community among friends  and accounteth as his own, whatsoever belongeth to his friend, whether it be in prosperity or in adversity. Therefore also it is commonly said, that a steadfast friend is tried in doubtful matters. Whereupon it cometh to pass in true love, that friends lift up into great dignity, are more careful of those whom they love (how base soever they be) and of their affairs, then of themselves and of their particular estate. Moreover we are to know, that as it is the nature of Love to join together, so doth it also bring equality with it, so far forth as 
Love bringeth equality.  the nature of those things that are conjoined, will bear: insomuch that the highest stoop down to the lowest, to lift them up untothenselues, and they that are equal associate themselves together. Therefore as we have often said, that the fountain and pattern of all true love is in God, so in this point it doth chief show itself unto us. For he abaseth himself to our smallness, as though he would reach us his hand from heaven, or draw and lift us up unto himself by the mean of lesus Christ, in whom and by whom we are truly united unto him. But here we are to know that the desire, lust, or coveting which is bred of Love groweth to be vicious through the corruption of our nature which otherwise being directed by good means and by reason according to the will of God, and aiming at the right Good which is God, would 'cause us to love God first for his own sake, and then 
Love must first begin at God.  his creatures in him, and for the love of him. Neither should we ever covet worldly goods with an unbridled desire, but would rather account all mortal things unworthy to be cared for by our immortal souls. Whereunto we shall be the rather persuaded, if following that which we have begun to speak of true and false love, and of the difference between them, we consider what good things are to be found in the one above the other, what sundry rewards men propound unto themselves in love, what knowledge is required therein, and how the one is increased by the other. This then shallbe thy matter subject, ACHITOB, which thou shalt take to make an end of our discoursing of the nature of Love.   

Of the good things that are in true love: of the divers valuation of Love, and of the benefits which it procureth: what knowledge is requisite to allure Love, and how one Love groweth by another: of the friendship that may be both between the good and the bad. Chap. 52.  
ACHITOB. Good is loved so much as it is known, and as we are able to understand what it is. For things are first known, to the end they may be loved. Now there are three means of knowledge in our soul, namely, by sense, by reason, and by the mind. From the 
Three means to knowledge  sense springeth appetite: which is common to us with beasts: from reason groweth election, which is proper to man: and from the mind and spirit, in which the image of the divine essence is engraven, proceedeth the will. As then sense knoweth none but sensible & corporal things, so the appetite desireth only the same things: and as the mind of it own nature inclineth to the contemplation of spiritual and intelligible things, so the will feedeth and contenteth itself only with internal & heavenly goods. Now man, that is to say the soul, by nature reasonable, being placed as it were in the midst of these two extremes, and sustaining wonderful assaults and combats through the impression of these two contraries, taketh part one while with the desires of this side, an other while of that, according as he inclineth by his election either to this part or to that, by stooping down to the sense, or by lifting up himself to the mind. But because of the darkness of error, which shadoweth his reason, it is very necessary that the spirit of GOD work mightily therein, to this end that by the power and virtue thereof, the natural affection of earthly things, which offer violence to all the powers of the soul, might be transported and lift up to the desire of celestial and eternal things.  
Truly forasmuch as Good is the object of Love, good reason it is that we should lift it upward, and separate it from the earth as much as we may. For as so many rash affections, which are the spring of all vices, have their beginning from earthly love: so 
The benefits that come of true love whose scope is God.  contrariwise celestial and heavenly love adorneth the soul with two excellent ornaments, namely, wisdom and virtue, the ground of all true Beauty, in which all good, all contentation and felicity consisteth. And this love which hath GOD for his end and scope, hath three great benefit among many others, which are not to be found in any other love, especially in that of concupiscence. For first, there is no good so excellent in the enjoying of earthly things, but it is mingled with something that may displease us, or some way harm us. Whereupon taking it to be a less benefit, and not altogether so good for us, we are of this judgement, that it is the less to be wished for of us. But there is no such thing in God. Therefore if the soul of man did behold him by contemplation, 
The first benefit of true love.  not such a one as he is (for that is impossible) but as she might contemplate him notwithstanding she is enclosed in this body, she would be ravished in her love with greater vehemency, than she is stirred up to embrace that, which of all mortal and transitory things she judgeth best and certain. For she should know, that God is a Good, wherein there is nothing mingled, that may breed irksomeness, or be hurtful, but is altogether profitable and full of pleasure. Although it cannot be gainsay de, but that the contrary seemeth to come to pass oftentimes, when we see that they which love God as they aught, and which by means of this love are driven forward & induced to procure his honour and glory with all their might, are commonly most visited with griefs, losses, and sorrows. Whereof it cometh to pass, that many are alienated from this love, because they greatly dislike that troublesome estate. But we must know that this human and frivolous consideration proceedeth only of this, that the price of love is diversly valued. For there is one kind of love that is perpetual and firm, and another which is temporary, according as the 
divers estimations of Love.  present motion of the heart pricketh one forward to follow any thing, because at that instant it seemeth unto him to be good, or in regard of the profit, which he seethe therein, or of appearance of good, which he imagineth is in it. As for example, we know well, that health is a greater good, then is the swallowing down of dainty morsels, the pleasure whereof passeth away very quickly.  
And yet it cometh often to pass, that our appetite stirreth us forward with such vehemency, that mere lickerishnesse causeth us to eat such meats as we know are contrary to our health. The reason hereof is, because we compare not the good that is in taste, and in dainty fare, which suddenly passeth away, with that which is in health, which is of a longer continuance: or else because we think there will not come so great hurt thereof as there may come, or else we hope easily to remedy the same. And thus is it with them that consider not what great good there is in God, but forget him, or else suppose that they can easily 
The cause of men's error from the true Good.  recover that which they shall loose, by following after a terrestrial and transitory Good, which causeth them to turn aside from God. For if they thought well upon it, & knew what loss they received, they would never suffer themselves to be governed by their appetits & worldly desires. But the bore imagination & consideration of honours and of earthly goods doth so dazzle the eyes of their mind, that they cannot know the greatness & excellency of celestial goods, which they forsake for those other, wherereas contrariwise, if they were not altogether blind, they should perceive, that this light affliction of good men, which passeth away in a moment, bringeth forth in them an eternal weight of most excellent glory, and maketh them partakers of God, who is the perpetual & steadfast reward of their true & holy love. Now touching the second benefit, which being in his love, is not to be found in the love of creatures, we are to know, that this latter is always in fear & care for that thing which it loveth, 
The second benefit that is in true Love.  lest some evil should befall it. So that notwithstanding any security that may be had, yet there is always some vexation in all love towards men & towards mortal things. But in that love which is towards God there is nothing but delight without care, grief, or disquietness. For we are very certain, that all things are most safe there, full of joy & lasting happiness. And for the third, we see that in the love of concupiscence, there is commonly envy & evil jealousy (which is one kind of it) because many covet that which one alone would 
The third benefit.  wholly possess. But it is clean contrary in the true love of the soul, wherein is uprightness and fellowship. For he that loveth virtue and a virtuous man, is so far from being jealous, that he would not only have many companions, but wisheth that all men in the world were like affected with him. The same may be said of him that loveth God. For he would have all men his companions in that amity, & judgeth all those to be miserable & wretched, which are estranged from it. As for that friend, who would alone love his friend, he loveth not perfectly, but rather loveth some thing in him that is profitable to himself, as namely, to enjoy alone whatsoever good he judgeth to be in his friend: which is the nature of the love of concupiscence that looketh inwardly to itself. But true friendship looketh outwardly upon him whom it loveth, insomuch that he which loveth, liveth in him. Wherhfore Saint Paul not only knowing the nature of true love, but also having felt by experience the vehemency thereof, saith, I live, yet not I now, but Christ liveth in me. For he that truly loveth, careth no more for himself, but for that thing which he loveth. 
Galat. 2. 20.  This degree of love may be rightly called Ravishing, in which the lover is so rapt out of himself, that he forgetteth himself altogether, being wholly in him whom he loveth, & he whom he loveth being in him. But as we said in the beginning of our speech, Good is loved so far forth as it is known, & as we can understand what it is, therefore it is necessary 
The highest degree of Love.  that the knowledge of it should be so great, that it be sufficient to draw love, which encreaeth by thinking often of that thing which is beloved. For thereby it is planted & rooted more deeply in the heart. Wherhfore there is nothing more contrary to love then forgetfulness the mother of ingratitude, especially in our love towards God. For the more we think of him, the more do we call to mind his goodness towards us: whereupon also our love doth increase, and is inflamed in us towards him. And the greater and more burning our 
Knowledge requisite in Love.  love is, the nearer are we united and linked unto him. Therefore we may well conclude, that we love God according to that measure of knowledge which we have of him and of his benefits, and according as we consider and remember them: and if we want these things, we love him not as we aught. Now when we are joined unto the thing that is dear unto us, according to the end of love, we know it a great deal better, because we behold it nearer: and then are we said to enjoy it.  
Hereupon we may note two kinds of knowledge in love: the one first, the other last. By 
Two sorts of knowledge in Love.  the first, we believe that thing to be good, which we do know: and by the last we have experience of it, which is of great force in all love: because the fruit thereof is the fruition of the thing beloved. This enjoying is the action of delight & of pleasure, which is not only of the will, but also of the understanding, as it is in God. And if we take it so, Love shall be as the mean between the first knowledge which is only begun, and the last, which is full and perfect: which consisteth in the union of him that loveth with him that is beloved, and wherein the desire that is in Love, and which afflicteth & tormenteth the party loving, is always abolished, not the love itself: but being united, the greater number and the more excellent it findeth the goods in regard of those which the first knowledge afforded, the more is it increased and inflamed. Hereof it is that we put a difference between Love and the Desire that is in Love, because when we love a thing, we desire there withal the fruition and possession thereof. And if there be delay made, so that we cannot enjoy the thing so soon 
The difference between Love and Desire.  as we would, this delay tormenteth us by reason of the desire, which presseth and pricketh us forward to get the possession of it. But this torment cometh not of Love, than which there is nothing more sweet and pleasant, but of that desire which endeth in the union and fruition of the thing beloved: In the mean time as long as this desire lasteth, the love from whence it proceedeth, causeth the torment to be abated, yea it is not without some pleasure, especially when there is some hope that at length it may be obtained & brought about. And the more confident this hope is, the greater solace, yea the greater delight and pleasure it bringeth withal. For as love hath great delight in union and fruition, so is it not small in hope, because it propoundeth unto us the enjoying of the thing as being present, even as if our imagination had already led us unto it. Therefore forasmuch as the hope of God's children is certain, they are now being in this world as it were blessed in heaven, although the desire which they have of greater goods hoped for yet, and to be enjoyed in that full union & conjunction which they shall have with God in the life everlasting, causeth them to groan & to sigh continually with all the creatures, waiting for their full and perfect deliverance from all corruption and from this miserable life. So that we can 
Rom. 8. 22.  not doubt but that our love towards GOD will be far greater and much more vehement, when as we shall have this full fruition of God our sovereign Good, and when we shall be perfectly united unto him by true Love, not seeing him obscurely in a glass only, or knowing him in part, as we do now, but beholding him face to face, & knowing him as we have 
1. Cor. 13. 12  been known of him. For the knowledge which we have now of him is yet but begun, in respect of that which we shall have fully and wholly in that glorious and immortal life. And then also we shall be wholly swallowed up with love. By the same reason we may well believe, that the love and charity which the godly bear one towards another in this mortal life & pilgrimage, shall be a great deal more inflamed in the other life, than ever it was in the holiest and most perfect that ever was amongst them in this world. For the better men's friends are, the more steadfast & firm is their friendship, which among good men is always of long continuance: but contrariwise with the wicked. And to speak properly there is no friendship betwixt them, but only some familiarity and fellowship, or to speak better, a 
Of friendship between wicked men.  conspiracy against right, and common peace. Howsoever it be, whether familiarity or fellowship, it is very short and weak, because it hath no good foundation. Wherefore they can not long continued united and knit together. We have daily testimony hereof in worldly & carnal men, who having made for a time profession of very great friendship, upon a Yea or a Nay, assault one an other even unto death. But we are not greatly to marvel at it. For seeing their amity and union is ill grounded, as it cannot be of long continuance, so they can receive no great joy or delight. But it is contrary in the friendship of men, as that which hath a far better foundation, namely, God and his word. Wherefore if the better men that friends be, the greater their friendship is and more firm even in this world, no doubt but it 
What foundation the friendship of good men hath.  will be greater, more burning and constant in that blessed and eternal life which we expect, where we shall be much better men and more perfect than we are here, better linked one with an other, as also we shall be altogether a great deal more conjoined with and in God. For this cause Saint Paul had good reason to say, that Love doth never fall away, though prophesyings be abolished, or tongues cease, or knowledge vanish away. Wherhfore in this respect 
1. Corin. 13. 8  he concludeth, that Love is the greatest of these three, Faith, Hope, and Love. But we have spoken enough of the nature of Love for the subject of our discourse of the natural history of man. Now I think it will not be unprofitable, if we say somewhat of other affections that are near neighbours unto Love and joined with it, as of favour, reverence, honour & piety, which have such good or ill qualities in man, as the nature of that love hath which bringeth them forth, as ASER will give us to understand.   

Of favour, reverence, and of honour: of their nature and effects: of those outward signs whereby they show themselves: of piety and compassion, and how agreeable it is to the nature of man. Chap. 53.  
ASER. I cannot marvel enough at the drowsiness of many great spirits, who are so delighted with the vain dreams of their own fancies, that they employ all the gifts & graces of their mind, to lift up even unto the heavens the pleasures that are received in the love of human and mortal things, especially in the first-fruits of concupiscence, & yet the lest of them cannot be gotten without a thousand troublesome discommodities, besides that they leave always in man an insatiable desire of them. I would ask of them gladly, when the most voluptuous man of them all, hath not, even in the midst of his pleasures, sighed & been subject to passions, desiring some other thing beside: or when there was ever found between twain that loved each other uncorruptly, that conformity of wills, that communication of thoughts, those continual agreements, and that concord of life, which is necessary in all true love: especially seeing it is a hard matter, yea impossible to see a wicked man, that is not daily at variance with himself, insomuch that if he could leave himself, as two men forsake each other, there are many, who upon every occasion would leave themselves to take another body, or another soul. And as when one being very desirous to eat, and 
A similitude she wing the vanity of the love of worldly delights.  thereupon falling asleep, dreameth that he is feeding & yet is not satisfied, because it is not a dream of meat that will content the sense & appetite, which seeketh to be appeased, but substantial meat itself: even so it falleth out when men dreaming in spirit, which is as pernicious a thing as the sleep of death, give themselves by a certain inclination which they have to the love of Good, to seek for the beauty, contentation & delight thereof upon earth, when they are not to be found in the whole world. As for their shadows, which in some sort appear in corporal & earthly things, and in those delights which proceed of them, they do not feed their minds with sound & good things, but rather abuse & deceive them. Therefore we aught to take great heed, that we set not our heart and affection rather upon those miserable, corruptible & deceivable pleasures, wherein worldlings & carnal men do glory, then upon that great and infinite brightness, of which the Sun is but a very small beam, and upon those singular, blessed, and heavenly truths, which the word of life doth teach us, & which are the only true & solid meats that can content & satisfy our spirits eternally.  
It is certain that nature moveth us to set our affection chief upon some one thing rather than upon an other: forasmuch as love is a gift bestowed by the Creator upon all natures at the time of their birth. Now unto Love many other affections are joined, among 
What favour is.  which Favour commonly hath the first place. This affection is a kind of good will and liking, which springeth from a judgement conceived of some Good, so that we may call it a Love begun. For in this judgement of Good, we esteem well of him, towards whom our favour is extended, and judge him worthy of some good thing, and by this means we begin to love him. Wherhfore although favour may be without true love, yet love can not be without favour. Notwithstanding, when we favour one before we love him, even then already we enter presently into the way that leadeth to love him. And for the lest shadow of love in our heart towards another, we favour him: as we see it in those that are linked unto us by some degree either of consanguinity, or of affinity, or by means of some acquaintance & knowledge. Now forasmuch as GOD loveth 
Why God favoureth us.  us, he beareth us favour also, although not in the regard or for the judgement of any good, which he seethe in us or in our corrupted nature: but because of the love he beareth us in jesus Christ, his well-beloved, in whom by his grace he hath made us acceptable to himself. Therefore this favour bringeth with it the perfection of all Good unto us. For what can he want that is favoured of God, who can do all things? This favour which God beareth unto us, is called grace and blessing in the holy Scriptures, which comprehendeth all those benefits which we receive of his goodness. For they proceed all of this favour, and this favour of the love he beareth us in jesus Christ. Reverence also commonly accompanieth love, 
Of reverence  whereby we understand an affection proceeding from the judgement of some great good, that hurteth us not. For if we thought it would hurt us, there would be fear joined with hatred, and not true reverence. For although there is evermore in all reverence, some fear mingled with shamefastness, nevertheless this fear bringeth no hatred with it. This reverence is bred in us by comparing the greatness of another with our smallness, as if we admired those excellent things that are in him. For as the heart doth enlarge itself through the consideration and opinion it hath of his own greatness, so doth it restrain and close up itself upon the reputation and conceit of another man's greatness, so it be good or atleastwise without hurt. Therefore if we compare our greatness with some other man's that is far greater, we know our own smallness thereby.  
Whereupon it cometh to pass, that we do not only esteem worse, but even dislike and contemn ourselves: by which means we become more humble, whereas before we 
The cause of humility.  were puffed up with pride through the opinion of our greatness, of which we have experience as often as we compare ourselves with God, and lift up our spirit even to the consideration of his divine majesty, comparing that with our baseness. For then being ravished with admiration of his highness, we honour and reverence him by reason of his power, unto which we join also his wisdom and goodness. And according unto that reverence we bear towards him, we do reverence those also in whom we see the same gifts and graces shine. For power breedeth reverence, and goodness love. Wherhfore if we judge, that power and greatness are joined with goodness and tempered therewithal, we shall not only be moved to reverence, but this reverence also will engender love, as it is in the hearts of the faithful towards God: because that as they consider him almighty and the greatest of all, so they behold him most wise and most good. But as I have already touched, if we think that this greatness or power either is or will be hurtful unto us, there is another kind of reverence, which only hath fear that breedeth hatred, as it is in them that consider the power of God only, and the rigour of his judgement, not meditating of his clemency & benignity. Therefore as the great excellency which in all things appeareth in God, especially in power, wisdom and goodness, induceth 
A good lesson for Princes.  us to reverence him aright: so if we would have men to honour & reverence us, there must be excellent virtues in us, in which men may see the image of God to shine, that so he may be honoured and reverenced in us & we in him. For therein consisteth that true honour, & that true reverence which we aught to seek for & to desire. And although reverence hath respect principally to the divine majesty (at the name of which every knee aught to bow) & to those superiorities which are images thereof, unto which they that are of less degree, estate & condition, aught to give honour & service, nevertheless mutual reverence is necessary in all true friendship, aswell in respect of the party beloved, as of him that loveth. And indeed we see how that true friends reverence & honour one another, & all because of that good opinion 
Reverence requisite in true friendship.  which they have conceived each of others desert. Concerning this word Honour, it is properly a token, whereby we testify that we judge him to be endued with virtue whom we honour. Wherhfore as the consideration of virtue breedeth honour, so honour, 
Of honour & of majesty.  breedeth reverence, and then honour and reverence breed majesty, which is the highest degree of honour, & increaseth continually according as those virtues and good things excel, which induce us to honour them. For if the virtues he mean, we honour them with a more simple honour, if greater, we add thereunto reverence: and then majesty is that honour which can be given unto the very greatest of all men. And as this affection of honour is in our heart, we show it forth by divers outward signs, whereby we signify and testify, that we acknowledge their greatness and excellency whom we honour, and that we submit ourselves thereunto. Therefore the more humble and modest a man is, the readier he will be to yield reverence and honour to them unto whom it is due. Contrariwise, the more drunken a man is with the love of himself, the more he will presume of himself: and the greater this presumption is in him, the less will he desire that another should be more excellent than himself, and will be the hardlier persuaded to believe it is so. Therefore he will hardly yield to give him honour and reverence. But Saint Paul admonisheth the children of God to go before one another in giving honour, and to be of like affection one towards 
Rom. 12. 16.  another, not being high minded, neither wise in themselves, that is to say, arrogant and selfeweening, presuming very much of themselves. So that as pride or humility aboundeth in us, God, our superiors and friends shall be more or less honoured by us. As for those signs, whereby 
Of the signs of honour & of reverence.  by we testify this honour and reverence, we are to note that they are many, according to the diversities of nations and countries, & of their manners. Most commonly we use to bend the knee, in testimony that we abase and submit ourselves to those unto whom we do this honour. Likewise we uncover the head, which is a token of servitude, according to the custom of the Grecians and of the Romans. There are many other such like signs, as to rise up, to give place, to accompany, to salute, and infinite others, which would be two long to rehearse, and without profit: all which we call bearing of honour and reverence, or yielding of reverence. Wherhfore although God looketh chief to that which is within, and not to that which is without, yet will he have us by external signs to declare that honour which we own and bear unto him, and by them to yield him homage. Thus he requireth that we should testify our faith and our love towards him, by confession of mouth and by all good works, that there may be always an agreement between the body and the soul, between the heart, mouth and hands, and between the workemaster that worketh, and his instruments and works, to the end that the one may be known by the other. For if the outward signs agreed not with the hart, we make them false witnesses, as the tongue is when it lieth. For they bear witness to that which is not: which is right hypocrisy, displeasing God and men. Therefore we must beware of this vice, and take heed that we make no other outward show, then will stand with the affection of the heart.  
Now having spoken of honour, reverence and majesty, by reason of that conjunction which they have with love, as also of favour & grace, it remaineth now that we should speak somewhat of Mercy, and compassion, seeing that also hath great agreement with love 
Of Mercy & compassion.  Mercy then is a grief conceived in our heart in respect of some evil, which (as we think) is befallen one that hath not deserved it: and this we call also pity and compassion. Now because this affection moveth us to aid, succour, and to do good to them that are afflicted, as also to pardon such as have offended us, therefore Mercy is often taken in the holy Scriptures for aid, succour, favour, grace, beneficence, good will, benefiting, friendship, benignity, as also for the affection and inclination of the heart to do good and to secure all them that have need of help, and this proceedeth of charity. Therefore S. Paul saith, He that 
Rom. 12. 8 9 10.  showeth mercy, let him do it with cheerfulness. Let love be without dissimulation. Abhor that which is evil, and clean to that which is good. Be affectioned to love one another with brotherly love: not slothful to do service: fervent in spirit, serving the Lord, distributing to the necessity of the Saints: giving yourselves to hospitality. Whereby he admonisheth us, that all the succours which we give to others, aught to proceed from a sincere & cheerful affection of the heart, which should provoke us to perform the same: and this cannot be in us without the affection of pity, of mercy and of compassion. In regard whereof the name of alms is taken from a word which 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  in Greek signifieth Mercy: and therefore also alms signifieth as much as mercy, or that succour that is done of mercy and compassion, wherewith we are affected in respect of the misery of our like. Whereupon it followeth that as every one is of a more tender heart, so he is more merciful: as contrariwise hardness of heart extinguisheth mercy and compassion. As for this word Compassion, it signifieth as much as a like compassion, that is, a like sense and feeling of evil and of grief, as if we ourselves suffered that which we see others endure, by reason of that conjunction which we aught to have one with another, as members of one 
1. Cor. 12.  and the same body, among which there is such agreement that if one suffer all feel it, and so all are careful for it. Therefore it is written in the Epistle to the Hebrews, that brotherly 
Heb. 13. 3.  love continued. Be not (saith he) forgetful to lodge strangers. Remember them that are in bonds, as though ye were bound with them: and them that are in afflictions, as if ye were also afflicted in the body.  
Wherhfore we may well conclude, that this affection of mercy is very necessary for men yea as sweet, as mild, and profitable an affection as any can be amongst them, which they have received of God for their mutual succour and consolation, in the midsts of so many miseries as commonly happen in the life of man. And this he commandeth us expressly in infinite places of his word, that the image of his unspeakable mercy might shine in us by our 
Math 57 Luke 6. 36. Prou. 21. 21. jam. 2. 13.  mercy towards others. Hitherto we have spoken of man, as of man and of those affections that are most human in him; now others remain, which often make him more brutish than any savage beast that is. For seeing they come of the opinion of evil, they provoke & stir him up greatly, making him marvelous wild & untamed. To the end therefore that we may enter into the discourse of this matter, we will first see what Offending and Offence is in the heart and soul, and consider what degrees it hath, and what good or evil may be in this affection. This we shall learn of thee, AMANA.   

Of offence in the heart and soul: of the degrees of offence, and of the good and evil that may be in this affection: of contempt that is bred of it, and mockery, which followeth contempt. Chap. 54.  
AMANA. The Philosophers have set down four cause of all the troubles of the soul, from whence all the residue proceed, and into which they return and have their end: 
Four causes of all the troubles of the soul.  namely, immoderate desire, unbridled joy, unmeasurable grief, and extreme fear.  
These, as they say, proceed through imprudence or ignorance of the mind, & pusillanimity of heart, from the opinion of good or evil things, present or to come, which we imagine to be in the things of this world, being unperfect and of small continuance. Now forasmuch as these four causes are the springs of all vices and sins, into which men plunge themselves in this life, they are called perturbations of the soul, which if they be not mastered by reason, do so carry the soul hither and thither, that in the end they constrain the reasonable power thereof to give over all authority and liberty, and to obey the lusts of the sensual & unreasonable Wil Now desire & joy, to by commonly accompany the perishing goods of the body. For they are of that nature, that they inflame the soul with an insatiable l●st, insomuch that the obtaining of one thing is the beginning of a new and vehement desire of having another. And the enjoying of them besotteth the spirit with a sugared poison of feigned delight and pleasure, under the yoke of which it easily suffereth itself to be 
The nature of corporal goods.  overcome, to be bound and to be governed, As for grief and fear, although they also be not far removed from such false and vading goods of the body, yet for the most part they respect those adversities and miseries, which in our opinion we judge to be in the want and privation of those goods. For they fill the soul with trouble and disquietness, as she that thinketh her estate to be most miserable, if she obtain not the end of her carnal and inordinate affections. So that if the body endure never so little, she casteth forth strange cries and complaints. And although the body suffer nothing at all, yet is she always in extreme fear, jest some evil should befall it.  
But these very passions may be divided into good and bad. For honest desire, modest joy, and moderate grief and fear are naturally in us, for the preservation of our being. Yea 
How the passions may be good.  all these affections are endued with the qualities of commendable virtues, if they respect the sovereign Good of man, as we may learn by our former speeches touching this matter, which were chief of good affections, and of such as are most natural in man. Therefore following our matter subject, we must from henceforth consider of a great number of other affections of the heart, which for the most part make men more beastlike than the very beasts themselves, that are void of all understanding & reason, yea then the wildest beasts that are. All which affections take their beginning from the opinion of evil, as these that are good proceed from the opinion of Good. For the fear of evil doth wonderfully provoke a man, and when he is touched therewith, he waxeth very savage and wild. Now the first sting and biting of evil is offence, by reason that the heart is offended, even as when one rusheth against a thing and hurteth himself. Therefore by offence we understand properly a certain grief of the soul and of the heart, which cometh through some touch 
Of offence.  of evil that agreeth not to our nature. This first sense of grief is like to the first pricking of one's body: and is contrary to the first pleasure, which we receive of some Good that is offered unto us, and is agreeable to our nature. So that as this pleasure, when it is confirmed, is turned into love, so out of this first feeling of grief, which I call offence, the other affections that are joined with grief do bud forth afterward, namely, anger, hatred, envy, indignation, revenge, cruelty and such like. The evil that may offend us, is whatsoever we judge to be contrary to us and to our nature, as well in regard of the body as of the soul. For as the body is offended by those evils which trouble the harmony and temperature thereof, 
What evil may offend us  and which bring grief and hurt unto it: so is it with the soul, and with all the powers, senses and affections thereof. For she may be offended in her imagination and fantasy, in her reason, in her will, and in her affections. Now because every one followeth his affections, or his natural inclination, and not the right rule and judgement of reason, it is an easy matter to offend and displease many, and that in many things, but not so easy to please them. For there is but one only reason, or at leastwise it hath no great diversity in it. But the natural dispositions of men are infinite, and wonderful divers and disagreeing, yea clean contrary one to another. And because there is nothing in all the life of man, in which both 
Why men are so easily offended.  good and evil are not mingled together, or at leastwise some show of of them, therefore also there is nothing that not may be taken two ways, either this or that way. Whereupon that which pleaseth some, displeaseth others: beside that the want of the true knowledge of things, and of examining thoroughly what good or evil is in every one of them, is the cause of this error that beguileth men so. But howsoever it be, we aught to be very wary that we offend no man by doing evil, and by turning aside from the duties of true charity. And that which offendeth, is so much the more grievous, as it pierceth more inward and deep into the thing offended. For the chiefest part of anything is that which is most inward. Wherhfore that which entereth in so far toucheth the quick indeed, and so offendeth and hurteth. For this cause that offence and hurt is very grievous: but those offences that are in the 
What offences are most grievous.  will, are greatest of al. As for those that are in the reason, they are not so grievous: and those that are in the other senses, especially in the senses of the body, are less than they. Nay, we think not ourselves offended at all, if our will be not offended. Therefore we will suffer many things done by some, which we will not abide in others, according as we esteem 
Of the nature of mankind, and how hardly it is pleased  them to be friends or enemies, and as we are well or ill affectioned towards them. Likewise many thing please us that are done or uttered by ourselves, which would offend us if they were spoken or done by others. And for as much as there is no offence but where there is sense and feeling, therefore they are soon offended and most difficult to please that are most tender and delicate both of body and soul, whether they be so naturally, or through custom, or of weakness. And surely among all living creatures man is most testy and can suffer least. For he can bear with nothing, and himself is intolerable to all. Wherefore 
Of the nature of mankind, & how hardly it is pleased.  if all men generally be so hard to serve, no marvel if there be nothing so well, so justly and holily spoken that can please a whole people, or a great multitude. But some are so accustomed to contemn all things, that they are offended at every thing, & grieved without any judgement or distinction. Yea, there are some to be found amongst them, that think it a point of great wisdom so to do, and to like of nothing how well soever it be done. Now when men are led with such a froward & peevish affection, they are very careful to inquire diligently into all things, but with an unjust judgement, to see if they can find anything to condemn: thinking thereby to show their great wit, which notwithstanding none will commend but fools and ignorant persons. For they must needs be so who admire such a kind of people, whereas they aught thereby to be moved not only to despise them, but also to hate and condemn them. For as we use to speak in common proverb, That it is an easier matter to reprehend then to imitate, so it is easier for every one to condemn all, or to commend all indifferently, then to discern aright between the good and the evil, and to give a good judgement thereof: because there is none so ignorant, or blockish, or malicious, which cannot do the first with ease, but the last is not so easily done but by men of good wits and upright of heart. Now having said, that of offence is the first sense and feeling of evil, let us show that it is not without certain degrees, by which it ascendeth up higher. The lowest degree then that is in it, is simply to turn aside from that which displeaseth it: and this degree 
Of the degrees of offence.  may be called Dislike or Trouble. The next above that, is when offence waxeth hot in itself, and kindleth the heart in such sort, that all the body is moved therewith. And when offence is as it were shut up, that it cannot range at will, than it turneth into rage, and offereth violence to itself, extending itself even unto those that have not offended it at al. For it is stirred up, and waxeth sharp in itself, and by this mean it increaseth more and more continually. So that in the end it is like to a mad dog which biteth as many as it meeteth withal. And although this affection doth then testify sufficiently, that it favoureth wholly of the corrupt nature of man, nevertheless if it were well ordered & did not exceed measure, it were commendable, so that we might justly place it amongst the affections of nature being sound, which aught to be the seeds of virtues in us. For God hath given it unto man, to the end he should presently withdraw himself, as soon as he perceiveth any evil, even at the first taste and touch of it, that so it may go no farther, lest through 
How offence may be well used.  custom he grow into a liking of evil, and afterward follow it with might and main. For if he suddenly retire, as if he touched a serpent and feared to be bitten, he will departed so far from it that it cannot hurt him: but if he stay in it and like it never so little, he cannot withdraw himself in such duetime, but that he shall feel some hurt thereby. For evil is like to thorns, which a man cannot come near unto, or handle them, but he shall be pricked: as likewise no man can touch pitch and not be defiled therewith. But the remedy to cure offence so far forth as it is vicious, is the moderation of the heart, 
The remedy to cure offences.  whereby it becometh so deep and so well tempered, that it is able with ease to swallow up and to digest those troubles and offences, which others can in no wise bear or endure. But now that we know what this affection is, we may easily conceive how it breedeth contempt. For contempt is an offence and displeasure conceived of some evil that cannot hurt, and 
What contempt is.  thereupon is esteemed to be vile and abject. So that it proceedeth of an evil whereof we are not afraid. For we use not to despise them whom we fear, but them only of whom we make small account, because they have not ability to hurt us howsoever they want no good will. Therefore although we desire not to do him good whom we despise, yet we will not hurt him, if there be in us but only a simple contempt of him. We think it enough for us to mock him, and to show what small account we make of him, and what small regard is to be had unto him.  
Hereof it is that proud persons are such great despisers and mockers of others. For seeing they esteem of none but of themselves, it cannot be but that they disdain others, & so consequently 
Of mockery.  mock them. For derision & mockery follow contempt, and they are expressed by many outward signs, and by divers kinds of behaviour, which oftentimes are hardlier borne withal and suffered, than greater evils and injuries which men may receive: as indeed they are blows and wounds, which pierce even unto the heart and soul. Therefore contempt and mockery engender commonly anger in them that cannot digest them with modesty and patience: as the true servants of God do, & followers of jesus Christ, who sustained so patiently all the contempts and reproaches that were offered unto him, that no evil word or voice ever came out of his mouth, whereby he gave any signification or sign of wrath, but was always quiet and dumb, as it were a sheep before her sher shearer, according as Esaias had foretold. Which aught to be unto us an example of all modesty and patience, to the end we may know how to bridle our anger and wrath in time conceived 
Easie 53. 7.  against all them that offend, contemn and mock us. But let us now consider of other affections, which we said were joined with grief, and followed offence. And first let us learn what anger is, what are the nature and effects of it, and for what use it may serve man: and this we shall understand of thee, ARAM.   

Of anger, and of the vehemency and violence thereof: of the difference that is between anger and rancour: of the affection of revenge that accompanieth them: of the motions of the heart in anger, with the effects thereof: wherefore this affection is given to man, and to what use it may serve him, Chap. 55.  
ARAM. There hath been always great contentions and disputations amongst the best learned of all the Philosophers, to know whether the affections and passions of the 
divers opinions of the Philosophers touching the affections.  heart and soul were necessary to prick forward and to help men to the effects of virtues, or otherwise hurtful and contrary unto them. Aristotle and all the Peripatecians maintained, that all the affections of the soul were not only natural, but given also by nature to great purpose: as among the rest, anger and choler, which serveth for a prick to provoke and stir up fortitude and generosity. And because virtue was a habit of that which is good and comely, yea the mediocrity of the affections, therefore it aught not in any sort to be without these motions, neither yet to be too much subject to passion. For the privation and want of desire would have made the soul unmovable and without cheerfulness, even in honest things: as over vehement desires altogether trouble it, and set it as it were beside itself. The Academikes and stoics contended hard against this opinion, alleging many great arguments against it: as this among the rest: That all is either virtue or vice, and that there is no mean between them: that one of those cannot be the cause of the other, seeing they are directly and in all things contrary, having nothing common between them, and therefore that virtue never proceeded of vice. And concerning Fortitude and Generosity, which were bred in the heart by mature consolation & election of reason, that these virtues could by no means be helped by anger or choler, but rather troubled and hindered in their actions, because such passions did never use any consultation but performed all things inconsiderately and at adventure. There are many yet to be found amongst us, that would take part with either opinion of these Philosophers; but unless they study thoroughly the book of nature, and have the spirit of God for their master and teacher, they shall never be able to yield causes and certain reasons of their resolution, nor of the wonderful effects wrought by the powers of the soul, as we may learn by the sequel of our speech.  
First then we must know, that Anger is a vehement motion of the heart, because it seethe those good things which it hath, to be contemned, whereas it judgeth them not to be such as aught to be so lightiet by. And herein it thinks itself despised. For every one valueth himself 
What anger is  according to the opinion of those good things which he judgeth to be in himself: therefore there is no anger which cometh not of offence. But all offence is not anger. For offence 
How it differeth from offence.  is more general, & anger more special, albeit they are commonly confounded & taken one for another. But there are many things that dislike us, with which notwithstanding we are not angry, because there is no contempt of us joined with them. For oftentimes we are grieved by those things that have neither sense nor understanding, when some thing happeneth against our mind and offendeth us: and it seemeth that we are provoked to anger against them, but this is not anger properly, seeing there is nothing but simple offence without contempt of us. Also it falleth out often, that our blood is heated, and our heart pricked forward and inflamed to do some great work, for the performance whereof it is requisite that it should be much moved, but this is only a kindling of the heart without anger and offence, because it is not stirred up thereunto by any evil. But when a man letteth lose the bridle unto this affection in such sort, that he accustometh himself thereunto, this use and custom turneth it into rancour, which is an inveterate anger that hath taken root 
Of rancour.  in the heart. Now the better that a man thinks of himself, the sooner he is offended at every thing, and the readier he is to be moved to anger, as taking himself to be 
The violence of anger.  despised. This is a very vehement and violent affection. For it overthroweth very often the whole mind and soul, so that it forgetteth all right, justice and equity, all good will and amity, and pardoneth not, not not women or children, neither yet kinsfolks 
Prou. 27. 4.  or friends. Therefore Solomon saith, That anger is cruel, and wrath is raging: but who can stand before envy? And Ecclesiasticus, Contend not with a choleric man: for he esteemeth the shedding 
Eccles. 8.  of blood, as a matter of nothing, and he will fall upon thee in place where there shall be none to help thee.  
To be short, after that anger hath once got the bridle at will, the whole mind and judgement is so blinded & carried headlong, that an angry manthinkes of nothing but of revenge, 
The first-fruits of anger.  insomuch that he forgetteth himself, and careth not what he doth, or what harm will light upon himself in so doing, so that he may be avenged. And many times he will murmur against heaven and earth, and against all the creatures, because they are not moved to revenge his quarrel: yea, which is worse, he despiseth God himself and waxeth wroth against him, blaspheming him, because he taketh not pleasure in serving his revenging mind. Which is as much as if he should spit against heaven: and therefore it is very necessary, that this spittle, proceeding from such a stinking mouth, should return and fall back upon his own face. And when this passion of anger is very vehement, it leadeth a man even to fury and rage, and procureth unto him not only many diseases, but oftentimes death itself. Therefore although we knew not what hurt this affection doth to the soul, yet the evil which it bringeth 
What effect it hath in the body.  to the body, aught to be of sufficient force to turn us from it. For it is a vice that hath wonderful effects in the body, and such as are very unbeseeming a man. For first of all when the heart is offended, the blood boileth round about it, and the heart is swollen and puffed up: whereupon followeth a continual panting and trembling of the heart and breast. And when these burning flames and kindled spirits are ascended up from the heart unto the brain, then is anger come to this perfection. From hence cometh change of countenance,, shaking of the lips and of the whole visage, stopping of speech and such other terrible looks to behold, more meet for a beast then for a man. For this cause the Philosopher that counseled an angry man to behold his face in a glass, had reason so to do. For he that beholdeth his own face and countenance when he is in choler, should find matter enough to be appeased. Now because anger is a grief proceeding of the contempt of those good things that are in a man, who thinks that it aught not to be so, therefore he desireth to show that they are not lightly to be esteemed of, which he supposeth may be done this way, by making his power known, especially in hurting. Whereupon 
The fountain of the appetit of revenge.  this appetite of revenge is engendered, which is common to anger with offence, hatred and envy: so that anger is always mingled with sorrow and with desire of revenge. And indeed revenge is a motion of the heart, whereby it doth not only turn aside and withdraw itself from that which offendeth, but laboureth withal either to repel it, or to overcome and vanquish it, and to punish him that is the cause of it. Wherhfore we may note herein two motions, as there are two respects, namely, the one to eschew the evil that offendeth, and the other to pursue with great violence him that is the author thereof. Hereof it is, that some when they are angry become pale, because the blood retireth unto the heart: and these are most courageous, and most dangerous. Others wax red, because the blood ascendeth up to the head: therefore these are not so full of stomach, nor so much to be feared, in 
The cause of looking pale and read.  respect of those causes, which were showed before when we spoke of Fear. But howsoever the difference is, yet in anger the blood doth not wholly go back into the heart, as it doth in fear and sorrow, but disperseth itself outwardly. For the heart is as if he strove to go out of his host or camp, not unlike to a Prince or Captain that is desirous to march forward in battle array: whereupon he sendeth forth the blood and the spirits, as his men of war, to repel the enemy: which is not done without great moving and tumult, and much stirring in the heart, which setteth on fire, and in flameth the blood and spirits.  
Whereupon it followeth, that by reason of this motion of the blood, and of the confusion of the spirits which ensue thereof, the actions and motions of all the members of the 
How anger troubleth th● brain.  body are troubled. But the brain is chief offended, because that also is heated by the inflamed blood, and by those burning spirits which mount up thither, by whose motion it is stirred up and disturbed, as also by the sinews which come even to the heart. For how hot soever the heart and breast are or may be, yet man abideth always still and quiet if the heat pierce not up to the brain. For it falleth out herein as it doth with a drunken body, who is not said to be drunk, because he hath taken in store of Wine, except it ascend up into his head, and trouble his brain and senses. Hereof it is, that vehement anger is often accompanied with fren sinesse, and with the falling sickness. And because the heart being inflamed, the blood and spirits also are set on fire, they 'cause the whole body to tremble, yea the very bones themselves. For the blood that boileth in the breast, puffeth up and thrusteth forward the Midriff, whereupon it followeth, that the motions of angry men are very troublesome, like unto those of drunkards. Now because there are many means to stir men up to anger and wrath, and seeing it is so dangerous a passion, it is very needful for us to have many good remedies against it, as indeed there are many to be found.  
Although we should not stand in need of so many, if we would only consider who we 
The best remedy against anger.  are, and compare ourselves with God, and mark narrowly how many ways we offend him daily, what causes we give him to be bitterly incited and kindled with wrath against us, and how he beareth with us, turning his anger into pity and compassion towards us. For if we enter into this consideration, first we shall be greatly ashamed that we are angry; secondly our anger will be easily appeased. For who can despise us as we deserve, and move us to anger, seeing we despise God unto whom we own all honour and reverence, and whom we aught to set at so high a price above all other things, that we should esteem all the world as nothing in respect of his value? And yet we show plainly, how far we are off from this, seeing we stand in so little awe to offend him, yea, are more afraid to displease men then him. Beside, we commit no offence against him, in which there is not great contempt of his Majesty. Whereas if we feared, loved and honoured him as we aught to do, we should rather fear to offend him then to die. But there is nothing which we care for less.  
Wherhfore, questionless before him, who is a terrible avenger of his contempt, we are all lost, if he should pursue us in his anger, as we deserve, and as we pursue others, and not change his anger into mercy. If we consider well of these things, we shall know what occasion we have to swell with pride like Toads, and to think so well of ourselves as we do, or to be so soon kindled with choler against them that have offended us: we shall know what excellency and dignity can be in us that are but dust and s●lth, whereby we should be so soon provoked when we see ourselves despised and wronged of others.  
Moreover, when we know, that we are utterly undone, except God extend his grace and mercy towards us, shall we not, in stead of anger and revenge, be ashamed to crave pardon of him, if we continued still to be angry, and use no pity and favour towards them that have offended us, as we desire that God should show favour unto us? And indeed what cause have we to hope for it upon any other condition? for it is written, that the Lord will take 
Eccles. 2●.  vengeance of him that revengeth himself and will observe his offences narrowly. Forgive thy neighbour his misdeed, and when thou prayest, thy sins shallbe forgiven thee. Shall man keep anger against man, & will he ask remission at the Lords hands? He will take no pity upon his like, & shall he demand pardon for his sins? Seeing he that is but flesh keepeth his anger, & yet sueth unto God for pardon, who will blot out his iniquities? But this aught not to be forgotten of us, to 'cause us to abstain from all anger towards them that by offering 
Another remedy against anger.  us injury provoke us thereunto, namely, that we acknowledge them to be the scourges of God to chastise our faults, which are worthy of greater punishment.  
Thus let us always look to the first cause of our affliction, and to God who visiteth us justly (whatsoever the means are which he useth) and not to second causes & to the next means, to the end that we do not as dogs do, which run after the stone thrown against them, that by biting it they may be revenged of it, not looking unto him that threw it. For if we consider that the blow given unto us cometh from God, we will let the stone go, and not follow after it with anger and revenge, but turn unto God who threw it, not to stir up ourselves to despite him, or to be avenged of him, but to crave for pardon & grace at his hand●. And this is the right way which we are to take for the quenching of our choler, that so we may bridle our anger, and keep ourselves quiet.  
Now for the end of this matter, it remaineth that we should know whether this affection be altogether vicious, and wholly proceeding from our corrupt nature, or whether it have within it any seed of virtue, as well as the rest. It is certain, that it is given of God to man, to stir him up to the desire of excellent things, to the end that when he seeth 
Why the affection of anger is natural, and what good cometh by it.  himself despised and rejected for base actions and abject things, and is grieved for the same, he should endeavour to leave and forsake them, and to addict himself to better and more noble things, which cannot be contemned, nor he despised in regard of them. And this kind of anger is very good. For being angry in this sort, our anger is turned upon ourselves only, to blame and reprehend ourselves for our sloth and looseness, and for our other vices and imperfections: and by this means our anger should not be sin, but being acceptable unto God, it would be unto us a Schoolmaster, and as a spur to solicit and persuade us unto Virtue, and to such things as beseem us, and that estate whereunto we are called.  
If then we would be angry according to the will of God, let us first be angry against ourselves for our faults and imperfections: and when we have just occasion to whet ourselves against others, let our anger be turned against their vices, not against their persons. And such an anger will show zeal for the honour of God and the salvation of our neighbours. Now the sequel of our speech requireth, that we should speak of hatred and of envy, which for the most part follow offence and anger. Let us then hear ACHITOB discourse of these things.   

Of Aatred, and of the nature and effects thereof: of a good kind of Hatred, and of the remedy to cure the evil Hatred: of Envy and of the kinds and effects thereof: of the difference between good and evil Envy, Chap. 56.  
ACHITOB. Forasmuch as nature, wisdom and goodness teach, that men aught to be knit together by love, as we have seen heretofore, and that we are by the self same nature framed and fashioned thereunto, as we may learn by that which we have heard of the form & disposition of the hart, we must needs confess, that the spirit of man can bring forth nothing more unworthy itself, then to suffer itself to be overcome of hatred and Envy, which are so contrary to love, that they comprehend under them all general injustice and wickedness of men. For from these wild plants nothing can proceed (by reason of the corruption of man's nature) but effects that draw us clean contrary from wishing well to our neighbour. So that if we pluck out of our heart the cause of this natural obligation concerning the succour we own one to another, namely, Love, what can be either found or placed there but hardness, inhumanity, cruelty, and all kind of barbarousness, which are to be accounted and taken for monsters in man's nature? For how strange and monstrous a thing were it, to unclothe a man's heart of Love, and to put upon it hatred, extreme backbiting, bitterness and cruelty, which proceed all from one fountain? Nevertheless we see, that men are inclined rather to Hatred then to Love: but let us search out the cause thereof.  
There are many that take Hatred to be an inveterate anger, because it is a habit of anger 
What hatred is.  whereby the heart escheweth something as evil, and desireth to repel & drive it away. Wherefore this affection is directly contrary to love, and so likewise is anger. For it is an offence rooted in the heart, which causeth it to wish greatly his hurt by whom it taketh itself to be offended. Now because contempt doth often accompany hatred, and envy is never without it, besides that it breedeth strife, contentions, manslaughters and murders, therefore in the holy Scriptures hatred is often taken for all these things. As for the vehement causes of hatred, 
The causes of it.  they are in every one according as a man esteemeth of the things he hateth. Therefore proud and envious persons are always inclined very much to hatred. Some men also are of such a hateful nature, that they scarce wish well to any body: and surely these are very devilish natures. Some likewise are given thereunto of custom, which they have gotten by rejoicing at other men's harms. But the cause why it is easier for us to hate then to love, and why Hatred taketh deeper root in our heart then love, is because hatred findeth a better 
Why it is an easiet matter to hate the● to love.  soil there, and a more apt foundation to be laid upon, than love doth, and that chief for two reasons. The first is the corruption of man's nature, which being left unto itself, savoureth more of the nature of Sata●, who is hateful, a liar, and envious from the beginning, then of the nature of God, who is love, truth, and charity. Therefore Saint john saith Th●● Cain hated his brother & slew him, because he was of the devil, & Abel was of God. This hatred will be always in those that have one and the same Father that Cain had, against all good 
1. john. 3. 10. 12.  men and children of God. The second is, because the infirmity of our nature will not permit us to enjoy any good things in this world, that are pure and of long continuance: and therefore they suffer us to have but a little sense and taste of them. But it is clean contrary in regard of evils. For they quickly find whereupon to stay and to plant themselves within us, and to spread their roots so deep and broad, that they cannot easily be plucked up. Whereupon they are felt a great deal more, and continued longer in our heart and memoris. Not without cause then do men say, that the pleasures, services, and good things done unto us are made of feathers, and therefore they are easily carried away by reason of their lightness: but offences, evils, and displeasures are made of lead, and therefore they abide in the bottom of the heart by reason of their weight. And forasmuch as love proceedeth of that which is good, and hatred of evil, whether it be evil in truth, or in opinion only, as evil is commonly greater and of longer continuance then Good, for the causes spoken of, so is it with Love and Hatred, and with their roots and long abode.  
Now o● Hatred cometh backbiting and evil speaking, which being kindled, bringeth forth bitterness and cruelty: and as Love whetteth a man on to do well, so contrariwise 
The first-fruits of Hatred.  Hatred turneth men aside from well doing, and provoketh them to hurt. For this cause it soweth the seed of enmity, and laboureth craftily to 'cause the party hated of fall into danger. For it desireth to hurt him, and to bring evil upon him, either by itself or by another, secretly or openly. In a word, seeing it is wholly contrary to Love, we may without any long discourse know the nature thereof, by that which hath been spoken of the nature of Love, taking it clean contrary thereunto. But let us see whether the affection of hatred be altogether evil of itself, or whether a man may reap any profit thereby.  
We may say of this as we did of anger, and of other affections already spoken of. For it is given to man to 'cause him to withdraw himself from all evil that may hurt him, to flee 
Of a good kind of Hatred. Rom. 12. 9 Amos 5. 15.  from it and to repel it as being contrary unto him. Therefore S. Paul saith, Hate that which is evil, and cleave to that which is good. For true and perfect hatred should hate nothing but that which is evil indeed, as true love should love that only which is good indeed. But contrariwise we commonly hate the Good and good men, and love the Evil and the workers thereof. Besides, we are faulty in this, that instead of hating men's vices, we hate their persons. Wherhfore it is needful, that in this matter of Hatred, we should put that in practise which we have already said of Anger, namely, that we should above all things hate out own vices, and that evil which is in us and in ours. But we that practise the clean contrary, change Love into Hatred, and hatred into love. For when we support & bear with our 
How love is turned into hatred.  own vices, or with the vices of our friends and kinsmen, which are not to be suffered or borne withal, it seemeth that this toleration proceedeth from the love we bear either to ourselves or to others: but it is far otherwise. For if we loved ourselves well, and our neighbours as ourselves, we would be careful to remove all hurtful things far from our souls and to furnish them with that which is convenient and wholesome for them, & so likewise for our friends: whereas we procure unto them that which turneth to their dishonour, hurt, & overthrow, by nourishing them in their vices through our dissembling and bearing with them. And thus much for that profit, which we may receive by this affection of hatred, being well guided according unto the will of God, and to a sound and reasonable nature.  
Now against the passion of evil Hatred, amongst a great number of remedies which may very well be applied thereunto, we have two principal ones that are very good and profitable. 
Remedies against the evil kind of hatred.  The first remedy is, the example of the love of God, and of jesus Christ towards us, of which we have spoken already, with those holy Precepts which do command Love and forbidden Hatred. The second remedy is, the contempt of all earthly things, and the regard that is to be had unto the things that are Celestial and Eternal. For if we shall set light by all mortal and corruptible things, and lift up our hearts to higher things, we shall very easily break off all hatred and enmity, neither will we take any thing greatly to heart, but when we see God offended.  
Now as concerning Envy, that always accompanieth hatred, it is an affection quite contrary 
Description of Enuy.  to mercy, which is a sorrow conceived by reason of the miseries of another, whereas envy is a grief arising of others men's felicity. Therefore it doth naturally rejoice at another man's harm, and is grieved at his good: so that according to the variety of good things 
divers sorts of Enuy.  that may befall other men, so there are divers kinds of Enuy. For first, some are envious, when 
1  other men's profit is so great that it hindereth theirs. There is also a kind of envy at the welfare 
2  of another, which albeit it neither hurt nor hinder us, yet we are grieved because the like is not befallen to us, or not rather to us, or not aswell to us as to another to whom it is happened And this is a spice of covetousness. There is yet a third kind of Envy, which maketh 
3  us unwilling that others should obtain that good which we have, or which we desire, or have wished for but could not get it. And when the question is of those good things, which it seemeth we should enjoy but do not, or which we think belong to us, but are bestowed upon others, then is our envy greater, and may also be called jealousy. Moreover, there is a fourth kind that is worst of all, to which the name of Envy agreeth more properly, as being 
4  often bred of the former kinds, when a man giveth them the bridle, & suffereth them to reign two much over him. This envy is a grief conceived at another's good without any regard of it own profit, but only because it judgeth itself hurt when others receive good or do good. And this is the very envy of the Devil & of his children: which is an affection that is mingled of hatred & of joy. For it hateth virtue, and reioyeeths at vice, and at the prosperity of the wicked. Contrariwise, it is grieved at the felicity of good men, and glad of their miseries. But what kind soever of envy is in a man, there is in him grief, and as it were a biting that gnaweth him, by reason that the heart in this affection shrinketh in as it were, and closeth up itself at the good and benefit of another. So that sorrow is always joined therewith. The goods against which envy rusheth most, are such as are in greatest reputation 
Envy is never without grienf.  amongst men, as honour & glory, insomuch that it is more moved at the good renown honour & praise given to men, in respect of the good things that are in them, then at the good things themselves, in regard of which men are honoured & esteemed. For the envious man careth not for the virtues that bring renown and glory; but only for the honour & glory which follow them as the shadow doth the body. For as much then as a proud man desireth still to be preferred before all, therefore he is more greedy of these goods, of honour and glory, then of true goods of which the other are but shadows, Hereof it is, that a proud man is naturally envious, because envy springeth from such a desire of preferment: yea, it is commonly bred of pride. Yea, the farther a man is off from that which he would be thought to be, and the less endued with those good things for which he would be honoured, the more envious he is. But among all the good things against which envy striveth most, & for which 
Against what good things Envy is most bend.  it is most stirred up, those of the soul are the chiefest, because they are more excellent than those of the body, and such as never have end. Therefore also the reputation & honour which men obtain by their means abide with them continually, But the contrary falleth out in corporal and external goods, as they that have more narrow bounds. Wherhfore, as they cannot grow to that greatness unto which the other do, so their use also is nothing so great and consequently the price and reputation that proceedeth from them is not so great. Therefore if the question be of honour and glory, no man of any good judgement but will more willingly give over that which may be gotten by corporal and outward things, then that which followeth knowledge, wisdom, virtue, and the other goods of the soul. So that envy may stand us in stead of a witness to testify and show unto us, which are the greatest goods of all, seeing it is always busied about the highest, noblest, and most excellent Good. Now as there is no wicked affection, which carrieth not about, it own torment to take vengeance thereof by the just judgement of God, so this of envy passeth all the rest in this respect. Therforeit was well said of them that taught, that envy is most just, because of itself it is the same punishment to the envious man, which it deserveth. For first, it is vile and servile, because 
How an envious body is tormented.  an envious man knoweth this in himself, that he judgeth the good things in an other to be greater and more excellent than his own, or at leastwise, he feareth jest it should so come to pass. Therefore there is no affection in a man, which he darelesse disclose then this of envy: so that he receiveth less comfort in this then in any other. For by opening our heart to another we receive solace and comfort: whereas the envious person judgeth his affection of envy to be so vile, that he dare not discover it, but hideth and concealeth it as much as he can. If he be angry or hate any one, he will declare it a great deal sooner. And albeit fear be thought to be dishonourable, yet will a man rather disclose this affection, than he will envy. The like may besaid of sorrow and of love. But the envious body is constrained to bit● on his bridle, to chew and to devour his envy within himself, and to lock up 
The countenance of an envious ma●●.  his own misery in the bottom of his heart, to the end it break not forth and show itself, whereby the body receiveth great detriment. For it becometh pale, wan, swart, and lean; the eyes sink into the head, the looks are askew, and the whole countenance is disfigured. And within the heart the furies are enclosed, which give him so small rest, that 
The countenance of an envious man. Pro. 14. 30. Eccles 30. 17. 24.  greater torment cannot be imagined. Therefore Solomon saith very well, That a sound heart is the life of the body: but enny is the ratting of the bones. And Ecclesiasticus saith, That death is better than a bitter life: that envy and wrath shorten the life, and that carefulness bringeth age before the time. To conclude, although all the evil affections trouble and corrupt the mind very much, yet none of them offendeth it so much as envy doth. Which cometh not to pass so much because itself judgeth or esteemeth good to be evil, as because it desireth that others should so esteem thereof. But howsoever this vice be very vile and infamous both to the body and soul, yet in this affection of envy, we must put a difference between that part of it, which proceedeth from sound nature, as it was first given of God to man, and that which is in it through the corruption of nature. For there is a kind of envy which serveth us instead of sp●rreses to prick us forward, and to work in us a will 
Of a good kind of envy  and desire both to obtain and to keep great good things. And this envy is very good, when we apply ourselves to the true goods, and are not grieved at the prosperity and virtues which we see in others, but are moved by their example to desire and to seek after the self same goods, yea greater if the means be offered, provided that all be referred to the glory of God, to our own salvation, and to the profit of our neighbours. Unto this kind of Envy Saint Paul exhorteth us, when he writeth to the Corinthians, speaking of the diversity of gifts wrought by the spirit of God in his Church, Be envious of the best gifts: 
1. Cor. 12. 31.  albeit in our usual translation it be Desire, yet the Greek word signifieth to envy: but the sense is in a manner all one. And the same Apostle speaking of the relief and collection made for the poor, saith, Achaia hath prepared a year ago, and your zeal hath provoked many: that is to say, the emulation and envy, which they have conceived by your example: 
2. Cor. 9 2.  and this was a good, holy, and Christian envy. But if we seek our own glory, and in that respect are grieved that others excel us in virtues and in the gifts and graces of God, only because we would have that honour which they have, and be equal with them, or above them; this is a perverse and Satanical affection, declaring evidently that we seek ourselves and our own glory more than the glory of God. For if we had respect to that which we aught, it would be all one to us who were the instruments either ourselves or others, so that God were glorified, and that were well done, which aught to be done. As for the evil sorts of envy of which we have spoken, they are placed by S. Paul amongst the works of darkness and of the flesh, where he saith, that They which are defiled with them shall not inherit the kingdom of God. But for as much as in this discourse we placed jealousy amongst 
Rom. 13. Gal. 5. 21.  the kinds of Envy, and yet it is often taken in the good part, proceeding as it were of true love, as Zeal also is bred thereof, it shall be good for thee, ASER, to begin the days Work to morrow with a treatise of these two affections.   
The end of the seventh days work   

The eighth days work.  

Of jealousy, and of the kinds thereof: how it may be either a vice or a virtue: how true zeal, true jealousy, and indignation proceed of love: of their natures, and why these affections are given to man. Chap. 57  
ASER. The holy Scripture applying itself to the capacity of man's understanding, describeth men's affections oftentimes by those testimonies 
Easie 3. 16. and 484. E●●ch 3. 8. 9  which their outward members afford, convincing them of vices rooted in their heart, by the carriage of their eyes, of their eyelids, of their forehead, and of their whole countenance. Which is to this end chief, that when they know that men may read one another's face as it were in a Book that which is covered and hidden in the heart, they should persuade themselves, that God soundeth and seethe more easily the most secret thoughts of their hearts, and that they can hide nothing from him. Likewise the holy spirit to condescend 
Psal. 34. 15. 1. Pet. ●. 22. Easie. 29. 23. Exod. 13. 14. job 40. 4.  to our rudeness, and to teach us to know GOD by ourselves, not only by our soul which we see not, but also by our body which we see, speaketh often of his high, infinite, and incomprehensible majesty, as it were of a man, attributing unto him eyes, ears, a nose, a mouth, arms, legs, feet, hands, a heart, and bowels, Moreover albeit this pure, simple, and eternal essence be in no wise passionated with affections, yet the same heavenly word doth not only attribute unto him wrath, revenge, anger, jealousy and other affections, but doth oftentimes propound him unto us as an ireful man, having the face, behaviour, & whole countenance of one greatly stirred up to wrath & revenge, yea, even to great 
Exod 15. 7. 8. job 9 17.  fury. Which is done to this end, both, that by the knowledge which we may have of the nature of these affections whereunto we are inclined, and of the effects which they bring forth, and causes from whence they proceed, we should meditate the same things to be in God when we offend him, and know what reward we are to look for: and also to teach us that right rule of all our affections which we have in his divine goodness.  
Now i● we remember what hath been declared unto us of the nature of Love, we heard that true and pure love was without jealousy, and that this affection sprang of the love of concupiscence: and yet it was told us yesterday, that jealousy was placed among the kinds of envy. Let us then see what this affection is properly, and whether all jealousy be vicious. I understand by jealousy, a fear which a man hath, lest an other whom he would not, 
What jealousy is.  should enjoy something. This cometh to pass two ways, namely, either because we ourselves would enjoy it alone, or else because we would have some other, to whom we wish the same thing, to enjoy it alone: the reason hereof is, because we judge it hurtful either to ourselves or to those whom we love, if others should enjoy it. As if the question were of some honour, or of some other good, which we would have to ourselves alone, or for some one whom we love, and should be grieved that an other enjoyeth it, and thereupon envy him, either because we are afraid he shall enjoy it, or because he enjoyeth it already, herein appeareth envy and evil jealousy, which bringeth with it great mischiefs. For as Saint james saith, From whence are wars and contentions among you? are they not 
james 4. 12.  hence, even of your lusts that fight in your members? ye lust, and have not: ye envy and are ●ealous, or have indignation, and cannot obtain: ye fight and war, and get nothing. Wherhfore to avoid this envy and evil jealousy, we must consider of what nature that Good is, which stirreth us up to this affection. For according to the nature thereof, our jealousy may be either a vice or a virtue. For if the question be of some good thing, which belongeth in such sort to me alone, or to any other whom I love, that none may enjoy it except it be injustly, and to the dishonour of God, it is no evil jealousy if I fear lest any should abuse it, or be grieved when it falleth out so. If it concerneth some body whom I love, who is abused by another 
A good kind of jealousy.  to the displeasure of God, and to the dishonour and hurt of the party beloved, I have yet greater occasion to fear, to be grieved, and even to be jealous both over my own Good, and over the good of the party beloved. And as I have just cause of jealousy in this case in that thing which properly belongeth unto me, so also I have like occasion when an other unjustly enjoyeth that Good which belongeth to him whom I love, and of whom I aught to be careful, and be grieved when any reproach or wrong is offered unto him. As for example: seeing the husband hath such an interest in his wife, & the wife in her husband, as no other either may or aught to have the like, both of them have just cause to beware that no other have the fruition hereof but themselves, to take the matter heavily if it fall out otherwise, and to be very much offended and full of indignation against him that should attempt any such thing. For that can not be done, as not without the great dishonour and damage of the parties so knit together, so also not without the great dishonour of GOD, whose law and covenant is thereby violated. On the other side, that mutual love which aught to be betwixt the husband and the wife, doth bind them to desire 
What mutual love aught to be between man & wife.  and to procure the honour and profit each of other, and to keep back all dishonour and hurt that may befall them. Wherefore both of them have just cause to be offended with those that seek to procure any blemish in this respect. The like may be said of fathers, mothers, and children, and of all that have any charge over others, or that are linked together by friendship. But on the other side a man must beware, that he be not too suspicious, and that he carry not within himself matter of jealousy, and so torment himself and others without cause: as likewise he must be very careful, that he give no occasion of jealousy to any other.  
And thus you see how there may be a good jealousy, notwithstanding that in this case it be mingled with love and anger. For jealousy causeth the party that loveth, to be angry with him by whom that thing which he doth love, receiveth any dishonour or detriment. Therefore this anger cometh of love, which inciteth him to set himself against him that offendeth the thing beloved. So that these affections are always commendable, arising of this cause, and being ruled according to that Zeal and jealousy which the holy Scripture attributeth 
Why jealousy is attributed to God.  unto GOD in regard of us. For he is called a jealous GOD not only in regard of his honour and glory, which he will not have given to any other besides himself, (and indeed all the creatures joined together are not able to diminish or to add any thing thereunto whatsoever they do) but also because he loveth us, he is jealous of our salvation, and desireth to reserve us wholly to himself, and to make us partakers of his immortal blessedness. Therefore he will not have us spoil him of his glory, and forsake his service, in regard of that hurt and damage which should befall us thereby. For he beareth that affection towards us, which a good Father doth towards his children, who loveth them not for any profit coming to him thereby, but only for their own good, and because he both will and aught to love them. This love then, which God beareth unto us, causeth him to be jealous over us, when, through impiety and wickedness of life, we leave him, and join ourselves unto his adversary the devil. Whereupon he doth not only become angry, but is full of indignation also, both against him and us. For indignation is a grief wrought in us, when we see some good thing befall to an unworthy person, and him that 

What Indignation is.  
From whence Zeal proceedeth.   is worthy, deprived thereof. This affection therefore proceedeth from the same root from whence compassion springeth, namely, from the judgement of that which is good, and from the love thereof. But the diversity of both their objects causeth them in some sort to be contrary affections: forasmuch as indignation is bred in regard of some good that happeneth to one that is unworthy of it, and compassion or pity ariseth of some evil that befalleth or is procured to him that hath not deserved it. And of these contrary affections mingled together, a third affection is bred, which in holy Scripture is called Zeal and jealousy, being taken in the good part.  
Hereof it is, that the love & compassion which God hath of his children, when he seethe them go about to bereave themselves of that good which he wisheth them, and the indignation that he hath in regard of the good, which happeneth to the wicked in the accomplishment of their evil desires, (for to them evil is in stead of good) causeth him to be moved with jealousy and to be avenged thereof. For this cause the Prophet joel saith, 
joel. 2. 18. Isaiah 9 7.  Than will the Lord be jealous over his land, and spare his people. And the prophet Easie, having declared to Ezechias the deliverance of jerusalem, and the succour which God would sand him against Senacher●h, saith, That the zeal of the Lord of Hosts will perform this. In like manner when the true children & servants of God behold a confusion in stead of that order which the Lord would have observed, & which he hath prescribed unto his creatures, they are greatly moved in regard of that zeal, which they bear aswell towards God, as towards their 
What zeal is  neighbours. For zeal is nothing else but an indignation conceived in respect of those things, that are unworthily done against him that is dear unto us, and whom we love. Therefore if we love God and his Saints, if we love the Common wealth, our Princes, our Parents, and all others whom we aught to love, we will be jealous for them, and cannot behold without indignation any thing done against them, that aught not to be. This Indignation and jealousy will induce us to set ourselves earnestly against all injustice, and to overthrow it with all our might. With this jealousy Saint Paul was affected towards the Corinthians when he wrote thus unto them, I am jealous over you with godly jealousy: for I 
2. Cor. 11. 2.  have prepared you for one husband, to present you as a pure virgin unto Christ.  
This kind of Zeal is very requisite in all the true servants of God, but chief in them that have any public charge, whether it be in the Church or in the Common wealth. For except they be endued with great zeal towards the glory of the Majesty of God, towards 
A good lesson for Princes & Pastors.  justice and all virtues, they will never have that care which they aught either of the honour and service of God, or of public benefit, or to reprove, correct and punish vices, or lastly to maintain good discipline, upright justice, and good conversation, in such sort as becometh them. For this cause hath God given to the nature of man, this affection of Zeal and Indignation for the communion that aught to be in the society of men, to the end there should be a right and indifferent distribution of all good things, so that none of them should light upon the unworthy that use them ill, but to such as deserve them and know how to use them aright.  
Now when these affections are thus ruled, they are very good and profitable: but commonly they are abused unto vice. For Indignation is quickly bred of Envy, which being 
The abuse of Indignation and of zeal.  unjust, is also of a corrupt and bad judgement, so that an envious body thinketh that whatsoever good thing an other hath befallen unto him, he is unworthy of it. And so in like manner the Zeal that is without true knowledge, bringeth forth most pernicious effects. For it proceedeth from a love which judgeth not aright of the thing that moveth it, but esteemeth it to be evil and worthy of hatred, whereas it is good and worthy of love. Of this Zeal Saint Paul speaketh when he saith of the jews, I hear them record, 
Rom. 10. ●.  that they have the zeal of God, but not according to knowledge. For being deceived in their judgement, and calling themselves defenders and lovers of the Law of GOD, they persecuted the Gospel, (which was the accomplishment of the Law) and also them that believed in jesus Christ: insomuch that the very Zeal was through their ignorance turned into Cruelty and Tyranny, which is a very dangerous zeal, and aught most carefully to be shunned of us, as that whereinto the best minded men of all do commonly fall, when they are blinded with ignorance: as the Apostle Saint Paul propoundeth himself in this case for an example before he was converted. For he freely confesseth, that he was a blasphemer, a persecutor, and an oppressor, but he did it ignorantly, and through unbelief. 
1. Tim. 1. 13. Act. 26. 10. 11.   
There hath been many such, not only amongst the jews, but even among the Heathen. For albeit their Religion was altogether superstitious and idolatrous, yet they always maintained and defended it with very great zeal, persecuting such as professed Christianity among them, and condemning them as the vilest and most detestable men upon the earth. But if the Lord be greatly offended when as we bear hatred and envy against any body, we cannot doubt but that this doth likewise displease him, when we commit these things, being blinded with ignorance: and that he is carried with greater indignation against us, when we maliciously cloak these vices with a false title of zeal, of religion, and of his glory, thereby to revenge ourselves, and to excercise our cruelties much more easily. But let us now proceed to consider of other affections of the heart, and first of Revenge, Cruelty, and Rage. And because Revenge is appointed to punish offences, and every vice findeth a judge within itself, we will speak also of the affection of Shame which commonly followeth every vile act. It belongeth therefore to thee, AMANA, to entreat of this matter.   

Of Revenge, Cruelty, and Rage. and what agreement there is among them: what Shame and Blushing is, and why God hath placed these affections in man: and of the good and evil that is in them. Chap. 58.  
AMANA. If every one might be a judge in his own cause, & execute his own decrees, the malice of men doth declare sufficiently, that there would be no justice observed in the world, but robbery publicly put in practice, insomuch as the strongest would always carry away the spoil. For that blind love, which every one beareth towards himself, causeth us that we cannot see clearly either into our own, or into other men's affairs, so that we are always more ready to do wrong to others, then to departed from any thing of our own. Even so, if we might be suffered to revenge those injuries, which oftentimes without cause we suppose we have received, it is certain we would observe neither measure nor mean, but suffering ourselves to be guided by the passion of anger & wrath, we would fall into more than brutish cruelty and rage. For as God hath reserved vengeance to himself, and promised to recompense it, so no man carrieth that mind to do it justly that is in 
Heb. 10. 30.  him, neither indeed can any: because it is the spirit of a man that offereth injury to another, whereas the body is but the instrument of the mind, and as it were a sword unto it, which the spirit manageth and causeth to cut. Whereupon it followeth, that the party offended cannot revenge himself of his chiefest and greatest enemy. For God only is able to take vengeance of the soul, and to throw it together with the body into hell fire. Moreover 
Math. 20. 28.  when we think to hurt the body of our enemy, which is but the executioner of the evil disposition of his spirit, we hurt our own soul, making it guilty of the judgement of God, who forbiddeth all revenge, and commandeth us to possess our souls in patience, and never 
Luke 21. 19 Prou. 10. 22.  to requited evil for evil, but to wait the Lords leisure, being assuredly persuaded that he will save and deliver us.  
Now look what the affection receiveth and embraceth, the same doth it desire to return and sand bake again where it did receive it, whether it be good or evil. Therefore as a good affection both wisheth and doth well to him of whom it receiveth good will and beneficence: so a naughty affection desireth to return evil received, unto him of whom it hath received it. For this cause when the heart is wounded with grief by any one, it desireth to return the like to him that hath hurt it, and to rebite him of whom it is bitten. This affection is a desire of revenge, which being put in execution, is revenge accomplished: namely, when we 'cause him that hath offended us to suffer that punishment, which 
What revenge is.  in our judgement he hath deserved. This punishment is to damnify him either in soul or in body, or in his goods, yea, sometimes by all the meanc● that may be. And when power to revenge is wanting, there are some that fall into outrageous speeches, into horrible and execrable cursings, crying out for vengeance either at God's hand, or of some other that can perform it. Every offence therefore that engendereth hatred, anger, envy or indignation, bringeth with it a desire of revenge, which is to tender evil for evil, and to requited grief received with the like again.  
And when the offence is grown to that pass, that nothing can assuage the extremity thereof, nor stay is from breaking forth into revenge and hurting by all means that may be, then is this Revenge turned into Rage. For a man in such a case is not much unlike to a mad dog. For because revenge cannot take that effect which it would have, it vexeth and closeth 
What rage is.  up as it were the heart, bringing great grief and great torment to the whole body, so that a man so affected is as if his heart and body were ready to burst asunder.  
Now, when the heart is hardened with Revenge, it is turned into Cruelty, which is a privation of pi●ie & compassion. For when Offence and Anger are set on fire, they exclude all good thoughts out of the mind, and persuade to all kind of Cruelty, of which there 
Of Cruelty.  are three degrees. For there are some that procure it, who nevertheless would not execute it themselves. There are others that execute it. Besides, there is a third kind of 
Three sorts of Cruelty.  Cruelty, when we fail in performing our duty towards them that are in necessity, whom we both aught and might help and succour, whether this come of evil will or through negligence. For thereby we show that we are without pity and compassion. Hereof followeth inhumanity, which is as if we should lay aside all human affection and be transformed into brute beasts. Therefore we may well conclude, that all private Revenge proceeding of envy, or of hatred, or of anger, is vicious and forbidden by God, who commandeth us to tender good for evil, and not evil for evil. For he hath ordained the means, whereby he will have vengeance executed among men. Therefore he hath appointed Magistrates to execute it according to his Law, and following his ordinance, not with any evil 
How Magistrates aught to punish.  affection, but with just indignation proceeding from love, and from true zeal of justice. For to punish the wicked is a very acceptable sacrifice, so that there be no intermingling of our own passions withal, and that we exercise not our envies, rancours, and revenges under the name and title of justice and of the glory of God. For if we do so, we ●●ase to exercise the punishments and corrections of the Lord, and put our owns in practice. We must therefore follow his example. For he suffereth not evil to go unpunished, if men avoid not punishment by his grace and mercy, and by those means which he hath appointed for the obtaining thereof. Therefore it is often said of the wicked in the Scripture, that GOD will return into their bosom the evil which they have done: and his children and servants desire him also to perform the same. But when he doth it, he is not moved with any evil affection, but only with the love he beareth to justice and virtue, 
With what affection God punisheth offenders.  & to his children, and with pity and compassion towards them in regard of the injuries done unto them. And as himself cometh in judgement to take vengeance, so he would have them that supply his place among men, unto whom he hath committed the sword for the defence of the good and punishment of evil doers, to follow his example. But whether they do so or not, there is no sin that can avoid punishment, and that findeth not a judge even in him that committed it, to take vengeance thereof, by means of the affections, which God hath placed in man to that end. Among which Shame occupieth a place, which we aught well to consider.  
Concerning this affection, there are some that are ashamed in regard of some fe●●e of dishonour, of which there followeth no damage: or in respect of some grief or perturbation of the soul, arising of somethings that seem to bring some dishonour with them. Forasmuch therefore as Shame is a fear of dishonour, it is of great force in them that love 
What Shame is.  honour. For the more they love it, the more do they fear dishonour, which is the contrary thereof, as a very great evil. And for this cause there is in Shame not only a fear of villainy, but indignation also, after the committing of some fault. For he that is faulty, chafeth, and is angry with himself, because of the dishonour he receiveth through his offence. And this kind of Shame is simplest and lightest, and may be called Blushing, being very common especially in children and virgins. Now forasmuch as herein the spirits withdraw themselves unto the heart, as unto a centre, and presently as it were in the same instant return back again, the face is painted with a vermilion colour, which is very pleasant and comely, namely, in that age and in those persons. Therefore is this colour 
Blushin●g commendable in some persons  rightly called the colour of virtue. For God hath placed this affection of shame in the nature of men, to the end it should be unto them as a bridle to stay them from committing vile things, and as a judge and Revenger to punish them after they have done such things. Therefore also there is yet another kind of shame more vehement, which approacheth 
A second kind of Shame.  near unto the affection of anger, and is mingled with wrath and fear. For it is a motion of the heart, in which he that feeleth himself guilty of any dishonest crime or act, is angry with himself for the same, and punisheth and revengeth himself upon himself: & withal feareth the judgements of others, & the rebuke and dishonour that may come unto him for it. For as we have heard already, God hath placed in the nature of man sundry affections, of which some are sweet & pleasant, to the end they should be unto us as it were spurs unto virtue: others are bitter & unpleasant, that they might be unto us in stead of punishments, and that the grief which they bring might teach us to know more clearly what diversity there is between virtue and vice, and what difference we aught to put between good and evil deeds. Therefore there is not a worse thing in man, nor any disease more dangerous to the soul than impudence, which is wholly contrary to Shame and blushing. 
Impudence a very dangerous disease.  For whosoever is once past all shame, he hath no care at all of his honour, much less of the honour of GOD. Hereof it is that the holy Ghost by the Prophets doth greatly accuse the impudence of the wicked, saying unto them by way of reproach, that they had whores foreheads, and would not be ashamed: that they were impudent children 
jerem. 3. 3. Ezech. 2 4. and 3 7.  and stiff hearted, and that they did glory in their wickedness after they had done evil, in stead of being ashamed and amending their faults. Now whereas we said, that Shame painteth the face with a vermilion colour, we are to know, that the passions & affections of the soul breed great change in our bodies, as they that move the spirits and the natural heat, 
The cause of redness in the face in blushing.  by opening and shutting up of the heart: whereby the spirits are either enlarged or restrained from it.  
Thus it cometh to pass, that the colour of the face is changed, it being a property of the heart to set in it certain marks and signs of the affections that are in it, as we have already heard. Therefore doth shame paint the che●keses with redness, because the danger that springet● of fear is of that nature, that the heart standeth in need of help to repel & drive it away, namely, of that heat that retireth back unto it. Now forasmuch as there is perturbation in Shame, by reason of the opinion and fear of dishonour and blame, heat is drawn up to the head, & so from thence it is dispersed over the face. And although Shame doth not trouble the heart and mind so much as fear doth, yet doth it confounded the head, and causeth it oftentimes to forget what it thought & was purposed to have done. As we see it sometimes in very wise and skilful men, when they are to speak or to do something before personages or companies whom they reverence. And this is incident for the most part to such as are most modest, and to them that presume lest of themselves, who indeed cannot hear their own praises without shame and blushing, such is their nature & modesty: or else it is because their hearts are very little, which maketh them also fearful.  
Now although too much shame fastness, when it is causeless, is worthy of blame, because 
A cause of fear in men.  it often keepeth them that are overtaken therewith from doing many good things, and from employing the gifts which they have received of God as it becometh them: yet is it more praise worthy then impudency, which as it maketh men altogether shameless and brasenfaced, so it usually accompanieth proud and arrogant persons. For it is clean contra●y to modesty. Seeing therefore we learn, that shame is a fear of dishonour and blame, & of doing that that might procure it, we must take good heed that we judge aright of that which is to be accounted vile and dishonest, and of that which may bring unto us honour or dishonour, praise or dispraise. For our nature being full of darkness through sin that reigneth in it, our natural judgement is not so entire and upright as it aught to be, to judge well either of that which is truly honest, and which bringeth with it honour and commendation, or otherwise of the contrary unto it. Whereupon it cometh to pass, that we oftentimes take one for another, & so light upon that, which we least sought for or desired. Therefore let us know and learn this, that there is nothing honest but virtue, nor any thing dishonest but vice: and that as nothing is more beautiful and of greater renown than virtue: so nothing is more ill favoured, dishonourable and infamous than vice. But forasmuch as there is great diversity of opinions, what is to be accounted honest and dishonest, what virtue, what vice, what praise what dispraise; let us learn to frame our judgement out of the law 
The rule of all ave●uagement  and word of God, which is the rule of all justice and truth. Otherwise it will come to pass, that we shall be oftener ashamed of well doing then of evil doing, and of virtue then of vice; which were a vile shame, and such a one as that we aught to be greatly ashamed thereof. For in well doing we must never be afraid of that shame, which the wicked think to bring upon us, but rather accounted it honourable and glorious. Yea themselves shall be ashamed and 
Shame of well doing.  confounded when their vices and vile actions shall be discovered by our honesty & virtue: whereas if we join with them, we shall 'cause them to be void of shame when they do ill, yea, they will boast and vaunt of it before us. But enough of this matter. Now forasmuch as arrogant and proud persons are farthest off from using aright any of these affections of the heart, of which we have hitherto discoursed, especially of shame, I am of opinion that we are to look into the nature and effects of the passion of pride. Therefore ARAM, this shall be the subject of thy discourse.   

Of Pride, with the consideration thereof as well in nature entire, as corrupted: of the original thereof, and of such as are most inclined thereunto: what vices accompany it, how great a poison it is, and what remedy there is for it. Chap. 59,  
ARAM. There is nothing more easy then for a man to deceive himself. For look what a man earnestly desireth, he suposeth it is already as it were come to pass, or at lest he promiseth to himself that he shall easily obtain it. But oftentimes things fall out otherwise then men look or hope for. Now the chief cause of their error herein is 
The causes why men deceive themselves.  that presumption, which commonly they have of their own wisdom and virtue, whereby they are lift up with vain confidence and puffed up with pride. For when men are carried with an inordinate and blind love of themselves, they are soon persuaded that there is nothing in them worthy to be despised, yea they think that their ignorance is wisdom: insomuch that knowing nothing, they suppose they know all things, and having no dexterity to perform one commendable work, they presume very inconsiderately to set their hand to every great matter. But the more care and diligence they bestow, being led with a desire to show great skill, and thinking to win honour and renown, so much the more they discover their ignorance and blockishness, purchasing to themselves shame & infamy. Now the truth of God teacheth us to consider otherwise of ourselves, namely, that we want both sound understanding, and strength also to accomplish any good thing. Which knowledge aught to keep us back from all presumption, and overweening of our own wisdom and strength, and take from us all matter of pride and glory, to lead us into modesty and humility. This rule we aught to follow if we will attain to the white of good judgement and well doing.  
Now as shame and confusion is bred of some vile and dishonest fact, as we have heard, so vice fetcheth his beginning from pride. I call pride a puffing up of the soul and heart, proceeding from the opinion of some excellent good thing in us more than in others, whereby 
What pride is  a man is in estimation and honour, whether this good thing be present, past, or to come. But we are to consider of two fountains and first causes of this inflammation & affection of the heart, namely of one that proceedeth from nature pure and entire, & of another that cometh from nature as it is corrupted. So that we may boldly say, that there is a kind of pride which is no vice but a virtue, or at leastwise the seed of virtue. For there was no 
Two kinds of P●●e.  vicious or evil thing in the first nature as it was created of God, but every thing in it was virtuous, and the seed of virtue, as we have already showed in the former discourses already made by us. Wherefore that natural pride of man, being such as he should have been if he had continued in his first nature, would be an excellent virtue, and as it were the mother of all the rest, whereas now it is the most ugly and wonstrous vice that can be found in the whole nature of man corrupted, by means of which it is become the father of all vices and sins. For seeing GOD hath done this honour to man above all other bodily creatures, as to created him in regard of his soul, of a celestial and divine nature (for which cause the very Heathen affirm that mankind is of the lineage end parentage of God) he would not have him ignorant of the excellency of his being, and of those great and wonderful benefits, which he hath received of him in his creation, and of which he hath made him partaker chiefly for three causes. The first, to this end that knowing what grace and honour God his Creator hath bestowed upon him, he might be moved continually to 
Three causes why God created man so execllent.  acknowledge and honour him as it becometh him. The second, to the end that knowing the excellency of his nature. and of the stock from whence he came, he should love himself in God his Creator, and in him think himself worthy of true goods, even of the greatest and most excellent that may be, namely of heavenly and eternal goods: and that he should know that he was created for them, and that through the knowledge and consideration thereof he might be provoked to wish for and to desire them with great courage. The third, that by this means he might fear to degenerate from so high and noble a lineage as that is from whence he is descended, and to fall from so high a degree of honour and dignity into dishonour aod shame, and to lose those excellent goods whereunto he was allotted, if he committed any thing unbeseeming so noble and so excellent a nature as was the nature of God according to the image of which he was created. This then is that holy pride, which aught naturally to remain in man, and 
Of a good kind of pride.  whereby he might well have desired to be like unto GOD, especially in goodness, and that by those only means by which the Lord would have him be brought unto this similitude, and which himself had taught him: namely obedience, and that so far as was agreeable and meet for his nature. But our first parents giving ear to him, who first degenerated from this holy pride, under colour of being equal not to the goodness but to the power and greatness of God, were soon persuaded to believe the promise, which this liar had made unto them of a far greater and more excellent estate, than was that wherein God hath created them: insomuch that their humility & obedience whereby they were united & conjoined in great glory with God, was turned into arrogancy and disobedience. Whereupon doubting of the truth of God's word, they hearkened to the devils counsel, propounded unto themselves the self same means and degrees to make themselves equal with God their Creator, which this wretch and his angels had taken before, and whereby he fell from the highest estate of glory to the bottomless gulf of misery. And this is that bastardly and earthly pride that is entered into man's nature, of which it is said That pride is the original of sin, and he that hath it shall power out abomination, 
Eccles. 10. 14 19  till at last be overthrown. And a little after: Pride was not created in men, neither wrath in the generation of women. And indeed God hath made man of a mild and communicable nature apt to society, and to live with company not solitarily as savage beasts use to do. There 
Of the evil pride.  fore there is nothing more contrary to his nature, and to that end for which he was created, than this vicious pride, whereby he is so puffed up and swelleth in such sort, as if he were of some other nature and condition then human, and as though he meant to live in some other estate and degree then of a man. By which doing he degenerateth from the first nature in which he was created: wheerupon Ecclesiasticus concludeth, That pride i● 
Eccles. 10. 7.  hateful before God and man. Now the more arrogant and proud a man is, the more ignorant may he be said to be of true goods, & such as are eternal; & whereas he should wish for and long after these, his whole affection is turned to the desire of worldly glory and of earthly things. Which desire proceedeth from that inconsiderate love that every one beareth towards himself, which keepeth a man from the knowledge of himself. For if he knew himself well, he might see in himself nothing but such matter as should 'cause him to abase and to humble himself, not to be puffed up & to presume of himself in any respect. Hereupon it followeth, that they are naturally most inclined to pride, which are most ignorant, 
Who are most given to pride?  most rude, most abject, most inconsiderate, most hasty & headstrong. For they that are skilful and wise, sharp witted, moderate & wellstaied, who look into & take a view of themselves, and know well what is within them, such men understand and are able to judge very well, that there is nothing in man that should 'cause him either to swell or to be blown up with pride. Therefore we commonly see, that they which have most excellent virtues in them, that have greatest gifts of God, and could find in themselves most matter of pride, are notwithstanding most modest and most humble. And contrariwise the greatest blockeheads, and such as are most unapt to every good thing, most destitute of all good and excellent gifts of nature, are for the most part the loftiest and most proud: so that a man may well say of them that they are proud peasants, especially when they are blown up like bladders with some wind of prosperity, when their noses are perfumed, or their eyes dimmed with some smoke of honour, or worldly wealth. Many other causes of pride might 
Causes of pride.  be noted in the nature of man. For those that are of a hot and burning nature, as cholelike persons, are more subject to this vice than many others, and that chief for two reasons. For holding of the nature of fire, which always ascendeth upward, if they follow their natural inclination, they will take also of the nature thereof, aspiring continually unto high matters. And as the fire is light, quick and violent, so will their judgement and all their affections be, which will carry them away headlong and greatly trouble them. It is very requisite therefore that water should be cast upon this fire. Now as pride breedeth arrogancy, so envy, ill will, anger, rancour, and desire of revenge, do follow and accompany it, together 
What vices follow pied.  with impatience, indignation, self love, obstinacy, and other such like vices. For a proud person waxeth envious at the good of another, as if he thought himself only worthy, or as if he accounted all greatness in others a hindrance to his own. And because he supposeth that he is never so well esteemed of as he deserveth, he waxeth very angry being desirous to revenge himself if there be any means. Besides, to the end he might always seem to be better than others, he never ceaseth boasting and bragging. For pride being nothing else but wind that puffeth up the heart (even as fire causeth water to swell and to sand forth great wanmes) if the proud man should not find some issue for this wind, he would bursi asunder. Therefore he speaketh big, he chideth and threateneth, thundereth and lighteneth, and waxeth so insolent, that both for his words and deeds he becometh intolerable unto al. And because he cannot give place to any, if he stand in contention for any thing, he holdeth his opinion with invincible obstinacy: insomuch that no authority whatsoever no truth how apparently soever it be laid before him, no benefit or profit shall be able to turn him from that which he hath onceimagined. For his desire to be preferred before all, and in all matters, is so hot and fervent, that he feareth nothing more than to be accounted inferior in any one matter to any other body whosoever he be. And this causeth him also to be unteachable & unapt to learn. For by reason of his pride, he is ashamed to learn. Besides, the ambition & insatiable desire of glory that is in him, causeth him that he cannot suffer any admonition, but continueth resolute in that which he hath once taken hold of. And he is so far from suffering patiently, that any man should condemn him, or any word or deed of his, that he will have his vices taken for virtues, and looketh to be commended for them. Yea some are so passionate, and carried away with so great impatience and furious indignation, that they storm and rage not only against men, but also against God, even so far forth as to despite & blaspheme him openly. For the ignorance & inconsideratnes that engendereth 
Pride lifts men against God.  pride is so blockish and rash, that it giveth us no leisure to consider of and to judge what good things are in us, neither from whence they come, or who it is that giveth them, or in what manner, or for what reason. To be short, God cometh not at all into our thought, neither do we attribute any thing unto any other besides ourselves. And although many proud persons dissemble these damnable affections, & dare not oftentimes lay their hearts so open, but rather think there is no such matter in them, nevertheless it is so in truth and in effect, so that all men would judge them to be such, if they were able to see and know as God seethe & knoweth. Moreover, we are to note, that pride is such a vice, that it is a harder matter for a man to be at peace and concord therewith, than any other whatsoever. Whereupon Solomon saith, That only by pride doth man make contention. Yea there is always strife & dissension amongst the proud themselves, when every one desireth to be preferred 
Prou. 13 10.  one before another, and cannot. As for humbling and abasing themselves, there is no talk of that, unless they draw a little backward that they may the better leap forward, and debase themselves, that they may ascend up higher. And as for friendship, a proud man hath never any in him that is true and sound, but only that which is sergeant and feigned towards them that submit themselves unto him through flattery. But that which is most dangerous in pride, is when it is bred of humility, of modesty, and of virtue, 
Pride bred of virtue.  For there are many, who considering their own modesty and other virtues, and condemning pride and other vices, are delighted therewith after an insolent manner, and are puffed up with pride thereby. Whereby we see what windings and slippery tornings are in that old serpent the Father of pride, into how many fashions he changeth himself, and in what manner he hath infected and poisoned our heart. For he hath brought it to this pass, that as venomous beasts turn all they eat, how good soever it be, into venom, so the proud man turneth all his thoughts, words and deeds into pride. For he draweth and referreth every thing to his own honour and glory: and therefore S. Chrysost●●●'s very aptly compareth Vain glory to a Moth. For as the Moth marreth and consumeth that cloth in which it is bred, so vain glory sometime springeth of virtue, and afterward corrupteth it. For there is no virtue 
A similitude.  so excellent, which is not turned into vice and made abominable before GOD, so soon as it is mingled therewith.  
Seeing then pride is such an horrible monster, as that which breedeth and bringeth forth so many other monsters, we aught to seek diligently after all remedies for it that may possibly be had, whereby it may be tamed and kept under, and so our souls cured of such a dangerous disease and plague. Now forasmuch as it proceedeth of ignorance and of inconsiderateness, and through the want of the due knowledge of GOD and of ourselves, we must redress 
A remedy against pride.  this evil by the virtues contrary to these vices, namely by the true knowledge of God, of his word, and of ourselves.  
Which we shall obtain if he deal so graciously with us as to fill us with his holy Spirit, and to give us an humble heart, that renouncing all pride and all arrogancy, we may learn to walk in his fear, and in all obedience to his holy will, so that we wholly consecrated ourselves unto him both in body, soul, and spirit, in Will, heart and all our affections. Now ha●ing spoken sufficiently of that matter into which we fell whilst we handled the second belly, which God hath placed in man for the lodging of the vital parts, and namely of the heart, which is the seat of the affections, it remaineth, that we consider of the third belly, which is the seat of the natural powers and virtues of the soul: of which thou shalt begin now to discourse, ACHITOB.   

Of the natural powers of the Soul, & what sundry virtues they have in the nourishment of the body; of their order and offices: of their agreement and necessary use: where the Vegetative soul is placed in the body, and what virtue it hath to augment the same. Chap. 60.  
ACHITOB. The disposition & placing of the principal parts of our body & of the noblest members thereof is a goodly school, wherein we may learn, how much more careful we aught to be of heaven then of the earth, and of the spirit then of the body. We have already heard, how the internal parts of man were divided into three bellies & lodgings, of which the two former, namely the brain and the heart, together with the virtues, offices and works of the soul in them, have been declared unto us. It remaineth that we consider of the last lodging of the body, which properly beareth the name of belly, & which is the seat of these natural powers and virtues of the soul, which we call Vegetatine and nourishing, and is divided into 3, kinds, namely, into the virtue of nourishing, of augmenting or growing, 
Three kinds of the Vegetative faculty in the soul. A profitable meditation.  and of engendering. Now when we see this order and disposition in our nature, we aught seriously to think, that seeing GOD hath placed the heart between the head and th● belly, the Vital virtue of the soul between the Animal and Nutritive, and the will between the understanding and the most sensual part in us; therefore the heart, affections, & will aught to look always on high, & not downward, to the end they should join to the most noble, celestial and divine part, and not to that which is most base, sensual, and earthly. Whereunto that also aught to induce and lead us, which we learned before of the agreement between the highest and middlemost of these principal & more noble parts of the body, unto which this last is inferior in all kind of excellency, beauty and delight.  
The belly of which we are now to discourse, containeth all the members & instruments 
Of the third and last belly of the body.  that serve for nourishment and generation: whereupon it is termed the Kitchen and Nursery of the body, and the seminary & wellspring of mankind. But before we enter into a particular consideration of these members and instruments, we are to look into the natural powers of the Vegetative soul that is in them. And first we will note, that which we spoke of elsewhere, of the office of heat and moisture in the nature of the body, that as moisture 
The office of heat in man.  keepeth heat within it, so heat drinketh and eateth up moisture as much as it may, digesting and dispelling it by the virtue & action of it own nature. Now whilst this moisture is thus digested by the heat, there is a separation made of that which is profitable in the body, from that which is superfluous, & consequently hurtful to the body. That which is profitable for it, is the juice and humour that agreeth with it, in regard of the similitude & likeness that is between them. Whereupon it followeth, that all moisture that is greatly diverse or contrary to the body, is hurtful for it, as also dry matter, which likewise hurteth the health and life thereof. So that this virtue of the soul, which we call natural, or otherwise Vegetative, and which comprehendeth under it the virtue of nourishing, of augmenting, and of 
The power, order & office of the Vegetative soul.  engendering (every of which having six others tending all to one end as we heard already) this virtue I say, causeth that which is profitable for the nourishment of the body, first to be distributed unto the members, and then to be turned into the bodily sustenance of the living creature, because that virtue and power of the soul doth embrace and receive it: acknowledging it already to be a part of the body. Therefore the virtue of drawing nourishment that is in the soul, hath for an helper the virtue of retaining and keeping, until there be a convenient change thereof made by the faculty, and power of digesting, and as it were dressing of it.  
For otherwise the attractive and retentive power, were to small purpose. Now when the meat is digested, so much of it as is pure must be separated from that which is impure, by the virtue of purging; & that which is impure, must be delivered over to the expulsive virtue to be cast out, and the rest which is pure to the virtue of distributing, after which the virtue of incorporating executeth his office and duty.  
Thus you see how all these particular virtues, serving to the general virtue of nourishing do their duties one after another according to that order, which nature hath assigned them. For except this agreement and order were kept, there would be great confusion, and the body could not receive his due nourishment. Therefore doth one of them attend upon and help another, yea all of them tend to one and the same end by divers means. For after the meat is received, attracted and retained, it must be digested before it be separated: so that the expulsive virtue is to attend upon this separation and distinction. Neither can the attractive or drawing virtue do his office well, unless the body be first empty: neither the virtue of concocting or preparing, if the body be not purged of the meat received before. And if any of these virtues doth not his duty, the residue are made more dull, slow and languishing. For there is such agreement betwixt them, and they are by such equal proportion tempered throughout the whole body, that nothing can befall any one of them, but the residue will feel it.  
Neither can that which is wanting in one be supplied by an other. For GOD having assigned to every one his proper office, they deal not one in another's affairs, but every one abideth in his own office, and goeth not beyond his appointed bounds and limits: as the like is to be seen in the printing house and amongst them that stamp money. For if the compositor 
A similitude taken from printing ●nd coining.  fail in setting of his letters, the Printer that putteth ink upon the forms, doth not correct the faults of the Compositor. And if the Printer doth not distribute his ink well, he that draweth the sheets from the press correcteth not his fault. For every one hath his office apart, with which only he meddleth. So likewise in Coin, if he that prepareth and ●ineth the metal fail in his duty, he that cutteth it in pieces will correct nothing, but divideth it as it is delivered to him. Than he that maketh it flat, that it may be fit for him that stampeth it, doth nothing but that which is committed to his charge: and if he that stampeth it, findeth it not so flat or so round as it aught to be, yet doth he nothing but mark it, and so leaveth it as he found it.  
Moreover, we are to note well, how God giveth us even in our nature, a goodly instruction concerning that order and concord that aught to be among us all, by doing 
A good lesson for every one  every one his duty, and helping each other so far as we may. For we may learn three principal points in that order, which GOD hath set between virtues of the Vegetative soul for the nourishing of the body, which serve greatly for the preservation of human society. First, how every one aught to behave himself in his office, and not leave others to perform that work which is enjoined him. secondly, how every one of us aught to keep his rank and order, not making over much haste nor being to slack, and without any confusion of offices, or usurping any thing of that which belongeth to others. Thirdly, the consideration of those inconveniences, which may befall every common wealth and society of men, if this order be not well kept and observed. For the like will happen unto it, that doth to a body, which is not nourished as it aught to be, and in which the natural virtues do not their duty, as I have declared. For from thence proceedeth all the confusion that is in the life of man, and all those miseries which we daily see therein.  
Concerning the seats of these virtues of the nourishing soul mentioned by us, we are 
Of the seats of the natural virtues.  to know, that althought they be greater and more apparent in some parts then in others, yet they are spread throughout the whole body, but after a diverse manner. For in perfect living creatures, the concoction of the meat is first made in the stomach, that so it may be prepared for the liver: the second is made in the liver, that it may be turned into blood: the third is in all the members, that it may be changed into their substance. So that there is no other end or stay in the body, of concocting, and consequently of purging the meat, and of casting out that which is superfluous. For the heat doth continually warm, and as it were seethe the moisture: neither is there any meat so pure, which hath not always some excrements and superfluities, that are to be separate and ejected.  
Hereof it is, that the whole body of living creatures is as it were bored through, and hath divers pipes to the end there might be more open passages for the avoiding of these excrements according to that purging which is done day and night by the parts appointed 
How excrements are voided.  thereunto, as we have already touched it, speaking of those members whereby such purging is performed after a divers manner, especially when we spoke of the brain. Now besides that purging which is under the armpits and in the groin, we see how the thinnest excrements void at every part of the body, as we may judge by that filth which daily is seen in the head, hands, feet and in all the rest of the body. For we cannot busy ourselves so much in washing and cleansing all the parts and members of the body, but still we may find somewhat to wash & to make clean. Therefore we stand in need of daily nourishment, that whatsoever diminisheth continually from us, may from time to time be restored and made good again. But this virtue of nourishing, is the first and simplest of all the natural virtues of the Vegetative soul. For there are two others necessary for the life and preservation of living creatures, of which we have already spoken, namely the power of augmenting and that other of engendering. So that living creatures are not only nourished by that food which they receive, but they grow bigger and beget their like. 
Of the growing of bodies  For there is no living creature that hath a body, but it groweth up until it come to a certain greatness and measure. For this cause the virtue of augmenting and growing was added to the nourishing virtue: and the virtue of engendering to them both, but so as they differ in main points. For first, although the virtues of nourishing and of augmenting agreed in this, that they are both given to every living creature, yet they differ 
Wherein the natural virtues differeth from other,  herein, that the virtue of nourishing continueth always so long as the creature liveth even from the beginning of it unto the end. But the virtue of growing greater, although it begin with the other, yet hath it a set time limited, wherein it stayeth: and as before the creature waxed bigger and increased in greatness and vigour, so after it cometh to the appointed time, it beginneth to fall and to diminish, and as it were to retire back, and to restrain itself. And as for the virtue of engendering, it differeth from both the other, first in that it is not given so generally to all living creatures as they are, and then in that it beginneth not so soon. For it cometh then when the living creature through nourishment and groweth, hath attained so those virtues that are necessary for generation.  
Besides, it hath this common with the virtue of augmentation, that it hath certain limits and bounds, unto which after it is once come, it weakeneth and in the end decayeth utterly. Wherein it differeth from the nourishing virtue. Now the virtue of growing greater hath as many other particular virtues under it for the execution of it own office, as the virtue of nourishing hath according as was touched before. Whereby we learn, that bodies grow not greater, neither augment by the heaping up of much matter outwardly applied, as when a house is set up, we see timber joined to timber, and stone to stone in the building of it; but this is done by the same hidden and secret art and cunning in nature, whereby we are nourished. For in this point there is no difference between the virtue of nourishing, and that of augmenting, but only herein that, in nourishment the meat is turned into the substance of the body, and in augmenting, the food being thus turned, doth from within stretch forth the quantity of the body outwardly. 
How meat nourisheth the body.  And so this virtue of augmenting dependeth of the nourishing virtue. For meat nourisheth as it is a substance with qualities meet for nourishment, and augmenteth by reason of the quantity it hath. For this cause hath God created the bodies of living creatures with such a substance, that as they have sundry passages and holes in them like to sponges to the end to purge by them, so he would that the substance they receive by their food might pass by the same holes, that they might augment and grow greater. So that all of them have their po●eses and little holes albeit they appear not to the eye, whereby nourishment entereth and extendeth itself in greatness, length, and thickness. The consideration hereof hath caused some skilful men, to place metals and stones in the rank of living 
How metals and stones grow  creatures, because they grow in the earth, as the bodies of plants and living creatures do. Neither is their opinion without some show of reason. For we know that they grow and increase and that inwardly: which seemeth not to be done without drawing unto themselves some inward nourishment, as living creatures use to do. Besides they have also their pores and passages to stretch forth and augment themselves by. Notwithstanding all this there is greater reason to place them in the rank of those natures and creatures, which augment and grow greater, by adding and joining of matter unto them, as we see fountains and rivers to increase: and so likewise fire Which albeit it seemeth to be nourished & augmented with that matter which is put unto it, yet is it not nourished as living creatures are by means of that food which they receive. For they have their bounds of growing set them which they cannot pass, as we see the like also in plants: but fire hath no limits, as that which always increaseth, as long as it findeth any matter to burn.  
Whereby we may conclude, that natural heat in man or in other living creatures, is not the cause of their nourishing and groweth, but only the instrument: and that the true 
The true cause of nourishing in creatures.  cause, in regard of second causes, is in the soul next after God, who is the first cause of all things, yea the cause of causes. Therefore it is be that hath allotted out to every man the term first of his life and groweth, and then of his declining and death: so that according as he will either prolong or shorten our life, and 'cause us to increase or diminish, so he disposeth the sscond causes, and those means whereby he will bring it to pass. Now we must consider what instruments the soul useth to execute in the body of man, her natural works of nourishing and augmenting it (of which we have now spoken) and after what manner she useth them. First then we will look into the ventricle and stomach, and see what figure, what Orifices, and filaments it hath. This matter then, ASER, belongeth to thee to entreat of.   

What instruments the Soul useth in the body about the natural work of nourishing and augmenting: of the Ventricle or stomach, and of the figure, Orifices, and Filaments it hath: of the coats of the stomach, and of what substance and nature it is: of the causes of hunger, and appetite: of the inferior Orifice. Chap, 61.  
ASER. We should be very happy if, we knew how to follow that order in all our doings which God hath set down in all his works, and whereof he giveth nature unto us for a Mistress. But if the simplicity of our understanding be not able to attain so high wisdom, at the lest we may know how far short every one of us cometh of our duty, and from whence proceedeth all the confusion that is in the life of man, and all those miseries which we commonly behold. On the other side, nothing could hinder us were it not a voluntary and malicious ignorance, in that we consider not, what a marvelous and excellent Workemaster, God the Creator showeth himself to be, in this part of the soul whereof our present discourses are, and in that order which he hath set therein, and in those virtues which he hath bestowed upon it. For his work is so excellent, worthy of so great admiration, that no wisdom or power whatsoever is able so much as to imitate it. Wherhfore we are to accounted it a very great and noble blessing, to have only some knowledge of it. For there will be always enough whereat to marvel greatly, and namely in the consideration of those instruments, which the soul useth in the nourishment & groweth of bodies, as we shall know in the sequel of our discourses.  
Therefore as heretofore we have handled and spoken of the divers powers of the soul, and of those instruments it hath in regard of the Animal and vital parts, as of the brain, 
The instruments of the natural powers of the soul.  heart, head, and other external members of the body, so now we are to consider of the internal instruments, which serve the natural powers of the soul. And first, it hath the liquors and humours of the body tempered together by a certain Law and reason of the Creator that created them. Secondly, the other instruments of the soul, are those members both external and internal, which are framed and have their several proportion, every one as need requireth, for the office assigned unto them by God their Creator. For before the soul be clothed with the body, these instruments are fashioned and made fit for it by nature in those things wherein it could do nothing of itself. For the soul cannot created her body. But after that God hath created the body for it, and that by his appointment nature hath disposed and fitted the same soul, so far forth as is requisite, before it can show what virtue it hath, and settle itself to work in the body; then is she left to do that which she is able to perform by the powers of her presence, and to exercise herself therein, beginning always at the lest and basest of her offices, before she apply herself to the chiefest, by displaying her principal powers. For whilst the child is in his mother's belly, the soul practiseth upon it her Vegetative and nourishing virtue by which it is nourished and groweth in greatness, as we see the like in plants. And when it is borne, it receiveth beside from the soul the 
How the soul useth the instruments of the body.  power of moving and of sense, as we see beasts have: and last of all by little and little the soul displayeth her other principal virtues. But to speak of our matter subject, and to handle particularly those instruments of the soul, which she useth in the nourishing and augmenting of the body, we will begin at the Ventricle, commonly called the stomach.  
Now because this name is used diversly, we are to note, that the Physicians, who distinguish the parts of the body more exactly and properly, apply this name of stomach 
Of the ventricle and stomach.  more specially to the upper mouth of it, and call the whole by the name of Ventricle, whereof we will speak anon. Oftentimes also they take the stomach for the whole passage and pipe, called Oesophage or the throat: but commonly the whole Ventricle is called by that name. Therefore I will use it indifferently, thereby to apply myself the better to the usual manner of speaking. We are to know then first of all, that amongst all the members serving to nourishment, GOD hath appointed this to be the first, as that which receiveth the meat and drink sent unto it by the throat. And to the end we may the better know the providence of GOD, in the offices and commodities of this member, I will first speak somewhat of the figure and form thereof, then of the situation of it, and last of all, of the substance of it. The figure of it is round and long much like to a bagpipe, as that which being somewhat larger at the bottom, and arising upward 
Of the figure of the stomach.  towards the left side, groweth narrower by little and little. For seeing it was to occupy the whole space that is betwixt the liver and the spleen, it was requisite that it should be long, to the end it might not trouble that place which is assigned unto them, but give them place. Likewise it was requisite that it should be round, both because the round form is most capable, and also because it will not so easily be broken and marred as other forms will be.  
Unto the stomach is joined this narrow pipe called Oesophage, to the end it might receive into it thereby, all kinds of meat and drink, as we have declared when we spoke of the pipes in the throat, & of meats & drinks. For this cause there are two mouths or 
Of the mouths of the stomach.  doors in the stomach, called Orifices, of which the one is called the higher Orifice or mouth because it is uppermost, and the other for the same reason is called the lower Orifice. The first is to receive the meat that is sent to the stomach by the Oesophage. And this is that which the Physicians call by the proper name of stomach, as we heard before, although commonly it is called the heart. For when we feel any weakness there, or any desire to vomit, we commonly say that we are ill at the heart, or that something 
How the name of the heart is ab●sed.  lieth upon our heart. But this sense of grief is not at the heart, but in that part of the Ventricle, which is called the uppermost Orifice or stomach, whose seat and place is on the left side near to the backebone. And this Orifice or mouth of the stomach, is a great deal more large than the nethermost, because the meat is oftentimes not well chewed, besides many great and hard morsels that are swallowed now and then. Again▪ this part is very sensible, because there is the original and place of appetite, by reason of those nerves of which it is chiefly made, that grow together like unto nets. Hereof we 
The original of appetite.  may note this, that the providence of God hath so well provided for all the members and instruments of nourishment, that there is not one of them, but it hath some small sinew to give it sense, whereby it may feel and perceive what humours are hurtful unto it, that by the grief which it receiveth, men may be moved to have recourse to such remedies as are able to relieve it.  
But to return to our matter, we are to know, that the upper Orifice hath the Midriff joined unto it, which is in stead of a door to close and shut it up, that when it is full of 
The door of the upper orifice.  meats and drinks, they should not ascend up again by the throat. Concerning the nethermost Orifice it is both by the Greek and Latin Writers called by a name that signifieth a Doorkeeper, being made to let out the meat concocted in the Ventricle together 
Of the lower Orifice.  with the superfluities and excrements. Therefore also it is narrower than the upper Orifice, and compassed about with a certain kernelly flesh, to the end that nothing should pass by which were not well digested before, and that by means of the mouth of it made in the manner of a ring. It is situated on the right side under the hollowness of the liver, a little lower than the other Orifice. But it is not at the very bottom of the Ventricle, but a little higher, to the end the food being retained and kept at the bottom, might be heated and digested there. So that after the stomach hath received into it the meat and drink, both these doors as well above as beveath are shut, that the heat within might be 
Of the small strings of the Orifices.  retained and kept close. For this cause there are certain filaments or small strings, of which some are direct and strait, having in them a marvelous secret virtue of nature to draw unto them: others are overthwart, and pass clean cross the former through certain little corners that lie long-wise. Their office is to close up the upper part from the body of the stomach. Besides, there are other crooked filaments, which through obliqne corners pass alongst the sides of both the other: and these, because they close the whole body of the stomach, have power of retaining, and serve to shut up the mouth of the stomach. So that these filaments or threads in regard of their office, may be compared to the strings of a purse whereby it is shut. And because the stomach, being closed and shut up, digesteth the meat a great deal better than if it were gaping and wide open, therefore nature hath provided in this sort. Wherein we see it resembleth a pot set to seething, which retaineh 
The stomach comparad to a pot on the fire.  the heat, and seetheth that which it containeth better when it is close covered, then when it is without a cover.  
Now we are further to know, that the stomach is made of two coats or skins one within an other, cconsting partly of a fleshly, & partly of a sinewy substance. The innermost is fuller of sinews & thicker, having strait filaments within, wherewith as it were with fingers, it draweth the meat downward: and without, it hath certain obliqne filaments, which compass it about, and serve to hold it in. The outward coat, which is more fleshly, hath overthwart filaments that serve for expulsion. For when the stomach is sometime overcharged with meat, so that is is not able to embrace & keep it for digestion, them by means of the expulsive virtue, it driveth out that which is superfluous, & provoketh a man to vomit, to the end it be not filled through the weight & burden of the meat it beareth. For this cause the throat is a pipe appointed for the moving of things up and down, not having any attractive force in it, but being only a mere way and place of passage, through which meats and drinks pass to and fro as need requireth.  
Concerning the seat of the stomach, it is placed in the midst of the body between 
How the stomach is placed.  the liver and the spleen, and that in such sort that the liver embraceth & warmeth it on the right side, and the spleen doth the like on the left side. As for the substance of it, it is of the nature of sinews, that is cold and dry. For it is very convenient it should be so, first, because 
O● the substance of it.  of the sense and feeling, that it might be enticed by such things as agreed with it, rejecting all others: secondly, in regard of appetite, that it might be the greater and of more efficacy. Moreover, it was requisite that it should be of such matter, to the end it might be the harder, and receive the less hurt from the hardness and sharpness of meats. And besides the natural 
How it is warmed by other neighbour parts.  heat which it hath of itself, it is heated also by the neighbour parts, to the end it may the better perform that duty that lieth upon it. For this cause it hath on the right side the liver, which is unto it in stead of a boiling pot or cauldron: and on the left side it hath the spleen for the same purpose: the muscles of the chine bone are behind it, and before is the skin commonly called the Kell. Likewise as the heart is not far from it so the midriff lying over it, doth greatly heat it by continual motion. Whereby we see, how the providence of God hath well fenced and clothed it on all sides, that it might have as much hear as is needful for it. Touching this skin called the Kell, it is a double coat or covering, spreading itself wholly over the entrailss, being in fashion like to a purse, by 
Of the Kell or Kill.  reason that it is double and woven like to a net, consisting of ●atte, of veins, or arteries, and of a skin. Moreover, the stomach is warmed by the spirits that enter into it in great abundance, by reason that it is k●it unto the neighbour parts by veins and arteries. Now because it serveth to the nutritive faculty, the natural virtue thereof is to desire food, the 
The causes of appetite in the stomacka.  sense and feeling of which appetite is in the upper Orifice, into which many ●●newess are woven that come down from the brain. Therefore when the members of the body being empty desire nourishment, and labour to draw it from the veins, and the veins from the liver, and the liver from the stomach, and the stomach from the Orifice, then is there a certain contraction & wrinkling as it were of the Orifice, by reason of the veins that suck it. In which contraction and gathering together of the stomachs mouth, there is by means 
The original of hun●er.  of the nerves a kind of sense and grief, which we call hunger, whereby living creatures are stirred up to seek after food and nourishment. I make no repetition here of that which hath been spoken before, namely, of the drawing, retaining, altering, and expulsing, virtues of the Vegetative soul. for by our discourses we easily understand, how every one of them doth his duty both in the stomach and liver, and in all the other members of the body. But the altering virtue is the chiefest, whose office is to change in the stomach, and to convert into juice and liquor, that meat which it hath received.  
This liquor is called by the Physicians Chylus, which is a Greek word, and resembleth the cream of a ptisan: it is concocted in the stomach, until it be so well prepared that it may be sent unto the liver. Which concoction is first & principally made by the natural virtue of the stomach, as it appeareth in this, that every stomach doth after a wondered manner embrace and warm all the meat which it receiveth, even as the whole womb embraceth 
The stomach compared to a womb.  her burden and fruit until it come to ripeness: & when the time of birth is come, the expulsive virtue thereof driveth it forth. So fareth it with the meat in the stomach, excepting this difference, that the stomach needeth not so long a time to finish his work in, as the womb doth. Afterwards this natural virtue of the stomach, is helped and warmed by those means before declared. And when the stomach hath finished this first concoction, whereby the meat received is so duly prepared that it may be sent into the liver, than the lower Orifice and door called the Porter, openeth itself, and sendeth this liquor into 
The office of the lower Orifice.  the entrailss and bowels, which are ordained as well to receive it, as to purge forth the superfluities and extrements. Therefore, AMANA, thy speech shall be of these, that so we may go forward with our matter or those instruments of the vegetative soul, which she useth in her natural works.   

Of the entrailss and bowels, and of their names and offces: of the nature of the three smaller guts, and of the other three that are greater: of the instructions which we may learn by these things. Chap. 62  
AMANA. If there were no other reason but this, that the poorest and basest persons among men are the creatures of GGD, and created after his image and likeness, as well as the richest, mightiest, and highest in dignities and honours, and that as well the one as the other, are members of the body of mankind; it were enough to withhold us from 
The poorer sort are nott●● be contemned.  contemning any person, of what condition, estate or quality soever he be, so that his vocation be of GOD, and profitable for mankind. For in contemning any creature and his estate, GOD who created him and ordained his vocation, is contemned and insured thereby, considering that he is his work, which cannot be mocked, but the workmaster that framed it must needs be scorned. Besides, we are to consider, that many of them that are taken to be the vildest and basest persons, are a great deal more profitable and necessary, and so likewise their callings and offices, than many others that are in greater reputation, and more honourable according to man's judgement, who notwithstanding might more easily be spared, than those of whom there is less account and reckoning made.  
The like may be said of the use of the members of our bodies, and of the necessity and need which we have of them, that are accounted most vile and abiecti which albeit they be less honourable than the rest, yet are they more necessary for this life of ours, than many others that are a great deal more noble and more excellent. For we may live without eyes, without ears, without hands, without feet, and without many other goodly members: 
The necessity of the bowels  but not without the entrailss and bowels, which are but the sinks and wide-draughts of our bodies, although there be but one of them wanting. For there is not one of them but is profitable, yea necessary for us, insomuch that no other can do that office which lieth upon it: the Lord having so disposed it, that every one of them must discharge his own office by himself.  
Of these entrailss and guts there are six in number, near unto the stomach, namely, 
The number and names of the guts.  three small and three great ones, being all of a round and hollow figure, according to the greatness and thickness of every one of them. They are called the instruments of distribution and purgation, because they distribute the food, and sand forth the superfluities and excrements. Now to contain all these in their place, they are covered and wrapped about together with the other entrailss of the natural parts, with two coats or coverings, 
The bowels have two coverings.  namely, with that which is called the Kel, whereof mention was made in the former discourse and which covereth the bowels, stretching itself even to the privy parts: so that it executeth the same office unto them, that it doth unto the stomach, as we were given to understand. Besides, there is an other coat or skin called Peritone, because it is spread round about the lower belly, and environeth the stomach, the bowels, the kall, the liver, 
Of the Peritone or inner rind of the belly joined to the kall. The uses of it.  the spleen, and the kidneys: in a word, it covereth all the members from the midriff down to the sharebone. The use of this is great. For first, it serveth for a covering to cover all the members: than it serveth also for the muscles that are laid upon them. Moreover, it causeth the superfluities of dry meats to descend more speedily. Fourthly, it keepeth the stomach and bowels that they swell not easily: and fiftly, it knitteth together and conjoineth all the members within it, as we have seen how the other parts of the body are separated and clothed with skins and membranes. For this cause it is framed and fashioned like to an egg, and hath his beginning from the ligaments, which bind together the turning joints of the reins, and is knit unto them. So that the use of it is to tie and knit unto the back the members of the inferior belly. Now concerning the entrailss and bowels, although they be united to the stomach, and so jointly follow each other, they differ in figure, in situation, and in offices. True it is, that their substance differeth little from that of the stomach. For they are of a certain whitish flesh, having no blood in any of them: neither is there any other difference, but only in this, that the bigger guts 
The substance of the bowels  are more full and fat, the smaller are otherwise. Again, they have all this in common together, that they are made of two coats, which God hath given them for the greater preservation 
The bowels are made of two coats.  of them, and of the life of living creatures. For oftentimes ulcers and sores breed, chief when some great inflammation hath go before, so that they putrify and fret, and one of the coats be spoiled. Nevertheless a man may live by the other that continueth sound and dischargeth well enough all his duties.  
Now forasmuch as they are instruments appointed for the purging of the body, the fibres or little strings both of the inner and utter coats, are all in a manner cross wise, except some few intermingled long wise, to the end that the purging might be moderated in such sort, as that it neither be too much nor too little. The three smaller are placed uppermost, 
Of the three small guts.  which because they were made that the meat being turned into liquor might be conveyed through them, therefore it was requisite they should be so slender, and that chiefly for two causes. The first, to the end the passage might be more easy: the other, because that in the very passage some concoction is made of the liquor and food: so that they are the sooner warmed, by reason of their slender and thin making. Now concerning the name and peculiar office of every one: the first is called Duodene, because of the length of it, which is 
Of their names. The duodene or stomach gut.  without any folding or turning. It is as it were a part of the stomach hanging down, or as a changing of the stomach into a gut, being twelve fingers long, whereupon it was so called by the ancient Physicians, although now there is none found of that length. It beginneth at the ports of the stomach, and is so seated besides the liver, that look where that leaveth, and the other following (called the hungry gut) beginneth, there is a passage from the bladder of gall, and to bring the yellow humour thither called choler, to the end it might help forward the meat, and make clean the gut. The second, called the hungry gut, is so termed, because it holdeth but a little food in regard of the other following, 
The hungry gut.  so that it may be said after a sort to fast: whereof there are three causes. The first is, the great number of Meseraicall veins and arteries, which are in greater number about that gut then about the rest. Whereupon they suck out more speedily the liquor and food which passeth through that, then if they were fewer in number. The second cause is, because the liver, which is nearest to that gut, doth likewise draw nourishment from it, which is sooner done then from the rest that are farther off. The third is, the falling down of the choleric humour into it, which intermeddleth not itself with the liquor and food, but glideth down by the side of this gut unto that which is called Colon, to the end it may thrust forward the excrements and purge the humours: which it performeth because it is sharp and biting. Now by reason it continually provoketh this gut to expulsion, it falleth out to be more empty than the residue.  
Than followeth the third small intralle called Ileos' by the Grecians, both because it hath 
The Ileon or folded gut.  many foldings, as also for the manifold knitting of it to the Mesentorium from whence sundry veins come into this. The hungry gut and this have both one office: only herein they differ, that the hungry Gut is sooner sucked then this, which retaineth a longer time that liquor and food that it receiveth. For this cause it is of a greater length, and hath more foldings and turnings, to the end it may the better concoct the liquor, and be tempering with the food the longer time: whereby it shall not need to be filled, and stuffed presently with other meats And herein we have to note the good forecast of nature. For if we were presently to return again to the Table after we had taken our meat, we should do nothing all our life time but eat and drink. Therefore some of the ancient Philosophers have in this respect acknowledged the providence of God, saying that these foldings, plights, and windings, were made to this end, that men might not live ignorantly as beasts that are destitute of all knowledge: which would follow undoubtedly, if they were or necessity to attend always upon the belly.  
Now let us speak of the other three great Guts, which follow the small ones. These than are lower, more fleshy and thick, because their chief office is to receive the excrements 
Of the three great Guts.  of the above named Guts, and to retain the same until the just time come to sand them forth: even as it is the office of the three former to distribute the liquor and food by the Miseraicall vienes. The first of these great ones is called the blind Gut, because that 
The blind Gut.  being large and great, it hath but one way, both to receive in, and to let out the matter received whereupon it is commonly called by some the Sack or Budget Gut. His office is to ceiue the excrements from the last lesser Gut: & having drawn out some nourishment from them to cast forth the rest to the other Gut called Colon. For this cause the doors and holes of these three last Guts, concur well together in a hollow place.  
Now because this blind Gut is wide & round, & hath many foldings, among other things it standeth in stead of an other stomach, to keep and to preserve meat in it against some want and necessity to come, and to distribute it to the neighbour members after a long hunger. Whereunto the Gut called Colon doth also help, both by reason of the capacity of 
The fift Gut called Colon, or the great gut.  it, as for the obliqne situation thereof, as also because it keepeth within it food and nourishment. Concerning the name of it, the Greek word from whence it is taken signifieth Gain, because it is greater and more capable than any of the rest: or else it may signify as a man would say Cut, because it is as it were cut into sundry holes and hath divers turnings. For it receiveth the excrements, and to end they should not pass away by and by, it sendeth them by little and little through strait passages. The choleric humour descendeth out of the hungry Gut into this, whereby the dirt is both coloured and driven forth.  
Of this Gut called Colon, the Colic passion taketh the name: as the Ileaca passion doth of the Gut Ileon. Now because this gut is puffed up more than any of the rest, and is very 
The colic and Ileacke passions.  painful to them that have it stopped, it hath certain strait threads woven amongst the overthwart Fibres, which strengthen the coats and skins thereof to the end they should not break or crack, when they are blown up and strained Whereby we see again how the council of God's providence hath notably provided for all things, whose excellent majesty hath not despised these most base, earthly and brute parts.  
Now it remaineth that we should consider of the third Gut, called the strait Gut. For although it proceed from the Gut Colon, yet it differeth from it both in place and figure 
The strait gut.  and is called the Strait Gut, because of the straightness of it. Some call it the Fat Gut, because it is passing fat in beasts. It reacheth unto the very fundament at the end whereof is placed a Muscle, being fashioned round like to a Rings to keep in, and to retain ventosity and excrements until nature please: to this end that expulsion of them might not be made upon every occasion, and in every place indifferently, against our wills, and contrary to natural and civil honesty. For the use of the strait Gut is to carry and throw forth clean out of the body the filth, dregss, and grossest excrements 
The use of it.  thereof, being such as are altogether unprofitable and hurtful to the body. Now forasmuch as it is the lowest gut and most burdened, by reason that it must hold all the gross● excrements of whatsoever entereth into the body by the mouth, and is oftentimes very much blown and stretched up, therefore the divine providence hath given unto it more threads and fibres of all sorts then to any of the rest, and hath made it strong and able to bear the charge. So likewise his heavenly counsel hath provided, that amongst all the members of the body, those should be strongest, that have the greatest burden and stress to bear. And for this cause also this strait gut hath this muscle, which the Physicians call Sphincter, being taken from a Greeks word that signifieth to restrain and 
Of the muscle Sphincter.  close up, because it is an instrument of voluntary motion, that openeth and shutteth as we will, when need requireth.  
Now for the end of this speech, if we consider well of those parts whereof we have spoken, we shall found that we carry about with us sundry sorts of sinks, which are oftentimes ill favouredly looked unto. And this aught to put us in mind of our infirmities and of those goodly shops we have in our bodies full of slinking drugs, which aught to take from us all matter of pride. Moreover we may learn here, that which was spoken of in the beginning of this discourse, namely, the use of these members, and the necessity 
A lesson against pride.  of the basest and less comely parts. Therefore if there were no other respect to be had but this of necessity, we aught to be so far from despising them, especially the workmaster that hath made and disposed them, as that we aught rather thereby to acknowledge his great providence, and the care he hath had of us, seeing it hath pleased him even from the high degree of his majesty, to provide for the lest and last necessities and infirmities of our bodies. So likewise by admiring his so great bounty and goodness towards us, we have good occasion by his example, to do the like one towards another, in the performance 
Against the contempt of inferior persons.  of all duties appertaining to a holy and true friendship. Now that we may prosecute our matter subject, let us look into the other natural powers of the soul. First let us consider of the mesentery, of the Miseraicall veins, of the sweet bread, of the liver, and of their natures and offices. The handling of these things belong to thee. ARAM.   

Of the Mesentarie and Mesar●on: of the meseraicall veins, of the Pancreas or sweet bread, and of their nature and office: of the liver, and of his nature and office: of the roots, bodies and branches of the veives: of their names and uses, and of the similitude between them and the arteries. Chap. 63.  
ARAM. When we consider how the providence of God of reacheth so far unto those things that are profitable and necessary in our bodies, that it forgetteth not, neither omitteth the lest thing that is in them: we should be very blind of understanding, if we doubted that our God provided not as well for all things that are profitable and necessary for our souls, for the spiritual food and growth of them, and for their perfect purging and salvation. For albeit there is no superfluity or excrement, in that spiritual food wherewith the soul is nourished, yet is it requisite and needful, that the soul be purged from those excrements and filthiness of sin, wherewith the devil hath infected and filled it. And so indeed is it purged in jesus Christ, who hath washed and cleansed us from our sins by his blood, and doth daily purge by his holy spirit, and by those means which he hath ordained in his Church. Therefore I am out of doubt, that God meant to put men in mind of these things, by the order and necessity which he hath appointed in the nature of their bodies, both in regard of their food, and of their nourishment: and that we shall always find good & holy instructions for the soul, by considering the nature and office of every part of the body. Let us then consider of other instruments of the natural power of the soul, then hitherto we have spoken of.  
After the entrails and guts, the mesentery followeth, which is placed in the midst of them, 
Of the Mesentery.  whereupon it is so called of the Grecians, as if you would say, dwelling in the midst of the guts. And because it is carried and lift up into the middle of all these vessels, it is also called by some 
Of the Mesareon.  Mesareon, which name signifieth the self same thing in Greek. Others take Mesareon to be the highest part of the Mesentary, which is also called Calicreas by the Grecians, because the flesh of it is very pleasant to eat, according as the name giveth us to understand. So that it is no entrall or gut, but a coat and folded covering in the midst of them: or rather a thick white flew of a snowy & kernelly substance, that beareth fat, distinguishing the entrails, and knitting them unto the back. But it was chief created to bear up and sustain the Meseraicall 
The chief use of it.  veins and arteries, with the sinews that are in that member: which because they are in danger of breaking, through the vehement motions of the body & such other accidents, therefore the providence of God would not have them with a foundation, prop & defence to countergard them. For this cause he hath fortified and fastened the branches and divisions of the veins, by such a member & instrument, which serveth in stead of a band & stay both to the great & little ones. Besides, ●his action and use also is to fasten and keep the entrailss every one in his place, and to convey unto the liver by the miseraicall veins, that 
Other uses of the Mesentery.  are called the hands thereof, that liquor which the Grecians call Chilus, of which we have already spoken. For as the bodies of trees have their roots, which spread abroad in the earth to draw nourishment from thence, even so there are branches dispersed throughout the Mesentery, and derived from the liver vein, which are joined to the bowels, as it were small roots to draw food, being much like to hairs or cobwebs. These branches or small rootr are the Meseraicall veins, so called, because they are placed in the upper part of 
Of the Meseraicall veins Than use.  that member and instrument that is called Mesareon, whereof I spoke even now. Their office and nature is to draw & suck out nourishment from the guts, and to carry it to the liver, from whence they have all their beginning, as appeareth by Anatomy, howsoever there are that think, that some of them come not from thence. The flesh of the Mesentery is kernelly and fatty, not only serving in stead of a munition and defence, as hath been said, but also to moisten the entrails and guts, and to preserve the heat both of the bowels and veins. So likewise the arteries are joined to the veins, to give them heat, and to the guts also to concoct the liquor and nourishment. Besides, the nerves and sinews there, serve to give sense to the guts. There is moreover a kernelly flesh, which the physicians cell Pancreas, 
Of the Pancreas or sweet bread.  because he doth wholly resemble flesh, as the Greek name importeth. It is placed in hollow part of the liver, that it might be as it were a cushion unto it, and a perserver of the divided parts thereof, by filling the voided places that are between the stomach, the livet and the spleeve, to the end it may uphold and protect the Miseraicall veins, and keep every 
The uses of it.  thing from breaking either by falls or by violent motions. Now touching the liver, it is a very noble member. For it is the principallest member of all the natural parts, and the chiefest instrument belonging to the vegetative and nourishing power of the soul. It is the first 
Of the liver and excellency thereof.  of the nobler parts that is made perfect, when the child is framed in the mother's womb, it is the author, shop, and forge of the blood, the original & fountain of the veins. Therefore the substance of it is a soft & read flesh, like to blood newly pressed out and clodded, Neverlesse in it own nature it is perfect flesh, having sundry different veins dispersed through out as it were threads, and arteries also joined unto them for their refreshing. Now after the stomach hath finished the first concoction of meat, and turned it into liquor as it hath been declared unto us, the second is made in the liver, after it hath received this liquor so prepared by the stomach & guts as we said, and turned it into blood. This concoction is perfected in the small veins, that are dispersed throughout the body of the liver. And because God 
The second concoction in made in the liver.  hath enjoined this office to this member, he hath compounded it of such a flesh & matter, as hath given unto it this proper & peculiar virtue, to convert into blood that food and nourishment that is brought unto it, to the end it may be the instrument of the generation of that thing wherewith the body is nourished. Having thus transformed the liquor received, it maketh it read like unto itself: as contrariwise, blood is made white in the breasts of woman, both by reason of their nature & substance, as also for other causes touched by us. The temperature of the liver is hot & moist, such as becometh the blood and concoction it hath to perform, which is like to boiled meat. Now for as much as this instrument & member is the chiefest in the kitchen of man's body, God hath given unto it such a nature & property, as if there were in it a hearth, a table, a knife, & a waggoner, as some name them, having regard to the divers actions thereof, & to the sundry degrees of concoction made therein. They call the first action or 
Four degrees of concoction in the liver.  degree of concoction by the name of a hearth, because it serveth to heat the food, as a hearth doth in a kitchen. The second is called a table, namely, when the food beginneth together itself together in the liver, & is there placed as it were upon a table to be sent unto the members. The third action hath the name of a knife given unto it, because it divideth & maketh a separation of the humours. And the fourth is as it were the waggoner, because there is the carriage and conveyance of all from thence into the hollow vein. For the natural virtues and powers govern the humours very well, conducting and leading them to their due places. For this cause the liver is the fountain of blood, & the spring of all the veins by which it is distributed throughout the body as the hart is the fountain of the vital spirits, & the original of the arteries, whereby the spirits necessary for the body are conveyed into it, as the 
The fountains of the blood, and veins, spirits and arteries.  blood from the liver. Wherhfore even as the arteries are a kind of veins to carry & to distribute the air, breath, & vital spirits: so likewise the veins proceeding from the liver, are ordained to distribute the blood into all parts of the body. These two are linked together with such a near alliance & agreement, that the veins administer matter to the vital spirit, which is engendered in the hart of the purest & most spiritual blood as the spirit likewise helpeth the blood by his heat in the arteries. Therefore they have months joining each to other, to the end the spirit, as it were a little flame, may receive nourishment out of the veins, & that the veins may draw spirit & heat from the arteries. For as we have already touched, our life is much like to a flame in a lamp, that receiveth food from the oil put into the lamp, even so the vital spirit, which is as a flame within us, draweth & taketh nourishment from 
Our life compared to a lamp.  the veins. Wherein we have a goodly example of that mutual society, which we aught to have one towards another in this life. Now of those veins that derive their original from the liver, there are 2. principal ones that are very great, of which the others are but as it were branches, that from the liver spread themselves upwards & downwards through all the parts of the body. These two veins coming out of the liver take their beginning from many little veins, which being as it were their roots, join together afterward into two trunks or 
The great veins in the body.  great bodies, that divide themselves again into divers boughs & branches, whereof some are greater and some lesser, after the manner of trees. The first is called the Port vein, because it is as it were the door of the liver out of which it proceedeth, being placed in the hollow part thereof. The use and profit of it is to receive nourishment prepared by the stomach & guts, & then to keep it until the liver hath turned it unto pure blood, for to sand it afterward to all the body by the other great vein called the Cave or hollow vein. And this proceeds 
The Port-veine.  from the outside of the liver, resembling the body of a tree, and dividing itself into two great branches, of which the lesser ascendeth up to the vital and animal parts, & to the ends of them, and the bigger branch descendeth down alongst the hinder part of the liver, upon that part of the chine bone that is between the kidneys, & so goeth to those parts that are contained under them. Forasmuch therefore as the artteries & veins are the principal instruments, whereby the soul giveth life unto the body, some learned men expound that of 
The hollow vein.  the vital & natural parts, which Solomon speaks of the silver chord not lengthened, of the golden ewer broken, of the pitcher broken at the well, & of the wheel broken at the cistern.  
We have already snoken of the silver chain and of the golden ewer, when we discoursed of the chine bone of the back, and of the marrow of it. Touching the residue, they understand by the well the liver, which is the fountain of blood: & by the pitcher, the veins 
Eccles. 12. 6.  because they are the vessels whereby the blood is taken out of the liver & drawn thence, that it may be distributed to all the body: and by the cistern is understood the heart, and by the wheel, the head. For we may already perceive by that which we have already said of the heart, how serviceable the liver is unto it, considering that the heart is the fountain of the vital spirits and the original of the arteries, (as the liver of the blood and of the veins) and that the vital spirits are engendered in the heart of the purest and most spiritual blood, which it draweth and receiveth from the liver. Moreover, these vital spirits are 
A place of Salumon expounded.  by means of the heart sent unto the brain and the head, to serve the animal powers that have their places and instruments there, and to serve all the senses as well spiritual as corporal. Therefore the head is aptly compared to a wheel, both for the roundness of it: as also because it draweth and receiveth the vital spirits from the heart, which sendeth them unto it as the water is drawn from his fountain, well, or cistern by means of the wheel. Eurther, as it is a needful, that there should be a chord to reach from the wheell● down to the well, and a pitcher or bucket at the end of the chord to draw water withal: so the arteries reaching from the heart up to the head, are like to the cord and pitcher, whereby the brain draweth vital spirits from the heart. For the great artery, called Aorta by the Physicians, which cometh out of the heart, and is divided into two great branches, 
Of the artery Aorta.  of which the one goeth upward, to carry the vital spirit to the superior parts, and the other downward to do the like below, forasmuch as it joineth unto the heart, may be taken for the pitcher that draweth from thence the vital spirits, as from a well; and the branch that ascendeth upward may be taken for the chord joined unto the wheel.  
The like may be seen in the liver. For the great veins of it are as it were the pitcher, & the veins that ascend up unto the head, as likewise the arteries, are the cord that draweth up the blo●d from out of the liver. If then we join that which we have already heard of the silver chain or cord, and of the golden ewer, with that which we speak now of the pitcher and of the well, of the wheel, and of the cistern; we may well be assured, that Solomon hath most wisely comprehended in so small a number of words, all the internal parts of the body, and all the powers both animal, vital and natural, together with all the instruments which they have in the body and in the members thereof. For first behold the brain signified by the golden ewer: then the pith of the chine bone and the chine bone itself by the silver chord: next, the liver by the well, which hath also his pitcher: and lastly, the heart which is signified by the cistern. As for that particularly spoken of the pitcher and wheel broken, which draw water out of the well and cistern, it is all one as if he had said, that when the fountain of blood in the liver waxeth dry and decayeth, the wheel above, namely, the head, is broken, because all the senses both exterior and interior and the animal virtues fail in the body. For the soul wanteth sound instruments to give life, motion, and sense unto it, they being worn and consumed by those means and causes, which we shall understand hereafter. But to follow our purpose, and not to departed from the matter, we must entreat of the nature of blood, and of other humours in the body, and of their diversity and nature. This than ACHITOB, shall be the matter subject of thy discourse.   

Of the blood and of other humours in the body: of their diversity and nature, and of the agreement they have with the elements: of the similitude that is between the great garden of this great world, and that of the little word, touching the nourishment of things contained and preserved in them. Chap. 64.  
ACHITOB. If in many of our discourses we saw great testimonies of the image of the great world in men, the matter we have now to handle will set before our eyes such as are most clear and evident. For look how the sea is as it were the great fountain & womb 
A similitude.  of all waters, and of the floods and rivers that issue out of them to water the whole earth: so likewise the liver is as it were the fountain of the blood and veins, which are like to brooks and rivers, to carry and distribute the blood throughout the whole body, to the end that all the parts of it might be moistened, soaked, and nourished according to their several natures. So that the liver in man's body, and in man, who is the little world, is as the sea in the great world, and the veins are like to the floods and rivers. Neither are the parts of the body by this means moistened, watered, & nourished with blood only, but also with all the other humours, wherewith it is tempered, & without which the body can not live. For the blood carrieth all the rest with it. But that we may the better understand this matter, & what is the proper nature of blood, we must first know what a humour is, and how many kinds of it there are.  
We understand by a Humour, a liquid and running body into which the food is converted 
What a humour is.  in the liver, to this end that bodies might be nourished and preserved by them. And as there are four elements of which our bodies are compounded, so there are four sorts of humours answerable to their natures, being all mingled together with the blood: as we may see by experience in blood let out of one's body. For uppermost we see as it were a little skim like to the flower or working of new wine, or of other wine when it is powered forth. Next we may see as it were small streams of water mingled with the blood. And in the bottom is seen a blacker and thicker humour, like to the leeses of wine in a wine vessel. So that if we know how to consider wisely of these things, it will be easy for us to understand the distinction of these sundry humours, and their nature. Now concerning the first of them, we are to know that the proper nature of blood is to be hot and moist: wherein it answereth to the nature of the air●. It is temperate, sweet, and fetty, as also the best and chiefest part of nourishment 
〈◊〉 the nature 〈◊〉 blood.  For albeit all the other humours do nourish likewise, and are carried of the blood, nevertheless that humour which is properly called blood, is the chiefest part of nourishment. For it is requisite that nourishment should be sweet, or at leastwise tempered with sweet liquor. Next, that thin skim which is seen on the top of it, resembling the flower of wine, is that humour that is called yellow choler, or the choleric humour which is hot and dry, of a 
Of the choleric humour.  bitter taste, and answering to the nature of fire, which is of the same nature. For it is bred of the hottest and driest parts of that liquor, in which the nourishment of the body consisteth, when through their great heat they boil together. Moreover, those small streams of 
Of the phlegmatic humour.  water, which we see mingled in the blood, proceed of the phlegmatic humour that is cold and moist, like to water of whose nature it holdeth. For this humour is in part concocted for the turning of it into blood, but not wholly perfected. Hereof it cometh that the colour of it remaineth white, much like to water, and without taste, or as some affirm, it is somewhat brackish, but not fatty. Lastly, the black humour and most earthy, which looketh like 
Of the melan cholike humour.  the very bottom of a deep, and thick wine, or like the leeses in a vessel full of wine or oil, is the melancholic humour, or as some term it, black choler, being cold and dry like to the earth, with which it hath some agreement, & of taste somewhat sharp.  
Now in this diversity of these humours mingled altogether with the blood two things are worthy to be well marked. First the agreement & conformitity which they have with all the elements of which the body of man is compounded: so that each of them hath his proper element 
The agreement betwixt the humours and the elements.  agreeable to his nature, to the end they may nourish and preserve all the parts of the body, according to the nature of the elements of which they hold. The other point is, not only the disagreement but even the manifest contrariety that is between all these humours, as there is betwixt the elements: & again the union that appears to be between them in the midst of this contrariety, as the like is among the elements, whose nature they follow. Moreover we see, that between light & darkness, day & night, cold & heat, dryness & moisture, between the divers & contrary seasons of the year, besides sundry other such contrarieties that are in nature, and in all other things, I say between these so contrary, God frameth notwithstanstanding such a wondered concord, tempering and knitting them in such sort one with another, that they are so far from defacing & destroying each other, as contrariwise they could not possibbly be preserved, except they were tied together with such a knot & conjunction.  
Now beside that which we have here spoken of the nature of these humours, we have further to note, that they do not only agreed with the elements in qualities, but also in regard of their places in man's body, I mean in the whole mass● and distribution of the blood, and in the conjunction they have together, even as the elements have their places each after other. For as the fire of it own nature is light, & therefore laboureth always to ascend upward, to attain to his natural place: so the choleric humour, which agceeth with the nature 
How the humours and elements agreed in places.  thereof, occupieth the highest place among the humours mingled with the blood, as we may perceive by that that hath been already spoken of the flower and skim of blood, according to that comparison which we made betwixt blood and wine. The like may be said of the rest. For as the air is lightest next to the fire, and the nearest element unto it and to the rest of the celestial fires: so the blood properly so called, keepeth the place of the air among the humours of the body. For it is not so light as the fire, nor so heavy as the water or the earth. And so consequently the phlegmatic and melancholic humours occupy the lower places according to their degrees, as the water, and the earth do in this great world. For this cause all these humours besides their common offices & effects, have others more specially agreeable to their nature, as (God willing) we will declare hereafter. And namely, the phlegmatic humour that holdeth of the nature of the water, is to be considered of. For as in this great visible world, there are waters both above and beneath, I mean those that are contained and retained within the clouds in the air, and those that are in the sea and in rivers, kept within their bounds assigned them for their course: so the like is to be found in the little world, which is man.  
Nowehitherto have we learned, how the water and the other humours are carried with the blood throughout the body, as well upward as downward, by means of the veins which water all the parts of it, how high or lowesoever they be, and therewithal carry unto them their food and nourishment. And this agreeth fitly to the wonderful work of God's providence in nature, which, of the vapours arising out of the earth● gathereth the clouds together, and these like to sponges suck up vapours from the waters of which themselves are engendered, and which afterward they carry about (as it were in 
Agreement betwixt the great garden of the world, and that of the little world. A godly contemplation in nature.  chariots) to distribute them into all quarters of the world, according as it shall please God to dispose of them, by sending his blessing upon the earth by the means of rain, wherewith being watered, it nourisheth all those herbs, trees, plants, and first-fruits which it bringeth forth not only for the sustenance of men, but also of beasts. Let us then imagine before us a garden wherein is infinite variety of trees and plants of all sorts, and that this garden it watered either by rain from heaven, or by pipes & conduits whereby the water is brought thither and dispersed in all places thereof. We shall see that in this great diversity of nature, there is but one and the same nourishment for them all, and but one place. And albeit the liquor that affordeth this nourishment to so many sorts of plants be but one, nevertheless it is converted into the nature of all those things which it nourisheth, so that the nature of it is changed according to the distinct property of each of them. For there are plants and herbs of all qualities, and of all tastes and colours. Some are hot, others cold, some dry, others moist, either in the first, or second, or third, or fourth degree, or else are tempered and intermingled according to their several natures. As for their tastes, some are sweet, others sharp, or bitter, or of no certain taste. In a word, there are of all kinds of tastes, both simple and compound. And yet the humour or liquor is but one that receiveth all these qualities, as in wormwood it becometh bitter, and in the Vine or Fig tree sweet. And if the herbs be either for food, or for Physic, or of a poisonful nature, the same may be said of the humour that nourisheth them. The like is seen also in colours. Neither do we observe all this by experience only in some great diversity of trees, and of all sorts of plants, but even in each of them severally. For I pray you what difference is there in every herb, or in every several tree, I mean between the root and the stalk, the body and the branches, the boughs and the leaves, the flowers, seeds and first-fruits? And yet all these sundry parts receive nourishment from one Mother, and from one and the same substance and liquor. Moreover we see that as man, and all other living creatures, have their heart in the midst of their bodies which is the fountain of life, so all trees, herbs, 
Of the heart of plants.  and plants have their heart in the midst of them according to their nature, without which they could not live. For we call their heart the inward part, within which their pith remaineth, which is unto them as the heart is to living and sensible creatures. Whereupon we have further to note in regard of those herbs that have weak stalks, especially bollow ones, or such as have straws instead of stalk, that the providence of God hath given unto them knots, severed as it were into sundry small knees which are unto them in place of their stomach, & of their nutritive members to retain their nourishment the longer, & to concoct it the better, as also to strengthen than thereby. And this we may evidently see in all sorts of corn & pulse. Even so doth nature, or rather the prince thereof work in a man's body, which is as it were a garden that hath a soul. Wherein the Creator of this whole frame showeth himself no less wonderful, nay rather much more than in this great garden of the 
The body of man compared to a garden.  whole earth, & of the great world, of both which he is the Gardener that watereth them, to nourish all the frivits they bring forth, & to 'cause them to grow. For from whence proceed, or are nourished the bones, gristles, ligaments, sinews, arteries, veins, flesh, kernels, fat, together with all the other parts of which the body is compounded? May not the like be said of the eyes & of their coats & humours, of their ears, nose, tongue, teeth, belly, stomach, guts, liver, spleen, kidneys, & of all the other bowels, & inward parts? And if we come to the hands & feet, & to the other outward members, & to all the other parts called instrumental, & distinguished according to their office, we shall found that only through the alteration of their food into liquor, they all receive such nourishment as is proper to each of them. Yet notwithstanding one & the same sustenance is offered to so many sundry members, being made familiar & of the same nature with that part unto which it is joined. For if it go to the eyes, it becometh of the same temperament, that the nerves and spirits belonging to the sight are of, which bring the faculty and virtue of seeing unto the eyes: as likewise it is of the same temperament with the coats & humours of which the eyes are compounded, being divided and distributed to each sundry part by a natural property inherent in them. The like is done in the ears, and in other members and instruments of the corporal senses, and in all the other parts of the body, even to the very nails and hairs thereof. Wherein truly we see wonderful alterations, and a most admirable work of God's providence, whether it be considered in the whole earth, and in this great world, or in man, who is the little world. Now for the sequel of our speech, before we come to speak of the special offices and effects of the three humours joined with the blood, of which we have here spoken, we are to consider beside this distribution made of the nourishment by means of the veins, as it hath been told us, of another mean by which these humours, and especially the phlegmatic, ascend up unto the brain: whereby it cometh to pass that in man, as well as in the great world, there are waters above and below, which are the cause that man's life swimmeth in the midst of a great danger. Also we are to know why the soul and the 
〈…〉 in 〈…〉 of 〈◊〉 waters.  blood are often taken each for other, and to be instructed in the temperature of the humours, necessarily belonging to the body for health and life thereof: as likewise to consider of the causes of health and sickness, and of life and death. But this shall be for tomorrow, when thou ASER, shalt undertake the discourse of these things, so far forth as is requisite for us to know.  
The end of the eighth days work    

The ninth days work.  

Of the vapours that ascend up to the brain, and of the waters and clouds contained therein, and in what perils men are thereby: why the soul and blood are put one for another: of the temperature of the humours necessary for the health and life of the body: of the causes of health and of diseases, and of life and death. Chap. 65.  
ASER. It is the saying of an ancient Philosopher, that they which sail upon the water, are not above two or three fingers breadth distant from death: namely, so far off as the thickness of the planks and timber of the Ship is, in which they are carried into the Sea. For if that timber were taken from under them, they cannot avoid drowning unless they can swim like fishes. But not to sail on the Sea, or upon a lake or river to approach near to death, we have it a great deal nearer us when we carry about us infinite causes and means, whereby we are every hour in danger of stifling, and as it were of drowning, and that both waking and sleeping, eating and drinking, within doors, and without, at alltimes, and in all places wheresoever we become. Insomuch that of what estate and disposition soever men are, we are oftentimes astonished to hear tidings of a man's death, sooner than of his sickness, whom we saw not long before, meery, cheerful and in good health.  
Now we may learn some chief causes hereof by this days handling of that matter Subject, which was yesterday propounded to be discoursed upon. And first we must know, that besides the distribution of the humours together with the blood into all parts of the body by the veins, & that for the causes before learned, there is yet another mean whereby these humours, especially the phlegmatic humour, which is of the nature of the water, ascend up unto the brain by reason of vapours arising upward out of the stomach, like to the 
Vapours ascending up to the brain.  vapour of a pot seething on the fire with liquor in it, and like vapours that ascend up from the earth into the air, of which rain is engendered. Now when these vapours are come up to the brain, they return to their natural place, and into the nature of those humours of which they were bred, as the vapours that are held in the air turn again into the same nature of water of which they came. Therefore as the waters are contained within the clouds in the region of the air allotted unto them, so is it with our brain which is of a 
Wa●ry clouds in the brain.  cold nature, and of a spongy substance fit for that purpose. So that we always carry within it as it were clouds full of water, and of other humours that distil and run down continually by the members and passages, which God hath appointed to that end, as we have already heard. And these places albeit they serve especially to purge several humours, as hath been told us, yet oftentimes they void them altogether, both by reason of they mingling and conjunction, as of their over great abundance. Yea many times they are so plentiful, namely, the phlegmatic humour, that because the brain cannot sufficiently discharge itself of them by the ordinary way, these humours over flow on all sides wheresoever they can find any vent and issue, even as when a thundering cloud bursteth asunder. So that the water runneth not down as it were a mild and gentle rain, but as mighty flood that bringeth great ruins with it, or as a river passing his ordinary course, breaketh down both bank and wall, and overfloweth every where. Therefore we may well say, that many times we have floods of water enclosed within our heads & brains, when we never think of it, nor yet consider in what danger we are. Which the more secret and unknown it is unto us, the more perilous it is, and greatlier to be feared, especially considering it is so near us, and that we have fewer means to avoid it, as we have daily examples in many, who being in health and merry, are suddenly choked by Catarrhs, which like to ●loodss of waters, run downwards, as the very name derived from the Grecians doth import as much: or by some sudden Apoplexy, how healthy soever before they seemed to be. 
Inconveniences that come from the brain.  Others also there are, who if they be not presently choked with such floods from the brain, yet they are taken with palsies, jamenesse, and impotency in all their members, or at lest wise in some of them, as if some water flood had carried them away, so that nothing had been saved but the bore life, and that more frail and miserable than death itself. I speak not of gouty persons, who although they be not assaulted with such great & vehement floods of waters, and with evil and superfluous humours, so that some few drops only (of which they are so called) fall upon some parts of them, yet are they greatly tormented and constrained to cry out, and that oftentimes in extreme distress. Which consideration aught to stir us up to know wherein our life and preservation thereof consisteth, and of whom we hold it. And on the other side, although we had no examples of floods and inundations of waters, of 
Instruction for every one.  earthquakes, and such other judgements of God whereby he punisheth men, nevertheless these water floods which we always carry about us, aught to admonish and induce us to fear him, to call upon him by prayer, and day and night, yea hourly to recommend our life unto him seeing he can take it from us by stopping our breath, yea by a very small matter: or at lest deprive us of all motion and sense, as though our bodies had neither soul nor life in them, but were like to poor dead carcasses. For the doing hereof he needeth not to thunder or lighten from heaven against us, but only to 'cause a small shower of water to power down from our head, which is the highest, the goodliest and most noble part of all the body, and as it were the heaven of the little world: or if it please him to 'cause a few drops only to distill down upon the sinews and joints, it will torment men more grievously than if they were in some continual torture, as the daily songs of such gouty persons do testify who are impatient and void of the fear of God. Now besides this profitable advertisement, which every one may take by that which hath been here uttered, we aught on ●he other 
Testimony of the providence of God  side to consider the providence and goodness of God towards men, in that as he holdeth up in the air and clouds, the water that hangeth over us, not suffering them to break down upon us all at once to overwhelm all that earth by them, with all the beasts and other creatures contained in it, but distributeth them by good & just measure, so dealeth he with the humours that ascend up continually, and are kept in our brain, where they have their vessels to retains them in, as it were in sponges, which yield forth water according as they are either loosened, or restarined and closed together. And as for that which is said of the testimony which we have of the frailty of our life, appearing in the principal and most noble part of our body, as the like was showed us before in that instruction, which we learned by the office that God assigned to our lungs, and to the passages allotted by him for the taking in and letting out of the air: so we have a very notable lesson in the consideration of the liver and of the blood, of which that is the forge and fountain, and of the distribution thereof into all the parts and members of the body by means of the veins, as we heard yesterday. For as a man may judge by outward appearance that the life of man consisteth in breath, and that he giveth up both soul & life when he dieth, as it were in giving up the last gasp: so it seemeth also that it is placed in the blood, as that which goeth as it were with the blood, so that when the blood is drawn out of a man● body, the life also may seem to be drawn out therewith all. Hereupon as the soul is oftentimes in the holy Scripture put for the life, because it giveth life to the body, so it is also put for the blood, and the blood likewise called soul, because it is the instrument and m●aneses whereby the soul giveth life: and when the Lord forbiddeth his people to eat the flesh with his soul, that is the blood thereof. Whereby his meaning is to teach men to abhor the effusion of man's 
Gen. 9 4. 5.  blood & therefore he saith further, I will require your blood, even the blood of your souls. Wherhfore he that sheedeth blood, doth as much as if he drew the soul out of the body. Now forasmuch as the blood is so necessary unto life, we are likewise to understand, that as it is either pure and sound, or unpure and corrupted, so is it disposed either to health or sickness, and to life or death. For as the natural life of man consisteth especially in heat and moisture, so a man may easily judge, that as every thing is bred by means of them, chiefly living and sensible creatures, so nothing can be preserved in this bodily life without these two qualities, that are proper to air and to blood, as we have already heard. But these qualities must be so tempered, that there be no excess on either side. And for this cause GOD would have all the humours to be mingled together with the blood, that so it might 
The mixture of the humours necessary.  be tempered as is requisite for the life of man. For if it be too hot and dry, or too moist and cold, it cannot do that office, for the performance whereof it is ordained: but in stead of bringing health and life, it will breed diseases, and in the end cause death. For natural death cometh only of diseases, amongst which old age is to be reckoned, which is an incurable sickness that lasteth until death. Neither do diseases proceed but only of the distemperature that is in men's bodies, and in the humours of which they are compounded. For as long as the are in a good, moderate, and proportionable temper, 
The causes of health and of sickness.  and are distributed to all the parts of the body, according as need requireth, so that none of them exceedeth, then is there an equality in all the body, which doth not only preserve it in life, but in health and good disposition. For there is the like concord and harmony between these humours, that is between the parts of a good consort of Music agreeing well together, or of an an instrument of Music well tuned, from which you shall hear nothing but pleasant melody. Whereas if all the parts thereof agreed not well together, there will be no musical harmony, but only a very unpleasant discord. The like may be said of all the concord's and discords that may fall out in the humours of our bodies.  
And therefore God had so tempered them in the first creation of man, and was requisite, so that he would have preserved him in a perpetual life, if by true obedience he had alalwaies been knit and united unto God his Creator. But since man fell at variance with GOD through sin, all this goodly concord, which God had placed not only in man's 
Sin the cause of all the discord in the world.  body, but also between the rest of his creatures, hath been troubled and turned into discord by means of sin. So that all this goodly temperature and harmony of the humours in which man's body was created, was dislolued, and broken asunder, and that in such sort that it was never since sound and perfect in any man, of how good constitution soever it hath been. For even in the best complexions there is alwaries some defect or excess in some of the humours: so that if there were no other cause, yet no body could naturally be immortal. For always in the end the excess or defect that is in it would 'cause it to decay, and finally bring it to corruption. But besides this, there are so many other 
The causes of death.  wants and superfluities throughout the whole life of man, whereby this evil already become natural, is so much augmented, that there die more without comparison of ordinary diseases and of violent death, then of old age and natural death: and all this by means of sin.  
Therefore we may well conclude, that health is the effect and fruit of peace and concord between all the parts & humours of man's body, and so consequently is life: as contrariwise, sickness and death proceed of discord, dissension & war between them. For as concord bringeth peace, and peace all good things with it, so contrariwise, discord breedeth war, and war a heaped measure of all miseries and evils. Wherhfore a found body of a good constitution is like the body of a whole people and society, that hath the members agreeing well together, so that every one keepeth his rank, not hurting one another. But a sick and diseased body is like to the body of a mutinous and seditious people, that breaketh the order it aught to keep, and goeth beyond the appointed bounds. Therefore we have a goodly image of peace, and of that peaceable life whereunto men are created and borne, is 
A politic instruction.  the disposition and the temperature of the humours and members of our body, whereby we aught to league what great account we are to make of peace, a mitie and concord, and how we aught to hate and abho●●e all war, discord and dissension, seeing the one is as it were health and life, and the other as diseases and death. Now let us see the use and profit, the pa●ticolar and special properties of the humours joined with the blood: and what vessels are assigned unto them, together with their nature and offices. It belongeth to thee, AMANA, to handle this matter.   

Of the uses and commodities of the humours joined with the blood, and what vessels are assigned unto them in the body, and of their nature and offices: and first of the choleric humour, of the gall and vessel thereof: next of the melancholic humour and of the spleen: then of the phlegmatic humour, and of the kidneys and other vessels, which it hath to purge by. Chap. 66.  
AMANA. As we aught to labour to cut off all discord, and to nourish all concord, that we may enjoy peace and those benefits that proceed thereof: so we must be very careful to preserve all the parts of our body in such a temperature, as may keep them in a harmony and concord, that we may live in health. For this cause as God hath tempered all the humours one with an other, so he hath assigned to every one his proper place and seat, both to withdraw itself, therein, and to perform the office enjoined unto it, and also to purge and cleanse itself, and to discharge the body ofsuper fluities and corruptions that otherwise might hurt it. Now we have already heard, how he hath assigned the liver to be the seat of the blood, because he hath appointed the blood to water all the body, and to give life and nourishment unto it, out of which also the vital spirits arise, as small and mild winds proceed out of rivers and fountains.  
As for the choleric humour, it is joined with the blood for the concoction of humours that abound, and to awake and stir up the body lest it become heavy, sleepy and dull, as 
Of the choleric humour.  also to penetrate and open the passages when it goeth with the blood, and therewithal to nourish those members that agreed with the nature of it, as the lungs with whose nourishment choleric blood doth better agreed then any other. Whereby it appeareth evidently, that this humour holdeth of the nature of fire, which giveth unto it this quickness and virtue. And because it is hot and dry, it serveth also to temper the moisture of the blood, and to meet withal cold that might come unto it, and helpeth to preserve it in his natural heat. Now for as much as it is not all carried and distributed with the blood, but the greatest part of it remaineth for other uses, God hath assigned a vessel unto it, into which it retireth and is contained therein so far forth as is requisite. The end hereof is, that the blood should not be infected with too much choler mingled therewith, as also that it might descend into the guts, by those passages that are given unto it to that purpose to be voided by them, and to provoke them to discharge those excrements which they receive, and so to purge the whole body. For this cause there is a bladder in fashion like to a long Pear, 
Of the gall & of his bladder  placed under the midst of the Liver, about the hollow part of the right side of it, within which it is half hidden. This bladder is the vessel into which that yellow humour withdraweth itself, and is contained therein which we call Gall. And as this bladder hath his filaments and threads, both to draw unto it and to retain, as also to expel forth, so it hath two branches coming out of the neck of it, the one upward to draw away the choleric humour in the purifying of the blood, the other downwards towards the guts to carry this humour unto them, both for the thrusting forward of nourishment, and for the casting forth of the excrements. For it was necessary, that the great abundance of this humour should retire into some place in the purging of the blood: and therefore it was as requisite that it should have a fit vessel to retire into, wherein it was not to remain unprofitable. For beside the uses already spoken of, it serveth not only to cle●se all the guts of ordure, but also 
The uses of the choleric humom.  to heat the liver, and to hinder the putrefaction of the blood. Besides, experience sufficiently showeth, how needful it is that the blood should have such a vessel wherewith to purge itself. For when the passages thereof are stopped, great diseases follow thereupon, as inflammation of the liver, and the dropsy, but especially the yellow jaundice. For when this humour is not duly separated from the blood, so that it is not purged thereof as nature requireth, then doth it begin to corrupt: whereupon it cannot sand such food to the members as is necessary for them, but that which is corrupted by this gass, whereby they are driven out of their natural disposition. And this we may see chiefly in the yellow jaundice by reason of this yellow and bitter humour, that maketh the body yellow, into which it is dispersed by means of the veins, in steed of being nourished with good blood. The like may be said of the melancholic humour, which is as it were the leeses 
Of the melancholike-humor.  of the blood. For if the blood be corrupted and infected, great inconveniences ensue thereof unto the whole body, through which this humour is dispersed after the same manner that the choleric humour is: insomuch as it becometh black thereby, as the choleric humour maketh it yellow, and for the like cause, breeding the like disease, the difference of humours only excepted. Now because we have not in our usual speech a special name to declare this difference, this disease is commonly called the black jaundice. Therefore God hath assigned the spleen for a seat to this black humour, which being placed on the 
Of the spleen  left side containeth this humour in it: having proper pipes and passages, both to draw from the liver this dregs of the blood, and also to communicate the same unto the stomach, thereby to provoke appetite, as likewise to purge itself by divers means. The chief use of it is to receive the gross and muddy blood, and to that end there is a great vein, which being the pipe of this blood, goeth from the Port vein to the spleen, which is nourished with the best of it, and concocteth the abundance of this humour. Therefore God hath created it with such a flesh as is meet and apt for that office: and further hath helped it with certain arteries, whereby it is heated and made warm. And when it hath taken so much of this gross blood to nourish itself withal as is requisite, the rest is partly retained still, and partly thrust out and sent to the bottom of the stomach, by a vein serving for the same purpose, to the end that from thence this humour may be voided out of the body.  
Now when these veins are stopped, dangerous diseases follow thereupon, chiefly, when this happeneth to the first vein whereof I spoke even now. For when the 
What effects follow the oppilation of the liver.  liver is not purged, his whole office is hindered, and itself decayeth by little and little, by retaining still the excrements thereof: from whence the vapours ascending up to the brain trouble it very much, and 'cause it to fall into very strange & foolish conceits. And when the body is burdened with this humour, it causeth that man to be very melancholic, and sad, and many times bringeth that yrkesomenesse upon him that he desireth nothing but death. It was very requisite therefore, that God should give both a vessel and passages to this humour, which is not without his great commodities, if it be tempered and distributed as it aught to be. For it serveth to stay and to retain the floating spirits, which arise out of the blood, lest if they should be made more pure and subtle, then is expedient for 
The commodities of the melancholic humour.  the body, they vanish and pass away altogether. It is profitable also to thicken the blood, and to help to restrain and keep it from running overlastily: beside, it nourisheth therewithal the melancholic members, which hold most of the nature of that humour, as namely, the bones and the spleen.  
Likewise, the dryness both of this and of the choleric humour standeth the blood in some stead: and the coldness thereof serveth to cool and moderate the heat of the blood, and of the choleric humour. As for the phlegmatic humour, which is also called Pituitae, 
Of the Phlegmatic humour and profit of it.  it is not without his commodities. For first, it is the matter whereof the blood is made, when it is by little and little concocted better: it mitigateth the heat of the blood, and is unto it in place of nourishment, and instead of a bridle to restrain the burning and devouring heat thereof from present consuming of all. Besides, it keepeth the blood from being too thick and dry: and being carried with the blood, it nourisheth the phlegmatic and cold members, such as the brain is. And as the other humours joined with the blood, have their superfluities and vessels to keep them in and to purge them, so is it with this.  
For this humour is not only carried with the blood to keep it from overmuch thickness, that it may the better pass through the veins: but there proceedeth also from the whole mass of blood, an excrement like to very thin water which by reason of the thinness of it, can no way be profitable to the body. For it is a water that differeth as much from blood, and from the phlegmatic humour joined with it, as whey doth from milk when the Butter and Cheese with all the substance that can be had from it is drawn out of it. For it is like to sweat, with which it hath some resemblance. Therefore it hath his proper place assigned unto it in the Kidneys, which draw to themselves 
Of the kidneys.  the warrish matter from the blood, thereby purging it from water that would corrupt it, and fill the Veins in stead of good blood: as we see it in the dropsy, which bloweth up the body that is stuffed with water in stead of good nourishment which by the veins it should draw from the blood, if the liver were well affected, and if all the other parts that aught to help it, did well perform their duties. And to the end, that the Kidneys may the better do their duty, God hath not only created two, but hath so placed them by his providence, that the right kidney is higher than the left, so that they do their duties one after another. For if they wrought both together, if they were both in one place, & if both drew unto themselves with equal force, in steed of mutual help, they would greatly hinder each other: which inconvenience the providence of God doth very well meet with. And as all the inward parts, of which we have hitherto spoken, have their pipes both to draw from the liver that humour that is meet for them, and to sand it where need requireth, and also for to purge themselves: even so the kidneys have their passages apt & meet for the performance of all these things. For first they have Emulgent veins, so called because they draw this waterish superfluity, as a child sucketh milk out of the breast, and 
Emulgent veins.  having received this water separated from the blood, they sand it unto the kidneys. It is true, that a little blood passeth together with it to nourish the kidneys withal, with which there is some yellow choler mingled, that serveth afterward to help expulsion, and the water 
How the urine is made yellow  being coloured therewith, is made yellow and brackish, and then it is rightly called Urine. Now after the kidneys have drawn from the liver this water, whereby the blood is purged, and themselves also in part nourished with some little of the blood, and that by means of the veins and passages given unto them for that purpose, they have two other passages, called Vreteres, or Urine pipes, whereby they purge and discharge themselves of 
Of the Verteres & of the bladder.  that water that is called Urine, after the blood is wholly separated from it. This done, these pipes sand the water unto the bladder, which is a vessel meet for the receipt thereof, and which doth as it were distill the same by little and little through these pipes that enter into the bladder, both on the right side and on the left. Moreover the bladder hath a neck and passage near to the urine pipes. whereby it dischargeth itself of this humour, after it hath kept the same a while, voiding it forth of the body as a superfluous excrement. For if this were not so, after the body were full of this water overflowing in it, not only many parts and members would be broken, but also men should be stifled, by reason of the compression & contraction of the Midriff. I speak not here of the stone which we carry in our kidneys or of that which oftentimes breedeth both in the Kidneys and in the bladder, I mean of such stones as bake there as it were in a Tile kill, or potter's furnace. I omit all the passions of the kidneys, and the extreme pains proceeding from thence, which are further instructions unto us of our infirmities and miseries, and of the frailty of man's life: but th' handling of these things properly belongeth to the Physicians I will only add to that which I have spoken of the neck of the bladder, where the urinary pipes end, that the hole thereof is full 
Of the neck of the bladder  of wreathe and turnings, to the end it may the better hold and keep in the water. And for this cause also it hath a muscle, as well as the fundament, to open and to shut, & to yield and retain the urine according to natures will, even as it is with the other excrements that are purged by the bowels. We propound these things as it were a general Auatomy of the body, because if I should lay them open at large and by piece meal, each member hath in it sufficient whereof to make a great book. For as I have already declared, the artificial workmanship of man's body is incredible and incomprehensible, if a man consider all the parts of it. For there is nothing, be it never so small, but the work of it is very marucilous, the use great, & so fitted to the purpose as cannot possibly be better. But we need not discourse more particularly of the composition and nature of man's body, and of the parts of it, seeing our inteut is not to become Physicians, but in some sort naturaldivines, by learning to know the providence of God in his works, especially in our creation, composition, nourishment 
What it is to be a natural. Divine.  and preservation, that we may glorify him in them, as becometh us. Now in all that we have hitherto propounded of the four natural humours of the body, we have spoken of them according as naturally they are, and aught to be without corruption, and such as are necessary for the life of man. But forasmuch as they are of great virtue and power in regard of the affections & manners of men, whether they abide in their right nature, or whether they be corrupted, we must speak somewhat of their corruption, and of the hurt that cometh thereby, not only to the life and health of the body, but also to that of the soul considering withal what are the sundry natural temperaments of men. Mark● therefore ARAM, what you have to say unto us concerning this matter.   

Of the names whereby the humours of the body are commonly called, with the causes wherefore: of the comparison between the corruption and temperature of the humours of the body, and between the manners and affections of the Sonle: of the means whereby the humours corrupt, and of the Fevers and diseases engend read thereby: of the sundry natural temperatures in every one. Chap. 67.  
ARAM. The nourishment of man's body hath many degrees, & passeth through many pipes and vessels, before it be perfect and converted by true generation into the proper substance of every member whether it is carried, as we may judge by that which we have already heard to this purpose. But there is such an accord between all the members of the body; whereby every one executeth his office, and such a communion of all their powers, that each member keepeth his rank and order, neither doth any one retain and keeps to itself more nourishment than is requisite, but sendeth as much as is needful unto the rest, even unto the nails, and hairs and uttermost excrements. Now if through some defect or corruption falling out in their nature, any of them break the order of this equal distribution, a common detriment seizeth upon the whole body, and upon all the members generally, so that those parts also taste of the hurt, that offered wrong unto the residue. For they can not live alone, nor without help from others. The like is seen in the Common wealth, and in the members thereof. For what is the cause that some are ready to burst for fatness and multitutudes of meats, whereas others are empty and 
What communion aught to be among men.  die of hunger? that some have so much wealth, that they are greatly troubled therewith and others are so poor? Nay, what is the cause of all the confusion in the world, but that every one taketh to himself, and no such equality and communion is observed, as becometh the estate of every one; Wherhfore as sundry diseases are bred in man's body whereby in the end it is utterly overthrown, when there is no such communion between, the members thereof, nor any such distribution of the nourishment as there aught to be: so is it with the body of the Common wealth, when some oppress others, and when every one hath not that that belongeth unto him, For: first there followeth great confusion, and of confusion, subversion, as diseases follow faults committed by the members, and after diseases death itself.  
Now the infinite number of infirmities and ordinary diseases, whereby mo●● violent deaths are procured then natural, by reason of the defects and excesses brought in by sin into the whole life of man, causeth men to speak diversely of the four humours of the body, necessary for the preservation and nourishment thereof. For they are more often taken for the vices and excesses, whereby they are corrupted, then for the true natural humours, which are the chief instruments of the soul, whereby it giveth life and nourishment to the body. The cause whereof, as I think, is because men do sooner and more easily perceive and mark what is evil and hurtful unto them, then that which breedeth their good and profit. And indeed it falleth out commonly, that they know not the good things they have until they have lost them, or else are become hurtful unto them. Not marvel then if they know not from whence these good things come, or of whom they have received them & so become ingrateful towards GOD. Wherefore let us not wonder when God withdraweth them from us, or suffereth them to corrupt and to be spoiled that they might hurt us instead of helping us, to the end that by this mean● we might learn to acknowledge that good which before we knew not, and not to despise it when we have it, I mean● that we should learn this by the evil that succeedeth after we have lost the good. For we are such scholars as cannot otherwise imprint in our minds those good things which God bestoweth upon us, but by being deprived of them, and by our own 
The cause of men's ingratitude.  hurt.  
Hereof it is that we always learn to our own cost, as we say, because we can not conceive so well, as we aught to do of the free goodness of God. Nay, it were well if all could learn a right by their own harms. For there are but few that profit thereby as they aught. How many are there that instead of amendment, wax through the chas●sementss of God? But in the mean time our usual manner of speaking teacheth us, that men have more knowledge of corrupt humours that hurt them, then of the good ones that nourish them, and continued in their natural soundness, seeing their names are more often taken in the evil part then in the good. Now when we spoke before of these humours in the body, it was as they are and aught to be natural, and such as being void of corruption, are necessary for the life of man. And forasmuch as they are of great force in regard of the affections and manners of men, whether they abide in their own nature, or whether they be corrupted, we will speak somewhat more of their corruption, and of those hurts which they bring to the health and life of the body: afterward we will consider of their effects in the soul. But we must here call to mind what we 
The agreement between the manners and humours of the body.  heard before of the agreement between the manners and affections of the soul, and the temperature of the body and how the one serveth the other. Whereby we may gather, that it is so with the affections in regard of the soul, as it is with the natural humours in regard of the body. For according as these humours are well or ill tempered, so is the body well or ill affected: & according as they increase or diminish, so the health of a man is more sound and steadfast, or more crazy and inconstant, and so ready to turn into more grievous and dangerous diseases. The like may be said of the staidness or unstayednes of the affections of the soul, and of the spiritual health and diseases thereof. For this cause, if we aught to be so careful to reduce our body to a good temperature when there is any defect: and being so, to preserve it in the same estate still, and so likewise for the equality and agreement that aught to be between the humours from whence it cometh, so that we desire to obtain health when we are sick, and to keep it well when we have it, than aught we to be much more careful for the temperature and moderation of the affections of the soul, and of the spiritual health that proceedeth thereof. And therefore in the corruption of the bodily humours, we are to consider diligently of the corruption of manners, and of the affections of the soul. For there is great agreement between the one and the other.  
But to come to the chief point of this present speech, we are first to note, that the natural humours corrupt two manner of ways, when they leave the order of nature & change 
By what means the natural humours corrupt  their natural properties. For that cometh unto them, either because their proper substance degenerateth without any mixture of other humours, or through the mixture of some other vicious and corrupt humour. Now how much the more requisite the humour is, and necessary for the body of man being in his natural soundness, so much the more hurtful is it when it is corrupted. Therefore forasmuch as the blood, which is properly so called amongst the humours of the body, is more convenient, apt and necessary for the life thereof, than any of the rest, as hath been declared unto us, it followeth that the corruption thereof is more dangerous then of any other humour.  
Now it degenerateth from his own substance when (the doors being shut) it putrefieth within the veins, and is tuened into a certain choleric humour, not natural but corrupted: 
The original of Fevers and other diseases  whereupon the continual Fever ariseth. Besides, it corrupteth after an other manner; namely, through the mixture of some other humour, as when the first mass of blood is corrupt through the abundance of a raw humour that is not well digested in the liver, whereof the dropsy followeth, as likewise the yellow jaundice is bred of the blood corrupted through too great abundance of the choleric humour.  
In like manner the phlegmatic humour is corrupted in his substance, when it overfloweth 
The corruption of the phlegmatic humour.  and giveth upward in men's bodies, and continueth raw for want of good concoction and digestion: it being sometimes more thin, and sometimes more thick. From hence cometh spittle, snattinesse of the nose, catharres, and distillations, and oftentimes vomiting, when it is gross and thick. Besides this phlegmatic humour corrupteth through the mixture of the choleric or melancholic humour: and then it waxeth salt or sharp, according to the humour that is mingled therewith. And as the continual fever is bred of blood corrupted in substance, so the quotidian ague proceedeth of the corruption of the phlegmatic humour. As for the choleric humour it degenerateth of itself, when it burneth & is 
Of the choleric humours  turned into a vicious melancholic humour that is like ashes, thick & biting. And because this alteration groweth by little and little, either by reason of age or of violent motions in them that are naturally very choleric, it comweth to pass that such persons are in their old age subject to a furious kind of anger. On the other side, this choleric humour corrupteth when it is mingled with some other humour, as when it is mixed with phlegm, which as it is either more thin, or thicker, so is the colour of the choler more or less yellow, pale, or green. The like may be said of the mixture of all the other humours.  
Now as the tertian ague, I mean the right and perfect tertian, is engendered of the choleric humour corrupted in his substance: so the bastard tertian is bred of the same humour, when it is mixed with a vicious and corrupt phlegmatic humour. And truly this is very strange, that the corruption of every several humour doth in this sort breed sundry kinds of agues according to the diversity of the humours. For as there are four sundry sorts 
From whence all sorts of agues proceed.  of humours, so there are four kinds of ordinary agues that have their several relations to each of these humours. So that as the continual fever is bred of blood corrupted, and the quotidian of phlegm, and the tertian of the choleric humour, so the quartane proceedeth of the melancholic humour corrupted.  
Now besides these ordinary fevers, there are others mingled and compounded, according as the putrefied humours of which they are bred, are mingled and compounded together. From hence spring demi and double tertians, and quartanes and such like. And sometime one and the same man shall have sundry sorts of fevers in one disease, according to the diversity & abundance of corrupt humours that are in him. We may say as much of all other diseases that are bred of corrupt humours, according as they are either simpler, or more mingled and compounded. Therefore as the other humours corrupt in such sort as we heard before, so when the melancholic humour putrefieth, either it burneth of itself, or else by 
The corruption of the melancholic humours.  the mixture of other humours, insomuch as it waxeth gross and biting, and holdeth of the nature of ashes.  
Now when a body subject to choler, phlegm, or blood waxeth melancholic, that man, by reason the fumes cannot evaporate and get out, falleth into frensines and mad fits, and those of divers sorts. For as the melancholic humour is mixed, either with blood, or with 
From whence madness cometh.  phlegm or with choler, so is the melancholic person more or less merry or sad, heavy or lighter, colder or hotter, and his fits and furies either more moderate, or more vehement and violent. But howsoever it be, we see by daily experience, that there are many sorts of melancholic persons, of mad, senseless and furious people. And besides the mixture of vicious humours, we must consider also the sundry natural temperaments of every one. For as we see that wines are diversly tempered according to the variety of countries, lands, and air where they grew, and that albeit they are always wine, yet there is great difference in the one from the other, both in substance, nourishment, colour, smell, virtue and strength: even so is it with the humours of the body. For the same humours are more pure, ●or more moderate, or more noble and exquisite in some then in others, according to the nature of their bodies, and not only of their own, but also of their parents bodies from whence they were derived. For children commonly take much after their parents. I speak nothing of that which the temperament may take of the heavens, and of all the celestial bodies, and chief of the special grace of GOD, the prince of nature, who ruleth over all temperaments, and complexions. But it is time, that following our purpose, we consider what effects the humours have towards the soul, and that we look into the diversities of the temperatures and complexions of men, according unto the nature of those humours that reign most in them, and to that disposition which naturally they do work in them either to virtues or vices. This we shall learn of thee ACHITOB.   

Of the divers temperatures and complexions of men, according to the nature of humours that bear most sway in them: of the disposition whereunto they are naturally moved by them either to virtues or vices: of the means to correct the vices and defects that may be in our natural inclinations. Chap. 68  
ACHITOB. It is not without great show of reason, that the Philosophers made three 
Three chief workers of men's actions.  principles and beginnings that affect men's actions, namely, powers, habits, or qualities, & affections, or passions. For we see plainly by experience, of how great force these things are in man so long as he liveth. Concerning powers, they come to us by nature, and are effective principles of all actions both good & bad, yea by them we know in children, during their young years, the signs and tokens of some virtue or vice, that will reign most in them afterwards, which we commonly call, Inclination or Disposition. The passions and affections likewise natural in us, being forcible pricks to provoke men to embrace either good or evil, whereof we have already spoken sufficiently. As for the habits or qualities, they are accidental in man, as they that are gotten by a long and continual custom of doing good or evil, whereupon also they take the names of good or eviil habits. Now we commonly see some to be naturally inclined to one virtue and not to another, or to one vice and not to an other. For it seemeth sometimes that nature hath bred some to be temperate, 
He speaks of such goodues & virtues as were so esteemed of by the heathen that knew not their natural corruption.  others to be liberal, and contrariwise. And when a man endued with natarall powers tending to good, obtaineth qualities answerable thereupon, he is worthy of commendation, because unto his inclination he hath added greater help, namely, care, and study, by means whereof he is come to some perfection. So likewise he that naturally being borne impotent, attaineth to those virtues that are contrary to his impotency, deserveth greater praise, because fight as it were with nature, he remaineth conqueror over himself, and becometh virtuous with greater difficulty. But contrariwise, if a man that is naturally ill disposed to some particular vice, doth add further a habit to his bad inclination, he is worthy of blame, because he hath not resisted evil, but pleasing himself therein hath made it greater. As likewise he that hath excellent graces & gifts of nature to do well, & suffereth them to vanish away throngo his negligence & custoome in evil, is much more to be blamed because that voluntarily he suffcet himself to be overcome of vice. But we must consider of these things somewhat higher, & by the self same reason judge of the natural temperaments, which in the former speech we heard were divers in every one For we aught to acknowledge one God, Prince, & author of nature, who ruleth in all and over all. Therefore as he hath appropriated to the soul those instruments, which he hath given 
God ruleth in all, & over al.  unto it in the body, to work in them & by them: so himself disposeth & ordereth those instruments, which he will use among men, yea even from their mother's womb, as it is written 
jerem. 1 Galat. 1 Acts 9 15.  of the Prophet jeremy, & of the Apostle S. Paul whom our Saviour also a choseo instrument is bear his na●e b●fore the Gentiles, & Kings, and children of Israel. No doubt, therefore considering the agreement which we have heard is in the affections of the soul with the temperature of the body, but that the more temperate the complexions of every man's body is, and the nearer it approacheth to the perfectest temperature, ●he more quiet and moderate, the more gracious and comely will his affections and manners be naturally, yea all his gestures and whole behaviour. True it is, as we have else where touched, that no body is so framed, or hath such an harmony and equality throughout, but ther● is some disagreement & inequality. But we accounted those natures to be well tempered, which approach nearest to the perfect temperature: and as every humour ruleth more or less in every one, so he is called either sanguine, or phlegmatic, or choleric, or melancholic. Again, as the other humours bear sway next unto the principal, so is a man said to be either flegmattke sanguine, or choleric sanguine, or melancholic sanguine. The like may be said of the other humours according to their temperature, as also of the affections which house some agreement with them. Hereof it is, that when there is excess of the phlegmatic humour in men, their natures are commonly slothful, they shun labour and give themselves to bodily 
The nature of phlegmatic persons.  pleasures, they love dainties, and delicate meats and drinks, they are tender and effeminate, and clean contrary to stout and valiant men. And if there be excess of the choleric humour, their natures are easily provoked and stirred up to wrath: but their anger is as fire of thorns, that being soon kindled and making a great noise, is by and by quenched again. Their gestures also are more quick and vehement, & their hastiness is commonly foolish and turbulent: they babble much, and are like to vessels full of holes, unable to 
The nature of a choleric complexion.  hold in and keep any secret matter: they are fierce in assailing, but inconstant in sustaining the assaolt, in some sort resembling the nature of dogs, which bark and bite if they can, and afterward fly away. And if there be excess of the melancholic humour, the natures of such are sad, still, hard to please, suspicious conceited, obstinate, some more and some less. And if the choleric and melancholic humours be corrupt and mingled together, their 
The nature of the melancholic body.  natures become monstrous, proud, full of envy, fraud, subtleties, venomous and poisonful hateful and diabolical.  
And when the malignant spirits know men's natures thus disposed, no doubt but they take occasion thereby to intermingle themselves, if God permit them, & purpose to use them 
What natures are most abused by evil spirits.  for the punishing of men: I say, they will join themselves unto them, & make them their instruments, as God on the other side useth those natures that are most moderate & best tempered, making them instruments of his glory. Now we may call to mind what we learned before almost to the same end, touching the means whereby evil spirits might trouble she imagination, fantasy and minds of men. We may say as much of the humours of the body, whose motions and nature they know very well. Whereby they can so much the more easily abuse them in their damnable work and will, as we may judge by the example of him 
Matth. 17. 15 Mar. 9 20. Luke 9 39  that was possessed and lunatic, of whom the Evangelists make mention, and whom they call by those two names. And by that which they wrote of him, it seemeth that he was sobiect to the falling sickness, that returneth oftentimes according to the course of the moo●e, which naturally hath great affinity with the humours, and great power over them. And therefore it is very likely, that the evil spirit which tormented this poor lunatik, watched the occasions of his disease to afflict him the more, & to 'cause him to fall either in the fire or in the water, as he did indeed, thereby to work his death if he could. Which example showeth 
How vigilant the Devil is to hurt us.  unto us what is the malice of the Devil, what pleasure he taketh in hurting of men, what means and what occasion he seeketh for, and maketh choice of, and what access unto us we may offer him through our corrupt nature, through our vices and sins, and through our inclinations and manners that are naturally evil and perverse, if God letteth him lose the bridle by his just judgement: seeing he spareth not the little children, as it appeareth in that which is written of him, of whom we spoke even now. For this cause we aught to take good heed, that we give not our common enemy those occasions that he seeketh to have from us, to the end that he abuse us not, nor any thing that is ours, and which God hath bestowed upon us. This is the reason why the consideration of our temperature, complexion, and natural inclination is very necessary for us: because the knowledge hereof affordeth 
What profit we reap by the knowledge of our complexions.  unto many good instrustions that may stand us in great stead throughout our whole life, as well for the preservation of the health of our bodies, as for the rule and government of our affections and manners, as also in regard of the familiarity and acquaintance which we have one from another. For through the contemplation hereof we may know not only the causes of health and sickness, of the life and death of the body but also of that of the soul. For as the good humours corrupt in our bodies, according as we heard, and breed in them sundry diseases which finally lead them unto death: even so by means of sin all those good and natural affections, which aught to be the seeds of virtues in us, are corrupted and turn into vices, that are the diseases of the soul, and bring unto it the second and eternal death: as contrariwise virtues are the health and life thereof.  
But as God hath provided corporal medicines for the body, so he hath prepared spiritual Physic for the soul against all the diseases thereof. Therefore when we consider with ourselves unto what vices we are inclined by nature, we must labour to correct, and bridle them, and to quench such inclinations, as much as we can, through sobriety, vigilancy, and continual practice to the contrary: lest we nourish and increase them, when as we aught to diminish and wholly to abolish them. For the common proverb is not without reason, that Education passeth nature, or that it is another nature. We see by experience what Education and instruction are able to do both to goodness and vice, according as they are either good or evil. For as there is no nature so good, which cannot be corrupted and perverted through evil education and teaching: so there is none so vicious and evil, which cannot, at the lest in some measure, (through the help and grace of God) be corrected and amended by good education, instruction, and discipline. And because conversation and familiarity are of great efficacy in this point, we are diligently to consider with what persons and natures we acquaint ourselves, and be careful to eschew 
What natures we are to eschew.  such natures as are vicious, proud, fierce, ennious, hateful, malicious, suspicious, disloyal, and traitorous, as well in regard of the corruption of manners wherewith we may be infected by them, as also in respect of other harms that may befall us, by reason they are unsociable natures or at the lest very difficult to converse withal, being indeed such as towards whom no man can bear any true love or firm friendship. But when we have used all the diligence we can possible about these things, the chiefest point wherein the whole consisteth, is this, that we have recourse to jesus Christ the eternal Son of GOD, to the end that by his holy Spirit, he would correct, repress, and quench in us all the vicious affections and disordered motions, that we have contrary 
The true means to cure out vices Matth 7. 11. Luke 11. 13.  to his holy will: according to that promise which is maids unto us, wherein it is said, that If fathers knew how to give good gifts to their children and such things as are necessary for them, much more will our heavenly Father give his holy Spirit to them that ask of him. And this is the true means we aught to keep for the correcting of these vices and defects, that are in our natural inclinations. Now we have spoken sufficiently of those things which concer●e the natural powers of the soul, in respect of the nourishment and groweth of the body, & of those instruments which it hath in the same for the performance of her actions, It remaineth now that we consider what effects it hath in generation. First then ASER, thou shalt handle the restauratrion & reparation of all natures by that virtue and power of Generation that is in them, and namely, in man: to the end we may after proceed with those other points that concern this matter.   

Of the restoration and reparation of all natures created by the Generative power and virtue that is in them, and namely, in man: what Generation is, and what the Generative power of the soul is: what the seed is, and how Generation proceedeth of strength and of infirmity. Chap. 69.  
ASER. When Solomon saith in the Psalm entitled with his name, Except the Lord build 
Psal. 127. 1.  the house, they that build, labour in vain, we must not think that by the building whereof he speaketh, he understandeth a frame of stone & wood to make a lodging and dwelling place of it, but he respecteth specially that building that consisteth of houses and families, through the generation of children, and their good education & instruction: as himself show etplainely when by and by after he saith in the same Psalm. Behold, children are an inheritance from the Lord, and the fruit of the womb areward. Whereby we have a sure testimony, as in 
Verse 3,  many other places of the Scripture, that we must acknowledge the Generation of children to come from God, and not from nature, and the fruitfulness and barrenness both of men and women.  
By our former speeches we may learn what was the creation of the first man and first woman, with the lawful conjunction betwixt them, by means whereof God would have man kind preserved and multiplied by good order, and not by a brutish confusion, such as is amongst the beasts. Now it remaineth, that following the order of our discoursev, we speak of generation, whereby we shall know the virtue that God gave for that purpose to our first parents, when he said unto them, Bring forth fruit and multiply and fill the earth. Which hath had such power and virtue, that from thence have issued all the men, women, and 
Genes. 1. 28..  children, that have been since the beginning of the world, that are now, and that shallbe unto the end thereof. The like also proceeded from the blessing which God gave not only 
The virtue of the blessing of God for generation.  to all other living creatures, but also to all herbs and plants. For we have already heard, how after the living body is grown up to his full vigour and strength, it beginneth then by little and little to fail, and to tend unto death, whereby in the end it falleth away altogether. For according unto that comparison and similitude, which hath been already propounded unto us of a lamp, the flame whereof cannot beejoined still with the weak except there be some cleaving moisture to k●it the parts together: so there is in a living body a certain humidity that holdeth of the nature of the air, which moisture is very good, & is dispersed throughout the whole body, having his propagation of the seed, and joining together all the parts of the body. This is commonly called the Radical humour, because it is as it were the root of life, and hath the celestial and quickening heat brought immediately and directly 
Of the Radical humour.  unto it: so that when this moisture is extinguished, the heat also vanisheth, & fadeth away. And look as the heat drinketh up and consumeth by little and little this humidity so doth the heat itself diminish and languish away, because his food faileth that is in the 
Of the defect of men's life with the causes thereof.  moisture: even as the flame, lesseneth and loseth his vigour, as the oil, or tallow, or wax faileth in a lamp, or in a candle. And although this radical humidity be nourished by the ordinary food which the body daily receiveth, nevertheless, for as much as that nourishment which every member receiveth, is not so pure nor so fit, nor so natural as the radical humour itself neither can wholly restore that which diminisheth and consumeth thereof, it must needs be that life would fail in process of time, by reason that neither the vigour of the heat, nor the pureness of his nourishment containeth sound and entire. For the same thing agreeth to this radical humour, which we see by experience in wine, which so long as it is pure and in his natural strength, doth easily turn a little water into it own nature, so that it cannot be perceived that there is any water at all in it. But if we continued still pouring in of water at all in it. But if ye continued still pouring in of water and mingling it therewith, it will weaken by little and little, and always lose of his pure substance, so that in the end it will be no better than water. And thus the radical humour and the natural heat destroy one an other. For the humour that is gotten by sustenance differeth much from Radical that was consumed by natural heat. Whereupon it followeth also, that this natural heat hath not so good & pure nourishment as before, so that it must needs grow weaker & being thus weakened, it hath less virtue to concoct well, and to turn that humour into nourishment wherewith it aught to be maintained. By this means it cometh to pass, that the radical humidity and natural heat fail and perish both together. Whereby we may easily understand why men's bodies abide not always in their strength, but fail & wax old, and so death followeth old age. We have already spoken somewhat before both of the length and shortness of man's life, and of natural and violent death: but we will speak more fully of them hereafter, God willing.  
Now we are to consider, how the providence of God hath provided for this defect of nature through that virtue of Generation, which by his blessing he hath given unto it, and whereof I spoke even now, to the end, that the whole race and several kinds of things created should not perish. Whereupon we may well say, that that nature which hath this 
What is meant by nature.  virtue, is no other thing then the blessing of God, whereunto all honour is to be given. For as GOD hath created all things by his mighty word, so by the self same word he hath created and placed in the first kinds of the creatures that he hath created, those seeds whereby 
Genes. 1.  he would have every one preserved both in the whole and in his several kind. And therefore as in blessing the earth after he had created it, and commanding it to bring forth herbs, trees, and plants with their fruits according to their kinds, he did therewithal endue it with virtue to do so, as it hath always done so hitherto, doth so daily, and will do so to the end of the world: even so it is with that blessing which he hath given to all the plants, and to all living creatures, and namely, to man and woman, and with that commandment which he hath given them to grow, to multiply and to fill the earth. Wherhfore we aught without ceasing to consider and to contemplate God the Creator in the generation of all things, and principally in that of man, as if behold him daily pursuing his work of creation. For although he work now by other means than he did in the first creation of the whole frame, yet he is no less now the Creator of all men and of all other creatures that grow daily in the world by generation, than he was of the first man and first creatures, which he created of nothing in the beginning. For he created us all in Adam and E●●, and shut us up as it were in a storehouse, or in aspring or fountain, or as in one stock of mankind, out of which he produceth men continually.  
Wherhfore we aught diligently to consider of this work of God, and of this virtue which he hath given to Nature by his word and blessing to engender like, and to increase the whole race and kind thereof. For this cause as it is the office of Nature in the beginning to nourish bodies, and then to 'cause them to increase and augment: so in the end it is her duty to preserve the several kinds of things as long as she may, by Generation of the like. Whereby it appeareth, that Generation is a work of living creatures after they are come 
What Generation is.  to their groweth and vigour, as we see the like also in plants themselves. For in the beginning of the Spring all their virtue is in their root, and from thence it cometh after into the boughs and leaves, next into the flower and fruit, and lastly into the seed, which being sown, another plant is brought forth like unto the first. Wherhfore we may say, that the generative virtue is a power in living creatures that engendereth his like, being 
What the generative power is.  ordained for the preservation of the same kind. So that we must diligently meditate and often set before our eyes this goodly order of nature, according whereunto the nourishing faculty is first given to the soul for the preservation of every particular: next, the power to 'cause it to grow and to augment to a just and sufficient greatness: and lastly, the generative virtue whereby the kind is preserved. For albeit the order that is throughout the whole course of nature be an evident testimony, that neither the world nor any thing therein, standeth upon chance or fortune, yet among others this is most singular & excellent, in that the same kinds of all things abide continually, & that every one begetteth and multiplieth his like, without any manner of confusion amongst them: which could not be eschewed, if so be that creatures were bred and borne at adventure, without the counsel and providence of their Creator, and of him that wrought such a work.  
Now we are to understand, that the seed is a body that hath in itself a Vegetative soul which body in Generation is turned into another like to that from which it is taken: and because nourishing, growing, and engendering are the effects of food and sustenance, they 
What seed is.  are contained under the name of a vegetative soul, which is a faculty and power, and not only converteth food into the substance of the living body, for the good thereof, and by that conversion augmenteth it. that it may attain to a convenient bigness, but also engendereth an other body of the same form and kind. And therefore after that this vegetative 
What is meant by a Vegetative soul.  power hath done that duty which it aught to perform about the growth of the living body, then hath it time & means enough to gather together into a small room many of those qualities that keep the soul in the administration of the body, out of which it can soon draw and engender a like kind, so far forth as the qualities of the matter will be able to bear. For when they are repugnant to the qualities meet for that kind, whatsoever cometh thereof degenerateth, as we see it in the earth, when in stead of wheat, whereof it receiveth the seed, it bringeth forth darnel, or some other herbs of an other nature, and as we see see it also in monsters, that are borne both of women and of other living creatures. For there are in many countries, (namely, in Sicilia, and in the kingdom of Naples, and 
Of the cause of monsters.  in Flaunders, as many Authors worthy of credit have testified) women in whom have been bred oftentimes sundry kinds of beasts in stead of children, & sometimes together with the child either living or dead. Which thing cometh to pass in such women as abound with evil humours, that are putrefied and corrupted, either by reason of the air, or of bad meat, or of excess in eating: as in such bodies wherein worms, and such other filthiness breedeth. The Astrologians refer this unto constellations, as they do all other things. I leave the secret judgements & punishments of God, whereby such things may come to pass, nevertheless these things aught to admonish women to pray unto God, to recommend themselves to him, and to be sober. The moon calves in the womb, which falleth out often, proceed also of the like causes. In like manner it falleth out oftentimes that the kind degenerateth through corruption of the seed.  
But to go on forward with our matter of the generation of living creatures, & namely, man, we must know that forasmuch as the male hath naturally more heat in him then the female, he is also by nature the chiefest in the Generation. For this cause when the holy Scriptures speak of mankind, it is ordinarily comprehended under the name of man. And when mention is made of his generation, they speak as though all proceeded only from man: as when Malachi speaking of his creation saith. Did not he make one? and wherefore one? 
Malach. 2. 15.  because he sought a godly seeede. And Saint Paul, He hath made (saith he) of one blood, all mankind. Nevertheless GOD hath put in nature such a temperature between the male and female, that if both their natures were altogether a like, there could be no Generation. For it consisteth in force and infirmity. But the wisdom of God hath so well provided as that it knoweth how to draw strength out of weakness, so that the one can do nothing without the other in generation, because he hath so willed and ordained it.  
Now I leave to thee, AMANA, to discourse unto us more particularly of such things as are most worthy to be noted in this marvelous work of God, and of the principal cause why he hath given to man the Generative power.   

Of the powers of the Generative virtue, and of their offices: of the principal cause why God gave to man the power of Generation: in what sense the reins are taken for the seat of Generation: how we aught rightly to consider of the generation of man. Chap. 70.  
AMANA. As novelty causeth a man through the error of judgement, to think that rare things are greater & more worthy of admiration: so most men imagine those matters to be small and not worthy to be wondered at, which fall out daily before their eyes. But ignorance is the cause of both these effects. For as a man admireth that which he never 
Two effects of ignorance.  knew could be performed, so he maketh no reckoning of that thing which he usually beholdeth, because he hath always been ignorant of the secrets of nature, or rather of his Author and Creator, who appeareth wonderful in the lest of his works, even in the very Ant or Pismire. This self same ignorance is the cause that so few contemplate as they aught the for me and fashion of their being, or that give due glory to him who daily bringeth them into the world by such wonderful workmanship. Neither it is possible that men should give such glory to GOD as they aught, except they esteem all those works which he effecteth daily amongst them, to be so many miracles worthy admiration, which way soever they turn their eyes. Moreover let them know, that what measure of knowledge soever they are able to get of his works, yet that which they do know is very little, yea, almost nothing, in regard of that whereof they are ignorant: even in that which concerneth their creation and generation.  
Now folloowing that which we have already heard touching this matter, we are to consider a marvelous providence of God, in the similitude that is between the creature engendering, and that which proceedeth from it. Whereby the way we may observe this, that there is greater resemblance in the Generation of plants then in that of living creatures, & more in that of beasts, then that in of men: forasmuch as plants are void of imagination, and 
Of the similitude that is in generation.  that imagination which is in beasts is more firm and stayed then that which is in men, because our minds are more floating and unstable. But it is wonderful to consider what great similitude there is, insomuch as we commonly see, that the infirmities of some members in the parents are found also in their children: and that oftentimes they express their very looks, countenances, and gesturs. Which also may serve for a further confirmation of that which we have already touched, concerning the agreement of evils with the complexion & temperature of the humours of men's bodies. Again, it appeareth by the strength or weakness that is found to be as well children as in their fathers & mothers that the seed of which they are begotten descended not only from the brain, as some have thought, but that it is also taken from all the other members, and from all parts of the body. And because it is a profitable superfluity taken from the nourishment of the blood scattered throughout the whole 
From whence the seed cometh.  body after the fourth digestion, it hath peculiar vessels in the body, some to draw it, others to perfect and preserve it for generation, and some to expel it out. And as this expulsive virtue is necessary in Generation one the behalf of the male, so in regard of the female it is requisite that there should be a virtue to contain and preserve, and secondly to change, mingle, and temper it with the woman's seed, so far forth as shall be expedient for the temperature of the whole body, and of every member thereof. Besides there must be an other virtue to fashion into members all this matter mingled and tempered, and to give unto them that figure and shape which agreeth to every one one of them. Lastly, there is an other virtue equisite, which should drive 
The several virtues of the generative power.  out the child after it is fashioned at the time which God hath appointed in nature for that purpose. And these are all the parts with their offices, which are to be sound in the Generative power of the vegetatine soul. now because there are so many sorts of them, it is very meet that they should have sundry places and divers instruments in the body for the exercise of them. For this cause there are, to serve all these offices, fundry parts and many members, composed with wonderful Art, and distinguished i● most admirable fashion both with figure and qualities.  
But our meaning is not to make any long particular narration, both by reason of the matter which would be very long, as also because sin hath made the Generation of man so full of shame, that men can hardly speak of it, or of those members that seru● thereunto, especially of one part of them, without shame. Nevertheless as before we have considered the counsel and providence of God, in that he hath joined to man created to immortaliy, that part wherein the light of his divine wisdom shall shine, the love of God shall be fervent, and righteousness shall devil for evermore, with the kitchen of man's body, whose use shall pass away after this life: so we must consider the cause why he hath joined unto this kitchen the Generative power, & wherefore he hath given it to man. Let us know them, that as 
The chief cause why the generative power was given to man.  man was created for an other end then plants & beasts, so God hath given to him the power of Generation to an other end than he hath to them, upon whom it is bestowed only for the preservation of their kinds. For it was especially given him, because the Creator of the whole world purposed to collect & gather together a perpetual Church out of mankind, that is, a company of men begotten after this manner, to be dedicated and consecrated unto him. Therefore we aught diligently to meditate and to think often upon this wonderful counsel of GOD, and to yield him praise, in that he hath manifested himself unto us, and of his weak and corrupt mass of flesh hath assembled and culled out an everlasting Church: and in that he aideth, nourisheth & preserveth us, yea, is careful over us, and heareth us, calling upon him. Neither doth he only preserve the whole course of nature for our sakes, but also giveth himself unto us: which are such benefits a● exceed all the imagination and eloquence of man. Wherhfore we aught so much the rather to awaken ou● minds to consider them well, and be very much displeased with ourselves, because we do not so well as we aught, behold this presence of ●OD in that obseurity and darkness wherein we live; as also, because we are no more stirred up to love, serve, and honour him▪ in regard of that true and great love wherewith he loveth us.  
But to go forward with our matter of Generation, we must call to mind what we heard 
Of the sear of Generation.  before of the use of the kindness for the purging of blood, in respect whereof we call all that part of the body wherein they are seated, by the name of Rei●eses. And by reason of the nearness that is between them and the seed vessels serving for Generation, which are many in number, all that part is taken, chiefly in the holy Scriptures, for the seat & spring thereof, and as it were for the seminary of mankind. Therefore it is written in the Hebrews that Leny was yet in the loins of his father Abraham, when Melchisedec met him. And Moses speaking 
Hebr. 7. 10. Gene. 35. 11. Psal. 139. 13.  in the person of the Lord, of the promise made to jacob, saith, Kings shall come out of thy 〈◊〉. David also minding to show what knowledge God hath of men whom he hath created, saith Thou hast possessed my rei●eses: thou hath covered me in my mother's womb. And job declaring the self same thing more fully, and speaking of the seed whereof he was begotten, after he had said, Hast thou not powered me out as milk? and turned me to cruddes like chief? he addeth presently, Thou hath clothed me with skin and flesh, and joined me together with bones and sinews. This is 
job. 10. 10. 11  that covering whereof the Psalmist spoke, which was given him of God in his mother● womb after her conception.  
Whereupon we have to note, that these holy men speaking in this manner, teach us sufficiently what is the chief part of man, which they account to be the true man. For they 
What is man propetly.  declare unto us evidently that the soul which dwelleth in the body is truly man, and that the body in comparison thereof is but his covering, & the lodging wherein he dwelleth Therefore the heavens themselves compared man's soul to one placed in a garrison, in which he is to abide until he be called from thence by the Prince and Captain that placed him therein: meaning thereby to teach us, that we must abide in this life and discharge our duty therein, so long as it shall please GOD, who hath brought us into it, to have us continued therein.  
Truly, if we consider well of those marvelous works, which GOD effecteth daily in the Generation of men, we may well say, that it is a great miracle of God in Nature, and aught to be diligently considered of, as David testifieth that he did so in his own person. Therefore he saith, Thou holdest me strait behind and before, and layest thy hand upon me: showing throughout the whole Psalm, that there is nothing in man so hidden & covered, which 
Psalm. 139. 9  is not discovered before GOD, and which he knoweth not and searcheth not unto the bottom, to the end that men deceive not themselves through their hypocrisy, thinking to hide themselves before him. For this cause he saith in the beginning, that he is so known to GOD on all sides, both within and without, that there is not so much as one motion in him, nor one thought or affection, which is not wholly manifested unto him. And to prove and confirm his saying, he taketh his argument from the creation of man, giving us to understand thereby, that forasmuch as GOD is his Creator and Maker, it can not be but that he should thoroughly know his work. Whereby we have a certain testimony of that which we speak in our former discourse, of the creation of all those men that are daily created by Generation, according to the order of Nature appointed by GOD. For the Prophet doth no less acknowledge that GOD hath made him, than Adam the first man did. So that look what the Prophet speaketh of his own person, it is also to be understood of every one, both in regard of his creation, as also of that knowledge which GOD hath of all things in man, be they never so hid and covered. Afterwards he addeth, that this knowledge is too wonderful for him, and so high that it cannot atta●ne unto it. Now we may judge well, both of the composition of man's body, and also of the nature of the soul, by those discourses of 
vers. 6.  which we have already made. And if we did consider but of the body by itself, yet had we just cause to say as much as David saith here. What then might be spoken if we joined the soul with the body, and considered only of that which might generally be known by such means as are already set down? For by that which we do know, we shall judge well enough how far this knowledge exceedeth our capacity, and what remaineth yet behind, which we cannot comprehend.  
Forasmuch then as the Prophet wondereth so much at this great and high skill, whereof God giveth us so excellent testimony in the creation and generation of men, we aught not to think it superfluous and unprofitable, but well beseeming a Christian man, to inquire after that which God would have us know, and which we may know, and to consider well of his works wherein he manifesteth his providence and wisdom, especially in man, who is, as we have heard, the chiefest of all his works amongst the visible creatures, and as it were an other world created within this. Now as David from the creation of man, inferreth the knowledge which God hath of him, so job in the same place that I alleged even now, 
job. 10. 8.  concludeth, that forasmuch as God is the Creator and Artificer that made man, he delighteth not in destroying his work. Thy hands, (saith he) have made me & fashioned me wholly round about, and wilt thou destroy 〈◊〉? Which is as much as if he had said, is it possible that I who am the work of thy hands, should be brought to nothing by thee? For besides that this were 
Psalm. ●6. and 138.  against nature, the Scripture testifieth unto us in many places, that he is not only a preserves of that which he hath made, but also that he leaveth not his works unperfect: and that he is so far from defacing them, that contrariwise it is his manner to lead them to perfection. Whereby we aught to learn, that the only consideration of the work of our creation 
A goodlesson to be learned from our creation.  aught greatly to solace, comfort, and confirm us in all afflictions and adversities, how rigorous soever the hand of God should be upon us. For first, we aught to be thoroughly resolved of this, that no affliction can come unto us, but by his good will and from his hand, whatsoever the means and instruments are, of which he maketh his rods and scourges, and by which he striketh and beateth us. Now then he seeing the hand that toucheth us is the same that hath made and fashioned us, we know well that he setteth not himself against a strange work unknown unto him, but against his own wherewith he is very well acquainted. Whereupon we may certainly conclude, that it proceedeth not of cruelty and fury that he striketh us, nor yet without good cause: as be that is neither cruel, nor furious, nor void of reason. So that it followeth necessarily, either that we have 
The afflictions of God's children turn to their good.  given him great occasion, or that it is very requisite for us. But howsoever it be, he ever knoweth well how to turn all the afflictions of his children to his glory, and to their great honour and profit, as we have many notable examples hereof in all the servants of God, and namely in those two personages David and job, of whom we have spoken in in this our discourse.  
Which we continuing so farforth as it respecteth the work of man's generation, are to consider more narrowly of the admirable secret of nature therein, so much as daily experience and diligent search hath learned men to know. Tell us then, ARAM, of the fashion of a child in the womb.  

Of the fashion of a child in the womb, and how the members are framed one after another in the mother's belly: of the time and days, within which a child is perfectly fashioned.  
ARAM. I cannot marvel enough at the pride and presumption of many, who think themselves to be such great Philosophers, and so skilful in the knowledge of natural things, that they persuade themselves, that nothing is so secret in nature which they know not, and whereof they are not able to show the causes and reason. But experience showeth unto us daily, how far short they are of that which they think, and in what ignorance the best learned are wrapped at this day. For how many things are daily manifested unto them, which the greatest searchers of nature, that ever have been, were ignorant of, unto whom notwithstanding they that now live are but disciples? And how many things do continually come to pass, into which the chiefest, sharpest sighted, and most expert have no sight 
Not man's knowledge perfect.  at all, or very small? And among them that suppose they have good knowledge, how are they deceived oftentimes? How many are doubtful in many things whereof they have but small conjectures, whereupon they guess at all adventure, and as they imagine? We may easily judge hereof by this, that continually one reprehendeth and correcteth another, and that the later writers condemn sundry things in the former. But not to seek a far off for examples, we may see them daily in the science of the Anatomy of men's bodies. For there was never yet Physician or Anatomist either old or new, that attained to perfect knowledge, and could tender a reason of every thing that is but in one body, notwithstanding that they are continually conversant in that matter. Therefore to leave unto God that secret which is hidden from our understanding, let us consider of that which we may know touching the form of a child in the womb.  
If we look narrowly into that order that nature followeth in the framing of man, who is the little world, we shall found it like to that which the Author of nature observed in the creation of the world, which Moses calleth the generation of the heavens and of the earth. 
Gen. 24.  For in the beginning the earth was without for me & void, and covered with a great gulf of waters, so that the earth and waters and matter of all the elements, and of all creatures 
The creation of the world, and of 〈◊〉 co● pared together.  created afterward, were mingled and confounded together in this great heap. Unto this the Almighty afterwards added a form●, and created so many goodly creatures, and of so divers natures & kinds as are to be seen in the whole world, which he hath adorned with them, and endued with so great beauty that it hath received the name of that, which is as much as Ornament or Order of things well disposed.  
After the same manner doth nature, or rather God by nature work in the creation and generation of men. For the seed of which they are form, and which is the matter prepared, disposed and tempered by the same providence of God for the work he hath in hand, receiveth not fashion presently upon the conception, but remaineth for a time without any figure or lineaments, or proportion, and show of a human body, or of any member thereof. The natural Philosophers & Physicians, who have searched most carefully into this work, and have had greatest experience, they say that there are certain membranes and skins that are wrappeh round about the infant in the womb, which some commonly call the Matrix others call the Mother: and that within these skins, which are three in number, as some Anatomists say, others but two, as it were within certain bands, the fruit is preserved until the birth. Wherein we are to acknowledge the providence of almighty GOD, who hath so disposed of nature, that even from our mother's womb, she is in stead of a mother to us, 
An argument of the providence o● God  folding us up with bands before she that hath conceived us can perform the same.  
But let us proceed on with our matter, so far forth as we have learned of the fashion of the child in the discourse of Philosophers and Physicians. They say then, that after the womb hath received the seeds joined together, of both which the child is to be framed, it cometh to pass that the heat of the Matrix warmeth all this matter as it were in a little furnace, and so raiseth a skin over it which being as it were roasted by little and little, waxeth 
Of the form of an infant.  crusty and hard round about the seed. This causeth the whole matter to resemble an egg, by reason that this skin compasseth about the seed, which boileth inwardly through the abundance of natural spirits that are within it. This is that skin which is 
Of the after-burthen.  commonly called the Secundine, or After burden, being joined on every side to the womb by reason of a great number of Orifices, veins and arteries reaching thereunto, to the end that by them the blood, spirits, and nourishment should be conveyed to the infant: For as the whole womb embraceth the seed, so likewse it heateth and nourisheth the same. Therefore this skin that serveth in stead of little bands hath two uses: the first is to take fast hold of the womb: the other, to serve for the nourishment of the burden, and of the child. For this cause there are two veins and two arteries in it (besides a passage in the midst (which are as it were the roots of the burden, and make the Navel.  
This work with other circumstances belonging thereunto, which we omit for brevity 
The first six days work from the conception.  sake, is brought to pass the first six days of the conception. After this skin, they that make three, speak of a second skin that is in the midst, which they say was created to receive the urine of the child, which in the former months is voided by the Navel, and in the latter months by the ordinary passage. This voiding place is ordained to this end, that the urine might not fret and rend in sunder the tender skin of the infant, who is therefore covered with a third skin next to the other, and that is very tender. So that the urine toucheth not the infant, but is voided by the middle way, as I have already declared. Thus you see the beginning of the conception, before the burden be wholly form like to an infant. Whereunto that saying of the Prophet hath 
Psal. 139. 16.  relation, Thi●e e●eses (saith he) did see me when I was without form: for in thy books was all things written which in continuance were fashioned, when there was none of them before. Than he compareth the secrest parts serving for generation, especially the belly, and womb of the woman, unto the earth, and to an obscure, secret and hid place, even to deep and dark caves in the ground. For as the earth having received the seed in which is the vigour, keepeth, cherisheth, and increaseth the same: even so fareth it with the womb and with the mother. On the other side, as these parts are lowest in regard of the trunk of the body, and of all the receptacles and vessels thereof, so are they very secret and hidden, and as it were, in the midst & centre of the body, if the whole be considered together, namely the trunk with both ends thereof. For this cause the work that is there wrought by God, is so much the more marvelous, because even in that obscure place, it receiveth the goodliest and most perfect form that can be imagined. And who will not be abashed to consider, that out of that slimy seed of man there should come bones, sinews, flesh, skin, and such like things so divers one from another? But yet it is a greater marvel to see all this great diversity of matter, to be framed in so many sundry members, and of so many sundry forms, and that with such excellent beauty, so profitable and so fit for those offices that are assigned unto them, as we have learned in our former discourses. Now as God did not created all creatures in one day, although he could well have done it, if it had so pleased him, so doth he in the generation of men, for albeit that the members are fashioned all at once, so that not one of them is framed before an other, nevertheless because there is great variety betwixt them, both in respect of their dignity, and of their strength, nature their mother doth not set them forward all alike. For in displaying her power generally towards 
All the members receive their form together.  all the parts of the body, it cometh to pass that her work, and the figure given unto it, appeareth sooner or later in some members more than in others. Hereof it is that the greatest and chiefest members appear naturally before the rest, albeit they are not the first that are fashioned. So likewise all the members are not beautified and made perfect at the same time, but some after others, according as they have heat and nourishment. Nature therefore observeth this order, that the worthiest parts and such as have in them the beginning of motion, show themselves first, and then those members that are profitable and serviceable to the former, and are created for their cause. And according to this order the highest parts are seen sooner than the lowest, & those within before them without, and they that receive their substance from the seed before those that have it from blood. Those also amongst them that are most excellent are first, notwithstanding many times they have their accomplishment and perfection after the other, as it appeareth in the Navil. For although the heart, liver, and brain, being the chiefest parts of the body, have their beginning before that, yet is it the first among them all that appeareth perfect. Now then after the Navel with his pipe or passage is form and fashioned within the first six days, the 
The navel first made perfect.  blood and spirit are next drawn by those veins and arteries, whereof we spoke even now to be sent to the seed, & mingled therewith, that the principal members might be figured, as the liver, the hart, & the brain, which begin first like to little bladders, and so consequently the rest which are fashioned by little & little according as they receive nourishment. For the veins whereby the burden is nourished, may well be likened to small roots, whereby plants are cherished: as also the burden itself may be compared unto plants in this point, as we have already learned. So that the seed receiving this form already spoken of, in the first six days, during which time it is called by no other name then seed, nine days after that the blood is drawn thither, of which the liver and the heart receive their form: so that after twelve days added to the former, a man may discern the lineaments and proportion of these two members, and also of the brain, albeit they are not then altogether fashioned. At this time the burden is called Foetus of the Latins, and Embryon of the Greeks, which is as much in our language as Sprouting or Budding. Next after 
When the seed is called Embryon.  this, within the space of other eighteen days, all the other members are fashioned and distinguished. So that about five and forty days after th● conception, the members receive their perfect fashion: and then doth the burden begin to live not only as plants live, but also as other living creatures. For it hath sense & feeling about the six & thirtieth day, and from that time forward it is called an infant. But as yet it is voided of motion. For by and by 
When the burden is called a child or infant.  after it is form, it is very tender, until that by virtue of the heat it waxeth more dry and firm, which is by reason that the moisture, whereby it is made so soft and tender, consumeth away by little and little, so that the nails begin to take root at the finger's ends, and the hairs in the head. Now after the child is come to the third month if it be a male, or to 
When the child first ●●●eth.  the fourth if it be a female, it beginneth to stir itself according to the testimony of Hypocrates, because than his bones are more firm and somewhat harder. But this is not always alike in all women with child. For there are some that always feel it stir about the two & fortieth day, others never feel the same until the midst of the time from the conception to the birth. Yea in the same woman the same time and order is not always observed. For according to the strength and good complexion of the child, and the nature and disposition of the mother, these things change, and not only because of the sex. Nevertheless it is most ordinary and usual formale children to move within three months or there abouts, as likewise to be borne at the ninth month: whereas females are commonly somewhat slower both in stirring and also at their birth, the reason whereof is this, because male children are naturally a great deal more hot then females. Galen attributeth the cause 
Galens' opinion of the birth of sons.  of the generation of sons to the strength and heat of the seed and saith that they are carried on the right side of the womb, as the daughters on the left, which is the colder side, as being farthest removed from the liver. He yieldeth also this reason why some children are more like the father and some the mother, because of the greater strength of seed which they have either from the one, or from the other. And when it cometh to pass, that the womb receiveth seed at two sundry passages which it hath, then are twins engendered either at one conception or at twain, so that the later be not long after the former, according to the opinions of the Philosophers, & namely of Aristotle, who rehearseth many examples thereof in his seventh book of the history of living creatures, saying that a whore was delivered of two children, whereof the one was like the father, and the other like the adulterer. But now we are to consider of the child birth, which is as wonderful a work of God in nature as any other. It belongeth then to thee ACHITOB, to end this days work by a discourse tending to this purpose.    

Of child birth, and the natural causes thereof: of the great providence of God appearing therein: of the image of our eternal nativity represented unto us in our mortal birth. Chap. 72.  
ACHITOB. Men are of that nature, that they cannot acknowledge what they are themselves, or what they have receined of God, except they be brought back to the first dust and earth, out of which they are taken, even to their first creation & generation. Therefore the holy spirit doth esteem it a thing not unworthy his divine majesty often to instruct 
The word profitable for all.  and to admonish us by his word, and that so plainly and familiarly, as no man, be he never so skilful or so ignorant, but he may greatly profit in this school, at leastwise be made altogether inexcusable, if he learn not that which the spirit doth there teach him. For concerning them that are most ignorant, he speaketh very plainly to be understood of them, propounding that unto them whereof they cannot be ignorant, although they would, at leastwise which they cannot easily know. And as for the skilfuller sort, who by their knowledge are able to understand more than others, they are so much the more guilty, if they will not give credit to the works of God, as they are propounded unto us in the holy scriptures. For what idol of nature soever they frame to themselves, yet must they always come to this first beginning of man, which is clean contrary to the reason of human sense and understanding, and so give glory unto God: otherwise the fruit of all their study will be nothing else but confusion and ignorance. Now the more we consider of the daily generation of men, the more like we shall found it in all admiration to their first original and creation. For who could ever, I say, not believe, but only think or imagine, that out of pressed milk and curd●, as it were, such as the beginning of man seemeth to be, there could proceed any living creature at all, especially such an image of God as man is? And yet we see this daily come to pass. Now from whence cometh this milk? We cannot for shame speak it without blushing. So that if the work and providence of God be wonderful in the conception and fashioning of man, and in the life and preservation he affordeth him in his Mother's 
Man's birth a wonderful work of God.  belly, as we have showed heretofore, sure it is no less admirable in his nativity & birth as we may now understand.  
We have already heard, how by the faculties and powers of the soul, and generative virtue thereof, the seed is retained and preserved, and how the child is form thereof in the womb. Now all this while it is nourished by blood, which is drawn unto it by the veins of the navel ordained to that end: & therefore also the issue of this blood commonly ceaseth in 
How the child is nourished ●● the womb.  women with child, as that which is then divided into three parts. For the child draweth the purest thereof to itself, and is therewithal nourished. Secondly the womb by veins leading directly to the breasts, sendeth that part which is less pure, whereof the milk is prepared that feedeth the child after it is born. The third part which is the worst, stayeth still in the womb, & so soon as the child is born, it issueth forth also. This food which the child receiveth thus in the womb, caused Galen to allege an ancient sentence out of Athen●us, saying, That the childreceiveth more from the mother then from the father, even as the plants draw more from the ●arth than they do from the husbandman. For this men struall blood first increaseth the seed, and after serveth towards the growth of the members by ministering food unto them. And for this cause this Author teacheth that naturally the love of the children is very great towards their Mothers, and so of the Mothers towards their children, as also in respect of the exceeding great mixture of their substance. But when the child is now increased and grown so great and strong, that he is well able to move himself, and to receive his food at the m●●th, as he is waxen greater, so he must havemore store of nourishment then, than he is able to draw in at the navel. Likewise forasmuch as natural heat is more augmented he had need of the more air, and to receive it in by respiration and breathing, so far forth 
The cause of child birth.  as is necessary for his refreshing. Whereupon the child stirreth and moveth with greater strength and violence, so that it breaketh the skins and ●andss wherein it was wrapped, and some veins also, and so maketh an issue and way for itself, as that which cannot any longer be kept in the womb. Now when the child feeleth that air entering in which it desireth & seeketh, for the reason before alleged, it moveth itself towards the mouth of the womb; 
Which is the easiest kind of child birth. Why children cry when they are born  which is the most natural and easy way of birth, by reason that it is borne with the head forward. Now so soon as it is come into the light it crieth, as if it did prognosticate & foretell of the miseries of that life into which it is entered. The Philosophers & Physicians refer the cause of this weeping to that motion, which driveth it to the birth, as also to those handle & touchings wherewith it is received, which cannot be without some sense of grief conceived by this little tendet body. Which body so long as it is in the womb, is bowed round as it were in a lump, so that the heels of it join to the buttocks, and the hands lay fast hold of the knees, towards which it doth bow down the head so low, that the eyes are joined to the thumbs as if they were fastened to them, and the nose is thrust down between the knees. Now when it hath attained to the 9 month, so that it may no longer tarry there, for the reasons before mentioned, it turneth itself in the womb, first with the head downward, & stretching out the legs, & other members upward. Than when the hour of childbirth approacheth, the babe by kicking & turning itself more violently, maketh many ruptures by little & little, so that the skins wherein both the Urine & the sweat are contained bursting asunder, whole streams gush out, which show that the birth is hard at hand. For presently upon the renting & breach of the After burden through the violence of the child, because there is nothing else that holdeth it up, the babe falleth down, even as an apple or pear● falleth from the tree when it is ripe. And as the child doth his best to come forth at that time which God hath prescribed unto it, so the womb & the mother of the child do their parts as much as lieth in them to perform by the providence of God, who hath provided accordingly. For during the space of those 9 months wherein the child is contained in the womb, it is shut up, and embraceth the burden as close as it may. And when the time of birth cometh, 
A testimony of God's providence in the womb.  the womb doth not only open itself by little & little, but all the top of it doth gather itself as close together as it can, and so thrust the babe towards the mouth of it, whereunto also the neighbour parts lend their helping hand. The woman likewise laboureth, & helpeth as much as she is able, and the child falling downward with his head turned towards the mouth of the womb, maketh way for all the rest of his body, and so casteth itself forth, a● whose issuing out, the humour wherewithal it was before abundantly moistened helpeth very much, by reason that both the child's body, and the way also is thereby made more gliding and slippery. Wherein we have a great argument of God's providence to be observed. For the child's head being of a round fashion, his coming forth cannot be so hindered, as we see it is when the child offereth itself cross wise, or when the arms or legs come forward. Besides, all the rest of the members are greatly benefited hereby, both because the way i● already made before them, as also because themselves are thereby the berter placed to prevent all impediments with which otherwise they might encounter. For we see by experience what inconveniences fall out in childbirths, in what dangers the mothers & children are, & how ●ften the death of the one or the other, or of both ensueth, when the child cometh otherwise then by this order, which is most natural and most ordinary. Wherefore women with child have great occasion offered to recommend themselves unto God especially at that time. For howsoever the child cometh, we must then acknowledge the almighty hand of God, & his help & assistance both towards the mothers and their children. For le● there be never so good concord & agreement in the joint labour of the child, of the mother, & of the womb yet the work being so difficult, who will not wonder that ever it could be born? who would ever believe that a child should come forth, or that it could be drawn out of the mother's belly, without cleaving the same asunder in the midst, or without the death of the one of them if not of both, but that we see the experience thereof daily before our eyes? Galen, who 
Gal●de usu partium. l. 15.  made such an idol of nature, confesseth that he knoweth not how the child can found any issue & passage out, & therefore wondereth at it very much. A●icenna thinketh that there is an opening of some bones, but he is deceived, for it cannot be so, neither hath experience ever 
An argument against Atheists.  showed the same. Wherhfore both Philosophers and Physicians, but especially Epicures and Atheists, must needs be driven into an astonishment at this, & havetheir mouths stopped and closed up, except they will open them to give glory to God, and to acknowledge and magnify his great providence and goodness towards men, singing with David, OH God how precious are thy thoughts unto me; how great is the sum of them ● If I should count them they are m●et ●en the sand. It was thou that didst draw me out of the womb: thou gavest me hope 
Psal. 139 17. 18. & ●2. 9  even at my mother's breasts. But we have here to note, that there are many causes which hasten forward the childbirth, but we speak here of them that are most common and ordinary. Children that are born at the sixt month or sooner, live not, as not having their whole perfection. They that are borne in the seventh month may live, for than is the fruit perfect. And yet they that are borne in the eight month, commonly die: and the reason is, because the child stirreth very much in the seventh month, preparing itself for the birth. So that if the child be of a strong nature it cometh then into the light: but if it be yet weak, it cannot come forth, but tar●eth 2. months longer in the womb to gather new strength. For it removeth from the one side of the womb to the other. Therefore when the child after the 7. month is presently borne in the eight, it cannot live. For nature was weak in the firstindeavor, neither could it be to purpose, before the matter receiveth motion after the critical time, with which name the Philosophers call the seventh month. Moreover, double motion weakeneth the strength of the child. For it had removed unto the other side of the womb a● is said, & presently after it came into the light: but the nature of the child cannot sustain two brunts one in the neck of another, so that death followeth thereupon. The Astrologians likewise allege these reasons why the seventh month is critical namely either because the sun is carried into a sign that is opposite to the sign of conception: or else because every planet answering his several month, the eight month is given to Saturn, who is an enemy to them that are borne. Now for the end of this matter, we will consider two things in our generation and birth, which offer unto us great cause both of humility and of spiritual joy. 
Two things be considered of in our birth  First then, we see how God would have us humbled in our generation, by creating us of a matter that is but slime & dung, whereunto notwithstanding, he hath given such an excellent & goodly form, to the end that his powerful virtue, wisdom, justice, and kindness, should be so much the better manifested unto us, and that in ourselves, so that we shall not need to seek for testimonies thereof elsewhere. So that as our beginning aught to take out of our heart all swelling and pride, even so the form and beauty wherewithal God hath honoured this mire of which he hath made men, and the great graces which he hath communicated with them, especially in regard of the soul which he hath joined to the body, aught to teach us to acknowledge and to celebrated incessantly his providence and great goodness towards us. To conclude, we aught to consider the image and similitude we 
What similitude there is between our spiritual and our naturals birth.  have of our eternal nativity in this our mortal birth, and that birth whereby we are borne unto an immortal life, as here on earth we are borne to enjoy a life that is subject to mortality. For first, as man is form and fashioned in dark places in the belly of his mother, that afterward he might come forth and enjoy the light of the world: so likewise being come hither, he is after a manner so upon the earth, as if he were to be borne again. For this world is unto him as his mother's womb, wherein the light is to him as darkness & as a very obsure night, in comparison of that other divine & eternal light, in which he is to enjoy a happy & an immortal life. And therefore as the child is prepared in the darkness of his mother's belly, that after he may come forth into the light of the world, so are we prepared in this dim light, that we may attain to that other divine light, which is far greater and more excellent without comparison. Again, when the time of birth approacheth, the life and vigour of the womb, which is as it were the child's mother, whithereth and decayeth, & the child likewise is as if he were dead, in regard of that kind of life which he enjoyeth in his mother's belly. For as he liveth no more after that fashion, so he is in an estate that differeth much from the former. So fareth it with man when he is to departed out of the life of this world, as if he were to be delivered of it in child birth for another life. For he dieth in regard of this life, to the end he may live another life, which as far excelleth this, as this is better than the other, which he enjoyed before in his mother's belly, yea it is so much the better & of higher price, in that the length of time of this second & blessed life shall be eternal and endless. Moreover, as a child cometh out when he is borne, so doth a man when he dieth. And in coming forth both of them enter into a new and unacquainted light, and into a place where they find all things much altered and far differing from those which they used to have in their other kind of living. For which cause both the one and the other being troubled and scared with this novelty, are unwilling to come forth of their clapper & to forsake their closet, were it not that they are urged and constrained thereunto by the art, laws and rights of nature, whereby God hath better provided for our affairs then we ourselves could conceive or comprehend, both in our nativity and life, and also in our death. The ignorance whereof causeth our spirit to abhor the departure out of this life, in regards of this great change that is therein, because it knoweth not what good is brought to it 
Why we abhor natural death.  thereby, no more than the little child knoweth wherefore he is borne into the world, or what he shall find there. And therefore albeit nature presseth to come forth, nevertheless according to that sense which it can have, it weary by and by after it is borne, as it were fallen into some great inconvenience, and that some great evil were fallen unto it, as we do also at our death, for the cause before alleged, nor considering that it is our second & better birth. Thus you see what I have thought requisite to be noted in the discourse of our generation: and to morrow, God willing, we must look into the life and death of man's body. But it shall not be without profit, if first we speak somewhat of the causes why God created man naked, and with less defence for himself then he did other living creatures. It belongeth then to thee ASER to speak of this matter.   
The end of the ninth days work   

The tenth days work.  

Why God created man naked, and with less natural defence than he did all other living creatures: how many ways he recompenseth this nakedness: of the general beauty of the whole body of man, joined with profit and commodity. Chap. 73.  
ASER. As often as men shall consider in such sort as becometh them that they are borne men, and not brute beasts, they will be sufficiently admonished of the civil and sociable nature in which God hath created them, and of that humanity for which he hath endued them with such a nature, so that they will keep themselves from being transformed into savage and cruel beasts to hurt one another, as commonly they do. Truly, it is not without some great and notable cause, that among all living creatures there is not one to be found that hath a more delicate & tender skin, & less furnished with coverings for the defence thereof them man hath: considering that God himself created him as his principal work amongst all visible creatures, & made him as it were, Lord of the whole world. And yet he is of that nature, that the skin wherewith he is clothed is not so sufficient a garment for him as is necessary to keep him from heat & cold, & from other inconveniences that might happen unto him, except he be clad with some other covering then that which he bringeth from his mother's belly. For he neither hath feathers as birds have, nor wool as sheep have, nor bristles as swine have, neither yet any skin or hide so hard, nor so well covered and furnished with hairs, as foxes, woules bears, bulls and other fourfooted beasts have. Neither hath he any scales as fishes have nor any shells as cockles, sea-crevisses, tortoises, and such other creatures have.  
But we have four things to consider of touching this point. The first is, that if man had 
The first point to be considered touching man's nakedness.  not sinned after that God by creation had in great largesse made him partaker of his heavenly gifts and graces, he should not have been subject to the want either of garments, or of any such like thing whereupon he is now after a sort brought in subjection, at lest wise he should have had all these things without pain and grief. For this cause it is said in Genesis, that after our first parents had tranagressed the ordinance of God, by eating of the forbidden fruit, they knew that they were naked and covered themselves with leaves. And for a punishment of their offence it was said unto them, that they should as their bread in the sweat of their face: under which word of bread was comprehended all things whereof they stood in 
Gen. 3. 19  need for the meintenance and preservation of their life: as we understand it in that prayer which we daily make to God, when we demand of him our daily bread. The second point 
The second point.  which we aught to note in this matter touching the nakedness of man, is this, that God would admonish him, not only by the whole frame and composition of his body and of all his members, but also by his very skin, that he created him to live in company and fellowship, and in peace with those of his own kind, to help all and to hurt none. Therefore he did not created him with natural weapons, as he did other living creatures, unto whom he gave all things necessary for their defence & preservation. For some of them have strength & weapons by nature to resist their enemies: others wanting this have swiftness to convey themselves out of all dangers: and some wanting both these, have yet subtlety & places of refuge to defend themselves withal. As for man, God hath placed him in this world unarmed and naked, so that if man be disposed to hurt and to war one upon another, they must deform 
Man by nature hath lest defence for himself.  themselves, and borrow weapons from others, whereby they transform themselves, and become monstrous, as though they were transfigured into savage beasts & into monsters. For they have not (as hath been said) hard & strong hides as some bruit beasts have, neither prickles & darts in them as Hedgehogs and Porcupines have. Neither are their feet, hands, and nails like to the hooves of Horses, Asses, and Mules, or to the talents of birds that live by pray, or to the paws of wild beasts, neither yet are their t●eths like to theirs. God hath not given them sharp bills like to birds, neither hath he armed them with stings or with venom, as he hath done venomous beasts. True it is, that man hath an advantage above other living creatures, namely, his hands given him of God for the doing of any work that he will, as we have already declared. Wherhfore if he be to fight against beasts, his hand will furnish him 
A commendation of the hand of man.  with more weapons, then all theirs are, which they have by nature, although they be put all together. For he cannot only make weapons of all sorts, but handle them also, and manage them as pleaseth him in his own defence, both against beasts, as likewise against those of his own kind. And I would to God he used them but in his own defence, and did not abuse them as he doth to his own hurt very unnaturally. But let us proceed forward & come to the 
The third point.  third cause, why God hath thus created man all naked: which is, that he would admonish him thereby of his natural infirmity, in regard of those wants and necessities that hem him in on every side, unto which he is more subject than any other creature. Which instruction aught to work two things especially in him: first it aught to induce & move him to that peaceable and sociable life with his kind, for the which God created him. Secondly, by this 
A double use to be made of our wants.  means he is the more bound to acknowledge the providence, bounty, & liberality of God towards him, whereby he bringeth to pass, that the necessity and want, which seemeth to be greater in man then in any other living creature, declareth him to be the richest, & best provided for, yea, to be Lord of all. For all the garments of beasts of what quality soever they be, and whatsoever else they possess, belong to him. Whereas if men were not subject to such necessities as are incident unto them, what use should they have of so many creatures as God hath created for them? or what service should they have of their hands. For here again we see how that by them he provideth for their garments, by setting on work the skins, wooles, and hairs of all other living creatures, besides the silk of worms, and other matter which the first-fruits of the earth afford unto them, as flax, hemp, and such like. And if necessity did not teach them the use of all these things, how would they consider the power, wisdom, goodness and providence of God in his works, & in his creatures, to praise him and to give him thanks? For although they have necessity and want for their schoolemistris, to the end they might learn this science in their school, yet do they profit very little thereby, but rather become most ingrateful towards God their Creator who is so bo●nfull & liberal a father towards them. Whereupon we have further to note, that God hath not given to men many things belonging particularly to beasts, because he hath enriched them with so many other things, of which all other creatures are altogether destitute. For besides the help he hath of the composition and placing of those members, which he hath given to their bodies, being so convenient to perform that which beasts cannot do with theirs, he hath endued them with speech and reason, whereby, not only all that is in other creatures which is not in them, is more than recompensed, but they have more in them, than all other living creatures have being put together. For albeit they have no feathers and wings to fly and mount a fit by as birds have, yet how many means have they to ascend & to descend 
Wherein men excel all other living creatures.  to go and to come whether they will? And as for swiftness and nimbleness, how many beasts are there with whose swifnesse they may help themselves? And although they have not sins whereby to swim in the sea, and in waters like fishes, yet they have skill and hands whereby they can make and guide ships, and so convey themselves whither they will. Now as for strength which they want to carry heavy burdens a far off, how many ways is it recompensed both by land and by water, and that by means as well of beasts whose service they use, as of arts and sciences wherein they are skilful? Whereby we see that God hath put more within a man, namely in the sense and understanding, wherewith he hath endued him, than he hath put without in all beasts. Concerning the fourth point of which I have to 
The fourth point.  speak touching this matter, it is this, that as it pleased God to give unto man a far more excellent body for beauty than he did to any other living creature, so he would have this beatie also to appear in all the parts thereof. For, first this body was not fashioned, either to fly in the air as birds do, or to glide upon the earth, and to draw itself upon the belly as creeping things do, nor to march upon all four as four footed beasts do, nor with the head bending downward as theirs is, but to stand and go upright with the head lifted upwards towards heaven, to the end he might be admonished, that his true beginning and birth came higher than from the earth, and from other corruptible elements, namely from heaven. He is also admonished hereby, that he is not borne to serve his belly as brute beasts do, 
What we aught to learn by the proportion of our bodies.  and to follow after gluttony, drunkenness, whoredom, and such other carnal and more than brutish pleasures, wherein licentious men commonly observe less moderation, than beasts that are altogether without reason and understanding. For although the matter whereof a man's body is compounded, differeth nothing from that whereof the bodies of brute beasts are made, nevertheless seeing it pleased God to lodge within it a soul of a divine & celestial nature, that is far more excellent than all natures and creatures with bodies, he would it should have a lodging agreeable to the nature of it, whereby also man might be admonished of his excellency, and that he was created, not only to look down upon the earth as beasts do, but to lift up his eyes unto heaven, and to behold therein the high works of God his Creator, and to do the like in the residue of the whole world. For as we have heard, man is not properly this body which we see, but chiefly the soul & spirit which we see not, and which hath the body for his lodging. So that if we consider both 
What man is  the house and the inhabitant, we shall see that the things given of God to beasts and denied to men, do bring great beauty both to beasts because they have them, and to men because they have them not. Foyes if the beasts were deprived of their armour and natural ornaments, they should loose all their beauty and profit that redoundeth unto them: as likewise man should be deformed and ugly, if in any sort he were made partaker of that which is proper and agreeable to other creatures. But because GOD hath created man so that he might be eternal and immortal, he hath armed him inwardly, even in that part that shall be the means unto him of eternal life. Neither would he clothe him with natural garments, nor arm● him with corpall weapons, both because, that had been superfluous having given unto him that which is far better, as also because his beauty had been thereby much diminished, and his spirit should not have been so well known as now it is, by means of that skill and of those arts of which God hath made it capable. For what could he ●●uent and do, and wherein should he show that natural light and dexterity that is in him, if nature had furnished him with all those things, wherewith his reason given unto him, is able to enrich, him? But to conclude our speech, having spoken sufficiently of the creation, generation, & birth of man, let us look into this beauty that is in the form & figure of man's body by calling to remembrance our former discourses. And let us know, that both for the matter, and also for the form composition thereof, there is not the like work in all the world 
The excellent frame of man's body.  & none so goodly, so proper, nor so well united and knit together: none so well proportioned and polished in every respect, and in every part thereof. So that when we consider thereof from one end of it unto the other, we shall find that the workemaster that made this body, hath throughout the whole work joined beauty & profit together. But there is yet another excellency worthy of great admiration, in that he hath not only beautified this body with so goodly a shape as we see it hath, but hath also endued it with virtue and ability to make other bodies altogether like itself, as we heard yesterday. Wherhfore men show indeed, that they know nothing of the excellency of their nature, and that they have altogether 
Who they be that know not themselves.  forgotten, or at leastwise very ill considered of that instruction, which God hath given them by the composition of their bodies, but principally by the soul that is lodged therein, if despising celestial and eternal things for which they are created, they affect and seek after earthly and transitory things, preferring the earth before heaven, as commonly they do. Which is all one as if they declared openly, that they are displeased that GOD hath made them men, and not beasts ramping on the earth, or marching upon all four, and turning their snout always downward, because they have nothing in them that savoureth of a divine and celestial nature as manhath: and so they deal no otherwise then as if they would reproach God for that honour, which he hath bestowed upon them, by creating them differing from brute beasts, unto whom notwithstanding they had rather be like. But enough is spoken of this matter. And seeing we may be sufficiently instructed by all our former discourses, what are those principal parts, powers and offices of the soul. I mean the animal vital and natural, virtues, as also what instruments they have in man's body, let us now look into the life and death thereof, and consider more narrowly than hitherto we have done, what are the causes both of the one and the other.   

Whether the life of the body can proceed either of the matter, or of the composition form, and figure, or of the qualities thereof, or else of the harmony, conjunction and agreement of all these: whether any of these or all of them together can be the soul: of the length and shortness, of the divers degrees and ages, and of the end of man's life: of death and of the cause: both of life and death: of the difference that is between natural and supernatural Philosophy in the consideration of things. Chap. 74.  
AMANA. ●esus Christ purposing to teach us, that we cannot have life but in him, and by him, who is the life, & who hath the words of eternal life, compareth himself to a Vine, and his disciples unto Branches. For the branch hath life and vigour, and beareth fruit, so long as it remaineth in the vine, and receiveth nourishment from thence, so if it receiveth no sap from thence, or if it be cut off, it withereth and dieth. We may say the same of the members of the body, if the soul be not in every one of them, & if it give not life, virtue, 
joh. 15. 1. 2. 3. 4.  & vigour to them all for the performance of their offices. For if it fall out so, that it withdraweth itself altogether from any one part of the body, that part is without life: as we see by experience in a member dried up, or putrefied, or cup off from the body. And so is it with the whole body, when the soul is separated from it. But we are to handle this matter more atlarge. By our former discourses we may learn the nature both of the soul & of the body what is that union & conjunction which they have together, albeit their natures, substances, and essences are divers and very different: also we have learned that the one of them, namely the spiritual essence, is a great deal more excellent than the other, which is corporal. Wherhfore we may well conclude, that the life in the body proceedeth not of the matter whereof it is made, nor of the qualities joined unto it, nor yet of the composition, form and 
The soul proceedeth not of the matter.  figure thereof. For if the life and soul were in the matter of the body, the larger and greater men's bodies were, and the more matter they had in them, the more life and soul, the more wit, spirit and understanding should be in them. But we see by experience that it is far otherwise, and that there is no more life and soul in a great body then in a little. And if it were so that the life proceeded from the matter, a dead body should be as well a man, as a living body. We may say the same both of the qualities joined to the matter according to 
Nor of the qualities.  the nature of the elements, as also of that confirmation and agreement that is between all the members both within and without. And as for the harmony, conjunction & concord's 
Nor of the harmo●●.  that floweth from the diversity of these qualities, and from their temperatue, it may be increased and diminished, Wherhfore that cannot but be the effect of nature, which causeth 
Nor of the composition of the body.  a thing to be that which it is, and giveth unto the same thing his form & kind, that continueth always in his estate & natural disposition. For if it were otherwise, the nature of kinds might be changed, which never any of the Philosophers did so much as imagine, or think to affirm. And as for the composition & figure of the body, there is yet less reason to say it cometh from thence, for as much as that continueth the same in a dead body which it was in a living. Again, those living creatures, that resemble most the nature & form of the 
The nature of a Hog. And of an Elephant.  members of man's body, & the matter thereof, are often times farther off from the nature of human sense & understanding, than they that do less resemble them. Which we may easily know by considering the nature of a Hog & of an Elephant. For they that through want & famine have been constrained to eat man's flesh, have testified that no flesh or meat whatsoever approacheth nearer in taste, or is more like it then the flesh of a Hog. And if we consider the inward members and parts, there is no beast, if we will give credit to them that have had the experience thereof, that hath them liker to those in man, than the Hog hath, both for substance, disposition, form and figure. Contrariwise, wherein doth the Elephant resemble man either for form or composition of body, or of the members both internal and external, in comparison of a Hog? And yet there is no beast more teachable than the Elephant. or approacheth nearer to the sense & understanding of man: as on the other side there is no beast further off in this respect, nor more hard to be taught, & more brutish, then is the Hog, And if any man think that the industry & docility of an Elephant proceedeth, either from the greatness of the matter whereof it is made, or from the abundance of the qualities joined unto the matter, or from the harmony, conjunction & concord that is between them, or lastly, from the composition, form and figure of his body & of the members thereof, we will oppose unto him the Ant, which is one of the lest among the creatures of the earth, as the Elephant is the greatest of all, as far as we know. The like may be said of the Bee. For, 
The soul of a beast differeth from the substance and nature of his body.  are there many creatures although greater in substance, that yet have such industrious and ingenious natures, as these little beasts have, that are to be reckoned among the smallest of them? And by this it appeareth plainly, that the soul of beasts is of some other substance and nature then their bodies, notwithstanding there is great difference betwixt the soul of beasts and the soul of men. But we have further to note touching the soul of man, that the spirit doth not only not follow the nature of the body, but which is more, governeth, carrieth and recarrieth it whether it pleaseth: yea, withstandeth the affections, which approach 
The faculty of sense cometh not from the body.  nearest to the corporal and terrestrial nature. And as for the faculty of sense and of the senses, it is a virtue that surpasseth all bodily power and virtue, & all things depending of the body, so that there is no faculty of the body that is able to express the actions thereof. What shall we say then of the virtue of understanding, which is the highest and most sovereign faculty that is in man? Which we cannot say is a body compounded of matter and form. For that thing is the fountain and original of life, which first moveth a living creature to the works belonging unto life. So that when we inquire what this fountain & spring is, then do we seek to know what the soul is. Now we may soon know by that which hath been spoken, what the soul is not: but as yet we cannot perceive what the proper substance and nature thereof is. And indeed it is not that which we have to speak of at this time, hereafter we may say somewhat of that matter. Let it 
The cause of the life of the body.  suffice for this present, that we know that the true cause of the life of the body, in regard of second causes, is in the soul next unto God, who is the first and principal cause of all things. Therefore it is he that hath ordained & limited to every living creature his appointed time wherein to live and to grow, and next to decrease and to die: and as it pleaseth him either to prolong or to abridge their life, so doth he dispose of the second causes and means whereby he will have it brought to pass. Wherefore although every one hath his certain bounds and term of life set him, yet none but God only can attain to the knowledge thereof. For all come not to the last age, which he hath appointed to be the ordinary end of every one● life, following those degrees into which it is divided, according to that division which we 
The degrees of man's age.  make of days and years. For the infancy of man may be resembled to the mourning and to the spring time of the year: man's age to midday and to the summer: old-age to the Evening and to Autumn: & death to night and to winter. Therefore job saith very well speaking of man, the number of his months are with thee: thou hast appointed his bounds, which he 
job. 14 5.  cannot pass. Now if it be demanded what is the ordinary term of life appointed by God we are to know, that nature by the ordinance of God appropriateth the matter being in the form of members, unto the soul, that is to give life unto the whole body. Now when the soul is entered into it and hath taken possession thereof, by little and little it prepareth and maketh fit the internal instruments, until at length it hath brought them to that perfection, 
The cause of the length & shortness of life.  which the quality, constitution and composition of the matter is able to receive & to bear. And after these instruments are come to their greatest perfection by usage they waste & consume away, returning by little and little unto their first nature, & so in the end wholly corrupt and die. Thus you see how the members are appropriated in the body of the mother, how the spirits and humours are fitted in the time of infancy: after which the flower of age in youth is, as it were, the vigour and use of the perfection of the instruments, and old-age is the decreasing age, wherein they decay continually and become worse and worse, even until they come to their corruption, which is death. And this death we call natural, when following this course it attaineth without violence to these bounds. Now although 
What natural death is.  this be no long course, yet there are but very few that hold out to the uttermost end thereof, in regard of them that stay by the way: of whom some are cut off, even before they have begun their course, others presently after they have begun it, and some in the midway: & that through so many sorts of sicknesses with other inconveniences and accidents that a man cannot possibly comprehend or conceive them all. Therefore David said long since, that the time of our life is three score years & ten, and if they be of strength, four score years: yet 
Psal. 90. 10.  their strength is but labour & sorrow: for it is cut off quickly, and we flee away. And after he hath compared man to a stream of water carried violently away, to a Morning dream, to the grass that flourisheth and groweth in the Morning, and in the Evening is cut down & withereth, he giveth the reason of all this, saying, for we are consumed by thine anger, and by thy wrath are 
Psal. 7. 8. 9  we troubled. Thou hast set our iniquities before thee, and our secret sins in the light of thy countenance: for all our days are passed in thine anger: we have spent our years as a thought. job also agreeth well, 
job 14. 1. 2.  with Moses in this point when he saith, Man that is borne of a woman is of short continuance, and full of trouble. He shooteth forth as a flower, & is cut down, he vanisheth also as a shadow, and continueth not. Now it is certain, that if we look to the causes of the life & death of men laid down by us, we shall think that all this is done naturally, and that there is a certain order of nature, unto which we must all be subject, & a natural necessity which none can eschew. But we see that Moses mounteth a fit, and searcheth higher for the cause: for he seeketh it in God and in his determination, yea in his wrath conceived against our sins. Therefore the children and servants of God, that have been instructed in his word, do not only consider of that in death, which profane men behold there: but they mount up even to this highest cause, and behold there the wrath of God against sin, and against all mankind for the same. So that we may know by that which hath been said, what difference there is between 
Of the true difference between natural and divine Philosophy. The cause of so many Atheists.  human and natural Philosophy, and that which is divine and supernatural: and wherein they deceive themselves, that stay altogether in natural Philosophy. And hereby also we may learn the cause why so many become Atheists and Epicures thereby, whereas it should serve them in place of steps and degrees to 'cause them to ascend up to that Philosophy that is supernatural and heavenly. For their noses are altogether poring in this base kitchen, of which we have entreated in our former discourses: as though God had not created men for another life and end, than he hath done beasts. Whereupon we may imagine, what true joy and consolation they can have, I say, not only in death, but also throughout their whole life, seeing their life, will they, nill they, must pass through so many dangers and miseries. For whether they will or not, they must be subject to this sentence passed from God against all mankind, in the person of our first parents, when he said to Adam, Cursed is the earth for thy 
Gen. 3. 17. 18  sake, in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life. thrones also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee, and thou shalt eat the herb of the field. In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return to the earth, for out of it wast thou taken, because thou art dust and to dust shalt thou return. Therefore Eliphaz saith in the book of job, that misery proceedeth not out of the dust, and that 
job. 5. 6.  affliction buddeth not out of the earth: Which is as much to say, as that the cause of barrenness of ground proceedeth not from the earth, but from the sin of man. Wherhfore men cannot 
The cause of barrenness.  lay the blame upon any other beside themselves, as being the cause of all the evils which they suffer, because they bear the matter of them in themselves. Now if any think, that this sentence pronounced by God against all mankind is not so much executed upon the wicked that are without God, as upon others, because we see commonly that they are richest, and live in greatest ease, in pleasures and in delights, we must know that they are not therefore exempted from those miseries, whereunto the life of man is subject, & which are all comprehended under this sweat of the face mentioned in the holy Scriptures. For there is no one of them to be found, that can so save himself, but that he hath always his part & portion in these things. And if we could consider well the whole course of their life, who seem to be the happiest amongst them, and had the patience to wait until the end of their ●ace, should found by experience the truth of that we speak of. But let us go on with our speeces, touching the causes of the length and shortness of this bodily life, and of natural death, as also of that which is, violent, whereof we have not yet spoken. Also let us consider of the things that are chief required for the upholding of this bodily life, and without which it could not consist. This than shall be the matter subject, of which thou. ARAM, shalt take upon thee to discourse.   

Of the causes generally of the length and shortness of bodily life: of natural and of violent death: in what manner the life of man consisteth in his breath: of the principal things required to life, and without which it cannot be: of the difference betwixt the life of man, and the life of beasts: of the image of the spiritual death in the corporal of the true comfort which we aught to have therein. Chap. 75.  
ARAM. This law was laid upon nature by God the Creator thereof that the things which it should bring forth in this inferior world, should have small beginnings at the first, and after grow by little and little, and when they were come to their full greatness should stand a while at a stay, and then fall by little and little, and return to their original and first beginning: as we see a pattern hereof and an example twice a day in the Ocean sea. For after it is mounted up to the highest, and hath spread itself in length & breadth as much as it may, it returneth again unto the fountain and womb from whence it came, and there closeth up itself. For God hath compassed it with certain bounds beyond which it cannot pass. So likewise every thing hath his course & set time of continuance: neither do see any thing under the Moon, either of the works of God, or of the inventions of men, 
Nothing abideth still in the same state.  which keepeth not his course. And so is it with the body, which being created by little and little, decayeth after the same manner, as it were by the same degrees by which it mounted upward. And that which we see in every particular body, the same we perceive to be in the whole frame and course of the world, & in all the estates thereof. For the world hath had his infancy, next his youth, than his man's estate, & now he is in his old-age. For we see how all thing decline daily, and continually wax worse and worse, as it were approaching to their end. In like manner if we would consider the course and estate of all Commonwealths, Principalities, Kingdoms, and Empires, & of all the greatest and chiefest Monarchies, that ever were from the creation of the world, we should found that all of them were very small & weak in their beginnings, and that afterwards they increased and mounted up until they came to their highest degrees: and after they had attained thither, they descended and fell by little and little continually, until in the end they were wholly ruinated. Now the first causes of all these things proceeding from God and from his eternal counsel, we know that the second causes are in the nature of every thing that hath beginning and must end, & chief in the nature of men's bodies.  
By our former speech we have learned already how this corporal life consisteth in the preservation of those instruments which the soul useth in the body: and that the chiefest of them is heat, the second moisture agreeable to the heat, which must needs have some thing to feed it and keep it in a moderate stay. Lastly we learned, that the nourishing and cherishing of the heat is the preservation of the moisture: and therefore those living creatures that are best able to maintain and keep these two qualities within themselves, are of longest continuance in life. So that the chief natural cause of the 
The cause of the length of life.  long continuance of life, consisteth in every man's composition, namely if it be hot and moist by due proportion, both in the sinews and in the marrow, in the liquors and humours, and in the spirits. The second cause consisteth in he long continuance of this temperature, which being interrupted and marred by diseases, the instruments of life are thereby also spoiled, & so they failing, life itself must needs cease. Whereupon death ensueth: even as when the instruments and tools of some handicrafts man are worn and fail him, it cannot be but that his art and occupation should also be at an end. So that death is a defect of those instruments of the soul, whereby life is prolonged. For the soul leaveth the body by reason of the defect of instruments, and not for 
What death is  any disagreement that is between the body and it, as may appear by this, that it was not any proportion or agreement that joined the soul and the body together. For albeit a work man useth his instruments, yet there is no proportion and agreement between him and them, in regard of the matter and form of him and of his tools: unless peradventure this proportion may be imagined to be between the art of the Workman, as he is a Workman, and the the aptness of the tool he useth, whereby it is made 
Natural death.  sit for the doing of that which the Workman hath in hand. Seeing then all life consisteth both in heat, as we have already said, and also in moisture requisite for the heat, we call that natural death, when heat faileth, by reason that the moisture is dried up, through the heat that drinketh it up, which heat also in the end vanisheth away, even as a lamp 
Violent 〈◊〉  doth when the oil of it is consumed. But that is called a violent death, when through some accident, either the moisture is drawn out of the body, or the heat is put out and extinguished either by some inward, or else some outward oppression and violence. Internal violence is either by poison, or by gluttony and drunkenness, or by such excess: as when a lamp goeth out because there is too much oil powered into it. And if this oppression be done outwardly, it is called external; as when the air and breath that refresheth the heart, is shut up and retained, either in the sharp artery, or in the mouth. For it is as if a fire were suddenly covered and choked by some great heap of stones, or of earth, or of ashes laid upon it. We heard before, that if the lungs had no respiration by the mouth and nostrils, no man could breathe, but he should be choked by and by: as we see it by experience in them that are strangled. The reason hereof is, because the pipe that reacheth from 
Of the windpipe.  the Lungs to the throat, is so closed up, that it is altogether slopped, or at lest, so narrow and straight, that there is not space enough for the air and breath to pass in and out by. We see also daily how this windepipe is troubled, if whiles we eat or drink, there fall into it a little crumb of bread, or meat, or else a drop of water, or of wine, or of any other drink, yea, although it were but a little drop of our own spittle. For the breath that ascendeth up from the lungs by this pipe, will not suffer any other thing to enter in thereat, except it be as subtle and thin as the air is, but it driveth it upward, insomuch as when this happeneth to any man, he is in great pain and as it were stifled for the time. We see the like also in the 
From whence the cough cometh.  cough. For, from whence proceedeth it but only of those distillations that descend from the brain unto the lungs by this pipe? And truly the consideration of all this, aught to be unto us in place of another special testimony of the infirmity of our nature, that we may always learn the better by this to humble ourselves. For what an excellent gift is this life, which God hath given to man? and yet a matter of nothing will deprive him of it. For let his breath only be taken away, which is but a little wind, and behold he is stifled and dead by and by. And for the taking away of his breath, and so of his life withal, there needeth nothing else but the stopping of his mouth and nosthrilles, or of his windpipe only, which is soon done, and he is dispatched presently without all help and remedy by man. Therefore Easie hath a good speech: Departed (saith he) from the man 
Easie. 2. 22.  whose breath is in his nosthrilles: for wherein is he to be esteemed? In a word, his meaning is, that man is but as it were a little wind and blast, as if he had his life in his nosthrilles, and as if it were as easy a matter to take away his life as his breath. Moreover, the mixture and temperature of all the elementary qualities, and of all the humours is so necessary for life, 
The blood necessary for life.  as we have already heard, that if any one be wanting, our life cannot continued. But the chiefest & most necessary of all, are heat & moisture placed in the the blood, which is so necessary for the maintenance of life, that after it is out of the body, death followeth presently.  
Concerning the members of the body, it hath been told us already, that there are some of them without which the body cannot keep life, nor be kept therein amongst which the heart is the chiefest of all, for the reasons which we have already heard. Now these 
The difference between the death of beasts and of man.  things standing thus, we must consider what difference there is between the death of bruit beasts, and that of man: namely this, that the soul of beasts perisheth utterly in their death, as doth the vigour of men's senses in the death of man. But the soul of man surviveth after the death of his body, and continueth always in being and in life. For, considering that beasts do in this life all that can be done by them according to those gifts, which they have received of nature, therefore they live and die here altogether, having nothing bestowed upon them for another better life. But forasmuch as GOD hath given unto man a divine and immortal spirit, which hath here great impediments and cannot well exercise all his offices, it is requisite that it should have an other life wherein it may display all the virtues it hath, and enjoy whatsoever GOD hath prepared for it, even that which is most agreeable and proper to the nature thereof. Wherhfore we may say, that the death of man is a separation, or a departure of the soul from the body wherein GOD propoundeth unto us a perfect image of our separation and departure from him, which cometh by the means of sin. For we see what becometh of the body when the soul is go from it, and what it is during the time that it is joined therewith. The difference is very great. Let us then propound our soul, as if it were in the place of 
An image of our spiritual death in the bodily  the body, and imagine that God were in stead of the soul in it, as we see the soul is in the body. Than let us consider what might be the estate of the soul both when it is joined with God, and when it is separated from him. For there is greater difference between the soul separated from God, then between a body separated from his soul. Forasmuch as there is no body so stinking nor so infected, when it is separated from the soul, as the soul is when it is separated from God, if we will compare spiritual things with corporal things. And contrariwise we may judge of the estate thereof when it is joined with God, by the estate of a body joined with his soul, and by that difference which is between a dead body and a quick.  
Now if we would well consider these things, and compare the corporal death of the body with the spiritual death of the soul, we would abhor sin in greater measure than we do, and be more afraid of it then of any thing that may come unto us. For there is nothing either in heaven or earth, that can hurt us but sin: as in deed nothing can bring damage to us, but that which can hurt the soul. But it is sin only that is able 
Only sin hurteth the soul  to hurt the soul, because by it those means are taken away from the soul, whereby God bessoweth spiritual life upon it. Therefore we aught not to think that bodily death can any way hurt the soul, unless it be in regard of the evil life past. It is true, that seeing GOD, hath created man to be of such a nature, as to be compounded of a body and of a soul, and that his true and perfect estate consisteth herein that they should live united, and joined together, it is very like that there is some evil in the severing of them asunder, especially if any of them corrupt and perish, and the evil may seem to be doubled, if both of them should corrupt and perish, as many Epicures and Atheists would have it. For if it be evil to have but half a being, the evil and imperfection is much more, not to be at all, seeing there is nothing more goodly or more excellent then to have a being. And if it be an excellent thing to be, then to be well, is a far more goodly and excellent thing. For therein consisteth 
What it is to be well.  the perfection and absolute felicity of man. Now there is no sound or perfect estate of any man, but only that in which, and for which God created him. And although man be fallen from that estate, yet hath pleased GOD not only to restore him again thereunto by his Son jesus Christ, but also to make it unto him more entire & more perfect, yea much more sure & steadfast than it was in the beginning. For this cause, if besides the benefit of creation we consider also that of regeneration, and of the restoration & repairing of man, we shall found therein ample matter of true and sound consolation against death. For we know that this tabernacle of our body, which is infirm, faulty, corruptible, frail and tending to 
A comfort against death.  putrefaction, shallbe destroyed & as it were pulled down, to the end, that afterwards it may be restored unto a perfect, firm, incorruptible and celestial glory. We see that by death we are called back again from a miserable exile, to the end that we may dwell in our country, even in our heavenly country. In a word●, we are assured by death to enjoy such a blessed and permanent estate, as the like whereof appeareth no where upon the earth. And if the brute beasts, even the insensible creatures as Saint Paul teacheth us, as wood & stone, having 
Rom. 8, 22  some sense of their vanity & corruption, do wait for the day of judgement that they may be delivered from the same: shall not we be very miserable, having both some light of nature, and also boasting that we are inspired with the spirit of GOD, if we do not lift up our eyes above this earthly corruption, when the question is concerning our being? Shall we not contemn and disdain the vanity of the world, to aspire after the good being of the immortality to come? Let us know then that we cannot find any true and sound consolation without this consideration and hope which is most assured to them that believe 
Natural Phlosophy affordeth no sound con●ort against afflictions, or death.  in christ jesus. Therefore they that went not beyond the bounds of natural Philosophy, could never enjoy any true consolation, either against the miseries of man's life, or against corporal death. And though they believed, that altogether with the body whatsoever is in man, was extinguished, or otherwise that after the death of the body, the soul remaineth immortal, yet notwithstanding, some have done nothing else but mourn and complain in this life, insomuch as they have laid violent hands, as it were, upon Nature, reviling her and caling her the stepmother, rather than the mother of mankind: and others have doubted of their future estate and condition, not being able to learn and know whether their souls should live either in joy and rest, or el● in pain and torment, but only by opinion. Of which if we would discourse at large, and consider particularly of their reasons. we should be confirmed more and more in that true consolation, that aught to be in the heart of every Christian against the horror of death. Therefore I greatly desire ACHITOB, to hear thee discoursing upon this matter.   

Of the chief consolations, which the wisest amongst the Pagans' and Insidels could draw from their human reason and natural Philosophy against death: of the blasphemies used by Atheists and Epicures against God and Nature: what Nature is, and who they be that attribute unto it that which they aught to attribute unto God. Chap. 76.  
ACHITOB. Trees have their seasons, in which they begin to bud, and afterwards do blossom: which blossom in convenient time taketh the form and fashion of the fruit, and after that it continueth growing, until it becometh ripe: and being come to the greatest maturity and ripeness that it can have, it falleth down of itself, and still consumeth more and more. The same may be said of leaves. But this happeneth not to all, nor yet altogether after the self same manner to all those to whom it doth happen. For some first-fruits perish even in the very bud, or else in the flower: & some after they are come to the fashion of fruit. And of these latter sort, some fade away sooner, some latter, according to their sundry accidents. For some are eaten by worms, other by noisome flies, and some through divers kinds of creeping things, which bred in the fruit itself. Again, some are shaken down violently, either through great and mighty showers, huge storms, blustering winds or else by hail and tempest, being plucked forcibly from the trees before they can come to any ripeness. By all which things God propoundeth unto us, a goodly picture and representation of the whole course of man's life, yea, of all estates & conditions of men in the world, 
A profitable contemplation in nature.  both generally and particularly. For although in our former speech we heard what order nature usually followeth in natural things, and namely, in that which respecteth the estate of Empires and Monarchies, yet if we look well into it, we shall there found also this very difference, which we have observed to be betwixt natural death, & that which we call violent death. For as amongst men all come not to the uttermost of old age, but many are stayed by the way, so is it with estates. We see some men ascend up through all degrees, even until they attain to the highest: and then by the same degrees descend again, until they come to the end and period of all. But we see others that are stayed in ascending, or if they come to the highest degree are suddenly thrown down. Moreover, among those first-fruits which attain to maturity and ripeness, all have not one and the self same time of ripeness, but every one hath his proper season: and those that are most forward and soon ripe, are of shortest continuance, and quickly go. This self same thing also we see to be observed in the life of men, and in the course of this World. Wherhfore if we had no hope of another life besides this, our estate would be more miserable, not only then the estate 
The miserable estate of Atheists that have no hope of another life.  of beasts, but also then that of trees. For as trees decay yearly in regard of their flowers, first-fruits and leaves, so they are yearly renewed, whereas many men perish after that manner, that being once dead they shall never be raised and renewed again to glory. For although they have some opinion of an other life, yet by the certainty of faith they do not apprehended the fruition of eternal happiness, which is prepared for the blessed through the grace of Christ jesus, they can neither live nor die without some doubt of that which they desire most to be persuaded of.  
When the greatest and most skilful Philosophers, the wisest & most virtuous personages that have been amongst the Heathen, went about to comfort either themselves, or their friends in their great afflictions, and chief in death, this was thought to be one of their strongest reasons, that the laws of nature are unavoidable, and that it must be so: For they had no hope of the resurrection of their bodies: as indeed it is a doctrine that human Philosophy doth not understand. And as for the immortality of the soul, albeit the best Philosophers & most learned men amongst them were of that opinion, which also was for the most part generally received of the people, yet they were never so assured thereof, but that still there remained some doubt in them, because they had no certain knowledge of it, but only so much as they could get by their natural light & human Philosophy. Therefore when such as excelled others amongst them laboured to comfort & strengthen men against the fear of death, and would persuade them that there was no evil in it, they used for their principal reason this disjunctive speech, saying: Either man is wholly extinguished by death, or else 
Philosophical reasons against the fear of death.  some part of him remaineth afterwards. If he perish altogether, so that nothing of him continueth still, than he feeleth n● ill: and so death hurteth him not, but delivereth him from all those evils whereunto he is necessarily subject in this life. But if some part of him abideth still, so that he die not altogether, then is death no death unto him, or at leastwise, it is not evil unto him, seeing his principal part, which is his soul, and in regard of which he is man, liveth and abideth whole and sound. Now these are very lean and slender consolations. For seeing God hath created man of that nature that he is compounded of body and soul, no doubt but his true & perfect estate consisteth therein, that these two natures be united and linked together: as in deed they should have done, had 
Sin the cause of death.  it not been for the sin of our first parents, who thereby brought upon man both bodily and spiritual death. And it is against reason to think that a separation of these two natures so well knit together could be made, and that one of them should corrupt and perish, and all this without grief. Now if they perish both together, the evil that followeth thereupon is the greater. For nothing can be imagined to be more goodly and excellent then to have a being. Now can any body call that thing excellent which ceaseth to be, or which having a being, fadeth incontinently? But what an horror is it to a man only to think ●f death? And how much more will his horror be increased, when he shall think that he must so vanish away by death, that no part of him afterward shall have any more being, then if he had never been at all? And what profit ariseth to him that was 
Atheists more miserable than beasts.  never borne, more than to the bruit beast? But yet the estate of this man is more miserable. For to what end should the reasonable soul serve, which God hath given him, as also the understanding, reason, and all the other virtues wherewith God hath endued it above the soul of beasts, but to make him more miserable and wretched then if he had been created a beast? For seeing beasts have no mind, understanding, or reason, to conceive and know what a benefit and gift of God it is to have a being and to live, they have no such vehement apprehension, either of death as men have, or of the loss of any good thing, which they are in danger to lose. And by this reason it followeth, that the more blockish and brutish men are, the less miserable they should be: as contrariwise, the greater spirits they have, and the more they acknowledge the excellency of man's nature, and those gifts wherewith God hath endued it, so much the more miserable and wretched should they be, in stead of receiving greater joy and consolation. Whereupon it cometh to pass, that they are more ready to despite and blaspheme God, then to praise and glorify him for those graces and benefits wherewith he hath adorned mankind. We see how Epicures and Atheists, and all they that consider in man this present life only, and go no further, draw near to this point of which we speak. Therefore some of them say, that it were best for a man not to be borne at all, or else to die so soon as he is borne. Others 
The common sayings of Atheists.  set themselves against nature and speak evil of her, saying, that she is, rather a bad stepmother then a good mother to mankind. And because they know not what GOD is, they set upon Nature, through whose sides they wound him, speaking evil of him, and blaspheming him under this name of Nature. Thus you see what comfort and consolation they find, who look for no other life after this. And as for those other that have but some bore motion and slender opinion of the immortality of souls, what greater joy or contentation can they have? Nay there are three things that do greatly diminish their comfort. The first is, their doubting wherewith they are continually possessed, which hindereth them from having any assurance of the same. The second is the separation of the soul from the body, whereby they conceive and imagine, that the body doth so turn into corruption, as that it wholly perisheth without any hope of the resurrection thereof, or of conjoining it again with the soul from which it was disjoined. The third is the ignorance of the estate of souls after this life. For albeit they were very certainly persuaded that our souls are immortal, yet they have no assurance of their estate, neither know they whether they live in joy and rest, or in pain and torment, but only by opinion, as they esteem by every one's merits, which they measure according to that knowledge they have and that judgement which they are able to afford of their virtues and vices. Therefore, 
Natural reason no●●u●tic●ent to stay the conscience.  whatsoever they think or hope, seeing they are not very sure and certain, neither indeed can be, if they have no better assurance then by their natural light and reason, they must needs be subject continually to sorrow & grief; which way soever they turn themselves. For if they are of opinion, that there are punishments for such as have led an evil life in this world, who can assure them that they shall be exempted and freed thereof? For howsoever they labour to enforce (as it were) their conscience, and strive never so much to rock it on sleep, and flatter themselves in their sins, yet it cannot afford them any such peace and quietness, as will altogether satisfy and content them.  
And as for persuading themselves that there is no punishment for the wicked, they are never able to do it. For the same natural light and reason whereby they judge souls to be immortal, doth likewise constrain them to acknowledge, that there is a God a just judge, who suffereth not evil unpunished, as also he will not pass by that which is good without accepting of it as it is. So that seeing they cannot assuredly know, that God will approve and receive their works as good, or refuse them as evil, they must of necessity be always in fear, whatsoever they believe. Therefore as the one sort endeavour with all their 
Two sorts of Atheists.  power to be persuaded of this that men's souls are mortal aswellas their bodies, and that after death there remaineth no more of the one then of the other, thereby to deliver themselves of this fear and of the torment that accompanieth fear: so the other sort that have a better opinion of the immortality of souls, labour to persuade themselves that there is no hell nor punishment for souls after this life, but that they are only Poetical fictions and fables. But although Poets used fictions in that which they wrote of Hell, and of those infernal furies and torments, yet they derived the ground and foundation of them from that testimony which God hath planted in the nature of us all. So that none aught to flatter and seduce themselves by means of such opinions as overturn all nature: for that were to take away all difference between good and evil, virtue and vice, things honest and dishonest. For if there be no reward either for the one or for the other, or if all be one, it followeth either that there is no difference betwixt all these thing, or that there is no justice in God. 
Why there must needs be a second life.  But both these are impossible, whereupon it must needs be concluded, that not only there is another life after this, but also that in the second life there is joy, rest, & felicity for the one, and grief, pain and dolour for the other. Wherhfore we must not think, that because the Kitchen and Nursery of this mortal body is by the appointment and providence of God, joined with the soul that is immortal and divine, therefore there is no other life for man besides this bodily life, or that the soul which giveth life and maintaineth it in the body, is no more immortal than the body that receiveth the same from it, and that the body in like manner aught not to expect another life after this. But I hope that these things shall hereafter be better declared unto us in those discourses, which we are especially to make touching the immortality of the soul. Now to end this speech, forasmuch as in this and in our former discourses, we have oftentimes made mention of Nature, which for the most part men join as companion with God, when they speak of the counsels of his providence over all things created, according to that common proverb, That God and nature have made nothing in 
What nature is.  vain, I say in this respect it shallbe good for us to know, what Nature is, to speak properly, & into what detestable error they fall, who attribute that to it, which appertaineth to God alone And first they that use this proverb might speak more directly & Christianly, if they attributed the whole to God only, not joining unto him nature for a companion, as though he had need of her help, & could not well finish all his works alone, and as though he had not been able to have done all that he hath done without her. It may be, they will say, that they do give this honour unto God, and that they speak not of Nature, as Galen, and many other Heathen Physicians and Philosophers, or rather Epicures and Atheists do, who place Nature in God his stead: but that they speak of her as of a means created of God, by which he performeth all these things. But there is no such necessity to join Nature with God as his fellow worker. For when he created the first man, what Nature had he with him that did help him to make this work? Besides, the very name of nature doth it not declare, that it 
Nature is a creatue.  is a thing borne and created, and so consequently hath her creation and birth from God as all o●her creatures have? For if we take Nature for that divine virtue and power which appeareth in the works of the creation, & in their preservation & order, we must of necessity take it, not for a thing that is borne and bred of others, but that giveth birth and being unto others. And if we take it so, then God and nature shall be taken to be all one. Wherhfore in this respect it were better to let the name of Nature alone: and to speak of God only, to whom Nature is but a servant, and seeing that by him it was created, and that all things were made before Nature had her being. Otherwise we are like to fall into that error of Galen and others his like in these days, who albeit they be connicted and ravished with 
The error of Galen, and such like Atheists now ad●●es.  admiration, through the contemplation of those wonderful works, which they behold in all the parts and powers of man's body, are notwithstanding so ungrateful, that instead of yielding unto God that honour that belongeth unto him, it seemeth they would despite him to his face, and seek all possible means to put out their own eyes, and wholly to blind their understandings, to the end they might not be constrained to acknowledge that there is a God, the Creator and maker of this so excellent a piece of work, and so to glorify him as becometh them. Now rather than they would give him his honour, they would make an idol of Nature, thereby to cast a vail before men's eyes, that they should not see & acknowledge God in his works. They will rather put out their own eyes than follow this nature, which they forge unto themselves as a sovereign Mistress, whereas she is but the means to lead them to God her and their Creator, of whom she is but a servant, and a very small image.  
Thus much I thought meet to be known, concerning Nature, that we might learn to speak better and more reverently both of God and of his works, and that we might know that Nature is nothing else but the order and continuance of the works of God. Now that 
What we are to judge of Nature.  we are instructed in the causes of life and death, and what true comfort and consolation we may have against the horror thereof; and so have finished our discourses concerning the frame of the body, and of the powers and faculties of the soul therein, we must enter into a particular contemplation of the nature of the soul, and learn what is the creaation and immortality thereof so far forth as the mind of man is able to comprehend, and as the word of truth shall afford us sure and certain doctrine thereof. First, than it is necessary and very profitable for us to consider, that there is but one soul in one body, which hath all those powers and virtues of which the effects are daily seen: also what place the soul hath in the body, and what union there is between them. Now ASER, this shall be that matter subject which thou shalt have to continued our speech withal.   

That there is but one soul in every several body: that one and the same soul hath in it all those virtues and powers, whose effects are daily seen: of the seat of the Soul in the body, and of the principal instrument thereof: of the union of the body and Soul: of the divers degrees of nature, and of the excellency that is in it: of the fountains and bounds of all the powers and virtues of the soul. Chap. 77.  
ASER Saint Paul maketh a prayer in the end of his first Epistle to the Thessalonians, which agreeth very well both to that matter whereof we have already entreated, touching the nature as well of the soul as of the body, and to that also which we have yet to handle concerning the nature, creation, and immortality of the soul. Now the very God of peace (saith he) sanctify you throughout: and I pray God that your whole spirit, and soul, and body, 
1. Thes. 5. 23.  may be kept blameless unto the coming of our Lord jesus Christ. Where first he showeth us, that none but God, who only is holy, sanctifieth us through jesus Christ his son the most Holy, and that by the virtue of his holy spirit. Moreover he teacheth us, that as we are to 
Dan. 9 24.  acknowledge all sanctification already begun in us to proceed from God alone, so we must expect from him the accomplishment of that work, which he hath begun in us. For as he is the beginning, so from him must proceed the perfection, which comprehendeth all the parts of man. Therefore the Apostle here maketh a division of three members placing the spirit first, in the second place the soul, and in the third the body. Than he teacheth us, that the entire and absolute sanctification of all these parts of man shall be in the coming of jesus Christ, in which it shall obtain the last perfection. Now we understand already suffiently by our former discourses, that man is compounded of two divers 
Man divided into three parts.  natures, namely, of a body and of a soul: and yet here we see that Saint Paul setteth down three parts, and joineth the spirit unto the soul, as if they were two divers and different things, aswell as the soul and the body are. Therefore we must search out of the cause of this division of man after this manner. But before we enter into this matter, it shall be very profitable for us to refresh our memory with those things we have already entreated of, so far forth as they may serve for the understanding of this, and that according to the matter subject propounded to discourse upon.  
We heard before how the body is the lodging and instrument of the soul, and how the soul serveth itself with all the members thereof, and setteth them on work. And as 
One soul in one body.  for the Soul, albeit there be but one in each several body, nevertheless that one soul hath divers faculties, powers and virtues, which we also call parts and offices thereof. Wherhfore as we say not, that there are so many bodies in one body of a man, as there is diversity of parts, members and offices therein, but accounted them all jointly together, as one and the same body: even so we mean not that there are so many souls, as there are powers and offices in the Soul, or according to that variety of effects that appeareth in every part and member thereof, albeit we know very well, that they are distinguished one from another both in time and place. For we perceive by the effects thereof, that the sight is in the eyes, hearing in the ears, understanding and cogitation in the brain, and the like is to be said of all the other parts and members of the body, according to the nature and office of every one, and according to the offices of the Soul in them: as we have already showed when we handled all the powers thereof particularly. Moreover we see how the child, so long as it is in the Mother's womb, differeth almost nothing at all from plants: and after it is borne, how it differeth but a little from brute beasts, as elsewhere it hath been already declared unto us. Nevertheless, as in every body there is but one and the same kind, fashion and essential form of nature, whereby it cometh to be that which it is: so there is but one only Soul in every living creatures body, by which it doth live, but yet this soul is distinguished according to the virtues and offices thereof. Wherein it falleth out with the soul as it doth with a man that hath many charges and offices, or that 
The soul like to a man that hath many offices.  exerciseth many Arts and occupations, which he practiseth in several places, at sundry times, and by divers instruments and servants. Yea, the very variety of those instruments which the soul useth, and the repugnance that is between the actions thereof, do show manifestly that there is but one workemaster from whom the whole proceedeth, and which governeth and moderateth all, as a living creature aught to do. For there could not be so great agreement in such diversity, if there were divers workmen, and so many souls as there are effects and actions in all the parts of man. Besides, if there were such diversity of kinds of all things, as there is diversity of effects, the number of them would be infinite: whereupon there would great confusion follow in the searching out of nature, and of natural things. Therefore seeing there is but one soul in every body, we must learn whether it hath any certain place and seat in the body, or whether the whole body be the lodging 
Of the seat of the soul in the body.  for it. Now as every form of each body is in the whole body, so the soul is wholly in the whole body, in which the true form and principal essence of man consisteth. For if there were any part thereof that had no soul within it, that part should have no life: as we see it by experience in a member that is dry, or putrefied, or cut off from the body. So that as an Husbandman hath his sundry instruments for the trimming of the ground, and by them effecteth divers works, according to the use of each several instrument: so fareth it with 
The soul compared to an Husbandman.  the soul in the body. For the Husbandman worketh another work with his Plough, than he doth with his Harrows, and otherwise with his Spades and Shovels then with the other above named instruments: so that according to the diversity of his tools he worketh divers works. And yet all this while there are not so many Husbandmen as there are sundry instruments, but one alone useth all these to serve his turn. And he that should demand in which of all his instruments an Husbandman were, should he not (think you) move an impartinent question? For he may be both with his instruments, and also without them: and when he useth them, he applieth them to himself, and himself unto them. And to ask which of his instruments is the chiefest, were not to speak very much to purpose. For every one of them is principal in his use, and for that work whereunto it is 
The chief instruments of the soul.  applied: and so it is with the Soul, and with the instruments thereof. For it can be both with them, and without them, in that manner that hath been already declared. And as the Plough is the chief instrument which the Husbandman hath to cut and divide the ground into furrows, and the Pickaxe to dig in hard places, so the eye is the chief instrument the soul hath for seeing, the ear for hearing, the brain with the thin, clear, and 
Two kinds of uniting things together.  bright spirits therein, for all kind of understanding and knowledge, and the heart for the fountain of life. Now because the soul hath so many sundry powers, offices and actions, it is also taken in divers senses and significations, but especially in the holy scriptures, as (God willing) we shall learn hereafter. In the mean time that union which it hath with the body, is marvelous, and aught to be diligently considered of us. We are to know then, that all things whatsoever are joined together in nature, are always so knit and united by some means: which mean consisteth either in this, that the essence of two extremes do parcicipate one of another, and join together, or else in the agreement of action & of work. Now as the bond of the first mean is between the elements themselves, 
The chief instruments of the soul.  and also between them and that matter whereof bodies are compounded, because there is between them an agreement and participation of nature, every one in his degree, according as they are nearer or further removed off one from an other: so we have the bond of the second mean, between the body & the soul, namely, the agreement of action and work. Let us then consider of the conjunction and agreement that is between a workman and his work, together with those instruments whereby he effecteth his work. For there is 
Of the union between the soul and the body.  an agreement and conjunction between the painter and his picture, by reason of the pencil wherewith he worketh. And the like may be said of all other workmen. Even so the form and kind of all things is as it were the Workemaster in regard of the matter, and the qualities and fashioning of the matter, are the instruments whereby the Species or kind of any thing is united and knit unto the matter. Now the soul is joined to the body as light is unto the air. For by reason of the conjunction of the air and light together, the air is made clear and lightsome: and yet the air and light remain whole and perfect without any mixture or confusion of the one with the other. For they are not mingled together as the elements are in natural mixtures, or as herbs that are beaten together into powder, 
How the soul is joined to the body.  or drugs of the Apothecary in a medicine, that lie mingled and confused one within an other. But the union and bond of two substances joined together is a great deal more near in other kinds and creatures then in the soul, wherein it is removed farther off, by reason that the nature of corporal things admitteth of a nearer conjunction and agreement among themselves, than there can be naturally between corporal and spiritual things. So that the greater agreement of natures there is, the straighter is the bond and union between them. Now we may know of what nature every kind of thing is by the offices and actions thereof. As if the question were touching to nature of that soul, which heretofore we 
divers degrees of nature in the soul.  called the Nourishing and Vegetative Soul, it appeareth by the office and actions thereof that it is hot, and that it taketh part (as also all the actions thereof) of the nature of fire, which is the highest and purest element, and that which approacheth nearest to the celestial natures. But that kind of soul, which we called Sensitive and Cogitatine, such as it is in bruit beasts, ascendeth yet higher and by agreement is linked nearer to the heavens, and to the nature of heavenly bodies. And therefore beasts have not only sense, but some kind of knowledge also, whereby they do in some sort mark and perceive the course of the heavens, and heavenly bodies, and do seem after a sort to understand them. For they have knowledge both of the day and of the night, of Winter and of Summer, yea, they have some sense and perseverance of the alterations of seasons, according as they fall out 
Beasts have some kind of knowledge.  by the course of the Spheres: but yet not by any such knowledge and understanding as is in man. Now sense and knowledge cannot proceed of the power of the elements, but is derived from some higher thing. For it is by means of a more excellent power that beasts are distinguished from plants, holding more of the excellency of their Creator, declaring it a great deal more. But man he he mounteth up much higher. For he ascendeth up above all the heavens, even unto God and to those spiritual natures, by means of reason and understanding, which make his soul capable of heavenly light and wisdom, and of divine inspirations.  
Whereupon it followeth that the original birth of the Soul is celestial. And therefore 
The original of the powers of the soul.  in this diversity of the faculties and powers of the soul and life of man, we must note this, that the lower kinds of the soul and life are not the well-springs and fountains of the highest, as if those powers and faculties did first set these latter working; or as if the highest, did spring of the basest, and received their virtues from them: but they are only certain aider and degrees of help, whereby the highest & chiefest descend and ascend. So that the Vegetative and nourishing life and virtue, is not the original of the senses, and sensitive virtue, but only a degree by which the faculty of sense is derined to the body, and by little and little ascendeth up to her powers and offices. The like may be said of the understanding and of reason in regard of the sensitive faculty. For every sort and kind of life, and every power of the soul hath beginning of itself, and certain bounds within which it is contained. Wherein we have to consider a marvelous work and 
An admirable work of God.  providence of God in that he hath joined & linked together in man things that are so divers. For we take this as granted, that the soul of man is a spiritual nature and not corporal, that it is immortal, and created for the contemplation of celestial and eternal things. On the other side we see, how this so excellent and divine a nature is joined to that part and power that is called Vegetative and Nourishing, which seemeth rather to be corporal then spiritual, to be more terrestrial than celestial, and to be as it were the Kitchen of the bodies of living creatures, and the Storehouse & Original of their generation. So that there is no man of any sound mind, who knowing this marvelous conjunction of nature in things so divers, and considering that it cannot come to pass by haphazard and at adventure, but he must needs be ravished with great admiration, and acknowledge an admirable providence of God the Creator and Lord of nature.  
But they that are instructed in the holy word, and in the doctrine of the Church, have yet a further consideration of these things. For they know well, that albeit the Kitchen of 
Why God hath joined the body to the soul.  man's body shall have no necessary use in the life to come, nevertheless God hath established this order, and would have it thus joined to the soul and spirit, to the end that those beginnings of eternal life, and of that true and perpetual wisdom, which he hath put into us should be kindled and inflamed in this mortal life. For they shall not shine forth in any there, who have not here had some beginnings, but have suffered those to be clean extinguished which they received of God. For this cause doth the voice of God and of his heavenly doctrine sound in men's ears, and to these ends hath he ordained that government, which aught to be amongst them, and hath bound and fortified it with many bonds and rampires. Wherhfore we stand in need of doctrine of instruction and discipline, unto which things the consideration of man's nature may greatly help us. For there 
The natural knowledge of man's body very profitable.  is no science or human wisdom, how great soever it be, that is able to rehearse and comprehend the great profit, which this consideration can afford to men, even so far forth as they may very well learn and know. And of this we may the better be resolved, if we consider well of that which hath already been handled: yea, we may the better judge hereof, if we perfectly understand that division of man made by Saint Paul, and mentioned by us in this discourse. Therefore AMANA, proceed you in the residue of this matter, giving us first to understand, what is the nature and offices of those pure, animal, clear and bright spirits, which we said were serviceable to the soul for all kind of understanding and knowledge. Afterwards you may more easily instruct us at large and teach us, what difference there is not only between the soul and the instruments thereof, whereby it worketh, but also between the instruments themselves, and their nature and offices, and which of them are nearest, or removed farthest from the soul.   

Of the nature and variety of the animal Spirits, and how they are only instruments of the soul, and not the soul itself: of the nature of those bodies wherein the soul may devil and work: of the difference that is not only between the soul and the instruments by which it worketh, but also between the instruments themselves, and their natures and offices, & which of them are nearest or farthest of: of the degrees that are in the union and conjunction of the soul with the body. Chap. 78.  
AMANA. It is requisite that workmen should have instruments answerable to those works which they are to make: and if they have taken in hand but one single and simple work, they need but one tool fit for that purpose: as to saw ●●mber, there needeth but a saw. But they that are to make many works, or one work that is full of variety, stand in need of many instruments: as painters, joiners, carpenters, masons, & such like. The same may be said of the soul: and therefore it hath many members in the body, that are given 
Why the soul worketh with undrie instruments.  unto it as instruments to serve for those works, which it hath outwardly to perform. Moreover, the soul hath humours to preserve and uphold the members, and to keep them always ready for their work, by those means which we have heard already: beside, it hath vital spirits of which the animal spirits are bred, which serve in stead of a light to guard and conduct it in the actions both of the external and the internal senses. And as there is great force in a tool or instrument to 'cause a good or evil work, so is there in the humours, spirits, and members of the body, whereby we are made fit to exercise and to execute all actions whether they concern life and sense, knowledge and understanding, or will and affections. For it fareth in this matter as it doth in the disposition of the air, which the thicker and more obscure it is, the less clear will the light appear unto us: and contrariwise the more pure and thin it is, the brighter and more shining it will show itself unto us.  
Now for this matter, we must call to mind what we heard concerning the generation of spirits both Vital and Animal, in those discourses of the nature and office of the heart. And as they are thin vapours, engendered of blood, concocted, a●d set on fire through the virtue of the heart, that they might be as it were little flames, having divers actions in divers members: so according to the purity and inpurity of the blood in the composition of the body, we are to judge of the spirits that proceed from them. And albeit they have all one and the same fountain, namely, the heart in which they are bred, nevertheless they change according to those places and members wherein they work, and being so changed, they have divers and several actions. We understand then by the Vital spirit, a little flame bred & borne in the hart of the purest blood, whose 
Of the vital and animal spirits and of their operations  office is to carry natural heat to the other members, and to give them virtue & strength to put in practise those actions and offices, which exercise by the same heat. It hath been told us before, that the arteries serve to carry this vital spirit to all the members. But we are further to learn, that when the vital spirits bred in the heart, are in part transported to the brain, others are engendered of them, which are called Animal spirits, in that sense in which we called those Animal faculties and powers, from whence the Soul deriveth her vessels and instruments in the brain. For after the spirits sent by the heart, are come thither, they are made more clean and bright through the virtue of the brain, and agreeable to the temperament thereof: and then being infused into the brain by means of the sinews, they are in stead of a light whereby the actions of the senses are incited and stirred up, as also those motions which are from place to place, And as we have heard, that a good temperature of the blood and of other humours doth much help forward and profit the manners and conditions of men, the same may be said of the heart and of the spirits proceeding from the same. For when the heart is in good temper, so that it is not troubled either with anger, or sadness, or any other evil affection, it is manifest that the spirits are a great deal the better in the brain.  
Now let us consider the wonderful work of God wrought in man by means of the vital 
The effects of the vital and animal spirits in man.  and animal spirits. For what are the chief actions effected in him? Are they not the preservation of life, nourishment, and generation: and then sense and motion, with cogitation and the affections of the heart? And what were all these things without spirits? Hence it cometh that in the holy Scriptures, the heart is taken for the fountain, not only of life, but also of all the actions of men, as it hath been already declared unto us. And for this cause also some have said, that these spirits, and little Vital and Animal flames were the soul itself, or the immediate instrument thereof, that is to say, the very next whereby it worketh immediately, so that there is none betwixt them twain. But the latter is more 
The vital & animal spirits are not the soul.  certain and more agreeable to truth then the former. For if the soul were nothing else but the Vital and Animal spirits, it should fail and perish with them, as the bodily life doth: and so it should not be immortal. But seeing they are but the instruments thereof, as the humours of the body are, and namely, the blood from which they proceed, the soul can well be without them: albeit they cannot be without it, and although it cannot without them perform the works it doth with and by them. And forasmuch as God hath given them to be as it were a light, it is certain that the light of these surmounteth the light of the Sun, Moon, or Stars: and that all these lights have great agreement one with another.  
But it is yet a far more wonderful work of God when not only the soul useth these 
A wonderful work of God.  instruments for the life of man, but also when the celestial spirit joineth itself unto them, using them in the elect, and making them more clear by his heavenly light, that the knowledge of God might be more evident, that their assurance and trust in him might be more firm, and that all the motions of his children might be kindled the more towards him. So likewise the evil spirit knoweth well how to take occasion by the bad temperature of the humours to abuse men as we have already declared, thereby to set forward their ruin, when he possesseth the heart, troubleth and poisoneth the spirits in that and in the brain. Whereupon he attempteth to hinder reason and judgement, to bring men to fury and madness, and to thrust forward their heart and their other members to commit foul and execrable facts. Whereof we have examples in the fury of Saul and in his death: in the death of Achitophel, of judas, and of many others whom he hath brought to slay themselves: as likewise in many other horrible facts daily committed by men. Therefore 
1. Sam. 18. 10 & 31. 4. 2. Sam. 17. 23 Matth. 27. 5.  it is very requisite, that we should diligently consider our nature, and be careful to govern and guide it well. We are to know that our spirits are the habitations of the holy spirit, and therefore we are to pray to God through his Son jesus Christ, to repel and keep back evil spirits far from us, and to inspire his divine and celestial spirit into our spirits, hearts and minds, that it may guide and govern them. And this agreeth very fitly with that prayer, which we heard already uttered by Saint Paul, touching the entire sanctification of the whole man, whom he divided into spirit, soul and body. So that, if we have thoroughly 
1, Thess. 5, 23  tasted of the former discourses, as well concerning the nature of the body as of the soul, we may perceive wherefore the Apostle hath thus divided the whole man. For first, we cannot doubt but that the soul being the principal Worker, is such a substance and nature as dwelleth in a body apt and meet to receive life in. I speak this purposely, because all sorts of bodies are not capable of soul and life: and they that are capable, are not yet capable of every kind of soul and life, but only of such as are agreeable to their nature having those instruments in themselves which may be used by them according to their nature. Wherhfore the soul of man must of necessity have another body, with other instruments and of another nature, than the soul of beasts may have: and the soul of beasts another then the soul of plants, according as every one of them differereth from other both in nature and offices. But of what nature soever either the soul or the body is, the soul hath this property like a busy workman to be in the body, having all her instruments therein. Now when a workman worketh with his tools, he must have within himself the virtue and skill to do that which he doth, because it is not in the instruments whereby he 
A comparison of the soul and a workman.  worketh. For albeit they be appropriated and fitted to the work that is wrought, yet of themselves they can do nothing at all, except they be set on work by the workman, because they have not in them any virtue to work. But this power and faculty is only in the workman, to whom it belongeth to perfect his work. So if the virtue of working were not in the soul, it could work no more with instruments then without. Therefore albeit it seemeth that the natural heat, the humours and the spirits work in the body, and effect something therein, yet we must know, that they do nothing there of themselves, but that they receive of the soul whatsoever they have. As when a Painter draweth a picture, his pencil and 
A similitude.  colours have it not of themselves to do that which is done by them, but of the Painter. The soul than is the Workman that worketh, receiving her virtue and faculty of working not from without, but even in the self same body in which it is. Therefore to speak properly, we may say that she dwelleth in the body, because she abideth therein, as in her house with all her implements and household instruments so that she must needs have the body appropriated and made fit unto her nature. For every soul cannot be indifferently joined to every form and figure of a body, to exercise and execute therein the works of life: but it must work by that order of nature, and according to those laws which the Creator of all things hath ordained from the beginning of the world. Whereupon we may note, that if we had no other reason but the consideration hereof, against the Pithagorical transmigration of souls from one body to another, it were sufficient to make known the greatness of this foppery, and what error there is in that opinion. For if it were so, there would be no difference betwixt the souls of men, of beasts & of plants, neither should there 
Against the transmigration of souls.  be any propriety and aptness of body, and instruments more to one soul then to another. Whereupon all nature touching this point and order appointed by God herein, should be confounded and overthrown.  
But to return to our matter, forasmuch as the temperature of liquors, humours and qualities, (under which I also comprehend the spirits) is most inward and profound, aswell in the body as in the workmanship of nature, it is undoubtedly the fittest instrument the 
The aptest instrument for the soul.  soul hath, & such a one as is nearest linked by agreement and conjunction, with the workman that useth the same. Insomuch that if the soul want this instrument, it departeth away: and if the soul be go and so be wanting to it, then must it also necessarily fail presently, although the members abide yet after the departure of the soul. For the confirmation and strengthening of the members both internal and external, is separated farther from the Soul: but the mixture of the humours and spirit that is in the members, is more near and more inward. True it is, that the humours and qualities are instruments of the soul, as well as the members: but the humours are such instruments as set the rest on working, I mean the members, yea, by means of them the soul useth the members. Wherhfore 
The necessary use of the humours.  if the humours fail, the members are very unprofitable, as it appeareth in them that are dry or puffed up, or taken with the palsy, or oppressed with any other malady. For the members are fit instruments for outward uses and exercise, but the temperature and mixture of the humours and spirits, is ordained to preserve such instruments, to the end they might always be apt and ready to do their duties. Therefore the humours and qualities are in perpetual motion, but the members are not. For the humours must always keep the members in a readiness to work, if need require. Now in the consideration 
The hmours are ●n continual motion.  of all these things, we see wonderful degrees in the union and conjunction that is between the body and the soul, and the instruments which it useth in the body. For as all the elements have their combinations; and are linked together, according to that agreement of nature which they have one with another, every one in his degree from heaven down to the earth, and so likewise all the humours and qualities of all things: even so is it with the soul and body, and with those instruments and means whereby they are joined and knit together, every one in his degree, according as their natures are more or less corporal or spiritual, terrestrial or celestial. For as the vital and animal spirits approach nearest to the nature of the soul, secondly, the humours come nearest to the nature of the spirits, 
What parts of the body come nearest to the soul.  thirdly, the members next to the humours: so all of them keep their rank and order in their degrees, and in that conjunction which the body and soul have together, as also the instruments whereby the soul worketh in the body: whether we consider them either in ascending upward from the lowest to the highest, or else in descending from the highest to the lowest, as we consider the union and conjunction that is betwixt all the elements from the earth to the heavens, and from the heavens to the earth. Whereby we daily see more and more the great marvels of God, and by what means and art he joineth the heavens with the earth, and bodily natures with spiritual.  
This being thus, we are to learn, that all the instruments of the soul are prepared for it in the body, as it were for a Workman that is to do some work, and that there is none but the soul that doth use them. So that it is very evident, that the soul is the perfection of this aptness of the body, and that there is great agreement between the soul and the body, and between all the parts and faculties of both. Forasmuch then as there is such a conjunction, and that GOD hath created them both to be glorified in them, Saint Paul hath good cause to pray for sanctification in them both, to the end that God might be served and honoured, and that both of them might be glorified in the day of the Lord But that our speech may yet be better understood, we must consider in what signification the names of soul, spirit and heart are commonly taken, namely in the holy scriptures, and how we may and aught to use them. This will help us greatly to attain to the knowledge of the nature and immortality of the soul, wherein we are to be instructed before we dissolu● our present assembly.  
Teach us therefore, ARAM, what divisions the Scripture maketh of the whole man, as well in regard of the soul as of the body, and in what significations the names of soul spirit and heart are taken, with the the causes wherefore.   

Of the divisions of man made in the holy Scriptures, as well in respect of the soul as of the body: in what significations the names of soul, spirit, and heart, are used therein, and the causes why: of the entire sanctification of man: how the soul is taken for the life, and for the members and instruments of nourishment, and for nourishment itself. Chap. 79.  
ARAM. Forasmuch as God so honoureth our bodies, as to call them Temples of his holy spirit. I think they cannot be such indeed, except they be wholly dedicated and consecrated unto him, so that we separate them from all filthiness and pollution, by giving ourselves to all kind of sanctimony and honesty of life. For than is the body 
1. Cor. 6. 19  wholly sanctified, when all the senses and members apply themselves only to good and holy works commanded by God, and when they abstain from the contrary. Whereupon it cometh to pass, that the eyes turn aside from beholding all vain things, and take 
Of the entire sanctification of man's body.  pleasure only in seeing that, which may ravish a man with admiration at the excellency of the works of God, and induce him to well doing. The like may be said of sounds, of voices, of words in regard of the ears. And as for the tongue, it is not polluted with vile speeches, with lying, slandering and blasphemy: but praiseth God, and rehearseth his works and wonders, speaking always with a grace to the edifying of all. In like manner, the mouth serveth man for the self same use, as the stomach also and the belly, with all the rest of the members that serve for the nourishing of the body, are not defiled through gluttony and drunkenness. So that the body liveth not to eat, but eateth to live, & to make supply to those necessities unto which GOD hath made it subject. Therefore it observeth sobriety, and is 
The body liveth not to eat, but eateth to live.  contented to minister to the natural affections, that God may be served in this life. Neither doth it abuse the members of generation to whoredom and villainy, but containeth them within their office and lawful use. And as for the feet and hands, with all the rest of the external members, it keepeth them also within the compass of their duty. But seeing the whole body and all the members thereof, take from the soul all their actions and uses, they cannot be sanctified for the service of God and of holy things, unless the soul be first sanctified, which giveth unto them life, motion, and sense.  
For this cause Saint Paul speaking of the sanctification which he wisheth to the Thessalonians, 
1. These 5. 23.  before he maketh any mention of that of the body, he beginneth with the Spirit and Soul, as we have already heard. Now because the soul hath divers powers, he useth two words the better to note them out, especially the chiefest of them. For as it hath been already declared unto us, albeit the soul hath many powers and offices in the body of man, yet there are not so many souls in the body, as there are faculties and effects thereof, but one only soul which doth all that. For this cause the name 
The name● of Soul taken diversely.  of soul is diversly taken in the holy Scriptures. Sometime it is taken for that spiritual substance that is joined with the body to give life unto it, and for all the powers thereof: and sometime again for one part of those faculties and powers. The like may be said of● the name of Spirit, and of heart, and that for the same reason. Thus doth the Scripture sometimes divide the whole man into two parts only, namely, into body and soul: as when jesus Christ sayeth: Fear ye not them which kill the body, but are 
Math. 10. 28. Gen. 6. 17. Easie. ●0 6. Luc. 3. 6. ● Levit. 4. 2. Ezech. 18 4 Rom. 13. 1. Gen. 14. 21 and 46, 27.  not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him, which is able to destroy both soul and body in Hell. And often also the same holy word taketh the one of these two parts for the whole, even in that signification wherein we take the name Person in our tongue. For this cause we read so often in the word, All flesh and every soul, for every person. Also, Give me the Souls, for give me the persons: And all the Souls of the house, for all the persons thereof. Now because the understanding and the will are the principal faculties and powers of the soul, when the Scripture meaneth to set them down distinctly, and to express them together with the nature & virtue of the soul, it taketh the spirit for the one, and the soul for the other: namely the spirit for the reason and understanding and the soul for the will and affections. For otherwise how should every man be entire and sound, unless his thoughts were pure and holy, all his affections rightly ruled, and finally his whole body made obedient, and serviceable to every good work? For we have heard already what Lordship is attributed to the reason and to the understanding: then how the will and affections are in the midst to command, and lastly, the body to serve and obey. So that a 
When a man is perfectly sanctified.  man is then altogether pure and sound, when he thinketh nothing in his mind, desireth nothing in his heart, neither executeth any thing with his members, but that which pleaseth God. We have a place in Easie which teacheth us very clearly, that the spirit and soul are so taken and distinguished as we say: The desire of our soul (saith he) is to thy name, and to the 
Easie. 26. 8. 9  remembrance of thee. With my soul have I desired thee in the night, and with my spirit within ●e● will I seek thee in the morning. We see how first he attributeth desire to the soul, thereby to declare the affection of the people towards the Lord Than he maketh mention of the remembrance and memory that he hath of God, which is in the mind. So that it seemeth he comprehendeth the understanding, and will in the first verse under the name of Soul. Afterwards in the verse following he distinguisheth them more specially, attributing desire to the soul, than watchfulness and diligent inquisition to the spirit, which is not without thinking and discoursing that appertain to the mind. Wherhfore the Prophet minding to signify how he was wholly addicted to the Lord with all his senses and understanding, and with all his heart and will, and that all his affection was towards him he useth this distinction between the soul and the spirit. Likewise we find these two names, Soul and Spirit, joined together in this signification in the Psalms: and I am persuaded, that for the same reason the blessed Virgin joined them together in her song, when she said, My soul magnifieth the Lord, and my spirit rejoiceth in God my Saviour. Now as the Scripture 
Luk. 1. 46. 47.  useth this distinction the better to express the faculties and powers of the soul, so Saint Paul sometimes distinguisheth them into three, that they may the better be known: as when he writeth to the Ephesians in these words, This I say therefore and testify in the 
The soul divided into three parts. Ephe. 4 17. 18  Lord that ye henceforth walk not as other Gentiles walk, in vanity of their mind, having their cogitations darkened, and being stra●gers from the life of God through the ignorance that it ●● them, because of the hardness of their heart. We see here that in the first place he putteth the mind, by which he meaneth understanding and reason, which is the principal faculty and power of the soul, and that which is so much magnified by the Philosophers that it is called of them the Queen, Dame and Mistress. Nevertheless Saint Paul testifieth clearly, that all of it is vanity without Christ: so that a man may well judge, what we are to esteem of the rest that is in man,  
Therefore also we see, how from the mind he cometh to the thought, whereby he comprehendeth both imagination and memory, and all the faculties and powers of the internal 
john 1. 9 and 8. 12, and 9 5 and 1 2. 49.  senses, which he testifieth to be shadowed with darkness, so that there is no heavenly light at all therein without jesus Christ, who is the light of the world. For which cause also he affirmeth that they are estranged from the life of God: that is to say, from that life by which he liveth in his, and which he commandeth and approveth. Afterwards he referreth the cause thereof to their ignorance, which he joined with darkness & with the thought obscured thereby. Finally, he cometh to the will & affections, which he comprehendeth under the name of heart, to whose hardness he referre●h their ignorance as to the fountain thereof. For by reason that through their malice and contumacy they reject the light of God that is offered to their hearts and minds, they blind themselves by the just judgement of God, by which also they are made blind, as they justly deserve, seeing they love darkness more than light, and lying more than the truth.  
Now when all these faculties of the soul are reform with the body, according as we have already declared, then is man come to that entire sanctification of which Saint Paul speaketh in the place before alleged, which is requisite for the true children & servants of God. But it seemeth that in all these divisions and distinctions of the faculties and powers of the soul rehearsed out of the Scriptures, there is not one of them wherein any men●●on is made of the natural powers, by which the soul giveth life and nourishment to the body, notwithstanding that this office also is assigned unto it as well as the rest. Hereof three reasons may be rendered. The first is, that the word of GOD maketh express mention of the 
Why the natural powers are not mentioned in these divisions.  chief faculties and powers, which most properly belong to the nature of the soul, and are given unto it more specially to know and honour God by, and which appertain not only to this life, but also to the other. The second is, because these natural powers may be comprehended under the vital, and under the seat of the affection's, by reason of that communion which they have both with the spirits and with the humours used by the soul in the body, not only to nourish it and preserve life in it, but also to serve for all other things spoken of before. The third reason is, that forasmuch as these natural powers are more terrestrial than celestial, and more corporal than spiritual, and the use and profit of them endeth with this human life, we may comprehend them under the name of body, as things more nearly joined to it for the use of this life, and of which it shall have no need after this life, when it shall be made incorruptible and immortal. And because this power of the soul appeareth more in this life, than any of the rest, therefore it is better known. For this cause the name of soul is oftentimes taken not only for this natural power which we call Vegetative & Nutritive, but also for the life itself, and for all the commodities and desires thereof, yea, for the whole estate of life.  
We may cal● to mind what we heard before of the soul which is in the blood. And when Rube● said to his brethren that would have slain joseph, Let us not strike his soul, 
Genes. 37. 21  it is as much as if he had said, Let us not kill the soul. Now it is certain, that the soul can neither be slain nor stricken: therefore by the soul he meaneth the life. And so his speech was all one as if he had said, Let us not take his life from him, as himself declareth it by and by after in the verse following where he saith, Shed not blood. Also when Moses speaketh of the Law that requireth punishment like to the evil committed, as he sayeth, Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, and foot for foot, so he sayeth, Soul for soul, that is, life for life. And to seek the soul of one, in many places of Scripture 
Deut. 1●. 21.  signifieth to lie in wait for the life, and to pursue it unto death: as it is written of the enemies of jeremy, and of Herod against Christ jesus. There are infinite such like places, both in the old and new Testament, in which the soul is taken for this corporal and natural 
jerem. 11. 21 Matth. 2. 20.  life. Now because the soul giveth life by means of the stomach, belly, and other members and instruments of nourishment, of which we have spoken before, therefore it is often taken for them also, as when Easie sayeth, Therefore Hell, (that is to say, the g●ave) hath enlarged his soul, and hath opened his mouth without measure: and their glory, and their multitude, 
Easie 5. 14.  and their pomp, and he that rejoiceth among them, shall descend into it. The Prophet propoundeth here the grave as a great and horrible monster, that hath a throat, with a stomach and belly, as it were a deep gulf and bottomless pit to swallow up and to consume all. And therefore as he sayeth, that he hath opened his throat or mouth, so he sayeth, that he hath enlarged his soul, that is to say, his stomach and belly, that it may be more capable to receive greater store of meat. The same Prophet in an other place, meaning to set down the vain hope, that shall deceive them that band themselves, and enterprise any thing against the people of GOD, and that look for aid and deliverance from any other besides him, saith, that They are like to an hungry man, who dreameth that he 
Easie. 29. 8.  eateth, but when he awaketh his soul is empty: or to a thirsty man, who dreameth that he is drinking, but when he awaketh, behold he is faint, and his soul longeth. Which is as much as if he had said, that such a one supposing he hath well eaten and well drunk, findeth this stomach and his belly empty, and is still as hungry and thirsty as he was before. Also when jeremy sayeth, I have satiate the weary soul, and have replenished every languishing soul, it is certain that by the soul he meaneth the members & instruments of nourishment, with the body 
jerem. 31. 25  that receiveth it & the life that is preserved: for the soul neither eateth nor drinketh. But Ezechiel showeth us thi● yet more clearly saying, They shall not satisfy their souls, nor fill their 
Ezech. 7. 29.  bowels. For himself expoundeth that by the word Bowels, which before he called souls.  
Moreover, we have further to note, that forasmuch as the soul can no more give life to the body without food, then without these members and instruments by which it distributeth and delivereth the same, it is likewise taken not only for the food of the body, but also for those instruments and means whereby men get and obtain food. Therefore it is written in the Law of the hired servant that is poor and needy, Thou shalt give him his 
Deut. ●4. 15. Levit 19 13.  hire for his day (that is, the same day he laboureth) neither shall the Sun go down upon it: for he is poor, and therewith sustaineth his soul: as if he should say, it is his life and food whereby he must be sustained. So that he which beguileth him of his hire, taketh away his soul and life from him as much as in him lieth. It is written also. That no man shall take 
Deut. 24. 6.  the neither nor the upper millstone to pledge: for this gage is his soul. By which phrase of two millstones, that serve to grind the corn, the Lord comprehendeth all those instruments wherewith men get their living by their labour, of what occupation and trade soever they be. For as a man can not grind without a millstone or without corn, to have meal for bread to maintain life withal: so poor Artificers and Handicraftmen cannot grind, nor confequently live, if those tools & instruments be taken from them, whereby they must get both their own living, and the living of their wives and children. Therefore God saith that such a gage is the soul, by which he understandeth the life, and by life the food and nourishment that preserveth it, and consequently the instruments by which poor men and Arificers get their living. To conclude, it seemeth that this kind of phrase used by the Hebrews agreeth well enough with our common speech, in which we often take the life for food and charges to maintain life. As when we say, that a man getteth and purchaseth his life or living with the sweat of his face. We say likewise, that we give life to those whom we feed, and take life from them whom we deprive of food and nourishment, and of the means to get it. But we must learn some other significations of this word Soul, taught us in the holy Scriptures. And first, what is meant by a living soul, and what by a natural, or sensual body, and what is a spiritual body: and how the name of soul is taken for the desires of the flesh, and for all things belonging to this life. Therefore it belongeth to thee ACHITOB, to discourse upon this matter.   

What is meant by a living soul, what by a sensual and natural body, and what by a spiritual body: how the name of soul is taken for all the desires of the flesh, and for all things belonging to this life: and not only for the whole person alive, but also for the person being dead, and for a dead corpse: and lastly, for the spirit separate from the body. Chap. 80.  
ACHITOB. Men may well study in the schools of the most skilful and excellent Lawmakers, Philosophers, Orators, and Doctors that are in the world, yet they shall reap small profit thereby except they come to that school, where the spirit of God is our master and teacher. For this cause jesus Christ, after he heard the confession that Peter made of him, said thus unto him, Blessed art thou Si●on, the so●●e of jovas': for flesh and blood hath not revealed 
Matth. 16. 17.  it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven. Now in that he opposeth flesh and blood to the Father in heaven, he declareth sufficiently, that according to the manner of the Hebrew speech, he understandeth by these two words, whatsoever is in man, that is of man. As when Saint john saith, that as many as received Christ, to them he gave power to be the sons of God, 
joh. 1. 12. 13.  even to them that believe in his name, which are borne not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. And to confirm this, it is said else where, What man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him? even so the things of God knoweth no man, but 
1 Cor. 2. ●1. 12  the spirit of God. Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the spirit which is of God, that we might know the things that are given to us of God. To this purpose when Saint Paul opposeth a spiritual man, to him whom he called before a natural man, and altogether uncapable of the Spirit of God, he saith that the spiritual man discerneth all things, and is judged of no man. For being such a one, he hath certain knowledge of heavenly things, to be able to discern light from darkness, & truth from lies, that he be not deceived by a false show of truth. Neither is he judged of any body, because the truth of God is not subject to the judgement of men, how skilful and conceited soever they be, without the spirit of regeneration.  
Now then as we have heard, that the soul is taken in sundry significations declared by us, we may now know, that it is taken oftentimes in the holy Scriptures for all the virtues, for all natural gifts and graces, for all affections and desires, for all pleasures and commodities, and for other things appertaining to this life. For this cause li●ing soul signifieth in the Scriptures as much as creature, having soul and natural life, and it is so taken for 
What is meant by a living soul. Genes. 1. CITIZEN Cor. 15. 44. What is meant by a natural and by a spritualman.  all living creatures of what nature and kind soever they be, and Saint Paul in the place alleged and in the fifteenth of the same epistle, calleth a natural man & a natural body, that man and that body, which liveth with such a soul and such a life. unto whom he opposeth diversely, a spiritual man & a spiritual body. For by a natural man he understandeth a man not regenerated by the Spirit of God, & by a spiritual, a man regenerated: and by a natural, body, he meaneth a body that liveth by this corporal life, such as it is in this world before the death and resurrection thereof. By a spiritual body, he understandeth not only such a body as men have that are already regenerated in this life, but also such a one as it shall be after the resurrection, when it shall be fully regenerated and made immortal, and like to the glorious body of jesus Christ. For besides the human soul wherewith it liveth here, and in regard of which Saint Paul calleth it natural, it shall also have a divine virtue, that shall wholly change in it all corruptible and mortal qualities, and all human infirmities, unto which it is subject in this life, into incorruptible and immortal qualities. And so doth the Apostle expound it saying in the same place, The body is sown in corruption, and riseth in incorruption: it is sown in dishonour, it riseth in glory, it is sown in weakness, and is raised in power. It is sown a natural body, and is raised a spiritual body: there is 
Genes. 2. 7.  a natural body, and there is a spiritual body. As it is also written, The first man Adam was made a living soul: and the last Adam was made a quickening spirit. Whereupon we have to note, that Saint Paul speaketh still of the self same body, which remaineth always one in substance. But forasmuch as it altereth in qualities and kind of life, therefore as he calleth it spiritual, in regard of the Spirit of Christ, and of his spiritual and heavenly virtues, by which he changeth the first qualities of it, as the Apostle teacheth us by such as are opposed against them: so it is also called an animal or natural body, of the soul, which giveth unto it only that natural life that it hath in this world, and not that spiritual and immortal life, which it shall have after this. For the soul which now can give none but this mortal life by reason of sin, shall then have another virtue, when sin shall be wholly abolished, to give unto the body an immortal and blessed life, by mean● of that spiritual and divine virtue of jesus Christ, whereby it shall be quickened, that it may quicken the body with the same life. But because this word Animal derived from Anima, that signifieth the soul, is not very common in our English tongue, we find in the usual translation of these places of Saint Paul alleged by us, these words natural and sensual in stead of Animal, which the Greek word properly signifieth. Therefore in expounding 
What is meant by an animal or natural man.  the sense of these kinds of speech used by the Apostle we must understand, that he doth not call animal, or sensual and natural, the body of man only, or man by reason of his body only, but the whole man compounded of body and soul. For he is altogether animal, that is, natural and sensual both in body and soul without Christ jesus: but being in him, so long as he liveth in this world, he is both animal, that is to say, natural and sensual, and also spiritual. First he is animal, both because he is not yet perfectly regenerated, as also because he is not yet immortal and glorified, as he shall be after his resurrection. On the other side he beginneth even now to be spiritual, because he hath a beginning of regeneration wrought in him, which being once made perfect, he shall be regenerated much more absolutely, and made wholly conformable to jesus Christ both for immortality and eternal happiness. For than he shall be no more animal, natural, sensual, and spiritual altogether, but only spiritual, according as I have already declared. Wherhfore let us know, that every one shall retain still the self same body and soul, which he hath in this life, but by reason of that change of evil qualities, which being in both, shall be made in the other life, Saint Paul calleth it spiritual, and not for any conversion that shall be of the body into the spirit. For as a man is called animal, in regard of the soul that is given him, because the soul is the chiefest thing in him: so he is called spiritual in respect of the other life, and of the excellency that shall be added to the soul, and by the soul to the body, through the heavenly and spiritual virtue and power of jesus Christ.  
Now then seeing the soul is taken in the holy Scriptures for the natural life, which is not 
The soul p●t for the affections.  without affections, we may see it sometimes also put for them. Therefore when the word of GOD would express a great affection of love, it saith of the son of Sichem, that his 
Gen. 34. 3.  soul clave unto Dina●: and after it is added, that he loved her and spoke to the heart of the maid, that is to say, kindly, and as her heart could wish. In like manner it 
Gen. 44 30.  i●written of jacob, that his soul was bound to the soul of Benjamin his son: to signify, th●t he loved him tenderly, as his own soul and life. And of jonathan it is said, that his 
1 Sam. 18. 1.  soul was knit with the soul of David: which phrase is afterward expounded by the scripture, where it is said, that jonatha● loved David as his own soul. We are also commanded 
Dout. 65. Matth. 10. 39 M●r. 5. 35. Luke 9 24 john 12. 25,  ●o love GOD with all our soul, as also with all our heart and mind. Therefore jesus Christ saith that whosoever seeketh and saveth his soul, shall loose it, but he that hate●● and looseth it for his sake, shall find it and save it unto eternal life. In which word●, the soul is not only taken for the life, but also for all the commodities thereof, and for the desires of the flesh, such as are glory, honours, riches, pleasures, delights, ease, and all kind of prosperity: for the obtaining of which things, many turn aside from the way of salvation, and take the way that leadeth to destruction. Also we read many places in the Scriptures, in which the soul is taken not only for the whole person living, but also for the person dead, yea for the dead body, and sometimes for the spirit separated from the body.  
But we must well consider in what sense there is mention made of the death of the soul. Balaam wished that his soul might die the death of the just; but he speaketh after the manner 
How we are to understand that the soul dieth. N●m. 23. 10.  of the Hebrews, who used many times to say My soul and thy soul, for myself and thyself, or for my person and thy person: according to that before mentioned, that the name of soul and of flesh, are often taken for the whole man, and for that which we call Person. For this cause whereas Moses said, that GOD swore by himself, jeremy and Amos say, that he swore by his soul, in the same sense and signification. Likewise, the name of Soul is not 
Gen 22. 16. jerem. 51. 14. Amos. 6. 8. Levit. 21 1. The name of soul● put ●or t●e dead body job. 33. 18. 22  only taken for a living person, but also for him that is dead: as when it is written in the Law, Let none of you be defiled by the dead among his people, it is in the Hebrew, over the soul of his people, that is over the dead body of any of the people, by touching it after it is dead. And when job sayeth, that the soul of a man draweth to the grave, and his life to the buryers, and that God delivereth his soul from going into the pit, he taketh not the name of soul for that spiritual essence that giveth life unto man, but for the life itself, or for the man and body itself, which is laid in the grave after death. So that his meaning is no other than to say, that God delivereth man from death, whereby otherwise he should be brought into the pit. And when David saith, Lord, thou hast brought up my soul out of the grave, he showeth after very 
Psalm 30. ●. Psalm. 56. 13. and 22. 20.  evidently what he understandeth by his soul when he saith. Thou hast revived me from them that go down into the pit. He taketh this word Soul in the same sense when he saith, that God delivered his soul from death and from the midst of Lions: and when he prayeth him to deliver his soul from the sword, his desolate soul from the power of the dog. For it is easy to judge by these words, that he taketh not the soul in these places for the essence of the soul and proper substance thereof: because the soul cannot be smitten with the sword, nor devoured of Lions, nor carried away by dogs. Therefore seeing the soul is so often put in the Scripture for corporal life which endeth with the body, and which the soul giveth unto it by means of those instruments, which it hath in the body, the name of Spirit 
What is meant by Spirit in the Scrptu●●ss  is many times used therein, to signify more specially this essence and spiritual substance, which we call the soul, and which may be separated both from the body and blood, as that which liveth after the death of the body. Therefore David did so use the word Spirit, when he recommended his soul to God by the same words, which jesus Christ used 
Psalm. 31. 5, Luk. 23. 46. Acts 7 59 Eccles. 12. 7.  upon the cross. Afterwards S. Steven took it in the same sense when he said, Lord jesus receive my spirit. For this is that spirit of which Solomon saith, that it returneth to God that gave it, after that the body is returned to the earth and to dust of which it consisteth. And yet this difference is not always observed in the Scriptures. For as we have already heard, both the heart, and soul, and spirit are oftentimes generally and indifferently put for all the pa●tss and powers of the soul, and not only for those of men, but also of beasts: as when the Wise man attributeth spirit unto them, having regard to this corporal life. For when Solomon speaketh so, it is in consideration of this life that consisteth in breath, which is also called Spirit in the holy Scriptures, which use one and the same word to signify both wind and breathing, and whatsoever we call spirit, taking it both for the soul of man, for the Angelical natures, and for the divine nature. Therefore job speaking of this present 
job. 27. 3. 4.  life saith, So long as my breath is in me, and the spirit of God in my nostrils, my lips surely shall speak no wickedness, and my tongue shall utter no deceit. But when Saint Paul saith, The same 
Tim. 8. 16.  spirit beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God, he taketh the word Spirit in an other sense than job did in the place now alleged. For in the first place he taketh th● name of Spirit for the Spirit of God, and in the second place for the spirit of man, which signifieth the human soul, It is true that in this place he taketh it for the soul and or the spirit, such as it is in regenerate men: but when he saith elsewhere, that the spirit of ●an 
●. Cor. 2 11.  knoweth the things of man, he taketh the spirit simply for a human spirit, and for th● understanding part thereof.  
Likewise the name of soul is put, not only for his natural life and for the will and affections, but also for the self same thing that is comprehended by this word Spirit, wh●● one would signify thereby the greatest excellency of the soul. As when David saith, Our soul waiteth for the Lord, for he is our help and our shield. Surely our heart shall rejoice in him, 
Psal 33 20. 21 1. Pet. 2. 11. 12  because we trusted in his holy name. And again, My soul rejoiceth in the Lord, and is glad in his salvation. And when Saint Peter saith, Abstain from fleshly Iustes, which fight against the soul, and have your conversation honest among the Gentiles, he taketh the name of soul for the spiritual man, who hath his mind and all his affections well ruled according to the will of God. As then we have heard in what sort the soul may die, in regard of this corporal life according to the phrase of the Scriptures and of the Hebrews, so by this which Saint Peter saith, that fleshly lusts fight against the soul, we may learn after what manner the soul, may be said to die and and to be slain. For nothing can bring death unto it but sin. Wherhfore it is not said without good reason in the Book of Wisdom, that the mouth that telleth 
Wisd. 1.  lies slayeth the soul. Albeit then the soul is immortal, in that it can never be without life, no more than the Angels, who are spirits like to it: nevertheless it is after a sort mortal so far forth as being far off separated from God through sin, it liveth no more that 
How the soul is after a sort mortal.  blessed life, wherewith it should live if it were united and joined unto him by true faith and sincere obedience. For it should enjoy the self same life, which the heavenly Angels, with the souls and spirits of the blessed, do enjoy. As contrariwise the souls of wicked live with the same life that the Devils do, which is called dead, because it is a more accursed life then death itself, and therefore called the second and eternal death.  
Now we may think ourselves sufficiently taught touching the diverse significations in which the name of soul is taken. It seemeth to me, that we have spoken enough of the Anatomy of the body and soul, of which the most of our discourses hitherto were made: which may suffice for the contentation of every one, that will keep himself within the bounds and limits set down unto us by the wisdom of GOD in his word. But to finish this whole matter concerning the soul, which we have chief considered in her parts, powers, and effects, we are further yet to be instructed in the creation, generation, nature, and immortality thereof. And because they are marvelous difficult matters, and such as are not without great contrarieties of opinions even amongst the learned, I am of opinion that these things are to be discoursed of, according to that manner of teaching of the ancient Academics, 
The ancient Academical kind of teaching.  which we followed in our first meeting: namely, upon the theme propounded unto us, to balance the arguments on the one part, with the reasons of the other side, that so we may diligently search out the truth. Notwithstanding it shallbe lawful for us to deliver our opinion, so long as we ground it upon the infallible testimony of the word of God, leaving to every one his liberty to judge which is best, and to embrace and follow the same. For our entrance therefore into so goodly a matter, thou shalt begin, ASER, tomorrow to declare unto us what thou shalt think good concerning this proposition, namely, whether the soul is begotten with the body, and of the seed thereof: or whether it be created a part and of another substance, and what is requisite for us to know therein.   
The end of the tenth days work   

The eleventh days work.  

Whether the soul of man is engendered with the body, and of the same substance that the body is of: or whether it be created by itself and of another substance: whether it be needful for us to know what the soul is, and what is the essence thereof, or only to know of what quality it is, with the works and effects thereof. Chap. 81.  
ASER. I am of opinion, that in discoursing Philosophically concerning the knowledge of the soul, we aught to practise that which Socrates 
Plate in Phaed.  said, being tired with the consideration of the nature of things, namely, to be very careful lest it happen to us as it doth to them that are busy beholders of the Sun eclipsed, whose sight is dazzled thereby, except they behold the image thereof in water, or in some such like thing. For even the Spirit that is wholly given to the understanding of itself, is often as it were amazed and carried far out of the way of true contemplation, unless it know how to consider itself in the glass of all brightness, laid open in the sacred word of God and not stay altogether in the discourses of natural Philosophy and human reason, which many times blind even the sharpest wits of men. True it is, that we have many things in 
The word of God the true glass for the mind.  Nature that afford us evident testimonies of the creation, nature, and immortality of the soul, which have greatly moved, not only those Philosophers that have borne greatest reverence to GOD, and acknowledged him to be the Creator of all things, but even those also that were most profane, and made the greatest Idol of Nature.  
Nevertheless the knowledge of so high and difficult a matter, could never be perfectly comprehended, but of them only that have heard the doctrine of the Spirit of God, and have received the testimonies of his word, as certain demonstrations of those things, 
Who know the soul best  which the sense of man is not able to conceive. For indeed we can not pronounce any thing certain of so high a nature as is that of the soul, except it be by his testimony who hath created it, and who only knoweth it, as the workman knoweth his work. Yet we aught not to contemn natural reasons found out by the learneder sort, which are as it were, beams of that true light: but rather diligently consider of them, as helps that may greatly further us in the understanding of that we seek, and to serve for the confounding of so many Atheists as impudently dare deny the immortality of the soul, and that judgement of God, which shall be to the everlasting happiness and joy of the good, and to the perpetual grief and torment of the wicked.  
Now albeit the soul of man hath no parts nor members into which it may be divided as the body may, nevertheless in the sequel of our discourses concerning the Anatomy of the body, we have also made as it were an Anatomy of the soul, in regard of her faculties, powers, and offices, whereby we may attain to some good measure of knowledge touching the nature thereof, and of the difference that is between it and the souls of all other creatures that have soul and life. But there remain yet very great difficulties concerning the creation and substance thereof, upon which points it shall be very profitable for us to be well resolved.  
We know well enough by that which we have heard before, that the soul of man cannot be of any corporal nature, or compounded of any corruptible nature, as the body is. For if it were so, then must it necessarily be mortal as the body is, and be far from doing that which it doth, Besides, it would follow thereupon that the soul of man differed in nothing from the soul of beasts. But we know by the effects of it that there is great difference between them, yea greater than between heaven and earth: which being so, it followeth well. that it is not engendered with the body of the same substance with it, and that, the substance 
The soul is not bred of corporal s●ed.  of the soul is not derived from the same seed. Again, if the soul be created of some other substance, and not begotten with the body of any human seed, a man may ask from whence then cometh that pollution that is in it through sin, whereby the whole race of mankind is corrupted, and what power Original sin aught to have over it. For if GOD daily createth souls for those human bodies that come into the world continually, as we do believe, and that to place and lodge them in those bodies even from the womb, surely he createth them no otherwise then he did all other creatures, which he created good. Whereupon it followeth, that he created not souls corrupted and infected with sin, but pure and sound, as those were of our first Parents before sin entered into the 
Gennes. 1.  world. Nevertheless we see that the chief corruption and infection in man through sin, is in the soul. For if the soul were not infected, the body should not be stained therewith, as that which is but the lodging and instrument of the soul, and as it were, the servant thereof. Wherhfore when the soul is clean and pure, the whole man, both body and soul is altogether pure: but when that is defiled, all is defiled. From whence then, will some men say, doth the soul receive this infection of sin, wherewith she is polluted after her creation? Hath she it of herself, or of the body after she is lodged therein, and of the corruption of that seed, of which the body is begotten? These are very profound questions and wonderful difficult, about which many great Divines have troubled themselves along time. But 
Modesty requisite in searching the truth.  the wiser sort inquire soberly into them, so as they give evident testimony of that modesty, wherewith they seek after the understanding of the great secrets of God, rather than make profession that they have found them out. Others there are who one while with conjectures according to their fancy, an other while with reasons drawn from the nature of things, set down for a certain truth whatsoever cometh into their mind.  
Now then being to hear what reasons can be alleged, we will omit and pass over, as well them that walk wholly in the darkness of ignorance, as those that will not go fair and softly, and as it were feeling with the hand, but run on swiftly whither they please, without fear of downefalles. We will take a middle course, neither too high nor too low, keeping ourselves within the limits of the word of truth, which teacheth us that we incur original sin, because we are all the children of Adam, to whom, and to whose posterity 
How we become guilty of original sin  God gave original justice, which made man obedient to God, and the body subject to reason. But it was given him with this condition, that if he kept not the commandment of God, both he and his posterity should be deprived of that gift and privilege: even as if some noble man having committed treason should be disgraded from the title of Nobility both he & his children. This deptivation of gifts bestowed upon man by God, of which we should have been the inheritors, but for the sin of our first Parents, is called by the Divines, Original sin. To proceed then with our former matter, first I say, that in my mind, it is not so necessarily required of us to know what the soul is, or what is the essence 
What original sin is.  and substance thereof, as to know of what quality it is, and what are the actions and works of it. And that this is so, we may judge by that bountifulness, which GOD the Lord 
How we must learn to know the soul.  of nature useth towards us, and which he manifesteth unto us on every side by many fold signs and testimonies. For whatsoever is expedient for us, the same he propoundeth unto us both very abundantly, and with such facility, that we may easily find it out and bring it into use. Wherhfore we can have no more evident token, that a thing is not profitable or not very necessary for us, than this, that it is rare, far off, and hid from us, yea, very hard to find out and to attain to the use of it. So that when we are admonished to know ourselves we must not refer this to the knowledge of the essence of the soul, which we are not able to know or comprehend, but to the knowledge of the effects and works of it, thereby to know how to frame our manners and our whole life, to the end that chase vice away, we might follow after virtue. And this by the grace of Christ jesus, will lead us to that life in which we shall be perfectly wise and good, and live immortal and blessed with GOD for evermore.  
Than, as we shall see the Creator of all things face to face, who otherwise is incomprehensible 
When we shall know ourselves perfectly.  unto us, so we shall know ourselves perfectly in him. True it is, if we understand well the principal cause that is taught us in his word, why he created man after his image and likeness, and gave him an immortal soul partaker of understanding & reason, we shall be well instructed in that point we desire to know touching the nature of the soul. So that although we cannot thoroughly know or define what is the essence or substance thereof, nevertheless seeing it was created of God, that being joined unto him it might have eternal happiness, we must needs say, that it is a substance in some sort capable of the divine nature & that may be joined therewith. For being endued with the knowledge of the Divinity, the love of the same is bred within it, by which love the soul is so joined unto God, that it is endued with perpetual happiness. 
What the soul is.   
And thus we may say, that the soul of man is a spirit that giveth life to the body whereunto it is joined, and which is capable of the knowledge of GOD to love him, as being meet to be united unto him through love, to eternal felicity. But let us consider the diversity of opinions of the best learned, as well upon this matter, as upon the doubts mentioned by us in our speech. For the first, there are many who think, that we take our generation and birth of our fathers and mothers, not only, in regard of our bodies, but also for our 
Variety of opinions touching the essence of the soul.  souls: and that souls are produced of souls, as bodies are begotten of bodies, being led by the reason before spoken of. For they cannot conceive how original sin, which is the pollution of our nature that before was good and pure, by reason of the hereditary corruption of the first father of men, can be derived from Adam to all his successors, and from father to son, if the souls of children take not their original from the souls of their parents, as the bodies do of their bodies: considering that the soul is the chief subject of original sin, and of all the rest that proceed from it, as rivers issue from their fountain. Wherhfore, as we set Adam before our eyes for the first stock or root of all mankind, in regard of men's bodies that have all their beginning from him: so these men do the like with his soul, and the souls of all other men, as if souls were derived from souls, and bodies from bodies. And indeed at the first blush a man might think, that Christ jesus was of this mind when 
john 3. 6.  he said, That which is borne of flesh, is flesh, and that which is borne of the spirit, is spirit: if it be so that the name of flesh in that place aught to be taken for the whole man, comprehending under it the body, soul, and spirit, and whatsoever excellent thing is in man, being considered in his corrupt nature, as the word flesh is commonly taken in the holy Scriptures, when it is opposed to the spirit, or to God. And for this cause many do not take this word flesh so largely, neither in this place, nor in any other like to this, as if the spirit of man & the chief power of his soul were comprehended therein: but they restrain it to that part which they call sensual, under which they understand not only the body of man, but also those powers of the soul, which they have common with beasts. Therefore they doubt not to say, that the soul, which is called vegetative and sensitive, like to that of plants and beasts, is produced of the same seed that the body is: and that it is aswell contained in the seed, as the matter and nature of which the body is compounded. Whereupon it would follow, that in this respect there is no difference betwixt the soul of man & the soul of beasts and plants. They say well, that every living creature hath but one only soul, albeit there be divers powers thereof in certain creatures, in some more, in some less. Hereof it is that they call that of 
Why one soul is called vegetative, another sensitive, the third reasonable.  plants by a more special name Vegetative, because it hath but this virtue and office only of which it taketh the name. And albeit the soul of beast hath the same virtue also, yet they call it not by the same name, but only sensitive, under which they place the vegetative soul that is in plants, as a power and property thereof. So likewise, although the soul of man, hath both these together, yet they call it not either vegetative or sensitive but only reasonable under which they place the vegetative and sensitive soul that is in beasts for powers and properties thereof, as before I said, they placed the vegetative under the sensitive. But I would very gladly AMANA, be instructed in that which thou canst deliver very well to this purpose, following this excellent matter, which will serve greatly to 'cause us more specially to understand the nature and immortality of the soul, the chief object whereat we aim.   

Whether there be any thing mortal in the soul of man: of the distinction between the soul and the powers of it: of the opinion of Philosophers, and what agreement is between them touching the soul of brute beasts, and the nature and substance of it: of their opinion that derive the soul of man and the soul of beasts from one fountain: of them that ascend higher, and of their reasons. Chap. 82.  
AMANA. That which we read of jesus Christ his saying to Nicodemus in these words. If when I tell you earthly things, ye believe not, how should ye believe, if I shall tell you of heavenly 
john 3. 12.  things? may give us occasion to say in like manner, that if we cannot know the earth, neither the body and soul of man, nor the nature and virtue thereof, how should we attain to the knowledge of Heaven and of those spiritual natures, of God and of his works? And if we cannot comprehend in ourselves the works of our soul how shall we understand the works of GOD in the whole world? And if we be not able to conceive them, doth it follow therefore that he doth them not? and yet there are many that conclude after that manner. For they believe no more than they are able to know and comprehend by their natural reason, according as they deal also with their soul. For because they understand not 
Of the distinction of the soul from the powers thereof.  what is the proper essence of it, neither can see it after it is entered into the body and joined therewith, nor yet when it departeth away, therefore they conclude, that it is no other thing but as it were a fire that lasteth so long as there is matter agreeable to the nature of it, and is quenched when that faileth.  
But for that which you delivered to us, ASER, of the sayings of certain touching the divers kinds of souls, and the powers of every one of them, it seemeth to me that (understanding them as you say these men do) one of these three things will follow of their opinion. For they must of necessity yield to this, either that the soul of man is partly immortal & partly mortal: or that a man hath three souls, one immortal & two mortal: or lastly, that the powers of the reasonable soul, which we call Sensitive & Vegetative, are not of the proper essence and substance thereof, but only of the body, & that they are instruments of the reasonable soul, as members thereof. For I doubt not but they will readily confess this, that the soul is immortal: and if that part of the soul which they call Vegetative and Sensitive be of the self same essence and substance, in that respect it shall be mortal. Now if we so distinguish all these three sorts of souls in man, that we make three kinds of them, the first and principal shall be immortal, and the other two mortal. And if they will say, that they take not the vegetative and sensitive soul in man, for two diverse kinds of souls, but only for two sundry powers of the reasonable soul, I demand of them whether these two powers are so joined unto it, that it may be a soul as it is, both without them and with them, even as before we said that it might be with the body and without the body. I doubt not but every one will answer me to this question, according to that opinion he hath conceived of the nature of man's soul. If the question be made touching the soul of beasts, the Philosophers agreed well amongst themselves herein, that it is of the same matter 
The soul of the beast is of a corporal substance. Gen. ● 4. Levit. 17. 14.  of which their bodies are compounded, whether it be derived and taken from the same, or whether it be the property of the matter. Therefore they mean, that it is the Vital spirit only therein that giveth life unto them, which is of a corporal matter and substance: or else that it is the temperature or temperament of the whole body generally, which is the property of that matter. And so the soul in beasts shall be the life itself, of which the Vital spirit or the temperament are the instruments. Which seemeth to agreed well with that which Moses saith, That the soul of the flesh is in the blood thereof, that is to say, the life, according as we showed when we speak of the nature of blood, and of those means by which it giveth life to the creatures. For when Moses speaketh so, a man might say that it is as much in effect as if he said, that the blood is as it were the pipe and instrument that conveyeth life to the body, and that the Vital spirits are the thing that giveth motion and sense to the body, which is the same that we call Soul: neither is there any inconvenience to yield to this in regard 
The Vital spirit compared to the flame of a lamp.  of the soul of beasts. And albeit we see not with the eye how these Vital spirits, or the temperament of all the parts of the body, do give unto it that life which it hath, yet a man may judge and have some knowledge hereof by the things we see in nature, which have some agreement and resemblance with this. For we conceive well, how the flame is nourished by the oil and match that is in a lamp, or by the wax and week 
It is engendered of the blood in the heart.  that is in a candle. In which we see two sorts of matter differing one from another, joining both together. Besides, we see how that by means of this conjunction, and of the temperature and agreement that these two matters have each with other, the flame being kindled in them, is nourished and preserved. So likewise we propound the Vital spirit in the bodies of living creatures, as a thin flame engendered of the blood, by virtue of the heart: and this flieth as it were throughout all the parts of the body, distributing unto it Vital heat, which quickeneth it, and endueth it with that virtue by which it hath motion and sense, and exerciseth all her actions, so that every member doth his office. Now we see well in this comparison the matter that is in the lamp or in the candle, and the temperature and agreement that is between the parts of it, and how the flame is fed and maintained after it is lighted. We may see also from whence this flame is brought to the lamp, and how this matter is lighted, and that neither the matter, no● the agreement and temperature thereof bred this flame of themselves, but that it is brought from elsewhere.  
In like manner, we may easily conceive that which hath been told us of the vital spirit, & of the blood whereof it is bred, and of the virtue & power of the heart in the generation of it. But one may say unto me, that there is great difference between the comparison we made of a lamp or candle, and of his flame, & between that which we have spoken of the generation of the vital spirit, because this flame, which we call the vital spirit, springeth of the self same matter by which it is nourished and preserved, and is kindled there. And therefore it were requisite that we should further know what is the cause of this, as also why the life and motion that are therein, are inflamed by this vital spirit, and not by any other means whatsoever, whether it be the blood or the flesh. And yet this spirit is as well of a corporal and bodily matter, as all the rest, of which the body is compounded: so that it hath his original of the self same elements from whence that matter is derived, out of which it springeth. But of such inquisitors I would likewise demand, from whence the heavens, the Sun and Moon, with the other planets and stars have their motion, their light and properties. It is very certain they can yield me no other true cause, but that God hath created 
God the author of nature.  them of that nature, that he hath so framed them, and that he always preserveth them such, by the divine virtue and power of his providence. So I say to them, that we aught not to search for any other cause or reason of that we mentioned before, or go any further, or mount higher in the inquision thereof. But forasmuch as that which we have now delivered of the nature and matter of the Soul, is proper to that Sensitive & Sensual soul which we attribute to beasts, we must come more particularly to that that is proper to men, which we call the reasonable soul. This is that matter and point, about which the greatest and most 
Sundry opinions of the reasonable soul.  ingenious wits have most laboured and disputed from time to time. For they that affirmed the soul of man to be no other thing then the Vital and Animal spirits by means of which the body receiveth life, or the temperature and temperament of the humours, and matter of which the body is compounded, these men put no difference between the soul of beasts & the soul of men. And as for them that take it to be the breath, or a fire of which the natural heat proceedeth, they jump in opinion with the former, who place it in the Vital spirits. And they that say it is in the harmony of the whole body, are of the same mind with them that place it in the temperament. So that according to the opinion of all these, the soul of man is nothing else but natural heat, or else the Vital spirit that is in the blood: as the Physicians commonly take it, whose consideration reacheth not farther then that they can comprehend by their natural reason, following therein Hypocrates, who agreeable to this opinion saith that the soul is daily engendered, after that manner, which we have already 
The soul proceedeth not from the ●lementss.  declared. But they that more diligently look into the properties and excellent gifts, wherewith the reasonable soul is endued, know assuredly by their natural reason, that these opinions are very unworthy the noble excellency thereof, and that they are of no force in regard thereof. For they judge very well, that the understanding and reason with the discourses thereof, that the judgement and such memory as it hath that the discerning of good and evil, of things honest and dishonest, of virtues and vices, with the knowledge of human and divine things, whereof it is partaker, are works and actions which cannot proceed from such matter as the elements are, as we have touched elsewhere. Whereupon it followeth, that it is some other thing then the Vital spirit, or the temperament of the body: and that it is of a far differing nature from that of beasts, which consisteth in these things. And by the same reason also they conclude, that if the soul of man were of any such matter as to be the Vital spirit, or the temperament of the body, it would follow that it were mortal like to the body, and that nothing should remain of it after the death thereof. Which thing they find to be too much contrary unto that, which a man may judge of the nature and substance of the soul by those effects of it, that were even now mentioned: which effects are such as cannot agreed to a corruptible and mortal nature, not to any other then to a celestial and immortal nature, like to that of the Angels and blessed spirits, which are endued with such virtues. But I desire to hear the ARAM, upon the things now spoken of, that thou mayest go on with the matter of our discourses.   

Of the opinion of Galen, of Plato, and of Aristotle, touching the substance and nature of man's soul: of the opinion of Occam touching the Vegetative and Sensitive power thereof, and of the distinction of souls he maketh in man: of the sentence of the Platonists, and of Origen touching the creation, birth and nature of the soul: of the conjunction of the Soul with the body, and the estate thereof in the same. Chap. 83.  
ARAM. The Ancient speaking of man, often call him a great miracle: and indeed the more we bend our minds to consider of it, the more marvelous we shall find it to be. Insomuch as in the particular contemplation of the soul, which is truly man, I would 
Rom. 11. 33.  gladly ask whether it were better, either to discourse Philosophically of this matter having store of argument, or by way of admiration to cry out with Saint Paul, OH the deepowes of the riches, both of the wisdom, and knowledge of God Nevertheless being drawn on with the same desire that hath hither to pricked us forward, to search out and to be instructed in the truth 
Galens' opinion of the soul.  according to my knowledge I will go forward ARAM, with thy speech.  
For the causes then alleged by thee, out of them that consider more diligently the properties and excellent gifts of the soul, although Galen, who otherwise was a profane man in respect of the knowledge of God, and an idolatrous worshipper of nature, durst not boldly 
Gal. de. plac. Hip.  determine what the reasonable soul was, yet as for that which is commonly called the vegetatius or nourishing, and the sensitive or sensual soul, he feareth not boldly to affirm, that it is no other thing then either the natural & vital spirits, or the temperament. But as for the reasonable soul, he leaveth it in doubt whether it be of a bodily nature or of some other that is not corparall, and which subsisteth by itself being separated from the body. Neither doth he conclude any other thing, but that it is either a shining substance, and an ethereal body, that is to say, of a more pure and celestial nature than any of the elements: or else, that it is of a nature that is not corporal, but yet hath this body, by which he meaneth the animal 
Plato's opinion touching the soul.  spirit, to be as a chariot to carry it. Plato before him said, that souls were little portions taken from the substance of the celestial fires: and he maketh three parts of a man's soul, dividing them according to the principal parts of the body, and those instruments which they have in the same. Which division is understood of some, as if he made so many sorts of souls, as we have showed that there are principal powers and offices, which have their several seats and places assigned unto them in the body. Therefore Galen maintaineth, that the vegetative and sensitive soul is no other thing then the temperament of the liver and of the heart, which are assigned to be the seats and chief instruments of the nourishing and vital power and virtue. And as for the animal or reasonable power, whose seat is commonly placed in the brain, we have already showed his opinion. Now of this part, there are many, even of them who greatly magnify it, that are not yet well resolved whether they aught to take it for the animal spirit, or for the temperament, or for an incorporal nature that cometh elsewhere then from the body. Aristotle he calleth the soul by a new Greek name, that signifieth as much as a perpetual motion, and saith that it proceedeth from a fift 
Aristotle's opinion of the soul.  nature and beginning, which he calleth Heaven. But he speaketh not so plainly, that a man may judge by his words, what he thinketh of the reasonable soul in man, whether it be mortal or immortal. Nevertheless he confesseth, that there is great difference between the power of the soul, which we call more specially by the name of spirit, and between the other twain, which he calleth the Nutritive and Sensitive powers. For he useth this word Powers, and affirmeth, that these two first proceed only from the body, and are bred there, and that the Vegetative soul and power is more in the seed and burden, than the Sensitive. But as for the third, he saith plainly, that it only cometh from without else where, and that this only is divine, not communicating her action with any corporal action.  
Thus we see sufficient agreement between the Philosophers and the Physicians concerning the Vegetative and Sensitive soul or power: but there is not so good accord about the reasonable soul and power. Yea many great Divines and Doctors agreed with them in the two first points. For this cause Occam saith plainly, that there are two distinct souls in man, the one reasonable the other sensual: the reason is, because it is manifest, that the sensitive 
Occams' opinion of the soul.  soul hath no actions, but instrumental, that is to say, by means of those instruments whereby she exerciseth her actions, & from which she hath them. Whereupon he concludeth, that this sensual soul seemeth to have her original and generation from the seed, and that it is either the temperament, or some faculty and power in the body. He confirmeth this opinion by another argument taken from the contrary appetites and desires of the reasonable & sensual soul: out of which he draweth this conclusion, That it is very likely that these are two distinct substances, because it seemeth inconvenient, in one & the same nature not divided or distinguished to place appetites so wholly contrary each to other. He addeth further, that it is a thing very agreeable to nature, that every living creature should beget his like: therefore man begetteth man like himself, at lest wise in respect of the Sensitive soul, if not of the reasonable soul. Whereupon it followeth, that the Vegetative and Sensitive soul proceed from the nature 
Of the creation of souls according to the Platonists.  of the seed. The Platonical Philosophers were of opinion, that souls were bred in heaven, and were taken out of the divine nature as a portion thereof, & that there they were instructed and adorned with sundry sciences, with knowledge and virtue: and that afterward being given of God, they descended from thence into the bodies of men, as into stinking, filthy, and contagious prisons. Whereof it followed, that through the infection of these prisons they were corrupted by evil affections, as it were with the filthiness of them. So that they forgot all those gifts and celestial virtues wherewith they had been endued and adorned in their first birth, and which they had brought with them. And being thus detained as prisoners in this dark & filthy prison, they could no more use all those goodly gifts, but only so far forth as they were taught and instructed again by doctrine, which in respect of them may be compared to a light brought to prisoners kept in a dark dungeon, to light and refresh them. For this cause those that were of this opinion affirmed, that the knowledge of men is but a remembrance and calling again to mind of that which their souls had learned and did know in heaven at their first birth, before they entered into their bodies, according as we heard even now. For being descended into this base and obscure prison, and having forgotten that which they knew, their memories are rubbed up by doctrine and instruction bestowed upon them, which kindleth again these celestial sparkles of their mind, and portions of divine fire, by inflaming them and causing them to burn that were almost utterly quenched. Whereupon like Philosophers they conclude, that souls so infected by descending and entering into their bodies, cannot return again nor be received into heaven, & into the place assigned for the blessed spirits, unless they return pure & clean, and decked with the self same ornaments wherewith they were adorned at their first birth. And this (they say may be wrought by good instruction, by virtue & by good works: or otherwise they say they have sundry purge being separated from their bodies. Some divines among the Grecians have followed, at lest wise in some part, the opinion of these Philosophers, & by name Origen, of whom S. August thus writeth: But we may maru●ile muchmore, that some believing with us, that there is but one only beginning of all things, & that no nature which is not God, can have any being but from the Create our, nevertheless would not believe rightly and simply 
Lib. 11. chap. 23. of the city of God.  this point of the creation of the world that is so good & simple, namely, that God creating all those good things that were after him, although they were not the same that God is, notwithstanding they were all good. But they say, that the souls not being parts of God, but made of God, sinned in departing from the Lord, and so by sundry degrees according to the diversity of sins, from the heavens unto the earth, have merited sundry sorts of bodies to be as it were their chains and fetters. This say they, it is the world, and this was the cause of making the world, not to the end that the good things might be created, but that evil things might be sta●ed & expressed. Of this opinion is Origen, who is worthily to be blamed. These are the very words of this great Doctor of the Church. And by that which followeth in the same place, he plainly confuteth Origens●rrout ●rrout, who in his first book of Beginnings writeth, 
Origens' opinion of souls  that things without bodies were first made of God: and that amongst spiritual things, our spirits or minds were also created, which declining from their estate and dignity were made or named souls, of which the Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signifieth, as it were to grow cold, and to decline from a better and more divine estate, being so called, because it seemeth that the spirit or mind is waxed cold and fallen from this natural and divine heat. Therefore the soul lieth now in this estate and condition, but when it is repaired and amended it shall return again to the condition of a spirit or mind. Which being so, it seemeth that the departing & declining of the soul is not alike in all, but is turned either more or less in the soul: and that some spirits or minds do yet retain somewhat of their first vigour, other some, either nothing at all or very little. These souls by reason of many defects of the spirit, stood in need of more gross and solid bodies: so that for their sakes, this visible world was made and created so great that it might contain all those souls which were appointed to be exercised therein. And forasmuch as all of them did not departed alike from goodness, the Creator of all things took unto himself certain seeds & causes of variety, to the end that according to the diversity of sins, he might make the world variable & divers. This is Origens' sentence concerning souls, which selfsame opinion we may read also in S. Hierom writing to Anitus● whereby we may see how this opinion agreeth in part with that of the Platonists. For the greatest disagreement between them consisteth herein, that these Philosophers attributed the cause of the infection of souls to the bodies into which they were sent from heaven. And Origen with many that followed him, supposed that the souls were sent into bodies, as prisoners, to be punished for their offences committed in heaven. From such fancies have issued so many dreams about souls as are to be read in infinite writings. But do thou, ACHITOB, take occasion hereupon to continued our discourses.   

Of the opinion of the Platonists, and some others touching the substance of men's souls: in what sense not only the Poets and Heathen Philosophers, but also S. Paul have said that men were the generation and lineage of God: of their error that say, that souls are of the very substance of God: of the transmigration of souls according to the opinion of the same Philosophers. Chap. 84.  
ACHITOB. It is wonderful to consider, how hard a matter it is to find out the truth of such things, as are commonly disputed of, because notwithstanding any solution or answer that is made, yet still some doubt may arise in our minds: insomuch as there is no point how doubtful soever it be, but that a man may allege likelihood both with it and against it. But this cometh to pass, especially in matters of greatest reach, the difficulty of which is so much the harder to be defined, as the true knowledge thereof is more necessary for us. Those men therefore are happy, who are assured of that which they believe, by certain testimonies out of the word of truth: especially when the question is concerning the soul, which is the instrument of God whereby he worketh in us and lifteth us up to the contemplation of this divinity.  
Now my companions, by your three former discourses we may gather both what agreement and what difference there is amongst those whom you have mentioned, touching their opinions, as well in regard of the birth of souls, as of their distinction, division, and corruption. For they agreed herein, that they are not engendered with the body, neither of the same seed and matter, at lest wise the reasonable soul: but say that it is of a celestial, divine and immortal nature. But herein they disagree, in respect of the nature of the matter, and about the time, creation, and birth of the soul, and also in regard of the means, by which it is defiled and infected with sin. The Platonists affirm, that the soul 
The Platonists opinion of the soul confuted.  is so extracted out of the divine nature, that it is a part and portion thereof. Which thing cannot agreed with the nature of God, because it would follow thereupon, that it were not one, but might be divided into divers parts: and that those parts of which the souls should be created, might be subject to the pollution of sin, a thing too contrary to the nature of God. Or else they must say, that there is but one soul in all and through all, and that God is this soul.  
And this were to fall into their opinion who said that God was the soul of the world, and that the world was his body: which is far from the truth. For if it were so, than most God be 
God is not the soul of the world.  mortal and corruptible in respect of his body, and that still one part or other should be corrupted, as we see corporal things daily to corrupt. On the other side, God should not then be infinite and incomprehensible, as he is, neither is it the world that comprehendeth and containeth him, but it is he who comprehendeth and containeth the world. Wherhfore neither is the world God, neither is God the world, but the Creator thereof, and he by whom it is and doth consist. So that forasmuch as all these opinions are very strange, and unworthy the divine nature, they deserve not that we should stay any longer in them as they that overthrow themselves. But I know well, that some would have that place alleged out of the Poet by Saint Paul, to serve their fantastical opinion, where it is said, that we are the lineage and generation of God. For Saint Paul doth not allege it only as an opinion 
Act. 17. 28. Arat. Phae.  of an Heathen Poet, but doth also approve and confirm the same, taking his argument from thence, that our soul being of a spiritual and divine nature, we aught to make the same account of God, whose lineage and generation we are. Now albeit the Apostle speaketh thus, yet his meaning is not that the souls of men are of the very substance 
How men are the lineage of God.  and essence of GOD, as we say that the Father, the Son, and the holy Ghost, are one and the same essence and substance in the unity of God, being distinguished, and not divided into three persons. Neither doth he mean, that the souls are engendered of the proper essence and substance of God, or that they proceed from it, as we say that the Son is begotten of the Father, and that the holy Spirit proceedeth from the Father and the Son, according as it is testified unto us in the holy Scriptures. But he would have us learn, that the soul of man is of another nature and substance, not only then the body of man is, but also then the soul of beasts, and that the nature and substance thereof is celestial and divine, not because it is drawn from the very substance and essence of God, but by reason of that difference which is between the soul of man, and the bodies and souls of beasts: and also in regard of that agreement which is between it and the divine nature, both because of the immortality of the soul, as because it approacheth more near to the nature of God then of any other creature, except the Angels, whom weesay, also are of a divine nature and celestial, for the like reason. For if the Angels and souls of men were of the proper substance and essence of GOD, they should not be creatures, but Gods themselves, equal in substance and essence with him, as weesay of the Son begotten of the Father, and of the holy Ghost proceeding from them both, in the matter of the unity and trinity of the divine nature: which by this means should be divided into parts, and so nothing at all resemble the fountain and substance from which they are drawn, as I showed even now. And albeit the Philosophers and Heathen Poets did not so well understand this matter as Saint Paul, neverhelesse when they said, that the soul of man was of the divine nature and part thereof, it is very likely they had regard to the reasons touched by mae, not meaning that it was of the very substance and essence of GOD. I speak of them that were of greatest understanding and that wrote best: & namely of them that did best understand the Philosophy of Plato. For he confesseth and testifieth plainly, that the Angels themselves both good and bad, whom in his language he calleth Damones, as the other Grecians do, are creatures of another essence and substance: then God is 
Plato's opinion of Daemons, or celestial spirits.  of, and that they are not immortal of themselves, but have their immortality of GOD their Creator, who both giveth it and preserveth them in it, and could take it from them if he would, and dissolve them as well as he hath made them. Now if he supposed God to speak so to his Angels, and to declare these things unto them, a man may easily judge, that he placeth not the souls of men above the Angels, whom he taketh to be of a more excellent nature, as he showeth evidently by that which he hath written of them both. In which writing we may see many things touching these matters, which come nearer to the doctrine of the holy Scriptures and of true religion, then in the writings of many others, who yielded no further than they were able to know & conceive by natural things, without going any further. For they do not conceive so well either of the nature of God, or of that of Angels, or of the souls of men, as this Philosopher doth. Moreover, we are to know, that Plato had other helps, and more light than from his natural reason, whereby he attained to the understanding of that, which others were ignorant of, who busied themselves only about nature and natural things. For he conversed with the Egyptians, as Pythagoras did before 
Plato dwelled with Egyptians.  him, of whom they learned many points touching divine things, which they should never have learned of the Grecians, nor out of their Philosophy. For the Egyptians had great acquaintance and familiarity with the people of Israel that dwelled in their land, & with many of the ancient patriarchs, of whom they had learned many things of the divinity, and of the nature of souls. But all they that have been destitute of the chief light of the spirit of God, have still mingled many dreams amidst their writings, as we have already heard, and shall hear more in the sequel of our speech. Yet first we will note, how not only many amongst the Heathen Philosophers, but also among the Christians have imagined that the souls of men are the substance of GOD. I omit to speak of the Heretics, as the Priscilianists, and some others that have been of this opinion, but I wonder at Lacta●tius, a man of a right Christian heart, who seemeth to have been of this opinion. And there have been some, that reasoned after this manner, that if it be to be understood 
La●tantius li. 2, cap. 13.  that of the breath issuing forth out of the mouth of God, the soul was created and inspired into the body of man, than it followeth thereupon, that it is of his very substance, and equal to that wisdom which saith, I am come out of the mouth of the most High. But 
Eccles. 24. 5.  that wisdom saith not, that she was breathed out of the mouth of God, but that she came out of it. Now as when we breath, we make a blast, not of our nature whereby we are men, but of this air round about us, which we draw in and out by breathing: so the Almighty God made a blast, not of his nature, nor of this creature of the air round 
The soul created of nothing.  about us, but even of nothing. Which was said very fitly to have been inspired or breathed, when it was created in the body of man by God, who being himself uncorporeall, and not of a bodily substance, made the soul also incorporeal: but yet he being unchangeable, made the soul mutable, b●ecause himself being uncreated made that a creature.  
But let us go on with the Philosophy of the Platonists. We have heard their opinion touching the birth of souls, their entry into the body, and the pollution which they receive thereby: namely, that the souls of men are created long before their bodies, but are afterward sent into them when they are begotten and born in the world, at which time they are defiled, as hath been declared. But further, according to the opinion of Pythagoras, who is said to be the first Author thereof, they imagined, that after a soul was once 
Of the transmigration of souls.  entered into a body, it never ceased to go from body to body, entering into one body out of another. So that when it went out of one body it entered into another, whether it were of a man, or of a beast, or of a plant. For they put no difference between the bodies of any living creatures whatsoever: but speak, as if every soul were fit for every body: so that according as every soul guided and governed itself in that body in which it had lived before, it was received into another body, being such a one as it had deserved, either by her vices, or by her virtues. Therefore those that had taken the way of virtue. entered into human bodies worthy their virtue, into such as had been called to honourable offices and estates: and as virtue had prevailed most with every one, so were they more or less honoured in their bodies. And if so be they had led a brutish rather than a human and reasonable life, they passed into the bodies of Plants, or of beasts, whose nature resembled the life which they had led in their former bodies. This Transmigration of Souls they called Regeneration, because it was unto them as it were 
The regeneration o● the Pythegoreans.  a generation and new birth, in respect of their life and conversation, which before they led in the world. Moreover, they accounted this regeneration to be a kind of purgation and satisfaction, because that by this means every soul was punished or rewarded, honoured or dishonoured, according to her worthiness or unworthiness, and that so long until she were reduced to her first and right estate. There have been Heretics 
A s●und opinion o● certain Heretics.  of old, who following the opinion of the Platonists, affirmed, that no soul could be fully purged and be at rest, and cease from passing out of the one body into another, until such time as it hath done and finished whatsoever can be done in the world, whether good or evil: accounting both evil deeds and good deeds, vices as well as virtues to be a kind of penance and purgation of souls. Besides, these Heretics affirmed, as the Libertines their successors do the like in our days, that there was no sin but only in the opinion and fancy of men, and that it is but a conceit in their mind that breedeth this opinion.  
Now when I think upon this manner of regeneration and passage of the soul from one body to another, I muse how it is possible that ever any men, especially those that are taken 
Against the transmigration of souls.  for such great Philosophers, should fall into such foppery, & above all how Plato should be of that opinion, who is by them surnamed, The divine. For first of all, we have already learned by our discourses of the nature both of body and soul, that the soul cannot devil nor exercise her offices in any other then in the body of a man, seeing that it is the true form and perfection of man and of that kind, without which he cannot be man. We may say the same of the soul of beasts and of plants. For if every creature had not his proper form and some thing in which the perfection of it consisteth, without which it cannot be that which it is, and by which it differeth in kind from other creatures, there would be a wonderful confusion throughout, all nature, yea the whole order thereof would be overturned. For all kinds of nature should be confounded together, neither should there be any one kind certain and distinct: which thing is contrary to all natural reason, and to all order appointed by God. Therefore it is a very hard matter to believe, that ever any man of a sound mind and good judgement, would admit of such a fantastical opinion. But we may learn of thee ASER, in proceeding with the matter of our discourse, what thou hast learned of skilful men concerning this that Plato hath written of this transmigration of souls.   

The chief causes, as learned men think, that moved Pythagoras and Plato to broach the transmigration of souls and transformation of bodies: the ancient opinion of the jews touching the same thing. Chap. 85.  
ASER. The world was never without certain witty men, that boasted they could answer upon a sudden to any thing that should be demanded of them. And there have been always some others, that in every controversy and disputation maintained one while this part, and by and by: the contrary: which hath given occasion as I think, to certain of the ancient Philosophers to believe, that a man can know nothing perfectly, & that no man aught certainly to determine any thing otherwise then upon his bore and simple opinion. But in my mind this consideration will found but few defenders now a days, except it be amongst the ignorant, who leaving all search of things, live only at all adventure, or else amongst them that believe every thing that is told them, and are led with every sentence, which they hear of others, without any further inquiry made of the reason thereof. Now as we would be loathe to perish with the ignorant, so we must be ware that we commit not ourselves and our belief so easily to the danger of other men● errors. And indeed oftentimes we judge not aright of their meaning, namely, when the question is concerning the sense of their writing. As I purpose to let you see my companions, in that which hath been already spoken of Plato.  
I have learned of many skilful men, that Pythagoras and Plato never believed that transmigration 
Why Plato ●●uen●ed the transmigration of souls  of souls into many bodies, which we read in their writings, but that by these failed kinds of speech, their meaning was rather to withdraw men from beastly affections unworthy their nature, and thereby to paint out and to express the diversity of those affections, and to set them, as it were, before their eyes: thereby to declare unto them, how by reason of their unruly affections they resemble all other creatures, and chiefly ●ruit beasts. Wherhfore we may with good reason call man a little world, if there were no other cause but this, albeit in this respect it standeth not with his honour and credit. For there is no kind of beast whatsoever, nor yet of any other creature unto which he doth not in some sort transform himself by his affections, and by his manners and vices. For when he pleaseth, he transformeth himself one while into a sheep, then into a wolf, again into a fox, or into a hog, or into a dog, or into a bear, or into a Lion, or into some other such like beast. Moreover, sometimes he transfigureth himself, not only into one kind of beast, but into many together, and yet those very differing and contrary the on● 
Man● nature compared to a Monster.  from the other. And as he can at his pleasure transform himself into an Angel, so doth he likewise turn himself into a Devil. It is not then altogether void of reason that Plato saith, that the nature of man is as it were a monstrous nature: yea he compareth it to a Monster, whose uppermost parts resembleth a Virgin: whose breast, which is the midst, is like to a Lion: and the lowest part, to a barking and bawling dog. For he compareth the highest part to a Virgin, because he placeth reason in the head, as in the proper seat thereof, and of the animal powers of the Soul, for their nature and office sake. Next, he saith that the breast resembleth a Lion, because he taketh the heart to be the seat of the Vital power of the Soul, and also of the affections, that often may well be likened to a Lion and to furious beasts. Lastly, he compareth the lower parts to dogs, because that part is appointed to be the seat of the natural and nourishing power of the soul, and of the generative virtue, as that which is very brutish and given to all carnal pleasure●, and chiefly to fornication. If then a man cannot moderate his affections and concupiscences, 
How men become like to beas●●.  he maketh himself like to so many beasts, as he hath affections holding of their nature. This also is the cause, why the spirit of God in the holy Scriptures, so often compareth men to sundry sorts of beasts, to teach us that they are as it were transformed into them, and into hideous and horrible monster's, to the end they might be the more ashamed of themselves: and that knowing how they turn themselves into beasts and into Devils by their vices, they should learn also, how contrariwise through virtue they become men of beasts, and Angels of Devils. Therefore it is very like, that Pithag●r●● and Plato had respect to this which hath been said in those transformations and transmigrations of souls, of which they spoke. I think also that the Poets, following the same invention have for the like reason, ●ained the tran●formationss of men into divers beasts, and into other creatures forged by them: but men through ignorance have taken them in 
The ignorant wrist the sense of good writers.  a wrong sense, and so reaped small profit by them. No marvel then if this hath happened both to Philosophers and Poets in their doctrine and manner of teaching, seeing there are so many that profit so little by the doctrine of the holy Scriptures themselves, and by the study thereof. For were there ever any Heretics, that did not wrist the sense of many places of Scripture to make them serve for their heresy? And do we not daily see the like in all seducers and false Prophets? It is very certain, that there were were never any so absurd and strange heresies, which the favourers of them have not laboured to maintains by the holy Scriptures themselves.  
But to return to our purpose, what meaning soever the Authors and inventors of such things had, their doctrine was so understood, that many held this opinion, that men's souls passed from body to body as we have heard. Insomuch that this error how gross● soever it were, came not only to the Jews, but to the Christians also, who boast of true religion, and of the authority and knowledge of the holy Scriptures. I speak not of the Manichees ancient Heretics, who were open maintainers of this opinion. But what shall we say of them, who not only have the●● brains infected with this folly, but, which is worse, imagine they can confirm and prove it by testimonies out of the word of God? As where it is reported, that when Herade heard the same of Christ jesus spread throughout all judea, he said, This is john Baptist: he is risen again from the dead, and therefore great works are wrought by him. And Saint L●ke saith expressly, That Herode doubted, because 
Math. 14 2. Mark 6, 14. Luke. 9 7. 8.  that it was said of some, that john was risen again from the dead: and of some, that E●ias had appeared: and of some, that one of the old Prophets was risen again. We read likewise that when jesus Christ demanded of his Disciples, saying, Whom do men say that ●, the Son of man 
Mat. 16. 13 14. Luke 9, 19 Of the jews opinion of the transmigration of souls.  am? they answered, Some say, john ●●ap●●st: and some Elias: others, jere●●ias, or one of the Prophets: and some that one of the old Prophets is risen again. A man may judge by these speeches, that not only Herode was ●ainted with this Pythagorical and Platonical opinion, but also that it was very common among the Jews with whom he conversed, and whose religion he followed, at lest in part and in out ward show. For jesus Christ was known well enough in judea, and in Galilea, and amongst all the Jews, as it appeareth by the testimony of the Evangelists. They knew his kindred according to the flesh, and could tell that he was brought up in Nazareth in the country of Galilea: for which cause they called him a Galilean, a Nazarean, a Carpenter, the son of a Carpenter, and the son of joseph and Marie. They said that they knew his brethren and sisters, whereby according to the Hebrew manner of speaking, they meant his cousins, Nieces, and his 
Mark 6. 3. Mat. 13. 55, 56. john 6. 42.  kindred: taking occasion thereby to despise and reject him. But on the other side, many seeing the works and miracles which he wrought, were constrained to pass farther, even Herode himself, hearing only the fame that went of him throughout the country: so that some took him to be that Christ, others, to be some great Prophet. And of them that held him for a Prophet, it appeareth by those sundry opinions that were among the people, that they did not think him to be a Prophet borne at that time, but that some one of the old Prophets was reason again in him, not in body but in spirit. For they knew well whence he issued in respect of his body, as that which was commonly known throughout the country. Therefore it is easy to judge that they spoke of resurrection in regard of the soul, as the skilfullest Interpreters expound these places, reserting these speeches of Herode and of the people unto that Pythagorical opinion, of the transmigration of souls from bodi● to body. For according there●●to, those souls that had behaved themselves virtuously in their first bodies in which they dwelled, were sent into other more honourable bodies, endued with greater gifts of God according to their deserving. Now because Saint john the Baptist had not the gift of miracles annexed to his ministery, neither did work any, all his life-time, it might be thought that this gave occasion to Herode to think thus of him, that being risen again from the dead after a Bythagoricall manner, he had this gift and virtue added unto his former graces, that so he might have the greater authority. Neither aught we to think it very strange, if a great part of the ●ewes were infected with many foolish and naughty opinions, seeing they were not only corruptly instructed by their teachers, but also had sects amongst them there, which plainly de●ied the resurrection of the body, the immortality of souls, and that there was any Angel or spirit. Therefore we see their great brutishness who would ground their transmigration, upon that which is ●ald in the Scriptures touching the opinion of the jews in this point, which notwithstanding i● openly reprehended and condemned by the self same word of GOD, True it is, that the ignorance of the true sense thereof gave occasion to many to fall into such dreams. For the Lord speaking thus by Malachi, Behold I will send you Eliah the Prophet, before the coming 
Mala. 4. 5.  of great and fearful day of the Lord, the jews understood this place diversly. Some of them thought, that the ancient Prophet Elias, who was rapt up into heaven, should be sent again in proper person: others understood it only of the transmigration of his soul and spirit into an other body. For this cause they asked of john Baptist whether he were Elias: but jesus Christ himself expounded those words of Malachy, and declared unto the jews 
john 1. 21,  that john Baptist was that Elias which should come, and that although he were come yet 
Matth 11, 1● and 17. 12, 13  they did not know him. For when he spoke so of him, he meant not that he was the very person of Elias in body and soul or that the natural soul and spirit of Elias was entered into his body: but his meaning was according as the Angel speak to Za●hary, when he told him of the Nativity of Saint john his son, saying, He shall be filled with the holy Ghost, even from his mother's womb. And many of the children of Israel shall he turn to 
Luke, 1, 15, ●● 17.  their Lord God. For he shall go before him in the spirit and power of Elias, A man may easily judge by these words, that he meant not to say, that the natural spirit of Elias should enter into the body of Saint john Baptist, but that God would give a spirit adorned with such gifts and spiritual graces, and with such zeal and constancy as he gave long before to Elias. Therefore he addeth power unto spirit, thereby to declare the better what is meant by Spirit. And before he showed the means whereby this spirit should be given him, when he said, that he should be filled with the holy Ghost from his mother's womb: that is with the gifts and graces thereof, as the Scripture calleth them ordinarily. Afterwards also, the Angels declareth more at large, after what manner Saint john came in the power and spirit of Eliat, signifying that he aught to behave himself and to do as Elias had done in his time, and as Melachy had foretold of him. Moreover we have in the Scripture other kinds of speaking, that agreed very fitly with this of the Angel, so that the one may well serve to open the other. For it is written of Moses, that the Lord did separate of the spirit that was upon him, and did put it upon the se●e●tie ancient men, whom he appointed under him to be an help and comfort unto him in the government of the people of 
Numb. 11 25.  Israel: and when the spirit rested upon them they prophesied continually. Every one knoweth, that the spirit of Moses whereof the Lord speaketh, is not his natural spirit but that he meaneth by this spirit, part of the gifts and graces which Moses had received of the Lord, such as were necessary for their charge: as likewise he gave to Moses according to the charge committed to him. Some also understand this separation of the spirit of Moses, to be only a communication of the graces of the spirit of God, like to those which Moses had received for his charge that was given to those, who were joined unto him for his help. Now if we take it in this sense we may say that God useth this manner of speech, the better to let us understand thereby the nature of his gifts and graces, and the means he observeth in dispensing of them. For he doth not only distribute so much as is needful for them whom he mindeth to employ in his work, but giveth also unto them such manner of graces as are requisite for the work, as Saint Paul testifieth. Besides all this, his purpose is also to teach us what agreement there is betwixt all his gifts: as likewise what unity proceedeth hereof betwixt them that are partakers 
1. Cor. 12. 11.  of these gifts, whereby we may perceive that they come all from one spirit, which, albeit God thereby poureth out his graces in so great abundance, is yet a fountain and sea that is not only not dried up, but not so much as any way diminished. 
The fountain of God's graces diminisheth not.   
Thus we see how one and the same Spirit of GOD governed Moses, and the rest that were joined with him, inspiring them all with his grace, and distributing to every one according to his measure: as the wind is dispensed in many Organ-pipes all at once, according to their several capacity, and according to that sound which every one is to yield for the making of a good harmony: or as many Candles or Lamps are lighted by an other, with the same fire wherewith that was first tined. Also we are to understand in this sense, the request that Eliseus made to Elias, when he demanded a double portion of his Spirit, because he succeeded him: in regard whereof he stood in need of such gifts and graces of God's Spirit, as Elias was goided by, that he might faithfully execute his charge as he● had done before. Thus we see how places of Scripture expound one an other, and how 
1. King. 29.  little they help the Pythagoreans: of whom I would not have made so long a discourse if this foppery were driven out of men's brains, and namely among Christians. For to this day there are two many fantastical heads (I say not amongst true Christians) but amongst them that falsely bear that name, who are as much or rather more infected here with, than any Pythagoreans or Platonists in former times. And for this cause, AMANA, I leave you to go on with this point, that afterwards we may return to our chief matter of the nature, generation and immortality of the soul.   

Of the Pythegorians of these days amongst Christians, and of their foolish opinions: of the opinions of many doctors and divines touching the creation and ordinary generation of men's souls: of the moderation that aught to be kept in that matter: of the cause of the filthiness and corruption of man's soul. Chap. 86.  
AMANA. There was never yet any opinion, error, or heresy so strange or monstrous in the world, which hath not always found men enough to receive it, so that there were authors & masters to broach it abroad. For God doth thus punish the curiosity, ingratitude, malice, & perverseness of men, and that contempt of his word & truth, which is ordinarily in them, together with the pleasure and delight they take in vanity and lies. Wherhfore God through his just judgement delivereth them up into a reprobate sense, insomuch as they can not but reject the truth continually and embrace that which is false, according as he often threatened them, & foretold it by his Prophets & Apostles. And this is the cause why the 
Easie 29. 14. 2. Tim 3. 2. 3 2. Thess. 2. 10, 11.  Pythagoreans do at this day find men void of sense and understanding who cleave to their fantastical opinions, and why Epicures and Atheists are never without a great number of disciples.  
Now albeit these men be in truth most blockish & gross beasts, yet we cannot persuade them so, nor many others also, who imagine they know much. For there are even doctors and some that read lectures in Universities, who keep not their opinion of the transmigration 
The Pythagoreans of our time.  of souls so secret to themselves, but they make some profession thereof, at jest wise amongst their scholars & Familiar acquaintance. There are some also, who, boast of the the knowledge of tongues and of the turning over of many antiquities, have published this fancy of theirs in books written by them: yea they themselves are persuaded, & they would make others believe the same with them, that their souls are the very souls of some famous personages that have lived heretofore in the world, and that they have already passed through many excellent bodies, which have done great things: as likewise they promise' to themselves, that they shall bring to pass great matters, seeing they have their souls. True it is, that according to our manner of speaking we say some times of such as agreed in manners with others who have lived before them, that their souls whom they resemble is entered into them, and that the others are raised up in their persons. For example sake, if there be a cruel tyrant like to Nero, we say that Nero's soul is entered into his body, and that Nero is raised up in him. But 
Of the tru● transmigration of souls.  yet every one knoweth well enough, that we use to speak so by reason of the agreement of tures and of manners, not because of any transmigration of soul.  
And this may be spoken in respect of that Divillish spirit, which possesseth the wicked and ruleth in them: as we say of the spirit of God's servants in regard of his virtue, that it is given to such as resemble them and have received the same graces from above. For as the holy spirit, who wrought heretofore in others, worketh now also in them that have received like grace: even so it is said of that evil spirit in regard of the wicked, who are all led with the self same spirit of Satan. Wherhfore he doth such works in them whom he now possesseth, as he wrought heretofore in their predecessors. So that in this sense it skilleth not though we say that the spirit of one entereth into another, who succeedeth him in the same wicked works. But the Pythagorians of whom I now spoke, take it not so, but as hath been already declared. And to set the more colour upon this so strange an opinion, their profaneness is such, that they dare to allege those places of scripture, which were spoken of in the former discourse, whereby they labour to persuade themselves and others also with them, that the word of God confirmeth the same. No doubt therefore, but that they who have yet such toys in their head, are not without others also: yea, there is no question, but that there are wonderful puddles of errors and of very strange heresies in their fantastical brains, so that they are ugly monsters among men, and would be abhorred of every one, it that which they carry enclosed in their frantic heads might be seen with corporal eyes. But leaving this point, we are to return to our principal matter into which we have made some entrance, namely, the nature and original, the pollution, purgation, and immortality of the soul of man: concerning which thing, we have heard the opinion of the Philosophers, and of many that follow them. Whereupon we have to observe this, that notwithstanding any error in opinion which they held, yet they always came to this point, that they concluded the immortality of the soul.  
Now as touching the ancient Doctors of the Church and the late Divines, they have written diversly of the original of men's souls and of their entrance into their bodies: about which point there have been and are at this day, great disputations and controversies, namely, amongst the Physicians and the Divines. Some have been of that opinion 
Of the creaon & generation of souls  touching the generation and beginning of the soul with the body, whereof we have already spoken. But some restrain this to that soul which they call Vegetative and Sensitive, as hath been showed unto us, others comprehend also the reasonable soul therewithal. And besides that which we have spoken already touching original sin in the soul, they ground themselves upon that which is written in Genesis, how that after God had created man, who was the last in the creation of all the creatures, he rested the seventh day from the work which he had made, after he had accomplished whatsoever it pleased him to do. Therefore they conclude, that from that time forward God created not any new creatures, but having set such an order as it pleased him to appoint in the nature of things created, he preserved the same after wards by his providence, whereby he worketh always in the guiding and consideration of his creatures, although not after that manner whereby he worketh in the creating of them. And thus he rested in regard of the work of creation, so as he 
How God rested the se●enth day.  created no more any creatures in such sort and manner as he did the first creatures in the beginning. Nevertheless, he rested not in respect of the work of his providence, which never ceaseth, but daily createth all those creatures that come newly into the world, by means of those seeds, which he hath put into every one of them according to their kinds, and by other means which he hath ordained to that purpose. Having then laid this foundation, they conclude that men's souls are not daily created of nothing, nor in such manner as the soul of the first man was created, but by that means which God then appointed for the preservation of mankind. But because they know well enough that there is great difference betwixt the souls of men and of bruit beasts, they agreed that God useth other means in the procreation and producing of men's souls, then in that of beasts, by the concurring of his general action, whereby he sustaineth and preserveth the natures of all things, according to that natural disposition which he hath endued them with from the beginning, agreeable to that which is written, that In him we live, & moon, and have our being. Therefore as God used other means in the creation of the soul of man, than he did in that 
Acts 17. 28.  of beasts, and placed it also in the body of man after an other fashion that was special and peculiar unto man: even so in the procreation and production of men's souls, he hath his special order for them, which differeth from the order used in the generation of the soul of beasts. And indeed he showeth very evidently, that he ruleth after another fashion in the production of men, and namely, in regard of the soul, then in that of beasts, by the excellent gifts wherewith their souls are adorned, not only in that their souls do far exceed the souls of beasts, but also in that one soul excelleth another in the nature of man: as we see it in many to whom God hath given heroical spirits, which are gifts that cannot proceed from the body. And so much for the opinion of these men.  
Others do not only deny the reasonable soul to be taken from any portion either of the divine nature & essence, or of the body of man, but they say farther, that God by his divine 
Another opinion of the creation of the soul.  power and virtue createth it of nothing, after that the body of the infant is made perfect in the womb of the mother, having all the parts and members thereof. And being thus created of God he presently placeth it within that body, which he hath appointed for the lodging of it, that it may devil therein until after the death of the body it departed immortal out of it, as it was created immortal, and was so indeed when it entered thereinto. These men ground themselves upon that which we read in Ge●sit, where it is said, that after God fashioned man 
Gen. 2. ●.  of the dust of the earth, he breathed into him the breath of life, & he was made a living soul. For it appeareth plainly by this testimony of Moses, that the soul of the first man was not only not created together with the body, as the soul of beasts was, but also that it was given unto him of some other nature and substance. For it there were no more in it then in that of beasts, and if it had no kind of participation with the divine nature, why should God inspire it into the body of man after another fashion than he did that of beasts? and what should that inspiration or breathing of God, signify & import? We have heard already what some answer unto this. For they deny nothing of all this, but they say only, that God did then establish this order now spoken of, which he daily continueth in the generation of man. I omit here many other opinions touching this matter, which come not so near unto the truth: namely a great controversy between the Doctors in Divinity and in Physic touching the vegetative, and sensitive soul, and the time when the burden beginneth to be nourished and to have sense thereby: considering that it is a great deal better to inquire of these things to sobriety, and to leave the resolution to GOD, who knoweth that which is hid from us, then by vain questions and curious disputations to think to determine of the matter according to truth, and to the contentation of every one. For as we have before touched, we can know nothing either of the generation, or original or of the substance and nature of our soul, or of the immortality thereof, but only of those testimonies which by the effects it affordeth unto us, and which God setteth down in his word. Wherhfore according to that which hath been already handled, we must distinguish those things unto which our minds may in some sort reach, and of which we may have some knowledge, from them that are so hidden from us, that we cannot know or judge of any thing, but like blind men, by groping and guessing.  
This is a matter then of which we must speak very soberly, and with great reverence of God, contenting ourselves with that which it pleaseth him to make known unto us by the 
The nature of the soul is not curiously to be searched after.  means aforesaid, and go no further by desiring to know that which we cannot conceive or comprehend, until such time as God himself shall give us more ample and cle●re knowledge thereof. And I suppose we shall not err, if we say the like touching the question propounded by us in the beginning of our speech about this matter, namely, of the means by which the reasonable soul should be infected with original sin, seeing it is not engendered of that courrupt seed of which the body is bred. Let it then suffice us to know, that albeit the soul cannot be defiled with sin, as it is created of God, yet as God created all 
How the soul is stained with sin.  mankind in Adam, so when he fell, all the rest of the world fell with him, and in him was bereaved both of original justice, and of other gifts which he lost by his fall. So that albeit men's souls are created and produced of God pure and entire, yet they keep not that purity still, neither can they be the souls of men and joined unto their bodies, and so become members of mankind in them with any other condition, then with that into which the first father brought all his children by his sin, as we have before touched. Wherhfore we must not search for the cause of that original sin wherewith they are infected, either in their creation, because they are created by God of a divine and immortal essence: or in the generation of the body and in that seed of which it is engendered, as if the soul took her original and infection together with the body from the seed. Moreover, we must not (as the Pythagorians do) search for the corruption of souls in their entrance and conjunction with their bodies, as if they received it from them: but we must seek it in that blot of sin unto which the whole race of mankind was made subject through the fall and corruption of the first stock, and in that decree of God, whereby he hath condemned all mankind by his just judgement, without any further inquiry after the means and manner how it came to pass. For this cause Saint Paul doth bring us back to this consideration, when in propounding unto us the first stock of mankind, he saith, that by one man sin entered into the world, 
Rom. 5. 12. 15  and by sin death. And then he propounded unto us this stock of sin, so on the contrary side, he propoundeth to us the stock of justice and righteousness, namely Christ jesus, the new man, who is an other stock of mankind regenerated, renewed, and reform after the image of GOD. Therefore he saith, that as by the disobedience of one man, many were made 
Verse 19  sinners, so by the obedience of one, many are made righteous. Now as human Philosophy knoweth not, either the corruption of all mankind such as it is, or the fountain thereof, so it is ignorant of the means whereby it must be restored, neither knoweth it that the wound is so great and mortal, as that it cannot be cured but only by the hand of God. For which cause 
Human Philosophy is blind.  he was to give us his own son to be the Surgeon and Physician. The ignorance hereof, is the cause why human Philosophy so greatly magnifieth the nobility and excellency of the soul, as it is well worthy being considered in the first nature, in which it was created. But the sequel of this matter we will hear of thee, ARAM.   

Of those powers and properties, which the soul of man hath common with the soul of beasts: of those powers and virtues, which are proper and peculiar to itself, according to the Philosophers: of the difference and agreement that is between human Philosophy and Christian doctrine touching these things. Chap. 87.  
ARAM. Amongst the heathen, they that were most ancient, and nearest to the true Church of God, & conversed most with his servants, had greater knowledge and better understanding of the nature of God, of Angels, and of men's souls, and of other matters belonging to true religion, than they that were farthest off and succeeded latest after the other. For the farther off that the doctrine of heavenly things was drawn from the fountain 
The causes of errors.  of it, the more hath it been altered and corrupted both by ignorance overwhelming it, and by false understanding of it, as also because every one hath added to and taken away what seemed him best: and that, either to boast themselves that they may seem some body, or to cover their thefts, that none might know from whence that thing was first taken and borrowed, that so they might be thought to be the first members thereof: or lastly, to please and satisfy the curiosity & vanity of the mind of man. Not marvel therefore, if there were heathen Philosophers among the ancients, who believed and taught many things agreeable to the word of God, and if there be now some amongst us, who boast of their study in philosopy, and yet have no part of that first innocency and purity, but have their minds filled with strange opinions contrary to all reason and truth. We see well enough by experience what impiety reigneth in this our age. For there are an infinite number to befound of whose religion no man can judge, except it be herein that they think there is none at all, and therefore mock at all religion, what show soever they make to the contrary. But I know not why they should not blush for shame, when they hear from heathen Philosophers so many goodly instructions as they have left us, concerning the nature and immortality of the soul.  
It is true that the reason of man cannot of itself comtemplate the soul in her first and perfect nature, in which it was created: but it doth consider of it as it is at this present, and yet as though it were very sound. Whereupon the Philosophers greatly magnify the nobility and excellency thereof. Therefore when they are to consider of those points upon which they ground the powers and virtues of the soul, for the first they take the vegetative virtue, which it hath common not only with the beasts, but also with the plants: and this comprehendeth three other faculties underneath it, namely the virtue of nourishing, secondly of increasing, and lastly of procreation, as it hath been already declared 
Three faculties under the veget●●ue. virtue.  unto us. This virtue with the rest that are comprehended underneath it, is the basest, most earthy and vilest of them all: beside that it followeth the sensitive virtue, which may be referred aswell to the internal as to the external senses. So that we may divide it into two parts, and more properly call that the sensitive virtue, which the soul hath in 
Two parts of the sensitive virtue.  taking knowledge of corporal things, by corporal senses, and by their use in the body. The other part that belongeth to the internal senses may more specially be called, the cogitive virtue. And because these two powers serve to increase knowledge and understanding, they are as it were the fountain thereof, or rather helps and instruments. The Astronomers, 
How the Astronomers refer the powers of the soul to the stars.  who refer all to the virtue of stars & planets, place the influence of the vegetative power with the parts of it, under the Moon, of which the soul (as they say) receiveth it: the other two parts of the sensitive power, of which I spoke even now, they place under the Sun, as they do the fourth, which is the will and virtue of desiring, under the planet Venus. The fift, which is called the angry faculty, giving heart and courage to a man and moovig him to wrath, under the planet Mars. Than for the sixt they place the virtue that giveth motion from one place to another. For the seventh, that which the Physicians call the vital virtue, and others the spiritual, because it containeth under it the power of respiration, and both these are attributed to the same, because it is a property of the sensitive power to move and breath. Now all these powers of the soul are common to man with beasts, or at leastwise there is no great difference. But these which now follow are proper and peculiar unto him, namely the reasonable power, of which the other that ensue are kinds, 
Powers proper to the reasonable soul.  of which number the Philosophers or Astronomers place in the first rank the virtue of speech, whereby the soul expresseth her conceits, thoughts and affections. And although all men use not the same words to utter their thoughts each to other, by reason of the diversity 
Of speech.  of langauges that is amongst them, notwithstanding as the things which they understand and conce●ue, and by which they are moved to speak, are all of one substance and nature amongst all nations, so all the conceits and affections of men, which are signified by their language, are alike in the soul and mind, where they are written and engraven. This virtue they attribute to Mercury, as the other that followeth to jupiter, which they call the practic and active virtue, whereby a man that hath his will at liberty, doth by counsel and settled reason, exercise and bring to pass through art, prudence, and wisdom, those things of which he hath sure knowledge. For it is not enough to have the contemplative virtue, unless the active also be joined unto it to declare it by effect. 
Of the speculative and active virtue.   
Thus you see where they place free will, which comprehendeth under it, first election, than action, which is the practic that followeth it. And because the practic dependeth of the theoric, which is the speculative and contemplative virtue, and goeth before the active virtue, therefore they join this to that, and so refer it to the planet of Satur●● which is melancholic. And this is that virtue of the souls, whereby man hath understanding, knowledge, and wisdom: and it comprehendeth the seats of such things as the mind is able to understand & comprehend, as also those general rules and principles, which it must afterward bring into use and practise. For this cause this speculative virtue must of necessity go before the active, because the practic is not very certain without the theoric. Afterwards followeth that which they call the politic virtue, which hath for her subject 
Of the public virtue.  all moral Philosophy. They understand by this virtue of the soul, that whereby a prudent, wise, and well experienced man, moderateth his naughty desires, and pernicious affections through his virtue, and whereby he declareth by practice and settled reason, that virtue and goodness, which is requisite in the public society of men, and that not only in his private behaviour, but also in his public affairs. The principal virtues contained underneath it, are prudence, justice, fortitude and temperance, which are commonly called cardinal 
The kinds of it.  virtues, because they are chief and contain under every on of them many other virtues, which depend of them, as branches do of their stock. He is accounted a civil good man and a just, that hath this virtue which is divided into sundry kinds, according to the diversity of estates that are in common society. For it is sufficient for a private person to have so much of it, as whereby he may know how to guide himself honestly according to his estate. If he be a father of a family, he hath need of that prudence and skill which is necessary for the government of his house. If he have any public charge concerning civil affairs, it is needful for him to have that art and skill, and those virtues without which he cannot well execute his office, according to that place and degree in which he is set. For if he occupieth the room of a Lawyer, or counsellor at the Law, he must have skill and knowledge of the laws. If he be a captain or soldier, he must be skilful in military discipline. If he be a judge & magistrate, it is necessary likewise, that he understand what belongeth to his office. If he be a divine & pastor in the Church, the science of divinity, which is the knowledge of the holy scriptures, is necessary for him not only so much as is requisite for his own salvation, but also that he may be able to instruct others, & to direct them in those things that appertain to religion. Besides, to all these virtues they add the hereicall virtue, which is no 
Of the heroical virtue.  vulgar and common virtue, but very rare and excellent, and if I may so speak, rather divine then human. In regard whrrof they that were endued with this virtue among the heathen, were placed in a rank & degree by themselves between God & men, and were accounted & taken for demi gods. And these are those virtues, which the Philosophers by experience found to be in the reasonable soul, which are no feigned or imaginative, but true virtues, neither are they found in the souls of beasts, as those are of which we spoke in the first place. Wherefore albeit man hath the virtue of desiring common with beasts, yet he hath reason to moderate his desires, which is wanting in beasts. Now all this doctrine touching the virtues of the soul, accordeth well with the doctrine of Christianity, so far forth as the soul agreeth with that nature in which it was first created of God. But that which the Astrologias affirm of the influences & infusion of virtues into the soul by the planets, as we heard, I take it to be a bird of their own brain, whereby they attribute to the creatures that which belongeth to the Creator only. For although he useth the creatures according to that order, which he hath placed in them, nevertheless when the question is of the reasonable soul, we must 
Against the astronomical influence of virtues.  ascend up higher than the heavens, unto which it cannot be subject as the body is, seeing it is of a far more excellent nature. For how should the heavens, star●, and planets give that to the soul, which themselves have not? I verily believe that when God created the soul of the first man, & placed it in the body that was before created of the nature and substance of the corruptible elements, he took not those vertures, with which he endued and adorned it, either from the heavens or from the planets. And seeing he created all mankind in this first man after his image, which he imprinted in his soul, no doubt but that which yet remaineth in man's soul, proceedeth from the same fountain: also what evil soever is befallen since, whereby this image abode not perfect, it proceedeth from sin, & from the nature of man corrupted by sin, and not from the heavens or planets. And as the Astrologians easily believe whatsoever they have imagined touching this point, and would have the will of man subject to their influences & constellations: so the other Philosophers abuse themselves greatly, in magnifying the virtues of the soul more than they aught to be esteemed in this corrupt 
Philosophers esteem too highly of man's nature.  estate of man's nature, not judging the corruption to be so great as it is. Hereof it is also that they fail in regard of virtue, which they attribute altogether to the liberty of man, as if he could by his own virtue moderate his affections, & make himself just and righteous. Which fault proceedeth from hence in that they content themselves with a justice that seemeth so to be before men, & put no difference between divine and human justice: that is, betwixt that which is able to stand & approve itself in the judgement of God, & that which men approve. For there is no justice able to satisfy the judgement of God, but that of jesus 
What justice God approveth.  Christ, which it pleaseth him to impute unto his children, and in regard thereof to account them just. But let us return to our matter.  
We have further to note, that besides the forenamed virtues, the Platonists attribute to the soul four other●, which they call contemplative virtues, as those that belong to the contemplative 
Four contemplative virtues according to the Platonists.  life, unto which they are referred by them. The first is named the purgation or second death of the soul: for the first death of it say they, is her descending into the body of man, into which it is thrown as it were into a prison, and in a manner buried in vices. Therefore they say that the soul standeth in need of this second death, whereby she being purged from her vices is as it were dead unto them, that she may live unto virtue: The second kind of these virtues is called pure or purified, because the soul being purged from all her evil affections, exerciseth good works by the same. The third is called by them an exemplary or patt●r●● virtue in the mind of God: whereby they mean, that as God conceiveth and knoweth the Ideas, kinds and images of all sensible & intelligible thing, so he sendeth down from heaven this virtue into the soul, of man who is thereby purged and purified as we have already heard. And for the last they add a fourth virtue, which they accounted greatest and chiefest above the other, and therefore they call it Divine, because it bringeth to the soul a virtue to do more than human works, even such as we call miraculous works. Which four kinds of virtues appear evidently to have been drawn by them from christian doctrine, but yet disguised after their fashion. As touching the first, it agreeth to that 
How these agreed in some sort to four Christian virtues.  which the word of God teacheth us of regeneration, and mortification of the flesh, whereby we die to sin and to the devil, that we may live to righteousness and to God. The second agreeth to good works proceeding of faith, which being done in the same, purify the heart, and to christian holiness, which accompanieth and followeth justification by faith. The third agreeth to gifts and graces inspired by the holy Ghost, and to the infusion of them into the souls of Gods true servants: and the fourth agreeth to the gifts of prophecy and to that virtue of working miracles, which hath been heretofore in the holy Prophets, Apostles, and Disciples of jesus Christ. But to conclude this whole point, we are to observe this, that what praise soever may be given to the Platonical Divinity, yet it is in no respect to be compared with Christian Philosophy: because this is pure, and true, and indited by the spirit of GOD, but the other impure, disguised and counterfeited by men, who have mingled with their Philosophy, many things which they could either hear or learn● out of the holy Scripture.  
Moreover, as concerning the whole doctrine of the Philosophers touching the nature and virtues of the soul, we may truly say, that of itself it teacheth higher, than those politic virtues of which we made mention even now. For when a civil, good, and wise man hath attained to that politic virtue and to the highest degree thereof, he is able to go no farther, except he be helped else where, even by the illumination of the holy Spirit. And indeed all those other virtues of the soul propounded by the Platonists, are but dreams and opinions in the air, by which the Spirit of error laboureth to disguise the doctrine of the holy Scriptures, which leadeth us to those true supernatural virtues, which the soul receiveth by the inspiration and infusion of the gifts and graces of the holy Spirit, who is the true Doctor, of whom we must learn this Philosophy, which is not natural, but supernatural. Now then being instructed and guided by him, having discoursed of the creation and nature of the soul, let us enter into this goodly field of the immortality thereof, in which we know there are many ranged battles of enemies, who wait to enter into the combat with us. It belongeth therefore to thee ACHITOB, to begin the skirmish.   

How men can have no certain resolution of the immortality of the soul but by the Word of God: of the perverseness of Epicures and Atheists in this matter: Of the chief causes that hinder men from believing the immortality of the soul, and of their blockishness and evil judgement therein: How we must seek for the image of God, after which man was created in his soul. Chap. 88  
ACHITOB. We are now fallen into a time, which discourseth unto us not only false religions, but even an Atheism, that is far worse. For they that are altogether without Religion are farther distant from true piety, than they that follow a false religion: and yet at this day there are as many or more that declare themselves to be Atheists and Epicures, as there be of such as are taken for good Christians. And if in outward show they pretend some exercise of Religion, it is but to cover themselves with the vail thereof, to the end they might not be esteemed and accounted for such as they are in truth. But in their heart and with their companions they do but make a mock of the holy Scriptures, and of all those testimonies that we have in them of another life besides this, of Heaven, of Hell, of the blessed immortality, and eternal death of the soul. Now it is an easy matter to convince such fellows of error and lies.  
But it is a thing worthy to be bewailed in all the affairs, opinions and counsels of men that when any question ariseth of the truth, and of that which is Good, no proofs or testimonies, how rich, or of how great authority soever they be, seem sufficient to us, and worthy to be believed. And yet if the question be of any evil, falsehood and lies, no testimony, how slender and bad soever it be, but satisfieth us very well. For by reason that we are evil and ignorant, full of blindness and darkness by nature, we are always the readier to follow 
Why men incline to lies rather than to the truth.  that which is like ourselves, namely, wickedness and falsehood, lies and error: as we see it by experience in Atheists & Epicures, and in all infidels and scorners of God and of his Word. For there are many skilful in Arts & human learning, and in natural Philosophy, who reprehend and condemns Epicurus, Lucretius, Pliny, and other such like Philosophers, Epicures and Atheists, in that which they have taught and written of natural life belonging to this life, and call them ignorant men and void of experience. But in that which they have spoken against the providence of God, the immortality of souls, and all Religion, abolishing them wholly by their false doctrines and by Philosophy, they embrace and praise them, for the skilfullest and most excellent Philosophers that ever were, as having delivered 
The devilish infection of Atheism.  men from the greatest torments that could seize upon them, and brought unto them the greatest good that could befall them, by taking from them all fear of God, of hell, and of all punishment after this life, and all opinion and hope of Paradise and of a better life after this. In a word, they extol them, as if they only had found the bean in the cake, as we use to say, and as if they only deserved to be the kings of beans among their fellows. Forasmuch then as we are entered in this matter of the immortality of the soul, and seeing at this day so many Atheists herein follow the opinions of these Epicurian Philosophers before named, I say not only more than they do all the best Philosophers, but also then the authority of the holy Scriptures, and the testimony of God in them: we cannot gather too many arguments, whereby at lest wise to 'cause them to ponder the matter more diligently, if they will not be confounded wholly by natural reasons, seeing they make so small reckoning of that celestial and heavenly doctrine. It is true that it will be a very hard and difficult matter to persuade such in this point, as give no more credit to this testimony of the word of God, than they do to all human and natual reasons that can be alleged unto them. For although the argument of those Philosophers that maintain the immortality of the soul, are strong and weighty, yet they can never wholly and fully assure men of their immortality, except this testimony of God take all doubting from them. But that argument of all others is most forcible, which he hath given unto us in the resurrection 
Reasons to prove the immortality of the soul.  of jesus Christ, whereby his soul was united again unto his body, and so wrought those heavenly works which followed his resurrection & ascension into heaven: and namely, by the gift of the holy Ghost, which he sent unto his Apostles, and by the effects thereof, which according to the promise of jesus Christ appeared so great and manifest throughout the whole world, and that in so short a time, that no prudence, wisdom, skill, eloquence, authority, power, or force of man, was able to hinder that virtue, or the course of the Gospel. But because Epicures and Atheists account these things for fables and are of so perverse and monstrous a nature, that they had rather fight against Nature itself, and cleave to the worst opinions most unworthy the nature of man, then to follow the reasons of the best Philosophers, grounded upon a more sure foundation, let us at lest wise put them to some further trouble, by urging them to be fully resolved in that opinion, which is contrary to the immortality of the soul. For certainly I doubt not but they will be always without resolution. And indeed from whence should they fetch this resolution of theirs, seeing they have no certain ground of their false opinion, & seeing there are so many & so forcible reasons to the contrary? But we must note, that the principal cause that keepeth men from believing the immortality of the soul is, partly their ignorance, partly their malice and perverseness. For some there are so blockish, that they measure all things according to the knowledge 
Why men believe not the immortality of the soul.  and reach of their bodily senses: so that they set down with themselves to believe nothing, but that which they are able to know and perceive by them. Others there are who besides this are so wicked and perverse, that they would not only have their souls not to be immortal, but wish also that there were no God, to the end they might have no judge. For by reason they are so wholly addicted to the world, and to their carnal pleasures, they would have no other God, or other life after this: but wish that all life might end with their delights, and the soul with the body, that so they might have no account to make to any judge. Therefore they are of that number, whereof mention is made in the Book of Wisdom, who make these discourses, saying, Our life is short and tedious, and in the death of a man there is no recovery, neither was any known that hath returned from 
Wis. 2. 1. 2. etc. The sayings of Epicures.  the grave. For we were borne at all adventure, and we shall be hereafter as though we had never been: for the breath is a smoke in the nostrils, and the words as a spark raised out of the hearts. Which being extinguished, the body is turned into ashes, and the spirit vanisheth as the soft air. Our life shall pass away as the trace of a cloud, and come to nought as the mist that is driven away with the beams of the Sun, and cast down with the heat thereof. Our name also shall be forgotten in time, and no man shall have our works in remembrance. For our time is as a shadow that passeth away, and after our end there is no returning: for it is fast sealed so that no man cometh again. Come therefore, and let us enjoy the pleasures that are present, and let us cheerfully use the creatures as in youth. Let us fill ourselves with costly wine and ointments, and let not the flower of life pass● by us. I omit other speeches of a voluptuous, wicked, and unjust life, which they purpose to lead, exercising all injustice violence, and cruelty, without all regard had to any right or justice, either to poor or rich, young or old, but chief against the servants of God, who approve not their kind of life, but reprove and condemn it. 
Verse 2, 1, etc.  Therefore it is said after all the discourse, that they imagined such things and went astray. For their own wickedness blinded them. They do not understand the mysteries of God: neither hope for the reward of righteousness, nor can discern the honour of the souls that are faultless. For God created man without corruption, and made him after the image of his own likeness. Nevertheless, through envy of the devil came death into the world: and they that hold of his side, procue it. But the souls of the righteous are in the hands of God, and no torment shall touch them In the sight of the unwise they appeared to die, and their end was thought grievous, and their departing from us, destruction: but they are in peace. We see then that these men go no farther 
Wisd. 3. 1.  than they can see with their bodily senses: and because they see that man liveth by breathing and cannot live without, and that he dieth when his breath faileth, they think 
The corrupt opinion of Atheists and Epicures.  that the soul of man is but a little wind and breath, and so is scattered and vanisheth away as it were wind and breath, or as a cloud in the air. The same judgement they are of in regard of the blood, because life leaveth the body with the blood, as if it had no other soul but the blood or breath. And forasmuch as the eye discerneth no difference between men and beasts in death, they judge also that there is no difference between their souls. But if they be resolved to give credit to nothing but to their corporal senses, and in death consider only what difference there is between men and beasts, they will not believe that either beasts or men have any soul at all that giveth them life because they see nothing but the body only. And then by the like reason we must conclude, that not only the whole man is no other thing but this body which we see, but also that there is nothing in all the world, but that which may be seen by the eyes and perceived by the other senses, and so all that which we have not seen & known by them shall be nothing. Which being so, men shall differ nothing from beasts, as indeed we can say no better of t●ese men. For beasts think of nothing but that which they behold and perceive 
Atheists may well be compared to beasts.  by their senses, and go no further: which is so far from all science and discipline, and from all judgement of man, as nothing can be more. Therefore they that believe nothing but their corporal senses, deserve to be compared not only to little children, or fools who when they see pictures, or their face in a glass, suppose they are living men, because they go no farther than they see, but even to the brute beasts, who have less sense and understanding then children. It is wonderful to consider how men take such great pleasure and pains to become brutish. For if they do but see a smoke come out of a place, they will judge that there is some fire within, although they behold it not: and if they smell any ill savour, their nose will tell them that there is some place infected, or some ca●ion lying not far off, albeit they see it not. What is the cause then, that when by their senses, they perceive somewhat more in men then in beasts, they are not induced thereby to think, that of necessity 
Reasons to show their soul of men to differ from that of beasts.  there must be somewhat within them, which causeth them to differ much from beasts? Which is not by reason of the body, but of the soul that is not seen but only by her actions, works and effects. Whereupon it followeth, that if their actions differ from the actions of that soul whereby beasts live, the cause also from which they proceed, must needs differ: and so consequently, that there is great difference betwixt the soul of men and the soul of beasts. For let them consider only the diversity of arts, which man exerciseth his hands, and the variety of so many witty and wonderful works as are wrought by him, which cannot proceed but from a great spirit, and from a passing excellent nature, the like whereof is not to be seen in beasts, or in anything they can do. Besides, do they not see how the spirit of man discourseth throughout all nature? what reason is in him, and how his speech followeth reason? which are such things as have a certain virtue and the image of a divine spirit shining in them. Wherhfore, albeit we should make man wholly like to a beast, by reason of his body, both in regard of his birth and death, yet we must needs confess, that he is of a far more excellent nature in respect of that great and manifest difference, which we see is in his soul. If then the soul of man be mortal as well as that of beasts, to what purpose serve those graces which it hath above the other? and from what fountain shall we say they flow in it, and to what end were they given unto it? But for this time I will leave these Atheists, hoping that tomorrow we will not leave any one natural reason able to urge them in their damnable opinion, which shall not be laid out at large. And I demand of them that have any taste of the holy Scriptures, and yet seem to doubt of the immortality of the soul, or at leastwise are not fully resolved therein, how man is said to be created after the image of God, if he shall be altogether dissolved and brought to nothing? and where shall we then seek for this image in him? It is certain, that this is not in the body, seeing that God is a spiritual nature and substance, and not corporal. Than it followeth, that this image is to be 
The image of God is to be sought in the soul.  sought for in the soul, and not in the body. And if it be in the soul, we must necessarily conclude, that it differeth very much from the soul of beasts. For indeed, if they were both one, why should it rather be written of man then of beasts, that he was created after the image of God? And if man be the image of God, especially in regard of the soul, it must needs be then of a divine and immortal nature: otherwise, there would be no good agreement between the image and the thing of which it is an image, therefore a corporal thing cannot be the true image of a spiritual thing, if there be no resemblancen or agreement of nature betwixt them.  
For although a corporal image should be of another matter then the thing is of, which it doth represent, nevertheless, there is always some resemblance when both the one and the other is of a coporall matter, and when the image hath some agreement in form with the thing represented. Now if any be desirous to seek for the image of God in a corporal thing, we shall find as many of them as there are creatures in the whole world. And yet it is not said of any creature, not not of the Sun itself, nor of the Moon or Stars, that have no soul, nor yet of the living creatures themselves, which are endued with soul and life, that God said in their creation, Let us make them after our image and likeness, neither that he created them after his image, as it is written of man. If then there be no immortality of the soul of man, where shall we find the image of the immortality of God who is immortal? And if there be no immortality in man, but that his soul is, either the temperament of his body, or his vital spirit, as in beasts, God shall have no image that shall more nearly resemble him in man then in beasts: neither shall he have any spiritual image agreeable to his nature, in any creature under heaven.  
Now if any reply and say, that this image is to be sought for, not in the immortality of the soul, but only in reason and in the other virtues, wherewith it is adorned above the soul of beasts, I say, that these things are in such sort linked together, that they cannot be separated. Wherhfore he that taketh away the one, taketh away the other: because the soul of man should not have that which it hath more than the soul of beasts hath, if it 
An answer to an objection.  were not of another nature than theirs is. And we know well, that whatsoever it hath more is not like to any creature under the heavens: and that it cannot agreed but to God, or to natures that have some participation with the divine nature, which cannot be mortal, but immortal. So that when we see so many signs and tokens which testify unto us, that man hath a celestial and divine birth, it followeth that he hath in himself some greater thing, that is more noble and excellent, then can be seen or touched with hands. It is true, that they who ●●ay only in the corporal senses, as we have said, shall never pierce to the contemplation of these things: but they delight rather, for their confirmation in that beastly opinion, to hear the common bye-word used amongst the vulgar sort, that no man knoweth what becometh of the souls of men after the death of their bodies, nor into what country they go: because no body as yet ever brought any news from thence, and therefore no marvel if no man either do or can know what is done there. Which speeches albeit they be very frivolous, yet are they heard many times from them that think themselves to be none of the meanest. Therefore it will not be peradventure without profit, if we answer them more at large to morrow, going forward with our reasons and arguments of the soul's immortality against the Atheists: of which matter, ASER, thou shalt begin to speak.   
The end of the ele●euth days work   

The twelfth days work.  

Of those who desire return of the Souls departed, to testify their immortality: what witness have been sent us of God out of an other world to resolve us therein. Chap. 89.  
ASER. We said yesterday, that they who stay only in their corporal senses, as bruit beasts do, propound commonly against the immortality of Souls, that which is usually spoken of the common people, namely, that it is not known what becomes of men's souls after the death of the body, or to what country they go, because none ever returned from thence to bring any news. Wherhfore (say they) no body can tell what is done there, neither can any thing be known. Now before we make answer to so frivolous and false 
A reason of Atheists confuted by a similitude.  an argument, I would gladly demand of them whether there were nothing at all of those new found ●landss, (which were lately found in our time) before they were discovered by them, who not only were never there, but did not so much as once hear of them before. For no body went thither from hence, neither did any come hither from thence: so that there was no more intelligence between them and us, then between the living and the dead, or between them that are altogether of another world: therefore also their country is called the new World. Now then shall it be thought, that this people were not at all because they were not known of us, nor their manners and kind of life? And yet now the time showeth evidently, that notwithstanding any distance of place that hath been between them and us, there we means sufficient to communicate and traffic together and those more easy than any is between the souls already departed out of their bodies, and us, who yet remain in the world with our bodies. For concerning the distance and difficulty of the places, who doubteth, but that it is far greater between heaven and earth, Paradise and Hell? Therefore also Abraham speaking of the place and estate of the elect and reprobate in an other life, saith to the rich man, There is a great 
Luk. 16. 26.  gulf set between you and us, so that they which would go from hence to you, cannot: neither can they come from thence to us. And this we may say in like manner of ourselves, and of those that are already departed into another life, in regard of their return unto the living. For it is ordained, that they shall not return again into the world, as also that they shall departed hence but one. And they that go from hence, do it not with soul and body joined together: for it is not a voyage like to those which we make in this world, when we go from one country to another. Now as the Lord hath determined how long the souls shall abide in their bodies in this life, so he hath ordained and set the time in which they aught to departed, & the place where they are to be received, according to the estate of every one, even until their return into their bodies at the resurrection. If they be souls of the reprobate, they are detained in hell in eternal fire, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth: if they be the souls of Gods elect, they shine as the Sun in the kingdom of heaven, in a life accompanied with perpetual joy and happiness. But we must urge them better that require testimony for the immortality of souls by their return into this world, or of some that have come from another world. For it is an easy matter for us to bring them as credible witnesses as any can be, to tell them most certain news, if they will believe them, according as they deserve it. And for the first, have we not jesus Christ, who first came down from heaven and become man, to bring us news, and to declare the same unto us in his own person, not only before his death, but also after his resurrection? Besides, how many other witnesses have we, that have testified most certainly of the same? who 
Nath. 28. 9 Mark. 16. 14. Luke 24. 36. joh. 20. 19, 20 Act, 1, 2, 3, 10. 1. Cor. 15. 6.  saw with their eyes and touched with their hands, even to the number of more than five hundred, according as S. Paul testifieth? Moreover, they that were raised as well by him a● by Elias and Elizens, and by the Apostles and disciples, may they not serve us also for good witness to assure us, not only that souls are immortal, but also that their bodies shall rise again, and that God is of sufficient virtue and power to do it as he hath promised? I omit here the testimony which the Angels have given both of the resurrection and ascension of jesus Christ: besides that of the holy spirit, which is the chiefest of all, with signs and gifts wherewith he came accompanied, and those works and effects that followed them. Wherhfore seeing we have for this point the word of God that is most certain and clear, which teacheth us what we aught to believe and hold, let us rest ourselves in the testimony thereof and not desire to make further enquiry. For it is he that said to Moses, I am the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of jacob. Whereupon jesus Christ concludeth, that 
Exod. 36. Mat. 22. 32, 33. Mark. 12. 26. Luke 20. 37, 38.  Abraham, Isaac, and jacob do live yet after their death, seeing God is the God of the living, and not of the dead, that is to say, of them that are yet in being, and not of them that are nothing at all. For otherwise, if all men should so perish by death, that nothing of them should remain in life, at leastwise in regard of the soul, then should he be the God of nothing. And although it seemeth that jesus Christ alleged this place against the Saducees, not only to prove against them by the doctrine of Moses, the immortality of souls, but also the resurrection of bodies, we may well gather, that if it be fit to prove that bodies arise, it is much more strong to assure us of the immortality of souls. For when the Lord spoke these words, Abraham, Isaac and jacob were not alive in regard of their bodies, but only of their souls. And yet jesus Christ alleged it to confirm also 
The resurrection of the dead proved.  thereby the resurrection of the dead, although at the first sight it might seem not to be very fit and firm to prove that so much as the immortality of souls. But if it be narrowly looked into, his argument shall be found to be very well deduced and grounded upon invincible reason. For jesus Christ had respect to that promise which GOD made to those holy patriarchs of whom he spoke, and which was not made only to their soul, but to the whole man together compounded of body and soul. Wherefore all they to whom it was made, and to whom it appertaineth should not have the whole effect of it, nor the full fruition of that which it containeth, if they were not whole inheritors thereof both in body and soul. For if it were otherwise, the promise should be accomplished but in one part of man, and not in the whole man. Whereupon it followeth, that seeing the promise is not of a temporal benefit, but of an eternal, therefore the whole man that must enjoy the same, must of necessity live an everlasting life, being of the same nature that the benefit is of wihch he must inherit. Wherhfore seeing the course of man's life is broken off by death in regard of the body, the body must necessarily rise again to live again with his soul in a better & longer life, to the end that the whole man may possess the inheritance, which is promised him of God: or else the promise made by God to his servants is altogether vain, or the testimony which the holy Scripture beareth is wholly false, and so also the Scripture that propoundeth the same unto us. But none may once think either of these two last points, without great horror of blasphemy contained in them. So that the first point concludeth very strongly, according to that ground which it hath most certain in the word of God. Whereunto may be added further, that seeing the soul of man is created, not to live always without a body, as the Angels do, nor yet to wander from body to body, but to be knit and joined to that body, which is assigned to it of God, it must needs be, that being 
2. Thes. 1. 6, 7  part thereof, as of her lodging, she should once again return thither. Besides, seeing the body hath served the soul, either in obeying God, or in disobeying his will, the nature of God's justice requireth, that it should be rewarded also with the soul, according to the quality of those works whereof it hath been an instrument. Therefore according to that which we have discoursed of this matter, the resurrection of the body doth so depend of the immortality of souls, that it followeth necessarily upon this: so that if we have assurance of the one, we aught to have it of the other, seeing both of them are certainly grounded upon the justice of God, which cannot be just, unless he judge men both in body and soul according to his word, and according as every one liveth. But seeing the matter of the immortality of souls, and that of the resurrection of bodies are sundry questions, and that we are to handle but one of them, we must return to our first point of the soul touching the immortality thereof, which is easily believed of all that approve of the doctrine of holy Scriptures and that give credit to the word of God. For they are thoroughly resolved thereof. Yea, we may know by the writing of all antiquity, that the common opinion of all people and nations of what religion soever they have been, hath been this, that men's souls were immortal. Wherhfore in regard of this point, we are to fight only against Epicures and Atheists. And because they will not believe the word of God, but de●ide it as tales made upon pleasure: I am of opinion that now we are to search chief for those testimonies, which God hath given us in nature touching the immortality of the soul: even the actions and effects thereof, by means of which we come to the knowledge of hidden and secret causes, from whence they proceed. Therefore consider AMANA, what you mind to speak unto us of this subject.   

Of natural reasons, whereby the immortality of souls, may be proved against Epicures and Atheists: and first of the argument taken from the faculty of knowledge which the soul hath, and from that knowledge of eternity which is in it: how it appeareth, that it is not begotten of this corruptible nature, because it ascendeth up unto God: and how by a special benefit of God, it is daily created, and not by the virtue of nature. Chap. 90.  
AMANA. Seeing Epicures and Atheists give credit to natural Philosophy in things whose causes it proveth by their effects, they have no reason to refuse it in the consideration of the nature of men● souls. Now it is very certain, that if we will take this course, besides the testimonies of God in his word, touching the immortality of the soul, which way soever we turn our eyes, whether above us or beneath us, on the right hand, or on the left, we shall find every where arguments and reasons concluding the same. For we have nature, and the necessity of causes, proportion and similitude, life, the excellent dignity of man, the goodness of God, and the profit of mankind proceeding from his bountifulness, which with one common consent, and as it were, all with one voice teach us, and cry out that the soul cannot be mortal.  
First then we observe, that the true and natural essences of all things are not known of us by themselves, but continued hid in the secret closerts of every one of them, unto 
How we know the hidden things in nature.  which our mind being burdened with this mass of the body, and overwhelmed with the darkness of this life, is not able to reach. Therefore we must inquire by the accidents adhering unto them, and principally by their actions, whereby our reason discourseth, and concludeth of every thing, what it is, and of what quality. For every thing hath his actions, and works, according to it own substance and nature, and by them declareth and maketh itself known: so that if we consider the actions of the soul we shall by them know the nature and immortality thereof. Let us then consider her first and principal action, which is to know, and this importeth also to understand, to comprehend, and to conceive. 
An argument taken ●●om the knowledge of the sou●e to prove immmortall.  Whereupon we have to note, that there is no power of Knowing, that can attain to the knowledge of any thing, but it hath some agreement and proportion with the nature of the same thing: because knowledge is as it were the Image of things, which is imprinted in the soul as in a glass. Now it is certain, that a looking glass cannot represent the image and similitude of a spiritual thing, because itself is a corporal thing, which hath no agreement in nature with that which is spiritual. Likewise it cannot represent any thing belonging to the other senses but only that which concerneth the sight: and therefore it cannot represent either sounds, smells, or tastes, because the use thereof is only for the eyes neither doth it agreed with any of the other senses, but only with the sight. And as for our external senses, they cannot perceive those things that have neither quantity nor bodily substance, because they themselves are corporal, neither yet can they perceive things that are absent. And the internal senses, as the fantasy & the imagination, cannot perceive spiritual things, as namely, either God or Angels: but only the spirit of a man doth perceive, know and comprehend them, which power & faculty no other creature under heaven hath. For if it were otherwise, it could not in any wise comprehend a thing that surmounteth it with an infinite greatness, & with which it hath no agreement at al. For further confirmation of that which I say, let us consider of Eternity, as it is whole and entire of itself: then let us 
Eternity considered diversely  divide it into that which was since the creation of the world, & finally, into that which followed the same, and which shall be for evermore. When our spirit entereth into the consideration of that which was before the creation, our thought is not able to comprehend it, so that it is overwhelmed with the greatness thereof: but we do well understand and comprehend that part of eternity, which shall follow us hereafter throughout infinite ages. Whereby it appeareth, that this first consideration of it, is too great for our soul, as having no proportion therewith, nor yet agreeing thereunto: but it is otherwise with the soul in the consideration of that other eternity, for the fruition whereof it was created. For the soul is not eternal as God is, as though it had no more beginning than he had: and therefore it hath no agreement with him in this respect. The soul than entereth into a bottomless gulf, when it discourseth of an eternity, of which it is not partaker: but it hath agreement with the eternity of GOD as Angels have, in that it is created immortal, to live an eternal life with him: which appeareth in that it is able to comprehend the same. Therefore S. john in the beginning of his Gospel leadeth us even to the ga●eses of this first eternity: But forasmuch as it is a gulf in which we shall be swallowed up, if we enter farther into it, he proceedeth not forward, but stayeth us there? and calleth us presently unto the means whereby God manifested himself, telling us how he did this by his eternal word: and first by the creation of the world, then by those other means, which he setteth down afterward: all which our soul comprehendeth well, and so cannot the soul of beasts do. Wherhfore when we consider God in his essence and nature before the creation of the world, and the time that was before that, we are then overwhelmed therewithal, and see no whit at all into it. But if we enter into the consideration of the times after the creation of the world, and into those which shall follow still after us unto all eternity, we look into it more clearly, and are not so much dazzled therewithal, because our soul more capable of this consideration, then of the other, which was before all creatures. From hence we may conclude, that the souls of beasts and plants that have 
A special difference between the soul o● 〈◊〉 and of 〈◊〉. A firm 〈◊〉 of the soul●s' immortality.  not in them this cogitation or apprehension of eternity, are produced and taken out of the power and virtue of that matter, of which they are engendered: but the spirit of man is more specially bred in the body by God, above all the powers of the matter and nature of the same. For nothing ariseth higher, or passeth beyond that thing of which it receiveth essence and being, and those powers and strength that it hath: for if it did, then should it not receive being from thence, but of some other thing before and above that, or else further off, unto which it tendeth. We see this in all the senses both external and internal, which are common to us with beasts. For they know nothing else, beside that which is of this nature which we see, neither do they ascend higher: but our spirit not content with the sight and knowledge of the heavens, starees and Angels themselves, mounteth up to God, and being come thither can go further. What other thing else doth this signify, and declare unto us, but that the souls of beasts are engendered of this corruptible and mortal nature, beyond which they cannot lift up themselves, but that ours are produced of God above the power of this nature? And so that may be said of our soul, which is spoken of a spring 
A fit comparison.  water, namely, that it ascendeth as much upward as it descendeth downward, but can go no higher. For when a man would carry the water of a spring any whither and would have it mount upward, it will be an easy matter to bring it as high as the springhead, from whence it floweth: but no higher except it be forced by some other mean then by it own course and natural virtue. Notwithstanding, it will easily descend lower. And so fareth it with our spirit. For as it came from God, so it is able to mount again to the knowledge of him, and no higher: but it descendeth a great deal lower. And as for our senses they remain lower than the works of nature, and pierce not to the depth of them, but are always busied about the external face of them. Neither is it to be doubted, but that Moses meant to teach us these things by that which he rehearseth of the means used by God in the creation of man, which differed from that he kept in the creation of all other creatures, either living or without life. For we have heard what deliberation and counsel he used, before he put hand to the work: how he fashioned the body, and how he placed the soul 
Gen. 1 26.  therein by and by after. Therefore in that the Prophet describeth the creation of the body apart, and then that of the soul, he giveth us to understand, that we must seek for something more high & excellent in that of man then in that of beasts, whose souls were created with their bodies, and of the self same matter with them. Moreover, he teacheth us this very plainly when he saith, that God created man after his own image and similitude: which he did not say of beasts, as we have already heard. Therefore there must needs be in the soul of man some other power & virtue, then that by which it giveth life to the body, and which is common to it with those of bruit beasts. So that as God gave to this dead body taken out of the earth, a soul that endued it with life, motion, and sense: so he imprinted & engraved his image into the soul, unto which immortality is annexed. Therefore when Moses 
Why man was said to be a living soul.  saith, that man was made a living soul, no doubt but by the name of soul he meaneth another nature and substance then that of the body. And in that he calleth it living, be declaareth plainly, that the body hath not of it, self and of it own nature, that life wherewith it is endued, but from the power of this soul. And although he there maketh not any special mention of the other virtues thereof, it is because he considered the capacity of the people with whom he lived, unto whom he would frame himself, being content to speak openly of that power of the soul, which appeared best without, & which the external senses might most easily know & perceive by the effects thereof. But I think it will not be unfit for this maater, if we return to that question which before we touched concerning the creation of the soul, namely, whether, since it was created by God in the first creation of man, it be still created after the same sort as it were by a new miracle, in them that are daily borne in the world, or whether it be naturally created, but yet of God by a certain order appointed for that end by him. Now albeit it be very requisite, that we should be sober and not rash in this matter, for the causes already set down notwithstanding we will here propound the opinion of some learned men, grounded upon that order, which God hath accustomed to observe in his works & in his creatures. For seeing he hath set a law in nature for all other creatures according to which he createth & produceth them, and not by any new miracle, it is 
How God daily createth souls.  not more likely that he createth souls naturally, and that he hath ordained a steadfast law for mankind but differing from that of beasts, so much as his creation differed from theirs. For having once established an order, he useth not to change it into a divers or contrary order, but keepeth still the same, except it be that sometimes he useth extraordinary means by way of a miracle. For although all his works be great miracles, and chiefly man: nevertheless we call none by that name, but only those which he worketh by supernatural 
What a miracle is.  means, not against, but beside the common order of nature. But that which I say, derogateth nothing from the nature and immortality of man's soul. For although it be placed in the matter which is already prepared and appropriated for the fashioning of the body, yet doth he this above the virtue of the matter and of the work of nature, by a law which he hath established to that effect. For this cause he doth not only give a soul to them that are begotten by a lawful marriage, but to those also who are brought forth in whoredom, whether it be adultery, incest or any other such like. For although that honesty which is enjoined mankind by God, be not kept in such a birth & generation: but contrarieth the same, yet it is not contrary to the law of generation ordained by God: as that generation is which is by buggery, wherein not only the Law of honesty is violated, but also the law of nature. We will conclude then, that it is not only true, that our soul is not brought 
Buggery violatteth the law of nature.  forth by the power of nature, but by the benefit of God only, but also that it is expedient & very behooveful, yea necessary for mankind that it should be true: and because it is behoveful & necessary, it is true also without all question. For God hath omitted nothing that is agreeable to his glory, & profitable and expedient for mankind. For seeing the soul is placed within the body, not by the virtue of nature, but properly and peculiarly by a special benefit of God, man oweth the chiefest and best part of himself, not to nature, but to God. Which is the cause why he should acknowledge him as the only father of his 
God is the only father of our spirit.  spirit and consecrated the same wholly to him alone: not yielding any right and interest therein to any other besides him only, who is sovereign, almighty, and the only father of spirits. For if the question be of the body, and of all the senses thereof, many may claim an interest therein under God, namely fathers and mothers, the children themselves, nature, the kindred, the country, friends, Kings, Princes & Lords. But the soul belongeth to none but to God alone, which he willeth & commandeth should be reserved to him only for our happiness, because he only is the author and creator thereof. If it be so then, that our soul is not begotten or produced by his nature, which is the handmaid of God and worker under him, but by God alone, it followeth very well, that nothing in nature can extinguish it, but God only who is able to do it if he please. Now it is not likely or credible that God would make a thing by itself, and that after a different manner from other things, which should have nothing besides the creation of it, and then within a while after would destroy it. For if it were otherwise, why would he observe another mean in the creation of man, then in that of beasts? Why would he not rather have bestowed upon nature, the power of the generation and corruption of man's soul, as he hath done that of other living creatures. Wherhfore would he seem to reserve that thing as proper to himself, which he would make subject to the law and common condition of other things? Thus much then for those arguments, which we may take from the knowledge that God hath given to man's soul, and from his constant work in the creation of it, to prove the nature and immortality thereof. Now we are to consider what arguments we have to the same purpose, in that virtue of desire, which is given unto it. These things than we may learn of thee ARAM.   

Of the argument for the immortality of the soul, that may be taken from that natural desire thereof, and of perpetuity, which is in it: of another argument to the same purpose: of the desire which men have to continued their name and memory for ever: an argument to the same end taken from the apprehension and terror which men have both of the death of the body, and also of the soul and spirit. Chap. 91.  
ARAM. These three things are so linked and knit together, namely God's religion, his divine providence, and the immortality of the soul, that they neither may nor aught 
Three things unseparable.  to be separated in any wise. For if our souls were not immortal, no reward or punishment for good or bad doings were to be looked for: and then God should not seem to have any care over us, which if he have not, why should we worship him? Our hope should be in vain and religion unprofitable. But if without the grace and goodness of God we cannot live, and if he will be sought unto of us by prayer, than religion is very necessary, and the immortality of the soul certain. And even as a man cannot renounce those excellent gifts, which naturally are planted in his spirit and mind and in that reason which God hath bestowed upon him, but he must renounce himself, and become like to the bruit beast: so fareth it also with him, when he renounceth his immortality. But seeing we are now in handling the powers of the soul, to show that it dieth not, and seeing we have spoken of knowledge, we will consider what arguments to the same end may be taken from the virtue of desiring that is naturally in it.  
Heretofore we learned, that all knowledge both in man and beast, is given to this end that they should desire whatsoever they know to be good, and eschew that which they know to be evil. Concerning the knowledge of our senses, they conceive well enough what it is to be present, and so do the senses of beasts, of which and of our whole nature, we may judge both by our external and internal senses that are common to us with them, & so we may discern of all such like things. But the appetite or desire of beasts goeth no further than the time present. For that natural desire of their own preservation which is in them, proceedeth not from any knowledge which they have of things, but from the workmanship of nature, and from that natural inclination which they have thereunto, without any motion of reason or understanding.  
Whereupon it followeth, that their desire to preserve themselves, and their power of procreation proceedeth not from their knowing virtue, that is chiefest in them, but from the Vegetati●● vert●e which is the basest & most abject. But man goeth a great deal further. For man hath knowledge of perpetuity and of eternity, as we heard in the former speech: and because he knoweth that eternity is a good and profitable thing for him, he doth also desire the same. This desire than is natural: and if natural, it followeth also that it is a very 
The desire of perpetuity, an argument of the soul's immortality.  meet and convenient thing for us, and so consequently, that it is not given to man without cause and to no purpose. We must then conclude hereupon that it may be accomplished, and that of necessity it must be sometime or other. For if it were otherwise, to what purpose should this knowledge serve, which man hath of so great a benefit, and which also moved him to desire the same, if he could never attain to the fruition thereof? And why should God teach the same to men, if he would not make them partakers of it? Were it not rather to debase, then to advance them above beasts, whereas he hath created them Lords, and as it were his last and principal piece of work, in his work of creation? Should it not seem to be not only a vain thing, but also (if I might so speak) as though God delighted to torment men, to 'cause them to desire that thing, of which they should never have any participation? were it not better for them, at leastwise, as good, that in this respect he should have created them like to bruit beasts? For so they should live a great deal more quiet, and not torment themselves as they do, after a thing, which is altogether unpossible for them to attain unto. Now we have a very evident sign and testimony in us, of the continual being of this desire of eternity, in that longing which men have to make their 
Another desire, which is to continued our memory for ever.  name eternal, as much as may be, and that their memory might remain in all ages that should follow long time after them. And which is more, this affection is so natural & imprinted so deep into men's hearts, that even they who deny the immortality of souls, and who think that every man doth wholly vanish away by corporal death, do covet notwithstanding the immortality of their name, and to have a good report amongst men still after their death. Hereof we have very good proof in the last Will and Testament of Epicurus himself, the Captain and Standerd-bearer of all Atheists and Epicures who have received their name of him. For he appointed therein, that the day of his nativity should be yearly celebrated, and that at certain times assigned by him, a banquet should be made for those of his sect, in remembrance of his name. Whereby we see that this dog himself, who made no difference between the death of men and of beasts, and who denied utterly the immortality of the soul of man, could not for all that pluck out of his own soul the desire of immortality: but doth what lay in him to make himself immortal after his death, by the perpetuity of his name and memory. We may take the like argument from that which men usually appoint at their death, touching their ●uneralss, sepulchers, and tombs. 
Another desire of perpetuity, appearing in funerals  For why is it, that they will have sumptuous funerals, and stately & magnificent tombs? Why have many caused Churches and Chapels to be erected, themselves to be engraven, and their eschutchions to be hung up, where they have laid themselves? It is certain, that if they desired not to make their name as immortal as they could, and their memory eternal among men, their death would not be so ambitious, neither would they leave behind them such marks of their ambition, and of their desire of immortality. And as great men afford this testimony of their desire, so the common people are not without some one or other for their part. For a poor Artificer, as a Tailor or Shoemaker, or some such like, if he be able he will appoint to have a stone laid upon his grave, in which his name shall be engraven, and his mark, or some such like thing: to this end that the Suruivours and they that come after him should know that he once li●ed and was in the world, and that he would still live, at leastwise, in name and memory. And this is further confirmed by them, who albeit they cannot continued their name and memory by any good deeds and valiant acts, yet they strive to make themselves immortal by wicked and execrable doings. As among others we● have the example of Herostratus, who set on fire the Temple of that great Diana of Ephesus for no other cause, but only that he might be spoken of, and that the memory of him might remain and continued for ever amongst men: as indeed it hath done, notwithstanding the contrary endeavour of the Ephesians, who by a public Edict ordained, that his name should never be written in any place. But it may be objected unto me that this 
An objection  argument derived from the desire of men to continued their name to prove the immortality of souls thereby, is not very fit nor of great force: because this desire is rather found in men that are most foolish, va●ne, carnal, and wicked, then in the wiser sort of men, and such as are more grave, spiritual, and virtuous. For who covet more this immortality of name and memory, than they that are most vain glorious and ambitious, unto whose ambition death itself can bring no end, but it receiveth and liveth still therein? We see also, that they who least of all believe the immortality of souls and scoff most at it, are greatliest affected with this ambition, and labour most to become immortal after that manner, because they expect no other immortality. All this I confess is true, yet mine argument continueth still firm. For first we have always this testimony from them, that they 
The answer to it.  know and acknowledge a certain immortality and perpetuity, & desire to enjoy the same as much as they may, thinking to continued the same even after their death: which knowledge and desire is not to be found in brute beasts. And whereas the vainest and worst men are more moved with this foolish desire, than the wisest and most virtuous men are, the reason thereof is good and evident. For the wisest men and such as are endued with most virtue make lest account of this temporary and fading immortality, which is but as it were a wind that goeth from mouth to mouth, or is but in paper, parchment, wood, stone, brass, or in some such corruptible matter: because they expect a better perpetuity that is more certain, more glorious, and of longer continuance, of which they are certainly 
Of the true immortality.  persuaded. Which persuasion can not be vain in them, seeing it is grounded upon the testimony of God's Spirit, which saith, that the just shallbe had in everlasting remembrance, not only before men, but also before God and Angels. But the other sort of men busy themselves about an immortality, which deserveth not to be accounted so much as a shadow and image of true immortality: because the desire thereof is infected and corrupted with that darkness of error and of ignorance, which sin hath brought upon the mind of man, with those perverse affections that proceed from the same, and with their evil education and instruction, who are not taught in the word of God. By means whereof this natural desire of true immortality degenerateth into a foolish desire greedy of fame & name among men: (even as when good seed falleth into bad ground) but still it proceeds from a good beginning and fountain, if it were not corrupted. As we see also that it falleth out with the greater part of men in the natural desire they have of skill and knowledge, which albeit it be in them by nature, yet they turn it into a vain and foolish curiosity, that endeavoureth to know that which is not only not profitable, but very hurtful and dangerous for them, in stead of seeking to know that which is more profitable and necessary. But besides that which we have already spoken, our affections also tell us plainly, what the nature is aswell of our spirit as of our senses both internal and external: and what difference there is between them. For if the Spirit entereth into a cogitation of it own death, the internal senses, with fancy and imagination are not greatly moved or troubled therewith, but pass it over well enough, as if they had no feeling thereof, supposing that this corporal life will last a long time: but the spirit is so confounded and troubled, that it feareth and flieth nothing more than it. And surely I doubt not, but that they, who being pressed and oppressed with great 
An argument taken from the apprehension o● death to prove the immortality of souls.  evils, desire death through a blind fury of their mind, and wish to be wholly extinguished, would change their purpose and abhor that kind of death, and think it to be a greater mischief than all those which they suffer, if they might have leisure & means for some small time to come out of their despair, and to return to their right mind, that so they might have some rest from the troubles of their spirit, and think seriously upon the death thereof. And as all the senses are presently troubled, and as it were, carried out of themselves through the cogitation of corporal death: so the spirit contrariwise, if it be sound, quiet, and well settled, abideth firm, and derideth the ignorance, error, and terror of the senses, correcting and reproving them for the same. We may then conclude from the evidence of these things that the death of the Spirit is contrary to the nature of it, and therefore is afraid of it, and abhorreth even to think of it, or to make any mention thereof. But the senses care not but for this bodily life which the Spirit contemneth in regard of the other: whereby it appeareth, that the death of the body doth affect & touch it nothing at all, but the body only, & those things that are joined unto it, as namely, both the external & internal senses. For this cause, those men that are carnal and led most by their senses, think little either upon the one or the other, except it be when they see themselves in danger of corporal death. For, persuading themselves that they shall live long in this world, or at leastwise gathering to themselves as much hope thereof as they can, they think nothing at all in a manner of death during their whole life, no more almost then if they were borne immortal, until such time as they see in good earnest that they must dislodge. Then are they awaked out of their sleep, & if they be not altogether become brutish, they are constrained to think both upon the death of the body, and of the death of the spirit: and the less they are prepared against them both, the more astonished and amazed they are in themselves. Contrariwise good and just men, who of a long time, yea all their life have thought upon both, find themselves less troubled a 
Of the end of good and evil men.  great deal, because they are resolutely persuaded and assured of a better life. Moreover, we find by experience, that when the spirit is troubled with affections, or confounded through fancies and imaginations, or ignorant, vicious, profane, wicked, without fear of God and voided of religion, it is a great deal more moved at the cogitation & remembrance of corporal death, then if it be sound, well disposed and settled, quiet, skilful, innocent, religious, and fearing God. Whereupon we may consider and learn, which of these two judgements is more certain and true, either that of a spirit that is troubled, diseased, ignorant, evil, without fear of God, and voided of religion: or that of a spirit, which hath all those perfections rehearsed by us, contrary to these vices, It is an easy matter to judge. Therefore if we attribute more, as in reason we aught, to that Spirit whose judgement is most true and certain, the conclusion that I have made shallbe confirmed thereby. And as by the difference of desires, we may easily judge of the nature and essence of man's soul, so we may do the like by those delights wherein it taketh pleasure. But I leave thee ACHITOB, to go forward with the discourse of this matter.   

Of the argument that may be taken from the delights and pleasures of the soul to prove the immortality thereof: an argument to the same end taken from the insatiable desires and pleasures of men, even from such as are most carnal: of the testimony which they may found even in their vices to prove the immortality of their soul. Chap. 92.  
ACHITOB. It hath been a saying heretofore, that it belonged not to a vile person to deny God. Which Proverb came of this, that the nobility and gentlemen were so ill taught, and so ignorant of true nobility, that they reserved this occupation to themselves as proper to their estate, turning it to their glory, and endeavouring to be feared by this means. And surely these were fair Arms and goodly Scutcheons to set forth the Nobility of their estate by, namely, horrible and execrable blasphemies, which the very jews and Turks would never suffer among themselves. I would to God we might now say 
The right Arms of Machiavellian Nobility.  rightly, that this was once, but is no more: and so likewise, that there were not some among them that think themselves the greatest men, who have this in their thoughts if they dare not speak it openly, that it belongeth not to men of courage to believe in God and in his Word, or to think that there is a judgement to come, at which men shall appear: but that this appertaineth to the simple and foolish, not to these great and noble spirits, which flee above the clouds, and indeed know more than they aught to lead them into hell.  
But as by the difference of appetites and desires, we have showed them that the soul cannot be mortal, which concludeth a divine providence and a second life, as we declared 
An argument of the pleasures of the soul to show the immortality thereof.  before, so it is an easy matter to prove the same by those pleasures in which the soul taketh delight. For by how much the more those things that bring delights, do resemble the virtue of the soul that is delighted, and the greater affinity, proportion, and agreement they have with it, so much the greater, sweeter, and more pleasant are the delights, as also more firm and of longer continuance. Indeed it may be objected unto me, that if we look to this we shall found, that the greatest part of men take more pleasure in those delights which they can receive by their senses, which are more earthly & brutish, then in others that are more natural to the spirit, and more spiritual & heavenly and therefore the judgement that we can gather from hence of the nature and essence of the soul, may seem not to agreed to this we speak of. It is very certain that those men are of such a brutish nature, that a man may well 
Some more like to beast's then men.  doubt whether they be men or not, & whether they deserve not rather to be reckoned in the number of beasts, to which they are more like than to men, except it be for their face: in which respect also a man may compare them with Apes. For if they be led by the same desires and lusts, and satisfy themselves therein as brute beasts, and go no further, wherein do they differ from them? & to what purpose serveth that which God hath bestowed upon their souls more than upon the souls of beasts, if they content themselves with a brutish life & pleasure as they do? For where is the use of reason & understanding which God hath bestowed upon them more than upon beasts? And if they use them no more than beasts do that are altogether voided of them, who can know whether they are partakers of them more than they? And so consequently, how shall that definition commonly given of man, agreed to them, wherein he is called a living creature partaker of reason? Therefore when we inquire of the nature and substance of the soul, we must follow that rule, which is usually propounded in searching out the nature and essence of all other things. For when a man would have true knowledge of them, he taketh not in each kind of them that which may be, in some of the same kind, less perfect and monstrous. As if there be occasion to judge of the nature of man's body no man will take them that have some defect of Nature, or that are more deformed and monstrous then others: but the soundest, goodliest and most perfect bodies. We must do the like when we search into the nature and essence of the soul. For to know it well, we must not make choice of men that are borne brutish, so that a man can know nothing in them whereby they differ from brute beasts, except the outward shape of a man. Yea there are some borne with less sense and government of themselves, than beasts 
How we must judge of the nature of the soul.  have. The like may be said of them, who being better borne, voluntarily become brutish of themselves. For this cause, we must chief consider what effects the noblest and most excellent souls bring forth, if we will judge of the nature of all other souls that are of the same kind. For albeit the souls of some men are more brutish than of others, yet it followeth not but they are all of one & the same nature & substance, seeing they are alofone kind: but the difference between them proceedeth from hence, that some are more degenerated from their true and proper nature, than others are. Nevertheless this changeth not their natural essence but that alwiaes continueth one & the same in all: as the i'll disposition of bodies taketh not from them that nature & essence which they have common with others, notwithstanding they differ from them, as a sick and deformed body differeth from a sound and perfect body. Now there is no doubt, but that the noblest & most excellent souls take more pleasure 
Of the true pleasures of the soul.  in the internal senses then in the external, and more in reason then in fancy and imagination, but above all in the contemplation of the Spirit. And among those things which the spirit doth contemplate, it delighteth most & stayeth longest in them that are spiritual and eternal, that are highest & of greatest sovereignty. And as the spirit longeth most after these pleasures, and retaineth them with greatest affection, so it is less weary in searching for than and in the contemplation of them. Whereupon it followeth, that spiritual and eternal things are more conformable to the Spirit, than those that are corporal and temporary: and that it hath greater participation and agreement with heavenly things then with earthly. For it is marvelously delighted & contented with spiritual things, as if they were his own things which is by similitude, proportion, and agreement of nature: as contrariwise, both the internal and external senses please themselves in corporal things, and are not able to comprehend or attain to the other, but only by conjecture. Whereas if the Spirit were as mortal as the senses, than the excellentest Spirits, and such as approach nearest to the heavenly Spirits & to the nature of God, would give themselves to transitory & corruptible things as much as the senses do, and would search after them as earnestly as it doth after true and perfect pleasures. But we see by experience that they ascend up a great deal higher. Yea the 
An argument from insatiable pleasures for the immortality of the soul.  Spirits even of most carnal & brutish men, in that they never meet with any pleasures in transitory things that do fully content and satisfy them, thereby give evident testimony, they are borne to enjoy greater pleasures than they can found in all this nature, and that they are of another nature, surpassing them which mounteth above corporal and temporary things. For who ever saw an ambitious man satisfied with honours, or a covetous wretch with riches? And from whence cometh this that they are so insatiable, but only because the spirit that God hath given them, is of so noble a race & of such an excellent nature, that how much soever it be fallen from his first nature & nobility, yet it can never content itself with any thing, that is of another nature more base & vile than it own, as that which is too much unworthy and unbeseeming the spirit, & very much disagreeing from the essence of it. For although, being buried in this body, as in a sink of all carnal and brutish affections, it cannot so well perceive it own nature, dignity, and nobility, nor acknowledge the same so well, as the noblest and most excellent spirits, and such as are farthest from this stinking puddle, are able to do, nevertheless without tinking thereupon as it were, it hath evermore a secret sense of it own nature and dignity, which keepeth it from being contented with any thing whatsoever, although it be with never so great liking and abundance, except it enjoy that thing which is most proper and agreeable to his natural disposition, which is of a more high, noble, & excellent nature, than any thing proceeding from this mortal and transitory mass. But because it is buried in this darkness, which sin hath brought upon the minds of men, the same thing happeneth to the spirit, of which we have already spoken concerning the immortality and eternity of name and renown. For the right and natural desire of true and immortal honours, and of eternal riches agreeable to the nature of man's soul, is degenerated into this false and corrupted appetite of worldly honours, and temporal riches. Notwithstanding this is manifested hereby, that as every spiritalwaies searcheth after God as a blind man goeth by groping, as we have heard already: so it seeketh after riches and honours agreeable to it own nature. But because that darkness with which it is overwhelmed, hindereth it from knowing them well, and so consequently from taking that way, which it aught to enter in that it may attain unto them, therefore it 
A corrupt spirit taketh the shadow of things for the things themselves.  changeth them into others, that are of a differing and clean contrary nature. So that it can never find out or attain to that which it seeketh, because it is ignorant thereof, and so seeketh for it under a mask, which it taketh for the true face, and under a shadow, which it taketh for the very body whereby it cometh to pass that the mask and shadow remain with it, instead of the very face and body that are lost by means of them. In which the same thing happeneth to the spirit that doth in the matter of Religion, when it forgeth unto itself new and strange gods and idols, instead of the true God whom it searcheth after, because it knoweth not who he is, although it seeketh him, & desireth to found him. Wherhfore being thus deceived, & not knowing it, neither the means whereby it is deceived, it still desireth, because it perceiveth very well whether it will or not, that it hath not attained to that which it wanteth, as indeed it might well know the same, if it were not become very brutish by reason that it never findeth any contentation in any thing that it doth, or can attain unto. By which things we may further learn, that men shall find even in their vices, testimonies of the nature, essence and immortality of their souls, whereby they may be convicted, 
An argument taken from vices for the immortality of the soul.  and namely in their ambition & covetousness, which aught to admonish them of that that hat● been set down, and to cause the● to think more diligently thereupon. We may say the same of their lust. For although it be in the number of those pleasures that are most earthly and brutish, and which the senses themselves both external and internal aught to be soon weary of, for the reasons before heard, nevertheless they show plainly how insatiable this appetite is in them, in that no kind of lust can content them: insomuch as they are carried headlong therewithal even beyond the bounds of nature, within which brute beasts contain themselves. And truly all these things aught to drive us into admiration, and 'cause us to consider the just judgement of God upon men, and how he is revenged of them for dishonouring him, and their own nature, by suffering it to degenerate and wax beastlike, in forsaking spiritual, heavenly, and divine things, for those are corporal, earthly, and brutish. Therefore God depriveth them of that understanding which he had given them, that they should torment themselves after such things as vex their spirit, as it were damned souls, and that so much the more miserable and with less contentation, as they enjoy more of them. For what a torment is ambition and covetousness, and other affections and vices 
How God punisheth vicious desires.  that accompany them? And if we speak of lust, we see what is the vengeance of God upon them, who going beyond the bounds of nature, so dishonour their bodies, and their own nature, that there is no essence or nature whatsoever, unto which they may be compared. For none do so much pervert their nature as they: I mean not beasts only, but not the devils themselves. And although they be so beastlike, as to consider no more of the nature and essence of their soul than they do of beasts, yet the very figure of their bodies should make them to think, that God hath not made it differing from beasts, and namely in creating the head and face upwards, but that he hath also endued them with a soul differing from theirs, to the end it might be correspondent to the body in which it is. But it belongeth to thee ASER, to prosecute this argument, thereby to show unto us the immortality of the soul.   

Of the testimony that men have of the immortal nature of the soul in their very body, by the composition and frame thereof: of that which is in the motion and rest of their soul: how the creation of the whole world should be vain, and how there should be no providence of God, no religion, no divine justice if the soul were mortal: of the multitude and qualities of the witnesses that stand for the immortality thereof. Chap. 93.  
ASER. That good king Ezechias complaining in his sickness, said, Mine habitation is departed, and is removed from me like a shepherds tent: I have cut off like a weaver my 
Easie. 38. 12.  life. This holy man compareth his body and the life of man in it, to a tabernacle & lodge, or to a tent and pavilion, which are no firm lodgings but removable and such as may be transported from one place to another, as soldiers carry away theirs, when they raise their camp to pitch it in some other place. And indeed a man's body in this world is as it were a lodging assigned for his soul to abide in a while, not to devil there always, as it were in one place. For this life, is like to a military life, and as a continual warfare, until such time as we departed hence, and that God cutteth it off, (after we have finished our appointed days) as a weaver cutteth off the threads at the end of his web after it is finished. Therefore Saint Peter also calleh his body a tabernacle when he saith, I think at meet as long as I a●●n this tabernacle, to stir you up by putting you in remembrance, seeing I know that the time is at ●and that 
2. Pet. 1. 13. 14.  I must lay down this tabernacle, even a● our Lord jesus Christ hath showed me. S. Paul also useth the like manner of speech when he saith, For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle be destroyed, we have a building given of God, an house not made with hands, but eternal in the heavens. 
2. Cor. 5. 1, 2.  For therefore we sigh, desiring to be clothed with our house, which is from heaven. And to this agreeth that which is written in the Epistle to the Hebrews. For here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come. Here truly are notable testimonies of the second and eternal life, against them that doubt of the immortality of the soul. But according to that which is 
Heb. 13. 14.  given us in charge to discourse of touching this matter, we must bring them other testimonies even in their bodies, seeing their spirit cannot mount up to celestial and divine things.  
We may easily judge, if there be any light of nature remaining in our mind, that God would 
An argument taken from the frame of man's b●dy to prove the immortality of his soul.  have us know, by the composition and stature of our bodies, how the soul and spirit dwelling within them should be affected, and whether it aught to look. For why would God lift the head and face of men upwards, and not the head of beasts, but that he would admonish them thereby, that they are of a celestial nature? and that they must always look, not to the earth as beasts do, but to heaven, as to their native country, from whence they received their Original, in respect of their principal part, which all Atheists & Epicures do renounce? And if the body be lifted strait upward, the spirit is much more, which ascending by degrees from inferior things, maketh no stay until it come to the heavenvly & divine things: & having at length attained unto them, it stayeth there and contenteth itself therein. In regard 
Another argument taken from the motion & rest of the soul.  whereof, as in natural things we know by their moving and resting which is their natural place, so by the same reason we may judge of the natural place of man's soul, which is in perpetual motion, and can found no rest here belo● on the earth, as the souls of beasts can: which because they are altogether earthy, and all their natural and proper good coming from no higher place than from the earth, their snow●ss also are continually bending towards it: and the more earthly and brutish they are, the more downwards do they always bend. This we may easily perceive, if we compare not only the beasts of the earth with birds which hold more of the nature of the air, and live most therein, but also if we compare the beasts of the earth one with another. For albeit all of them have their snouts inclining towards the earth, yet the hog hath his head more bending downward than others have. For it is fashioned & bowed after such a fashion, that no beast can less lift up the head and stretch it towards heaven then the hog, neither is any so much troubled as that is, when by force it is compelled to look upward. The same may be said of the Moule, and of other such like beasts. Therefore if the Good that is proper and peculiar to the nature of man, consist not in this eternity and celestial immortality of which we speak, to what purpose is his head lift upward, and his eyes looking towards heaven, especially seeing God hath joined these things with a soul that is partaker of reason and understanding; For among the beasts, we find one fish, that hath the eyes set in the top of the head and therefore it is called 
Of a fish called Vranoscopos.  by the Grecians Vranoscopos, which signifieth as much as a Beholder of heaven, or looking towards heaven. But because it is not partaker of understanding and reason, more than other beasts are, and seeing the soul of it differeth not from theirs, we may easily judge, that the eyes of it were not set in that place for the same reason that man hath his lifted up towards heaven. Shall we say then that God hath created man and endued him with so many graces and singular properties, to make him more wretched than beasts in this life, who otherwise is so miserable, and compassed about with so many evils on every side? For whereto serveth the disposition of his nature, but to torment him the more by looking up towards heaven, and by that knowledge which he hath more than beasts have, thereby increasing in him a vain desire of such a happiness as he can never enjoy? And which is worse, the more noble spirit that any on hath, the more learned and virtuous he is, or the more and longer oppressed he is with the miseries of this life, the more would this vain desire prick and torment him. And if there be some, who like beasts pass over all these things without any sense and feeling, this befalleth them, either because they are of a heavy, sleepy, and blockish spirit, or else because they are drunken with that which is commonly called Fortune's favour, namely, with the honours, riches, and pleasures of this world. So that we must conclude upon this speech, that because beasts do here all that they have to do, according to those powers and gifts that are naturally in them, therefore they live and die here: but because the Spirit given to man, cannot do here according to his natural disposition, it followeth necessarily, that as it is borne in an other 
Except the soul be immortal, man was created in vain.  place, so it must have another place wherein to effect that which it hath to do. And contrariwise, if the soul of man be mortal, all that he hath to do is in this life, as it is with beasts: and then also it followeth, that he was created in vain and without cause. For God created nothing, but he propounded to himself the end for which he created it, and that such an end as is agreeable to the nature and dignity of every one of his works, else all things should have been created in vain by him. Now if he created man only to live in this world, as he did other creatures, than did he not in his creation propound to himself an end beseeming the excellency of such a nature. Which thing the greatest Philosophers amongst the heathen have after due consideration been constrained to confess. And if a man for whose sake the whole visible world was created and who only can, will, and knoweth how to use all things contained therein, was created and received this life in vain, what shall we think of all other things that were created because of him, and for his sake? Shall not the whole work of creation be in vain, and unworthy the infinite majesty and wisdom of God the Creator? and he that is the Governor of the world, shall he not be spoiled of all providence? Who aught not to abhor the very cogitation of such a thing? And yet the religion of God, his providence, and the immortality of our soul are so fast linked and joined 
The immortality of the soul is linked to the religion and providence of God  together, and depend in such sort one upon another, that they cannot be separated, neither indeed is it lawful to separate them. For he that abolisheth the one, shaketh also that faith which we aught to hold of the rest● because if our souls be not immortal, there is neither punishment nor reward, either for virtue or vice, or for the good or ill deeds of men. For we see evidently, how all things are mingled and confused in the course of this present life, that they are turned into a common robbery, that the worst men make themselves Masters and Lords of the world, as if it were created only for them, that they might be in it as Gods upon the earth: and contrariwise that good and just men may seem to have been created only for a pray to the wicked, and to be less accounted of them then the brute beasts. Which if it were so, then should God have no care of men: & if he have no care of them, how shall he be their GOD and Creator, and why should they rather than beasts call upon him and honour him? For if it were so, what hath he done, or what doth he yet more for them unto whom he hath given his law and commandment to call upon him, to honour and serve him, than he doth for beasts to whom he hath given no such law or commandment, and who do not call upon him nor honour him according to the same 
An argument taken from the consent of all people.  as men do? And what may we account all religion, all fear and reverence of God to be, all holiness, honesty and virtue, but superstition, and a vain and foolish opinion & fancy of the mind of man? Notwithstanding there hath always been a common testimony & even consent of religion among all nations, even amongst the most Barbarous and rudest people that ever were found. Neither ever were any so ill taught but they have put some difference between virtue and vice, and between honesty and dishonesty. It can not be then, but that religion and virtue, narrowly engraven in the heart of man, are good things, yea far better than their contraries. Whereas if God had no more respect to one then to the other, and were not to judge thereof, to what purpose serveth this difference which men make between them? and what profit shall they reap to themselves by esteeming better of that which is good, then of evil? Good men should not only receive less profit by virtue then by vice. but further they should be damnified by the same: & wicked men should ever have the better: yea they should be rewarded instead of being punished. For the best and justest 
Other reasons to the same end.  men are commonly a pray unto the wicked. And who shall deliver them out of their hands, seeing for the most part they are the strongest, and have in a manner the government of the world in their power, so that the most innocent persons are at their mercy as it were, except God should let them have justice either here in this world or in some other? And if God should fail in doing justice, upon what right should the justice that men use against malefactors be grounded? Shall there be more justice in men, who are altogether injustice themselves, then in God who is the fountain of all justice, yea justice, itself? All this must be so, or else we must confess, that all these things testify unto us, that God hath care over us, and that there is another place & time of rewarding every man according to his works, then in this world, and here in this life. For this cause Saint Peter calleth the day of the last judgement, in which all shall appear before God, the time of the restauration of all things fore● 
Acts. 3 2●.  told of God by the mouth of all his holy prophets since the world began. For considering that all things are so confused and troubled in the world, that it seemeth there is no difference betwixt the blessings and curses of God pronounced in his law, and that all things are turned topsie turuy by the malice of men, the Lord hath ordained a place & time, in which he will put an end to this disorder, and will restore all things to their right estate and good order. Now if the Lord hath appointed that every one shall be rewarded at that time and place, it followeth that then and there also we must search for the end for which man was created, and that his soul shall live there. And if the soul than liveth, and in that place, it followeth well also that there is the end of it. For we take the end for that which is the last and 
What the end of a thing is.  most perfect in every thing. So that if the question be of the authority of men, and multitude of witnesses for the confirmation of that, which hath been hitherto said of the immortality of the souls of men, we shall have for this purpose all those, who from the beginning of the world amongst all people & nations, have believed and thought that there is a God, that there is a Divine nature and providence, and consequently any religion: yea 
Of the multitude and quality of witnesses to prove the immortality of the soul.  even those barbarous and savage nations, which were found out of late days in those new islands, commonly called the new found world. And if the quality of the witnesses is to be considered, we shall still have almost all on our side. For if we look unto the most barbarous and strangest nations that are, the testimony of nature which all of them carry in their hearts, compelleth them to range themselves one this side. And if we come to others that have been more civil and better instructed, we shall have a greater advantage. Or if the question be of the greatest, and of such as by the consent and testimony of all, were accounted, and were indeed best learned and most virtuous, we shall not only find them to have been on our side, but also that they have condemned as ignorant men and unworthy to live, them that have been of a contrary opinion, betwixt which men and the other there is great difference. For those among the Philosophers that denied the immortality of the soul, were such as did abolish also divine nature and providence, and all religion, and such 
What kind of Philosopher's Atheists and Epic●re● were.  as placed the sovereign good of men in pleasure: which kind of men were always worthily taken to be the vilest & most abject, and as it were the scum and dregs of the professors of Philosophy. For to the end we may the better understand this, by mine advise we will consider of the best arguments that are alleged by Philosophers to prove the immortality of souls, that they who will not credit the testimony of the holy Scriptures, may feel themselves urged in their conscience with the sayings of Ethnics and heathe● men, who shall rise up in judgement against them to aggravate their condemnation. Now it belongeth to thee, AMANA, to follow this matter.   

Of another argument for the immortality of the soul taken from that natural desire which men have knowledge: of Aristotle's opinion touching the immortality of the soul: of other reasons of Philosophers to prove that the spirit cannot be of a corruptible and mortal nature: and how just men should be more miserable, and should have more occasion to fear and to eschew death, than the unjust and wicked, if the soul were mortal, Cap. 94.  
AMANA. There is in all men a natural desire of knowledge and wisdom: yea a man may perceive that most barbarous men desire naturally to know, unto what Art soever they apply their spirit, judging the same to be commendable and honest, as contrariwise they account it unbeseeming a man and dishonest, to be ignorant, to err, and to be deceived. From this desire the wisest and most famous among the Philosophers took a very good argument to prove the immortality of the soul. For seeing this desire is natural, and that in this world all the knowledge and wisdom that men can have, is the very small, and as it were nothing in respect of that which they want, they conclude necessarily, that there must needs be some other place and time then in this life, wherein that which is here begun but slenderly, is to be accomplished and made perfect.  
The reason from whence they derive their argument, is that common saying, that God 
An argument taken from the desire of wisdom to prove the immortality of the soul.  and Nature the minister of God do nothing without cause. Wherefore seeing this desire of knowledge and wisdom is natural in man, it cannot be in vain, neither is it given unto him, but that it should attain to some end and perfection. For to what purpose served the corporal eyes of living creatures, & for what cause should they begiven them, if they could never see, or were to live always in darkness? So likewise, why should the eyes of the soul and mind be given to men, thereby to behold celestial and divine things, which cannot be seen with bodily eyes, if they could never view them, but in such darkness as they do here behold them? To what end also should man be naturally pricked forward with a desire to know the truth & to have skill, if he could never sound enjoy his desire, but should remain always in ignorance for the greatest part of those things, which he desireth to know & which are of so great weight, that whatsoever he is able to understand and know in this world, is nothing or very little in regard of that which yet remaineth behind for him to know? For not to speak of those things in which all human philosophy must acknowledge her ignorance, let us come to that understanding which we may have by the holy Scriptures revealed unto us of God. For although the knowledge we have by them, surpasseth without all comparison all human philosophy & science, yet S. Paul compareth it to knowledge that is very obscure, to a light that is seen through thick & dark clouds, & to an image presented 
1. Cor. 13. 12.  untous in a glass, in comparison of that most high and perfect knowledge and understanding, which is reserved for us in another life, and whereof we have here but a very little taste & weak beginning. Therefore if we could never go further, would it not be a vain and ridiculous thing, if God had given this desire only to men, & never would vouchsafe to let them have the effect of it? And if it were so, that GOD had not ordained another time and place, for the finishing of that which is here begun in this life, it seemeth that the complaint made by some of the greatest Philosophers against Nature, should not be without some ground of reason. For what just cause is there, that he should give a longer life to some beasts then to men, seeing it skilleth not whether beasts live long or not, because long life cannot make them more learned, or more wise than they are at their birth? But it 
An objection made by some philosophers.  is otherwise in man. For seeing that knowledge and wisdom are his greatest Good, whereby he approacheth nearer to the nature of God, and of which all his other good things chiefly depend, it seemeth to stand with reason, that God should have given a longer life to men then to beasts, that so they might the better attain to so great a good, so necessary for them, in regard of which especially, they are preferred before beasts and differ from them. For we see by experience, that we must die so soon almost as we begin to taste of Sciences, and to wax wise. But we have no cause to make this complaint against the wisdom, 
The answer.  prudence, and goodness of God, who hath granted us life long enough, wherein we may learn here as much as we need, (if we could use it well) both to pass away this life, and also to attain to the other ●n which we shall abound in knowledge and wisdom and be fully satisfied therewithal. And although God hath given us a life twice as long in this world as that we now enjoy, so that we might live as long as the ancient patriarchs, whose years were so many, especially before the flood as Moses testifieth, yet all that which we could possible learn during the time of so long life, would be very little in comparison of the knowledge reserved for us in that Eternity. For the eyes of our spirit and mind are not able to endure so great brightness of heavenly knowledge and wisdom, whilst it is here shut up and as it were imprisoned in this body of sin, and in a manner wholly overwhelmed with darkness but it fareth with the spirit in this respect, as it doth with the Owl in regard of his eyes, and of the light of the Sun. Therefore every one hath better cause to assure himself, that God hath appointed an other time and place for the full accomplishment of this desire of knowledge and wisdom that is so firmly engraven in the nature of men, then to accuse God, as if he offered them injury to deprive them thereof by the shortness of their life. Now let us come to other particular reasons of Philosophers concerning this matter we have in handling, Although Aristotle so famous amongst them be very obscure 
Aristotle's opinion touching the immortality of the soul.  and wavering where he handleth the same, so that it is a very hard matter to understand what was his opinion and resolution therein, nevertheless he dares not plainly say that the spirit of man is of a bodily nature & corruptible matter, or that it is mortal as the body is. But in one place he saith, that if the Spirit be able to understand without the fantasy, it may be separated from it: but it cannot understand without it, than it cannot be separated. Which is alone as if he said, that if the spirit could understand without the senses, & the understanding and reason without fantasy and imagination, than a man might certainly conclude, that there is a difference in nature & substance between these things, & that there may a separation be made: so that the destruction of the one doth not bring with it a corruption of the other. Wherhfore none may conclude the mortality of the spirit that is capable of reason and understanding, by the immortality either of the external or internal senses. But Aristotle leaveth it doubtful in this place, whether this separation may be made yea or not, and whether a man may conclude thereupon, that the spirit is of an other nature and substance than the senses are, and so consequently immortal. But it followeth not, that if the soul being in the body understandeth things bodily, that is to say, by the bodily instruments that are outward, and then by the convenience of the internal senses, therefore it can understand nothing but that which they declare and bring unto it. For after the internal 
How the understanding cometh to the knowledge of outward things by the senses.  senses have gathered together the images and similitudes of those external things that are offered unto them, and so retaineth them fast being secluded and separated from all matter, the understanding is to receive from thence the first and simple knowledge of things. So that as the qualities of external things are the matter subject of the internal senses, so their images conceived by the internal senses, and purged from all bodily matter, are the matter subject of the understanding and spirit. And the spirit labouring about them draweth out certain motions, and knoweth many things from them, which cannot move the senses, and which the senses cannot know. And yet the spirit is first moved by these images, as the senses are by external things. But we must declare these things somewhat more familiarly. We understand already, how corporal things are the subject and objects of the corporal senses, and that the bodily senses receive and know them corporally, even such as they are presented unto them, every one according to his nature and office. But they cannot receive or perceive any more than that which is laid open unto them, and manifesteth itself outwardly. Now after the outward senses have thus received them and their matter covered with their qualities, the internal senses, to which the external are serviceable, conceive the images without the matters and qualities of those things whereof they are images. For the eye cannot see either the Sun or the light of it, nor yet any other creature discovered by the light, except it be present before it. But the Fantasy and imagination receive and conceive the images of things, even in darkness, although 

How the outward senses look upon things.  
How the internal senses receive the same things.   the things of which they are images, apparent to the eyes, nor yet are perceived at that present by any corporal sense. We see then already how these images are separated from the matter of which they are images, and how the internal senses behold them without their matter and bodies, as the external senses look upon them being joined with their bodies.  
Than having received them thus purged from their corporal matter, the spirit receiveth them yet more pure, and goeth further in the knowledge and understanding of them then all the senses do, comprehending other things, of which the senses can have no knowledge or apprehension. And thus the Spirit beholdeth and understandeth 
How the Spirit receiveth them from the internal senses.  corporal things corporally, that is by means of those instruments which it hath in the body, and spiritual things it beholdeth spiritually without those instruments. Whereupon it followeth, that although it useth the senses and such kind of instruments, nevertheless it is not so tied unto them that it cannot be separated, or do nothing without them, or not know and understand that which they are not able to conceive or know. So that it is no 
Other reasons for the immortality of the soul.  hard matter to believe, that the soul is of another nature & substance, as a man may judge also by this that it is the fountain and beginning of motion begun by itself, & not by any other, but as we have already declared. Likewise by this, that it is capable of the knowledge of infinite things, of which it retaineth the memory, and that it inquireth into secret things separated from all corporal matter, which cannot be perceived by any sense: & that it doth so many and so great things without the help of any bodily nature. Whereupon the Philosophers conclude, that it is of a simple nature, not compounded, and so consequently that it is immortal. For that nature, which is adorned and decked with such virtues, & with the faculty to understand, the like whereof is not in the body, and which can understand by itself without the use of the body, cannot be compounded of an earthly & mortal nature, nor have any part thereof mingled with itself, but it is stayed and sustained by itself, it subsisteth of itself and is immortal. Hereof also it followeth, that if the soul of man be of such a nature, than it cannot be rend in sunder or divided, or pulled into pieces, or have any 
The soul cannot be divided.  thing in it that can be separated from it: & so it must needs be that it cannot die or perish. And therefore the best and most excellent Philosophers hold that sentence as immovable, which Aristotle saith in an other place, namely, that the spirit is a thing separate and distinct from the senses and from the body, as an immortal thing from a mortal: and that it cometh from without, and elsewhere then from the body, as we have already touched it in another place. Whereby to my thinking, he hath declared very plainly, that he did not take the soul of man to be mortal. But yet it is somewhat hard to judge what his opinion was, because he doth not show himself so openly as the matter requireth. Yet whatsoever he thought or resolved with himself, the soul shall not be therefore any whit the more mortal or immortal. For the immortality thereof dependeth not upon his opinion, or of any other man's whatsoever. Nevertheless seeing so subtle and sharp a Philosopher durst not affirm that it was mortal, every one of any found mind may well judge, that he knew there were too many arguments to the contrary, and those so weighty, that they deserved to be diligently, examined, and were not so lightly to be rejected. For he was not so shamefast & modest, but he durst boldly reject and condemn the opinions and sentences of all others that were as well in his time as before him, how great and famous personages soever they were, when he thought he could do it with any show of reason, insomuch as he spared not his master Plato. Therefore albeit we had no other resolution from him touching this matter, but this only that he was in doubt, and durst affirm nothing on either side, yet his authority aught to prevail much with us against them who depend only of human Philosophy and reason, & are so easily induced to approve rather of the mortality then of the immortality of the soul. For at leastwise they may imagine, that so great a Philosopher who is in such wonderful estimation amongst all learned men, did not judge their reasons frivolous & vain, who maintained the immortality of the soul, as our Epicures and Atheists think, because they are more blockish & fool hardy. And therefore they boldly condemn that which either they will not or cannot conceive and comprehend, not considering what 
Other reasons for the immortality of the soul.  a confusion of things their opinion worketh in all mankind. For besides that which we have spoken to this purpose already, if it were so that the soul were mortal, the wickedest and most desperate men should have that which they desire most, and which is most expedient for them: and that should be fall the best and justest men, which they abhor most, & flee from as very hurtful for them: contrary to that which Solomon saith in the Proverbs, That the wicked shall fall into the evil he feareth, and that the desire of the just shall be accomplished. In 
Prou. 10. 24.  regard whereof good men should have far greater reason to fear death, than the wicked to desire it. For what good man is there of noble courage, who will not greatly abhor death when he thinketh with himself, that it consumeth and swalloweth up the whole man, as if he were buried in perpetual darkness? What consolation will serve him, and what comfort can a man offer him, that will be able to surmount the fear and horror of death, but that he will expect and suffer it with great impatiency and despair, when he shall be through necessity brought unto it? As for that consolation, which is taken from the necessity of nature, and from the common condition of all men, it is very lean if there be no other. We see by them who are so greatly tormented, that they wish and ask after death, as after a haven wherein they may be delivered from that tempest and torment in which they are, although the grief which they suffer breed such vows and desires in them, yet if they have but a small respite, they gather some consolation to themselves by some assurance, that their grief will in time cease, or else that time and custom will make it lighter unto them, and will teach them to bear it patiently.  
To be short, life is so acceptable and beloved of every one, that such as are most miserable 
Every one naturally desireth life.  and wretched cannot be brought to leave it but with great grief, not not those who destroy themselves with their own hands. Whereby we may judge, how much more better it is to them that have not all these occasions to desire it. For every one may imagine, what extreme grief it would be to a good man, who for living honestly all his life time, and for all the good which he had ever thought, spoken or done, should not only receive honour nor recompense in this world, but which is no worse, (as it commonly falleth out among men) should receive nothing but evil for good. And yet in the mean time he should see the worst men, that wholly give over themselves to dishonour & despite God, enjoy, the honours, riches, & pleasures of this world: and contrariwise himself to have nothing but dishonour, shame, confusion, famine, poverty, misery, sorrow, torment, & oftentimes cruel death. What comfort can such a body have, if he think that there is no other reward after this life, nor any better estate for him then for the wicked & abominable person in the world? And although none of all this should everhappen to good men, yet what contentation could they found in all the rewards which they should receive in this world for recompense of their virtue? It is an easy matter to judge by this, that the memory of the name & praise of well doing doth not always take effect, neither is it always due to them that have it, but oftentimes very unjustly given. But from thee, ARAM, we shall receive more full instruction touching this matter.   

Of that praise and reward which wisdom and virtue may receive of men in this world: how miserable it is, if there be no better prepared for them elsewhere: how death would be more grievous and lamentable to the best learned and wisest men, then to the ignorant and foolish, if the soul were mortal: how the best and most certain judgement of men is for the immortality of the soul: of them who not believing the same, say that it is good for men to be in such an error. Chap. 95.  
ARAM. If the Philosophers might draw many arguments of great weight from the natural desires of men, to prove the immortality of souls, this which we have now to propound of that purpose and reward, which every one naturally desireth, is of great consideration touching this matter. For it is very certain, that the best and most just among men, albeit they could avoid all hurt from wicked men, wherewith commonly they are rewarded from procuring their good, yet they should not enjoy any true & sound contentation in any of these rewards, which they might have in this world as recompense of their virtue. But rather whilst they were expecting & hoping for them, they should be ever in doubt and fear of missing them, by reason of the inconstancy of men, and of the uncertainty of all human things. So that nature might well seem to have given unto them this desire of praise and of reward, if they should never enjoy their desire elsewhere but in this present life. Whereof we may easily judge by the reasons that are to be set down.  
For the first, the memory of a man's name and the praise for well doing doth not always 
Reasons taken from reward and praise to prove the immortality of the soul.  come to pass, neither doth it fall out aright in regard of all, but is for the most part very unjust. For how often is glory and honour attributed to vices, yea to very execreable crimes & to the wicked, whereas it aught to be given to virtue and to good men? And if these have sometime any commendation, yet it is very sparing. But it falleth out much worse, when virtue receiveth blame in stead of praise. And when something is given to them unto whom it appertaineth, it cannot be stretched out far, by reason of the diversity and contrariety of natures, of minds and opinions, of the manners of men, and of people and nations. For how often cometh it to pass, that some condemn & blame that which others approve and praise? Yea many times one and the same man will contradict himself through the inconstancy of his judgement, now dispraising that which before he had praised, and contrawise. On the other side, albeit fame and commendation should be never so great, yet it could not be of any long continuance, considering that time consumeth, and bringeth an end to all that is under the heavens. Moreover we see what great alterations are daily wrought by time: and although praise were perpetual among the living, yet what could it profit the dead? or what feeling can they have of that, more than of blame and infamy? For the praise which good kings and Princes have purchased by their virtues, and the memory 
The dead hau● no feeling of praise.  they have left behind them among men, can profit them no more in regard of the world, than the memory of that infamy and dispraise, which tyrants have left behind them can do them any hurt. For how well or ill soever men speak and think on of another, the dead have no sense at all thereof. Yea it is likely, that they care not greatly for it, & that they rest nevertheless at their case for all that. Therefore we may well conclude, that notwithstanding all the praise and reward which wisdom & virtue can receive from men in this world yet they are still very miserable, if there be no better provided for them elsewhere. And if wise and virtuous men hope for another reward, they must needs believe a second life, in which they shall be recompensed for their good and just works. But further, when a learned and wise man hath by his spirit discoursed and go through the heavens, the planets and stars, beasts, men, and through all nature, yea hath reached to the Angels, and even to God himself the Creator & king of the whole world, ●and hath passed through all histories both new & old, and hath gotten the knowledge of all things contained in them, that have come to pass in the world: I pray you let us consider what he can be told of, that willbe more grievous, 
Death most lamentable to the best men, i● the soul were not immortal.  more bitter & fearful unto him, then of death, and what consolation can he receive when he shall understand, that his soul which hath seen & beheld so great riches, so many goodly and excellent things, and which hath been as it were the storehouse & treasury of them, shall be wholly extinguished in the midst of such a goodly, pleasant, and wonderful scaffold and theatre, that is so excellently adorned with all kind of beauty, so that it shall never be again at any time or in any place, nor shall have any more sense and feeling then the soul of a beast hath. What is he, who after such a consideration of death, should not have great cause to fear it, in so great misery as may befall him in his life? Do we think that these men among the Heathen who heretofore slain themselves to eschew the hands of their enemies and that shame and infamy which they feared to receive among men, & who have accounted it an act of great virtue & constancy to kill themselves in that manner for the avoiding of shame, would have done that which they did, if they had not thought that there had been another life besides this? At jest wise Cato Vticensis for his part testified this unto us, who the 
Cato believed the immortality of the soul.  same night in which he had purposed to kill himself (which he did because he would not fall into the hands and subjection of julius Caesar, against whom he had taken Arms in that civil war) caused those Dialogues of Plato to be read unto him, in which he maintaineth and confirmeth the immortality of the soul, according to the doctrine of his master Socrates. We may then judge by the contrary, what consolation it is to a good and wise man, against all the miseries that can befall him in this world, if he knoweth and is assuredly persuaded, that there is a resting place prepared for him not therein to be deprived of all sense 
What comfort it is to believe a place of rest after this life.  of good and evil, as they imagine who seek for rest in death without all hope of another life, but a place of happiness for them that with a good heart and Will have given themselves to virtue and holiness, which is appointed by God, who is all just almighty, & all good. For what rest can that thing found, which is not at all? So that if man be no more after the death of the body, than death cannot bring him any rest at all. And therefore we may say of this rest, that as God is not the God of the dead but of the living, according to the testimony of jesus Christ, so rest is not for them, that are not, but for them that are. For rest presupposeth a being, because the thing itself must needs be, as well as the rest that belongeth to it: otherwise neither of them both should have any being. Thus than we may judge, after so many reasons taken from nature, and having had so many testimonies as have hitherto been alleged, from the authority and sayings of men, on which side the truth is most certain, whether with them who have all good and wise men on their side, or with the other, who have none but foolish and wicked men.  
We have then in this matter which now we follow, the judgement, authority and sentence 
What store of testimonies stand for the immortality of the soul.  of all the greatest and most excellent men in the world, with the greatest and chiefest part of all mankind. Unto whose testimony we further may add religion, justice, holiness, and all virtues which are so grounded, and laid upon the immortality of man's soul, that if this foundation be taken from them, they are altogether overthrown. For albeit they have their chiefest foundation in God, nevertheless he hath so ordained and ordered them, that they cannot take place, if there be no immortality of souls, and that for the reasons already declared. It followeth then well, that truth is on their side. For truth will rather stand for them, then for vices, villainies, and notorious wickedness, unto which the mortality of the soul is more agreeable than the immortality. And if all the Philosophers were not able to attain to the knowledge of the soul's nature, nor define the immortality thereof, we aught not to be greatly abashed, if such as were most ignorant, vile, and abject of them (as they are called by some of the best of the Ancients) abused themselves so grossly, and spoke so unreverently, seeing many of the greater sort and of good account, fell so shamefully, and showed themselves to be worse than beasts in some things whereof a man may judge by the outward senses. For have there not some been found, who albeit they saw the snow white, yet they durst maintain that it was black, and that pepper was white, and although they felt the fire hot and burning, yet affirmed that it was cold? But for this time 
Of such as say it is good to keep men in this opinion of the immortality of the soul, and yet themselves believe it not  let us leave the opinions of Philosophers, and speak somewhat of them, who although they do not believe the immortality of souls, nor yet all that is spoken of GOD or of religion, say notwithstanding that it is good for the life of man, that men should be of that opinion, without which human society could not be kept inviolable, neither would men do any thing, as they aught, if they were not as it were with a bridle kept back by this fear, that there is another life after this, and that there are gods to take vengeance of such as have done evil. And therefore they say, that fear was the first that made gods. Hereof they conclude, that religion is nothing, but only in opinion, yea that it is nothing else but superstition, which proceedeth from this foolish opinion. But seeing this error serveth for the benefit of man's life, it is good, say they, to uphold it, and to confirm men therein.  
And they that use this speech, are none of them that are taken to be fools and ignorant persons, but of the greater and skilfuller sort of people, yea of the wisest men of the world according to the judgement of men. For when we speak of good men and 
How we must judge of a wise man.  such as are wise, we must judge of them according to the matter which we handle, and according to the judgement of God in his word. Therefore, if according to this reason we judge of these men of whom we now speak, they shall be found to be the grossest and most blockish beasts that the earth beareth. For all science, wisdom, and greatness, separated from virtue, are not the things themselves indeed, but brutishness rather, and vile baseness. And if we indge otherwise, what is all the knowledge, wisdom and greatness that is in all men, in respect of that which is one Devil only? For what want the devils from being Angels like to those blessed Angels that contive still in their obedience unto God? If there be any question made for greatness of spirit, they are all spirit. If for such wisdom and knowledge as that cunning and wise men of this world have, of whom have worldly wise men learned their skill but of them, in comparison of whom they are but young scholars? If the question be for greatness, what King or Prince in the world is so great as they? For who is called the Prince of this world by jesus Christ, the God of this world by Saint Paul, principalities, powers, worldly governors, 
joh. 12. 32 2. Cor. 4. 4. Eph. 6. 12.  and the princes of the darkness of this world? Are not the Devils so called, who rule and govern the great ones of the whole world, that are great indeed according to men, but not according to God? What then do they want of being celestial Angels, but virtue and goodness? But because these men of whom we speak now, believe not that there are Angels or Devils, we will beat them with other arguments. For of these men also there be some that say, we must live as the most do, but follow the opinion of the fewest. Now then, when they would have men to be persuaded to virtue, and to do their duty by lying and error, namely, by entertaining in them an opinion of religion, and of a second life, although there be no such thing, is not this, a very proper means to call all truth into question, and to trample all virtue underfeete? For it any propound the immortality of souls unto men, not as if it were a true matter, but as a feigned 
The inconveniences which follow the former opinion of persuading men to goodness by false means.  and false thing which yet they would have them believe as true, to the end that through the fear of God's judgement they might be kept back from evil, and lead unto goodness, every one may guess easily, how men will dispense with themselves, when they once know, that whatsoever is spoken and propounded unto them, is but a scarecrow to make them afraid, as we use to deal with little children and with birds by puppets and straw men, and such like things. And who will first perceive and find out these subtleties, such as are most ignorant and foolish, or the other that are more skilful and wise? It is easy to judge, that they who have best wits and are best learned, will sooner perceive the same than the other.  
Now what will follow hereupon, but that they being freed from the fear which held them in before, shall by the same means be let lose and sundered from the bond of all religion and virtue, as if it were clean broken: as it hath and daily doth happen to them that maintain this opinion, and to those also that have been taught & instructed in their school. And consequently this also will follow, that the quicker and sharper wit a man hath, and the greater knowledge and understanding is in him, the more wicked and bad he will prove. For if he understand that religion is but religion in name, and indeed is nothing but foolish supersti●tion, and if he judge as much of the immortality of the soul: having thus shaken off all religion, he will cast away all fear of God, & not suffer himself to be bridled in any sort, either by any terror of the judgement to come, or reverence of the deity, but only by the fear of men's laws. And if this take place in men, we may well think what licence they will take to themselves to commit the greatest sins & abominations in the world, especially if they be in darkness, and think no man seethe them, & that there is no other judge that perceiveth them, to whom they must one day give an account. And if they be so great, that by their power they may violate all laws both divine and human, as tyrants commonly use to do, who shall stay them from living like savage beasts among men? So that as every one by dexterity of spirit, by doctrine and instruction, shall approach nearer to that perfection for which man was created of God, the more inclined, ready and armed he will be to commit all kind of malice and wickedness. For how can he do otherwise, when that secret of the school shall be disclosed unto him, and when he shall learn, that whatsoever is here taught concerning religion, virtue and honesty amongst men, is but feigned and invented for the nonce to keep men in fear? Surely this will 'cause him to let lose the rains to all licentiousness. Now what corruption of the spirit and mind of man is there comparable to this? or what will sooner turn it aside from that perfection in which the sovereign & chief good of it consisteth? Therefore seeing the cause standeth thus, this opinion of theirs cannot be true, but overthroweth itself. For whatsoever corrupteth the spirit and turneth it from his perfection, is contrary to the nature thereof.  
Wherefore we must conclude, that it is far otherwise, & that this saying of theirs is as true 
That which corrupteth the spirit is contrary to the nature of it.  as if one should say, that the perfecter a man is, the more he is unperfect, the better he is, the worse he is: and the more truly he is man, the further off he is from the nature of a man, and more like to the nature of savage beasts. Who then can doubt of the truth of the soul's immortality after so great a multitude of arguments, and of so strong and so mighty witnesses, who fight in battle array, as it were a strong army, against them that uphold the contrary? But we have others no less worthy to be considered of, which we bear within ourselves, and which are so common to all, that there is no man whatsoever, but he feeleth and perceiveth them, whether he will or no. Therefore it shall be good for us to speak somewhat thereof also, to the end that the matter we have in hand may be the better and more perfectly understood, to the confusion of Epicures and Atheists: and that we may still acknowledge more and more the testimonies of the image of God in us, and who we be, and what good or evil things are prepared for us in the immortality of the second life, according as we shall be conformed and reform to the will of God, or else as we shall be removed from that image and give credit to impiety and lies. Now it belongeth to thee, ACHITOB, to discourse of this matter.   

Of those infernal testimonies, which all men carry within themselves, to convince them that doubt of the immortality of the soul, and of the judgement to come which shall be in eternal happiness for the good, and perpetual torment for the evil: how the very Heathen acknowledged as much by reason taken from the testimonies of nature. Chap. 96.  
ACHILLES. The manifold miseries & scourges of God's wrath wherewith men are daily oppressed, should minister unto them just occasion to think, how odious their sins & wickedness are to God, and that he will not leave them unpunished, neither in this life nor in the life to come. For as he giveth to his children of his goodness, and of those good things which he hath prepared for them in another life, by the benefits which he communicateth unto them in this: so he setteth before our eyes testimonies of his wrath and of his judgement, and of those evils and torments which he hath prepared for the wicked in another life, by them wherewith he useth to correct and punish them here in this world, But besides this, every one hath within himself testimonies either of eternal blessings or curses to come: which may easily convince them that will not receive the authority of the Scriptures, nor any natural reason to prove the immortality of the soul. For they bear about them all their witnesses and their own condemnation: and therefore it will be an easy matter to convince them, although not to confounded them. I say to convince them, because a man is then convinced, when he is compelled to acknowledge in his conscience, that he hath no reason 
The difference betwixt convincing and confounding a man  whereby he is able to gain say and withstand the truth declared unto him which condemneth him. But yet if he be obstinate, headstrong malicious and perverse, he never ceaseth for all that to kick against the prick, and to persevere in his obstinacy and peevish malice. For when reason faileth him, he armeth himself with impudence, like to a bold murderer, and to a shameless strumpet that cannot be made ashamed. But howsoever wicked men labour to blind their mind, and to harden their heart against the judgement of God, yet the same is never declared unto them, but they feel themselves pricked & pressed therewith, will they, nill they: not that it fareth with them as it doth with God's children, who are touched therewith unto repentance, but as S. Paul speaking of the wicked and obstinate, saith, that God hath given them a pricking spirit, because they have a bitter heart, which stirreth them to whet themselves as it were more and more against God, and to despite him, when they feel themselves pressed and urged by his word and by his judgements.  
Now than God having created Angels and men, that they should know him and follow his will, gave them a nature endued with understanding, and hath set within them rules of 
Internal testimonies of the immortality of the soul.  judgement, and of certain knowledge, which are unto them as laws in nature, and hath also placed in them the will with the affections, as ministers & practisers of those rules and laws. This self same divine providence hath appointed also that the affection of joy: should be naturally in men, which cometh unto them by reason of some good which they receive or look for when they obey his laws that commandeth them to do just things, as contrariwise, he hath put in them the affection of sorrow and heaviness to take vengeance of the rebellion against his laws, & of the transgression of them. For as God hath decreed, that the nature of man should lead a joyful life, and should by this means of joy be preserved in the knowledge of God his creator & in his obedience, & so rest in him: so also he hath appointed flames of wrath & grief to destroy this nature, when it doth not conform itself unto the rule of his heavenly wisdom & will. Therefore we may well say, that we carry about with us, as it were our paradise and our Hell, & have already in this world true beginnings of them both. For so long as we conform ourselves to God and follow his wisdom and will, so that we submit our will to his, and desire not to be wise but in him and by him, nor judge any thing good or evil, but according to his judgement, neither will any thing but that which he willeth, and take no pleasure but in obeying & pleasing him, we cannot be thus affected towards him, but we shall receive an unspeakable joy by that mutual participation of love 
The cause of true joy of the spirit.  which is between him and us, and by that taste which we receive thereby of his goodness, bounty, grace, and favour towards us, which is the top of all happiness. For as the nature of men was created of God, to the end it might be conformable unto him, so also it was ordained by him that it should live, not to be extinguished and undone through grief, which is an evil that corrupteth and consumeth, as well as diseases. Therefore if it were conformable to God, so that men's hearts agreed unto reason and right judgement, they should always rejoice in well doing, both before and after the deed done: and so we should be already as it were in Paradise. And although God be every where in regard of his nature and divine essence, which is infinite, nevertheless we mean according to the style of the holy 
Where God is said to be especially.  Scriptures, that he is properly and specially there, where he showeth himself good, gracious, and favourable. For this is more proper to his nature in regard of us, and that which maketh him more loving and amiable to us, and which is most necessary for us, and in regard whereof he calleth himself properly our God and our Father. But as he kindleth the sparkles o● love in their hearts that are upright and sincere, that l●ue and honour him, which works in them so great joy and consolation, that all other joy and pleasure are nothing unto them in respect of that: so contrariwise, if we turn aside and separate ourselves from him, opposing ourselves against his wisdom and will, as rebellious subjects to their Prince, violating all his laws and statutes, he kindleth in us firebrands of his wrath and fury, which work in us extreme griefs, so that we cannot bear them, but are consumed by them. For in this corruption and perverseness of nature, our heart burneth with the flames of this infernal fire with which it is kindled, and which strive against reason and right judgement, 
The true cause of grief and torment.  even before it hath committed the fault: neither doth it fear afterwards to commit the same, how great and enormous soever it be. But forasmuch as it belongeth to the justice of God, to destroy that nature which is disobedient unto him, he hath established this order, namely, that sorrow and grief (as it were the hangman) should punish and destroy them that are guilty, as criminal persons are punished by the appointment of justice. Wherefore although wicked men are oftentimes blockish and lulled asleep, and as it were void of all sense and feeling, so that they feel not this grief to the quick, nevertheless, in the end it is thoroughly felt of them, so that it utterly destroyeth them. For it is like to a fire which having been covered or smothered, afterwards kindleth again, and gathereth strength, when it is recoveretd and receiveth air, if it have matter whereupon it may work. For besides that natural grief which hath this office. God addeth thereunto horrible fear and terror, whereby he overwhelmeth the wicked, as if he thundered upon them: so that even here they feel their Hell, and the fire of God's wrath taking hold of them, yea they carry about them their internal furies, which are unto them in stead of Hangmen.  
Thus we may learn, how we may carry about with us the matter of two fires, the one celestial and divine, the other infernal and devilish. Wherhfore let us consider well with 
How men carry about them the matter of two fires.  ourselves, which of them we had rather have kindled in us, and which we aught to desire most, either that which giveth us both light and heat, and preserveth us in the hope of true life: or else that which burneth and consumeth us and doth wholly deprive us of that life. Now surely they are very wretched, who desire not that which is most agreeable to their own nature, and utterly detest and abhor the other. For as we delight in the fire, because it giveth us light and warmeth us: so we fear greatly to be burned and consumed by it. Now both these sorts of fire we found in God. For he is a fire to give light and warmeth to them that approach and draw near unto him, and desire to walk in his light, but contrariwise he is a 
Deut 4 24. Heb. 12. 29. Easie 66. 24. Mat. 22. 13. & 25. 30.  consuming fire, joined with smoke and obscurity, to them who by rebellion and disobedience rush against him. For this cause the fire of hell and of God's wrath, which is prepared for the devil and for all the reprobate, is called eternal fire in the holy. Scriptures, that is never put out: and the pains and torments of the damned are likewise called darkness without, where shallbe weeping and gnashing of teeth. And to the end we might know the nature of this fire the better, God hath put sparkles thereof within us. Wherhfore we are only to consider what matter we bring to kindle and increase either the one or the other; either for the preservation of our nature and life appointed unto us by God, or else for the overthrow and destruction thereof. And by the sense and feeling, which we may have hereof that joy, gladness and contentation, which the knowledge of God and obedience to his will bringeth to our hart, we may also judge whether there be a paradise, and another life & other joy besides this, which we receive by corporal pleasures, as beasts do. For this joy that cometh to us from such pleasures, is common to us with them, and usually it endeth in sorrow and sadness. But they have no other that cometh unto their soul, of which they may have any apprehension as we have. And by the same consideration, we may also in some sort judge of that happiness in which we shall be in the other life, when this joy shallbe perfect in us whereof we have here but a very small taste, in respect of that we shall have, when we shallbe fully reform according to God's image, so that both our understanding, reason & will shall be made conformable unto him, because we shallbe wholly swallowed up in his love. Contrariwise if here we feel a Hell which we carry about us, and which greatly tormenteth us, 
A sure argument in the wicked of their future torment in another life.  after we have offended the majesty of God, especially when we have committed some horrible crimes, this also is another argument whereby we may judge whether there be not a Hell, & vengeance from God to be executed upon his enemy's in another life. For that sorrow, which our crimes committed do breed in our hearts, is within us as a brand of this fire of God's wrath, which is daily kindled in us more & more. Wherefore if there be in us already such vehement heat thereof, when as yet the Lord doth kindle but a little the fire brands of his wrath in our hearts, how great shall it then be, when all his wrath shallbe set on fire? certainly they are very dull that do not well consider & understand it. Now we have heard heretofore how the heathen Philosophers concluded the immortality of man's soul by the nature thereof, affirming that it is not created or compounded of corruptible matter, but is of a celestial and divine nature, by reason of that knowledge which it hath, not only of particular 
Natural reasons to prove the immortality of men's souls.  and corporal things, as the soul of beasts hath, but also of universal and spiritual things, and namely, of God, of numbers, of order, of the difference between virtue and vice, and between honest and dishonest things. For the knowledge of all these things is so natural to men's souls, that they are within them, albeit they have not received them from without, either by doctrine or instruction. Whereby a man may easily judge, yea it followeth necessarily, that they are created of a more excellent nature than is that of the elements, of a nature that is incorruptible and perpetual. Wherefore it is very evident, that this knowledge, thus natural to men's souls, is a certain testimony, that they are not borne at all adventure, but are created by great art, and by a wonderful providence of that divine and eternal nature, by which they have their being, namely God their Creator, for which cause also the knowledge of him shineth in us. So also we may well judge, that God hath not in vain placed in our nature the knowledge of the difference, that is between virtue and vice, between things honest & dishonest, and that grief which is to take vengeance in us of those vices & crimes of which we feel ourselves guilty. And therefore the Heathen themselves concluded, that there was not only a divine justice and nature which discerned good men from evil, but also that there was another life after this, in which this judgement should be made. For they considered what great torments the wicked feel in their hearts and conscience, after they have committed horrible crimes: and that there is none so audacious and obdurate, not the greatest mocker and contemner of God and of his judgements that can be, who can always exempt himself from this dolour and pain, notwithstanding he labour with all his might to the contrary. For there is always a certain secret virtue of God's justice, which goeth beyond them all, and evermore punisheth the wicked. Now it is certain, that these things come not thus to pass at all adventure.  
In like manner it is not possible, that this knowledge which men have to discern virtues 
The natural knowledge of good and evil an argument of our immortality.  from vices should be a causual thing, and come thus to pass at adventure, without the certain providence of God. For if it were so, that there were no punishment appointed for vices, and no more benefit or joy prepared of God for the good then for the evil, it should follow that all this knowledge should be given to man in vain. For it should do him no more good than if he were without it as brute beasts are. Moreover, seeing all the wicked are not punished in this life, it followeth necessarily, that there is another life wherein they shall be punished, and in which also God will acknowledge the just, and 'cause them to enjoy that good which he hath prepared for them. For God cannot be God, but he must be all good, all just, and almighty. If he be good, he cannot hate the good or them that do it, but love them so, as that he cannot do otherwise. For how should he not love his like? And as he cannot hate goodness or good men, so he cannot love evil, nor the wicked that follow after it, but hateth them necessarily as contrary to his nature. Now Love is of that nature, that it 
The nature of love & hatred.  cannot but desire and procure the good and honour of him whom it loveth: as contrariwise, hatred cannot but desire and procure the the hurt and dishonour of him whom it hateth. It followeth then necessarily, that God being good and just, loveth good and just men, desiring and procuring their honour and their good: and contrariwise, that he hateth unjust and wicked men desiring and procuring their confusion and ruin. And if he have this desire and this will, no doubt but he can easily and doth also execute the same, seeing he is all just and almighty. Truly this conclusion cannot seem to be ill grounded, and those Heathen Philosophers, who thereupon have concluded the immortality of souls, and the judgement of God in another life, had good reason so to do. For it is taken not only from the nature of man and from the image of God after which he was created, but also from the very nature of God. So that whosoever gainsaieth the same, hath no more reason than if he said, that there is no God, and that God is not God, & that man is not man, & that he differed in nothing from a beast, neither God from the devil. And so not only all nature should be overthrown, but God also, the author and Creator thereof. For we see almost usually, that the wickedest men have the greatest honours in this world, & live most at their ease, as we have already showed. If then there be a God, and any providence and justice in him (now who can so much as think there is none, but he may also persuade himself withal that there is no world nor any creature, and that himself is not the same he is?) it must 
The necessity of another l●●e after this.  I say, of necessity follow that if God be, there is also another life in which that justice shallbe performed, which is not here executed, and in which both just and unjust shall receive every one the reward of his justice or injustice. For it is impossible, that God who is so good and so just a nature, should created mankind in that sort, as if he had created the best and justest part thereof, only to misery and wretchedness, and the worst to joy and happiness. Now continuing our discourse of those internal testimonies, which every one of us beareth within him of the immortality of the soul, we will speak tomorrow of conscience, which presseth men to stand in awe of God and of his judgements. It is your part, ASER, to entreat of this matter.   
The end of the twelfth days work.   

The thirteenth days work.  

Of the testimonies which every one may take from his conscience: of that fear unto which all men are naturally subject to prove the immortality of the soul, and a judgement of God upon the just and unjust: how that which the Atheists say, that fear causeth gods amongst men, serveth to overthrow their damnable opinion. Chap. 97.  
ASER. The wicked may flatter themselves, and labour as much as they list to rock themselves asleep in their impieties and horrible vices, yet they cannot prevail so much, but they have continually a warning piece ringing in their ear, and an Apparitor rapping at their door without oeasing, so that they cannot always sleep at their ease. For that is ever true, which the Lord said to Cain, Why 
Gen. 4. 6, 7.  art thou wroth? and why is thy countenance cast down? If thou do well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou dost not well, sinnelyeth at the door. Which is as much as if he had said, that if Cain doth as Abel doth, he shall be received of God with that honour that he is received, and shall go with his face looking upward: but if he do otherwise, his sin shall awake him well enough, and not suffer him to have any rest in his conscience, but will so press him, that he shall be as a man that lieth always in a portal, or near unto it: who can take no rest for any long season, by reason of comers & 
A similitude.  goers that go in and out by it, or that knock at it every hour to have it opened. And therefore it is commonly said, that Repentance ever followeth after sin. For, howsoever it may be slow in coming, yet it cannot be without great heaviness and sorrow: which no unjust 
Sorrow ever followeth sin.  person can eschew, but he shall be sure to feel it very sharp & vehement. For he must needs feel & have experience in himself, that of evil nothing but evil can befall him in the end, and that when he feeleth what evil sin bringeth unto him, he cannot but be grieved that he hath committed it, and wish that the thing were to do again. Therefore every wicked man feeleth himself accused and condemned by his own conscience, which is a certain testimony unto him, that there is a God and a judge, whose judgement he cannot avoid. But before we proceed in this discourse: it shallbe good for us to know what conscience is properly.  
We are then to know, that although sin hath greatly troubled the mind which God hath given us, by the darkness of error and ignorance wherewith it is filled, yet it could not so wholly blind it, but still there remained in it some sparkles of that light of the knowledge of God, and of good & evil, which is naturally in men, & which is borne with them. This remnant that yet remaineth is commonly called by the Divines Sinteresis: which is taken from 
What conscience is.  a Greek word, that signifieth as much as if we should say, Preservation, whereby that remnant of the light and law of nature that remaineth in us, is still preserved and kept in our soul after sin. And so this word Sinteresis signifieth that knowledge of the Law which is borne with us: and it is so called because it always keepeth in man, yea in the most wicked that can be, 
Why it is called Synteresis  an advertisement or instruction, which telleth him what is right and just, and that there is a judgement of God. Some distinguish between Synteresis and Conscience, others take them both for one and the same thing, calling this Synteresis, the very conscience itself: whereas others say it is the natural judgement, and some the light of our mind and spirit. The Philosophers, who had some obscure knowledge, said that there are certain Anticipations in our nature, by which they meant the selfsame thing in a manner. For by these Anticipations they understand those principles of knowledge and natural informations, which being as it were rules, we have not learned of any Masters, neither by use or experience but we have drawn and received them from nature, whoroe God hath appointed in this respect to be our mistress. For this cause the Philosophers used this word Anticipation, or some other of the same signification in the language wherein they wrote, before we 
Of the Philosopher's Anticipations.  receive these natural rules from nature, as from our mother, before we receive any other, either by learning of our masters, by use, or by study. For to Anticipate, signifieth as much as to prevent and to take before it. is true, that these rules of nature are in greater number, and more certain in some then in others: and so are polished and increased more by study, by use, by experience, and by exercise. Now by what name soever this light of our mind, and this natural censure is called, by which we judge what is right and just, or otherwise, sure it is, that of it own nature it is always carried to that which is true and good. And from hence cometh the approbation of virtues, and dislike of vices, from which also the laws and commandments of men touching manners do afterwards flow, and so the conscience that is within every one, to the end it may argue, reprove, and condemn him for his own faults. So that there is no man but he hath a judge within himself, except he be altogether deprived of sense and human understanding, and so being turned into a brute beast, committeth all uncleanness even with greediness, as Saint Paul speaketh to the Ephesians. And although some men that are most forsaken 
Ephes. 4. 19  of God fall sometimes into this sensiesnesse, yet it continueth not always with them, but God afterwards rouseth them up well enough, and causeth them to apprehended and feel the rigour of his judgements. For although nature were so put out and smothered in them, that no sparkle of natural light to rectify their judgement, appeared in them, nor yet any flame of God's wrath, which burneth the heart that is turned aside from him, yet he hath other means to kindle the same again and to set it on flaming, even after such a manner, that it amazeth them, as if it thunder down upon them. Therefore it fareth with them as it doth with drunkards and frantic persons, who know not whether they 
Atheists compared to drunkards and mad folks.  have any soul or sense, any mind or conscience, so long as they are drunk & out of their wits, until such time as they have slept their full, and are restored again to their right wits. So that howsoever this word Conscience is used, it is properly a judgement that is in our mind, whereby we approve that which is well done, & reprove the contrary. According then as our judgement is upright and sound, or weak and corrupted, good or evil: so also have we our conscience either more right or more crooked. But as it cannot otherwise be, 
A fit similitude.  but that they who have eyes see the light, although they will not see it, or say they do not see it: so it cannot be but that the eyes of the mind beholdeth the natural light that is in it, & those things that are discovered unto it thereby seeing it proceedeth from God, who is the fountain of all light, and who will never suffer it to be so clean extinguished in man, but that still there remaineth sufficient to condemn him withal. Therefore the very Heathen 
The wicked always condemn themselves.  could say, that a wicked person could never be absolved by himself, nor yet escape and flee from his own judgement and condemnation, he being judge of himself. So that although the wicked and unjust, oftentimes escape the judgement of men, yet they can never save themselves from their own judgement, which their conscience always executeth after the perfection of their process. For it exerciseth four offices against them. The first is, the office of an accuser: the second, of a witness, & so it is as good as a thousand, as we use to speak: 
Four offices of the conscience.  the third of a judge, the forth, of an executioner and hangman. For seeing the judgement of the conscience is ordained & established by God from heaven, in that which is well done there always followeth to it, tranquility, rest, and joy of heart: and in that which is wickedly done, dolour and torment, which punisheth the offence & taketh vengeance of him that hath committed it. Hereof it is that none live in greater fear, than the greatest contemners of God, that are most given over to all kinds of vice and wickedness, and who declare most 
The more wicked a man is the greater is his fear.  evidently by their works, that no fear of God or of his judgements holdeth them ●in. For they live as if they carried death always in their bosom, how good a face soever they set upon the matter outwardly. And because they cast all fear of God far from them, he vouchsafe them not the honour to give them a hart to fear him as they aught, but he be ●teth down their pride in such sort, that he causeth them to stand in fear not only of men, of tempests, of thunders and of lightings, but he terrifieth them also by dreams, and maketh them to tremble at their own fancies, yea they quake oftentimes at slies, and mice, and such contemptible things: but yet so as this fear cometh from a higher cause. For it is sent of God who thus derideth his adversaries, making himself terrible in his creatures to them that know him not, neither fear him as their Creator and the Creator of those his creatures. I say then, that although we had no other testimony in us of any God, 
The Deity proved by that fear which is naturally in men.  or of any divinity and divine nature, & so consequently of his judgement in a second life, yet this aught to suffice us, that cometh from fear, which is a natural perturbation in man, as we have heard. For whosoever feareth, declareth plainly thereby that there must of necessity be some power above him that is able to hurt him. For he that is assuredly persuaded that nothing can hurt him, is void of fear.  
Now there is no human power, or creature whatsoever it be, that is able to deliver man from all fear, not not the greatest Emperors, Kings, and Princes themselves, who are most feared and redoubted, and who cause all men to tremble under them, being as it were terrestrial Gods amongst other men. Nay these men themselves are so far from being delivered from all fear and terror, that very seldom any live in greater fear than they do, as 
The greatest persons live in most fear.  they declare plainly in that they must always have a great guard of men about them, and yet cannot ever avoid those dangers which they fear. For it often cometh to pass, that they are slain, either by poison or sword, or by some other kind of violent death, and that by such as should have kept them, or whom they trusted most, as is to be seen by daily experience. But albeit there were no other fear then the fear of death, which is commonly greatest in the wicked, & which they cannot finally avoid, yet they cannot but live always in fear. And living so, they must acknowledge will they nile they, that there is some other power greater than their own, which causeth than to fear, & before which they must one day appear. For if it were otherwise, why should they fear? Now whilst we seek this power; we must of necessity come to one sovereign power, under which all other principalities are ranged, & which hath no other above itself. And being come thereunto, we must withal conclude that this power cannot be human, but must needs be divine, & so consequently eternal & infinite: or at lest wise they must confess, that they cannot comprehend this power. This being so, I think we may fight against the Atheists with the same reason whereby they would persuade themselves, that there is neither God nor Divinity, but only in the opinion and fantasy of men: and that their fear, unto which they are always subject, hath put this opinion of God into their heads. Therefore they allege that which a Heathen 
The Atheists proverb, that fear made gods, turned against themselves.  Poet said, agreeable to this opinion of the Epicures, namely, that fear was the first that made Gods in the worlds. For men being possessed therewith, and not finding such help amongst all the creatures, as can deliver them from all those dangers which they fear, they must seek for an other without the creatures, which can not but be a divine power, if there be any at all, as in truth there is. Whereupon if the Epicures and Atheists will give no credit, I would feign know of them, what is the cause of this terror and fear which is of such virtue and power in the hearts of all, that no creature whatsoever, being partaker of reason & understanding, can go beyond it, or is able to pluck it wholly out of his heart, & utterly to extinguish it: as every one feeleth by experience in himself, and as these men of whom we speak, confess by their own sayings. Therefore I can hope for no better from them in defence of their impiety, but that they should stir maliciously against the testimonies of their own conscience.  
We say then that fear is not without a special providence of GOD given to men after 
The difference betwixt the fear in men and in beasts.  an other manner then unto beasts who indeed have some fear put in them, to the end to keep themselves from hurtful things before they take and use them: but this apprehension of theirs goeth not beyond the evils which may befall them in this life, as that doth in men which reacheth a great deal further. For they that have committed some horrible crime, cannot be without fear although they did it so secretly that no body could come to the knowledge of it, or else were so mighty and powerful, that they stood not in awe of any human power whatsoever. Now if they that have not this authority and assurance should reply upon me, that they are afraid lest men should come to the knowledge of the fact committed by them and so they should be punished, I demand of them from whence this fear cometh, but from an apprehension which (will they, nill they) is in them, and proceedeth from a certain sense and feeling of nature, which causeth them to fear that their offence shall be discovered by some other means then human? As if nature testified unto them, that there is some divine providence and vengeance, which watcheth over offences, and discloseth them how secret soever they are, and causeth them to be punished. As experience teacheth in many, whose secret crimes have been discovered by wonderful & incredible means so that all men are astonished at it, and are constrained to confess, that there is a divine justice, which will not suffer horrible facts to remain always hid & unpunished. Therefore how secret & close soever they carry the matter, this divine justice rappeth continually at the door of their conscience, as it were an Apparitor or sergeant, calling them to iudgement● so that whether they will no no, they must always live in fear. And this also hath been the cause that hath always induced men (I speak not of Atheists, who are bruit beasts & not men 
Strong reasons against Atheists.  to seek after some power out of their own nature, & above all creatures, to guard and defend them from the evil which they fear. For notwithstanding their diversity of opinions touching the divine nature, all with one consent from time to time have ever more yielded public and constant testimony, that there is some divine essence and power, that can help or hurt them. Whereupon it followeth, that they cannot be without fear of it, or else not with out some hope, that by the help thereof they shall be kept from the evil which they fear and obtain that good which they desire. Wherefore if Epicures and Atheists say, that fear was the first shop in which the Gods were forged and made in the world, I will take their saying against themselves. For thereby they are compelled at lest to confess, that fear hath constrained men from time to time to seek after some God: and that the same is a public testimony of nature, which hath caused them to lift up the eyes of their mind beyond the reach of bruit beasts, and forced them to think that there is some divine power and 
Fear is a natural testimony of divine essence.  nature. And by the same reason also they may learn, that this is no light fancy & vain opinion entered into the brain of man, but a natural, firm, and constant motion and knowledge, which no age of man could ever abolish, nor any thing else in the world. Yea this hath been daily confirmed in them more & more, and shall be continually, notwithstanding these swinish Epicures gr●nt in their sties, and these dogged Atheists bark against God and his providence, against his judgement and the immortality of souls, which is the principal foundation of religion, and the establishment and preservation of human society.  
Now then after so great a multitude of strong arguments and powerful testimonies, which like a mighty army fight in battle array to maintain the truth of the soul's immortality, who can doubt thereof in any wise? Let them that uphold the contrary bring forth their arguments and testimonies against ours and place them in the front of the battle, as it were army against army, that all may know on which side not only the number, but the strength also is the greatest. For the greatness of the number would do small good unless strength also were joined thereunto. For we must not so much reckon as weigh the sentences, nor consider so much how many men affirm a thing, as what manner of persons they are and of what weight their testimony is, as also what they affirm, & with what reasons. If we fall into this consideration. I doubt not but that every way the advantage will be on our side for the truth: namely, in regard of multitude, authority, nature, reason, and which is more, the testimony of God, who alone is sufficient. Now to the end that this may be well known unto us, let us hear, AMANA, the best arguments that our adversaries can bring for the ground of their error.   

Whether Epicures and Atheists be reasonable beasts, yea or not: and what reasons they bring to overthrow the immortality of the soul: of the false opinion of Pliny touching the same, and of his frivolous and brutish reasons to this purpose: of the brutish conclusion, unbeseeming the whole race of mankind, which he maketh of this matter, and of the judgement of God upon him. Chap. 98.  
AMANA. Many men by reason of their ignorance in the Latin tongue, think that Animal is a beast, whereas it signifieth a living creature, and comprehendeth under it aswell 
What this word Animal signifieth.  men as beasts, even every creature endued with a living soul. And therefore when they would show the difference that is between men and beasts, they take the contrary species or kind for the whole, and say that a man is a reasonable beast not considering that they speak contraries. For there is as great difference between a beast and reasonable, as between a man and brutish, or brutishness. For seeing it is the natural property of every beast of what kind soever it be, to be brutish, it cannot be that any should be reasonable, except peradventure Epicures and Atheists will say that they be such beasts. And indeed they should have wrong offered them, to be reckoned among men, seeing they do voluntarily make themselves brutish. If then they will not confess, that they are beasts altogether uncapable of reason, I demand of them whether they be reasonable beasts, and 
Atheists are reasonable beasts.  whether they will argue this matter whereof we entreat, with reasons or not, seeing they wil● not rest in the judgement of human reason, and of natural Philosophy, and seeing all the holy Scriptures, holy Doctors, wise Ancients, and most notable personages, seem unto them to be no better than toys and fables. Let us come then to the reasons of these un●●sonable beasts without reason.  
Is there any point in all human Philosophy that is better grounded and laid upon so strong firm, and well concluding reasons, and that hath more or so many reasons as this, whereof we dispute at this present? How many things do these fellows believe according to natural Philosophy, for which they have not so many nor so evident reasons? And how many things should be doubted of, except so many arguments could be brought for their proof and confirmation, as we have alleged, and as might yet be found out for their matter. Now what can they allege on the contrary side? For if they believe nothing but what they see, and whereof they have experience, I demand of them, how many things there are in human philosophy whereof they are thoroughly resolved, and yet have no experience at all in them neither can have any certainty, but only as they give credit to such as have written of them, who yet are deceived themselves oftentimes, and so have deceived others? And yet they are not so hardly brought to believe their reasons, as to give credit to them that maintain the immortality of souls, which is a matter of so great consequence and weight. And as Spiders turn into poison the sweetest liquors they suck, so they maliciously gather the reasons, testimonies and places, not only of Poets, Philosophers, and others, 
Atheists fitly resembled to Spiders.  but also of the holy Scriptures, which they think will serve to confirm them daily more and more in their errors, and in their false and wicked opinions, how little likelihood soever they seem to have, and how slenderly soever they make for them. In the mean season they dissemble and make show that they see not all the other reasons that fight directly against them, which being in number infinite, are so clear and so certain, as nothing can be more. There are many of them that have no other reason but their opinion, who can allege no other thing but this. It is not so, or, I believe it not, or, I doubt of it, or, Peradventure it is otherwise. And in truth none of them all in a manner have any reasons of greater show, or that can urge them that have never so little judgement, as we may easily judge by the examination of one of their chief Masters and strong pillars, I mean Pliny, by whom we may judge of all the rest. For if he, who is so much esteemed among them, showed himself 
Pliny's brutish opinion touching the immortality of the soul.  to be such a gross & blockish beast, & so far from reason in that which he wrote touching this matter, a man may soon guess what can be in the others, who are no body in respect of him, or at leastwise have not gotten so great credit & authority. But let us hear the reasons of this venerable Doctor. First, he derideth all that men have spoken or written of the being of souls after the death of the bodies, accounting all this to be but toys & dreams and then he propoundeth his resolution, that there remaineth no more of a man after his corporal death, than there was of him before he was conceived and borne.  
After that he laugeth at the vanity of men in that they are so foolish as at the very time of their death voluntarily to flatter and beguile themselves, in promising to themselves life even after life: some by the immortality of the soul, others by the transfiguration thereof, & a third sort by attributing sense to the dead and by honouring their souls, and making a god of that, which having been a man, is now nothing at all. I marvel not if Pliny mocked at many foolish opinions that were among the Heathen touching this matter, and namely, the fooleries of the Phythagoreans and Platonists, which I doubt not but he meant by the transfiguration of souls, whereof he maketh mention. For Plato was so far from yielding that the soul of man was mortal, that he will not confess the soul of beasts to be so, because 
Plato his opinion o● the creation of ●ouless.  according to his opinion of the creation of souls, he thinketh that there is but one kind of soul for all sorts of bodies that have life, and that souls pass and repass from one to an other, as we heard, until that being well purged they come to the place of the blessed. Likewise this author of the natural history had reason to deride the folly and vanity of men in deifying them that died, and in making them immortal gods that had been before but mortal men. But from these fond opinions he had no reason to conclude, that if souls did not pass and repass from bodies to bodies, and if men could not become gods after their death, therefore they ceased to be men any longer, and nothing remained of them but their ashes, so that their souls also perished as well as their bodies. But what reasons hath he to uphold this conclusion? For the first he allegeth, that men breathe not otherwise then 
Pliny's reasons against the immortality of the soul. Plin. lib. 7. 50. 55.  beasts do, because he seethe nothing of the soul of either of them, & goeth no further than to the external senses, as if the soul of men as well as of beasts were nothing else but a breath. Whereby, we see what a gross beast he showeth himself to be: we may say the same of him, in that he requireth both the internal and external senses after the death of a man, & the same offices, which the soul performed in the body when it dwelled therein, concluding that without these things there could be no good for man after death. Than he taketh this for another argument, that there are many other things in the world, which live a great deal longer than man doth, & yet we attribute no immortality unto them. After, he demandeth whether man goeth after death, what lodging he hath, and what a multitude of souls there should be in the world from the time it hath been a worl●, if all they should live that have been & so concludeth that they should be but as it were so many shadows. We have sufficiently answered all these goodly arguments before, when we spoke of brutish men, who rest only in the witness of their senses, & go no further than beasts do. Besides, what an argument is that for so great a man, to say that we attribute not immortality to many things that outlive men, & therefore why should we rather believe it of men's souls? There are not only many beasts, whose life is longer than the life of men, but also many trees, and therefore we must ask of man, why we should think that he is rather capable of reason, & more excellent than other creatures are, and that he hath a soul of an other nature & more noble than they? But I will further urge these arguments against himself, according as we made answer to the complaint of some Philosophers, who accused nature because she had granted longer life to many beasts then to men, seeing it was so necessary for them. For seeing Nature hath endued man with so many goodly gifts and so excellent, wherewith she hath not adorned beasts, certainly she should be a stepmother, and no true mother, or if she were a mother yet she should be a very cruel mother, if she had given longer life to beasts then to men, & had not reserved a better and a longer for them. But this reason would not greatly move Pliny, who is the man himself, that gave these goodly titles to nature, under which name, he blasphemed 
Pliny blasphemed God under the name of Nature.  God whom he knew not. Nevertheless this argument will be of force with them that weigh it aright, considering the providence and goodness of God towards mankind. He addeth further, that this fantastical opinion is entered into men's brains, because they would never fail but be eternal. But this pretended reason is so far from confirming his opinion, that contrariwise it greatly weakeneth the same, in that it agreeth with the argument for the immortality of souls, that was taken from this natural desire which God hath not given to men in vain, as hath been showed unto us by good reasons. Moreover he judgeth it great folly to keep bodies in hope that they shall live & rise again, according to the vain promise of the Philosopher Democritus, who did not rise again himself. But I marvel not if Pliny spoke so of the resurrection of bodies, seeing he held that opinion of the mortality 
Democritus believed the resurrection of bodies.  of souls: and seeing those Philosophers who maintained the immortality of souls, did not so much as once dream of the resurrection of bodies, except this Democritus only, at whom I much more wonder, then at all this which Pliny writeth of the mortality of souls. For it seemeth that Democritus could not learn this of reason & of natural philosophy, unless it were so that he builded his doctrine upon the same foundation that he took from his Mootes concerning the matter of which all things are made. For according to this opinion he taught, that all the essences that ever were, should in time have their being again by the meeting together of those matters, of which they had been compounded. Surely a very fond opinion for a Philosopher, so that Pliny may well deride it; although the argument he maketh against himself is not strong enough to overthrow his imagination. For he would have had Democritus to have confirmed his opinion by his own resurrection. But his Philosophy did not insinuate so much that it should have been done so quickly, but after the revolution of many Ages, which Pliny should have stayed for before he could have evicted Democritus of his foolish opinion, if he had no better argument to overthrow it. Now if this Philosopher did not lay this ground for his opinion which I have mentioned, I would have thought that he might have understood the same by some speech come to his ears, of the doctrine of the holy patriarchs and of the Hebrews touching this matter, by means of the Egyptians amongst whom those good Fathers long dwelled, because they that wrote the lives of the Philosophers, put Democritus in the number of them that descended into Egypt to learn the wisdom of that people, as Pythagoras, Plato, Orpheus, Socrates & Phere●ydes with others, 
What Philosophers went into Egypt to learn wisdom.  did the same. But let us return to Pliny and hear his other reasons such as they be.  
He accounteth it great folly in men to think, that by death a man may enter into a second life: & thereupon breaketh forth into an exclamation, as if men were out of their wits so to think. But he would have found it no less impossible that generation should come of corruption, & that of seed, which is but as it were a little slime, a man could be engendered, or a beast, if experience had not taught the same. And because he hath not seen a soul live after the death of the body, nor a dead man risen again, therefore he concludeth, that there is neither mortality of the soul nor resurrection of the body. But we may call to mind that which was uttered to this purpose, when we spoke of the similitude that is between our first & second birth I omit that which he saith of the rest and quietness taken away for ever from men that are borne, if that division of the soul separated from the body which some Heathen Philosophers made, should take place, namely, when they so divided it, that the sense of souls remained above, and their shadows beneath among the dead: for all this is but foppery. Nevertheless the argument taken from the common consent of men touching the immortality of souls remaineth still, and is confirmed even by Pliny himself in this place, although peradventure he never thought it.  
Let us then come to the final conclusion which he maketh of this whole matter. He 
The conclusion of Pliny touching this matter.  calleth it deceit of words, and foolish credulity, whatsoever men speak or believe of their immortality, & accounteth it as a poison that destroyeth the chief good of Nature, which as he saith is death, adding further that by this means death shall be doubted, or (as sun read it) the grief of him that is to die shall be doubled, when he shall think upon that which is to come. For if it be a sweet & pleasant thing to live, to whom can it be pleasant to think that he did once live? Therefore he setteth this down for his last resolution, that it is more easy and certain for every one to believe himself and that whereof he hath experience in himself, then to trust any other: and to fetch his assurance from that which a man was before he was borne. Thus we see how he laboureth to persuade, that no man can be blessed in the life to come, because the chief good thing he can have in nature is taken from him, except he be wholly like to beasts in his death, and except he believe that there remaineth no more of him after death, than there was before his conception and nativity. And to confirm and assure himself in this opinion, he would have every one to fetch an argument and proof hereof from the similitude of that estate in which he was before he was conceived or borne, to compare it with that which followeth his death that a man may judge of the one by the other. But what reason is in this? For is there the same reason from not being to being, that is from being to not being? We know well how man is come from not being to being, but can we hereby be so assured, that he shall be no more after he hath been, as we know he hath been after a time wherein he was not? And whereas he would have us give more credit to our own experience in our death, then to all that can be said by others, I would demand of him what that is of which we have experience, and whether we aught to conclude, that we die wholly as beasts do, because to the sense of man we see no difference betwixt their deaths and the death of man. It seemeth this is his meaning.  
But as they of his coat ask who ever came from the dead, to testify that souls are immortal, so we may ask of him, who ever returned from thence, to assure us of that which every one may have experience of in his death, & whether they perceived themselves to be altogether like to beasts after the same. For they can have no more certain testimony of this by their senses, than they have of the other point. Also I would gladly ask of him how he found himself, when he was choked near to the mountain Veswius with smoke, & with 
The judgement of God in Plini●s death. Plin. Nep. spi. ad. Oct. Tac.  the smell of brimstone issuing out of the same: and what consolation he found in death, which he saith is the greatest good of Nature. Whereby he showed how smally he had profited in the knowledge of God the creator of Nature, by the contemplation of his works therein. Not marvel them if knowing him no better, he called her stepmother & cruel mother, seeing that according to his Philosophy, the greatest good which she bringeth to men, is death: & seeing she never doth them better turn, then when he bringeth than back again to that estate in which they were before they were conceived or borne into the world. According to which conclusion, a man may well approve of that desperate sentence of theirs who affirm resolutely, that it were good for men, either never to be borne, or to die presently after their birth. So that the first and chiefest benefit of nature should be, never to be borne: and the second, to be borne before the time, or to be as soon dead as borne.  
Moreover, it should follow by Pliny's Philosophy, that nature had made men with such 
The absurd consequents of Pliny's opinion.  a condition, that they cannot but be miserable, if they live after this life, and if death do not wholly destroy them, and if they be not resolutely persuaded of this to have no hope at all of another life. For that which he saith importeth as much. Is not this then a goodly resolution and conclusion of so great a searcher of nature, whereof he hath written the history? With what eyes did he look upon all that which he might have seen? How much differed they from the eyes of beasts? and what profit reaped he by that knowledge which he might have more than they? In truth we have in this man a wondered example of God's judgement upon the learned and wise men of this world, who so vilely abuse that reason, knowledge, & understanding which God hath given them. And forasmuch as this dog was permitted ●o vomit out such horrible blasphemies, both against God and against nature, and yet received no punishment for the same from man, therefore God himself took vengeance of him by smoke, whereby he was choked to death. For seeing he esteemed the soul to be no better than a little wind or breath, he deserved well to lose the same in the midst of smoke and brimstone. But we have spoken enough of him. Now you may, ARAM, tell us some more lies rather than reasons, wherewith Atheists fortify themselves against the truth of this matter we have in hand, and how we aught to consider of the judgements of God upon them.   

Of them who say, that we cannot know by the light of nature but that the soul is mortal: of them that allege a place of Solomon against the immortality of the soul: how we aught to consider of the judgements of God upon Epicures and Atheists: how the absurdities, which follow their doctrine, declare plainly the grossness of it: of the force of those arguments that were produced before for the immortality of the soul. Chap. 99  
ARAM. It is a great matter when men judge of things, not according to reason, but according to their affections: because than their ears are closed up against all reasons, as we have the example of the jews, who were the enemies of jesus Christ. For after they had once resolved not to acknowledge him, neither to receive him for the true Anointed of the Lord, but to reject and condemn him with all his doctrine and works, no reason was ever sufficient to remove them from their these purpose. But to confirm them in their obstinacy there needed no great arguments, not not in show, as it appeareth in that difficulty of theirs to believe his resurrection. For neither all these witnesses of which they had so great a number, nor all their doctrine, nor all their holiness, nor all their signs and miracles, were of any force with them in regard of that testimony, which the thievish and murdering Soldiers corrupted with money gave them to the contrary, and that by a loud lie 
Mat. 28. 12, 13.  which overthrew itself.  
Therefore we may easily judge what the mind of man is, when it is corrupted and perverted, and when men suffer themselves to be carried away with their evil and froward affections, so that God doth even blindfold and forsake them. We see many such examples in this matter, which we now handle touching the immortality of the soul. For on the contrary side, what are the strongest reasons, which these doggish Epicures and Atheists, enemies to God, to mankind, and to all nature, against whom we now dispuse, can allege for themselves? What would they do if they had as much against us, as we have against them? How would they lift up themselves against those that maintain the contrary, and tread them under their feet? We heard in the former speech the strongest arguments 
Against them who say that the S●ule cannot be known to be immortal according to nature.  upon which their error leaneth, whereby we may know what a bad foundation it hath. Others there are who say, that in the light of faith the soul is immortal, but in the light of nature it is mortal, so that whilst they would seem Philosophers, they show themselves to be ignorant and gross beasts. For there is but one only truth both of nature and of faith, truth never being double, but always one. Therefore if the soul be immortal in the light of faith, it cannot be mortal in the light of nature, but only in the darkness thereof.  
For we see how this small remnant of natural light, that yet remaineth in the corrupt nature of men, sendeth them with one common & public consent to this truth of the immortality of men's souls: so that none, besides those in whom it is as it were utterly put out, and whom God hath by his judgement wholly rejected and cast into a reprobate sense, but acknowledge the same. How then would this light of nature show itself, if it had still continued in integrity? Therefore I demand of these men, what it is which they call natural light, and whether it be not the reason of man: and if it be that reason whereby men differ from beasts, I ask again of them, whether any thing that may be known by arguments and reasons, although they were all gathered together, and examined narrowly hath greater and more evident light of reason then this hath. Nevertheless I agreed with them herein that the light of faith maketh us a great deal more certain of all this matter then any reason that can be alleged: because that is the light of God's Spirit, which illuminateth the eyes of the mind a great deal more clearly than any natural light can do, as being grounded upon the testimony of God himself. Some also there are, who persuade themselves, that Solomon putteth no difference between the soul of men and of beasts, and 
Of them that allege Solomon against the immortality of the soul. Eccles. 3. 18. 19, 20, 21.  that he doth not affirm, that one of them is more or less mortal or immortal than the other. I considered in mine heart (saith the Wise man) the state of the children of men that God had purged them: yet to see to, they are in themselves as beasts. For the condition of the children of men, and the condition of beasts are even as one condition unto them. As the one dieth, so dieth the other: for they have all ou● breath, and there is no excellency of man above the beast: for all is vanity. All go to one place, and all was of the dust, and all shall return to the dust, who knoweth whether the spirit of man ascend upward, and the spirit of the beast descend downward to the earth? But they are greatly deceived that think to defend their impiety by this saying of Solomon. For it is most certain, that his meaning is not to conclude that it is so indeed, as he speaketh in that place: as it appeareth manifestly by his final resolution in the same Book made of the matter he hath in hand, wherein he concludeth touching the body of man, that dust returneth to the earth as it was, and that the spirit returneth to God that gave it. Now we man well think, 
Eccles. 12. 7.  that this excellent man, or rather the Spirit of God which spoke by him, would not contradict himself, especially in the very same Book. Wherhfore we must rest in the conclusion he maketh therein, in which he giveth us the meaning of all his former speech. And as for the place alleged by us, which, as Epicures and Atheists think, maketh for them, he would give us to understand thereby, what a man may judge of the life and soul both of men and beasts, and of the difference between them, according to that we see and perceive by our corporal senses, and that may be comprehended by the mind and reason of man, if we have no other testimony that looketh beyond this life, in which these dogs and hogs, and all carnal and brutish men stay themselves. For if there remained no more of man after his death then there doth of a beast, both the one and the other would come to one pass. Nay, the life of man should be so far from happiness, that it would be a great great deal more miserable than that of beasts. So that it should seem to be better for men to pass away the time merrily, and to live like beasts, according to the Philosophy of Epicures. And although they should take this course, yet in the end all would be but vanity, according to Salomons theme, which he handleth in his Book of the Preacher. Therefore being to set the conclusion of his book, he saith, Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, whiles the evil days come not, nor the years approach, wherein thou shalt say I have 
Chap. 12. 1.  no pleasure in them. Now if there were no difference between the soul of men and the soul of beasts, both which the Prophet calleth by the name of Spirit, taking spirit for soul, what profit should men reap by this instruction and exhortation? For what greater benefit could he look for, who from his youth had given over himself to the service of God, and had always remembered him, than he that forgot him and turned himself away from him? Thus ye see how Epicures and Atheists fear not to profane the holy Scriptures, by snatching at some places of them very maliciously, to the end to set some colour upon their damnable opinion against the immortality of the soul. But we see what a goodly bulwark they are able to make, even all one with the rest of the arguments, which we have already heard of the same matter. And although they allege here in defence of their cause, Lucian and Lucretius, two other patriarchs and Patrons beside Pliny, whom they account as principal pillars of their impiety, yet we can hear from them no other arguments worthy to be so much as once thought upon, besides those which we have already 
The judgement of God upon Lucian and Lucretius two Arch Atheists. E●seb. Hier. Crin. de Po. Lat.  handled. But we may observe the like judgement of God upon them, that was upon Pliny the great searcher of Nature. For Lucian, according as Suidas testifieth, was torn in pieces and eaten of dogs: and Lucretius being mad and frantic slew himself. For having abused so vilely that good wit and skill, which God had given him, did he not worthily deserve to lose it utterly, and to have less of it then bruit beasts? He become so brutish, that he would not acknowledge, that any either God or man had brought so great a benefit to the whole race of mankind, or that was for this cause more worthy of greater praise than Epicurus was, because by his Philosophy and doctrine he abolished all 
The doctrine of Epicurus commended by Lucretius.  divine providence, and so consequently, all Divinity and immortality of the soul, all hope of an other life, all Religion and conscience, all difference between virtue and vice, between honest and dishonest things, and reduced all nature both Divine and Human, into mere brutishness. This beastly fellow thus admiring Epicurus concludeth, that men cannot but be wretched and miserable all their life time, so long as they have any opinion of all these things, because they will hold them in continual fear, and so consequently in perpetual torment: but being dispossessed of all such thoughts, and so of all fear of God, it will follow thereupon, that they shall have no more conscience to resist or gainsay them, whatsoever they think, speak, or do. And so their conscience shall not torment them with any fear and terror, especially of any judgement of God, but will suffer them to be in quiet, and not hinder in any respect their carnal pleasures and brutish affections.  
Now when they are come to this point, they account themselves happy. For than they 
Epicures think themselves kings and gods.  all of them, not only as Kings and Princes, but even as it were gods, fearing no other power above themselves, and having no body to hinder their pleasure, but that they may freely follow their one hearts lusts. So that the last and best conculsion of all this Philosophy will be this, that men cannot be happy except they become very beasts, and being spoiled of all things wherein they excel them, wax altogether brutish and retain nothing at all of man's nature, but only the outward shape of man. Therefore we may judge by the examples of these personages of so great skill, and so highly esteemed among men, what man can do by his natural light, if it be not guided by God but utterly forsaken of him: seeing those self same men who have been such great inquisitors and admirers of nature, have fallen into execrable beastliness, and such horrible blasphemies, as in a manner to say, that God 
The blasphemy of Atheists.  or Nature had brought men into the world, only to make them more miserable and more wretched than all other creatures: so that they can find no better happiness and felicity for themselves, then during their life to become like to beasts, or plants, or some other insensible creatures: or else after their death to be brought to nothing, as they were before their conception & birth. Is it possible for a man to think of a stranger thing, more against God, more unworthy mankind, or more injurious to all nature? For the Atheists themselves that reject God, do yet confess if they be Philosophers, that nature doth nothing without cause: or if they confess it not, they have testimonies enough in nature to convince them of it. And yet if their doctrine were true, God and nature have done worse in the creation and production of men, then to do some thing without cause. For this were a cause most unworthy of God and of nature, to created and bring forth men into the world only for this cause and to this end, that they should be more miserable and more wretched than all other creatures: and to make mankind only to behold in him the perfection of all misery and unhappiness, as though God and Nature took pleasure in beholding such cruel pastime, 
The absurdities that follow the opinion of the Atheists.  as is the view of man's miseries in such a cursed estate. Wherefore seeing all the doctrine & Philosophy of these dogs bringeth with it so many, so strange, so beastlike, & so horrible absurdities, even once to think of them, being so unbeseeming God, all mankind & whole nature, & so contrary to all the testimonies, which the whole world affordeth unto us in the behalf of God's eternal providence over all his creatures, I think there is no body, except he be as brutish as the Authors and Teachers of such kind of Philosophy and doctrine, but he can easily judge, that it is altogether impossible to be true, or to have any foundation and ground in reason, seeing it confoundeth and overthroweth all reason and all nature. Which causeth me to be so much the more abashed, & that there are men found even among Christians, yea a great number, who rather follow the false opinion of these mastiffs, and give greater credit to the sottish and vain arguments which they propound, both against God and all divinity, and against all nature and truth, then to the true sentence of so many virtuous, learned, and holy men, as have been in the world from the beginning, and to the common and public testimony of all mankind, and of all people and nations. But if God hath not spared the very heathen, who so shamefully abused that knowledge, which he gave them of his works in nature, & of the testimonies of his divine nature and providence manifested unto them therein, but punished them with such a horrible judgement, as to deliver them up into a reprobate sense, & into a worse estate than is that of brute beasts: we are not to marvel if he deal so & more hardly at this day with them that deserve a great deal more than they did, because he hath manifested himself more clreely without all comparison to these men, if they would see and know him: yea we aught to think it more strange if he dealt otherwise. For the more means he affordeth unto men to know him, the greater judgement they deserve when they abuse the same, and labour to blind themselves by their own ingratitude & 
Of the force of arguments alleged before for the immortality of the soul.  perverse malice. As for us, we cannot (God be thanked) doubt in any sort of the immortality of the soul, seeing we see on our side the advantage, every way in defence thereof, namely, multitude, authority, nature and reason, and which is most of all, the testimony of God who alone is sufficient. I doubt not but that some, to whom God hath given more knowledge and greater graces then to us, are able to allege other arguments & reasons for the confirmation of this matter, which we have omitted. For truth is not unprovided, but hath great abundance of all sorts. But we have alleged the chiefest, taken out of the writings of learned men that have written best of this matter, especially of them that in our time have written most Christianly.  
And although there are other reasons then those which we have set down, yet I think there are enough in our disourses to stop the mouths of all Epicures and Atheists, at leastwise to convince them if we cannot confounded them. For what can they allege against them that is of any great show or strength? It may easily be judged by their best arguments discoursed upon by us. What will they have more? Do they expect or desire of us that we should point with the finger at souls when they departed out of bodies that die? Than they should be no souls and invisible spirits, but bodies that may be seen. And yet unless they may behold them coming forth, as do smoke from the fire, they will not believe that they departed at all from the bodies, or that they have any being at all. Surely I think that these men who would so feign have soule● to be mortal, and to be extinguished by death with their bodies, would not believe that they were departed, and that they once lived, their bodies being dead, not not although they had seen them come forth visibly: but would persuade themselves that they were some illusions, and that their eyes had some mist before them: so strong is a lying persuasion in a man, when he will judge of a thing not according to reason, but according to his affection. Now seeing we are come to the end of our purpose, namely, to lay before our eyes as it were a natural history of man, by the consideration of the matter of his body, of the adversity of that matter, and of the 
The sum of this whole book.  form that God hath given it, together with the profit and use both of the one and the other: and also by a description of the parts, powers, virtues and faculties of his soul, thereby to be instructed at large in the nature and immortality thereof, by causing the soul to behold herself in the glass of her marvelous actions, and all to this end that we should know ourselves as it becometh us, there remaineth nothing now but that we should draw out a general instruction from these advertisements and lessons, which God giveth us in the admirable composition of our nature: to the end that hereafter we should become more fit for the contemplation of this divinity, by the consideration of the wonderful works thereof in the heavens and in the earth, or which we desire (if God give us grace hereafter) to discourse. Therefore do thou, ACHITOB, put an end to the cause of our present assembly and meeting, by some goodly discourse upon all these matters of which we have entreated.   

Of the image of God in the soul of man, and of the image of the world in man's body: of the conjunction that is between God, the Angels, and men: of the sundry degrees of Good that are therein: of those lessons and instructions, which we aught to receive from the wonderful composition and conjunction of the soul and body. Chap. 200.  
ACHITOB. If we could diligently consider of the natural history of man, which we have prosecuted hitherto, we should found in it a goodly glass wherein we might behold God who is invisible, making him after a sort visible unto us, and come to the knowledge of him by his works, even as the soul is made, as it were, visible to us, showing itself unto us by the body wherein it dwelleth, and by those works which it effecteth in the same. Therefore first let us set before our eyes the whole frame of the world, as it 
The world compared to man's body, and God to his soul.  were a great body: then all the parts of it, as the members thereof: and lastly, let us consider God, as the soul of this great body, working in the same, and doing all his works there according to that order which he hath set therein, even as his soul hath his operation in the body of man, and in all the members thereof. Thus doing, as we know that there is a soul in the body, and another nature besides that which is corporal, which worketh in the same, as we perceive by the effects of it: so by the works done in this visible world, we may judge that there is another nature that doth them, which being invisible, is some other of them this whole frame which we behold, and far more excellent, filling the same, and being in all the parts of it, as the soul is in the body.  
But whilst we propound to ourselves this glass to look upon, let us beware we fall not into their fond dreams, who both thought and affirmed, that this world was the body 
Against such as say that God is the soul of the world.  of God; and that he was the soul thereof: dwelling in it as the soul of man doth in his body. For if it were so, then should God be mortal and corruptible in regard of his body, so that still some part or other should perish, as we see that corporal things daily corrupt. On the other side, God should not be infinite and incomprehensible as he is: for the world doth not comprehend and contain him, but he comprehendeth and containeth the whole world. Wherhfore neither is the world God, nor God the world, but the creator of it, by whom it is and consisteth. And albeit we behold him not with our eyes in his nature and divine essence, yet we must not therefore conclude as Atheists do, that he is not at all, no more, nay much less, than the soul is, because those works whereby he maniefsteth himself in the world, are far greater without comparison, than those which the soul worketh in man's body. Besides that, all the works of the soul are the works of God seeing it receiveth from him that life and virtue that is in it. Forasmuch then as the soul is the image 
The image of God in man's soul.  of God in man, as his body is the image of all this great world, in which God worketh as the soul doth in man's body: let us consider diligently, how God hath distributed the powers, virtues and offices of the soul in the body, and in all the parts of it, as he manifesteth his glory, virtue and power in this visible world in all the parts of the same. For the first, there is agreement herein, that as one only soul is in one body, and is sufficient for all the parts & members thereof: so there is but one God in the world, who is sufficient for all creatures. Again, if we cannot conceive how the soul is lodged in the body, how it giveth life unto it displaying all her virtues, and doing all her works therein, but only so far forth as she giveth us instructions and testimonies thereof by those divers effects which we see in every part and member of the body: no marvel then if we cannot behold with the eye, nor comprehend how GOD is every where, filling heaven and earth, and how he displaieth his power and virtue, working in all his creatures, guiding and governing them, and preserving them by his divine providence and virtue. For if we cannot comprehend the creature, or the nature thereof how shall we comprehend that of the Creator? jesus Christ said to Nichodemus, If when I tell you earthly things, ye believe not, how should ye believe, if I tell you heavenly 
john 3. 12.  things? We may say the like here, that if it be impossible for us thoroughly to know the earth or the body or soul of man, or the nature and virtue thereof, how shall we know the heavens and spiritual natures, or God and his works? For if it be beyond our reach to discern them in ourselves no not the works of our soul, how shall we comprehend his works in the whole world? Notwithstanding, if we can well consider of that conjunction and agreement 
Of that conjunction which is between God and his creatures.  that in between God and his creatu●●r, with the disposition of these sundry degr●●● which every●●● of them foldeth in this conjunction, even from the highest and most celestial thing, that approach nearest to the nature of God, unto those things that ●e lowest and most 〈◊〉, the● shall we see God is it were present before the ●●e● of our spi●●●, and by the contemplation of him wonderfully content all the parts of our soul. Therefore to prosecute this point, let us ●●te, that God created and fashioned in his Angels, images of himself that are altogether spiritual, (as indeed himself is all spirit) and not enclosed o● shut up in any bodies that are of an earthly and corruptible matter. Besides, it pleased him to make another kind of his image in the nature of man, which should ●old the second degree next to the Angelical nature, in which he represented himself more excellently then in any other visible nature and creature, namely▪ in a nature that came nearest to his own, next to that of Angels and in which the bodily & visible nature was joined unto a spiritual and invisible nature. Now for the better understanding hereof, we will set down ● conjunction of three kinds of good things, which are in divers degrees. The first is, God the Creator, who is the createst of all, and the sovereign good of all his creatures, and is a 
Of God, the first and greatest good.  nature without any quality or accident whatsoever. For all that is in him, is substantial and assential. This good is such a nature, as hath all his moving of himself, and receives it not from any other then from himself, but giveth moving to all creatures according to their nature and measure. And yet all the motions in God are without any change, either of time or place, or howsoever: so that he abideth still immonable and may always say, I am the Lord, I change not, as it is in Malachoe. For he is ever one. And seeing he is the Original of all moving, he must of necessity be firm and stable: because otherwise he could not 
Mal. 3. 6.  give motion to others, as we have daily experience hereof in ourselves. For if we would move one of our feet, the other must abide steady and firm, and both the one and the other must always have some stay whereby to take their motion. Now because God cannot have stay from any other, he hath it in himself, in that manner which hath been declared already. For as he is always one, so all things are present to him, yea he is every where, by reason that he is eternal and infinite without beginning, and without end, judge of all, and is judged of none, governor of all, and governed by none. Secondly, we have those spiritual natures & creatures, which are a great Good, but not the greatest and chiefest Good, which 
Of spiritual natures which are the second good.  cannot be found but in the Creator. This second Good hath qualities, because all things in it are not substantial. It hath also motion, but receiveth the same from the first Good of which it dependeth, and then it giveth the same to others. This motion is in time, but without place: & this Good both judgeth & is judged, governeth & is governed. The Angels & human souls are this great Good, & these spiritual natures, which are spirits having all these things. But there is between them that difference before spoken off, namely, that Angels are spirits, which were created to live an immortal life, and not to be joined to any earthly bodies: and that the spirits of men are created to dwell in bodies and to give them life. Therefore I let pass angels for this time, & purpose to speak only of the spirit of man, which is not immutable as God is, but may receive change of qualities: as we see in that it being created good, become bad, & of evil, may also become good, by the grace of God. But no such thing can be fall God. For he cannot but be good in the highest degree, and the sovereign good of every creature: because, goodness is not accidental to him, as it is to a creature, but substantial & essential. And as God is the sovereign mover, who giveth motion to all creatures, in this great world: so the soul & spirit of man giveth moving to the whole body of man, who is the little world, and to all the members thereof: neither hath it this motion from any other creature beside itself, as the body receiveth the same from it, but only of the Creator. Now although this motion be made in time, yet it is not made by any change of place. For what motion soever there is in the spirit, yet it abideth always in his place, so long as it 
The spirit of a man moveth not in place.  dwelleth in the body, which it governeth under God the great governor, by whom also it is judged, as itself judgeth the body, and all that is under the same. Lastly followeth the body, which is another Good, but not so great as the spirit. This hath not only quality but quantity also, whereas the spirit hath only quality without quantity. For to speak properly, no nature hath quantity, except it be corporal. Therefore the soul of a great man is not greater than the soul of a little man, in regard of corpulency, because it hath none as the body hath. So that when we say, that a man is of a great spirit, we mean it not in regard of bodily quantity, 
Of the body which is the third good.  as when we speak of a great body: but we consider in him the experience of gifts agreeable to his nature, wherewith he is endued above others. And in taking it so, it will often come to pass, that the lest bodies shall have the greatest spirits, and the greatest bodies the lest spirits. And by the same reason we consider in a little infant, even as soon as he hath received moving in his mother's belly, the self some soul that is in all the ages that follow his infancy, until his old age, and in death itself. But according as those instruments whereby it worketh during life, are fit for their offices, and as aftershard when they wax wax old, they fail of their natural force and virtue: so the soul showeth her powers and wonderful effects in them and by them, continuing still one and the same in substance and nature, as these things have been at large declared unto us. And as for the motion of the body, it is made both in time and in place, and is governed and judged, but itself neither governeth nor judgeth.  
Thus we may see; how these two good things, the spirit & the body, of which the one is greater than the other are united and joined together in man, as if he carried heaven and earth linked together. We may learn also how in this conjunction the spirit occupieth the middle betwixt God & the body, and agreeth with them both. We see also the admirable works of the soul during this conjunction, all which are so many testimonies of the wonderful works of God, & of his providence over all nature. Moreover, we behold a very goodly disposition and excellent order in all the powers and faculties both of soul and body.  
Let us then make our profit of all these things, and of the instructions and lessons which 
The right end of our creation.  God giveth us in them, to lead us to the principal end for which man was created, namely to know and to honour his Creator. Wherhfore we aught chief to consider, that seeing God in the wonderful composition of our nature hath placed the heart between the head and the belly, and the vital virtue of the soul between the animal and the nutritive virtue, and the will between the understanding and the most sensual part that is in us, therefore the heart and will must always look upward and not down ward, to the end that they may join themselves to the moblest and most divine part, and not to the basest, most sensual and earthly part. For they are in man's body, as if they were placed between heaven and earth: so that as man holdeth the middle place between Angels and other living creatures, by reason of that communication of nature which he hath with them both: so fareth it with the heart and the will, between the head and the belly, and between reason with that part which is capable thereof, and the sensible part which is without reason. Wherhfore if the will of man be joined with reason, which is celestial and divine, and followeth the same, it will become like unto it, and shall be able easily to govern the sensual 
Man's will must lookeup to the head, not down to the belly.  part underneath it, to be mistress over it, and to compel it to obey. But if the Will despise reason and the counsel thereof, and if instead of mounting upward towards the nob●est part, it descendeth to the sensual part, and joineth itself thereunto, then shall the Will be made like to that, and shall serve it in place of commanding it. And by this means the Will shall become altogether brutish, whereas contrariwise it might make the sensual & earthly part as it were celestial and divine, by drawing it with itself, if it would obey reason rather than the affections of the flesh, and if it would look more towards heaven then towards the earth, as men commonly use to do. For as they are in the midst between Angels and beasts, if they look more towards heaven, from whence their souls have their Original, 
Man is a middle creature between Angels and beasts.  then towards the earth out of which their bodies, are taken, they should become celestial and divine, like to the Angels, and finally like to God, who hath created them according to his own image. But if instead of beholding the heavens, unto which their faces are lifted, they look down to the earth as brute beasts do, having more care of that then of heaven, they shall become altogether earthly and brutish like beasts. Therefore it standeth every one in hand to bethink himself seriously, which way he aimeth, whether he desireth to come, and whom he had rather resemble, either the Angels or beasts. Let us then consider well of our nature, & of that order which God setteth down therein, and follow the same, & beware that we do not pervert it. Let us learn to acknowledge the image of God in us, and to behold his great wisdom therein, as it were in a little world. First, let us know by our soul, which is a spiritual & no corporal nature, that God is a spirit & of a spiritual nature, which is not shut up & enclosed in any place. For neither our spirit hath any biding in a place, as if it were enclosed and shut up therein, notwithstanding that it remaineth in a place as it were 
A spirit is not shut up in a place.  in regard of that conjunction, which it hath with the body. Nevertheless, it is not so enclosed therein, but that it is able, not only to range through heaven and earth, and throughout this whole visible world, but even higher and further, so that the whole world is not of sufficient bigness to contain the same, or to content and satisfy it, but that will go beyond it. What then shall we think of God who hath created it? And how forgetful shall man be of himself, if whereas the whole world is not great enough for his spirit, he content himself with a little angle of the earth, and do after a sort bury himself therein? Likewise let us know and believe that God is invisible, seeing our soul is so, and cannot be seen with bodily eyes. For it is not painted with any colour, neither hath it any 
It is invisible.  corporal figure, whereby it may be seen and known, which is done only by the acts and deeds of it.  
Let us not seek then to know the essence and nature of God, by the eyes, but only by the spirit. For he cannot be seen by them, but only by the eyes of faith, neither can he be 
The conjunction of our soul and body a wonderful work of God.  found or conceived by corporal senses. Again, we aught not only to consider, but even to wonder how he hath joined our soul with the body, and distributed the virtue thereof into all the parts and members of the same: and how he doth so excellently knit together and conjoin so many members, so distant one from another, even from the one end unto the other: all which receive life and virtue from the soul according to their nature, and office, and are all governerd by one and the same spirit. Let us consider then how he● would have that part of the soul, which is partaker of reason, to have the principality and dominion over the part in which he hath placed the affections: to the end that the chiefest should command, and the other obey, as himself hath the Lordship and sovereignty over all his creatures, as they that must obey him.  
Let us not then suffer the spirit to be brought into bondage by the perturbations of the affecttions, neither let us suffer them to be so lifted up against reason, as to be able to turn the virtue of the soul against it. In like manner, let us remember, how God worketh in our minds, in such sort as that the knowledge of those things which we know first, is no●●bolished by the understanding of other things we learn after, but they are all kept together very surely in the chief part of the soul, and that in good order, by means of the memory, without confusion one with another, even as if they were written and engraven in a table, or in a pillar of brass. Wherhfore we should be very ungrateful and brutish, if any thing in the world 'cause us to forget God, and if we have not his benefits towards us in perpetual remembrance.   
FINIS.  
Πάντ●●● δόξα θεῷ.   

THE THIRD VOLUME OF THE FRENCH ACADEMY: CONTAINING A NOTABLE description of the whole World, and of all the principal parts and contents thereof; As namely, of Angels both good and evil; of the Celestial Spheres, their order and number; of the fixed Stars and Planets; their light, motion, and influence: Of the four Elements, and all things in them, or of them consisting: and first of fiery, airy, and watery Meteors or impressions of Comets, Thunders, Lightnings, Rains, Snow, Hail, Rainbows, Winds, dews, Frosts, Earthquakes, etc. engendered above, in, and under the middle or cloudy region of the Air.  
And likewise, of Fowls, Fish, Beasts, Serpents, Trees with their first-fruits and gum; Shrubs, Herbs, Spices, Drugs, Minerals, precious Stones, and other particulars most worthy of all men to be known and considered.  
Written in French by that famous and learned Gentleman Peter de la primauday Esquire, Lord of the same place, and of Barree: and Englished by R. Dolman.   printer's or publisher's device 
LONDON Printed for THOMAS ADAMS.  
1618.   

TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL SIR WILLIAM MOUNS ON Knight.  
YOur employments (Right Worshipful) in sundry her majesties foreign services both by Sea and Land, and also (for your farther experience, and satisfaction) in divers other noble enterprises, being accompanied with a sharp and judicious observation of things memorable, and the perusing of many excellent and rare Writers; must of necessity have made you not only expert in matters of war and estate, but also most singularly well read in God his great book of Nature, I mean the admirable frame of this Vnivers, or whole world. Wherein the infinite varieties and sorts of creatures, like so many visible words, do proclaim and publish unto man the eternity, infinity, omnipotency, wisdom, justice, bounty, and other essential attributes of his dread and sovereign creator.  
Wherhfore I do here present unto your worship the discourse ensuing, not as a Teacher to instruct you in things unknown, but as a faithful remembrancer to recall matters to your mind, which are there already both by speculation and experience most sound imprinted.  
It may please you then to accept of this mine homely translation, not so much for mine own sake, who am able to deserve less than nothing; as for the Author's worthiness, being a Gentleman (as appeareth out of this, and other parts his learned Academy) most rarely qualified: and likewise for the excellency of this present work of his, both in regard of the method, the matter, and the scope. For the method is most exact, and agreeable to rules of Art, proceeding from generals to particulars, and from the whole to the parts. The matter or subject is most noble: so that if (according to Aristotle) all arts and sciences do receive their perfection from the dignity of the object; then certes of all others (Theology excepted) this science is the most excellent, having so spacious, so beautiful, and so fruitful a field to manure, as the whole world, and all things therein contained. Neither is the scope any whit less charitable and christian, tending partly to the information of men's understandings, and the reformation of their errors; but most especially aiming at the glory of the creator, unto whom only is due all submission and honour. Finally, considering the author's manner of handling this discourse, and the variety of choice writers both ancient and of our times, which he allegeth for confirmation of sundry truths, and for other purposes, purging by the fire of his exquisite judgement the dross of their opinions from the pure metal, and in all places adorning their gold and silver with the most orient and invaluable pearls of holy Scripture; I deemed it in all respects most worthy to shrowded itself under your Worship's patronage.  
London this 28. of March. 1601. Your Wor. most ready to be disposed of, Richard Dolman.   

To the Reader.  

MOunt on this World's majestic theatre;  
Survey the Spheres and everburning lamps;  
Pierce through the Air, Fire, Earth, and Water;  
Admire jebovahs' hosts and royal camps  
Ranged in batallions and seemly troops,  
At sight whereof the proudest Atheist droops.   

Surmount the Spheres, and view those Ghostly wights  
Inhabiting a world supercelestial:  
Than stoop, and trembling, see those ghastly sprights  
Plunged ay in deepest fiery gulfs infernal:  
And frighted thence, look all the world around.  
What other Natures-wonders may be found.   
R. D.   

Sonnet.  

CE que Dieu fit, & fait d'admirable en son monde,  
Ce qu' on en peut avoir de plaisirs & de biens,  
Et d'enseignemens beaux, divins, & terriens,  
Barree icy l'instruit par celeste fecund.   

Mais quel saint trucheman, o Nimphe-Angloise blond:  
T'apprentces hauts discourse, qui ravissent les tiens?  
C'est mon gentle Dolman, ieune laurier des miens:  
Le qui de des neuf seurs, qui en langues abonde.   

OH toy heureuse donc d'auoir ce traducteur!  
come ta soeur Francoise heureuse est de le Authenr.  
Mais plus heureuse encor quand par estudes saints  
Des grands oewres de Dieu en ce liure depeintes,  
Si bien cognoistres Dieu, qu'au mieux d'ame & de coeur,  
En crainte, amour, & foy, le seruires sans feintes.   
I'attens le temps, Pierre castle.   

THE FORESPEACH OF THE SPEAKERS IN THE discourses following.  
Of Heaven and Earth.  

ASER, felicity.  
ARAM, highness.  
AMANA, truth.  
ACHITOB, brother of goodness.   ASER. 
IT is time (Companions) that we quit ourselves of the promise, which we ●●de ●ne to another in the entrance of our discourses concerning man, to recreate our minds sometimes (if God thereto gave grace) in the fair and spacious field● of the 
* O● whole world.  ●nivers●●y a diligent search and attentive consideration of all nature: to the end thereby the better to acknowledge the sovereign author thereof, and to induce us the more to honour him, who is the foundation, whereupon we began at first to build, and still desire to raise up our Academy. For seeing the knowledge of God tending to his service, is the principal butt of our being and of all our actions: and that h●s infinite essence cannot make itself to be comprehended worthily, and according to his greatness by the feebleness of man's understanding: it be h●●ueth us carefully to meditate upon his works for so much as in them the great Architect of the world hath imprinted certain marks of his glory, sufficient to give us so much knowledge of his high Majesty, and of that wherein he requireth us to honour him; as our condition can bear, and according as is altogether necessary for the health and repose of our souls. Now we consider of the work of God principally in two things (yea, and to them we may easily refer all the discourse concerning this matter:) to wi●, in the creation, conducting, and government of his creatures, and in the mystery of Redemption, which it hath pleased him to vouchsafe on mankind. As then in the process of our Academy, where we have amply entreated of the little world, which is Man, we have begun to instruct ourselves concerning the chiefest of his works: so now I desire that we may prosecute this goodly matter of the creation and being of the great world, if you (companions) will answer me with the same affection: And if we may obtain so much favour of our God, that being well instructed in his school of wisdom, and guided by his holy spirit, we may dare to speak● (and what may we not dare in seeking his glory) of the incomprehensible secret of his work for the health of man; we will accomplish our works and rest ourselves in this point.  AMANA. 
For as much as the world is a shadow of the brightness of God, and like a great book of Nature and natural Theology, and that all creatures contained in the Vnivers, are like so many preachers and general witnesses of the glory of the Creator, as all the learned teach: we must diligently settle our understanding to the contemplation of this shadow of the divine brightness, and our eyes to the reading of this book of Nature, and our ears to hear these natural preachers, which teach us to acknowledge God and his providence above all things else, to the end to glorify him a● his bounty doth bind us. We know also the great reasons which invite us to this natural fear of all things, and namely the impiety of our age, as we have declared in the forespeach of the second T●me of our works, showing that the world is of it self sufficient to vanquish all Atheism, there being nothing in the Vniuers either so great or small, but from step to step doth direct man to acknowledgement of a divinity. Which will appear more manifest unto us, if we entreat of the so great variety of creatures. Boldly then (companions) let us prosecute our purpose. If the enterprise be difficult, and too high for us to attain to the sum thereof, yet to approach to things excellent, is always very laudable.  ARAM. 
Many blo●e discourses which are made, of heaven, for that they befeeble and very slender being compared to the beauty, and importance of the thing itself. And indeed I must confess, that all that can be spoken of the world accordeth therewith as it is in itself no more than the pertra●ture of the Roman common wealth upon the shield of Aeneas, could meetly represent the greatness and majesty of the acts & power of this Empire. But howsoever it be, we have in the doctrine of the spheres most excellent principles and grounds, which prepare men to the knowledge of nature, and the author there●f●ye● which advance them (of they can apply this study to his proper end) in the understanding of the secrets, wisdom and providence of God, so far as the mind of man can pierce thereinto. Let us then (companions) direct our sight strait towards the place, which we must apprehended, to be blessed; to wit, towards heaven, and let us especially regard God in his works, as the only limit whereto we shall and must once attain.  ACHITOB. 
The orderly motions of the heavens, the goodly workmanship of so many starry pavilions disposed one above he other, without any interannoiance in their course, the acccord, agreement, power, virtue and beauty of the elements, the situation, stability and largeness of the earth in midst of the waters, which continually threaten it, and yet drown it not, and so many divers natures, and creatures, which are, which live, which have sense and understanding, in this whole great vniuers, & serve each one his place, all these things (I say are like so many interperters, to teach us God, as their only efficient cause and to manifest him unto u● in them and by them, as their final cause. Therefore pursuing our first intent sufficiently declared in the beginning of our Academic discourse, and according to the process of the talk by us observed in our description of the natural history of the Microcosm (or little world:) let us here make (companions) as it were another history of the Macrocosm (or great world) first entreating of the creation of the world: then of the division of the same, afterwards of the orders of the spheres, of their substance, natures, and motions, of the influences and effects of their planets, consequently of the elements: and lastly of every essence and creature therein contained: not by a particular destription of their kinds, which would amount to a work almost infinite, but only of the principal of each sort, and so much as we shall hold sufficient to induce every one of us, and of those which will deign to hear us, to consider, and highly to praise the wisdom of the father and moderator of all these things, in the creation, conduction, governance, and end of them: and by the union of their parts, with the whole, and among themselves, we have enough to refer the event of our purpose to their beginning and principal scope, which is, to know God and his providence, to the end to glorify him. Declare then unto us (ASER) that which you have learned of the creation of heaven and earth.   

THE FIRST DAEIS WORK of the third Tome of the French Academy.  
Of Heaven and Earth.  

Of the creation of Heaven and Earth. Chap. 1.  ASER. 
IF all men guided by reason (as Plato very well said) have a custom to invocate on God in the beginning of their work, 
In Tim.  whether it be great, or little; how much more convenient is it, that desiring to dispute of the Vnivers (if we retain any judgement at all) we should call God to our aid? It is very difficult to speak as is requisite of the celestial bodies, and of so many divers motions as they have, & yet not one hinder another: but it is a much more high and intricate matter to find out the workman, and father of all this great world. And when we shall have found him, it is altogether impossible vulgarly to express the cause & reason of his works. For though (as it is) the glory and infinite wisdom of God shineth in this admittable construction of heaven and earth: yet our capacity is too too small, to comprise so great and profound effects, so much it wanteth that the tongue may be able to make a full and entire declaration thereof. And we cannot hold disputation, or argument upon that, which doth not offer itself unto our sense, and proper reason, as is the creation of the world. For therein have we that wonderful Architect (whom Hermes called the great and infinite sphere intellectual, whose centre is all that, which is, throughout the world, created) who performing his work, and giving motion to all the celestial bodies, doth himself continued stable. Now that which moving, is not itself moved, surpasseth all discourses & speculations human and philosophical, & appertaineth to a divine knowledge, the which we aught to impetrate through prayers by Revelation of the holy Spirit, even in such sort as all things natural are invented, and comprehended by reason and demonstration, and all moral are obtained by art and use.  
Than of the sovereign, & true God, with his eternal Word, and holy Spirit, which three are one essence, one God in Trinity of persons, whose name is (I will be, that I will be) or (I am that I am) Almighty, Eternal, Creator & governor of every soul & body, in contemplation 
Prayer to God. Exod. 3.  of whom consisteth the only good, the true felicity, and blessedness of man, whom he himself hath created to attain thereunto, a living creature reasonable by the gift of understanding & free wil Who being just, permits not his creature made according to his own image to remain unpunished, having sinned; & being merciful, hath not left him without grace, who hath given both to the good & evil an essence, with the stones; a life vegetative & full of seed with the plants; a life sensual with the beasts, & a life intellectual with the Angels; from whom proceedeth all governance, all goodliness, & all order; by whom all that is natural even from the highest of heaven, to the centre of the earth, doth subsist; of whom are the seeds of forms, the forms of seeds. the movings of seeds and of forms: who (being good) hath not left regardless not only the spherical and elementary world; or else the Angels and man, but even the entrailss of the most small and contemptible amongst creatures, neither the lightest feather of the birds, nor the lest flower of the herb, nor leaf of the tree; engraving in each of all these things (the works of his omnipotency) certain signs of his glory, and majesty; by the covenant and accord of every of their parts, and as it were by I wots not what manner of peace: Of him (I say) father, and moderator of all that which is, which liveth, which hath sense, and understandeth, let us request (Companions) that with the light of his wisdom he will illuminate our understandings, and by his holy spirit direct and govern our words, meetly to discourse of according as man's power is able, the works of his almighty hand in heaven and in earth, according as our intent is.  
The beginning of every thing whatsoever, is of such weight and importance, that on the knowledge of the same dependeth all the science thereof: for it is impossible that a man can be skilful in any thing, if he be ignorant in the principles, and first causes of the subject which he desireth to know: contrariwise having well known them, the understanding of the effects which thereupon ensue, of the virtues and qualities which thereby redound, of the actions which thereof proceed, of the degrees which therein are established, of the bounds and limits whereto these first causes tend to obtain their perfection, declareth itself, as of it own accord, without great difficulty and much pain. This was the cause why many sages in old time despising the care of temporal affairs, addicted themselves altogether to search out the cause of all nature: so that the most excellent of them would boldly discourse of the original and making of the world. But the saying of Plato remaining ever true, that it is as hard to find out the maker, and father of this All, as to speak properly of him being found out: it so falleth out, that the most part of them, who have entreated of so lofty a matter, have erred, straying by divers by ways; yea even all those whom the Son of justice, hath not fully illuminated with his supreme brightness. Thereupon it proceeded that the Philosophers have been divided into divers and contrary opinions, about this question (whether the world hath been from everlasting, or whether it hath been of late, whether of necessity, or else by the free will, and motion of God.) Aristotle with all the troop of those, who believe nothing but that which they 
divers opinions of the Philosophers in this argument of the being of the world.  can invent and comprise by natural reasons and syllogisms taken from sensible things, which guide them to a certain demonstration, not being able thereby to understand, how and wherefore heaven and earth have been created, affirm that they were never made, but that they have been from eternity. But Plato followed of a great number of the most clear sighted wise men, hath confessed the generation of the world which he teacheth to be ordered, and disposed by complete and perfect numbers: under the vail of which, and the obscure notes of hidden sense, it seemeth that he would hide the close mysteries of the creation of the u●iverss to those which were not yet instructed in such secrets, which only may be comprehended by a pure and celestial cogitation divinely infused. For let us know that there is no certainty at all of this doctrine, except for those to whom the mind, by a special and supernatural grace is sharp, being fashioned and form by meditation of the immutable substance of God himself, and by a secret operation of the holy Ghost, to believe that it is the Eternal who by his word hath made all nature. For so the Sovereign Creator talketh with man, and establisheth a certain testimony of his truth in the heart of him, when he hath made him proper and meet to hear him with the best and most excellent part of his understanding, in regard whereof he is said to be made according to his own image.  
But although these things may be known, being not far remote from our interior, or exterior senses, yea so that they may be called present, and whereof no doubt 
How the creaation of the world may be believed.  is to be made, especially being supported by authority of good witnesses, yet those things which surpass the ordinary puissance of the mind, because by our own judgement we cannot credit them, must be considered, and believed, according to that covenant of verities, which they announce unto us, who have known them, by our understanding, peaceful, and duly purged: so that we may add faith to such holy personages, as God hath made capable of his light, & which instruct us not in the things which they have imagined, but in such as they have heard & received from divine oracles. It is then of their authority, that he must make a buckler, whosoever will meetly debate of God, and of his works, and of his providence in the governance of them. And when the wings of Nature fail us in solofty a contemplation, we must take to those of divine grace; and when the natural light fadeth and is ready to die, to require an infused and supernatural illumination. The world is greatest of all things visible, and God of all things invisible. That the world is, we perceive; but that God is, we believe. Now that he hath made the world, we can better believe of no body then of God himself. But where have we heard that? In this word, whereto we must give credit concerning those things whereof it is expedient that we should not be ignorant, and which we of ourselves are not able to understand. Now he hath spoken first by his Prophets, then by himself in the person of our Redeemer, and lastly, by the Apostles and Disciples. We hear him speaking aloud, where Moses the father of divines, and master of Philosophers saith (In the beginning God created the heaven 
Gen es. 1.  and the earth.) The Prophet was not there present, but the wisdom of God, by which all things were made, and which by an incomprehensible virtue conveyeth itself into holy minds, and doth direct them, and declare all his works, without any noise at all by his spirit; which can do all, beholdeth all, encourageth all, and passeth through all purified spirits of understanding, and abideth in his elect. And the blessed Angels, who always behold the face of their father, speak to them also, and announce the secrets of the eternal Majesty, to all them (I say) in such sort as it pleaseth the Omnipotent to make them worthy. One of these was Moses, who teacheth us that God Almighty made this great Vnivers. A witness so excellent and worthy, that by him we must believe in God, whom we perceive, as it were through the same wisdom and spirit, which revealed unto him the creation of the world: who prophesied almost two thousand years before of the high mysteries of Christian faith: confirming also this whole doctrine, by miracles, prodigies, oracles, and prophecies, wherewithal his writings abound, And therefore having confidence in his testimony, we call God, Creator of all things, thereby inferring, that he is author, principal, & first cause of all essences, which cause by manner of speech aught to be full of all things, if this Maxim of the Peripatetics be true. (That none can give away of that which he hath not.) And therefore the Poet the honour of our age very learnedly saith  
E'er time: form, substance, place, to be themselves attained,  
All God in all things was, and God in all remained.  
For there is nothing produced by nature, or form, by art, but first it hath abiding in that which performeth it. So every creature is engendered by vettue of that seed, wherein 
Du Bartas i● the first of his weeks.  it was at first, by power, included: so each work liveth in the mind of the workman before he puts it in practice. So had the world perfect being, in the thought of God before it was builded, and the very Idea thereof was contained in it, by which this great architect, when it pleased him, performed his outward work: as Saint Augustine very learnedly discourseth in a long treatise upon this text of Scripture (All things were made by the Word, and in it was life, etc.) And thereby we learn, that God Almighty, the unite from which all number proceedeth, and whereto all multitude referreth itself, did increase himself in himself, before he communicated his unity with creatures, engendering one eternity, and by an alone unique action never disturbed, his lineage full of underderstanding, the very image of the Father, his Word, the perfect pattern of the world, and his love and power the holy Ghost, which alieth the understanding with the thought, three persons in one essence and substance. Afterwards this God head, though in itself it was sovereign good, not having need of any strange thing, yet would he according to his own bounty in him consisting, produce the outward work of the world, whereinto spreading himself, by a kind of process of well ordered degrees, and disposing through admirable workmanship the harmonical forms of the heavens: the Angels and men by him created to be made partakers of felicity, contemplating these marvels, were ranished and carried away with meditation of spiritual things, and by the beauty of his works, and ornaments of his creatures have learned to acknowledge the father of this Vnivers. Who moreover, performed not so great a work in such manner as mortal men accustom to labour, who cannot do any business themselves, if they have not stuff and tools fit for it, nay and then cannot do it according to their desire. But God created all of nothing, 
That God made all of nothing. Psalm. 33. Psalm. 134. jerem. 31.  without help, without counsel, by himself, by his word, by the power of his holy spirit, in such time and manner as he hath pleased; of his own frank and free will. Therefore it is written (He spoke, and it was done, he commanded and the world was created. Also (The Lord hath done whatsoever he pleased in heaven, and in earth, and in all the depths.) And again (O eternal Lord, behold thou hast made heaven, and earth by thy great power, and by thy streehed out arm: nothing is impossible to thee.) Briefly holy writings are filled with texts to this purpose, which give us certain testimony, that the works of God are not subject to any other cause, then to his only omnipotent will, and that thereby, the word being spoken, those things which were not, have been created, as well the substance, as the fashion of them: and also the world Creation doth properly import so much, according to the style of holy writers. Behold then summarily that which we learn of the original of the world, we will consequently consider, as near as may be, of this notable and excellent doctrine, and of certain arguments which some use to the contrary. Wherhfore AMANA, if you think good, you shall frame the subject of your discourse, upon the time, wherein this Vnivers began to be builded.   

Of Time, which took beginning with the world. Chap. 2.  AMANA, 
The matter which we entreat of, hath always been accounted of the Sages, to be of such depth, and profundity, that it was ordered amongst 

Hierom in prolog. Galeat.  
Augustine in his exposition upon Genes.   the ancient Hebrews, that any, who had not attained to ripe age, and good years, might not meddle with the creation. Of this prohibition doth Saint Jerome make mention. And therefore Saint Augustine upon Genesis, searching out the deep secrets hidden under the vail of simple words therein contained, speaketh to the Reader in this manner. [Comprehend this if thou canst, if not, leave it to them, which are more learned. But make profit of the Scripture, which abandoneth not thy weakness, but, like a mother steppeth foot by foot an easy pace with thee. For it speaketh in such sort, that in height it scorneth the proud, in depth it astonisheth those which are attentive to it. It feedeth the great with truth, and nourisheth the small ones with mild and familiar discourse.] And in truth in each part of Moses writings, the treasures of all Philosophy are by him discovered, like as if they were closely hidden in some field, chiefly in this place which we have intended to entreat of touching the creation. For of deliberate purpose he argueth in Philosophy of the original of all things, of God, of the degree, number, & order of the parts of this great world. We nevertheless having confidence in this saying of the Psalmist, That the word of GOD doth illuminate and give understanding to the simple, and that it serveth for a light to our 
Psal. 1 19  paths, we may be bold to touch so lofty a point.  
But before we proceed to consider of the precious treasures, and learned doctrine wherewith the sacred sayings of the prophet touching the creation are replenished: it will be good that we discourse a little of the principal arguments, whereupon many, better Philosophers then good Christians, have objected against this doctrine of framing of the world. And I will willingly begin with this old question of the Epicure, which the Atheists of our time have renewed, to wit: Why in the time that Moses recordeth, it pleased the eternal God to created heaven & earth, which he had not made before? If they, which say thus, 
Why God made the world in the time that Moses declareth.  would thereby infer, that the world hath been eternal without any beginning, and for that cause it seemeth to them that God made it not, they are too far wide of the truth, and sick of the mortal disease of impiety. For besides the manifold tellings, and prophetical testimonies, which make the creation of heaven and earth undoubtable: even the world itself, by his motion, and well ordered changing, and the gorgeous show of all things visible therein contained, not speaking one word, do after a sort cry out, that it was made, and that it could be no otherwise form, then by God, who is ineffable, and invisibly glorious. For it is not to be supposed, that a thing of most exquisite order and reason, should have been made by chance; and that a deed most sovereign could have any other father then sovereign: nor so goodly a work any other architect than one essentially, goodly. And therefore all the schools of those Philosophers, which have had any whit of divine sense, affirm with one consent, that there is nothing which more proveth that God hath made the world, & that it is governed by his care and providence, than the only beholding of the whole world, and consideration of the beauty and order thereof. But see here what imagination not grounded on sense putteth into the mouths of many. What did God (say they) before he created the world? why stayed he till then? or why stayed he not a little longer? In these and such like doubts they inwrap themselves; making no difference between the condition of God, and our own; between his eternal essence, and that of those things, which have once had a beginning. But with a discreet, and pleasant answer Sain● Augustins resolveth those, which demand what God did before the fabrication of the world. He was busy (saith he) cutting down wood in the forest, to burn the rash and curious, who remember not what they themselves did yesterday, and yet dare inquire what God hath done of eternity. But that I may speak to the most subtle, let the best learned among them tell me, what they intent by this word (before) whereof they inquire? If they mean the passing 
Time began with the world.  away of time, they deceive themselves, because time took beginning with the world. And if by the word they imagine something concerning eternity, they abuse themselves also, for therein is neither before, nor after. For eternity is an entire being at once altogether, without any proceeding. Whereby it is evident that their question is nothing. Time therefore cannot accord with eternity, nor be eternal, seeing eternal hath no process. It is therefore a foolish question, why before time was, God created not the temporal world, as if there had been some succeeding seasons, before any succession did consist: for one cannot with any reason imagine any time before the stablishing of the univers. Yet Aristotle, whom the atheists will rather believe then the word of truth, proveth no other thing, when he enforceth himself to declare the eternity of the world, than that time was never without the world, nor the world without time, which the Sages say, march in equal pace with the place. Wherhfore as there is nothing beside place, appartaining to place; so there is nothing beside time, belonging to time. And for those which ask why the creator made not his world latter: I again request them that setting a part the work of the vniuers, they would assign me their before, and after, and then I will tender them a reason why God created not the world sooner, or later: It is most certain that they shall be constrained to confess, that before the order and intercourse of the Spheres, there was never any before or after, which are the conditions of time. And therefore their rash demand deserveth no other answer, except we recount unto them the pleasant saying of Democritus, which is not unfit for our purpose in this place (No man regards that which is before his feet, and yet we see many sound the secrets of heaven, and curiously seek after the mysteries of God.) There are others also who disputing more subtly of these matters, agreed very well that the world was made, but they will not allow that it had a beginning of time, but 
Of those which take from the world the beginning of time.  of his own creation, so that it hath always had a being in some sort, which they cannot understand. Those found their opinion upon this pretext to defend that God should not do any action new, or of chance, for fear lest men should believe, that that came suddenly into his mind, which before he had not determined, to make the world, and that he, who it immutable in all things, should created it, through a new-sprong thought. Now as they make doubt, concerning the time, which they would not have begun with the vniuers: let me ask them also, why the world was set in that place where it resteth, rather than any other where? For if they suppose infinite spaces of time, before the generation of the vniuers, in which it seemeth not that God could rest from work: they may aswell believe many spaces of place out of the world: wherein if any could affirm that the Omnipotent hath not been idle, they should be forced to dream with the Epicures of innumerable worlds. But if they answer me that the thoughts of men are vain, by which they suppose of infinite places, sith there is no place out of the world: I may tell them also, that they are ill grounded in the consideration of time, sith there was never any before the world. And therefore as it is no consequence, that God framed the univers, rather by adventure, then by divine reason; not in any other place, but in that wherein it is; though man's capacity cannot comprise the same divine reason, by which it was so made: So is it no consequence, that we should deny that it happened to God by chance, or by a new imagination when he created the world, rather in one certain time, then before, seeing that the times precedent how long soever we may imagine them, should be equally passed away, comparing them with eternity, by an infinite space at once: and there should be no difference why an ancient time should be preferred, before a latter. Wherhfore we must all believe, that the world was made with the time, and that time took beginning with the world, and that notwithstanding, in making it, God changed not his eternal counsel, nor his immutable will: but according to his inscrutable providence and bounty innate, he would 
Of the will of God in the work of the Creation.  when he pleased, compose the large frame of the vniuers, full of his image. And here the definition which Aristotle maketh of Time, serveth to our purpose, to wit, that it is the measure of motion. For if immutable eternity is easily discerned from Time, who perceiveth not, that time had never been, if some creature had not been made, who might change the created species by moving? For that which giveth time his course, is the changing of things, when they give place one to another, and one succeed another, because they cannot consist all at once together. Let us conclude (therefore) seeing that the holy and most true writings express that: (In the beginning God created heaven and earth (we may assure ourselves there was nothing before then, & that doubtless the world was not made in time but with it. For that which is done in time, is done both before, and after some time: after (I say) that which is past, & before that which is to come. Now before the world, there was no creature, by the changeable motion of which, time might have proceeding. Wherhfore the world and time have the same beginning, by the will of almighty God, and according as is declared unto us in his word: against which, there is no other reason of Sophists, which can conclude any reasonable appearance, as you ARAM may amply declare, in the process of our discourse.   

Of the nullity of reasons, framed concerning the nature of the world, against the creation thereof. Chap. 3.  ARAM. 
THis sentence of Simonides, the ancient Poet, is well worthy to be celebrated by the mouth of every Christian man, (God alone hath the glory, to be supernatural.) For what other cause can we invent of his works, but his only freewill? But what rashness rendereth man so audacious, as to inquire the cause of God's will, seeing it is, and by 
The will of God is cause of all things  good right must be the cause of all things, which subsist? For if it had had any cause, then must that cause have preceded, and the will of God attended thereupon, which were unlawful to be imagined. Wherefore when it is asked, why did God so? we must answer; because it was his will. If proceeding farther, any inquire, why it was his will? they demand after a thing greater, and higher than the will of God, which cannot be found. Yet nevertheless have we sufficient in his word wherewith to satisfy our minds, in meditation of his secrets with all reverence. For they, which have declared them unto us, penetrating into most hidden mysteries, by the light of the holy spirit, have sufficiently revealed them unto us, with most splendent clearness. But the way of truth is shut up to the wise of the world, and cannot be attained but by the directions of itself. So that (which is greatly to be deplored) it often cometh to pass, which this lambicke relateth, (That the understanding of things given by God, in long tract of time, is confounded by men's opinions, retaining very little divinity, and truth, by reason that it agreeth not with those things, which fall within the compass of our sense.) The Philosophers therefore, attributing too much faith to themselves, have blinded themselves through their vain discourses, and have become guides to the blind: so that falling into the ditch, they have drawn many after them, by false arguments, and apparent reasons, whereof our subject shall here be to insert the most principal.  
They then, who esteem that nothing is stable, or can be stable, in such sort reasoning, and arguing by sensible things, prove it by the same demonstration that Aristotle hath delivered, 
Of the demonstration of Aristotle.  yea and as he hath observed in his whole discourse, and natural progression (considering that all his consequences proceed from certain maxims, which he supposed to be perfect true) and amongst the most powerful inventions, by which they pretend to overthrow the creation, and framing of the world, these Peripatetical reason of the nature of the world, are produced. First, they behold the heavens altogether differing from contrariety: whereupon they conclude, that it is not corruptible, and by consequence not made. 
Reasons of Philosophers against the creation of the world.  They find moreoever, that those things which have a beginning, do get unto themselves a new place: now heaven not being able to get itself a new place, they conclude that it could not be created at any time. They consider also that all things which are moved, pass into a new place, or are moved round about something, which remaineth firm (as all the spheres are about their centre) to the end that all disorder might be brought to some uniformity. Likewise they suppose every new thing to be reduced into the old: so that all generation and corruption is made according to the old substance, and all motion is governed by the firm and stable earth, or the unmovable centre, by which principles they could not perceive how the newness of the world could any way come to pass. And forasmuch as the generation of one thing is the corruption of another, and that nothing which should be corrupted might precede the world, thereupon they ground that it is eternal without a beginning. Proceeding farther, they suppose that every thing which is produced, bade a fore being in the matter thereof. Therefore (they hold) that of necessity the matter must be eternal. But the most principal and substantial argument, which they bring, and most generally received, is. That of nothing, nothing is created; whereupon they conclude, that the world could not be made, because nothing did proceed it,  
Now we may easily answer these reasons, & try whether they conclude, or not: but first let us suppose (as it is most certain) that there be three sorts of works & 3. kinds of workers. 
Three sorts of works and three kinds of workers.  For there is the Artificer, who presupposeth the nature, to wit, the stuff, fashion, and all the compound. There is the natural agent, which requireth before hand, the effect of God, to wit, the subject, or the matter. And there is God the sovereign worker, who hath no need of any other thing, because he is perfect, retaining in himself all manner of virtue. Which three kinds of workers do fitly accord by a certain anagolie and proportion, but do much differ in comparison one with the other: and at the bounds and limits of the one worker, cannot be concluded the power of the other. For it were an error to proceed from art to nature, as if one should say: The art doth first require the compound, the Goldsmith gold, the Founder metal, the Carpenter wood, and the Mason stones and cement: therefore the natural agent doth also require the compound. And likewise the Philosophers deceive themselves, when they imagine that the sovereign Creator hath need of a subject, or matter to work on, as is requisite for the natural agent. Also they abuse themselves to teach, that forasmuch as herein there passeth a certain proportion from one contrary 
Answer to the arguments o● Philosophers.  to another, it therefore followeth, that God & nature do proceed by one & the selfsame way. But where (I pray) have they learned to invent such conclusions, when themselves teach, that art is distinguished from nature, & that natural things appertain to one kind of doctrine, & the eternal, and free from motion belong to another? For the artificer giveth the artificial form, & requireth the natural; and the natural agent fashioneth the substantial, and requireth the material, which is the work of the sovereign. But if God should require any thing before hand to work with, he should also require a former God which must have produced it, and by that reason there should be I wots not what former thing before the first. What are then these shows of arguments? They conclude & accord badly, when because of the passion of a new place, which demandeth that which is newly performed, they would thereby excludethe world from generation, because it getteth not a place. But what absurdity shall they find it, if granting them that it hath obtained a place; I say it is the same wherein at this present it remaineth? For it subsisteth about the centre, or above that of the earth, or of the whole vniuers, or of the sphere intellectual, whose centre (as Hermes saith) is all that which is every where created. In that which they farther infer, that every new thing must be reduced to an old, we grant it them. But that old, is the divine cogitation, wherein all things are contained, before they be displayed in their proper forms: which being created by itself, it alone doth govern and preserve them afterwards. What they moreover adjoin, that all natural transmutation is made of one matter transposed into another, we consent to them. But this is not requisite in the primitive production, free from all laws of nature, whereto by right the prince thereof is not obliged. And we agreed also that every thing: which is produced, must first be included in some other power, before it be effected: but we say that natural things remained first in the matter; and the world and diversity of substances, were comprised in the Ideas, or exemplaries resident everlastingly in God. And so do the Platonists maintain, who mounting much higher than the Peripatetics, agreed with that which Saint john saith. That all things were made by the word, and that in it was life; which brought forth all things, and that in it the world before was by power comprised. 
john 1  Wherhfore these be no dreams (as Aristotle calleth them) but the Ideas of Plato: but those are sighted like the bat, who see not the things most manifest in nature, thereby to acknowledge the author of nature. And to the end that we loosen the strongest knot of their arguments, to wit, That of nothing nothing is created: I would desire them to expound me their 
Nullity of the arguments Nothing of nothing can be made.  sentence, because it is doubtful, and ambiguous: for if the sense be thus, that of nothing, by art, or nature nothing is made, because they require the matter whereupon to work: we willingly accord. But what is this to purpose concerning the supreme and almighty architect, whom nature doth follow after, as far as art doth nature, as all Philosophers confess: For according as the natural agent, bounded and subject to motion, time, and succession, is less and more disable in essence, so is ●it less in performance than he, who is free, and at liberty from all laws of nature. But if they mean, that of nothing (to wit) after it hath no being, nothing is created: then have they left it to this present to discuss, and to all posterity for ever. Wherhfore we have a spacious field, to deny them that which is neither proved, nor evident in itself. If they infer, that this nothing rejecteth all manner of causes: then we consent to them in this point. But in the creation, or generation of the world, we presuppose (as truth requireth) a working and sovereign cause, who in the infinite virtue of itself, containeth the matter, subject and fashion, to bestow the means, the disposing qualities, and all that, which is requisite to reduce, and bring to perfection any business. Behold then, how all these arguments conclude nothing against the doctrine of the world's creation, no more these other reasons derived from the motions, & their bounds, which the Peripatetics do farther induce against the same, as pursuing this matter (ACHITOB) we may hear of you.   

Of the Reasons taken from motion, and the mooing Intelligences, against the Genesis of the world, and of the nullity of them, Chapter 4.  ACHITOB. 
THE Peripatetics, whereof now adays many may be found, persevering in their natural speculations, and considering that motion consistethin 
Nullity of the argument of material generations in respect of the diuin piece of work.  that which is moved, or engendered: or else in the subject of transmutation, and because no substance did precede the primitive production of the world, thereupon they conclude, that it was never created. But it is no marvel if they be greatly abused, seeing they would never serve from their sense, and sensible things: whereof no pure and sincere truth can be gathered, because that by them, or by the reasons on them founded, we cannot attain to the knowledge of divine mysteries, which are intellectual, far remote from any substance, moving succession, or other sensibleness. And therefore they much deceive themselves, when they, in such sort, argue of these gross, and material generations, comparing them with the divine master piece of work, which surpasseth all means of nature. They maintain that all direct (or forward) motion cannot be perpetual, because it requireth infinite space which nature is not able to endure: but circular motion, because it passeth nothing infinite, may be perpetual. Now in eternal things, the consequence is good from the power to the being. One may then (say they) thereby assure himself of the eternity of the world. But see a goodly reason to presuppose that to be perpetual and infinite, which they pretend to prove. Auerrois proceedeth farther, and saith, that it is impossible for the world to have had any other disposition, than such as at this present it hath, & that being exempt from all contrariety, it followeth, that in no wise it is corruptible, & therefore was not engendered. 
Other vain arguments of Philosophers.  But who revealed unto him that which he supposeth of the state of the world? With what measure pretendeth he to meat out the puissance of the sovereign workman? By what authority dares he limit out the power of the infinite, so, that he may not destroy, and build up at his good pleasure? I say then that the passing away of heaven hath another kind of bound and limit then the earth, and the very rest itself, whereto (as with one mind all Philosophers teach) all motion doth tend. But forasmuch as motion begetteth time, and 
All motion tends to a rest  time itself is the measure of motion, thereby it cometh, that forging their arguments upon one part of time, they miss and fail in reason, when they dispute thus: If the world was not before it took beginning, seeing this (before) is an appendix of time, than it followeth that time should precede motion, which is his cause, and progenitor. Again, they say [In every instant and moment assigned, is the beginning of time to come, and the end of time past: then time hath been before this first instant, and consequently motion and the world.] But the cause of these errors proceedeth from the misunderstanding of words, when they would bar that this word (before) should signify any thing else then some part of time. For aswell in the divine as profane writings of all authors, who can speak fitly and properly, we may find that this particle (before) signifieth more than a part of time, for sometimes it denoteth the extreme: as is said in the Proverbs, [The Lord hath possessed me in the beginning of his way, before he created any thing, I have had 
Prou. 8. Eccles. 24 12.  principality from everlasting, and before the earth.] And in Ecclesiasticus, [He created me from the beginning, and before the world.] Ovid himself in his Metamorphosis useth this manner of speech, [Before the Sea, the Earth, and Heaven which covereth all things,] though that being of a fine and subtle spirit, he was not ignorant, that time slideth away by reason of the turning of heaven. Moreover this word (Ant) signifieth among the Latins, the highest degree, whereof is derived (Antistes) he which is principal, & cheese among others. Sigh therefore this particle (before) hath divers significations, why will our Peripatetics restrain it to denote any other thing, but only a portion of time. Would they not grant me this, that by a certain order the matter was before the form, and yet preceded it not in time? So is it that God was before the world, by a certain order of eternity. What they farther infer [That the instant is the end of time past, and the beginning of time to come:] We answer them, that as the point is to things continued, so is the instant to things succeeding. Now the point is sometime the extreme of one part of a line, & the beginning 
Of the point and instant.  of another part: & sometimes also it is the beginning of the whole line, and not the end of any part precedent. So the instant & moment wherein the world had being, was the beginning of the time to ensue, & not the end of any past. They add another argument against this doctrine, [That (say they) which passeth on hath something both before, & after it] But I'll proceed farther, and grant them more, to wit, that all that which passeth on returneth to the same point, from whence it began to pass. For the water returneth to the sea from whence it had an original. The body returneth to the earth from whence it was borrowed. The soul, and other intellectual things created of God (I except that which the Scirpture teacheth us of the reprobate) return to himself, of whom they were engendered. 
All things return to God.  And all essences produced from the divine thought, make a full circle beginning in God, & finishing in God himself. So must time return into the same eternity, whereout it proceeded, and which shall remain (this same ceasing) in such sort as it consisted before it. And therefore we answer those who demand how the creator could precede the fabrication of the world, that he proceeded it by an eternal enduring. Wherhfore they conclude just nothing against the Creation of that which then was, and is after the generation of things. Others which reason upon the point, which we have delivered concerning the opinion of Auerrois, that the world is not corruptible, and therefore not engendered, argue thus. [That which is dissolved into another thing, is divided: but considering that beside the world, there is nothing, into which it can be dissolved, it must therefore endure ever lastingly.] To which we may answer them, that the world is dissolved according to his parts 
How the world is dissolved.  to the end that it may remain in a better estate. But now we dispute not of the dissolution, but only of the original thereof. And it may seem nothing contrary to Christian religion, that the work of God may always have a being: but far otherwise then as we see it, and which shall be then, when we, most blessed, shall inhabit the new heavens and new earth, in life everlasting. And herein do we concur with sundry great Philosophers, who esteem, that it is ill done to suppose, that those things which immediately proceed from the blessed God, can perish. And therefore we affirm that the soul is immortal, because it was produced, and inspired by God: and that the body itself shall obtain eternity, when afterwards in the resurrection it shall be revested with the nature of the soul: which subject we have amply discoursed upon in the second part of our Academy. But it is ill concluded, to take away all beginning from things, by reason of the perpetual enduring of the same. For (as we have declared) it were to argue by natural generations, of the divine master piece of work, which surpasseth all sensible consideration. 
The opinion of divers, that the celestial spirits move the spheres.  And sith we are in this talk of the enduring of the world, we may further note, that those, who have thereupon imagined to take away the original thereof, have taught, that the spirits moving the spheres, should obtain felicity in the eternal recourse of the heavens: which point Aristotle enforceth himself to demonstrate, in his most lofty part of Philosophy, where repeating divers considerations more lofty then in any other place, he sharply contendeth for this eternity of the world. And john Lescot seemeth to grant him more than he requireth, when he saith, that the spirits are blessed, not only moving the spheres, but for so much as by such revolution, serving God, they communicate perfection to things here heneath. To which, agreeth that which Plotin, entreating of heaven, and of the soul of the world, saith, [It is an absurd thing, & discordant, to suppose that that soul, which did for a time contain the heaven, should not always do the same, as if by violence it had contained it.] And thereupon he concludeth that the world should endure for ever, because the principal part of the soul thereof, cannot be dissolved, not the nature thereof impair. Aristotle also amongst his other considerations inserteth this,] That the prince of this worldly palace being eternal, not receiving any vicissitude, or changing it is most likely that his palace should also be eternal, & that his ministers, or celestial spirits, being altogether addicted to perpetual motion, should never take rest. But that we may untie this knot, we will say that it is an error of comparison, to argue of that which hath his beginning immediately from God, in respect of the creator, and of that, which is below, in regard of things above, and of the immediate end of every thing in comparison of his last end. For the immediate end of unreasonable creatures, is to live, and feed themselves; but their final end is to serve man's 
Of the sundry des of all things.  use: which according to the mind of sundry wise men, is the end of all things here below. And the immediate end of man is to govern his house, and family, or the common wealth to contemplate, traffic, and such like businesses: but his latest end is to attain to God, or to felicity, be it, as one would say, through a Stoical virtue, or by a Peripatetic contemplation, or by Academic purifying, or (which is most certain true) through faith, and grace according as our religion doth import. And also we affirm that the immediate end of the spirits separated from God, and of the corruptible matter, is to govern the heavens, and man, and such other things, as have been committed to their charge. But their last end is their only contemplation of that first essence, from which they derive their felicity (as Aristotle himself testifieth in his Ethics.) Suppose then that they cease to move, & from their immediate end, yet shall they never cease to be blessed: no more than man shall be less happy, when he shall cease to govern the common wealth, or to perform his other temporal businesses. And certainly it is marvelous that any can think, that the Angels, and celestial spirits should obtain their happiness, by moving the heavens continually about, seeing that all movings (as the Philosophers teach) do tend to a resting. But none can say that the spirits shall not cease: because they still labour; but when they have accomplished, and performed their work, and delivered such a favour to terrestrial things, as they were charged with. And for the soul, whereof Plotin makes mention, one may likewise affirm that it shall not cease to give life to the Vnivers, when it shall cease to move. For (as we have already heard) we maintain not the annihilating of the elements, of the world, or the parts thereof; but rather the resting after the motion: in such sort as all nature must be, in the end, after sundry revolutions reduced to the rest of the Sabbath, unknown to many learned men. Let all those then, who trouble themselves without mean, or measure to search out the end of the worldly frame, or contend about the original thereof, here fix their foot, lest running without ceasing in their fantasies after this perpetual moving, they never rest, and lest by no light, they can behold their repose, being always troubled with a continual course. Now then ASER, I leave to you to prosecute the confutation of divers other arguments, upon this matter of the Creation.   

Of many other devices, which they invent, who pretend to overthrow the doctrine of 
Mathi●●tionss.  the Creation of the world performed by the Creator thereof. Chap. 5.  ASER. 
BEsides that, which we have hitherto heard, concerning the reasons and arguments, whereupon many depend, who deny that the world had a beginning, 
Reasons against the doctrine of the creation of the world.  I find that such are willingly induced to think, that by reason of this new creation, or generation of the Vnivers, there might seem to arise some new devise in the Creator, because of the newness of the work, and by consequence an alteration of his mind or will: which cannot happen to the most perfect, and immutable, neither within himself (for nothing can move itself) nor outwardly without himself (for then that should consist and increase which was without him by the impairing and wearing away of the most infinite.) These are the terms, which Aristotle, Auerrois, Moses of Egypt, and their disciples use, alleging many other considerations, which Cicero in the person of the Epicure, enueighing against Plato, in his fluent and eloquent speech hath collected in the discourse of an oration. [With what eyes (saith he) could your Plato behold the Art, and composion of so great 
Cic. 1. of the nature of the gods.  a work, by the which he saith the world was builded, and composed by God? What inventions of buildings? What iron Works? what lifting levers? what engines? what ministers had he in so great a business? How is it that the arie, fire, earth, and water could obey to the workemaster? whence issued the five forms, whereof all the rest are form, falling out fitly to compose the soul, and produce the sense?] And a little after he proceedeth: [I would feign ask these fellows, why upon a sudden these builders of the world started up, who had been a sleep by the space of innumerable ages? For although there was then no world, yet were there certain ages, although they were not such as are made of a number of days, and nights by course of years (for I confess that those could not come to pass without the turning of the world: but there was of infinite time a kind of eternity, whith no term, nor circuit of time did measure. Nevertheless none can divine of what space it hath been, because it falleth not into human sense, that there could be any time then, when time was not. Than in such an unlimited space, why should the providence be idle? why should he fly labour? and what cause was there, why God like the Sheriff of a city should desire to adorn the world with signs, and lights? If it were to them that God might the better devil at his ease, he had then an infinite time before dwelled in darkness as if in an hole, or by-corner. But if we think that he hath thus beautified heaven, and earth, because he delighted in the diversity thereof; what may this pleasure of God be, whereof he was so long time before deprived? May it be for love towards man, as you might infer, that God made all these things? But hath this love been for wisemen, or for fools? if for wise, then to small purpose (God wots) hath this so exceeding great compiling of things been made. If for the foolish, first there was no occasion why God should seek to deserve any thing of the evil; then what hath he gotten when every one being a flat fool is most miserable, in that he is not wise? For what can we name that is worse than folly?] hitherto Cicero. Alicinois speaking like him doth farther add: That sith there is nothing beside the world which may do it violence, it can suffer neither malady, nor consumption, nor any dissolution at all. For as much then as it must perpetually endure, it followeth also that it hath been without beginning. Avicen according with him, saith [He which negotiateth by the power of another, may instantly produce that, which before he could not: for he must attend the pleasure of such as work with him: but the first that worketh by his proper power, needs not attend, but work continually.] Behold then, how the servants of the world contend for the dignity of their prince, endeavouring to make him eternal, as if voluntarily subjecting themselves to a continual revolution, they would defeat themselves for ever retaining to any rest, wherein consisteth true felicity. But we must fight for the sovereign Creator, which is our peace, and true Sabbath: defending like good and valiant warriors his eternal rest whereto all revolution of the world doth refer itself; and presently it will appear (he himself aiding us) how weak those engines are which our adversaries have planted against his work, and against the wall of truth.  
First we will consent to Aristotle, and to the defenders of his doctrine, that there came 
Answer to the arguments of the Philosophers.  to God, by the framing of the vniuers, a new imagination; but full of reason, and without any alteration in his nature, or will, and moreover the same new mind was properly real, and all one with his eternal will, towards the generation of the world, to performance whereof, he also proceeded according to his good pleasure. But I wonder at so many instances, as they intent to found upon this new thought, seeing we behold, how assidually many new things are produced, whereof returneth a new thought either towards God, framing, or governing, or at lest (as they say) so, as may be towards their wished and desired end. I demand then why should they the new thought of creating the world, make more against the majesty of God, & not the invention of the new parts thereof, every moment arising? Argazel Sarasyn holds it not unmeet, that the most perfect agent, having all conditions thereto concording, deferred nevertheless to produce his work in effect, solong as he pleased, and that then he performed it, without any motion in him of him in novelty. And there is no Philosopher which proveth the contrary, by any demonstration, concerning this newness, which they presuppose in God, but do full oftentimes contradict themselves. And so is it that Aristotle in his book of the world, after having in the beginning declared God, Prince, governor & creator of this Vnivers, doth afterwards deny it, proceeding by reasons derived from sense. For thereby be endeavoureth, to demonstrate the eternity of the world, & amongst other arguments he useth this same. [It is most certain, that the agent either of deliberate purpose, or by nature, if he be good, putteth the good in practice, as much as in him possible lieth, if there be nothing to hinder him.] Certainly we confess that the good is naturally addicted to community. But we hold that although the agent, by his labour & industry, endeavoureth with all his power to get the good, & obtain it, yet nevertheless in the distribution thereof, he bestoweth it in such manner & sort, as he pleaseth. Why should we not then affirm, that the supreme Creator, through his immutable and omnipotent will, having from everlasting the good for his object, to the end to put it in practice, doth according to his good pleasure proceed to the performance thereof? But if any passing farther, will argue that the good doth naturally become common: hereto, mounting much higher than Philosophy doth require. we answer; That for ever God, who is the sovereign good, doth increase himselelfe in his son, and spirit coeternal, by which son, and through which holy spirit, one sole essence, and substance, he produced of eternity, and continually the exemplaries, and Ideas of all things by an eternal measure always present, being the work and possession altogether. We told thee then, OH Epicure, that God remained not in sloth, and idleness before the creation of the 
john. 1.  world, he that by the testimony of jesus Christ, doth always work, whereof none knoweth but the Creator, save only the son, and he to whom the son shall have revealed him. And he which is most blessed in himself slept not, OH Cicero, no more than having no need of any thing beside himself, he framed not this worldly tabernacle for his own use, with so great beautifulness; but rather for man: not foolish, or wicked, but just, and wise, or at lest, 
Proverb. 8.  that in this terrestrial habitation he might learn wisdom, and goodness, to be made at length a worthy citizen of the celestial palace. This is the delight, and pleasure which his sapience received in the compass of the earth, and in the sons of men (as the wiseman saith.) But neither Aristotle nor Auerrois, nor Cicero, nor the Epicures, and Atheists of o●r our time, have attained to such supreme Philosophy, as to understand this language of the holy Ghost. Excellent well did that thrice worthy Mercury, the prince, and most ancient of all Philosophers acknowledge, as the whole work of his Pymander doth testify, & himself also when he saith, that God, whom some call Nature, mixing himself with man, performed a wonder, surpassing the reason of all wonder: wherein beholding his own image, he smiled upon him through great love, and gratifying him as his own son, gave him all his work to serve him: to the end to reduce to himself all things by him, with whom he was mixed, but himself before any thing else, because that being purified, and acknowledging his divine race, he might be made most worthy of God. The eternal omnipotent than had no need of tools to frame the world with: he, I say, that by his only commandment performeth all things. Neither had he need of help to produce forms, who is himself the Architype, and giver of all forms, and replenished with all fecundity. Neither is it a strange thing, that the elements should obey him, which by his word only have been settled in their places. Neither dwelthe in an hole, or a corner, nor in darkness, whom heaven, and earth cannot contain nor comprehend, and who is all light; but within the ample temple of this immense, and intellectual sphere, whose centre is all that which every where subsisteth. There he inhabiteth those everlasting ages, which no thought, except himself, can comprise. It is no marvel therefore, if human reason be so often deceived in the search of that which is enclosed in the closerts, and cabinets of the sovereign work master, and revealed but to very few. And for the saying of Alcionis; that there is nothing beside the world; whereinto the world can be dissolved: I answer him, that we teach not that it must be consuned, & brought to nothing, though it hath had a beginning of enduring. But say it is so? God shall have no need of any thing, for this business, no more than he had need of a subject, to make and compose his work of: by reason that his creation, or dissolution is free, and delivered from the laws of natural generation, and corruption, as we have heretofore already declared. Neither had he need of help, OH Avicen, who through his proper power, and according to his own good pleasure, performeth of his own liberality all things not by nature, and necessity, as those imagine, to whom the eternal power of God, and his love, for which he created the world, are hidden, as in the process of our discourse, we may more amply declare. But first let us hear of AMANA, concerning those things, which have caused the Philosophers to err from the truth.   

Concerning those causes which have made the Philosophers to err from the knowledge of truth, and of their ignorance concerning God and his works. Chap. 6.  AMANA. 
WE may by our precedent discourse easily understand what the strongest engines, which the Philosophers have planted (but in vain) against the walls of supernal verity, in this point concerning the creation, and we need not think it strange that they be deceived; for it is a doctrine, not usurped by human arrogancy, but infused into the hearts of the small ones & humble, through illumination by the holy spirit, which mocketh such as think themselves wise, & scorn all others; leading them in the darkness of their blinded presumption: ●● contrariwise the same spirit directeth, & conducteth those, whom he replenisheth with his own virtue, to contemplate in most clear brightness the excellent mysteries of God, and nature. But to the end that we may partly proceed to the discovery of their ignorance, who do arrogantly assume unto themselves the name of wisdom, abusing even to this day many unskilful in the knowledge of piety, by their grave and ornate writings, being in show and appearance like somewhat that savoureth, as it were solid and entire, true and profitable: though being profoundly exemined, one may find therein all clean contrary, and a marvelous repugnancy not only generally between them all, but even in the particular writings of each of them. I would willingly ask to be resolved of them in this point, how is it that they know the most blessed God (for now I speak to such as are not very far off from religion and godliness, for as for Atheists, and such as believe not God, we will deal with them apart in the sequel of our discourse,) I doubt not but they will answer me, that they have knowledge of God, by the motions and other sensible things, which lead them by the hand to all such things as may be known by us. For 
That by means of sensible things one cannot attain to the knowledge of God.  these be their common sayings. [All our knowledge proceedeth of sense. And the experience of true discoursing is, that it agreed with that which is perceived by sense: that being best known, which best agreeth with sense.] But I would entreat them to tell me if sensible things have an agreement of one & the self same name; or of a name common to many, with the sovernign God: It is most certain that they are not of one signification, or name (to the end that we may follow their own institutions, by which they teach that God, and things created, do not agreed in a self same proportion of substance, or essence.) And if one nominate all kinds, he shall name them (saith Aristotle) by many sundry names. But if God & his works are divers in reason; then is it no marvel if the Philosophers proceeding by things here below deceive themselves in the knowledge of God. For how can they imagine of his high Majesty by the motions, & these things sensible, seeing the Eternal is altogether exempt from sense and motion? Doth not Aristotle affirm, and after him Auerrois the Arabian, that God is altogether different from the manner of creatures? That is the first mover, not being moved? Is it not to deprive themselves of the true knowledge of God by sensible things, when they separate him from the manner of creatures? Let us not think it strange then, if those, who admit nothing, but that which they can invent and comprise by natural reasons and syllogisms derived from sensible things, enforce themselves to take from the Omnipotent many things, which are to them hidden, and unknown, being only received by an holy intellect, and by a pure and celestial thought divinely infused: as are these verities following. [That God hath created the world: that of a free, and liberal will, he framed and ordained it, when & according as it pleased him: that it belongeth to man, the master piece of work of his power, to consider what this great God produced according to nature, and what according to his bounty innate: How he dealt in his works; briefly all the secrets of so wondrous a workman.] But to return to our purpose, I wonder how these Philosophers will on one side distinguish God altogether from the creatures, and on another side will measure his almightiness and power by that which they consider of things here below. I would entreat them to hear (and yet they have no occasion herein to do it, for they 
Dennis in his Hierarchy.  know it well enough already, I speak therefore to his scholars) that which Saint Dennis first instructed in their doctrine, and afterward lightened with the beams of the holy Ghost hath said of the Eternal. God (saith he) is every thing in excellency. For every good thing 
The good in a better is ever most excellent.  which we behold in these domestical things, we must dedicated and appropriate the same to GOD in the most excellent sort that we can. For every thing which appeareth fair in the work, should flourish much fairer in the worker. And that which is in itself worthy of the simplest, and meanest commendation, is in him found to be the best, and most excellent of all, for good in a better is ever most good. Good is wisdom in a citizen, better in a Precedent, and most good in a king. Good is fortitude in a soldier, better in a captain, but most good in a Prince. The like is to be thought concerning clemency, liberality, and other virtues, and ornaments. Sigh than fecundity, puissance, vigour, piety, beauty, magnificence, and such other properties do shine in things here below; much more must they in the divine thought shoot out their beams in sovereign brightness. For in the creatures all these virtues, like borrowed colours, do point out the soul of the world, but in the celestial prince, they flame out in rays of his infinite essence, which uniteth all things, being appropriated & dedicated unto it. See then how we must speak, & believe concerning the Sovereign, and how to measure his works by his omnipotency, and power. But forasmuch as the Philosophers do confess that God is the first, and best of all things; and all other things are under him, and subjecteth him, and that they praise, and commend in them, fertility, liberality, generation, and such other virtues, & faculties, which from time to time do here make manifest their effects: wherefore should they not acknowledge them in the sovereign good God, who saith in Easie, [If I give fruitfulness to others, shall I be barren] They may told me that they separate from God, not only all that which feeleth his own imperfection, but all that also, which wanteth of perfection: & thereof it ariseth that they take from him all fertility, concerning things that are without him, lest any new thing, alteration might be attributed to the everlasting, and immutable: and likewise 
All things enforce themselves to represent the image of God  the liberty of contingence, lest a● if imperfect, he might seem to negotiate under hope of reward: and yet they deny him not the liberty, by which he worketh as is convenient for him. Certainly these besubtile, and sharp allegations, and yet of small force. For let measts them, if all schools teach not, that th●●hingss of this world enforce themselves to their power, to represent the image of God? The Platonists in every discourse, do acknowledge it as well as the Theologians. Yea the Peripatetics themselves agreed in this point, as their master teacheth in the second treatise of the soul, in such words. [It is the most natural deed of all living things, so far forth as they be perfect, not impotent, to make another thing like to itself: as the beast a beast, the plant a plant, because they participate of the divine, and eternal essence, so much as they can. For all essences desire it, and all things which follow their course according to nature, work for the love of it: but they cannot imitate it continually and with perpetual proportion, because no corruptible thing attaineth to be one and the same in number.] These be very obscure sayings, but yet by them we may learn that all creatures tend according to their faculty, to agreed with the semblance of God; and by how much more each member of this worldly body is more perfect, by so much more doth it enforce itself, as if in emulation, to imitate the creator of it. It is true that Auerrois doth interpret this text of Aristotle, concerning heaven. But how should the heaven be this Eternal, whom all things should enforce themselves to follow, considering that it of itself is eternal, in favour of whom, the elements, heaven itself, & every creature doth work? Doth not the doctrine of Aristotle resound in each point, that God is the end of all things, in desire of whom they are moved as to the thing loved & desired. But leaving this Arabian Auerrois, who studieth all his works to deface, & mar many other sentences of his master, that he may defend that which he imagineth; let us conclude, that according as the Philosophers confess, the elements in their being, the plants in their life, & fruitfulness, the living creatures in a better life, and in their condition such as it is, imitate in emulation the divine power & perfection, and that men endued with the singular gift of liberty, & free will doth in the same imitate God, and beareth in a better estate and condition, than any other thing, his image, and semblance. By such consideration (say I) is also proved the freedom and liberty of God, always tending to good, according to his good pleasure, because he containeth within himself that which he conferreth upon others. And briefly to answer all their reasons heretofore alleged, let us hold, that the sovereign perfection, which is in God, wanteth not in the lowest degree, nor for the cause thereof, nor yet that his simple unity is distributed into a multitude, because that in itself, by infinite power, it containeth all things. Neither doth the intellectual soul degenerate, although (as they teach) it exerciseth the power to feel, to strengthen, to 'cause increasing, and to move according to his estate. For (that 
Proper faculties to be considered in God.  we may mount to higher considerations) God perceiveth with such his senses, as the holy Scriptures attribute unto him: He moveth all other things, himself remaining stable, he giveth them strength, and feedeth them with the food of his wisdom. But he performeth all these things by a means, by a perfection and power; which is unknown to human spirits, except they be illustrated with his light. And there is in him a fertility without travel, which is the fountain of all other things, through which he produceth always within himself, but outwardly he doth it at the pleasure of his will. Which because it is the rule of contingence, it is not possible nor fit for us to search out the cause of the first beginning. For when we are thereto arrived, Aristotle himself doth charge to stay: for God hath no need of any precedent disposition, nor of help; neither did fear resistance, nor was hindered by space, be, who in commanding created all things. But the causes of things here below, the instruments and subject framed by his word, require a precedent disposition, have need of an application, attain succession of time, and seek such helps, as are requisite for such a one, as negotiateth by power limited. And therefore (as we have already said) when they deduce their reasons from these conditional & natural workers, to him, which is free & delivered from all these things, they fall into divers errors. But if by the works, which they contemplate in this Vnivers, they do enforce themselves to attain to the knowledge of the Sovereign Architect, then let them attribute unto him all these things after a convenient and perfect manner: separating from him all that denoteth feebleness, and impotency in the worker. And then they shall see that the supreme things of the Architype, accord by a sweet and melodious consonancy to those which are more base and mean; all which are comprised in the creator, as in a model and pattern, and contemplated by us here below, as in a shadow or trace. But this shadow and much more the trace, doth want much of him, whom they represent. And yet by them, as by a token, or privy note, we attain to some obscure knowledge of the creator: although his works do agreed with him neitherin different proportion or signification, nor yet in all and through all in the same reason, but only by a certain resemblance they represent unto us the perfect fashion of supernal things, by their most gross and base nature every one in their degree. But this insufficient concerning this subject: now speak we of the authority of such witnesses, as make the creation of the world undoubtable, which we refer to you ARAM, to declare unto us.   

Of the authority of such witnesses, as make the creation and newness of the world undoubted. Chap. 7.  ARAM. 
AS we have seen, how weak and feeble, the arguments of Philosophers, against the creation and newness of the world are: so is it expedient also, that being ready for the combat, we march in battle against them, armed with true and strong reasons: and under the authority of very good, and approved witnesses, to the end to make undoubted to all, that, which we have already declared concerning the creation of the Vnivers. And first we will recite those, who being worthy of credit, have taught it us. We have already 
Many witnesses of the world's creation.  seen how that the opinion of Plato (concerning this generation of the world (accordeth with the doctrine of Moses. Mercurius Trismegistus in his Pimandre delivereth in few words the same sacred mysteries, rendering the composition of this Vnivers, and of the governors thereof, and of all things created, to be undoubtable. And by the base elements he advertiseth us of the pure workmanship of nature, united nevertheless with the thought of the Creator. Which elements he affirmeth to be for this purpose, established by the will of God only, and yet in far worse condition, then before they were in the worker. Empedocles of Agrigentum, and Heraclitus of Ephesius affirm not once, but oftentimes the world to be engendered, and corruptible. Democritus teacheth, that it hath had a beginning, that it one day must perish, and never again be renewed. Hesiod and Orpheus the Poets sing that it hath been created. Thales one of the seven Sages affirmeth, that this round frame is 
Hieraclus.  the work of God. Pythagoras and Hieraclus his expounder, confess God creator, and father of all things. To which accord Avicen Arabian, Algazel Sarrasin, Philo no less excellent in doctrine, then in Greek eloquence, & Alcinois the Platonist, who saith, (It is necessary for the universal world to be the perfectly beauteous work of God) And many such other authors the most commended for learning, whom it would be too long & tedious to rehearse, affirm the same. But leaving the testimonies of strangers, let us come to such as have received from divine oracles, by supernatural illumination, that which they have 
A certain approbation of the doctrine of Moses.  taught unto us. We have heard that which Moses teacheth us concerning the generation of the world, now let us consider how his doctrine, or rather the doctrine of the holy Ghost speaking by the mouth of so excellent a prophet, is confirmed unto us by miracles, prodiges, oracles, & prophecies: and lastly by the consent of every part of his writings; as also by the grave authority of those who in their interpretations of them do confirm & approve them. Concerning his miracles they are all most manifest to such as have read his books. The rod is turned into a serpent, & again returned into the former shape: It devoureth the magicians rods, showing that the sorceries of unclean spirits, and all their puissance & force 
Of miracles. Exod. 4. 7. 8. 9, 10, etc.  is consumed by the power of God, which wrought & dealt in Aaron & in Moses. He brings forth infinite little beasts and of sundry sorts, which prick both man and beast: he draweth water out of the stone, giveth quails from heaven, bringeth thunder, a cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night, and also the dark night, & doth all this by the word of the living Lord who are while terrifieth, and another while comforteth his people. He sendeth slaughter among the Egyptian, sudden loss and ruin to the wicked, fire among the proud, and leprosy to her that murmured; and preserveth for a long time a great number from sickness, and their garments from waxing old, and wearing. Moreover he feedeth them with heavenly food, and giveth them victory over all their enemies. Such things and many such like things doth the sovereign architect of this Vnivers perform by his prophet, to the end to approve his doctrine, and to teach us his truth thereby. To this end also by the word of Moses he appeaseth monsters, causeth the thunder to cease, healeth such as were empoisoned: to 
Prodigies.  the and that so much the more through such prodigies, his law, the wisdom of life and doctrine, by which he instructed his people, might be celebrated, And concerning Oracles, they have not been delivered unto us from a Delphic Apollo, from a jupiter, from a Pallas, or any feigned sapience, or else from some new found godhead: but they been given us 
Oracles.  from the mouth of the livingg Lord, whose voice the innumerable multitudes of Israel did sometimes hear. But if some (as there are many amongst us) will not believe Moses alone, relating all these things nor his people which have written of them as he himself did, yet let them at lest give credit to the many grave and sage Authors, who affirm them for a very truth as to Berosus the Chaldee, to Ma●ethon the Egyptian, Hierom the Phenician, king Darius, Mendesian Ptolemy, Me●ander of Ephesus, Nicolas Damascenus, Abiden the Historiographer, Estieus, Theodore, Chaerilus and ezekiel the Poets, Demetrius the Historian, Hecatè of Abdera 
Authors which confirm Moses writings. Prophecies.  the Philosopher, and above forty other learned, recorded for testimony by josephus Aristobulus, Tertullian and Eusebius, who all agreed in recitation of the foresaid wonders. Let us proceed and come to the prophecies. Of them Ptolemy in his book of first-fruits saith, (Those only who are inspired by God prophecy of particular things.) If then Moses in his doctrine, and all the other Prophets which have followed him, have prophesied of so many particular actions to the king of Egypt, to the Tribes, to many princes & kings, as well concerning themselves as also concerning their cities, and people, who will doubt that they have been instructed by the spirit of God? Who can accuse them of falsehood? who will make doubt of their doctrine? If one read the text of Moses, all points therein are so replenished with prophecies, and future events, that there is nothing left out there concerning that which belongeth to the mysteries of divine and Philosophical matters, nor of the Messiah then to come, nor yet of all whatsoever should afterward come to pass, as is evident to those who have the eyes of their minds illuminated, and who understand the books of the law, to see clean through a great many veils, under which (as was most meet) the prophet did hide so many profound mysteries. What man then of sound judgement that making small or no account of such and so great sacraments, will rather than to believe in them, have recourse to the monuments of certain Philosophers, not approved by so many witnesses, and whose write savorno whit of divine matters? We may very well receive their instructions so far as they differ not from the doctrine of holy writ: but we must altogether reject that which relying upon their own authority, or their own invention supported by their reasons, and indeed not in many places aught worth, (which) they induce beside that which is contained in the writings of Moses and the Prophets. For if we will show reverence to authors, to which I pray 
What authors are worthy of belief.  you, should we show more, either to Aristotle, Auerrois, Epicures, and such like, who only do shine with a small light of human doctrine, or else to Moses, to the Prophets, to Solomon the wisest of all his time, to the Evangelists, and to the Apostles, every of which in sapience, in wisdom, in manners, in prophecies, in oracles, and in all kind of holiness do shine, and flame like burning torches? Who affirm in an unused style that which they speak concerning divine things, proving them with peril of their lives, and confirming them by prodigies: & speaking of things natural, human, & base, above all common capacity of men, and penetrating into most deep secrets by illumination of the holy spirit, do with most bright clearness manifest them to all those which have eyes to see, and ears to hear. And therefore Eusebius hath excellently written to this purpose, speaking thus, (you shall find out the errors of the Ethnic Philosophers, not by me, but by the contradiction, and marvelous repugnancy among themselves: and when I compare them among themselves, or with other common men, certainly I cannot deny but they 
Eusebius in his ecclesiastical history.  have been worthy personages, but when I confer them with the Philosophers and Theologians of the Hebrews, and compare their doctrine, with the doctrine of those, frivolous and vain do all their inventions seem to me.) Moreover, know we not that by the one all things have been delivered humanly, and by the others divinely. And that those who would taste of the first draughts of wisdom, have been constrained to learn of the Hewbrewes? And therefore Porphirius in his book of Abstinence, adorneth with sundry praises the religious, or prophets among that people, calling them Philosophers, and assigning them the chiefest degree above all other Prophets and Magis, who have made profession of holiness. And Orpheus in his book which he hath written of the holy word, after he chased away all contemners of the divine ordinances and mysteries, confesseth that he learned out of the tables of Moses, that which he song of God, known only but to his Prophet. But above all the foresaid testimonies, worthy to be believed, to them (that which surpasseth all admitation) the doctrine of the celestial & divine messenger 
Consent of the doctrine of jesus Christ with that of Moses.  jesus Christ, the true Messiah, anointed with divine graces, above any other prophet doth accord. Who allowing and approving the doctrine of Moses, openeth and revealeth many secrets, which he received of God his father, and announceth the perfection of true religion: wherewhith his apostles have so filled the whole world, that even to this day, all the wise men in every part of the world do embrace and reverence so excellent doctrine, as that, wherein it shineth so much divinity and celestial brightness, that without comparison it surpasseth all human doctrine. Let us receive it then, even all of us that desire wisdom, because that never any more excellent did ever yet appear to mortal men, neither shall ever appear hereafter. And let us not make a stay in that that Socrates knoweth something, or that Anaxagoras seethe the light in darkness, or that Democritus draweth virtue out of pits, or that Empedocles enlargeth the path of his spirit, or that Archesilus, and Carueades attain to some new kind of knowledge, or that Aristotle proveth that which flieth from sense. But let us give full faith to the authority of so many irreprochable witnesses, who make the generation of the world undoubtable to us, & let us proceed to the reasons which further confirm it unto us, and which, ACHITOB, we desire to hear of you.   

Of the reasons making for the Creation and newness of the world. Chapter 8.  ACHITOB. 
Among those other arguments, which we have heard some Philosopher's object against the creation of the world, one hath been the disconueniencie of the newness thereof with eternal God, not being able to perceive how and which way it might come to pass: for by reason of the consideration of such a like question, to wit [which of the egg without the bird was first engendered; seeing that the egg without the bird, nor the bird without the egg could not subsist:] they have imagined that this world was eternal, and that the beginning of every thing engendered, was the end likewise thereof, through a perpetual course, & proceeding. But let me ask these doctors, whence cometh this newness which we behold every day in all things of this world? For there is nothing which suffereth not vicissitude, and changing. Auerrois saith, that this proceedeth from new revolutions, which notwithstanding are ancient by an everlasting succession: & that there is the stay where the oldness, and newness is conserved. For which cause also some have affirmed, that heaven is some part new, some part old. But for as much as these Philosophers 
Reasons for the newness of the world.  do teach, that revolutions are made by those disposing spirits, which are called the servants of the creator, or of the first mover, doth it not thereupon follow, that there is no stay in the heavens, but that they move anew to accomplish that which the first mover, doth propose in a certain time to be performed, and who remaining stable doth give motion to all the rest? Wherhfore we may say that the beginning of newness cannot be from heaven, nor through the spirits, but by the first mover, who at his good pleasure commandeth and all things are made, and afterwards renewed by a secret order within himself not constrained by any necessity. For so it is that God proceedeth to his work, and so prosecuteth it, without being otherwise bound to base things: which Aristotle himself accordeth to, when he declareth that he is blessed, without any good that is strange, or not of himself. And farther I would willingly know with what kind of measure they would meat out the Vnivers who bear such favour to the eternity of the world? If by time (it be measured) then is not eternal, for those reasons which we have delivered heretofore in the discourse concerning the time of the Creation. If by eternity (it self) then let them remember that that is a possession altogether separated from time, and from motion, as hath been to us sufficiently declared. How then can this world be eternal which is equal in age to Time, and altogether subject to Motion? But if any one yet would hold that it is eternal, let him tell me whether it 
That the world cannot be eternal.  endureth by the self same eternity which is in the blessed God, or by some other? If it be by another sort of eternity, then should there be divers eternities of governors, & of kinds, which should savour of the nature of the infinite: and also many infinitenesses should be contained in this world which is so small. If they will say, that the world subsisteth of the same eternity by which God is, certainly such are not worthy of any answer, but rather to be mocked at, who think the spheres, & their moovers to be measured with God: for eternal enduring differeth not from God. But that which is changeable according to Nature, and operation cannot be measured with the same compass, as he who is altogether unchangeable. They will tell me that the eternity of the world differeth from that of the first agent, because the one being altogether divine is a possession at once altogether, and the other is successive. But I answer them that if it be successive, it hath certain portions; now such portions cannot be infinite, and therefore such eternity hath a beginning, & successive ending. Now if it be limited and bounded with these terms, how can it be that it may agreed with the eternal, who is not closed, or limited by any ending? Besides, by what reason may this be called eternal, to which always something is added by a continual succession? For one can add nothing to the infinite, neither doth it increase at all. And therefore I ask them again that if their eternity subsisteth, what do become of the new revolutions? Shall we say they are conjoined with the former, or else that they begin a new infiniteness? If they grant the first, then will they be more in number then infinite. Auerrois saith, that this is no more disagreeable to successions, then to numbers, that infinite ten be infinitely repeated, which amount to so much as innumerable hundreths, without making any more increase in one part then in another. But good God who can hear these things with a quiet ear? By an impossible supposition which he deviseth in numbers, and which never cometh to pass, he would resolve the inconveniences which depend upon infinite revolutions, which he saith did precede all eternity. And for the other point, to think that the new revolutions should begin a new infiniteness, we have already answered that saying, that many infinitenesses cannot be imagined in this world. But here leaving the successions and numbers, I would farther request these defenders of the eternity of this round frame to tell me, whether the moving spirits know the revolutions, or not? If they know them not, certainly men do them much injury to think, that they are ignorant in their motions, which many Astronomers know. If they know them all (being) infinite, how is it that by a finite understanding, which is in all creatures, they may comprehend things (that are) infinite? Again, 
Reasons taken from generations.  sith that generation i● bounded and limited by the undividable, and the last generation of any creature whatsoever by the last creature, what generation shall we say to be limited to the first? If they say there is no former, how is it then that there can be a latter? I wonder also at those ancient Sages of the world, and the modern likewise which follow them, when they declare all things to be moved, and ordained in God as in the last wished, and desired end; and yet doubt to confess that he is the ordainer, considering also that they call him the first mover. But if he hath ordained all things, it followeth likewise that he must know them. For concerning that which some infer, that God hath only disposed the uppermost and highest things, and that the second causes engendered the lowest: I demand of them, 
Another of the moderation and government of things.  how it is that those here below are correspondent to those which are most high, considering there are divers ordainers? Doth not Aristotle say, [That there is but one only prince, for fear lest things should be evilly disposed & governed?] Again, if all things depend of a desired & finishing cause, so that in favour thereof they become great: how is it that they have a being of themselves, seeing they seek to be perfect in another? Why have those any need of a preserver: which have no need of a creator? Indeed the son is preserved without the father, but without him he is not engendered. For what occasion them do these Philosophers give a keeper to the members of the Vnivers, & do take clean away from it any parents? What lies do they bring unto us that accuse others to be sellers of lies? For in one place they misconster & deny that, which in another place the truth constraineth them to confess. Auerrois in many places of his writings, denieth that God created the world; and yet, interpreting the treatise of heaven, 
How the Philosophers cont●ray themselves.  he calleth him Creator. So likewise Aristotle proceeding by sensible things mocketh at Plato, that at every word confesseth the world to be created: and in the book which he entitleth Of the World, he avoucheth God to be Creator of the Vnivers. And in his Metaphysics he teacheth that he is Prince of the world. And how is it that the Prince is entered into an house which he neither hath builded, nor obtained by right of inheritance, nor bought with any sum of money? This is as he affirmeth that the supreme thought understandeth not the particular matters, for fear lest he should over labour, or, else weary himself. And yet in the treatise of good, and bad fortune, he often repeateth, that he hath excellent good fortune that is guided by God. But how doth he guide and direct that which he understandeth not? And how doth he tender condign recompense, and reward for things well or ill done (as it is said in the same Treatise) if he doth not consider and examine the works of every one? Again we read in the Meteors, that God hath placed the pure fire under the globe of the Moon: and yet how hath he disposed and ordained that, which he neither made, nor hath knowledge of? Surely it would be a tedious matter to bring out all the contrarieties & repugnances of the writings of Philosophers, which do plainly confounded themselves. But one of much I have selected this little, to the end that those who boast rather of the name of Peripatetics, or A●●rriosto, then of good Theologians, and Christians, may behold, that all their teaching are not solid, nor firm. Let us insert among our reasons, which confounded their doctrine, the judgement of Saint Augustine, of Macrobius, and of many other learned men, who hold that the eternity of the world cannot subsist, and have place with so small memory of things done, as we have in our histories, as well holy as profane, neither yet with the invention of arts and many other things celebrated by Eusebius, Pamphilus, Clemens, Alexandrinu●, Berosus the Chaldee, Aristotle, Auerrois, Theophrastus, Epigenes, Critode●●●s, Philos●ophanes Egesius, Archimachus, Damastho●es, Aulus Gollous, and a great number of others of divers languages, and most plentifully by Pliny in his book of the natural history, where he confesseth to have collected part of his writings out 
The eternity of the world cannot agreed with histories and invention of things.  of the said authors; with whom also, in that which they testify of the invention of things, the holy letters are of great authority, in that they do agreed with them herein in many points. For although there be some difference concerning the names of those which have invented them, as the forenamed authors do not always agreed among themselves; yet the invention found in time, is wholly confirmed by the same reason, & all that which disagreeeth, is come either by reason of the languages, not being alike, or because that Historiographers, chiefly the Greeks', have attributed that to their nation, which properly appertained not them. Now if the world had been from the beginning, yea even before the beginning, as many would have it: why then in the successive course of innumerable ages, was not that policy and kind of living invented, which we use at this present? Why not the use of letters, by which only, memory is made eternal? Why not the experience of many things? For none of all this is found to be, but within and since five thousand five hundred years, so long as the Scripture teacheth us that the world hath been created, being from the creation thereof to the nativity of jesus Christ (according to the common computation) three thousand nine hundred sixty seven years; what did the inhabitants of the world before his time so brief and short being compared with eternity, and to which the histories do refer the inventors and use of all things? Lived men then without policy, and without laws? without bread, without wine, without tillage of the earth? were they without the exercise of merchandise, without the study of good letters, of discipline, of warfare, of navigation, of building, of weaving, of sowing, of dressing wool: all which things have their invention famous but within a few years, and in divers seasons? wherewith lived they before? where dwelled they? how were they clothed? what did they being altogether ignorant of arts? Certainly it is mere mockery, that those who teach that the world is eternal, do themselves assign the inventors of laws, of arts, and of men's living, considering that both the one and the other could not consist both at one instant. Behold (companions) that which seemed good to me to note concerning the reasons making for the creation, the history whereof will put us altogether out of doubt in that which toucheth the principal arguments of the Philosophers against it, if we do amply entreat of their errors, when they maintain that God worketh of necessity, and not of free and frank will which will serve us to morrow for a subject to begin the days discourse.   
The end of the first days work.   

The Second days work.  

Concerning the errors of these Philosophers, which say that God doth his outward work of necessity. Chapter 9  ASER. 
I think (companions) we were yesterday sufficiently entagled in the discourse of the creation of the world, about that which concerneth the doubt, that remaineth in many. But ere we do farther enter into the cabinets of God and nature, it would not be unfruitful if we yet have an other pull with the Philosophers about this question. Whether of necessity or of free choice, and frank will God was provoked to work?] For they supposed that the condition of necessity was fit and more convenient than was the matter of contingence, & therefore they appropriate it to God. Wherein they think verily to want no reasons for their purpose, & that these make specially for them. [That God worketh by his proper substance, and not by any borrowed virtue; That the effects of the world, are of necessity, because they seem 
If the work of God be of necessity or voluntary.  in no wise to proceed of a contingent cause; that by the same reason is to be considered the invariable, and necessary order of things, to the end that the vniuers be not confounded or troubled.] Moreover the Philosophers supposed that it was a very unfit thing, for the divine understanding to work of necessity, and the divine will to work freely, considering that it is no less perfect than the divine thought. Now though that we (concerning these considerations) might take out of the quiver of reasonable discourse arrows enough against these Sages of world, yet for that this point doth particularly touch the divinity, it may suffice to say with Plato, that one cannot pick out so great a mystery by reasons, but seek to learn the same by oracles. For it is sufficient to know that the great lawgiver recordeth that [God spoke, and it was done] & that with him agreeth the kingly prophet, saying, [he commanded, 
Genes. 1. Psalm. 33.  & it was established] to conclude, that all the scriptures teach us the same doctrine.  
But here let us declare, that that which seemeth thus to disturb the Philosophers, is nothing at all: For they presuppose a necessary disposition to be more perfect than the contingent cause: which they have left to prove, to those that should come afterwards. Now I beseech you, do we not more esteem a Prince, who directeth every thing according to his own good pleasure, then if urged by nature, or any other provocation constraining him, he should set his hand to any business? Who will blame liberty, which (as the Proverb saith) is hardly bought for gold? That I say, which they themselves think to have been granted man for a most singular good? What perfection, what praise should be attributed to most lofty 
Liberty profitable for all things.  thoughts, if they were ever forced to perform that which is good? What dignity might appertain to a great king, if he did all things necessity constraining him, and nothing of agenerous heart? And seeing by common consent, we acknowledge God to be the Prince of the world, what glory and honour should be given him for his government, for his wisdom, for his justice, for his clemency, if of necessity, & constraint he were drawn on to maintain that, which is in his tuition? What grace, what service, and adoration should we own him? Why is it entered into nature, to sacrifice, as Aristotle saith? Why are we obliged (as Auerrois himself teacheth) to magnify God the creator in prayers and sacrifices? If God doth all things of necessity, what profiteth all this? For what cause is it convenient for us to pray, if God be not appeased by prayer? To what end hath all mankind in every age, in all places of every nation been addicted to a door a divinity? Surely we may thereof gather that prayers 
Prayers are fit for men.  are fit for men; and that it is naturally grafted in our minds that God is moved by them. So many reasons than may well conclude, that the author of Nature doth never negotiate of necessity. And for that that he worketh by a proper substance, that is not of eternity, except in the spiritual work, from himself, whereof we have spoken in the 5. of our discourse. But for the outward work he proceeded thereto, according to his own will, when it pleased him; not constrained by any causes (for he is the only and principal cause of all things) nor for hope to get any good (for that he of himself is blessed, not having need of 
God is not subject to any order of nature.  any other good.) Furthermore also, the necessary effects conclude not any necessity in the prince, or in the first cause, considering that the second causes, which Plato & the other Sages call his servants, do work by his commandment in determined order, so that the necessity that therein is, dependeth upon his commandment, or upon the order, from which he absolveth them according to his own good pleasure. And thereof came it that the fire burned not the children in the Chaldean furnace: that the sun stayed his course by the space of a 
Dan. 3.  day at josuahs' commandment: that it went back ten lines or ten hours, in the time of Ezechias: 
Ios. 10 2. Kings. 20.  That it was eclipsed at full moon, during the passion of jesus Christ. The Peripatetics, Atheists, and Epicures will laugh at this, and will say scoffingly: which of the Philosophers recounteth these things? These sellers of lies, which teach the laws, are mad (saith Auerrois.) But herein sith question is made concerning divine mysteries, what have we to do with such contemners of all piety? The sentence wherein we make stay, hath been celebrated by those which could judge. And men do rather believe one that affirmeth, than a thousand that deny: for negation concludeth nothing. And why should we care then though they deny altogether in words that, which many witnesses, yea and most wise, do assure to have proved in effect? The holy letters testify it, whereto we rather give credit, then to Aristotle, and all his scholars. And amongst a thousand most famous Philosophers & Chrstian Martyrs, which consent to this doctrine of truth, is Saint Denis Areopagita, so called 
Ariopaguses of the Athenians  of the Ariopaguses or street of Mars, which was a court and assembly among the Athenians, first of nine persons elected by the chief Magistrates, and afterward increased to the number of fifty of the most principal, as well for learning, holiness of life, and wisdom, as also for riches, to the end that poverty might not induce them to corruption (as Androtion in the second, and Philoeorus in the third book of the Athenian affairs do writ.) This man then writing to Policarpus, reprehendeth Apollophanes the Sophister in these very words, because he would not admit of the eclipse of the Sun which came to pass at the 
Of the eclipse of the sun at the death of jesus Christ.  death of the Messiah [I know not with what spirit thou wert let to divine, OH Apollophanes, when, with me, contemplating the eclipse, which was against the order of nature, at the time that Christ suffered, turning thyself towards me, thou saidst (noble Denis, these are the changes, which come to pass sometime in divine things:) If thou canst; convince this of untruth. For I was present with thee in consideration of so great a prodigy: with thee I beheld it, judged of it, and thought it worthy of perpetual admiration.] But if any will not yet believe this most entire philosopher, let him harken to that which the astronomers say. Esculus very skilful, and learned in this science, taught by astronomical numbers, that the sun went under 
* The Ram.  Aries, and the Moon under 
* The balance  Libra, when the sun failed at full moon, and at that time the jews according to their custom celebrated the feast of passover. Moreover Phlegron one must excellent in reckoning the Olympiads, in his thirteenth book testifieth, that in the fourth year of the two hundred and second Olympiad there was an eclipse of the Sun, much greater than all those that had ever before happened; at which time was the passion of jesus Christ. And for the going back of the sun in Ezechias reign, as also that which we read of the deluge of waters, with many other miracles 
Recalling of the sun in Ezechias days.  contained in holy writ, the ancient memorial of the Persians', and Chaldeans do make notable mention thereof. And thence cometh it that the Persian priests do celebrated the memory of the triple Mithras, that is of the sun (as Denis and Sirabo witness) which at the foresaid time appeared to perform a triple course, or to stay three times, from his accustomed progesse into the west, retiring again into the east by a new kind of return for ten hours, and then returning again into the west. I leave, for this point, the other witnesses Philosophers, Gentiles, Chaldees, Egyptians Phenicians, Greeks', the Sibelles, and many Historians brought for proof of the supernatural effects of omnipotent God, by josephus, Aristobulus, Tertullian, and Eusebius, whereof each by their wrirings may sufficiently instruct. And if authority do aught avail in disputation, let then the deposition of so many Sages prevail in this point, in a matter that Aristotle and his fautors deny in words only. Most prudently certain doth Avicen think that motion is neither necessary, nor violent, but in a mean betwixt both, in such sort, that it ever resteth at the pleasure of the Prince. And therefore it must be granted that the second causes are so alligated to the first cause, that they do nothing but as the other commands them. And yet it so governeth those things which it hath created and ordained, that it permitteth them to perform their ordinary proper motions. Now because that it seldom happeneth to the contrary, and that the order of their first institution persevereth in many things, and that most commonly: therefore did Aristotle judge that it was natural, and necessary. For as he saith in his treatise of natural hearing, [That is natural which cometh to many, & oftentimes:] And so could 
By the necessity of effects one must not conclude the necessity of the cause.  he make no farther search by sensible things. But the operations of God, and the alliance of things here below, with the first cause may not be searched out by discourse of reasons, but must rather, new have declared, be learned in oracles. Thus in convinced of nullity, the progress which is deduced from necessity, appearing in the effects, to the necessity of the cause: because that necessity of the effects dependeth upon the order established by the first cause. And the effects also are not needful because they are all particular: for the work of nature is not bounded by the universal All, but by each particular which the Peripatetics themselves do rather nominate contingence, then necessary. But because the most subtle Philosophers do yet debate, that they be eternal, and that most needful is the coherence of the subject, with the worker; in which the proper essential, or the quiddity, (as they term it) is named of the subject: we may tender them an other reason for this pretended necessity: to wit, the correspondence of things with the exemplaries or eternal Ideas, celebrated by Plato, and defended by many sage and great personages, as hath already been shown. For his cannot consist, considering that the universal is a simple essence, which 
God hath produced all things by himself.  produceth nothing by the second causes, nor by the spirits, nor by nature, but only by himself: and also the first cause of all things created, before ever any soul, or any heaven, or any other particular thing, whatsoever was produced. To return therefore, from whence ●● strayed, the effect ensueth the ordinance, and immutable order of the supreme cause, if by the same it be not otherwise instituted. And whereas the Philosophers add farther, that the will of God hath equal perfection with the thought, which operateth of necessity: we confess that it taketh place, but it is in regard of the work within himself, whereby he engendereth eternally, the perfect image of himself, his word, the absolute Idea, and true pattern of all things. But we say, that he displayeth according to his good pleasure the outward effects, that from everlasting the divine thought hath described in the word. Surely I wonder at the Sages of the world, who acknowledge that God is most simple, and of himself most perfect, all other strange thing set a part, and yet presently (as if they had forgot their doctrine) think that God hath a needful bond with things hear below, as if he could not subsist without them, nor yet be blessed. And how is he most simple, if he hath a necessary bond with other things? How is he prince of all things, if he be obliged to the service of the most basest? What dignity, or what condition hath he of a sovereign governor? Briefly to conclude this matter, let us take away all necessity from the Lord in regard of this round frame: and let us not doubt that the order of this Vnivers shall decay, or be destroyed; if it be so, that the creator doth dispose, and vary it at his good pleasure: for he doth know ever to direct in order, that which he hath once made, and ordained. For none need to fear the spoil of the work, when the workmaster sets his hand thereto, by whose handling it is rather made perfect, than any whitmarred. But yet before, we take any other subject, we must first hear of AMANA, the reasons which declare that God proceeded of freewill to his work.   

Of the reasons which conclude, that God proceeded of free and frank deliberation to the work of the world. Chap. 10.  AMANA. 
ALthough that by our precedent discourse we may easily judge, such as maintain that God of eternity did by necessity his outward work) worthy rather to be despised then refuted, being against the doctrine of divine oracles: yet we will run over a few points, by which they themselves shall be pierced with their own darts. I would therefore first, desire them to tell me from whence come the monsters in nature? They may say, that this proceedeth either by defect, or super-aboundance of matter: or else because that the qualities answer not in due proportion; or through corruption of the containing part, and such other considerations, which are subdivided by Physicians into their species. But let me ask them, if that the natural causes work necessarily, why do they not perform every thing duly, seeing nature (as they say) wanteth nothing in necessary things? How then do natural causes work of necessity, when they fail? They may answer, that I would thereupon conclude, that they work by contingence, which if I said, what might follow thereon? But to leave all superfluous debate, let them remember, that it is an old sentence used in the schools, that a thing is said to be necessary in two sorts: the one absolutely necessary; and the other conditionally necessary. Wherefore we attribute the first to God alone; and the other to his creatures: so as we call them necessary according to the order appointed by the supreme creator. Which if the Philosophers 
A thing is ● said to be necessary two ways.  deny, we will urge them with the work itself of these causes. For it is certain, that if they be faulty, and produce monsters, it cometh to pass, because that order which is delivered them by nature (as they say) or rather of the sovereign creator (as truth is) doth fail them. Now if they fail of the order, it than followeth, that it was not simply necessary for them, but given by the first cause, through virtue whereof, the rest subordained under it do work: from which if the first withdraw itself, they do not only fail, but be come nothing at all. And if they may seem to perform any thing of necessity; this cometh unto them by reason of the law, which hath been given them by the Prince of Nature: who giving laws to others, is no whit for that thereto himself obliged. They may reply, that if our doctrine might stand, there should be no certainty of science, considering that it should consist of things, which otherwise might be: whereto Aristotle doth make denial. But we answer, that if he intendeth that those things which are known should be necessary according to the order of the vniuers: the like may ensue in those things, which may happen contrary to the order, according to the disposition of the eternal will. Now if they find too great difficulty herein for their capacity, what need we care? Let themselves (if they think good) unloose the knot. For fire may well be without burning, as indeed it hath been, as we have heard in the former speech. And like wise every effect may be separated from 
Dan. 2. The effect may be separated from the cause.  the cause, which hath produced it: yet nevertheless the bond remaining, by a certain correspondency, between the worker and the subject (that we may use school terms.) But proceeding farther, I would feign learn of these Peripatetics, whence it is, that things have a necessary covenant. They will say that it is by nature, as they prove by experience. But what is this their nature? Nothing truly, but the author of the Vnivers, which 
What truly nature is.  is the true spirit not erring: seeing that (as they teach) the work of nature, is the work of the intelligence not erring, and by the ordinance whereof, all things have a due course. For there is nothing but serveth this supreme worker. [He stretcheth out (saith the prophet) the heavens like a curtain. He looketh on the earth, and trembleth, he toucheth the mountains, and they smoke.] But these naturalists may say (what have we to do with prophets, seeing we hold that 
Psalm. 104.  none can have perfect knowledge, but in those things, which are proved by demonstration? And from whence fetcheth demonstration his original? Is it not from those principles, whose terms being known we accord to them, or prove them by experience? Now if we believe demonstrations, by principles, and experiences, it than followeth that there be some things more certain than demonstrations. O execrable vice grown old amongst our people, that having had this happiness to be enrolled in the number of Christians, yet receive nothing for truth, and certainty, if it be not proved by such demonstrations as Aristotle hath declared, and wherewith (for all that) he is but little aided in his discourse concerning 
Vanity of the demonstrations of Philophers.  nhture. For herein he proceedeth always by those maxims that he taketh to be confessed: so that the demonstration whereto his disciples give belief, is nothing else but a consequence drawn from the place of authority, or from the foundations by him supposed. Wherhfore let us rather believe the holy scripture, which, instructeth us, that many things, and especially divine, are known through the beams of supernatural illumination and by the covenant of the holy word without understanding touched by the truth. Let Epicures and Atheists than maintain how they list from Aristotle. That to know, is to understand 
What it is to know.  by demonstration. For us it is sufficient to hold our instructions from the prophets taught by the divine oracle: who by miracles, and prodigies, and great sacraments, approve (as we have already heard) that which they teach. And if we say that knowledge is an understanding by any thing, we may take ourselves to be wise in believing the doctrine of the holy Ghost, not any whit accounting of the Peripatetics, who have only kindled the light of their contemplation by the moving forms of the vniuers, and have not been able, with a pure cogitation, to contemplate him, who possesseth the highest degree of dignity amongst all essences, as their sovereign prince, and governor: having in the rest, rather given an artificial fineness, and base manner of proceeding, than any science. And this is that which privily their Master confesseth, when he entreateth of the last Analytics, or Resolutions, saying, that Science is of demonstration, and demonstration of the quiddities, as he nameth it, and by the proper differences of things to us unknown. For thereupon it followeth, that the principles of demonstration are unknown, and that from 
That the work of the Vnivers is freely and willingly.  them one may bring, no whit, or very little demonstration. But resuming our principal point of the free, and frank will of God in his work, begun in time, we will argue more lively thus.] Seeing that the parts of this vniuers, are so disposed, that without any contrariety, or contradiction, they might have been otherwise ordered, it followeth, that they are contingent, and not ordained of necessity, but of free will.] Auerrois saith:] We confess not that the parts of the world could be altered, because the world is an animal.] But I answer, in what place of Aristotle learned he this manner of disputing? He will that this authority should be for a principle of demonstration. Moreover from whence draweth he the consequence? Let him tell me, if the world be an animal, whether is it sensible or insensible? If it be voided of sense, then is it no animal. If it be sensitive: doth it see then? doth it hear, doth it smell, doth it taste, doth it eat? But say we confess the world to be an animal (as it seemeth that Plato, and many other Sages would affirm) surely it is no animal, contained under 
Whether the world be an animal.  the kind of animals. For all things in this frame are divided by all philosophers into a former division, before you come to the animal. But let us confess that it may be called an animal by some kind of answerableness and likeness: Wherhfore then could not the disposion of the parts thereof be otherwise ordained? Why should it be disagreeable for man, to have only one eye in his forehead, as it is reported of some? Why could it not be made, to the other creatures, the upper jaw moving, and the undermost firm, as the crocodile alone hath? Why hath not sundry beasts two knees, like the camel? Surely these, and such like things have been so disposed by the sovereign creator, that without any contradiction, or contrariety, might have been otherwise ordained, if we presuppose not the condition of the nature specified, such as the creator himself, hath according to his will perfixed. But let us farther proceed concerning the animal the world. By what necessity hath sea been in such sort disposed, that the ocean should pass through the narrow straits of Abila and Calpe 
Of the course and strait passage of the Ocean.  (high mountains, which antiquity called Hercules pillars?) What need is there that from thence it should spread itself in length and breadth? That then it should stretch itself into the Tuscan, or Tirrhene sea? afterwards gathering itself into the adriatic gulf, than enlarging itself into the Siriacke sea, so running about by the Egean (which for the beauteous number of islies therein contained, is named the Archipelagus, or princess of seas) & from thence shrinking between most narrow passages the Hellespont is made? And again the Proponticke where it dilateth itself, and where again it is straightened, is called the Thracian Bosphorus? Than this Ocean being once again widened, there is made the sea Euxine, that is to say the host, since the manners of the barbarous nations have been polished, and made civil, for it was first called Axenes, that is the inhuman host, because of the cruel, and fierce nature of the dwellers there about: And again mixing itself with the lake of Meotis, that it named of the Cimmerian Bosphorus? what need is there also why Nilus passing by the Ethiopians, and Arabians into Egypt: and Tanais 
Of Nilus and Tanais.  passing through the one and the other Scythia, and running almost into the midst of the lake of Meotis, should distinguish and separate the three parts of the world? And by what other needful ordinance is one part of the earth laid low in valleys, another stretched out into plains: this part raised up in hillocks, that lifted up the lofty mountains; and that the floods and ever-running fountains and streams do flow in their seasons? Of what necessity also are some beasts of the earth fruitful, others barren? these dry, and those moist? Might not we easily (without any contrariety or repugnancy) imagine all the circuit of the earth to be plain, soft, and bearing fruit? And if God can perform that which we cannot think, as all the Sages who have believed in him do affirm, why can he not do that which we may imagine? Which if he can easily perform, these things than are not of necessity, no otherwise then of eternity, disposed in such sort as we see them, but according, and how, and when it hath pleased the sovereign creator of them. Now enough is said of these things: we must further proceed in the consideration of God's works, wherein will greatly aid us, the understanding of one only principal and prime cause of the Vnivers; that we may afterwards comprehend the marvelous effects thereof. And therein (ARAM) let be the subject of thy discourse.   

Of one only principal, and first cause of the Vnivers. Chap. 11.  ARAM. 
THose, who have been commonly called the of Sages the world, have so much differed in their doctrine, even in the search which they have made of nature, following the course of their speculations, that amongst them who have been nourished in one family, and learned under one master, there are great contrarieties, either in doctrine, in manners, in religion, or in the end to which all these things tend. Which is chief happened unto them, by having settled the building of the world upon bad and discordant foundations, affying in their own powers and inventions too feeble for so weighty a charge, as by rehearsing some points of their principles, we may easily understand. Thalos Milesius supposed, that the water was the beginning of all things: because the members 
divers opinions of Philosophers touching the beginning of the world.  of every living creature, seemed to be nourished by water, which as it is placed in the middle of the world, so doth the watery humour abide in the centre of the bodies of animals, from whence it ministereth nourishment to all the rest of the members. But his auditor Anaximander was of advise, that I wots not what infinitensse, called the boundless matter, was the principal subject, and first of essences, and because that by nature such matter hath neither form nor quantity, he thought that this was the substance of perpetual generation: in such sort that infinite worlds were already past, and hereafter infinitely to arise. Anaximenes' his disciple attributed the causes of all things to the infinite air. And his hearers Anaxagoras and Diogenes, disagreeing together, one of them would persuade that the infinite matter woven with divers parcels of all sorts and kinds, according to the condition thereof: had been beginning to itself. And the other, that the air endued also with divine reason was the matter of things. Leucippus, Democritus and Diodorus affirm, that before all things, there were certain Atomoes, or little individable bodies, some smooth, other sharp, some round, others partly made of angels, partly turned and pointed, and some crooked, to be perceived by reason only, solid, without any vacuity, not engendered, immortal, eternal, incorruptible, which move them in an infiniteness, and through an infiniteness that is emptiness, which bodies are in number infinite with these two qualities, form and greatness; and that by a chance of adventure, without constraint of any nature, heaven and earth of them were composed. Hipparchus Metapontine, and Heraclitus the Ephesian said, that fire was the unick beginning, because it is the subtle maintainer and sustainer of all bodies, and whereof at first, the heavens were made. And because it is a brightness that moveth all things by his light, they teach, that in abasing itself it was mixed with all things, in such sort that all things were thereof engendered by the means of discord and love. Empedocles for fear of failing, said, that all the four elements had been the only beginning: but that the earth was the matter & first subject of all, containing the forms and figures of things; which neither the water, air nor fire could do. The Poets, following his opinion, attributed the original of things to Etherian jupiter, Terrene Pluto, Aerian june, and to Mestis the beginning of the water, who (they said) nourished with her tears the rivers of the earth. Pythagoras mounting higher, than many deem, esteemed that numbers, and their subject (that is, the measures and apt proportions; called harmonies and consonancies) were the original of things; not those numbers which merchants use, but the formal and natural, the knowledge of which lies only hidden in such, as have learned Philosophy & Theology by numbers. Almeon followeth Pythagoras, saying that the unity was the effective beginning, but the two, or binary, not finite, was the subject, and material beginning of all multitude. Epicurus in his Philosophy pursuing the steps of Democritus, teacheth the beginnings of things to be corporal, solid, not created, perceived by understanding only, eternal, that could not be corrupted, nor destroyed, not changed in any sort. To which prime causes, beside the form and greatness which his master assigned them, he also attributeth weight. Socrates & Plato set three principals, God, the matter, & the Idea. Aristotle affirmed for the first, Entelechie, or the kind, the matter & privation; although he had otherwhere taught the equivocations, as is privation, not to be numbered among the principles. Zenon appointeth for the first, God, & the matter; so that he is the active, & it the passive, & the four element's means beweene. But on this part we may note, that amongst all those, which have taught that the matter was the principal subject, we have one alone, who telleth us, whether it hath been created by the blessed God, or whether this nature pliable, and deprived of all beauty together with God hath made the world: or else if, void of all fashion, it hath been coeternal wise and companion of Demogorgon, father of the Gods (as Poets feign) or if like a Pallas, it hath been borne of jupiters' brain. Certainly our mind can found no repose when we find a nature deprived of all power and all form, without the maker and Creator thereof. Now who, or what he hath been, we have none of these Philosophers, that can relate unto us. Very well see we that they agreed very ill together, in the doctrine of the principles and foundations of the world; which doubtless happened unto them, because they did stray very far off from the unity, master of all verity, in whom they should all have met, and yet every one went a several way, following the inventions of their natural speculations, temerariously presuming by their own proper powers to manifest that, which God would rather have kept close, and hidden; to wit, the nature of celestial things. And thence cometh it that their teaching founded on the confused multitude, were dissolved and vanished, after (I say) that they were so severed from the unity, which giveth to all essences the power to be, and harmoniously to accord.  
But they, who confess one God creator of all things, and acknowledge him for the true 
How all those that have had the true knowledge of God do agreed in the doctrine of one only original of the Vnivers.  source and fountain, from which all the waters of eternal sapience do flow, all united in profession of piety, religion, and doctrine, Hebrews, Chaldees, Greeks and Latins, do all together give praise to this God alone, father of the Vnivers, planting the foundations of this mundaine habitation with an harmonious concord. For Moses, job, David Solomon, Easie, and all the other prophets, Evangelists, Apostles and disciples of jesus Christ, & all those whom he hath made worthy to entreat of divine mysteries: all with one voice do teeth us, one only and prime cause of all forms, and that alone, to be the maker of the matter; and moderatresse of all nature. To which doctrine agreed all the ancient, and modern doctors of the Christrian church, having the rule of holy letters so fixed and bounded, that they do not cross themselves in any point, because they have settled the foundations of all things in the only and true author of all wisdom. And upon the same principles innumerable persons of great crudition, and laudable life, diversly dispersed into contrary climates, according to the course of times and different languages, have enterprised divers works of a divine consonancy, & all to one end, to 'cause acknowledgement of God, creator of heaven and earth. Which could in no wise have been done, if all these excellent men had not been illuminated with one self-same divine understanding (as the Platonists call it) or with one self-same holy spirit (as our doctors teach) which maketh all such as devil in the house of God to be of one mind, and endueth all of them with one heart, and one soul, and therefore also all the ancient Prophets, and blessed Ambassadors of jesus Christ, being replenished with his spirit, despising the vain babble of Philosopher's schools, and all contentious disputations, have proposed their teaching, with such and so great constancy, though they had to deal with Princes, and people learned and unlearned, that they have confirmed them for truth, by sanctity and splendour of life, and by many miracles, yea with their own blood. And our doctors (imitating this doctrine) lightened and illustrated with the same spirit, have acknowledged God the only, and very beginning of all things, the free Creator & supreme fountain from whom all verity, and virtue floweth. Among which doctors, four Greeks and four Latins shall sing in the little choir of God like the bases, and fundaments of our Theology, according with the four Disciples of our Lord, who delivered the evangelical elements in Canticles sweetly distinguished, and yet in agreeable consonancy. For S. Jerome and S. chrusostom shall unloose the knotty heads of the holy letters: 
Of the most celebrated Doctors of the Church Greeks and Latins.  the one and the other Gregory, to wit, the Roman and Nazianzene, shall pursue the divine sense, closed and covered under the bark of the Letter. Damascenus with S. Ambrose shall remain in the grave sentences, and allegorical sense. And S. Augustine with Basil shall mount up in the an agogicall song, to resound the supreme accents of the celestial harmony. And for the other celebrated persons, who preceded these men till the time of Saint Jerome, he in the book of excellent men numbereth an hundredth thirty seven, who were known by their writings. To whom Gennade minister of Marseilles, addeth ninety and one, who have been followed of many others till the time of Peter the Lombard: who emulating Damascene in reducing and distinguishing into four volumes the Theological doctrine, hath given fair matter for posterity to dispute upon. And since then have increased so many others of divers professions, nations, and languages consenting with an admirable concord in confession of one father, author and principle (without any means) of the Vnivers, that this point leaveth no doubt, but constraineth every one to acknowledge that all of them have been illuminated, and taught by the sovereign doctor and supreme brightness from which all truth and light doth issue. For likewise he alone the eternal God containeth the source of verity unable to be emptied, out of which it behoveth us to exhausted so many and often times, as we pretend to give true instructions, and agreeable to the mystries of his omnipotency; because there is no knowledge of the separated substances, of the secrets of nature, and of God the author thereof, which hath not been divinely revealed. For divine things are not touched with our hands: and the worldly fly from our senses every moment from whence it cometh, that that which Philosophers call wisdom & certain science, whether concerning celestial, or natural things, is nothing else but error, or at least, a thick obscurity. But we know so much, as the pure bright, and clear understanding, placed in the point of man's soul, doth behold, by means of super natural light in the mirror of eternity, wherein we contemplate God, the father and creator of this Vnivers. And when the Philosophers shall confess him such, as nature teacheth, religion persuadeth, and reason proveth him, then may they concur with the truth, in that which they declare of the elements of the world, fire, air, water, and earth, and of the nature of things, as hereafter we must discourse. But first we will begin to enter into some consideration of the precious treasures and learned instructions, wherewith the sacred words of Moses (by us heretofore heard) concerning the creation are fruitfully replenished, and namely, in the space of the six days, which he describeth for perfection of this great human building: as I refer to you (ACHITOB) to give us to understand.   

Of the space of the six days mentioned in the history of the creation of the World. Chap. 12.  ACHITOB. 
IF we hold for certain and undoubted, the fabrication of the Vnivers, as we have in all our precedent discourse sufficiently proved: then must we confess that it is new and made in time, according as holy writ teacheth us, and all Mathematicians confirm, when by the Genesis of the world they prognosticate the events that should succeed. We have already made mention of the time, since which, we hold the creation thereof: now must we consider the space of days which are mentioned by Moses in recitation of this Masterpiece of work of the Almighty, wherein the Prophet hath concealed a mystery of high, and difficult understanding. For as S. Augustine saith, The six days wherein God performed his works, and the seventh wherein he ceased; in what sort and manner they 
Li 2. de civit, Dei cap. 6.  are, is very difficult, or rather impossible for us to think, much more to express. For the days which we have now, have their evening and morning, the setting & rising of the Sun: and the three first days whereof Moses speaketh, passed without the Sun, which was created the fourth day. Hereof therefore grow profound and deep questions, and principally this, [Whether all things have been created together, or in the space of divers days?] It seemeth that S. Augustine made no doubt that all was not created in a moment: seeing he saith, (speaking of the creation of the Angels, made the first day) that the second day, nor 
In the same book cap. 9  the third, nor all the rest, were any other than the first day: but that the same one was repeated, to make up the number of six or seven, for the works of God, and his repose. In another place he speaketh thus, [In the seventh day, that is, the same day repeated seven times.] 
In the same book cap. 31  There have been also divers ancient doctors that have taught the like, satisfying themselves with this text of the Wiseman, saying, [He that liveth for ever, made all things together.] 
Eccles. 18. Whether all things were created together, or in divers days.  They also showed these reasons, [All power finite and limited hath need of time to work in, but not the infinite, as that of the sovereign Creator: and forasmuch, as by an intelligible and eternal word (which Saint Basil interpreteth, the moment of the will of God) all things had their beginning, there is no reason, why there should be any delay for the creation of the light after the darkness, which was upon the deep (as the Prophet declareth) & whereof the evening & morning of the first day were made: or else of the heaven till the second day: the budding forth of the earth, till the third: the production of the Sun, Moon, and Stars, till the fourth: the gathering together of the waters, till the fift: and to sixt the 
Genes. 1.  forming of man.] For these reasons (I say) many great personages would conclude that heaven and earth, and all things therein contained, were created at one instant, charging those which thought otherwise, to do great wrong to the Almighty and sovereign Creator (to whom all things are of eternity presented) to suppose that he should operate by tract of time, and succession of days: he (I say) to whom eternity is both the measure and possession together. They allege also, that the Prophet repeating the creation which he seemed to have distinguished by days, said thus in the second of Genesis. [These are the generations of the heavens and of the earth, when they were created, in the day that the Lord God made the heavens and the earth; and every plant of the field before it was in the earth, and every herb of the field, before it grew:] Whereby (they say) doth evidently appear that all things were created together. And for that the principal members of this mundane body, are said to have been ordained and engendered separately, that that must be understood to have been so expounded, according to the order, through which man (for whom all things have been made) is very properly induced as the last work of God: according to the common saying of the Peripatetiks, [That that which is the first in intention, is the last in execution: but the means between keeping a like order, do succeed from 
How the distincton of God's works must be understood.  the first to the last.] By such reason therefore the division of days mentioned in Genesis must be referred, not to the time, but to the order, which is to be considered in the producement of things created. Thus much for their opinions. But others contend to the contrary, and maintain that God hath distinguished the creation of the world by certain degrees and course of days, according as Moses describeth them, to keep us the more attentive, and to constrain us to abide in the consideration of his works. For it is most certain that we pass lightly over the infinite glory of God, which shineth unto us here below, and the vanity of our understanding doth willingly carry us away. To correct which vice, his divine bounty would temper his works to our capacity. And they which hold this opinion have noted, how the text before cited out of Ecclesiasticus, wherein this word (together) is read, is not properly so in the Greek copy: But the Greek word signifieth (likewise) or (in common,) and hath relation not to the time, but to the universalnesse and community of creatures. Now to reconcile these divers opinions, me thinketh we may say, that for the matter, and rich seed of all the beauties and richesses' of the Vnivers, it hath been created of God all in one moment; but that afterward he gave form to it, taking out of them the works, which he did in the six days. For thus the Prophet speaketh, [God in the beginning created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void, and darkness was 
Gen. 1. v. 1. 2.  upon the deep, and the spirit of God moved upon the waters.] Behold then the matter of this All, which had his being all at once: the Chaos, the Embryon, created of nothing, which was to take form, figure, place, and abiding according to the order and disposition of all his parts, and which in the mean while was sustained by the secret power of God. Afterwards when Moses addeth, [Than God said, Let there be light, and there was light. And God saw the light that it was good; and God separated the light from the darkness: 
Vers. 3. 4. 5.  and God called the light day, and the darkness he called night. So the evening and the morning were the first day.] In this (I say) and in all the rest which ensueth, concerning the works of God in the five other days, is showed unto us the form that God gave to the matter in the space of them: creating and forming all creatures celestial and terrestrial contained in the whole Vnivers. See then how we may resolve this question, [Whether all things were created together, or in divers days?] and thus we may reconcile their sundry opinions.  
Let us further note, how Saint Augustine accustomed to mount (as we have said) with the wings of contemplation unto the Anagogical sense, discoursing upon this point, concerning 
S. August. de civit. Dei lib. 11. cap. 7.  the light, which was said to have been created the first day, with evening and morning, three days before the Sun; confesseth freely, that it is far remote from our sense, what light this is, and by what alternate motion, the evening and morning were made: and he useth this disjunctive question [whether it were some corporal light (that is some lightsome body) in the highest parts of the world far from our sight: or else a light without body, in some place, whereat the Sun was shortly after kindled: or else by the name of light, was signified the holy City of Angels and blessed spirits, whereof the Apostle saith, Jerusalem which is above, is the eternal mother of us all in the heavens.] Therefore in another place also this great Doctor of the Church referreth the evening and morning, to the science 
Gal. ●.  and knowledge of Angelical thoughts; calling it morning, when by the view of things created known in themselves (where there is darkness, and most deep night) these blessed spirits advance themselves in the love of God. And if loving and contemplating him, they acknowledge all things in him (which knowledge is much more certain, then if one should view them indirectly) then is it day. But it is evening, when the angel turneth himself from God to things created, regarding them not in him, but in themselves. And yet this evening cometh not to night, because these angelical thoughts never prefer the works before the workman; neither have them in greater estimation, for so should it be most profound night. Behold then, how deeply Saint Augustine doth discourse in this place concerning the evening and morning. But for the place before cited concerning the point of the light, he referreth the same terms, evening and morning, to the condition of our soul. For he saith, that that, which it can know and understand in comparison of the knowledge of God, is like an evening, and that yet when it is bend to praise and love the Creator, then doth it return to morning. And for the distinct days, concerning the works of God, he applieth them likewise to the orderly and perfect knowledge of things produced: saying thus, [When the mind stayeth in the knowledge of it 
The distinction of the days inferred to the acknowledgement of the works of God.  self, then is there one day: when in the acknowledgement of the firmament, which betwixt the water beneath and above, is called the heaven; then is the second day: if concerning the earth, the sea, and all things fructifying, which keep themselves in the roots of the earth, there is the third day: and when it stayeth in the acknowledgement of the lights, both the greater and lesser, and of the stars; there is the fourth day: if of the creatures which live in the waters; there is the fift day: if of terrene things, and man himself; there is the sixt day.] And thus doth this good father travel to discover the great mysteries closed and concealed under the covert of Moses words, which in the relation of his history he doth most undoubtedly apply to the capacity of the rude and common people, with whom he had to deal, delivering to the wise and more learned enough wherewith to satisfy their minds. But without farther disputing about this present matter, we may note, that in the creation of the light, wherewith the world was to be adorned, was the beginning of form given to the matter of the world, and of the distinction of creatures. Yea in that the light did precede the Sun and Moon, which were created but the fourth day; God would thereby testify that in his only hand light is resident, and that he can confer it upon us without any other means. For we are so inclined, as nothing more, to alligate the power of God to those instruments and organs, wherewith he serveth himself; because that forasmuch as the Sun and Moon do minister light unto us, we will willingly assign to them, according to our fantasy, such virtue that if the world were deprived of them, we might hope nothing but darkness. Wherhfore the Lord in this order of the creation causeth us to see the contrary, and how it is in him, and by him, that the light subsisteth. Now of you (ASER) we may hear of some excellent mysteries concealed under the number of the days of this mundaine fabrication.   

Of the mysteries hidden under the number of six in the creation of the Vnivers: and of the seventh day of rest. Chap. 13.  ASER. 
THat all things consisted in numbers, and that there was need of the knowledge of them to conceive the sacred mysteries of God and nature; Pythagoras, Plato, and all other Academics have laboriously taught. But they have spoken so superstitiously & so obscurely concerning the mystery in these numbers, that it seemed, they would even conceal them from those, who were devoted to the study of their doctrine. Plato speaketh thus in his Epinomide, [If we take away number from the nature of men, 
Of the profit and use of numbers.  we leave them no whit prudent, nor capable of science: for the mind can comprehend nothing without reason, and none can tender a reason for anything, that is ignorant of number. The arts likewise, this set apart, would altogether perish.] He assureth us also, that number, (to wit the unity which is God) is cause of all good, but of none ill. And he calleth man's soul a number, and reasonable measure, by which we measure all things, which may be understood and put in practice by us, to the end that in our works we may eschew all error, folly and deformity. Now not only the Philosophers, but also many great personages, Christians, both Greeks' and Latins do testify unto us by their writings, that there be many mysteries in numbers: Among whom Saint Augustine speaketh thus, [The reason of numbers is not to be despied of us, which how much it is to be esteemed in many 
Lib. 11. de civit. Dei c●. 30  texts of Scripture is apparent to those, which mark it diligently. And it hath not been spoken in vain to the praise of God: [Thou hast ordered all things in number, weight, and measure.] Now hereupon we must note, that the number, weight and measure, whereby 
Wisd. 11.  all things have been numbered, poised and measured, subsist not properly in the thing created; no more than the measure by which the cloth is parted into else; or the weights, wherewith every thing is weighed: or the number, by which all things are counted, do consist within the things measured, poised, or numbered: but are doubtless without them. So then we contemplate the number, weight and measure, by which God hath disposed all things, out of the creatures. And forasmuch as there is nothing, besides all things produced, but God, it is necessary, that in him should consist their number, weight and measure. In 
In God is the number, weight and measure.  him than is the weight without weight, for by it the great worker is not poised, but remaineth stable, giving all things the power to be moved, and at last to repose themselves. And in truth, this frame of the whole world duly proportioned, and balanced by weight, could not sustain itself, if it were not poised by the Creator and Governor thereof; who likewise hath the measure by which he moderateth and disposeth all that is contained therein, in well ordered justice, according to the state and proper end of every of his works. And in him also are the numbers without number, because that all things which are in him, are the same only God. And as he is the true unity, he containeth in himself all number, giving all things the power to be numbered. For all multitude ariseth from one, and nothing can be one, making with any others a multitude, if by the participation of the highest one it doth not obtain the state of unity. And to it also all things created (imitating the course of numbers, as the true pattern doth the original, and the end of God's works) endeavour to return, in such sort as they first proceeded.  
We need not doubt then, but that the consideration of numbers doth therewith import much doctrine. Wherhfore particularly respecting the distinction of the works of the Vnivers in six days (which is the subject of our discourse) we will note how many have acknowledged the number of six to be full of deep mysteries. First therefore Mathematicians teach, that six is the first perfect number, because it is compounded of certain parts 
The number of six full of deep mysteries.  perfectly added together, as of one, two and three: for which cause it is called of the Pythagorians (Ga●●on) or the Marrying number, because all the parts thereof set aside do make it up. Moreover some parts of it multiplied together, to produce it: as six times one, three times two, two times three. In this consisteth the perfection of the number, which is accomplished by all his parts: and but few such have been found out by Arithmeticians. For within the number of an hundred they have observed but that of twenty eight, to which they have attributed such property: because it consisteth of fourteen seven, four, two, and one: as within the number of ten, there is but that of six which is accomplished by all his parts. Saint Hierom entreating of this number where he writeth upon Ezechiel saith, that it containeth the sacrament of creatures. And in truth there could not be invented any number more proper for the making of the world, than this of six, which consisteth of a double proportion that it doth next contain in itself: (to wit) of four with two, which numbers added together make six: which can hardly be found in other numbers, but such as are of the nature of six: as the double, trible, quadruple, or square thereof, and such like. So then six resulteth of that double proportion which makes the diapason in Music, which is the perfectest and most entire harmony of all the concord's. For which it seemeth that Pythagoras would apply it to Nativities and to Marriages, and then it doth consequently very properly fit the Creation of the world, wherein were celebrated the true nuptials and conjunctions of all things. Likewise six, the first perfect number cannot but aptly agreed to God, the sovereign and most perfect Creator, or to his work, wherein there is no defect: And therefore when he had finished and accomplished his works in six days, Moses saith, [Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them.] But if we will farther proceed in the the consideration of this number 
Genes 2.  of six: we shall see how by the triangled or threesquare figure thereof, it doth properly accord with the creation of the world. For the base or foundation is the number of three, the point a unity, & the number of two is the mean between both, as appeareth (▪) in this figure. Now every work proceedeth from the three persons in the Godhead to the unity, from which the outward works (performed in time) are unseparable: they tend also to an end, to which all things address themselves: and the passage to proceed thither, is the number of two, which we may properly attribute to the matter first created by God, to form thereof all his works. For the first beginning of the production and order of creatures was the matter, which in respect of number representeth the nature of the binary, and seemeth to be reduced to the unity, by the form, which beareth the shape of the trenarie: so that on every side of the premised figure of the number of six, the ternary tendeth to the unity by the binary. And by this consideration we may make way to the most high contemplation of the number of seven, attributed to the rest of the Lord For we make no doubt, that when we shall be all reduced to the unity, as we 
Of the number of seven and his excellency.  took our original from it, then shall the rest of the Sabbath ensue, that is figured by the seventh day; wherein it is said, that God ceased from his works: and which shutteth up and closeth the course and circle of all days. Now that this number of seven hath been much reverenced by men of ancient times, we have many witnesses. For the jews because of the Sabbath (as Saint Jerome writeth upon Easie) did honour it much. And Aulus Gellius and Macrobius, upon the dream of Scipio, do show great mysteries out of this number of seven, which they call full and perfect, and attribute great power to it, in the sea, and amongst men. And the Pithagorians (as saith Chalcidius) commended it for the best, most natural, and most sufficient number. Moreover, it is composed of three, which is the first uneven number, that cannot be divided by any numbers (for unity is no number, though it giveth all numbers the power to be numbered) and of four, which is a full even number, and the first double number of all others. For this cause the number of seven is oftentimes used for universal and general, and to signify perfection. As it is written, [The 
Prou. 24.  just shall fall seven times a day, and shall rise again] that is, how often, or how many times soever he falleth, he shall not perish. Again, [I will praise seven times a day] which in an 
Psalm. 119.  other place is thus spoken, [His praise is ever in my mouth.] And we may find many places in holy Scriptures, wherein the number of seven hath customably been used for the universalnesse 
Psal. 34.  of any thing whatsoever, and to demonstrate a perfection, and so doth Saint john in the Apocalyps, writing to the seven Churches, and speaking of the seven Spirits, 
Apoc. 1  which are before the throne of God. For it is certain, that he compriseth there all the universal Church, and proposeth God in his Majesty, accompanied with innumerable blessed Angels. But among all the great mysteries, which the ancients have acknowledged to be concealed in the seventh day, by which the rest of the Lord is, recommended after his work perfected and finished, this is the most notable, by which they teach us that this 
Of the true signification of the Sabbath day.  Sabbath day signifieth the repose of those which rest in the Lord even as the joy of the house betokeneth the joy of those which rejoice therein, although that not the house itself, but something else do make them joyful: and like as (the effect being signified by the efficient cause) an epistle is called joyful, to declare the pleasure of those, whom it delighteth by reading thereof. Likewise when the Scripture recounteth, that God rested, we must not take it childishly, as if he (who by an intelligible and eternal word spoke, and it was made) had traveled in his work: but understanding by this manner of speech, that God ceased from all work, because he no more created any new kinds of creatures; we may conveniently refer his rest, to the rest of those, whom he himself causeth to remain in eternal rest, after that he hath first drawn them to himself by faith in this life. Whereas also the Prophet having made mention in each of the six precedent days of the creation, of evening and morning, doth mention no such matter of the seventh day: it seemeth he would signify, that this Sabbath day was ordained to represent the great and last day of everlasting rest, wherein there should be no more any such distinction of evening and morning, nor of day and night, as now is: but altogether light by which we shall contemplate God face to face in true and perfect felicity, such as eye hath never seen, ear never heard, nor ever hath entered into the heart of man. Which we must doubtless believe was figured to the jews by the rest of the Sabbath commanded in the Law: for these names (Rest, and Sabbath) in the Hebrew tongue full of mysteries, signify both one thing. In which matter we may further note, how the sacred history declareth, that man was created the sixt day, which was the even of the Lords rest; for this agreeth well to the principal thing, which the Lord intendeth in his Law: to wit, to admonish man, that he was not placed in the world; but to return at length to him, who set him there: and to seek his rest in him. Thus have we sufficiently spoken of the subject, which we first entreated of: for else if we should fully prosecute the mysteries included in the history of the creation of the world, we should have matter enough to make up a very great volume. We will therefore proceed to the particular consideration of the famous works contained in the glorious frame of the world. And first we will speak of the division thereof, that we may afterward discourse with more ease concerning the parts thereof. Than (AMANA) let us hear you concerning this point.   

Of the division of the universal world. Chap. 14.  AMANA. 
THe learned & venerable antiquity figureth, and maketh the universal world (to be) one, and threefold, as signifying and representing (though very far off and much behind) the omnipotent, triple one, most wise, and most good worker, by whom it hath been created, form and ordained. For there is the uppermost world of all, which Divines name, the Angelical, and philosophers call the intellectual world: which 
Euseb. 11. de prepar. Euangel. Plat. in Phedro. Of the three worlds.  (as Plato saith) was never yet sufficiently praised. Than is there the celestial world, or that of the spheres, which succeedeth and is next the first: and the third and last is the elementary world which we inhabit, under the concavity of the moon. Now as this is the world of darkness, so is the Angelical world the world of light, and the world betwixt both is tempered with light and darkness. The elementary world is designed to us by the flowing waters, and instable substance: the Angelical by fire, because of the shining of the light, & elevation of the place: and the heaven of mean nature is called of the Hebrews by a name signifying the same to be composed of water and fire. In this low world life and death strive for mastery, by a kind of vicissitude, change and rechange all things: but in the highest is eternal life and permanent operation: and in that of the spheres, is certain assurance of life, but there is changing of works and of places. The elementary is built of the perishing substance of bodies: the intellectual of a nature more divine and excellent: and the mean is compounded of bodies (but incorruptible) and of a disposition convenient for the nature thereof. The third is moved by the second, and the second is governed by the first: and this remaineth stable in his work fit for his own nature, under the holy of holies, the Lord God almighty, which was, which is, and which is to come. And it seemeth that our great Prophet, of whom we have learned the creation of heaven and earth, hath evidently described these three worlds in the structure of his marvelous tabernacle. For he divideth it into 3. parts, 
Exod. 25. The figure of the three worlds in the tabernacle of Moses.  whereof each doth lively represent each world: so that the first being not covered with any roof or covering, was open and exposed to rain, snows winds, sun, heat and cold: (and which hath more reference to our elementary world) in this former part haunted not only men both clean and polluted, temporal and ecclesiastical, but also beasts of all sorts: and there was likewise, because of the ordinary sacrifices and offerings, a perpetual exchange of life and death. The two other parts of the tabernacle were closed on every side, and defended from all outward injury: even as neither the celestial nor supercelestial world can receive damage. Moreover these two were honoured with the title of holy: yet so, that the most secret was named the holy of holies, and the other simply the holy or sacred. So likewise the spherical world is holy, because that it persevering in the order, which was appointed it by the sovereign creator, hath in it no fault or crime: but the Angeligall is even the most holy and most divine, wherein the blessed souls, incessantely resound this song [Thou art worthy, OH Lord, to receive honour, and glory, and power; for thou 
Apocal. 4.  hast created all things; and for thy wills sake they are and have been created.] But moreover, if we consider how the last part of the tabernacle was common to men and beasts: how the second all shining with the splendour of the gold, was lightled with the candlestick divided into seven lamps) which, as many Greek, Latin and Hebrew interpreters will have, do signify the seven planets,) and how in the third the most holy were the winged Cherubins: should we not say that these three parts manifest unto our sight three worlds? To wit, this which men and all kind of creatures frequent: the celestial where the planets shine, and give light: and the supercelestial which is the dwelling and abode of the blessed Angels, the way to which hath been opened by the cross, and bloodshed of our Saviour jesus Christ, true God & true man, as the vail of the temple, by which the holy of holies, being a type of the angelical world, was separated from the other parts 
Matth 27. Luke 23. Psal. 18. Genes. 3.  thereof, renting and tearing at the death of our Saviour, was a certain sacrament to us? For thereby we had assurance, that from thenceforth was free access granted man to the kingdom of God (of God, I say, who flieth above the Cherubins) through the very same entrance, that from the beginning for the sin of the first man, had been barred up by the laws of justice.  
Thus have we many notable things concerning the division of the universal world, which we may also call [One,] not only because the three worlds do proceed of one only and self cause, and tend to the like end; or else because being duly tempered by numbers, they 
Why the triple is called one.  are joined together by an harmonious accord and affinity of nature, and by ordinary succession of degrees: but also because that that which is in all the three is likewise comprised in one of them, and that there is not one wherein all things, which are in the other three, do not remain. It is most certain, that that which remaineth in this low world, is in the uppermost of far better stuff: and that which is in those above, is seen also in this of far worse condition, & as it were of a bastard and sophicall nature, for here heat is an elementary quality, in heaven it is an heating virtue; and the Angelical thoughts, and Idea and exemplary form. Or to show this more clearly; we have with us in this base world the fire, which is an element: the sun in heaven is a fire in the supercelestial region the seraphic, for burning intellect is another fire. But let us note how much they differ: The element burneth; the celestial fire quickeneth, and the supercelestial is embraced by love. There is also here below water; and so there is another water above being motresse and mistress of this below, which is the moon, in the first circle of heaven, but the cherubin, or clear-sighted spiritual substances, are the waters that flow above the heaven. And as touching the disagreeable condition among these 3. kinds of waters, the elementary humour quencheth vital heat: that of heaven nourisheth it: & the supercelestial hath an intellectual apprehension of it. Furthermore in the first world, God the first unity ruleth over the nine hierarchies of Angels, like so many spheres, and remaining immovable moveth them all unto him: In the celestial and mean world the imperial heaven commandeth likewise, as a captain doth his bands, the nine celestial spheres, in such sort, that though they be moved by continual agitation, yet it remaineth stable by divine power. So likewise is there in the elementary world, after the first matter being the foundation thereof nine spheres, or circular revolutions of corruptible forms: that is, three of things inanimate, which first are the elements, than their compounds, and thirdly the means between these two, truly mixed and compounded, but unperfectly: and such as are the impressions which appear in the air. Than are there three revolutions of vegetable nature, distinguished likewise into three kinds, as of herbs, shrubs & wood of old growth. And lastly three other of the sensitive soul, which are either imperfect (as the Zoophyta) or to speak English [creatures of a middle condition between things sensitive & plants:] or very perfect; but such as are within the bounds of the fantasy not reasonable: & in the third place that which is found excellent in beasts, being capable of man's teaching; a mean thing between man & beast, as the Zoophyta partaketh of the plant & animal. But it may be we have said more concerning these things than is requisite for our purpose: I will only therefore add, that the mutual vicinity & communication of the worlds, which we have here described, is also declared in holy writ. For it is written in the Psalms, (In wisdom he made the heavens.) And Saint Paul saith of himself, that he was ravished into the third heaven, which afterwards he calleth Paradise. We read also that 
Psal. 136. 2. Cor. 12. Psal. 103. & 104.  the Angels of God are spirits, and his ministers a flame of burning fire. And thence without doubt it cometh, that oftentimes to divine natures are attributed both celestial and terrestrial surnames: when as sometimes they are figured by stars: sometimes by wheels and beasts, and sometimes by elements, as we sometimes also appropriate divine and celestial 
Apocal. 2. Ezech. 1. 3. Apocal. 2. Apocal. 21.  names to terrestriell natures. For even as the the three worlds being girt and buckled with the bands of concord do by reciprocal liberty, interchange their natures; the like do they also by their appellations. And this is the principle from whence springeth & groweth the discipline of allegorical sense. For it is certain that the ancient fathers could not conveniently 
The original of allegorical sense.  have represented one thing by other figures, but that they had first learned the secret amity and affinity of all nature. Otherwise there could be no reason, why they should represent this thing by this form, and that by that, rather than otherwise. But having the knowledge of the universal world, and of every part thereof, and being inspired with the same spirit, that not only knoweth all things: but did also make all things: they have oftentimes, and very fitly figured the natures of the one world, by that which they knew to be correspondent thereto in the others. Wherhfore the same knowledge, and the grace of the same spirit is requisite for those, who would understand, and directly interpret such significations and allegorical meanings. Moreover, besides these worlds, which we have also distinguished, there is also another, a fourth, wherein may likewise be found all that which subsisteth in the others. And this is (man) who for this cause as our doctors show, 
Of a fourth world.  is understood in the Gospel by the name of every creature, then when jesus Christ commandeth to preach to men the good news, not to boasts nor Angels, being nevertheless 
Mark 16.  enjoined to publish it to every creature. Likewise it is a common use in schools to teach, that man is a little world, and that within him the body is composed of the elements, the reasonable soul is celestial, the vegetable power common to men and plants, the sense common to bruit beasts, the reason participated to Angels: and finally the image of God is therein seen and considered. But of him we have sufficiently entreated in the second part of our Academical discourses; wherefore of this great universal world must our ensuing talk be. And as we divided it into three general parts, so must we particularly discourse of them. First therefore let us say something concerning the Angelical and intellectual world, and of the celestial intelligences or Angels: (ARAM) shall be subject of your discourse.   

Of the Angelical, and intellectual world. Chap. 15.  ARAM. 
NOw shall I have great need to say with the kingly Prophet (O that I had wings like a dove:) wings, I say, of silver and shining gold, that I might 
Psal. 55.  fly up into the supercelestial region, where resteth true rest, true peace, and certain tranquility, which this wretched and worldly corpse cannot yield. Open mine eyes you supermundaine spirits (but rather thou, o father of them) and I shall contemplate the wonder of your city, wherein God attendeth for those that fear him; that which eye hath neverseene, ear never heard, nor any heart worthily thought upon. Well I wot that many call disputations and searching out of the nature, and multitude of angels and their orders, vain questions, and fit for idle imaginations; but surely they are secrets, which Saint Paul himself who had been rapt up above the third heaven, hath not only taught, but hath also protested, that he had there heard many things, which were not lawful for him to reveal. And I am likewise of belief that the full revelation of the angelical, and intellectual world is deferred till the last day: yet will we here speak soberly thereof, 
2. Cor 12.  and as briefly as we can, according to that which divines have written, without any ways offending piety, or christian religion.  
When the holy Scripture speaketh of the creation of the world, it is not evidently expressed in what order, and how the angels were created. But forasmuch as it is said that God created heaven and all things therein contained, it is most certain, that therein are 
Genes. 2. That the angels are God his creatures  comprised the spirits celestial, as well those that through obedience have stood in their integrity, as those, who rebelling against God have been cast out unto destruction. Neither is it hereto repugnant that Moses reciting the Genesis or creation of the world, maketh no express mention thereof. For we see how that in silence passing over all things which surmount our capacity; or else covering them under the mystical sense of his words, for those whom God would fully illuminate with the brightness of his holy spirit, he only entreateth of those, which we behold with our eyes, yea and that too in familiar and vulgar sort, conforming himself to the rudeness of the people, with whom he had to deal. And 
Lib. 2. de ciu. Dei. cap 9 & 10.  for this cause hath the opinion of sundry great personages, and namely of Saint Augustine been, that the angels have been signified either by the name of heaven, there where it is said. [In the beginning God made heaven and earth] or else by the name of the light, which he saith was created the first day. But howsoever; this is doubtless, that the angels are the work of God. For the holy Scripture doth testify it in infinite places, with amost clear voice: and namely in the song of the three children which were in the furnace, who 
Dan. 3.  having said (Bless the Lord all his works) in pursuit of the narration of them, the angels are also named. And the prophet saith, [You creatures of the heaven praise the Lord, you which are in the high places praise him. All his angels, and all his armies praise him. [Sigh also they are the ministers of God appointed to do that, which he commandeth them (as 
Psal. 1. 8.  the apostle to the Hebrews saith) there is no doubt but they are his creatures. Moreover the holy Scriptures teach us, that they are always watching for our safety: that they are always ready to defend us: that they direct our ways, and have care of us in all things. And therefore Abraham promised his servant that the angel of God should be his guide on the way. And so often and so many times as God would deliver the people of Israel 

Psal. 34.  
Gen 24.  
judg. 2. 6. & 13.  
2. King. 19  
isaiah 37.  
Matth. 4.  
Luke 1. 2.  
Matth. 28.  
Luke. 24.  
Acts. 1  
Of the number, order, names & offices of the angels.  
Daniel 7.  
Psalm 68  
Apocal. 5.  
Matth. 26.   out of the hands of their enemies, he was served by his angels to perform this deed as we read that the angel of the Lord slew in one night an hundredth four score and five thousand men in the camp of the Assyrians, to deliver jerusalem from siege. But to stand no longer in so clear a matter; I will only add this, that it is said, that the angels ministered to jesus Christ after he was tempted in the desert: and that they assisted him in his anguish, at the time of his passions, and that they published his resurrection and his glorious coming.  
But to determine of the number and order of Angels were (me thinketh) above all human power. For Daniel speaking of the Majesty of the throne of God, saith, [Thousand thousands (of Angels) ministered unto him, and ten thousand thousands stood before him.] And David singeth [the chariots of God are twenty thousand thousand Angels.] Saint john also maketh mention of ten thousand times ten thousand, and a thousand thousand that give glory to God: and jesus Christ himself witnesseth that there are many legions. In brief all the Scripture reporteth of an infinite number of Angels serving God, whom he employeth in the protection of his elect, and by whom he bestoweth his benefits upon men, and doth his other works. And for their orders, although they be not noted in express text of Scripture; yet the different names whereby they are described have offoorded matter subject to Saint Denis in his celestial Hierarchy, to jamblicus in his book of mysteries, and to many other modern divines to set down nine orders & degrees of Angels to wit: The Seraphins, Cherubins, Thrones, Dominations, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels and Angels: all which are celestial spirits, to whom the Scripture attributeth such and the like names, according to the ministry wherein God commandeth them to serve, so applying them to our infirmity. For they are called Angels, because God maketh them his messengers to man: and virtues. because that by 

Ephesians 1  
Collo●ianss 1.   them God declareth the power of his hand: and Principalities, Dominations, Powers, Signories, because that by them God exerciseth his empire throughout all the world: and his armies, because as soldiers are about their Prince and captain: so are they present 

Luke 1.  
Apocal. 19   before God, to honour his majesty and attend his good pleasure, to employ themselves about all things that he giveth them in charge; yea sometimes they are named Gods, because that by their ministery, they do as it were in a mirror represent unto us the image of God. And we see that Saint Michael is called in Daniel the great Prince or Captain: and Archangel in Saint jude. And Saint Paul saith, that it shall be an Archangel who shall summon 

Dan. 12.  
1 These 4.  
Dan. 10. & 12   the world with a trumpet unto judgement. Daniel also declareth that the Angel of the Persians' fought, and also the Angel of the Greeks' against their enemies: as if he would show, that God hath sometimes appointed his Angels to be governors of Countries and Provinces. And jesus Christ telling how the Angels of infants do always behold the face 

Matth. 18.  
Acts 12.   of his father, declared thereby that there are certain Angels who have them in guard. Saint Peter also being miraculously come forth of prison, and knocking at the house wherein the faithful were assembled, they that could not think that it was he, said that it was his Angel. Yet for all these considerations, I hold it a thing of too difficult enterprise for mortal man to constitute and appoint, which are the degrees of honour among the Angels, and particularly to distinguish one from another by any name or title, and to assign to every one his place, his abode and office. We will therefore leave these things for curious heads to dispute upon. Yet will we hold ourselves ascertained of that, which the holy Scripture doth openly declare unto us, and which may best serve us to our comfort, and for the confimation of our faith: that is, That the Angels, God's creatures, are disposers and ministers of his beneficence towards us: and that such kind of belief is a certain argument against Atheists, concerning the providence of God. And for the blessed estate of these celestial Spirits, it is certain, that forasmuch as they have no whit swerved from the light wherein God created them, they remain in blessedness and felicity) from which they shall never more fall. Now if we demand what this (felicity) is? Without doubt it is the vision and contemplation of the glory and majesty of God, whose face (as we 
Of the blessed estate of the angels. isaiah. 6.  said even now) they always behold, and to whom they give praise without ceasing; singing with a loud voice this song, as Easie declareth [Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts: all the earth is full of his glory.] or there is no good in the reasonable or intellectual creature, through which it may become happy, but God only. Wherefore the cause of the felicity and happiness of the angels, is for that they belong to God in such sort that their nature liveth in him, is wise by him, rejoiceth everlastingly in so great and ineffable a good, without death, without error, without impediment.  
I know well some men be so fantastical, that they make it a doubt whether there be any angels or spirits. The Sadduces in times past held this opinion, that by the word angel was 
Against those which deny that there are any angels.  signified nothing else, but the motion that God inspireth into men, or the power, which he showeth in his works. But there are so many testimonies of Scripture which contradict this madness, and histories both ecclesiastical and profane are so replenished with wonderful acts of invisible spirits, as we daily see come to pass, that it is a wonder how such ignorance could be in former ages, and yet among many remaineth at this day. There have also been men of great authority, who discoursing according to the reasons of Philosophy, have dared 
Error of some Philosophers.  to affirm, that God the first father and author of all things did only produce one intelligence or angel: because, say they, being always of one manner, he cannot by any natural reason produce divers things. For this cause therefore they would limit the powerful production of God, to one only intelligence: which being created of God, had recourse to the first thought, whereof it produced the second intelligence: and knowing itself, it engendered the soul or mover of the first sphere, and this mover knowing also his work, it proceeded to produce another: and so successively the cause being varied in substance and operation, divers effects were produced. Which obscure opinion might have some colour, if the first and almighty creator were restrained to produce but one effect only: too obsurde a thing to be imagined in the father & author of the vniuers: seeing that not a particular, but an universal effect is answerable unto him, to wit the world only, & the entire estate of all things, as we have heretofore sufficiently declared. And so it followeth, that this vniuers, like a body entire in itself, and divers in the members thereof, was engendered by one only father and creator, and lives by one only universal life. But we will combat against these Philosophers, with more strong weapons, maintaining against them according to the truth, 
How God came to his work.  that the sovereign maker came to his work without being tied by any natural law, but free and frank in every work, as he pleaseth, being abundantly full of all virtue, and of all manner of bounty and essential good will, proceeded to his outward work: as these things have been declared unto us in our precedent discourse. But this by the way; albeit the maxim of the Peripatetics be, (though false) that the first cause worketh of necessity, and that it is always of one sort,) which is most true;) yet doth it not therefore follow, that it should produce but one effect: seeing that of the son, which is ever the same, and of the earth, which being stable changeth not, are produced divers effects, without any variety coming to their nature, yea, and without any tilling of the ground. For herbs, flowers and roots of divers kinds do grow therein, and many other essences are therein produced by power of the sun. But if these Philosophers tell me that divers effects appear in these things, because that other particular causes do work therein together: they have left the proof of this point to their children, to wit, whether this variety proceedeth from divers causes, or else from the same sun, fruitful and full of virtue to engender divers things. Than with how much greater reason may the first, true & eternal son do it, being abundantly full of all fruitfulness, light & life? For all things were & are in him, not as if they were seated in any local place, but are lodged in his thought, from whence producing them he is called their 
How allthings are in God.  father & creator. He only free from the laws of nature without any matter presupposed produceth all things, yea & the matter itself altogether full of fertility. But the 2. or natural cause (as Philosophers speak) requireth the subject & matter created by God, wherewith it worketh. And here doth that take place which the Prince of Peripatetics saith, [That in common acceptation of the soul, it is convenient, that it be made of nothing,] & therefore also our Divines affirm that the angels can created no nature at all, & that they are creators of things, no more than Gardiners of first-fruits. And therefore all those, who have received the light of the truth, confess God alone to be Father and Author of all things contained in heaven and in earth: whether spiritual or corporal, visible, or invisible natures. And let us never think that in so great consonancy of the Vnivers, there are many Creators: nor that there is any more than one only king and prince, nor many things that consist of themselves. For so should there be confusion and discordancy in this great world, and so consequently easy dissolution. Thus much have we thought convenient to be known, concerning the Intellectual world wherein having spoken of the blessed estate of those angels, which are not fallen from God, my mind is, that we say somewhat concerning those who are fallen from their first estate, which we call commonly Devils or evil spirits. We will hear you then (ACHITOB) discourse of them.   

Of devils and evil spirits. Chap. 16.  ACHITOB. 
IF we here discourse somewhat by numbers, we shall make more easy way to that, which we would understand concerning the devils, yea concerning every creature. I say then every number after the unity, attaineth to be a perfect and accomplished number within itself. Now the unity alone totally simple, doth not pass from itself, but therein remaineth in indivisible & solitary simplicity, because it is most fully content with itself, not having need of any thing, being full of his own riches. But every number being by nature a multitude, doth by the benefit of the unity become simple, because it is capable of simplicity. And although every number the more it departeth from the unity, the more it falleth into a great multitude, having in itself more disagreeablenes, more parts & composition: yet is there no number how near soever to the unity, being a multitude and made of unities, that is one by nature, but by composition. Now if we refer this to divine matters after the manner of Pythagoras & Plato, we shall say thus: God alone, who proceedeth not from any thing, and from whom all things proceed is an entire, most simple and indivisible 
An excellent theological consideration by numbers.  essence; end which deriveth all that he possesseth from himself: and by what reason he subsisteth, by the same reason he is wise, he is willing, he is good, and he is just. And we cannot imagine any essence, whereof he may consist, but the same being which he is. But all other things are not the same essence, but are through him, and therefore an angel is not this unity: for so should he be God: or else there should be sundry Gods, which may not be imagined. For what should be one, but the unity alone? It resteth then that the angel must be a number, which being so, on the other side it is one in multitude, as every number cometh of the unity by composition, and every number is imperfect, because it is a multitude, that which is perfect being entirely one. So then the angel being a number, that is, a creature, he is not the same being itself, but he is only an essence, to whom the being arriveth by communication, to the end that he may subsist. Neither is he understanding itself, but so he understandeth, as being by a spiritual nature capable of understanding. Those things that betoken imperfection, are incident to the angel, as he is a multitude, or creatore. But all that which is perfect & of accomplished form in him, is by reason of the unity, whereof it is composed, and which he receiveth, because that he is conjoined with God (who is the simple unity) from whom all being, all life, and all perfection is derived to the creature. And therefore the Philosophers, as also the wise Hebrews call the angels (separated intelligences:) because, 
Of the separated intelligence.  say they, being separated from the most simple understanding: they receive a certain composition in an essence & virtue, which perfecteth them of a Metaphysical & supernatural matter and form. For this point also, Saint Augustine teacheth, that there is one only 
Aug. de civit. Dei lib. 11. cap. 10. 'Cause of the fall of the angels & man.  simple good, and therefore immutable, which is God: and that by this good all things have been created good, but not simple, and therefore they are mutable. Which is manifest not only in man, but even in some part of the Angels, at this Doctor of the Church excellently discourseth in the most part of his work De Civitate Dei. And these are those, of whom the scripture teacheth, that they have not remained in the truth: but declining from their first state have overthrown themselves, and have been made instruments of perdition to many.  
But as we heard by our precedent speech some have been in this error to believe, that 
john 2. 2. Peter 2. jude.  the good Angels were nothing else, but good inspirations and motions which God gave men; so there have been that thought, that the evil devils were no other, but evil affections, through the suggestion of our flesh. Yea the impiety of our age hath passed farther: For there are many, which will not believe that there is any God or devil. And it is not long 
Against those which deny that there be any devils.  since, that certain talk being moved between a Prelate of this kingdom, and certain others (concerning the devil) he blushed not to ask them if they had ever seen any one, who had sold him his spectacles, considering he must need be very old, since (they say) that he came first into the world. Now such contemners of all religion, do evidently show their ignorance and beastliness. For there was never any I will not say Christian, but Ethnic, nor Pagan, endued with any natural knowledge and faculty of teaching, but hath spoken of devils and evil spirits, and have by many writings left to posterity infinite testimonies cerning their nature & marvelous effects. Yea & the doctrine of the Assyrians, Arabians, Egyptians, and Grecians confirmeth that, which our most divine theology teacheth us, concerning the evil angels chased from the service of God. And amongst other Pherecides the Syrian describeth the fall of the devils, and saith that Ophis which signifieth the devilish serpent, was Captain of the rebellious army. Trismoghistus also the glory of the Egyptians hath touched the same fall. And Homer the most excellent Greek Poet, and setter forth of mysteries, singeth in his verses the fall of the first rebel, under the name of Até goddess of injury and wrong. The Theology also of the Arabians in imitations of the Hebrew, confirmeth the same, yea the devils themselves have oftentimes confessed their own fall: as many writings testify, and they know, who have traveled in the searching out of ancients monuments. Wherefore this matter needeth not long disputing, and it is not our intent to satisfy the curious & fantastical of our age, to whom nothing is pleasant, save new doctrine. But pursuing the Christian truth, we say that since the angels have been created of God, and the 
Creation, and fall of the angels and the cause of them.  devils have been all created angels, there is no doubt, but they are his creatures, but not of the first condition, wherein they were at the beginning. For they were created good like the other angels and like man; but they have made themselves evil by their rebellion, pride & sin (like as our first father fell from his native integrity by imitation of them) so that of angels they have made themselves devils. And therefore it is written of them, that they have not persevered in the truth, that is, that they have not for ever stuck to God, who is the only 
john. 8.  good of every reasonable or intellectual creature, as Saint Augustine doth learnedly teach: adding moreover the cause of their fall, when he saith, that the creature which may attain to the gift of blessedness, can not do it of itself, because it is created of nothing: but 
Lib. 12. de civit Dei, cap 1 Sweet Christian doctrine to acknowledge all our good of God.  it receiveth this benefit from him, by whom it hath been created. Thereupon is concluded, that immutable good is no other thing but the true blessed God: and yet that all things which he hath created are very excellent good, because they proceed from him: but yet they are mutable, because they have been made not of him (that is of his own substance, but of nothing. Because then the devils have been created by God, we must understand that they have not that malice, which now we say is their natural estate, from their first creation, but forasmuch as they have depraved themselves. For that which is damnable in them, they have gotten it since they turned voluntarily from God. And therefore it is said that Satan speaketh of his own when he speaketh a lie; because he abode not in the truth: Whereby 
john 8.  it appeareth that he was once in it. And in that he is called the father of lying all excuse is taken from him, so that he cannot impute to God that evil, whereof himself is cause. Wherhfore as the devils have declined from their first estate, God hath not spared them, but hath bound them in the deep with chains of darkness, to reserve them to the judgement 
2 Pet. 2. judae  of the great day, who likewise persevering in their first malice and envy, have always endeavoured and shall continued to the end, to be instruments of perdition unto men. And therefore all that, which the holy scripture teacheth us concerning them, tendeth to this point, that we should stand upon our guards, to resist their temptations, and not to to be surprised by their ambushments, arming us to this effect, with all the armour of God, as Saint Paul doth thereto exhort us. For he that hath a long time judged them, holds them so with the bridle, that they cannot annoyed those which are firm in faith to resist them, nor do any thing without his will and leave. But he maketh them serve for a time measured and 
Ephes 6.  prefixed, for scourges as it pleaseth him, in the execution of his judgements: giving them much power of error in progidies and miracles, to abuse those which turn from the light of 
1 Pet. 5.  truth, to follow darkness and embrace lying. And thence spring the Idolatries of the Pagans' and invocations of devils, which have caused so many evils to lay hold on man. For the purpose of the devils hath always been to make themselves to be served and honoured of men, to the end that being associated with them, they might likewise be a most provoking and effectual cause of the judgement of God.  
And yet how many do see even at this day, who make boasts to have at their command such ministers of iniquity, whom they think to disguise when they call them by the name 
Against those that seek after devils.  of familiar spirits? I will not stand here to dispute whether there be divers kinds of devils, or not, as many have written: But I believe the word of God, that all of them tend to this purpose, to be hurtful to men. And though some conjure them by the names of God, and so keep them bound and chained (as many brag that they do) yet are they ever watchful, till at length they deceive their masters. I will also believe that they are not ignorant in aught, which either the reasonable or intellectual nature can comprehend concerning corporal and temporal things: yea (as S. Augustine saith) by experience of certain signs unknown to us, they foresee very many things to ensue, more than men do, 
Lib. ●. de civit Dei. cap, 22.  and do sometimes before hand tell the dispositions of them. They are so skilful, that they said to jesus Christ clothed with the infirmity of our flesh. [What have we to do with thee jesus of Nazareth? art thou come hither to torment us, before our time?] But (as the 
Math 8. Mark 1 Luke 4.  same doctor of the Church proceedeth) because they do not contemplate the eternal causes of times in the wisdom of God, but only conjecture of temporal things, by the temporal; and of mutable, by the mutable; they are oftentimes deceived. For they cannot behold the events of the eternal and immutable decrees of God, which flourish in his divine wisdom, by such a direct insight as it hath been given to the holy angels: and they see not the thing (if we may term it so) to which are fastened all causes, and whereupon they turn; neither do they know the fountain out of which they spring: wherefore it cometh to pass, that as all things, which are not collected and concluded by their certain principles, but by erring and estranged conjectures may deceive; so the devils are oftentimes beguiled in those signs, whereupon they roll, and tell lies even then, when they think themselves most assured to speak truth. But they always tend to this point because of their malignant and envious nature, to bring all hort to men, which in the end they cannot avoid, when they forget themselves so far, as that they will (against the word of God) take counsel of the devil: an offence surely worthy of all punishment. Moreover, I doubt not, but as the pure and superior powers (whom according to the style of holy writ, we call the good Angels, which is a word among the Greeks signifying. Messenger) do not commonly suffer themselves to be entreated by every one, but do require and attend the cleanness of hart, the holiness of life, & the commandment of God: so on the contrary the devils or evil angels, to whom these two names do properly agreed, this last according to doctrine of the Scriptures, and the other Daemon) of a Greek word, signifying (to know) they do make themselves easy, and show men a kind of lying favour, to the end that drawing to themselves by their craft and subtlety those, who require and seek their aid in their occasions, they may put God in oblivion, and abandon themselves to be possessed and governed by the devil, who is their prince. For so in fine it cometh to all those, which serve themselves with these ministers of iniquity: To all Magicians, soothsayerss, necromancers, forcerers, witches, and enchanters, with whom the word of God doth expressly charge us in many places: to have no communication; commanding also that they should be rooted out of 
Levit. 20. Deut. 18.  the earth. And what wonders do they by the aid & help of evil spirits; often performing that, which neither art, nor human understanding can permit to be done? Yet can we no otherwise name all their works, then very cozenage and illusion: because they do it either in appearance only, or to the hurt and damage of those, which allow and suffer them. Such were those miracles, as we read in many authors to have been done amongst the idols of the gentiles, by the art of the devils. Of whom Saint Augustine after a long discourse, addeth these words. [What shall we speak of these wonders, save that we must flee out of the 
Lib 18. de civit Dei. ch. 18 jer. 51.  midst of Babylon? For this prophetical commandment must thus be spiritually understood of us, to wit, that with the wings of faith, which worketh by charity, we flee out of the city of this world, which doubtless is the dale of devils, and of most wicked & impious men. For by how much greater we see the power of evil spirits in these inferior things, by so much the more must we most firmly cleave to our mediator jesus Christ, by whom we mount up from below,] And indeed it is by his grace that we may discern the spirits whether they be of God, or nor; yea that sathan cannot deceive us, though he were transformed 
1 john. 4. 2. Cor. 11.  into an angel of light. Otherwise let us not doubt, that if we will hearken to him, or to his ministers and spirits, whom the fools of this age flatter with the name of familiar spirits, that he will easily glide into our souls, to lead us at last in triumph to his kingdom of perdition, where we shall dearly buy the familiarity of so pernicious an enemy. Wherefore let us rather have always in our heart, & in our mouth, that prayer which our Saviour himself hath taught us, [That he lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.] And let us leave the magicians and sorcerers, which run to their own destruction, seeking after the spirits, who lead them to the eternal Gehenna, which is prepared for the devil and his angels. But now 
Math. 6. Luk. 11. Matth. 25.  sith it is time to put an end to our talk this day, having surveyed the angelical or intellectual world, according to the capacity of our feeble spirit, we will tomorrow entreat of the celestial world, or of the spheres. Whereupon you (ASER) shall begin to discourse.   
The end of the second days work   

The third days work  

Of the celestial or spherical world. Chap. 17.  ASER. 
IF we begin our speech concerning the spherical, and of the elementary world, and entreat of them both according to the proper definition, we shall do very well, to the end that that which we intend to discourse of, may more easily be understood. The world then, which yesterday 
What the world is.  we called the threefold one being contemplated with one view, is the perfect & entire composition of all things and the true image and admirable workmanship of the Godbead. The greatness whereof is incomprehensible, and yet limited: being also adorned with all bodies, and kinds of creatures which are in nature. And the description thereof is properly called Cosmography, which doth comprise in it the first part of Astronomy and Geography, that is, the order and reason, as well of heaven as of the earth: under which we understand all natures and essences in them contained. And for this cause it seemeth that God being Father and Author of all things, is oftentimes called in the Scriptures, creator of heaven and earth. And as the Greeks' did first call the heaven (Cosmos) because of the surpassing beauty: so afterward the name of (Mundus) hath been attributed thereto, because of the perfect and most pure hue and neatness thereof. Again, because the world is a solid body, that is full of celestial or elementary substances; and because it is of a round and orbicular form, performing a circular motion without intermission upon his own poles, and round about the earth (as about the centre thereof) it is called a Sphere. For a fphere is a body contained under one round superficies, in the midst whereof is a point, from which all lines that are drawn to the circumference are equal. But as we 
What a sphere is. Division of the world.  consider the world in this sphere, so must we also contemplate it into two distinct parts, which manifest themselves by continual experience and natural reason: to wit, the elementary region, continually occupied in generation and corruption, in change and alteration of all things, as well living, as not living, and the celestial part, being of invariable substance and adorned with innumerable stars, as well fixed as wandering, which environ the said elementary region round about: so that the elements being diversly intermingled, infused and proportioned are the material cause & nouriture of all things: and the heavenly part by the light thereof, by the motion and influence of the stars, is the formal cause of their figure, variety and special difference, and from it proceedeth their life. Now that we may entreat of this first part of the world, which we have named in our first division of the Vnivers (the world of the spheres) we must note that this celestial region (which philosophers call the first essence, thereby meaning that it is of another, and more simple nature than the four elements) is by them divided into eight orbs and particular heavens, one joining to the other, and all concentrical, that is, having one common and self same centre, to wit, that of all the world; and of these heavens the greatest doth environ, and by a spherical order enclose within it that which is next and less than itself, being each discerned by the proper and particular motion of those stars which they contain: all which motions do vary one from another. And these eight orbs or spheres are, the heaven of fixed stars, which keep an unchangeable distance between themselves, and for this cause it is called the firmament: then follow the seven planets, of which the sun and moon are properly called Luminaria or great lights. And for Saturn, jupiter, Mars, Venus & 
Reason of the name of Planets.  Mercury, they are especially named planets, that is wandering in their motions. Whereupon we may note in regard of their names, that Astrologians to the end to make their doctrine to be more easily retained, & for certain good respect & secret reason, making themselves like painters to instruct the ignorant, have also named and represented these stars by personages of divers habits and countenances: as likewise they have disposed under divers figures the twelve signs of the Zodiac, which are certain stars, appointing to one the fashion of a ram, to another of a bull, to another of two twins, and so of the rest. So likewise they have signified the images of heaven, which are out of the Zodiac; one by a Bore, another by an eagle, another by an harp; this by a dog, and that by a dragon, and so of the rest. To the sun itself they have assigned a proper form and figure, as also to the moon. And we see that painters have always made the picture of stars with five beams, to denote their twinkling light, though all of them do not glister so, but are of round fashion, without points or corporal beams. But return we to our matter concerning the heavens and celestial spheres, and let us speak of their order and situation.  
The firmament, which is the eight heaven, as the highest and greatest of all the rest, and 
Of the order and situation of the heavens.  as the uttermost ornament and beauty of all the world, doth environ round about the heaven of Saturn; that of Saturn, the heaven of jupiter; that of jupiter, the heaven of Mars, and that of Mars the orb of the Sun, which possesseth the middle place among the seven planets: then the heaven of the Sun compasseth round about the heaven of Venus; that of Venus the heaven of Mercury; and lastly that of Mercury, the heaven of the Moon, which is the lest and lowest of all the rest, and placed next about the elementary region. And this number and order of the heavens is commonly received of all Astronomers and Philosophers; and showeth itself to be such both by natural reasons, and by Mathematical observations. Moreover, for so much as by the Astronomers ring and other instruments fitting for the demonstration of this science, one may perceive that these eight spheres are distinguished and separated one from the other, certain reason doth therupon conclude, that beside these there is a ninth, which is called first the mover, which is the guide of the heavens, and which by his own power and violence doth carry away all the 
Of the first mover, which is the ninth heaven.  other with it, being no whit governed by any lower circle, but only by that intelligence which moveth it, or else by the commandment of God, to whom all motion is drawn, as to the first mover, to the end that the whole harmony of heaven be not confused as Aristotle in the end of his Organon proveth. True it is also, that some modern Philosophers do place between the firmament and the first mover a ninth sphere, which they call 
Of the Crystalline heaven  the Christialline heaven, for that some stars are not seen therein. And this is because that they cannot perceive, how there might be made in the eight sphere, the motion called Trepidation or tottering of the fixed stars if there were not a ninth heaven enclosed within the first mover. For it seems not likely to them, that the firmament which is turned with three motions, should be joined to the first mover which is carried with one only course. For this eight sphere hath one daily motion from the west to the east upon the poles of the Zodiac, which is the circle of the signs, upon which (according to Ptolemy) in each hundred years it runneth one degree; or else in sixty years, as others hold; then hath it the foresaid motion of Trepidation. Whereupon they conclude that there is a ninth heaven, that hath only a twofold motion, betwixt the starry heaven and the first mover, which is only turned with one motion; to the end that in good order all things may be reduced to the first moving. For as Aristotle in his profound Philosophy saith; it is necessary, that by most fit agreement and consent every thing may be reduced to that, which is the cause thereof. But because Ptolemy, Hermes, Aratus, and other ancients, most exquisite beholders of the heavens and of their motions and aspects, are contented with the number of nine spheres, many therefore reject the opinion of those which make ten: because that nothing maketh for them but only the motion of Trepidation, which, say they, may be well considered under the first mover, but for the ninth sphere. Besides which, our divines do yet declare to be a tenth heaven, which they call Empyreal, vital, flaming and 
Of the tenth Empyreal heaven.  divine, into which are received the souls of the blessed. And it seemeth that Plato and his Academics, especially Plato in his book of the world, doth consent to them. But this heaven and throne of God, cannot properly be reckoned with the other nine. For they be movable, but this is stable and immovable, they be of one substance only, and this of another. Wherhfore we may apply refer it to the Angelical and intellectual world, whereof we discoursed yesterday. And if we may be permitted again to discourse by numbers, as we have begun; it is certain that as the number of ten retaineth a double nature, because it doth partake with that number whereof it is the end, and with that other whereof it is the beginning: so the tenth in all the prime kinds of things doth consist of double nature. For man, which is the tenth kind of things subject to corruption, and at whom the other nine finish, is of a corruptible and incorruptible composition. So the nine heavens end at the imperial heaven, which in that it is material, agreeth with them, but in dignity of matter it doth participate with the supercelestial throne. As likewise they that speak of the nine orders of angels, say, that they end in Christ their king, who holdeth and embraceth in all perfection both the nature of angels and also of God; to whom at last all things must be reduced, as to him, of whom, from whom, and by whom all things consist.  
Now that, which here we speak of the heavens, may likewise be learned out of Moses, the prince of all Philosophers, or rather of the creator of all things himself, who hath spoken by the mouth of his prophet, as also by himself. For after Moses had prayed the Eternal that he would be always with him, & that he would by continual oracles instruct him as there should be great need, that he might rule such a number of people, and that he might give them the law; [I will be (saith he) with thee, and will devil in the midst of thee: And according to all those things, which I shall show thee, even so shall you make the form of the Tabernacle. They shall make an Ark of Shittim wood, whereof the height and breadth shall be a cubit and an half.] Such as have diligently interpreted this text, do amongst other mysteries find therein the nine heavens aptly represented: for a cubit is six palms, than a cubit and half hi● and broad are nine palms. And again when he commandeth that upon the same ark he should make a crown of gold, which should serve it for a covering, and which was of precious stuff, far above that of the ark of wood, they should thereby make us understand, that the tenth heaven was figured. Which for that cause is not numbered commonly with the other nine, but is considered by our understanding to be the beginning of an other combination and coupling. For ten as it doth accomplish the other numbers, so is it the original of the ten so an hundredth finishing the ten, beginneth the hundreths: So this covering of gold, otherwise called propitiatory crowning the ark, was beginning to a better thing, for upon the same were placed the Cherubims, and there were obtained the merciful and favourable graces of God. In such sort likewise the imperial heaven, though it accomplisheth and finisheth the number of the nine heavens, yet is it the beginning of spiritual and divine things and retaineth an angelical nature; yet so, that it is proportioned to the spheres, who are appointed to have a place. Again we have heretofore heard in the general division of the vniuers, how in the partition of the Tabernacle into three special parts, was very aptly signified that of the world, being a threefold one. How also by the seven lamps of gold ordained to be set to the candlestick in the ark, might fitly seem to be represented the seven planets shining in their spheres: as likewise by the body of the same candlestick, out of the sides whereof proceeded six branches, to wit, three out of either side might be particularly denoted the sun, which is placed in the midst of the planets, whereof there be three on each part in round form, which like cups or vessels receiving influences from above, do confer them on things here below, by which means sundry flowers do spring up. But because it would be too tedious for us to compare all that which belonged to the making of the Ark with that which is taught us concerning the spheres, we will come to conclude that there be nine Heavens: to wit, the first movable, by which the supreme worker and first mover of all, moveth all things. Than is the starry heaven or firmament, by which the same Creator distributeth his power into innumerable instruments to perform such things as he executeth, especially by means of the seven planets, which have every one their heaven, according to the order heretofore declared. And upon which, (according to our yesterdays speech) the Hebrew doctors, and many other Divines do teach, that certain spirits (which they call celestial, or separated intelligences) do make abode, who being before the throne of God, rejoicing in his presence, do behold in his countenance as in a mirror, all things which may be contemplated, and at the very beck of the prince of nature, do put his will in execution, using the heavens as instruments by which, and according to the number of divers influences proceeding from all the stars and signs, here below are produced with one concurrence, metals, stones, plants and living creatures. But before we more amply touch these things, which respect the nature & admirable effects of the heavens in all creatures, we must first entreat of their figure and motion, which (AMANA) shall be the subject of your discourse.   

Of the form and figure of heaven, and of the motion thereof as well general as particular. Chapter 18.  AMANA, 
THat the heaven is general and particularly of circular form, and altogether round; the Latin name (Orbis) by which the ancients have commonly called 
The heaven is of round form.  it, is a sure testimony unto us. So likewise there are many natural reasons, which declare it to be such. For all the parts of the frame thereof do consist of themselves, do sustain themselves, and do comprehend themselves, not having need of any stay of point, having neither a beginning nor ending place. Moreover, this roundness of heaven may be known by the sight of the eye. For on which side soever you behold it, you may see the half in our hemisphere, as it doth show itself: which could not come to pass in any other figure, but in a round; which also is the most perfect, and most capable of all other figures to be comprised in one self-same circuit: and is therewithal the easiest to move every way. And therefore it is not only convenient, but also necessary for all the heavens and celestial orbs, of which we before entreated, as well because of the perfection of their essence, as by reason of their proper motions, which are circular, and correspondent to a round form, and besides all this; because these spheres are placed one within another 
Of the proper and natural motion of the spheres  making their revolutions upon divers poles, and in divers spaces of time. Which could not be observed, nor the integrity of the whole heaven maintained, if the celestial form were any other save round and circular. For the proper and natural motion of the Shears is circular, that is, framed equally distant round about their centre, which is the point in the midst of the world, so that neither the whole heaven, nor any of the particular spheres, doth wholly abandon or pass out of his own place and situation, but only the parts of them do incessantly change place, in that they turn about their said common centre. And therefore is this circular motion much morenoble and perfect, then that which is made by a right line, either mounting from the centre of the world towards the circumference, or else descending from it towards the centre: which motion is proper to the four elements: For fire and air do mount upwards; but water and earth descend naturally downwards. Also 
Of the motion proper to the lower elements.  fire mounteth higher than air, and earth descendeth lower than water, and each of these environ the centre of the world, which is the lowest place of all, and farthest from the circumserence, which is the highest of all. So then the circular motion is naturally due and convenient to the most noble and most simple body, which is the heaven and most necessary for it: as it appeareth more clearly to us by the continual motion of the stars, both fixed and wandering, which proceedeth of the only moving of their spheres. For we must note that the stars are nothing else but certain firm, clear, and 
What stars are.  solid parts of their heavens, made in round form like the heaven, whose motion they follow, which likewise receive their light from the sun, who is the very source and fountain, wherinto the soveriagne creator hath put the brightness of the whole universal world.  
Now this circular motion of heaven is found by observation to have two principal differences: that is to be made upon sundry pole and axes, and in sundry parts and positions of the world, as also in divers spaces and quantities of times. [We call that the axes of the 
Of the axis of the spheres and of the poles.  sphere which is the diameter that passeth through the same upon which it is turned, and the uttermost points of the same axis are the poles.] For the whole universal world hath his proper and natural motion like a living creature, and every of the orbs and particular heavens have also a peculiar motion, like to the parts and members of the whole great body. For which cause, as also for divers other considerations many learned personages have affirmed, that the world is an animal or living creature. And amongst others Origen is wholly of that mind, who enforceth himself to prove it, as well by reasons as by authority of holy Scripture. And therefore he saith thus in this book of principles. [Though the world be ordained to divers offices, yet the estate thereof must not be thought to be dissonant, or any whit disagreeing. But even as our body alone is composed of many members, asd is contained by one soul; so I think we must suppose that the universal world is 
Reasons of such as have said that the world is an animal.  a great and unmeasurable animal, which as by a soul is sustained by the power and wisdom of God.] The Platonists do all with one mouth teach the same thing. And among many reasons, by which they would confirm this point, we will take only that of Plato in his Timeus, which, me thinks, is most excellent. [There are (saith he) two motions, the one proper, the other strange or exterior; now that is more divine, which of itself is moved, then that which is stirred by the power of another. And this motion proper and divine is in our souls only, from which the beginning of the other strange motion is taken. Seeing therefore that all motion proceedeth of the ardour of the world, and that this ardour is not moved by exterior agitation, but of it own accord, it is therefore necessary, that there must be a soul. Whereupon we gather that the world is an animal, and that not without understanding.] Now if thereupon any ask why heaven changeth not, nor becometh diseased, nor dieth, nor faileth as other living creatures do? The answer of Chalcidius 
Notable difference in the works of God.  in this point pleaseth me very much, when he saith, commenting upon Timaeus, [That which is instituted by God without means, is free and exempt from change, from age, from sickness, from oldness, and from death.] And in this point agreed all Academics: as also might be well proved by circumstance, if that be well considered, which the sage philosopher Moses declareth to have been produced by the creator, without help or matter, and that which hath been also performed by means of the second causes. For though man was created and form by the hands of God, yet was he not made without dust or earth, which was a mean subject. But the eternal hath made the heavens, and the whole frame of the world of nothing: For which reason it might seem perpetual, and not perishing. For as we have heretofore declared; though the heavens and earth must pass away, yet 
Psal. 102.  doth not this plainly conclude an annihilating of them, but rather a changing and renewing. For so speaketh the kingly prophet, saying, [The heavens shall wax old as doth a garment, as a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed.] And of this consideration we may frame an excellent reason concerning the immortality of the soul, because it was made without any means by God himself. But leaving this argument, let us pursue that, which we began to say concerning the principal differences of the circular motion of the heavens.  
Wherhfore the first and universal motion of all the sphericke world, is that, which we see 
Of the first, and universal motion of heaven.  is made round about the earth, from the east by south towards the west, always with one and the same orderly celerity and swiftness, and without any ceasing, which performeth his course in a natural day, which is divided into four and twenty equal hours, as is plainly showed unto us by the ordinary course of the sun. So that the whole heaven, and each of those celestial spheres, do follow the said daily motion, though it be not proper to them but accidental, in that they are the parts of the universal world. For (as we shall presently see) every sphere hath an other proper and particular motion. But this same, whereof we speak, doth in such sort by accident agreed with all the parts of the world, that the most thin and subtle elements, especially fire, and the superior region of the air, are in like sort carried away therewith. So likewise doth the sea, though it environeth not the earth round about, in some sort follow this motion by ebbing and flowing every natural day, not performing an entire revolution. Wherhfore nothing but the earth remaineth unmovable, because of the weight, and insensible quantity of it in respect of the whole world, as being the centre thereof. The stableness whereof is very necessary, that so both the universal and each particular motion may be discerned; for otherwise there should be a confusion instead of harmony. And for this cause many have supposed, that this whole Vnivers generally considered, is the first and very true mover of the universal motion, and not any heaven or particular orb. Now for the second kind of circular motions, it is 
Of the second kind of circular motions.  that which is proper to every of the eight spheres and celestial orbs, which are the parts of the whole heaven, from the firmament to the sphere of the moon. For each of these spheres (as is evidently perceived by the stars enchased therein, which can have no motion but according to their heaven) performeth his own natural and peculiar motion, contrary to the first, and upon other poles and axes, to wit, from the West by South towards the East. And the entire revolutions of those spheres, are done and finished in divers spaces of time, to wit, of the greater and superior more late, and of the less and inferior (being next to the elements) more soon. For the heaven of fixed stars, according to the most likely opinion and apparent observation of Astronomers, performeth his own resolution in thirty six thousand common years, without bissext, whereof each containeth 365. natural days: Saturn the highest planet, in thirty years; jupiter, which hath his circle much lower, in twelve: Mars in two; the Sun in 365. natural days, and almost one fourth part of a day, which make up the time and space of a year. For one shall always find, that number of days being run out, the shadow of the Sun to be such, as (if you mark it) was the year before, at the very same instant, yea to the difference scarce of a minute. Whereby it cometh that from four year to four year, is reckoned a bissextile day, which serveth to make 
Of the bissextile day, or leepe year.  the year answerable to the course of the sun. The revolution of whom, Venus and Mercury do near approach unto: and for the Moon she maketh hers in seven and twenty natural days, and almost one third part of a day: so that in so small time she maketh as much way in regard of us, as Saturn doth in thirty years: because he is the farthest from, and she the nearest to the earth, which causeth her course to be shorter than any other planet. And 
Of distances between the spheres.  this is the consideration, which hath given occasion to many to cast the distances and spaces which are between the spheres: saying, that there is nineteen times so much distance between the Sun and Moon, as is between the Moon and the earth, & so of the rest, Pythagoras himself, a man very ingenious, counted by his calculation (as Pliny relateth) 
Pliny in his natural history lib. 2.  that there were 125000. stades or furlongs between the earth and the circle of the Moon: and that from the Moon to the Sun there were the double of them; and between the sun and signs of the Zodiac the triple. Now a stade (or furlong) was measured by the ancients to consist of one hundred five and twenty common paces, or else of seven hundredth and fifty feet. But so certainly to determine of the dimensions and distances between the spheres, should (me thinketh) be too great an enterprise for the capacity of our spirits. Yet may the curious by some infallible reason of Geometry, or rather by imagined conjectures resolve upon it. And to conclude our discourse concerning the motions of heaven, we see that though by the rapiditie and violence of the continual motion of the first mover, all the spheres are carried away with it, in the space of four and twenty hours from east by south towards the west, returning by north, or midnight towards the east; yet nevertheless every one of them hath his proper and particular motion, clean contrary to 
A good cause of the motions of the spheres.  the universal, that is, from the west towards the east. Which is chief done because that by the reverberation of these contrary motions, the air may be parted and dispersed, which otherwise would heap and gather together, and become immovable and heavy, because of the continual revolution of the world, turning always one way. And besides these principal differences of the circular motion of the heavens, all the planets have other motions of farther consideration, which are called circuits of the great revolution, and which do concur in the great year, which is taken for the time when all the planets shall fully finish their courses together. But we have said enough concerning this matter, considering the intent of our discourse; wherefore we will prosecute as briefly as we may the other particularities serving for the knowledge of the spheres, even so much as we shall hold needful for our present history of heaven and earth. Than you shall discourse to us (ARAM) of those circles which show themselves in the sphere, and of the diversity and disposition of them.   

Of the circles in general, and particularly of the Equinoctial and Zodiac, and of their signs. Chapter 19  ARAM. 
IN the sphere of the world are two kinds of circles demonstrated, whereof 
Of the greater and smaller circles of the sphere.  some are named greater, and some lesser circles. They which have one self-same & common centre with the whole heaven, are called greater circles, and are one equal parts. But such circles as have their centres out of that of the sphere, are called lesser circles, of which those only; that have their middle points alike distant from that of the whole heaven, are equal one to another: being by so much the small, by how much their centre is farther from the centre of the whole. And therefore they which have their centres unequally distant from that of the heaven, are unequal, and that is greater than the rest, whose middle point is nearest to that of the sphere: and consequently the one is so by much the more unequal to the other, by how much the centre of the one is farther distant from the centre of the other. And it is to be noted that all circular motion of any heaven and planet whatsoever, must be considered and measured by means of a greater circle: to wit, that which is directly placed between the poles of the same motion, and is equally distant from the same: because it is a circle of the greatest circuit and swiftness, that may be designed by the same motion. But we must understand, that among all the circles, there is one part 
Some circles are movable and some are immovable.  movable that is incessantly turning therewith, and the other sixt and immovable, serving for to discern the better the accidents and effects of the spherical motions and moving circles.  
First, then to entreat of the movable circles, as likewise to prosecute that which we have heard in our precedent discourse that there be two principal motions of heaven, whereof one is of the universal world, making his revolution from the East towards the West, and the other contrary from West to East, as is proper to the planets: we must imagine in the sphere of the world two principal circles, to wit, the Equinoctial or Equator serving for the first of those motions, and the Zodiac or Ecliptic for the second. 
Of the equinoctial circle.  The Equinoctial then is a great circle, dividing the total sphere into two equal parts, being placed directly between the two poles of the world, and equally distant in all parts from them. By the which circle is measured and considered the prime and universal motion of the whole world: and consequently the time, which is nothing else but the measure of the succeeding of the same motion, which is always of one self same course and quickness, and whereof the said circle is called the Equator. Under which the sun directly coming (which is twice every year) the days are of equal length with the nights throughout the whole world: for which cause likewise the same circle is called the Equinoctial, that is the circle of equal nights. And the poles thereof are those of the whole world; about which the universal and regular motion is made: whereof that which is in the North parts, is called by the same name, either the Pole Arctic, North-pole or Septentriniall, which is always seen where we inhabit and about which there is a certain 
Of the poles of the world.  figure of seven fixed stars, turning circularly, which is called the great Bear, or most commonly the Wain. And the other pole opposite to this is named the pole Antarctic, south-pole, or Meridional being towards the south, and is always hid from us. For the second great and principal circle among those which are movable, it is nominated the Zodiac or Ecliptic, or else the obliqne circle: and it is that, wherein the twelve signs 
Of the zodiac.  are placed of divers names and figures, being indeed obliquely placed in respect of the Equinoctial, and poles of the world: so that one half thereof extendeth towards the north or pole arctic, and the other moiety declineth toward the south and pole antarctic. And this circle is the very path way of the sun and rest of the planets, all which keep their peculiar motion in the Zodiac, to the end to distribute their influence and virtue upon the earth, for the life and production of all things. Now the Zodiac doth divide in the midst the Equinoctial, and is thereby divided also into two equal halves. And the points of these intersections are called Equinoctial points because the sun being in them, they 
Of the equinoctial points and solstists.  days are universally equal to the nights; as also the points of the foresaid Zediacke, which are the means between the said Equinoctial points are named Sunsteads' or Tropics, that is to say, stations, or reversions of the sun: because that, it arriving about those points, the meridian altitudes and artificial days do long remain in one estate, without any notable variation; as also for that coming to the said Sunsteads', it returneth towards the Equinoctial. And thus the two Equinoctial points, and that two Sunsteads' divide the Zodiac into four parts, answerable to the four seasons of the year: which are the Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Of which, the Spring time beginneth at that Equinoctial 
Of the four seasons of the year.  point, from which the sun by his proper motion, cometh and inclineth towards the highest point called Vertical. Summer beginneth at the Sunstead next following. autumn at the other Equinoctial: and Winter at the second sunstead; so that the said Equinoctial points are called by the names of the foresaid seasons. And because that every natural action hath beginning, middle, and end: therefore each of these said quarters of the Zodiac is divided into three equal parts, & so the whole Zodiac into twelve: which parts 
Division of the zodiac into twelve parts called signs.  are named signs, because they signify, and design the most notable and apparent mutations of things here below, being chief caused by the yearly course of the Sun along the Zodiac. Every of the said seasons of the year is likewise divided into three parts, and the whole year into twelve, called months, that is to say measures of the time, wherein the sun passeth the said twelve signs. And as the twelve months have been divided some into thirty, and others into thirty one natural days; even so is every sign parted into thirty degrees, and the whole Zodiac into 360. Than every degree into 60. prime minutes, and every prime minute into 60. seconds, and so consequently into other subdivisions so far as one will. Wherein is to be noted, that this number of 60. must always be observed, because it may be divided into more equal parts then any other number under 100  
Now forasmuch as the sun, according as it is removed or approacheth near the highest points called Vertical, doth cast forth his beams more directly or obliqne upon the earth: for this cause also the hear, and proper action of the stars and planets is more forcible, or feeble in things here below, and according as it findeth them prepared causeth divers effects. Which diversity is notoriously apparent from sign to sign. And therefore the twelve signs of the zodiac are called by certain proper names, extracted from the nature 
Of the names of the to clue signs and the causes thereof.  and property of things correspondent with their said effects. The first sign is nominated (Aries) because that the Sun than beginneth to approach to the highest point, and the heat thereof doth increase, which mixing with the humility that the precedent winter had brought in, maketh the temperature of the air hot and moist, which agreeth with the nature of a ram. The second sign is called (Taurus) because that when the sun is therein, the heat fortifieth itself, and consumeth the moisture, so that the temperature of the air tendeth somewhat to dryness, which seemeth very answerable to the nature of the bull, which is of greater power than that of sheep. The third sign is named (Gemini) because the Sun being therein, hath his heat redoubled: and amongst all kinds of beasts the males and females have natural copulation, two and two together to engender one like themselves, and to continued their kind. The fourth sign is said to be (Cancer) for even as the crab goeth backward, so the sun entering into this sign retireth back towards the Equinoctial from whence he came, making his declinations contrary to those of Gemini. The fift sign is called (Leo) because the sun being therein, by the redoubling of his beams, the heat is strong, and dryness great, even as the lion is a puissant beast, of hot and dry nature. The sixt sign is named (Virgo) for as the virgin is a weak creature, and of herself barren; so the sun being in this sign the heat diminisheth, and dryness ruleth; whereby the production of things ceaseth, and the earth becometh barren. The seventh sign hath to name (Libra) because the disposition of the air is then in balance between the wasted heat and new begun coldness and because also the sun being in this sign, the days and nights are in balance between the decreasing of the one, and increasing of the other. The eight is called (Scorpio) because that then the cold ruling with dryness, are great enemies to nature, and do corrupt the air, which hath the proper quality of hot and moist: whereupon ensue plagues, and other dangerous diseases, which surprise the creature, like the venom of a Scorpion, which lies in his tail, and is engendered of corruption. The ninth sign is named (Sagitarius) for the sun being in it, the too much weakened heat is surmounted by cold, whereupon there ensue fogs & frosts, and other alterations of the air, as hurtful to creatures, as envenomed arrows. The tenth sign is nominated (Capricornus) because that the sun entering thereinto, is the farthest that all the year it can be from the vertical point, so that by rigour of the cold mixed with dryness, which hath then full domination: as also by reason of the debility of heat, the disposition of the air is melancholy, retaining the nature of a goat. The eleventh sign is signified by (Aquarius) because then the dryness is surmounted by the moisture now beginning, the cold nevertheless remaining: wherefore the air is cold and moist like water, and disposed to snows and rain. The twelfth and last sign is (Pisces) because as fishes are cold and moist, following naturally the water, having yet some little natural heat: even so is the temperature of the air, then cold and moist, having yet some heat growing by the approach of the Sun to the vernal Equinoctial point, so that the cold diminisheth. And thus much concerning the signs of the zodiac, and the names to them ascribed, for which cause the fixed stars, which are in this circle and comprised within the said signs, both of the one side and one the other, have been painted according to the fashion of the said beasts: and their influence judged from the causes by us here declared; and not that the said signs have taken their names of the nature and disposition of the said stars. And by this consideration of the property of each sign in the zodiac, we learn, that by the introduction of one quality, ensueth the expulsion of the contrary; and by the augmentation of the one, the decrease of the other. Which must only he understood concerning the qualities happening in the air, by the radiation of the sun only, being strong, mean and weak, and the disposition of inferior things, without comprising therein the other constellations and aspects of the planets, changing and greatly altering the said disposition of the air: neither do we touch the opinions of professors of judicial Astrology, who for other reasons and principles of the said art, attribute to the same signs other qualities than those that we have expressed. But from them we may extract four triplicities, which make the twelve signs correspond with the four elements; to wit, Gemini, Cancer, Leowith the fire: Pisces, Aries, and Taurus, with the air: Sagitarius, Capricornus, Aquarius, with water: and Virgo, Libra, and Scorpio, with earth? Now must we pursue our purpose concerning the circles of the sphere, as well great as small, movable as immovable: the treatise whereof (ACHITOB) I refer to you.   

Of the two great circles named Colours, and of the four less circles and parallels, of the five zones of the world and immovable circles. Chap. 20.  ACHITOB. 
BEsides these two principal movable circles which have been declared unto us in the precedent speech, there are also demonstrated in the sphere two other great circles; whereof one passeth by the Equinoctial points, and the other by the Solstists or sunsteads and poles of the zodiac, and both by the poles of the world, where they are divided into three angles. And by this means they part as well the Equinoctial as the zodiac into four parts; the parts whereof answer together in just and equal proportion. These two circles have to name Colours, that is to say, unperfect, 
Of two circles called Colours.  because they have an unperfect revolution in turning with the sphere upon the points of their circumference, and not about their proper poles, like other circles. One of them then is called the Equinoctial colour, and the other the Solstitial colour. And the one passeth by the circle of the zodiac at the beginning of the signs Aries and Libra, which are the Equinoctial signs: and the other at the beginning of the signs Cancer and Capricorn which are the Solstitial signs. And it is to be noted that the ark of the Solstitial Colour comprised between the Equinoctial and one of the Solstists, is the measure of the greatest declination of the Sun: which must of necessity be equal to the ark of that Colour, which is between one of the poles of the world, & the next pole of the zodiac. For by how much one greater circle declineth from another, by so much the poles of the one are distant from the poles of the other, because all greater circles are equal, and have one common centre, and do equally part themselves: and likewise their declination is just in the midst of their cutting or intersections.  
We must also consider in the sphere four principal lesser and movable circles; whereof the two first do limit out the whole oblikenesse of the Zodiac, and the declination thereof from the Equinoctial, as also the conversions of the Sun towards it. And these 
Of the two tropicks.  circles are nominated tropics, that is, turning or convertive, because they pass by the two Solstists of the zodiac. That than which passeth by the first point of Cancer, which is the Summer Solstice, is called the Tropic of Cancer, or Sommer-Tropicke: and that which passeth by the first point of Capricorn, or Winter Solstice, is named the Winter-Tropicke, or Tropic of Capricorn: being therefore one equal to another, because they are equally distant from the Equinoctial. For the two other lesser circles, they are those which be described about the poles of the world, by the poles of the zodiac, limiting the diviation or distance of the said Pole: and for this cause they are called Polarie-circles, and do retain the names of the Poles of the world. For one is named the North or Arcticke-circle, and the other the South or Anarcticke circle, being also equal 
Of the two polary circles  one to another by the same reason, as is understood of the tropics. And you must note that these said four lesser circles do divide the whole sphere into five parts or principal regions commonly called zones: whereto as many parts, or divers regions answer upon the terrestrial globe: which zones are different as well in figure and greatness, as also in nature or accidental disposition, caused chief by the radiation of the sun. The first then of these five parts or regions of the sphere is comprehended between the two Tropics, and divided by the Equinoctial in the midst; for which cause it is the most ample of all the rest. The two extremest and smallest are comprised about the poles of the 
Of the five zo●eses of the world.  world, within the Arctic and Antarctick circles: wherefore the one is called the North, & the other the South zone. And the other two are means between the greatest, which is middle most; and the two extremest or lest, which are about the poles of the world, being larger towards the two tropics, then towards the polary circles, which together are the bounds of them. And among these five zones which environ the earth, some parts of them are become habitable, and others not, by means of the divers effects caused by the sun. for the mean region about the Equinoctial, is for three causes temperate, first, because the sun being under, or about the said Equinoctial, it maketh a greater circuit in the Universal 
Of the causes which make some parts of the earth habitable and others not.  motion of the whole world, and runs faster away; for which cause his heat maketh not so great impression upon the earth. Secondly, because it passeth suddenly from the South to the North part, by reason of the transuers disposition of the zodiac about the Equinoctial. And thirdly, because the days are there equal with the nights, whereby the heat of the one is tempered by the coldness of the other. But about the Tropics the heat is excessive in Summer. First, because the sun is then in those stations, wherein his shining endureth longer upon the earth, and by reason also that he performeth less compass, and passeth slowly away, whereby his heat taketh more deep impression. And besides all this, the days are longer than the nights, in such sort that the heat of the one surmounteth the cold of the other. For the two polary regions and the circumiacent parts, it is manifest that they are far out of the suns way; whereof ensueth, that by the too much obliqne radiation thereof, heat is there exceeding feeble, and cold great and intolerable. Finally, in the midst or about the two other foresaid regions between the Equinoctial and poles of the world, the disposition of the air is temperate; as well by reason of the commizture of the heat, which is about the Tropics, and the cold which is about the pulary circles, as because of the mean radiation of the sun, that is to say, neither too direct, nor too obliqne. So then the middle zone, comprised between the two Tropics is temperate about the midst; and intemperate through excessive heat, about the extremities thereof: whereupon it is in this part called the Torrid-zone, because the sun doth always turn about it. And the two polarie and extreme regions, are perpetually intemperate through cold. And the two means are temperate about the midst; and in one extreme thereof intemperate with heat, and in the other with cold. But thereof follows not, that all intemperate places should be inhabitable, but only very hard, and difficult to devil in.  
Hitherto hath our talk been concerning the principal and movable circles of the 
Of immovable circles, & first of the Horizon.  sphere: Now let us entreat of the immovable. Even then as the Zodiac and the Equinoctial are the two chiefest amongst the movable circles: so are the Horizon and Meridian amongst the immovable. By the Horizon is meant a great Horizon is meant a great circle imagined in heaven, which divideth that half of heaven which is seen, from that half which is not seen: that is, which parteth the Hemisphere under us, from that which is above us. And to the same circle one of the poles is always the vertical point, and the other pole is the point opposite. Wherhfore by how much each place hath his point higher, by so much doth the Horizon of each place differ; for there are so many Orisons as there be particular places. And therefore the horizon of those, which have the vertical point (that is, the point which is right over head) under the Equinoctial is named the right Horizon, because it must needs pass by the poles of the world, and divideth the Equinoctial at right angel's one equal to another. Whereupon it is also called a right sphere because it seemeth to be rightly placed in respect of that Horizon, and the stars to make their motion directly by the universal motion of the sphere. But the Horizon of those whose zenith is out of the Equinoctial towards the one or other pole of the world, is called obliqne, because that one of the poles (to wit, that which the vertical point is next to) is elevated above the said Horizon; & the other pole is so much depressed under the same: which for this occasion doth divide the Equinoctial at oblike angles, unequal one to another. Wherefore also the sphere is said to be obliqne, because it is obliquely placed in respect of the said Horizon: and the stars turn obliquely in the universal motion. And therefore it is evident, that all direct Orisons are of oneselfe same disposition, but among the obliqne, there are as many differences of obliqne, as are distances between the vertical point and the Equinoctial, or as the elevation of the pole is divers above them. For the Meridian, it is a great circle, which passeth by the poles of the world and that point of heaven, which is directly over our heads, wheresoever we are: and divideth both the Equinoctial and Horizon at right angles, separating also half the sphere being east, from the half that is west. The poles 
Of the Meridian circle.  whereof are the intersections of the Horizon and of the Equinoctial. And because it divideth the natural day, and the artificial day (whereof we must hereafter entreat) into two even parts, it is called the Meridian, or midday circle, which is as much to say, as the noontide circle. For whensoever the sun is come from the east to this circle, above the Horizon, it is high noon: when to the opposite point under the Horizon, it is midnight. All places then, according as they are more oriental, or more occidental, have their proper Meridian, and they which lie alike east, or west, have one self Meridian, though they be not alike distant from the Equinoctial. And you must understand, that every Meridian is a right Horizon to some, and every right Horizon a Meridian.  
Now do I next proceed to the other immovable circles of the sphere, without which, no man can understand the making & use of many instruments especially of the Astrolabe, which representeth the sphere reduced into a plain form. Of these circles, some are called vertical, some parallels of heights: then are there circles of hours, and those which distinguish the twelve houses of heaven. The vertical are certain great circles, which proceed from 
Of vertical circles.  the vertical point (whereof they are named) above the Horizon, which they divide into 360 degrees, and of the number of those is the Meridian. But there is one especially called the vertical circle, which in the right sphere is Equinoctial itself, to wit, that which divideth the Meridian at right angles, and the Horizon also in the same points, where it is separated from the Equinoctial, which circle with the Meridian designeth the four principal angles of the world, that is, the exact points of East, West, North and South, dividing both the Horizon and upper hemisphere into four parts, one equal to another. And the other vertical circles serve for to discern in what quarter of the Horizon the stars rise and set, or in what part of the superior hemisphere the same stars are elevated above the Horizon, & how much they are distant from the Meridian, or from the foresaid principal vertical circle. Now for the parallels of heights, they be circles being every where alike distant one from another, divided from the Horizon from degree to degree towards the vertical point, whereof the 
Of parallel circles.  greatest is next the Horizon, and the lest of all nearest to the said superior point. Which parallels do divide every quadrant of the foresaid vertical circles, comprehended between the vertical point and the Horizon, into 90. degrees, and are also divided by the same circles into 360. degrees. Moreover they determine or distinguish the heights of the stars, which are above the Horizon, as well in the east, as in the south & west. For by the height is to be considered of every star, you must understand the arch of the vertical circle, which passeth by the centre thereof, comprised betwixt the Horizon, and the parallel of the same, passing also by the same centre. Whereupon ensueth, that in all vertical circles, which are equally distant from the Meridian, the stars have equal heights, which cometh to pass in time equally distant, or reckoned from noon tide. And the greatest altitude that any star may have, is when it cometh under the Meridian circle, at what hour soever it be. Now must we look upon the hower-circles, and those which divide the twelve houses of heaven: whereof ASER I impose the task on you to discourse.   

Of the hour circles, and what is done by them in sun dials: and of the circles, which divide the twelve houses of heaven. Chap. 21.  ASER 
Sigh that time is nothing else but the measure of the prime and regular motion of the whole world, as we have heretofore declared, & that this motion is measured by the Equinoctial, as out of our percedent speech may be excerped: thereupon it is consequent that the Equinoctial is the the measure of time, and that the entire revolution of the same circle comprehendeth the natural day: whereupon ensueth that the division of the one must needs be answerable to the parting of the other. Now the Equinoctial 
Division of the Equinoctial.  is divided into twelve signs, and each sign into thirty degrees, as is the zodiac. Therefore parting each sign into two halves, the whole Equinoctial shall be divided into four and twenty equal portions, containing each fifteen degrees: which are the measures of four and twenty such hours of a natural day. You must therefore imagine by the houre-circles twelve greater circles (therein comprising the Meridian) which pass through the poles of the world, and by the distinctions of the foresaid four and twenty parts of the 
Of the hour circles.  Equinoctial: so that each quarter thereof comprended between the Meridian & the Horizon, is divided by the said circles into six of the foresaid parts making together the number of four and twenty hourly spaces, whereof the said circles receive their name. Among which, that which divideth the Meridian at right angles, passeth by the intersections of the Equinoctial & Horizon; and maketh the distinction of six hours, both before & afternoon. So that there is no greater circle which may be divided into four and twenty equal parts by the hour circles, but only the Equinoctial, except it be conjoined therewith. Wherhfore as well the obliqne Horizon, as the Vertical circle, which cutteth the Meridian's at right angles, is divided into four and twenty unequal parts; which are so much the more one differing from the other, as the poles of the world are elevated above, or under five and forty degrees: and though these parts are unequal, yet the spaces of the hours are equal in the said circles, because they proceed of the equal parts and divisions of the Equinoctial; yet so, that the said equal spaces aswell in the Horizon, as in the Vertical circle, which are equally distant from the Meridian, are equal, as well on the one side, as one the other: and are by so much greater the one then the other; by how much they are farther distant from the same Meridian. Wherhfore those next to the intersections of the Horizon and the foresaid upper circle, are the greatest of all: and in the same sort are the four quarters of the said circles divided. It is to be noted, that every right Horizon is joined with the hour circle of six hours, without any division: and the Vertical circle joined with the Equinoctial is divided equally as it is. But in the most obliqne situation of the sphere, where one of the poles of the world is the superior point, or zenith, the Horizon is right with the Equinoctial, and divided like it by the said hourly circles, which are all of them then called Vertical circles.  
Those dials therefore or quadrants, which are made to take the height of the sun, are composed by divers considerations: for some depend upon sections made by the foresaid 
'Cause of the diversity of dials, or quadrants.  hour circles, as those which are graven on the face of the Equinoctial, and are therefore called Equinoctial dials: or else upon the plain of the Horizon, which are named horizontal: or upon the face of the Vertical circle, which divideth the Meredian at right angles, which are erected towards the south, and are nominated Vertical. In which three sorts of dials, the hour spaces are noted by strait lines proceeding out of one only point, which representeth the centre of the world: and the Index or gnomon to show those hours representeth the Axis, upon which the heaven maketh his first, and universal motion. The other sun dials depend upon the coextension or impression of the foresaid hour circles: as those which are described upon the face of the Meridian circle, and are erected towards the east or west, being named Lateral, and can serve but only for the forenone, or afternone: or such as are made upon the face of the six hovers circle, hanging & inclining towards the south, by the axletree of the world, for this cause named hanging dials. In which two sorts of dials the hour spaces are designed by parallel lines, and the Indices by the axtrees of the circles, or else they are described and erected perpendicularly upon the face of the said circles. And in all the fore recited dials, and such like, the hour spaces are unequal, and have notable difference one from another: except those only, which are drawn upon the face of the Equinoctial: because it alone is divided into even portions by the hour circles; whereof the projection in plano must observe equal spaces. And by consequence it is evident, that only Equinoctial and horizontal dials serve for all hours of the day at all times of the year, and the Vertical only six hours before, and six hours after none: the hanging dials ten hours: five before, and five after noon: and the Lateral from sun rising till noon, or from noon till sun set. Moreover it is manifest, that all these dials, except the Equinoctial dials, must be described particularly according to the proper elevation of the pole to every obliqne Horizon: because the hour spaces and Indices are divers, according to the variety of the said polary elevations. But the Equinoctial dials may serve universally, in applying them according to the height of the Equinoctial, above every obliqne Horizon; because those spaces are equal and of one sort.  
But breaking off this talk of dials, let us now entreat of those circles, which with the Horizon and meridian divide the whole heaven into twelve equal portions, which are named 
Of the twelve houses of heaven.  the twelve houses of heaven. First, than it is to be noted, that as the Sun and the rest of the planets in performing their revolution by their proper and peculiar motion in the zodiac, according to the radiation of the Sun, being notably diversified from sign to sign, and according to the disposition of elementary substances do imprint their influence and virtue diversly, causing sundry effects upon the earth: so likewise these fair celestial lights being turned every day about the earth, by the first and universal motion of the whole sphere, do make the very like mutation of their power and influence upon the terrestrial Globe, by the variation of their shining; as may be marked from sign to sign, either mounting above; or descending under the Horizon. For this 
Circles that divide the twelve houses of heaven.  cause you must divide the entire sphere of the world in regard of the Horizon being right or obliqne, into twelve equal parts or signs, which are called houses, that is, notable mansions of heaven. Which is done by the proper Horizon and Meridian, with four other great circles and particular Orisons, passing by the two intersections of the said proper Horizon and Meridian circle, and dividing every quarter of the principal Vertical circle, (which maketh right angles with the said Meridian) comprehended between the said Meridian and the Horizon, into three signs, which amount together to the number of twelve. And these houses, or notable mansions of heaven begin at the east side of the Horizon: and the first six are distributed under it, and the other six above it, according to the order of the twelve signs of the zodiac and the proper motion of the planets, which is from the west, eastward. So that by the Horizon with the Meridian, the four principal angles of the said houses are distinguished: that is, the east angle, which is named the Horoscope, being the beginning of the first house; the west angle of the Horizon whereat beginneth the seventh house; and the middle heaven, which is the third angle, and there beginneth the tenth house; and for the fourth the angle under earth, where beginneth the fourth house, by the Meridian; Even so (as we have heard) as the colours distinguish the two 
agreeableness of the twelve houses with the divers seasons of the year.  Equinoctial points, and the two Solstists or sunsteads of the zodiac, which are the four notable points thereof agreeing with the four angles aforesaid. For the Horoscope agreeth with the vernal Equinoctial point; mid heaven with the summer Solstice: the west angle with the Autumn Equinoctial point: and the angle under the earth with the winter Solstice: and so consequently the four quarters of the foresaid Vertical circle are correspondent to those of the zodiac, which make the four seasons of the year, & each whereof is divided into three signs, as also every quarter of the said circle into three houses equal to those signs; so that the six houses, which are above the Horizon do accord with the six septentrional signs of the zodiac; and the six other houses with the south or Meridional signs. And these twelve houses of heaven are called by divers names; for those four which begin at the four foresaid angles, are named Angularie houses: the next four following are called Succedent, and the rest Cadent. Moreover we must note that in the right sphere, each of these houses comprehendeth one sign of the Equinoctial, because this circle is joined with the foresaid Vertical, and all the circles which distinguish them them pass by the poles of the world, because they consist in the foresaid sections of the Horizon & Meridian: which hath caused many to err in this point, who would make the distinction of the said houses in the Equinoctial, both in the obliqne & in the right spher, lightly following the authority of Ptolemy, not noting how that author had the sphere right to him, so that in that respect he spoke well, referring the manner how to distinguish the said houses in the obliqne sphere to the judgement of all good Astronomers. Finally it is to be understood, that every house is divided into thirty degrees, like the signs of the zodiac, and that by other great circles, proceeding from the foresaid intersections of the Meridian and Horizon. Moreover you must note, that every great circle which passeth by the said intersections, and by the true place of any star, which is proposed, is called the Horizon thereof: for all the foresaid circles (as already hath been declared) are but obliqne Orisons except the Meridian, which representeth the right Horizon. Than to erect the twelve houses of heaven, is nothing else but to find the twelve principal intersections of the zodiac, and of the foresaid circles; which is preformed by the ascensions of the arcks of the zodiac, above each of the said circle (whereof we must presently entreat) not regarding which ark of the said zodiac is contained in each of the said houses. Wherhfore (AMANA) let us hear you discourse concerning the ascensions and descensions both of the Stars, and of the signs of the zodiac.   

Of the ascensions and descensions of the stars, and of the signs and other arcks of the zodiac, and of the Oriental and Occidental latitude of the Sun, or degrees of the zodiac. Chap. 22.  AMANA. 
WE should reap small fruit and commodity of things, hitherto by us entreated of in the sphere, if we should be ignorant in the ascensions and descensions both of the stars and signs, and other arckes of the zodiac, according to the use and principal consideration of good Astronomers, who mark what hour the Stars ascend above the Horizon, or descend under it, whether it be day or night: and how long time the signs and other arcks of the zodiac are elevated above the said Horizon, or depressed under it; not respecting the simple apparition or absence of the said Stars and signs, which divers do usually observe, and which the Poets do commonly mention, when they would express and describe the seasons and months, and other parts of the year. To enter then into the substance of our discourse, we must understand by the ascension of any star, that we propose, the ark of the Equinoctial, comprised according to 
What the ascension, descension of any star is.  the order of the twelve signs of the zodiac, between the beginning of the said signs & the oriental part of the Horizon▪ then when the centre of the said star attaineth to the same part of the Horizon. And consequently the descension of the same star is the ark of the said Equinoctial, comprehended according to the order of the said signs between the beginning of them, and the west part of the Horizon, when the same Horizon passeth by the centre of the said star. Which considerasion is every whit agreeable in each part of the zodiac, or elsewhere. For the stars are in this place taken for points, howsoever they be of notable greatness: wherefore it is necessary that their ascensions and descensions should be measured and discerned by the arcks of the Equinoctial, having some convenient beginning common to all Orisons, as the vernal Equinoctial point is the beginning of the signs of the zodiac. And by the same arcks taken as aforesaid, and for that the Equinoctial is the measure of time, one may know at what hour and minute the star riseth above the Horizon, or descendeth under it, or attaineth to the Meridian circle, either above or under the earth, by the first and regular motion of the whole world. And you must note, that the said ascensions or descensions are called right ones when they are referred to the right Horizon, or to the Meridian circle, which retaineth such qualities in all obliquenes of the sphere, as the right Horizon doth: and consequently they are called obliqne, when they are referred to the obliqne Horizon.  
For the ascensions of the signs of the zodiac, very necessary to be understood, for to 
Of the ascension of signs.  measure and know the quantity of the artificial days and nights in all places of the earth, as hereafter we may declare: it is to be noted, that the ascension of every sign is nothing else but the ark of the Equinoctial elevated together with the said sign above the Horizon; as the descension is the ark of the said Equinoctial which descendeth under the Horizon equally with the said sign: wherefore according as this ark coascending or descending with any sign is more great or less; so likewise the time that the said sign shall be elevated above the Horizon, or depressed under it, shall be longer or shorter. And it is to be noted, that that sign of the zodiac wherewith is elevated one sign of the Equinoctial precisely, is said to have an equal ascension: I omit here to specify the accidents and differences of the ascensions and descensions of the signs, which are particularly considered both in the right and in the obliqne sphere, which are common to the arckes of the zodiac, (which arcks are particles or the four quarters of the said zodiac, and do begin at the Equinoctial points, and Solstists:) for our intent is not particularly to discourse of every thing that Astronomers teach concerning the sphere, and which cannot be understood, but by demonstration of the material sphere, or by the figures placed in their books, which it is necessary to mark diligently to conceive this part of the Mathematics. But we will here summarily and grossly run over the most notable points required for our instruction in the universal description of the whole world, and of the most noble things which come to pass here below by reason of the prime and universal motion of heaven. Yet may we not step out of this matter without considering in the ascensions and discensions of the sun, that is, concerning every degree of his way; which is the zodiac, the oriental and occidental latitude of him; and which he obtaineth from degree to degree in the zodiac, either in rising above, or descending under the Horizon. But for the other planets or fixed stars, no mention it made of them concerning this point. It is then most manifest by that which we have already heard, that the intersections of the right or obloquy Horizon, with the Equinoctial and vertical circle, which divideth the Meridian at right 
Of the latitude of the sun.  angles, are in the midst and equally distant between the intersections of the said Horizon, and of the Meridian, and that they design the points of the true east and west. And because that the zodiac declineth from the Equinoctial partly toward the pole arctic, and partly towards the antarcticke: the sun doth not rise in the true point of east, nor set in the direct point of west, but when it is upon the Equinoctial points, which are in the intersectians of the zodiac and Equinoctial. For while the sun is in the north part of the zodiac, he riseth and setteth on the north side; and when he is in the south part, he riseth and setteth on the south side: and that in divers distances from the true east and west, according as the true place of the sun declineth more or less from the Equinoctial. The ark then of the Horizon, which is between the true east and the centre of the body of the sun: when it is come to the eastern part of the Horizon, is called the oriental latitude of the sun, and that which is comprised between the direct west, and that same senter when it is in the west part of the Horizon, is called the occidental latitude of the sun. As also the latitude of the stars is taken from the zodiac, towards the one or other pole thereof. For all stars both fixed and wandering, hold their longitude and latitude of the zodiac, as of the Equinoctial their declinations, ascensions and descensions. So that the latitude of the sun both oriental & occidental, is necessarily northerly one half of the year, & the other half it is southerly. And likewise the oriental latitude is equal to the occidental in one day. And because the variation of each latitude proceedeth of the diversity of the suns declinations, they are therefore such on the septentrional part, as on the meridional. Consequently you must note; that in the right sphere, the foresaid oriental or occidental lalitude is such without difference, as is the declination of the sun: because the right Horizon passeth by the poles of the world, and showeth both the one and other. But in the obliqne sphere those latitudes are greater, than the declinations of the sun: and so much the greater and more different, as the pole of the world is elevated above the obliqne Horizon, and the place of the sun declineth from the equinoctial. So that the greatest are those of the solstists, which do most decline from the Equinoctial: and besides these, there are four points in the zodiac, which have equal latitude both oriental and occidental; that is, two on the north side, and two on the south side. But thus much may suffice concerning this matter, for our purpose. And that we not swerver from the substance of our former discourse, it will be good for us to entreat of the days, both natural and artificial, which are caused by the prime and relugar motion of the whole sphere, with the night likewise, as you (ARAM) can manifest unto us.   

Of the natural artificial days, and of the nights of their diver sitie and cause. Chapter 23.  ARAM. 
Among the most excellent and noteworthy things which depend upon the first and universal motion of the whole heaven, and upon that which hath been expounded in our forepast talk; there appeareth next to be handled the understanding of the greatness and quantity of the days, and the parts of them, called hours; as also of the heights of the Sun above the Horizon, and of the shadows as well right as obliqne. Beginning then with the days, you must note, that some are called natural, some artificial days, which with us are named properly days, though indeed they be but parts of natural days, and so of nights. Now the natural day is nothing but the time of the entire revolution of the body of the Sun about the world, made by the natural and 
Of natural days.  proper motion of the universal sphere: which revolution must always begin at the Meridian circle, and comprehend the time, which is from one noon till the next ensuing. But because the Sun this while goeth contrary in his own peculiar course; the point of the equinoctial, which is under the Meridian with the sun, performeth his revolution sooner than the sun itself. Wherhfore you must add to the entire revolution of the Equinoctial, the ascension being taken in the right sphere, from the part of the Zodiac, which the sun hath passed that while, to have the entire revolution of the sun, and the true measure of the natural day. For all accidents of ascensions: which happen in the right Horizon, are common to every Meridian circle in the right or obliqne sphere: whereupon ensueth, that the true natural days are unequal one to another, both because of the proper motions of the sun, as also because of the said ascensions taken in the right sphere For the sun, by reason of the obliquenes of the Zodiac declining on either side from the Equinoctial (which only is the measure of time) is irregular in his own proper motion, and performeth not every natural day a degree precisely, but sometimes a little more, sometimes a little less. And though it should make a degree just, yet would not the ascension in the right sphere be equal. For these causes then, the true natural days are unequal. But this inequality is scarely to be perceived by vulgar judgement and sensible observation. Moreover it is to be understood, that forasmuch as the motions of the planets: and the middle conjunctions and oppositions of the sun and moon, cannot be reduced into tables nor be calculated, but by equal days, and even revolutions of times: there must be assumed for this cause, certain natural days, one like always to another, which are called middle, or mean days, containing each the entire revolution of 360. degrees of the Equinoctial, and about that 59 minutes, and almost eight seconds of a degree: Which make up the quantity of the regular and middle motion of the sun, correspondent to one of the said even and mean natural days, according to which days the tables of the foresaid motions are composed and calculated. And by this means the proposed term of an entire year is reduced into true natural days: which of Astronomers is called the Equation of the days.  
For the artificial day; thereby is understood that part of the natural day, which the sun maketh passing from the east by south to the west, through the proper & universal motion 
Of artificial days and nights.  of the whole world: During which time, the sun illuminateth the superior part of the Horizon; for which occasion, the said part of the naturally day is properly termed day. And that which remaineth thereof, being comprised between the west to the east passage of the sun is named night: during which time the shadow of the earth is above the said Horizon in form of a round Paramis, which doth then deprive that superior part of the light and shining of the Sun, whereby the darkness is caused, which is called night. And also the two twylights, that is the clearness which we see before Sun rising, and after Sun setting, are parts 
Of the twylights.  of the night. For the true artificial day beginneth, when the Sun is in the East part of the Horizon; and endeth, when he passeth to the West. And these days and nights are called artificial, because that according to the divers and artificial situation of the Sphere, and according to the true place of the Sun in the zodiac, that they differ in quantity one from another. To understand which variety, you must know that in all artificial 
Of the diversity of the days and nights.  days, of what length soever they be, there rise above the Horizon six signs of the zodiac, beginning at the true place of the Sun; and the other six signs which begin at the opposite point do rise in the night time: because that the zodiac and horizon are great circles of the sphere, which do always divide one another equally. And according as with the six elevated signs, by day or night, any part or quantity of the Equinoctial doth arise above the Horizon, either more or less, by so much the artificial days and nights are of shorter or longer continuance, so that the ascension of the elevated signs by day, is the true measure of the artificial day, and the ascension of the other elevated signs by night is the measure thereof. Because then, that in the right sphere, together with the moiety or one half of the zodiac, wheresoever it begin, the moiety of the Equinoctial doth precisely rise above the Horizon; for this cause therefore the artificial days are equal to the nights in the said right sphere. So that all the revolutions of natural days comprised between the two tropics, are divided by the right Horizon into two just halves, and at right angles like the Equinoctial. But in the obliqne sphere the days are never equal to the nights but twice a year, that is, when the sun is in the first point of the sign of Aries and of Libra: which points are for this reason called the two Equinoctial points. For in the obliqne sphere there are but the two halves of the zodiac, comprised betwixt the said Equinoctial points which may have equal ascensions, because that the two Colours do never agreed with the Horizon, which cannot divide the zodiac and Equinoctial also into two equal parts together, except in the same Equinoctial points. Whereof the one is never with the Horizon without the other; because the said greater circles, are in them divided into two exact halfs. But out of these Equinoctial points, while the sun is in that half of the zodiac, that declineth from the Equinoctial towards the Pole, which is elevated above the Horizon, that is, from the vernal Equinoctial point, by the Summer Solstist to the Autumn Equinoctial point, the artificial days are longer than the nights. And during the time that the sun is in other part of the said zodiac, which declineth towards the opposite Pole, which is depressed under the said Horizon, the nights are longer than the days: which inequality is so much the more, by how much the sun is nearer to the Solstists, and the sphere is more obliquely placed in respect of the Horizon. So that the artificial days increase from the winter Solstist, by the Vernal equinoctial point to the summer Solstist; and do decrease from the same by the Autumn Equinoctial point, to the winter Solstist. I do not here particularise the diversity of days, which cometh to pass all the year long from degree to degree, being a thing little necessary for the substance of our discourse, and which they may easily learn, that will study upon the Astronomical sphere: But that we may finish this day without going from our spherical matter; let us speak somewhat concerning the hours of the day and heights of the sun, and of his shadows; the declaration whereof I commit (ACHITOB) to you.   

Of equal and unequal, temporal and artificial hours: of the heights of the sun above the Horizon, and of his right and reverse shadows. Chapter 24.  ACHITOB 
Having entreated of natural and artificial days, it now resteth that we say somewhat concerning the parts of them, which are called hours. Even as then there are two principal and great circles in the sphere, the zodiac and the Equinoctial: so likewise are there two manner of hours: one sort are equal and natural, taken from the Equinoctial, the other unequal, temporal or artificial derived from the zodiac. Equal hours are spaces of time measured by the ascension or revolution of one half sign: that is, of fifteenth degrees of the Equinoctial. For time must be divided according 
Of equal hours.  to this circle, which is the measure thereof. And though the Equinoctial be first divided, as every other circle, into twelve equal parts, called signs, and each of those into thirty degrees like the zodiac: yet nevertheless, because that each sign demandeth more time to be elevated above the Horizon, than the facility of distinction and supputation of time requireth, therefore is every sign divided into two equal parts. And so in the whole revolution of the Equinoctial are 24. half signs of 15. degrees a piece, which make the distinctions and measures of 24. hours, divided by the hour circles, whereof we have heretofore spoken. Which hours we call equal, as well by reason of the equality of the 24. half signs, as also because that one requireth no more time to be elevated above the Horizon, than the other. And for that the Equinoctial is the measure of the regular and natural motion of the whole world, and that every sign is measured naturally and commonly by the said equal hours, they are therefore called natural and common hours. We must know then, that the Sun maketh his entire revolution about the earth, between one noon and the next following, according to the natural days in 24. hours, and one fifteenth part of an hour: because the same revolution comprehendeth the whole Equinoctial (which is the measure of four and twenty hours) and nine and fifty minutes, and eight seconds beside, which are almost one degree, which is the fifteenth part of the measure of one equal hour.  
Concerning unequal hours, they are referred to the Zodiac, being in number four and twenty, that is, twelve of the artificial day, and twelve of night. And the day-houres 
Of unequal hours.  begin at Sun rising, and those of night at Sun set. And they be all unequal one to another, whereby they have their name. Which that we may well understand, we must note, that in all artificial days and nights, of what quantity soever they be, there riseth above the Horizon one half of the Zodiac, comprehending six signs, which begin in day at that degree, where the Sun is; at night in that degree, which is diametrically opposite: And thus there are elevated by day twelve half signs, and as many by night. And as one half sign of the Equinoctial maketh the space of an even hour; so one half sign of the zodiac maketh the space of an unequal hour. Whereby appeareth that in each day and night there are twelve unequal hours in the day, and twelve in the night. And that these hours must be unequal one to another, it appeareth in this, because that the zodiac, by reason of the obliquenes thereof, cannot be the measure of time, but the Equinoctial only. Wherhfore it is necessary that the time of the said hours should be measured by the arcks of the Equinoctial coascending above the Horizon, together with every half sign of the zodiac containing fifteen degrees. And for that the arcks of the zodiac, which are equal, cannot have equal ascensions, even in the right sphere: it is necessary that the said twelve hours both of day and night should he unequal one to another; and by so much the more unequal, by how much more the Pole is elevated above the Horizon, according to the diversity of the artificial days & nights: whereof they likewise are called artificial hours. They are also named Planetary and temporal, for that they are taken in the way of the planets, which is the zodiac; and also because the ancients have assigned the time of the seven natural days of the week, to the domination of the seven planets, attributed to the said unequal hours: and have appointed to the said natural days, the names of those planets which reign, the first unequal hour of the artificial day. But leaving this discourse, we must now entreat of the altitudes of the sun, and of his shadows, according as hath been declared in our antecedent speech.  
That we may better than understand the reason of shadows, we must first have knowledge 
Of the height of the Sun.  of the altitudes of the sun above the Horizon: because that the diversity of shadows proceedeth from the variety of those heights. Now by the height of the sun is understood the ark of the verticle circle, which passeth by the centre of the body of the same sun, being comprised between the same centre and the Horizon, and distinguished by the paralled of the same Horizon, which passeth together with the same centre, as heretofore hath been related. So that the height of the sun increaseth from sun rising till noon, and proportionally decreaseth from noon till sun set. So that the greatest altitude that the sun may have in an artificial day, is at the noon hour: wherefore it is called the Meridian altitude. Which surmounteth the height of the Equinoctial in the obliqne sphere, by the quantity of the declination of the sun, so long time as he is in that part of the zodiac, inclining towards the pole, which is elevated above the Horizon: and is less than the height of the Equinoctial, by the same quantity, when the sun is in the other moiety of the zodiac, which inclineth towards the opposite pole. So that the lest altitude that the sun may have, is under the winter solstice, and the greatest is when he is in the summer solstice. But the sun being in the Equinoctial points, his Meridian altitude differeth not in the obliqne sphere, from the height of the Equinoctial. Whereupon ensueth, that in all the degrees of the zodiac, which are a like distant from the one or other solstice, the sun hath one self same Meridian altitude. And thereupon ensueth, that in all hours, whereof the one is before none, and the other after, and equally distant from noon; as are ten a clock in the morning, and two a clock after none, the sun hath one self sams altitude: which is the cause, that in all sun dials, being composed by help of the said hours, as the old quadrants are, the hour spaces serve indifferently as well for before, as after noon. And because that the altitudes of the sun vary according to the obliquenes of the sphere, the said sun dials cannot serve generally, but only to that polarie elevation, whereunto the altitudes of the sun have been calculated. Concerning shadows they are made by mean of solid dark bodies exposed against the Sun: And of those 
Of right reveses shadow.  some are called right shadows, and some reverse shadows. The right shadow is that which is caused by interposition of the shadowing body, rightly erected upon the Horizon: and the reverse shadow is that which proceedeth from every shadowing body, equally distant from the said Horizon. So that the right shadow reacheth out at length upon the horizontal superficies: and the reverse shadow is turned over perpendicularly above the said Horizon. Whereby it is manifest, that right shadows are infinite, and reverse none at all, either at Sun rising, or Sun set. Again, right shadows decreased by little and little from Sun rising till noon; and do proportionally increase from noon till Sun set: to which the reverse shadows are contrary. So that the least right shadow, and the greatest reverse shadow that can be in any day whatsoever, is at noon tide. And you must note, that the Sun being elevated above the Horizon more than 45. degrees every shadowing body being directly erected upon the said Horizon, surmounteth his right shadow; but every reverse shadow surpasseth his shadowing body which causeth it. And when the sun is raised less than forty five degrees, the contrary cometh; for the right shadow exceedeth his shadowing body and the shadowing body surpasseth the reverse shadow. But if the sun be precisely forty five degrees high, than all shadowing bodies are equal to their shadows both right and reverse. From which equality is extracted the Geometrical square, which is set in quadrants, or upon the back of the astrolabe, by which are measured (by means of the shadows, or visual lines, representing the said shadows) all lengths, heights and depths, by reason that the two sides of the said square, which meet at right angles in the centre of the instrument, represent two shadows one equal to another. Yet Geographers do commonly use but right Meridian shadows, to know in what part of the world the regions of the earth consist: and how far they decline from the Equinoctial: which shadows do vary less about the Solstists, then about the Equinoctial points, like to the altitudes of the sun. But we have said enough concerning this matter: and to morrow we will prosecute our first discourse concerning the celestial world, now entreating of the substance and nature of heaven, and of the particular effect of the spherical bodies in things here below, whereof you (ASER.) shall begin to discourse.   
The end of the third days work.   

The fourth days work.  

Of the substance and nature of heaven, and of the celestial bodies: and of their continuance and change. Chap. 25.  ASER. 
BEing this day to entreat of the substance and nature of heaven, and of the particular effects of the spherical bodies in things here below; we shall make more easy entrance thereto, if we first begin with some brief consideration concerning all essences. First then will we propound this principle, that among all creatures in heaven and earth some are spiritual, and the rest corporal. By the spiritual we mean those that have no body, and cannot be perceived by corporal senses (as are angles, or devils, & the souls or spirits of men:) And by the corporal, we mean all other creatures, that are visible and sensible to the senses of our bodies. Now of these, some are without life, and the rest live. And amongst those which are without life, there is a difference in two points: One is, in that some have natural motion, and the rest have not. And amongst those which have this motion, some are mutable and corruptible, and subject to change, and the rest are immutable and incorruptible, persisting always in their estate, during the course of this world. Stones, metals, minerals 
Division of all essences, or natures.  and such like creatures, are of the number of those that have neither life, nor any natural moving whatsoever, but like the earth itself. The water, air, wind, and fire are creatures which though they have not life, yet have they moving: but they are subject unto corruption, as are all other creatures composed of the elements, whether they retain life, or not. For by reason that they are compounded of matters and contrary qualities, they do at length corrupt and are changed, not in regard of their first nature and substance, which perisheth not, though it change forms, but returneth always into the same elements, whereof every compound consisteth. And though stones and mettales be exceeding hard, 
Nothing perisheth regard of the matter.  yet are they not exempt from corruption, but are consumed by usage, yea even gold and silver, which are the most precious metals and of so excellent temper, that they resist fire. But the celestial bodies, whereof we entreat now, consist of such matter, nature and substance; that being in perpetual motion, they ever presevere in their entire and first form, not being subject to any change in their bodies, nor any way consuming, like to the other creatures, which are under them.  
But what this matter of substance is, hath been much disputed on amongst the learned For some Philosophers have affir me, that the heavens, stars, and planets which we behold, are compounded of the same elements, whereof all other creatures are made; but 
Of the matter or substance of heaven.  yet of the most pure parts and portions of them: And under this reason (viz.) that they could not be visible, if they were not created of visible matter. For none can make a visible thing of an invisible. Whereupon they conclude, that there is in the composition of celestial bodies some portion of earth and water which are visible elements, and more water than earth, because it is more pure and clear then the earth is, and because it hath motion. And in that they are, most splendent, clear and movable, they attribute the principal cause thereof to the nature of the air and fire, and the most subtle parts of them, whereof (say they) they are singularly composed. But others hold, that the heavens consist of another kind of substance, then of the elements, which they name a fift essence, of most rare and different substance from the elementary, and much more excellent and noble. Others more cunning find in the heavens divers and unequal substances. Whereto may seem to accord that which Americus Vespucius hath declared in the discourse of his third Navigation to the Indieses, concerning the magnitude of the stars, making mention of three very great ones, called (Caponi) which are not clear. And many other authors have noted diversity of shining and clearness among the stars, and that some part of heaven is thicker than the rest. But whatsoever may be subtly invented in this matter, it seemeth very well, that heat is the substance of celestial bodies, which is inseparable from brightness, which is a similitude 
Of heat, light and brightness.  and semblance of light, having the substance of it and of heat so annexed with itself, that it is almost nothing else. So that the light, brightness & heat may be taken for one self same substance & matter of heaven, and of all the spheres. Which we must moreover note to be so established and ordained by God, that the Sun, Moon, and all the other stars and planets are no whit changed since the day of their creation, any more than their said spheres: neither are they more wearied, worn, or corrupted, for all the labour which they have performed 
Of the continuance and changing of the heavens.  by the space of so many years, than they were the first day of their creation. For you must not hold it for a change and alteration of their natures and qualities; in that according to their divers courses, the stars and planets are sometimes far from, & sometimes near to one another, and that they have oppositions, conjunctions, and divers and different respects, according to the variety of their motions: nor yet for the eclipses of the Sun and Moon. For such changes are not in their proper bodies, substance and quality, but only in regard of us, and our sight.  
But to this constancy, stableness and continnance of the heavens and the celestial bodies, the words of the Kingly Prophet in the Psalms may seem to be repugnant, when he saith, [Thou (OH God) hast aforetime laid the foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the works of 
Psal. 102.  thine hands. They shall perish, but thou shalt endure: even they all shall wax old as doth a garment: as a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed. But thou art the same, and thy years shall not fail.] Also it is written, that the heavens and earth shall pass: That the day of the Lord shall come like a Thief in the night, and in which the heavens must pass 
Math. 24. 2. Pet. 3.  away like a noise of a tempest; the elements must melt with heat, and the earth with all the works that are therein, shall be burnt: That the heavens being set on fire shall be dissolved, and that we look for new heavens and new earth, according to the promise 
Easie. 65 & 66 Apoc. 21.  of God: in whom dwelleth righteousness. All these testimonies yet, do not contradict that which we heretofore said concerning the nature of the celestial bodies. For we refer their stability and continuance to the course of all this great world, which God hath ordained and establlshed to endure, till the consummation and ending thereof: in such sort, as he hath declared to us in his word. Moreover, it is one thing to speak of the heavens comparing their nature with that of other visible and corporal creatures; and another thing, when we compare them with the nature of God or of his word, as the holy Scripture commonly doth. For according to the doctrine thereof, a thousand years are as one day before God: wherefore also this visible frame, both celestial and terrestrial, is nothing else, but 
Psal. 90.  as a vesture which weareth, waxeth old & is clean done, after that it is worn all out. And sith that both heaven and earth are created by the word of God, there is no doubt, but 
john 1  they shall fail rather than it. For it remaineth for ever like God, from whom it proceedeth from all eternity. There is yet diversity of opinions amongst the ancient doctors about the understanding of the holy Scripture, concerning the matter which we do now treat of. For some indeed say, that the heavens shall perish with the rest of the world; if it so please the creator, and if he will have it so, considering that all creatures both visible and invisible receive their essence and continuance, not from themselves, but from God alone: Yet for all that do they not think that the heavens shall altogether fail, nor that God will have it so. And others maintain that though the heavens must pass & be dissolved according to the word of God, that yet this defect shall not be an entire annihilating, but only a certain change which shall come to them, by which they shall be renewed in far more perfection. Whereto it seemeth that S. Paul agreeth, when he clearly testifieth concerning all creatures in general, 
Rome 8.  that they are subject to corruption because of the sin of man: and for that cause they do attend with great desire for the revelation and redemption of the children of God, because they shall not be relieved nor delivered from the servitude of corruption, to be in the liberty of the glory of them, and restored to their integrity, till the day ordained by the creator, for the acceptation of his into eternal felicity. For thereupon ensueth, that the heavens and celestial bodies sigh and groan, attending together with the other creatures; this blessed day to be changed, renewed & restored, which S. Peter likewise teacheth in the place before cited. Yea and some Philosopher's accord with him concerning the dissolution of the world by fire, but not concerning the cause thereof. For they refer it not to the sin of man, which hath infected the heaven, the earth, and allthings contained therein, and put the world into disorder and confusion, but to the nature of fire, which at last consumeth all, and whereof they give a reason by natural causes. There are also some Astronomers, who affirm, that some change may be perceived in the spheres and heavenly bodies concerning their courses and ordinary motions, and that they are somewhat different from those which they have had from the beginning, how they wax weary, are worn, and become old in their function, like to other creatures: although this change doth much less appear in them, then in the other works of God, but we will leave this argument to the professors of Astrology. And let it suffice us, for conclusion of this matter, to consider what the stability and continuance of men in this world may be, seeing that all other creatures must receive a change, & have an end, yea the very heavens themselves. For what are all people in respect of this great Vnivers? And again, what is every one of them particularly, in comparison of the generality of mankind, and of all those which have already go before us? But let us return to that which concerneth the heavens & spherical bodies, considering that which doth touch their motions, besides that which hath been already declared, which (AMANA) shall be the subject for you to discourse upon.   

Of the motions in general, of their first cause and of their union in all nature. Chap. 26.  AMANA. 
Ear we enter into the declaration of the subject, which is now propounded unto us to discourse upon concerning heaven, my desire is, that we may call to our memory that which we have already heretofore heard of the nature of the heavens, concerning the matter whereof they are compounded, and concerning their beauty, stability, and continuance. For so shall we reduce the end of our discourse to that principal point, whereunto we have already from the beginning destinated it; that is, so much the better to acknowledge our God, and his providence, to the end to glorify him. I say then, that if we considerately meditate upon the excellency of the celestial bodies, we shall therein find a more express image of the eternity and majesty of God, and of his divine and immutable nature, then in any of all the other visible creatures. Moreover we may accept of them as a testimony and example, not only of the immortality which GOD hath ordained for men's souls, which are spiritual natures: but also of that which he hath promised our bodies after our resurrection. For that he can accomplish his promise, we neither may nor must make doubt of, if we believe that he is Almighty: Not more must we make doubt of his will, sith he hath declared it unto us in his word. If then he hath been able to created the heavens, and the Stars and planets, which in them are, like splendent precious stones enchased in rings, of a matter so firm and durable, that it remaineth incorruptible, and as it were immortal, whether it be taken from the four elements, or be of an other quintessence, as we have already heard: It shall be no less easy for him to make our bodies incorruptible & immortal, having delivered them from corruption & death, to which (through sin) they were subject. Now let us pursue that which particularly concerneth the heaven in his motion, wherein we have notable signs of the glory and bounty of our God.  
To understand then sufficiently that which concerneth the present matter, we will first 
Three sorts of motion.  note, that there be three sorts of motion in the whole world. For there is one which tendeth to the midst and to the centre of the Vnivers, which is in the earth the lowest of elements: which motion for that it descendeth, is proper to the most heavy elements, and to such creatures as do most participate with them. Than is there another motion contrary to the first, which always tendeth from the midst, and from below upwards: and this is proper to the most light elements, and to those natures which do nearest approach unto them, and which participate with their qualities more than the rest. But the third kind of motion is that: which neither mounteth nor descendeth either one way or other, but goeth round, ever turning about the midst like a circle or a wheel. And this is that which is proper to heaven, and to the spherical bodies, being most certain, disposed, and composed by a most constant and firm order. For though that all the elements, and all other creatures which have motion, observe an order therein, yet is it more subject to change according as the inferior bodies are subject to the superior. But those have a more certain course, because they depend not upon other bodies, which are above them, but immediately upon God, without the means of any other corporal nature. And therefore of all the motions, which are in all creatures, that of the heaven and heavenly bodies is chiefest and most excellent. For whereas some attribute the motions of the spheres to the angels, as if God used their ministry herein (as we have already declared) whether it 
Of the motion of the spheres attributed to the Angels.  be so or not, yet this is most certain, that the heavens have their motions immediately from God, seeing there are no corporal natures above them, whereby they may be moved. For the angels are certain spiritual creatures, on whom if the omnipotent hath imposed this charge, we must be content to leave the understanding thereof to him alone, sith it is so much hidden from man. Now in that the celestial bodies, and the elements, and all creatures have their proper motion, wherein they continued according to the first ordinance established in nature by the sovereign creator thereof; we are much to admire both the cause and effects of such a constancy. I intent here to speak of a near cause, which is a secret amity engraffed into every creature toward his own nature. For there is a love an appetite or universal inclination in all creatures, which urgeth and inciteth them 
Every creature followeth his own nature.  to desire and search that which agreeth with their nature: so that there is none so insensible, which hath not in itself this amity innate, which never pusheth it to follow the nature thereof: and for this cause may we say, that all motions proceed from love. And passing further, we may contemplate the love of God, as the eternal source of amity and inclination of all nature, and as the first cause of causes, and we shall say, that in the same love, God loving himself, proceeded to his work, which hitherto we have celebrated, and do now mean to prosecute. For sith that God is the sovereign good, and that all goodness is by nature loving, it cannot be but he must likewise love himself exceedingly, and consequently love all that which he judgeth to be good, insomuch as it proceedeth from him, who is the supreme good, and the limit of all goodness. This love than not being able to be idle, nor yet the good which it loved, would manifest both the one and the other, 
The love of God is the first of all motions.  first in the creation of the world; namely, in that of man; and then again in the restanration and reparation of his fall. So we learn, that the first motion, whereupon all the rest depend, is the love of God, which proceedeth from his bounty, which he would not keep shut up nor enclosed in himself, but would manifest and communicate it with his creatures, whom he hath created, to the end that he might be glorified in them and by them. And as he loveth them for his own loves sake, and for that they were his work: so hath he set in them the seeds of love, both towards him and towards themselves, according to the divers nature, which he hath conferred upon them. It is then his natural love, which constraineth them by a secret feeling of nature imprinted even in those essences, which have neither reason nor understanding, to take delight in that, which is agreeable to their creator, and to follow his ordinance, tending all to him, and to that which he loveth, because it is good, and therefore good, being done according to his will; and because it pleaseth him to judge it and approve it for such. Whereupon we may conclude, that love and amity is the good, by which all creatures have an accord and agreement, first with God their creator, and then one with another: and that upon the same cause their conversation and perfection doth depend. Wherhfore love must be the bond and union of all the world, which is an universal peace and concord between God and all his creatures. For the divine pronidence hath so disposed all the order of them, that they be all conjoined one with another 
Of the union and accord between all creatures.  by such love and amity, that even they which seem to be clean contrary, are allied, reconciled and united togeiher by those, which have more correspondency between them. In such sort as we may therein behold, a very pleasant and perfect harmony, like as in music; wherein although it seemeth that the notes, tunes and sounds be different one to another; yet notwithstanding, there is such a moderation in them, that they yield together a goodly concord and sweet melody, keeping their proportions, times & measures. As then by such peace and concord the celestial spheres follow the general and common course of the first, highest, and greatest of all, within which they are contained and enclosed; performing likewise each of them his particular course; without endommaging themselves, as we have heretofore made mention: so do all the elements follow the heaven, and observe their order after it, every one in their degree, from the highest to the lowest, having their motions agreeable to their nature. And even as living creatures have their agreements and conjunctions one with another, every one in his degree, according to the covenant and participation of nature, which they have together, and as they are either near to, or far off one from another: even so is it in the agreement and consent of nature, which is between the celestial bodies and the elements and all creatures composed of them. For this cause, as the angels retain the first degree among living creatures, and then man the second next them, by reason that in his nature he nearest agreeth with the angels, and doth nearest approach them: so doth the heaven and celestial fires retain the first degree among creatures, which are without soul and without life, in their proper and convenient motions, according as we have already declared. And as man doth in some sort hold the middle place between the angels and the most perfect beasts, so doth fire betwixt the heaven and the air: and as the air doth keep the middle place betwixt the fire and water; so the water is a mean betwixt the air and the earth. But these things will claim a fit place, when we come to entreat of the elementary world. Wherhfore we will return to that which only concerneth the heavenly bodies: which forasmuch as we have said to be of the number of those creatures which are without life, being contrrary to the opinion of the most famous Philosophers: my mind is, that we should consider nearer of this matter, because that by the excellent political and military order, which is amongst them, it seemeth that they are not altogether deprived of life, reason, and understanding: as ARAM we may learn of you.   

Of the life, reason, and understanding of the celestial bodies: and of the excellent political and military order, which is amongst them. Chapter 27.  ARAM. 
THis being true, that all creatures have a certain motion agreeable to their nature, and a natural love which ever urgeth them to seek and pursue that, which is most natual for them; as hath been already related in our antecedent speech: it seemeth that this can hardly come to pass, but that there must be in them, some kind of soul and life, yea even in those creatures, that are most insensible. And more I will say that it is not only to be presumed, that they have some kind of life, but also a natural understanding, which we may properly name inclination; sith there is no essence but can follow his proper course and order in his own nature and peculiar motions. For the stones themselves, and metals by a kind of soul and vegetative life, do grow and increase in the earth: wherefore it seemeth that they are nourished in the earth like to plants. Yet we must note, that to speak properly, there is neither soul nor life attributed unto them. For according to the common rule of the learned, there are but four kinds of 
Four kinds of soul and life.  souls and of life: except by abuse of the language, this name life be taken generally for the estate of all creatures. But when it is taken in his proper signification, the soul and life is only attributed to four kind of creatures: that is, to herbs, trees, and plants, a nourishing or vegetative soul and life 
* A kind of creature of a middle nature between e plants and beasts.  sensitive plants, as sea sponges, oysters, cockles, etc. a sensitive: to perfect beasts a soul and life cogitative or knowing: and to men an intellectual or reasonable soul and life. Though therefore that stones and metals do increase and grow in the earth, yet this is done by addition of matter, which is converted into their nature, rather than by any nurture which they draw from the earth, as plants do. And therefore when we speak properly of life, we must understand sornething more, then that which simply call (being.) And yet one may sometimes signify (the estate or being of any thing) by the name of life, taking the word generally, and not in his most proper signification: for the being of every creature is like the life thereof; insomuch as thereby it is conserved in his proper estate. And so it may seem that Saint john meaneth, saying, That all things were 
john 1  made by the eternal word of God, and that without it nothing was made that was made, and that in it was life: for here the word, Life, might be taken for the being of all creatures. In this respect it may be permitted us to say, that all creatures have life, but not like any of those which are properly called living creatures and each one according to the distinctions by us before alleged.  
Now let us speak of the natural understanding which seemeth to be in all creatures. I 
Understanding proper to men and Angels only.  know that to speak properly, understanding and reason cannot be attributed but only to angels and men. For although all creatures observe their order and course in their natural motions: yet do we not conclude that they do this by understanding and reason, whereof they should participate with men, but rather by a natural inclination, which God hath bestowed upon them to guide and direct them so. Yet it seemeth, that there is great difference between the celestial bodies, concerning which we now discourse, and the other creatures which are without life and understanding, considering their well ordered motions and incorruptible nature, as we have heretofore showed. For this is the cause why many 
Opinions of divers touching the life and understanding of the celestial bodies.  Philosophers have taught; that the heavens retained some kind of life and understanding: briefly, that the world was an animal or living creature, for the reasons heretofore alleged. And therefore some have supposed, that the celestial and luminary bodies did nourish and preserve themselves by the moistness and vapours, which they attracted and drew up by their heat, out of the water and other elements. And for faculties of sense and reason, they also considered the same to be in them; because that they have their course and motions so well ordered and comprehended one by an other, that therein can be found no fault, disorder, or confusion. Which so excellent order could not be kept nor maintained (it seemed amongst them, without great reason and understanding and wisdom, yea more great than is seen in all the men of the world together. For although they were created partaker of these graces and gifts; yet so far they are from maintaining such an order amongst them, as do the celestial bodies; that contrariwise there is nothing but disorder and confusion in them, & in all their actions. For these reasons therefore sundry Philosophers have concluded, that as there animals or living creatures in the earth, in the waters, and in the fire, so likewise are there in heaven; and that the sun and moon and the other planets and stars are celestial animals, not only living, but also participating of reason and understanding yea some have named them celestial intelligences. And in truth they which have good skill in Astronomy do consider how the Sun, the goodlest and 
Of the excellent political and military order in the heavens.  most excellent of the lights of heaven, possesseth the middle place among the seven planets like the king and prince of them, and which hath about him the lords of his court. For on one side is Mars the warrior, which hath charge of armies, and on the other side Mercury his Orator and ambassador. Than is there betwixt him and Mercury the planet Venus, which is the day star, messenger of the morning, which always attendeth on the sun, at his rising and setting, for she riseth every day before him, and setteth every day after him, & under those is the Moon. These two planets seem to be allowed him like mistresses of his house, and huswives of the most moist natures. Than above Mars is the mild and benign planet jupiter, to the end to moderate the vehemency and fury of him. And higher yet is Saturn, who is cold, slow, and sad, wherefore he may the better temperate the heat of Mars, and serve the sun like a sound and well stayed counsellor, near about his prince. Than may be seen the high heaven, commonly called the firmament, which containeth all the rest of the stars, under which the sun marcheth in his royal magnificence accompanied (like a king) with his court & army, all in gallant order. Is it not then a goodly policy, & like a royal court, a celestial common wealth, and a brave army, wherein every star and planet keepeth his rank and order? And not only for these considerations, but even by testimonies of Scripture, there are some will undertake to prove, that the celestial bodies have reason and understanding. For the prophets, namely Moses and isaiah, sometime addressing their speech to the heavens, call them for auditors: As when they say [O 
Deut. 32. isaiah.  heavens, heavens, hear that which I shall speak, and give care to my words.] So that they wonder, why these holy men should call to the heavens, if they had neither soul nor life, nor reason, nor understanding. And the Psalmist in his canticles doth exhort the heavenly bodies to praise God no less than the angels themselves. But now let us tell them, that if by 
Psal. 148.  these authorities we must conclude, that the spheres have in them a soul, life, sense, and reason: we might say the like of the air, of the clouds, waters, fire, hail, snow, vapours, winds, yea and of all earthly creatures, to the very plants. For the royal Prophet inviteth them all to praise the Lord, as well as the heavens. Yea he proceedeth farther, when he saith, that all of them perform the word of the Lord And when Moses and isaiah call the heavens to record, they do as much to the earth, as if it had ears to hear, and understanding or to understand. We must then know, that the Prophets using this manner of speech 
Why the word of God is sometimes directed to insensible creatures.  do speak to insensible creatures, and which are without understanding, the better to move them to their duty, and the more to induce them to acknowledge their ingratitude and rebellion against God, by rendering to him that honour and reverence, which they should bear to his Majesty, which is of such weight and virtue, that the very sense and feeling thereof reacheth to all nature and to every kind of creature. Whereby we must learn, how great reproach shall redound to men, and the number of witnesses that shall appear against them, if they will be more deaf at the voice of God, than the deafest creatures, and if they will be less moved with his presence, and hardlier acknowledge it, than those his works which are farthest remote from reason & understanding. And in truth what shame may this goodly order which we whilom spoke of, to be amongst the celestial bodies, every day breed in us? For if they had a soul, life, sense, and understanding; we might less wonder to see them ever continued and maintain such a constituted order. Because we might ascribe the good government of them to the reason and wisdom, which might be resident in them. But if they have neither sense nor understanding, by means whereof they might attain to that intelligence and wisdom, for to know how to guide and govern themselves: so much more just occasion hath been given to the Prophets to appeal to them as witnesses and judges against men, and leave to look to other creatures, seeing that they show in effect, that they do better understand the voice and word of God, whereby they have been created and disposed, and which hath appointed and ordained the estate wherein they serve; then men do, whom he hath made partakers of reason and understanding. Wherhfore we will here note, that when the Prophets do exhort the insensible creatures to praise God, it is chief for two reasons. The first is, in keeping every one their order, they glorify God after their fashion, and according to their nature, because they are like preachers of his puissance, wisdom, and bounty, and as witnesses of them, and of his glory towards men: and the other reason is so much the better to induce men to praise their creator, as it behoveth them. But for the Philosophers, yea the Pythagorians and Academics, which proceed farther concerning the life, reason, and understanding, which they contemplate in the spheres, saying, that they are replenished with souls lodged in them, and by which many of the Divines also will have to be meant, the angels and celestial spirits, who (say they) move the heavens: but what, and how many there are of these intellectual forms in the spherical bodies, he only knoweth, who (as David saith) counteth the number of the stars, and calleth them all by their 
Psal. 147.  names. I will only say thus much, that sith every planet hath his proper force and influence upon things here below, it seemeth very fit, that it should have his governing intelligence, which giveth it the virtue to work: considering that the operation cannot proceed simply from a body. But now I enter into a new matter, the discourse whereof (ACHITOB) I impose on you.   

Of the influence and effects of the planets and stars in things. here below, either to good or evil. Chapter 28.  ACHITOB. 
SOme might marvel, why christian philosophers do always (when they entreat of the sphere) retain the names of the gods and goddesses of the ancient idolaters; which the Pagan philosophers, both Greeks' and Latins, 
In French the names of the days are so, but in our tongue not.  have long ago given to the stars and planets. But this should seem no more strange, then that we yet observe in the days of the week the names, which were attributed to them by the said authors, and which they have likewise taken from the names of the planets, except sunday. For, because that these celestial bodies have been so called at the first by those, who have most curiously and diligently searched them out, and left precepts of the Astronomical doctrine; therefore do these fond names yet remain amongst us, like many other things taken from the ancients. But the discourse is very great and of deep study, concerning the divers properties, virtues, and powers which Astronomers assign to the planets, above all nature, yea and over all men: of whom making their predictions, they name one man a Saturnist, another a Martialist, or lovialist, or else a Mercurialist, or a Venirian or a Phebaean, or a Lunatist. In such sort, that the divers affections, inclinations and 
Properties attributed by Astrologers to planets.  manners of men, are by many holden, not to proceed only of the matter diversly disposed (as there be some that esteem:) but also by the divers influence and sundry form, not in specifical diversity, but particular and proper. And thence it cometh, that Ptolemy and other professors of Astrology do teach, that the stars & planets do give influence of good and of evil: for (say they) by Saturn is infused a firm and stable prudence: by jupiter, a righteous justice: by Mars, a constant force and puissance; by the Sun, an ardent charity: by Venus, a mild hope: by Mercury, a penetrating faith: and by the Moon, a moderate temperance. Moreover, that by Saturn, as by a most grave and sublime fautor, men are induced to the most profound mysteries of all divine and natural Philosophy; That by jupiter they are governed in a good due temper, so that they make and observe laws, and dispose all things with equity, pursuing always that which is righteous. That from Mars they receive the ability and power to perform any exploit, to the end to be fortunate in their enterprises. That the sun bestoweth upon all, generation, operation, and life; as charity (which is appropriated to him) adorneth all the virtues, like life, and form. That Venus giveth grace, cheerfulness, and love; by which men being moved do perform all high matters with delectation; because we could not sustain the labour, which is in the study of natural and divine matters, not not in temporal things, if love did not thereto invite us; wherewith being afterward recreated, we easily suppress the affliction which continual thought in profound matters and of difficult understanding doth bring unto us. That Mercury maketh us promt, sharp and subtle in every business, but chief in searching out of the truth, and in obtaining eloquence, music, and glory. That the Moon in the foresaid effects of the other planets, giveth a more near and variable motion; so that she causeth to be correspondent to man (as to the end and image of the whole Vnivers) all the lofty members of it. All these properties (I say) are attributed by sundry Astronomers to the planets, in regard of the good which they 'cause to men. Again, others acknowledge some of them to be the cause of many evils, and those they call ill planets, not celestial. For they say that Saturn is foolish, niggardly, difficult, inducing to dangers, fraud, mischief, 
Euilnesse of Saturn.  treasons, violence, captivity, banishment, loss, perjury, contumacy, wrath, hatred of all good, fear, anguish, grief, burials, sorrow, and loss of children; also that he causeth sorceries, empoisoning, and theft, and maketh Magicians. Of Mars they say, that he 
Of Mars.  provoketh to treason, war, murder, boldness, rashness, pride, sedition, contention, rapine, ambushments, wound, flights, disloialties villainies, foolish love, easy offending, many cogitations, ill counsel; and that he maketh Princes violent, cruel, inhuman, desirous of blood and slaughter, perjured, deceitful, inconstant, cursing, and full of all wickedness, and that he foreshoweth a misshapen and impudent man: and that he is pernicious to births, causing abortive fruit: Finally, that in all parts of heaven he menaceth some mischief. For the rest, I pass them here in silence, that I may not be too tedious in this matter, which some Mathematicians and Poets ascribe to other planets, making them cause of many other evils, according to the divers constellations, where they do contemplate them. But to speak my mind, we like Christians must believe, and not think as many naturalists do (who in stead of acknowledging a God, do forge to themselves an Idol of Nature, that it should be the planets or stars, who like fountains or Ladies of virtues, properties and powers, give influence to men of the foresaid qualities: but only that in disposing their bodies, being compounded of the elements, upon which the planets work, they serve to aid them to abound in virtues or vices, according as their mind being moderatrix of all their actions, doth dispose her faculties, to intent good or evil. For this cause we say, that to those which want the gifts and graces of God's spirit, all things cannot but succeed badly, and the influences of the spears hurt them rather than otherwise, yea some more than other some: as to the contrary, the mind of the faithful well instructed doth correct the nautines of the stars, and delivereth himself from all perverse inclination. This is it, that the thrice great Philosopher Mercurius saith, entreating of those whom the divine power, whatsoever it was, had forsaken, leaving and abandoning them to the evil (as he speaketh) and all that, which was sensible in them. For thus saith he. [Of such the forces of anger and appetite, which being well directed would 'cause every good work, turn into a nature deprived of reason.] So then we learn, that very vain is the faith that is given to the palnets, to constellations, and to foolish divinations and superstitious prognostications of Astrologians. For true Christians fear not the signs of heaven, nor their aspects and regards: but do wholly depend upon the grace of God and of his providence, which turneth all to the good of his elect.  
And therefore though we condemn not true Astrology, namely Astronomy, yet must 
Against judicial Astrology.  we not approve the superstition and curiosity, which is in many concerning that part of this science, called judicial, which they hold for a certain and infallible doctrine, by which may be foreseen and known the events of men. But let us rather hold with that which jeremy teacheth us, saying, [Fear not the signs of heaven, according to the gentiles: for the 
jerem. 10.  customs of the people are vain.] Which is as much, as if he had said, that such curious observations, full of superstitions, are frivolous and false; belonging to pagans and idolaters, and not to the people of God. For this cause also we have in the books of the other prophets many things spoken against the predictions and prognostications of the Chaldees and Babylonians; namely in isaiah. For God, which is above all nature, hath means which men 
Easie 47.  cannot perfectly know, either by reason of their ignorance, or for that those means are supernatural. So that it happeneth, that things oftentimes succeed clean contrary to that, which the Astronomers have forespoken and prognosticated, according to their contemplation. But I would willingly ask them, what foundation they can have, when (like 
Against the casters of nativities.  prophets) they enterprise to foretell men, good lucks & ill lucks, and all events which they must expect, and chief to kings, princes, and other chief personages? For where do they find, when God created the stars and planets, that he gave them commission to reveal to Astrologers, what should be the nature and complextion of every one, according to the planet under which they should be borne? And again, how can such judicial science have certainty, seeing there are a thousand men that are borne every day in the world, in one self country, at one self-same time, hour and instant, one sometimes to be a king, and another a poor shepherd, being neither like in nature, nor like in manners, but sometimes more contrary than fire and water? For this is much proved in many twins, as the scripture giveth us a notable example in jacob and Esau. For they were borne so close to one another, that jacob held with his hand the sole of his brother Esau's foot: and therefore the 
Genes. 25.  name of jacob was given him. And by how much the one was humble, good and peaceable; by so much the other was proud, wicked and warlike. And who can believe that God hath set marks in any of the signs in heaven, to signify to men that, which he hath ordained concerning every one in his eternal counsel, which is hidden from the angles themselves? Surely whatsoever we can learn, is through his holy spirit, which he communicateth to such as he pleaseth, revealing to them his secrets, as heretofore he did to his most faithful servants. And therefore he that would have most certain prognostications, must not go away to seek and ask them of other more true Astrologians then the prophets and apostles, with their writings. For they have surely foretold all that must come to pass in the world, to the very consummation of time, and chiefly touching the monarchies, empires, and kingdoms of the earth, namely Daniel. And I believe that God hath not created the stars and planets more for kings and princes and other great personages, then for the simple & least. Too sound & true a prognostication have we against them all in isaiah, by which he prophesieth, that every kingdom and every nation which serveth not the Lord shall perish. So likewise all the blessings and cursings of the law, are so 
isaiah 60. Levit. 26. Deut. 28.  many most certain prophecies, of all that which good and bad men may expect for good or evil. Now I could in this present matter, concerning the influence of celestial bodies upon men, produce the testimonies of the most renowned amongst the ancient divines, against those, who attribute so much virtue to the stars: but because the authority of a Christian is of no value with the Atheists and superstitious, which are willingly the greatest idolaters of nature, I will bring them the proof of strangers, yea of those, who first gave the precepts of pronogstications: by which they may easily find their teaching thwarted by themselves, and to have been left otherwise by them, than the troop of their followers do suppose. Let them read the text of Ptolemie, prince of Astronomers, in the beginning of his Apotelesmes (which is as much to say, as the effects referred to the nativity hour) 
Many things to be considered in horoscopes.  there shall they see that he attributeth this to the stars, that to the manner of the birth, something to the seed of the parents, one thing to the diet, another to the place, and another to the orders: So that very little resteth in the planets. And the author concludeth his speech in this sort: [As we commend physicians, who search out the original of the disease, and the causes in divers fashions: so must not we be despised, if to judge upon the infant borne, we inquire of the region, of the birth, diet manners, and other occurrences.] And in his book entitled (Alarba) he saith. That oftentimes such accidents meet in the infant borne, that he cannot receive the celestial influence, sometimes very little, and sometimes much, which many are ignorant of. How then can any by the stars only determine of that, which must happen to man from the hour of his birth, as infinite many do believe? But because some, who are abused by this judicial science, do willingly reply, that Astrologians and prognosticators do often foretell many things, which are afterward found true: I desire that we may examine their reason, which (ASER) I leave to you to discover.   

Of the truth which is found in prognostications of Astrologers, and how the stars are appointed by God for signs, and that from their influences no evil proceedeth. Chapter. 29.  ASER. 
WHo diligently should mark in predictions and Astrological prognostications, the falsehoods and truths which therein are found, I doubt not but he should perceive these much more rare, than the other. But people do commonly take so great delight to be deceived, that it sufficeth them, if they be once told truth, for a thousand times wherein they have been foretold lies. And God knoweth, how the professors of this art do advance that point as much as they can, and do dissemble in all others, whereby their leasings may be discovered. And when they will most flout fools, they use ambiguous and and obscure manners of speech, like the answers, which long ago the devil made by oracles, both of Apollo, and other pagan idols. For such kind of speech is fit to strike the ignorant in a dump: who though they understand not the Prognosticators speech, yet according as things come to pass they will expound them to their mind, and chief, when among many things, some one doth stumble upon some like appearance with that prediction, although the ginger speaks at adventure, and sometimes understands not himself: yet this is certain, and is daily feene by experience, that indeed the most cunning in this science foretell many things, which are after found true. And this may happen chief in three manners. The first is, when they contain themselves within the bounds of Astrology, and will prognosticate nothing, but whereof they foresee the causes 
How Astrologers may foretell a truth.  most manifest in nature: as in the eclipses of the Sun and moon, the changes thereof, in the courses of the planets, their aspects, and dispositions, and such like natural inclinations, the knowledge whereof they may by their art attain unto. But when they pass farther, it happens to them which is sometimes seen in bad archers and bowmen, who though they take their aim badly, neither yet draw right, may nevertheless shoot so often, that by great chance, one or other may hit the white. But this comes not often; for if one should reckon the bad shoots, they would be exceeding few that had hit in respect of the rest. And in this sort have we in the beginning of our speech meant, concerning the copious and ambigious manner of Astrologers writings and speeches, very proper for their intention. Finally God in his secret and most just judgement, doth many times permit that the things foretold by such deceivers do oftentimes succeed, to the intent to punish the curiosity and vanity of men, as it commonly falleth out, and hath in old time been known by the oracles of devils, and by the predictions and divinations of Necromancers and invocators upon evil spirits. For they who rather believe such inventions of the devil, than the true and sacred word of God, deserve to be held in error, by the events which they expect, when they trust to the father of lying, to the end that they may afterward receive their due and condemnation. So came it to Saul when he went to the witch, to understand the issue and event of 
1. Sam 28.  the Philistims war against him. For he heard that which he desired not to know; and that which was prophesied to him came to pass. Thus in three manners do we perceive that Astrologers may oftentimes prognosticate the truth. But because some suppose to have a very good foundation for judicial Astrology, in so much as Moses saith, speaking of the creation of the sun and Moon and stars, that God set them for signs; I would desire them 
Genes. 1.  to consider, that the Prophet expoundeth himself in these words, [And God said, Let there 
How the stars are given us for signs.  be lights in the firmament of heaven, to separate the day from the night, and let them be for signs and for seasons, and for days and for years: And let them be for lights in the firmament of the heaven to give light upon the earth.] Hereby it is apparent to us, that God created the planets to distribute the light, and to distinguish and signify unto us by certain signs the times, seasons, years, months, days & nights, for all political, public and private order. For it is most necessary, that men should direct themselves according to times and seasons. But although the stars were given us for signs in this respect, and that after the deluge they were in that estate reordained by GOD: yet must we abstain from superstition, and too much curiosity which abuseth many in Astrology (as is above said) and which often occasioneth that they not being able to prognosticate upon every cause apparently by the stars, according to their desire, do search and have recourse to other means, to wit, to Necromancy, and Geomancy; by which they divine what they list, leading men into double error, and profaning the contemplative doctrine of the heaven, which is otherwise of itself good and profitable.  
But beside all this I might likewise say, that if all things here below were disposed and directed by the governance of heaven, and the influence of the planets, as our naturalists (better Philosophers than Christians) do maintain: we should behold nothing save what were good, as being governed by good causes. And in this case I demand what become of those evil influences of the stars, upon which Astrologians do found their predictions? I will not here allege that which Moses teacheth us, saying, that God saw that all things 
Genes. 1.  which he had made were good (for perhaps they would not believe it:) but let them give ear to Mercury, whom the ancients called the thrice great and supreme in Philosophy, Metaphysics, and theology. For he left written upon pillars in Egypt (as jamblicus in a long discourse declareth) how that all influences of the stars are good: and if 
Against such as assign evil to the influences of the Stars. Plato in Epimenide.  there chance any evil, it must be imputed to the indisposed subject, and not to the planets: demonstrating this by the brightness of the sun, which of itself is good, and yet hurteth the blear eye, because of the bad state thereof. Plato also saith, [God hath made the Moon increasing and decreasing, and hath established the months in the year, and hath taught by a kind of happy fortune, to bring in count the number of them. Whereupon ensueth, that the earth being most friutfull, conceiveth and engendereth her fruit for the nouriture of man, at such times as the winds gently blow, and the rain prosperously droppeth into her lap. But if any evil befall herein, we must not blame the divine and celestial nature but the human, which leadeth an unjust life.] And the Stoic Hieracles crieth out in the verses of Pythagoras in these terms.  
Each one, through his own evil, it will be,  
For from the heavenly source no vice doth flow  
To soil our souls; the cause are only we,  
The blame of mischief then on mortals throw.  
And Plato in the sixt book of Laws, and Aristotle in his Politics do testify, that man having attained to the true doctrine, becometh a very divine and perfect debonair creature: but not having been well brought up, he becometh the most cruel of all creatures borne upon the earth. What then remaineth for us to attribute to the Stars? I demand of them also, who affirm some influences to be evil, from whence (will they say) that this malice proceedeth? Whether from God which commandeth: or from the intelligence which moveth the heavens: or from the heaven itself? Surely it cannot come from God, who is the sovereign good, and the first cause ordaining all things. For that is evil or sin, 
Reasons to show that the influences of the stars be not evil.  which is done against the will of the creator, or which declineth from his justness: and in nature, evil cannot proceed from the spring of goodness. Wherhfore it should be too foolish and absurd a thing to think, that evil should take original from God all good: and that from the sovereign governor should proceed the violation of the law, seeing that his will is his own law itself. For the intelligence or angel, which some say continueth in the tion of the spheres, and to whom some assign the cause of evil influences: I would feign ask them, whether this intelligence doth so work by the commandment of his Prince, which is the eternal and sovereign governor of the world, or else against his will and ordinance. If it accomplish any thing according to his precept, certainly that cannot be bad: for nothing is bad but that which is done contrary to the order established by the prince of Nature. But if it operate against his will, it might seem to turn to the scandal of the Omnipotent creator, to suffer his servants so arrogant in rebellion unpunished. For at the beginning he spared not those amongst the angels, who exalted themselves in pride: And for the rest who persisted in obedience, he in such sort confirmed them, that they cannot sin any more. Whereupon also ensueth that the Intelligences, being joy all servants of the Eternal, do not 'cause evil influences, neither yet do dispose any thing to evil, since they always accomplish the ordinance of the Sovereign good. And for those, who not being 
Against such as accuse the heavens to be evil.  able to blame God, nor the moving intelligence, do accuse the heavens, as 'cause of evil influences: I desire them to tell me; if the heavens be malicious, whence cometh their malice? Whether have they been created evil, or else been depraved by evil manners? Or else, their nature failing them, did they become evil? Certainly they were not created evil by the most good worker. Neither have they been depraved by manners or failing nature because they have no choice in their works, and for that their motions and influences are natural and invariable, not of free-will, as all Philosophers affirm. Again I ask them, whether the heavens give influence, as second causes, or as instruments? If as instruments, then sith they neither move nor operate, but according to the will of the Prince, who created them; he should remain in fault: which is already confuted. But if it be as second causes, seeing the work is performed by that which liveth, the error should be referred to the intelligences, who move them, and are ordained for souls to the spheres: to which we have also satisfied. I will farther add this point. That the heavens do work either by nature or by will. If by nature, sith the order thereof is established by God, the sentence of Aristotle is worthy the remembrance, where he saith;] What we possess by nature, we are therein neither praised nor blamed: for the praise belongeth to the worker, and the blame cannot be assigned to the order of the sovereign Good. But if the heavens work freely, being guided by an intelligence, it must needs follow, that being the causes of so many mischiefs, which abundantly light on man, they are guided by a furious, or else by a covetous soul. If by a furious, seeing there is a certain planet, which (as these Astronomers say) doth always design violent influences, wherefore is it not consumed with such a sempiternal fury? Moreover why say men, that a planet is inflamed sooner in one house, then in another? What meeteth it in his own house or in another, that disposeth it to signify evil? Again, how is that inflamed with fury, which they affirm to be immutable? But if the heavens be led by covetousness, what profit or gain do they attract from things here below? For this covetous desire remaineth only in themselves. And whosoever coveteth evil, doth it (as the Philosophers say) because that he is as it were intoxicated and overcome by inebriating matter. But sith the matter of the heavens is far from all change and error, it is neither inebriated nor subverted. Wherewith then will they blame the heavens? If any say that by nature they are evil, how is it, that this evil should come into their nature? For the Sages collect these reasons and original of evil in nature: either for that 
Reasons and original of evil in nature  the efficient cause cannot govern the superfluity of the matter; or else cannot supply where it faileth; or else cannot duly dispose it; and such other reasons as presuppose a feeble power of the cause. But for as much as the smith and carpenter of the heavens is of infinite power, how should he fail in his workmanship? For there was no other cause which might encounter him, since that without any aid, he framed the heavens: neither could any thing resist the infinite worker, who reduced all things into a due and proper estate, as we have heretofore amply declared. Yet notwithstanding so many reasons, how many are there which obstinately leaving to the vain and curious observations of the stars, as an infallible rule of the life and estate of man, do above all things fear, lest in the ascendant of the nativity, any evil planet should have domination? And indeed do we not behold that Astrologers, and above all Magicians, are so much sought after amongst us, that many do (as one may say) bold him to be miserable, who knoweth not his Horoscope? To the end than that we may better expel out of the brain of every one such foolish opinions, let us (I pray you) stretch out this discourse in particular against such as accuse Saturn and Mars for most evil planets: the charge whereof (AMANA) I commit to you.   

Of the Planet Saturn, and how it is nor evil, not any other star. Chapter. 30.  AMANA. 
WE shall do very well, if keeping ourselves from the superstition and curiosity, which misguideth many in the study of judicial Astrology and Divination, we stay ourselves in the most simple and most certain Astronomy, which the spirit of God teacheth us by creation of the world: that is, to contemplate the creator by his works. For so should we become good Astronomers and Christian Astrologers, if (I say) contemplating the heavens, and all the ornament of them, we propose them unto us, as universal preachers of the glory of the Sovereign, and consider them as the high works of his hands, as the Psalmist doth exhort us. And so by creation of the Sun, Moon, Stars, and other celestial bodies, we shall learn to meditate, what light there is in 
Psal. 8. and 19  him, who dwelleth in the inaccessible brightness, and which is the father and fountain of all lights, as also, what good we are to hope for him. For by that good, which the corporal light bringeth unto us, for our bodies; and the Sun, Moon and Stars, for the life of men, we may somewhat judge, what felicity is prepared by the Divine and spiritual light 
A good and true use of Astronomy.  for our souls, and by God our Creator, in whom it abideth: being a sure means not to fear the signs of heaven, nor the constellations and aspects of the stars, wherewith many do so menace men, as if in heaven, as in a court of tyrants, it were ordained, that so many mischiefs as should happen to the world, should be contrived.  
But let those who so charge the stars of crimes, and therefore turn over the books of Pagan Astrologers, and Atheists, rather than divine writings, lend a while an ear to some good witnesses, whom they themselves cannot reprove, and who do even praise the planet of Saturn, the malice of whom we have heard to be so great. Behold then first of all, how the prince of the Astronomical doctrine deposeth and testifieth concerning this planet in these terms: [If Saturn be only signifier in the estate of the mind, and Lord of the place of Mercury, and of the moon, and blazeth towards the corners of the world good 
Ptol. in 3 Apotel. How the planet Saturn is good.  aspects and beams; the child shall be a lover of good things, of great and firm counsel, and a searcher out of secret things and divine.] Likewise julius Firmicus adorning this planet with many great praises, saith, that from his virtue proceedeth a quick and subtle spirit in the deliberation of affairs, a certain word, a stable amity, a long foresight, and a royal counsel. There be also many modern Astronomers, who say of the same Saturn. That even as the common and civil life is designed by jupiter, so likewise the solitary and divine life is appropriated to Saturn: Yea the ancient Philosophers and Poets have sung that he is most good, and that the golden world did pass under him: feigning that jupiter did afterward usurp the kingdom, having chased out Saturn, and that then began the siluerage. And let us note in regard of the most famous Poets amongst the ancients, 
Praise of ancient Poets.  that they have by their writings penetrated into the most profound cabinets of nature, and approached the secrets of the divine thought. For they sung not i●stss (as some hold) which the old Fathers would not mention to their little childen: but they have been acknowledged of the Sages for great Divines, who hide the mysteries both of the one and other nature under the vail of fables, and for this cause are they celebrated of such as understand well their doctrine. That it is so, Aristotle doth plainly manifest, in that he confirm in great points of Philosophy by the testimony of Simenides, and of Homer. And ●●estianss the muentor of the new Academy, ascribed so much honour to Homer, that he never went to bed, but he read some of his verses first, and said likewise in the day time. that he might have more leisure to read (that he went to his beloved. Anaxagoras also, yea and our Basil with laud admire the excellent virtue in the writings of this Greek Poet. And how many be there likewise who esteem Virgil the imitator of Homer, for a Doctor in all natural and mortal Philosophy? For many refer all that, which he hath feigned, to an allegorical sense. Eucretius also entreateth of all the precepts of Philosophy in verse. And Orphaeus singeth more loftily then human knowledge can extend to, the mysteries of Theology and of the sacred ceremonies, which he had learned out of holy letters, as himself confesseth. Ovid likewise hath covered many of the secrets of Pythagoras, and of the creation, and disposition of the Vnivers, in his Metamorphosis: but because he depraveth them with too lascivious a discourse, he loseth very much of their dignity. Wherein he hath been imitated of many other Poets, as in this our 
Against the poets of this age.  age, wherein there are very many, who do the office rather of bawds, then of the true children of the chase Muses, because they delight to weave poisoning sense in the web of their fair words. Such indeed Plato commanded to be chased out of the commonwealth. But to return to our purpose; it is most evident that these ancient Poets, great Philosophers and Divines,, do testify that Saturn is an happy and willing Planet. And in so much as they accuse him for devouring all his children, except four, they themselves interpret that of Time, by which indeed he consumeth all things, except the four elements, which still remain, because that out of them, and into them all nature is changed. And thereof it cometh, that they so call them, to wit, the fire jupiter, the air juno; the water Neptune, and the earth Plato. Moreover if we will in excuse of Saturn, consider the cause of the malice, which commonly Astronomers attribute unto him; it is certain, that the evils wherewith they accuse him proceed from his cold and dry nature, 
From whence the evils ●oe proceed, which are attributed to Saturn.  by which he seemeth to favour melancholy, whose property is to oppress and stop the desiring power and natural love, whose seat is hot and moist. And in that they separate Saturn from human society, we must understand, that this is not the planet which properly they mean, but rather the child disposed to such complexion and disposition, partly through the influence of the stars, partly through his birth and seed of the parents, or the place of his generation, or of his food, and partly also through the disposition which he may get by nurture and manners: and especially if the said planet ruling in the nativity of the child, it be invaded with the dryness of Mars, and coldness of the Moon. But yet one may correct every such evil influence. For the child increasing 
The means to correct all evil influences.  in years and judgement may addict himself to study and contemplation of high and divine things, which are the delights of him, who leadeth a solitary life: and doubtless he shall perceive that Saturn is not evil, but doth rather favour him with a good influence. And if any found himself heavy by reason of his Saturnine complexion, let him meditate on that which is written, [Blessed are they which mourn,] if he be pensive or silent, let him harken to that which is said, [Mary hath chosen the good part:] if he have desire to store up riches, let him lay up in heaven. For so may he easily correct every evil inclination, which 
Matth. 5.  he shall naturally have. And as much may we speak of him who shall be stirred up with the inflammation of Mars. For if the Martial choler maketh him hasty, and subject to anger, let him not use it against the poor and little ones, but to repressevices. For as golden chrusostom saith, [Where there is no wrath nor indignation, there science profiteth nothing, the judgements are not constant, & crimes are not corrected.] Let then wars, murders, boldness, magnanimity, spoils, captivities, flights, violences, and such like be exercised against the enemies of God, and for the public peace: and then this Mars will not be evil, but rather numbered amongst the saints and servants of God, with Phinaeas son of Eleasar, commended for his zeal, and with David who fought the battles of the Almighty. But if among Warriors there happen deceit, perjury, frauds, temerity, fury, man slaughters, thefts, and such mischiefs; all this cometh to pass, because the rule of reason is broken. 
Numb 25.  And then this gate being open, the winds of passions whisk out, and blow violently, like a great tempest. But so long as they remain under the commandment of Aeolus, to wit, so long as reason duly governeth; every violent motion proceeding from Martial choler, is easily moderated, and turneth to profit. The like must be judged of Venus, who is said to induce men to a lustful and lascivious desire. For if we govern well the concupiscence or appetite heated by this planet, the Sun and Mars, thereto ministering fervour; thereupon would ensue a good love in flamed towards God and our neighbour. So then we may conclude our speech, that men do wrongfully complain of their nature or the influence of the stars, when they should rather accuse the perverseness of their ill inclined will, which causeth their voluntary sin, as in the second part of our Academy we have related. But this will be more clear unto us, if we consider how the stars work in man, not in constraining, but disposing: which (ARAM) shall be the subject of your speech.   

Of the Planets in general, and how they work in man, not in constraining, but disposing. Chap. 31.  ARAM. 
MAny holding opinion, that we obtain nothing by the influence of the stars, do reject the doctrine of Astrologians as absurd, and altogether from Philosophy. And amongst other reasons, they allege that there have been many grave philosophers, who have applied their care and diligence, to search out the causes of things, borrowing their knowledge from Physic, from the Mathematics, and from many other arts and sciences; and yet never looked after the causes in astrology: namely Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle, Plotin, Avicen, Auerrois, Hypocrates, and others the most renowned ancient authors. But one may answer them, that as it was forbidden by the Mosaical law, that any should reap his field all throughout, but should leave some corner for the poor and needful, whereof they might make bundles and farthels to sustain themselves, and appease their hunger: so it may be, that the former philosophers have left to their posterity, in the spacious field of the secrets of nature, enough for 
Levit. 19 & 13.  others to gather and to search out after them. And indeed if any one should set himself against us, saying, [Saint Augustine, Ambrose, Jerome, Origen, Damascene, and other doctors both Hebrews, Greeks' and Latins, have with most diligent labour sounded the sense of the Scriptures, without touching that, which now you do: wherefore that which you say, is not true.] What could this conclude against us? For it is a common thing in schools, that nothing is concluded of pure negatives. And the Sages condemn not that, which any one hath found out for excellent by the subtlety of his own wit, though it never before had been touched by others. Wherhfore no man is to be condemned, if 
Nothing concluded by denying.  he make a farther search of causes, than many ancient Philosophers have done, who would not pass the bounds of the elementary nature, being contented to sound the causes by the power and qualities of these inferior bodies, as many of our age do, whose theoric and practic doth too much fail. Let us moreover add, that the most renowned among the ancients accord in this point. [That the inferior things. and such as are called natural, do draw to them the favour of the superior and celestial, rather by one aspect then by another.] 
Inferior things draw favour from the superior.  Which skill is holden excellent to be known. But for the Peripatetics, who abased in their sensible objects, content themselves with the sensible qualities for the cause of all effects, saying, that if there be found any effect, over which such a quality hath no power, that this proceeds from a cause to us unknown: we may evidently see, that they have erred in all their teaching. For when Aristotle entreateth in the Meteors of the heat of the Sun, he saith, that he proceedeth from two causes joined together: to wit, from his motion 
Error of Aristotle in the cause of the heat of the Sun.  and place: not from his motion only, as being quicker than jupiter, Mars, and Saturn: which forasmuch as they are more remote, their inflammation in a very quick motion, doth not artaine to us. Neither also can the heat of the Sun proceed from the Moon, Venus and Mercury, because that though they be nearer unto us, yet being more slow in motion they are not so much inflamed. This reason he delivereth, and this makes me to wonder, how a person so celebrated could imagine an inflammation in such things, as receive no strange impression, for he would attribute that to the distance and motion, which should be referred to the natural virtue. Might not some other then, better sound the cause why the interieection of the Sun beams doth bring heat, though Aristotle a more subtle searcher of natural causes, could not attain to it? Which perhaps he abstained to do, because he would not pass the limits by him appointed in his basest Philosophy, which he calleth natural. Yet nevertheless mounting somewhat higher, in that which he wretch to Alexander, he teacheth, that in taking of medicines the aspect of the heavens must diligently observed. But Hypocrates proceeding farther, doth foretell the diseases, reco●ry & death, by the house of the moon, & the aspects thereof, which the other planets. 
A Physician must be an Astronomes.  And ●aly in the beginning of the work of this author, and according to his advise, saith that ●he physician ignorant in astronomy, is like a blind man that gropes for his way with his staff. Besides, it would be too long to collect that which Plato in his obscure discourse, and divers Academics and unknown Philosophers, do teach to be extracted from the ●eavenss, both how, and when.  
And what do the heavens by their continual motion, but only work in us? Some 
Of the power of the stars in men, not constraining but disposing.  nay say, they give influence to the elements and to plants. But I demand; are not our bodies heated by the sun; and altered, and (with cold) benumbed by the Moon? The simple vulgar is not ignorant hereof. Why then do we not say, that the stars communicate other influences no less known to the Sages, than these of the said lights are to the vulgar? And yet not that their power performeth entire effects. For with them (as we have heard) concur the diet, manners, nativity, and place, but above all, the liberty of the mind is always dominant, to moderate and govern all the inclinations thereof, which indeed proceedeth of the proper spiritual nature thereof, which moveth the body; and not the body the mind: and with this consenteth that which Ptolimie saith in the beginning of his Apotelesmes, and in his book of fruit, speaking thus, [A good Astrologian may well prevent much evil, which otherwise might happen by the disposition of the stars, if he foreknow their nature, and forecast how to hinder that it happen not, and that the ill disposed subject receive no damage by the place, by which it should receive profit. So then, we should not impose upon Saturn, an harmful sadness, or wicked severity: nor upon Mars, a cruel rashness: nor on Mercury, a cautelous malice: nor on Venus, lascivious loves, nor an inconstant proceeding, on the Moon: no more than he that hath blear eyes, should impute his infirmity to the light, nor the flaming of an house to the fire, nor the bruise to the stone, nor bonds, prisons, and executions of malefactors to the severity of the judge. For every evil effect ensueth upon the indisposition of the subject receiving, and not upon the influence of the superior powers: which (to the contrary) we may maintain (as already we have done) to be of itself good still, yea by the particular ordinances of the stars, according to the doctrine of Mathematicians. For thus many of them say [Saturn disposeth the intellectual virtue, he provoketh to wisdom, and to contemplation of divine and human things, and pierceth to the brightness of true Philosophy. But if ●e Saturnist apply his profound thoughts to evil, to accomplish his disordinate appetite, than he wholly intendeth to deceit, fraud and cog, and yet the loftiest and divinest part thereof called Synteresis, resisting it in him; then full of melancholy, he feeleth himself so oppressed with anxeitie and tediousness, that he supposeth 
How the stars become ill.  that most good and profitable, which is most noisome and damageable, and as he findeth himself more oppressed with the often remembrance of his wicked life, many visions do oftentimes present themselves unto him, like semblances of the dead, shadows of the deceased, horrors of sepulchres and tombs of such as are departed. To the inner eye of his thought presenteth itself the wrath of God, the assaults of the devil, despair and hate of salvation. And as much may we speak of the Martialist, who if he excite the violence and force of his courage, not to zeal of justice as he aught to do, but to acomplish his desires and carnal appetites: then commits he theeveries, rapes, and many other mischiefs. So that thereupon some will attribute evil to the planets which are called welwilling: For the ordinance of jupiter, which by the hot and moist, or by a debonair nature guideth to clemency, might be so much augmented, that the kerbed and perverted spirit might be forced to an entire dissolution. So the noble and mild influence of Venus, which maketh man benign, if it be not moderated, will make him be effeminate, and a slave to all lustful appetites. And the Sun, father of life, and giver of light, directeth men to true wisdom and royal dignity, and yet if the splendour of the mind be abused, and that it be converted into pride, it mounteth into an ambitious presumption, arrogancy, and scorn of others. Thus then may we say, that many evils may proceed from that which is good; as of the abundance of wine wherewith any man is glutted, doth arise the oppression of the heart, abating of virtue, and many such accidents: though being moderately taken, it rejoiceth the heart, and comforteth the natural powers. So the water likewise, which is a good element, and very profitable for all, drowneth and choketh those which take not heed thereof, and overturneth those buildings which are not very firm. Warfore let us conclude, that all influences are good, so that the subjects be well disposed, a●● can use them: and especially, that the stars and planets operate in man, not in constrainin, but in disposing his inclinations, the which by reason, the mind may always moderate & correct. And taking occasion upon this matter, let us come to the true Astronomy and Astrology of Christians, which is to contemplate the glory and greatness of God by the work of the heavens: as (ACHITOB) finishing this days work you may re●●to us.   

Of the true Astronomy, which the heavens teach us, and especially the sun in his admirable effects. Chapter 32.  ACHITOB. 
IT is not without cause that the Prophet saith,] The heavens declare the glory of God, and the earth showeth the works of his hands.] For thereby 
Psal. 19  he evidently teacheth; that the work of the spheres, and their well ordered motion do demonstrate, as with the finger even to our eyes, the great and admirable providence of God their Creator, even as if the heavens should speak to every one. In an other place it is written, [This high ornament, this clear firmament, the beauty of the heaven so glorious to behold, ●is a thing full of Majesty.] Though then that the heavens 
Eccles. 43.  have neither voice nor speech like men, yet when the workmanship of them, and the goodly images portrayed and placed in them, do present themselves unto us, it is as much as if God spoke to us. For sight belongeth to the eyes, as hearing doth to the ears: and that which offereth itself to those, is as the sound is to these. Wherhfore in very 
The heavens are visible words which preach unto us God.  deed we may call not only the heavens, sun, moon and stars, but all other creatures also, visible words, which speak to the eyes, as those which are in sound and voice do speak to the ears. If likewise we can very well understand dumb folks by the signs which they make us, and say that they speak by signs: why then should we not harken to the language of God, speaking by the heavens, and by the signs, which he hath placed in them? For may we not truly say, that they speak unto us by signs? And if we call books (dumb teachers) because they teach by the means of writing, which they lay before our eyes, what fairer book may we see written in a fairer letter, and of more neat impression, and printed with goodlier characters, than this great book of the whole Vnivers, and chief of the heavens? Again, if it be needful for us to seek out images to represent God, that so he might become visible to us, where may we find them fairer and more lively, and which speak unto us a language most easy to be understood, if we be not altogether deaf? Wherhfore it is not without good cause, that when God, willing to make his greatness, his magnificence and providence known to his people, saith by Easie. [Lift up your eyes on high and behold who hath created these things, which is he, 
isaiah 40.  that bringeth out their armies by number, and calleth them all by their names. By the greatness of his power, and mighty strength nothing faileth.] This is it in all these considerations that David in the place before alleged, after he hath acknowledged that there is no language nor speech, where the voice of the heavens is not heard, doth further, add, that their line is go forth through all the earth, and their words unto the ends of the world: meaning by this line, the magnificent frame and excellent workmanship of them. For all is so well made and composed therein by the workemaster, that it seemeth to have been all drawn out by line, rule and compass. And when he speaketh of their words, he understandeth the mark and impression which in is them; by which they preach unto us in stead of words. And for this cause also he saith before: that one day uttereth speech unto another day, and one night teacheth knowledge unto an other night: which is as much, as if be should say, that one day teacheth and preacheth another, 〈◊〉 the night doth the same: because that from day to day, and from night to night, God 
〈…〉.  〈…〉 his power and glory.  
And let us note, that the Prophet proposing unto the heavens thus in general, as true preachers of his divine providence, maketh principal and express mention of the Sun, because it is the most goodly creature, the most agreeable, most profitable, and necessary for men, and for all the test of the works of God. For this cause also, every one giveth more heed unto it, then to all the other celestial bodies. For it is by the course and means of the Sun, that we have ordinarily days and nights, and that they be sometimes longer, sometimes shorter, and another time equal (as hath been already told us) and also, that we have the distinction of years, and of the divers seasons of them, as of the spring time, summer, autumn and winter, and of the time fit to sow, plant, till the earth, and to gather the first-fruits thereof, and generally to perform all other works necessary for the life of man. And then may very well be considered one the course and compass of this goodly light, which is from the one end of heaven to the other end, and how there is nothing that is hid from the heat thereof. Shall we let pass in silence the gallant course, which every day it maketh, compassing the whole world in the space of four and twenty hours, with out being any whit weary? For from the hour, that God hath created it, it hath never desisted from work day nor night, and hath never failed one jot, neither shall cease, so long as the world shall endure. And therefore it is also said in Ecclesiasticus, [The sun also a marvelous instrument, when it appeareth, declareth at his going out, the work of the most 
Eccles. 43.  high.] And presently after, [Great is the Lord that made it, by whose commandment it doth run hastily.] Than speaking in general of all the planets and stars, [It is a camp (saith he) pitched on high, shining in the firmament of heaven: the beauty of the heavens are the glorious stars, and the ornament that shineth in the high places of the Lord By the commandment of the holy one they continued in their order, and fail not in their watch.] And who is it, except the blind, that beholdeth not this goodly sun, to pass out of his pavilion, like a magnificent king, that marcheth forth of his palace? Who seethe not the fair countenance that he showeth to all, being as the eye, & mirror of the whole world? Who vieweth not his trim locks, and the golden and yellow beard of his rays, by which he spreadeth his light, and heat upon all creatures? In such sort that as none can avoid his heat, so none can fly from his light. For as it is written, [By the word of the Lord are his works: The sun that shineth looketh upon all things, and all the works thereof are full 
Eccles. 42. Eccles 43.  of the glory of the Lord At noon when it burneth the country, who may abide for the heat thereof? The sun burneth the mountains three times more than he, which keepeth a furnace with continual heat: it casteth out fiery vapours, & with the shining beams blindeth the eyes. Hast thou commanded the morning since thy days (saith the Lord to job) and hast thou caused the morning to know his place? That it might take hold of the corners of the earth, and that the wicked might be shaken out of it? For (as it is said in another 
job 38.  place,) They are among those, which abhove the light, and know not the ways thereof, nor continued in the paths thereof. The murderer riseth early, and killeth the 
job 24.  poor and needy, and in the night he is as a thief. The eye also of the adulterer waiteth for the twilight, and saith, None eye shall see me, and disguiseth his face. They digs through houses in the dark, which they marked for themselves in the day: they know not the light. But the morning is even to them as the shadow of death, if one know them, they are in the terrors of the shadow of death.] By which testimony: aptly agreeing with that, which is 
john 3  written every man that doth evil hateth the light, we may know, besides the greatness of the works of God, which principally shineth in the creation of the Sun, how even they, who would not behold the light thereof but fly from it as much as they may, because they hate it and fear it as the death, cannot for all that avoid it. To the end then that we may reap some profit by this discourse, and so finish this days talk, let us think, that if the most ignorant and most doltish, are inexcusable for their ignorance and ingratitude towards God, for the sermons of the heavens, which they continually make to all creatures: how much more are the learned, and chiefly Astronomers and Astrologians; if they know not very well how to use their science to the glory of God. For they are called Astronomers, because they have the knowledge of the laws and rules, which the sovereign creator 
Of the names of Astronomers and Astrologers, and of their true intent.  hath established and ordained among the Stars and their courses and motions according as their name derived from the Greek tongue importeth: as also the name of Astrology will infer as much, seeing that thereby is signified, that they understand and can tender a reason of the nature, and of the effects of the celestial bodies. Wherhfore then, sith they have greater knowledge, than the ignorant and common people as well by the knowledge, as by the observations and continual experience of the effects of the planets, they shall be therefore found the more capable before God; if they understand not the language of the heavens, thereby to learn how to glorify him. And yet so far are the greater part of them from doing that which we say, that contrariwise we see very many, which impute that to the spheres, that they should attribute to the spheres creator, and so draw man from God their Father, by the vanity of their human dreams, under colour of their Astronomy and Astrology, causing them to stay in regard of the creatures with them, and so make them Atheists, as they are, when they acknowledge none other God, but an idol of Nature. And therefore I desire that we may to morrow again proceed to behold the admirable effects of the Sun, being most apparent to all, & most easy for to know, by which the rudest and most simple may learn to come to God: as among other effects is that of the rising and setting of this goodly light. For the providence of God shineth marvelously in this point, as (ASER) we may learn of you.   
The end of the fourth days work.   

The fifth days work.  

Of the rising and setting of the Sun: and of the providence of God, which shineth in the commodities of day and night. Chapter 33.  ASER. 
IF with understanding we read the books of the heavens, we shall verily esteem the celestial bodies to be the chief natural Philosophers, Doctors, and Astronomers, by whom God daily teacheth us that the principal Astronomy and Astrology, which he will have us learn, and whereof we must not be ignorant, without being convicted, as well the unlearned as the learned of very great unthankfulness towards him, and of more beastly brutishness, then is amongst the bruit beasts. For he hath assigned us teachers and masters which keep common school with us day and night, as by our precedent discourse we have already understood. And yet the greatest part of men, yea almost all, do no more profit in this school, than the very beasts, though indeed it standeth continually wide open to all: yea and they, which should chief learn out of this great book of nature touching the knowledge of the creator of all things, are those which oftentimes are farthest to seek. For in lieu of committing themselves to be guided by this book, so to approach to God, as he pointeth out the path and way to those, who have eyes to see and a spirit to understand; they rather take occasion therein, by the vain dreams of their own aprehensions to wander from the truth. And for this cause Moses, David and the other Prophets and servants of God, speaking of the works of the creation, and of the divine providence in them, do propound unto us, but simply, those which are most apparent to all, and the most easy to be understood, because they will not only teach the most learned (who are they which willingly make lest profit in their writings) but will also instruct the simple and ignorant, who God doth oftentimes make capable of his secrets. For which cause likewise these holy fathers speak not of the spheres, and heavenly bodies subtly, as Philosophers in their schools do, but rather vulgarly; to the end that the most rude and plainest may understand their Philosophy, replenished with the doctrine of salvation. For is very necessary that every one should be instructed therein, according to his own capacity.  
To pursue then our yesterdays speech, begun concerning the Sun, which the holy Scripture setteth so often before our eyes as an universal Preacher of the Sovereign Majesty, 
Utility of the light and heat of the Sun.  I pray you let us first consider, what joy and what good it is, that men receive by it, so long as it distributeth his light, as we have already heard, being ●like the chariot of God to bring it to them. Likewise how much pleasure and profit receive they by his heat: Again, do we not see how he hath his determined time to make us day? And how that after he hath lightened one part of the world, during such time as was assigned to him by God the Creator, he than transporteth his light to the other part? And when he hath performed his take on one side of the world, he returneth to the other without any ceasing, rest, or fainting. Wherein we must especially acknowledge Gods wonderful providence, who hath created him neither greater nor less than is necessary to perform the office. which hath been committed to him. And for his greatness we may truly judge that it is immense and admirable, because that in what place soever men may be, whether in the East, or in the West, or in the North, or in the South parts, yet do they all behold it, of one self same greatness. And therefore doth the prophet say [They which devil in 
Psal. 65.  the uttermost parts of the earth, are afraid of thy signs, and thou makest them joyful with the going forth of the evening, and morning:] that is, with the rising and setting of the sun, and other planets and stars. Wherein we wust note, that though we commonly say of the sun, that he riseth and setteth, as if we spoke of a man, that went to take his rest in the night, after that he travailed all day: yet in truth he neither riseth nor setteth, for that he is continually busy; bringing day to some, when others have 
How the rising and setting of the Sun must be taken.  night. But men say commonly so, because that in regard of us, he seemeth, when he retyreth, as if he went to rest at even tied: and that he riseth in the morning, when he returnneth unto us. Wherhfore we say, that he is hidden and down, when we see him not: and that he is risen, when he appeareth at point of day. And so do the rude people and children, which devil near the mountains, accustomably say, that he is go to hide himself behind them. And they which are near the sea suppose, that he goeth to plunge and wash himself therein as the Poets also say, accommodating their style to the vulgar. And yet all may behold that he riseth not on the same side where he setteth, but on the other quite opposite. Whereby is easy to be judged, that he hath not reposed all the while that men slept, but hath passed much way. And that he still carrieth his light with him, for it is a most certain thing that he hath not delivered night and darkness to those people and nations, by which he passed; but light, and day. But if there be few amongst the rude and ignorant, which meditate these things so far; there be fewer, which consider of the providence of God, that manifesteth itself in this perpetual changing of day into night, and of night into day. For there is nothing more contrary than light and darkness, and consequently then night and day? And yet hath God so well dispused, compacted, and reconciled these contrarieties together, that if things were otherwise ordained, there were neither 
Eccles. 42.  man nor beast that could long live upon the face of the earth. And therefore Ecclesiasticus saith, [O how delectable are all his works, & to be considered even to the very sparks of fire: they live all, and endure for ever; and whensoever need is, they are all obedient. They are all double, one contrary to another: he hath made nothing that hath any fault. The one commendeth the goodness of the other, and who can be satisfied with beholding God's glory?] And indeed if the day should last perpetually, & equally alike in all parts of the world the heat of the sun would so scorch every thing that it would dry up and consume not only 
Marvels of the providence of God in the commodities of day and night.  men and beasts, but even all moisture and humidity which is in the earth. Whereby all living creatures should fail, for they could not live for two causes. First because that life doth principally lie in heat and moisture, and is conserved by them, according to the order that God hath set in nature, to guard and maintain it. Wherhfore as men and beasts lose their life, if their natural heat be altogether extinguished: so doth it likewise befall them, when their moisture is entirely consumed, For there must be a very equal proportion in all those qualities, which are in the bodies of living creatures, to wit, in heat and coldness, in dryness and moisture, according to the nature of the four elements whereof they are composed; for the excess of the one doth confounded the other. For which cause God hath so disposed the course of the Sun, that he distributeth his heat in so good and just measure, that he hindereth the too much coldness and moisture, which might quench the natural heat: and yet doth not so consume them by the heat and dryness which he causeth, but that there always remaineth so much as is needful for the life of all creatures. And for the other reason that they would fail, it is that neither man, nor any other Animal can live without nourishment, to repair in them that, which the natural heat, like a fire incessantly flaming, hath consumed of radical humour in their bodies: and yet this heat must be likewise maintained that it be not extinguished, as we have amply discoursed concerning these things in the second part of our Achademy. For this cause then God hath ordained eating and drinking for the nouriture of all living creatures, and hath appointed to the earth, as to the mother of all, the charge and office to produce first-fruits, and other nourishments needful for them. Which she cannot do being by nature cold and dry, if as she is warmed by the heat of the sun, she be not also moistened by the waters both of heaven and earth. And therefore when that the sun hath heated and driedup all day long, the night (which is the shadow of the earth) doth afterwards ensue, and taking from us the sight of the sun and his light, doth by this means bring unto us darkness, which causeth night, wherein the Moon who is cold and moist, hath her rule; as the sun, who is hot and dry, hath his rule in the day time. And so we must consider these two celestial bodies very nearly, according to their proper effects, which we perceive and experiment here on earth below, as also Moses testifieth unto us, saying, that 
Genes. 1.  God created two great lights amongst others, to be as regents and rulers, the one of day, and the other of night. So then as the earth, and all that it beareth, together with all animals or living creatures that it nourisheth, are heated and driedup in the day time by the sun: even so are they moistened and refreshed in the night time by the withdrawing thereof, and by the humidity and coldness of the Moon. Wherein there especially happeneth a mutual accord between heaven and earth, under which we comprise the air, waters, and all creatures therein contained, with their natures and qualities. Moreover in this marvel, we are to consider, that as men and animals cannot survive without nourishment, which God hath provided by the means aforesaid: so likewise could they not live without taking some rest. For they are not of nature like the heavens, and planets which have continual motions, and yet wear not away. And therefore as God hath appointed the day for his creatures to travellin, so hath he ordained the night for them to rest in. And as waking is proper to travel, so is sleeping peculiar to rest. In which, sleep being requisite, and sleep requiring humidity and freshness, the better to dispose and induce living creatures to sleep, the night is much fit therefore, and for rest because of the moist and cold nature thereof, then is the day, which participateth most with heat and dryness. And because all repose is in the night, it is also more quiet than the day: neither is there so much noise, which may hinder sleep and rest. Wherein we have yet another commodity of the distinction and exchange of days and nights, whereto we may likewise add that which David declareth when he saith, [He appointed the moon to distinguish 
Psalm. 104.  the seasons, the sun knoweth his going down. Thou makest, and it is night, wherein all the beasts of the forest creep forth. The lions roar after their pray, and seek their meat at God. When the sun riseth; they retire and couch in their dens. Than goeth man forth to his work, and to his labour until evening.] Behold here goodly considerations; how God hath provided for the preservation of the life of his creatures, by means of day and night. For because that the wild beasts, which live by pray are dangerous and cruel, he so guideth and governeth them by his providence, that he keepeth them quiet, and shut up all day in their caves and dens, in such sort, that they seldom come forth but in the night, to seek their pray, even then when men & domestical beasts retire themeselues, and rest out of their dangers. Thus have we very many commodities by the day and the night: And more should be found out by a careful search. For all that which we have hitherto declared, is so evident before the eyes of every one, that the most rude & simple amongst men must needs consider and understand it. But I think it most convenient that continuing the principal subject of our discourses, we should speak of the excellent instructions, which do likewise present themselves in the consideration of the second course and motion of the Sun and Moon, for the distinction of years, months and seasons, whereof we have heretofore made mention. Than to you (AMANA) I commit this discourse.   

Of the second course and motion of the Sun and Moon, for the distinction of years, months and seasons: and of the providence of God in these things. Chap. 34.  AMANA. 
THe Sun as we have heretofore heard, hath two sundry courses: the one by which he bringeth unto us night and day; and the other by which he distinguisheth unto years and seasons. Now every one seethe that the Sun passeth and runneth through the heavens: and it seemeth to many that the heaven stirreth not, though in truth it be otherwise. For it is the heaven which turneth, and taketh, and carrieth away the sun with it, so causing him to perform his course. So likewise every one knoweth that the days, nights, years, and times are divided and measured by the course of the Sun; but the ignorant and common people understand not how this cometh to pass, neither do they consider of it. For these causes then, there be many, who cannot so well acknowledge the excellency, magnifience and divine glory, which shineth in the heavens, as they do who have been conversant in the study of Astronomy and Astrology, considering that the celestial light continually lighteneth their understanding. And without this guide 
Of the two courses which the sun hath.  all science little availeth for the true knowledge of God. It is then from Astronomers that we learn, how that besides the course which the sun and moon do ordinarily make, within the space of four and twenty hours, which is commonly called a natural day, as likewise all the other planets and stars make their course by violence of the course of the highest heaven, who comprising all the spheres within the concavity thereof, carrieth them away with him, and causeth to perform the same course which he pursueth; like to a great wheel that should draw about other lesser ones that were conjoined with it: Besides (I say) this common course of all the heavenly bodies, the sun, the move, and the other planets, have another course proper and peculiar to every of their spheres, which God hath assigned them: according to which, the sun performeth his in 365. days, and six hours, and certain minutes; as long observation and daily experience hath taught those, who have diligently applied themselves to the contemplation of the heavens: who likewise have knowledge of the proper course of the moon, and every one of the stars; as hath been already related in our precedent speeches.  
Now as by the first course and motion of the sun, we have a distinction of the days 
Of the effects of the second course of the Sun, and Moon.  and nights: so likewise by the second course thereof, is given unto us the difference of their length and shortness, and the distinction of the years and divers seasons. For we take the succession of the years from this second course of the sun, as from the moon we have the distinction of the months, according to which she increaseth and decreaseth, as we ordinarily behold, by reason of the divers opposition of the sun, from whom she receiveth her light in such quantity, as is sufficient for her to shine upon the earth. So Ecclesiasticus saith, 
Eccles. 43.  That the Lord hath made the moon to appear according to her seasons, which should be a declaration of the time, and for a perpetual sign: that the feasts are appointed according to her, her light diminishing to the last end; and the months take their name of her, and that she groweth wondrously in her changing. Likewise each one knoweth that the moon declareth the times fit to sow, plant, and lop in, and to do other such like businesses, whereof one must judge according to the state and disposition of her. So then these two great lights, the Sun and Moon are most notable before all the world, forsomuch as every one may see with his eyes (if he be not altogether deprined of understanding) the excellent works which God performeth in them, and by them. And therefore 
Psalm. 147.  also the holy Scripture doth propose them unto us more often, and more especially, to induce us to consider of the majesty of God in his works, than any other of the celestial bodies, which are infinite in number. Which, for this cause, none can know particularly, nor yet number them, nor name them, save God alone, as his word teacheth us by his prophet saying, [He counteth the number of the stars, and calleth them all by their names.] Whereupon we may affirm, that all that we shall here discourse upon and that the most subtle amongst men can describe, is a very small thing, in respect of the greatness & excellency, which their creator hath engraved in them. But yet by this which is proposed unto us, we may easily consider, into what an admiration men should be ravished, if it might be permitted them to behold, view and contemplate fully, and in perfection all the stately work of the heavens, and of all the lights in them contained, and to understand their natures, effects and properties, and all the beauty and goodly order, which therein is, and the great utility which thereby redoundeth to men and to all creatures. For all thereein is disposed by an excellent order, like an host and army, whereof God is the leader and governor. And therefore this whole ornament of the heaven and of these fair lights is 
Deut 17. Psal. 24. isaiah. 60.  called in the Scripture the Host, Army, and Soldiers of heaven: and God, who is the Lord and Prince, and the great and sovereign captain, is likewise named the Lord of hosts.  
Moreover, as we have noted, that in the succession of the day and night, the providence of God doth publicly declare itself: so have we excellent testimonies in the diversity of the months, and of the seasons, which are throughout the year. For some are cold, others excessive hot, some dry, and some wet, some temperate, and other some untemperate. 
Diversity of the seasons in the year to testify the providence of God.  For according as the sun doth approach near, or recoil from us, or as it is higher or lower, according as our sight considereth it, and the situation of the places & countries, which we inhabit, doth present it unto us; and that his heat remaineth more or less upon the earth, by means of his proper and particular course: so have we the days longer or shorter, and the nights likewise, and more or less hot, cold, dry, and wet weather, and more temperateness and untemperatnes: So that it may seem that the year is distinguished by divers ages, like to the life of man. And therefore many say that the spring-time is as the infancy and childhood of the year: the summer like the youth & virility thereof: autumn like the ripe age inclining to oldness: and winter like the decrepit and lastage, wherein it seemeth that all is mortified, and become dead: then we behold the spring-time again return like a new creation and reparation of the world, and consequently all the rest of the seasons, not failing of the time ordained to them. For as the sun never faileth to bring the day in due time: so likewise doth it not fail to distinguish always unto us the divers seasons in every year, in such sort as it hath done from the beginning. The moon also hath her proper effects in all these things, and is very powerful as well among living creatures, as among the 
Power of the moon upon all creatures.  first-fruits of the earth; through the changes, which are in her. For it is seen by experience, that according as she increaseth or decreaseth, so do the humours in all creatures augment and diminish, and are tender or firm, and change diversly. Moreover, as this planet altereth her course, so doth the weather change in disposition, turning sometimes into rain, sometimes being fair, and sometimes tempestuous. But above all, the power which God hath placed in her, manifesteth itself most evidently in the waters of the sea, especially in the flow and ebbings thereof. And although that amongst so many effects produced by these two goodly lights, there are great contrarieties and marvelous differences: yet God by his 
Testimony of the providence of God in the harmony of the seasons of the year.  providence can reduce them to singular agreement, and make them all return to one bound and point. For the excess of the one is the temperature of the other. For as one season is apt to sow and plant in, so is another fit to make the fruits grow, and ripen in: and another is proper to gather them in, and prepare them to serve our uses. And as the cold and drought do much hinder corruptions and infections, which might arise through excessive heat and wetnes: so doth heat and moisture temperate the great cold and dryness, and conserve and repair that which they would destroy: so that by the one of these qualities the defect of the other is supplied, & the excess of the one is the temperature of the other: as we have heard that there cometh to pass, by the succession of day & night which causeth that many commodities do flow to men and animals. By how much the more we consider of these things, by so much the more shall we found occasion to wonder at the works and providence of God. For whereas the property of one contrary is to destroy another: he hath so well tempered and reconciled them, that he causeth the one to be preserved by the other: yea that the one cannot subsist without the aid of his companion. Which taketh place not only in these things, which we have already mentioned, but likewise in all creatures, which are in the universal world. For it is all composed of contrarienatures. And yet God their Father maketh them to fit so well together, that he reduceth all discord into concord, and all enmity into amity: as the example is notable in man's body being compounded of elements and qualities clean contrary one to another; and yet conjoined by such a unity, that the composition and preservation is most firm and assured, so long time as it pleaseth God to maintain his work. But this matter will be more clearly expounded, when we shall discourse of the elementary world. Yet before we leave the worthy subject, which hath been given us to discouse upon the celestial fires, it will not be a little fruitful, if we consider of the image of God, and his eternal lights, which is proposed to us in the Sun: and the felicity of man's life is represented by changing of the light into darkness. Which (ARAM) I desire that we may hear of you.   

Of the image of God, and of his light which is proposed us in the Sun: with the felicity of man's life in the changing of light and of darkness. Chap. 35.  ARAM. 
THose matters which hitherto have been by us delivered concerning the celestial bodies, although they be very briefly touched of us, yet may they serve for a very good foundation, to give us some entrance into a more lofty and more excellent Astrology, wherein we have the word of God for our guide. For it is easy for us already to understand, if we be well instructed concerning the unity of God in trinity of persons, and if we have in memory the discourse which we have held concerning the creation of heaven and of the celestial bodies; what goodly images of this divine essence we have portrayed in them, and principally in the sun; who alone is in the world sufficient for the total vniuers: even as there is but one God, who is the sufficiciencie of all creatures. Moreover as this visible sun is a fountain of light, which is never exhausted nor yet diminisheth in communicating himself with all creatures, but is perpetual; so is it of God, concerning whom it is written, that he hath garnished the excellent 
Eccles 42.  works of his wisdom, being from everlasting, and to everlasting for ever; and that unto him nothing can he added, neither can he be diminished. Moreoever, when it is said of God, that he dwelleth in unaccessible light, by reason that it is incemprehensible to all 
1. Tim. 6. james 1 Mal. 4. john 1. 3. 8. 9 12. Matth. 5. Ephes. 6.  creatures: and when he is called the father of light, and his son jesus Christ the son of justice, and the light of the world and his word; and likewise they who hear it, and who receive it are called lights, candles, lamps, and burning toriches: we must by so many testimonies, propound unto us in our understanding another invisible and spiritual world, of which this same visible and corporal one is nothing but a very rude portraiture, and an image much differing from that which it representeth: and so conclude, that if this image and picture, and that which yet we behold not, but as in a dim glass, be a thing so goodly and so excellent; that indeed it may be covered with the vail of this All, which we so much admire. For we may say with Ecclesiasticus: That there are hid yet many greater 
Eccles 43.  things than these be, and we have seen but few of his works. For (as he addeth) who hath seen him that he may tell us? And who can magnify him as he is? Consequently let us set before our eyes all this invisible and spiritual world, replenished with the souls and spirits as we behold this visible world replinished with bodies: and let us contemplate twice as many spiritual eyes in this intelligible sphere as there be corporal in all men, and in other living creatures: and then let us mount up to God, and to jesus Christ our Lord, which is the Sun that illuminateth and lighteneth all: and so let us consider how bright this sun must be, and what is the light and splendour of him, considering that he is the great Son, eternal, infinite, and incomprehensible, who hath created that Sun which we behold, the light whereof is not so much in proportion comparable with the lest beam of the divine light, as is the brightness of the lest star, yea of a candle compared with all this visible son or as one drop of water balanced with the huge sea.  
Now let us consider, that if the sight of this heavenly planet be pleasant to us, and bring unto us joy and comfort through his light and heat, being cause of so many profits & benefits to all creatures: how much more should the contemplation of the great everlasting Son be delightful unto us? And what inexplicable benefits doth it bring to men, namely to their souls and spirits? For this is the true Sun of justice, which according to the prophet, 
Mal. 4.  hath health in his wings, that is, in his beams, by which he maketh men enjoy life eternal. And therefore very fitly doth the Scripture compare, not only the knowledge of God but also his favour and grace, and the times of prosperity, and of his aid and succour, to the light: as also it compareth men's ignorance of God, and the times of adversity, and of his fury and vengeance, to the night and to darkness. For this cause isaiah willing to 
isaiah 60.  declare a great grace of God to the people of Israel, saith amongst other things. [Thou shalt have no more sun to shine by day, neither shall the brigtnesse of the Moon shine unto thee: for the Lorld shall be thine everlasting light, and thy God, thy glory, thy sun shall never go down, neither shall thy Moon be hid: for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy sorrow shall be ended.] And when the prophets denounce unto men any great and horrible and fearful judgement of God, they commonly say: 
isaiah 13. & 24. joel 2. Acts 2. Matth. 24. isaiah 34.  that the sun, the moon, and the stars shall lose their brightness: that the sun shall wax dark, and the moon shall be turned into blood and the stars shall fall from heaven; and the heaven itself shall roll like a scroll: so that the whole face of the world shall be changed, as if it should be turned upside down, and perish clean. And though these things come not to pass just so in respect of the creatures, yet do the prophets by such manner of speech signify the greatness of the judgements of God, and of his wrath, when he punisheth man. For though the nature which he hath created, doth still remain in one estate; yet it happeneth commonly to men, according to the feeling which they have of the wrath of God (except they be altogether obdurate against his judgements) as if the whole frame of the world were overturned, and as if all creatures should set themselves against them to war upon them and confounded them, by rushing on them, and running at them. On the other side isaiah declaring the grace which God would show to his people, speaketh thus: [The people that walked in darkness have seen light; 
isaiah 9  they that dwelled in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.] Again, in another place: [Arise o jerusalem, be bright, for thy light is come, and the 
isaiah 60.  glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people: but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall walk in thy light, and kings at the brightness of thy rising up.] But the prophet speaketh in another kind of language to the people, when he talketh to the wicked, and telleth them amongst other things: [Therefore is 
isaiah 59  judgement far from us, and justice doth not come near us: We wait for light, but lo, it is darkness: for brightness, but we walk in darkness. We grope for the wall like the blind, and we feel with our hands, as one that were without eyes. We stumble at noon days, as in darkness: we are in solitary places as dead men.] And therefore also 
Luke 22. Ephes. 6.  the kingdom of the devil is called in holy writ, the kingdom of darkness; and he which is the king is named the Prince of darkness. But the people of God requesting that the knowledge of him might be spread abroad throughout the whole earth, withal prosperity and blessedness saith in the Psalms. [God be merciful unto us, and bless us, 
Psal. 67.  and 'cause his face to shine amongst us.] So likewise the author of these divine Canticles chaunteth to the same purpose. [Lord lift up the light of thy countenance upon us:] that is 
Psal. 7.  to say, thy favour and benignity, as afterwards he declareth.  
Pursuing then this doctrine of the holy Scriptures, we must learn by that which hath been propounded unto us, concerning the image of God in the sun, & by the discourse of his light, and of the darkness contrary thereto, how the sovereign and great eternal Sun hideth his face from us, and how he showeth it unto us, and what good, and what evil 
Worthy instructions concerning the effects of the sun.  doth thereby redound unto us, according as his word teacheth us in the fore alleged testimonies. For as we have in the course of nature, one while day, and another while night; and those sometimes long, sometimes short; and as many of one as of another; in one season summer, in another winter; now hot, anon cold; then dry, and afterward wet; so at this time tempest, presently calm weather: even so runs all the course of man's life. For we have therein the time of ignorance and adversity, of chastisements, punishments, & vengeance of God, which are the night and time of darkness to men, & their winter and tempestuous seasons. And so have we the time of knowledge & understanding of God, and of prosperity, of grace, of joy, of felicity, and of consolation, which are to men like the day and the light, and as the spring time and summer. And as the days & nights are some longer, and some shorter: so the Lord prolongeth or abridgeth the times of grace and of rigour; of his favour and of his wrath, as he pleaseth, and in such measure as he knoweth to be expedient, as well for his own glory, as for the the good of his elect. Wherhfore as we expect day after the night; the Spring time and Summer after Autumn and winter: so in time of adversity we must attend in good confidence the time of prosperity, as we are assured to have light after darkness. Likewise as in the day time we look for the night; and for Autumn and Winter after the Spring time and Summer: so in 
Eccles 3  time of prosperity, we must prepare for adversity. For as it is written. [To all things there is an appointed time,] and therefore there is a time of joy, and a time of sorrow, a time to laugh, and a time to weep. Now if we could consider these things by the course of the Sun, and by the change and succession of the days and nights, of the light and darkness, and of the divers seasons, which succeed in each year: we should learn in this school, most profitable and laudable Astronomy, (which is not found in the books of Ptolemy, nor of all the Astrologers, how skilful soever they were, which have written concerning the knowledge of the stars. For when we should be in prosperity, we would take heed not to abuse ourselves, to misgoverne ourselves, and become too insolent, as it ordinarily cometh to pass, when we are too much at our ease, and think it will be always so with us. And hereupon ensueth, that so soon as we are deceived of our persuasion, we become desperate because that we found ourselves in the danger and snaires of mischance before we think of it. But when we shall consider the revolutions and changes which have been accustomed to come to the world, we shall foresee like good Astrologers and prognosticators, the tempest commming a far off, and the eclipses of the sun and of the moon, and while it is day, we shall prepare for the night: and in summer time for the winter, like good housekeepers. So likewise being in adversity, we shall not lose courage nor despair: but we shall comfort ourselves in the hope of God's help, and will patiently endure the bad season, until such time as he hath by the light of his favour and grace chased away the darkness of the scourges of his wrath and vengeance. Thus concluding that subject of our speech, let us entreat especially of the eclipses of the sun and moon, and of their nature and effects. For we may thereby again receive excellent instructions for this life: as (ACHITOB) you can declare unto us.   

Of the eclipses of the sun and moon: and of the image which we have therein: of the constancy which is in God, and of the inconstancy of men, and of human things. Chap. 37.  ACHITOB. 
THe consideration of the eclipses of the sun and moon hath opened to men the knowledge of many excellent secrets in nature, as the writings of the learned make motion. Now they concur all in this point, that the eclipse of the sun 
'Cause of eclipses.  happeneth through the diametral interposition of the moon between it and the earth, and that the shadow of the earth reaching out betwixt sun and moon, causeth her also to be darkened and eclipsed. So that as the moon depriveth the earth of the brightness of the sun beams; so likewise doth the shadow of the earth hinder the moon of the solary illumination. But the eclipses of these two planets do differ greatly: for that the sun 
Difference of eclipses.  happeneth not through default of light in the body thereof, as it doth in the eclipse of the moon. For the sun is never without light, inasmuch as it is the proper substance thereof. But when the earth is directly between these two planets, then doth the moon become through dark, because we retaineth no light, at lest that may appear to us, but only so much as she receiveth from the sun. Therefore according as her discourse is direct, or opposite in respect of that of the sun, she doth augment or decrease in light, continually changing her estate in appearance, and according as we behold her, though in that effect, and according to the verity of her essence, she hath always one half lightened by the sun. For we must understand, that the moon is round like a bowl, and that always, except when she is eclipsed, she receiveth light from the sun into one half of her globe, the other half remaining without brightness. But insomuch as she moveth continually, therefore according as she retireth from, or approacheth to 
How the moiety of the moon is ever light.  the sun; so doth she appear divers in her light, which notwithstanding doth illuminate at all times one moiety of her circularly, from one part to another, that is, from her superior part to her inferior part, or from her inferio to her superior part. Now her inferior or lower part is that which looketh towards the earth, all of which, or any part thereof we behold then when it is lightened: & her superior or upper part is that which is towards the sphere of the sun; which we cannot behold although it be illuminated by him. Now once a month all her inferior moiety receiveth the brightness of the sun, & thou doth she appear unto us full of light, which comes to pass on the 15. day of the moons age, because that then she doth oppositely confront the sun. Another time the superior moiety is fully illuminated, to wit, when she is conjoined with the sun, which is over her; and then is her lower part darkened, not appearing to us for two days: which cometh to pass at the end of the moon: and all the rest of the month she hath divers illuminations. For from her conjunction with the sun, the light in the upper part beginneth to fail, and by little and little to come to the lower part towards us, according as she moveth, reculing from the sun: and so doth till the fifteenth day, wherein all the inferior part towards the earth is shining, and the superior part is clean without light. After which time the the light beginneth to convey itself to the upper moiety, decreasing by little and little towards us in the lower moiety, which at last is left clean without brightness, and the other which we see not becometh all shining. And it is to be noted, that the horns of the Moon which her divers aspect showeth us, turn their back parts towards the sun: and if she increaseth, they are turned towards the sun rising if she be in the wain, they turn to the sun setting. She shineth moreover, adding to each day three quarters and the four and twentieth part of an hour, beginning from the second day, till the time she makefull moon; and from that time forwards using the like substraction every day, till the time that she appeareth no more at all. And when she is within foverteenth degrees of the sun, she is seen no more. Whereby it appeareth; that all the rest of the planets are greater than the moon: for none of them is hid or obscured 
The moon smaller than the other planets.  by the beams of the sun, except it be within seven degrees thereof. But in that they are all of them higher than the moon is, they seem to be lesser so in the same consideration it cometh to pass, that the brightness of the sun hindereth us of the sight of the fixed stars in the day time, which nevertheless shine as well in the day as in the night time, as may be perceived at the eclipses of the sun, as likewise in a very deep pit, if one should descend thereunto in the day time. Moreover all these stars are never eclipsed: For the shadow of the earth, which causeth the moon to lose her light, reacheth not beyond her heaven. And the night 
Things to be considered in the shadow of the earth.  also, is no other thing but the shadow of the earth, which shadow is in form like a Pyramid, growing still less & less taperwise towards a point, till at last it fadeth. For all shadows wax less & less till they be clean diminished by distance, as may evidently be seen by shadows of birds, which fly in the air. Now the shadow of the earth finisheth in the air at the beginning of the region of fire, and above the moon all things are pure, wherefore it is not possible that the terrestial shadow can hinder the brightness of the stars, which are above the moon. And therefore likewise we behold them in the night time like a candle in a dark place. But the shadow of the earth is the very cause that the Moon is eclipsed always by night. And it is to be noted, in that, that the eclipses both of the Sun and moon happen not every month, that it is by reason of the oblinesse of the zodiac, and of the 
Why the Eclipses happen not every month.  variable motions of the Moon, which being sometimes North and sometimes South (as we have heretofore declared) meeteth not always in conjunction, or in opposition every month, that it is by reason of the obliquenesse of the Zodiac, and of the variable motions of the Moon, which being somtmes North and sometimes South (as we have heretofore declared meeteth not always in conjunction, or in opposition in the knots of the Elipticke circle, which are in the head, or in the tail of the Dragon. We may note also, that the consideration of the shadows and eclipses aforesaid, hath taught men to judge of the greatness of the Sun, of the Moon, and of the earth. 
How one may judge of the greatness of the sun, the moon, and the earth.  For first it should be impossible that their had been any universal Eclipse of the Sun, by the diametral interposition of the Moon, if the earth were greater than the Moon. Again, this planet, and the shadow of the earth delivereth unto us greater certainty that the unmeasurable magnitude of the Sun is much more than their own: in such sort that (as Pliny saith) there need nothing more to be required to judge of 
Hist, nat. li. 2.  the immensity of the Sun by the eye, or by conjectures, sith that the trees planted by the way side have all of them their shadows proportionably equal, though there be much distance of ground betwixt them: as if the Sun were in the midst of them, and did give light to all alike. And during the time that the Sun is in the Equinoctial point, over the Southern climates and regions, he casteth his light down right, without making any shadow: and yet on the North regions on this side the Solstice circle, the shadows fall on the North side at noon, and toward the West at Sun rising, which could not happen if the Sun were not very much greater than the earth. But leaving this discourse we must out of our speech learn some point of Christian Astrology. Now we have heard, that the moon hath no light of herself (at lest that can appear unto us) but so much as she receiveth from the sun, according to the disposition or opposition of their divers courses: in such sort, that the Moon never persisteth in one estate, but changeth incessantly. But it is not so with the sun, for he hath always as much light, at one time as at another, and is not subject to any change. I say then that in him we have a goodly image of the constant and immutable God, who is always 
The image of God in the sun. Mal. 3. In the moon is an image of the creatures. Many worthy points to consider of in christian Astrology.  one, and ever without any variation, and who, firm in his counsel, hath ordained concerning all things for ever, according to his endless, light, and just will. So contrariwise we have represented to us in the moon a perfect figure of the creatures, by which is demonstrated unto us, that all things under heaven are mutable and subject to continual change: and also that according as we receive our salvation in Christ through faith, and as we increase therein; in such degree are we made partakers of his divine light and of all his graces and blessings, even as the moon participateth of the brightness of the sun. Moreover we shall have learned a worthy point of Christian Astrology, when we shall consider that these two celestial planets have perpetual alliance and communication together: even so the conjunction which is betwixt jesus Christ and his Church is eternal. And therefore according as it is said in the common proverb, (God keepeth the moon from wolves) the faithful may very aptly speak this of themselves concerning their enemies, because they are much surer in the alliance of the Almighty, and under his protection. For as the Sun shall never be without the Moon, nor the Moon without the Sun: so the eternal Son of God shall never be without his Church, nor his Church without him, although we see it sometimes increase, and sometimes decrease, and sometimes as if it clean failed, and were vanished, like the eclipsed Moon. But as the Moon doth not fail by any eclipse that can happen, but that it persisteth to remain a Moon still, though she be not seen of men: so the Church can never clean fail, nor be so consumed; but that it shall ever be a Church, notwithstanding that it may well seem to human sight and exterior appearance to be nothing at all, and without any vigour. For it is founded upon the firm rock which is jesus Christ, and therefore all the power of hell cannot prevail against it nor waste it. And the Lord can always tell who be his, though men know it not. Next we must learn, that as the moon is eclipsed; when she is so opposed to the sun, that the shadow of the earth, spread out between them both, hindereth her to receive that light from him, which she is accustomed to attract: so cometh it to men in the Church when their sins are like an obscure cloud, and an obstacle, which hindereth the favour and grace of God, that it cannot attain to them; and when there be mists and darkenesses of ignorance, which do detain them from beholding of jesus Christ the true son of their souls and to commit themselves to be guided by the light of his word. But as the sun faileth not though he be eclipsed in regard of us, so the sovereign head of the elect doth never fail to his Church; though he may seem sometimes to be absent, & quite withdrawn, for he always supporteth it by his power. And therefore also it is written that the woman (by whom the Church is signified) hath the Moon under her feet: which is as much 
Apol 12.  to say, as that the conversation of the children of God, which are members of the Church, is not in earth, but in heaven (as Saint Paul testifieth) and that they have already put under their feet all worldly things, which are mutable and inconstant: insomuch as they 
Phil. 3. Rom. 8.  live not after the spirit, and not after the flesh, and are illuminated by jesus Christ, who is the true Son of justice, that by the brightness of his word and of his coming discovereth all things. It is most certain, that the number of these is very small in respect of those worldly men, who following the nature of elementary and corporal things, are subject to greater changes than the Moon herself: which being lower than all the other stars and 
Man subject to greater changes than the moon.  planets, and by so much nearer to the earth, receiveth likewise some mutation of the stars: as if God would represent unto us in her, the change, whereto the elements and all creatures composed of them, which are under the celestial spheres, are ordinarily subject. And yet doth not the Moon change from her proper nature, which was ordained by the Creator from the beginning, as we have already declared: yea though that in regard of us, and of our sight, she have the foresaid mutations; yet doth she never fail, but doth evermore repair himself, and presently renew: so that we see her not wear away in such manner, but that she persisteth without ceasing in her proper and natural course. But it is not so with men, who change not only from day to day, but also from hour to hour, from instant to instant, from age to age. For as they daily proceed in growth of body and of strength, from the hour of their conception & birth from time to time, until they be arrived to their full vigour like the full moon: so after they are ascended to this degree, they always abate and decline, till their extremest age, and to death, wherein they utterly fail in respect of this life, as if they had never been. For they cannot do like the moon, who after her defect doth continually repair and restore herself, till such time as she show herself full and entire. But they are constrained to attend for that last day, which is called by Saint Peter the day of the restitution and restoration of all things foretold by the prophets. So then in that day shall we be renewed in a permanent estate for ever. Behold then what (me seemeth) we must consider like christians upon our discourses of the sun and of the moon. And having hitherto entreated of the heavenly world, and of the spheres sufficiently to content a Christian astronomer: we will now proceed to describe the elementary world: whereof (ASER) you shall begin to speak, instructing us in the principles of natural and corruptible things.   

Of the beginning of natural and corruptible things. Chap. 37  ASER. 
ALl Philosophers with one consent do teach, that there have been at first (or at leastwise one must understand so) some subject without form, capable of all forms, which they called (matter) or (Hyle) that is to say, the substance or stuff, 
Of the first matter of all things.  which some also have named (Chaos) and which is properly described by Moses in these Hebrew words (Tohu and Bohu) which is as much as to say, as I wots not what thing without form, containing by possibility all that which could be form. Plato in his Timaeo calleth it a bosom without form, a power which is mother of the world, a nurse, a subject, and a receptacle of forms; and saith that it was not distinguished by any quantity, nor by any degree. And because that out of this first subject innumerable things were to be produced, Anaxagoras disputeth how that in the same were contained infinite forms and numbers not limited, which the only understanding and thought Creator of all things had drawn out in effect. And this Aristotle attributeth to nature, though sometimes he seemeth to distinguish this nature from God, and maketh them companions, oftentimes repeating these words [God, & Nature made] or [made nothing without cause. Now for us we know, that that nature which the Philosophers called disposing and distinguishing, can be nothing else but God only, as appeareth by sundry reasons which we have heretofore deduced. Wherefore holding this to be confessed, we must be sure, that the perpetual generation of things, declareth that it is a matter which hath at first been made by some other means. For corn cometh of the earth, and of humour, animals of seed, and of blood or eggs: ashes are made by wood, and there is nothing so little but it is made of some subject. But in all these generations, it is necessary that something remain, from which they are drawn in their first original. When then any creature is engendered by another, if the form perish, and any thing do remain, it must (of necessity) be the matter: which the corruption itself doth manifest, because that nothing can wholly perish 
Nothing can clean perish.  so long as it is corrupted. For the apple perisheth, and is converted into worms, so is the wood into cinders when it is burned: so water changeth itself into vapours and smoke by the heat of the fire, or of the Sun. Now all vapour and smoke is something, for it can stifle a man, and if it be received and gathered into a vessel, it turneth to drops of water. Behold then how manifest it is, that in all this Vnivers there is a certain thing hidden under every form, which is not made by common generation, nor yet doth perish by corruption: and which like some prime subject, being divided under many and sundry forms, we call, as we have already said, the first matter not engendered, permanent, because it perisheth not, but remaineth and consisteth according to the effect thereof. And when we compare it to the forms, we say that it is by power the same which they are, because that it can receive all forms: so that the matter of a child being form, is said to be a child by power; and by effect it is the subject, whereof the child may consist: for it is a mixture so fashioned, and such as one may see it. But when it is compared to the form of the child, it is simply called a matter by power: for if it were such by effect, than were it a child of itself, and not a subject of him. So then by the consent of all Philosophers, there is a certain gross matter disfurnished of forms, but capable of all, though by nature it be deprived of all. For which cause also they establish with this matter, privation, for a beginning of natural things. And mounting higher, they consider of a changing or working cause, by force whereof, the matter being wrought and mollified, which 
Of privation of the changing cause.  is only in power, is at length actually performed: even as wax being plied and softened by handling and working in the hand is fashioned into divers forms, according to the will of him that doth it. And because that nature doth nothing at adventure, but all for some good purpose: thence it is that the final cause is by them considered as a principle. And 
Of the final cause. Of the form  likewise because that the nearest end of the working cause is the form, which it taketh out of the bosom of the matter, and that for this intent it worketh and mouldeth it, to the end to reduce it to a perfect estate to receive a form: for these causes Aristotle constituteth the form for the third principle. The which cannot be drawn out of the womb of the matter, except it be first disposed, and prepared by convenient qualities, and therefore the Philosophers say, that about them the maker bestoweth and emploieth all his labour, and all the time of the action, to the end that the species may presently appear in a point and moment unseparable, as it were for the wages of his pains. But the Perepateticks call the worker the cause, rather than a principle. And the followers of Plato, being more 
That natural causes accounted principles.  clear sighted in sacred mysteries, do teach, that although the natural causes do appear to us of themselves, forming, fashioning and moulding every body; yet nevertheless are they not the prime and first causes of every thing that is made, but rather instruments of the divine art to whom they serve and obey: even as the hands of a cunning workman, though they compose, place and change the whole matter of an house, as wood, stone, and mortar and that nothing besides them may be seen, whereto the fashion of the edifice might be attributed: yet are they known of us to be an instrument obeying and serviceable to the Idea which being seated in the mind of the Architect, he performeth and acteth with his hands in sensible matter, the work which he hath conceived. And for this occasion the Academics speak of these two causes (the instrumental and the exemplary cause) when they entreat of the framing of all things. Which me thinketh is often confirmed by the Paripatetickes, when this axiom is read in their writings. [Every work of nature is the work of Intelligence.] And both the one and the other do confess, that God hath drawn all things out of the matter. But because that for to draw them out, the matter must necessarily be presupposed, and the form which thereof is fashioned must be conceived as also the power or application and disposition of the said matter: Thereupon are sprung the three principals of natural things which Aristotle ordaineth; 
Three principles according to Aristotle.  to wit matter, form and privation. Which opinion Pythagoras seemed to lean unto; teaching that in the first production of things, there were present the Even and the Odd: for the Even (according to the doctrine of those which do Philosophically discourse by numbers) and principally the binary (or number of two) signifieth the matter, and the uneven or odd betokeneth the form. Moreover the degrees of forms and things composed, are excellently and harmoniously distributed by the Even and Odd numbers, as by their writings we may easily learn. But let us note, that that which the Pythagorians signify by numbers, Plato doth abundantly describe by greatness and smallness, because all that which is, doth retain a greater or less degree of essence and perfection, which nevertheless is distinguished by even and odd numbers. And if one speak of bodies, every one of them hath a great, little, or mean quantity: which likewise is by the same numbers limited and distinguished.  
But to leave the curious disputation concerning these things to the Philosophers, and so to grow to the conclusion of our speech concerning the principles of natural and corruptible things, we must call that into our memory, which we have already declared, how that the matter stood in need of a worker and maintainer. Now this same is none 
Of one alone and only principle.  other, but the alone and only principle of principles, and the cause of causes, God omnipotent, author of the Vnivers: who being a sovereign worker, hath produced out of the subject by him created all compound bodies. From whom likewise it is necessary, that all forms do flow, whether they be drawn out of the bosom of the matter (as some Philosophers affirm) or proceed without any means of the form-giver, as many learned dispute, for he must always be said to be engendering and producing, which draweth 
Motion, and place set by some for principles.  the matter into an effect by any manner whatsoever. Moreover, some subtle spirits do account among the principles of natural things Motion & Place. For they say that the principle Motion seemeth to be naturally in all bodies; of which some, as light, are carried aloft; others, as heavy, descend down: and yet are they not forcibly driven; for then violently they would return to their proper place. Neither are they drawn: for the place is an accident and draweth no Element at all. Than forsomuch as all motion is made in place, it seemeth very well that it must be set for one of the principles of all things. Now place is the supreme superficies of every body, environing the same round about: which superficies remaineth, the body being separated. And every place is equal to the body therein contained. Every body likewise is in a place, and in every place is a body. For every body hath his extreme superficies, and the place cannot be without a body, considering that every place is the highest superficies containng a body. And when the place is taken in regard of the roundness of the heavens, it is immutable, insomuch as it containeth the entire body of the Vnivers. But being considered as the superficies of any particular body, it is changed by the divers disposition and alteration of the creatures, and remaineth not always the same. Behold then that which I have thought worthy to be noted in regard of the principles whereof the Philosopher's dispute, and of which and by which, namely, of the form and first matter, the sensible elements of all corruptible things do consist and are composed. Whereof we are according to the course of our talk to inform ourselves as (AMANA) you shall presently do.   

Of the Elements, and of the things to be considered in them, in that they are distinguished by the number of four. Chap. 38.  AMANA. 
WHen we take the heaven in his most proper signification, we mean thereby the firmament, and the celestial spheres, which cover and encompass all things that are in the universal world. But heaven is likewise taken oft-times for the air, and for the regions next to the spheres, because they approach nearest to the nature of them, and for that they be elements drawn out of the first principles for the composition of corruptible things. And yet in the division of the world, there are commonly mentioned but two principal parts: that is, the celestial and the elementary part, as we have heretofore related. Now under this last part, whereof our ensuing discourse must entreat, we must understand all that, which is comprehended within the concavity or hollow vault of heaven. under the Moon, even to the centre of the 
Of the elementary region  earth: that is, the four simple elements, which are Fire, air, Water and Earth, incessantly employed in the generation and corruption of all creatures, under the which part we comprise all the divers and innumerable species of all bodies, both perfect and imperfect, materially engendered by the natural commixture and power of the said elements. Which cannot 
The number & qualities of the elements.  be in number above four; that is just so many, and neither more nor less than there are first qualities predominant in them, which are heat, moisture, cold and dryness; which nevertheless alone and by themselves do not constitute an element: for they cannot have the power both to do and to suffer; as it is needful that there should be in the generation and corruption of all things: neither can the foresaid qualities consist above two together, for fear lest contrary things should be found in one self same subject, but being joined two and two, they are correspondent the one to the other, as the qualities of heat and dryness, which are in the fire, the heat and moisture, which are in the air: cold and moisture, which are in the water: and cold and dryness, which are in the earth. But heat and cold which are active qualities, and moisture and dryness, which are passive qualities, are altogether contrary. And therefore can they not consist both together in one self same element: whereupon it cometh to pass, that the fire & the water, the air and the earth are clean 
Situation of the elements.  contrary one to another, which causeth also that the fire, as the most subtle & lightest element tending naturally upwards, is placed above the three elements, and environeth the air round about, which agreeth in heat with it: which air encompasseth the water, agreeing therewith in moisture: and the water is dispersed about the earth, and agreeth therewith in coldness and the same earth, as the most heavy and hardest element, is heaped and compacted in the midst of the whole world, containing the centre thereof. It is certain that the water environeth not the earth clean round about, but is spread abroad by divers arms, branches, and lakes (which we call seas) as well within, as about the same: for so it was necessary that some parts of the earth might be uncovered, for the health and habitation of living creatures; so as it hath pleased the sovereign king of the world to ordain for the benefit of all things.  
There are then four elements and first foundations of things compounded, and subject 
How the number of four is noteworthy in divers things.  to corruption. And by this number of four perfectly consonant, the elementary world is divided into these four parts: the fiery, the airy, the watery, and the earthy part: so also is this terrestrial frame distinguished into four points, to wit; East, West, North, and South, as we know the like to be in the celestial bodies. And by their divers motions and courses we obtain the four seasons of the year, to wit, the spring, summer, autumn, and winter. From whence likewise proceedeth all aid and favour to the substance and composition of the creatures comprised under these four kinds, that is, corporal, vegetable, sensitive, and reasonable creatures, which subsist of these four qualities, hot, cold, moist, and dry. We likewise see that all quantity is divided into four, to wit, into a point, into a length, breadth, and depth. There are also four sorts of motion: ascending, descending, progression and turning round. Moreoever if we will here draw out some mysteries of the Pythagorians, we shall know, that all the foundation of every deep study and invention, must be settled upon the number of four, because it is the root and beginning of all numbers, which exceed four. For a unity being joined to a four, maketh up ten: and in this number all the rest to ten are found: as may appear in this figure [1. 2. 3. 4.] Above which number of ten (as Aristotle in his problems, and Hierocles in his verses upon Pythagoras reciteth) not land, nor language hath ever proceeded. For the Hebrews, Greeks', Latins, and Barbarians themselves being come so far as to ten begin again with the unity; saying (11. 12.) and so forward, imitating nature guided by her sovereign, who by the order of ten parteth the fingers of the hands, and toes of the feet, as the same creator would distribute the terrestrial, celestial, and supercelestial world by this number of ten, as the divinity of the Hebrews doth teach, and as we have heretofore made mention. The which number likewise doth contain all manner of numbers be they even, odd, square, long, plain, perfect, cubical, pyramidal, prime, or compound numbers. And thereby, that is, by denary proportions, four cubical numbers are accomplished: so four is the root of ten, and ten of an hundred, and an hundred of a thousand. For as 1. 2. 3. and 4. make ten: so by ten are hundreds made; and by hundreds, thousands. Moreover four containeth all musical harmony, because that therein is the proportion double, triple, quadruple, of so much and an half, and of so much & a third: whereof resulteth the diapason, the bisdiapason, diapente, diatesseron, and diapason together with diapente. For this cause Hierocles the interpreter of Pythagoras, doth so extol this number of four▪ that he affirmeth it to be the cause of all things, and that nothing can be said or done which proceedeth not from it, as from the root and foundation of all nature. And therefore did the Pythagorians swear by this number, as by some holy thing making (as may be easy conjectured) allusion to that great fower-lettered name of the Hebrews, from whom 
The name of God foure-lettered.  they received their instructions. Which name of the holy of holies, God eternal and most good, requireth no fewer letters among the Greeks' and Latins, not not amongst the most barbarous nations: wherein one may directly believe that great mysteries are hidden.  
But not to wander farther from our elementary region: as therein we acknowledge four elements, so many likewise are therein the Metaphysics, to wit, the essence, the estate, 
That the four elements do sound all doctrine and art.  the virtue, & the action. The naturalist also teacheth four nurses of nature, to wit, power, growth, the form grown, and the composition. And the Mathematicians have these four elements, the point, the line, the plain, and the solid. And that which the point is in the Mathematics, the same is the seminary power in the Physics: the line is as the natural growth: the plain or superficies as the form perfect in greatness, and the solid or cube, or deep body, as the composition. There are amongst the moral philosophers also four seeds of virtues, prudence, temperateness or temperance, fortitude and justice. And there are four faculties found to judge of things, that is, understanding, discipline, opinion, and the senses. Artificers likewise accustom to settle their buildings upon four corners, to the end they may be firm and durable: wherein they imitate nature, which worketh so in all this world. And the sovereign governor thereof hath willed, that there should be four foundations of the most perfect, eternal, and firm law of grace, to wit, the four Evangelists. It then plainly appeareth, that not without great mystery the creator settled four foundations of all this mundane frame: which in admirable proportion do accord 
Agreement of the elements.  together, as (all square numbers, which are enclosed by a proper number, refer themselves by a middle proportional to both sides. For (as we have said) the elements are agreeable one to another, with their coupled qualities, whereof each retaineth one peculiar quality to itself, agreeth in the other, as by a mean with the next element. So that the four elements are (as if each one of them had two hands, by which they held one another) as in a round dance: or else, as if they were conjoined and linked together, as with chains and buckles. And therefore the water is moist & cold, retaining the moisture as peculiar to itself and in coldness participating with the nature of the earth: by the moisture thereof, it is also allied unto the air; which also in some measure participateth in heat with the nature of fire. Wherhfore as the earth accordeth in coldness with the water; so is water answerable in moisture to the air, and the air is correspondent in heat to the fire: retaining yet nevertheless each of them one proper and predominant quality. But above all, the Academics have invented a goodly concord between these elements, in their discourses of the quadruple proportion; from which only their musical proportions do proceed: for if one pass farther, men's cares seem to be offended. They say then, that the fire 
Of the harmony of the elements.  is twice more subtle than the air, thrice more movable, and four times more piercing. Likewise that the air is twice more sharp than the water, thrice more subtle, and four times more movable. Again that the water is twice more sharp than the earth, thrice more subtle, and four times more movable. And in this proportion have they found out the harmony of the elements, and showed, that though the fire be sharp, subtle, and movable; the air subtle, movable, and moist; the water movable, moist, and corporal; the earth corporal, immovable, and dry; yet is there a certain accord and union between them: because that betwixt the fire and the earth, the air and water have been placed by such a covenant, that there is the same respect betwixt the fire and the air, that is between the air and the water; and between the water and the earth: and again, that such as the earth is towards the water; such is the water towards the air, and the air towards the fire, in correspondency of qualities, and harmonious contrariety. Whrefore they conclude, that the harmony on all sides so great among the elements that it is no marvel if in the proper places, and in their compounds, they maintain and repose themselves with very great and friendly concord. Whereby it appeareth, that none can induce a goodlier reason, why the water doth not overflow the earth being higher than it; then to say, that it will not serve from this agreement. But further concerning this matter, what shall we say of those, which accept but of three elements; namely the air, the water, and the earth; and reject the elementary fire? I would feign hear you (ARAM) discourse thereof.   

Of the opinion of those who admit but three elements, not acknowledging the elementary fire. Chapter. 39  ARAM. 
Between the lowest place and the highest it is necessary that there should be two places simply mean, to wit, the places not exactly lowest, nor highest. And for that consideration some of the learned conclude, that there be so many simple bodies made, and consisting of the prime and first matter, which are called by the Greeks (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) that is beginnings or Elements, & of those proceedeth the generation of all corruptible things. And if probable arguments may aught prevail, each one must acknowledge four elements in all compound bodies, as the most part of those who have diligently considered the works of nature, are of opinion. Now there is none that can doubt of the earth, of the water, and of the air, because of their greatness and huge extension seen by every eye. But for the fire, we only see the increase, the power, and simple matter thereof, and his force or fountain is esteemed to be in the concavity of the Moon above the air. Yet some among the natural Philosophers affirm and maintain, that 
Of such as say that there is no fire under the sphere of the Moon  there is no fire under the orb of the Moon: neither will acknowledge any other elementary fire, but the fire of the celestial bodies, and the heat of them, which they communicate to all the rest of the creatures. And therefore they assign to these fires all the space, which is from the Moon to the highest heaven. Saying moreover, that sith the heaven is a thing most pure, it is not convenient to place a thing most burning under that which is exempt from all quality. For nature doth always join extremities with things of mean quality: as is found betwixt the flesh and the bones, where she hath placed a film or thin skin; and between the bones and the ligatures, she hath put the gristles: so betwixt the skull and the brain, because it is softer than flesh, nature hath placed two films, the hardest whereof is nearest to the bone of the head. Thereupon than they conclude, that the air is much fit than the fire to be next the heavens, and serve as a mean to join them with the earth and water. And against it they argue, that swiftness of motion is the cause or argument of the heat, and there is no other fire: others again avouch, that this cannot be. For (say they) although that solid substances may by motion be heated (as stones, lead, and living creatures) yet those which disperse or scatter themselves abroad, become thereby so much the colder, by how much they are more lightly moved, witness the air and the water. For all strong and swift winds are cold, and rivers that have a quick course are very cold. Again those that deny the elementary 
Reasons of such as deny the fire to environ the air.  fire, do bring this argument; to wit, that the comets and flames which oftentimes do appear in the heavens, do cause in the air very great and as it were intolerable heats: Therefore they demand, what might happen if the universal world, especially the elementary, were environed by fire, who could hinder but that that fire would inflame the air, and after it all other things, sith the heat of the celestial bodies would thereto give aid? They add how Auerrois doth esteem that all brightness is hot, and that the air is such: and that every moist quality doth least of all other resist heat. How then (say they) shall the air resist the fire which is the most vehement, and most sharp of all elements? It is true that this Arabic author hath said, that sometimes the fire is not actually hot: but what then shall be his possibility? We say that some medicines are hot by possibility, because that being taken they heat wondrously. But by what creatures shall the fire be devoured, to the end to reduce it to the quality of medicines? Moreover, if the fire be not hot, then is not the water cold: which should be to confounded all reason, and the very order of the world. Again, they demand what it is that letteth the fire, that it shineth not, and that it is not seen in elementary region? Again, if fire be in the air, why then, the higher we mount, do we find the air more cold, and why do snows more abound on the mountain tops, then in the lowest places, yea under the torrid zone? Which nevertheless might not seem strange: if one should consider, how snow falleth in winter only, and very cold hail in midst of summer, the cause whereof we shall hereafter discover. But (say they) if one should object that the highest places are farthest remote from the reverberation of the sun: this may be an argument of less heat, but not of coldness. In fine they add, that if heat were in the highest of the air in an elementary body, it should principally there rest, for to 'cause the generation of things. Now for this reason it cannot be there, considering that the celestial heat is it that doth engender, as all Philosophers maintain. Thereupon they conclude, that this imagination of fire above the air is vain. It seemeth also that be a thing never so light, as is the fire; yet can it not mount so exceeding high: and to say that it was carried aloft, only conjecturing so, and that the place thereof must be there, such Rhetorical arguments are not worth rehearsing in serious matters.  
There are some also, which to the reasons by us before touched in the beginning of this speech, do reply; that it seemeth they do conclude that there be four simple bodies, but 
Answer to many reasons which are alleged to prove four elements.  rather the contrary. For, for the first betwixt two exteremes one mean (and not two) is commonly assigned: which being considered in regard of the elements, there should only be three in number. And for this vulgar opinion, that in all compound bodies there are esteemed to be four elements; the heat which is in mixed and compound substances cannot consist of the elementary fire: For if the fire should remain in them, it should more rest in the herb called (Euphorbium) and in Pepper, which are of an extreme hot and dry nature; and therefore one might more commodiously get fire out of them then out of most cold stones, which yet we find to be clean contrary. Moreover, the distillations wherein many strain themselves to search the four elements, do demonstrate but three substances only, to wit, water for water, oil instead of air, and the earth which is in the bottom. Now if that any do say that the reddest part of the oil doth represent the fire, because it is very sharp and very subtle, we will answer, that such piercing sharpness of savour proceedeth from the vehement virtue of the fire, which operateth in the distillation. Which likewise doth manifestly appear in the oil extracted from metals: every part whereof is of a very sharp savour. Wherhfore if every thing of such a quality representeth the fire, it must follow of necessity, that in every such essence no portion of air may subsist. But all the world doth allege, that there may four humours be perceived to remain in the bodies of all living creatures. And yet what availeth that to prove so many elements? Nay, what if I should say with Thrusianus expounder of Galen upon the art of Physic; that there are but three humours only? But we leave this disputation, and let us speak of a more strong and forcible argument, taken from the combinations and conjunctions of the elementary qualities which are in number four, as we have heard in our precedent discourse. They alone then and apart do not constitute an element; for they cannot have the power to do and to suffer: neither also can they consist more than two together; for else, contraries should remain in one self same subject. Neither can heat be joined with cold without some mean, nor dry with moist: Whereupon doth follow that the qualities not contrary, being joined two and two together do declare unto us four well ordered combinations or couple, which do argue unto us the four elements. But harken what the adverse part answereth: Such conjunctions and copulations done only show themselves in mixtures and compound bodies: for some things being hot in the first degree, are also moist; and some being cold, are dry: others hot and dry; others cold and moist; and so consquently of the rest. But for the elements because that heat and great dryness had reduced all things to an end, in steed of ministering a beginning unto them; Nature, or rather the author of Nature, hath ordained a celestial heat well tempered, by which 
Of the celestial heat producing fire.  all things should be engendered: And by it, and by putrefaction and motion, the creature called Fire is incessantly produced. Whereupon ensueth, that though there be a fire, yet nevertheless it is no element: And therefore they conclude, that there are but three elements. The earth most thick and heavy seated below: the air most thin and light placed above and the water mean betwixt these qualities situate between both. They also affirm, that unto these elements it is common to have no natural heat: because there is no heat, but from the heavens, and consequently from the soul, and from brightness: That the earth because it is exceeding thick and solid, and the air, because it is beyond measure thin, seem to be lest cold: but the water which is of mean substance between both, seemeth to be most cold. That the earth, because of some certain thinness thereof, admitteth heat: and therefore is esteemed less cold than stones. And the air because of the temperate clearness, and for that by the thinness thereof it is easily changed, is esteemed not only not to be cold, but to be hot, though in truth all the elements are cold by their own nature. Which coldness is nothing else, but privation of heat, which heat doth wholly rest in the stars, & which is proper celestial quality moving the body, which aided by motion produceth fire. But (say they) many be deceived by reason of the violent heat, which sometimes maketh impression in the elements. For by action of the stars, some parts of the elements are mixed and partitipate with the nature of the celestial bodies, as Pepper becometh hot: And yet such mingling cannot be said to be an element, but a thing composed partly of elements. And for the fire which lighteth by the striking and beating of stones, that it is likewise an heat of the stars in a body rarefied by the celestial power. By these reasons 
What an element is.  than they conclude, that two qualities do only appear unto us, the heat of heaven and the proper moisture of the elements: and as for dry and cold, that they be the privations of those qualities: and that therefore a thing very hot, or very cold cannot properly be called an element: but that that may be said to be an element, which hath no need of nonrishment, which of itself is not corrupt, neither wandereth here and there, but retaineth a certain place in great quantity according to nature, and is prepared for generation. All which things not agreeing with the fire, because it is always moved, neither can subsist without nouriture; and burneth the air which is next it, whereby being inflammed:) it is called a flame (for flame is nothing else, but the air inflamed:) it followeth that it cannot be called an element, but rather an accidental and great heat. Behold then how Philosophers do diversly dispute upon this matter: but our intention is not to give sentence therein especially against the ancient, and generally confirmed opinion, which admitteth four elements. Wherhfore as leaning thereunto, let us (ACHITOB) discourse how they may be considered by the perfect compositions which are in the world.   

Of the perfect compositions which are in the nature of all things, by which the four elements may be considered Chapter. 40.  ACHITOB. 
ACcording as we are taught by those, who have first diligently sought out the secrets of nature, we shall consider an elementary fire, and the element thereof, approaching the heavenly spheres, by reason of the natural agreement which 
The agreement of Stones with the earth.  they have together, being much greater than there is of the heavens with the air, the water and the earth. Now these four elements do demonstrate themselves by the like number of perfect compounds, which follow the nature of them: to wit, by stones, metals, plants, and animals or sensitive creatures. For stones have their foundation or original upon the earthy corner of this world's frame: because that agreeing with the nature of earth, they descend always towards the centre, except they be such as are overdried and burned; as are the pumistones which are made spongy in caves full of air. But when they are turned into dust, then resuming their proper nature of stones, they descend. Christ all and the beryl are also numbered among stones: because that though they may be engendered of water, they are nevertheless so congealed and in manner frozen, that being made earthy they descend downwards; which is not the manner of frost and snow. So is it with those stones that are bred in the bladder, though they be produced of a watery humour. And all these kinds of stones become so close and solid in their nature, with such fastness and binding, that they cannot be melted like metals: although the said metals descend downwards like stones. And therefore also upon the second watery angle 
Metals agreeing with the water.  of the elementary world, metals are builded: which though they be said to be composed of all the elements, yet because they are principally made of water, they retain the nature thereof, and will melt, as Abubacher doth excellently discourse, speaking thus [We see in mines, that by reason of the continual heat of some mountains, the thickest of the water steweth and boileth so, that in tract of time it becometh quicksilver. And of the fat of the earth so stewed and boiled together with heat, is brimestome engendered, and through continual heat also are metals procreated. For gold that hath no default is ingedred of quicksilver, and of brimstone that is pure, tough, clear, and read. Silver of the same liquid silver, and of close, pure, clear and white sulphur; wherein colour wanteth, and something of the closeness and sureness, and consequently of weight. Tin, that is more unperfect, is engendered of the same causes, and parts unperfect because they are less concocted and attenuated. Lead, of the same terrestrial silver, and full of filth, deprived of pureness and sureness: and of gross sulphur or brimstone somewhat read, whereto wanteth fastness, clearness and weight: which makes this metal unperfect and impure. And Iron is procreated of the same quicksilver, impure, tough, part earthy and burnt, white, and not clear: which maketh this metal base and soul, falling in pureness and in weight. All which metals being made of quicksilver which is watery, do (for this cause) retain the nature of the water.] To this author accordeth Avicen in his Physics, and in the epistle to Hazem the philosopher. But Gilgill the Spaniard supposed that metals had been engendered of cinders, because they sink in water, and melt like the glass, which is drawn from terrestrial cinders, and beaten stone. But this concludeth not: for metal sinketh and descendeth, by reason of that terrestrial part which it hath incorporated with the liquid part, and because that the pores which retain the air, are closed and shut up. And for glass, it is not extracted out of the earthy matter, but out of the radical moisture, which is within the cinders and stones. For in every compound are the four elements, though the nature of one hath more domination therein. For this cause likewise plants are founded upon the 
Concord of plants with the air.  third angle of the world, called airy: for they do not grow nor fructify, but in open day, and do properly retain the nature of the air, which they always require, as being fittest and aptest for them. Yea the wood itself would presently corrupt and rot, being deprived of the air, if the watery humour do not secure it, which participateth with the air. Finally 
Animals accord with the fire.  upon the fourth angle of this forwer faced edifice, to wit, upon the fire, is the living sensitive creature built, whose life (as many learned do teach) is by means of fire, and obtained from the Empire all heaven, and from the spirit of life, which is a quickening fire, and distributeth life to all the mundane wheels: as we may learn by the oracles of Ezechiel, saying, [And the spirit of life was in the wheels.] Behold then, how upon the four bases of the 
Ezech. 1.  elements are planted four sorts of perfect compounds, to wit, stones, metals, plants, and living creatures.  
True it is, that under every universal kind of these, there are divers particular species distinct the one from the other: for although stones may be properly earthy, yet are they sometimes nominated of some other element, which most prevaileth in their composition. For doubtless all the elements do meet together in the procreation of them, but chief earth and water. Whereupon obscure and thick dark stones are called earthy 
Diversity of the nature of stones.  stones; and clear transparent stones, watery; and some also are melted by a great fire, to be turned into glass. Some also with rain falling drop by drop are engendered in the shells of oysters; as those pearls which are found in the Indian and Britain sea. The crystal and beryl are made of water frozen, void of pores or subtle passages, so that they can neither receive heat nor be melted. It appeareth also, that there is fire in the composition of stones, which likewise is forced out of the flint being strooken with a gad of steel. To which purpose Hermes amongst his secrets teacheth, that a stone doth sometimes spring out of the fire, mounting from earth too heaven, and then again retaining to the earth, that nourished it. For metals likewise, though they be watery, some of them do nevertheless 
Diversity of the metals.  retain the nature of fire; as gold and iron, one of which imitateth the fire of the sun, and the other the fire of Mars. But tin and copper are airy, this receiving influence from Venus, that from jupiter. Silver agreeth with the Moon, Lead with Saturn, quicksilver with Mercury: and yet all of them are endued with a watery nature, and will melt, and do differ in weight. For as one water doth differ in weight from another; so doth metal, not only in special, but also in undivisible proportion. For common gold differeth in weight from that which the Latins call (Obrysum) or else (Ofirizum of the Hebrew word (Ofir) which we call (fine gold) and which hath been oftentimes purged and refined in the fire, and wasted not therein. The gold of Tharsis also doth differ from the gold of India and Hungary, and of others. So likewise do waters differ in goodness and weight, according to the region and place wherein they are: and by how much they are nearer to the fountain, by so much are they better and lighter. And by their weight (as Vitrnuius will have it one may know the goodness of the air: according to which he willeth men to choose out places to build houses in. Concerning plants, although they may be by nature airy: yet there are some, whose roots, juice, leaves, and blossoms are said to be hot in the first, second, 
A different property of the plants.  third, or fourth degrees; and others are cold and dry; some also are moist: which diversity happeneth, according as the plant obtaineth, more or less of the nature of one of the elements. The like of living creatures. For though they may properly be said to be of the nature of fire, yet are there some, which being more earthy, delight in the earth, 
Diversity of nature in animalibus.  as moles, worms, and commonly all creeping things. Likewise all fishes are nourished by the water: chameleon by the air: the salamander by fire, as some affirm, because that he long time endureth fire through his excessive coldness. There are some also which burn with great heat, as doves and lions: some are cooled with moisture; as the lamp; and some are dry, as hares and dear. But nevertheless in regard of their life they are all especially of the nature of fire distinguished by degrees: wherefore divers names have been assigned to them, being borrowed from the elements or from their qualities.  
And besides all this which we have hear discoursed concerning the elements, which may be found in the perfectly compounded substances of this elementary world, many 
Of the celestial and supercelestial elements.  learned men affirm, that they are also resident in the celestial and supercelestial world. But that as they are here thick and gross: so by a contrary reason they are pure and clean in heaven, and in it living and every where well doing. They say then, that these celestial elements are as the worthiest and excellent portion of those, which subsist under the moons sphere in the second degree, and which remain also in the bowels of the earth as the most base and gross leeses of the elements. And that in heaven they are certain virtues or powers; and in nature the seeds of things; and in the world below gross forms. For (as they argue) if there were no elementary powers in heaven, how then by the celestial influence, should these elements here below be engendered and transformed: in such sort that which now is air may be converted into rain, the water exhaled into air, the earth turned into wood, which nourisheth the fire, and from the wood riseth air and ashes fall, which is earth? For these causes also it is very likely that the Astronomers distinguish the signs of the Zodiac and the Planets by the elements, attributing three signs to every of them, as we have already declared. But we shall find enough to content us concerning this matter, when we discourse particularly as touching the firm concord which remaineth betwixt the terrestrial elements and the Planets. Which (AMANA) let be the subject of your morrow discourse.   
The end of the fift days work.   

The sixth days work.  

Of the agreement betwixt the Elements and the Planets. Chap. 41.  AMANA. 
AS the celestial spheres do follow that universal & comemon course which the first heaven that containeth and encloseth them all doth begin, beside the motions that are proper and peculiar to each of them (as we have already heretofore declared: (so must we in like sort note, that the elements do follow the heavens, and observe an order after them, every one in his degree, having their motions also agreeable to their nature. And that likewise there is betwixt them and the celestial bodies, a certain accord & answerableness of powers and qualities aptly proportioned by degrees, even as is found in all creatures compounded 
agreeableness of the earth with the moon.  of them. We will then first entreat of this agreement betwixt the elements and the heavens beginning with the earth, which is correspondent to the moon in divers respects. For as the earth draweth the water to it, and soaketh it up, in such sort that it is numbered by the Sages amongst those things which are never satisfied, to wit, with water: so doth the moon with a perpetual attraction draw the water, making it sometimes to rise, to wit, when from the oriental Horizon she cometh to the midst of heaven, from whence descending to the occidental Horizon she carrieth it away with herwith such violence, that it seemeth to fly from us. Again, when the moon runneth in the point opposite to the mid heaven, she draweth the water away with her; then returning again to the eastern Horizon, she causeth it to follow after her in like sort. When she increaseth also she draweth up the humours in trees and men's bodies; when she waineth, she chaseth them down. Again, the earth and moon do agreed in the first qualities of cold and dry, wherewith the earth is actually, and the moon operatively replenished, which also (according to her nature being somewhat terrestrial) doth sup up the celestial waters, and all the influences of the bodies above her, which as nearest to us, she doth communicate with us. For she receiveth from the other 
The moon and earth singular in variety.  planets, and principally from the sun, that which she distributeth here beblow. And therefore Plato in his Banquet saith. That the moon participateth with the sun and with the earth. Moreover, the Moon is singular in variety: whence it cometh to pass, that one while she is crooked with horns, another time divided into equal porportions or halves; then being full round, she is here and there bespotted: sometimes she seemeth unmeasurably great in her round fullness; presently after she appeareth very small: now she showeth very fair towards the North; afterwards again she is couched in the South: so within a few days she submitteth herself to conjunction, and by and by is she full and big; presently after she is delivered of the fruit which she had conceived. Now in this great changeableness, the Moon doth show us that the earth is like unto her. For now being disrobed of her ornaments, she appeareth black afterwards being painted and adorned with herbs and flowers, she seemeth very fair. One part thereof is stony another part is marish. In one place it is lean, in another place fat; here abated in valleys, there lift up in mountains: here fertile, and yonder barren. One part is chequered with divers spots, this read, that black, one white, and another brown. One portion is close and clammy; another thin and saundie. Moreover the earth is sometimes voided and empty, and then she receiveth the conjunction of the planets, whereby in short space being filled, she bringeth forth fruit. So then the moon amongst the stars, and the earth amongst the elements do agreed in many particulars.  
Now as touching the water, it seemeth to be answerable to Mercury and to Saturn also. For the order of the planets, and the correspondency which they have to things here below, 
The water correspondent to mercury.  did require, that next after the earthly moon, watery Mercury should be situate, whom poets have named (the Arbiter or umpire of the waters) then followeth next airy Venus, and after her the sun, which is of the nature of fire. Than again Mats participating of the same force, hath his seat next above the sun: airian jupiter above Mars. waterish Saturn over jupiter and the sign bearing heaven above Saturn, as answering to the earth; then higher again is the first movable, of the nature of fire. It is certain that the nature of Mercury is by so much more hard to be deciphered, by how much his star is more hidden and hard to be seen, and that very seldom too. And therefore do Astronomers affirm, that his influent power is secret, by reason that he easily accepting the nature of the planet wherewith he is conjoined, or of the sign wherein he is resident, seemeth to operate. not according to his own proper nature, but as the executor of the influence of another. Whereupon he is by them nominated (Hermes) to signify, that he is as it were interpreter of the other stars intendments. For by the testimony of Ptolamy, he drieth up being with the Sun, he cooleth with the Moon; he favoureth the understanding with Saturn; he bestoweth advise & policy in warlike affairs. where stoutness is required, with Mars, and conjoined to Venus, he engendereth the 
* One that is of both sexes.  Anerogyne or Hermaphrodite, which must be understood concerning him, who exerciseth subtlety of wit, which he receiveth from Mercury, in the second Venus, which is disordinate. For such a man is effeminate, retaining the property of both sexes. So that Mercury agreeing with the reasonable discourse and favouring the same, as he is turned towards the inferior; he likewise produceth divers effects, in so much that his property cannot castly be comprehended. And yet may he very aptly be said to be of the nature of water, as many Philosophers are of opinion, considering that the order of the planets requireth (to observe the harmony and league of things here below with those above) that he should be watery. Moreover, as water doth in washing, take away the spot that covereth, in such sort that the naked bore form doth appear: so Mercury contributing favour to the promptness and subtlety of men's wits, is to them as an interpreter, taking away the vail from strange languages, obscureness from riddles and parables, and difficulty from every profound and mystecall speech: and opening that which is shut up in the secret cabinets of God and nature, presenteth the naked truth to be contemplated. Neither must we think that the star of Mercury performeth this, but so far as it may operate in bodies by disposing, or else as an instrument of the divine omnipotency, as we have heretofore declared.  
Let us now speak of the air. It seemeth to be answerable in nature to Venus, which is hot and moist, and by the foresaid order of the planets succession in course, that it must be 
Concordance of the air with Venus.  referred to jupiter. For this cause the Astronomers have dedicated to Venus the airy living creatures. For even as the air and wind coupleth and conjoineth things severed, so doth the Venerean power: whereupon we will note, that the Academics taught how that there were two Venuses, the one Etherian, and the other Aërian: the highest, cleanest, chastest, and most temperate according with jupiter, and conjoining the superior, divine and spiritual things: the lowest, most disordinate, slippery, variable, and lascivious, which conjoineth in lust the creatures here below. Of this Venus so many rebauldries are sung by wanton Poets, because she is cause of all evil; even as the other is cause of all good. To which speech the saying of Saint Augustine hath relation: namely, that two loves have made two cities. For the well disposed and good love of God, and the love of one neighbour to the despising of one's self, hath edified the city of God. But the perverse love of ones self, to the forgetting of God, hath reared up the city of the devil. Moreover, the Grammarians deliver this reason, why the power of this Star is called Venus: because it doth concur in all things, be they good or evil. And surely all is filled with love, and nothing is voided thereof, as all things are full of air, which filleth the natural appetite that abhorreth emptiness. By love (saith Boetius) are the heavens conjoined, and the elements agreed with bodies compound. Through it creatures devil together, the city is preserved, and the common wealth increased. Through love God made the world, & doth govern it: and the sum of all that, which he requireth of us is love. Saint Denis in his hierarchy speaketh thus. [The love of God hath not permitted that the king of all things should remain in himself without fruit. And as through love he is spread abroad in all things without himself; so he delighteth to attract all things to himself; & principally man, in whom all is enclosed. And therefore when he shall be united (with God) even so shall all other things be. Whether then that we speak of Divine or angelical, or spiritual, or quickening, or natural love, we mean a power engrafted, and conjoining, which moveth the superior things to providence and care, for the good of the inferior, disposeth equal things in a sociable communion, and in fine admonisheth inferior things, that they turn themselves to those that are better and superior.] Thus speaketh this great Doctor and Philosopher. But let us pursue the subject of our discourse. We have declared, that the Academics have taught double Venus. The like may be said of the Air, for we consider it in 2. parts. the one thick and foggy, which is next the earth, and the other pure & aetherian next unto the stars: which being heated by force of the wind which mixeth itself in allthings seemeth to be very fit for the propagation and maintenance of nature: for which reason also the wind and the air are called by one name of the Hebrews, who call allthings according to their properties.  
Finally, the elementary fire is answerable to the Sun, and to Mars, who are both of the 
That the fire agreeth with the sun.  nature of fire. For as the Sun is the true and celestial fire, boiling all that which appertaineth to the viands of this great animal the world; so this elementary fire causing all things to boil by his great heat, doth perfect the nourishment of creatures living in the earth. Both the one and other fire heateth; but this driving the humours inward, and the other drawing them out. This imparteth his commodity to that only, which is near it; but the superior bestoweth his virtue upon the farthest remote bodies, in such sort that the force of his beams pierceth even to the bowels of the earth, where it boileth & maketh metals, which afterwards the elementary fire purgeth. Moreover, as Apollo (so named) as of a which is a primitive letter in composition, and of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifieth multitude, as being he, who alone containeth the power of the heavens and of the stars; or else because that his virtue and power consisteth of many fires, by which he giveth light to all the stars, whose natural vigour produceth not their effects, till such time as they be filled with the powerful seed of this fair Phoebus, who is so called of his beauty and amiableness which shineth in him, at he is also named Sol, as holy shining; or else by a name amongst the Hebrews, which one may interpret, that which properly doth subsist, because that the light and benefit thereof is proper and peculiar unto him.] As this fair planet (I say) was acknowledged by the ancient Poets and Philosophers, for the inventor of physic, because of the quickening heat and well disposing power thereof: so the fire here beneath doth aptly pattern him, by reason that heating the cold frozen creatures. it doth in a manner restore their life unto them. So it is heat that giveth life and fruitfulness. For eggs are not converted into chickens, nor the silkworm into a butterfly, neither do plants grow, nor yet are living creatures nourished and warmed, except either by the superior, or by the quickening, or by the elementary heat, which by a certain sympathy do seem to be of oneselfe same kind, as it were through correspondency. Yea the fire is so fruitful, that it engendereth itself, and giveth power to other natural things to engender, not by the heat thereof only, but by the force of the light, which it receiveth from him who hath said, [I am the light of the world.] Wherhfore Moses being desirous to make manifest, that all things 
Genes. 1.  had been produced by the benefit of the light after that the matter which he calleth earth turned out of darkness, was made, he saith that presently the light was created: as that by means of which life, and form must be given to all things, and aptness to be seen. Which vital vigour did no doubt consist in the divine fire which is called (the which resting upon the face of the waters, infused into all things the life and the forms, by which every thing might be discerned from other. But let us now return to our elementary world, and particularly behold the nature of the four elements, and of things engendered in them and by them. Than have we enough to stand upon for the common opinion, of those, who establish this number of four in that which hath been already declared, and now also in this discourse. Let us first then (AMANA) hear you discourse of the fire and of the air, and of their marvelous effects.   

Of the fire, and of the air, and of the things engendered in them: and of their motions, and of the Winds. Chap. 42.  AMANA 
MAny Philosophers do divide all that, which subsisteth under the concave of the Moon, into three parts) one of which they call the highest, the other the middle, and the third the lowest part. The highest they place above the middle region of the air, and make as it were the same element partaker with the most pure fire, which the ancients nominated (Ether) because that there the elements are pure, subtle, thin, and rare, and for that the air there is very temperate and clear, agreeing with the nature of heaven: as to the contrary in the lower part, which is that where we inhabit, there is not any sincere element (for a sensible element is not pure) but all things are there compounded and mixed with the muddy and gross part of this mundane body. And concerning the middle region of the air, it is that very place where the meteors and high impressions do appear. So then above, the elements are pure; beneath, the perfect and composed bodies do fail, by reason of their mixture of the elementary simplicity: and in the middle they compound themselves unperfectly, in such sort, that one may say that they possess the middle place betwixt the nature of the elements and of things compounded. Now as we have said before, and as the common saying of people is, the heaven is often taken for this supreme and middle region of the air, and for the things which are to them conjoined, and do depend upon their effects. So that in this regard we may understand first two of the four elements, to wit, the air & the fire, 
Of the things conjoined & depending up on the effects of the fire and of the air. Psal 8. Matthew 6. Luke 8.  than all things engendered in them, and by them: as winds, thunder, lightnings, hail, whirlwinds, clouds, tempests, rain, dews, frosts, snows and all kinds of fire and such like, which arise & appear in the air. And therein we may also comprise all the creatures which converse in it, as birds and all creatures that fly, even as the holy Scripture teacheth us, when it maketh mention of the birds of heaven.  
Now the element of fire is known to have his place nearest to the moon, being by nature hot and dry; and is for this cause lightest, having his motion quicker than all the element, because that lightness and quickness is proper to these two qualities (heat and dryness) and therefore also the property thereof is to mount always upwards, until that it hath attained to the place destinated unto it, being most convenient for the nature thereof, 
Of the proper nature of the fire, and of the air.  & which joineth next unto the spheres. Next to fire the air possesseth the second place, & agreeth in the nature with the fire, in that it is hot: but it is contrary thereto in that it is also moist. And therefore the motion thereof followeth that of the fire, but it is not so light and quick by reason of the humidity which maketh it more heavy and slow. And yet it appeareth that it is always moved, because that in narrow places small winds do blow 
That the air is always moved.  without ceasing. For considering that the air hath the motion thereof tending always upwards, and that it is continually moved up and down, it bloweth in a great space very gently: but passing through a crevisse or straight place, all the violence thereof being drawn together by reason of the narrowness of the place, driveth out and flieth vehemently upon us: after the manner of the waters of great floods, which, when it seemeth that they can scarce flow, being urged through a narrow place, or through sluices are constrained to run out by much force, with noise and roaring. Moreover, according as the air is moved, either by the heat of the Sun, or by the vapours and exhalations which this heat causeth to rise out of the waters, and out of the earth, or by the waves of the Sea, or by the caves of the earth, and such like causes, we perceive the air diversly agitated. For we must note 
What wind ●●.  that the winds are nothing else but the air, which is moved and driven more violently then ordinary, and which hath his motion more sudden, more violent and strong, being driven and pressed forwards according as the causes are more great or small, and according to the places from whence they proceed. And this is the reason why the air is sometimes so peaceable, that one cannot feel so much as one only small puff of wind: but it is as calm as the Sea, when it is not tossed with any wind or tempest. As is evident by those vanes and weathercockes which are set in the tops of turrets & houses: for when the wind bloweth not, their plates are nothing moved: and yet the air doth never fail to blow by reason of the perpetual motion thereof: but insomuch as it is not hoist up and down,, it passeth and flieth lightly away, without any noise or bruit towards that part whereto we see the point of the vane inclined. Sometimes also one may feel some small pleasant and gentle wind to blow without any violence, which is very delectable, 
Of the diversity of the winds, and of the order and bounds of them.  recreative, and profitable, not only in regard of men and other living things, but in respect also of all the first-fruits of the earth. At another time likewise the violence of the winds is so great, that it raiseth up whirl winds, storms and tempests, which drive the air with such fury and roughness, that it seemeth they would overthrow and confounded heaven and earth together, beating down and carrying away all that is before them: like a great deluge and water flood, which beareth away with it all that it meets with. But though one may suppose so, during such tempests, yet the course of the winds are not so confused, but that all of them observe their order and certain places, out of which they issue and proceed, & their bounds likewise whereat they stay, and wherein they are confined, as the element of which they are engendered. And therefore by experience we see, that they follow the course of the Sun, and that they are distributed, and disposed according to all the parts of the world, as we usually divide it, having respect to the moving of the spheres. For as we divide the course of the sun, and all the regions of the earth into East, West, North and South; so must we consider the four principal winds, which proceed out of these four places one opposite to another. Besides which there are certain others which are called collateral winds, because that each of the first hath them upon the one or other side of them, so that those who have ordinarily written concerning the winds, do appoint to the number of twelve common and ordinary winds; saying also, that there are others which are proper to certain regions and countries, according to the nature of their situations and places: as we may hereafter found matter enough thereof amply to entreat.  
But here it will be good to touch one difficulty, which may be alleged upon our discourse, touching that which we have said concerning the qualities of the air. For sith that it is hot and moist by nature, and that the winds are nothing else but the same 
Notable things in the diversity of the qualities of the winds & of the air.  air moved and puffed forwards: what may be the cause that the winds do not all of them retain the nature of the air: For we know by experience, that there are as many divers qualities in the winds, as in all the elements: for some are hot and dry; others hot and moist; others moist and cold: and some cold and dry. Hereupon we may note, that all creatures which subsist of a sensible and corporal nature are commonly divided into two kinds, which comprise them all. The one are simple, and the other compound; of the first sort are the elements taken every one alone in their proper and particular nature, such as we have already declared. And all other creatures compounded of the elements conjoined together, are of the second kind. Wherhfore if the elements were pure, not any way mixed one with another, than would each of them retain his natural qualities purely. But because they are intermingled one with an other, they have their qualities likewise mingled. And therefore by how much the higher the air mounteth, by so much the more it is pure, neat, subtle, and thin; and by how much the lower it descendeth and approacheth the water and earth, by so much the more it is gross and thick, and partaketh more of the elements near to which it remaineth. And according as it is warmed by the heat of the Sun, or by any other heat, or else as it is cooled by the absence and default thereof; even so doth it become either more hot, or more cold. The like also may be said concerning the natural moisture thereof. For according as it is more or less mixed with water, or near unto it; so doth it receive either a more moist, or a more dry quality. So therefore according to the places out of which the winds proceed and issue, and through which they pass, they are hotter or colder; drier or moister; pure or impure; healthful and wholesome, or pestilent and infections, yea even stinking. And for the same cause also it cometh to pass, that as the diversity of lands and countries is disposed, so winds, which are felt in one place warm, are in another place cold: and so it is of their moisture and dryness. By the same reason also those that are healthful for some, are unwholesome for oaths; and those which bring with them fair & clear weather in one place, do in another place bring rain and tempests. For the property of some of them is, according to the countries wherein they blow, to chase away the clouds, and make the air clear and the weather fair, whereas others do assemble and heap them together. Whereupon ensueth, that some bring rain with them, other snow, and others again hail and tempests, according as God hath ordained the causes in nature, as the sequel of our discourse shall minister occasion again to speak of. Wherefore pursuing the order of our speech, we will consider those things which are conjoined to the fire and air, and do depend upon their effects: as are thunders and lightnings. Whereof (ARAM) do you discourse.   

Of thunder and lightning. Chap. 43.  ARAM. 
THere is a certain universal love and appetite in all creatures, which inciteth them all to love their own kind, to desire it, and search after it. But as their natures are divers, even so is the love and the appetite which is in them. And therefore there are as many sorts of desires, as there are diversities of natures. And thence it is that the fire and the air do naturally desire the highest places, and do thither tend evermore, as the water and the earth do require the lowest, and do thereto descend incessantly: neither can these elements find any stay or rest until they be arrived at those places, which are appointed unto them by nature. And therefore what hindrance soever there may be, yet every thing doth always seek to return to his natural home, and therein doth all possible endeavour. Now here we are to consider the cause of thunders, lightnings, tempests, earthquakes, and such like motions and perturbarions in the elements. For all these things happen, when the creatures, which by their contraries are hindered from pursuing their own kind, do fight with those which keep them back, as if there were open war betwixt them. Which causeth that that which by force can make way doth at last vanquish. But because of the resistance which there is, this cannot be performed without great violence, and marvelous noise: from whence proceed many admirable effects, and namely, thunder, which hath ministered occasion to many great spirits to search out the causes some what nearly. But men's opinions, as in a very deep matter are divers hereupon. For some maintain, that thunder is caused by the blows and 
Of the causes of thunder.  strokes that the fire maketh being enclosed within the clouds, which it cleaveth, so making itself to appear as is seen in lightnings. Aristotle in his Meteors writeth, that thunder groweth and proceedeth of hot and dry exhalations ascending out of the earth into the supreme region of the air, being there repulsed back by the beams of the stars into the clouds. For these exhalations desiring to set themselves at liberty, and to free themselves, do cause this noise, which is often stopped by nature, whilst they fight with the clouds: but when they can gain issue, then do they make the cloud to crack, like a bladder full of wind that is broken by force. Moreover Pliny imitating the opinion of the Epicure teacheth, that those fires, which fall from the stars (as we see often in calm weather) may 
Plin. hist. natur. job 14.  sometimes meet with the clouds, and fall upon them and that by the vehemency of this blow the air is moved. And that this fire plunging itself into the clouds causeth a certain thick and hissing smoke, which maketh a noise like an hot iron thrust into water: From whence the whirlwinds which we see in the air do proceed. But when the wind or vapour enclosed in the clouds, will needs get out by force, than this causeth thunder. And if there come out fire which breaketh the cloud, then is it lightning. But when these inflamed vapours do show forth a long train of their fire out of the cloud. than this is that which we call a flash of lightning. Whereupon ensueth that these lightning flashes cleave the clouds: but the fire of thunder teareth and renteth them, and causeth them to crack.  
But referring these arguments to Philosophers, we may fitly say, that the true cause of thunder is the wind enclosed, which seeketh to issue out. But that which is most admirable therein, is the great violence of the flashes thereof, and the strange accidents which 
Of the difference of heat.  happen by the fire thereof. For it doth not only pierce more than any other fire, by reason of the passing swift motion thereof: but it is much hotter than all other fire. For it is to be noted that there is a difference in heat; and that not only by reason of the matter one fire is hotter than another, as that which is in the iron is hotter than that which is in straw; and that which is in oaken wood is hotter than that which is in willow: but even as in ice we found some scarcely frozen, othersome hard; and other again very hard: so is there in fire that is scarce fire, as when the iron beginneth to wax somewhat read, and another fire that is shining, and other that shines very bright. Wherhfore we must note that fire exceeds in heat and in force six manner of ways. 1. By nature as I have said (for the most ardent burneth quickest & soon.) 2. By the solidity of the matter (as that which is in iron:) 3. By motion (for thereby it is made more piercing.) 4. By greatness either proper to itself, or caused by continuance of time, (which is common to every fire.) 5. By hindrance of respiration, and by constraint together, (as is manifest in lime, which is kindled with water: for the heat being gotten in, and hid in the furnace, being of the kind of fire, is enclosed and gathered within the lime, so that it returneth into fire, by the motion and mixture of the water.) Now the constrained motion must not only penetrate very much, but also it enkindleth 
Of the violence and force of thunder.  heat, and (as I have declared) it maketh one fire hotter than another. And therefore it may be no great wonder, if the lightning of thunder be of very much force and vilolence, and that the fire thereof being very different from the nature of other fires, doth effect strange things. For it is not only more piercing by reason of the quick motion thereof, but it is also much hotter than all other fire. Whereupon it cometh, that it can kill any kind of creature by the only touch thereof. And sometimes the purse remaining whole and sound, it melteth the money that is therein: which is not fabulous as many think, nor yet on the other side very much to be admired. For that which hurteth, doth corrupt either by means of the quantity, or for the long continuance thereof. And therefore the thunder fire which is most subtle, breaketh not the purse: for by reason that it hath very quick motion, it stayeth not on it, and therefore cannot it endamage it so. Moreover, as the air doth demonstrate unto us, that by reason of the subtlety thereof, it passeth through the purse, without any resting upon it, and entereth thereinto, filling it when it is empty, though it be fast shut (which could not be, if it found not passage through insensible ways and holes, sith the mouth of the purse is very close shut:) So likewise one little spark of thunderfire, far more subtle than the air, may easily enter into the purse, where finding metal it fasteneth therein, causing it to melt by the extreme violence and sudden force thereof.  
So then the solid bodies, as iron, silver, and gold are by so much the sooner spoiled and melted by the lightning, by how much they do more withstand, and make resistance against it. But in those bodies which be rare, full of holes, soft and weak, the thunder passeth quick over them, without hurting them, as is seen in the garments that men wear, and in very dry wood. For other wood burneth, by reason that the moisture which remaineth therein doth resist and kindle. Whereupon it followeth (if we believe Plutarch) that such as sleep are never strooken with thunder: because that the sleeping man is lose, and becometh soft and unequal, and in manner dissolved, with his pores open, as if his spirit failed, and left him: so that the lightning findeth no such resistance in him, as it would do if he were awake. Whereunto this may be also added; that he which sleepeth, having no fear, astonishment, nor dread in him, is by this means oftentimes defended from thunder. For it is certain, that many have died with fear only and apprehension which they have taken thereof, without suffering any violence. Wherhfore considering that the sense of hearing is of all other senses the most subject to suffer violent passions; and that fears and dread which proceed of noise, do bring the greatest trouble to the soul: thereupon he which waketh and apprehendeth very much, becometh bound and thick in his body: so that the lightning falling upon him, giveth a greater blow and a ruder stroke, in so much as it findeth greater resistance.  
It is wonderful to consider the strange cases, that many author's report to have happened through thunder. But amongst all, that is very admirable, which julius Obsequius reciteth 
marvelous effects of thunder.  of the daughter of Pompei●s' Lionis a Knight of Rome. For she returning from certain plays and turnayments celebrated at Rome, was suddenly strooken from her Palfrey with a thunderclap, stark dead, without any appearance of any wound, or fracture of member. But when her father caused her to be stripped to bury and inter her, they perceived her tongue to come forth at the bottom of her womb: whereby they knew that the thunder and fire had strooken her directly through the mouth, and so had issued out at the lower passage: a thing exceeding fearful, and worthy of great marvel. That which Du Bartas, the honour of the poets of our age, hath written in his no less learned than Christian week, to have been seen of the effects of thunder by a woman, though it may rather minister cause of laughter then of sorrow, yet is it very marvelous. For he recounteth that the flame singed away all the hair about this woman's secrets at one instant, without doing her any harm. But ommitting these discourses, I will note certain particularities, which some philosophers affirm touching thunder. They say then, that it never or very seldom toucheth pillars, nor the keels of ships, by reason of the depth of the one, and 
Colomnes and the keels of Ships exempt from the danger of thunder.  roundness of the other. So that the blow thereof running along the pillars doth very seldom strike them: as also not being able to descend above five cubits under ground, and the bottoms of ships being very low it scarcely ever falleth there. And therefore it is a sure remedy against lightning to hide one's self in deep caves. It is also to be noted, that although the brightness of the lightning be seen before the noise of thunder be heard, yet proceed they not one before another, but are both together. And the reason hereof is easy to understand. For because that sight is quicker and sharper than hearing, the eye doth sooner behold the brightness of the lightning, than the ear doth hear the sound of the 
Why the lightning of thunder is preceiued before the sound be heard.  thunder; as we see plainly when a man cuts down a tree, or beateth upon any thing that resoundeth, especially if we be far off. For we shall see him strick the stroke sooner than we can hear it: as likewise we prove in ordinance, and in all guns and pieces, whose fire we shall see, before we hear the noise of their shoot; notwithstanding that they are both performed together. But we have dwelled long enough on this matter, concerning that which philosophers do teach. We must now consider what the true meteors of Christians are, as we have already discoursed of their Astronomy and Astrology: wherein we shall learn the supernatural causes of those thunders and lightnings, which God sendeth when and how he pleaseth: as you (ACHITOB) can relate unto us.   

Of the true Meteors of Christians: and of the supernatural causes of thunder and lightning. Chapter. 44.  ACHITOB. 
THE Philosophers call Meteors, by a Greek name, that part of natural philosophy, which entreateth of the air, and of the things engendered therein, and appertaining thereto: as namely the clouds, rain, snow, thunders, tempests, lightnings, and such like, because that they are over and above us. For the signification of the Greek word (Meteoron) importeth so much. But the principal profit that like Christians, we must desire and purchase from this part of Philosophy, is, that we learn by the contemplation and consideration of the works of God, of which we now entreat, what is his power, wisdom, bounty, and benignity towards us, and how it manifesteth itself before our eyes; not only in the highest heavens, wherein the sun, moon, and stars are contained (as we have heretofore showed) but also in the air and in all the elements placed under the spheres. For by this knowledge we may reap very great first-fruits. First, in that we are assured, that all these 
Of the profit which the knowledge of the meteors bringeth to Christians.  things are in the power of our father, who is the creator of them: & that they are all created for our good like the rest of his works, and not for our ruin and perdition. Than we learn by so many rare works and marvelous effects, to fear and love the author of them only, and nothing else, except in him, and for the love of him; acknowledging and firmly believing that he alone is the author and governor of all nature. For we behold how terrible and fearful he showeth himself by thunders and lightnings. And again, how loving, gracious, and benign he declareth himself to be, by rain, dews, and such like blessings, by which he giveth nourishment to men, & to all other creatures. For these causes also the kingly prophet calleth thunders, lightnings, tempests & great inundations of waters (the voice of the Lord) & in another place he speaketh of the Lord, as of a magnificent and 
Psalm. 29. Psalm. 18.  majestical Prince, speaking great, like the sound of thunder, and casting fire out at his mouth, with great floods and deluges of water: saying again in another place, That the Almighty maketh great clouds his chariot, and that he walketh upon the wings of the 
Psalm. 104.  wind, that he maketh the spirits his messengers, and a flaming fire his ministers. By which fire, no doubt, but the Prophet meaneth the lightning, which the Lord sendeth, when, and 
Luke 17.  where it pleaseth him, to 'cause men to love him, and to punish them like their just judge: as he declared in effect, when he reigned down fire and brimstone upon them of Sodom 
2. Pet 3  one Gomorrha, and the other Cities round about them: which are proposed to us in the Scriptures for examples of the judgements of God, as that of the flood.  
For this cause also David addressing his speech to the great and mighty, to the proud and lofty, which have God in contempt, saith [Give unto the Lord ye sons of the mighty, 
Psalm. 29.  give unto the Lord glory and strength: give unto the Lord glory due unto his name: worship the Lord in his glorious sanctuary:] consequently deducing the wonders that God doth by the voice of his thunder, and how that it sparkleth with flames of fire, by reason of the lightnings, which proceed out of the clouds when they open, and rend themselves with so great noise, whereat the deserts, and mountains tremble: the hinds calf and bring forth before their time for fear and dread, and the forests are discovered, their trees being overturned and broken, as they are very oftentimes with tempests, and whirlwinds, as if the Author of all nature did blow through them. For it is he (as is written in Ecclesiasticus) that sendeth out the lightnings as he listeth, who having opened 
Eccles. 43.  his treasures, the clouds fly out like birds; at sight of whom the mountains leap, and the south wind bloweth according to his will: and the voice of his thunder maketh the earth to suffer: which is as much to say, as that it is moved and trembleth in regard of men. Whereby we may learn what shall become of them all, if they enterprise to stand up against God. For surely their force cannot but be much less than that of the high mountains and great trees, which might seem to the ignorant able to appose themselves against thunders, whirlwinds and tempests.  
For this cause also Elihu saith in the book of job. [At this also mine heart is astonished, and 
job 37.  is moved out of his place. Hear the sound of his voice, and the noise that goeth out of his mouth, He directeth it under the whole heaven, and his light unto the ends of the world.] Now he meaneth by this light, the lightnings which our God causeth to appear in one moment and instant from the east to the west, and from the one side of the world to the other (as the Scripture declareth otherwhere) and it is easy to note, by reason that 
Matth. 24.  he proceedeth, saying: [After it a noise soundeth: he thundereth with the voice of his majesty, and he will not stay them, when his voice is heard. God thundereth marvelously with 
Marvels to be considered in the fire of thunder.  his voice: he worketh great things, which we know not.] And who (I pray you) would not wonder to see the fire and water, which are of contrary natures mingled one with another, and lodged both in one lodging, and proceeding out of one place together? For where remaineth this fire, which showeth itself in lightning? cometh it not out of the clouds wherein it is enclosed before they be opened, and burst by the thunder? And of what substance is the cloud? Is it not of water massed up together, which covereth and keepeth in the fire, as in an hearth? For do not we oftentimes behold while it raineth, and great floods and streams of water do fall, so that it seemeth that all the clouds, and the whole air should melt and resolve into water, that great lightnings of fire flash, appear, and run every where about like burning darts and arrows? For while the hot exhaltations are enclosed 
Causes of the noise and of the lightning of thunder.  in the cloud, and retained therein perforce, with the violence & contention which is betwixt these contraries, the noise of thunder is made. And when the matter is so abundant in the cloud, that it maketh it to break and open, and that it may reach to the earth than is there not only thunder and lightning, but also thunderbolts, and which are of divers very marvelous and fearful kinds. For some bring with them that fire which is not easy to be quenched, as we have already declared: others are without fire, & pierce through the most solid and firm bodies, so that, there is no force which can resist them. And sometimes also it happeneth, that those which are strooken therewith, be they men or beasts, remain all consumed within, as if their flesh, sinews, and bones were altogether melted within their skin, it remaining sound and whole, as if they had no harm, so that it is very hard to find in what part the body was stricken.  
We are not then to hold in small account that the holy scripture proposeth God unto us so often thundering, and lightning, when it would declare unto us his majesty and how terrible he is, and to be feared. For it is certain, that he hath many weapons, and of divers sorts, very strong, and inevitable, when he will punish men, and that his only will is sufficient to serve him, when, & how he pleaseth. And therefore also we must acknowledge beside these natural causes which make and engender thunder, the prime, eternal and supernatural 
Supernatural causes to be considered in thunder.  cause of all things, from which proceed so many signs of the marvelous judgements of God through the ministery of his creatures, oftentimes contrary to that, which seemeth to be ordained by the laws of nature. For when he will thunder upon his enemies he breaketh and suddenly consumeth them in strange manner. And therefore it is written, that the Lord shall destroy those who rise up against him, and that he shall thunder upon them from heaven, and in the battle which the children of Israel had against the 
1. Sam. 2. & 7.  Philistims it is said, that after the prayer of Samuel the Lord in that day thundered a great thunder upon his enemies, and scattered them and slew them before the host of Israel. When Moses also stretched out his rod towards heaven, it is said, that the Lord caused thunder, and hail, and that the fire walked upon the ground: and that hail and tempests 
Exod. 9  struck many men and beasts in Egypt.  
Moreover we doubt not but that evil spirits do sometimes raise up tempests, thunder and lightning, because that the principal power of them is in the air. And therefore when it pleaseth God to slack their bridle, they raise up terrible and wondrous storms. Which is apparently demonstrated unto us in job, whose servants and cattle Satan burned with the fire, which he caused to fall from heaven: and by a great wind that he raised, he 
job 1  overturned the house upon his children. And therefore also the scripture calleth the devil, Prince of this world, and of darkness, and of the power of the air: teaching us also, that 
Ephes. 2. & 6.  we must fight against the evil spirits which are in the celestial places. It is no marvel then, if evil spirits join themselves with tempests, to hurt men to their uttermost ability. For which cause David calleth the inflaming of the wrath of God, choler, indignation and anguish (the exploit of evil angels.) Wherhfore it is certain that when God hath a 
Psal. 7 8.  meaning, not only to punish the wicked, but also to chastise his own, or to try their faith constancy, and patience; he giveth power to devils to this effect: yet such, as that he always limiteth then, so that they can do nothing, but so far as is permitted them. Now he permitteth them so far as he knoweth to be expedient for his glory, and for the health of his: or so much as the sins and infidelity of men deserve, that he may chastise and punish them, and bring vengeance upon them for their iniquities. And therefore me seemeth that to such meteors the Epicures and Atheists should be sent, who mock at the 
Against Atheists and Tyrants,  providence of God; as likewise the tyrants of this world, who tread all justice underfoot; to make them think a little, whether there be a God in heaven, & whether he be without power, and without meddling in the government of the world. For I cannot believe that there is any one of them, but would be waked out of his sleep, how profound soever it were, when he should hear God shoot out of the highest heavens, and should understand the noise of his cannons, and should behold the blows that he striketh. For he is in a place so high, that all the wicked together cannot make battery against him, nor yet avoid his incuitable strokes, who can slay them with the fear only which they shall have of his noise, without touching them. But though they cannot assure themselves in their hearts against this sovereign majesty and power of the eternal, yet are they so perverse and wicked; that rather than that they will tender to him the honour and glory which is due, they forge unto themselves a nature, to which they attribute his works or else believe that they happen by chance, as things coming by hap hazard, without any divine providence. But leaving such manner of people, we will pursue our discourse concerning things engendered in the higher elements, entreating of snows, Mists, Frosts and Hail, the discourse whereof (ASER) I refer to you.   

Of snows, mists, frosts, ice, and hail. Chapter 45.  ASER. 
Sigh that God is not subject to the nature which he hath created, but doth ever rest the Lord and master thereof, who can perform both without it, and with it all that he pleaseth: it therefore followeth, that we must refer, not to the creatures or to nature, the works, which he hath done in them, and by them, but to him alone, and must attribute to him the total glory thereof, and to depend wholly upon him and upon his providence. Now if we shall consider all creatures in their original and end ordained by God, we shall find that they are all good, and ordained by the creator for the benefit of the good. And yet it might seem that he hath established some things, principally to take vengeance on the wicked, as by this text of scripture, where the Lord saith to job; [Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow? or hast thou seen the treasures of the hail, which I have hid against the time of trouble, against the day 
job. 38.  of war and battle?] In which text is delivered unto us a goodly doctrine of the form, and of the place, where the snow and hail are engendered, to wit, in the chambers builded by God among the waters, which he guardeth as treasures, and congealeth them to serve him for scourges, to chastise and punish the froward. For it is he (as the Psalmist chaunteh) who giveth snow like wool, and scattereth the hoar frosts like ashes. He casteth 
Psalm. 147.  forth his Ice like morsels: who can abide the cold thereof? He sendeth his word and melteth them: he causeth his wind to blow, and the waters flow. This is he also (as saith Ecclesiasticus) which hasteneth the snow by his commandment, and strengtheneth the clouds with great force to make the hail stones crack. The south wind bloweth according 
Eccles 43.  to his will: the storm of the north, & the whirlwind flying out like birds, scatter the snow, and the falling down thereof is as an heap of grasshoppers or locusts that light down in any country. The eye hath the whiteness thereof in admiration, and the heart is astonished at the fall of it. The Lord poureth out the frost upon the earth like salt, which when it is frozen sticketh on the tops of pales. The cold north wind bloweth, and the water is frozon: it abideth upon the gatherings together of the water, and clotheth the water as with a breast plate. It devoureth the mountains, and burneth the wilderness, and destroyeth that that is green, like fire. The present remedy against all this, is a cloud, and the dew coming before the heat, appeaseth it. It is also written in the book of job, [The whirl wind cometh out of the heap of clouds, and the cold from the north 
job. 37.  wind, at the breath God the frost is given, and the breadth of the waters is made narrow.] 
job 38.  And therefore the Lord saith to job, Out of whose womb came the ice? who hath engendered the frost of the heaven: The waters are hid as with a stone: and the face of the deep is covered.] Which is as much to say, as the waters take to them the form of a stone, when they are converted into hail and ice, and that the sea is frozen over: for when the water is frozen, it seemeth to be hid and lost, and to be no more water.  
Surely in these discourses we have much to consider concerning the wonders of God. For is it not an admirable thing, that the water, which is soft, and runs so swiftly, should become as hard as stones, and that it can fall from heaven in such form, yea sometimes so great that it doth not only spoil the fruits of the earth, but doth also break the branches of trees, and kill men and beasts. Hereof that is a certain testimony which we read concerning the hail, which God sent upon the Egyptians, by the ministery of Moses, and 
Exod. 9 Ioshu. 10.  upon the Amorites in the time of joshuah, in the war of the Gibeonites. Indeed this was done contrary to the course of nature, in respect of the Egyptians especially. For their land is not moistened, nor warred with rain from heaven, but only by the river Nilus. And 
Deut. 12.  therefore the power of God was evidently showed, when he caused so great hail to fall down upon the enemies of his people, that no man could judge it to be natural. For hail is made of rain frozen in the air: and is different from snow and mists, in that the hail is engendered of rain more hard frozen: snow of moisture more softly thicked: and mists and fogs of cold dews. So that when the congealed water is frozen by a strong cold, it becometh hail: if a small cold, it engendereth small drizzling hail, such as falls commonly in the spring time, as in March and April. But this me thinketh is worthy of greatest wonder, that the water in summer time should be congealed into hail, and that during the great heat of the sun, the greatest congelation should be made, from whence cometh this word dmongst the Latins (Grando) which is as much to say, as a great drop of water: which is not seen in winter, when every thing, through the exceeding cold, freezeth hear on earth: or if so be this happen in such a time, it is spoken of as a new and strange thing that comes not ordinarily in this season, like the snow and mists, which are proper to winter and cold weather. For though the Naturalists travel much to show that all things are produced by inferior and natural causes; yet must we principally acknowledge a divine puissance above all, who hath causes hidden in his incomprehensible treasures from men, by which the hail, thunder, lightning, tempests and storms 
Exod. 16.  are disposed and dispersed according to his good pleasure. For as God made known to his people by the Manna which he sent them in the wilderness, wherewith he nourished them for the space of forty years in a barren and unhabitable place, that he could everuermore very easily find means enough, both ordinary and extraordinary, to nourish and maintain them: so hath he made manifest by the rods and scourges wherewith he hath beaten the Egyptians, that be can evermore very easily invent means enough to punish his enemies, so often and whensoever he pleaseth, yea even then, when there shall be no appearance thereof amongst men.  
Now as God, when he pleaseth, converteh the water into stones, and so hardeneth it that by great cold he doth (as it were) pave, not only rivers, ponds, and lakes, but also great seas; which he maketh so firm, that one may pass over them, yea and draw over great and 
Of the 〈…〉, & how it is thawed.  heavy chariots, as it were over bridges, and firm land: so when it pleaseth him, he causeth all this water so hardened to return into the proper kind thereof, as if it had never been frozen. And as there be winds to congeal it, so there are winds to dissolve and thaw it. For we must note, that ye doth not dissolve and thaw by the heat of the sun only, but also by the power of the winds ordained hereto, yea and much sooner so, then otherwise. Concerning all which things, and the causes of them, which God hath created and established in nature, we shall here make a brief and general discourse. For if we should speak as the Philosophers have written and disputed, we should have matter enough to compose a great volume. But we will content ourselves simply to propound here the admirable works of God, by which every one may learn to fear, and honour him: which is the only, and the greatest profit that we must make of meteors, whereof our speech hath hitherto 
Of the true profit that must be reaped concerning meteors.  thereto been, and which do yet rest for us to consider of. For our intent is to manifest in them, not only the works of the creation, which are therein proposed, but those also of the divine providence, which are in the same after divers sorts declared: and not to do as many, who are esteemed very learned in natural Philosophy, and in all other letters and human sciences; who are so badly advanced in the knowledge of God by them, that in stead of acknowledging and glorifying him as it behoveth them, they rather become Atheists and Epicures, contemners and mockers of his Majesty, and of all religion. But the judgements of God shall therefore light very grievous upon them, because they shall be by so much the more inexcusable. For they are of the number of those of whom Saint Paul saith 
Rom. 1.  that by their infidelity, and injustice, they detain the truth in injustice, because they unjustly and wilfully suppress the knowledge of the Eternal: for having known him in the 
Heb. 11.  works of the creation of the world, which are as a mirror and show of invisible things, they glorify him not as God, neither are thankful: but become vain in their imaginatons, and their foolish heart is full of darkness, and when they profess themselves wise, they become fools; because it hath pleased God so to punish their proud presumption, and the vanity of there understanding. Wherhfore likewise as the Apostle saith in an other place: They have their cogitations darkened, and are strangers from the life of God, through the ignorance 
Ephes. 4.  that is in them, because of the hardness of their hearts. For by reason that they abuse the gift of knowledge, which they have in a more ample measure than others, therefore doth the Omnipotent by his just judgement make them more blind than the simple and ignorant; so that they are rather worthy to be accounted as beasts then as men. And yet the science and knowledge which they have of the works of God more abundant than others, is not cause of their blindness, considering that it is an excellent gift from above, profitable for all those, which can and will well use it: but their malice, ingratitude, and perverseness of heart and understanding pulleth this evil upon them, through their own fault, and by the just vengeance of God. So that whereas their skill should open their eyes to guide them by the knowledge of the creatures, to that of the Creator, it is rather an hindrance unto them, and depriveth them of that great and Sovereign good. But we shall have worthy arguments against their impiety in that which remaineth for us to view, concerning other things engendered in the highest elements; amongst which many comprehend Comets, saying that they are of the number of sublime or high impressions, which are made in the region of the fire and air. Wherhfore pursuing our purpose we will hear you (AMANA) discourse upon this subject.   

Of comets. Chap. 46.  AMANA. 
ALthough we have hitherto spoken of sundry sorts of the creatures & works of God, by which he manifesteth and declareth his power, glory, majesty, and eternal providence, and chief in the region of the air, nevertheless there do yet a great number remain, which we have nothing at all touched either particularly or in general, not not somuch as cursorily. For there are so many sorts of fires of divers forms that appear in the sky above, that it is impossible to distinguish them all particularly. And amongst them there are some which sometimes seem to fall from heaven or as if the stars did snuff themselves, as men snuff a candle: so that the most part of rude and ignorant people suppose it is so. Many others think that sometimes the stars sparkle. But the cause of such appearance is, for that the substance of heaven being very clear, their beams shining towards us, are evermore broken perpendicularly. For the air being moved, 
Why it seemeth that the stars do sparkle.  even as we see the stones in the bottom of a river seem to tremble, because of the running motion of the water; so doth the stars seem to sparkle: and when the middle of the air is vehemently stirred above, than they seem to sparkle both more and oftener. But we will leave this talk to speak of certain heavenly fires, which we call comets, and which are worthy of great consideration, and of much marvel. For they appear like bearded and hairy stars, having their motion with the heaven as if they were very stars: and certes 
Of comets and of the place where they are engendered.  we might well suppose them such, and placed in heaven like therest, if they should long time continued. But the opinion of many is, (as Aristotle likewise writeth in his Meteors) that they are naturally made of an hot exhalation, which attaineth to the supreme region of the air, whereit is inflamed by the element of fire: so that of such an exhalation are fires kindled in heaven of divers sorts and fashions. Nevertheless some learned modern writers have diligently observed the height, whether these vapours may mount, do think clean otherwise: for they affirm that comets cannot be engendered in the region of the elements and are not afraid to give sentence to Aristotle, who in truth being an Ethnic and Pagan, 
Some propositions of Aristotle false.  hath failed in the resolution of many particular questions. For he hath strained himself to affirm many general propositions, which our experience showeth to be utterly false: as these. (That no living thing apprehendeth by sense that which is good; that a thing poized can incline neither to the one side nor to the other; & that the earth is in no part higher than the waters, and sundry others.) Now it hath been permitted him to abandon the opinion of his master Plato, who taught the truth, yea and to reprehend him: it shall be also lawful for us, and very laudable to separate ourselves in opinion from him, & to contradict his writings for the truth.  
They then that do not acknowledge comets to be conjoined unto, and depending upon the effects of the elementary fire, and air, by means of exhalations and vapours arising from the earth, doalleadge among other reasons, that the place which is seen by the in habitants of Milan under the circle of winter or the Tropic of Capricorn, is distant from the earth ten times more than the height that the vapours attain to. And therefore the comets being seen there higher than the place of the vapours, it necessarily 
Reasons of those who say that the comets are situate in heaven.  followeth, that they are not there engendered, neither yet in the highest of the pure air called (Aether) considering that there is no matter, which may be kindled. But if any one allege that the combustible humour is ravished and attracted thither by the power of the stars though that this place be higher than the common place of vapours; we may answer, that for as much as we behold many comets to continued more than two months, and some three, that this their long continuance may be an impediment thereto: because that the total mass of the earth would not be sufficient for such an inflammat on. Moreover there is a means to know, whether the comet be in the region of the air, or else be engendered in heaven. For if it be quicker in motion from West to East, than the Moon is; then of necessity must the place of the comet be under the lowest sphere: but if it be more slow, then without doubt it is bread in heaven. Now it is common to all comets to be 
Comets moved with three motions.  moved with three motions: namely, with the first from East to West in the space of four and twenty hours, like all the Stars: with the second from West to East, almost in like space of time with the planet Venus. For a Comet which appeared the two and twentieth day of September 1532. and ended the third day of December, proceeded (as Fracastorius writeth) in 71. one days from the fift part of Virgo, to the eight part of Scorpio. Which maketh manifest that it could not be under the Moon: for than it should have been more swiftly moved then this planet: which retrogradeth thirteenth parts of the Zodiac in four and twenty hours, according to the ordinary course of the first motion: and the comet had proceeded but 63. degrees in 71. days. But for the third motion peculiar to all comets, which is considered according to the latitude, it is such and so great, that if the foresaid Author be not deceived, one is now moved with incredible speed towards the North, and another in an instant towards the South. Which cometh to pass when the comets are near to any of the Poles, for then a little variety of place conferred to the zodiac doth greatly change the latitude. Besides, it is to be noted that the beard of every comet doth directly stre●th out that way, which is opposite to the Sun: and when it setteth, the same tail is strait Eastward: As the like may be daily seen in the dark part of the Moon. Moreover the comet doth most usually accompany the Sun and appeareth not but at eventide, and at the shutting up of the day. Which giveth us to understand, that a comet is a globe placed in heaven, which being enlightened by the Sun doth plainly appear: 
What a comet properly is.  and when his rays pass farther, they show like the fashion of a beard, or of a tail. Whereupon it appeareth that this flaming globe may be made in the midst of the spheres, if the generation thereof be in them: or else we must say (and that seemeth true) that the heaven is full of many stars, not very massy, which (the air being dry and attenuated) do present themselves to our sight. For Venus herself is sometimes seen in broad day, which none can say to be newly engendered. Than through this dryness of the air it commonly 
Of the prodigies which are attributed to comets.  happeneth, that the seas are much turmoiled with tempests, and that great blustering winds do follow thereupon, and that monarchs and great Princes, who are most dry through cold and watchings, or else through abundance of hot and delicate meats and of strong wine, do thereupon die: So likewise the dry and attenuated air causeth the waters to diminish, fishes to die, and scarcity of victuals, which oftentimes stirreth up seditions, and the change of laws, and finally the subversion of states. All which things (I say) do seem in some sort to proceed through the great tenuity and dryness of the air: and thereof the comet then appearing may be a sign and token, but not the cause. But if we will meditate upon these things like christians, we will say, that what natural causes soever Naturalists and Astrologers can tender concerning comets, signs and wonders which appear sometimes in heaven, that they should be so often unto us, like so many trumpets, heralds, & forerunners of the justice of God, to advertise men that they remain not buried in their filth and sins, but to return to the infinite goodness of God, who reacheth out his hand, & calleth to us through such signs to change our life and leave our execrablevices, to the end that through his mercy, we may obtain pardon for our faults.  
But let us likewise note, that although sundry sorts of comets are seen, yet the greeks call them properly stars that have a sanguine bush of hair, and are bristled at the top, 
Of divers kinds of comets.  And those which have under them a long beard made like hairs, they call (Pogonies) Pliny reporteth of sundry other sorts: and saith, that the shortest time that ever comet was seen to appear, hath been seven days, and the longest time eighty. He maketh mention also of one, which seemed terrible about the clime of Egypt and Ethiopia. For it was 
Hist nat. lib. 2.  flaming and wreathed round like a serpent, having a very hideous and dreadful aspect: so that one would have said, that it had rather been a knot of fire, than a star. Afterwards this author concludeth his speech, with the opinion that many have (as is above said) that comets are perpetual, and that they have a proper and peculiar motion: saying also, that none can see them, except they be very far distant from the sun, in such sort that they may not be covered with his beams. And yet the opinion of Aristotle is clean contrary thereto, and so are a great number of other Philosophers, who affirm that comets are composed of a certain fire, and of an humour which it lighteth one by chance, for which cause, they are subject to resolution. But we will proceed no farther in this argument, nor yet concerning the situation of them, whether they be under the spheres, or amongst them: but will pursue our purpose concerning things undoubtedly engendered in the highest elements, as namely, the Clouds. The discourse whereof (ARAM) I refer to you.   

Of Clouds and Vapours. Chap. 47.  ARAM. 
AS the Lord and Father of this great Vnivers doth publish his glory by the motions of the heavens, and the marvelous courses of all the lights in them; so doth he likewise in the air after many sorts, as we have already heard, and as we have yet good proofs in that which is presented unto us for the matter of our discourse. And therefore the kingly Prophet saith, that the heavens report the glory of God, and the firmament doth declare his works. For the Hebrew word, which we call firmament, doth properly signify (a spreading abroad) and comprehendeth both the heaven and the air. Now let us first note, that there is nothing more weaker than the air, nor any element 
〈…〉.  that can worse sustain a charge, if it have no other prop. Than let us consider of what matter the clouds are made, and what firmness they may retain. It is certain that they are nothing else but vapours attracted out of the waters by the power of the sun, as we behold after a great rain, when the heat of the sun striketh upon the earth. For we perceive the water to ascend upwards like a great smoke: and we see an other clear experience hereof in wet clotheses and linen, when they receive the heat of heaven, or of the fire. So it is then, that the water ceaseth not to mount from earth up into the air, and then to descend down again, so the course thereof is perpetual, as if there were a sea mounting from earth to heaven, which we call (Air,) then descending from thence down hither to us. For after that of vapours, which ascend from the earth, the clouds are gathered together, which like sponges do receive the steam of the waters, whereof they themselves are engendered; then do they carry them like chariots, to distribute them through all the quarters of the world, according as is ordained by the providence of God. And therefore Elihu saith in the book of job. (Behold God is excellent, and we know it not neither can the number of his years be searched out, when he restraineth the drops of water, the rain poureth down by the vapour thereof, which rain the clouds do drop and let fall abundantly upon man. Than proceeding to show, how God spreadeth out the light of the sun upon the waters of the sea, to draw out and produce vapours, he addeth: [Who can know the divisions (that is varieties and diversities) of the clouds, and the thunders of his tabernacle: Behold he spreads his light upon it, & covereth the roots of the sea.] Meaning by roots the waters of the sea, as well because they are deep, as for that they are divided 
Property of the winds in regard of the clouds.  by divers waves like the branches of roots. Moreover, we most consider that to carry and convey the clouds hither and thither, God hath created the winds, which blow from all the quarters of the world: some to gather the clouds together, and to bring rain & snow or hail and tempests, by means of the same clouds, according as pleaseth the Creator to dispose them: other winds on the contrary do disperse them and make the air clear and pleasant, bringing fair weather. Hereof than it cometh, that above in the air, between heaven and earth, thereiss, as it were an other heaven made of clouds spread out like a curtain; or like a vault or covering over our heads, which hindereth us of sight of the sun, Moon, and Stars. But as the mass of clouds is made by means of winds ordained thereto, so when it pleaseth God to give us fair weather, then doth he sand us other winds, which chase away all these clouds, and clear the air, as if they had been swept away, and the heaven showeth another countenance to the world, as if it had been changed and renewed.  
Now while the air is filled with clouds, this may very well be considered by us, that men have then (as it were) a great sea of water over their heads, contained and held within those clouds, as the waters of the sea are within the bounds which are assigned them for their course. Which seemeth that Moses taught, when he showeth that God creating all things separated the waters, which are upon the earth, from those which are in the air, saying thus: That there was a stretching out between the waters, and that it separated 
Genes. 1  the waters from the waters. God then made the firmament (or spreading abroad or stretching out) and separated the waters, which are under the firmament from those which were above it, and it was so. And God called the firmament, Heaven] It is sure that by these words, many have thought that the Prophet would teach, that there were waters, both under and above heaven: which seemeth to be confirmed by the Psalmist, saying [Praise ye the Lord heavens of heavens, & waters that be above the heavens, praise his name.] Nevertheless 
Psam. 148. Whether there be any material water above the heavens.  it is not very easy for us to understand, what waters may be above the heavens, if we do not take the name of heaven in these two texts, for the air, as we have heretofore showed, that it is oftentimes so taken. For what shall we answer being demanded to what use the material waters may serve, either among the spheres, or above the planets and stars? And for to take the name of waters here, for spiritual waters, not corporal, as many have argued: me seemeth, (under correction of the wiser) which we prefer in all our discourses, that this cannot fitly be affirmed, because it doth evidently appear that Moses speaketh of material waters. For he accommodating himself to a gross people, among whom he conversed, maketh no mention in all the creation of the world, but of the creating of visible and corporal things; That there is small likelihood that he should speak of other waters, mixing spiritual things with corporal. But because the Latin translator of the common version of the Bible hath used, it in this text, the word firmament, following the translation of the Greeks', and not the proper word (spreading abroad) as the Hebrew phrase doth signify; some of the learned have observed, how that many Latin Divines have been hindered from the understanding of this doctrine. For they have taken the name Firmament, for the starry heaven (as also the Greeks' have judged) imitating their translation. Whereupon the imagination is sprung of waters above the heavens, and of a crystalline heaven: which I suppose to have been so called, by reason of these waters, 
Of the crystalline heaven.  which were supposed to be above the firmament; because that crystal is made of ice, and ice of water. For it had been very difficult to conceive how material waters, which by nature are corruptible, might be above the celestial spheres, except they were hardened and converted into crystal, because that from the moon upwards, there are no creatures subject to corruption and to such changes, as those that are under the moon. Behold then, why these men have supposed such waters to have been made partakers of the nature of heaven. But what need is there to travel in such disputations, and to take pains for to have recourse to allegories, when one may be easily satisfied with the literal sense? For there is nothing more easy, then to make the words of Moses clear and evident, being thoroughly considered. For first he hath declared, how that the earth was covered all over 
Of the separation of the terrestrial & celestial waters.  with water, and that there was a great deep overwhelmed with darkness, so that the earth did in no wise appear, till such time as God had commanded the waters to retire themselves into their places, which he hath assigned for their perpetual residence. And then the earth was discovered, even so much thereof as was needful for the habitation and nourishment of men, and of all the creatures, which God did afterwards created. Therefore David (as the expounder of Moses words, saith) That the Lord hath set the earth upon her foundations: adding strait after, That he had covered it with the deep, at with a garment, and 
Psal. 104.  that the waters did stand above the mountains; but as his rebuke they fled: which is as much to say, as when God hath commanded the waters to retire and to discover the earth, they suddenly obeyed the voice of their creator. Now Moses having spoken of those waters which are resident here below on earth, gathered as well into the sea, as into fountains and rivers, he afterwards declareth, how God would assign unto them another abode in a certain region of the air, which he first calleth a spreading abroad, and after that heaven, which the Psalmist also signifieth when he saith of God, that he covereth himself with light as with a garment, and spreadeth the heavens like a curtain, which is to say: that the light is to the creator like a stately garment, wherein we behold his glory to shine and glister every where and that he hath spread abroad the heavens like a pavilion for his habitation. Moreover, he addeth, [The Lord doth lay the iousts of his high chambers amongst the waters: he maketh the great clouds his chariot: He holdeth back (saith job) the face of his throne & stretcheth out his cloud upon it.] And therefore the Scripture doth also teach us, 
job. 26.  that God hath oftentimes declared his presence, and manifested his glory both to Moses, 
Exod. 13 14. 16 and 40. Acts 1.  and to all the people of Israel by the clouds. And when jesus Christ ascended into heaven a cloud taking him, bore him up in the sight of his Apostles, to declare unto them, and make them sure of the place whether he went, using this cloud as a triumphant chariot, which hath given testimony of his sovereign and eternal majesty. And therefore it is also written, that he shall come in the clouds of heaven with power and glory. Wherhfore if we were well instructed in the sacred word of God we should have a very clear doctrine concerning Meteors, and which were much more profitable than that which Philosophers teach. For the clouds would excellently declare unto us the magnificence and majesty of God, so often as we should behold them, and would represent unto us all the wonders by us here 
Matth. 24.  mentioned: as we shall also be induced to admire them, considering more nearly the great miracle of the waters sustained and hanged in the air, as pursuing our purpose I leave to you (ACHITOB) to discover.   

Of the waters sustained and hanged in the air, and of the Rainbow. Chap. 48.  ACHITOB. 
I Will begin my speech with the saying of the kingly Prophet, who after that he had appointed the heavens for the pavilion of God, and ordained the clouds for the planchers thereof, whereupon are raised the lofty chambers (that is to say, the great and spacious waters amassed up within the clouds, which he also proposeth unto us as the chariot, upon which the Eternal is borne) being consequently willing to show what the horses are, by which the chariot is drawn and driven, he saith, [He walketh upon the wings of the wind. He maketh the spirits his messengers, and flaming fire his ministers:] which is as much, as if in some he would declare, that men need not labour to mount aloft into heaven there to contemplate and behold God, sith that he so clearly manifesteth himself throughout the whole world, principally by the celestial creatures, and then by the magnificent and marvelous works, which he daily performeth herein the air near unto us, and before our eyes. So surely, if we must accounted as great miracles, the coming of the Sun unto us and his return, which daily continueth, and the courses and motions of all the other celestial bodies, we have no less occasion to accounted as a thing miraculous and worthy of great wonder, that we so often behold here below, a great cell of waters over our heads in the air, sustained by the water itself, & by 
Wonder of the waters carried in the air.  vapours like to smoke, as if they were hanged in the air, and were there borne up without any stay and prop, but by the invisible virtue and power of God. For otherwise, how could the clouds sustain so great heaps, and such deep gulfs of water, considering that they are nothing else but water, and do also come at length to resolve into water? Again how without this divine power could these clouds be supported in the air, seeing that the air itself seemeth to consist of waters most subtly distilled, being very light, and in continual motion. For it evidently appeareth, that the air retaineth much of the nature of water, because that so ordinarily it converteth therein, being enclosed in a cold and moist place: so that many fountains are by this means engendered of air, if we will credit Naturalists. And therefore as David saith of the waters, which run about the earth, that God hath appointed a bound unto them, which they may not pass, nor return any more to overflow the habitation of men: so may we likewise say, that he hath bounded the waters that hung in the air, within the clouds, to the end that they may not run loosely astray. And therefore job saith: (He bindeth the waters in the clouds, and the cloud is not 
job 26.  broken under them.] For else it is most certain that so often as these waters should fall up on the earth, they would drown up all things whereupon they powered, like as when the sea and rivers overflow the banks, or like a great deluge, as come to pass, when God punished the world by waters, in the time of Noah. For it is written, that not only all the fountains 
Genes. 7.  of the great deep were broken up, but that the windows of heaven were opened, and that rain fell upon the earth forty days and forty nights. For which cause also the Psalmist 
Psal 29.  singeth [The voice of the Lord is upon the waters, the glory of God maketh it to thunder; the Lord is upon the great waters. He was set upon the flood, and he shall remain king for ever:] which is as much to say, as the Lord hath executed his judgement upon the wicked, by the waters of the flood, and that as than he took vengeance, so it is he, that doth for ever remain judge of the world, & that maketh all creatures to tremble before him. Where we have great matter of fear and trembling, if we believe the word of God, and the testimonies which it delivereth of his iudgemements, when I say, we diligently consider the effects of the nature of the higher elements. Therefore whensoever we see close weather, and the air filled with clouds, threatening us with rain and tempests, the sight thereof should always refresh and renew in us the memory of this judgement of God, so terrible and universal in the flood, to teach us to walk in more fear of his Majesty. But there are few, which think thereupon, and can make their profit thereof: and many to the contrary, do but jest and scoff at it, as if it were a fable, and a fantasy.  
I know very well, that the Scripture saith, that God set the Rainbow in the clouds for sign of an accord and atonement between him and men, and every living creature, to the end that the water might never after increase to such a flood as should root out all flesh. But we must note, that the Eternal doth not here promise', never to sand any deluge upon the earth, but only not a general and universal flood, as the first was in the time of Noah. For how many times hath he punished particularly many people with great inundations 
Genes. 9 Many goodly things to be considered in the rainbow.  and deluges of water: signifying unto all, that he hath all his creatures at commandment for ever to make them serve, either to his wrath or to his mercy, according as he will entreat men? and hereupon we shall learn, that though it seemeth, that in the place before alleged, the Rainbow is named, as if it had been spread in the air at that time only, when it was given by GOD as a sign and Sacrament of his covenant renewed: yet nevertheless we must not doubt, but that when GOD created the causes of this Bow in nature ordained by him, he did also created it in the establishing of the world with other creatures. But it was not used by God for a testimony of his atonement with mankind, till after the flood. So likewise it is certain, that this heavenly how hath naturally had at all times the significations which at this present it retrineth, to presage rain or fair weather, according as it diversly appeareth. But since that the creator hath accepted it for a sign of his covenant, it hath had this vantage, to be ordained as a gage and witness of the promises of God. And therefore whensoever we behold it in heaven, we must not only consider of it, as of a natural thing, and as a prognosticator sometimes of rain, sometimes of fair weather: but likewise as a witness and memorial as well of the judgement of God, as of his grace and mercy, and of the assurance of the conservation of all creatures by his providence. But though it should teach us nothing of all this, but should only retain the beauty and natural signification thereof, yet might it serve as for an excellent testimony of the majesty of God, and incite us to give him praise. For which cause Ecclesiasticus saith. (Look upon the rainbow and praise him that made it: very beautiful it is 
Eccles. 43.  in the brightness thereof. It compasseth the heaven about with a glorious circle, & the hands of the most high have bended it.) For what man is so dull, but doth admrre the great variety of so fair colours as appear in it, even in a substance so fine and subtle, that it cannot be perceived by any corporal sense, save by the sight.  
I know that the philosophers do teach, that as a drop of water, which one seethe in the sun, representeth many goodly colours like those in the rainbow, which is made of a thick watery cloud full of drops, in the middle region of the air. For every dark obscure 
Of the cause of the divers colours that appear in the rinebow.  thing is, as it were, almost black, as the shadows do demonstrate, which by reason of their obscurity seem to be black. And when an obscure thing is illuminated, if it be bright, it passeth in colours, according to the abundance of the brightness. Now the cloud is obscure, and the drops of water are bright, and for this cause they represent unto us colour's according to the variety of that light which shineth upon them. And forasmuch as the innermost circle of the bow is nearest to the obscure or dark cloud, it seemeth commonly to be blue, that to the middle, which is more illuminate, appeareth green, and the upper circle. which is greatest, and most lighted with celestial brightness, is yellow Forasmuch then as there is a cause of every thing, the Naturalists do much endeavour themselves to tender reasons, concerning the diversities of these colours: as Astrologians do also, to argue upon the divers predictions of this bow, as presaging sometimes rain, sometimes fair weather, sometimes wind, and sometimes calm and clear weather. Yet Pliny saith; that it is often seen, when it doth not prognosticate any thing, and that no heed is taken of it, for the time to come. But let every one ascertain himself, that it is caused by the beams of the 
Hist. nat. lib. 2.  sun, which striking into an hollow cloud, are constraived to reverberate, and return upwards towards the sun. And that the diversity of colours, which are therein represented, is made by the mixture of the clouds, of the air, and of the fire, which are found there together. Moreover; that this bow never is, but when the sun is opposite to that cloud & that it exceeds not the form of a semicircle: also that it appeareth not by night, though Aristotle saith that it hath sometimes been then seen. But we will leave the philosophers to dispute upon these things, and to search the depth of their natural causes; and will conclude this speech, and make an end of this day with a point of doctrine, concerning the meteors of Christians: which is, that we must take very good heed, not to be of the number of those, who boasting of the knowledge of human sciences, have despised the spiritual and divine: and of whom Saint Peter hath prophesied saying, That there should come in the last days mockers and contemners of God, walking according to their own lusts, which should say, [Where is the promise of his coming? For since the fathers died, all things continued alike from the creation.] Which is as much as they should say, that there is a common and continual course of nature, which hath hitherto continued from the beginning of the world, and shall endure for ever, without end, and without any judgement 
2 Pet 3 Against 〈◊〉.  of God to come. For thus prate our idolaters of nature, who do altogether deny the providence of God. And therefore the blessed apostle do also add, that they willingly know not that the heavens were of old, and that earth, that was of the water, and the water by the word of God. By which things the world that was, perished, being overflowed with waters. Likewise saint Peter had before concluded; that if God had not spared the 
●. Peter 2.  old world, but saved Noah the eight person, a preacher of righteousness, and brought in the flood upon the troop of the ungodly: it cannot be that the wicked, which are borne since into the world, may think that their condemnation floweth, and that their perdition sleepeth. For a thousand years are but as one day, & one day is as a thousand years before the Lord And the long term that God alloweth to men, to prevent his judgement by repentance 
Psalm. 90.  and amendment, shall not hinder him to execute his judgement, yea by so much the more rigorously, by how much the more long time, and more viely they have abused his stay and patience. Let us then imprint this at this present in our memory, concerning our discourse of the waters sustained and hanged in the air, which have served God for so terrible ministers in the execution of his justice, when it pleased him to punish the iniquity of men: and to morrow, pursuing our subject, we will speak again of rains, and heavenly waters, to the end to consider of the admirable providence of God, which shineth in them: even as you (ASER) shall give us to understand.   
The end of the sixt day.   

The seventh days work.  

Of Dews and Raine. Chap. 49.  ASER. 
THe pronidence of God hath so disposed the nature of the air and of the water, that these elements seem to repair and maintain one another. For there is a place in the air where water is, as it were, converted into the nature thereof: there is another place again, wherein water returneth into his own natural kind, saving that whilst it hangeth and is sustained in the air, it is much more light and subtle then that which runneth in the earth, for it retaineth more of the earth. Although then that water is by nature more heavy than the air, yet doth not the heaviness thereof let it from mounting up from the earth, because that by 
How the water ascendeth up from the earth and changeth nature.  the the heat of the Sun which attracteth it, and other such like natural causes, by which it may be elevated into the air, this weightiness is taken from it, or at lest is so diminished, that it doth then retain more of the nature of air, then of water, and so doth till such time as it hath ascended, and attained to the place which God hath assigned to it in the air. For the heat of the sun doth convert it first into vapours, which are drawn out of the lest terrestrial and most subtle parts thereof, which approach nearest to the nature of the air. For which cause these vapours are more easily converted into air, the which resolveth itself again into water, then when such vapours are arrived at the middle region of the air, which is the coldest part thereof, as well by reason that it is farther distant from the sun and from all the other celestial and aetherian fires, than the supreme part thereof is; as likewise because it cannot be heated like the lowest part thereof, by reverberation of the suns heat, which scorcheth the earth. Wherhfore Moses declaring unto us, how the Lord made the water mount from the earth, and converted it into vapours, saith: [The Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, neither was there a man to till the ground, but a mist (or vapour) went up from the earth, and watered all the earth.] For we behold every day, how that after the air hath been refreshed by the choolenes of the night, the dew falleth in the morning upon the earth: and if the cold hath been great, it is turned into mist, and white hoarie-frost, from which proceed the frosts that do often times spoil vines and trees, which are most tender in cold weather, when their branches, are yet feeble, and they begin to bud.  
And let us note, that there are two sorts of vapours, which do commonly rise from the terrestrial towards the celestial region: the one is fat and thick, whereof the dew is made: 
Of two sorts of vapours which make dew and rain.  and the other is subtle and thin, which turneth into rain. Cornefields are fattened by the dew, which by reason of the thickness thereof mounteth not very high: and if that any part of it be better concocted (as doth happen ordinarily in hot countries) it resteth condensate through cold upon the plants, and is called Manna. Of this it is that Pliny speaketh, when he saith, that the great stars being risen in summer, and specially the most excellent, or 
Hist. nat. l. 11.  else when the rain how is over the earth, and that it rain not, but only make a small dew, which is heated by the sun beams; that which then falleth is not home, but is an heavenly gift and singular medicine for the eyes, for ulcers, and for those accidents which may happen in the navel and interior parts. Which Manna is plentifully gathered in Targa, a wilderness of Libya, near to the city Agades, especially when the nights are very fair, partly for that they are colder than the day; and partly for that the dews cannot convert themselves into the substance of clouds: because as I said it is condensate by the cold. Whereupon ensueth that when the rain is engendered of vapours, the cold cannot be great: for then such vapours are attracted by the heat, and are presently after thickened by the cold in the region of the air. And therefore there is but little Manna found when the night is cloudy, and less when it is rainy, for than it melteth. Behold then how the fattest part of vapours turneth into dew, and that which mounteth up, is condensate through cold in the subtle air, and is afterwards converted into rain. And because that in summer the heat doth dry up very near so much as it attracteth in vapours, there is therefore 
Why it raineth but little in Summer, and diversly in other seasons.  very seldom little rain therein: for considering that in our countries the heat is weak, it attracteth by little and little the vapours, which the dryness doth oftentimes consume before they can be converted into rain. Wherhfore it cometh to pass, that if it rain in summer, the rain is suddenly engendered: for when the clouds are too slow, they are consumed by the dryness of the sun. And there where the air is very cold, and consequently thick and gross, the vapour, which is thither drawn, being very light, cannot be condensate, because of the thickness of the air and the thinness of the vapour. Which causeth, that in stead of rain, snow is engendered: for snow is a congelation of a vapour nor condensate for the subtility of his proper substance, and for because of the thickness of the air. Wherhfore when the cold is great in winter, it raineth little. And for the spring time, because that the succeeding day doth consume more vapour, than the precedent day had attracted (for in the spring time the latter days are still hotter, and have shorter nights) for this cause it raineth then less than in autumn, and oftener than in summer or winter. But in Autumn showers of rain are commonly great, and of long continuance: For the sun being as then still powerful upon the earth, many vapours are drawn up. But because the succeeding day hath still a longer night than the precedent, and for that it was also warmer it is necessary that the vapour should thicken, and afterwards descend. And when the earth is moistened, then that which did descend, is again attracted, lying than not only rains, the earth, and being still somewhat deeper than before. Whereof are made upon the superfices of but also rainy and windy clouds.  
Thus have we in sum then the form of dews and rain, and the diversity of course, 
Difference of rain water, and earth water.  and how the earthly and heavenly waters differ from one another, the rain water retaining more of the air, and being much purer and lighter, then that which doth always remain in the earth. For in comparison of terrestrial water it is like water distilled through a Limbeck. And yet how light soever it be, it must nevertheless be heavier than the air, and especially, when it is frozen within the clouds, and converted into snow or hail, which is like stones of ice. Wherein it seemeth that this rule of nature and natural Philosophy is not generally true, which affirmeth, That every heavy thing doth always draw downward, considering there are waters hanged in the air, which is much lighter than the water that it sustaineth. Wherhfore we must say, that clouds are in the air in the region that is assigned unto them, in such sort as ships are in the water. For none doubteh, 
Clouds are the air: as ships are upon the waters.  but that stones, iron, lead, and all other metals, yea, infinite other things of less weight, are heavier than the water; yet we nevertheless do behold, that there is no burden so weighty, but the water doth easily support it, by means of a Boat, or a wooden Ship, or a Galley, which shall be even of itself a great and heavy load. And yet the water, which will sustain such a charge, cannot bear up a pin, or a nail, or a small piece of gold, or silver, or a little stone, but all shall sink to the bottom. Now the cause of all these effects is the participation that the wood hath with the air, which maketh it much lighter than the other bodies, which are more solid and massy. For by reason that the wood is more open, and more lose to give way to the air, it receiveth lightness thereof, which causeth it to float upon the water, whereas the other more terrestrial bodies do sink thereinto. So then the air sustaineth by means of the clouds, the waters which they contain enclosed within them: even as the sea and great rivers sustain gross and heavy burdens, by means of Ships. For though the clouds do consist of water themselves, and are engendered of it, being drawn into the air, through blowing of the winds, and afterwards massed up in one body (as we have already understood) yet do they subsist of a water less terrestrial and more airy, than those waters, which flow here below: for which cause they are also more light, and more easily sustained by the air, upon which they float, like ships upon the sea and other waters. And afterwards when the clouds return into their first nature of water, and when they be opened to let fall the waters which they contain, the water which proceedeth from them doth resume also his proper course, according to the natural heaviness thereof, and returneth downwards, descending to the earth. And as ships sink down into the water, when they are overcharged, as likewise the charges and burdens, wherewith they are ladden, when they are split or broken by violence of winds or by some other force which maketh them dash one against another, & against the rocks: so is it with the clouds, & with the things which they bear, and with the winds also wherewith they are driven, or else are enclosed with them, which make a great noise, when they strive to issue out, so that the clouds are rend and crack, as the thunders testify unto us, and the tempests, lightnings, and thunder claps which proceed from them, as also the great deluges of water, which shower down with great violence and fury. But we have stayed long enough in this matter: let us now consider of the marvelous providence of God, which shineth in the dispensation of the rain and heavenly waters. As (AMANA) I leave to you to discourse,   

Of the fertility caused by dews and rain, and of the providence of God therein. Chapter 50.  AMANA. 
IN vain shall we consider in meteors the works of nature, which are therein proposed very great and excellent, as our precedent speech doth manifest; if we do not learn in the same to consider and acknowledge the providence of God governing all things, as it revealeth itself in sundry sorts. For all these goodly visible works must serve us as images of the invisible and spiritual things, so that all the creatures of God may be competent judges to condemn us, if by them we do not learn to acknowledge their and our creator, and to obey and honour him as behoveth us: we need no other judges, I say, to make us unexcusable before the throne of God's justice, according to the testimony of Saint Paul, sith he hath as it were, made visible to the eye his divininitie, 
Rom. 1.  his power, his bounty and wisdom through his works, and that so near unto us, as almost to be touched with our own hands. For (as this holy apostle in another place saith) he is near to every one of us: so that howsoever we be blind, yet should we at lest 
Acts 17.  find him by groping like those that want sight. For he never wanteth very evident witnesses amongst men, in conferring benefits upon them, & namely in giving them rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons according to the subject we are now to speak of. Let us know then, that it is he who distribureth the rain & heavenly waters by an admirable providence & who also keepeth them hidden when he pleaseth, in such sort, that there is no cloud seen in the air, and sometimes for so long space, that the earth becometh dry, and as it were burnt up with the beams of the Sun, for want of moisture from heaven, as it was in the days of Elias. And then he executed the sentence wherewith he threatened the transgressors of his Law, when he denounced to them by Moses, that he would make the heaven 
1 King. 17. & 18. Levit. 16. Deut 28.  as brass, and the earth as iron: that is to say, that there should come no more rain from heaven, than if it were of brass: whereupon doth also follow, that the earth not being moistened with water from heaven, should become barren, bearing no more fruit, then if it were of Iron. For as it is written, [The earth, which drinketh in rain that cometh often upon it, and bringeth forth herbs meet for them by whom it is dressed, receiveth 
Heb. 6.  blessing of God. But that which beareth thorns and briars is reproved, and is near unto cursing, whose end is to be burned.] And therefore likewise the Prophet saith in the Psalms, that God turneth the floods into deserts, and springs of water into dryness, 
Psalm. 107.  and the fruitful ground into saltness: which is as much as if he should say, that he maketh it altogether barren, as if one had sowed salt there. Adding also afterwards, that it is for the wickedness of those that dwelled therein, and that contrariwise he turneth the deserts into pools of water, and the dry land into water springs, making it an habitation for such as were famished, who there sow the fields and plant vines, which bring forth yearly fruit. For this cause the Lord being angry with his people, saith by isaiah, [I will 
isaiah 5.  command the clouds that they shall distil no rain upon my vineyard.] Meaning by this kind of speech, his people whom he hath elected. And surely the holy spirit would give us to understand this one thing more in this text, that as the earth waxeth barren, if it be not watered by rain from heaven; so men cannot perform any thing, if God power not down his grace upon them, as he caused the rain waters to shower down upon the earth. Wherefore as it is unfruitful, not being watered from heaven: even so is mankind, when God withdraweth his blessing. For we are all cursed by nature, as the earth is, as we even now heard the Apostle give evidence.  
When therefore it pleaseth the creator, he commandeth the clouds to distribute their waters, to the end that the earth may be moistened and watered, to make it fertile. And therefore the kingly Prophet saith again. [Thou visitest the earth and watrest it: thou makest it 
Psalm. 65. Of the fertility caused by rain.  very rich; the river of God is full of water; thou preparest the corn, for so thou appointest it. Thou watrest abundantly the furrows thereof; thou causest the rain to descend into the valleys thereof; thou makest it soft with showers, and blessest the bud thereof. Thou crownest the year with thy goodness, and thy steps drop fatness.] Meaning by the steps or paths, and walks of the Lord, the clouds, for that the Scripture proposeth him unto us, walking upon them: and by fatness he understandeth the rain which droppeth upon the earth, as it doth also serve therefore. And in another Psalm he again recordeth: [The Lord watereth the mountains from his lofty chambers:] which is as much to say, as God causeth it to rain upon the mountains to make them fruitful. And therefore he further addeth, [That the earth is filled with the fruit of his works.] Wherein the Prophet doth also expound his own meaning, saying before, that the Almighty laid the planchers of his high chambers amongst the waters, and after that he hath generally entreated of the fertility which God bestoweth upon the earth, by means of the rain, he doth declare it more particularly, saying [He causeth grass to grow for the cattles, and herb 
Psalm. 104.  for the use of man, that he may bring forth bread out of the earth; and wine that maketh glade the heart of man; and oil that maketh the face to shine, and bread that strengtheneth man's heart. The high trees are satisfied, even the Cedars of Libanon, which he hath planted. That the birds may make their nests there: the Stork dwelleth in the fir-trees.] Where we clearly behold how God sendeth his blessing upon the earth, by means of the rain, to the end that it may bring forth first-fruits, not only for the nourishment of men; but also for the commodity of beasts. Which may serve us for a certain testimony of his providence towards mankind. For if he hath care of the bruit beasts which he hath 
Testimony of the providence of God towards men.  created for men; there is no doubt, but he hath much more care of them whom he hath created after his own image and semblance, and above all, of his children and elect. And for this cause also the Psalmist signifieth, how that God hath not only been careful to provide for their necessities, as for the necessities of other creatures; but it hath also pleased him to bestow upon them pleasures and honest comforts, convenient both for his Majesty, as also for the nature of man: when he saith, that GOD hath given wine to man to make him merry; and oil to make his face shine. For although he already had the waters for drink, and which might suffice him to staunch his thirst, and for his necessary beverage, it hath nevertheless pleased him through his great liberality to bestow wine upon him also, which is as much more delicious drink, and which doth so comfort him, that it bringeth joy and pleasure to him. And for oil, it doth not only serve in meats and medicinal ointments; but also to make compositions and sweet savours, to beautify and refresh man's countenance. Which specialties the prophet would not omit: because that in his days oil was in great use, to make such precious ointments, as the ancients used to anoint themselves withal, as is now adays done with oil of Spike, and other 
2. King. 4.  such odioriferous oils and sweet waters. And if God hath at some times multiplied by the hands of his faithful ministers the poor widows oil (as his word teacheth us) he causeth it to abound much more every day, when he maketh it increase in the lands which he hath destinated to that purpose, converting the water, which runneth upon the olive trees into oil: yea and that water, which droppeth upon the earth into corn and bread which he daily doth much more abundantly multiply then in times past he did the poor 
1. King. 17. Matth. 14. & 15.  widows meal by Elias, yea then jesus Christ did multiply the loaves in the wilderness. And therefore if we shall consider how the Almighty creator of heaven and earth causeth so many first-fruits to grow in this round-masse through the distillations of rain, and through the heat of the Sun, we hold in great admiration this worthy natural Alchemy, which he hath set before our eyes in the nature by him created. For all this world is to 
Of true natural Alchemy  him as a furnace, and a limbeck wherein he maketh so many goodly and profitable distillations, that it is altogether impossible to express in words their worth and value. The earth is this furnace, and all the plants and trees so many limbecks. And if we have in such estimation the distillations made by men following some imitation of nature, this surely is a kind of Alchemy very worthy of great reputation and wonder. For let us consider only what it is that he extracteth out of a vine stock and the branches. There is no doubt but that this is a plant of no great show, so that many have doubted whether it might rightfully be counted amongst trees, for besides that it is crooked, it is so weak that it cannot stand upright, nor sustain not only the branches thereof, but even itself, if it be not always propped, at leastwise when it riseth never so little high: And yet this is a marvelous and very rare Limbeck, wherein God converteth water into wine, and maketh it to distil out. The like may we say of Olive trees, fig trees, and many other fruit trees, saving that they make more show, & retain more of the nature of a tree, than the vine doth. For all the excellent liqours and first-fruits, which we draw out of these plants, and all others, are principally caused by the heat of the sun, and by the waterings of rain from heaven, which by this means seemeth to change nature, and put on divers forms. And yet this sun, by means of whom, as by a fire, God performeth so many sundry and admirable conversions and distillations, hath not his face smeared with coals, to kindle and maintain his fire, nor yet his fair eye soiled therewith, or with any smoke. So then I hold them very wise, who profit in the contemplation of this Alchemy, and employ their time and cunning therein, as husbandmen do who till the earth, attending in good hope after their travel, the blessing which is promised them of God, as he also doth daily sand upon the earth by the effects of the sun, moon, stars, and planets; of the air, clouds, rain, and such other means which it pleaseth him to use for the same purpose. For we may fitly say with Solomon, that without this blessing, it is in vain for those, which eat the bread of their travel, to rise early, and to go late to bed. For it is he that hath promised 
Psalm. 127. Deut. 11.  the first and the latter rain, aswell for the time to sow in, as for to ripen and gather first-fruits in: using for this purpose (according to the testimony of the prophet) great clouds in 
Psal. 18. & 104.  form of chariots, whereupon being borne on the wings of the wind, he maketh the winds his messengers. And sith we are in this talk, before we deal with any other subject, let us acquit ourselves of that which we have promised, to entreat in a particular discourse concerning the winds: the charge whereof (ARAM) I impose upon you.   

Of the winds and of their kinds and names: and of the testimonies which we have in them of the power and majesty of God. Chapter 51.  ARAM. 
ACcording to the testimony of Pliny, there are more than twenty Greek authors and many other ancients, who have entreated of the nature of 
Hist. nat. lib. 2  the winds. But to know from whence they proceeded, the difficulties and doubts are great and uncertain amongst them, and amongst all the Philosophers. Yet that is the only truth, which the divine Poet teacheth us, saying, [That the Lord draweth the winds out of his treasures.] Aristotle in his Meteors maintaineth that the winds 
Psalm. 135.  are produced by the heat of the Sun: which it seemeth that the author of the natural history doth contradict when he saith, that there are certain caves wherein the winds are ordinarily engendered, as may be seen in a deep pit, which is in the coasts of Dalmatia at S●nta, wherein if one cast any thing how light soever it be, there issueth suddenly out a whirl wind, although the weather be never so calm and fair. And in many obscure places in houses, one shall commonly feel a certain small wind, as if it were enclosed therein. But we must note that there is much difference betwixt these particularities, or small puffs caused by exhalations, which proceed out of the earth, and that, which is properly 
divers opinions concerning the generation of winds.  named the wind. For they are not felt in one place only, but have their course generally through all the earth, and their means limited therein to exercise their power. And therefore whether the wind be engendered by continual motion of the heaven, or by the cross motions of the Planets, which go contrary to that of the firmament, or else that the wind be an air driven by the sundry turnings of the spheres, and by the multiplicity of the beams of the celestial signs, or else that it proceed from stars particularly appointed to engender it; or from the fixed stars (for all these opinions are found amongst Philosophers:) yet nevertheless we see by experience, that the wind is subject to the rules and laws of nature, and that it hath his determinate course, although man's wit cannot pierce to sound the reason of this secret.  
But for the names and species of these winds, they have amply entreated thereof. True it is that the ancients made mention but of four winds, which they comprised under the four parts of the world. And then the natural Philosophers appointed twelve, giving them names taken partly from the regions from which they proceeded, & partly from the effects and qualities they which cause upon the earth. But the Hydrographers and mariners accounted sixteen. To have the understanding of which, we must note that every horizon 
Of the names and kinds of the winds.  is divided into four quarters by two right lines, which cross in the centre thereof: the on of which is correspondent to the Meridian circle, and the other to the vertical circle, which divideth the same Meridian at right angles, which lines demonstrate the four principal parts of the earth, that is, the East, West, North, and South part: of which proceed the four principal winds, to wit, out of the Septentrional part, the North wind: from the Meridional the south: from the Oriental the East: and from the Occidental the West: Between which are other middle and notable winds, whose names are compounded of those of the four foresaid winds, and are therefore called North east, North west; South east, and South west. Than again each distinction of these eight winds, is consequently divided into two equal parts, which make the distinctions of eight other winds, called subprincipall, and which compound their names of their two next collateral winds, expressing the most notable first: to wit, Northnortheast, North northwest; South southeast, South south-west; East north-east, East southeast; West northwest, West south-west. Moreover they that frequent the Mediterrant sea (as Greeks and Italians) do call the north Transmontano: the south, Austro: east Levante: west, Ponate: north-east, Greco: north west, Maestro, southeast, Sirocho, south-west, Garbin, and so of them compound the names of the other eight winds, which are betwixt them, as hath been before declared. And we must note that the winds have commonly every 
Notable things in the winds.  one their turn in such sort that when one opposite wind ceaseth and is laid, his contrary riseth. But if at any time the next wind to that which ceaseth, begin to blow, it runs byas-wise from left hand to right, as the sun doth, and one may know the fourth dale of the moon, what wind will reign longest during her time. But the eastern winds do longer endure then those which rise towards the west. And the sun doth strengthen then wind, and also appease it, for at his rising and setting they are commonly greatest, at noon he calmeth them, especially in summer. The wind is also commonly found to lie still, either at midday, or at midnight, for it doth always cease either through great cold, or through vehement heat. Likewise the rain doth make it cease, whereupon this proverb sprung up, that little rain allaieth much wind.  
But it is wondrous, that the winds, which are as it were but a puff, should perform such things as men could not do with their hands, yea though there were a multitude together. For how many people need there be, yea horses and oxen yoked together to break burst, and pull up the great and mighty trees, which the wind abateth, overturneth, breaketh, and rooteth up, with a blast only? And herein we have goodly matter again, whereby to profit in the acknowledgement of the sovereign majesty and almighty providence 
Testimonies of the divine omnipotency in the winds.  of the creator and governor of all nature. For it is certain, that as the Lord manifesteth himself to men, such as they may comprehend him to be, when he calleth the sound and noise of thunder (his voice) that he performeth admirable things, as we have already noted, we may perceive that he doth the like also by violence of the winds. And therefore the Prophet saith, [I know that the Lord is great, and that our God is above all 
Psalm. 135.  gods. Whatsoever pleased the Lord, that did he in heaven and in earth, in the Sea, and in all the depths. He bringeth up the clouds from the ends of the earth, and maketh the lightnings with the rain; he draweth forth the winds out of his treasures.] It is he (saith jeremy) that giveth by his voice the multitude of waters in the heaven, and he causeth the clouds to ascend from the ends of the earth, he casteth out lightnings in the 
jerem. 10.  rain, and bringeth forth the winds out of his treasures. [The wind (saith the Preacher) goeth toward the South, and compasseth toward the North: the wind goeth round about 
Eccles. 1.  and returneth (by his circuits. Now if the blasts of the winds be so strong, it must needs be that the bellows out of which they are blown must be puissant & mighty. For although it is written of the wicked, that they are so proud and do presume so much of their force & power, that they seem to be able to overthrow men, towns, & fortified places only with 
Psal 10.  a blast; yet nevertheless it is the Lord, who hath the power to abate them, and all the lofty and stout with all their forts and bulwarks: For all the winds together, are but as one little puff, which passeth from his mouth. Wherhfore if in breathing only, he driveth and removeth heaven, earth, and the sea, and all this world, performing acts so great and wonderful: what may we esteem of his sovereign force, when he would employ his whole power? For there is neither wind nor thunder, nor deluges of water, nor any thing that is comparable to the wrath of God, and to the power which he hath to execute his vengeance upon his enemies. But he emploieth his creatures, as the ministers of his wrath, when, and how he pleaseth. And therefore the divine poet in his canticles, wishing lively to describe the assistance that God had showed him, in delivering him out of the hands of the wicked, and in punishing of them; he proposeth him coming accompanied 
Psal. 18.  with fearful thunders, with thick clouds, with vehement winds and storms, with lightnings, tempests, great rain, and hail, and dark weather, so that the foundations of the sea, and of the earth covered with waters, were discovered, and the earth was moved and trembled, the mountains shook and bowed because of the fury of the wrath of the Lord For indeed who is God but the Lord, and who is mighty but our God? Now it is certain, that because men cannot comprehend the greatness of the power and wrath of God against the wicked, the holy Ghost doth often speak of natural things by the Prophets for to make them understand by that, which is visible in nature, and which may most astonish and affray them. So than if we shall consider so many excellent points of doctrine concerning the providence of God, as are taught in the school of nature, by means of the meteors (as we have hitherto discoursed) of the clouds, thunders, lightnings, storms, floods of water, winds, whirlwinds, and tempests, they will serve us no less for preachers, than the celestial bodies do, to manifest unto us especially the judgements and heavy plagues of the almighty, and to make us oftener think thereupon then we do: as also the rains, by the fertility which they cause in the earth, will minister matter unto us to acknowledge his blessing, and perpetual grace upon those, who fear and honour him. Wherhfore we have rested longynough in that which particularly concerneth & is dependant upon the 2. higher elements, the fire and the air: saving that, before we entreat of the earth, and of the water, & of the principal things worthy of consideration, in them, we will say somewhat concerning the birds of the air, seeing that we have already comprised them, as in truth they must be, amongst the things conjoined and depending upon the higher elements, I will leave you then (ACHITOB) to discourse upon their nature.   

Of the fowls of the air: and namely of the Manucodiata, of the Eagle, of the Phoenix, and of other wild fowl. Chapter 52.  ACHITOB. 
Having discoursed (though simply like disciples of Christian doctrine, & not like masters and professors of natural Philosophy) upon the two higher elements the fire & the air, and having considered their nature and effects, and the things engendered in them, and by them: It falleth very fitly for us, to entreat of the visible creatures, which converse in the air, and of which the holy Scripture speaketh in divers places, under the name of the fowls of the air: considering also that Moses teacheth, that 
Psalm 8. Matth. 6. Luke 8. Genes. 1.  the fowls & fishes were created before any of the terrestrial creatures. For as there is a greater accord between to the two elements of water & air, then of air and earth; even so is there a more correspondency of nature between fishes & fowls, then between beasts of the earth & fowls. For the flying of birds in the air is like the swimming of fishes in the water. Moreover, there are many water-fowles, which are as it were of a middle nature between those which converse but only in the air, or in the earth, & which therein receive their nouriture, & between the fishes that live in the waters. For these birds fly in the air like other birds, & swim also in the water like fishes, & live partly in the water & partly in the air. For before we entreat particularly of these things, it seemeth good to me to note upon the beginning of out discourse concerning living creatures, that there are 2. principal kinds of living creatures, the first are those, which have life in every part being divided and cut asunder, called in Latin 
Of two principal kinds of beasts.  (Infects) because of the incisions which they seem to have upon their bodies, and which are engendered of putrefaction. The second sort is of perfect creatures, to whom the former properties agreed not, but they have their generation through propagation & race. Now we must hereafter speak of infect creatures. And for the perfect, there are found nine 
Of nine kinds of perfect beasts.  principal kinds of them, whereof some remain only in the air, & have no feet, as the bird called (Manucodiata) other converse in the air and in the earth, as (the Eagle) and sundry other birds: some are earthly, and yet like souls nevertheless, as is (the Ostrich) some inhabit both in the earth and in the water, as (the Beaver) called in Latin (Fiber:) some souls swim as (the swan:) some creatures are flying fishes: others are altogether earthly (as the dog:) some keep under ground as (the Mole:) others live in the water only as (the dolphin:) our speech then shall be concerning these nine kinds of creatures, and we will briefly discourse of some of the most excellent of them.  
Now to begin with the birds according as the order of our treatise doth require, we will speak of the Manucodiata, commonly called the bird of God, or of paradise, according to the 
Of the bird named Manucodiata.  interpretation of the Indian name, which bird is found dead upon the earth, or in the sea, in the Isles named the Malucos, because it is never seen alive out of the air. For this bird only hath no feet, for that it abideth aloft in the air, and far out of man's sight, having the body and beak ilke a swallow, both in bigness and form. The feathers of his wings and tail, are longer than those of a sparrow hawk, but very slender), agreeable to the smalenes of the bird. The back of the cock is hollow, whereby reason showeth, that the hen layeth her eggs in this hollowness, seeing that she hath the like crevice in her belly, so that by means of both these pits she may hatch her eggs. The meat of this foul is the dew of heaven, which serveth it for meat and drink, it never faileth, but through age only, & so long as they live they sustain themselves with their own wings, and their tail being spread out in a roundness, by which means it doth more commodiously inhabit in the air.  
Next I proceed to the birds which converse in the air, and in the earth, of which the 
Of Eagles. Hist. not lib. 10  Eagle for greatness and strength beareth away the price. Pliny setteth down six kinds; of which the lest in body, called the black Eagle, is strongest, and it of all others doth only nourish her eagletss. For all the rest chase and drive away their young ones, because that when they have them, their nails and claws are turned upside down, as if nature would declare herself very provident in this, to deprive the eagle of all means to help itself with any more purchase, then will even serve her own turn; for otherwise it would destroy all the young venison of a country, therefore through hunger which by this occasion they do then sustain, they become white and hate their young ones. But the Ostifragis, which are another sort of wild eagles, do, as divers affirm, gather together the young eagletss which their dam hath expelled, and do nourish them with their own. And eagles never die through age, or any other malady but for hunger only, their uppermost beak growing so great and so crooked, that it is impossible for them to open their mouths to feed themselves. Their feathers being mingled with the feathers of other birds, do devour and consume them.  
The Phoenix is said to be found in no other place of the world but only in Arabia, and 
Of the Phoenix.  is very seldom seen. It is as big as an Eagle, and the plumes of her tail are guilded, being intermixed with certain blue and carnation feathers, the rest of her body being of a purple colour. She hath her head decked with exquisite plumes, and with a tuft of very goodly feathers. She liveth six hundred and sixty years, as Manilius a Senator of Rome recordeth, and so Pliny doth make report. And feeling herself aged, she maketh her nest with pieces of Cinnamon and Incense, and having filled it with all sorts of aromatical odours, 
Hist. not l. 10.  she dieth thereupon. And out of her marrow and bones there cometh first a worm, which afterward turneth to a little bird, that in time proveth another Phoenix.  
Some report almost the very same of a bird called Semenda, which is found in the midst of India, which hath her bill cloven into three parts, boared & pierced every where through, and she singeth at her death as the Swan doth. Afterwards by beating of her wings she kindleth a fire made of the twigs of a vine, which she gathereth together, wherewith she is burned, and of her ashes there is a worm engendered, of which springeth again another like bird.  
Swans are birds clean white, and differ but little from geese, except in bigness. They sing 
Of Swans  sweetlier than any other fowls. Their property is to tear their young ones in pieces and to devour them, for which cause they are very rare to be found. And some say, that they presage their death by their songs.  
Cranes come from the farthest oriental seas of India into the regions of Europe: and do 
Of Cranes.  never part from any place, but that they seem to do it with counsel, and by the common consent of all: and by the same means they elect a king to conduct them. They always so are very high, so to make a farther discovery of the country. Every troop hath a captain who is always in the rearward: at which only cry all the rest do obey & do keep their ranks and order; and each of them taketh his place by turns. They do also set their night watch and keep sentinel one after another. The sentinel standeth upon one foot only, holding a little stone in the other, to the end, that if he happen to sleep, the stone which falleth out of his paw might waken him. All the rest do this while sleep, having their head under their wing, keeping watch nevertheless, sometimes upon one foot, sometimes upon another. But their captain holdeth his head always in the air, to make sign to the rest, of what they are to do.  
The Stork are resident in winter in Egypt & in Africa: & in summer many other warm 
Of Storks.  countries. When they will pass to any country, they do all assemble in one place at a day appointed, & so departed in a troop. Some say they have no tongues. In Thumen stia this kind of foul is had in such respect, because they rid the country of serpents, that no man dare kill any one upon pain of hanging, & to be punished as an homicide: for such are the laws of the country. And in Suessia the like is almost used. The storks do never change their nests: and do retain this property by nature, that the young ones nourish the old so long as they live.  
Wild geese are a kind of wild fowls as the foresaid birds, they make their squadrons pointed 
Of wild geese.  like a beak of a ship, (for so they cut the air better than if they should fly in a square) and they spread themselves abroad by little and little behind like a corner, the better to gain the wind, which guideth them. The hindermost do commonly rest their heads upon the foremost, and when the guide is weary of going before, he cometh hindmost, to the end that every one may keep his turn.  
Quails are also a kind of flying fowls, very small of body, but singular in divers 
Of Quails.  properties. They so are not very high in the air in these countries, but fly near to the ground. They fly in troops, and that sometimes to the great danger of those which sail upon the sea, or are near the ground. For these birds do perch in so great number by night upon the sails, that they oftentimes sink barks and small vessels. They know their ordinary perches, and do never fly abroad in a south wind, because it is too heavy, and too moist: and yet they must of necessity be aided by the wind, to perform their voyage, by reason that their bodies are more heavy than their wings can sustain. And therefore they hung their wings, as if they were pained with flying. So then they make choice of northern wind for their coming: And when they retire themselves, they assemble their troops. If the wind be contrary to them, they swallow much gravel, and take little stones in their talents, to make themselves more heavy, that they may not be carried away by the wind.  
Swallows also are a kind of wild fowl, for they go away in winter. But they retire not themselves very far off, but keep in those coasts which are warmed with the Sun, 
Of Swallows.  many are seen bore and unfledged. This bird only of all those that have not crooked claws, doth feed on flesh. One may put in the number of wild fowls, Black birds. Thrushes, stars, Ringdoves and Pigeons, although they use not to return to far countries. But they mew not as others do, neither keep themselves close, for they are usually seen 
Other wild fowls.  in the country where they winter. The property of stars is to go in a great troop together and to fly in a round, every one of them endeavouring to gain the middle place. The Swallow only of all other birds flieth askew, and is passing quick of wing; so likewise is it hardest of all birds to be taken. Moreover it is peculiar to her, not to feed but in flying. Thus than you see what I thought to deduce briefly concerning wild fowl. You ASER shall prosecute the discourse of this matter.   

Of singing birds, and chief of the Nightingale, and of sundry others, and of their wit and industry. Chap. 53.  ASER. 
NAture showeth herself very admirable, in that she doth not produce every thing indifferently in all places; nor doth privilege some countries rather than others, as well for plants, as for living creatures endued with sense: so that many times that which men thinketo bring home for mere strangeness, dieth before it come there. To declare, that it is very difficult (if not altogether impossible) to make any thing live in what place soever, against the ordinance of nature. So it was, that in the whole Isle of Rhodes there could not be found one only nest of an Eagle, though that in the neighbouring 
Rareness, and changes of many birds.  territories there were enough. So though the lake of Como, which is on the other side of the river Po in Italy, be very plentiful in fruit trees and fair pasturage: yet for all this there cannot be found within eight miles almost one stork. It is said also, that in all Tarentum there is not one Wood pecker to be found. And in the territory of Athens, the partridges pass not the limits of Boeotia: So in Marinell Maggiore, or the Euxine sea, there is no fowl seen. And in Volaterra the ring doves are seen to come every year in great volleys over the sea. But besides all this, there is great difference in seasons for birds: for some appear all the year long, others show themselves but half the year, and some are seen abroad but three months. Some also go away presently after they have hatched & brought up their young ones. But above all, there are marvelous things found in singing birds. For some there are which change their feathers and their note, one season of the year; so that one would say, they were quite other birds, which happeneth not to the greater fowls, except to the crane, which waxeth black in age. Black birds, which are naturally black, being old become of a reddish colour. They sing in summer: in winter they do but chatter; and are altogether 
Of black birds  dumb, when the days begin to lengthen, as about mid December: and the cock a of a year old, have an ivory white bill. Thrushes have their neck particoloured in summer, but in winter it is all of one colour.  
But amongst singing birds the nightingale is most admirable. For it is a miracle that so 
Of the Nightingale.  shrill a voice can proceed out of so small a body, and that it can hold breath so long. Moreover it hath a very harmonious note, and perfectly musical. For sometimes she draweth, out her notes long, another while she quavers: strait ways she cuts her tune short, & then she will warble, as if it were by musical crotchets. Another time she will whistle producing her notes with one breath, by and by quickening her tune, as if it were by semibriefes, sometimes abasing her voice, presently raising it, and by and by after cutting it thick and short. Sometimes also she will make the points of the organs, lifting, her voice high like a pipe, when she listeth, observing sometimes the triple, sometimes the base, and sometimes the countertenor. Finally, there is no instrument in the world, wherein one may found more perfect music, than this which resoundeth in so small a throat. And that which merits greater marvel in this bird, is, that there are many songs all different, and that every nightingale hath her own in particular. So also they debate amongst themselves who shall sing best, contending herein one against another: so that sometimes the vanquished cease rather through want of breath, then of song. And the young little nightingales harken to the old, & do record by themselves apart, the songs which they heard, from point to pointts so that these disciples, after they have attentively harkened, do repeat the lesson which they have learned, and then cease. Than may one hear the reprehensions of the Schoolmaster, and may very well discern when the Scholar is waxed cunning. Moreover the excellency of their singing doth not commonly endure above fifteen days and fifteen nights: all which time they sing without ceasing: and that is when the trees begin to wax thick of leaves in spring time. And afterwards this great melody beginneth by little and and little to cease: and yet not so, that one may perceive to be weary of their singing. And when the heat gins to trouble them, they whistle not as before, but change their voice and sing a full note. They also mew and change feathers. To conclude, they retire themselves in winter like all other wild fowl. 
Of Finches, and Linnets, Parrots, and Pi●ss.   
Also Finches and Linnets are numbered amongst those little birds, that sing very harmoniously, and easily retain that which is taught them, whether it be in voice, or by any demonstration that they may imitate either in foot or bill. But above all birds, parrots do most sergeant the voice and speech of man. They come from the Indieses, and have commonly their feathers green, except only a collar of read vermilion feathers that compasseth their neck: this bird speaketh all that which one will takes pains to teach her. It loveth wine much, and having well drunk, is much pleasanter. There is likewise a kind of Pies which do pronounce better that which is taught than, than the parrots do yet are they not so much accounted of, because they are ordinary with us. They take pleasure in the words which they speak, and do so delight in them, that one shall often find them studying very attentively by themselves, that which hath been showed them. crows also do easily learn to speak, and show many testimonies of great wit and industry. There was one in the time of the Emperor Tiberius so admired and loved of the people of Rome, that they revenged cruelly the death thereof upon him that killed it. It had been nourished by 
A marvelous history of a crow.  a shoemaker. and so taught and instructed, that it flew every morning to the palace to salute the Emperor, and after him all the other princes, naming them by their names, and then returned to the shop to her master, continuing this use for many years, to the great astonishmant of every one. It happened that a certain spiteful neighbour of this shoemaker, taking occasion for that this crow bade muted upon some of his ware, did kill it. Whereat the people took such indignation, that they caused this poor merchant to lose his life: preparing on the other side very magnificent funerals for the bird. For the carcase thereof was covered over with nosegays and chaplets of flowers, and borne by two Moors to the fire, which was kindled in a voided place, there to burn it solemnly; so much was the understanding of this crow esteemed in a city, where many Princes and great Personages had died before, and none would solemnize their funerals: & wherein there was none that would revenge the death of Scipio Africanus, though he had conquered the Carthaginians and Numantines.  
But since we are lighted upon a discourse concerning a kind of towardness and facility to learn, which is found in many birds; we may not pass over in silence the marvelous industry 
Of the industry of birds in making their nests.  of their architecture, in the building of their nests: for all of them, and especially the small ones do use a wonderful dexterity therein. And that I may not be too tedious in this point; I will produce for testimony but the swallows only, who build their nests of dirt or clay, and strengthen them with straw. And if perhaps the dryness of the weather will not minister dire enough for them, than they load themselves with water, which they shake upon the ground, to moisten the dust, and to make slime. The inside of the nest is all covered and lined with down and flocks, both of will, and of other things; to the end to keep their eggs warm, and that their young ones may afterward find their bed soft. Which they always keep very clean, by casting very carefully out of it all the ordures of their little ones, which being grown bigger they teach to mute out of the nest. There is another kind of field swallows, which do seldom make their nests in houses; and yet they make them of such stuff as the others do, though not after the same manner: for all their nests are turned upside down, and have a very straight mouth, but a large paunch: so that it is an admirable thing to see the industry, which they use to keep their young ones soft and warm. Of the nests of these swallows joined and fastened one upon another, there is a bank in the mouth of Nilus which is near to Hiraclia in Egypt, (as Pliny reciteth) of 
Lib. 10. hist. nat.  six and twenty paces in length, and so strong that it resisteth the ragings and inundations of this flood: a thing which one may say were impossible to be performed by the hand of man. But we should find writing matter enough to fill up a great volume, if we were minded to entreat of all the excellent properties which are in the nature of birds: but our intent is not to devil long upon this subject; as namely, to speak of all their different species, whereof many learned men have written: but only to consider summarily of certain of the most notable, as we will do in regard of all other creatures both living and destitute of life; to the end that we may nothing at all deprive any part of this Vnivers, which we do here contemplate, of those goodly portraitures of the divine majesty, which are engraven in every part from the highest heaven to the lowest centre of this terrestrial mass. Look then (AMANA) what birds you hold most worthy to have place in your discourse.   

Of the Ostrich, of the Peacock, of the Cock, and of other fowls. Chap. 54.  AMANA. 
AS we have heretofore heard of a bird that never abideth upon the ●erth, so contrariwise the Ostrich that doth always stay upon the earth, never 
Of the Ostrich.  mounting aloft to take the air. This is as big a bird as any other, and is common in 〈◊〉 and in Ethiopia. It hath a long neck like a camel, the beak, eyes, and head like to a goose, but that they are much greater: their wings and tail have feathers of divers colours, sky coloured, white, red, black and green, and there is no bird which hath such fair plumes, of which those feathers are made wherewith men of war adorn their helmets. The Ostriches pass horses in swiftness, being herein aided with the wings which Nature hath bestowed upon them, although they fly not at all, neither rise from the ground, but run with their wings spread. They have feet like an hart: with which (men say) they use to take up and cast stones at those which chase them when they fly, It is also said they swallow and digest iron: which cometh to pass through the vehement heat and thickens of their beily. Some also have reported, that the Ostrich hatcheth her eggs with her eyes: but the truth is, that she only watcheth them, because that her young ones are brought forth by the heat of the sun. The manner of taking this bird is very easy; for when he is weary of running, he is of so foolish a nature, that he thinketh himself closely hidden, when he is only in the shade of some tree or shrub; so that it is then easy to approach him so near as the pursuer will desire.  
But let us speak of the bird, which for the beauty and sense which it hath, doth merit the chief dedree amongst the greater sorts of birds, to wit, the Peacock. For when he knows that men esteem him, then turneth he round to show his colours shining like 
Of the peacock.  precious stones: and sets them directly against the sun, to give them a better lustre. And he assayeth also to do so with his tail; spreading it round and showing those colours, which seem fairest in the shade, drawing all the eyes thereof abroad, as if he knew best how to make himself most noted. And when he hath lost his tail (as he doth every year at the fall of the leaf) he hideth himself, as if he mourned, till the next spring, when his tail groweth again. It is marvelous that this part of the Peacock is so filled with the eyes, being so long and thick of feathers of sundry colours, and so splendent. and yet neither the colour of white nor of black, this being of itself sad, & that obscuring all colours) are found in the tail of this bird. Which bird liveth ordinarily five and twenty years, and at three years he beginneth to shoot the sundry colours which he hath in his feathers, and knoweth his beauty, and seemeth to rejoice that men do marvel at his tail when they see it, and therefore he will hold it up, be he never so weary.  
Next to the proud nature of the peacock, that lofty bird seemeth to resemble a Sentinel, which nature hath appointed to interrupt men's sleep and call them to work, 
Of the Cock  that is, the Cock. For wheresoever he is he will be master, and command all the rest of the fowls. And if there be two together then must this rule remain to the strongest, and he must get it by those weapons which Nature hath placed in his legs: wherein they put such trust, that the issue of their combat, doth oftentimes fall out with the death of the one or other. And he which remaineth victor, makes sign of his conquest by his crowing, sounding himself his own tantaraes: and the vanquished runs and hides himself. This lofty bird marcheth proudly, holding up his neck stiff, and his comb aloft, except he be not well. And there is no bird which doth oftener cast his eye towards heaven, than this: for he always beholdeth it, holding his tail up, and yet crooked like a sickle: so that arming himself after this manner, he puts the Lion in fear, which is the stoutest of all beasts. Moreover, the Cock by a secret instinct of Nature knoweth the course of the Stars, and divideth the day by his crowing from three hours to three hours. They roost at Sun set, and never let the Sun rise, without advertising men: for with their crowing, which is accompanied with beating of their wings, they give notice of the day. And their voice is heard very far off, yea in the night time a mile, or more. The Romans honoured so much the majesty of this bird, that they judged of the good or evil luck of their Augurations, by the countenance which he showed, being either pleasant or not, at such time as he fed.  
Hens are of the kind of domestical birds, renowned above all the delicateness 
Of Hens.  of their flesh, and goodness of their eggs, being much better than all other, and which are most used in meats and medicines. They lay at all times, except the two first months of winter, when they commonly rest themselves. So is it the first and last bird that layeth; and is so fruitful that there are some will lay sixty eggs together, without missing one day. Whereupon we will note that in all yolks of eggs, there is a little drop of blood in the midst, which is holden to be the heart of the bird, because this member is esteemed to be first form in all living creatures. And indeed this little drop tasteth very salt, and stirreth in the egg, And for that which particularly concerneth the chicken, it is certain that the body thereof is made of the white of the egg: for being form, it is nourished by the yolk. And so long as it is in the shell, it hath the head bigger than all the body, and the eyes which are shut, bigger than the head. And when it beginneth to grow, the white of the egg retireth to the midst, and the yolk disperseth itself round about. And if at the twentieth day one take the egg, they may hear the chicken peep within. For from that time forward it beginneth to wax feathered, and to get strength: and stayeth not long in consuming the whole yolk, but presently beginneth to open the shell. And it is to be noted, that as well this as all other fowls, come out of their shells with their feet forwards, contrary to other living creatures. Moreover the hen is known to be good, when her crest is strait and sometimes double, and her feathers black, and in some places read: as also when the claws of her foot are fair. But above all there is nothing more worthy of great admiration, than the care which it taketh to hatch and nourish her chickens: yea though they be not of her own kind. And it is a pretty pastime to make an hen hatch duck eggs. For at first when they open the shell, she knoweth them not; and nevertheless having been a little accustomed to them, she doth nourish them as carefully as if they were naturally her own. And when these young ducks, according to their kind, cast themselves into the water, it is a wonder to see the mourning of the hen, fearing lest ill should be tied them.  
The pigeon likewise is an house bird much to be considered of, and bringeth no less profit 
Of the pigeon.  and commodity than pullen do. It is very chaste by nature, and never changeth mate neither cock nor hen, and yet the cocks are very rude towards the hens beating them with their bills, and chiding them with a kind of grumbling in their throat, as if they were jealous. But afterwards as if they repent themselves, they make much of them, and bill together, running round about them, and specially when their time of treading is come. Both cock and hen take great pains to hatch their young ones, insomuch that when the hens are idle, and tarry not in the nest, the cocks will correct and beat them with their beaks. But they do likewise aid them, as well helping them to make their nests, as to serve them while they hatch, yea and the cock doth sometimes hatch in the day time. It is their property to bill together before they tread. And they lay ordinarily two eggs, out of which issue both cock and hen, that is the cock first, and the hen the morrow after. They hatch commonly eighteen or twenty days, and breed after five times treading. And one shall sometimes find eggs with little pigeons in them: and shall see in one nest some young ones but newly out of the shell and some that are ready to fly. They may lay eggs eight or ten times a year: but the ordinary use is to take out four good layings. They are of sundry colours of feathers, but the ashecoloured, or the brown, or the black are the best: the rough footed, and tufted are most barren and domestical: so are the black and white chequered: but those that seem guilded about the neck, and that have the eye and foot red, are the freest and fruitfulnest: the white are good to hatch, and most in danger of the Kite, and birds of prey: the yellow and read are very barren. They have all this marvelous quality, to give their young ones at first some corn of salt gravel, so to pronoke their appetite, and season them to eat, when time shall be. Now me thinketh, we have stayed long enough in this matter, sith we will not here describe a natural history of creatures: and sith that which we have discoused concerning fowls, hath been only for that we will not deprive the air of the natural creatures thereof; as we will endeavour to do the like in the behalf of the earth and water: whereof the sequel of our speech requireth us to entreat, to accomplish our discourse concerning the elements. First then let us speak of the earth, and of the firmness, figure and quantity thereof. And it is your turn (ARAM) to discourse thereupon.   

Of the earth, and of the situation, immobility, figure, and quality thereof. Chapter 55.  ARAM. 
AS we have heretofore heard that under the name of heaven is comprised commonly both the supreme and middle region of air, and all things also, which are conjoined unto them, and depending upon their effects, namely of the two higher elements the fire, and the air: so by the name of earth, we do often understand not only the lowest element of all, which is as the foot of all this mundane frame: but also the sea, which is next to it, and the lakes, ponds, fountains, rivers, and other waters, and all that is contained in them, and in the earth, and which receiveth life, and nourishment, whether they be men, beasts of all kinds, plants, trees, herbs, first-fruits, metals, mines, minerals, stones, and generally all other things produced here below for the use of all other creatures. Pursuing then the order of our discourse, we will first entreat of that which concerns in general the terrestrial globe, and afterwards will meditate of the most rare beauties, which every the parts thereof, to the end to represent unto ourselves more and more the greatness and glory of the creator of all these things, as we have already well begun in the matters by us hitherto entreated of.  
Now it is certain, that by reason of the weight and heaviness of the earth, it is necessarily situated in the midst of the world, as the centre thereof, being the lowest place, and the 
Situation of the earth.  farthest remote from the circumference of the whole. And from which the earth cannot be parted, (for otherwise it should mount a fit contrary to the natural inclination thereof) as likewise it cannot be moved by the first and universal motion of all the spheres, by reason of the foresaid heaviness thereof, and subtility of the other elements, which are about it: and again because it is of insensible quantity in respect of the whole world, as being the point and centre thereof, being also unmovable, to the end that the motion of the heavens might thereby be discerned, and that which dependeth thereupon. And as the seat of the elementary fire doth not extend beyond the fire, and as that of the water 
immobility of the earth.  is in the place of water, and that of the air where the air should be, so the earth can retain no place but in itself; because that the other elements cannot suffer it to rest upon them. Which causeth that it remaineth hanged amongst them, not being able to fall, nor decline more towards one place, then another. Wherhfore also it is made habitable in every part (except it be by accident,) so that men are therefore Antipodes one to another 
The earth habitable throughout.  that is, going feet against feet, having nevertheless all of them their heads towards heaven, and meeting each of them in the midst of the earth. Now that it is justly situate in the midst of the vniuers, one may see by experience of the days & nights, which are equal throughout the whole earth, so often as the sun is in the midst of heaven betwixt the poles of the world; as also by the augmentations and diminutions of the same days and nights regularly proportioned one to another (as we have demonstrated in our precedent discourses upon the celestial spheres) and likewise by the eclipses of the moon, and by the inclination of shadows, which at noontide are one proportionable to another, as well on the meridional, as on the septentrional part. Moreover there is no doubt, but the earth 
That the earth is round  (together with the whole element of water, which is spread abroad and dispersed in divers arms, and portions about it) is of a round and circular figure in all parts: for as the mountains and valleys they are insensible in regard of the whole globe of the earth. The roundness whereof doth evidently declare itself by the shadow thereof, which showeth itself in the eclipses of the Moon to be round: for it could not seem so, if the earth were not also of the same form. Moreover, the diverse and certain supputation that Astronomers calculate concerning the times of the eclipses of the moon, according as the places are more oriental, or more occidental, doth manifestly conclude the same round for me: so also doth the natural inclination of all the parts of the earth, and of the water, who still tend down declining to a lower place, and this common descent of every part causeth this round figure. Consequently it is to be noted, that this earthly frame, although it be in itself of marvelous greatness, yet is it of very little and insensible quantity, 
The earth is o● invensible 〈…〉.  in regard and comparison not only of all the firmament, but also of the sphere of the sun, the same earth being but as a point in the midst of the whole world, which is apparently demonstrated by the foresaid equalities of the days and nights, and by the observations of the courses of the celestial bodies, and chiefly of the sun, taken here below by instruments fit for such effects, in such manner as if one were in the centre of the world. For in a little space that one may pass here upon the earth proceeding from one place to another, the view and disposition of heaven doth change and vary notably. And in an open plain place wherein one may stand upon the earth, or be in in the sea, they may always discover the one half of heaven. All which things declare (as we have said) that the earth and the water make a round globe, which is but as a point and centre in regard of the universal world.  
So much for the situation, immobility, figure, and quantity of the earth; which only 
That the earth only meriteth the title of a mother.  above all other elements hath merited the title of a mother, by reason of the great good which it affordeth to all breathing and living creatures. For this gentle mother receiveth us when we are borne, she nourisheth us being borne; she maintaineth and sustaineth us being nourished; and finally, when the other elements refuse and leave us, she receiveth us into her bosom, and covereth us, having (as it were) a perpetual care of us. Moreover, she riseth not up against man as other creatures do. For the water converts itself into rain, snow, and hail; it swelleth in surges and waves, and over floweth all with floods; the air thickeneth and ladeth itself with clouds, out of which proceed storms and tempests; and the fire is often cause of strange calamities upon earth. But this gentle and debonair mother maketh herself as a slave to serve for all the commodities of man. For how many things do we 'cause her to bear by force, and how many things doth she bestow of her own good will? What odours and perfumes, what savours, what juices, what, and how many sorts of colours? With what exchange and interest doth she restore that, which is lent her? How many sundry things doth she nourish for man? What quantity of precious metals doth she conceive, and keep in her entrails for his use? And therefore 
Of two kinds of earth.  it seemeth that the earth subsisteth not of one only kind: and indeed Aristotle divideth it into two; the one fossible, which may be digged; and the other transmutable, which may change quality. For the fossible earth, it doth always remain the same, and is very earth: but the transmutable remaineth not the same in kind, and in view; for it converteth itself into metal, or into juice, or into some other matter. But before we do proceed unto the consideration of so many admirable effects produced by the earth: we may now hear behold, that we have summarily set down particulars 
Testimonies of the power of God. isaiah 6.  enough, wherein we may learn to acknowledge the infinite power, wisdom, and bounty of God the creator: and how according to the testimony of the angels, all the earth is full of his glory. For first of all, is not this a great wonder, that the earth which is so huge a mass, and the heaviest eliment of all the rest, should be hanged in the air in the midst of the world, being so counterpoised, that it sustaineth, as one may say, all the other elements, and that it is environed by them, and by all the other spheres and celestial bodies, it remaining firm for ever, not moving from the place thereof? For where are the columns and the pillars which bear and sustain it, and upon what foundation are they founded? And therefore it is not without cause, that the Lord saith to job, minding to 'cause him to acknowledge his power and majesty, [where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? declare if thou hast understanding, who hath laid 
job 38,  the measure thereof, if thou knowest? Or who hath stretched the line over it? (to wit, to sign and mark out the foundations thereof) whereupon are the foundations there of set? Or who hath laid the corner stone thereof?] And afterwards he addeth. [It is turned as clay to fashion.] Wherein it seemeth that he had reference to that, that he created the earth (as all this great visible world) in round form, because it is the most capable of all form that may be. Behold then the testimony that God himself delivereth to job his servant of the admirable creation of the earth. And to the same purpose the Kingly Prophet saith, that God did form the earth upon the bases thereof (that is to say, upon the foundations) so that it shall never move. But what may we say then to the motions and tremble of the earth, which have ever been known, and are ordinarily seen? This might seem repugnant to that, which David here speaketh, and to that which we have delivered 
Psal 104.  concerning the immobility and firmness of the earth. And therefore mine advice is, that pursuing this discourse, we should consider the causes of such tremble, to the end that we may know, how that the earth faileth not to remain ever firm, though such shake happen in some parts thereof, which (ACHITOB) let us hear of you.   

Of earthquakes. Chapter 56.  ACHITOB. 
FOrasmuch as the earth is not only heavy by nature, but even the heaviest of all elements, and is heaped up and compacted together in the midst of the great universal world, as the point and centre thereof, it therefore followeth that it is immovable, and without any natural motion. For if it had any, as the other elements have, it is certain, that it must be downwards. But because that God hath placed the earth in the midst of all his works, towards which all heavy things tend and descend; it cannot descend lower than it is by the nature thereof. And therefore because it is solid and thick, and not liquid and fluent as the water and the air, it cannot glide as they do, nor remove out of one place into another, if it be not by some violence elsewhere moved and made to stir, and tremble somewhere, as it hath happened through divers and marvelous earthquakes, of which histories and the holy scripture itself do give evidence. We must note then, that there are divers sorts of motions, by which the earth is so shaken, that it lifteth and casteth some parts, sometimes upwards, sometimes downwards. And it is long of such motions and tremble, that there have such masses 
Of divers sorts of earthquakes.  and heaps been cast out of it, that great isles have been newly made, are Geographers do witness, namely the isle of Rhodes, and of Selos. It sometimes also happeneth, that the motions of the earth be such, that it openeth like a great gulf, wherein to some parts thereof are clean swallowed up and devoured, together with the countries, and twones situate therein; so that there hath been no mark left of them, no more then as if they had never been. And it hath often happened in such cases, that some mountains have fallen one against another, because the earth, which was betwixt them hath sunk, and been swallowed clean up. And than one might say, that the proverb is not ever true, which saith, that two mountains never meet. That is yet another kind of motion, wherein the earth moveth and shaketh, sometimes one way, sometimes another way, and tottereth like a ship that floateth on the water. Which kind of trembling is most dangerous as also when all the motion runneth one way. Than is there yet another motion, which philosophers properly call (trembling) to wit, when two motions are opposite one to another. And this is least dangerous of all: although indeed they be all very fearful, yet the fear is much greater, when the tremble continued with horrible and fearful sounds like the bellowing of bulls, and as if the earth and all nature quaked and groaned, being sore pressed and forced, as is oftentimes seen.  
Now for the causes of all these kinds of earthquakes, I may well say, that there is no point in all natural philosophy, wherein the professors of this science find themselves 
Of the causes of earthquakes.  more intricately entangled, nor wherein they more differ in opinions then in this. For the Chaldeans and Astronomers refer the causes of motions and earthquakes, to the heaven, to stars, and to the planets, and many philosophers assign it to the water: And yet those which are of this opinion differ amongst themselves. For some suppose that the earth floateth upon the water like a ship because it is environed with water, according to the natural order of the disposition of the elements: whereby it is diversly moved. Others do attribute the cause of earth quakes to those waters only which are enclosed within the veins and caves of the earth. Some also to the fire: and some to the winds shut up within it: and some to the heat chased by the cold, which striveth against it, and causeth it to search an issue out. For as the water undermineth the earth, and those places through which it doth pass: even so may the fire do: and if either of them be so enclosed, that they cannot find an easy issue, they strive then to do it by force and violence. So do the winds, and the heat chased by the cold. So then, if the earth by undermined, it is no marvel if the upper part sink and fall down, being swallowed up, as into a gulf, considering that the earth, because of the heaviness thereof, tendeth always downward towards the centre thereof, which is the midst of it, and of all the world. And if the waters, or the fire or the winds enclosed and shut up in the earth, or the contrary qualities, which contend one with another, cannot find a passage or issue, their power is so great, that they constrain the earth, which resisteth them, and by forcing it, make it to cleave and open, and to remove, and to shake in those places, wherein it is forced: Concerning all which things one may make a near conjecture, by the force and violence which is seen 
Of the force and violence in artillery.  in ordinance and artillery. For every one beholdeth what force there is by means of fire and of the matter enclosed within, to wit, powder, and of the contrary qualities whereof it is compounded, and of the wind that therein is engendered, not only to drive out with marvelous violence all the charge that therein is, but also many times to burst the piece itself, if there be any resistance to hinder it that it discharge not quickly, or if it be not well made, and very strong, and well proportioned to the charge. We behold also, what a wind there issueth out, and what noise it maketh, and how the noise makes the earth to sound and tremble: and oftentimes it happeneth, that this only wind killeth those that stand near the cannon's mouth, such is the violence thereof, although they be not touched at all with the bullet, that it shooteth. But we behold more clearly in mines, which are made under ground, the violence of this powder, when it is therein enclosed with the fire, which is set thereto by trains. For there is neither town nor castle, be they never so well founded, nor any fortress, which is not only shaken, but overturned also, like as by an horrible earthquake. Wherein we may note, how that it hath not been sufficient for men, to sergeant thunders, and lightnings in artillery, but they have also invented the means to represent the motions and shake of 
Earthquakes compared to agues.  the earth: in such manner as we have signified. There are some philosophers also, who have taught, that the same reason is in earthquakes, as there is in the shaking of men's bodies: and that they are like fevers and maladies of the earth, which come unto it through divers causes, save that they bold not all the body thereof, as they do in men, but only some parts of it. For they argue that the water is in the earth, as the blood, which hath his course through the veins of man's body; and the wind is as the vital spirits, which pass through the arteries thereof. And as there happen divers stops in the body, which hinder the blood, and vital spirits, that they cannot keep their right course and ordinary passage, whereupon their order is troubled, and the body pained, in such sort that groans ensue, and difficulty of breathing, shake, and such like accidents: So is it with the body of the earth, when any thing happens to it contrary to the natural disposition thereof, by the means which we have already heard, whether by water, by fire, by wind and such like. Whereto we will add also this opinion of those, who attribute the cause of such motions and tremble, either to the dryness of the earth which is the occasion, that it cleaveth and chappeth, and by this means gives open way to the air and to the winds, which penetrate thereinto; or else because of the older age thereof, to which they esteem all creatures subject: whereupon it happeneth to it, as to old buildings, which being ruinous and almost rotten, do fall down in some places of themselves.  
These are the divers opinions of men upon this matter: wherein if we desire to take a very short & sure way to attain to the true cause, we must refer it to the wrath and judgements 
The true cause of earthquakes, & the profit that we may reepe thereby.  of God, because that what causes soever the learned can invent, the Eternal showeth himself very powerful, and to be feared therein, considering that he hath disposed all of them, and that they all depend upon him alone. And surely this is a work of the omnipotent worthy to be wondered at, and which may well 'cause men to move and tremble before his majesty. For it he show himself terrible and fearful by deluges of water, by hail, thunder, lightning, storms and tempests, he doth no less by the motions and shake of the earth, which are in regard thereof, as thunders are in the air. For seeing that the earth is as the foot of the world, and that it is assigned to men for their habitation, whither is it that they may have recourse, if it quake under them, and fail to sustain them? Wither shall they retire, if she will allow them no more dwelling in her: but will spew them 
Levit. 19  out as the scripture saith? For if it be hard for them to fly before fire, and before water, and to find harbour against winds, thunders, and tempests; whither shall they fly, if the earth will not receive, nor bear them? And what dread may invade them, when sometimes it quaketh in sort that it openeth, and is swallowed up, as into a bottomless pit; as 
Numb. 16.  it came to pass, when it swallowed Corah, Dathan, and Abiram, and their families? Who will not be astonished when it riseth up, overturning all, even the highest mountains, and hardest rocks, and moveth itself in such sort, that it maketh houses and buildings dance like tammes and sheep, that would one butt at another, wherewith many are utterly destroyed: as it happened in the year 1531. in the Realm of Portugal, which was so 
Examples of marvelous earthquakes.  shaken by an earthquake, that at Lisbon the chief city thereof, there were overthrown almost twelve hundred houses, besides a great number of others which were greatly spoiled. This horrible earth quake continued the space of eight days, and gave very furious assaults five or six times a day. And in the time of the Emperor Tiberius, twelve cities in Asia were quite ruinated in one night by an earthquake. And josephus recordeth that by another 
Lively 1. de bello. jud.  thirty thousand jews died. So justine recounteth, that by another earth quake many cities were destroyed, and an hundred and seventy thousand persons perished in the reign of Tigranes in Armenia. What causes then soever there may be in nature of so many terrible events; yet we must always have recourse to the Author and Governor thereof, without whom it can perform nothing: and he it is, that bringeth earth quakes out of his treasures, 
Psalm. 135.  as he doth the winds; either by his commandment without a means; or by his ministers ordained thereto; or else by some power infused into things, the which may according to his good pleasure display itself in effect, to denounce his judgements on men. For he it is of whom the prophet speaketh. [The earth trembled and shaked, and the foundations 
2. Sam. 22. Psalm. 18. isaiah 66. Matth. 5. Acts 7.  of the mountains were moved and quaked, and the foundations of heaven were bowed and trembled, because he was angry.] Wherhfore we may very well conclude, that as God declareth his magnificence and wondered glory in heaven, which is assigned to be his seat (as his word teacheth us, and as we have heretofore amply discoursed) so likewise he doth manifest it no less in the earth: which is his footstool, when he causeth it to shake and remove, as if being supprised with some great and strong fever, it shook and trembled before him. And therefore job also saith: [The Eternal is wise in heart and 
job 9  mighty in strength; who hath been fierce against him, and hath prospered? He removeth mountains, and they feel not when he overthroweth them in his wrath. He removeth the earth out of her place, that the pillars thereof do shake: the pillars of heaven tremble and quake at his reproof.] But now let us note, that all that, which we have here delivered, 
job 26.  disprooueth not the the earth to remain always firm and immovable in itself, in so much as it moveth not out of the place which was appointed to it by God, neither doth it swerver never so little: considering that the movings and tremble are not universal, but particular only in some places, in such sort that the foundations thereof are not any whit altered. And if we consider well of these things, the Earth will serve no less for a preacher unto us, than the air and the fire, yea then all heaven to denounce unto us the sovereign majesty of the Almighty, ruling above all his works: as I hope tomorrow, we may have goodly testimonines entreating of the water, which is dispersed throughout the earth, and afterwards speaking of the excellent commodities and precious riches, that these two elements do yield to men, into which matter you (ASER) shall enter with your discourse.   
The end of the seventh days work.   

The eight days work.  

Of the sea, and of the waters, and of the division and distribution of them throughout the earth. Chap. 57  ASER. 
THE holy Scripture doth certify us, how that in the beginning the earth was covered over with water, and that it appeared not in any sort, but only under the form a great deep till such time as God commanded the waters to retire to the channels and places, which he had prepared for their abode. So that then the earth was discovered, even so much thereof, as was needful for the habitation and nourishment of men and beasts. But this sovereign creator of the Vnivers would not have the waters to be gathered all into one place, and not to have their course through the earth, but providing for every commodity for his creatures, he ordained, that out of the great Ocean sea, which is as the great body of the waters, there should issue divers arms and members, by means whereof we have the Mediterran seas: out of which again proceed many other waters, as lakes, floods, rivers, and brooks. For although that all these waters seem to have their springing out of certain fountains, which many affirm to be made of the air; yet the very truth is, that their chief source is out of the sea: which (as it is named in job) is as the womb, out of which all waters, both celestial and terrestrial have their first original, and do engender and repair themselves continually by the means that we have already heard. Now according to the opinion of 
Why the water is mixed with the earth  the Philosophers, all reason teacheth us, that this ordinance in nature concerning the distribution of the waters throughout the earth, hath been made of necessity for the mutual maintenance of these two elements: for so much as the Earth being naturally dry, cannot subsist without moisture: and contrariwise the flowing water, could not have aught to stay upon, without being propped by the earth. Wherhfore it was necessary, that the earth should give it place, and that it should open all her veins and conduits, that the water might pass through the same, both within and upon it, yea & to pierce even to the highest mountain tops: in which place being pressed with the weight of the earth, and also in some place moved by the air, which driveth it, one shall see it issue out in great vehemency even as it were squirted out.  
Whosoever then will consider of the whole circuit of the earth, shall learn that the moiety of the roundness thereof is environed by the sea, which floweth round about it, causing the waves thereof to go and come continually, sometimes aloft, and sometimes very low: like as if this terrene globe were a bowl cast into the water, one part whereof should lie discovered out of it, and the other covered within it: Which water the Philosophers hold to be entirely round, having the open heaven in every part over it. And this 
That the water is round.  is confirmed by those drops of water which fall upon the ground, or upon leaves of trees and of herbs which are round. If also one fill a vessel top brim full of water, they may evidently behold, that the water riseth & swelleth in the midst, making a kind of round form. In truth, by reason that the water is subtle and soft, these things are far better comprehended by arguments and concluding reasons, wherewith the books of the learned are replenished, then by the view of the eye. Notwithstanding this is very admirable, that if one put never so little water into a vessel already brimme-full, the uppermost part thereof will shed over: and yet if one cast into the same so toppefull vessel, some heavy thing, yea to the weight of twenty pence, the water will not spill therefore, but will swell only, till such time as it stand much above the brim of the vessel, by the rising thereof. Moreover the roundness of the water, which causeth this, doth also make that those which are in the top of a ship, do sooner discover land, than those which are in the fore deck, or in the stern thereof, so likewise if any shining thing be fastened to the top of the mast parting from the port, it seemeth that the vessel still goeth downwards till at length the sight of her will be clean lost. Moreover, how should it be possible that the Ocean Sea, which environeth the earth, as being the mother sea, and the receptacle of all the rest, doth not run abroad, considering there is no bank to withhold it, if it were not of round form? Wherein this is to be noted, that the water of the Sea doth in no sort overpass the limits thereof, nor doth ever run but toward the place of the natural situation thereof. Of which the Greek Philosophers have rendered an especial 
Why the water doth retain itself in itself, without running abroad.  reason by Geometrical propositions and conclusions making demonstration that this water cannot run otherwise, what room or scope soever it have. For they say, that considering the nature of water is to fall always downward; and that also the Sea stretcheth itself out so far as it can; nevertheless according as the declining of the Sea can suffer, as every one may see with his eye: and by how much the lower it is, by so much the more it doth approach to the centre of the earth: whereupon ensueth, that all lines drawn from that centre to the waters nearest to it, are shorter than those lines, which are drawn from the uppermost waters to the extremity of the sea: so that by that means, the water of the sea doth always decline towards the centre, from whence it can in no sort fall, but doth there retain itself. 

Good Christian instructions taken from the waters.  
job 38.    
Surely if we do nearly consider this marvelous work of God (the Sea & waters) we shall therein found goodly mirrors wherein to contemplate his majesty and greatness. According as he saith to his servant job, [Who hath shut up the Sea with doors when it issued and came forth, as out of the womb? When I made the clouds as a covering thereof, and darkness as the swaddling bands thereof? When I established my commandment upon it, and set bars and doors: And said, Hitherto shalt thou come, but no farther; and here shalt thou stay thy proud waves,] The like is also taught by the Psalmist, saying: [He gathereth 
Psal. 33.  the waters of the sea together, as upon an heap, and layeth up the depths in his treasures.] Which is as much as if he should say, (God holdeth back the waters, as with a bridle, that they may not overrun and cover the earth.) Wherein we are moreover to note, that the holy Ghost speaketh concerning the sea, in this fore-alleged text of job, & in many other places of Scripture, as if it had some sense and understanding, and that God had caused it to hear his voice, and had commanded it, as he commandeth men to obey his ordinance, although it be a senseless creature and without life: but this is to the end that we may better learn to acknowledge the power and providence of God over all his works. For the sea is not only deaf, and deprived of all sense, and much more without understanding, but also exceeding surious and and outrageous, being moved by force of winds and tempests, in such sort that it often seemeth, as if it would overrun and swallow up all the earth with the waves thereof, and would rise with the floods thereof and mount up to heaven. For one may behold how at one time the waves will swell and rise up like high mountains: and suddenly after will tumble and couch down like valleys, and as if the sea would cleave and divide itself, and so discover the deep bottom thereof. And therefore the kingly Prophet having divinely described all things, together with 
Psal. 107,  the power that the sovereign creator had to raise, and to appease such tempests, he exhorreth all men to acknowledge this infinite power of the Eternal, and those great works and wonders, which he declareth in the sea: and to have recourse for their deliverance out of all dangers, to the Creator and true Lord of the waters and of the winds, and of all nature. But yet we must here consider the obedience that the sea showeth, even in the greatest furies thereof, to the commandment which God hath delivered to it from the first creation thereof. For although it be often moved, as we said; yet doth it contain itself shut up within the bounds which were appointed unto it by the ordinance of God, as if it were afraid to run out, and durst not pass farther, as having heard and understood that which the creator thereof had commanded, and had engraven it in memory for ever. And therefore we may see, that after it hath swollen and risen aloft in waves, and that it hath menaced the earth, as if it would overflow it, & cover it again with the deep, as at the beginning: it is nevertheless arrested, and beaten back to return into the proper gulfs thereof, which are assigned for it to lodge in, even by a very little sand only. For what is the sea shore, but sand only, which is a kind of lose earth like the dust, & is easily driven with the wind? And yet the word of God, which hath given commandment to the sea (which is so horrible & fearful a creature being moved, is of such power; that this small sand is sufficient to make it keep within the confines and limits thereof, & to break the furious waves thereof, as if he, who hath established this ordinance in nature, stood in presence upon the shore side, to command it to do so, and that for fear and reverence of him, it returned to hide itself in the deep: how much more than should his word and voice move the hearts of men, breaking, cleaving, and piercing them through, if they were not harder than stones, and rocks, and more senseless than the waters? For this cause the Lord saith by Easie: [And to whom shall I have respect, but to him that is 
isaiah 66.  afflicted, and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my words?] And jeremy showing to the people of Israel the malice and rebellion, which was in them, against the Lord their God, doth give them the Sea for a pattern, and referreth them to learn to obey their 
jerem 5.  Creator, after the example thereof. Let us learn then that the Sea and other waters do not over pass their bounds and limits; but when it pleaseth God that they should over flow to chastise men, by deluges and slouds: as it oftentimes cometh to pass through his just judgement. But it shall be your office (ACHITOB) to speak of this point, discoursing upon the ebbing and flowing of the Sea, whereupon me thinks the order of our speech doth require that we should entreat.   

Of the flowing and ebbing of the sea, and of the power that the moon hath over it and over all other inferior bodies. Chapter 58.  AMANA. 
IF we do not refer all things to the heavenly disposition of him, who hath framed and compassed all with his hand, and doth govern all by his prudence and sustaineth all with his power: it will be very difficult, yea impossible for us, to declare the causes and reasons of his works in an human discourse which are of such authority, that they may put a good spirit out of all scruple and doubt: Yea even in the subject which we intent now to entreat of, to wit, the flowing and ebbing of the sea. The searching out of which secret did so trouble a certain great Philosopher (some say, Aristotle) that being upon the shore Euboea now called Negropont, only to search out and to behold the natural cause thereof, and not being able to inform himself sufficiently therein, it did so vex him, that chase at nature herself, and against the water, he cast himself into the sea, saying to it (sith I cannot comprehend thee, yet shalt thou have the honour to comprehend me, and keep me within thy gulfs) and indeed he was here swallowed by the deep. And certes this ordinary ebbing and flowing of the ocean, according to which it goeth, cometh, spreadeth itself abroad, & then doth every day retire, without ever failing in the order thereof, must needs be a most wonderful thing. And that which is most admirable therein is, that the flowing and ebbing thereof do follow the course of the moon. To which planet likewise is attributed with most apparent reason the cause of this flowing and ebbing; she being as the regent of the 
Of the ebbing and flowing of the sea.  seas and waters, by the appointment of the sovereign creator, as is seen by experience and by the agreeableness of nature, which they have together. For we must note, that as the moon increaseth or waineth, so is it with the state of the flowing of the sea: And therefore although that it happen diversly, yet the principal cause of the motion thereof resideth in his planet. For between the two times that she riseth, which is in four and twenty hours, wherein she compasseth the whole earth, the sea doth twice flow, & doth as oftentimes ebb. And when the moon beginneth to mount in the east, then doth the flood rise, and the sea swell, till such time as this planet doth attain to our right meridian, which is in the mid heaven, and that it begin to decline towards the west, at which time the water ebbeth, Yet nevertheless all those six hours, wherein the moon maketh her course towards the line of mid night opposite to our noon line, the flood returneth and increaseth, till after it hath passed that line; and than it doth ebb again, till such time as the said regent thereof the moon return again above our Horizon. It is most certain that the flood doth never return just at that very hour and instant, wherein it flowed the day before. But this doth proceed likewise from the course of the Moon, which serving for these base and inferior things, and not rising every day at one self same instant, she doth draw the course of the sea with her: in such sort, that the tide is more late, and of shorter continuance at one time then at another, and yet doth not the distance of time between the tides change one whit, for it endureth six hours in ebb, and so long time in flowing. But here we mean not all manner of hours as our common hours are, according to the different situation of places, but we mean equal and equinoctial hours by consideration where of the ebbing and flowing of the sea will be found always of like time, as is abovesaid. Moreover, from seven days to seven days, the flowing is found different by the same power of the Moon: for it is but very small the first quarter thereof, and till it be half round. In the second quarter it always increaseth till full Moon: at which time the sea is at her greatest height. From thence forward the flood decreaseth: so that the third quarter it is in the same state wherein it was the first quarter. Nevertheless when the waning Moon is half round, the flood beginneth to rise. But when she is in conjunction with the Sun, the tide riseth as high as at full Moon. And when the Moon is high and Septentrional, the tide is not so vehement as when she is Meridional, because that being then more near to the earth, she doth the more exercise her power.  
But many have endeavoured in this matter to understand, why the flow of the Ocean sea do reach farther, than those of the other Mediterranean seas: wherein the ebbings and flow do not appear as in the Ocean. Which may be said to proceed, because that a thing which is entire hath more power, than any part which is separated. 
Why the ocean doth differ in flowing from other seas.  Also the high sea retaineth in itself more of the power of the Moon, which worketh upon it at ease and pleasure, beyond all comparison more forcibly then upon other seas, which are narrower, and minister less means to this planet to exercise her rule therein. From whence it cometh to pass, that lakes and rivers do never flow. And for the Mediterranean seas they are enclosed about with the earth, as in an heaven, though there be some places, or some arms of the same seas very broad. Some likewise are very much subject to the Moon, as the adriatic gulf, wherein Venice is builded, which ebbeth and floweth twice every day like the Ocean. And it is to be noted, that such motions are better perceived on the shore and sea coasts, then in the midst thereof: even as the pulse of the arteries is better known in the extremes of the body, then in the bulk 
Other causes of the flowing and ebbing of the sea.  thereof. Some also do tender this cause of the flowing, and ebbing of the see, to wit, that though the waters thereof be salt, yet were not this sufficient for their conversation, no more then of their neighbour the air, if they had not a continual motion. For we see, that sea water doth presently corrupt being in a vessel, and not moved. Many also have noted that in every revolution or course of the moon, the tide resteth for three days long, to wit, the seven, eight and ninth day thereof: and that when she is at full, all seas do purge themselves by scummes. Certainly it is wondrous to see what power this planet hath, not only over the waters, but also over the earth, and over all living creatures. Which hath ministered occasion to many Philosophers to suppose, that the moon was that quickening 
Of the power of the moon over all creatures.  spirit, which nourisheth the earth; and that also by her inconstant course approaching divers ways to the inferior bodies, she produced divers effects, sometimes replenishing them and sometimes leaving them void and empty. Whereof it cometh, that all fishes having scales and shells, do increase and decrease according to the course of the moon: and that all living creatures also, which have blood, do feel themselves refreshed, when she renueth. It is likewise supposed, that the blood augmenteth or diminisheth in man, according as the moon increaseth, or waineth: yea that herbs and trees do partake of her power. Aristotle also doth note, that those creatures which are ready to die, do die only when the sea ebbeth. But in this matter, as in all things which do concern ebbing and flowing of the Ocean, we must ever have recourse to the ordinance that the Eternal father of the univers hath established in all his creatures: according to which they persever in obedience to their creator, without transgressing one title of his laws: as we have a notable example in the sea, and in the waters, which contain themselves in such admirable sort (as in our former speech is declared) within their bounds and limits. And if at any time they overflow 
A mavailous mundation of waters in the year 1530.  (as whilom happened in Holland, where the water broke through the dams and banks, wherewith the country is bounded, swallowing up the coast towns, with an incredible loss of men and riches: as also at the same time. Tiber did so overflow at Rome, that it rose in the fields the height of a lance, ruinating in four & twenty hours many bridges & stately edifices, the endommagement whereof, comprising therein the movable goods lost, was esteemed to amount to the value of three millions of gold: there being above three thousand persons choked and drowned.) Such deluges, I say, do not come to pass (what natural causes soever the learned force themselves to tender) without the express command and ordinance of God, who will after this sort use the water, to take vengeance upon those whom he pleaseth to wash from off the face of the earth, as being unworthy to devil longer thereupon. And so he himself hath prophesied unto us, saying: [There shall be signs in the Sun, and in the Moon, and in the Stars, and upon the earth, trouble among the nations, with perplexity: the sea and waters shall roar.] Adding afterwards, 
Luke 21.  [For the powers of heaven shall be shaken.] Moreover we may say, that although the celestial bodies have no more life, sense and understanding, than the earth and the sea: yet nevertheless they have, as it were, a secret feeling by nature of the majesty of God their creator, who causeth them to rise up against men for their rebellion and wickedness. Surely when we see them rise and stand up against men, to work them evil instead of doning them good, contrary to the end of their first creation; we must consider of them, as if they envied & denied to serve men any more, which turn disloyal, ingrateful & perverse towards him, from whom their total good proceedeth: As the Sun did witness when it waxed dark at the death of our Redeemer, depriving those of his light, which were risen up against the eternal Son of God, that had created them. For it is certain, that the creatures do groan and travel altogether (as the Scripture saith) till such time as jesus Christ shall come in judgement, which is the day of the restitution and restoring of all 
Romans 8. Acts. 3  things, foretold by the Prophets. And which day being near, it is no marvel: if God do daily show his particular judgements upon men, to put them in mind of this general and universal judgement, whereto heaven, earth, the sea, and all creatures shall come together: and therefore also he giveth them so many signs of his wrath, by thunders, tempests, deluges, and inundations of water, as we have made mention. But let us proceed to contemplate his other works and great wonders, which abound every where, both in the earth, and in the sea, and in other terrestrial waters: by which very many commodities, do redound to men through the providence of God. And first we will speak of the diversity of waters. Which (ARAM) I would have you to discourse of.   

Of salt, fresh, and warm waters: and of other diversities in them. Chapter 59  ARAM. 
ACcording to the nature of the most wonderful works of God, in all that, which he hath created, the marvels are innumerable, which may be considered in the sea, and in all the waters which proceed out of it, and return into it, without any increasing or diminishing in itself, as we have already heard. And if there were no other thing, but that the waters of the sea are always salt, and other waters are for the most part fresh, would not that be sufficient to teach us to acknowledge the great power, wisdom, and bounty of the creator, and how puissant he is in all his works? For though that all waters are of one nature, as making up one only element? yet doth he make them of divers qualities, according as he knoweth how to purify, distil and purge, or else to mingle and mix them, with his other creatures. Whereupon it falleth 
Of the divers qualities of water, and of the providence of God therein  out, that we have not only salt waters in the sea, but that there are some found also in fountains, yea oftentimes very near to other springs of fresh water: Wherein the providence of God declareth itself to be very great. For if all the waters were salt, men and beasts could not live, nor the earth fructify, and nourish the fruits thereof, because that living creatures cannot want fresh watar, whether it be for their driake, or for their other necessary commodities: neither is salt water fit to water the earth, considering that salt makes it barren. On the other side, if all waters were fresh, where might men found salt enough to suffice them, for the necessary commodities of their life? For although that there be some salt mines, and some salt ground, as appeareth by the salt waters of fountains, which pass through such grounds: yet the best means to have good salt and in abundance is by the waters, and chiefly by Seawater. What may we say also of so many sorts of water, whereof some participate with Sulphur; some with alum; other with iron or brass, or with other metals or minerals, which do heat some of them in such sort, as men make natural baths of them, having divers virtues and powers which serve for medicines in many kinds of diseases?  
Now the Philosophers do much strain themselves to declare the causes of so many marvelous effects. For some say that the son, which is the greatest of all planets, drying 
Why the sea-water is salt.  up by his heat the moisture of the water, and burning and sucking up all the humidity of the earth, doth by this decoction 'cause the Sea to become salt, because the force of the solary fire doth attract unto it the most fresh and subtle part of the water, making the more heavy and thick part that remaineth, to be salter and of more substance: whereof it cometh, that the water towards the sea bottom is fresher, then that which is above. Others allege three efficients, which both cause and continued the saltness: to wit, the heat of the Sun, for the foresaid reasons; and also because it maketh the water to purify: then the continual agitation thereof by flowing and ebbing, which causeth that the Sea neither resteth nor runneth a direct course: and thirdly, the ordinary receiving of rain. For they say, that when salt resteth in the water, it descendeth downwards by reason of the weight thereof: and when the water runneth, it is purified by the earth: and that all rainewater, because it is heated by the Sun, and doth putrify through tardation and slowness, is somewhat brackish. But they are much more troubled when they entreat of fountains. For some say, that the sea yieldeth none but salt waters, as is seen by many waters near it: And that those which are fresh, become so by a long and vehement course. Others maintain that they be engendered by the air. Now experience manifesteth, that their saltness is diminished by the length and continuance of the course of the water. For the farther that wells are from the sea, the more fresh they are: because the water doth more purge itself, by the earth over which it transuerseth, leaving a part of the force 
Of fountains and wells and why the water of them seemeth hotter in winter then in summer.  thereof, and sometimes all of it, in the slime, and in the sand. And here we may note, that waters, especially Well waters, which do all come from some springs, do seems to be hotter in winter then in summer, although they do never change their nature: for this proceedeth of the air, which is cold in winter and hot in summer. Through the opposition then of these things one self same water seemeth to receive divers qualities: even as we see, that according to the disposition of our body, the quality of the air, which environeth us, is esteemed. Eor when we are hot, we do suppose, that which we touch to be cold; and when we be cold, we esteem that which we touch to be otherwise. Wherhfore we must judge even so of the inner parts of the earth, esteeming them to be simply neither hotter nor colder in one season more than in another, but only in respect of the air. Indeed water doth wax a little warm, when through the coldness of the air, the heat is constrained to retire itself downward in such sort as it cannot issue nor spread itself upon the earth: and therefore the snow which doth lie a long upon it, doth commonly make it more fertile; for it retaineth the heat in the bowels thereof. Moreover, the uppermost part of the earth, which the water may come to, is of a clammy slime of 
Why some waters do boil.  the nature of brimstone or of salt, or of metal: which causeth that the exhalations enclosed in this part do heat the water. And therefore such waters are either odoriferous, or of a baddesmell, or without any savour, of which qualities one may easily judge by the smell and taste. For some waters savour not only of lime, or of salt; but they do also boil, as in the hathes near to Milan; yea such waters are very ordinary, so that there are few regions, but have some of them. But they are most common in Germany and in Italy. And the cause that they so boil is, either fire or putrefaction, or else natural or celestial heat. But for the celestial heat, it seemeth that it cannot be so great, especially in winter and in the night time, that it should heat the water very much. And for natural heat, it is never actual but in living creatures, because they have life and sense. Neither is putrefied heat so powerful, that it can make water to boil, neither is it very likely, that the substance of any thing may be engendered and corrupted at one instant. It resteth then, that the cause should rather be in the fire: considering also, that heat hath but little motion, except it attain to the height thereof, whereas otherwise it doth quench itself. And therefore it is that matter which burnethunder the earth, that ministereth this puissant heat, which doth so warm the water. And we may moreover note, that all those waters which boil so, are naturally light, and have some medicinable faculty and property: And yet they are not to be so much accounted of, as that which is fit for common usage in men's affairs to preserve health. For good water hath neither colour, smell, nor savour, and is passing clear: and being drunk it abideth not long in the belly: such (they say) is the water of the river 
What water is best.  Euleus, which falleth from the mountain Zager by Susiana, whereof the Kings of Persia did make provision in their expeditions and warlike voyages. For to the preservation of health, water is no less to be carefully chosen, than air. Now as warm waters are famous for the reason heretofore delivered; so there are some waters also very much admired for their great coldness, whereof snow, marble, metals, cold air, sudden motion, 
divers causes of cold waters, & their tastes, colours and smells.  and the great fall from aloft, (every one in his degree) may be the cause. Again, the savours or tastes of waters are very divers, and the principal cause thereof is heat. For sodden earth (which is of sundry sorts) giveth a taste to water, according to the quality thereof. And the like reason is concerning colours; for fine and thin clay doth 'cause the colour of waters: but thick clay tarrieth not in water, and therefore dieth it not. The same cause is also in the difference of smells. And always waters that are of a good smell, are profitable for creatures: but stinking waters 'cause diseases: for (as Philosophers say) contrary causes appertain to contrary things. Good water likewise is lightest, as that which fleeteth above other water, be it in rivers, springs, or wells. From whence it cometh that fresh water floateth upon sea water: which likewise being more massive and weighty, beareth more heavy burdens. And amongst fresh waters, the water of Rhodanus or Rosne (in France) swimmeth upon that of the the lake of Geneva, passing over the midst thereof. Also many properties and great wonders are written concerning waters, with the causes of them: as that, which is reported by josephus, of a certain flood in judea near Syria, which ran every day, except upon the 
Of a flood which ran not on the Sabbath day.  Sabbaoth day: which was reputed a matter religious, and as a miracle: although that this might happen and come to pass through a natural cause, if we will so argue, to wit, that no water was gathered into this flood by orderly spaces, than was sufficient to run for six days and not for the seventh: in such sort as Physicians tender a like cause concerning the renewings or fits, and ceasings of fevers. For the world is the great man, as man is the little world. But not stretching this discourse any farther, we will only note for conclusion thereof, that in the diversitive of the kinds of waters, that which is gathered together in one place and i● salt, is called the sea; the fresh water so gathered together 
Of the divers appellations of waters.  is called a lake; and if it move not at all, it is named a marish or fen: but if it be somewhat deep, it is a standing pool, and if it run, then is it a river: if it gather through rains, or by snow, then is it a torrent, or rain flood: and if it spring, it is a fountain; which is ever the best water, and doth slowliest putrify. For it is lest moist, and is most concocted by the heavenly heat. Also the lightest water doth hardliest corrupt: for which cause it is most fit for the maintenance of man's life, as approaching nearest to the substance of the air by which we breath. We have said enough then concerning this matter. But me thinketh that our succeeding discourse requireth that we should entreat of those commodities, which men receive by waters through navigation, which (ACHITOB) shall be the subject of your discourse.   

Of the commodities which men reap of the waters, by navigation, and of the directions which seamen receive from heaven, and from the stars upon the sea. Chapter 60.  ACHITOB. 
Among such things as are worthy of consideration in the sea, and in other waters, we must not pass over in silence those goodly commodities and great profits which they bring unto men, by the means of navigations, and of the dealings and traffics which they exercise by them. For it is to be noted, that every land and country cannot be furnished with all commodities, because God hath so disposed thereof, that some abound in those things which other some do greatly want and stand in need of. But by means of sailing by water, all that which can be required may be tansported from one country to another, with very small trouble and charges: so that one nation may communicate those commodities with another, which the creator hath particularly bestowed on them all, each granting mutual help to the other by this means. Wherein surely we may acknowledge the providence of God to be very great 
Of the provieence of God in distribution of his gifts.  and manifold. For first the Lord hath disposed of his creatures, and distributed his treasures according to the diversity of lands & countries, even in such manner as he divideth his gifts and graces amongst men. For he bestoweth not all either upon one or upon two, or upon three, or upon any other certain number of them: And therefore there never hath been, nor shall be any one, which either could or may surpass all others so much, that he may have no need of another, or that hath sufficient for himself. For if one man possessed all, he would think himself to be no more a man, but a God rather, and would therefore contemn all others. Moreover, it is most certain, that if every one were so well furnished with all things that they might all surpass one another, there would be no human society. For one would make no account of another: being all puffed up with pride (wherewith they are naturally inclined) there would arise a thousand quarrels and dissensions amongst them, as we ordinarily see to happen amongst the proud, mighty, puissant, and rich. For seeing that charity, which should devil amongst men, can take no place; how could they be united and and allied together in amity, if they were not constrained thereto through necessity? and if it be a difficult matter to conjoin and maintain them in peace and mutual good will, what need soever they have one of another, one may easily judge what would ensue, if they had not necessity for their mistress to this effect, which causeth them to do in spite of all their abilities, that which she cannot obtain of them, but by force. Again how could men exercise the works of charity amongst themselves, (which works are very much commended unto them by God, to be done towards their neighbours) if every one could at his pleasure excel his companion? As than God hath placed and disposed sundry members in one body, and yet hath not appointed them one self same office, but to every on his own: so hath it pleased him to divide and distribute his goodness, gifts, and graces amongst men, to the end that they may one serve another, as members of one and the same body, which cannot consist without the reciprocal help of all. So likewise hath he established the sundry regions of the earth, enriching every one of them with certain particular commodities, which do often constrain men to help and secure one another, and to live in peace: without which, they would like mad beasts over run and destroy each other, as we (wretches) do find true, especially in time of war. But we may well note upon this point, that although the most mighty do by their hate, enmities, dissensions, revengements and wars, contend oftentimes with all their power, to stop and hinder the traffic, dealings, and transportations of merchandise from one country, and out of one place to another, especially of food and victuals; yet whatsoever they may or can do (be they kings, princes or Emperors) they cannot for all that make such a stop, but that they will always pass and scape by sums means, mangres all their powers. Wherein we must acknowledge, that seeing God hath ordained, that those which bear his image, should have communication 
That nothing can stop the intercourse of men.  one with another, for the causes aforesaid, and that chief by the aid of navagation: it is a great presumption in mighty men to oppose themselves against the order of the Omnipotent, and against that communion of benefits, which he will have to be maintained amongst men. Whom he can constrain to observe his ordinances, even through their own covetousness, when their charity faileth, making them to despise all dangers, that they may supply where need is, though they be forbidden upon pain of death. For such restraint by commandment is so far from hindering their covetousness, that it doth more in flame it, because they expect greater gain, then if there were mutual liberty, and therefore they 'cause more war secretly to pass, and by the means they put all to hazard: yea they would rather open away under ground (like moles) or else would fly in the air (like birds) then leave such trading: so wonderful is God in all his works, and in the government of all nature. For when he pleaseth, he serveth his own turn with the affections and evil works of men, yea drawing good out of their evil, even against their own wills. And therefore we may very well affirm, that seeing God will have men to traffic together; it cannot choose, howsoever they enterprise to the contrary, but that this order must be continued. For this cause likewise it was not the will of the creator, that the waters should so gather themselves into one place that they might not run through the earth: but he ordained, that out of the great Ocean (which is like the great body of the waters, and like the womb, out of which they do all first spring, and wherein they are engendered, and whereby they are repaired for ever) there should issue divers arms and members, by means whereof we have the Mediterranean seas, lakes, floods, rivers and brooks. So also in this distribution, and by the means of navigation, God hath given us many other means; to the end we might behold with our eyes, many testimonies of his providence engraven in every part of the vniuers, by the disposition of the works of his almighty hand, as they who sail upon the waters are constrained to acknowledge. For as he hath appointed the watery element, to serve men to navigate therein; so hath he established the heaven, and ordained the stars enchased 
Of the direction that mariners have by the stars.  therein, to direct them to the midst of the great gulfs and deeps of the sea. For when the ships are entered very far into it, they that be therein do clean loose the sight of land; so that they cannot judge by the consideration thereof, in what place they are, nor upon what side, neither to what place they may bend their course to find a convenient port, but they must take their directions from heaven.  
And for this cause also, though that the heaven be in perpetual motion, and that all the planets and stars do follow it, rising and setting in such sort, as they do not always appear to men: yet there are some of another condition. For near to the place, which Astronomers take for the pole, there are certain stars which have their motion and course so disposed, that they are always seen at sea, being never hidden like the rest: and among these that is one, which is called the Polestarre, which is never seen to remove (except a very little) out of one place: so that it seemeth the whole heaven turneth about this star: As also we maintain, that it hath the like place correspondent thereto directly over against it in the other part of heaven, with a like appellation of name (as we have heretofore declared in our discourses concerning the celestial bodies) excepting the difference, which is put between these two poles, taken from their opposite situation in heaven, and from the stars, which are next unto them; which also have their course and motion like the rest: but do only differ in this, that rising and setting are not attributed unto them, because they may be always seen, when the spheres are discerned. For when the sky is covered with clouds, mariners do find themselves very much hindered and troubled. For than they prove that which job saith concerning the works of God, to wit, that he commandeth 
job 9  the sun, and it riseth not, and he closeth up the stars, as under a signet. And that he maketh the star Arcturus, Orion, and Pleyades, and the Climates of the south, doing great things and unsearchable, yea marvelous things without number. Whereupon we may note, that here it especial mention made of the septentrional stars, as well because that they are more seen than the rest, as also because it is their property to bring and to procure rain and tempests (if we may credit Astrologers) which cause that the heaven cannot be seen. And because that some of these stars are so disposed, that they seem to represent the figure of a chariot with four wheels, and they are very much glistering above other, they are commonly called by the name of Charles-wain: because also they 
Of Charles his wain.  have three other very bright stars near to them, placed in such order as if they were cart-horses or oxen. Indeed some have called them the Bear, seeing them so conjoined together, taking the four quarters apart as if they were the four quarters of a Bear, and the other three as the tail thereof. There are some also, who have named them the Dragon or Serpent, because that being considered together they might seem to represent some such form. But howsoever, it is certain that pilots of galleys and ships do direct & guide themselves chief by these northern stars, as being most seen, and best known by men, and because they do almost always remain in one place, like the pole, or else do move so little, that they are never out of sight, especially that constellation which is properly designed by name of the Bear, and is called the greater Bear in comparison of a less called the lesser Bear. And for which cause also the pole, which is in this region and part of heaven is called Arctic, which is to say, of the Bear: for (Arctos) in Greeke signifieth a Bear. Now hereby we farther learn, that it is very requisite for marrinets, and chief for masters and governors of galleys and ships, to be Astronomers, at leastwise so much as to know the foresaid stars, and to know how to judge of the elevation of the pole, and of the degrees, and the distances of every land and country, according to the elevation. For it is by it, that not only mariners, but Geometricians and Geographers also do take their measures, and dimensions to part and measure out the earth. But we have stayed long enough in this matter, now we will consider how God hath divided and limited out this terrestrial globe, and the sundry countries and regions that are therein, by the sea and separation of the water: as (ASER) you can discourse unto us.   

Of the division of lands and countries amongst men by the waters, and of the limits which are appointed them for the bounds of their habitations. Chapter 61.  ASER. 
STrabo a man as well seen in good letters as any other that hath written of geography, saith; That the earth is environed about by the Ocean: and therefore he parteth it into four very great gulfs: the first whereof 
Division of the Ocean into four gulfs.  turneth towards the North, and is called the Caspian or Hyrcanian Sea: the second and third is that of Arabia, and the gulf of Ormuz or the Persian sea, turning towards the South: and the fourth being greatest of all the rest is that whereinto the Ocean entereth at the straight of Gibraltar, which some call the pillars of Hercules; which gulf is called by the name of the Mediterran, or Middle earthsea, because it is compassed round about with land. And the same Mediterran sea runneth, enlarging itself, and making many bays and gulfs, sometimes washing the coall of Europe, and sometimes that of Africa, and so it extendeth toward the East, and receiveth divers names according to the places through which it passeth. For the first coast by which it runneth is called Mauritania Tingitans, which is that of Tremissen; then doth it take the name of Mauritania Caesariensis, 
Of the mediterranean seas.  towards Algiers, and Tunis; then is it named the Africke-sea towards Tripoli in Barbary; then passing the quick sands it is the Lybian sea; and entering upon the Marmarica and Cyrenaica, it glideth with that name till it water Egypt, and then it is said to be the Egyptian sea. And all this coast is from the east to the west, till you arrive at the gulf of Larissa beyond Damiata, and at the uttermost of the deserts of the southeast, where Asia and Africa do separate. From which port being in Palestina, you must turn north and northeast, as if you would take your course by the west: and then this sea which was called the Syriack sea because of all Syria to Tripoli, changeth name, and is called the Egean sea, till you come to Galli polis; or Hellespont, making all this way divers bay and gulfs: and under this name it coasteth Thracia, and the lands which abutte upon Macedonia, and Morea, till you come to Albani●, and there it beginneth to be called the adriatic sea: then doubling towards the south, it floweth by the country of Calabria to the town of Rhegium, under the name of the jonicke sea, and passing between Sicily and Italy, in stead of the old name Charybdis, it is called the Tyrrhene sea, and from thence it runneth towards the coast of Genoa, by name of the Ligusticke sea, which divideth and separateth France from Italy, being nominated the French sea: then to end the course, and finish the compass, it approacheth the isles of Maiorca and Minorca, being called the Balearicke sea. And proceeding farther, it runneth to the straight of Barbary, bearing name the Iberirean sea, where it returneth to the first point, from whence we said it first parted, to wit, at the straight of Gibraltar, which is the entrance of one sea into another.  
Now in this brief discourse, upon which Cosmogrophers have written many great volumes, we bavevery goodly matter to consider upon, not without much wonder of the providence of God; in that it hath pleased him to divide, part, and limit out the earth, and the 
Things to be considered of, by the division of lands by the waters. Acts 17.  sundry countries and nations that are therein, by the sea, and by the bosoms, gulfs, and arms thereof. For it is written [God hath made of one blood all mankind, to devil on all the face of the earth, and hath assigned the times which were ordained before, and the bounds of their habitation.] Which is as much to say, that as men have not made nor created themselves, but have been created by the Eternal; so are they borne where he pleaseth, having assigned them a place upon the earth, not at their choice but at his pleasure.  
And therefore also he establisheth their habitation, or changeth it, according to his good will, either keeping them within the country in which they were borne, or else driving them out, & bringing them into strange lands, as we have very evident examples throughout all the holy History, where mention is made of the children of Israel. For though the Scripture doth deliver us no testimony of the providence of God so special towards other nations, as it assureth us to have been towards the people of Israel: yet we must nevertheless believe, that there is not one man that dwelleth upon the earth, to whom the Lord hath not by his providence assigned the place of his habitation: But he would give an example and more certainty in his people, of that which he ordinarily doth towards all nations, although he doth it not so openly, nor with so great favour and grace, as is declared in those whom he accounteth for his children. And therefore the Prophet saith, [That it is God, who changeth the times and seasons, he taketh away 
Dan. 2.  Kings, he setteth up Kings: because he giveth and taketh away kingdoms, and he augmenteth, cutteth off, and altereth the limits of them as he pleaseth.] Whereby we also learn, that we must not attribute either to the prudence and wisdom of any one, or yet to the force and power, or to the weapons or armies of men, the changes which we daily see in the state of the most mighty: but to the only ordinance and disposition of God, by which such alterations come to pass, according as the sovereign judge knoweth to be expedient and just for the chastisement and punishing of men by one another, or else to show himself benign and favourable towards them. For which cause the Scripture saith, that the Lord using as his instrument Senacherib the tyrant of Assyria to chastise many people and nations; he calleth him the rod and scourge of his wrath: and doth 
isaiah 10.  greatly reprehend him by isaiah, for that he attributed to himself the glory of those victories which he had given him, not because of his virtues (considering he was a fierce and cruel King) but because God would use him against those who deserved to be chastised by the hands of such a tyrant and murderer. If then we consider (as behoveth us) upon that which we have here summarily touched, we shall find therein excellent doctrine for all kings, princes, and people, and for all men, as well in general, as in particular: to the end to induce them, that they may contain themselves within the enclosure of those confines wherein God hath placed them. For as he is cursed in the law, which passeth the bounds of his neighbour's possession; so must we not doubt, but that they are subject 
That every one must contain himself within the limits of his habitation. Deut. 27.  to the same curse, who cannot contain themselves within the bounds of those countries, in which God hath confined them, bestowing upon them power, signories, and habitation therein. For from whence proceed the greatest dessensions and cruelest wars, but from the ambition and avarice of men, which will one usurp above another, that which appertaineth not unto them, and by such means do outpass their limits? whereas if every one would content himself with that part and portion of land, which the creator thereof hath bestowed upon him, who doubteth, but that men should live in much more peace? As than God through his providence would constrain them by necessity and need which they have one of another, to traffic and communicate together in liberty and mutual security, by that means to receive out of one country into another those things which fail therein, and abound elsewhere, and for the causes by us heretofore delivered: so it hath pleased him to set mighty and strong bounds and limits against their ambition and avarice, especially of kings, princes, and great men. For we see how he hath divided and separated one country from another, and the divers regions and kingdoms of the earth not only by means of seas, lakes, and great rivers, but also by craggy, high, and unpassable mountains, which (as the kingly prophet witnesseth) he hath established by his power, that by this means men might be confined within the bounds 
Psal. 65.  of the habitation assigned by the Eternal to every people, in such sort as he hath enclosed the waters within their places, to the course which he hath ordained them, having bounded them with hills & rocks. And yet there are no bounds so difficult to pass, which may bridle and restrain the ambition and insatiable desire of men within any limits, but that they 
Against the ambition and avarice of men.  will pass over the deepest, the longest, the amplest, and broadest waters, and the highest and steepest mountains in the world: so that there are no places so inaccessible, through which they will not cut a passage, one to overrun another by great outrage and violence. Wherein surely they evidently declare, that they are much more furious than the sea, how outrageous and rough soever it be; seeing they can in no wise contain themselves within their limits, as the warers do: which also maketh them more unreasonable than brute beasts. For although there be many unruly and furious horses in one stable, yet each of them will commonly be stayed with an halter made but of a little chord or leather, and will be kept a by little bar of wood, from striking and running over one another; so that one only stable will serve them all. But men do to the contrary show themselves to be such furious and contentious beasts, that the whole world cannot suffice them. For there is neither river, sea, lake, nor mountain, which can be a bar sufficient to withhold them from forcing and ravaging one another, destroying themselves by horrible massacres and cruel wars. Which no doubt cometh unto them especially through want of acknowledging and considering upon the providence of God, by which he hath appointed bounds to their habitation, ambition, and avarice, as we have said, and for that they will not contain themselves within them, obeying the ordinance of their creator. But we have said enough concerning this subject. Let us now discourse upon those commodities which come to men & to all creatures, by the course of the waters through the earth. Which (AMANA.) shall be the substance of your speech.   

Of the commodities which are incident to men, and to all creatures, by the course of waters through the earth. Chap. 62.  AMANA. 
IF men do but slenderly acknowledge the providence of God in the limits of their habitation which he hath appointed, as well by means of mountains as by waters (as we have heard in the precedent speech:) they do also make but small stay in the consideration of those great commodities, which he giveth and sendeth continually to them by means of them, and of all the earth. For as he watereth this fruitful mother by dew and rain from heaven, as hath been heretofore expressed: so doth he moisten it by means of fountains, floods and rivers, which do run through it. Whereupon we must note, that, the life of all corporal creatures doth principally consist in heat, & that this heat cannot be preserved & maintained without moisture, whereby it is nourished: even as the flame of the snuff, or match of a candle or lamp is nourished and maintained by the fat and humour which is therein. Therefore as God hath placed the sun in heaven like a great fountain of heat, and a great furnace of fire for to be distributed and disposed into all parts of the world: so that he established the sea here below in the earth, as a great and perpetual fountain convenient for the nourishment and conservation of this heat, which is communicated to the earth, and to all the creatures that are therein. And therefore 
Goodly similitudes of the course of the waters, and of the veins which are in the body.  also this sea spreadeth itself into divers places, by the means which have been declared: so that the courses of the waters in the earth are like the veins in a man's body. For even as the sovereign Creator hath placed the liver in the bodies of living creatures, which is as the fountain of blood needful for all the body to give life thereto: and then hath made veins like rivers to disperse and distribute this blood to every member, disposing them in such sort, as there is not any part but doth by means of these veins receive as much blood, as is needful for the nourishment and preservation of the life thereof: so likewise he hath ordained here below in earth, the sea and springs of waters, which he afterwards disposeth into every place by means of fountains, floods and rivers, who are as the veins through which the water, that it as the blood of the earth, is coveyed and communicated, that it may be moistened to nourish all manner of fruits, which God hath commanded it to bear for the nuriture both of men and beasts. Wherhfore as in one body there are many veins, some greater, larger, and longer; and some lesser, narrower, and shorter, which nevertheless do all answer to one self same source and fountain, and then do divide themselves into sundry branches: so the earth hath her floods, rivers and streams, some great, other small, which have all their common springs, and do oftentimes join themselves together, or divide themselves into divers branches and arms, in such sort as the earth is moistened by them, so much as is needful in every part thereof. Moreover, as it is watered to nourish the first-fruits; so men and other living creatures do thereby receive their beverage necessary for the preservation of their life.  
But amongst all these things we are to consider, that God the most good hath not only provided by means of them for the necessities of his creatures, but even for their honest 
Of pleasure mixed with profit in the works of God.  pleasures, so that it hath pleased him to conjoin an execellent beauty with profit and utility. For how goodly a thing is it to behold the fruitful islands in midst of the sea, the clear and sweet bubbling springs, and gentle rivers and floods issuing out of rocks and caves of the earth, which tumble down the mountains, flow thorough the valleys, and glide along the plains, through forests, fields and meadows, being decked with many sundry kinds of branched trees, that are planted aside from inhabitants; in midst of which, infinite little birds fly up and down tuning their voices to sing in sweet melody, and natural music? What unspeakable pleasure befalleth to all creatures, especially to man, to live amongst such abounding beauties? And who will not also admire the great variety which is in the disposition and distinction that we behold in the earth, by the mountaies, rocks, valleys, plains, fields, vineyards, meadows, woods, and forests: especially if we consider the first-fruits and profits, which redound to men thereby, besides the gallant diversity of infinite delectable pastures, beautified in all sorts? For there is not one foot of earth, which may not be said to serve to some good use, not not in most desert places. Some places are fit for fields, and Champion grounds; others for pastures; some for vineyards; other for fruitful Orchards; and others for high and well grown trees fit for building timber, or for fire wood, to the end that men may help themselves therewith in all their needful uses for firing. Some places also are particularly commodious for cattle to graze in, by which great gain & pleasure is received. And for deserts, mountains and forests, they are the proper retiring places for wild beasts, by which likewise men do not only receive profit, but very great delectation also, and healthful exercise in hunting of them: and which is more, such places are very commodious for household cattle, which do there feed in every place to marvelous profit. But let us note, that all these properties and profits should not be found in the earth, if it were not conjoined with the water by the course thereof through every part of it. Which water likewise doth cause many and unspeakable profits, that redound to men by fish, which remain not only in the sea, but also in lakes, ponds and rivers, being of so sundry kinds and natures, that it is not possible to number them. In which if the providence of God be most admirable, it is especially to be observed in the sea. For how many sorts of fishes are there, great, little, and of 
Commodities that the waters do bring in fishes, & what is to be admired therein.  mean quantity; and how many sundry forms, and what diversity of nature? I believe verily, that whosoever should undertake to number them, by every kind, and particularly, should be almost as much troubled, as if he would purpose to empty the Ocean. But though there be not any little creature in the sea, wherein God doth not declare & show himself great and admirable; yet doth he chiefly manifest himself so to be in two things. The first is in the hugeness and power of the great fishes which he hath created, as whales and such like, which rather seem to be sea monsters than fishes, there being no beast in all the earth so great and strong: for there are some that seem a far off to be islands or mountains, rather than fishes. And the other most wonderful thing is, that the Creator hath set such a correspondency in many points betwixt the fishes and beasts of the earth, that it seemeth he would represent a great part of the one by the other. So we see also that many names of earthly beasts are given to many fishes, because of the similitude & likeness, which they have together in figure and in nature: yea it seemeth that God, would represent in the fishes of the sea, almost all the other creatures which are in the rest of the world. For there are some which be called Stars, because they are like that shape, according to which men commonly paint the stars. Moreover, how many are there which bear the shape of earthly creatures, yea of many instruments made by men? For amongst others, there is a fish called (the Cock) which is also named by fishers in some countries, the joiner, because it hath almost as much diversity of bones and gristles, as a joiner hath of 
Of the fish called the cock.  tools; the form of which they also represent. But if we speak of the sundry fashions, of fishes, and of their colours, scales, heads, skins and fins, and of their understanding industry and chase, and of their shells and abiding places, and of their natures and infinite properties; who should not have just cause to wonder? Moreover, have not men forged many fashions of weapons, the form of which they have taken from divers fishes? What shall we also say of the fins and little wings which God hath given them, to direct them, and to hold them up in the sea and in other waters, like birds in the air, and as ships are rowed and guided by oars, and the rudder? Seems it not that God hath created them, like watery birds, to whom he hath given wings agreeable to the element for to sustain themselves with, and fit for their nature, as he hath done to the fowls of the air. We also read in Genesis, that the Lord did make in one day the birds and fishes, and every flying thing. For as the air hath more agreement with the water (than with the earth) and approacheth 
Genes. 1.  nearer to the nature thereof, so is there more answerableness between the creatures which live & converse in these 2. elements, then is between them & the beasts of the earth. And therefore we see that the seed of both kinds is multiplied by their eggs, & we must also note, that forasmuch as men can receive no great fruit, nor much profit by fish, except in their victuals, or in some medicine or such like use, which is not so common as ordinary nourishment, God by his providence & blessing hath made them so fruitful, that they multiply & increase wondrously: as experience doth evidently manifest unto us, by the great number of fry or spawn that is found in one only fish. Which fertility we must believe to proceed from the power, which the Almighty bestowed upon them: as also upon all his creatures, when he said unto them, [Bring forth fruit, and multiply, and fill the waters in the Sea, and let the fowl multiple in the earth.] A thing which we must well consider upon, to the end that we may refer to this blessing of God all those commodities which we receive, either from those creatures, or from the earth itself, or from the other elements, and that we must tender him continual thanks and praises therefore. For he hath no less wise blessed all his creatures, than the fishes and the birds, when by his word he gave their nature to them, in which he created them, and did presently after command them to bring forth fruit according unto that nature. To the end than that we may be the more induced to glorify so great a workman, for the excellency of his works, which shineth in all creatures, let us now entreat of some fishes most accounted of by those who have written of their nature, and let us consider of their singularities and wonders, so much only as the scope of our discourse will permit us, in such sort as we have declared in our antecedent speeches. To you then (ARAM) I refer the relation concerning this matter.   

Of divers kinds of fishes: namely of the whale, of the dolphin, of the seacalfe, and others. Chap. 63.  ARAM. 
IT is affirmed by all the learned, who have diligently searched out the secret of nature, that the water bringeth forth more and greater creatures, than the earth doth, because of the abundance of the moisture that is therein. And the sea is so ample, and so fit to give nourishment, & a gentle and fertile increase of all things by means of that generating seed which it attracteth from heaven, and the aid of nature ordained by the creator (which hath this property, to produce always something that seemeth new) that it is no marvel if there be found incredible and monstrous things in the water. For the seeds of all forms do interlace and mix themselves therein, as well by the winds, as by the agitation of the waves, that one may well say (as is said commonly) 
The admirable property of nature.  that there is nothing on earth, which is not in the sea: yea, and that there are many things in it, which cannot be found either in the air, or on the earth. Now great fishes are chief resident under the Torrid zone, because that in the Ocean heat and moisture serve for augmentation, as saltness doth for conservation. And in this number is the whale, of which the ancients writ, and whom some moderns call Gibbar (because that the common whale, which some take for the Musculus of Aristotle doth not answer to the description of this) which is of incredible hugeness. For if we will believe histories, there have been some seen of four arces of ground in length. They make an horrible cry, and spout out of two holes (of a cubit long, which they have near to their 
Of the whale  nostrils) so much water, that oftentimes drown ships therewith. And of their crests men make fair rods, which seem to be of borne, or of hone, black in colour, and like to the 
Plin lib. 9 hist nat.  horns of a buff, so flexible, that they can hardly be broken, and they do shine in the sun, as if they were gilded. Of every piece of his crest is a rod made, so that in one crest there are many rods. Moreover the bone of his whole head is so great, that one might make a ship thereof.  
And as this kind of fish is the heaviest and mightiest of all, so the Dolphin is the swiftest and most ingenious not only of all watery creatures, but of those of the earth, and of the air. For they swim faster than a bird can fly. And therefore if this fish were not low-mouthed, there were no fish could scape him. But nature providing therefore, in putting his mouth under his belly, hath so restrained him, that he can catch nothing but backwards: whereby the great swiftness of such fishes doth evidently appear. Wherhfore when the Dolphin, pressed with hunger, pursueth any fish to the bottom, and that he hath stayed long there, always holding wind, when he riseth he leaps above water with incredible 
Of the dolphin.  quickness and force, to take breath again. Some have marked in this kind of fish, that they have their tongue movable, contrary to the nature of all other water-creatures. Their voice is as when one waileth. Their back is bowed and bendeth outwards: they are very loving to men, and like well of Music: and indeed they do not shun men, as other fishes do; but come right before Ships, making a thousand leaps and frisks before them. Sometimes also as if they had challenged the Mariners to try who should 
Of the Sea-calf.  go speediest, they take their course along with the Ships, and do outstrip them, how good wind soever they have.  
Among Sea fish also the Sea-calf is very admirable. For he hath udders and hair, and calueth upon the earth as sheep bring forth, and is delivered of the second burden presently after her young ones. He snorts mightily when he sleepeth near to the shore; he bleats and bellows like a calf, and for that cause beareth the same name. The sins wherewith be swimmeth, serve for feet on ground to go upon. His hide (whereof the I slanders make girdles) hath a marvelous property, for the hair which is thereupon riseth when the sea increaseth, and falleth when it diminisheth. Some hold also that this creature is very capable of discipline, easily learning that which is showed him: and that he saluteth 
Of Tortoises.  people by his looks, and with a certain noise and shaking that he makes.  
Now let us speak of the tortoise which is of a very strange form. There are found of them in the coast of India so great, that one shell only is sufficient to cover a good pretty shed. And in the country of the Chelonophagi, there are some isles, where they ordinarily use tortoise shells in stead of boats. For we must note that there he three sort of Tortoises: the terrestrial, which breedeth in forests: marish ones, which breed in fens: & watery ones, which breed in the sea. Those then of this last sort have in steed of feet so many broad gristles: they have no teeth, but the nib of their beak is passing sharp: and their under chap, doth close as justly within their ●pper chap, as a box doth with the lid of it. Being in the sea, they live upon shell fishes, for their mouth is so strong and hard, that they crush them, yea even stones in pieces: yet when they come on land, they never live but upon herbs. They lay eggs like birds; so that sometimes one may find an hundred together. And they never hatch them in the water, but putting them into an hole which they make in the ground, and covering them well, they smooth with their shells underneath the place wherein they are, and hatch in the night time for a whole year long.  
Also amongst the fishes which are famous for their strange operative power, is the Tropedo or cramp fish: which is a kind of hedgehog, & hath many bristles, the touch of whom 
Of the cramp fish  benumbeth the fisher's hands, by some natural & secret virtue. And there be many kinds of these fishes, who have all of them their shell covered with bristles very thick, which bristles they use in stead of feet to stay themselves upon, when they move and stir from one place to another. Their head and mouth is the lowest part of them, & towards the ground. And amongst the rest, thereiss one, not of the kind of this bristled cramp fish, but a shell fish, which the Latins call (Remora) because it hath such power, that if it take hold of the bottom of ships, it stayeth them. Yet we cannot read that any such thing hath been seen since the time of Caius Caligula the emperor: whom Historiographers report to have been one time stayed in his ship by this fish to his great endommagement.  
But the most wonderful of all fishes is the Triton, (otherwise called the sea Bug) for he hath hair upon his head, the nose of a man, a broad mouth, & the teeth of a wild beast. His 
Of the Triton.  hands, fingers, and nails, are somewhat like those of a man. And the rest of his body is covered with a thin shell, with a tail under his belly in stead of feet like a dolphin. Pliny reporteth that in the time of the Emperor Tiberius, the people of Lisbon sent ambassadors only 
Hist. nat. lib. 9  to advertise him, that in the course of their sea, there was a Triton discovered, blowing of an horn in a cave. 
Of the Nereids.   
The Nereids also (otherwise called Sirens or Mermaids) do very near approach to human form, saving that they be rough and full of shells in every part of their body. There are some also who testify that they have seen a sea man, having the entire form of a man. Finally it is a thing that seemeth altogether incredible that the diversity of fishes, (or rather sea monsters, should be such as they affirm, who have written thereof. But we may well believe, that the facility of generation and of life in the waters, is cause of so many strange shapes. For heat and moisture consist together in generation and nourishment maintaineth life: and in the sea heat and fat moisture, and nutriment do abound. It is also to be noted, that by reason of motion, the pestilence never cometh into the 
Of the cause of innumerable forms of fishes.  water (as into the air) for the Sea is ever moved, and the air is often still. For which cause all kinds of creatures may easily be preserved in the Sea, but not in the air. Again, fishes move themselves in the Sea easily, and without labour: which the beasts of the earth do not, who therefore are constrained to be hungry, or necessarily to be consumed by too much labour and travail. Moreover, the Sea freezeth not, neither yet is too hot (like the earth, and like other waters) except it be (and that very seldom) in the superficies thereof, which is touched by the air. Therefore through so many commodities, and by the mixture of creatures of divers kinds, many monsters are engendered in the Sea, so that sometimes when it ariseth by means of the flowing thereof, one may find upon the shore of the Western Ocean to the number of three hundred kinds of monstrous fishes. But although it seemeth that nature would express in fishes the forms of all terrestrial creatures, and put in them some resemblance of shape; yet in the hinder part all fishes are (except some few Sea-monsters) of a peculiar form agreeable to their nature, and do only resemble other creatures in their forepart. For as the rudder directeth and governeth a Ship in the stern, so the tail of a fish doth guide it in swimming, and for this cause the tails of all fishes almost are forked. But this is most certain that their sorts and kinds surmount the kinds of other creatures in multitude, in greatness, in force, and in variety of shapes. But our intent is not hear to number them as we have said; for so we should find matter enough to make a great volume, as others have done. Wherhfore to finish this argument, and this days speech, see (ACHITOB) if by our discourses of the sea and of the waters, and of the living creatures which are engendered and do live in them, you can deliver any instruction, which may be answerable to that end, for which we especially continued our treatise concerning this great vniuers.   

Of the image that we have of the state of this world, and of men in the sea and in the fishes thereof. Chap. 64.  ACHITOB. 
LEt us not doubt (companions) but that we have a goodly image in this days discourse of the state of this world, and of all man's life. For first, what is this world, but a sea, wherein we navigate and are in continual danger; Nay the sea is so variable, so inconstant, and so outrageous? For if we have 
That the world is like a sea.  never so little respite, peace and rest, (like as when the sea is calm, & quiet) presently there arise such violent whirl winds, storms and furious tempests, as it seemeth oftentimes that heaven, earth, and all the elements conspire and run together to work our ruin. Yea when this wicked world showeth us fairest countenance, and becometh most calm and gentle, and that it feedeth us with the fattest morsels, then is it most false unto us, and then are we in greatest danger. For when we think ourselves most sure therein, then are we suddenly tossed and carried away, as with violent waves and horrible whirl winds, into the lowest gulfs and deeps of the earth. Moreover as the huge monsters of the sea, and the greatest and strongest fishes do eat and devour the smallest and weakest; and as the craftiest entrap the simplest, and prey upon them: even so is it with the men of this world. For the mightiest tyrants and the richest, strongest, and greatest rovers, thieves, and robbers do pill, and take away the substance of the lest and feeblest, and do consume and devour them. And they which cannot do so by force have recourse to sleights, decites and treasons, by which they surprise the simple and meek. And therefore also as the holy Ghost compareth in the Scripture tyrants, rovers, thieves, and murderers, to wolves, bears, lions, and such like beasts: and the crafty and deceitful, to foxes, dragons, and serpents, 
Soph. 3. Dan. 7. Exech 22. Psal. 74. Luke 13. isaiah. 27.  who do by subtlety and guile that which they cannot perform by power and force: so doth he compare them to huge whales, and to the great fishes of the sea. So because Nilus (a renowned river, whereof we have already spoken) passeth through the land of Egypt, & runneth into the sea, by 7. mouths or arms; isaiah called Pharaoh the king and tyrant of that country, (Leviathan, or Whale, which God did strike with his strong hand, and his 
Psal. 74.  mighty arm, overwhelming him in the read sea.) It is also said for the like consideration in the Psalm [Thou brakest the heads of dragons in the waters. Thou brakest the head of Leviathan in pieces, and gavest him for meat to the people in the wilderness.] And the prophet Abacuc doth likewise compare the king and tyrant of Babylon to a great fisher who casieth his nets into the Sea, and causeth the fishes to come into them, and so he taketh 
Abac 1  them.  
But here we are to note, that although there be some kinds of beasts who eat one another: yet are they not all of this nature. For there are but certain of them that live so upon pray and rapine. And amongst them that so live, there are but very few that eat beasts of their own kind, except great famine constrain them thereto: Yea hunger doth invite them that live by pray, to chase and devour others, rather than their own kind. For it is necessity and want of sustenance that driveth them thereto. And though especially fishes do lest spare their own kind, yet do they not eat one another, except when hunger constraineth them thereto to preserve their life. But men (most wretched 
How men are more cruel than beasts.  surely) have not all these causes to move them against their own kind, against their own flesh and blood, as it is ordinarily seen that they are more cruelly and more fiercely bend one against another, than any bruit beasts: but contrariwise they should be much better furnished in all their necessities, and should live much more at their ease, if they could maintain good peace and unity one with another. Wherhfore in that they do otherwise, it is easy to judge how much their nature is corrupted and perverse, except they be regenerated by the spirit of God. For there is no bond of nature whatsoever, no not that which is kept amongst the brutest beasts (as of the female towards her young ones, or of the male towards the female, and such like) which men do not shamefully break and violate. But we must herein acknowledge a terrible judgement and fury of God against them, because of their sin, which hath so perverted and infected the first original nature of the stock of mankind. For when he giveth strength and power to the one for to torment and destroy the other, yea to most cruel tyrants and bloody murderers, who make less account of men then of beasts; we must learn this doctrine, that herein the just ordinance of the Almighty is very evident, by which he punisheth the wicked by the wicked, and taketh revenge upon his enemies even by his enemies themselves, as he hath threatened them in his law. And therefore there is less marvel herein, then that 
Good doctrine touching the tyranny of the wicked.  God suffereth the small fishes to be eaten by great ones, the weakest by the strongest, and the simplest by the craftiest, as also the gentlest birds by the cruelest; and lambs, sheep and other private, domestical and harmless beasts: by wolves, bears, lions, and other wild beasts. For it is very certain that the beasts have not offended their Creator, nor deserved his wrath through any sin against him, as men have done, who being created in his own image are fallen from innocency and holiness through their own fault, and through the corruption of nature which the transgression of God's ordinance hath brought upon them. And if we cannot make answer for the cause of this nature of unreasonable creatures, but only that it hath so pleased God, who is the master and Lord of all these works, and who hath provided for them according to his good pleasure: surely also when we can conceive no other reason for the tyranny and cruelty of men, exercised one upon another, this same reason should then suffice us. For the only will of the eternal, the which cannot be but just and reasonable always, must ever serve for reason, when we cannot understand the causes, as we would. But (as I said even now) this reason manifesteth itself sufficiently in his just judgements upon men, because of their sins. Now albeit we hold this sufficiently good in regard of the wicked, and of those who oppose themselves and rebel fiercely against the Almighty: yet the consideration might seem to us to be otherwise in respect of the meek, and of those whom he holdeth not only for his servants, but also for his beloved children: who nevertheless are commonly a pray to the wicked, as sheep are to wolves. I must indeed confess, that these judgements of God seem more strange to human reason, than the other do: yet they are not so secret and mystical, but that he manifesteth causes enough, not only by his word, but also by common experience. For first, how much goodness, holiness and perfection soever can consist in any man, yet nevertheless as concerning his flesh, he walloweth altogether 
Notable things to be considered in the adversities of the good.  in sin, and very much natural corruption, in pride, arrogancy, rebellion, & disobedience against God, which have great need to be better mortified, humbled, tamed, and brought down. Again, how easy a matter is it for us to forget our Creator, and our own selves, and to abuse all the graces and benefits, which we receive continually at his hand. Also seeing that he will be glorified, and that his power shall be known in the faith, constancy, charity, and patience of his, we should not think it strange that he puts them to trial, exercising them by divers great and dangerous temptations and afflictions. Now the tyranny, malice, cruelty, and perverseness of the wicked, serveth in all these things for his children and to his glory, through his providence; notwithstanding that he hateth all the wicked, using them only as rods and scourges, to chastise and punish those whom he pleaseth; as he is likewise served by devils, without approving their works, insomuch as they proceed from themselves. But there is more yet: For considering that God hath not created men like unto beasts, only to live in this world, with a corporal and temporal life, but hath made them to immortality and eternal life like the Angels: he will then by the adversities, which he sendeth unto them, here give them to understand, that other blessings do attend for them far greater than those, which may be tasted upon earth, and which are common betwixt them and beasts. Behold then the fruit, which me seemeth must be gathered in our discourse this day: Now tomorrow we will step out of the sea and waters, to take land again, and to consider upon the treasures and benefits therein, which it produceth for the commodity of men, and the diversity of creatures that live therein: whereof (ASER) you shall begin to discourse.  
The end of the eighth days work.    

The ninth days work.  

Of fruits, and of the fertility of the earth, and the causes thereof: and of herbs, trees and plants. Chap. 65.  ASER. 
AS the holy Scripture teacheth us, that before God did created the beasts of the earth, he commanded the earth that was discovered and free from the waters, to bud forth the 
Genes. 1.  bud of the herb, that seedeth seed, the fruitful tree which beareth fruit according to his kind, which hath his seed in itself upon the earth (and it was so:) we must likewise understand, that this commandment had not such virtue for that time only, but that it endureth, and remaineth always, and so till the consummation of the world. For all herbs, trees, and plants that the earth ever hath borne, doth bear, or shall bear, even from the creation of the same until the end of the world, do proceed from the first ordinance and eternal word of the sovereign, by which all things have been created. Wherefore Moses, to the end that men might acknowledge this divine power, which maketh the earth, so fruitful, doth expressly tell us, that God gave this fertility before there was any sun, moon, or star in heaven. For he saith, that these goodly lights were created the fourth day: but that the production of herbs, trees and plants was on the third day. Thereby then must we learn, that although the sun, moon and stars, besides the husbandry of man, do serve by the ordinance 
What is the cause of the fertility of the earth.  of God for to make the earth fertile; yet for all that it can bring forth no fruit, if the word and blessing of the Almighty do not give it power. For as it was fertile before it was aided by the stars, even so is it now in regard of the tillage and husbandry of man. For there was neither man nor beast when it budded forth the fruits, which God commanded it to bear: yea so much wanteth it to become fruitful by the travel of man, that to the contrary it hath lost very much fertility, and a great part thereof hath become barren 
Genes. 3.  since his first creation, because of his sin. For in am of the blessing that God at first gave thereunto. he said afterwards to the man that it should be cursed for his sake, and that it should bring forth thorns and thistles, and that be should eat the fruits thereof in sorrow. For these causes than we must always have respect to the power of the word, & of the blessing of God, by which all things have been created in their order (as we have heretofore declared) & man last of all, as the master piece of the Lords work. Who having determined in his eternal counsel to created man after his own image and likeness (to the end that he might in this visible world represent his Creator, as in his most lively semblance) was not only pleased to build him his lodging first (to wit the whole world) but would also replenish and furnish it every where, to the end that nothing might be found empty. But that which is herein to be chief considered, is, that this divine providence having given 
How creatures are nourished and preserved.  essence to all corporal creatures, hath therewithal provided necessary means to keep and preserve them all in their natures. For minding to give life to birds, to fishes, and to the beasts of the earth, he had already prepared their food, before he had created them, and had ordained the earth as the mother and the nurse of all creatures which are engendered and which devil and are conversant therein; and in the waters and air also, for the birds and fishes. Moreover, as all bodies are composed of fire, of air, of earth, and of water; so the Lords will was, that all these elements should conjoin together, and receive aid one from another; to the preservation of living creatures by virtue of the alliance and agreement, which is not only betwixt the said elements, but also betwixt them and the celestial spheres, as we have already discoursed. For considering that they be the principles of things having life, they cannot live, nor be naturally conferued but by mean of the very same elements, from which they take their original. And therefore the providence of God causeth, that they do all accord together, to nourish and maintain those creatures, which he hath made and created.  
But seeing that we are in talk of the fertility of the Earth, ordained by God to that end 
Of the fertility of the earth.  according as we have declared, who is it that can number the divers kinds of herbs, trees, and of all sorts of plants which it produceth? And who is it that can but only name and find proper denominations agreeable unto them? And if we should speak of their diversities and varieties in roots, in stalks, in stocks, in tops, in branches, in boughs, in leaves, in shapes, in flowers, in colours, in seeds, in fruits, in tastes, in smells, and in savours: who would not marvel very much? We see how the Lord speaking only of the Lily of the field, doth testify, that Solomon in all his royalty was not adorned like on of those: and therefore he bringeth it as a testimony of his goodness in reproach of those, which take care for their clothing, as if they disinherited in the providence of God, and as 
Matth. 6. Luke. 12.  if they supposed him not able enough to apparel them; or at lest, that he had not so much care of men, as he hath of the herbs and flowers of the field, which he endueth and decketh with so gallant clothing, and with so many sorts of excellent fair colours, and yet they neither spin nor have weavers, nor clothiers, nor drapers, nor other worke-folks and tradesmen to deal for them. Yea, how marvelous is the conservation and multiplication of all plants, by means of their own seeds, scion's and first-fruits, according as the Creator did at first constitute? For that I may first speak of the smaller sort, who could believe, if experience did not assure us, that of one little grain of mustard seed should grow a great and high plant, like a little shrub, in such sort that the birds of heaven might make their nests therein. Than let us consider, how corn, pulse, and all other sorts of seeds do 
Matth. 12.  bud, grow, and multiply. But who himself would judge, that out of one little kernel of a nut or filbert, there could grow so great trees, and so much wood as should bear innumerable leaves and buds, and so much fruit each year, every one according to his own kind, and that for long time. Would not all this seem incredible, if we were not ascertained by continual experience, and a sure course in Nature? And if God doth show himself most wonderful in all these things, in regard of the herbs, trees and plants: what shall we say, if we proceed of the consideration of their natures, properties and virtues; and of the commodities, remedies & profits, which men receive thereby? This surely is the most principal point. For how admirable is it, that by the means of herbs, trees, and other plants, which have no soul, that may minister life unto them, with motion and sense, and which may 
Wonders concerning the properties and virtues of the first-fruits of the earth.  much less participate with any reason; God doth not only preserve the life of men, and of other creatures (a thing to be wondered at) but doth also thereby give them strength, vigour, and force? For what are these herbs and plants, which produce all sorts of corn, pulse, and other grain, of which men make food, and are thereby nourished? What is the vine and other fruit-trees? Who could think, if he saw it not with his eyes that there is neither man, nor beast, that could be nourished and preserve his life, but by such means? For how can that thing either give, or preserve and maintain life, which hath no life in itself! And yet if we will consider of the medicines and remedies, which men find in herbs and plants only, besides those which they may take from other creatures, who can in truth either declare or writ, I will not say all of them, but only the thousandth part? For although the most excellent physicians have always traveled in this part of their art, which is commonly called the knowledge of Simples; yet how far off are they from the full and perfect theoric of them? For what a number of herbs and roots be there which are unknown, and have yet no name? And how many are there which are taken one for another, and wherein the most skilful Physicians and Herbarists are oftentimes deceived? And yet this little which we know, should move us to think upon the great & ineffable bounty of God towards men, & upon the fatherly care which he hath of us all. For though that by our sin we have merited death both of body and soul, which death our sin hath not only gained, but also many divers and strange sorts of diseases and corporal infirmities most grievous and terrible; yea sometimes hideous and horrible, which are like butchers and slaughterer's to put them to death: yet the charity and love of our God is always so great towards mankind, that he giveth us as many and more; yea sundry medicines for one only malidie. But we will be instructed more amply by you (AMANA.) in this matter, we may acknowledge therein very clear testimonies of the providence of God.   

Of the virtue that herbs, and other first-fruits of the earth have in physic and in food; and of the true use of them, Chapter 66.  AMANA. 
It is daily seen, that by the means of some small herbs, which grow in a garden or in a mountain, or in some other desert place, and which also are oftentimes trodden underfeet, without any account made of them; many are commonly delivered, not only from great pains and grievous maladies, but even from death itself, which otherwise it seemeth would most certainly approach. Wherein certes, we have a goodly subject to consider, that if God giveth this virtue to creatures of small estimantion in comparison of many other, and by the means of them he ministereth so great help, and doth so much good to man; what must be the power and bounty of that great sovereign physician, which maketh them prevail, and gives them power to heal? For we must understand, that it is not the herbs, nor other drugs and preparatives, nor yet the apothecary's and physicians, who make and compound them, that are the true cause of restored health to the sick: but God alone, who doth not only give the remedies, but also knowledge to men for to use them, and to be skilful how to apply them to their own necessities, for which he hath created them. Herein than we must acknowledge two 
Two great good things that God hath done for man.  great benefits, that the most good and most puissant God hath conferred upon us. The first is that he hath given us medicines fit and necessary for healing. The other is the knowledge of them, and the theoric how to apply them to their convenient purpose and usage. And one of these benefits without the other, would indeed but little avail us. For as the work man cannot work without such stuff as is requisite for him to make his work of, as also it would be unprofitable if no man should employ it, and put it to use: for the same cause, God, which taketh care of the lest of his creatures, hath imprinted in the nature of brute beasts, that want understanding and reason, a certain knowledge of things that are fit for them, not only for their nourishment, but also for remedies in their diseases, so that they need no other physicians but themselves only.  
But in this discourse we are to note, what judgement we must make of so great virtue, as we find in all herbs and drugs, and by like reason, that we must consider thereof in 
What judgement must be made of the virtue that the first-fruits of the earth do retain for the good of men.  the property of corn, bread, wine, and of all meats and drinks, which are as ordinary and continual medicines for the preservation of life. For if that which is diminished and consumed daily in us, were not also repaired and destroyed daily by our meat and drink; we should fall suddenly into grievous maladies, & finally into death. For as much then as it pleaseth God to preserve the life, which he hath given us and to maintain us in health and good disposition; he giveth power to that, which we eat and drink, to do this. But if it should please him to do otherwise, there were neither meat nor drink, which could give any sustenance and convenient nourishment unto us, but would rather convert within us, into deadly poison, to take away our life, and hasten our death, even as God doth oftentimes to that effect use the air, without which we could no more live, then without meat and drink. And therefore when it pleaseth God that we shall live in health & long time, he maketh the air good and wholesome for us, otherwise it pleaseth him to strike us with sickness, and to hasten our death, he changeth it, as if it were empoisoned, as we do very often find in divers contagious sicknesses, and chief in time of pestilence. The like also is in victuals, drinks, and medicines. And therefore the Lord menaceth his people by Easie, declaring unto them, that he will take away the staff of bread and of water: that is to say, the substance and natural virtue, which he hath given them to nourish, which is the force that sustaineth them, who are sustained, as a staff that sustaineth him that is weak: and as man cannot live, except he have both meat and drink sufficient; the Prophet hath comprised under bread and water, all things needful for nourishment, and for the life of man. It is therefore in these things, that God saith, he will take away all power, as also Moses doth amply declare in the blessings and curses of the Law. For let us 
Leuit: 28. Deut. 16.  also note, that when God will punish men by dearth and famine, he doth not only make the earth barren (as he threateneth) but also curseth that little fruit, which it beareth, yea in such sort, that it still diminisheth, and hath not the accustomed virtue and power to nourish. And therefore, when the corn is sown it yieldeth not so many ears, nor so many grains in the field, as is expected, & as it seemeth that it should yield. And afterwards when it is gathered and reaped, and that it cometh to be threshed, there is yet found less corn than was esteemed to be. And being laid up in the barn, it consumeth more than of custom: carried to the mill, it yields less meal than is looked for: yea being kneaden into dough it seemeth to diminish: briefly it seemeth to fail being made in paste, brought to the oven, and so baked, when it is in the been, and upon the table, yea in the hand, in the mouth, in the stomach, and in the belly. For it doth not satisfy, nourish, and sustain so well as in time of plenty and abundance, but they which feed thereof, are always hungry and famished. And so we may think of all other meats and drinks even as we find the contrary in the blessing of God, when through it he giveth fruitfulness to the earth, and abundance of all things, according to the testimony of his word. As than we are admonished to have recourse to him only, to demand our daily bread, and all other things needful for this life: so must we also do, when we are visited by sickness. For he is the sovereign and only physician, who can of himself heal us. It is he that striketh, and giveth remedy, which bringeth to the grave, and draweth out again; which killeth, and raiseth up again. And therefore he saith to his people by Moses, [If thou wilt diligently hearken unto the voice of the Lord thy God, and wilt do 
Exod. 15.  that which is right in his sight, and will give ear unto his commandments, and keep all his ordinances; then will I put none of these diseases upon thee, which I brought upon the Egyptians: for I am the Lord that healeth thee.] But although that God alone can do all things, without the aid of any creature, and without the use of any means, except he please: yet doth he choose out such means as he pleaseth, to perform his works towards us, and to distribute his gifts, and that chief for two causes. The first is, for that 
Why God doth serve himself with his creatures towards man  he will not have his creatures remain idle, but serve to his glory, and for the good and health of men, considering that they were created to that end. And the other cause is, that it pleaseth him to accommodate himself to our infirmity, which is such, as we do not think that he is near unto us, nor that he can nor will do it, except we have always some visible signs. Although then it is as easy for him to nourish us without victuals and without drink, as with them; and to heal us without Physicians and medicines and drugs, as he doth by means of them: nevertheless it is his pleasure to do it by such aids, and he will have us subject to this order. And therefore let us think, that to despise the means which he giveth for the mainetenance of this life, is as much to despise his commandments, like mockers and rebels. And if we be such, we may not hope for any succours from him, seeing we reject the remedies, by which he will give them unto us. But we must always come to this point, that although we cannot receive the benefits which it pleaseth the most good God to communicate unto us, except by the means ordained by his providence thereto; yet nevethelesse we must not attribute this power to any of his creatures, but to him only, and must give him the whole glory; considering that he taketh them not for any need which he hath, or that without them he could not perform his works, but only for the aid and supportation of our infirmity. And therefore let us believe, that bread, wine, and all other meats, drinks, drugs and medicines, have not any virtue of themselves, but so much only, as God infuseth into them, as as he thinketh 
Of the true use of Physic and how it is abused.  needful for our good, by such instruments as he ordaineth thereto. Wherhfore men run in vain to such aids, and especially to Physicians and Apothecaries to be succoured by them, except God the sovereign Physician do put his hand thereto, and except he bless their art and labour. Experience certainly doth yield us daily testimonies thereof. For it oftentimes happeneth that in stead of helping, Physicians do hurt; and in stead of healing, do kill. And how so? Because there are very few which address themselves to the true & Almighty Physician, and who have not more confidence in mortal men then in the immortal God, as king Asa is accused in the Scripture, and punished for this fault with death. True it is that some fail, in that which they make none accounted of the ordinary means established by God, despising both Physicians and all the medicines of their art, which is almost as much, as to refuse the usage of those benefits which God giveth us at need. But the greatest number consisteth of those, who not only have recourse chief to the professors of this science, and put all their confidence in them, but will moreover in stead of using the advise and assistance of good and learned Physicians, address themselves more willingly to Empirics, and such as are ignorant, or else are Sorcerers, Enchanters, Witches, and worshippers of Devils. If then our desire be, not to fail with the one nor the other, we must rest in that way which is showed us in Ecclesiasticus, to wit, [Honour the Physician with that honour that is due unto him, because of thy necessity: for the Lord hath created him. For of the most high cometh healing, 
Eccles. 38.  and the Physician shall receive gifts of the king. The knowledge of the Physician lifteth up his head, and he shall be in admiration. The Lord hath created medicines of the earth, & he that is wise will not abhor them. Was not the water made sweet with wood, that men might know the virtue thereof? So hath he given men knowledge, that he might be glorified 
Exod. 15.  in his wondrous works.] Which is much to say, that as God hath sweetened the bitterness of the waters in the desert, by means of wood which he caused Moses to cast thereinto; so likewise doth he manifest his power by the art of Physic, showing marvelous effects thereby. And therefore the wise man doth add [With medicines God healeth men, and taketh away their pains. Of such doth the apothecary make a confection, and yet he cannot finish his own work, for of the Lord cometh prosperity and health over all the earth. [Andrea finally he exhorteth the sick to pray: saying,] My son fail not in thy sickness, but pray unto the Lord, and he will make thee whole: leave off from sin, and order thine hands aright, and cleanse thine heart from all wickedness. Than give place to the physician for the Lord hath created him: let him not go from thee, for thou hast need of him. The hover may come that their enterprises may have good success: for they also pray unto the Lord, that he would prospero that, which is given for ease, and their physic for the prolonging of life.] Wherein namely this holy parsonage doth evidently declare, what is the virtue of physicians, if they desire, that the Lord would bless their works, without whose blessing they can never come to a prosperous end. Behold then what seemed good unto me to note concerning the true use of the great and excellent gifts, which God communicateth with us for the mainetenance of man's life. And pursuing this subject, let us speak something more particularly concerning the diversity and singularity of divers plants: the discourse whereof (ARAM) I commit to you.   

Of the diversity of plants, and of their difference and natural growth, and of their parts, and of the most excellent amongst them. Chapter 67.  ARAM. 
THE learned teach, that there are four kinds of plants, to wit, trees, shrubs, under shrubs and herbs. Now a tree is that, whose stock waxeth green every 
Four kinds o● plants.  year, and therefore groweth to great height, as the peartree. The shrub called of Latins (Frutex) is that whose stock remaineth for many years together, but it groweth not very high (as the rose tree and the myrtle.) The under-shrub called (Subfrutex) resteth also upon the stock, but exceedeth not the height of herbs (as the broom.) And the herb is that which hath neither stalk nor stock (as houseleek and sage:) or else hath a stock, but so as it changeth every year (as the fennel.) And yet a fift kind may be added between the herb and the shrub (as rue:) because that sometimes it groweth great like a shrub, and sometimes remaineth like other herbs, which is also usual to the cabbage. But generally all plants may attain to great height by husbandry. Also amongst salad herbs, specially those which are green, do oftentimes grow into shrubs, by the industry of man in winter time whereby it appeareth, that we must not take the true difference of plants, and of their kinds by their greatness or growth: no more then in that the leaves of plants are not all of one bigness, or because they always stay upon some, and fall off from others: or because they differ in colour, or else because one plant is barren, and another beareth fruit. But we must take this difference in four things, which are the virtue and property, the odour, the 
In what we must take the difference of plants.  savour, and the shape of the leaves, buds, fruit, bark and roots, and generally of the whole plant. Of which four differences the principal is the faculty, virtue or property: for the virtue proceedeth from the form, and the form is that which distinguisheth the kinds. And therefore though the willow, and the Vitex (called Agnus castus) have their leaves and broke alike, it should nevertheless be a manifest error to use the one for the other. For the Vitex is hot and dry in the third degree (of which it hath this mark, that it driveth away ventosities, and flourisheth first amongst all trees:) but the willow is cold and moist flourishing very late, and causing ventosities. Now for the odour or sent, one may evidently know by them the temperature of plants. And therefore they which are of one kind, although the one grow in India, and the other in Scythia, yet do they necessarily participate with the self same principal virtues. And for the savour and figure, they are discerned by the taste and eye: wherein it is necessary to employ much diligence and labour, to judge well concerning the difference of plants. Those than which are a alike in form, in power, in odour, and taste, may without doubt be accounted of one self same kind: For we search out the names of them according to their virtues. Whereupon ensueth, that they which have one self same virtue, may be comprised under one kind, though the herbalist call them by sundry names, according to the proportion of their figure.  
Now some plants do grow naturally in fields, and forests, some in the sea, other in rivers, others on the shore side, some in marshes, some amongst stones, sands, and gravel, some in pits, and so of others in such like places. For the place, in which they grow, or to which they are removed (and the temperature of the air) are much available to 'cause them grow, and fructify. Through which occasion, there are higher trees, more flourishing, 
The place & temperature of the air, of great officacie in the production of plants  fairer to behold, and more charged with leaves, and fruit, in some places, rather in other. Whereupon ensueth that such as love mountains (as the Cedar, Saple, Pine, the Turpentine tree, Box tree, I uniper tree, Beech, and the Plane three) do there grow high, and fair: as in the Plains and low forests, the Oak, the Beech, the Corcke tree, the Elm, the Maple, the Ash, the Hasell tree do grow best. But near to rivers and watery places, the Plane tree, the Alder, the white and black Poplar, the Tamariske, the Willow and the Reed do spring at pleasure: though many of them do grow in mountains, valleys, plains and forests, but they prospero not there so well. This difference also is marked in herbs and shrubs. For some grow well in marshes, others in lakes and pools, others on rivers sides, other prospero in waterish and muddy places, others again not abiding them, do grow in dry and stony ground. Some spring indifferently both in moist and dry ground. And some require the fields, others vineyards, and others meadows. Some also love the valleys, others hillocks, and others high mountains. Some likewise prospero in private places, and grow near to walls of towns and cities, and some grow in old ruins. But it is to be noted, that though each kind of plants grow and prospero best in his proper ground, and doth love very much his own natural situation; yet sometimes herbs are found indifferently in mountains, billockes, valleys, fields and meadows. Likewise the industry and travel of man doth bring to pass, that that which is strange, becometh domestical; yet not without some manifest difference between the pure natural production. and that which is caused by art. Moreover the parts of plants are 
The parts of plants.  the root, the stock, the branches, the leaves, the fruit, the stalk, the tufts called (Vmbellae) the grains, the seeds, the flowers, the mossy down, the wood, the bark, the sinews, the inner pill, the veins, the sap, the pith, the gum called (Lachryma) the knot, and many other small parcels, which the curious observe therein: all which serve to distinguish trees and herbs one from another: which parts are somewhat answerable to the parts of living creatures. For the roots seem to agreed with the belly (as Theophrastus holdeth) or else with the mouth (as others maintain, who refer the lower part of the stock to the belly) and the leaves have some reference to the hair; the bark to the hide and skin, the wood to the bones, the veins to the veins, the matrice to some entrails, which cannot live without the matrice, the flowers to eggs, the seeds to seed, the branches and boughs to the extreme parts of living creatures, and the fruit to the menstruous blood, wherein the seed is many times in closed. Moreover the parts of parts are worthy of consideration, as those of the root, whose middle part is as it were of wood, out of which the plant doth oftentimes bud, and is therefore defended with greater strength. And therefore if this middle part be taken out of garlic, that which remaineth is not so sharp, and of so strong savour as before, and it seemeth likewise to be less full of juice. Next, the second part is (the tind or coat) which is very small, and the third is the peel or husk: and the fourth is the inner-peele, which invironeth the husk, which is not properly called so, because it is meant for that, which compasseth the seed of the fruit, and the fruit itself; and also because it containeth that which environeth the wood in the root, instead of the seed. Whereby it appeareth, that they which cast away this part full of wood when they make 
That the wood of roots must not be cast away in decoctions.  their decoctions, do very ill considering that it is the most excellent of the rest, and of greatest force: for that which produceth the seed, that only containeth the whole virtue thereof, because it alone hath life. That part than which is of wood, seemeth to be the chief and principal substance of the medicine: because that that thing only which liveth, produceth the seed, and in that part only wherein it hath life. For although that in succory, and such like herbs, some leaves grow out of the bark: yet the herb itself, and the seed do proceed out of the wood. As the leaves than are in the stalk or slip; so is the bark in the wood: and both leaves and bark are therein for safeguard thereof. In the lower part the juice falleth into the root: by the middle part the root is nourished, and in the uppermost part it is converted into seed. Wherhfore the uppermost part of the root is best, and most different from the nature of earth. The flowers likewise have their parts; for there is a kind of leaf in the flower which always shineth, and is in all flowers, because it is made of a very fine substance. The buds likewise wherein the flowers are contained are parts of them; and the seed of which the flower springeth, as it is cause of the generation thereof; so is it a part of the flower, and so is the stalk or foot, called (Pediculus) in which all these things are as it were planted and adjoined thereto. Let us also note, that amongst 
What plants & what parts of them have the greatest virtue.  trees the old are of more subtle quality than the other. And every tree, which beareth leaves all the year long, is hot and dry (as the palm tree, the olive tree, the cedar, the myrtle.) But this reason is not available in herbs: for houseleek is of a gross substance, and yet beareth leaves all winter. And indeed both in herbs and trees they which grow wild abroad are better than the domestical: and so are they which are odoriferous, much more than they which have a bad savour, and have no sent at all, especially if they grow in mountains: and therefore they are preferred by physicians before the other. And we must note, that most commonly the roots smell better, and are sweeter than the other parts of the plant, except the flowers, which is so because the concoction is best done in the roots. For all things, which have the humour well boiled, smell best: for that humour is most subtle and close. For which cause, all flowers almost do smell well. For by reason that the humour which is in them is very subtle and little, it is the more easily concocted therein: and therefore also it sooner perisheth. But this humour remaineth, and is preserved 
Why young folks breath is sweeter than that of the old.  in the roots and in the stock; for the subtle substance thereof being well concocted, doth abide in the earthy substance, whereby we learn why young folks have sweeter breath then old and distempered people. For children have their humour very subtle, and the small humour may be very well concocted in young folks, by the great heat which aboundeth in them. But want of heat hindereth it in old folks, and the quality of the humour is hurt in those that are distempered, and causeth that the decoction cannot be performed. Now we have stayed long enough in this discourse. But as we have distinguished plants into four principal kinds, let us now speak of the nature and property of the most especial among them; to the end that according to our intention we may not pass over any of the works of God, without producing some testimonies, which may 'cause us more and more to celebrated his divine providence. Than (ACHITOB) begin you to entreat of trees.   

Of trees, and especially of the Pine, the Fir tree, the Cypress tree, and the Cedar. Chapter. 68  ACHITOB. 
IT is doubtless, that the difference of trees of one kind is chief caused by the diversity of regions. And therefore amongst those trees that are transported 
Four differences of plants transported.  from one place to another; some do bear fruit (as the Palms at Genoa) some also bear, but unperfectly (as the Pepper tree at Milan.) There are some that cannot grow, (as the wood of Aloes brought out of India into Italy.) And some bear perfect fruit, because they can agreed with the air, and with the soil as well of one country as of another (as the Vines transported out of Spain into India.) But above all, the calmness of the air, and the answerableness of the place are of great efficacy in the natural property of trees, and do often 'cause them to bear great quantity of fruit and blossoms, and are the cause that some are always green. And therefore about the Grand Cairo, in the Country of Elephants, the leaves do never fall off the fig trees and vines: and in the Isles and other regions of the West Indies, discovered by the Spaniards, there is never 
Property of the 〈◊〉 according to the quality o● the reg●onss where 〈◊〉 grow.  a tree, but is always green. And therefore there are divers trees, both of one, and of divers kinds also, higher, greener, and fairer to behold in one place then in another. For in hot and moist Countries all plants grow greater, fuller of juice, and greener, if the proper nature of the plant do not hinder: and in hot and dry places they are smaller and drier, and yet of no less virtue: But in moist and cold regions, the plants are weak and full of sap. And they which are hot by nature, grow broad and high; but the cold are small. Now all trees, whereof we now particularly entreat, do by nature grow greatly for the most part, and flourish a very long time. As josephus recordeth, that Abraham's Oak did yet stand in his days. And there were betwixt the destruction of Jerusalem and the death of Abraham, two thousand years. And next to the oak, the palm, the beech, the olive tree, the elm, and the pine three do flourish longest.  
Now will I proceed to a particular description of some trees, the most worthy to 
Of the pine.  be considered of: amongst which the Pine challengeth the first place: whereof there are two kinds: one is domestical, and the other savage. The domestical kind hath an infinite sort of branches upon the very uppermost top of the stock, which spread round about it, being very thick of leaves, which are pointed in the end, and long; it beareth plenty of great and sound apples, wherein are certain hard kernels enclosed, as black as soot, in which the fruit is found, being covered with a thin yellow skin, easy to get off, by pilling it with your fingers. And this fruit is sweet and pleasant in taste, of a fat and oily substance. For the savage or wild one, there are many sorts of them. Some grow on mountains, others on the sea coast. They of the mountains are of three kinds. For there are some that be highest of all the rest, which abound in the forests of Bohemia, Silasia, Polonia, and other places, whereof the country men make pitch. Which are every whit like to the domestical sort, saving that their apples be less: for they be not much greater than those of Cypress but they are a little longer, and more sound, and husked like those of the domestical Pine, being full of gum, and of a sweet sent. The second kind of these mountain Pines are such as have no stock or trunk, but sprout their branches out of their root close to the earth, running along the ground till they attain to ten or fifteen cubits length: they bear fruit like unto the other, but of a bigger size, and fuller of gum: and are found in many places of Italy. Finally there are many other which are of goodly height, and yet not so high as those of the first kind, neither have they the bark of their stocks yellow like the other pines: likewise their fruit is somewhat inclining towards red, but more brittle than all the rest. And the kernels of them are three square and crooked, and in taste somewhat like those of the garden pine: saving that they leave a certain quick sharpness in the mouth (which is proper to all wild trees) and they abound in the territory of Trent. And the gum that proceedeth out of all these sorts of pines, is white and sweet. The sea pines are of two sorts, differing only in the greatness and smallness of their fruit: and do all of them produce white odoriferous gum, which turneth into a thin liquor, whereof men blackepitch. Moreover, as concerning the fruit of the pine in general, it is most certain, that therein are many great virtues and properties, and that 
Qualities, and virtues of the pine kernels.  it is very profitable for man's body. For it is a moderate temperature, but that it inclineth more towards heat. It ripeneth, it mollifieth, it resolveth, it fatneth, and it nourisheth well, it correcteth the humours, which are corruputed in the entrails; nevertheless it is hard in digestion: and therefore to such as are cold of nature, the kernels are ministered with holy; and to such as are hot, with Sugar, to correct the strength of those kernels. They do help (being often eaten) the pains of the sinews, and are good for those that be troubled with the Sciatica, palsy, shaking, and numbness of members. They cleanse the lungs and the corruption of them, purging out all clammy humours and rottenness. They are profitable against the cough, and the corruption of the rains and bladder: wherefore they ease them much who pinch but drop by drop, and feel their urine burn. They fatten lean folks, and being taken with the juice of purslane, they do help eruptions of the stomach. Also the picked leaves of a green pine being stamped & drunk with wine, do appease pains of the heart. But the patient must abstain from all fat meats. Of the scales that cover the Pine apples being sod in very sharp vinegar, is made a singular perfume against the Dysenteria. 
Other properties of some parts of the pine.  And the water of those apples very green, being distilled through a limbeck doth wash out the wrinkles of the face. Moreover of the oldest Pines is pitch made, which is called Naval, by reason that it is very good to pitch Ships: which to do men cut down the Pines with an hatchet, which are become full of gummy juice, and hew them in pieces, as they do other trees to make coals of. Whereupon let us note, that they which inhabit mountains say, that it is a malady among pines, when not only the heart thereof, but the outward part of the stock doth convert into a gummy substance: which happeneth to them through great abundance of liquor, which causeth them to die, even as too much fat suffocateth living creatures. And out of this gummy wood is pitch, by wondrous skill extracted, and the oil and foot are separated, which have divers properties in medicines.  
Let us now speak of the Fir tree, which groweth uprightest of all the trees, and therefore is very fit to employ in all works: There are such high ones, that in Sweden some 
Of the fir tree and of the rot sin which it produceth.  are seen of an hundred foot in length, and that of some which are strait and of a like thickness every where without knots, men may make work of an hundred and ten foot long. This tree beareth fruit of a span long, composed of certain scales, being one compiled upon another, under which the white seed is included, without any juice in them. It produceth an exquisite liquor and gum betwixt two barks, which is called in vulgar Italian (Lagrimo) that is, the Tear of the Fir tree, and it runneth under the first bark; which being opened, lies like the matter of an old imposthume. This gum is liquid, of a very good smell, and some what sharp in taste. It is very good for green wounds, not only because it searcheth them, but also because it is mundificative and incarnative. Being assumed in drink, it cleanseth the reins of gravel, & doth much assuage the pains of the gout, and of the Sciatica. It healeth marvelously well all wounds of the head, so that no other thing be applied therein.  
The Cypress is likewise rich in beauty and in properties: of which trees there are male 
Of the c●pres tree, and the properties thereof.  and female: the female grows always pointed towards the top, and the male hath his branches spread abroad. Each of them is a very high tree, strait, and bearing branches only in the top thereof. And this tree is driest of all others, having the humour very fat, and well digested. And therefore it agreeth not with dung and excrements, and waxeth dry near to waters. The wood thereof is odoriferous, and looseth not the sent by oldness, neither is eaten with worms, nor doth rot through any fault: but the leaves of this tree beaten into powder, and strewed amongst apparel, or with the seed, do defend them that worms cannot annoyed them. It beareth fruit three times a year, which is hard and sound, containing the seed within. It casteth out of the stock some gum, but very little like unto Turpentine, and almost of the same nature. This tree is very common in Italy. But the right and natural country thereof is the islle of Candy, for in what place soever the ground be there removed and tilled, if nothing else be sown therein, the Cypress will presently spring up of itself. The decoction of their nuts made in strong vinegar, assuageth the pain of the teeth, if the mouth be often washed therewith. So much doth the decoction of the leaves. Which nuts being stamped and drunk with old wine, appease the cough. They are very good and the leaves also, to search great wounds in tough bodies. Whereby it appeareth, that this tree hath the virtue to dry up, without much sharpness and heat, as the taste doth testify. For one shall taste therein very little sharpness, much bitterness and more sourness.  
The Cedar also is a tree that groweth very big, and beareth fruit almost like to that of the Cypress tree, but a little bigger. There be some that bear no fruit although that they 
Of the cedar, and of the gum thereof.  bud. And that which beareth fruit buddeth not, and the new fruit appeareth thereupon before the old is perfectly ripe. Out of this tree runneth an excellent white and liquid gum, which in time is by heat of the Sun congealed into grains. In Syria, and especially in Mount Libanon the Cedars grow very high, and in great plenty, and are very like to Fir trees. Their branches from the bottom to the top, are almost spread and placed round about it, in fashion like the spokes of a wheel, and the highest are evermore shortest. Wherhfore this tree a far off seemeth to represent the figure of a Pyramid. The heart or pith of the Cedar is very hard, sweet, and read: wherefore the ancients supposed that the wood could not wear, nor become worm eaten: but would endure for ever. So Solomon caused the holy temple of God in jerusalem to be builded thereof: and the Pagans' made their statues of it, thinking it would endure as long as Marble or Brass. Some say that the greatest which was ever seen, was hewed in Cypress to make the galley of Demetrius, which had a eleven oars upon a side. For it was one hundred and thirty foot long, and as thick as three men might fathom. There are also in many places of Greece, two kinds of small Cedars, which are like to the juniper tree. Now all Cedars are of nature hot and dry in the third degree: And the oil, which is made of their gum approacheth to the fourth degree, and is very subtle. Wherhfore it doth easily and without pain rot soft and delicate flesh: but in hard bodies it operateth with more time and difficulty. It drieth dead bodies, and preserveth them from putrefaction, by consuming the superfluous humours, without touching the sound parts: but in living bodies, the heat which consisteth in them, doth augment the forces of this oil, which causeth it to burn the tender flesh. Wherhfore having such virtue, it is no marvel if it kill nits, lice, worms, and vermin in the ears: and if being applied it killeth the child in the mother's womb, and being dead doth voided it out, with many other effects which Physicians attribute unto it. But I commend to you ASER the sequel of our discourse concerning trees.   

Of trees bearing Cinnamon, Cassia, Frankincense, Myrrh and cloves. Chap. 69.  ASER. 
THe love of ones native soil hath a marvelous power in all things: for nature produceth in some places such stubborn plants, that for any endeavour and pains which one may take with them, yet can they not be retained or kept but in their own proper ground. Many great personages both in France and Italy have taken pains to tame them, and 'cause them to grow in gardens, orchards, and other most pleasant places, as any in the world. But as rustical mountainers despise the delights and gallantness of cities, and esteem not of civility and honesty of manners, not being able to live any where at ease and pleasure but in their own cottages: so it seemeth that many plants, which are brought amongst us, and husbanded with great care and labour, despising the sweetness of the air, this beauty of gardens, the pleasant watering of fountains, and the goodly company of infinite herbs and trees already made familiar, having at last retired into their own deserts and wildernesses, and into the place of their original. Now of the number of these is the Cinnamon, which though that while Rome flourished (as many authors record) it was planted in divers places, yet now is there not any of it to be found throughout Italy, nay in all Europe. But Asia aboundeth therewith in many places, yea so doth Arabia felix in divers parts, & much more India, especially in one island called Monorique, the mountains whereof bear plenty of Cinnamon trees.  
This tree is some what like to our Laurel tree, having many branches, at the end 
Of the tree that beareth Cinnamon.  whereof, it beareth very small blossoms, which being dried by the heat of the sun, and fallen on the ground, there is form thereof a little round fruit, not much bigger than an hazel nut out of the kernel whereof the islanders do extract good oil, wherewith the diseased do rub their sinews, and other infirm parts. The king of Monorique receiveth great profit through these trees: for none may be permitted to touch them without his licence. And certain months of the year he causeth some twigs and scion's to be cut, the smallest and finest that may be in the tree, and the bark of them to be peeled off, which is sold very dear to such strangers as traffic therein. For this is the best of the tree. But the Cinnamon which is brought hither, is nothing else but the second 
Property of Cinnamon.  bark, that is peeled off, which being cut with a little knife, rolleth up together of itself, and changeth colour. Moreover the property of Cinnamon is to dry and heat to the third degree: for it consisteth of very subtle parts, and is very sharp in taste, and of a certain quick astriction, by means whereof it taketh away and dissolveth the superfluities of the body, and fortifieth the members. There is a distilled water made of Cinnamon, which is strong in smell and taste, and is of great virtue. For take a pound of Cinnamon, bray it, and put it into a vessel with four pound of Rose water, and half a pound of white wine than set your vessel being very close stopped, in warm water, and then make your distillation in the same water, being placed upon a furnace, wherein the fire is temperately maintained, in such sort that the said warm water doth always boil. And this distilled water is very sovereign against all diseases that come through cold, for it dissolveth and consumeth phlegm and clammy humours, & chaseth away all windines. It doth especially comfort the stomach, the liver, the spleen, the brain, and the sinews. It is a singular and present remedy against faintness of the heart, against pains and prickings of the mouth and stomach, it resisteth poisons, & bites of venomous beasts; it provoketh urine, & the flowers in women. It is good for those that have short breath, that are sick of the palsy, or have the falling sickness. And in a word, when need is to heat, to open, to pierce, to resolve, and to comfort, this water is very profitable therefore.  
Now let us speak of the tree that beareth Cassia. For it is in the number of the greatest and most singular trees. The wood thereof is massive, close, of the colour of box near 
Of the tree bearing cassia.  the bark, and black in the midst like Ebony. When it is green, it hath a bad smell, but this savour doth wear away being dry. It beareth certain cod, which hung upon the branches very long, round, and massive, which being ripe, wax black and some what radish. And they are full of soft and black sap, like to thick cream, not sticking altogether like marrow in a bone, but is contained as it were in little cases, being one separated from another by thin skins set very close together: betwixt every one of which there is a very hard grain. In Egypt and in India are very many of these Cassia trees, and in the isle of Taprobana. Their cod are not very great, but clear, heavy, and very full: in such sort, that if they be shaken, one cannot hear the grains rattle therein, and these are the best. The sap or juice of them is hot and moist in the third degree. It is lenitive and loosening, and purifieth the blood. It stauncheth heat of choler, and doth moderately 
Property of the cassia.  loosen the belly. It is marvelously profitable for those that cannot make water, especially if it be used with medicines that provoke urine. It purgeth choler and phlegm, and mollifieth the breast and the throat, and resolveth inflammations therein: it cleanseth the rains from gravill and sand, if it be drunk with the decoction of liquorice and other simples fit to provoke urine: and if it be often taken, it hindereth the stone in the rains. Besides all this, it is good against hot agues, and being outwardly applied, it assuageth inflammation.  
Among aromatical trees, the tree that beareth frankincense is worthy to be considered 
Of the frankincense tree.  of. The form thereof is somewhat like to a pine, and out of it runs a liquor, that afterwards waxeth hard, which we call frankincense: whereof there are two sorts. One sort is gathered in summer in the dog days, in the greatest burning heat of the year, at which time the bark is split, being then fullest of moisture. And this frankincense is whittish, transparent and pure. The other kind is gathered in the Spring time, by means of another incision, which is made in this tree in winter, & it is somewhat read, approaching nothing near either in goodness or value, or else in weight or virtue to the first. Arabia hath many forest wherein frankincense is found. And the inhabitants of the country do lance the trees with a knife to 'cause them distil gum the better, or else the liquor whereof it is made: amongst which trees there are some that may yield above threescore pounds every year. Moreover being taken in drink it is very good against Dysenterias and fluxes of the belly. It increaseth the memory, chaseth away sadness, rejoiceth the heart, and is profitable for all the 
Property of frankincense.  passions thereof. It also stayeth the bleeding at nose, being incorporated with the white of an egg and aloes, and put into the nostrils in a tent. It likewise appeaseth the pains of the megrim, being mixed with myrrh and glaire of an egg, and applied to the forehead and temples. It is also hot in the second degree, and dry in the first, and hath some astriction, which is but little found in that which is white.  
Let us speak of myrrh, which groweth abundantly in the same regions where frankincense doth. The tree which beareth it is full of prickles in some places, being of five or six cubits high, very hard and crooked, and thicker than the Frankincense tree, the bark 
Of the tree that bears myrrh.  smooth like a Laurel tree, and the leaves like those of the Olive tree, but rougher, having certain sharp prickles at the end. Out of this tree there distilleth a Gummy liquor like tears, which hardeneth by little & little, and is of colour somewhat green, & is clear and sweet, though somewhat unpleasant in taste through bitterness. Whereby it appeareth that the myrrh which here we have is not right, for all these marks are not found therein, but it is black, and as if it were scorched, mouldy and mossy on the outside. Which we need not think strange, considering that even in Alexandria, where our men do commonly buy myrrh, there is scarce any to beegotten which is not sophisticate. For the Arabian Mahumetans, who bring it thither, And cell it, do therein use a thousand deceits, mocking at such Christians as traffic with them, and at their curiosity. There is great difference then betwixt natural myrrh, which distilleth out of the tree; and artificial, being sophisticated with gum, and mixed with other things, such as is ordinary in 
Property of myrreh.  our Apothecary's shops. Now the right myrrh is of a hot and dry quality in the second degree: and being drunk, it is very profitable for those that have the quartain ague. It is used in Antidotes against poisons, against hurts by venomous beasts, and against the plague. And being applied to wounds in the head, it will heal them.  
Let us now speak of the tree that beareth cloves, which groweth in the southeasts 
Of the clove tree.  countries in certain Isles of the Indian sea. The stock thereof is like to that of a box tree and so is the wood. It flourisheth almost like to a laurel tree, and the fruit groweth in this manner. At the end of every little branch there doth first appear a bud, which produceth a flower or blossom of purple colour, afterwards by little and little the fruit is form, and cometh to that pass, as we behold it, being red when it groweth out of the bloom: but by heat of the Sun it waxeth black afterwards in such sort as it is brought hither. The inhabitants of the country, especially of the Isles of Molucca, do plant and set clove trees almost in the same manner, as we in Europe do our vines. And that they may preserve this fruit and spice a long time: they make pits in the earth, wherein they put the cloves, until such time as merchants come to carry them away. This tree is full of branches, and beareth many blossoms white at first, afterwards green, and at last red. The people there shake and beat the uppermost boughs of the tree having first made clean the place underneath: for no herb groweth near about it, because it draweth all the moisture of the earth to itself. And the the clouds are so shaken down are put to dry two or three days, and are then shut up till they besold. That clove which sticketh still fast to the tree, doth wax great; yet differeth not from the rest, except in oldness: though some have held opinion that the greatest are of the male kind. This tree springeth of itself, out of one only corn of a clove, which hath fallen on the ground, and it endureth an hundred years, as the inhabitants report. The virtue of cloves is very great. For they are good 
Of the properties of cloves.  for the liver, the stomach, and the heart. They help digestion, and bind the flux of the belly. They clear the sight, consume and take away the web, and clouds in the eyes. They heat and dry to the third degree, they strengthen and open both together, and are very piercing. Being beaten to powder and drunk with wine, or the juice of Quinces, they stay vomitings, cause lost appetite to return; fortify the stomach and the head. They heat very well a cold liver. And for this cause they are ministered very profitably to such as have the dropsy, especially to those, who have water spread throughout all their body. The smell of them fetcheth those again that have swooned, and being chawed they sweeten the breath. They are good for such as are troubled with the falling sickness, with the plasie, and with the lethargy. Being eaten or taken in perfume, they preserve from the plague, and are very commodious for such as are subject to Catarrhs, and for such as are stuffed in the nose, if they receive the smoke thereof into their nosthrilles. In brief their use is infinitely divers and profitable, both in physic and in our ordinary diet whereby we restore nature. And sith we are in this talk, let it be your part (AMANA) to entreat of other trees bearing Spices.   

Of trees and plants that bear Nutmegs, Ginger and Pepper. Chap. 70.  AMANA. 
Among five kinds of nuts which the earth produceth, to wit, the common Nut, the Nut of India, Nux Metella, Nux Vomica, and of the Nutmeg, this 
Of the Nurmeg tree.  is the most singular and of rarest virtue: which hath taken name from musk, by reason of the sweet and pleasant sent thereof. Now they who have traveled into India make great report, that the trees which bear Nutmegs, do abundantly grow in an Isle named (Banda) and in many other Isles of the Moluccaes: and that it is as great, and as long branched as a Walnut tree with us: and that there is but small difference in the growing of Nutmegs, and of common nuts. Moreover, this fruit is at first covered with two barks, whereof the outtermost is hairy or mossy, under which is a thin bloom, which like a net or fillet doth embrace and cover the nut, and is like a skaule or coif called (Mace) whereof there is great account made, and it is reckoned among the most precious and rarest spices: which we plainly see in those Nutmegs that are brought whole from the Indieses, being preserved in sugar or in juice of carrouges. The other bark which covereth the Nutmeg is like the shell of an Hasell nut, out of which they take it to bring unto us, which is very easy to do by reason that the time of ripening being come, this hard shell openeth and showeth an inward rind that invironeth the nut about, which we call as aforesaid Mace: which at that time appeareth as read as Scarlet; but when the nut is dry, it turns yellowish, and is thrice as dear as the nuts themselves. That which is more to be admired in this tree, is, that it beareth the first-fruits thereof, being so excellent, naturally without any industry or husbandry of man. Moreover, the best nuts are the newest (not rotten) the heaviest, fullest, most oily, & abounding in moisture, so that if one thrust a needle thereinto, there doth presently some juice issue. They are hot and dry in the second degree and restrictive. They make sweet breath being chewed, and take away all stinking smell thereof. 
Property of the Nutmeg.  They clear the sight, strengthen the stomach and liver, abate the swelling of the spleen, provoke urine, stay the flux of the belly, drive away ventosity, and are marvelous good against cold diseases in the womb. In sum, they have the same virtues that Cloves have. And when they are green or new, being bruised and well heated in a vessel, and then put into a press, there issueth a liquor, which being cold, is congealed like to new wax, and so smelleth passing sweet, and is very excellent for old griefs of the sinews and joints engendered through cold.  
Now speak we of Ginger and other spices, which for the most part grow in the 
Of Ginger.  same regions of Asia, and especially in the Indieses, and Molucca isles, whereby Nutmegs abound. In them there is great quantity of Ginger, which is a root, not of such a plant as may properly be called a tree, but rather an herb, considering that it groweth not very high, but beareth leaves like a cave or reed, which do wax green twice or thrice a year. This root is very knotty, and not above three or four spans deep in the ground, and some times so big, that it waigheth a pound. They that dig up these roots, do always leave a space between two knots in the pit, and cover it again with earth as being the seed of this plant, to receive the fruit thereof the next ensuing year, that is the roots, which shall be newly sprouted, In calicut the green Ginger is steeped and conserved in sugar, or in a kind of honey that is taken out of certain cod or husks, and is conveyed into Italy, where it is much more esteemed than that of Venice. For that which is there is made of dry rontes artificially mollified, and which want much of their virtue and power. Moreover Ginger is very profitable: For it helpeth digestion, it looseneth the belly moderately: it is good for the stomach, and profitable against all things that may dim, or 
property of Ginger.  blind the sight. It heateh much, not at first tasting like pepper. For which cause we may not think it to constst of so subtle parts: the heat would else presently declare itself, and it would suddenly become hot in act. Whereupon Ginger is known to be composed of a gross and indigested substance, not dry and earthy, but moist and watery, which is the cause that it doth easily corrupt and rot, to wit, by reason of the supper fluous moisture thereof. For such things as are very dry, or moistened by a digested, natural, and moderate humidity, are not subject to corruption and rottenness. Thence also it proceedeth, that the heat which cometh of Ginger doth endure longer than that of pepper, For as dry stubble is soon on fire and soon burnt out: even so is the heat that proceedeth from simples, and dry drugs. But that which issueth from moist ones, as out of green wood, doth inflame slowlier, and endure longer.  
Pepper doth grow abundantly in the Indieses, and especially in the two Isles called (the greater, and lesser java) It doth grow upon little trees, the leaves whereof resemble much 
Of Pepper and the divers kinds thereof.  the leaves of a Citron tree, the fruit whereof is no greater than a ball. And according to the divers places where Pepper groweth, it is different in kind: yea in one place there are divers sorts, and chief round and long Pepper. Now in some Isles (as alongst the river Ganabara) when the inhabitants plant Pepper, they bury the root thereof near to some other fruit trees, and oftentimes near to young palms or date trees, upon the top whereof the twigs or scion's do at length grow. Which the rods and small branches pulled from Pepper trees do likewise, being planted with the same trees, which they embrace running to the very top of them: where the Pepper hangs in clusters, like the grapes of a wild vine, but closer and thicker. And when it is ripe they gather it, and lay it in the Sun to dry upon latti●eses made of Palm trees, till such time as it become black and wrinkled, which is commonly done in three days. And this Pepper is round. But the trees that bear long Pepper do differ from the rest especially in leaves and fruit: for the leaves are sharper at the end, and the Pepper hangeth upon the tree like clusters of nuts made and heaped with many little grains. There is yet another kind of Pepper, called (Ethiopian Pepper) or (pepper of Negroes) which groweth in cod like beans, or pease: and the grains thereof are a little less than those of black Pepper. Moreover, all Pepper it hot in the fourth degree, and therefore it burneth and blisteretth the body, so that the use thereof cannot but be dangerous, though it have many secret properties against the quiverings and shake that accompany fevers, which usually come to one; and against the cough, and all maladies of the breast. There is also a kind of watery pepper, which groweth near to slow waters, that run but softly. The stalk thereof is knotty, massive, having many pits, out of which the branches do grow. The leaves of it are like to mints, saving that they be greater, softer, and whiter. The seed is sharp and strong, and groweth upon little twigs near to the leaves in manner of grapes. It is so named of the places where it groweth, and the likeness of taste, which it hath with common pepper. But we have spoken enough concerning spices. Let us now consider of other most rare and singular trees the wonder whereof declareth the author of nature to be exceeding admirable, as we may note (ARAM) by your discourse.   

Of the Date tree, of the Baratha or tree of India, of the Gehuph and of brasil. Chapter. 71.  ARAM. 
THose Portugols, Spaniards, and some French men that is in our time have navigated through the Atlantic sea towards the south, and from thence towards the east unto Calicut Taprobana, and other isles of the Indian sea, and regions unknown to ancient Cosmographers, do make credible report unto us of so many divers singularities which they have beheld, that we should be too ungrateful towards them, if so often as we behold any of them in their writings, we should not attribute praise unto them for their laudable curiosity, which hath urged them to such discoveries, considering that they are like so many mirrors, to represent unto us that great Architect of nature, who amongst the very Barbarians hath engraven images of himself in every work of his omnipotency. Now among such trees as they have written of, and which (as me seemeth) are worthy of greatest admiration, although they be not altogether so rare as many others, the Date trees require place, which are very common in Arabia, Egypt, and almost in all parts of Africa, and in judaea, as likewise in many Isles of Greece, and regions of Europe (wherethey bear no frulte, which is not so throughout all Africa) for the Palms, or Date-trees 
Of the Date-tree.  bear in many places a sweet, pleasant and very delicate fruit to eat, and this tree is very high, and hath the stock thereof very hard, bearing no branches butround abound the top, with the ends of them hanging down to the ground wards. It buddeth forth many blossoms, hanging at certain fine small stalks, clustered together in figure like to clusters of saffron, but much less and white: and of those are form reddish Dates, which have a very hard, long, & crested stone within them. And there are of these trees male and female; which are discerned in that the female buddeth without blossoms, or flowers. And that which is most admirable in this diversity of kind, is, that the female being separated 
Marvel of the female Palmtree.  from the male, will hung down her brauches and whither, turning herself that way, whither her male hath been carried: so that the inhabitants of the country fearing to lose her, take of the earth and of the root of the male, which they lay about the foot of the female, who through this means springeth, reneweth strength, and beareth fuit. It is noted in Date trees that there are some, which naturally follow the Sun, which way soeever he turneth, as many other plants do, which having a sympathy and secret iuclination to this Star, as acknowledging his virtue, and that their vigour is derived from him, do always behold him, and themselves losing colour, when he is far off from them. And this is also very wonderful in the Date tree, that being dead, it reviveth of itself, by means of the proper roots thereof, which being (very deep under ground) maintained by the radical humour, there do at lentgh spring out of them certain stalks, which are afterwards sustained by the Sun, there nourished and made trees, bearing fruit as before. Moreover out of the trunk of Date trees, many people (especially the Negroes) do extract a liquor 
Drink that distilleth out of the Date-tree.  (which they use for a beverage instead of wine) by making a large slit therein with a certain instrument a foot or two above the earth. And this liquor of whey, very good to drink, and almost as much inebriating, or as strong as wine, for which cause it must be very oftentimes mixed with water. And when it runneth out of the stock, it is as sweet as new wine: but it looseth that sweetness from day to day, becoming more pleasant to drink, when it tasteth somewhat more tart, because it doth then slack thirst best. They also draw out of this tree certain threads as fine as our thread, whereof they make tapistry work, which serve like other things to cover them: which need not seem very 
Tapestry made of Palm trees.  strange, considering that in many other places they beat the barks of some trees so hard (after they have wet it) that they do draw it out so fine, and weave it so artificially, as one would suppose it to be some fair and thin taffeta. Such as have sailed to Manicongo, and along the coast of Ethiopia, do assure us thereof in their writings. For if that cotton cometh from trees, and silk is spun by worms (as all men know) what should hinder the foresaid things to be of such ability through the ordinance of God established in nature, to the end that men might receive from these plants, that which is needful for them, and which they cannot obtain by the means that are common to others? But if any make doubt thereof, because it is notoriously known unto all, then must we shut the door against all things that seem rare. But what shall we say to that, which is taught us by many grave Authors, that of the fruit of these trees, called (the Theban Date) being dried in the sun, till such time as it may beready to be ground, men use to make bread, which is 
Bread made of Dates.  a common practice amongst those of that country? Moreover, for the particular virtues and properties of Dates, they are so much different, as there be divers kinds of them: for some are dry and binding (as those of Egypt) others are soft, moist, & sweet (as those that grow 
property of Dates.  in Syria, Palestina, and jericho.) And the rest are in mean betwixt these two kinds: and all are hard in digestion, and breed headache. Some say that two green dates (having their stones taken out, and then filled up with powder of Vermilion) being eaten, do keep women with child that they may not abort: and that being dried they be good to eat by such as spit blood, to such as have a weak stomach, and are troubled with the bloody flux.  
Now let us speak of a tree, that doth much resemble the Date tree, and is no less worthy of wonder than it, because it serveth for bread, wine, oil, and vinegar. This tree is called 
Of a tree serving for bread wine, oil, and vinegar.  by the Arabians (Baratha) and of some (jausialindi) which is as much to say, as, the Indian tree, and the Indian's name it (Trican) and the fruit thereof (Nihor) or Cocco. It is found in many islands of India, chief in Zamat, and in the circumiacent Isles, where the people live upon the fruit of this tree, which fruit is as big as a man's head: and is that, which we term (An Indie Nut.) The outer most bark of this tree is all green, & above two fingers thick: amongst which they find certain fillets, whereof they make cords, wherewith the inhabitants of the country so we their boats together. Within this bark is another, which they burn and beaten to dust: afterwards they use this powder as a medicine for their sick. Under this second bark again is ● certain white pith covered, which is about a finger thick, and this they eat in stead of bread, with flesh and fish. And to make it the better, they dry it first, and then bring it into meal, and make very good bread thereof, as the ancients in old time made of Acorns and of chestnuts, for want of corn. In the midst of this pith they find a very clear, sweet, and cordial water, which being curdled, and converted into an oily substance: they boil it, and then this mixture becomes so fat, as the best butter that can be made amongst us. But if they would have vinegar, they set this water in the sun without making it to boil, and it will become clear and sharp, and as white as milk. For their drinking liquor, it runs out of the 
Property of Indie nuts.  branches in great abundance. And two of these trees suffice for the nourishment of an whole family. Furthermore, their fruit is hot in the second degree, and moist in the first. There is oil drawn out of it very good against the hemorrhoids, and which healeth the pains of the reins and of the knees, and purgeth the belly of worms. This Indie Nut bringeth also men's bodies into a good fat estate, and restoreth lean and consumed persons.  
In the Isles of the Malucoes, especially in Taprobana doth likewise grow a tree of a 
A tree named Gehuph.  marvelous property and effect, which is named in their language (Gehuph) and of the Indian's (Cobban) it groweth very high, but the leaves thereof are small. The bark is all yellow, and the fruit big and round like a ball, having a nut enclosed within it, wherein is found a marvelous bitter kernel? the taste whereof upon the tongue doth near approach to the savour of Angelica root; the fruit is very good to staunch thirst, the kernel (for all it is so bitter) doth much surpass it in sweetness through the excellency thereof. For they of the country do make an oil, which they keep carefully, because it is very good against the pain of the liver, and spleen, whether it be taken innards, or outwardly applied to the diseased part. They keep them also from the cramp. This tree likewise yieldeth a certain gum, whereof they use plasters against all pains of their members.  
But amongst many singular trees, found out in our days in the South in the wild country, that is one, which doth serve to die with; which hath been a great commodity to Merchants, and a means of new voy ages for such, as had accustomed to go to sea: who entering into those countries, when they beheld the Savages decked with many fair plumes of divers, colours, and that they had their bodies likewise diversly painted, they made inquiry by what means they become so coloured: who showed them a certain tree, 
Of Brasil, and other trees fit for tincture.  which we name (brasil) and the Savages call (Oravoutan). This tree is very fair to look upon, having the outer rind of grayish colour, and the wood within read, and especially the heart, which is the most excellent part of all the tree: and therewith merchants do chief fornish themselves. This tree hath leaves like the Box tree, as small, but thicker, and fuller and always green: and it beareth not any fruit, or gum. That which groweth in the land of Morpion, and at Cabo Frio, is better than any other. And there also is great store and quantity of other trees serving for tincture, and every one of a sundry colour: One is so read, that it imitateth in fresh colour the finest scarlet of the world. Another hath the inside so yellow, as nothing can be seen to approach nearer the pure colour thereof. Some are all black, and other reddish: and there are some of so fair a purple colour, as the ancients never used fairer. Moreover there is found a tree as white as fine paper, marvelous fair, and very pleasant to behold: which might have been very good, in times past, to make tablets to writein, then when men were ignorant of the use of paper. In fine we have no colour, be it simple, or compound, whereof there be not some trees to represent it naturally in the country of Sanages. But here let us leave strange trees, and speak somewhat of our ordinary trees. And because that the history of them were sufficient to make up a very great volume, we will content ourselves to consider upon a few of such, as shall seem to us most fit for our purpose, that we may conclude the discourse of this day, and of this matter together: as you (ACHITOB) shall presently perform.   

Of the Citron-treee, Limon-treee, Orange-tree, Olive-tree, and Pomegranate-tree. Chapter. 72.  ACHITOB. 
BEcause that Citron trees, Limon trees, and Orange trees, do prospero best in an hot and moist air, in a thin and tender soil, near to the sea side, and where moisture aboundeth, they do not only abound in our Europe, but also in many places of Asia and Africa, and in the Isles of the Savages which have been discovered in our days. Now these three kind of trees have like agreeableness of nature, and do resemble each other in property and virtue, and therefore require 
Of the Citron tree.  one manner of culture. The Citron tree is as great as the Orange tree, and Limon tree: and the leaves thereof are always green, differing little or nothing from those of the Orange tree, being all of them pierced through with such little holes, that they can scarce be discerned. The branches thereof be flexible clad with a green bark, and thorny. It beareth blossoms somewhat purple, of the fashion of a bell, having some fillets hanging in the midst of them, and they have fruit at all times. For when the ripe Citrons fall, there be others that wax ripe, and others that begin to bud. But there is very great difference in this fruit, both in bigness and intaste. For there are some as big as Melons, as those are upon the coast of Genoa, and in the isles of the adriatic and Egean seas. Some are a little: less: others are as great as Lemons, or a little greater, as are those of the Lake of Garda which are better with meat then all the rest, and taste more pleasantly. And for the biggest, being not so good to eat (because they have more substance) they are fit for Apothecaries to conserve them in sugar or in honey. All of them bear the colour of gold; they are long like Lemons, having a thicker rind, wrinkled without, and of a sweet smell. They have a sharp pith within, full of juice, in which the grain is hidden, in figure like to barley corns, being covered with an hard peel, and of bitter taste, They grow all the year long, and are gathered when they be yellow. Moreover these trees are nourished by the south wind, but are annoyed by northern blasts. They are sowed in their grains, and planted in twigs, boughs and graffs. The property of their fruit is to resist poisons, which their grain doth 
Property of Citrons.  chief effect. And the decoction of citrons doth sweeten the breath, if one wash his mouth with it. Being put whole into chests with apparel, they do not only 'cause them to smell sweet, but do also defend them from moths. If they be eaten raw, they are of hard digestion, and engender gross humours: but having been confected in honey or sugar, they heat the stomach well, and fortify it. They are good against melancholy and all maladies proceeding thereof. The grain is especially good against the stinging of serpents, being taken in drink, and applied outwardly. Their sharp juice doth repress choler, and is very good against the plague: by means whereof physicians do happily use the syrup which is made of it against pestilent fevers. Likewise the sharp and dry quality ruleth in the juice of citrons, and therefore it is dry and cold in the third degree, but the rind thereof is dry, with much bitterness: so that it is dry in the second degree, not cold but temperate, a little differing from the mean. Their meat is of gross and phlegmatic substance, and their kernel bitter, and loosening, heating and drying in the second degree. If a citron be boiled whole in rose water and sugar, till such time a sit be all consumed into juice, and if one take every morning to the quantity of a spoonful of this juice, it will be a sovereign preservative against the plague.  
Lemons also have the very same property, and their juice killeth the itch of the body, it 
Of Lemons.  cleanseth the spots thereof, destroyeth worms, taketh away pimples in the face, killeth worms in the belly, and being mingled with syrup, it is singular good against hot and contagious fevers. This same juice is of so strong and piercing virtue, that it you power it out twice or thrice fresh, and wash whole pearls therewith, steeping them in it, and afterwards expose them to the sun, they will within five or six days become as soft as honey, in such sort that you may fashion them how you list. Likewise if you steep for certain hours gold therein, it will diminish in weight. In brief, lemons do not much differ from the virtue and nature of citrons: but they are commonly somewhat less, longer, and not of so thick a rind, fuller of juice, sharper in taste, almost alike in seed, of colour pale.  
Oranges are more round, and being ripe they have a very orient golden colour, their peel is thicker than that of lemons, and more bitter. The juice within, whereof they be 
Of Oranges, and of their fruit.  full, is not in all of one taste; for some are sweet, some sour, and some tart. Orange trees are always green like citron trees. They have leaves like laurel, broad, thick, smooth, sweet, and pointed. Their branches likewise are flexible, pricklie, and covered with a green whitish coloured bark. Their blossoms are white, of a very excellent smell, and are diligently gathered by perfumers, where there is any quantity, for the composition of perfumes. Some also distil water of them, not only for the excellency of the smell thereof, but also to serve in medicine, especially against pestilent fevers which cause blisters. Being taken in drink, it is very profitable when need requireth to have infected humours evacuated out of the inner part of the body to the uttermost part by sweatings: for this water doth cause much sweeting, and doth greatly comfort the heart. The peel of oranges is hotter, sharper, and bitterer in taste then that of cirtons and lemons. And sweet oranges are hot in all parts: but the juice of all others is cold, and resisteth corruption. Wherhfore they are good against fevers, which the sweet are not. Moreover their juice pressed out of the rind doth easily in flame: and doth also penetrate through great tenuity within a glass, even to the wine therein contained.  
The olive-tree also is excellent amongst trees, and doth require a warm and temperate 
Of the Olive tree.  air as that of Provence. It is planted of twigs, and fair and fruitful young branches pulled from off the boughs of the tree, being very thick, & of a foot and half long. Olive trees have long pointed leaves, thick, smooth, green above, and whitish underneath, bitter in taste, and somewhat sharp. They bud in julie, and have white flowers hanging in clusters, out of which grow the fruit, green at first, and as they ripen paler; then wax they purple: and at last turn black. They are gathered in the latter months of the year, being no sooner ripe. They are strewed upon the floor, till such time as they become wrinkled. Afterwards they are ground, and then put into the press with hot water, and so they yield their oil. The wood of the olive-tree is fair, full of veins speckled, massy, and burneth as well green as dry. It is in no wise subject to vermin, especially so long as it is planted, because of the odour thereof which is strong, yea it defendeth all other plants therefrom, which are near unto it, as likewise through the bitterness thereof it causeth Cabbages and Lettuce to dry, and all other moist herbs, which are sowed in the plot with it. olives 
Of the use of Olives.  are gathered for two occasions, either that oil may be extracted out of them, or that they may be reserved for banquets, wherein they are served to excite the appetite: but all kinds of olives do not serve indifferently for these two uses: for the greatest are beast to eat, and the best to draw oil out of. They which are kept for feasts are conserved in brine, and salted vinegar, in such sort as they retain their natural verdure. For the property of the olive, it hath in it a very restringent virtue; for the decoction of the leaves in a clystes, stayeth the flluxe of the belly: and the juice pressed out of the leaves with white wine and rain water, restraineth all manner of bloody flux. The liquor which distilleth out of the green wood as it burneth, healeth the itch, tetters, and ringwormes. New olives being eaten provoke the appetite, and get a good stomach although they harden the belly. Being very ripe they are moderately hot, otherwise they are more binding and cooling The oil that is extracted out of olives is of singular virtue, being either applied outwardly or taken inwardly, according to the indisposed parts of the body: it ●coseneth and mollifieth the belly, dulleth the malice of poisons, and doth subtly drive them away, yea if any venom or burning happen on the skin of the body, and begin to make an ulcer or sore there, nothing better to heal this hurt, then to anoint it with new fresh oil of olives.  
The Pomegranate tree also is to be no less esteemed of, than the forenamed trees, because the excellency of the fruit thereof. The leaves of it resemble those of the Olive tree 
Of the Pomegranate tree, and of the fruit thereof.  of a dark green colour, very thick, and full of many read strakes, hanging by a read sialke. The branches are pliable, and full of prickles. The blossoms read, and open like bells, the mouth of them cut in fashion of a star: out of which proceed thin read leaves, with certain small seeds hanged by the midst, like them in a rose. The fruit is covered with a rind like unto leather, read without, and yellow within, full of infinite pointed grains, read, full of a wine-like juice, with a stone in them. And these grains are separated one from another with marvelous cunning of nature, by fine thin yellow skins. Moreover there are three sorts of Pomegranates, sweet, sharp, and winie. And the quality of them all is restringent, but not alike. For by their taste you may judge of their difference. And their grains are more binding and drying, than their juice: the rind more than the grains; and the blossoms have the same virtue with the fruit. And the powder of a Pomegranate, dried in an oven, in a new earthen pot close stopped, being taken in drink, is marvelous singular to stay the flux of the body. The leaves also of a Pomegranate tree well beaten, or the juice of them mixed with oil of roses, doth very much ease inueterated pains of the head, being often laid to the forehead. The boughs of this tree do chase away venomous beasts; for which cause the ancients were wont to lay them over, and under their beds. The decoction of the root being drunk, doth also kill great worms in the belly, and doth void them out. Now have we said enough concerning trees for the subject by us undertaken: To morrow we will discourse of the most singular herbs & roots, to the end that in each sort of all kinds of creatures, we may have somewhat wherein to acknowledge in the chiefest manner the infinite power, and unspeakable bounty of him, who hath made all these things for the use of man. It shall be then your charge (ASER) to begin to entreat concerning simples.  
The end of the ninth days work.    

The tenth days work.  

Of Mallows, Wild Mallows, Purple Violets, betony, Ceterach, and Saint johnsworte. Chap. 73.  ASER. 
THe knowledge of Simples hath always been had in such estimation amongst the Ancients, that many great Monarches both Grecians and Romans, although they were much troubled in the government of their estates, have never the less studied how to obtain this science, and to illustrate it. For indeed it is not only pleasant and delectable, but also very profitable and necessary. And for this cause they have been much commended who have diligently written books concerning plants, and concerning the virtues of them. And surely we are not a little beholding to their diligence, by reason of the commodities that do thereby redound unto us daily for the mainetenance of our health, which is the thing most to be desired of us in all the world. For so much then as we have so many goodly volumes amongst us, that all persons may thereby with small travel become learned in this part of physic, which is abundantly therein entreated of, we will satisfy ourselves to pass away this day in discoursing only concerning the most singular herbs and roots, which we could therein note, and as we yet do bear in memory.  
All herbs may be divided into two kinds, one is under the name of pot herbs, the other of physic herbs: although in very truth, there is in all of them, yea in many of those which are most common, very apt and proper virtues for the aid and mainetenance of health, and healing of diseases. But omitting those which are used in common food, and which are well known to every man, we will only speak of the most excellent in property, in respect of their marvelous effects in the nature of men. Among which, although Mallows be very common, yet are they worthy of consideration. And we read that the ancients did sow this plant in their gardens of deliberate purpose: for in those days they 
Of Mallows and of their property.  did eat them like other ordinary herbs. And even to this day in Italy, they are so well ordered by the gardiner's, that they will grow as big as a shrub, yea in six or seven months. We need not make here a particular description of Mallows; for there is none but knoweth them well enough: but their virtue is very admirable: for their leaves sod, being eaten do take away all hoarseness; and being powned with sage leaves, they make a singular plaster for wounds and other inflammations: they are also very good against bites of venomous beasts being applied with leeks & onions: and the juice of them dropped in one's ear, appeaseth the tingling therein. Being sod roots and all, till such time as the decoction be all very thick and clammy, they are given to women (to drink) who are delivered of their children with great difficulty; which helps them much: and the juice drunk to the quantity of half a pound weight, doth profit them much. Their seed also drunk with red wine, doth deliver one from all desire to vomit. And their young and tender stalks being eaten with salt, vinegar, and eyle (as Sparage also) are very healthful and laxative. Six ounces of their juice being drunk, is very good for melancholy people, and for madefolkes. In brief the Mallow is airy profitable in many things, and was for that cause called by the ancients (Omnimorbia) that is to say, good against all diseases.  
The wild mallow hath no fewer properties, & was therefore called by the Greeks (Althaea) 
Of the wild Mallow, and the property thereof.  as being singular amongst all simples, and fit for many medicines: the use thereof being very ordinary in physic, and it is a common herb known by every one. Being sod in wine, or in honeyed water, beaten, and applied alone, it is good for all wounds, against the king's evil, against worms in the ear, impostumes, inflammation of the breast, rapture of the fundament, ventosities, and shrincking of the sinews: for it resolveth ripeneth, breaketh and healeth. The leaves thereof incorporated with oil are good to apply to all bites, and burnings by fire, the seed and root of this plant have the same operation with the leaf: but they are more subtle, and more drying and abstersive. The seed is good against the Dysenteria, against spitting of blood, and flux of the belly; and so also is the decoction of the root. And both of them serve greatly for difficulty in making water for gravel in the body, and do break the stone in the reins. I must not fail here, to remember amongst the most excellent herbs, the purple violet, for because of the admirable vertures, which it containeth. I will not speak of the rare beauty of the flower thereof, 
Of the Purple vilet, and virtua thereof  nor of the sweet and pleasant smell thereof, though it be to he marveled at. But we may affirm it to be as excellent and singular a medicine as may be found in any part of the world. For Violets are temperate, and very good to altar and change the ill quality of humours, and to enacuate them. They chief purge choler, and qualify the vehemency thereof. They are good for pains in the head which proceed from heat: they 'cause sleepiness: mollify the pricking of the breast, and of the lungs: they are profitable against the squinancy, against the falling of the palate in the mouth: they chief serve against inflammations of the breast, and of the side: and staunch thirst. Being dry they open the liner, cause inflammations to cease, and are very fit against the jaundice. Moreover, the juice of Violets, and the syrup that is made of them, mollify the belly, and they be good to use in pleurisies, to purge. And if any one receive a blow upon the head, he shall be kept from dizzines, and other greater inconveniences, if soon after he is strooken, he drink the flowers of Violets brayed, and use this drink for some time. It is also a singular, and gentle purgation and of no less virtue than Cassia; if you drink so much of the infusion of the roots of Violets in white wine as you can hold in four fingers, after they have been beaten in a mortar, being steeped a whole night in wine, and afterwards strained through a clean linen cloth, which drink you may sweeten by putting sugar therein. This secret was taught me by a learned physician of our time, and I have oftentimes seen the experience thereof.  
Betony is likewise an herb that is stored with many great virtues and properties. For which cause the Italians, when they would highly praise any one, say in a common 
Of Betony & of the property thereof.  proverb (Tu hai piu virtu, che non hala Betonica) Thou art endued with more virtues than Betony is. This herb hath a small stalk, and in many places is found of a cubit in height: having leaves like an oak, soft, long, cut round about, of sweet smell, great near to the root, and the seed thereof at top of the stalk looks like that of savoury. Now for the property of this plant, the leaves thereof brayed and laid to wounds in the head, do presently search them and healing them from day to day, it is not long ere they fortify the hurt part. Being beaten and applied to the forehead, they heal the pain of the eyes, which likewise the decoction of the root doth, being sod in water, till one third part be consumed, if you wash your eyes therewith. The juice of the leaves being drunk, doth purge downwards that blood; the great abundance whereof doth dazzle and dim the sight. Wherhfore Betony being eaten doth sharpen and clarify it. And being beaten with a very little salt, and put into the nostrils, it stauncheth bleeding at the nose. And the warm juice being distilled with oil of roses, and put into the ears, doth assuage the pain of them. The use of this herb is very profitable for those, which are pained at the stomach, and have short breath, who spit corruption, who have pain in their liver and spleen, and are troubled with running of the reins; it provoketh urine, easeth the gnawing of the belly and guts (if it proceed not from increasing of humours) and is very good against dropsies, breaketh the stone, stayeth the spitting of blood, and taken fasting, keepeth from drunkenness, being drunk often with wine, it healeth the jaundice, refresheth those that have traveled far, sharpeneth the appetite, resisteth poisons, venims, and bites of serpents, and all other venomous and bad beasts; being not only taken inwardly, but also applied outwardly to the wounds. In sum this plant hath so many properties therein, that a very learned physician amongst the ancients hath written a whole book thereof.  
Ceterarch hath many virtues of Betony, it groweth on walls and old ruins, and upon 
Anton. Musa. Of Ceterarch & of the vartue thereof.  rocks, and in shady places. It hath neither stalk, nor flower, nor seed, but hath many leaves growing out of a root, which are cut like those of mountain polypody, red and hairy underneath, and green above. The decoction of this herb is good for all melancholy passions, it consumeth spleen, is profitable for those that can hardly make water, breaketh the stone in the bladder, and is good for them that have the jaundice. Some bray Ceterach leaves, to lay them having been steeped in wine upon the spleen, which serveth well for to open it. The yellow powder which is found behind those leaves being drunk with a little white Amber, and with the juice of Plantain or of Purslane, is marvelous profitable for those that are troubled with running of the reins.  
Saint johns-woort also is a very excellent herb. It is full of branches of a span in 
Of Saint john's wort, and the property thereof.  height, reddish, bearing a leaf like to Rue, having a yellow flower like to a violet; which being rubbed betwixt the fingers, yieldeth juice as read as blood. This plant is called Millepertuis, (or thousand holes) because the leaves of it are all full of so small holes, that one can scarce see them, but only betwixt their sight & the Sun. It beareth seed in rough, round, and somewhat long husks. This herb hath power to open, resolve, search, and bind again. It heateth and drieth, and is of subtle substance; wherefore it provoketh urine. The seed thereof being drunk with wine, voideth the stone out of the body, and resisteth poisons, both the seed, and herb being eaten or taken in drink, or outwardly applied, healeth envenomed bites. The water distilled of this herb when it beareth flower, is singular good for those that are subject to the Falling sickness, or are troubled with the palsy; if it be given them to drink. The seed being beaten into powder with the juice of Renouée, is good against spitting of blood. It purgeth the belly: the flowers and seed also have a marvelous virtue to heal all wounds, except such as are in the head. Wherhfore the oil, wherein the flowers and cods full of seed shall have been long time steeped in the sun, doth heal very well all green wounds, especially if it be mixed with Turpentine. If the belly be rubbed with this oil, it is good against the Dysenteria: and a spoonful thereof being drunk killeth the worms. There is a singular balm made of the flowers thereof, with the fruit of an elm and rose buds, putting all together in a glass bottle, and setting it in the sun, till such time as all be so consumed that it seemeth to be putrefied: then must all be strained through a cloth, and kept so to be used, chiefly for hurts and wounds of the body. Now (AMANA) do you prosecute our discourse concerning Simples.   

Of Celendine, Cammocke, Wormwood, Hissope, Sage and Mints. Chapter 74.  AMANA. 
IN the description of plants, we find that there is mention made of two kinds of Celondine, otherwise called (Clary) either of them endued with many virtues. That which is called great Celondine, hath a slender stalk of a cubit 
Of Celondine & of the property thereof  long, and hath leaved branches. The leaves thereof are soft and green, somewhat inclining towards a blue. The flower resembleth that of the white Violet, which buddeth out according to the order of every leaf. It beareth long and slender cods, made pointed, wherein the seed is enclosed. This herb is of a very abstersive and hot quality. The juice thereof is very good to take out spots, and the pin and web in the eyes; but because it is very sharp, you must before you apply it, mix it with those things that may repress the sharpness thereof, as namely with woman's milk: being put into hollow teeth, it loosoneth them that they fall out. If you rub warts therewith, they fall off and dry up. The decoction of the root being drunk with anise seed and white wine, doth heal the jaundice, and is good for eating ulcers, and being chewed it assuageth the pain in the teeth. Some make report, that swallows 'cause their young ones to recover lost sight, by applying this herb unto them, and that for this occasion it derived the name thereof from a Greek word, which signifieth a swallow, as being very well known by these birds, and commodious for them. Some Alchemists say for (Chelidonium) (Celidonium) that is (the gift of heaven) vaunting that they can extract out of this herb a quintessence, not 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  only fit for their purposes, but profitable also to conserve the health of man, and to heal many diseases. Celondine the less is without stalk, the leaves are round and thick, the flower yellow, hanging at a small stalk. It keepeth but a very little while: for it springeth and dieth in the Springtime. And it is so named, because it beareth flower in that season, when swallows come in, as also great clary doth. It is hot and dry in the fourth degreefull, because of the great sharpness thereof. And therefore so soon as it is applied, it 
Of Celondine the less.  breaketh the skin, and causeth bad nails to fall off. The juice thereof snuffed up into the nose, doth greatly purge the brain, And a gargarism made of the decoction thereof with honey, hath the same virtue, and evacuateth all evil humours in the breast.  
Cammocke (or Restharrow) hath also many singular properties. It is a plant well known by countryfolks, because that as well with the branches, as with the interlaced 
Of Cammocke, and the property thereof.  roots, it oftentimes stayeth the plough, mangre the oxen. It also vexeth mowers and reapers much. For how thick leather soever they wear, yet will this pierce through like an aul, and as with needles wherewith it is armed being ripe. This herb hath many branches of a span long, turned with many knots; the leaves thereof are small and slender like unto the leaves of lentils, approaching very near to the form of Rue, somewhat hairy, and of a reasonable sweet sent. The branches are full of very sharp and strong prickles. The flower is purple inclining to white, and sometimes yellow. Among other properties that this plant hath, it is above all most singular in the root thereof for to break the stone in the reins, and to voided it out, especially when the conduits through which the urine passeth are stopped up. Some that have used for a very long time, to take the powder of the peel of this root with wine, have been helped of the stone. And according to the testimony of Mathiolus. A certain man having used for many months together of the powder only of this root, did help and heal himself of the burstnes in the cod, after that all physicians had given him over, except they might cut him as they had concluded. The decoction also of this root, and water that hath been distilled, cleanseth the reins of gravel, provoketh urine, purgeth the bladder, the mouth thereof being stopped up with clammy humours, and is singular good to open the liver, and all vessels of sense, life and motion. To make this water, you must take four pound of the rinds of green roots: and being cut small, set them asteepe in eight pounds of malmsey, or of good wine, then distill them in a glass limbeck in balneo Mariae.  
Wormwood is almost infinite in adimrable virtues. It produceth a branched stalk 
Of wormwood, and of the property thereof.  with whitish leaves, very much cut like those of Mugwort, small yellow flowers and round seed heaped in clusters. This plant is marvelous fit for inflammations of the liver and stomach. It is very profitable for such as are sick of the dropsy, if they often take the leaves thereof confected in sugar. Wormwood is of restringent quality, bitter and sharp altogether being hot, abstersive, comfortable and drying. And therefore it purgeth downwards, and driveth into the urine all choleric humours. It doth most principally comfort the stomach, and for this cause wine was made thereof called by the same name of the tops thereof is a decoction made with the root of Dandelion, which is very good to heal the jaundice. The juice of wormwood mixed with the kernel of a peach killeth worms. This herb provoketh urine, being taken fasting it preserveth from drunkenness, doth sharpen the appetite: it is a sovereign remedy for those that are subject to stuff by eating toadestooles, if they drink the juice thereof, with vinegar. Being taken with wine it is good against poison, with milk & honey it is good to rub them that are troubled with the squinancy. The fume of the decoction thereof easeth pains in teeth and the ears. And being made in wine of raisins it assuageth the pain of the eyes if they be anointed therewith. Being laid with oil of Roses upon a stomach weakened through long sickness, it doth fortify it: with figs, vinegar, and meal of darnel it is good against the dropsy, and for those that are grieved in their spleen. Wormwood put into chests defendeth apparel from worm eating. There is a conserve made with a pound of the tops of this plant, and with three pounds of Sugar, which may heal an old and despaired dropsy if it be often used.  
Hyssop is a common plant, but worthy of great consideration, it is like a shrub sprouting 
Hyssop and the property thereof.  many wooden branches out of the root, of a foot and half high. The leaves are set every where about the stalks here and there, being long, hard, sweet in smell, hot in taste, and somewhat bitter. It beareth flowers one the top of the stalk of a blue colour, like ears of corn. The quality of Hyssop is piercing, attenuative, opening, and abstersive: and therefore it hath the virtue to heat and to purify. Being sod with figs, water, honey, and rue, and taken in drink: it is good for inflammations of the lungs, for an old cough, difficulty of breathing, catarrhs, and for those which cannot breathe except they stand still: and it is good also to kill worms in the belly. Being beaten with salt and Cumin, it is good against biting of Serpents, if it be laid thereupon with honey. It is profitable for those that are subject to the falling sickness, being ministered in any sort to them. Being taken in drink it voideth phlegm, and chiefly that which is in the breast and lungs. It serveth also for phlegmatic maladies of the brain and sinews not only to purge them but also to fortify them. It driveth away ventosity, moveth appetite, provoketh urine, freeth from quake and shake of fevers, and sharpeneth the sight. It maintaineth good colour in one, and is good for the spleen, and against the dropsy, and is singular against the squinancies, being gargarised with the decoction of figs. The oil that is made of the leaves and flowers, helpeth refrigerated or benumbed sinews and strengthen them. In brief the admirable virtues of this plant have begotten this proverb, (He that eateth Hyssop shall live but too long.) But the plenty thereof that is every where, causeth (even as it is with all other common things) that it is made but small account of, and is very seldom used in Physic.  
Sage also is very common, so that there is no garden but is filled therewith: yet the virtue thereof is not a whit less, as is daily experimented, to the great profit of many. It hath 
Of Sage, and the property thereof.  many long, square, and white branches. The leaves are like those of a Quince tree, but more long, more rough, more thick, sharp, strong, of good smell, and yet somewhat unpleasant. Many make two kinds of Sage, common Sage and wild Sage. But we may note that garden sage is all one with field sage: neither can much difference be marked in them, save in the leaves, which are thinner, whiter, and rougher in wild then in garden sage. This plant is very singular against all cold and phlegmatic diseases in the head, and against all pains of the joints, either being taken in drink, or applied in fomentations. Wherhfore it is very good for them who have the falling disease, or are sick of the lethargy, and for those that have their members benumbed or senseless. It is profitable against defluxions of phlegm, and maladies in the breast. It is good for great bellied women to eat, which are subject to travel before their time, for every light cause, for it keepeth the child in the womb, and doth quicken it. If you give three or four ounces of the juice of sage to them that spit blood, that they may drink it fasting in a morning with honey, the blood will presently be stayed. The use of sage in pottage; and otherwise serveth to sharpen the appetite, and cleanse the stomach being full of ill humours. In sum, when occasion is to heat, dry and bind, sage is a very good and fit medicine.  
Mints likewise have great properties, and are very common, both in gardens and fields. 
Of Mints, & their property  Whereof though there be many kinds (for some have small and crisped leaves, others have the stalk and flower read, and others white (yet is there no great matter to be made of these differences, considering that one self same virtue resideth in all. Mints beaten, and made into a plaster do comfort a weak stomach. It is a sovereign thing to restore the smell, and feeling to those that have lost it, so that it be often held to the nose. The leaves thereof dried, and brought into powder, kill worms in little children. The juice drunk with vinegar, stauncheth blood; with the juice of a sour pomegranate it restraineth vomitings, hickets, and the colic passion. Mints laid upon the forehead assuage the headache, and laid upon too tender dugs that are full of milk, it easeth the pain of them, applied with salt it is good for bites by dogs, and with honeyed water it is good against pains in the ears. The water of the whole plant distilled in a glass limbeck in a bath of hot water, and drunk to the weight of four ounces, stayeth bleeding at nose. They that love milk, must presently after they have eaten thereof, chew mint leaves, to hinder the milk that it do not curdle in their stomach, if also you sprinkle cheese with the juice thereof, or with the decoction thereof, it will keep from corrupting and rottenness. Now I refer to you (ARAM) the sequel of this discourse.   

Of Thyme, Savoury, Marierom, Rue, Parsley, and fennel. Chapter 75.  ARAM. 
Among common herbs admirable in their properties, Thyme is worthy to 
Of Thyme and the property thereof.  be noted. Now there are two sorts thereof, one bearing sundry twigs laden with very many little narrow leaves, having small heads, at the top full of purple flowers: and the other is as hard as wood, more branched, and like unto Savoury. In property it is hot, and dry in the third degree. And therefore it provoketh urine, doth heat and being taken in drink doth purge the entrails. It is good to make one spit out the ill humours of the lungs, and in the breast. Four drams of dry Thyme pulverised, being ministered fasting to one that hath the gout, with two ounces and a half of honeyed vinegar, doth profit them very much: for it purgeth choler, and other sharp humours. It is good also for diseases of the bladder: and the weight of a dram being taken with a spoonful of honeyed water, it is good for such as begin to have a swollen belly: for the Sciatica, and pain in the reins, in the sides, and in the breast, for inflations and stitches about the forepart of the belly, for melancholy persons; for those that are troubled in mind, and are in continual fearfulness, if three drams be given to them fasting with a spoonful of honeyed vinegar it will do them much good. It is profitable also against inflammation of the eyes, and vehement pains thereof, and against the gout in the feet, being taken with wine. The use thereof is very good for them that have but bad sight. Out of thyme there is an oil extracted of the colour of gold, which cometh forth with the water, when the herb being fresh and green is distilled in a bath of hot water. This oil smells like a Citron, & is very tart in taste, and good for all things, which have need to be heated. But we must note that heed must be taken, that to all the foresaid purposes black thyme be not used: for it corrupteth the temperature of the person, & engendereth choler. And therefore that thime must be chosen, which beareth a carnation flower, and that for the best yet which beareth a white flower.  
Savoury also is an herb known unto all, and hath the same properties and virtues 
Of Savoury.  which thyme hath, being taken in such manner. There are two kinds thereof: one is like to thyme, somewhat less and more tender, bearing a buddefull of green flowers inclining to purple. The other is greater and more branched, which is often found in gardens having many boughs that spread about it, being round and woody. The leaves thereof are greater than those of thyme, somewhat strong and harder, which do here and there grow about the branches in bunches together, after the springing whereof there grow out little buds environed with leaves, which are much lesser than the other, wherein grow small carnation flowers. The leaves and flowers of savoury being made in a garland or chaplet, and set upon the head of such as sleep, do waken them. Being used in a cataplasm with wheat meal sodde together in wine, it is very available against grief of the Sciatica. But the use of savoury is chief good for healthful persons, whether it be in pottage, or in sauce; or otherwise. And it being dried in the shade, and brought into powder, may be used instead of spices, and so may thyme and marierom, with marvelous profit for health: and strange drugs that are hurtful may be spared, as pepper and ginger are, being commonly used.  
Marierom is so good for all persons, so that there are but few people which have it 
Of Marierom  not, either in their gardens, or in earth pots: the whole plant is odoriferous, and most profitable in physic. It is branched with small pliable twigs, with long whitish and hairy leaves growing about those twigs. It beareth flowers in great number on the top of the stalks, and buds of the colour of the herb, being long, and composed of an heap of scales, well compact together, out of which groweth a little grain. In property it resolveth, and is attenuative, opening and coroborative. It is excellent against all cold diseases of the head, and of the sinews, both outwardly applied and taken in drink: as also for griefs in the ears, noise in them, and difficult hearing, if some of the juice of the leaves thereof be dropped into them. The juice thereof also being snuffed up into the nose, purgeth the phlegm of the head, cleanseth the brain, and fortifieth it. The use of this plant and of the decoction thereof, is good against all evil in the breast, which may stop the free course and recourse of breath. It is profitable for them that are diseased in the liver, and in the spleen: not only freeing the liver and spleen from oppilations and stops; but also making them strong and sound. The decoction thereof also being drunk, is good in the beginning of a dropsy, for difficulty in making water, and for pulling in one's belly. And the leaves thereof serve against the stingings of scorpions, being laid thereupon with salt and vinegar.  
Rue likewise by reason of the great and exquisite properties thereof deserveth 
Of Rue.  to be remembered. This plant is always green, very thick of juicy leaves, many hanging at one stalk of small growth, but very broad, of a dark green colour. It produceth many little boughs and branches, and on the top yellow flowers; out of which grow little heads divided into four parts, wherein small black seed is enclosed. This herb is very attenuative, incisive, digestive, resolutive, provocative, and driveth out ventosities very forcibly. For it is hot in the third degree, and not only sharp in taste but bitter also: by means whereof it may resolve and penetrate gross and clammy humours; and through the same qualities provoke urine. It doth also consist of subtle parts and is numbered amongst medicines, which dry greatly: and therefore it is good against inflations, assuaging the appetite of lust, it resolveth and freeth from all windines. The seed thereof drunk in wine, to the weight of fifteen ounces, is a singular remedy against all poison. The leaves eaten alone fasting, or with nuts and dry figs, do kill the power of venom, and are good against Serpents. The decoction thereof drunk is profitable against pains in the breast and in the sides, inflammation of the liver, the gout, and shake of agues; being eaten raw or confected, it cleareth the sight, is good against difficulty in breathing, and against the cough: being mixed with French Cherries dried, it allaieth pains of the eyes; being mixed with oil of Roses and Vinegar, it easeth the headache; being brayed and put into the nose, it stauncheth the bleeding thereof. The distilled water of it, infused into an equal portion of wine and Rose water, is sovereign for the pain in the eyes.  
Parsley is ordinary and common in all gardens, and the use thereof great and very 
Of Parsley.  commodious for the mouth and stomach. Neither is there any herb more used in meats, and in sauces. But it hath many properties in physic, for which it is much to be commended. For the decoction of the leaves or roots thereof openeth the passage of urine, and purgeth out gravel that hath long lain in the urine conduits: it easeth the colic & pains in the rains, being used in manner of fomentation upon the grieved parts. The seed thereof is yet of greater virtue in the foresaid effects: it serveth (being drunk) against venom of serpents, and driveth out ventosities. The often usage of parsley doth takeaway stinking of breath, being applied in a cataplasm with crumbs of white bread it healeth tetters, assuageth the swelling of the dugs, & for women in child bed doth diminish their milk. There is also another kind of parsley called marsh parsley, commonly named (broad smallage) which hath as much or more efficacy in physic then the other: especially the seed thereof, which hath most singular uses. Which being sharp with great bitterness, is hot in operation, with a piercing virtue. Wherhfore it is good for wring in the belly, windines of stomach, and for the colic: it is singular in drink, for pains in the sides, in the rains, and in the bladder.  
fennel doth also consist of two sorts, one is of set fennel, and the other wild fennel. 
Of fennel.  Garden or set fennel is very pleasant in taste, for the savoury sweetness thereof, and is profitable being used in physic. The decoction of the leaves serve greatly for pains in the reins being drunk, and provoketh. The herb of fennel eaten, or the seed sodden with barley water doth make very much milk come into women's breasts. The root brayed and applied with honey, healeth the biting of dogs. The seed is excellent to suppress wind, being taken after meals, though it be of hard digestion, and doth but badly nourish the body. But fennel is most principally good, both the leaves and seed thereof, to clear the sight, and therefore some press out the juice of the leaves, and tender stalks, which they preserve & keep for this purpose. And they do also distil the water thereof for the same use. In the western part of Spain the fennel yieldeth a liquor like unto gum, which is of greater efficacy than the juice thereof in medicines for the eyes. Wild fennel is sharper in taste, hath greater leaves, and groweth higher, than garden fennel. The root thereof hath a good sent, and being taken in drink doth profit them much that hardly make water: it is good against bites of serpents, breaketh the stone, and healeth the jaundice, which the seed thereof doth likewise. Now (ACHITOB) do you proceed in talk concerning simples.   

Of Rosemary, Camomile, the Lily, Balm of grass or dog's tooth, and of pimpernel. Chap. 76.  ACHITOB. 
IT would be very hard to find out in one plant only more virtues and and properties, than they who have traveled to publish the science of simples, have attributed to rosemary, and yet it seemeth to many that it is fit for nothing but to make garlands and nosegays, and being so very common, is not esteemed to be of great efficacy. Indeed it is a very ordinary plant; and in Provence it groweth to such greatness, that the people use it for fire fuel like other wood: and the stock is of such compass, that they make tables and haps thereof: Yet all this lets not, but it may be of admirable virtue. For it is very good against cold diseases of the stomach, against the colic, and casting up of meat, by eating it either in bread, or drinking it in powder 
Of Rosemary, and the admirable property thereof.  with pure wine. It is profitable for such as are diseased in the liver or spleen: for it doth not only heat, purify and open, but through the restringent virtue thereof it doth also fortify. It is very good against all rheums, and all cold maladies, against the falling evil, numbness of members, the Lethargy and Palsy. It is good to wash the head, and for fomentations of the joints. It doth sharpen the sight, sweaten the breath, and being boiled in vinegar and hard wine, it stayeth the rheums that fall into the teeth and gums, if the mouth be washed with this decoction hot. The powder thereof dried doth consolidate green wounds, if they be washed before with wine wherein Rosemary hath been sodden, and then the powder be strewed on afterwards. The flowers thereof confected in sugar, are good for all things aforesaid, particularly against cold passions of the heart, against maladies of the breast, and against the plague. The decoction of rosemary made in water, and taken in drink doth heal the jaundice. So likewise doth the seed being drunk with pepper and white wine. In the plague time it is good to perfume the house with this plant, for the fume thereof driveth away all airs.  
camomile also groweth abundantly amongst corn, and in the fields, bearing yellow 
Of Camomile.  flowers environed with whitish leaves, and is of a strong savour. But to mollify, resolve, ratify, and loosen, this plant is of singular operation: And in this respect no medicine is better for weary folks then a bath of cammomell. The leaves beaten, and put into white wine make a profitable drink, to heal quotidion and quarton agues: the decoction thereof drunk healeth pains in the side: and so doth the water distilled of the flowers being gathered without leaves, beaten in a mortar, and form with oil into trochisks, aftherwards desolued again in oil, if they be therewith rubbed and chafed, which are troubled with fevers, from the crown of the head to the foot, and that they presently go into bed to sweat, they shall be helped, because of the abundant heat that goeth out of their body. Camomile is especially good to dissolve fevers that are without inflammation of any chief in trail, principally those which proceed from choleric humours and thickness of the skin. Being taken in drink, or the fume thereof received in at the fundament, it is a great help to void urine and gravel.  
The lily is likewise very worthy of consideration. It beareth long leaves, ever green, 
Of the Lilly.  smooth, and juice; it hath a stalk of two cubits high, round, strait, even, thick, and strong all clad with leaves from the bottom to the top. At the top of the stalk grow three or four little branches, out of which issue small long heads of the colour of the herb, which in time become fair Lilies of exquisite whiteness, crossed on the outside, and the ends turned outwards round about. At the bottom of the flower grow certain yellow stalks, as it were dusty on the upper side, of the fashion of tongues, out of the midsts of which groweth one long one, having a round head of the colour of the herb. There is no flower so high, and it surpasseth in beauty all other whiteness. Now for the virtue of this plant. The leaves thereof are good being applied against the biting of serpents; being boiled they heal burnings, and confected in vinegar, are good for wounds: water distilled of the flowers, are profible for women that are delivered of child with great difficulty, and voideth out the after burden, being mixed with safforne, and Cinnamon. The oil drawn out of those flowers is good against all cold diseases of the sinews, as cramps, and palsies, and to mollify all stiffness in the joints, and all hard-swollen kernels. Lilies long time sleeped in oil, being applied hot, do ripen hot imposlumes without pain, and do break them, especially such as are in the joints. And the body of the roots hath the same property. For being boiled, and brayed with honey they heal cut and lame sinews, cleanse the head of scabs, and clarify the visage, and make it smooth. The seed of Lilies also taken in drink, serveth against the bites of serpents. And the water that is distilled of the flowers in a limbeck doth take wrinkles out of women's faces, and doth beautify them very much.  
Balm is a very odoriferous plant, and smelleth much like a Citron: the stalk and leave 
Of Balm.  thereof are somewhat rough, and many stalks issue out of the root. The property of it is to rejoice the heart, to comfort cold and moist stomachs, to help digestion, to evacuate the stops of the conduits of the brain, to heal feebleness and faintness of heart, to fortify it being weak, especially if the weakness be such that it oftentimes breaketh once sleep in the night: moreover this herb stayeth the panting of the heart, driveth away cares and sad imaginations which proceed either from the melancholy humour, or from phlegm combust. It hath also a laxative virtue, not so feeble, but that it cleanseth and purgeth the spirits, and blood of the heart and arteries, from all melancholy vapours: which cannot do to the other parts of the body. The leaves thereof taken in drink, or outwardly applied, are good against stingings of Tarantula, of Scorpions, and against the bitting of dogs: and it is good to bathe such wounds with the decoction thereof. Being mixed with salt, they are profitable against the King's evil, and mundify ulcers: and being applied, do assuage the pain of gouts. They are used in clysters against the flux. Also the leaves taken in drink with Niter, are very good for them that are stopped by eating toad stools, or mushrums: and in loch for them that are troubled with shrinking up of the belly, and breath with such difficulty, that they cannot do it except they stand upright.  
Grass, or Dogs-tooth is one of the commonest herbs in the field, yea even in lean grounds. The branches thereof lie along upon the earth, and are full of knots, out of 
Of Dogs-tooth.  which, and out of the top it often sendeth new roots. The leaves are very small and pointed it is marvelous in property. For the decoction thereof taken in drink, healeth wring in the belly, and hard making of water, and breaketh the stone and gravel in the bladder. The root brayed and applied, searcheth wounds. And the juice of the decoction thereof may be used to the same effect: which the herb also doth, being beaten, and keepeth wounds from all inflammation: if to the decoction thereof be put a little wine, or honey, and the third part of so much Pepper, Mirth, and frankincense, and be made to boil afterwards again in some copper vessel; it is a singular remedy for the toothache, and the rheum which falleth into the eyes, Grass also that hath seven spaces betwixt the knots, is very good for the headache being bound about it. It likewise stauncheth bleeding at nose. The seed thereof doth greatly provoke urine, and bindeth the belly, and stateth vomiting. It is special good against biting of Dragons. There is found in some places of Germany a certain kind of grass, which is tilled with as great care, as other corn, or pulse, because the people useth the seed thereof in their meats, which seed they call (Mama) and they seethe it in pottage with fat meat, and find it as good as Rice. It is smaller than millet, and very white. But it must be beaten in a mortar, to unhuske it.  
There are three sorts of pimpernel. One groweth very great, and hath a long root, the leaves are couched round upon the earth, being cut and indented about: the stalk is 
Of Pimpernel.  square, the flowers thick in bunches, small and whitish. The next sort is little, and hath a read stalk; the leaves small, not so much cut, and thinner dented. The third kind is the most common, which is often eaten in salads, and set in gardens. The root of the two first kinds (wherein all their virtue lieth) is very good for pains in the reins, and bladder, which are caused by the stone. For it cleareth the reins of gravel, and driveth forth long kept urine. The juice also of this root being drunk with wine, is singular against all poisons, and bites of venomous beasts. For which cause some esteem much of this root, to be used against the plague. The third kind of pimpernel is different in virtue from the former, although they be very like in form of leaves. For it is more restringent in taste and very nourishing; for which cause it may be thought to be of a binding nature. Wherefore it stayeth the Dysenteria and other fluxes, and the vomiting of choleric humours. It healeth wounds and ulcers, and it is of special use in ointments that are made for wounds in the head, and for cankers. Some physicians have much commended it in the cure of pestilent and contagious fevers: affirming also that the often usage thereof is a sovereign preservative against dangerous diseases. Now (ASER) do you proceed in this our treatise concerning simples.   

Of Night shade, Alkakeng, Pellitory of the wall, fumitory, Angelica, and of Maiden's hair. Chapter. 77.  ASER. 
IT is wonderful to rehearse the virtues and properties, which many affirm to us in their writings to consist in the Solanum, whereof the Ancients made four kinds. But I will here make mention of two only, which are very common, sith that the restare seldom found or never. The first kind is called Night shade, which 
Of nightshade and the properties thereof.  is a small little herb, having many pits in the stalk thereof; out of which grow black leaves like to those of basil, but a little greater. It beareth white flowers, yellow in the midsts, in fashion of a star. The fruit thereof is round, hanging in clusters, full of a winie juice, no less than juniper seed, wherein a small white grain is enclosed: this fruit is of divers colours; for in some plants it is black, in others yellow, and in some inclining towards a green. Concerning the property of this plant, the juice of the fruit thereof, as likewise of the leaves mixed with oil of Roses, and a little vinegar, is singular against the headache, when it is caused by heat. It is good for such as are frantic, if one sleep linen clotheses therein, and lay them to the forepart of their head. In like sort may they be applied to the forehead against hot rheums that fall down into the eyes. It is good also to gargoyle it against inflammations of the throat, and falling of the palate. It is put in ointments to heal sore and grievous ulcers. The leaves thereof beaten with salt, and laid on a plaster, break impostumes that grow behind the ears. In brief, when need is to refresh, to dry up, or to restrain, night shade is very convenient.  
Now for the other kind of Solanum, commonly called Alkakeng, it hath leaves like unto Nightshade, but broader, stronger, somewhat sharp, and not so black: the stalk thereof is suppling, which being grown up inclineth towards the ground. The flowers are 
Of Alkakeng and the virtue thereof.  white, cut of which rise little bladders as big as a nut. and grow sharp: they are composed of right sides, of equal distance one from another. And they are first green, and being ripe, read: within them they contain fruit one grain in each of them, being fastened to the bottom of the bladder, like to the seed of a read grape, both sharp and bitter and full of a great number of small white grains within. In this fruit also is great virtue, not only to provoke urine, but also to alloy the burning heat thereof. For the juice of it being drunk with the juice of white poppy, or of the seed of Melons, or of Gourds, or with the decoction of Mallows, or with barley water, is marvelous singular for the scorching heat of urine. And this plant is so contrary to adders, that laying the root thereof near unto them, they are suddenly surprised with so great sleep, that they die therewith. The fruit thereof steeped in new wine is very good being laid on the eye lids. Some put it in a vessel together with ripe grapes, which they suffer to boil for certain days together, out of which they extract a very profitable wine, for such as are troubled with gravel: evacuating the gravel marvelously well, and cleansing the reins being drunk to the weight of four ounces. And the same fruit taken in the drink healeth the jaundice.  
Pellitory is an herb very well known, and hath many great properties, the leaves 
Of pellitory.  thereof are rough, the stalk radde, about which are bitter grains, which are fit to lay amongst apparel. This plant hath the virtue to refresh and bind, for which cause it is singular good to heal green wounds. For if it be laid upon a wound (being half beaten and very fresh) and be not taken off for three days together, there shall be no need to use any other medicine. The weight of three ounces of the juice thereof being drunk, is marvelous good to free urine that hath long been holden: and the herb heated upon a tile, and sprinkled with Malmsey, and applied to the forehead, is very good for such as are troubled with gravel, and cannot make water. The juice thereof held within the mouth healeth the toothache. The distilled water thereof cleanseth and clarifieth the visage: the leaves being applied, heal burnings, swellings, and inflammations, being fried with fresh butter; or capon's grease, and laid in a manner of a serge-cloth upon the belly, they ease colic. A cataplasm also made of green pellitory beaten with crumbs of bread, and oil of roses or cammomell, resolveth impostumes which grow in the dugs. And being mixed with goats grease, or kids grease, it is good for gouts and falls. The juice likewise mixed in like quantity of white wine, and oil of sweet almonds being newly made, alayeth the pains and torments of the stone, and dropped into the ears with the oil of roses, it healeth the pain of them. Some minister them to gargoyle for inflammation in the throat. And some give them for an old cough. It is seen by experience that this herb is abstersive, in so much as it is very good to expel worms.  
Fumitory is an herb much branched and tender, having very small leaves growing 
Of Fumitory  here and there, of a white ashy colour, and in great number upon every side. The flowers thereof is purple. This plant is one of the most gentle medicines, and lest annoying, that may be amongst laxative remedies. But it is every where so common that none esteem of it. It is not only laxative, but doth also fortify the inferior members, bindeth their veins which are too lose; as also those of the stomach, and of the liver, and healeth fevers that proceed by choler, or through stops. It evacuateth the choleric humour very much in urine: the seed thereof is bitter and somewhat sharp: and it is somewhat more hot, than the herb that is temperate: so that the whole plant is purifying, penetrative, opening and laxative. And because of the cold and styptic quality thereof it bindeth, restraineth and fortifieth. It doth gently loosen the belly, it purgeth choler and burning humours. Wherhfore it is good against the meazels, against cankers, and all infections of the akin, and other maladies which do proceed from oppilations: the juice thereof cleareth the sight, and causeth tears to issue even as smoke of fume doth, whereof it seemeth to have taken name.  
Angelica is a most excellent plant, and very worthy to be here described. It is above a cubit in height, it produceth a knotty stalk, crested, and full of pits, the leaves thereof are 
Of Angelica.  long, and indented round about, the flowers white growing in bunches out of which springeth a little grain, and smooth like a lentil, The root is as thick as a reddish, divided into many branches, sharp in taste, and sweet in smell. Also there are sundry sorts thereof: for one kind is set in gardens, another sort is wild, and another groweth in watery places. All this plant is hot and dry in the second degree full, or to the beginning of the third: Wherhfore it is opening, attenuating, and resolving. It is singular against poisons: so that taken in drink, or often chewed, it preserveth from the plague; being taken alone, it attenuateth phlegmatic and clammy humours. And so doth the decoction of the root thereof, which doth readily heal the cough that comes through cold: for it causeth one to spit out and void all clammy phlegm. The same decoction received in wine or water, healeth ulcers in the interior members, dissolveth clotted blood, and fortifieth the stomach. The root beaten to powder is sovereign against fainting of the heart and other passions thereof. It is singular against bites of mad and venomous beasts; being laid thereupon with Rue, or taken inwardly: for which cause many of our modern physicians employ it in their counterpoisons and preservatives. There is given half a dram of the root, with a dram of treacle, and the distilled water hereof, to such as have the plague, who are constrained to sweated; and seven hours after to resume this drink: and by this only counterpoison some have been helped. This root chewed, and put into hollow teeth assuageth the pain of them. It also sweeteneth the breath. Whosoever shall hold a little piece thereof in his mouth, or in the morning drink two spoonfuls of wine wherein it hath been steeped, he shall not easily be infected with evil air all day after. The leaves thereof with the leaves of Rue and honey, applied in a cataplasm, heal the bites of mad dogs, and stingings of serpents. And being laid upon his head that is sick of an ague, it attracteth to itself much of the heat of the ague.  
Maidenhair also is a very exquisite plant, much like unto fern, but with smaller leaves, 
Of Maidenhair.  set in order here and there one over against another, in fine small branches, sharp in taste, black and shining. It is temperate in heat and coldness; and therefore it drieth, purifieth, & resolveth: It is good to 'cause one to spit and voided out of the breast and lungs, all gross and clammy humours. It stayeth the flux of the belly, resolveth the king's evil, and other tumours, and being taken in drink is singular for hardness of water, when one can make it but drop by drop, and it breaketh the stone. The decoction also thereof is good for them that draw their breath with pain, and is profitable for the spleen, and against the the jaundice. And the herb thereof being laid upon the bites of serpents, is a singular remedy therefore. To open also the infusion thereof made in parsley water, or in endive water, or in broth of black chich pease, or in a little goat's milk, is very good: & adding sugar thereto, it healeth inflammations of the side, and doth greatly provoke urine. Briefly all the virtues that Physicians attribute to Venus' hairs called commonly (Capilli Veneris) agreed with Maiden hair. Now (AMANA) let us hear you choose out other plants for the subject of your discourse.   

Of rhubarb, liquorice, Aloes, Seine, Saffron and century. Chapter 78.  AMANA. 
Sigh that it is not our purpose to writ an entire History concerning simples, but only to consider of the most excellent in their effects, me seemeth that it is sufficient for us (so to make way to another matter) to add to our precedent discourses, that which I intent now to speak concerning some singular plants: amongst which I prefer rhubarb to the first place, which is very plentiful in all India. The leaves of it are commonly two foot long, broad above, and so growing narrower towards the stalk, having a certain cotton or (at it were) hair round about it, as is commonly 
Of Rheubard, and the excellent virtue thereof.  seen in the herb called in French Bovillon blane.) The stalk thereof is but a foot. high, or little more, and is all green like the leaves. In the middle thereof groweth out a very small branch, having certain flowers about it that enuir on it, which are like unto purple violets save in colour only, which is different being white and blue, of sharp smell, and very unpleasant to their nose that smell thereat. The root is very deep in the ground, of a foot and an half long, and as thick as a man's arm, some more, some less; and out of it there do many small ones sprout, which (before the great one be cut) are digged up with the principal, to the end that it may more easily be cleft in pieces. It is on the out side of an ashy colour, and full of yellowish juice, while it is fresh and green, and so clammy, that in touching thereof it causeth the fingers to stick together. Now this root is an excellent medicine, gentle, and without danger, wherein many singularities requisite in a laxative simple are comprised. And rhubarb is best while it is green, of a blackish colour, some what inclining to a red, and heavy, although it be of a rare body, and which being broken, is mixed with radde and sky colour within: and being chewed waxeth as yellow as Saffron. Besides it purgeth choler and phlegm: it cleanseth and fortifieth the stomach and liver, and healeth the pains and prickings of them. It clarifieth the blood, openeth and healeth all maladies that proceed of stops, as the jaundice, the dropsy, smelling of the spleen, and long fevers. It is good against spitting of blood, and stauncheth it, out of what part soever it run. And it may be taken at all times without danger, and in all ages, yea it may be ministered to little children, and to great bellied women: although the vulgar people think otherwise, supposing that rhubarb is a very violent medicine, and that Physicians use it but in half despaired maladies: which is not so.  
liquorice is very worthy to be numbered amongst the most excellent Physic plants. 
Of liquorice.  And thereof are two kinds, one bearing fruit, and the other not: that which beareth fruit groweth abundantly in Germany, and in the territory of Bamberg and other places. And it is a very branchy plant, of two cubits high, being thick of leaves, and fat in manner of gum: the flowers thereof are like an Hyacinth: the fruit thereof great like plantine berries, and more rough and hairy, enclosed within little cod, like those of lentils, hairy also and full of small prickles, of yellow colour inclining to a black. The other kind of liquorice is very well known, and groweth of itself in many places. In virtue it is abstersive, cleansing, and al●ieth the bitterness of humours: and therefore it is very good for heat of the urine. Being chewed, especially whilst it it fresh, it stauncheth hunger and thirst, and retaineth that virtue for many days. And the juice thereof being made thick and held in the mouth, till it melt of itself, hath the same effect. It is good for the breast and lungs; and is therefore ministered to those who have short breath, or are in a consumption or pleurisy. The juice assuageth the prickings, not only of the artery of the lungs but of the bladder also: and doth excellently staunch thirst, as being tempered with moisture, and colder than our nature. And it is to be noted, that the root wherein lie all these properties is much better being fresh taken out of the ground, then when it is dry, and is more pleasant in taste being employed in medicines.  
The Aloe is a plant, which is feenegreene in many towns in Italy, in windows, and galleries: 
Of Aloes.  it is kept in pots full of earth, more for pleasure to content the eye, then for use in medicine. But the liquor and juice that is pressed out of it and brought to us, is extracted out of the Aloe that groweth in the lower Syria, and Arabia, and in the Indieses, where the best is. This plant hath thick and fat leaves, with certain little prickles here and there on all sides. The root thereof is fat and oily, bearing a white flower, out of which groweth a little grain, like that of Smallage. In the thick juice thereof prepared for medicine there is found gravel and earth, which is nothing but the settlings of pure Aloes, but the good is pure and clean, not sophisticate, without gravel, or little stones, reddish, brittle, of a good smell, close like a liver, & very much inclining to the colour thereof, easily melting, and very bitter, that which is black, and hard to break is worth nothing. The Aloe is profitable for many things because of the dryness thereof without any sharpness. It purgeth choler and phlegm, the head, and stomach, and is very good for pains in those parts, it quickeneth all the senses, openeth the liver, and healeth the jaundice. It killeth worms in the belly, being incorporated with ox gall, and vinegar, and laid upon the navel. Some apply the powder thereof to wounds to search them; it healeth ulcers, and stayeth them. It appeaseth the pain of the head, being applied to the temples, and forehead with vinegar, and oil of roses. In brief the property thereof is to restrain, to dry, to provoke sleep, to bind the body, and yet to loosen the belly.  
Seine hath leaves like liquorice, thick, fat, and in taste like beans: the stalk thereof is a cubit high, out of which issue many branches as pliable as a leathern thong. The flowers 
Of Sene.  thereof are yellow, streaked with small purple strakes; after which there grow certain cod crooked like a sickle, wherein is enclosed a black seed, inclining to green, very like to kernels in grapes. It is sowed in divers places in Florence, and prospereth very well, especially in the territory of the city of Florence; but the best is brought from Alexandria in Egypt, and out of Syria. It purgeth without any annoyance, choler, phlegm, and melancholy. It mundifieth the heart, the liver, the brain, the spleen, the lungs, and all parts of the body, and is profitable for all the accidents of them. It openeth the inner parts, and maintaineth a man or woman in youth, forsloweth age, and causeth joy of mind. The leaves thereof are good to wash the head with camomile; for they fortify the brain, the sinews, the sight, and the hearing. Briefly it is a good medicine in all long diseases, and such as proceed of a melancholy humour. And therefore it is very profitable for them that r●ne, and are out of their wits: likewise for ulcers over all the body, for palsies, for the head ach, falling evil. It fortifieth the heart especially, being mixed with some other ingredient fit therefore, as namely with purple violets. It is very good in the infusion or decoction thereof to add some cloves thereto, to correct a little that annoyance, which some say it doth to the stomach, and to fortify the virtue thereof. And being mixed with some infusion of roses, or laxative syrup of roses, it is an excellent purge for all evil humours. There is a siruppe made of Seine, being taken green from the plant, and mixed with infusion of roses, which is very good to that effect: and is so gentle that one many minister thereof to women with child, and to little infants, and people of all ages.  
Saffron is a common plant, and yet hath many virtues. It beareth many leaves, long, narrow, small, full, not round, hanging downwards, thick, and soft. The flower thereof is 
Of Saffron.  sky coloured, & very fair to behold. Out of the middle thereof grow certain read threads, big at the top: with which out of the same place almost, there grow other yellow ones in fashion like tongues. That Saffron is good, which dieth your hands with the colour thereof, and that smelleth somewhat sharp, and is not very brittle. In property it is good for feebleness of stomach, and faintness of heart, being taken in some small quantity, it preserveth from drunkenness, and healeth the bites of serpents, and stinging of spiders. It is restorative, the astriction thereof very much aiding thereto: which quality proceedeth from cold and earthines, although that the quality of heat exceed therein: in such sort a● in all the substance thereof, it is hot in the second degree, and dry in the first. But the smell thereof is nought for the head, and being taken too much it troubleth the spirit.  
century is likewise worthy of great consideration, because of the properties thereof in physic. There be two sorts of it, one is called great century, and the other is lesser century. 
Of Century.  The great hath leaves like a walnut tree, long, green like Colewoorts, indented about, a stalk of two or three cubits high. The flower thereof is blue, and the root very big, full of juice, sharp with astriction and sweetness. The lesser sort hath leaves like rue, a square stalk, somewhat more than a span long, the flowers thereof are read, inclining to purple; and the root is small, smooth and bitter in taste. For their properties, the virtue of great century consisteth in the root thereof, which serveth for ruptures, convulsions, difficulty in breathing, old coughs, pleurisies, and spitting of blood. It is also given to them that are sick of the dropsy, of the jaundice, and are pained in their liver, being either steeped in wine or beaten to powder, and drunk. Of the lesser, Galen hath composed an whole book, which he dedicated to his friend Papias, concerning the great and admirable virtues therein. For it purgeth choler and phlegm, for which cause the decoction thereof is good against tertian fevers; which also, and the juice thereof helpeth stops and hardness of the liver and spleen. Being drunk likewise to the weight of a dram with honey, or laid upon the navel, it avoideth worms out of the belly. The leaves of this herb, wherein, and in the flowers thereof lieth all the virtue, being applied fresh to green wounds, search them, and heals up old ulcers. But now changing our talk, let us leave physic plants, and say somewhat concerning those more excellent ones, which particularly serve for the nouriture of Man   

Of Wheat, Rye, Barley, and Oats: and of Rice, and Millet. Chapter 79.  ARAM. 
Among herbs and plants, wherewith men are fed and nourished, the chief degree is by good right assigned to Wheat, as to that grain whereof the best bread is made, which only with water, may very well suffice for the maintenance of our life: having many properties also in the use of Physic. Now according to the diversity of places wherein it groweth people do name it; and one sort differeth from another; but we will here speak of that which is most common amongst us. All Wheat hath many very small roots, but one leaf; and many buds, which may divide themselves into sundry branches. All the winter time it is an herb, but the weather waxing milder, there springeth out of the midst thereof a small stalk, which after three or four knots 
Of wheat, & of the form and fertility thereof.  or joints, beareth an ear, not by and by seen, but is hidden within a case. The stalk being made, the flower bloometh some four or five days after, and about so long endureth. That past, the grain swelleth, and ripeneth in forty days, or sooner, as the climate is in heat. The fertility of this plant is marvelous, as we behold by daily experience. For there are some places in Italy especially in the tetritory of Sienna, about the sea coasts, where there hath been seen to grow out of one only grain four and twenty ears of corn, and that one bushel of seed hath yielded an hundred. The best wheat should be hard to break, massive, weighty, of the colour of gold, clear, smooth, and kept 3. months, ripe, fair, and growing in a fat soil, to be the fit to make better bread of. And the meal also must not be too much ground, neither yet too fresh, nor too long kept before it be used, for if it be too much ground, it maketh bread as if it were of bran; that which is too fresh doth yet retain therein some heat of the millstone: and that which is kept too long will be spoiled either by dust, or by mouldines, or else will have some bad smell. Now besides the common use of wheat, the matter how to make it in drink is very notable, which drink serveth in stead of wine in those countries, where the vine cannot fructify. For there they take wheat, and sometimes barley, rye, or oats, every one apart, or else two 
Beer.  or three sorts of these grains, or else all mingled together, and steep them in fountain water, or in water of the cleanest and clearest river that may be chosen: or else for better in a decoction or wourt of hops; and this is done for so long time till the grain begin to break: then is it dried in the sun: being dry, it is beaten, or else ground; afterwards sodden in water, in which it hath first been steeped for the space of three or four hours, putting thereto a good quantity of the flowers of hops, and skimming the decoction or wourt very well: that done, it is powered out, and put in vessels for the purpose. This drink is called Beer. And they which will have it very pleasant to the taste after it is made, do cast into the vessels sugar, Cinnamon, and Cloves, and then stir it very much. Some do put cockle into the composition of beer, the more to sharpen the taste. And sith we are entered into this speech, we will here note, that wheat doth easily convert into 
Of Cockle.  cockle: chief when the weather is rainy and cold, for it cometh of corn corrupted by too much moisture, or that hath been too much wet by continual rains in winter. It springeth first out of the ground, having a long leaf, fat, and rough, with a slenderer stalk than that of wheat, at the top whereof there is a long ear, having on all sides little sharp cod or husks, out of which three or four grains grow together being covered with a very hard bark. The bread that hath much thereof in it doth dizzy and hurt the head, so that they which eat thereof do commonly fall into a sound sleep, and their head is much troubled. It annoyeth the eyes & dims the sight. Some also do make (
* As, some think wafer cakes.  Amylum) of wheat, which serveth for many things. They take very clean wheat of three months old, which they wet five times a day, and as often by night, if it be possible; being well soaked and steeped, they power the water away, not shaking it, to the end that the thick, and that which is like cream may not run out with the water. After that it is very well mollified, and the water changed, it must be sifted, that the bran which swimmeth at top thereof may be done away, and then must it be kneaded very hard together, casting fresh water still upon it. And so must it be laid in panniers or dossers to dry, and then upon new tiles to be parched in the sun, with as much speed as may be: for if it remain never so little a while moist, it waxeth sour. The best is that which is white, fresh, light and smooth. It hath power to mollify in sharp and rough things: and is good against rheums that fall into the eyes. Being taken in drink, it restraineth spitting of blood, and assuageth the soreness of the throat.  
Next after Wheat, Rye is in common use to make bread of. This plant hath many stalks smaller than those of Wheat, and blacker, as the grain is also. Meal made of Rye, is 
Of Rye.  good for plasters to draw. The decoction of the seed voideth worms out of the belly, especially if Coriander seed be mixed therewith. The straw being soaked in water, is good to bind instead of rush or broom.  
Barley is also much used every where. It beareth a bread leaf, and rougher than wheat, and hath a britler & lesser stalk of eight knots, with one only rough broad leaf upon the 
Of Barley.  stalk. The grain is lapped in a cod, which is close shut: out of the top whereof groweth a long and sharp beard. The best is that which is whitest, most full, heavy, easy to boil, not waxing mouldy. There groweth a certain kind of it in many places; the grain whereof is easily taken out of the husk or cod, and is therefore called cleansed barley. Besides, all barley drieth and cooleth, and is also abstersive. The meal thereof boiled in honeyed water with figs, resolveth all inflammations and impostumes: with rosin and pigeon's dung, it ripeneth all hard swellings: with melilot & heads of poppy; it easeth the pain of the sides: and with quinces or vinegar, it appeaseth inflammations of the gout in the feet. The ashes of burnt barley is very good for burnings being laid thereupon, and applied to flesh that cleaveth not to the bone. Conterning barley bread, besides that it lieth heavy upon the stomach, it engendereth also cold and clammy humours: it nourisheth little, causeth windines; and yet some say it is very good for them that have the gout in their feet. There is a certain kind of drink called Beer made of barley, which is commonly used instead of wine in all the north countries, to wit in Germany, Bohemia, Polonia, Flanders, & 
Of beer.  other cold countries of Europe. And if one take too much thereof, it will inebriate or make drunken as well as wine, and that for a longer time, because that beer is most gross and material, and of harder digestion than wine: whereto it is so like also in force and virtue, that Aquavitae is likewise made thereof. Next after barley oats are a grain very commodious. 
Of oats.  In leaf and stalk this grain resembleth wheat; but it beareth on the top thereof as it were little two legged grasshoppers, hanging where the grain is enclosed: which though it seem to be created of nature rather fit for beasts food, then for man: yet in Germany they oftentimes eat it in good fat flesh pottage, being boiled therein after it hath been cleansed of all filth, as is used in rice. Oats also in the use of physic do very near approach to the quality of Barley: For being applied, it drieth, and moderately resolveth. But it is a little more cold, and somewhat more restringent in temper, so that it is good for the flux in the belly, and profitable for those that have the cough.  
We may likewise consider of Rice, which the Ancients did hold to be a kind of corn. The leaf thereof is very thick, resembling that of a leek. The stalk thereof is about a cubit long, knotty, bigger than that of wheat, and stronger: on the top of it groweth 
Of Rice.  an ear parted into little branches, on both sides whereof is the grain included, in a yellow husk, rough, and having crevices on the side, of an oval figure, and being taken out of the husk it becometh white. It groweth in some places in Italy in moist ground: but it aboundeth in Asia, Syria, and Egypt. Rice is very usual in meat, and nourisheth meanly, but it is made of more easy digestion, and of better taste being sod in cows milk, almond milk, or fat flesh pottage. It is very good to give to such as have the lax, and colic. The flower thereof is good in repercussive plasters. It stayeth inflammations that rise in the dogs. The decoction of Rice also is very profitable in clysters, against laxes or fluxes, and in drink likewise. Now to end this talk, we will say something concerning Millet, for it hath many propertierties both in food and physic. This plant bears leaves like those of a reed 
Of Milk.  having a stalk of a cubit long, thick, knotty, and rough. At the top thereof do hung certain hairy heads, in which the grain groweth in great abundance, being round, massive, yellow, and lapped in a thin skin. In many places bread is made of this grain, and even at Verona it is carried hot about the streets, whereof they make much account; for it hath a sweetness very pleasant to the taste, if it be eaten a little after it is drawn out of the oven: but being hard, it is unpleasant. The common people of Trent, are nourished with Millet boiled only, eating it with milk, and it is the best food that they can get. Besides there are very good fomentations, or serge clotheses made of Millet, to dry moderately, and to drive out ventosities, especially being mixed with salt. It is happily applied against gripping in the belly caused through windiness: but it is much better yet being mingled with flowers of Camomile. It is commonly fried in a pan, and then put hot into a bag, and so laid upon the diseased parts. It hath the virtue to preserve medicines long time from moulding and putrefying, if they be buried in an heap of Millet: yea and fresh flesh is long kept thereby in hot weather. Now to finish this days discourse, it seemeth good to me (ACHITOB) that you speak of the Vine and fruit thereof, of which men make their most delicious drink.   

Of the Vine: of Grapes, of Wine, and of Aquavitae. Chapter 80.  ACHITOB. 
IT were a very superfluous to make here a long discourse concerning the Vine, and concerning the divers qualities which are found in this plant, of which we do not only receive Grapes, a most pleasant, and delicious meat) but have also that most exquisite drink which we call wine: for all the world hath so much cherished the vine, that there are few people of any condition soever, but can discourse sufficiently well of it, and of the nature thereof. We will briefly then declare that which we shall think most notable therein, and chief in the use of medicine. 
Property of the Vine.  The leaves, and tender branches thereof help the head ach, being laid thereupon, and appease inflammations and heat of the stomach. The juice of them drunk serve against Dysenterias, or fluxes, spitting of blood, weakness of stomach, and the corrupt appetite of great bellied women. The liquor of vines, which lieth thick upon the stock thereof like gum, being taken in drink with wine, purgeth gravel. The ashes of the branches & stones being mixed with vinegar, helpeth the hard bindings of the fundament, and is good against the stingings and bite of vipers, and against inflammation of the spleen, being laid thereupon with oil of Roses, Rue and vinegar.  
As grapes are the most singular first-fruits of Autumn; so also are they the most nourishing of all the fruits of summer, which are not to be kept; and they engender the best nourishment, 
Of Grapes.  especially when they be perfect ripe. But all Raisins do not nourish after one manner: for sweet ones have a more hot substance, and therefore they 'cause thirst, do swell the stomach, and loosen the belly. Contrariwise, tart ones do bind, do nourish little, & are of hard digestion. green and sour ones are nought for the stomach. And the bigger grapes are, the better they are, especially if they be gathered very ripe. They which are kept hanged up are best for nourishment, because their great moisture is dried. The fresh and very ripe grape is good for burnings, if the wine thereof be priest out betwixt ones hands upon the hurt places. The mother of the wine or grapes being kept and mixed with salt, is profitable against inflammations of the dugs & hardness of them through too much abundance of milk. The decoction thereof clisterized, serveth greatly for dysenterias or fluxes. The stones or seeds have a restringent virtue, & are profitable for the stomach. Being parched and beaten into powder, it is good to eat with meat against the flux, and weakness of stomach. Dry grapes or raisins have yet greater virtues and properties in the use of Physic, and especially they which are sweetest, and of most substance, as they of Damascus, of Cypress, and of Candia. The meat of them being eaten is good for the cough, for the throat, the reins and the bladder: being eaten with their stones, they serve against Dysenterias. Being boiled in a platter with Sugar and flower of Millet, of Barley, and an egg, they purge the brain: being reduced into a plaster, with flower of Beans and Cumin, they appease inflammations. Besides, the nourishment of Raisins is so distributed through the body according as their nature is, sweet to the sweet, sour the sow, mean to them that participate with both qualities; and the sweet, full and 
Property of dry raisins.  fat raisins do nourish more than the sharp and lean. They which are without stones, either by nature or art, if they be sweet, they are so deprived of all astriction, so that they be marvelous lenitive. And therefore are they most fit for pains of the breast, for the cough, for sore throats, for maladies in the reins and bladder, and are good for the liver.  
But we may not here forget to make mention of the fruit of the wild Vine commonly called in French (Lambrusque) because of the admirable properties thereof. The grapes of it are gathered and put to dry in the shade: they are of a restringent virtue, good for the stomach, and provoke urine: they bind the belly, and stay spitting of blood.  
Now must we speak of Wine which is made of the Raisin, and grape produced 
Of wine, and the property in thereof.  by the vine. Concerning it many affirm that it is the most sweet liquor of all others, the principal aid, and chief prop of human life, the chief restorer of the vital spirits, the most excellent strengthener of all the faculties and actions of the body, rejoicing and comforting the heart very much: and for these causes they say that the Ancients have called that plant which beareth the fruit, out of which we receive this wine (Vitis quasi Vita) life. But yet we must not deceive ourselves by so many praises attributed to wine, considering that the use thereof by the lest excess that may be, doth bring so many evils upon man, that they cannot be numbered, nor sufficiently bewailed. But being used temperately, we must confess, that it is a thing of greatest efficacy in the world, to nourish and strengthen the body. For it engendereth very pure blood, it is very quickly converted into nourishment, it helpeth to make digestion in all parts of the body, it giveth courage, purgeth the brain, refresheth the understanding, rejoiceth the heart, quickeneth the spirits, provoketh urine, driveth out ventosities, augmenteth natural heat, setneth them who are in good health, exciteth the appetite, purifieth the troubled blood, openeth stops, convaieth the nouriture throughout the wholebody, maketh good colour, and purgeth out of the body all that which is therein superfluous. But it wine be taken without great mediocrity and temperance, it doth by accident refrigerate the whole body. For the natural heat thereof by too much drink remaineth choked, even as a little fire is quenched by a heap of wood cast thereupon. Besides wine is hurtful for the brain, for the marrow of the backbone, and the sinews grow out of it. Whereby it falleth out, that this principal part being hurt, there succeed in time, great and dangerous maladies thereupon, to wit, the apoplexy, the falling evil, the palsy, shake, numbness of members, convulsions, giddiness of the head, shrinking of joints, the incubus, the catalepsia, lethargy, frenzy, rhevems, deafness blindness, and shrinking of mouth and lips. Moreover wine immoderately drunk corrupteth all good manners, and discipline of life. For this is that makes men quarrelers, wranglers, rash, incensed, furious, dice-players, adulterers, homicides, in a word addicted to all vice, and dissolution. Besides, it is to be noted, that wine is fit for old people then for them of other ages: for it moderarateth and maintaineth the cold temperature of ancient folks, which have come upon them for many years. But it should not be sufferable (if we follow the counsel of the elders) 
Of the use of Wine.  for children and young folks to drink thereof, till they attain to the age of twenty years. For otherwise it is as much as to put fire to fire. And yet if we would follow the counsel of the Sages, it should not be drunk at all, except in certain indispositions which might happen to the body, according as the use was in times passed in Greece, namely, at Athens, where wine was only sold in Apothecaries shops, as Aqua vitae now is. But above all, heed must be taken that in the great heat of the year, wine be not drunk that is cooled by snow, ice, or very cold water, as we see by great curisitie done among us. For it greatly hurteth the brain, the sinews, the breast, the 
Of Aquavitae and the manner how to distil it.  lungs, the stomach, the bowels, the spleen, liver, rains, bladder, and teeth. And therefore it is no marvel, if they which ordinarily use it, are in time tormented with the colic and pain of the Stomach: also with convulsions, palsies, apoplexies, difficulty in breathing, restrainement of urine, stops of the inward members, the dropsy, and many other great and dangerous diseases.  
It resteth for conclusion of this discourse, that we say somewhat concerning wine distilled through a Limbeck in a bath of water, which the Sages have called for the admirable virtues thereof (Water of Life.) For to make which: Take of the best wine a certain quantity according to the vessel wherein you will distil it, and that fill to the third part of the pot or body: then cover it with the head thereof very well closed, so that no vapour may issue out, set it upon the furnace over a moderate fire, in such sort that the wine boil not. And to have very good Aqua vitae, you must distil it four or five times and more: for the more it is rectified, the perfecter it will be. And in the first distillation it is sufficient to receive the tenth part of the wine put into the Limbeck: for the second the half; for the third another moiety or less: so that the oftener you distil the lesser you have, but better always. Now you may know whether Aquavitae have attained to full perfection, by these signs: [If it arise to the like quantity of water, or very near, as the liquor put in: if being lighted or set on fire it burn all always, & leave not any mark of moisture in the bottom of the vessel: if a cloth being dipped therein, & lighted, will not burn at all: if a drop of oil being cast therein sink to the bottom, and if a drop of this water spilled in the palm of your hand, do presently consume and evaporate.] Now the virtues and properties of this Aquavitae, are very many. For as it preserveth from all corruption those things which have been steeped therein, so all corruption being done away, it keepeth repaireth, maintaineth, augmenteth, and prolongeth the life of those that receive it. And it doth not only preserve the natural heat, and maintain it in ugour, but it also regenerateth the vital spirit; quickeneth and warmeth the stomach, sharpeneth the brain and understanding, cleareth the sight, repaireth the memory, especially if they use it, who are of a cold tempes, being subject to rawness of stomach, windines, and other cold malidies. Thus then have we declared enough concerning the plants and first-fruits which the earth produceth for the commodiditie of man. Wherhfore, we will tomorrow consider of the diversity of terrestrial creatures created to the same end, that we may be the more induced to glorify him, from whom we receive all these benefits.  
The end of the tenth days work.    

The eleventh days work.  

Of terrestrial beasts, and especially of Serpents: namely of the Aspis or Adder, and of the Viper. Chapter 81.  ASER. 
BEing this day to discourse concerning living creatures of the Earth, so much as the subject of our speech doth require for the accomplishment of our work. It behoveth us to consider that the terrestrial beasts, being as it were innumerable in the species, yet they consist of two principal kinds: to wit, of Insect, and of perfect beasts. They of the first kind are called of the Latins by this word (Insecta) because of the incisions which appear upon their bodies, retaining life in that part, which we behold divided, and cut off, and they are engendered for the most part of putrefaction: but these things agreed not with perfect creatures, who take their form in the matrice. Now we will hear summarily entreat of Insect animals generally, and consequently of the most excellent of their kind, whereof some creep upon the earth, as serpents, and others fly, as flies. We are first then to note that all infect beasts are wild, and are very hardly tamed and made mild, for they have their innersenses very weak; whereas 
Of insect beasts.  such creature as are made tame and familiar, must have the faculty of imagination and good memory. Moreover, these kinds of beasts have little blood, or none at all, as Philosophers hold, who find in them a certain vital humour only, which nature hath given them instead of blood: for which cause they are naturally fearful; and fear bindreth creatures from being tamed. Likewise they have commonly but short life: and beasts, who should be made familiar, require time for that purpose. Furthermore, in this kind of Insect beasts some are engendered only of putrefaction, as flies: others of eggs, as Serpents: and also by an other manner, which is perfected in the matrice by eggs, as the viper. Now in all this kind of beasts, they are most admirable, which we have here named, to wit: serpents because of their greatness and puissant effects, and hony-flies or Bees, and silk worms also, because of their work.  
But amongst the many kinds of Serpents, the Aspis or Adder is very worthy of consideration, and much to be feared: for there are three forts, each whereof causeth him that is 
Of the Aspis,  bitten by them soon to die, except he be quickly and very well succoured. One sort is named (Ptyas) another (Chersea) both earth serpents: and the third is called (Chelidonia) which abideth about banks and rivers, and especially of Nilus. The Ptyas and Chaersa are of ashy and green colour, drawing a little to the colour of gold. But the Chelidonia hath a black back, and white belly like to swallows. And both the one and the other sort are of five cubits long in the regions of Africa. They raise up their neck when they will cast their venom; wherewith when one is attained their present remedy is speedily to cut away all that which is bitten, or else it is hard to save them from death: and yet many speak of divers remedies; and amongst others they commend very strong vinegar, advising that it should be given to the patiented to drink, even so much and for so long time till he feel the right side of his flank: for they say that the liver is first deprived of feeling in such an accident. Some use Opopanax (a drug extracted out of Panaces Heracleum) which is given to drink in wine mixed with water, to 'cause them vomit the venom already spread throughout the whole body. And after such vomiting they must take very good treacle in drink, and apply it also upon the biting. Mattheolus describeth a quintessence, composed of Aqua vitae, and some simples, and aromatical drugs, which is an excellent remedy of great efficacy, when such accidents happen. For indeed it is most certain that 
In discor. lib. 6.  waters artificially composed, and ingeniously distilled, consisting of most subtle parts, are in a moment dispersed throughout all the veins and arteries, and every part of the whole body. And therefore they 'cause, that the blood and spirits wax not cold, and do not cougeale in those vessels which contain them, whereby also the natural heat coming to augment itself, doth strongly resist the force of the venom, and doth presently surmount it.  
The Viper also is a kind of serpent, it hath a flat head, and broad near to the joint of the neck, which is naturally small, it hath a quick eye, and a nail in the nostril thereof 
Of the viper.  having all the rest of the body short, with the tail also, and is of a pale colour. Her pace and motion is very quick, and she beareth her head aloft, she differeth from other serpents, in that they lay but eggs, and she bringeth forth her young ones alive, which before they come forth do so gnaw and eat her belly, that she liveth not long after. And although the viper be very venomous, yet is her flesh very good for the composition of treacle, yea though her venom remain with her after death. Moreover, the biting of the viper is as much, or more dangerous than that of the Aspis: for they who are hurt die within seven hours after, except they be well succoured, and at farthest within three days, except they be helped by excellent remedies; of which, amongst others, this is good: cleave a chicken in two, and lay the inside of her hot upon the wound, and do oftentimes reiterate this order, scarifying the flesh round about the biting, and applying divers times cupping glasses thereto. After which, you must give the patiented of the juice of ash tree leaves to drink, and lay the same leaves upon the wound, or else cammomil brayed, or a plaster made of barley meal, and honeyed vinegar. Some use briar taken in drink with wine, or the juice of balm, leaves drunk also with wine. Some say also that the viper being flayed, her tail and head cut off, and her entrails drawn out and cast away, afterwards sod like an Eel, and eaten by him that hath been bitten, doth greatly aid him to obtain health. As Treacle also being chief made of viper's flesh, eaten, and applied to, is a singular remedy in such accidents.  
I could here discourse of many other kinds of Serpents: but it is not our intent to represent a perfect history of living things, considering that many authors have written thereof for our learning. Wherhfore we will content ourselves only to add to that which we have said concerning Serpents, how that Pliny hath noted, that in the Indieses there are so great, and such prodigious ones, that they will swallow an Hart, or a Bull all whole, and 
Hist. not lib. 8. c. 14.  that in the days of Attilius Regulus General of the Romans, in time of the wars against the Carthagenians, there was seen a Serpent in Africa of an hundred and twenty foot long, near of the flood of Bagrada, which was assailed with engines of war, and all manner of weapons, in such sort as if they had determined to give assault to some strong city: that in the reign also of the Emperor Claudius, there was a serpent killed, named (Boam) which was found in mount Vatican, that had a child found whole in her belly. This author doth make mention of a certain town in Italy called Amycla, which had been abandoned 
Lib 3 c 5. Lib. 10. c. 74.  and left desolate of the inhabitants, by reason of Serpents that chased them away. But this is most admirable which he reporteth, that Spiders seeing a Serpent laid along under a tree where they have woven their cobwebs, will run directly down by a thread upon the head of the Serpent, and will pierce him so to the quick of the brain, that they will constrain the serpent to hiss and gnash his teeth, to tumble and torment himself, without ever being able to get away, or break the spider's thread: in such sort that he shall still remain there. He saith also that a Locust will kill a serpent, in wring him hard by the throat, and ●ill not loosen till such time as he be through dead. But who will 
Lib 11 c. 29. Lib. 16. c. 13.  not greatly wonder at that which the same author testifieth to have seen by experience that a serpent enclosed and environed with ash leaves on the one side, and fire one the other, he should rather choose to cast himself into the fire, then to save himself through the ash leaves? So much is this tree contrary to serpents, that even sly the shadow thereof both at morning and even; and indeed to drink the juice of the leaves thereof, and to lay the same leaves upon the wound, is sovereign remedy against all their bites. Whereupon Pliny taket a occasion to note, how that nature doth herein show herself a very benign and provide it mother towards men, in that the ash should always bud before serpents should creep out of the earth, and that these trees should still be green, till such time as serpents should have withdrawn themselves. Now let us speak of the other kinds of Infects chosen by us, as the most excellent, to wit (Bees and silkworms) concerning which (AMANA.) let us hear you discourse.   

Of Bees, and of their honey and wax, and Silkworms. Chapter 82.  AMANA. 
MAny grave authors have not disdained, diligently to search out, and curiously to describe the history of Bees, being chief moved thereunto through the admiration of their cunning in composing two so excellent commodities as are honey and wax: we will here then deliver that which we esteem to be most worthy of note in their writings. First Bees are rustic and wild; or tame and familiar. And the wild are more il favoured to behold, more fierce and nought. Of the tame there are two kinds. One kind are round and short, and of divers colours, and these are 
Of Bees.  the best. The other are long and like to wasps, and the worst of these are rough and hairy. All of them hate stinks and infections, and fly from them, for which cause they never sting such as are perfumed with sweet odours. They never fly against the light, nor upon any flesh, nor to blood, nor to any fat thing, but do only seek out leaves and flowers, which have an odoriferous juice. They delight it harmonious sounds and noises, whereby it cometh, that being scattered, they are assembled together, by the sound of a basin, or of some little bells, or by clapping the hands gently together. They use great policy amongst themselves, and there it no swarm but hath a king and captain, which is bigger than all the other Bees, and hath short wings, strait legs, a braver march than all the rest with spot in his fore head, serveth as a Diadem or crown, and is in every part more slick, smooth, and fair then all the rest. When he goeth any whither, the whole troube followeth, encompassing and guarding him, not permitting that he be easily seen. And whilst all are at work, the king goeth from place to place cheering them, and he himself doth nothing else. He never cometh forth except when the whole troop goeth into the fields: which may be known certain days before by the noise which the Bees make within their hives, attending for some fair day to part in. If the king lose a wing, the troop doth not forsake him: for always every one of them desireth to be near him, and to do him service. And if he be weary they help him on their shoulders: if tired, they carry him: and in what place soever he resteth, all the swarm encampeth: If perhaps they lose him, they establish a new king of the race of the former, having divers elected and known among them to succeed those that fail. For the rest of their government, their wit is no less admirable than their work, as is recorded to have been observed by Aristomachus Solensis, who delighted himself for 58. year together to nourish diligently these little animals, so much he loved them, never applying himself to any other thing. By which kind of means it was known that in the day time the Bees ward, and watch at the gate as in a camp, and rest in the night till such time as one amongst them being as sentinel, wakeneth them with two or three sounds as it were of a trumpet. Than all of them assemble to see if it be fair weather: for they can judge of the winds, and of the rain, and in foul weather they budge not: but if the weather be fair and calm, all go to work. Some bring in their feet, that which they have drawn out of flowers: others, bear water in their mouth: and some again helping them with a small hair do lad themselves with a drop of water over all their body. The younger sort go forth to do these things, and the older travel within the hives, where their offices are appointed them. For some build, others polish; this brings in matter, that victuals; another water, and all of them have all things common, and observe equality in meat and work. They watch who are idle, and chastise and punish them even sometimes by death. First they make their combs and wax, whereof they build their lodgings. After they be lodged, they consider how to multiply themselves, and last of all they make their honey. And they have this witty industry, to mix in the matter, wherewith they first besmeate or overcast their hives, the juice of the most bitter herbs they can find, to the end to put such small beasts or flies out of taste that would suck thereof; even as if they had been informed, that their work was sought after. In brief all their manner of life, order and policy is every way admirable.  
But what may we say particularly concerning their honey and wax, the use whereof is so commodious and profitable to man? It is certain that these industrious creatures know 
Of Hony.  how to choose and gather a kind of dew, which falleth from heaven (at the rising of certain stars, especially in the dog days) upon the leaves of plants, whereof they make honey. And the best is that which is of a deep yellow colour, and hath a pleasant smell, being pure and neat, shining every where, and sweet in taste, being also of a mean substance between liquid, and thick. In virtue it hath the property to hinder corruption, and rottenness: and therefore some make gargarisms thereof to cleanse and mundify the ulcers of the mouth. It preserveth life especially in those that are of cold complextion: so we behold that the Bee, which is a feeble, and tender creature liveth nine or ten years, because she is nourished by honey. It is abstersive, opening, and attracteth humours. Being in time applied to any part of the body which is bruised by some blow, or fall, it is a singular remedy to heal any such bruise; if so be the skin be not broken. And the wax (which is made of the combs taken out of hives, after that they have been well pressed, and that all the 
Of Wax.  honey hath been drained out) is likewise of singular utility for men. The best should be very yellow, sweet, fat, light, pure, close, even, neat, and cleansed from all filth. It is of mean quality betwixt hot, cold, moist, and dry things, and is of a gross and clammy substance: retaining an hot and resolutive virtue, which also aboundeth in honey. It is ministered in drink against Dysenterias: but above all it is profitable in the composition of ointments, which are made for wounds.  
Now let us speak of Silkworms, which next to Bees merit most admiration amongst all insect beasts. This worm is first bred of another worm of the same kind which hath 
Of Silkworms.  horns, for thereof cometh a snail, which afterwards produceth the silk worm called Bombyx, and by some Necydalus, which is like to a butterfly; and layeth eggs through the copulation of the male and female; out of which eggs in the end those worms creep who by so marvelous industry do make us our silk, that in a short time is drawn out of their mouth by a small thread, which afterward is woven with such wondrous art, that therein is nothing broken, false, or uneven, but every whit perfect from the beginning to the end of every bottom or clue, being one fastened to another. And that which maketh their labour seem more wondrous, is, that these creatures are without flesh, blood, or bones; without veins, sinews or arteries; without scales, or any entrails: as also outwardly they are seen to be without teeth, nails, prickles, or bristles, hair, eyes, or ears: and yet in less than forty days, how small soever they be when they are engendered, they become thick and great; having the benefit of eating, & sleep, and they cast their skin four times. And then their bodies beginneth to glister, oftentimes showing the skein of silk which is in their belly, which if they must make white, they have their head as white as silver: if the silk must be yellow, their head will be like gold: if green, or tawny, their head will bear the sign thereof. Than do they seek where to fasten it, and so weave their silk in order, till such time as they have performed their work; which doth not only serve for clothing for men, but for a singular remedy also to comfort a sick heart, to rejoice it, to recreate sad, and melancholy spirits, as we may acknowledge by that excellent confection called of Physicians (Alkermes) which for the most part compounded of the decoction and infusion of silk in the juice of kermes, being drunk is a sovereign medicine against faintness and syncopes. But having already said enough concerning Insect beasts, for the subject of our discourse, we will consequently speak of some perfect beasts, according as we shall make choice of, as of the most worthiest to enrich our present work, to the end, as we have decreed that the creator may be glorified: whereof (ARAM) you must now entreat.   

Of the Dog, and of the Horse. Chapter 83.  ARAM. 
Among perfect beasts, the Dog and Horse do by good right deserve the first and chief degree, aswell because of their admirable sense, as also because of the utility, pleasure, and commodity, which they bring to man. Concerning these creatures, 
Carda. in 10. lib de subt.  then shall our present discourse entreat: and first of the dog; which (as many authors affirm) took his original from the wolf, being tamed by the industry of man. Now there are many sorts of dogs, all which we may comprehend under two kinds: the one is, of them which are to keep house, and the other to chase withal. The house dog aught to be of gross and big body, being square set, and rather short then long: his head 
Of the house dog.  great, his throat wide, thick lips, big hanging ears, his eyes blue and black, burning and sparkling, his neck thick and short, his breast large and rough, his shoulders broad, legs thick and hairy, and a short and thick tail, which is a sign of force, (for the long and small tail noteth swiftness) his paw and nails great, his barking high, big and fearful: above all vigilant and very watchful, not running here and there, but stayed, and more slow than hasty. Hunting hounds are of sundry sorts. They which are swift 
Of dogs for the chase.  are either white or brown, or grey, or black. And the white are best; for they are well wound, quick, fierce, and will not lean the chase for any heat whatsoever, neither will break off for the press of hunters, nor for the noise and cry of men, and they observe change better than any other kind of hound, and are more certain: but they fear the water somewhat, especially in winter time. If they be clean white, or spotted with red, they are the better. The brown doth second them, and are of a great courage, forward, quick and fierce, fearing neither water nor cold, but they cannot endure heat, and are not so easy to govern as the white. The grey are not so quick and furious as the rest; neither yet the black, who are commonly the biggest bodied. Yet there are good dogs of all hairs and colours, but to choose a fair and good hound indeed, these signs must be observed. His head must be meanly thick, more long then flat, his norsthrils wide and open, ears broad, and reasonable thick, crooked reins; thick loins; big and large haunches; fair thighs; the right hamme-joint well knit; the tail thick, near to the rains, and the rest small to the end: the hair under his belly rough, a thick leg, and the paw of his foot dry, and like to the paw of a fox; great nails, as high behind as before and the dog must be short and crooked, but the bitch must be long. For open nostrils declare the dog to be well wound: and crooked rains and strait hams signify quickness, the tail thick near to the rains, long and small to the end, denote strength and force in the rains, and that the hound is well breathed, hair rough under the belly declareth that he is painful, fearing neither water nor cold, a thick leg, fox's foot, and great nails, demonstrate that he is not heavy footed and that he is strong in members to run long without tiring. Besides hounds, there be grey hounds, blood hounds, water spaniels, tumblers and mongrels, all which are of divers kinds, but our meaning is not to set down an entire narration thereof, considering that it is not necessary for that purpose, which we have decreed in our discourses. Wherhfore we will content ourselves to note in general, that there is no beast of greater sense and love, nor more docible than the dog. For there be few things fit for the pleasure of man, but may be easily taught to this kind of creatures, especially in all points concerning hunting. Also histories abound with testimonies of their knowledge, and love towards those that nourish them. Pliny reporteth of a dog, which defended his master being assailed by thieves, till such time they had 
Hist. nat. lib. 8. cap. 40.  slain him: and that after his death the dog would not leave his body, but kept it both from the birds, and from other wild beasts that would have devoured it. That another dog also knowing one amongst a troop of people that had slain his master, flew upon him, and bitten him with such fury, that the murderer was constrained to confess the cause of the dog's rage, revealing his own misdeed.  
Now speak we of the horse, which of all beasts is most profitable for man, and is full of 
Of the horse.  meekness and docility. He is praised in seven and twenty conditions: of which heseemeth to take three of the woman: to wit, young age, meekness of manners and beauty: three of the lion, courage, force, and to be tall before, not bowing in the midst, nor higher before then behind: three of the Eagle, a good eye, a little head, and to bear his head straigth and a fit, three of the ox, the foot great, thighs moderately thick, and short & strong joints: three of the heart, quickens, delivernes to run and leap well, and lightness: three, of the ass, strong hooves, an hard skin, and a strong able back, three of the fox, a fair tail, agility, and a fair skin, three of the goose, to eat well and quick, and to digest it, to have full bowels, and in his pace his feet equally distant, without enterfiering, and three which are proper to himself, a quick and easy pace, liveliness, promptness, and gallantness of heart; and readiness to obey the bridle and spur without being slow therein. If then we will know when an horse is perfectly fair, we must first note 
That which is required in a fair horse.  that he have a small head, a gallant and fair forehead, dry and clean flesh, great and black eyes and standing out; short, sharp and strait ears, little, dry and thin lips, and not uneven, a wide throat, big, open, and read nostrils, his neck neither too short nor too long, but mean, lofty, not too fat and crooked like an arch and vault, with a fine curled and long main, also that he have a large breast, soft, and bearing out like that of a dove, big boned legs, but lean, & dry of flesh, strait, high, and even from the foot to the knes, thick, long, fat, sinewy, and fleshiethighes, but yet answerable to his buttocks, sides, and flanks, high heels, thick and short joints, and not close to the hoof which must be hard, high, round, black and hollow, he must also have the back short, not bunched, nor high like an asses back, but even, not too high nor too low, broad, long, great, strait and well fleshed shoulders, a smooth, strong, massive, thick, and as it were a double crupper, a short tail of bone, small, strong, long haired, which he must bear close betwixt his thighs, a large and round flank, full sides, and long above the belly, which must be round, small, and well set under the sides, that must be broad and long with a little distance from the hinder part to the joint of the haunch, and with small and equal 
How an Horse is good.  cods. Moreover, he must have to be good, a stately pace, a deliver trot, a swift gallop, a light course, a bounding and sudden leap, an assured and ready pace, quick at hand, & prompt to turn every way, to recoil back, and to run suddenly forward, not stamping or rattling with his bit, nor kicking against the spur, but conforming himself to the will of his master, without starting, or being afraid of any thing that he seethe, heareth, or feeleth, not flinging and kicking amongst other horses. In a word that horse is to be esteemed which hath a lively and courageous heart, which is obedient, gentle, deliver, quick, and well mouthed, having a good foot, and strong reins. For hair, the bay is best of all others which being of divers colours, do depend nevertheless upon these four, 
What hair is best.  bay, rushet, black, and grey. For these four colours proceed of four principal humours whereof the body of an horse is composed, and which agreed and accord with the fire, air, earth, and water. For choler which resembleth the fire engendereth the bay, blood which accordeth with the air, produceth the rushet or radish coloured. Fleame which is answerable to the water, causeth the grey, and melancholy which agreeth with the earth, begetteth the black. The bay hair then excelleth all others, as being that which beareth the sign and mark of a courageous horse, hardy in war, and most singular in justs and combats, in so much as he feareth nothing, nor looseth courage howsoever he feel himself wounded, because also he seethe not, by reason of his colour, the blood run streaming out of his body. The russet hair betokeneth a quick, hardy, and prompt horse, but not of great force, and the black is Melancholy, and unsound, and the grey is heavy, and fearful. Moreover, by how much more these colours are diversified, and mixed 
Of the commodity by Horses.  with marks, and spots; by so much is the goodness or badness of the horse greater. We may also say truly, that amongst all the beasts which God hath created for the service of man; there is not one which may compare with the Horse, either in beauty, labour, understanding, or profit, and commodity. For the Horse only, serveth for an honourable grace for man: who makes him to go at his pleasure, sometimes softly, sometimes a pace now a trot, anon a gallop, another time with swift posting speed, and sometimes he playeth with him, causing him to make many rise, and divers curvets, bounds and leaps: another time he maketh him run wheeling about in a round ring, then to bound, and rebound, and lastly to go easily forwards. And by means of this use and exercise, a man chaseth away melancholy humours, fortifieth his stomach and whole body, and augmenteth his disposition and grace, and ability: Moreover there is no journey so difficult, which he will not undertake with a good horse, knowing that he can pass any whither and save himself from the assaults of thieves, and robbers; yea and oftentimes the horse fighteth with feet and teeth for the safety of his master. But these generous beasts do especially declare their valour and courage in the cruel encounters of battles, and fights, being enticed by the the fearful noise of gunshot, by the hideous thundering of cannous, by the sounding of trumpets, and rumbling of drums: then I say when all being in confusion, it seemeth that the earth opens, that the place flies in pieces, and that hell swallows up all, in respect of the shivering of lances, clinking of armour, and the dreadful cries of men, who are there, by thousands, hewn in pieces. And many do scape by the only means of their horses, God showing them such favour as histories are full of testimonies thereof, and of the admirable sense, wherewith nature hath endued these beasts. Among which Alexander's horse Bucephalus is very much celebrated, chief because that he would not suffer any to ride him but his master, although he had been clothed in kingly robes. It is also said, that this horse being wounded at an assault of Thebes, he would not permit Alexander to mount upon another, till such time as he had brought him out of all danger. Pliny reporteth, 
Hist. not lib 8. cap. 42.  that a certain king of Scythia being overthrown in battle, when his enemy came to disarm him, his horse ran upon him with such fury, that he killed him, revenging so the death of his master: And that after the death of king Nicodemus (who was slain) his horse would never eat, but died through hunger and sorrow. And that one named Antiochus seizing upon an horse of one Galatus slain in fight, mounted thereupon, rejoicing at the death of the other: which the horse of the dead man understanding, did in rage and despite so fling, and run, that he bore Antiochus over mountains, and rocks, casting himself at last down from an high place, so breaking his own and his rider's neck. But we have said enough hereof. Now (ACHITOB) let us hear you continued the discourse concerning beasts.   

Of the Elephant, of the Camel, and of the Rhinoceros. Chapter 84.  ACHITOB. 
IT seemeth that there is no beast, which approacheth nearer to the sense of man then the Elephant. For he is endued with so excellent wit, discretion, 
Of the Elephant.  and memory, that he surpasseth in these gifts of other beasts; as he doth in strength also. He is bigger than two great oxen, covered with black hair, having eyes like to those of swine & such a mouth also, being covered with a trunk, or snout that hangs down to the ground, which serveth him for an hand to put his victuals into his mouth, both meat and drink: and out of both sides thereof two great tusks do issue, which are fastened in his upper jaw. His ears are two spans broad, his thighs and legs thick and long, in such sort that some are found of fifteen foot high: his nails (being five in number about his feet) are round, and each nail a palm broad, and his tail is about three handfuls long. In many regions of Africa they use these Elephants to ride ordinarily upon, and they serve for many domestic businesses also, so that the traffic of them there, is as that of horses here. But the Indian's use them in the war, putting upon this beast, a certain saddle being girt very straight about him with two iron chains, upon which they set two wooden houses, on either side one, and in each of those houses do three men lodge, between which houses and the Elephant's neck, is a little seat placed, upon which a man sitteth like as if he were on horseback, who guideth this beast by his words, which he understandeth very well: and he carrieth neither bridle, nor halter, nor any thing else upon his head. And even as they, which are within these houses upon his back are armed with coats of mail, with bows, lances, sword, and targets: so likewise will he be covered with a mail, especially upon his head, and snout, to which men fasten a sword of two fathoms in length, thick, and as broad as a man's hand, wherewith this beast doth himself in fight. In all things else he is of incredible force. For jews de Barthema in the discourses of his Indievoyages doth testify that he did see three Elephants alone draw a ship out of the sea, and set it aland, after the people had gotten under it three great wedges of wood. For kneeling down upon the earth on the sea shore, they did with their heads cast the ship on dry land. Pliny recordeth many other wonders concerning these beasts, saying, that they honour the stars, and principally the Sun and Moon; that some have been 
Lib 3  seen, who being sick, have fallen down backwards, casting up herbs towards heaven, as if they would offer up the first-fruits of the earth in sacrifice, and prayer to obtain succour from above: that all of them do honour a king, and fall down upon their knees before him, and that they bring chaplets of herbs, and flowers unto him. That some of them have been 
Hist. nat. lib. 8  seen to record by themselves in the night time, that, which they have been taught in the day time, to the end that they might the better put it in practice. That marching in troops, the eldest amongst them goeth foremost, as captain: and another behind them as ordering the rearward: that intending to pass any river, they put the youngest elephants foremost, knowing that the great elephants would sink lower, because of their excessive heaviness, and would by that means make the fourd more difficult to pass, by reason of the water, which would gather there. That they do no harm except they be provoked thereto; and also that they are so gentle towards other weak beasts, that passing by a flock of small cattle, they will gently turn back with their heads all those beasts which they meet, for fear of hurting them, or treading them under their feet. They are very long lived, to two hundred or three hundred years, as Aristotle affirmeth: and when the male and female couple together as man and woman, they withdraw themselves for this purpose into most secret and hidden places: and the females bear their young ones for two years together, and do never bring forth but one, and that but once only in their life. Of their teeth is the true ivory made: but because there are but few to be had, therefore some saw and cut in pieces the bones of Elephants, which they cell for ivory. Moreover, Historiographers report that the first time that Elephants were seen at Rome, was in the triumph of Pompey, after he had subdued Africa, for he had two yoked to his chariot: and that in the turnies, and fence plays which Germanicus Caesar made, to show pastime to the people of Rome, there were Elephants that leapt, as if they would skip and dance: and that forty two Elephants were brought in triumph to Rome after the memorable victory, which Ruscius Metellus did obtain in Sicily against the Carthagenians.  
The camel is also a very tractable beast and profitable to man, very ingenious: and apt to receive discipline. For they serve to ride upon, to bear great burdens, and also to show 
Of the Camel.  men pastime in many exercises which is taught them by use. There are some in all parts of the world, but they abound in Africa. And the Arabians hold them for their greatest riches and possessions. There are three kinds of them; one whereof is very great, another sort are very little: these two kinds having but one bunch upon their backs, and the other are of mean stature, and have two bunches, each whereof are fit to carry burdens, and to rid upon also, beside, some of them resemble asses in colour, and some are reddish: and they have their hooves almost cloven in two, but not exactly, so that their foot expresseth a kind of semblance of five toes fleshy underneath, which maketh them tender in stony places. The best Camels are those of Africa, because they bear their charges for the space of forty days together, without ever eating any oats, but only such grass as is in the fields, or some boughs, and their lest burden is of a thousand weight, being by a natural instinct so urged to the service of man, that with the lest touch which may be upon their neck or knees, they will presently bend and kneel upon the ground to receive their load; which when they feel to be answerable to their strength, they rise again upon their feet. There are some of them so swift, that they will run fifty miles and more in a one day, but these are of small stature, being good for nothing but to ride upon. The noble men of Arabia, Numidia, and Africans of Lybia do never use other steeds. And when the king of Tumbuto would have any matter of importance to be signified to the merchants of Numidia with speed, he sendeth a Post upon one of his Camels, who runneth from Tombuto to Darha, or Segelmessa in the space of seven or eight days, which are about four hundred and fifty French miles: being a country full of deserts, so that the way is very hard to found out, but by the very direction of the Camel itself. When these beasts are lusty, which lasteth for forty days together with them, they wax very fierce and outrageous, and will remember the lest blow that their masters shall strike them with a stick; so that if they may fasten their teeth upon any of them, they will lift them up into the air, than cast them down again, & murder them with their forefeet, in terrible and grievous manner: but that time being passed, they become gentle and tractable, as before. They never drink but from five days to five days, and sometimes they stay nine, or fiteene days; whether it be by custom, or that this beast is dry, or else that Nature hath so well provided that this creature which liveth in deserts, should have no need to drink oftentimes in those places, where water is seldom found. He danceth at the sound of the trumpet, and seemeth to rejoice at music, refreshing himself, and taking new courage, then, when (being tired with a tedious journey) his guide beginneth to sing some merry 
Lib. 9  song: and some also have been seen to dance at the sound of a tabor, as the Author of the description of Africa doth testify.  
Now speak we of the Rhinoceros (which is named by some the Bull of India) being 
Of the Rhinoceros.  admirable amongst other beasts. For he is almost as big as the Elephant, his thighs are bigger, of the colour of wood, being all naturally armed with shells, which he beareth like bucklers. He hath in the uppermost part of his forehead an horn for the length of a span or more, very hard, strong, strait, and very sharp, which turneth towards the forehead, and when he will fight he whetteth it. And there are some also which have another little horn upon the skin of their back, which is so hard and difficult to penetrate, that no arrow how sharp soever it be, can pierce it through. And therefore the Indian's arm themselves with their skins, as we do with harness and murrions, and cover their horses with it, as we do ours with barbs and armour. This beast hath continual war with the Elephant, and is his great enemy, fight chief with him, yea and with all other beasts, when the female bringeth forth her young ones: of which the male is so careful, that nothing dare come nigh him, but he will wreak his fury thereon. And he remaineth for the most part victorious over the Elephant, if he can pick him under the belly, as being the softest place of all his body. For when the Rhinoceros doth strike him there, he giveth him so deep a wound, that the Elephant can hardly scape death. And he hath this wit naturally, that when he will prepare himself to fight, he whetteth his horn against some rock, which horn the Indian's use in many things, and especially against all poison: so that being bitten or stung by any serpent, or other venomous beast, they their have recourse to this horn. Whereupon the author of the universal cosmography taketh occasion to suppose, that that which is attributed to the Unicorn, is the property of the Rhinoceros, 
Theu. lib. 11.  and that the pieces which are showed under the name of unicorns horn, are of the horn of this Indie beast: considering that there are as many such Unicorns, as Pliny, Solinus, and Munster writ of, as there be Phenixes or Griffons. But omitting such disputations, let us consider upon other excellent beasts, the discourse whereof (ASER) I refer to you.   

Of the Lion, of the Tiger, and of the Panther. Chapter. 85.  ASER. 
OF all fourfooted beasts, the Lion doth bear away the chief prize. He hath a long body of tawny colour, a fierce look, his tail long, which 
Of the lion.  he oftentimes moveth, his hair before soft, and broad, his skin impenetrable: his hinder part narrow, a great head, a wide throat, his neck and teeth so strong, that he can carry away a camel, and he is armed with very great and strong claws: beside he is so hardy that he feareth not alone to assail two hundred men. And then are they in their chiefest strength, when the hair of their neck is so long that it covereth their neck and shoulders. Africa nourisheth many of these beasts, being most cruel, especially in the kingdom of Fez, & in all Aethiopia: but they which keep in the cold mountains, are not so dangerous, nor so troublesome to men. For in a little town named (Pietra Rossa) which is very near to a forest that stretcheth out all along the foot of a mountain of the said country, Lions do oftentimes enter, with so great mildness, that they gather together, and eat the bones and other things which they find cast about the streets: and the women and children are so accustomed thereto, that they are in no wise afraid of them. So many Historiographers do writ, that the Lion only amongst wild beasts, will do nothing to those that couch and humble themselves before him. And how furious soever he be, yet will he rather run upon a man then at a woman; and will never set upon children, except he be very much oppressed by hunger. He knoweth when the Lioness, who by nature is very lascivious and wanton, doth suffer herself to be covered by the Leopard and then doth he run furiously upon her to chastise her: which causeth the Lioness to have the craft to go wash herself in some river, to take away the sent of the Leopard: who hath been with her: or else she will follow the Lion a far off, to the end that he may not smell her. This beast drinketh little, and eateth but in one day of twain: and if he be well sufficed, he will remain three days after without eating. When he findeth himself to be assailed with shot, he declareth his greatness of courage, in that he maketh no account thereof, endeavouring to defend himself by the only hideousnes of his countenance: and it seemeth verily that he protesteth to be constrained to annoyed those who pursue him, in defence of himself: in such sort, that rather through rage then for fear of death, he sets him in his own guard. And he demonstrateth also another generosity of hart, in that that feeling himself overmatched both by dogs and hunters, if it be in an open field where he may be seen, he will make semblant to despise and scorn the hounds, sometimes making head against them, and will retire by little and little for his honour, always standing upon his guard: but after that he hath gotten the wood, where he may not be seen to fly, he runs away as fast as he can, knowing very well that the place covereth his shame, If he feel himself strooken and wounded, he can mark him who gave him the blow, and will, ever turn upon him, how great a number soever there be of people: and yet for all his fury he quaketh to hear the rumbling of wagons, and is afraid to see a cock which setteth up himself and clappeth his wings, and more afraid when he croweth: but above all he feareth fire. They say also that Lions be never sick but through pride: and that they which nourish them, being minded to chase them, yea to mad them, do tie apes near unto them, whose tricks and gestures they take in scorn, and vex themselves much thereat. But it is strange that these furious and prove beasts, are tamed by the industry of man, even to make them so familiar as to serve them. For histories report that Marcus Antonius during the civil wars of the Romans; cased Lions to be coupled to endure the yoke, and draw his chariot; and that he entered Rome in triumph in such equipage. That Hanno also, captain of the Carthaginians did first undertake to touch Lions with his hand, and that he made them go up and down the town like little dogs: whereupon the people doubting so quick and piercing a wit, which could invent how to tame the fiercest beast of all others, took occasion to suppose their common wealth but badly assured in his hands, and so they banished him. Belon also in his observations recounteth, that there is an ancient Church at Constantinople, to every pillar whereof 
Lib. 1 de singul. 76.  there is a Lion tied, which the great Turk causeth to be nourished, and that their governors lose them, handle them, and tie them again when they list, sometimes leading them through the city.  
The Tiger approacheth near to the force of the Lion, and is more to be feared, because of his cruelty and swiftness, which they found true who chase after their young ones. For 
Of the Tiger  when they carry them away running with all speed upon good horses, the Tigress returneth to her den, and finding it empty, taketh her course as swift as the wind, following them by the tract, which have rob her of her young ones: who perceiving her approach by the noise that she maketh, use to cast her down one, which she taketh in her mouth, and carrieth to her den with incredible speed, how heavy soever it be: and afterwards returneth to the pursuit of the rest, always pursuing her fawns, till such time as she beholdeth that she cannot come at those who bear them away, because they have gained some town, wherein they are immured. These beasts are very common in Hyrcania, as also in the Indieses, and in Aethiopia: and the inhabitants there do hunt them much, because it is a very dangerous beast, which would do much harm if it might multiply: as also because their skin is very fair, whereof they make very excellent furs, which have spots of divers colours, wherewith they cloth themselves. But howsoever cruel the Tiger 
Hist. nat. lib 8 cap. 4.  is, yet the Hyrcanians do nourish and tame them for their pleasure. And Pliny affirmeth, that the Tigress hath such fear and respect of man, that so soon as she perceiveth him out of her den, she presently conveyeth her young ones thence: whereupon this author doth take occasion to admire the power of nature, in that the greatest and cruelest of all beasts do presently understand wherefore to fear, without ever having seen any thing before, which might 'cause fear. He recounteth also, that the Emperor Augustus was the first that ever showed the people of Rome a tame Tigress in a cage, and that after him 
Ibid. c. 17.  Claudius Caesar showed four at a time.  
The Panther is another common beast in the regions of Africa, very savage, and whom 
O● the Panther.  the inhabitants dread much. Some say that Lucernes and Leopards are one kind of beasts, and they serve for males to the Panther, not differing from them but in whiteness, which is very great in her, having little black spots set upon her body: in manner of eyes. Also very fair furs are made of her skin, which are called Lucernes. Moreover some say that all four footed beasts do very much love the smell of the Panther: but the fierceness of her countenance doth fear them: and that to entrap other by her odour, she hides her head that she may catch them. Some also writ that she hath a mark upon her shoulder like to an half moon, which augmenteth and decreaseth as the moon doth. This kind of beasts have the craft to watch passengers in woods, biding themselves close in the thickest groves of trees which they can find; out of which they start upon them like thieves. And they have this by nature, to fold in their claws, when they go that they may always keep them sharp and unbroken and can open them when they will, and shut them when they grasp any thing. But omitting the fierceness of this beast, who will not greatly admire the sense and imagination of a certain Panther whereof Plinte writeth? She desiring to meet with some passenger, lurked close in the midst of an high way: One by chance coming thither, and finding her, would for fear have turned this bridle. But the poor beast couched and fell down before him, making signs to fawn upon him, and moaned, and tormented himself in such sort, as he might easily understand thereby that she was in great pain, and indeed her young ones were fallen into a pit far off from that place. The man taking hart, at the beasts manners, who drew him gently by the garment, did follow her to the same pit: whether being come, and knowing the occasion of the Panther's grief, he drew her young ones out of the place wherinto they were fallen, delivering by this means their dam of pain, and redeeming also his own life. For this beast, which could have bereft him of it, did contrariwise in acknowledgement of the benefit received by him, leaping and skipping with her little ones, keep the man company out of the forest, showing him by many signs, that she rendered thanks unto him. But here change we talk: and let us hear you (AMANA) deliver that which you have learned concerning the nature of other beasts.   

Of the Wolf, of the Bear, and of the Ape. Chapter 86.  AMANA. 
Among all savage beasts, there are none more common than the Wolf, For Asia, Africa, Europe, and many places of that fourth part of the world, which late Cosmographers and other famous men have by their long navigations discovered, do nourish these creatures. And although many have thought that England had none of them, yet there are some found in sundry places, and especially about Berwick. And in times past the country hath been much vexed by them. But histories record, that Edgar their king, who lived in the time of Lotharitis king of France, a very politic prince, being advertised of the spoil which these beasts did, made an edict throughout his land, that every Nobleman should bring unto him each year ten wolves, or else the skins of them, and that the Prince of Wales, as he who received greatest commodity by hunting of them, should every year bring him an hundred. Whereby it came to pass that in less than ten years, there was no mention made of any of those beasts. Now although they be very common, yet are they therefore worthy of no less consideration, and wonder. Many authors have written concerning their shape, manners, 
Of the wolf.  nature, and differences, as also how to hunt and take them. There be few which are ignorant, that the wolf is a beast having grey hair, mixed with black, whitish under the belly, a big head armed with long and strong teeth, and short and stiff ears, whereupon the proverb arose (I hold the wolf by the ears) when he which speaketh is in doubt of what he shall do. The beast feeds only upon flesh, save, sometimes on fish, although Aristotle 
Arist. lib. 8. ch. ●. de hist. anima.  and Plinte writ, that being oppressed with hunger he eateth earth. But indeed this opinion did first spring because that these beasts are oftentimes seen to dig up the fields for flesh, which they bury after they have had their fill, to serve them when they want aught to prey upon. When they be sick, they know how to use cerraine herbs, to make them vomit, and to loosen their belly. And their custom is to assail weak and fearful persons that travel alone, much rather than hunters. They are so known to the fishermen a long the lake of Meotis (as Pliny reporteth) that these honest people are wont to give them 
Hist. nat. lib. 10. c 8.  part of their fish, which if they fail to do, they will in the night tear and break their nets. When the she wolf hath young ones, if she found herself oppressed with dogs, or men, she taketh one of her whelps in her mouth to bear away, that she may not lose them all. And she never leaves them except the he wolf remain for their guard, going both by turns out for victuals: & if they have taken any beast, they bring it unto their whelps, laying it down before them to feed upon. If they be somewhat big, they will then bring home some lamb alive, to make them kill it, and teach them their craft. But I find nothing more admirable in the nature of the wolf then that which hath been noted by the author of the country farm, that there breed and engender certain serpents in the kidneys of an old wolf: 
Auth. de la Mai●on rustic.  which being grown do at last work their breeders death, and become very venomous things. Concerning the subtlety and craft of wolves to entrap their preys, it is very well known by every one, being to the great hurt of people; but their industry is very great in forests, where they can tell how to hunt the Hart and Does, watching them in fresh places, as hound's should do, yea they can direct themselves, like a course of grey hounds to watch and lurk in the borders of the wood, whilst others hunt within. Besides, it is a common thing, and many have written thereof; yea Isidore himself, that if a wolf espy a man before the man perceive him, he can take away his voice; because that with his corrupt breath he infecteth the air: which being so putrefied doth also corrupt the breath of the man, near to the said beast, whereby he remaineth deprived of voice, and hoarse, howsoever he be endamaged thereby: and that is it which hath begotten the common proverb (Lupusest in fabula) which is said, when one speaking of another, that comes in unlooked for, doth hold his peace, as if that the other party's arrival had taken away his voice & speech. But if the wolf be first seen by a man, it is thought that this malicious effect is not of so great power and that he looseth much of his fierceness: the cause whereof may be that knowing himself 
Of the Lynx.  discovered, he hath not the leisure to spread abroad his venom, and instead of running upon. the man, he deviseth how he may run and fly from him. If this reason be of any value, I do not think that it hath been yet written by any one, at lest wise as I have read or heard. There is also another kind of wolves, called Lynx, the fur of whom Princes wear, which (as Pliny saith) resemble other wolves, but that they are spotted like leopards. And Oppianus writeth that they are engendered by a Wolf and a Panther: yet that cannot be affirmed of the Lynx of Germany, for there are no Panthers.  
The Bear is a beast, in whom many things are found worthy to be noted. Barbary and Newfound land nourished a great number, whom the inhabitants do hunt after divers 
Of the Bear.  manners. But they do chief entrap them by means of certain deep pits, covered over with leaves and branches, which they dig in the way that these beasts are accustomed to frequent, and especially near unto trees, where there is some swarm of Bees: for the Bear loveth honey above all other meat, whether it be for that he delights to glut himself therewith, or else to heal the soreness of eyes whereto he is very subject: and so passing upon these pits, he falleth thereinto, and is there slain by these Barbarians. The male when he covereth the female, doth embrace her, as man doth woman; and the she Bear being full doth retire apart into her den, not bearing above thirty days, and doth oftentimes bring forth five Beare-whelpes: which at first do seem to be but an heap of white flesh, without any form, without eyes, without hair, and is as small as a mouse, with some little appearance of nails, but through very much licking the she Bear reduceth them into such form as they have. When this beast is unprovided of a cave, he buildeth his lodging with wood; of which he makes so huge an heap, and piles it so well that the rain cannot enter thereinto. After that he paves it, and makes his litter with the softest leaves of trees that he can found. In winter time the male keepeth within his den for forty days long, and never bougeth, and the female for four months: and the first fourteen days they sleep so profoundly, that it is impossible to wake them, though they bebeaten with staves: and one would not think how fat they then be: this time being past, they sit upon their tail and live of nothing else, but by sucking their forefeet. Being come forth of their den, they first eat of the herb called-Wake Robin, or Cuckowpintle, to open their pipes, which are all as it were stopped up. Their food is corn, leaves of trees, grapes, apples, honey, crevices, and ants: which they use especially licking them up with their tongues from off the ground, when they are sick with eating the fruit of Mandrakes: for by this means they heal themselves. They go upright upon their hinder feet when they list, and descend down trees backwards. And when they fight against the bull, or other horned beast, they hung themselves by all their four feet upon them, and upon their head, that they may thereby tir● their enemy, and so vanquish him. To conclude, there is no creature more subtle in his simplicity.  
But if we would speak of crafty beasts: subtle in all agility and sport, then must we have respect to the Ape. For nature hath bestowed very good sense and marvelous craft upon him. Also he doth very near approach to the shape of man, both in his form of countenance. 
Of the Ape.  nose, eyes, and eyelids: the under part of which, there is no beast that hath except the Ape. He hath also nipples upon his breast like a man, and useth his hands and legs as man: having nails and fingers made and disposed as ours, of which the middlemost is most longest. His entrails likewise are almost like to those of man. Africa & many Isles of the new found lands nourish these creatures in great plenty, and of divers kinds, some whereof are called Monkeys, and they have long tails: and others are jacks or Marmusets'; and they have none: they live of herbs and corn: & when they mean to steal some ears of corn there assemble twenty or thirty of them together, and one stays for a scout out of the field, where he no sooner espieth the Lord of the ground to come, but be squeaks very loud, at whose cry all the rest run away, and do save themselves by nimble flight, climbing up trees, and skipping from one to another, yea and the she apes, with their young ones upon their shoulders, will leap from tree to tree like the rest. And they are commonly so fond of their young ones, that with too often embracing, and too much clasping them, they at last kill them. They which are tamed and taught, do marvelous & incredible things. 
Lib. 3. c. 16.  Besides the author of the universal Cosmography hath noted, that in the solitary Island there are Apes, greater, unhappier, and wilder than are in all the world else, which be named Maggots: who being seen a far off, a man would judge them to be human people. Whereupon he thinketh that some are a little deceived, who have written concerning Savages, & men being rough all over their bodies like goats, living upon snails and raw flesh having perhaps taken such Maggots, (because they have not been near to distinguish them,) for very men. But enough of this, I would have you (ARAM) to pursue the subject of our discourse.   

Of the Hart, of the Boor, and of the Unicorn, Chapter 87.  ARAM. 
I Will now speak of the most gentle and simple beast of all the world, in his nature, and which nevertheless is endued with great force, which he sometimes 
Of the Hart  useth to the cost of those who hunt him: and that is the Hart or Stag, in whose chase great Lords take much pleasure. He is so simple that he museth, and is astonished at every thing: in such sort, as if he see a Cow or an Horse come near unto him, he never taketh regard who rides him; or if he perceive him, he looks down at his feet, as if he were amazed, what bow and arrows, or weapons so ever he have. He museth also at the songs and piping of shepherds. When Stags be not in rut, they are very sharp at their victuals: and feeling themselves fat, they search out solitary places apart, and there abide, knowing very well, that they are not then apt for the course, and that they are then also chief hunted. Being pursued, they do oft-times stay their flight to take breath, and look here and there round about them; but when they perceive the hounds that follow them, they run as before. And they make these stops, by reason of a certain pipe, which doth greatly pain them, and which is so tender, that it presently breaketh with the lest wound that may be. They endeavour to run with the wind, that it may carry with them the sent away from the hounds, so that they may not easily take them. They hear afar off, and have a very good ear, when they stand upon their feet: but if they lie down, 
Hist. nat. lib. ● cap. 32.  they be very deaf. Pliny recounteth, that when the hearts or stags of Cilicia will pass from thence into Cyprus, they swim over the Sea, but always in troops, and in order, resting the heads of the one upon the crupper of the other, and that by turns, in such sort, that the hindermost go before in their turn, and the foremost turn behind: directing their course by the smell of the land, because they cannot see the shore. The bucks only are armed with horns, and they alone of all beasts cast their horns every spring time: yet some have seen (but very seldom) horned does marked to twelve years. When they feel that their horns will fall, they seek out the most solitary & desert places that they can found, whether it be to hide them because they are ashamed to have lost their arms, or else to disappoint men of the benefit that doth redound unto them thereby, for their horn hath many properties in use. And many say that of those horn which hearts cast: the right are never found again, so that it is holden for certain, that they bury their right horn. Their age is known by their heads, because that every year they have a knag more, and there are some seen that are marked to two and twenty. Beyond which, none doth note their age, although they live much longer. For histories record that about an hundred years after the death of Alexander the Great, there was an Hart taken, about whose neck this Prince whilst he lived had put a collar of gold, and that he was grown so great afterwards, and so fat, that the said collar was hid within his flesh, & covered with his skin. Moreover, stage do change their place of abode, and their food according as the Sun doth approach in height. For in the month of November, they keep themselves to bushes and briars, the tops whereof they eat to restore their nature after they have been in rut. In December they withdraw themselves to the thickest of forests, which may defend them from the cold winds, snows and ye. In january they come to the borders of the forests, and to tilled lands, to feed on green corn, as ry●e, and such like. In February and March, because they lose and cast their horns, they thrust themselves amongst the bushes, wherein they remain all April and May. In june and july they go into woods and corn fields, and then are they fattest. And in September and October they leave their woods, and fall to rut: and then have they neither any certain place nor meat because they follow the ways which the does have passed, living then with a little, and feeding upon what they chance to meet with.  
The Boar is another beast, in whose chase many exercise themselves, and take singular pleasure: But as the Hart is gentle and fearful; so is the Boar hardy and furious, not fearing 
Of the Boar.  the dogs, but attendeth for them in quiet, & oftentimes also he pursueth them, to tear them in pieces with his teeth; the biting whereof, chief in the chest of the body, is almost incurable. His place of abode is never certain, and therefore some say he is but a guest, because he doth but run out of one forest and wood into another: and yet he delighteth to remain in the same country and place where he was first farrowed: so that if any dogs chase him out of any wood or forest, he presently runs without any stay to his native place, which he supposeth to be his safeguard and refuge. The meat which he liketh best, i● hazel nuts, beechmast, and acorns. His flesh is better than heart's flesh: And therefore the ancient Romans made such account thereof, that in their most magnificent banquets, they 
Hist. nat. lib. 11 c. 53.  would serve in the whole Boars to be set upon the table. Yet Pliny saith, that the Boars of the mountains in Pamphilia and Cilicia, having eaten Salamanders, become every venomous, in such sort, as they poison those that eat of their flesh. Besides, when these beasts feel themselves more heavy then of custom, they seek for ivy, and eat thereof: or else for crabs, which they find in sand when theses ebbs. Thesow or female heareth but once a year, although the Boar be very apt to cover her. And the Author of the foresaid natural History doth affirm unto us, that in the Indieses there are very great wild Boars, which have two tusks in their mouth of a cubit long, and two other that issue out of their front like the horns of a cow. And Cardanus saith, that in the same Country there are Boars like to others in form, in voice and manners, and in their litteridge, which are grown in two months, and yet are smaller than coneys, and can scarce bite: differing nothing from other, save that they have five or six toes upon their feet instead of nails.  
But let us leave these fierce beasts, to consider upon some others, and let us speak first of the Unicorn, which at this day is so greatly esteemed of, the horn of whom is holden of great virtue in Physic, and singular against all poisons. Pliny describeth the Unicorn, 
Of the Unicorn. Hist. nat. lib. 8. c. 21.  to have a body altogether like an Horse, an head like an Hart, feet of an Elephant, and the tail of a Boar, bearing an horn in the midst of his front, of two cubits in length: and he saith that these beasts are nourished in the land of the Orsians in India. jews de Barthema in his navigations into Arabia, affirmeth that he did at Mecca see two Unicorns: and saith that the body and colour of this beast is like an horse, of a dark grey, having feet cloven before, and hoofed like a goat. And that these two beasts had been given to the Sultan of Mecca, for a very rich and precious present, by a king of Ethiopia, to the end to have peace with him. Belon hath observed out of the testimonies of divers authors, that 
Lib 1 de observat. c. 14.  there are two sorts of beasts, who bear one horn only; one of which is the ass of India, which hath not cloven feet; and the other is the Orix, being a kind of goat, that hath cloven feet. And he maketh mention of many unicorns horns, esteemed to be of very great price: especially of two, which are in the treasury of Saint Marks at Venice; each of them being of a cubit and a half long, the greatest end whereof exceedeth not above three inches over. He speaketh also of that which our king hath, which is at Saint Denis, being seven foot long, and weigheth thirteen pounds, and four ounces, in fashion like a taper, being broad at the lower end about a palm and three fingers, and so groweth less and less towards the end, and hath a pit in the great end above a foot deep, which is the place, wherein the bone is fastened that holds it firm to the head of the beast that beareth it. But this author doth mock at the folly of those, who many times do buy pieces of bone, which are cut of teeth of the Rohcact, and of the horns and ribs of many other beasts, for true unicorns horn; paying sometimes for one of these little pieces three hundred ducats: so much is unicorns horn esteemed, being most excellent for many uses in physic. Thevet also flouteth at those abuses, and at many fables invented upon this matter: 
Lib. 5 de cosmog.  alleging that he had seen an horn taken from a beast of a clean contrary shape to that, which the Unicorn is described to be of, whereto the same virtue was nevertheless attributed. And that the country of the Savages breedeth a beast called Pyrassouppi, as big as the foal of a Mule having almost such an head, as rough as a Bear and cloven footed like an Hart, which beareth two long strait horns, that do come near to unicorns horn, and wherewith the Savages cure themselves when they be bitten and wounded by venomous beasts and fishes. But now change we out talk, and (ACHITOB) let us hear you speak again concerning some of the most rare and worthy beasts of the Earth.   

Of the Hyena or Civet cat, of the Musk cat, of the Beaver, and of the Otter. Chapter. 88  ACHITOB. 
IF in our discourses we have any worthy matter, whereinto admire the works of God in the nature which he hath ordained unto them, we shall found no less in the consideration of these, whereof I purpose now to speak, the odour of whom is very sweet. And amongst the rest the Civat cat called by ancients the Hyena, is worthy of great marvel. For from her cometh an excrement so odoriferous, that assoon as it is smelled, doth pierce through all the senses and spirits, and serveth to compose very excellent perfumes. This beast fashioned like a Bedovant 
Of the Hyena.  but of bigger body, having black hairs about the neck, and long the ridge of her back, which she setteth upright being angry. She is mouthed like a cat, and hath fiery and red eyes with two black spots under them, and round ears like unto those of a Badges. Besides she hath white hair, full of black spots upon her body; with a long tail black above, but having some white spots underneath. The ancients have spoken of this beast as of a wild cat, and john Leo in his description of Africa, doth name her so, saying that she is common in the woods of Aethiopia, where the people do catch her with her young, whom they nourish in cages with milk, and porridge made of bran and 
Lib. 9  flesh: and that they receive civet from her twice or thrice a day, which is the sweat of this beast: for they beat her with a little stick, making her leap up and down about the cage, till such time as she doth sweat, which they take off from under her thighs, and tail, and that is it which is called civet. Belon reporteth to have seen one in Alexandria, so tame, that playing with men, she would bite their noses, ears and lips, without doing 
2. Lib. observat. cap. 20.  them any harm: and that she was always nourished with women's milk. Mathiolus likewise saith, that he hath seen many Civet Cats at Venice, which had been brought out of Syria, and attributeth certain properties to their excrements; for which cause they have been more sought after now; then in the days of our fathers: so that they are nourished at this day even in France. Cardanus also maketh mention of a beast called Zibetum, which is found in Spain, that is like to a cat, and carrieth a bladder in her members, the seed 
Lib. 1 de Dios. cap 20. De subt. li. 10  whereof is received into a spoon, being of so excellent an odour, that three drops thereof surmounteth the weight of three pounds of any odoriferous tree.  
But the Musk cat doth yet surpass all other odour, and meriteth all marvel in the nature 
Of the Musk cat.  thereof. For it is a beast like unto a goat in form and hair, but that she is of a more blowish colour, and hath but one horn, and in bigger of body. There are many in Africa, but chief in Tumbasco and Sini. When this beast irin rut, with the heat and rage that he than endureth, his navel swelleth, and filleth itself with a certain blood, in manner of an imposthume: which at length through much wallowing, and rubbing against trees, he maketh to break, out of which runneth this blood, being half corrupted, which in tract of time becometh very odoriferous. And the people of the country do gather it amongst stones, or upon the stocks of trees, as the best musk that is: because it is full ripe, after that it hath rested some certain time out of the body of the beast which engendereth it, and that it hathbin perfectly concocted by the sun; which the other musk cannot be, that is taken out of the living beast, after that it is catched in chase. And therefore this most precious musk is shut up & reserved in boxes, and in the bladders of such of these beasts, as have at any time been taken, to serve to such uses as it is fit for: whereupon cometh that there are musks very different in goodness. For there is but little brought to us in true bladders of this perfect musk, being ripe, and gathered as before said: but all the flesh of this beast being beaten together with the bones, is commonly put into an old bladder, and sold us for pure musk. Which we may very well know in that we usually find little pieces of bone in our musk. And yet this same thus prepared smelleth so sweetly, that we may easily judge, how precious and exquisite the odour of the true and perfect musk is.  
The Castoreum which proceedeth from the Beaver, is also very much esteemed for the virtue of the sent thereof. This beast is as big as a dog, long, gentle, of black and shining 
Of the Castoreum.  hair, with a very long tail, and feet like a goose, having strong teeth, and so sharp, that he useth them as a saw to saw and cleave timber, whereof he maketh himself a lodging with marvelous cunning. They are found near to the river of Ister, or Danubius, and near to the Rhine also, and in many places of Africa. In his stones doth lie a most exquisite liquor, which is proper to him: And therefore Pliny reporteth, that the Beaver feeling himself oppressed with hunters, biteth off his stones with his teeth, as if he knew 
Hist. not lib. 8 c. 30. De subt. li. 10  wherefore he were pursued: and that is it which Physicians call Castoreum. Cardanus affirmeth that this beast is a kind of Otter, even as house wesels are a kind of wild wesels. For (saith he) in one self same kind of beasts, nature doth by little and little convert itself from small to great ones, from foul to fair ones, and from weak to strong ones. Besides the Otter (called by Pliny Lutra) liveth commonly in the earth, and in the water, and hath hair softer than feathers: and his stones are fit and profitable for the same that 
Of the otter.  Castoreum is. But (as Matthiolus hath very well noted) the use of strange compositions doth bring many discommodities to those, which think to serve themselves therewith, 
De Dios. lib. 6 cap. 25.  because they are either sophisticate, or corrupted before they come to us. And therefore he saith, that the use of Pontic or common Castoreum, which is black with rottenness and putrefaction, is very venomous. But me thinketh (companions) that we stretch out too long our discourse concerning terrestrial beasts, considering that we have not undertaken to writ a perfect history of them, but only to set before our eyes some of the most rare and most excellent, to make us meditate upon, and to admire the works of God. There are many authors out of which one may gather the entire knowledge of living creatures, and especially out of Aristotle, who hath described their nature in fifty Books, by the commandment of Alexander the great; & after him, Pliny hath declared unto us in his natural History many things concerning the same subject, which were not known before. Wherefore as when we entreated of the Spheres and Meteors, we referred all to the true Astronomy and Philosophy of Christians: so let us now do as much upon our discourse concerning beasts, reducing all that which we have spoken to an inward meditation upon the providence of God, considering that the effects thereof do continually appear in the commodity, profit, and utility which redound unto us by these creatures, yea, by the most venomous of them: as (ASER) you may give us to understand.   

Of the right use of venomous creatures, and wild beasts: and of the justice and bounty of God which shineth in them. Chapter. 89.  ASER. 
WE must needs believe for aprinciple, that if sin had not entered into the world, there had never any creature been hurtful unto man. For he had been a peaceable Lord and master of all living things, and all things had been obedient unto him, if he had been obedient unto God, as he aught to have been. We have a clear testimony thereof, after the fall of Adam, in those beasts which came unto Noah at the flood, to enter and remain within the ark with him: as 
Genes. 7.  also in those lions into whose den Daniel was cast. But as man hath been very rebellious towards God, not acknowledging him for his Lord, according as duty did require 
Dan. 6.  him: even so all creatures, which should show obedience to man, not only have been, and are rebellious towards him, but do also many times make war against him, and do greatly annoyed him, even according as it pleaseth the sovereign Lord to chastise and punish the sins of men, by means of them. In this sort than must we think upon venomous and cruel beasts, who do not only seek to hurt us, but do also serve the wicked, wherewith to compound their poisons. For we behold how God hath created many and divers kinds of them, who being good in their nature, insomuch as they have all been created by God, and in that he is a worker, who cannot perform any evil business, they do nevertheless oftentimes greatly hurt men, in stead of ministering aid unto them, yea they do sometimes also work their death. And therefore we must consider, that the fault doth not proceed from the creature created good, but from the sin of man, being punished by the just judgement of God, by such scourges of his justice, as it pleaseth him to make choice of: the work neverthelelesse, which he hath done by his creatures remaining good, insomuch as it serveth to chastise those, who do deserve it.  
There are in earth, and in the sea many very venomous beasts, who by their poison kill 
Of the divers uses of venomous beasts.  men, as are serpents, vipers, scorpions, and such like. And although it may seem that these creatures have been created only but to do hurt: yet hath not God given their being without good and just reason. For he hath so well disposed all things, that venims and poisons themselves serve very well for many other uses then to kill, and impoison: for they are profitable and necessary in many occasions, and serve for medicines and remediesin divers accidents. And concerning their particular effects, which turn to the damage of man, beudes that which we have said, that they are instruments of the divine vengeance upon sin; God will thereby moreover make them acknowledge, and perceive their infirmity, and what all humane power is, when it riseth up against his majesty, and that men think to resist him. For who may be so dull, and disfurnished of reason, that cannot understand how unsure their life is, and how feeble their force and power; considering that there needeth but some small venomous herb, or some little portion of other venom and poison, or the stinging of some small beast, or the biting of some others, which are but as worms creeping upon the earth. I do not only say greatly to torment, but also to bereave of life the greatest, and most fearefullgiant, or prince in all the world. Herein then have we a goodly example to teach us to know what we are, what we can do, and how we must fear, and be in continual doubt, though we suppose ourselves to be never so strong and mighty. And we may also instruct ourselves, when we behold that there is no man so assured but that is somewhat moved, and receiveth some fear, yea and many times very much, at the only ●ight and meeting of an adder, or viper, or of some other venomous beast. We may also imagine that if the eternal creator of every soul, doth show himself so much to be feared in such small and vile creatures, who do not subsist, nor retain any power; but such as proceedeth from him, what might this be in comparison of his whole puissance, if he would declare it upon his enemies? But indeed this need not, because he can do his pleasure by far less force: as when he was displeased with the proud arrogancy, and perverse obstinacy of Pharaoh, and of the Egyptians, who held the God of the Hebrews in disdain, he would not war upon them with great armies of men, but did 
Exod. 8. Psa. 78. & 105 Numb. 11.  only raise up troops of frogs, of flies, and of louse, against which the proud tyrants could not resist, but remained vanquished. Again, how did he after that chastise his people in the wilderness by fiery serpents? How many times afterwards did he bring many people into extreme necessity, as if a strong army, or fire had passed through their country, and 
Levit. 26. Deut. 28. joel. 1  that only by canker worms, catter pillars, grass hoppers, and such like vermin, wherewith he threateneth those that rebel against his statutes? And do we not consider what vexation oftentimes flies, lice, worms, rats and mice, do put us unto? Have we not goodly occasion to be proud, high minded, and to esteem much of ourselves, seeing that there is not so much power in us as to invent the means how to defend and save ourselves from such little creatures, who trouble us day and night, both at home and abroad? And may we not hereby judge, how we could defend ourselves from woules, bears, lions, tigers & other savage and wild beasts, in whom there is no doubt, but that we have very evident signs and testimonies proposed of the wrath and fury of God? For who is so stout that is not much scared to encounter with, or to bear the voice only of any of these beasts? We know that God hath menaced the transgressors of his commandments with them. For he saith thus, [I will sand the teeth of beasts upon them, with the venom of serpents creeping 
Deut. 32. Ose. 13. 2 King. 7. 2. King 2.  in the dust. And so hath he oftentimes done in the land of Samaria, and in judea, yea not sparing the young children, as was declared in them, who were devoured by the Bears, because they mocked the Prophet Elizeus. How many such examples of the wrath of God do Histories set before their eyes, that have been executed in the days of our fathers; yea amongst us, who cannot be ignorant, how that many times Wolves have devoured little children, digging down the house sides for them, they being close by their parents Wherefore the Lord did say by Amos, [The lion hath roared, who will not be afraid? The Lord 
Amos 3  God hath spoken, who can but prophesy?] Let us learn two things: first, that if the only voice of the lion terrify those which hear it, by much more reason must the word of God move us. Secondly, that the true servants of God cannot be silent when the Lord shall have commanded them to speak: but will attribute all glory to his name not standing in fear of venomous serpents, wild beasts, and other scourges of his wrath, but dreading the Omnipotent only, who executeth vengeance upon the wicked, when, and how he pleaseth.  
And as by this discourse, we must acknowledge the image of God being angry, and the 
Of the bounty of God which shineth in venomous beasts.  pattern of his fury in all those creatures, which may hurt us, and how much he is to be feared & dreaded in his most high Majesty, considering that his judgements are so terrible, being executed but by the smallest creatures of the earth: so on the other side must we consider upon the great bounty and benignity of God, of which he gives us testimonies, not only in beasts created to the only purpose to serve and profit man; but also in those which seem not to have been made; but only for their hurt. For as we have already said, venims and poisons may serve to many other uses, then to kill men, and venomous beasts are not so full of poison throughout all their body, but that they may profit in sundry occasions: witness the viper (a most fearful serpent) whose flesh is very requisite in the composition of true treacle, which is a most sovereign remedy against all venom and poison. And there are many very dangerous diseases, against which this flesh of the viper and of other serpents is very profitable, according to the testimony of physicians. Who likewise teach, that the Scorpion (whose stinging is mortal) carrieth with him the true remedy for health, if he be brayed, and laid upon the wound which he hath made; or else if being burnt, the ashes of him be drunk with wine. But how many rare properties do they assign to the oil which is made of scorpions? In brief to speak in a word, there is no beast so venomous, none so savage, none so cruel, be it great or small, by which men may not receive much profit, if their nature were well known. All which we may better learn, if we consider how that many creatures are nourished with that, which to others is venom and poison: the discourse whereof (AMANA.) let us receive from you.   

Of the nourishment of many animals, by that which is venom and poison to others, and of the natural amity and enmity which is amongst them Chap. 90.  AMANA. 
IT may seem to many, that hornets, caterpillars, canker worms, grass hoppers, spiders, and such like vermin, were not created to any other end, save to endamage men: but though we do omit a thousand properties, which all these creatures have by nature serving to use in physic, and that we do but only consider, how they serve for food and nourishment to many other creatures: yet shall we in this have enough wherein to acknowledge the profit, which doth return unto us from most vile and contemptible creatures, and by so much the more magnify the providence of God who ordaineth all things for our good, For it is very certain, that these small creatures (which otherwise seem to be unprofitable) do serve for food and meat to birds and fowls, and to such fishes as we do ordinarily eat of, so that we may rightfully say, that we ourselves are nourished by caterpillars, grasshoppers, and such other vermin, considering that we eat those beasts that devour them, and do live upon them. Let us but only note the meat which Turkey cocks, and other common fowls, whom we so carefully bring up for us to feed upon, do most seek after. Certainly, there is no beast which eateth more vucleanely and filthy meat, for they spare neither serpents nor toads: and yet we esteem of their flesh, eggs and chickens, as of very good and delicate meat. This is in truth a marvelous kind of natural chimistrie and inimitable art, to so sublimate 
Excellent chemistry in the nature of beasts.  that which of itself is poison, and would prove so to man, that having passed through the limbeck and fire of a small creature, it is not only purged thereby from all annoyance but doth also sustain life, and serve afterwards for wholesome nouriture to man. And do we not behold, that the nightingale and the wood sparrow (are fat with eating venomous spiders) which serve both for meat and a medicine to them? Pliny hath written, that 
Hist. nat. lib. 10. c. 72.  dear and quails do feed upon poison, and yet every one knoweth that their flesh is a delicious kind of meat. But what another wonder is this which the same author declareth, that there be certain beasts which are not venomous of themselves, and yet are dangerous meat, when they have eaten any venomous beast or herb? For in the mountains of Pamphilia and of Cilicia, the bores that have eaten Salamanders, are very venomous in such sort as they poison those who eat of their flesh: and yet they themselves can convert such poison to their own nourishment. What reason can we give of so excellent a secret in the nature of beasts? I have never yet learned any reason of the Philosophers. Let us then stay at the admirable effects of the providence of God, who in those beasts, which we do commonly eat for our sustenance, doth perform this marvelous chimistrie whereof we now spoke, and who causeth the force of poisons to be spent in the deserts, to the small hurt of man, to the end that his omnipotency, bounty and benignity may be declared in all things towards us.  
Moreover, have we not also worthy matter, whereby to give glory to his name, in that 
Of the natural amity and enmity of beasts.  he hath created the beasts so different in nature, with a natural and secret amity, and enmity which they do greatly bear one towards another? For it is very certain, that God maketh all this serve to the profit and commodity of men: in so much as there is a kind of amity commonly in private and tame beasts, towards such as they are, all serving him who hath been established for their master: and that enmity doth rather remain amongst wild beasts, as also in tame beasts towards the wild: In such sort as many savage beasts, which do nothing but harm, have by this means many of their own kind their adversary, to make head against them, and to resist them in whatsoever they would do. But we may especially wonder in that the most mighty, great and strong beasts, yea the most furious and cruel are commonly put in fear, by the smallest and most weak. For what is an hog in regard of an Elephant? or a cock in respect of a lion? there seemeth to be no comparison betwixt them: And yet the only voice and grunting of an hog maketh the Elephant afraid; and the lion is not only seized with fear at the crowing of the cock, but is much troubled when he seethe him but set up his crest. Also there are very little beasts, who do not only put very great and cruel ones in fear, but do also kill them: as the I chneumon, which is a little Rat of India, doth kill the great and cruel crocodile (a most dangerous serpent) cleaving and piercing his belly, after it is secretly entered thereinto through the mouth of this beast, which is able to devour men, and yet striketh no fear into this feeble creature. Which (as Pliny recordeth) hath another war 
Hist nat. lib. ● cap. 24.  against the Aspis, over whom it remaineth victorious by this mean. It doth many times wallow and tumble in the dirt, and as many times doth dry itself in the sun: then feeling itself sufficiently armed with slime, it assaileth the Aspis, always holding up the tail against him, to receive the blows thereupon, which the serpent shall strike, wherewith he can in no wise offend the body of the Ichneumon: in the mean space it picketh out some such fit place to strike him through the throat, that he therewith dieth: and presently after it doth prepare itself, as before, to fight with another. In this discourse we may behold a perfect image of human things, considering that we cannot be ignorant, how that it cometh oftentimes to pass, that God abateth the most mighty and strong tyrants, by the most lowly and abject persons; and Kings, Princes, and highest esteemed people, by mean and very low esteemed men. And let us also note, that although the amity and enmity amongst living creatures, proceedeth from a certain instinct of nature, so disposed by the creator, and the causes whereof are either hidden, or hardly known: that nevertheless, the best reason, and most certain which may be alleged concerning those examples, which we have here touched, is, that God would declare unto us in them, how he doth mock at the pride and arrogancy of men, and at all their puissance and force. For if he bestow so much power upon little beasts, as to affright, yea even to slay the most furious, and that he can overthrow, and destroy the most stout and valiant amongst men, by their own selves, how much more should he astonish them, if with his almighty hand he should beaten down their pride, and punish their sins in his ire? Though the people (saith the Prophet) rage and murmur; though King's band themselves, and Princes be assembled together against the Lord, yet he that dwelleth in the heavens shall laugh, the Lord shall have them in derision, also they shall perish in the way, when his wrath shall suddenly burn.  
Now concerning that, which particularly respecteth the amity betwixt private and domestical beasts, and their hate towards those that are wild, although that the nearest cause be very evident (as that they do love one another, because they are nourished together, and receive no damage one from another, hating the wildness of those, who desire to devour them) yet must we pass farther, and acknowledge another more remote, and yet most certain cause therein, which is a natural instinct to conserve and multiply their own kind for the utility and service of man, according as the bounty and benignity of our God hath by his admirable providence disposed of their nature, whereupon let us hear you (ARAM) plot out the subject of your discourse.   

Of the utility that cometh unto men by beasts, and chief by private and domestical tame beasts, and of the wonderful providence of God which declareth itself in them. Chapter 91.  ARAM. 
SIthence God hath so disposed all things by his providence for the good, and commodity of men, that they may receive some profit even out of the most venomous, cruel and savage beasts, as we have already heard: we may in no wise doubt (as indeed experience doth daily teach us) but that they do receive great aid and help from private and tame beasts, as are sheep, kine, oxen, bulls, asses, mules, horses and such like. For we are served with their labours, and travail, with their fruit, with their flesh, with their wool, and with their skins. For from whence receive we our clothing, except linen, but from beasts? With how many sorts of wooles and of skins do they furnish us? And from whence have we the silks, cloth, and works which are made 
Of the commodity that men have by tame beasts.  and which serve to clothe the most stout and proud tyrants, and other princes of the earth? Have we them not by the industry of worms, and small vermin? In very truth, we may very well say, that worms cloth worms, and that the most stately among men do take from the most vile amongst creatures the substance of their bravery and pomp. For what are men, but poor worms of the earth, who to make themselves a little excel the rest, do take from other worms the ornaments of their magnificence? And if we consider what commodity the milk which is drawn from some beasts doth deliver unto a thousand thousand persons, if we consider of the great multitude that there is of all kinds of fourfooted beasts, of birds and of fishes; all which do serve us for food and nourishment in divers manners: if how many sundry tastes and savours we find in all these meats of different natures, according to the tastes, complexions and dispositions of men, and which are so tempered, that they be good for those that are in health, for those that are sick; for great, for small, for young, for old: shall we not be ravished with all these wonders, thereby to give glory to the sovereign Creator and moderator of all nature? What shall we more say in that the skins of earthly beasts, are of so many divers colours, and so well compact, either of wool, or of hair, or of good skins, of the variety & diversity that there is in the feathers of birds, and in the colours of them, & in their songs, which minister much pleasure to melancholy persons: are not these so many excellent testimonies of the power of the omnipotent; who created all these things through his bounty & benignity towards us? Surely there is nothing so vile and contemptible in the lest creature that is, but doth preach the Majesty of God unto us. And therefore he said unto his servant joh, [Hast thou given the pleasant wings unto the peacocks? or wings and feathers unto the Ostrich?] For 
job. 39  we see, that they which will deck themselves do put upon their heads the fair plumes of the Ostrich, and of other fowls, which are sold very dear: also every one admireth the tail of the peacock, wherewith besets forth himself, which he turneth like as into a wheel or a roundel, being so gallantly garnished, that there seem to be as many eyes or suns, as there be feathers therein.  
I speak not here of the nature of beasts, nor of the industry which God hath given to every one of them, to know what is convenient or hurtful for them, and to covet the one and avoid the other: as also how they are furnished with care and power, to preserve their life, and the lives of their young ones. But I will here bring into the number one of the lest and most common sort, which we behold every day in our houses: for perhaps the consideration thereof will not be altogether unprofitable unto us; and that is the cock. If any question be made concerning his beauty, in what bird may we find more, 
Many things to be considered of in the the nature of the Cock.  beeit, that we consider of his plumage, and the diversity of colours, which is commonly therein, or of his fair kingly crest, or his stately pace and brave carriage, which cannot be more magnificent in the greatest monarch of the world? And if this bird were not so common, but were very seldom seen, there are but few other creatures which would be preferred before him, although there were nothing worthy of consideration in his nature, save that which we have already declared. What shall we say then if we will but meditate, of what heart and courage he is in fight? Is there any other creature which can less endure to be overcome, and is more ashamed thereof? Again, what courtesy useth he amongst the hens, with whom he is conversant? and how much doth he love them, even to provide for meat to feed them, and to take it out of his own beak, to give unto them, calling them when he hath found it, as the hen calleth her little chickens together: But that which I find most strange in him, is the agreement which by nature he hath with the Sun, which is such, as one may very well think, that he hath some natural Astronomy and Astrology, which is bred in him. For he understandeth and perceiveth the course and motion of the heaven and of the Sun, and when his rising doth approach, so that he declareth it by his crowing, very timely in the morning, and that divers times before any other creature can perceive it; yea or men themselves, except they rise out of their beds to behold the sky. And yet for all that they must have obtained some knowledge of the course and of the motion of heaven; either by the science of Astronomy, or through long use and continual observations thereof, as is with shepherds, and those that watch in the fields. But if the heavens be covered with clouds what can the most expert of them know therein, save by means of clocks, which they have in their houses? The cock than is more skilful in this art. For without ever moving from the place where he is at roost to sleep, and what weather soever there be, fair or fowl, yet doth not he fail to sound out the chimes at his hours, so as there is no clock so certain: and he serveth also for one to them that have no other. And therefore we may very well say, that how many cocks there are in the world, so many natural and domestical clocks are they for those who have them in their houses. And do we not see how that soldiers, especially Almains do commonly carry these creatures with them, to serve as a trumpet to them to sound out the approach of day. But the cock did not serve for a clock only to S. Peter, but for a preacher also, to recall into 
Math. 26. Mark. 1. 4. Luke 22. john 13. Goodly doctrine that we aught to learn by the crowing of the Cock.  his memory the words, which he had heard of his master, and for to draw him out of his sin, and to induce him to true repentance as he did. And the like aught we to do, so often as this bird croweth in the morning, not only to think ourselves advertised of the aprpoach of the sun, which bringeth us the temporal day, after the darkness of the night but we must every day wake out of the sleep of sin, wherein we are so sound laid; and prepare and dispose ourselves to receive jesus Christ, the true Sun of justice, which bringeth us the eternal & perpetual day, that is never changed into night; & the light which cannot be obscured by darkness. By this brief discourse than we may judge how many excellent matters we should found to entreat upon concerning the nature of living things, to make us still more and more acknowledge the wonders of the providence of God, if we would pursue to the full, that which might be said concerning this matter in searching out the secrets of the divers faculties of creatures. But we will content ourselves only to add to this which we have said, that which well deserveth to be considered of in this place, concerning the multiplication of such beasts as are most profitable for men, and by whom they receive most commodities, whereupon (ACHITOB) let us hear you presently discourse.   

Of the blessing and providence of God, in the multiplication and conservation of those beasts, that are most profitable to men, and by whom they receive most commodities. Chap. 92.  ACHITOB. 
THe holy Scripture teacheth us, how that God after he had created the 
Genes. 1.  beasts, he blessed them, saying, [Increase and multiply, and fill the waters, and the earth.] And that afterwards when the deluge had overwhelmed every living 
C. 9  soul, save Noah, and his family, and two of every kind of beasts; God likewise repeated the same benediction of them, saying, [Bring forth fruit and multiply, and fill the earth.] Through which word that admirable fuitfulnesse, which we behold in all creatures, did first come, and is for ever conserved. Wherein, if we have any worthy matter delivered unto us to acknowledge the providence, bounty, and benignity of God towards men, it is principally in this point which is notorious unto all, that the virtue of this blessing hath been such, that those beasts, from whom we might receive most commodity, and which 
C. 7.  are most tame and familiar, have much more multiplied, than the other wild and cruel beasts, who might bring any peril or endomagement unto us. Whereto GOD himself had in some sort a regard, when he commanded Noah to enter the ark, and to take of clean beasts, seven and seven, male and female: but of unclean beasts, two and two only. So that by this mean, there did most remain of the number of those, the use of whom was most necessary for man: giving us also a certain testimony of his fatherly bounty to us, by which he is induced to have respect unto us in all things.  
But if we consider what fecundity there is in certain savage beasts, and yet how it vanisheth, and is surmounted by the multiplication of the other sort (wherewith we serve ourselves) by a certain kind of manner, which is altogether incomprehensible unto us: there is no person but will find himself ravished in the contemplation thereof. For let us take for instance the wolves only. It is certain, that they are more fertile than sheep, kine, and other private and domestical beasts, which serve for the maintenance of our life, and 
Goodly contemplations u●on the fertility of beasts.  to other uses for the commodity of the same. For the sheep doth bring forth, and nourish but one lamb, the cow one calf, the mare one foal, and so of the rest: whereas the wolf bringeth forth and nourisheth many whelps. Moreover, none of those tame beasts, nor no man himself doth eat any wolves: but they, and many other wild beasts, which live upon prey, yea man himself, do eat up lambs, sheep, kine, and their calves, and many times foals escape not: and yet we nevertheless do daily behold, how all these poor beasts, which are a continual prey to men and other creatures, do increase and multiply each one more in his kind, than wolves and other cruel beasts, who eat and devour them. Are not these then admirable effects of the providence of God, the reason whereof doth surpass the capacity of our understanding? In very truth these things are no less wonderful (although there be great diversity of the subject) than the multiplication of the people of Israel amongst the Egyptians, which was by so much the greater, by how much the more they were oppressed by tyranny and cruel dealing.  
Let us also note, how that this eternal wisdom favouring the fertility of those beasts, that are most profitable for man, hath assigned to such as live upon prey and rapine, an habitation 
Other considerations to the same purpose.  in desert and obscure places, in rocks, caves, and in dens. For so it pleased God to separate them from the other, to the end that they might the less annoyed them. Moreover, he sundered them amongst themselves: in such sort that they do not live together in companies, as others do, that they might not overrun them. For wolves, bears, lions, and such like do not communicate one with the other, as private and domestical beasts do: because they cannot agreed one with another, as the peaceable & innocent beasts. So likewise eagles, hawks, falcons, and other birds of prey, do not fly together in volees and troops, as pigeons crane's, geese, and such like do, which serve us for food. Thereupon then ensueth, that wild beasts cannot gather so much power, as to hurt the other, upon whom they make continual war: and who by this means are often saved from peril. Let us add in regard of birds, that they of prey are not so fruitful as those which are given us for food: Witness the great number of chickens which the hen doth hatch at one time, and the number of the young ones of partridges and quails, in comparison of those who fly to devour them. And although doves do bring forth but one at a time, yet they recompense that, insomuch as they breed almost every month in the year. In meditation then upon these things, we must consider what, and how great the bounty of God is towards us: and that all his creatures must be as so many preachers still to announce unto us the puissance and infinite wisdom of him; and as mirrors wherein he presenteth himself every where before our eyes. And when we serve him not according to our duty, we are well worthy to be set to school to such masters, as being beasts, more brute, more wild, more savage than they who live with us, and are created for to serve us. It is then as isaiah said to the Israelites who were ingrateful and rebellious against their God, [The ox knoweth his owner. and the ass his master's crib: but Israel hath not known, my people hath not understood.] And indeed in these 2. kinds of creatures we have a goodly example to raise us out of our sloth and ingratitude towards God, if we do but consider only, what benefits do redound unto us by the service which we have of oxen in tilling of our lands, and drawing of carts & wagons, and by asses in bearing all loads & burdens which are laid upon their backs. Wherein we are also to esteem of the providence of God, in regard of the form of the bodies, & members of these beasts. For he hath so disposed them, that their only composition & figure doth admonish men of the works wherein these creatures must be employed, and of the uses, whereto they must be put. For oxen do clearly show us, that their back is not fit to bear packs nor saddle, but that their necks is fit for the yoke, and their shoulders to draw carts and wagons, whereby one may easily judge as also by their heaviness, that they are unfit to be are burdens like the ass: whose back, head and shoulders, are apt for the same.  
Moreover shall we not consider of the great bounty, and providence of God, in that he hath created the puissant and strong bulls so docible, that men do easily teach them to 
Of the docility of bulls.  leave all their fierceness, and make them so tame, that a little young boy shall lead them like sheep, and put the yoke upon their neck, couple them, and make them labour as he listeth. This may make us wonder at the indocility and wildness of man, being so difficult to correct and tame. For we see that one only child can easily direct a great troop of beasts, be they oxen or bulls, and govern them himself. But contrariwise, the nature of man is so unto ward, that many masters and governors are scarce sufficient to guide one only child. And whatmay we more say, in that all the government of these beasts is done without any need to muzzle their mouths, or to tie or fasten them in chains or halters, and without keeping them in bits and bridles like horses, which men tame by such means? Surely we need not doubt, but if God had not ordained by his providence, that oxen and bulls should serve men in those uses whereto they would employ them, that we should be able to draw no more service out of them, than out of the wildest beasts that are in the world. By so many testimonies then, as we have in the nature of beasts, of the puissance, bounty and benignity of the Creator of all things: let us conclude, that we may very well say to all such as do not consider upon the so admirable works of God, and upon his providence therein, that which job said to his friends, speaking thus, [Ask the beasts, and 
job 12.  they shall teach thee: or speak to the earth, and it shall show thee; and to the fishes of the sea, and they shall declare unto thee, who is ignorant of all these, but that the hand of the Lord hath made all these?] And to morrow (companions) we will take a view of the goodly riches and treasures, which are hidden within the entrails and precious stones, the discourse whereof (ASER) you shall begin.  
The end of the eleventh days work.    

The twelfth days work.  

Of Metals, and especially of Gold. Chapter 93.  ASER. 
AS we have already contemplated those things, which appear to be most rare upon the earth; so do we now desire somewhat to refresh our spirits by the consideration of those things which are hidden within the entrails thereof. That then shall be the subject of our discourse for this day, to the end that as the contemplation of the highest heavens did open an entrance into our discourse, so we should conclude it, by a treatise upon that, which is within the earth, nearest to the centre of this great Vnivers: to wit, upon metals & stones. Not that we intent to speak of them, as by a particular description of their nature & species: for than I dare affirm that there are so many kinds of metals engendered within the earth, that they cannot be particularly described: and sith that nature adorneth the earth with above five hundred kinds of plants, and with as many beasts, it is very likely, that she exerciseth no fewer means under earth, whereby to enrich it. But as we have proposed unto ourselves no other end in all our discourses of heaven, of earth, and of the creatures therein contained; but only to consider upon the most worthy things therein, which might incite us to an holy meditation of the providence of God, thereby the more to glorify him: even so will we do in that which we now intent to declare, concerning metals and precious stones.  
metal is that which is pliable by the hammer, and hard, stones are hard, but not pliable; and wax and mud are pliable, but no hard. Metals are seven in number, as the planets are. For gold representeth the Sun; silver, the Moon: amber called electrum, Mercury, 
What metal is, and of the kinds thereof.  iron, Mars, lead, Saturn, brass, Venus, and copper jupiter: or else we distinguish them in this sort. All metal is perfect, soft, and pure as gold: or, it is pure and hard, as silver: or, it is hard and impure, as iron: or, it is soft and impure, as lead. And for amber it is compounded of gold, and silver; as cyprus copper is made of brass, and iron: containing an equal substance of brass, and of iron: which causeth that iron too much concocted and high tincted, is easily changed into brass, and rechanged again into copper. But we will now speak of gold, which is the most perfect and purest of all metals. In very truth nature never took delight to make a more perfect elementary substance than gold is: for it is as pure and neat in the quality thereof, as are the simple elements whereof it is composed. And therefore by good right do we hold it in price of excellency far above all other riches, and do esteem it in our judgement to be much more precious than all other metals. For being in the composition thereof proportioned in equal quality, fitly correspondent in the symmetry of the Elements which compound it, it is even from the original thereof so purified already, as are the simple elements: In such sort, that by their conjunction together in equal power, there is engendered so delicate, & perfect a mixture of indissoluble union, composing an accord so faithfully, that there is made thereby an incorruptible paste, which is permanent to all eternity in the excellency and goodness thereof. Wherefore gold cannot be vanquished by injury of time, and of antiquity, neither can contain in itself nor support any excrescence and superfluity of rust. For though it be put into the water, or fire, and there remain for any long space of time, yet is it never stained, neither doth accept any other quality, but that which is natural, nor yet doth fail any whit: which is the particular privilege that it hath above other metals. For they are all subject to alteration, & therefore change and corrupt for a small matter, and accept a good or bad quality in their original or end. But gold is incorruptible, and therefore not subject to such mutations: yea though it be drawn out in so small wire, that it be as fine as threads in a spider's web, and though it be buried in most piercing medicaments, as are sublimatum, and verdigris, salt, and vinegar, and that it remain two thousand years therein, it will not for all that be corrupted, but contrariwise the more refined, but all gold hath not one self same perfection: for their mines and sources are different in goodness. Sometimes also gold is counterfeit, sophisticate, and falsified through the infidelity or nuarice of those, who mingle it, and multiply it with other mixtures of metals of less value, and less pure than it is. But pure and refined gold is always perfect by nature in all those qualities, which we have already touched, and it is found in divers manners; to wit, mixed with sand, as in Bohemia: on the shore side amongst the waters near to Gold bourgh, and Risegrond: and 
How gold is found.  amongst the stones in mountains as in Calcecut, and in the Indieses. But the first generation thereof is at the top of mountains, in the highest places, because that the sun doth there more easily purify that, which retaineth too much earthines in it. And when the rain and torrents do flow down the mountains, they carry the gold down with them to the foot thereof, where it is gathered amongst the sand: or else in waters near thereunto whether it is driven by violence of the floods: except perhaps the ground open with those rains, and the gold do there stick, as it oftentimes chanceth. And that, which is always found in the entrance of the mine, is not the finest: but the farther you go, the finer and purer it is, of better weight, and greater value. That than which is found in waters & rivers, is fished for and is in form of little grains: and in rocks and mountains it is taken out, by delving and digging. And therefore there are holden to be three sorts of gold mines. For some are called pendent, some jacent, and others obliqne and running. The pendent are those which are found in the superficies of mountains, and have the earth under them. They which are jacent or lie, are below in the field and plain ground, carried thither by torrents and storms of rain. And the other that are obliqne, have a cross course whether it be in that which hangeth, or lieth, all whereof is driven by floods into the next rivers: for which cause there are rivers throughout all the world, the sand whereof seemeth to be of azure and gold, having indeed pure and fine grains of good gold. Now according as the mines are, so are there divers means used to take out the metal. For in those places which 
How gold is taken out of mines.  are dry, without water, they which are expert in the vein of mines, having true knowledge what may be in that place, do cause it to be digged eight or ten foot deep, and as many foot long and broad: and as they proceed in their work, they still wash the earth that is digged up, continuing so till such time as they find the gold, which is sometimes so deep, that they are driven to set up arches of wood over them, that the earth may not overwhelm them. And when the mines are pendant along the mountains, the difficulty is then more great, wherefore they also set up engines to defend them from dangers, which are there very imminent. For some, to wit, those that dig into the rock, are quite hidden therein, even as those that cut stone, are within a quarry; others creep scrambling up the sharp rocks, with a basket at their backs, seeking out the earth of the mine to carry it to the water: others wash the same earth in a sieve, by means whereof the gold is separated, remaining in the sieve, after that the earth is run out by little and little. Moreover, out of these mines there issueth a stinking breath or damp, which doth oftentimes choke and kill them that work therein, being not able to endure so bad an air: some also are drowned by waters, which suddenly gush out of those places where they have digged, when they think not of any such thing, quickly overwhelming them, before they can make sign to those that are above to help them. Again, these miserable poor souls are oftentimes affrighted by evil spirits, who inhabit in great numbers in those hollow and solitary places, as many have experimented to their great hurt. For sometimes it happeneth, that these devils tumble great stones and whole rocks upon them, throw down their engines, overturn their ladders, break their cordage, and do a thousand other mischiefs, whereby men are oftentimes slain. Concerning rivers wherein the grains and sands of gold are found, the dangers are not so great therein, but the pain is no less. For if the river be little, the Indian's use to empty and let it out till it be dry: and then take off the bottom thereof, and wash it, as aforesaid: and if the water be very great, they turn it out of the channel; which done, they go to gather the gold in the midst of the river, betwixt the stones and great pebbles, so that sometimes there cometh greater profit by this fishing, then by washing the digged earth, to separate the gold. But howsoever, yet is there great pains always used to obtain the riches of this metal, so much coveted by men, and whereof the abuse is very great, as we may in some sort touch, after that we have spoken of other metals, which shall serve (AMANA) for the subject of your discourse.   

Of Silver, Amber, Iron, Led, Brass, and Copper. Chapter. 94.  AMANA. 
THE most noble amongst metals next to gold is silver, for although that coppar in colour, and lead in weight do nearest approach unto gold yet in tenuity of substance, in pureness and fastness, silver is so like unto it, that good silver may be rightly said to be imperfect gold in substance, failing in colour: and that by succession of time it is sometimes changed into gold? as in many years space lead turneth into silver. The mines thereof are more ordinary than gold mines. For France, Italy, Spain, England, 
Of silver.  Germany, and many other regions of Europe do hear silver in divers places, as well as the other parts of the world. And it is there engendered in four manners: to wit, either in the earth, which being gathered together, and then melted in the fire, doth yield silver; or in lead, wherewith it is often found mingled, or in brass, or in stones, out of which it is also extracted by fire. For in the mountain called (Mous Regius) stones retain very much silver: which being also but into the fire, there is found in every pound of silver that runneth out of them, half an ounce of gold at lest. Silver is also many times found to be mixed with copper, as in Alsaria near to the Rhine, in the mountains of Saint Anne, and in Meisen: for there are stones full of copper, in which is great abundance of silver. And when it is separated from lead, it leaveth a scum, which we call (Lythargyrium) which is 
Of lethargy. Of quick silver  a kind of impure lead, retaining some virtue of silver. For quick silver, though it agreed in name with silver, yet it approacheth nearer to gold: for it is like unto it in tenuity, & weight and to silver in colour only. But for all this it is no metal, but a water condensate, not by heat (for it is not hardened) not by cold (for then it would be a stone or metal) but by some other terrestrial, rare and pure portion, whereby it cometh to be very weighty and cold splendent and liquid, and is therefore ranked among those mettalline substances, which differ but little from water: and indeed the mountains where quick silver groweth are very green, and full of fountains.  
Let us speak now of Amber, which we have put into the number of metals. Many authors do disagree very much in the discourse of Amber. For some reckon that 
of amber.  which is called (Electrum) amongst pliable and had metalline substances: others will not acknowledge it to be any other than a gum of a tree, which is very much like to that of the Pine and Fir tree, producing Rosin, and is very common in Arabia the happy. Philemon writeth, that in two places of Scythia. Amber is digged out of the ground, like a kind of stone, and in one place it is white, in another yellow. But omitting this argument, we will follow those who make Amber a metal, whose nature and property is in mean betwixt gold and silver, and that such is the true and natural amber; as that, which we use in our beads is artificial. And it partaketh more of gold then of silver, because it is more pure and perfect, and apt to be wrought. For if it did consist more of silver, it could not endure the forge and hammer. There are vessels made thereof for beauty and profit: For good amber doth discover poisons in these two manners, by cracking and making the sign of an arch within. For when the rare humidity thereof cometh to be consumed by the force of venom, it cracketh: & the colour changing, it seemeth that instead of the great splendour thereof, there doth a kind of stain represent itself like unto an arch. Now that this kind of amber is very rare, it is not because there is not enough to be had in mines: but avarice and ignorance of the virtue thereof causeth that the gold is extracted whereby it ceaseth to be amber.  
Concerning Iron; it is taken out of the earth, and to make it malleable, the mass thereof is (when it is taken up) laid to dry in the sun, and that which is earthy doth soften 
Of iron.  in the rain, as that which is moist doth melt by the sun, and the most sharp part thereof, which is as the venom of it, is consumed by the fire. The mines of this metal are common in Europe, as in divers parts of France, which are enriched by the forges that are there set up, to bring this mineral substance to his perfection. Which by how much the more it is concocted and purged, by so much the more it is better in goodness, in such sort, as that which is earthy, doth at last turn to scales & dross, and the most subtle part thereof doth convert into steel, after it hath been well purged, & a little marble added thereto. And this is artificial steel. For there is in many places natural steel, namely in Persia very good, in the Chaldean Isle, and near Damascus, whereof the best cemiters in the world are made which cut so well, that there is no razor be it never so well steeled and tempered that hath 
Of Steel.  a more fine and sharper edge. For this cause some say that there are some kinds of steel and iron so excellent, that weight for weight they are esteemed of greater price than gold. Moreover men may see what art can do in iron, when by much beating thereof, and through the power of water, iron, be it never so thin, is made unfrangible by blows: because that such water, by means of fire doth consume the terrestrial and watery excrement, which is found in this metal. When then the iron is brought to be most pure, most hard, and most light, then is it most subtle, and therefore most strong, and resisteth best.  
Lead consisteth in four kinds. For there is black, common, and low pricked lead: white, which is ordinarily called tin. Bisemutum which is of mean quality betwixt black 
Of Lead.  and white, and is rare, & known but to few people though it be found in the mountains of Bohemia: and the fourth kind is compounded of Stibium. The ore of lead is melted, in furnaces prepared for that purpose, and being melted, it is let run through pipes out of the furnace, whether the work man wil And whilst it remaineth very hot, they cast clear water upon it to make the form arise: which waxeth very massive, hard to break, yellow and bright as glass: and this is that which is called lethargy of lead. But this difference is betwixt white lead, and true tin; that this doth always grow with silver, and the other 
Of Tin.  doth grow of itself: in such sort that tin is almost white lead blaunched by silver. Brass (as we have already said) is made of a matter very near approaching to that of iron: and so 
Of Brass and Copper.  also is copper. But brass hath the property, that it never resteth; as iron and steel doth: and therefore it will continued longer. In times passed also, it was very usual to make armour and bucklers thereof, yea and lances likewise: witness Homer, who recounteth that Menelaus pursued Paris with a brazen lance. Flutes and pipes of organs, and other musical instruments are commonly made of brass: but it doth properly agreed with trumpets, because it maketh a great noise in doric muticke, and inflameth men to combat. That of Cyprus is harder, and better than any other. Some also because of copper make two kinds of brass: to wit natural, whereof the best hath spots of shining gold intermingled; & there is reported to have been found in new Spain in America a piece of it of two hundred pound weight. Than is there artificial brass, which is called copper, or latten: and the most excellent is that, which in four pounds of brass doth contain one pound of white lead called tin: also when the white lead is mixed to the eight part of brass, then is the copper very good: but it is base being mixed with black lead. For the use of copper, it is chiefly fit for fair instruments, as ordinance, cauldrons, and such like: wherein it is more excellent than brass, because also it doth not give a bad taste, nor smell to such meat as is boiled therein. Thus have we summarily tun over that, which we thought most convenient to be spoken concerning metals: we will now speak of precious stones: whereof (ARAM) do you begin to entreat.   

Of precious stones, and chiefly of the Diamond. Chapter 95.  ARAM. 
IF we first say somewhat concerning the original and matter of stones, the nature and virtue of them shall be so much the more easy for us to comprehend. Now the original of stones, as metals, is in the earth: and they be all made of an elementary substance, or of a pure and equal matter which is gathered together, or else is run on an heap, or else hath been purified in some sort howsoever. In which, heat doth chief operate. For that is it which boileth matter naturally engendered to perfect 
Of the original and substance of stones.  the humour, whereof afterwards the mineral matter or stone doth consist. Theophrastus' distinguishing all that which doth so grow within the earth, saith, that some things participate with the water, as gold, and silver, and other metals: some accord with the earth, as stones, yea precious stones, and all such earths as are in estimation because of their colours or of their savours, or of some other properties. But if he would infer (as it seemeth) that all precious stones are terrestrial, if this opinion were true, then should there be no precious stone bright and clear, and yet almost all of them are so. Wherhfore we may rather say, that they are not earthy, but watery: that is to say, that they are composed of a certain humour, which retaineth more of water then of earth: for it is a certain kind of clammy slime, wherein there is more water than earth, which being dried and thickened through continuance of the same operation, and by the vehemency thereof, doth at last become a stone. Now that a gross and clammy humour doth easily convert into stone, we see evident in all living creatures, and chief in ourselves. For those stones and gravel, which breed in the bladder and in the reins, are engendered of such humours, as in tract of time have been boiled and hardened by the natural heat of our body. So then precious stones, which are bright and transparent, are not composed of earth, nor yet of water only: but are engendered of a pure and liquid humour, which retaineth in itself more of water then of earth. For in that these stones, being cast into water, sink to the bottom, it is manifest, that they are not made of water only, for than they should swim aloft like ice and hail.  
For the splendour and light of some; and obscurity, or thickness of others: we must first note, that the elements operating (as in all things else) in the generation of stones, they 
Of the splendour and light in stones.  participate more with the water and with the earth, then with the fire and with the air. And because that the earth is not transparent nor shining, as it is evident that the water is and clear also; it followeth, that all the brightness and splendour of stones, doth proceed from the water. Therefore we say, that all clear and transparent stones are engendered of humours alike in clearness and light: and contrariwise, that they which are troubled, obscure and thick, do proceed from the earth: to wit, from a slimy and black humour that retaineth much earth, and but little water. And for so much as some stones are more clear, and more shining than others, that proceedeth from the diversity of humours, whereof they have been engendered: for some humours are more clear and more purified than others. Whereupon ensueth that some precious stones which are white, have been generated by an humour having the colour of water, which maketh them more clear and more transparent than others: and so the variety which is in the colours of all stones, be they green, blue, read, purple, yellow, or of many mingled colours, one must judge the humours whereof they did proceed at first to have been such: and that other precious stones which are not transparent proceed from troubled, black and obscure humours, for the water itself though it be never so clear, doth become black, if it be mixed with never so little blackness. And such precious stones as are splendent, do shine by reason of their great brightness, which maketh their light continued and abound. As much must we judge of the cause of stains, spots, shadowings, clouds, veins and othervices, which are found in precious stones: and of the difference that is in their massivenes, spunginess, lightness, weight and hardness: for all these things proceed from the diverlitie of the nature and of the colours of such humours as have engendered them.  
Now amongst precious stones, these bear away the prize, and are praised with especial praise, the white diamond, for hardness, and solidity: the green emerald for beauty, the 
Of the principal stones, and of their proper praises  read carbuncle, called the ruby, for lively colour, the sky coloured saphir, for grace, the yellow chrysolite for splendour, the divers coloured opal, for variety, and the clear pearl for whiteness, and roundness. First then let us speak of the diamond. For as gold amongst metals, so the diamond amongst stones is most precious. For the substance thereof is hard, 
Of the Diamond.  and for that cause the more exquisite: as that is amongst metals, which is the most pliable. By reason then of the hardness and solidity thereof, the diamond beareth away the price amongst precious stones: for in colour it is inferior to the emerald, to the ruby, and to the opal. But that which maketh it most to be esteemed, is, because that the filing, & small pieces thereof are precious: so that one scruple is sold for six crowns of gold: and because that by the hardness thereof, it cutteth all other stones, being not only commodious in sculpture, but also very necessary. Neither will it be well cut or polished, but by the only filing thereof, so hard it is. For which cause many have written, that the point of a dart being rubbed with the powder of a diamond, it will easily pierce any armour: wherein this reason is apparent, that the Iron or Steel is heated by the blow, whereupon it may be penetrated by the subtlety and hardness of the Diamond. Which is also commended for this virtue, that being polished, it doth greatly glister amongst precious stones: and for that it resisteth fire for the space of nine days time, without having any sense thereof, and afterwards it remaineth many other days, without being annoyed. Which sufficiently declareth, that this stone doth consist of most subtle parts: for otherwise it would have pores and small holes, by which the fire entering, it should easily break. The Diamond than retaineth a lively and strong splendour, in such sort that it doth not only shine, but doth also sparkle, and is beside that, unchangeable, not being corrupted by iron, by moisture, by fire, by age, nor by use. It hath also this property, that being tied to the flesh of the left arm, it doth hinder and withstand the fears of night. It is not then without good cause that this stone is so much esteemed by us, and almost by all nations. For even in the Indieses, in Calicut, in Persia, in Tartary, and other places, where rocks of Diamonds are commonly found, they are very dear and of great traffic: so that they are transported into all places, how far remote soever they be: witness the Isle of Carge, which lieth in the bosom of the Persian sea, where bargains are usually made for Diamond stone: it remaineth yet uncut from the rock, although it be scarce within six hundred and threescore miles of that place where it is had. And therefore it is no great marvel, if diamonds be at so high a price as they are, considering that they are so much in request by every one: wherefore there are some found which are sold for twenty and thirty thousand crowns a piece and above; for we ourselves know, that there is one in the treasury of our kings which did cost seventy thousand crowns. We are to note, that in the mountain of Cugarquell, which is near to the river of Goa in the East Indies, are the best and finest diamonds of all the world: as to the contrary in the Isle of Canada, which neighboureth upon Florida, there are found false ones, but so fair and well cut by nature, that the most subtle Lapidaries are very much troubled to discern the one from the other: whereupon this Proverb did arise. Lo, there's a Canada diamond. But I have said enough hereof. Now (ACHITOB) do you speak of the nature and property of other precious stones.   

Of the Emeraud, of the Carbuncle or Ruby, of the Saphir, of the jacinth, and of the Amethyst. Chapter. 96.  ACHITOB. 
THE Emeraud hath been long time holden for the most precious stone of all other, as well because of the beauty thereof, as by reason of the many great properties which are natural thereunto: in such sort as the price thereof did exceed that of the Diamond. But as the rareness of some things make them dear, so doth the abundance of other things make them to be less esteemed: As it came to 
Of the Emeraud.  pass, that the great quantity of Emerauds, which not long since were found in the new found Countries of America, hath much abated their price, but not their beauty nor virtue, which ever remaineth, and is most excellent in those which are brought out of the East Indies: for they of Peru are of much less worth. The green Emeraud then is the fairest of all precious stones, but yet the most brittle. For it sometimes happeneth to break even in the act of coiture. Being drunk, it doth much resist poisons, by the nature of the softness thereof: by reason that the abundance of the well concocted humour which is therein, doth refresh the spirit by the perspicuity thereof: and so it is profitable to the nature of man, and resisteth the force of venom: and for so much as it is a stone it retaineth the virtue thereof stable. For we may note, that all things which are pleasant to the sight, are profitable for man; whether it be in precious stones, or gold or silver, silk or purple: but above all, the Emeraud is fair, if that the art therein deceive not the sight, for as well this stone, as others are oftentimes counterfeited and falsified in divers manners. Moreover, as the Emeraud is very soft, so is it very subject to all casual chances: for it is corrupted by fire and heat, and by the touch of other precious stones which are harder, chief of the Diamond, yea by every thing that can give a blow. That which shineth most, and almost like the sun, and which refresheth the sight, as forests and green meadows do, is most to be esteemed. But I believe there was never any mention made of a more rich basin then that of an Emeraud, being on of the greatest treasures of Italy, which is in the city of Genoa, for it is reported that it was pawned in the necessity of the commonwealth for fourteen hundred thousand ducats: think then but how much this Emeraud must be worth. But that which is also said, that this is the same platter, wherein our Saviour jesus Christ did eat the Paschal Lamb in his last Supper, maketh me to doubt much, whether there be any people that upon one only stone would lend so great a sum of money.  
The read Carbuncle called the Ruby, is another precious stone, which is very beautiful, 
Of the Carbuncle called the ruby.  and hath the property to quicken the spirit, and make it joyful. Some authors have made mention of three kinds of carbuncles, saying that there be some which shine in the dark: others also that shine, if water be powered thereupon, and the third kind is of those, whose clearness is only seen in another light, to wit by day time, or by candle light. Theophrastus saith, that there are some of the colour of water, some of the colour of the Amethyst, others of the colour of the jacinth, and some of a read colour, which are called Rubies. In the Indieses these stones are plentifully found: and jews de Barthema reporteth, that the king of Pegum, which is a city in India, hath carbuncles called in Greek Pyropi, of such magnitude and splendour, that if any one should see the king in a dark place, with these stones upon him, he would seem to shine like a clear light, even as if he were fired by the beams of the sun.  
The Saphir doth approach near to the excellency of the diamond, in great hardness: in fairness of colour, being of a sky colour; and in beauty: and is very good for the sight if 
Of the Saphir.  it be not sophisticated. It refresheth a man, and being drunk is profitable for melancholy people, and for blows and bites of scorpions and serpents. Albertus Magnus affirmeth that he had twice found by experience, that the saphir would heal an anthrax, which is a kind of bile. Which may be believed considering the medicinable virtue which is in this stone. For as thirst cometh through the biting of a certain snake called Dipsas, and as the hand is benumbed by the touching of a little fish, called Remora, so the venomous fire of the Anthrax may be extinguished by the long touching of the saphir: but it must needs be so big as it may cover the head of the bile.  
Having already made mention of the jacinth, and of the amethyst, to which there are great properties assigned, I will now touch some principal points in them. And first we are to note, that the jacinth is commonly of a yellow colour; but the best is red, yet it is not so big as the other: being put into the fire it becometh more obscure, and redder: and being out of the fire it shineth greatly. Also this kind of jacinth doth differ but little from the carbuncle in estimation of price. They that are of the colour of water are counted for base, and of no force. But Serapio hath written, that the good jacinth keepeth men that heareth it out of the peril of thunder: and defendeth them from the plague, and provoketh sleep. Albertus Magnus likewise saith, that the jacinth doth augment riches, and authority, and that it doth greatly comfort the heart, and 'cause much joy. Now because these things might seem to be paradoxes to many, we will hear make a little discourse, following the precept of the philosopher, who thinketh it sufficient in hard and intricate questions, if we can well avoid and shun absurd doctrine. For by this means many shall be induced 
Good reasons of the virtue of stones.  to esteem more than they do of precious stones, and to believe the properties, which are attributed unto them, if not as true, at lest wise yet as possible. I say then that the jacinth is of cold temperature: for that is almost common to all precious stones, and causeth them, especially the diamond, not to receive fire very easily: for so much as the coldness doth greatly help the solidity and subtlety thereof, which maketh that stones do resist fire. Besides the jacinth is good for the breath of man, either because of the likeness of substance, or by clearness, or through some other mystical cause, whereby repairing and confirming the breath and the spirit, it maketh man joyful: for sadness is nothing else but the contraction of breath, and shortness and difficulty of the same. By such reason then, as some have said that they have experimented, that if any thing do comfort the heart, it doth likewise resist the plague, which doth chief come through fear and imbecility of heart (as experience showeth us in regard of children, women, and fearful people, who are sooner taken with this disease, then stout and hardy men:) the jacinth abolishing these two things (fear and faintness of heart) it may, I say help greatly to resist the plague. So also making the heart and the spirit joyful, and by that means more capable of good counsel, it shall be the easier for man to increase in authority, and to augment in riches. For being defended from thunder, although that the jacinth be (as we have said) of cold temper, which causeth that it will not easily receive endomagement by fire: yet do not we attribute to it therefore, that it will preserve a man from being hurt. But we may rather say, that the spirit of his heart being rejoiced by the virtue of this stone, may have the grace to direct him into some place where he may be clean out of the peril of thunder. Concerning the Amethyst, it is also a precious stone and oriental, although it be but of a low price in regard of others: in it is seen the colour and grace of wine, bearing a purple lustre: and it is 
Of the Amethyst.  thought to hinder drunkenness if it be tied to the navel; and to stir up dreams. Now (ASER) let us hear you pursue our discourse of stones.   

Of the Chrysolit, Topaz, Opal, Turkess, and of the Agath. Chap. 97.  ASER. 
Whosoever will nearly consider upon that, which hath been written by the Ancients concerning the Chrysolite and Topaz, shall find that that which we called a Chrysolite, was their Topaz, and contrariwise 
Of the Chrifolite.  our Topaz was their Chrysolite. This stone is of yellow colour, not pure, but greenish, and is nothing inferior to the Saphir in hardness, if it be oriental. For you must note that the German Chrysolite, and many other precious stones, which are found under the North, cold, Septentrional Zone, are not so hard as the oriental; because that there the heat is not so sufficient that it may much attenuate the humour, which composeth the stone, and harden it: for the perfect concretion and gathering together is the cause of hardness, which is done, when some very small parts are mixed and conjoined together, as cometh to pass in the generation of every stone. Moreover the Chrysolite is seldom found, without some black spots wherewith it is soiled: and but for this, it is a very excellent precious stone. It is thought greatly to repress lust, if it be carried next to ones skin. Besides, it is of great coldness, whereby this argument is apparent, that being laid upon the tongue of one that hath a fever, it appeaseth his thirst. Pliny recordeth, that from an Isle called Topazos, 
Hist. not lib. cap. 8.  there was brought a Chrysolite to Queen Berenice, mother of king Ptolemey the second, which was four cubits long: and that the king of Egypt did afterwards 'cause a statue to be made thereof in the honour of the Queen Arsinoe his sister and wife, which was placed in the gilded Temple, that this Prince caused to be erected,  
The Topaz is of a green colour, and softer than the Chrysolite, for it is easily brought 
Of the Topaz.  into dust with a file: in lapse of time also it looseth his splendour of itself; so that although it be very fair, yet none desireth much to wear it. Cardanus affirmeth himself to have found that fifteen grains of this stone being drunk, make a singular remedy for melancholy 
De subt. lib. 7.  persons.  
Now speak we of the Opal, which for variety of colours is accounted amongst the most 
Of the Opal.  precious stones. For in it the fire of the Ruby, the purple of the Amethyst, and the green sea of Emeraud, shine altogether by a marvelous kind of mixture. There are some which have a lustre so mixed with all colours, that there can no more be seen in a rich tablet nor more lively. Others seem to sparkle with violet flames, changing in manner of a fire made of brimstone, or of a fire kindled with oil. Pliny saith, that the Greeks' did call the Opal Paederos, that is to say, pastime for little children, because of the great grace and beauty 
Hist. nat. lib. 37. c. 6. & 9  which this stone hath in it. For (saith he) first one would say that there were a green heaven in a pure crystal, mixed with a purple colour, and a golden lustre, inclining to the colour of wine, which is always the last colour that doth present itself. And yet one would say that this stone, hath the head crowned with a purple chaplet, and that it is confusedly tincted with all these foresaid colours, and respectively with each of them. Moreover, there is no stone more clear than this: and some say that it is very good for the head, and comfortable to the sight. Nonius a Senator of Rome did so love an Opal that he had, that he chose rather to be banished out of Rome, then to give it to Marcus Antonius, carrying nothing with him of all his wealth but the ring only, wherein that stone was set. Opals are found in many places of Egypt, of Arabia, and of the Indieses: but the best are brought from Zeila, an Isle of East India, which produceth them as great as Walnuts. But we must note, that the Indian's can sergeant them so finely with simple glass, that it is an hard matter to discern the natural, from false ones: yet their deceit is found in the Sun. For holding betwixt the thumb and forefinger a false Opal against the Sun, all the diversity of colours which seemed to be in this stone will turn into one: But the natural Opal changeth lustre every minute, and spreadeth it here and there, so that the diversity of the colours thereof will shine upon your fingers being holden (as is said) and exposed to the Sun.  
Shall we say nothing of the Turkess which is garnished with the colour of heaven, and which hath admirable virtue? For it is of a sky colour and celestial blue, and very bright. It is esteemed, because that in the night it likewise looketh green: that part which is upon the earth is marked with veins: it is soft, and not of too cold a substance. Also lime slaked and laid upon this stone' seemeth to be blue, and receiveth the colour of a precious stone. It is commonly made bunching, and swelling out like an eye: and is found in this form sowed and set a long the rocks in many places of the Indieses: but the fairest Turkesses are in the kingdom of Rasigut. And because of the difficulty to come to those places where they grow, the inhabitants of the country beaten them down with staves, in such sort that they fall with their earth and moss: and the people do esteem so much of them, that they accounted them as their greatest riches and delight, hanging them about their necks in manner of Carcanets. It is no marvel then if these stones be rare amongst us: for we see no very common traffic made of them, and yet they are much in request at this day. Their virtue and property according to the report of some, is very marvelous. For they say, that the Turkess being worn in a ring doth keep a man from hurt that falleth, yea though it be from his horse: and that it receiveth all the blow, and is oftentimes broken in pieces: which is less credible than that which some also affirm, that the virtue thereof doth resist poisons.  
Now let us speak of Agath, which is the biggest of all such as are called precious stones. 
Of the agath  But it is of so variable a kind, that one can scarcely think it to be one only stone. For the Agath is white, red, yellow, ash coloured, green, black, changeable, blue: in brief, the colours of all precious stones, and of all other beside do concur in it. And nature exerciseth so many fashions upon it, that we may see it represent forests, fields, floods, flowers and trees. Histories have celebrated very much the Agath of king Pyrrhus, which represented the nine Muses, with Apollo in the midst of them playing upon his harp, being all in sundry garments: in such sort, as it seemed that nature did contend with the painter to carry away the price of such a representation. Cardanus reporteth that he had in his keeping 
Lib. 7. de sub.  two Agaths, in one of which, nature had painted the hemisphere of heaven, the distinct circles, with the round earth in the midst, environed by the waters: and in the other, an open gulf of the earth, seemed to breathe out a fume that darkened the air: wherein this was most admirable, that the colour of the smoke should seem to differ from that of the air, which was thereby darkened: this appearing white, and thick, and the air reddish, and somewhat clear. But though the agath be noble and excellent for the variety thereof, yet because it is but little bright, and shining, it is but seldom esteemed to be of great value amongst precious stones. Some do attribute this property thereto, to be good against stinging of scorpions: especially that Agath which is spotted with little grains of gold, which the Isles of Candie, and Sicily do produce. The same virtue is attributed to the agaths of India and to refresh the sight much, by but only looking upon them: and they say, that they staunch thirst being held never so short a while in ones mouth. But enough of this: now (AMANA) do you look to that, which resteth for us to consider upon, concerning these most precious stones that deserve to enrich our discourse.   

Of Pearl, Coral, and Crystal. Chapter 98.  AMANA. 
IT is no marvel though pearls be so much sought after in these days, by every one for ornaments, especially for women: for of old they have been in such or more request: so that while the Roman Empire flourished this was a common Proverb. That a woman could or might go without pearls, aswell as a Consul might go without Officers: meaning thereby that pearls were an honour to women, and made way to be given them in the street, as the sergeants did for the Consul before whom they marched. Pearl is placed among precious stones, and is of great price, being esteemed for whiteness, splendour and roundness: and when it is found big, polished, 
Of pearl.  and heavy, then may it be said to be fair in all perfection. But there are very few pearls that have all these beauties, and conditions. Concerning the generation thereof the ancient opinion hath ever been, that the pearl was engendered in shells of fishes, wherewith the the Indian Sea doth abound, which engendering at one time of the year, do open and gape in the night time, by that means filling themselves with dew, whereby they conceive pearls, which they make according to the quality of the dew received: if it be clear, they are clear: if troubled, so are they troubled, and foul: if abundant, the pearls are great: if scarce, they are little. Moreover if it happen to thunder the shells shut together for fear that they have; so that they have no leisure to take in dew enough, whereby they remain lank and empty, as if they had fasted: and thereof also pearls do proceed that are without substance, and full of wind.  
But mark what our French Cosmographer saith: if these shells or oysters have no other 
Lib. 10. de cosm. c. 4.  substance within them, but this pearl so conceived of dew how doth the race of this shellfish maintain itself? Moreover in the west Indian seas, where abundance of these pearls are found, it cannot be seen how their generation may be judged by the clear or obscure disposition of the weather, for if that were so, there is no doubt, but that all the pearls, which were found in one shell, should be all of one manner: whereas the contrary is seen. that within one shell are found some dark pearls, others drawing to a tawny, some pale, some greenish, and some again bluish, and very few there are, which have the perfection required in a fair pearl.  
Thereupon he concludeth, that this pearled fish maintaineth the kind thereof by the eggs which it breedeth: and that the pearls come out of the sand and gravel wherein they breed and are hidden: because that by little and little this gravel refineth itself, and groweth into these shells, or oysters, till such time as it hath attained to an entire and perfect form, remaining still soft, for so long time as the oyster is within the water, but being out, it presently hardeneth, and becometh such pearl as we see. But without much disputing hereupon, every man is of opinion, that these pearls are bred in the shells of fishes. And the experience hereof is not only seen in the Indian sea, but also in the British seas, yea in all seas, and fresh waters: because that such oysters do swim as well as fishes: of which there have been some fished up in the river Garronne. But the industry of such as fish for them in the bottom of the sea is wonderful? for from thence they fetch their best mother of pearl, Which lie within, and upon rocks hidden in the waters.  
They which are appointed to such fishing, enter into boats, and afterwards (leaving some within to govern them, and to help themselves also up, when they have done their fishing) they cast themselves into the water, diving down to the bottom, where they sometimes remain for the space of half an hour, and with nets catch these shells: having taken some, they return again to the top of the water, and are received by those in the vessel, where refreshing themselves with meat, and drink, and having fitted on that, which they put before their face. which is, as of little pieces of sear cloth very fine like a thin bladder, made that they may see clearly through within the water; they leap in five, or six times a day, These oysters are also found fastened upon rocks, which appear above water, from whence they are fetched with pain, and being catched, the pearls are strait ways taken out, which otherwise would consume and loaf their fresh colour: and in one shell there are sometimes thirty, or forty small and mean ones, but few great ones, to wit, one, or two. They were, doubtless, wonderful fair, which were given to Ferdinand Magellano, in a certain isle of the Moluccaes, which were four in number, each one of the bigness of a pigeon's egg, esteemed to be worth five and twenty thousand crowns a piece.  
But this was a very small matter in comparison to the two unions of Cleopatra Queen of Egypt, esteemed worth fifteen hundred thousand crowns: one whereof she 
Pearls of great price.  dissolved in very strong vinegar, and drank it up at a banquet, because it might be said, that she had surpassed in sumptuousness of cost, the feast which Anthony had made her. Now for the virtues of pearls, they are very good for passions, and faintness of heart, and purge the blood, and being put into medicines, they take away clouds, and dimmenesse from before the eyes, and dry up the moisture that runs from them.  
Coral is likewise fished for in the sea, and put into the number of stones, although 
Of Coral.  indeed it is a plant, or shrub, which being drawn out of the Mediterranean sea, and feeling the air, doth wax hard by the power thereof. And there is found, white, red and black, in one self same plant, which groweth amongst stones and rocks in the bottom of the water: but the best coral is the read if it be evenly congealed: for the white is not so massive nor heavy: but is light, rare, and full of holes like a sponge. When it is fished for, it is all covered with moss, and hath no sign or apparition of redness. But being cleansed, it taketh colour, and appeareth fairly polished: now those grains of round coral, which are put in bracelets and collars, are not found so in the shrub: but it consisteth of many little branches, whereof these grains are made with a wheel, and files, and are afterwards polished with vermilion, and with a certain earth which is brought from Tripoli in Africa. The properties which are attributed to Coral, are marvelous: for some say, that being hanged about the neck, or taken in drink, it is good for them that have the falling evil, for bloody flixes, and looseness of the belly, to fasten the teeth, to heal soreness in the mouth: to provoke sleep in such as have fevers, to diminish the spleen, for those that vomit and spit blood. Avicen placeth it amongst those medicines that comfort the heart, & Pliny saith that being burnt and pulverised, and so drunk with water, it is good for them that have wring in their belly, and the stone in the bladder. The ashes thereof also are put into medicines for the eyes: it thickneth, refrigerateth, and doth incarnate hollow ulcers, and maketh scars smooth. But amongst other properties this is most admirable and true, that read Coral, which is pure and fulgent like the carbuncle, being tied about one's neck so that it touch the skin when that person is sick, or shall be in short space after, or hath drunk any venom, which he yet feeleth not, the coral doth wax pale and loose the splendour thereof, which Cardanus hath often testified to have proved by experience.  
I will hereto add some short discourse concerning Crystal: because that as it is engendered in the veins of the earth, of the same humour that the Diamond is, which opened the 
Of Crystal.  entrance of this discourse concerning precous stones; so now this speech of Crystal may shut it up again. Pliny and many others have supposed that it was made of ice or snow, in a word, that it was water congealed through great cold. But it appeareth that crystal is engendered of some very well purified humour, in that it is the clearest of all stones. Again, if the oldest ice in the world be put into an hot place, it doth presently melt, which crystal doth not. Moreover, it is most certain that it is not found on the tops of mountains, where there is continual snow and extreme coldness: but in quarries of marble & of other stones, yea and in mines of divers metals. This also is another reason, that ice doth always swim above water, but crystal sinketh to the bottom. That crystal is best, which is white and clear as water, It melteth with very great fire, & doth convert into glass, whereof there are very fair vessels made. In virtue it is restringent, and is therefore good for such as are sick of Dysenterias to drink, in good sharp wine, after it is well and subtly beaten to powder. The ancients made a bowl of crystal, wherewith physicians cauterized those which feared the fire, and common searing iron: to do which, they laid the same bowl directly toward the beams of the sun: by the reverberation whereof they did their surgery work upon the grieved part. Now in this little which (we companions) have declared concerning metals and precious stones, we may imagine, that if there be sufficient matter to admire the effects of nature, ordained by the divine providence, what might we think, if we should enterprise to speak of five hundred kinds of metals, earths, and precious stones which the earth hideth within her bowels? But sith that we have attained to the end of our discourse, which is to glorify God in the knowledge and contemplation of his most noble creatures: let us advise ourselves how to give some good instructions upon that which hath been delivered concerning minerals and stones hidden under ground, as (ARAM) you can declare unto us:   

Of the instructions that men must take, in that gold and silver are hidden under the ground, and of their use and abuse, as also of precious stones. Chap. 99  ARAM. 
AS God declareth a great and marvelous providence in all his creatures (as we have discoursed entreating upon them) so also doth he manifest it unto us in the creation of metals, and especially of gold and silver, which are esteemed for the most precious. For we see how he hath hidden them in the most deep places of the earth, and hath covered them with great and high mountains: so that to dig & draw them out of their profound caves, men must therein so travel, as if they had enterprised to overturn and to transport these lofty hills from one place to another, and to search and pierce through the earth from one side to another. For how is it searched by such as work in mines? It is a marvel that they are not already come unto the Antipodes, considering the deep pits, gulfs and holes whereinto they are descended. job having spoken of gold and silver, doth presently make mention of the bounds of darkness and shadow of death. 
joh. 28.  And in very truth they are things which do fitly agreed with these two minerals: For they are hidden in very obscure and dark places, and covered with a very thick shadow: yet cannot this limit the covetousness and avarice of men, notwithstanding that God hath sufficiently admonished them to moderate themselves, seeing that he hath so hidden the gold and silver, which provoketh their avarice, making them so furious and insatiable. And therefore I might very well compare them to bruit beasts, yea to a flock of sheep For although that they daily behold by many experiences, the calamities which fall upon 
Men compared to a flock of sheep.  the world through avarice, and especially upon those, which are entangled with this vice, yet cannot one take example by another, but do all follow one by one like poor bruit beasts and sheep, following one another when they are lead to the slaughter house, or when there is some one amongst them that hath lead the way to the rest, and hath made the first leap. For what danger soever there be, yea though it were to tumble headlong downwards, into some bottomless pit, it is sufficient if one begin the dance for he shall presently have good company; yea such, as there is not one of the whole troop, but will lustily rush after without thinking upon any danger. Who doth not see that it is even so in man's life? For according as some have wickedly begun, others pursue them, and the latter cannot discover their own folly by that of the former, nor yet correct it by so many examples as they have of evil ends, and pernicious events, which have willingly fallen upon the covetous. For this cause the Prophet having described the folly and presumption of men, which think to build an eternity unto themselves with temporal riches; he addeth [Their way uttereth their foolishness, yet their posterity delight in their talk: like sheep they lie in the grave, death devoureth them. See there 
Psal. 49.  the shepherd and the flock of the covetous, death, and the sepulchre,  
Now our meaning is not here to blame the use of gold and silver: but only the abuse. 
Of the right use of gold, and silver.  For we behold the great commodities that men have by communicating one with another, and mutually aiding one another in all that which is rare and exquisite amongst them, and that by means of those metals and money that is coined thereof. For so may they furnish themselves of all things necessary for their use, for their life, and according to their wish, not only from one country to another, but (as we may well say) from one end of the world to another. And if by their avarice they abuse not this great commodity, it will be much more profitable to all. But their unsatiable covetousness of gain is cause that the amiable communication, and the good desire of one neighbour to profit another, which should be by means of gold and silver, is converted oftentimes into plain robbery. For their hearts are so set on fire with love of riches, that they propose no other determination unto themselves, save to heap up treasures by a deceitful means, which nevertheless they do never enjoy in peace and content, being no more able to settle their covetousness, and assuage their appetite, then to quench a great fire with laying dry wood upon it: but that it will always increase and inflame the more. And to speak truth, what is this gold and silver but a little yellow and white earth? And if there be any difference, it is only, in that the substance is more hardened: and what do they differ therein from the basest and hard stones? It is only in colour. Why then do men travail and take great care to heap up gold and silver, rather than to heap up dust, earth, and stones? But indeed this is much worse; for they heap up an unhappy treasure, when for earth and clay, they gain unto themselves the treasure of the curse of God. For it is written [Cursed be he that 
Abac. 2.  heapeth up that which is not his: how long will he lad himself with thick clay.] But what? This clay so yellow and white, firm and exquisite, doth dazzle their eyes more than any thing else: and yet for all that, it is but earth. And therefore it is but opinion that causeth one thing to be esteemed more than an other. For if men had given that value to other metals, which they have appointed to gold and silver, there would be almost no difference of the one from the other. I say moreover that if they had but equal regard to the utility & nature of things, according to the profit which they receive thereby, and the need which they have thereof, they should more esteem of iron, brass and copper, then of gold & silver: considering that by iron, the earth which nourisheth us is ploughed, & arts and occupations maintained, and that by it we defend ourselves from the fury of beasts and enemies: and of tin and copper we make the most principal utensils and tools in our houses to boil our victuals in, and for other infinite uses. In all these things than we acknowledge the folly and want of judgement in men, who govern themselves more by opinion then by reason.  
We may say as much concerning precious stones, which they have esteemed at a more high price then gold and silver. For how many crowns do they oftentimes give for one pearl, or for a diamond, or for some other stone? If the fancy take them, and that they 
Of the use, and abuse of precious stones  do but only like some small precious stone, then do they spare gold, and silver no more then if they were dust and clay: then that which they so much delight in, and for to obtain which, they direct and govern their whole course of life; yea and put it into all confusion, is nothing with them in respect of a small jewel. And what profit can redound unto them by all this? Nothing else, but a vain persuasion that induceth them to obtain a stone of such and such worth, as it pleaseth them to esteem it at. If they would think as much of a flint, a flint would no less content them. If it be for the beauty and colour that they so accounted of this merchandise: is there any thing fairer, clearer, or cleaner than glass? nay then crystal? likewise the marble, alabaster, jasper, and such like matters, do they give much place in beauty or hardness, to the most excellent precious stones? If for their virtues and properties in physic they are so much respected; why then they should buy nothing more dear, nor esteem of any thing more than of herbs and plants? I speak not this to despise or condemn the use of precious stones, no more then of gold and silver. For God did not created them, but for the service of man, and that 
Exod. 25. 26. 27. 28.  he might please himself with them, as with all his other creatures. For it was his will that his temple and the vessels therein, the garments of the high priest, and the service by him ordained in the church of Israel, should be adorned and enriched with gold, silver, and with precious stones. Again, David and Solomon, and the other kings of Israel were never reprehended nor condemned because they did abound in such riches. We do not than condemn the use, but the abuse. For God requireth that his creatures may be used according to his ordinance, and so moderated, that there be no excess, whereby he may be dishonoured and offended, or our neighbour endamaged. But it is an hard matter to heap up great store of gold and silver, and to dispend so much upon precious stones, and other the pomps of the world, but that great wrong must needs be done to many persons, or at leastwise that the deeds of charity, for which we were borne, must needs wax very slack. Lo then, that which I have thought worthy to instruct ourselves in upon our discourse this day concerning the riches hidden within the earth. And sith that we have in the twelve days of our meeting entreated of the principal parts of all this visible world, and of the creatures contained therein, let us now, to conclude our discourse, draw all these parts into one body, to the end that we may show in this mass of the Vnivers, and propose as it were before our eyes, the image of the greatness, puissance, and majesty of God by the which men may in contemplation, and consideration of his works, learn to fear, honour, and put their whole trust and confidence in him, as they aught: which (ACHITOB) let us hear you discourse upon.   

Of the doctrine and profit which every one must and may reap out of the total works of God in heaven and in earth, to acknowledge and glorify him. Chap. 100  ACHITOB. 
IF we do well consider upon those goodly matters, which we have hereto fore entreated of touching the creation of the world, and adorning thereof in every part: we shall without doubt feel ourselves as it were lifted up upon an high scaffold, where we may behold and contemplate God our creator in the excellent works of his hands, and in the marvelous effects of his providence, in such sort as if all this visible Vnivers were a shop, wherein we do see him work before our eyes; or else as if he were seated in a stately royal palace, wherein we behold him reign upon his celestial throne over every living soul: or as in a goodly temple wherein the glory of his Majesty shineth on every side, yea in every creature, which is therein as an image, or mirror to show and manifest the creator and moderator of all things.  
And indeed without this contemplation and knowledge for which we are borne, and endued with reason, let us not think but that bruit beasts have more whereof to brag in regard of the world, and of the beauty and commodity thereof, and that they receive more rest, pleasure, and profit thereby then men. For they content themselves with that which they have, and care not for that, which they cannot attain unto: enjoying all that which is needful for them, and that with pleasure, and without excess, superfluity, or any hurt. But men are to the contrary, never content with their conditon, aspire evermore to that which they enjoy not, and which they might well let pass: have many times need of that, which is necessary for them, and receive no pleasure, but that which is mixed with some grief and bitterness: neither yet can they content themselves, but that they must run into excess to their great detriment.  
This is that which hath inflamed us with desire, in the progress of our work, to discourse upon heaven and earth. And having brought our intention to a desired end: we will here represent (for the last point of our speech, as we did in the beginning thereof) all the parts of the word in one body, to declare in this great body of all the Vnivers, and to propose, as it were before our eyes the image of the greatness of the power, and of the Majesty of God, and of his infiniteness: to the end that we may all learn by the contemplation, and consideration of this Image, to honour him, and to put all our trust & confidence in him, as we aught to do. For this is the true doctrine, & the great profit, that every one must, and may reap by the grace of God, of this total work in heaven, and in earth, to the end to acknowledge and to glorify him. First, than we are to consider, that not only all that which we have declared concerning the works of God in this great Vnivers, but also all that, which the most learned ever could heretofore, or hereafter ever may comprehend and describe, is nothing else but as a very light demonstration of some draft of his work, or of some corner of his magnificent palace, or of some small jewel of his inestimable treasures. For sith he hath created all these things, and that the heaven is his 
isaiah 66.  seat, and the earth his footstool (as isaiah speaketh) what may then be the full perfection, height, and greatness of himself? It is (as job saith) in the highness of the heaven; it is deeper than hell: the measure thereof is longer than the earth, and broader than the sea. It is he (saith I say again) who hath measured the waters with his hand, and hath compassed the heavens with his plame, and hath comprehended the dust of the earth with three fingers, 
job 11.  and hath poised the hanging of the mountains. Thereby than we must learn that God is infinite, and in comprehensible and so high, and so great that all this visible world is nothing in comparison to him, and that he doth contain, and confine, and surpass it in every side, both above and below, before and behind, on the right hand, and on the left. And that because we cannot comprehend, nor understand what he is, the image of him was set before our eyes in the heavens, and in the earth, and as in a glass to represent unto our understandings, him, whom we neither behold, nor know, except so far, as it pleaseth him to represent himself unto us in his works.  
Lastly, we must learn, that from the very first hour of our entrance into this world, we have been placed therein, as in the Temple of God to adore, and praise him therein. And in very truth, whosoever shall consider of, and know God, as he hath manifested himself in the creation of the world, shall not he have good and just occasion to fear, and stand in awe of him? For as we read in the Book of job, [If God cut off, and shut up or 
job. 12. and 12.  gather together, who can turn him?] And strait [in his hand is the soul of every living thing, and the breath of all mankind.] On the other side, shall not we be induced to have recourse unto him, and to put our trust in him, as in the Almighty, who can save and defend those, whom he will take into his custody, and whom he will accept for his people, and for his servants and children? Who so dwelleth in the secret of the most high (saith the Prophet) shall abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say unto the 
Psal. 91.  Lord, O mine hope and my fortress: in my God will I trust: who will deliver us out of all trouble. And to conclude, we shall have goodly matter, whereby to give him glory, and laud all the days of our life, by serving him according to his holy will. We shall be I say, very blind and senseless, if we do not humble ourselves under the greatness of the puissance of God: if we have recourse unto, or put our confidence in any other, but in him alone: and if we do not acknowledge his great providence, wisdom, and bounty, which he hath used ever since the beginning towards us, and the regard and care which he hath daily had of us, and how that he entreateth us so benignly, so tenderly, and with such fatherly affection, to the end that we may tender thanks unto him. For as we have seen, before that he created man, he would prepare his lodging for him: the which he did adorn with all beauty, and with all riches, and did afterwards place him in this world, as in a most delectable palace, and made him Lord and Master over all his creatures, of whom he hath provided him such abundance, and in such variety, that it is impossible to comprehend these, or to desire more. As it were then ravished in the consideration of so great bounty and liberality of God, let us cry out with the 
Psal. 8.  Prophet, [O Lord our God, how excellent is thy name in all the world! What is man that thou art mindful of him, and the Son of man, that thou showest him so much grace as to visit him, and to take care of him?] And so giving glory unto his name, for so many benefits, and particularly for that it hath pleased him to grant us this grace, as to reduce to a desired end our Academical discourses, concerning his works in the Universe, let us pronounce this goodly Canticle of the Angels. Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Hosts, all the earth is full of thy glory.  
The end of the twelfth days work, and of all the third Tome of the French Academy.    

THE CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY OF THE FRENCH ACADEMY.  
OF THE TRUE AND only means to obtain eternal life.  
The fourth Book.  
Written in French by Peter de la primauday Esquire, Seigneur de la Bar, Councelor and Steward of the French Kings House.  
Translated out of French by W. P.   printer's or publisher's device 
LONDON Printed for THOMAS ADAMS.  
1618.   

THE PREFACE. The names of the Interlocutors,  Asher, Happiness: Amana, Truth: Aram, Exaltation: Achitob, The brother of goodness. ASER. 
I Doubt not, good friends, but you rememember as well as myself, that when God of his great mercy endowed us with grace in our tender years, to publish and set forth in our Academy, that small portion of understanding and knowledge which we had reaped out of the odoriferous vergiers of the moral Philosophy of ancient and wise men: touching the rules of living well, by following the footsteps and traces of virtue. And that therein we so much prevailed (yea and more than we either hoped or expected (that not only our country men of France, but strangers also participated with us of our labours, and favoured and esteemed of them so well, that they spared not the pains and charges to translate them, and to make them speak in their own languages: which moved and provoked us with gratification unto them, to go forward and to proceed further in our course. Whereby not long after, we manifested and made apparent the pursuit of our discourse, touching the Microcosmus or little world, therein showing and representing by a natural history of man, the rarieties and excellences of the body and of the soul, and specially the immortality thereof. And not content to travel so far as therein to reduce unto memory, and manifestly to declare and set down the wonderful testimonies of God, and of his prrovidence and judgement, in the Anatomy and contemplation of the visible parts & members of his chief work (Man) thereby to convince, and put to silence the Epicurian and the Atheist. We obliged our seluees so far, (for knowledge always engendereth a new and further desire to learn,) as at some other time (by the aid of God) to search and find out the same things in the whole nature of this great visible world. And according to our desires, it pleased the divine bounty, (who of his goodness had given us that commendable will and purpose) to perfect the same in us by his heavenly blessing. In such manner that we presently published and set forth, the third book of our Academia entitled Microcosmus, or of heaven and earth. And not content therewith, aspiring higher than to the bounds and borders of the universal world, we vowed to implore the supercelestial favour, that being better instructed and taught in the school of eternal wisdom, and guided by his divine light, we might also speak and discourse of the incomprehensible work of God, touching the salvation of man, and so accomplishing our Academical and Christian study, determined to rest from our labours. And to say the truth, what would it avail or profit us, to have and attain unto the knowledge and understanding of all human and moral Philosophy, Logic, Physic, Metaphysic, and Mathematic, to know what belongeth to civil and politic government, and to be brief, not to be ignorant of any thing, which the liberal arts and sciences teach us, therewith to content the curious minds of men, & by that means to give them a taest, & to make them enjoy, some kind of transitory good in this life: and in the mean time to be altogether and wholly ignorant, or badly instructed, in the true and only science of divine Philosophy, whereat all the rest aught to aim, and whereof the final end and purpose is, the true and permanent good of the soul? That only, and none other, is it, which teacheth us to know God, his paternal will towards menkind, and the rules of his law: that so we may live holily here on earth, and for ever happily in heaven. Therefore let us boldly say, that without this spiritual wisdom, all learning & knowledge is mere vanity and folly: and serveth to no other end, (as the great Doctor of the Gentiles saith) then as it were visibly, showing unto us, the invisible things of God, to make us so much the more unexcusable 
Rom. 1. 20. 21  at the day of judgement, for not having glorified him as we aught to do.. Than seeing that we have found the means, to pierce into the monumèts of the Philosophers, to show that men aught, & are creaetd to live virtuously hereon earth, & to read the natural books of Theology therein as it were to found out & behold a shadow of the Deity, and to the glory thereof, are enabled by argument to reason of the being of all creatures, why should not we assay to open that great book of the life of the lamb which taketh away the sins of the world, therein to learn a more assured and perfecter lesson of the means how to live happily, 
Apoc. 21. 27. john 1. 29.  & of the knowledge which we aught to have of God & of his works, to glorify him for our salvation.  AMANA. 
It was not without great reason, and good cause that Postel a learned man, in a letter written unto us, touching our discourse of Microcosmus, (the which is set down and extant to be read in the last edition of our Academy, together with our answer thereunto) congratulating us in certain commendable terms, therewith mixeth a kind of harsh censure: saying, I am heartily glad and rejoice, having seen your writing and discourse of the natural history of man, that you are so much obliged to the great king of heaven, that men may evidently see and behold the bright resplendent light of his divine gifts in the form of your Dialogues, and thereby know the dignity of the holy language of Adam. Whereof your feigned persons bear aitues, and that in showing the dignity of the name of your ancestors, surnamed Primatu, you have entitled your work, not the Common wealth or Theology, but the Primatus 
Hacademiach sacred. primate  which in that tongue is called Hacademiach, that is to say, sacred or divine Primate: but you must give me leave to tell you, as your true and perfect friend, that having omitted, and not spoken in some special Chapter, of the Church of God, (without the which there is no union) nor of the food and nourishment of the Spirit, tending to eternal life, without the which all is in vain, you have wholly left out, or at the lest too slightly let slip and overpast, both the one and the other formal & final causes, of that great workmanship of God, Man Therefore my advise & counsel is (to the end that in your work, nothing may be omitted or found wanting,) that therein you would set down & manifest those most divine things, for that so accomplishing an Hacademich doctrine, as a most Christian thing, & an assured instruction of the truth, your writings may live for ever, to the honour and glory of the eternal God, and the profit of mankind.  
Our answer thereunto was grounded upon these two points: that in our writing, wherein we make a discourse of the works of God, we have proceeded according to the measure and ability of our spirits, and of our youths: and that knowing, that the creation of all things, and the redemption of mankind, are means to make us acknowledge the Deity and our salvation: we had begun for our instructions, to set domne the being of all creatures, specially of man, that afterward we might speak of his happy being in the family of jesus Christ, when with longer and profounder study, we should have searched into and found out, the depth of the secrets which his holy word doth teach us.  
To conclude, we are much beholding and obliged to the advice of Postel, and also to all those that have vouchsafed to honour and favour us so much, as to take the pains to read our books, yea and to ourselves also, (as it is already showed) for having passed beyond our first bounds, & of Academic Philosophers, to become Christian Philosophers: until that our Academic shall be a little School of theology. That the enterprise is too difficult, and overhigh for us, we acknowledge it to be true, neither do we affirm or beast that we have attained to the full perfection thereof. But to approach near to excellent things, is always commendable.  ARAM. 
It is most certain, that the doctrine and examples of the writings and lives of ancient wise men, and famous Pagans', are of great force and efficacy in men's minds that are of generous education, to move and stir them with great delight, to an inward desire of resembling them, not only in the understanding of natural things, but also in the practising of virtue. For that, man naturally desirous of present and immortal glory, perceiving and beholding after so long a time, and many ages, by authentic means and memories, ancient Philosophers, and other famous persons, much honoured in their times, as it were to revive and live again, he is thereby stirred up and provoked, to strive to make himself worthy of the like praise and commendation, by following and imitating their steps. But as it is a good, most commendable, and an excellent beginning, to proceed and go forward in a Christian vocation: so to stop there and go no further, is as much as still to be ignorant and miserable. How corrupt soever the nature of man is, yet it leaveth a certain feeling in every particular man's conscience, whereby they are as it were constrained, not only to apprehended a Deity, but also to discern a difference between good and evil, and by that means are unexcusable, if they follow not and practise piety & virtue. And how much the more a man taketh pains, and endeavoureth himself to discover & contemplate (by the reasonable parts and faculties of the soul) things intelligible and worthy commendation, so much the more he maketh himself more understanding, wise, and affected thereunto: to join, frame and fashion himself to those things and actions, whereunto they resemble. For it is most certain, and cannot be otherwise, that in the fall of man, there did rest some sparks of those graces, and of the divine light, which he had received of his Creator; whereby he is still moved and provoked, to inquire and seek after the truth, and to desire to be unburdened, and freed from his own proper and inherent corruption. But all these motions, both of the understanding and the will, are so weak and inveloped with so great obscurity, and pernicious passions, that they cannot produce nor bring forth any clear or perfect thing, not not so much as to make any show or appearance thereof, in any part of human nature, with out special and divine grace, but only a ruinous disfigured show of the gifts and graces by him first received, specially, touching things which concern the salvation or happiness of the soul. For as S. john saith, That the light shined in darkness, but the darkness comprehended it not. And S. Paul, 
john 1. 5.  that the Gentiles walked in the vanity of their understandings, having their thoughts obscured, and being strangers from the life of God, by their ignorance, and the blindness of their hearts. And because they become vain in their imaginations, their foolish hearts being full of darkness, they were destitute 
Epes. 4. 17, 18  of understanding. This in effect is the true and proper judgement which may be made if men, and of 
Rom. 1. 21, 22  all their Philosophy, until such time as being regenerated and illuminated by the spirit of God, they do in jesus Christ (the true Doctor of the souls of the faithful) receive those gifts and graces which only make them understanding and wise to salvation: which are most wisely and abundantly set down and declared in the sacred Registers of the holy Scriptures. If then we will take the pains earnestly to travel like good Christians, out of this heavenly treasure, to draw a sound and solid instruction, having no other purpose nor intent, but only for the glory of God, and to frame and bend ourselves (and all those that will vouchsafe to hear us) to his holy and blessed will, we do no less doubt of his grace, and of the savour and good will of men, than we have already found and felt in our first works.  ACHITOB. 
The name of a Christian is the most worthy name, that ever was given or attributed unto man, infinitely surpassing all the glory, that those men thought to merit and deserve, who among the Pagans' were called Philosophers, or wise men. For this title of Christian, signifieth and betokeneth him, who by the knowledge, grace, and doctrine of jesus Christ (God and man) knoweth the true and only God (Father, Son, and holy Ghost, cause, beginning, and end of all things) his justice and his mercy; that enforceth and endeavoureth himself to be perfect, and replete with holiness, virtue, modesty, uprightness, constancy, and perseverance, that with a certain testimony of a good conscience, serveth God according to his will, and that of his mere grace and mercy confidently hopeth for eternal life and happiness: into the which most divine knowledge and understanding, neither the Graecian Philosopher, the Egyptian Priest, the French Druid, the Indian Gymnosophistus, the Roman Sibilla, nor the Mages of Persia, could ever penetrate: because they knew not what that true Philosophy is, which teacheth and openeth unto us so many great and wonderful mysteries, that is, (the Law of God) written by the Prophets, and (the Gospel) written by the Apostles. Which was the cause, that all those Pagans' and Infidels, great personages, and men deeply learned and studious in divers Arts, for the most part having a secret feeling of the felicity of man, touching the tranquility of his soul, and taking great pains and much labour to attain thereunto, and to teach and instruct others therein, were ignorant, and knew not the true and assured means how to enjoy the same, neither yet could found out the original fountain from whence the same proceeded. That is the love, mercy, and charity of God towards mankind, redeemed by the blood of his Son jesus Christ, and purged from all his sins. Therefore, notwithstanding that the lives of divers Philosophers, and others their Scholars and disciples, was learned and peaceable in some sort, and also cleared and freed from divers vices and corruptions incident to the common sort of men, yet it resteth and consisteth in us (if we be true Christian's) without comparison, to live more understandingly, more happily, more contentedly, with more joy and peace of conscience, and better purged from all impediments and vices then ever they did. To that end we have many notable lessons, and a most certain doctrine of the Registers of the holy Spirit (the Cannonicall Scriptures) Than let us boldly peruse and turn over those sacred Rolls: from thence first to draw out certain simple draughts, or small proofs of Christian Philosophy; and if we proceed so well and happily, that in the study of his divine wisdom we find in our souls and consciences an increase of spiritual graces, whereby we may be bold (& what should we fear to undertake in searching for, and setting forth the glory of God?) to speak of the high mysteries of Religion, we will endeavour ourselves in our Academy, to bring to open view, and to set forth a greater matter of theology.  
In this book therefore our intent and purpose shall be; first, only and generally to frame and fashion the affections of the Soul to the love of piety, and to show and set forth the means how man should 
The subject of the discourse in this book.  walk in holiness and uprightness of life and conversation. Secondly, to represent unto him Spiritual Meditations, which make a complete happy life. In the first part of this Philosophy, we will show, how a Christian Philosopher before all other things, aught to purge and cleanse himself, of seven principal follies, which commonly do as it were pursue and follow man, that is, how to know the Deity as he aught to do: not to esteem of man more than of God; not to think that he shall live always in this world: to know why, and to what end he liveth here on earth: not to judge the happy or unhappy state of man by exterior signs: not to believe or give credit to his enemies more than to his true and faithful friends: and lastly, not to preswade with himself, or to presume that he is wise. Consequently, we will declare and teach him to consider of, seven other singular things, requisite, and altogether necessary and pertinent to a happy and godly life: that is, The Church, the Word of God, the Sacraments, Prayer, reading of the holy Scriptures, Charity, and Alms. Thirdly, we will produce and declare, how a man aught to have a great and special care, to cleanse and keep his soul and conscience, clean, unspotted, and undefiled from seven deadly and pernious vices, that is, Covetousness, Ambition, excess of Apparel and meats, Pleasures unlawful exercises, Euny, and Slander. Fourthly, we will touch and point at seven principal vocations, wherein all men are bound and obliged, to show forth and make known the first-fruits and effects of all this Christian Philosophy, to the glory of God, and for the good and benefit of mankind; which vocations are, to be married, to be a Father or a Mother, to be a Child, to be a Magistrate, to be a Subject, to be a Pastor, to be a flock. Fiftly, we will speak of seven considerate reasons and arguments tomoove and induce all Christians with great affection to embrace the means of a happy and godly life, set down and declared in this Philosophy: which are, the authority of jesus Christ, his Names, Holy, and Emanuel; five other titles belonging unto him, his two names (jesus Christ) that we are all Strangers and Pilgrims in this world: and to remember that the Kingdom of heaven is at hand. Not that we will stretch the doctrine of so many notable points and matters so far, as to take upon us seriously and fully to entreat of them, in all their seveall parts (for then we should be forced to make and compile many large volumes thereof) only we will content ourselves, to set down certain brief Summaries and general points, whereunto every true Christian aught to bend all his thoughts, words, and works: speaking nevertheless, of all these things in such manner, that sufficiently, and by a certain order, every man shall be led, and addressed by the word of God, to the knowledge of godliness and justice, and to a true manner of life, well ordered and governed in all estates and conditions.  
Touching the second part, which shall properly belong to a contemplative life, it shall consist of seven principal points, that is, Meditation of future happiness: Knowledge of the means that assure and warrant this beatitude unto Christians: The certain way how to apply the signs and marks thereof unto themselves: an assurance that they shall never fall from God: how they must be constant in afflictions: to persever in their vocation without fear or fainting: and lastly to meditate and pray continually.  
To conclude, we have specially chosen the number of seven, therein to comprehend and bond the diversity of all our discourse, because the number is anciently and long since known to be full, perfect, universal, and sufficient, to represent all things in perfection: and for that cause is oftentimes set down and rehearsed in the holy Scriptures. Wherhfore we hope, that all those that shall and will accompany us in our vows, by reading, understanding, and practising of that which we shall set down, both in the one and the other part of this our Philosophy, shall and may assuredly live with us, not only Christian Philosophers, in name, but also in deed and in effect: and as it becometh the true children of our Father which is in heaven, and that desire by the way and means which his Son teacheth and showeth unto us, to enter into his kingdom. God grant us all the grace so to do.  
If I pray unto God he will aid me.   

THE CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY OF THE French ACADEMY.  

Of the true and only means to obtain eternal life. What is it to be a Christian Philosopher, and how such a man aught specially to purge and cleanse his soul and conscience of seven principal follies, thereby to enjoy and attain unto a happy, peaceable, and contented life. Chap. 1.  

1 Two kinds of men that are altogether careless, or little respect the difference that should be between them.  
IT was not without great reason, that Pythagoras the Philosopher, feigning to himself a general view of all mankind, in a contemplative speculation, beheld them coming into the world, as into a Fair, or common Market place, and divided them into three parts: giving to the first, for the end, final purpose, and intent of their thoughts, imaginations, and actions, glory and ambition: To the second, covetousness: And the third, as the most noble, he sequestered, and set them apart from the common train of all other men, to apply themselves and their whole studies to the meditation of celestial things. And in truth this Pagan Philosopher did not vary much from that which divine wisdom teacheth us, when in her sacred Registers, she maketh two sorts of men, calling one the children of God, the other the children of the devil: and maketh a notable difference between 
joh. 3. 1. 8. 10. Matth. 13. 24. 25.  them, not only in this life, but also in regard of that which is to come. In this life, because the first apply and give their minds to meditate and think upon that which concerneth the kingdom of their Father which is in heaven: and the dignity and excellency of their vocation, to walk therein holily and uprightly. And the others merely think upon nothing else, but the world and worldly vanities, and how to follow the lusts and concupiscences of the flesh. In the world to come, because the latter shall be accursed and damned for ever; the others eternally blessed and happy for ever.  
And in truth, every man may easily conceive and know, (if he be not altogether deprived and destitute of that which maketh him to be discerned, and different from a bruit beast) that there is good and evil, virtue and vice, wicked and godly men: That God altogether good, altogether just, and altogether puissant, cannot but love the good and hate the evil, and will give unto the good the reward of goodness, (which is the good itself) and to the wicked the reward of evil, (which is the evil itself.) And that by good consequence, there is great difference between the way to heaven, wherein consisteth the true and sovereign good, and the way to hell, which is eternal damnation, between the path to heavenly light, and the way to eternal darkness: between the affections and the works of the children of God, and likewise of their ends, and the affections, works, and ends of the children of the devil. Yet it is very true and certain, that divers men are so brutish and beastly, that they do not once think upon, nor consider these differences, neither in regard of this present life, nor of that which concerneth the life to come. Some lightly esteeming and thinking thereon, seek not to be sufficiently instructed and informed therein, that they may know it as they aught to do: others understanding the same in such manner, that they are able to teach and instruct the ignorant, are so blinded with the splendour and glory of terrestrial things, and so powerfully drawn, and carried away by the affections and lusts of the flesh, that they utterly omit, leave, and forget all good motions for such vanities. And even among the children of God, living in this corrupt world, we see and find few that show as they aught, and could do, in what, and wherein they differ from vain and worldy men. So much is the whole mass of mortal men inclined (by the hereditary vice and sin of Adam) to live after the lusts of the world, the flesh and the devil.   

2. The summary effect of true wisdom, which maketh a man a Christian Philosopher.  
This natural corruption, and the necessity that all men have to propound unto themselves, a course and means to withdraw their minds from vice, to live holily and happily, was not altogether unknown to the Philosophers. Socrates and Plato, esteemed to be the wisest among them, and all the Academics, that ever approached to the knowledge of the truth of things, taught, and affirmed, the bliss of the soul to be the only end and sovereign good of man, showing that the means to attain this bliss, is moral and contemplative virtue, the true effect and substance of Philosophy. For (say they) this Science causeth and stirreth up two effects in the soul of man, the one by purging it of false opinions, and vicious passions, the other by making it turn, by true reasons and arguments from the contemplation of sensible and terrestrial forms, to intelligible and celestial things, and thereby to the Idea or substance of goodness, which is God. And in such discourses those ignorant Pagans', wanted not divers notable persuasions, and learned precepts, to move them to frame their lives to live honestly and uprightly: but in the best, and soundest arguments and reasons by them alleged, touching the Deity, and the blessedness of the Soul, there was so much inconstancy and uncertainty to be found and perceived, that it is easy to be judged, that they had only confused imaginations touching the knowledge of God, and the sovereign good of man, and therefore could not bring them to the true understanding of heavenly wisdom: so far off they were from attaining thereunto. And to say the truth, those little sparks of light, resting and remaining in human nature, which cause the eyes of the Soul, sometimes to look up, and to behold and think upon divine and heavenly things, are like unto a flash of lightning, (when it thundereth) unto those that by night walk in the fields, because for a little while, and as long as that flash and sudden light lasteth, they see a great way about them; but it serveth not their turns to conduct them in the right way, which they desire to hold: for at the same instant again, they see less than they did before. Therefore it is requisite and necessary, that another greater and stronger light, than the sparks that shine in our nature, should interpose itself to guide us through the darkness of this world, to the true end and intent of our life, which is to know God, and his paternal will towards us: and how we must live according to his commandments, thereby to attain, and finally obtain, eternal life. For in these three points consisteth our sovereign good, and he that understandeth them well, and knoweth how to put them in practice, is the child of God, and a true Christian Philosopher.   

3. The ground of Christian Philosophy: To amend our lives.  
This light so necessary for a Christian, and without which, all other lights shine in vain, is the same light which illuminateth all mankind coming into the world (as the holy Scriptures saith) and which was from the beginning, creating, and making all things, although 
john 1. 4. 10. and 14.  the world knew it not, that is, the word of God made flesh, the true and eternal light, which casteth and spreadeth his beams perpetually and generally over all creatures: but this remaineth singularly, specially, and properly in the children of Adam, that they are endued with reason and understanding, and have the knowledge of good and evil, engraven and engrafted in their consciences. Yet there is no man (how foolish soever he be) that hath not some effect and sparks of this light of life. But this common grace of illumination, is not enough, nor sufficient for any man whatsoever, to penetrate into the kingdom of God, to contemplate and behold his glory, to understand and know his will, and obediently by faith, to enjoy and possess the true peace of conscience. For it is the only spirit of the same word of God (jesus Christ) which openeth that gate of heaven: to those only, that have received and acknowledged him for their Saviour. To whom 
john 1. 12. & 13.  (Saint john saith) he hath given power to be the Sons of God, that believe in the name of jesus and which are not borne of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. As the same holy Spirit also presenteth unto them the bright shining light of the Gospel, thereby to enter into the gate of the kingdom of heaven, showing and teaching them, how they aught to frame their actions to the law of life, and thereby obtain everlasting salvation. With all the which treasures of sovereign and heavenly wisdom, we have the means, not only to enrich ourselves, by reading, understanding, and practising of the holy Scriptures in general; but also, by many brief sentences, which therein are particularly set down, and propounded unto us. As singularly and specially we are to meditate, and carefully to think upon the words of our Lord and Saviour jesus Christ, after Saint john Baptist had admonished the jews, saying, Amend your lives, for the kingdom of heaven, 
Matth. 3. 2. 8. & 4. 17. Mark 1. 4. & 15.  or of God, is at hand. For it is most certain, and infallible true, that the holy Spirit rehearsing and reciting those few words, first therein comprehended all that, which the forerunner of jesus Christ preached, both concerning the Baptism of Repentance, by the remission of sins, as also of the kingdom of God in his elect, by his mercy; and in the reprobate, by his justice: comprehending therein also, the whole sum and effect of the first preaching of our Lord jesus Christ, concerning the things foreshowed by the Prophets, touching the kingdom of heaven, and the redemption of man, by the same jesus Christ. Wherhfore, if like children of the light and true Christians, we can, and are able wisely and sufficiently to meditate and think upon, that which is said unto us in this brief and short instruction. First, we shall find in this only word, (to amend) a full and perfect knowledge of all holy and heavenly doctrine: and then proceeding further, to the understanding of the reason added thereunto, which is, (That the kingdom of God is near unto us, or at hand. We shall understand and know, what our hope of celestial inheritance is, whereunto we are called and invited by jesus Christ. In such manner, that framing and fashioning our lives according to these two divine conclusions, we shall to our great comforts and consolations, obtain a certain testimony, in our consciences, of the difference which we said before to be between the children of God, and the children of the devil, not only in this life, but also in the life to come. Let this then be the true foundation of our Philosophy, to hold for certain, that the thing which we must before all things learn, like true Christians, and that which we must always specially have in our hearts and thoughts: and above all things practise and effect, is the first exhortation of our great Master, and Law giver jesus Christ, Amend your lives. And therefore let us mark and specially consider, that the holy Evangelists here use a word, which in the Greek tongue signifieth understanding, or advise and wisdom, after that a man hath acknowledged his error, his corruption and his folly. Whereby we are to learn, that the amendment which Christ calleth us unto, consisteth herein, that having been so improvident, and evil furnished of understanding, and true judgement, and so foolish and evil advised, as to follow the concupiscences, conceptions, and desires of our natural corruption: and by that means not to know the true God, and his righteousness, as we aught to do: we should in time to come, have that understanding, intent, and remembrance, both in our hearts, and in our actions, to believe in the Deity, and to go on forward and proceed in our course of life, with fear and obedience. Hereunto we must add, that which God saith by his Prophet, My people is foolish, they have not known me, they are foolish children, and have no 
jerem. 4. 2.  understanding, they are wise to do evil, but to do well they have no knowledge. And that which Moses hath written in these words, They have corrupted themselves towards him, 
Deut. 32. 5. 6.  by their vice, not being his children, but a froward and crooked generation, do you so reward the Lord, O foolish people and unwise? And that also which Solomon excellently 
Pro. 1. 20, etc.  saith, Wisdom crieth out and saith, O you fools, how long will you love foolishness? and the scornful take their pleasure in scorning? and the foooles hate knowledge? learn you at my correction. To the same purpose also, Saint Paul making a most notable comparison between the state of human nature, before Spiritual Regeneration, and the grace of God in jesus Christ, in the renewing of the faithful by his Spirit, saith thus: For we ourselves also were in time past, unwise, disobedient, deceived, serving our lusts, and divers pleasures, living in maliciousness and envy, hateful, and hating one another. By all these places, and the like abundantly 
Tit. 3. 3  to be found, in that great volume of the sacred Books, by us called (the Bible) we gather, (as out of the first word aforesaid of Christ's preaching) two points: first that it is a horrible, and most great folly, not to know God and his kingdom, and to live according to the pleasures of the world; and of the flesh, in sin and wickedness: secondly, that man is naturally inclined and carried by his own corruptions, to that extreme folly, to be ignorant of God, and to plunge himself headlong into vice: for otherwise the holy Ghost would not so often admonish and counsel him, and that with such vehemency and infallible reasons to leave and abandon his so great blindness and corruption. Which the better to make us know and understand, The Divine voice oftentimes pronounceth, the amendment of life, which Christ asketh and requireth at our hands, by a conversion and returning unto God. O Israel (saith the Lord by jeremy) If thou return, return unto me. And by Esechiel, I 
jerem. 4. 1. Ezek. 33. 11.  desire not the death of the wicked, but rather that the wicked should turn from his ways and live. Again, I have heard Ephraim complain thus, thou hast corrected me, and I was chastised, as an untamed calf, convert thou me, and I shall be converted, for thou art the Lord 
jerem. 31. 18.  my God. And Saint Peter also said, Amend your lives therefore, and turn. And Saint Paul I first showed unto them of Damascus, and at jerusalem, and throughout all the coasts of 
Acts 3. 19 & 26: 20.  judea, and then to the Gentiles, that they should repent and turn unto God, and dee works worthy of amendment of life. For this manner of speaking, so often used in the holy Scriptures, evidently, and plainly showeth unto us, that the life of man resembleth a voyage, and that whosoever he be that offendeth God, walking in this world, according to the lusts of the flesh, turneth his back to God, to heaven, and to life eternal, and goeeths headlong to the Devil, to Death, and to Hell: and that to the contrary, to convert and turn to the Lord, by amendment of life, is to turn his back to Death, to Hell, and to the Devil, to go to God, to draw near unto him, and to obtain heaven, and life eternal.   

4. Seven principal follies, which a Christian Philosopher must shun, and specially avoid.  
To the end that we may begin to build upon the foundation of our Philosophy, & reap some profit by the grace of our Lord JESUS CHRIST, which calleth the blind and fools to the light of his Gospel, that they may repent and amend their lives; we must learn and understand how, and which way, we aught to convert and turn unto God, and approach near unto him that is most holy; not by changing of place, because God is in every place, but in life and conversation: that we may be holy, and conformable to Christ, as in him we are reconciled to God our Father. For (as Saint Augustine saith very well) As we are like or unlike to our Lord jesus Christ (man with man) so we approach near, or draw back from him, (God with God.) Now as all Sciences have certain Rules, Principles, and Purposes of honesty, and uprightness, from whence their doctrines and instructions are drawn, thereon to ground all virtuous actions, in like sort, the holy Scriptures have a much better, and a more certain manner and means, than any other can have, to direct, lead, and guide us, to the true end and intent of our life here on earth: for although that men (as they are naturally vain and full of ambition) do always affect a notable appearance or outward gloss, to set a fair show, by exquisite and Rhetorician terms: upon the order and disposition of their writings, thereby the better to set forth and signify the sharpness, and subtlety of their wits and understandings, by that means to win and procure some credit, to their doctrine & precepts. And that to the contrary, the holy Ghost, speaking by the Prophets and Apostles, always taught, and instructed us plainly & without pride, and in all places generally doth not strictly observe, a certain order and method. Nevertheless, it is most true, that we may observe in the method of that great Doctor of our souls, two general points, which without comparison, are of greater weight and efficacy, than all that which the greatest Philosophers in the world, could ever writ or set forth: the one, to imprint in our hearts the love of God, and of his righteousness, from the which naturally, we are fallen: The other, to give us a certain rule of the divine will of God; which suffereth us not to wander and waver here and there in the ordering of our lives. Grounding upon this method, we are persuaded, that to set forth the true and only means of a happy and blessed life, it is requisite for us in the first place, to produce seven principal points of our ignorance and folly, which nevertheless are many more. But because the number of seven (as it it is already said) commonly signifieth perfection, it shall suffice also in our Philosophy, to show that man is wholly Ignorant and foolish, until such time, as that changing of opinion, by celestial grace, he becometh wise, and understanding, touching the principal points of his vocation, and so repenting, turneth unto God, and withdraweth his mind and cogitations from wickedness. These follies are: (Not to believe in the deity. To esteem man more then God. To think to live ever in this world. Not to know why he liveth here on earth. To judge the happy or unhappy estate of man by exterior things. To believe & credit our enemies, more than our friend. And to think ourselves wise.) For these seven follies are like to the cables of vanity, and the cords of iniquity, whereof Easie speaketh, when he pronounceth malediction upon those, that draw iniquity with cords of vanity, and sin as with cartropes, which say 
Easie. 5. 8, etc.  Let him make speed, let him hasten his works, that we may see it, and let the counsel of the holy one of, Israel draw near, that we may know it: which put darkness for light, and light for darkness, that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for sour, which are wise in their own eyes, and prudent in their own conceits. Opinions altogether false, and perverse impressions, whereby the devil bereaving man of the feeling of sin, and the apprehension of God, draws him, as it were, with cords and cables, into all iniquity, and consequently into the bottomless pit of hell. Whereof the Prophet specially setteth down three examples; the first, of profane people, such as mock God, and believe not in him; the second, of those that cover and disguise evil, with the name of good, and darkness with the vail of light. The third, of those that presume of their own sufficiency and wisdom. Therefore this deduction of the seven follies, or vices aforesaid, will agreed very well, with the doctrine of Easie, when we shall show and prove, that they tend only to persuade man, that he is a beast, ignorant of good and evil, expecting neither the one nor the other after he is dead, thereby to make him altogether, to repose and stay all his thoughts and cogitations, upon this transitory life, to plunge himself headlong into the delights of this world, and to live wholly without the fear of God. Which being things unworthy of the name and profession of Christian Philosophers, let us see, and assay, how we may teach and instruct them, to learn to renounce, and forsake all these follies, and thereby become wiser in time to come.    

That a man must, and aught to correct this first, and most extreme folly in himself, which is, not to believe that there is a God. Chapter 2.  

1. The feeling of a Deity, printed and engraven in every man's heart: denied and rejected by many, rather monsters than men.  
IT is a thing confessed & granted by all men, and in all ages, that there is nothing so natural, nor so universal, nothing so generally, constantly & perpetually received and avouched by men, than the feeling, belief & apprehension of a Deity, the first, sovereign, and most powerful cause of all things that are, that live, that have feeling and understanding: This feeling belongeth only unto man, the lively image of God. It being that which properly & generally separateth, and setteth him a part from all other creatures. In all other things (as laughing, speaking, reasoning, judgement, memory & wisdom) beasts are esteemed inferior unto man, as having no part therein. And there are many so weak & ignorant touching the faculties of nature, that men may well say, that therein they do in a manner little differ from bruit beasts: which moved an ancient Father to say, that man oftentimes differeth more from man, than man from a beast. And certainly, if there be any clear and evident testimonies to prove it, it is specially herein, that although the soul of man wholly unlearned, hath inwardly engraven in his heart and mind, and as it were, mixed with the marrow in his bones, that there is a God: Nevertheless, divers men (or rather monsters) are of the same condition with those, whereof the Prophet David speaketh; saying, The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God. True it is, that of those that speak in that sort, there are two kinds. The first, say it only with their lips; the other show it by 
Psalm. 14. & 53. 1.  their works. The jews whereof David spoke, showed both in their lives and conversasions, that they knew not God in their hearts: for that it is, which the Prophet noteth in them, adding to the place aforesaid this proof, They have corrupted, and done an abominable work. But at this day among those that bear the names and titles of Christians, there are not only such men, as resemble the jews in this respect, but also that say, both with mouth and in heart, blasphemously and abominably, that there is no God. It is for certain, a most horrible thing (and yet very true) that there is no nation so barbarous, nor people so brutish and savage (as a learned Pagan confesseth) which are not persuaded in their hearts, that there is a certain Deity, and a Sovereign Essence, above all things: and nevertheless, there are such senseless blocks, among those that have received the sacred seal of Christianity, that they are utterly voided of that natural and universal touch and feeling, or that at the lest, seek by all the means they can, to suffocate the same, daring to deny God, with their stinking and abominable mouths. It is a just and fearful judgement, which the great judge of the world, executeth upon those, that are wholly plunged, and as it were swallowed up in the vanities and delights of the flesh, thinking no more of God, then as if he were not. It is a most extreme vengeance, which the most puissant God letteth fly like an arrow, against those miserable men, who to addict their minds, (and without remorse of conscience) to abandon themselves to all corruption and filthiness, maliciously enforce themselves, utterly to deface out of their souls, the relics of the divine Image, which beareth them witness of the Deity, and of his providence and justice. It is the punishment that those men deserve, who to fill up the measure of their iniquities, when they affirm any thing; yea, and often times in vain speeches and communications, dare vomit, and cast forth into the air a denying of God. It is the reward which the Eternal giveth unto the ingratitude of many men: who to addict themselves to the fond dreams of their own imaginations, have despised the treasure which Christ hath opened unto us in his holy Gospel. To be brief, it is the last and most great persecution, whereby the children of God, shall be proved in this latter age of the world, when monstruous Atheists shall mock at their simplicity, and at their constancy, in keeping themselves (as near as possible they may) from doing evil, for the hope they have in the Lord, and because they fear his name. Now as there is no greater, nor more mortal wound, then to pull a man's heart out of his body, so there is no poison more powerful, nor plague more puissant, then suddenly to kill in him, the life of his soul (faith and charity) and (consequently to cast him down headlong into the gulf of death and hell, with the devil,) to deny the principle of all things, and the foundation of all Religion, which is that there is no God.   

2. Three ways and means to know God, and one only to conceive what he is.  
The Theologian Philosophers teach us three ways and means to know God: by the instinct of nature. The one is, by the negative of all imperfection, in acknowledging the Deity to be immovable, unchangeable, eternal, without substance, and infinite. This is an evident and clear way to teach us, not what God is, but what he is not: wherein nevertheless, we have as it were but a Preface, to know what God is. The second means to know him, is by his effects, which are the creatures; but it is very true and certain, that the effects do not always wholly represent their causes: specially in things that are finite; how much less than in things that are infinite? We cannot learn, nor judge by the effects, of the Spirit of man, nor of the sun, what those two singular creatures are. Than how shall we know by finite works, the efficient cause, or that which giveth essence unto nature. The third means to attain to this knowledge, is by the number of perfections that are found, and may be in all creatures, and in all essence; whereupon God is called Goodness, Wisdom, Power, Life, Truth, and justice, which perfect qualities, dispersed by piece meal, and in some measure in things created, are heaped together, united, and without measure in God, and therefore he is called Infinite. But because these are qualities subsisting in some kinds of substance, and that in God there is no quality, he being all substance and essence: and that every one of them, cannot be finite in God, (for he is altogether infinite) nor infinite in him, (for then there should be many infinities, and God only is infinite.) Therefore it is evident, that man cannot well know the Deity by the perfections aforesaid. We cannot understand nor imagine any thing, but by the means of his proper essence, and by comparing and measuring it, with the quality that it hath; whereby it happeneth, that we forge and make of every thing, some corporal Image, being not able by any means, without that resemblance, ground, and principle, to conceive or comprehend any true essence. Which moved a Pagan to say, that if beasts should make themselves Gods, they would forge and fashion them like unto themselves. But this is no certain means, nor way to know God, which is no corporal body, but altogether spiritual and infinite. So that is a false resemblance which we give to God, of more or less, when we attribute unto him, some thing more specially than other, as being more his, and more certain testimonies of his providence and justice: and that oftentimes we become so audacious, or most ignorant controllers of his judgements, and works. Which cometh to pass, by reason that we esteem, and so much the more apprehended things, how much the more they touch and concern us. And as if the universal deluge, was more to the Deity, than a drop of river water, the Sun, than a leaf of a tree; an Empire, than a fly; and all the world, than an Ante. But that is wholly to be ignorant, what heaven is: for where there is more or less, there is no infinity, and consequently no God. It belongeth and appertaineth to creatures, and things finite, to be touched diversly and unequally; not to the eternal, nor to that which is infinite. But we think, discourse, and judge of God according to our own qualities and conditions: (for we can never wholly separate ourselves, from ourselves) and therefore all these natural ways and means, carry and draw us, far from the knowledge of God. And which is more, if all that which we say, and set down of him, were strictly judged and censured, it would be, and is, mere vanity and ignorance. For besides that we can never say enough of him, yet those true things, and which appertain unto God, are corrupt, passing through our senses, and mouths, and we never speak of him, but in some doubt and incertainety, by the over great feebleness and weakness of our faith. And so the incomprehensible abysm, and the inaccessible light, is on the one side, and our nothing, and less than nothing, and altogether darkness on the other side. Wherhfore we say, that if there be any means, to conceive and imagine the deity, in our understanding, it is, when the Soul is distracted from all other things, and elevating itself, above the heavens, as in a wide, spacious, infinite, with a profound and chaste silence, and an imagination trembling with homility, (being very careful and wary, not to comprehend, or conceive in mind, any corporal thing, or that which is natural) doth imagine a bright shining profundity, without ground, brink, bank, height, or depth: and as if the Soul, being as it were blindefold, should loose, drown, and swallow itself up in the contemplation of this infinite. But because it is most difficult, (if it be not altogether impossible) for man to give himself any such kind of access to God: and that the Soul cannot long subsist, in such manner, remaining in his prison (the body) neither could in that estate, (ravished with fear) have the faculty or opportunity to sue to God, in temporal manner, which is to pray to him, to acknowledge him, and to honour him; it being necessary in such things, to represent his creator unto himself, with some qualities as good, puissant, wise, understanding, and accepting the vows, and intents of his children. For these causes, I say, it is requisite, and the condition of this life cannot otherwise bear it, that every one should make, and imagine unto himself some image of God, which he beholdeth with the eyes of his mind, and firmly addresseth himself thereunto: and that is it, which he can imagine to himself of God. For the Spirit draweth the purtraict to itself, elevating his imaginations, above all things that nature hath created, & withal his force, conceiveth a sovereign goodness, power, & eternal perfection; which image nevertheless, is altogether false, that is lame and imperfect. For that the deity, being not imaginable, infinite, and altogether incomprehensible, to a human Soul, there can be no true representation thereof, made unto it. But it sufficeth, that it maketh it less false, less vicious, higher, and purer, than it can imagine or conceive. The certain pattern whereof, was revealed from heaven to the patriarchs, and ancient fathers of the jews, the first adorers and worshippers of God, as they also have represented the same unto us, in their most ancient & aucttentique writings. There he is named (jehovah) he that is, he that is only, and alone. And EHE IE, EHE IE. I am, that I am, The eternal, Lord, most mighty, Creator, and Author of 
Exod. 3. 14.  all things, by whom all things that are made, have their essence, in whose regard, all things are nothing, one, and infinite altogether: Father, Word, and Spirit, living, seeing, pevetrating, and foreseeing all things, all wisdom and perfection, all knowledge and goodness, and the God of his people. Therefore, whosoever shall more highly, more worthily, and more purely imagine and conceive of these names, and divine qualities, shall have a more beautiful, more certain, and more true image of God.   

3. A general consideration of the world, in seven demonstratine reasons of the Deity.  
But to return to our proposition, to correct the extreme folly, of not believing that there is a God, and by that means to arm and strengthen ourselves against so pernicious a temptation. First, we will briefly set down seven natural reasons and proofs of the Deity: that done, we will proceed to the supernatural. The first is drawn from the consideration of the whole mass of the universal world, either generally or particularly. That which is general, concerneth nature, the essence and order of this round world, wherein we must of force acknowledge, that there is an Author of such an admirable building, and an efficient and sovereign cause of the substance thereof, which is God. For first, if the world was made, and had a beginning, (which almost all human Philosophers acknowledge, and the holy Scriptures both of the Prophets and Evangelists confirm it) it followeth, that there is a sovereign Architector, and first cause, whereby the world hath his being: for it did not make itself, it being impossible, that any thing should be the efficient cause of itself, otherwise it should be before it was, which is a manifest impossibility, and contradiction; the efficient being always before the effect. Secondly, we must confess, that the world was made either of some substance, or of nothing: If of a substance, necessarily there must be some first operative cause, that made and form that matter and substance, and gave an essence thereunto. If of nothing, then by greater reason, it was requisite there should be a most sovereign power, (yea and infinite) that made and created this world without matter or substance. Thirdly, say the world was made in a certain time, or let us grant, that it was without any beginning; yet we must grant, that there was an efficient cause, because it is finite. And things that are finite, subsist, and are of an other thing. That which is of itself, and by itself, is infinite: now that the world is natural, and of a finite essence, all the parts thereof that are finite, and whereof it is composed, manifestly show it. Therefore it is of an other thing, hath a cause of being, and was made: for what could be the cause of the finitie thereof, and that it is no bigger, but only the will and pleasure of him that created it? It is not want of space and place, which without the world is infinite. Neither is it because of the form thereof, which being round, may nevertheless be infinite. Fourthly, this great world is a body composed, & made of divers pieces, and those contrary one to the other, linked together, as heat, cold, dry, moist, sweet, bitter, plain, rugged, polished, rough, strong, and weak. Which contrarieties cannot be in a first and simple matter, which receiveth no composition. Therefore it being very true, that so many contrary things that are in the world, could not of themselves join one with the other, much less agreed & maintain themselves together (seeing that naturally they seek to destroy one the other, it must necessarily follow, that one more wiser, and more puissant, did put his hand thereunto, to join them together, as it were by force, and then to maintain them in that mixture. For a thing that is composed, and made of pieces, is imperfect, and therefore is not of itself, but was made of some perfect and singular thing. For perfection and singularity, go before imperfection, and plurality, as the unite and number of one, goeth before all other numbers, whereunto it giveth a beginning. Now God is that perfect and singular thing. Fiftly, the moving thereof, so orderly, so justly, so equally, so constantly, and so immoveably, necessarily proceedeth, and dependeth, upon a most wise, and first motion, which is moved by no other thing. That which is moved, removed, and thrust forward, is done by another. For nothing moveth, or hath motion of itself, otherwise one self same thing, should be, and not be, all at one time, but if it be moved, guided or thrust forward, it hath no power of operative moving of itself. Now all the world turns about and is moved, both in general and particular, and all the parts thereof are in motion. Wherhfore it followeth, that they are moved by some higher power, which moving all things, is not moved by any other, nor constrained to any motion. Otherwise, it were requisite to have an other superior and stronger thing which should remove it, and so we should still stand upon the point of infinite, which is altogether absurd. It is necessary to rest upon the latter, which is, that moveth all things, and is not moved by any thing. Whereupon, let us again note that this moving is perpetual, and uniformally. For the heavens move always, and that orderly, which showeth a most great power & wisdom in the first mover, which is God: by whom all things are moved by degrees, and the weakest by the strongest; for bodies are moved by their spirits, and the virtues hidden in them, and all inferior things by the heavens: so that we must grant our first proposition, which is, that being of himself immovable, unchangeable, and an eternal rest, he moveth all things. Seventhly, it is certain and evident, that all things naturally tend to some end, for the which they work, and not only every one in particular, for his own regard, but altogether, as with one accord and with one motion to attain to a common and general end, which nevertheless cannot be done, unless the cause be known by whom it is; and who knoweth and understandeth the general intent of nature, to incite and move every thing to his action. Now it is most sure, that almost all creatures are ignorant, whereunto they tend, and what causeth them to persist in motion, because they have not that understanding that is requisite there●nto. Whereupon we conclude, that there is a first, sovereign, efficient, and intellective cause, which knoweth and understandeth, the end of all things, and understanding and overseeing them all, thrusteth them forward to their action, and guideth and leadeth them to their end, both generally and particularly, which is so strong a reason, that the same alone, constrained the Pagan philosophers, that doubted of the deity, to say, that there is a kind of working nature, that is, efficient, moving and thrusting all natural things to their end: and so in despite of their hearts, to confess a God, under a feminine word of nature.   

4. Special consideration of the World in seven principal things, which make a certain proof the Deity.  
Touching the reasons and natural proofs, which are more particularly drawn from the consideration of the whole world, It shall suffice to set down and touch seven only, out of a great number. First, if we consider particularly the great multitude, and in a manner, infinite number of things created: and in them, the variety so divers, and so many, and in both of them the disposition so well composed, the ranking so beautiful, the ordering so harmonious, and the concord so firm; we must be forced necessarily to draw and reduce all that, to a first infinity and unity most fertile, most puissant and most wise. For they are all firm and certain maxims, that multitude proceedeth of unity, variety of abundance and fertility, and that order and concord, (different in plurality) are, and maintain themselves, by a most great and powerful wisdom. Secondly the making, and in it the building, perfection, and beauty, not only in gross, of all the round world, but also of every part and piece thereof in particular, can not be done, without a most great and most wise workman. The sight of a picture, maketh men conceive and know that there is a painter, and of a piece of work, that there is a workman, which much surpasseth his work, as always, the author and the cause, the doing, and the giving, are more than the effect, and the receiving. Behold the construction, and artificial building of the heavenly vault, wherein are placed so many bright shining lights, which without ceasing; are in continual motion over our head. Consider the form of man's face, and the order and making of his inward parts, then of his soul, which is invisible, the thoughts, discourses, and actions thereof, which cannot be comprehended: all that (yea and all that which we see in all creatures, even in the little Ant, the feather of a bird, and the leaf of a tree) showeth evidently, that all of them have been made to some end, and by a most great, eternal, and an invisible workman. Thirdly, the distinction, degrees, and parting of all things, and of their natural essential qualities, which are reduced to four principal heads, (essence, living, feeling, and understanding,) constraineth every reasonable soul to imagine a free and marvelous author and work master. We know that the greatest bodies, and the highest parts of the world, (the heavens & the elements) like great vessels, or strong planks, having but their simple essence, contain and sustain all other things. Secondly, plants, trees, and herbs, (richer nevertheless) which seems nothing in quantity to the heavens, and yet have more than they, for they have life and essence, and nourish themselves by their roots. Thirdly, beasts, which are much less than the plants, (yet more excellent than the great celestial bodies, trees, and herbs) have their essence, living, and feeling, and make use of the other two kinds of creatures, taking their nourishment from them at their mouths. Fourthly, Man, much less, and feebler, than all that aforesaid, is enriched with four degrees of qualities, (for he hath essence, he liveth, he feeleth, and understandeth) and serveth himself with the heavens, the elements, the plants, and the beasts; yea, and commandeth most part of all those creatures. Thus you see, that great and strong things are meanliest provided for, and are subject unto, and serve the lesser and the feebler: which is a certain argument, that they have not provided for themselves, nor shared out their own portions; but that there is a Master above all others that hath so, and as it pleaseth him, given to every one a part, and having in that sort provided for them, maketh them live in peace and concord. Fourthly, it is wonderful to see the conjunction of things, and the interchangeable course, intelligence that they have, and service that they do one unto the other. For the heavens shine, heat, moisten, and make the earth bring forth and increase, and not for themselves. The earth beareth and nourisheth the plants, and hath no need of them. The plants nourish and feed living beasts, and other creatures, which with all the rest serve man. And such things serve one the other, without any benefit or profit unto themselves. Wherhfore being linked and enchained in such manner, and tending all to one end, there must necessarily be one, that hath so knit them together, ordered, dressed, & prepared them, to one end and purpose, which is God. Fiftly, the virtues, proprieties, and admirable and infinite excellencies that are in things, and so wisely divided among them, the marvelous effects, and exquisite singularities of all and every one of them, witness, and clearly show, that there is a most great and infinite giver, and a sovereign and most puissant Lord: for seeing that they have not all these good things and benefits of themselves, have not given them one unto another, have not the power to refuse or to receive them, know not that they have them, nor reap any profit, honour, or pleasure by them: (for what knowledge hath the rose of her sweetness? what profit or pleasure hath the adamant stone of his propriety, or precious stones of their singularity.) It must certainly, and of force be, that such things have received all these benefits and properties else where, & that some great, rich, good, and liberal Lord hath given the same unto them, and in such measure as pleased him, not for their own sakes (because they know nothing, & have no profit thereby, for their parts) but in consideration of some other, to whom that great master maketh them serve. Sixtly, we find in all creatures truth and goodness, and in every one great diversity, and many degrees: for every thing hath his own particular goodness and truth, which maketh it differ from an other. Whereby we conclude, that there is a first, a sovereign, and an universal goodness & truth, the original fountain, and spring, of all the singular goodness and virtues, unequally dispersed and divided among all things. For that being not true and good of themselves (otherwise every thing should be truth and goodness) it must follow, that they have received them from another. As a rose is a true and a good thing, and a good and a true rose, but it is not truth and goodness, (for then it should no more be a rose,) but it is true & good: that is, there is goodness and truth in it: Therefore that virtue is in it, by some other means. The like of a bird, and so of all other creatures. Whereby we are compelled to believe, that there is an infinite truth and goodness, and as it were a Sea thereof, which spreading running out and dispersing itself among all things, maketh them particularly, true and good. Which is God. And as we see that there is divers degrees of more or less, in the goodness and value of every thing, we must conclude, that there is a sovereign essence, which is perfectly good and that how much the nearer any thing is, or draweth unto it, the better it is, and how much the further, any thing withdraweth itself or is from it, the worst it is. Lastly, after all otherthings, for the seventh, and strongest reason, we must behold and look earnestly into man, for whom all other things were made, and for whom also we labour in this our present discourse. We will not stand much upon the body, although, that both within, and without him, in his speech, and in his natural senses, there are many wonderful things, and whereof a man might writ a large volume: but herein, we desire to be brief. Let us then specially consider how man is not the author of man, for that the generation of man is acted, when neither the father nor the mother think thereon, see it, nor desire it, and oftentimes against their wills, being not able to beget children when they would, nor yet such as for the time they wish or desire, for sometimes they have a son, when they would have a daughter, and so to the contrary. After that, the child being horn, is not any ways in their own power or disposition: for many times it dieth, when it is but an hour old, and sometime, they never see it alive. Again, if man were the maker of man, he would make him great and healthful, and not lame, counterfeit, or misshapen: he would form his veins, pulses, and sinews, and mix and interlace them orderly together, and with, and by most admirable art: he would fashion his head and his brains, and make him a heart, a liver, lights, and all the rest of his entrails, which are hidden within the body. But man himself knoweth not, and is wholly ignorant, how his inward parts, and so many goodly members are made and composed, if he hath not at some time or other, seen them in the ripping and opening of some dead man's body, and by that means the first man Adam, was there in ignoranter than any other, as having never seen them in that manner. We must then thereby conclude, that there is a most great, and admirable workman, which is author of all these things, and that hath as it were woven, & framed so many notable and goodly members, not being man, but much surpassing and excelling all other things whatsoever. And if it be alleged, that such was the course of nature from the beginning, as of a nut which falleth down from a nut tree, there will grow up in that place, an other tree of the same kind, the nut not once falling, nor thinking thereon, and that such is the force, and order of natural things, it must be known and proved what nature is? Who hath given it that order, and that force, who made the first nut? who composed the body and members of the first man? who hath made and form all other creatures? Who guideth and conducteth them, and is the cause, that there is no want of them? and to be brief, who was the beginner of all things? But as we say, and have said, a most puissant and sovereign Lord, that worketh according to his will and pleasure, as he hath created all things by his power; and moderated them by his wisdom? Having spoken of the generation, and form of the body, (wherein man hath no part, and to say truth nothing, as I have said) let us come and proceed to the creation of the Spirit, which is as it were a bottomless pit, which cannot be sounded: how then could, or did man make it? In this spirit, there is a thousand wonders, which all those that are endowed therewith, do not once understand. It hath an intellective quality, surpassing sensible things (for it understandeth them all) and which is more, that understanding discovereth, and conceiveth much more, and far beyond all the senses of man. Which evidently showeth, that there are intelligible things, above sensible things, and specially one, which not only surpasseth those intelligible things, but also is above this understanding of the Spirit. It knoweth and understandeth all things; and yet cannot understand nor know itself, neither doth it know from whence it hath that great sufficiency to know the rest. Therefore also it did not make itself, but of necessity it followeth, that there is an understanding, much above that of man, which knoweth it, & hath made it; and which understanding in us, that which we ourselves know not, giveth power unto our souls, to understand that whereof they are capable. Again, the thoughts of our hearts, the Imaginations of our brains, the desires of our wills, and the conceptions, inventions and discourses of our Spirits, which are infinite, and which we cannot stay, change, nor order, but do rather wholly carry, lead and hurry us away at their pleasures: So many wonders (I say) evidently show and declare, that we are not masters of ourselves.  
But how should we be masters of these interior and great matters, and of so many admirable faculties of the soul, when we have not the lest means or power that is, to make ourselves a finger higher than we are, or to be longer or shorter than we be? Let us then say and confess, that there is a supreme Lord above us, that is most great, puissant, of most wonderful, and altogether perfect understanding, and infinite in all things: seeing that man (who is respect of the universal world, is as it were, but a small grain,) is infinite in his thoughts, desires, and affections. To conclude, hereby we see how things in general, and every one in particular, in their several bodies, acknowledge, confess, and denounce, in all true sense, one God, author, and sovereign Master of all things, from whose majesty and greatness; it is impossible for man to hide himself: for that at all times, in every moment of time, and in all parts and places wheresoever, it presenteth itself unto us, toucheth, striketh, presseth, and urgeth us forward.   

5. Other considerations of the former seven reasons, four interior and moral, and three supernatural and Theological demonstratines of the deity.  
divers other reasons, Interior, sensible, moral, proper, and natural, with others higher, and more exquisite, supernatural, and Theological, may here be inserted, to show, not only that there is a first, sovereign, and infinite essence, efficient cause, Lord, and providence of all things, which is God. But also, that in him, there is a sovereign, and infinite power, knowledge, justice and perfection. First, we must necessarily consider the general, universal, and mutual consent of all nations, and of all men, touching the belief & acknowledging of a Deity. For all the people in the universal world, that are, or ever were living on the earth, from the first day thereof until this present time, naturally have, and do confess,▪ that there is a God, or Gods. All the Philosophers, Historiographers, and Pagan Poets speak and make mention of their Gods, and invoke, and call upon them. And although that the most, and greatest part of men, have worshipped, honoured, and called upon false Gods, that odoration, nevertheless doth testify, and confirm, that all of them have that in common, and generaily, to believe that there is a deity, and that they think that they serve the true God, and so manifestly condemn those that acknowledge no God. Further, this diversity of Gods, imagined by the Pagans', evidently proveth, that to believe in a deity, is not a doctrine learned or taught in common schools, or a complot made among men, but that it is nature itself, common to all men, that teacheth them that there is a God. The second reason is, the manner of swearing, or ministering of an oath unto all men, to maintain and uphold all that which is true, and to obey his word and commandments, for that is as much as to confess that there is a God, which knoweth the secrtes of men's hearts, loveth truth, and punisheth all falsehood. Thirdly, the prompt, willing, and in no sort premeditared invocation of some aid and sovereign extraordinary succour, when a man findeth himself in any great, or violent danger, disaster or distress, evidently showeth and testifieth, that there is a certain natural impression of a deity, and a kind of religious seed in the soul of man. It is the nature of every thing to turn and address itself, (and that insensibly) to his beginning then this inspiration, being merely natural, cannot be vain, but showeth and proveth evidently, not only that there is a God in the world, but also that he knoweth all that is done therein, that he can remedy and help all things, and that he hath a care of all human things. Fourthly, we are to consider, and to think upon the feeling and remorse of conscience, so violent, and passionate, full of torments, disquietness, & troubles, from which wicked men: by no means can be freed. For it is an infallible argument, of a superior sovereignty, before whom they must tender an account of their actions, & what other may be gathered hereby, that all apprehension of fear of men, being taken away, in a fact secretly committed, where there is no witness nor apparent accusator, in case where the delinquent or malefactor is of so great power and authority, that there is no judge to whom he is to tender or make account of the fact, or where he hath been absolved or acquitted by the Magistrate, the soul or conscience nevertheless, is so cruelly tormented; with interior fury, and vexed with torments and fear, that all the pleasures, exercises, flatteries, and passetimes, wherewith other men recreate themselves, can by no means appease, or ease his mind, nor once suffer him to take any rest? This proceedeth not from the motions of the soul itself, because it loveth and cherisheth the body, as much as possible it may or can, and seeketh not, the trouble, disease or torment thereof. So that we must confess, and acknowledge that it is some most great powerful majesty, some most redoubted and sove reign superiority, from the which that which is the principal part in man, cannot hide nor unlose itself, by whose hands it findeth itself fast caught, and surprised: who loving virtue, uprightness, justice, and truth, punisheth and severely revengeth all evil. So many several things then, already touched and declared to that purpose, being so universal, we must acknowledge them to be natural, and consequently true. For it cannot be said nor alleged, that it is fortune (as men call it) much less the reasons so divers, and flowing in discourse, that hath so generally, and constantly persuaded all men to the belief of a deity. Therefore, we must necessarily grant, that it is nature, or to speak truth, God. And in truth it is a touch or feeling of his majesty & greatness in all men's hearts, and in the soul of nature itself. For that which some men do reply and allege against it, hath here no place, which is, that the cause why men do believe in God, proceedeth from the craft and subtlety of those men, who seeking to obtain an authority and principality over others, and to procure the more credit to their laws and ordinances, boasted & made the people believe, that they had some secret communication with the gods, & that they had received those laws and statutes from them, which they commanded to be observed and done: for of what weight or moment could such dissimulation & feigned shows be with men, if first the persuasion of a deity (which men should fear to offend) had not been naturally imprinted in their hearts? for if they had not believed it, without doubt they would have mocked those that said they had spoken with the gods. And which is more, they themselves that used such policy & craft, are also witnesses, that all men believe that there is a deity. And to prove it, read all the books that have been composed & written from the beginning of the world until this time, & you shall found but very few men that are noted to have maintained that blasphemy, that there is no god. There is mention made of one Diagoras Melitus a Poet: of one Theedorus Cerenius: of one Ehemerus of Tigee, & some others that were esteemed Atheists. And yet they were not thought to be such, for having denied that there is a God (for Diagoras in the beginning of his 
Plat. de Plae Phil. Cic. lib. x. de natura dcorun.  verses, confesseth that the deity guideth and conducteth all things) but rather because they mocked at idols & the multitude of gods. As Ehemerus was called an atheist, because he wrote that the gods of the gentiles were excellent personages, seeing their pourtraits which were kept in memory of them, had been converted into idols. And in the same books we read, that Protagereus, for writing in the beginning of his book, I have nothing to say or do with it, whether there be gods, or no gods, was banished out of Athens, & the territories thereof, & his books publicly burnt. As there were also certain Philosophers named Septiques, that doubted of the deity; but that was because their profession was to doubt of all things, yea, of that which they saw, and touched, and which is more, whether they were, or were not in essence. Now those that believe not their own sense and feeling, as that black is black, that fire is hot, that snow is white, and that ice is cold; and to be brief, that doubt of that which is seen, touched, or heard by themselves, are truly & directly senseless and mad, and yet less mad than Atheists, because they doubt that there is a God, and the Atheists flatly deny it. Let us go forward with our reasons, & speak of those that are supernatural, & theological. 5. It is worthy the noting, that beside, this that all the company of the most noble philosophers, openly & plainly confessed, the Holy Scriptures witness the same, & experience teacheth us; that there is a certain invisible, & spiritual power, greater & stronger than all human virtue, because it is over ruled, & strangely insulted upon by the other. Which is that of wicked spirits good or evil demons, which not only violate, torment, & hinder men's bodies, from doing their natural & ordinary functions, but also trouble & torment their souls, corrupting their imaginations, & perverting their judgements. All this cannot be denied, nor dissembled by Athists. They hear & understand a fool, a child, & a woman, speak greek, Latin, & other strange languages, & utter certain propositions of doctrine, which they in no wise understand. They see strange things done, which are not acted by the wit, capacity, or sufferance of him that doth them, nor by any other human power. And they cannot say, that the devils which act such prodigious things, are not enemies unto men, & of power sufficient utterly to destroy them. Which are all proofs, that there is yet a higher power, that commandeth & overruleth the power of the Demons or devils, & which they serve & obey, as there is no family, no assembly, nor any order or estate, without some head or governor. Then is it the sovereign & divine power (that is the deity) which presseth down, driveth away, & overcometh those invisible & spiritual powers. Which caused Socrates, being accused not to believe in the Gods, for his own purgation, & excuse to say, that he had taught his Disciples to believe that there are Demons which are but the children & ministers of the Gods. 6. There is a certain great & clear proof, of most excellent & divine virtue in miracles, whereby the rule, order, & course of nature, is altered & changed, & in all ages there hath been such miraculous actions, done & accomplished in the world, which cannot be doubted of, nor called in question but by Acariastians', or hair brained, & unreasonable men, whereof the books, histories, credible reports, & testimonies of all nations & people, are exstant to be seen. Whereby we are taught, that there is a greater and more puissant than all the world, and nature, that showeth himself by those supernatural actions, to be above the law, that he himself hath established, and that dispenseth therewith, when, where, and as it pleaseth him. Which is God. Lastly, for the seventh reason, The predictions of things to come, and in time to happen and fall out, which have not any cause, or ground in nature, at the time when they are foretold, and not at hazard, generally, obscurely, or counterfeitly, but are certainly specified and determined to be done, and to happen at a time preordained: and which afterwards have their true and certain execution, and events in every point as they had been foreshowed, are to he considered and specially noted. For that such clear, manifest, and infallible knowledge of future things, cannot be but in the infinite Spirit, eternal Author of all things, in whose sight all things are perpetually present (that is God) who revealeth & openeth them to men, by those of whom he will be served to his glory, whether they be christians or pagans. As Easie notably foreshowed the nativity & name of king Cyrus, and that he should set the jews at liberty, a 
Easie 44. 21 Dan. 7. 3. and 17.  hundred years before that prince was borne. And Daniel manifestly prophesied of the four monarchies, before the first of them happened; and more than that, he did certainly, and a long time before speak of the desolation & end of the jewish religion. The Sibilaes' also foreshowed many things with great certainty: but specially we must note the prediction & foreshowing of christian religion, described & promised not generally & confusedly, but clearly and particularly, in all the several parts thereof, many ages before it was known, or heard of in the world: for in all times and ages, yea, & in all precedent religions, there was most worthy personages, that were admired and much esteemed of by men, (as the prophets among the jews, the Sibilaes' & the Poets among the Oracles, & Grecians) that wrote, foreshowed, and celebrated christian religion, the foundation whereof is to believe in one only true God.   

6. The conclusion of this Chapter.  
So many clear, and divers sorts of testimonies, being set down and produced, which all conclude and affirm a deity, we cannot say otherwise, but that it is a most unmeasurable pride, most shameful infamy, and a most desperate and beastly opinion, to deny that which is believed and universally confessed by innumerable millions of people, & which is more, that which the discourse of reason, our imagination, & our understanding teacheth & showeth us. For seeing the spirit is capable of itself, to apprehended the belief of a God, and that reason leadeth us unto it, nothing can hinder or impeach us, to giveful credit thereunto. Now seeing this spirit is able to conceive a most high, most puissant, most good, and in all parts most perfect essence; & not only that, but most certainly conceiveth that sovereign virtue, and is thereunto led, yea, & as it were thrust forward, & forced by many arguments and reasons, in considering, orderly placing, and composing the goodness, beauty, singularities, and excellencies that are in all things, both under & above human nature, and causing the imagination of her thoughts to rove about, & to mount upon high, to search for, & to conceive of a more perfect nature, until such time as in a manner blindfolded, it arriveth unto such a height, and so complete an essence, that in the meditation thereof, the sight of her understanding is troubled, and in a manner lost with fear, admiration, & respect, which must needs be God, the first, eternal, & sovereign efficient cause of all things. We must conclude, that by good right, we have placed and set down the first and extremest folly in man to be, not to believe that there is a deity; it being most true, that it is the means to abolish & abandon out of our hearts, all fear of doing evil, and to annihilate all affection and desire in us, to addict our mind unto piety, charity, holiness, patience, and humility. It is the true and only means, to transform and change a man, not so much into a beast, as into a devil, yea, & into a far worse nature; for the devils believe that there is a God, and tremble at his name (as the holy scriptures bear witness, & divers writings of the Pagans'.) Wherefore let us constantly renounce, 
james 2. 19  and utterly forsake this folly, and madness of the Atheists, and abhorring the very thought thereof, believe in God, not only our creator, (as it evidently appeareth by all his works) but also our redeemer, that is (to speak with the Apostle) manifested in the flesh, justified in the spirit, seen of angels, preached to the Gentiles, believed of the world, and mounted up into glory: for that 
1. Tim. 3. 16  without this knowledge of the true God, we are but ignorant of him.    

That men aught to renounce the second folly, which is to esteem man more then God. Chap. 3.  

1. Of those that deny the Deity by their works, because they know not the providence of God.  
LEt us follow, and go forward with the foundation of our Philosophy, which is to forsake & renounce all our follies, and thereby grow wiser in time to come, that so we may be answerable to our vocation of the children of God: and having spoken of those detestable monsters, that deny the Deity, both in heart and mouth, we will now say somewhat of those, who making a profession to know God, deny him in their works, (as Saint Paul saith) 
Tit. 1. 16.  which folly is found to be eminently, and merely followed with a common error, in all places where man is more esteemed of then God. For to confess & acknowledge the sovereign creator of all things, & to esteem less of him then of his creature, is as much as to acknowledge & and avouch him with our mouths, and to deny him in heart & action, and so to wear the livery of those, of whom the Prophet David speaketh, saying, The fool hath said in his heart there is no God, they have corrupted themselves, and done an abominable work. This folly 
Psal. 14. 1.  is much more used and common than it is thought to be: for it proceedeth of divers causes, which in a manner draw men to iniquity, as incredulity, doubting, gross ignorance, or too slack and cold a conceit of the providence of God, which is an assistance, & a wise conduction of all things to their end. Such men confessing that there is a God, do not apprehended him as they should, that is, that he is soveraignely and universally provident, both generally and particularly, all good and doing well, hating iniquity, just punishing sin, true & most puissant to accomplish his promises, and to execute his judgements, and of an infinite wisdom. From the which ignorance & corruption, there proceedeth singularly, these three vices, that welove man more than God, that we put our trust & confidence in man, more than in God, and that we fear man more then God. Which are as many evident profess, & certain testimonies of the accoplishing of this folly, that we esteem man more than God, & by good consequence also, that confessing the Deity with our mouths, we deny him in our works.   

2. Seven reasons, and certain proofs of the divine providence of God, at well general as particular.  
The many and great numbers of reasons before set down & alleged, evidently showing and proving, that there is a deity, the sovereign & efficient cause of all things, do sufficiently conclude by necessary consequence, that the same God is sovereignly and universally provident over all his creatures: for the proofs that serve for the first point, make for the second also: that is, to teach us, that this divine providence extendeth and spreadeth itself over all nature, aswell generally as particularly. It is a certain & an infallible truth, the which not only the supernatural light of the heavens, & christian faith discovereth unto us, but which many infidels & pagans also by the only instinct of nature, & by the clearness of human reason have acknowledged: which is, that the sovereign Lord of the world governeth & disposeth all the parts & pieces thereof, both high & low, little & great, universal & particular, leading and directing them according to his good will & pleasure, by his incomprehensible providence. In such manner, that he hath such a care of every creature in his inseparable work, as if he had no regard at all of the whole specie, or generally of all things in the universal world, & yet governeth all in such manner as if he had no care of any of them in particular. For even as the Sun by his radiant beams giveth light to the moon, the stars, & the planets, & to all the celestial hemisphere, & is of so great a force & efficacy, that it penetrateth even into the bowels of the earth, therein to engender gold, silver & other metals, & in the sea, divers pearls & other admirable rarities, there being no corporal thing, how base & vile soever it be, that doth not participate of his effects, & of his light. In like sort, and with an excellency, & admiration infinitely greater, God the creator, as the true eternal Son, & the cause of all moderation, order & justice, illuminateth & giveth force and vigour, to all that which hath essence, which liveth, which feeleth, and which understandeth, be it in heaven, or on earth, visible or invisible, there being nothing, that doth not participate with the beams of his brightness, and that is not by him directed & governed. To prove this, we will set down seven certain and manifest reasons. The first, that God is the creator of all things. For why should he make or created them, if he would leave them at random, or not be pleased to conserve, guide, and conduct them to their ends by his divine providence? And again we see, whether we will or not, that things go not by hazard or by chance; for therein we may clearly see, mark, & behold, government, policy and order, now who hath ordained it? or who maintaineth it? but only he that hath made all things? for there is as great, & the like power, goodness, and wisdom to be required & had in well governing of things, as to give essence & being unto them. And God is one sovereign, infinite, and perfect essence, one sovereign, infinite, and perfect understanding, and in him essence & understanding are all one. Now as in the creation of the world, the virtue of his essence was spread & extended itself over all, even to the lest parts of his works (otherwise they could not have been) so in the providence, that is, in the government of things, his understanding extendeth to all things, otherwise they could not continued nor attain to their final ends. Besides this also, sovereign power & sovereign wisdom in the deity is but all one. For as his providence, extendeth itself to created the universal world, and every part and piece thereof, so doth his wisdom to conduct and guide them to their end. For providence is no other thing, but a wise conduction, & ordering of things to their end. Secondly, we cannot deny, but that God is at the lest, as great, good, puissant, wise & perfect, as the spirit of man, is able, or can conceive, or imagine him to be. But the Deity is infinitely above, and much surpasseth that imagination, as it hath already been said. And the spirit of man may coceive a provident essence over all nature. Therefore also, God's providence cannot be less, then that which our imaginations & thoughts conceive; otherwise the spirit of man which is created and finite, should be greater than the Creator which is infinite. Thirdly, if there be any thing hidden or exempted from the eternal providence, it followeth that it is not infinite, that it extendeth not itself over all things, that it is bounded and limited in some place, that it meeteth with some thing that is not within the limits thereof, that is without it, or beside it, or that passeth by it. And so it must necessarily follow, that either it is governed by itself, or by an other: which is to conclude, that there is an other God, and so two gods, & two providences: which is not so. Fourthly, if there be any creature whereof the eternal God hath no care, it must proceed from want of power, will, or knowledge how to conduct them, and in that case he should be no more all puissant, all good, & all wise. But he hath employed, and used all these his three essential qualities, to created all things: why then should he not be able to use them, for the government of all things? what reason is there to confess, or to deny, or doubt more of the one, then of the other? But he is much better, and more excellent, to be able, to know, and to govern and conduct all things, then to the contrary, and to provide for them, than not. Therefore, God doth the first & not the last. Fiftly all that which is good, fair & excellent in us, is most perfect in God, for whatsoever is most exquisite in us, is but as it were a dropping, or a very little running out of that Sea, & infinite Spring of the bounty and beauty of God. Now in us, and in all creatures, there is a certain providence, whereby every thing provideth for itself, according to the nature thereof. Than providence in God is most great, perfect & infinite. Sixtly, we are to consider, how that all creatures, how little soever they be, are so many several parts of the great universal world, & that there is nothing, how small, little, or vile soever it be, or appeareth in our sight, but it belongeth unto, & serveth for the state, perfection, & upholding of this round earthly globe. Every piece therein hath his place, rank, quality, proper moving, & certain action limited and determined. Not so much as a small drop of water, the leaf of a tree, & the hairs of our heads in such manner, that their moving is the same with the universal world. Wherefore it followeth, that the chief governor & supreme intendant general of so great a work, should have an eye every where, & upon all things, and that upon the very lest things of all: for all appertaineth unto, toucheth, & importeth him, in general, & in every part, as we see great alterations, battles, subversions of estates & empires, to spring, rise & come originally from most small and light causes. Lastly, for a seventh reason, & a most excellent demonstration of the providence of God, among an infinite of admirable things, which men plainly see practised & continued in God's creatures, one specially is, the diversity of human shapes, such as that in so great, and as it were an infinite multitude of persons, there are not two among them that in all things resemble one the other: and which is more, this diversity is evident in the form, lineaments, proportion, colour, gesture, voice, and hand writing of man, And every one may comprehend and conceive, how much the same importeth, and is necessary for the good of human society, and what confusion and disorder would happen, if it were otherwise. Therefore it is unto us an inestimable benefit, and a most evident testimony of a most attentive, and most charitable eternal providence: otherwise there could not proceed and ensue so wonderful and important a benefit. To be brief, out of so many reasons and arguments, this general maxim is to be drawn, that it is an infinite thing, and a laboriuth most troublesome, for those that breath in this corruptible world, To think to discourse of, much less to discover and know the particular movings, effects, resorts, order and proceed of the providence of God, as it is altogether much more impossible for them to understand the cause thereof. For as there is nothing more secret than the Deity; so all his works are most high, and most profound, and no creature whatsoever can sound in to the depth thereof. His judgements are like a great deep, and 
Psal. 36. 6.  no man can perceive the traces or paths of them. It is sufficient to admire and adore them in this life: we must be taken up into an other life to understand them. Human curiosity oftentimes tormenteth and wearieth itself to find them out, but at every turning it is in 
job 36. 23 〈…〉  amaze, and can go no further. Therefore in a word we say, that it aught to suffice Christian modesty, to believe, that there is one only, sovereign, divine, and universal providence, reaching and extending itself over all, which governeth and worketh by numbes, weight, and measure, in all things generally and particularly.   

3. How we love man more then God.  
To continued our proposition, and to show by the three points aforesaid, that we esteem man more than God: first, we must presuppose, that our heart is like a vessel, that cannot continued empty, but will always be full, either of the love of God, or of some other love: and that the fuller it is of the one, so much the less it containeth & receiveth of the other. Now as the love of God, and the love of mortal things are contrary, & nothing comparable one to the other, it is impossible that they should devil and be lodged in one self same heart, in any degree of perfection. And therefore he that desireth to fill his soul with the precious liquor of divine love, aught to seek and procure by all means possible, to exclude and drive all other base and vile love out of his heart. To this purpose an ancient Father said, O man, thou art a vessel, but a full vessel, put out & empy that which is within thee, that thou mayst take in that which thou desirest; put out the love of the world, that thou mayst be filled with the love of God. And as every man knoweth the commandment of God, & our duty requireth, that we should love God withal our heart, with all our soul, & withal our strength, and the reason is twofold, that is, because he is God, and then, because he is our God. For being the eternal God, and infinite, only beautiful, & only good, he is worthy to be beloved infinitely: and forasmuch as he is our God, creator and redeemer, we are bound to love him only, and according to his commandment. Nevertheless, the common custom of men evidently showeth, that we are so far from doing it, that to the contrary, we love man more than God; and to prove it, let the married man but call to mind the love that he beareth unto his wife, the wife unto her husband, the father & mother unto their children, the children to their father & mother, and the love of one friend unto another, & they shall evidently feel and confess, that they love man more then God. Let us proceed to the proofs thereof. We cannot endure that any man should blame or speak evil of him that we love. If the husband heareth any man speak evil of his wife, or the wife of her husband, both of them will be grieved, and cannot bear therewith, but will be offended thereat. And how many quarrels are daily known, seen, and heard of, between those that beat arms, to be revenged for a simple word spoken, which they imagine to be prejudicial to the honour of their friend, and for the which, to have reason (as they term it) they freely and boldly venture their lives to all danger, and without all fear to damn their souls.  
But when we hear any man blaspheme God our father, who is moved thereat? who taketh on him to found fault therewith, and seeketh to be revenged, or causeth the party blaspheming to be punished? Again, every man taketh pleasure to hear men commend those whom he loveth, and to prove it. If any man in our company shall chance to commend our children, fathers, brethren, or friends, for their good behaviours, and virtuous actions, we rejoice thereat, and are glad. But if in the same company any man shall chance to speak of God, or of his goodness & bounty towards mankind, his gracious government of all things, and his mercy in the free election of the faithful, and of the continuance of his benefits towards them, (whereof the Prophet David hath made four excellent Psalms) who is it that will be lively touched therewith, and feel joy, gladness, and comfort at his hart, or will not 
Psal. 103. 104 105 & 106.  rather be weary to hear the same? Again, we speak willingly of those whom we love, and are glad & rejoice, when any motion is made in that kind, and we will be sure to enforce and continued the same. But when do we speak of God? And if in our company any man gins to make any discourse to that purpose, how is it followed or continued? To the contrary, how quickly, and how soon is it left of & forgotten? Again, we do not easily forget the man whom we love with good affection, (as the Proverb saith; he that loveth well is slow to forget) we call to mind his face, his countenance, his gestures & qualities. But what mind or remembrance have we of God? when do we think upon him? when do we call to mind his majesty, his works, and his graces towards us? Again, when to spare & keep our riches and our goods, for our children, we neglect our duties towards the relief of the poor, and are loathe freely to give any thing for the mainetenance of the service of God, and his ministers, are we no: therein found guilty of loving man more than God, and our earthly children, more than our heavenly father? And how many are there, who being overcome by their affections, towards their wives, their fathers, and mothers, or carried away with respect and love towards their Kings, and Princes, forget and neglect their duties towards God? jesus Christ saith plainly, That in so doing we love 
Matth. 10. 37.  man more then God. Wherhfore by all these examples and witnesses, with many others, that might be produced and set down, it may easily be understood, how we love, and consequently esteem of man, more than God. Which is as much, as manifestly, and boldly to deny God, both in our hearts and in our works; whom notwithstanding in the 
Aug. li. confess.  mean time, we confess and acknowledge with our mouths. Saint Augustine saith, That we love God less than we aught to do, when we love any thing with him, and that we do it not for the love of God. What do we then, when we love man, not for God's sake, but contrary to his will, love his creature more than himself? Which is so great a folly, that Christ himself said, That we are not worthy to be his children, unless we be 
Luk. 14 26.  willing and resolute to hate father, and mother, sister and brother for the love of him: That is, to bereave ourselves of all our affections, that in any sort may withdraw us, and our minds from the service, love, and obedience that we own unto him. Which we shall do, when we love God more than man, yea God only and not man, but in God, and for the love of God.   

4. How we fear man more then God.  
The second proof, that we esteem of man more than God, consisteth herein, That we fear him less than we do man. Which is proved thus. When there is any crime committed by man, that is punishable by the Magistrate, there is no man so prodigal and careless of his life and reputation, nor so desperate, that will go & put himself in the Officers or judges hands; and why? because he would fear to be apprehended and punished. So thieves, and Rovers hide themselves, in woods, and in canes, and come not abroad but in the night time. And the Scriptures saith, Whosoever doth evil hateth the light, jest his deeds should be reproved. But God seethe all that is done, in the woods, in the night, 
john 3. 20.  and secretly, all our conceptions, desires, wills, passions, determinations, and enterprises, that are good, or punishable by the Law, or that are accursed, and merit eternal death, are open before the eyes of his Majesty. Understand you unwise among the people, (saith David) and you fools when will you be wise? he that planted the ear, shall he not hear? or he that 
Psal. 94. 8. 9  form the eye, shall he not see? But in the mean time, are we as fearful to offend God, or do we feel such an apprehension, or fear of punishment, for offending him, as we do when we have committed a crime before a mortal judge? Yet we know well, that such faults as are punishable by the Magistrate, are likewise subject to the judgement of God. It is certain therefore, that those that commit them, flee the light, because they fear man, when it may be, they do the like things secretly, in the presence of the Lord; thereby evidently showing, that they fear him less than man. Yet we will confess, That the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom, and that the fear of the Lord, maketh man abstain 
Psalm. 3. 10. Prou. 1. 7. & 16 6.  from evil, as David and Solomon have written. Nevertheless, if a judge should menace and threaten all those, that swear by the name of God in vain, that for every time that they should so do, they should loose one of their teeth: the greatest blasphemer among them would reform himself, and be so wary, that although he were so much addicted to that vice that he could hardly leave it, and so should loose some teeth for that cause, yet he would be sure, not to loose them all.  
Now God threateneth that he will not let them go unpunished, that shall take his name in vain. And the pain and punishment of all sin whatsoever, is much greater in his judgement, then before the tribunal seat of man. And yet nevertheless, how many are there, that cannot speak a word without swearing? and to be brief, how many frauds, deceits, vices, and iniquities, which deserve eternal death before God, are secretly dispensed withal by men, which they would be ashamed to commit openly, and whereof, if the Magistrate were informed, or understood, and should punish them for the same, they would wholly abstain from them? This folly then so great, to fear man more than God, cannot proceed from any other thing, then from this; that confessing and acknowledging God, with our mouths, we believe not that he is God, that is, seeing all things, holy, (for that he hateth and abhorreth all evil) just to punish it, and most puissant to take vengeance therefore. Yet naturally we fear him more, that hath force and power to execute his menaces and threatenings here on earth, than God that can punish us more rigorously, more terribly, more certainly, and more infallibly. So we fear more the menaces and threatenings of a man, then of a child, of a Magistrate, then of a particular person, to loose our lives, than a small sum of money, and the rough words of man, that is of stayed judgement, and temperate, then of a light hairebraind woman. But God is stronger, and infinitely puissanter, than all mankind, to execute his judgements, and his threatenings. All creatures are at his commandment, to execute and do his will, and pleasure; both Angels, men, and devils: The air by corrupting to infect us; the seas to over whelm us; the earth to swallow us up, and beasts to devour us. What profound bottomless waters 
Gen 7.  had he in his power, and at his command, when all the world was drowned, and the water overflowed, and was fifteen cubits above the highest mountains in the world? With how many horrible plagues, never heard of before, did he beat, and at last destroyed 
Exod 8 9, 10. Levit. 26. Deut. 28.  the Egyptians? With how many sorts of evils and scourges, did he punish his people that rebelled against his commandments? There is neither counsel nor force that can prevail, or resist against him. And to the contrary, what power hath man to hurt, that 
Acts 17 18.  hath his being, his life and moving in God? Again, the pains and penalties of human Laws, can extend no further, but to the loss of men's goods and of their bodies, which of force must once die. But God hath power also over men's souls: and to that end, jesus Christ admonisheth us, not to fear them that can only kill the body, but rather him, that after he hath taken their lives from them, can also cast their souls into hell fire. Man 
Luc. 12. 4.  likewise cannot afflict or punish the body but for a little while: but God can do it eternally, and without end. Besides that, the threatenings of men are oftentimes vain, and easily altered and changed. But God is just and true; so his threatenings are strictly executed, either in this life, or in the life to come, if they be not prevented by repentance, and amendment of our lives. The mighty God (saith the Prophet) is jealous, and the Eternal 
Nahum 1  revengeth: he hath fury at his commandment, he will take vengeance on his adversaries, and he reserveth wrath for his enemies. The Lord is slow to anger, but he is great in power, and will not surely clear the wicked. And therefore also be saith by Easie, Cease you from the man, whose breath 
Easie 2. 22, & 23.  is in his nostrils, for wherein is he to be esteemed? And again, Who art thou, that thou art afraid of mortal man, and of the son of man that shall whither away like grass, and forgettest the eternal that made thee, and created both heaven and earth? Let us then learn by so many sacred reasons, to fear God more than man, and so esteem of the Creator more than the creature, or rather not to esteem of man, but in God: having in remembrance, that those men truly fear men, that fear not God more than men.   

5. How we trust more in men, then in God.  
The third proof of the folly which is now in question, we have already said to be, that we trust more in man then in God: which corruption proceedeth from three principal grounds. The first, that we are so brutish, that as beasts apprehended nothing, but that which is before their eyes, so we commonly believe nothing, but that which we see. Now we see and behold men that have means to aid and help us, but we see not God and his power. Whereby it falleth out, that many put more trust in man, promising them nourishment, and that whereof they have need, then in God, which giveth them his holy word to feed them and his promise never to abandon nor forsake them. Which is the cause that we reap no profit by his advise, when he sendeth us to the school of birds, herbs, and flowers, thereby to teach us, that man being much more excellent & precious than they, before God; he aught to repose his trust and confidence in his providence, for all things that shall be necessary for him in this present life. It is true that he chargeth us first to seek the kingdom of heaven, 
Matth. 6. 26.  and the righteousness thereof, that all things else may be ministered unto us. Wherhfore, being so negligent to do that, which he commandeth therein; it is no marvel, if the distrust of his grace, maketh us careful for tomorrow, and that we cast our eyes rather upon men, then upon God. Secondly, we are so carnal, that we esteem nothing to be a blessing unto us, but only that, which is pleasing and delightful to the flesh. And for that men promise' us nothing, but that which is proper and commodious for the flesh: therefore we do willinglier, and rather harken unto them, then unto God, that promising us many blessings, aids, and deliverances, doth not always accomplish such things, according to the desire of the world, and of the flesh, but spiritually, and for the good of the soul; and although he giveth us much more than we ask, when he causeth his spiritual blessings to increase in us, in stead of those that serve only for our bodies; nevertheless, our carnal reason cannot comprehend, nor perceive, that he accomplisheth his word, which is the cause, that if one doth promise to secure, aid, and deliver a man that is sick, poor, or in prison, he will put his trust more in him then in God, that promiseth him as much in the holy Scriptures. Whereby we evidently see, that flesh and blood, knoweth no other, but corporal aid, suecor, and deliverance, because God giveth it not always, when we will, but oftentimes, changeth it into spiritual blessings, somuch the more excellent, as they are less known unto man. The third cause that maketh us err in this point, consisteth in the time of the accomplishing of that which God promiseth by his holy word. For according to his wisdom, sometimes he stayeth long (as it seemeth unto the flesh) to effect that which he promiseth. Whereby man, hot and impatient of nature, easily casteth his eye upon that which he esteemeth to be nearer and readier, & so trusteth in man more than in God. Let us here add hereunto, that experience (as the Apostle saith) engendereth hope. Now as we find succour and aid from rich men that love us, and have means to do it and that on the other side, we 
Rom. 5. 4.  do not penetrate, nor enter so far into the providence of God, as to know that he nourisheth, and so many; and so oftentimes, delivereth us from infinite inconveniences and dangers, it seemeth unto us, that by experience we find more aid and assistance in men, then in God: and thereby also put our trust more in them (poor worms of the earth) then in him, that is all goodness, and all powerful. Even as children expect more aid, at their father and mother's hands, then from God, and the mother having given her child his breakfast, it is content, without ask more of her to serve him, five or six days after, & stayeth till the next day, that she giveth him his breakfast again. Whereas to the contrary, jesus Christ having taught us to ask our bread of our heavenly Father, but for one day, we would willingly have him to give us, as much provision this day, as would serve to feed and clothe us all the days of our lives. So the woman that liveth by her husband's labour, with her children is quiet and content therewith, while he liveth, but when he dieth, she weary, and feareth to endure famine, or to fall into some other misery, instead of trusting in God, which is the the husband of widows; and the father of Orphans. So a mean prince having contracted alliance, with a puissant and almighty King, trusteth more therein, then in the alliance of God, that promiseth him to be his Protector, and his Saviour. In like sort, it is our manner, confidently to lend a hundred pound to a merchant, upon a simple bill of his hand, to pay us again at a years end, with some small interest: and we will not trust God with a crown, when he sendeth one of his children to our door to ask it us of alms, and giveth his word for him, and which is more, promiseth to restore it us again twofold, with interest that shall continued forever.   

6. The conclusion of this Chapter.  
Seeing that hereby we learn, that the corruption of our nature leadeth us to believe nothing, but that which we see with our eyes, to think that there is no other good, but that which is carnal, and not to acknowledge the wisdom of God, and his providence, in the dispensation and conduction of all things; whereby we fall into these errors, to trust more in man then in God, to fear man more than God, and to love the creature, more than the Creator, thereby truly accomplishing this folly, to esteem of man more than God, which is as much as to confess him with our mouths & to deny him in effect, and in our works. To amend this fault, let us change advice, that is, to love and fear God, and to trust more in him then in man; because God only is all unto us, and man nothing but in God. And to that end, let us call these places of the holy Scriptures to remembrance, Cursed is the man, that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm, and withdraweth his heart from the Lord, for be shall be like to the heath in the wilderness. And a little after, Blessed is the 
jerem. 17. 5. 6. 7. 8.  man that trusteth in the Lord, and whose hope is in the Lord, for he shall be as a tree that is planted by the water side, which sproadeth out her roots by the river, for whatsoever he shall do (saith David) shall prospero. Again, Woe unto them that go down into Egypt for help, and stay upon 
Psal. 1. 3. Easie 31. 1. 3.  Horses, and trust in Chariots, because they are many. And a little after, Now the Egyptians are men, and not God, and their Horse's flesh, and not spirit. But blessed is he (saith David) that 
Psal. 1465.  hath the God of jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God.    

That we must amend our lives, and shun the third folly, To think to live ever. Chap. 4.  

1. Man naturally inclined to incredulity, and to doubt of true things, which he desireth should not come to pass.  
Our third and principal folly is, to think to live ever. This at the first show, might seem to many, to be some paradox, or rather a false supposition, for who is so Ignorant as not to know, that it is ordained by God, that all men shall die once? and who seethe not this sentence daily and continually confirmed before his eyes, as it hath always been, from 
Heb. 927.  the beginning of the world? yet it is most true, that although we found by experience, that the course of our life, is like a little round circle, which having go about and compassed, we are suddenly and in a moment taken out of man's sight, as if we had never been? yet the knowledge of this fragility, is not well imprinted in our hearts, because that by our corruptness of nature we lift not up our eyes above earthly things, and again, we are so inclined to incredulity, that the delaying, how short soever it be, of that, which we desire should not come to pass, easily taketh from us, the remembrance that we aught to have thereof, that 
Psal 5.  we may not be surprised nor deceived. That was the judgement of the evil servant, spoken of in the Gospel. And to the same end Saint Peter saith, That in the latter days, their shall come 
Math. 24. 48. 2. Pet. 3. 3, 4.  mockers, which will walk after their lusts, and say, where is the promise of his coming? For since the fathers died, all things continued alike from the beginning of the creation. And as it is written, that when God by his Prophets threatened the contemners of his word, they laughed, saying, 
Psay 21. 13. & 28. 15.  Let us eat and drink, tomorrow we shall die. And again, we have made a covenant with death, and with hell we are at agreement. Though a scourge run over, and pass through, it shall not come at us. In this manner, man naturally inclined to incredulity, easily doubteth of true and certain things, if they be but a while deferred, specially when they desire not to have them come to pass.   

2. Testimonies to prove, that man thinketh to live always.  
Therefore (although we otherwise confess, and acknowledge with our mouths, that we must once die, and proceed further (according to christian faith) to believe that death is the entry and gate, either into paradise, or into hell) it happeneth unto us, as unto them, whereof we have already spoken, who with their lips acknowledge a God, and deny him in their works. For who is it that liveth here on earth, and thinketh as he should, and aught to do upon the course which he aught to hold, to enter into the place of heavenly loy, and eternal blessedness, or to the contrary, on the other way, that he aught to leave, which is to go to the place of weeping and gnashing of teeth? When we doubt, or believe that we shall die within a day or two, there is none of us, but will be sorry and grieve that we have offended God, that we have lived sinfully, in adultery, in deceit, disorderly, with an evil conscience, and uncharitably with our neighbours. And then we will desire to live a while longer to amend our lives. And we will not want no vows, nor promises to God, to live the rest of our lives holily, and in fear and obedience unto him. If he will be pleased to prolong our lives. And I am sure every man will truly confess, that if he should feel himself ready to die, he would willingly with sorrowful heart, make the like vows, promises, and protestations. God grant us daily, and hourly time, leisure & meant, to live according to such vows and desires. Why then do we nothing? why do we not make haste to order the course of our lives in that manner, which we desire and wish we had lived in when we are ready to die? It is because we think not to die, and are so dull and insensible, that we think and esteem twenty or thirty years to be an eternity. For from thence proceedeth, this so great stupidity, that addicting our minds wholly to the pleasures of this present life, we take order and provide for the affairs of this world, as if we should devil therein, two or three thousand years. As a Pagan very well noteth, saying. That there is no man, how old soever he be, that is not in hope to live an other year: which is as much, as to think never to die: for when such a man shall have lived an hundred years, or two, he will persuade himself, that he shall live a year longer, and that ended, that he shall live another year, & so to live ever. This is a wonderful inconsiderateness. When a man is committed to prison, and hath received his judgement to die, he thinketh upon nothing else, but on the way that he must go, and detesting his former lewdness, humbleth himself before God, abandoning all desire or care to lie soft, to eat and drink of the best, or to wear costly and rich apparel: And if he be a man well instructed in piety and godliness, he thinketh upon nothing else, but eternal life, & forgetting the world and earthly vanities, rejoiceth in hart, that he is ready to enter into, and to take possession of the kingdom of heaven. Now, we have received the judgement and sentence of death, from the first day and hour, that we came into this world, and our souls are in our bodies, as in a prison, still expecting the hour and time of the execution. And accordingly, we all confess, that we must die, and that we know not, whether it shall be within a day, or an hour, or less, and which of us nevertheless, doth feel, and showeth himself disposed or prepared to die, as he doth, that is condemned to die by a terrestrial judge? from whence proceedeth this dangerous carelessness? But only from this, that we think not to die, but rather to live always. If a woman, or a maid, preparing and making ready her best and richest clotheses; and other ornaments to go to a wedding, should feel herself sick & ill at ease, & the Doctor having felt her pulse, should tell her for certain, that she should die within five or six days after, she would presently forget her going to the wedding, to weep, to pray unto God, to do Alms, to cry out upon, and to blame the vanities of this world, and would advertise and advise her friends, and companions, to leave and forsake them, and in stead thereof, to do good works. Now God the sovereign physician of our bodies and souls, that knoweth the time and space of our lives, hath already warned us of our deaths: he hath said that it shall be very shortly, and giveth us no assurance, respect, nor delay of five or six days: no not of one day, nor yet of an hour. It is a common saying, that those that sail on the seas, are within two or three fingers breadth, of their deaths, that is as much as the thickness of the planks and wood of the ship is wherein they sail: for if those planks were taken away, they should drown, if they could not swim like fishes. But without sailing on the Seas, or on the water, death is nearer unto us, when we bear, both about us, and within us, infinite causes and means, which put us in danger, every moment of time, to be stifled, and swallowed up, waking, or sleeping, eating or drinking, at home or abroad, and at all times, and in all places, wheresoever we be. In such manner, that in what good, and prosperous estate soever, a man thinketh or judgeth himself to be, we many times wonder, and are abashed to hear that he is dead, before we knew that he was sick. Than wharefore do we settle our minds, our whole thoughts & our cogitations, to live here according to the justs and pleasures of the flesh? why are we less advised & carelesser then a woman or a maid that expecteth death every hour? why do we take so much pleasure in vanities, excess and disordered life, like fools? why do we not addict our minds otherwise to the meditation of heavenly and eternal riches? wherefore do we not employ our time in such works, as will be a comfort unto us, at the hour of death? and to be short, why do we not amend our lives? because we think to live ever.   

3. The brevity and vanity of our lives, most necessarily to be considered of by man.  
We read of Antigonus, one of Alexander the greats successors, in a part of his Empire, that being healed of a certain disease, said, That he had thereby among other things 
Plut. in Apopht.  learned, that he was mortal, therein discovering and showing the aforesaid common opinion of man, to think to live ever. Whereunto that also tendeth, that Philip King of Macedonia, every morning when he rose out of his bed, caused one of the Gentlemen of his Chamber to say unto him, O King remember that thou art a mortal man. And to the same purpose also, serveth the common sentence, which we see many times written and set up in tables, and upon walls, and elsewhere, Remember to die. But as the intent and purpose of that divine proverb, and of many the like notable instructions and avertisments, which we find in the holy Scriptures is to advise and instruct us, to live in such sort, as that we should always have in remembrance, that we must die. So they are as many reproofs and reproaches unto us, thereby to condemn us, that there is so great folly, and carelessness in us, that we think not to die. An extreme folly indeed: Seeing that experience, which is the School of fools, cannot provide a sufficient remedy against it. For the veriest fools and idiots in the world such as are not capable of discourse or reason, at the lest learn by experience, that apples and pears rot, that green trees die, being cut down, that grass whithereth, when it is mowed, and that flowers fade and die when they are gathered. This instruction, which by experience, showeth and pointeth out things by the effects is so certain and true, that if a Philosopher would take on him to show, and prove the contrary, by reason and discourse: as for example that fire is cold, and snow hot, he should be worse than a fool, and might be sent to the School of experience, and told that he should put his finger in the fire, and his hand into the snow. The holy Ghost presenting unto us many registers and tables, since the beginning of the world, to show that we are mortal, and borne necessarily to die, speaking of death and of the lives of the first Ancient Fathers, saith, that if those that lived 900. years and more, were not at the last exempted from death. Now when the strongest and stoutest man, liveth not above 70. or 80. years, and that not very many, how comes it that we think to live always? The world hath continued 5500. years and upwards: and yet experience 
Gen. 5. Psalm. 90. 10.  showeth, that there was never any man (of so many millions that have lived upon the earth) that escaped death, but only Enoch and Elias, that were transported without seeing death, (as the Scripture saith.) Besides all this, we have many mirrors concerning 
Gen. 5. 24. Hebr. 11. 5. 2 King. 2. 11.  this passage of death, which God setteth before our eyes, as Church yards, graves, tombs, and dead men's heads and bones, gathered and laid together in the Churchyeards; which are specially as many testimonies, that we also must die. And every time that we see a dead body borne to the grave to be buried, or that we hear a bell toll to a burial, it is unto us as it were a herald, that crieth out and saith (o man remember that thou art mortal.) Is it not then, a double folly in us, and which showeth us to be more fools, than fools, when in this school of universal and continual experience, since the Genesis of the world; we cannot nor we will not learn that we must die? But behold an other greater and more evident testimony of our brutishness, which is, that this life which we esteem and think to be immortal, is not of any long continuance. We live, as believing that we shall live eternally in this world, and we cannot stay therein but a very short time. Moses in his song reckoneth our days, as I said before, to be seventy or eighty 
Psal. 90. 10.  years, & yet of a thousand that are born here on earth, hardly two or three of them attain to that age. And the Prophet in the same Psalm, and verse, showeth how that long life, of 70. or 80. years, is quickly cut off, and will fly away. Than, what is 40. 30 or 20. years in comparison thereof, which the most part of men never attain unto? Let us here then speak, (in the book of Wisedom●) that never thought to die, living in delights, honours, pleasures, and riches, and we shall plainly see, how they truly confess their folly and abuse, saying (What hath pride profited us? or what profit hath the pomp of riches brought us? all these things are passed away like a shadow, and as a post that passeth by, as a ship that passeth over the waves of the 
Wisd. 5. 8.  water, which when it is go by, the trace thereof can not be found, neither the paths thereof in the floods. Or as a bird flieth through in the air. Or as when an arrow is shot at a mark.) In how 
Psal. 102. 11. 1 Chr. 29. 15. Psal. 144. 4. job. 8. Psal. 105. 15. Exod 104. 16 Easie. 40. 6. Psal 73. 20. job 38. 9 & 7. 6. jam 4. 14.  many places, also doth the holy Ghost compare the life of man to a shadow, that fadeth away? how many times to the grass, which yester day was green, and this day is cut down and withered?? how often to a flower, which yesterday flourished; and this day is gathered and dried away? how oftentimes to a dream, and as a watch in the night? and as job saith, that we are but as yesterday, and that his days are swifter than a weavers shuttle, and that they are spent without hope. Which made Saint james, liken our life to a vapour, which appeareth for a little time, and afterwards vanisheth away. The Pagans' in times past, marking this, one of them said, That being borne we die: an other, That our life is a path way, from one mother to another; that is, from the body of a woman, to the bowels of the earth: another, That man is but a water bubble. Another being asked, What he thought of man's life, without making any answer, went into his chamber, and presently came out again, thereby signifying, that the life of man is but an entering into the world, and a sudden going out again. jacob having lived 130. years, said unto Pharaoh, That the days of his life, had been short, in regard of those of his Ancestors, that had 
Gen. 47 9  lived 8. or 900. years. What is 70. or 80. years then, which the strongest and stoutest men live now adays, If they be compared to the eternity which shall follow and ensue this temporal life? It is not a drop of water in comparison to the Sea, nor a grain of sand, in comparison to that, which is in all the earth. Saint john calling the time since the coming of Christ in the flesh, to the end of the world, The last hour, seemeth to divide 
1. joh 2 18.  the world into three or four hours, whereof two or three of them were passed under the time of Moses Law, and before, and we are now in the last hour. If 1500. years and more, are reckoned to be but an hour (how much less are they then being compared to the eternity) the longest life of man cannot be a minute of an hour.   

4. Conclusion of this Chapter.  
Seeing that this false opinion to think to live ever, maketh us forget heaven for earth, the soul for the body, and heavenly, for terrestrial treasures: That we may amend our lives, let us change opinion, and being well persuaded that we must die, and that soon, and that our life is but as it were the length of a day, or of an hour, yea of a minute of an hour, let us live so, as if we should die every day, or rather every hour in the day. Let us live as we wish we had lived, when we lie on our death beds: and employ that day or hour, that we breathe our last, in the works of piety and virtue, which undoubtedly will be a joy unto us, when we die, and glory and eternal blessedness in the life to come. Let us remember the ten Virgins, in the Scriptures, that we may have oil ready in our 
Matth. 25. 1.  lamps, to enter into the Bride chamber, at the day of the coming of the Son of man, to judge the quick and the dead. Let us not (for a days, an hours, or rather a minute of an hours carnal pleasure, which the longest life of man, can or may taste, have or feel:) deprive ourselves of that spiritual joy, which can never be taken from us. Let us not 
john 16. 22.  lose the fruit of the tree of life, for an apple that beginneth to rot. To be short, seeing we must die, and know not the hour, and that it will soon come, let us live like men condemned to die, and that stay but for the time of execution. And to frame and fashion ourselves unto that wise course, Let us say with Moses that great man of God, Lord teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom. For this prayer is of no small importance, although it seemeth no difficult matter, to know how to number and tell 70. or 
Psal. 90. 12.  80. years, which the Prophet doth limit our days to be. But therein he showeth the dullness of man, in not being able to comprehend the shortness of our life, by reckoning it to be of so small continuance, and that the holy Ghost must necessarily, by his secret wisdom work in us to teach us to know and find out, so necessary a doctrine, to the end (as he addeth) That we may apply our hearts unto wisdom. That is, that leaving and forsaking the vanities of the world and of the flesh, which lightly fade away, we may addict ourselves to that, whereof the blessed fruit will remain with us for ever. That is, that we should renounce and forsake this folly, to think to live always in the world, and that when we die, we may happily enter into the joys of the kingdom of heaven.    

That it is requisite and necessary for man to free himself of the fourth folly, which is, Not to know wherefore we live. Chap. 5.  

1. All things created for two principal ends, The one near at hand, or first, the other farther of, and last.  
All the creatures that are, that live, & that have any sense & feeling, are made, ordained, & created, for 2. special and principal ends: The one, which is as it were, at the beginning of every thing, the other, the latter. The beginning of the heavens is to move perpetually, and the end, (because of the object whereunto they tend) is to shine, heat, moisten & 'cause the earth to bring forth fruit, etc. The first end of plants is to receive vegetive life from their roots, and to grow and bring forth seed, thereby to continued and perpetuate themselves, in their kinds. The latter to feed and nourish living creatures. The first end of beasts is to live and feed themselves, the latter to serve man; to the which end also, all other creatures tend. Whereupon, if you ask man, the reason why God made and created the earth, he will make answer, and say, that he did it, for men and beasts to devil thereon, and to nourish herbs, plants and trees. And why he made the sea, he will say, for navigation, and to nourish fishes. Wherhfore he made stones, he will tell you, to serve for building, and making of houses. Wherhfore he made plants and herbs, he will say to nourish all living creatures; wherefore he made fishes, birds, and other kinds of beasts, he will reply, that they were made, some to serve for nourishment for man, & others to draw and bear burdens; and so of other things, for others and divers uses. And soaring up higher, he will tell you why God created the Sun, the air, and other creatures. He can discourse and speak of the admirable course of the heavenly spheres, & calculat, that the Sun in 24. hours compassing about the whole world, doth consequently go every hour 260. Dutch miles. And that the heaven wherein that admirable great light is contained, is distant from the earth 1202700. miles, so that it is incomprehensible in human understanding, to set down the number of miles, that the Sun goeth in his heavenly circle every day. Man also taketh on him to measure the compass of the earth, and affirmeth that the earth and the sea together, are 6300. Dutch miles in roundness or circuit: and that the body of the Sun is 166. times bigger than the earth. How great then is the heaven wherein the Sun is? But of what greatness is the highest heaven, environing all the other heavens, wherewith that heaven where the Sun is, is environed: and that with a most admirable distance? Man can discourse and reason of all these things, yea, glory and boast in himself to think that they are and subsist, for his good, benefit and use. But if you ask him why God created him, and wherefore he liveth? he will either make you no answer at all, or else say little or nothing to the purpose.   

2. It is a most necessary thing for man to know himself, and the end for the which he was borne.  
The Philosophers and Theologians agreed in this point, that the whole sum of man's wisdom consisteth in two points; that is, that man knowing God, knoweth himself also: and that this knowledge of himself is two fold, that is (as the Philosophers say) the wisdom that we have by the true feeling of the perturbations and disturbances of the soul, and that which we get by good and perfect reason, to purge and cleanse the soul from vice, and to make it happy: either by Stoic virtue, by contemplation Parepatike, or by Academical endeavour. But to speak more properly with the Theologians, it is, that we must learn to know what we were at our first creation, and what we become after the fall of the first man Adam. Now in him we were created after the image of God, which is all righteousness, holiness, goodness, and uprightness. And in him also we fell from all those divine graces, into unrighteousness, corruption, malice, and iniquity. Touching the end wherefore man was created, it may likewise (as in all other creatures) be considered two ways. The one first, the other principal and last. The first end of man's creation consisteth herein, that God said to Adam and Eve, after he had created them, Increase, multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue 
Gen. 1. 28.  it, and have dominion over the fishes of the sea, the fowls of the air, and every living thing that moveth upon the earth. For thereby man is bound to increase and multiply human kind, to govern his house, his family, and public affairs, and to all good & laudable actions, and contemplations. But his latter and principal end is, the glory of God, and to be conjoined unto him, thereby to attain eternal beatitude. For God that might have contented himself with his own glory (which he had from all eternity) would manifest the same unto men, that it might be known, acknowledged, and magnified by them. Therefore he created man according to his own image and likeness, that by the bright shining beams of his light, holiness, righteousness, and truth, together with the remembrance of the dominion and rule given unto him over all creatures, he might be led to the knowledge of the Sun of righteousness, goodness, wisdom, and sovereign power, to love God his Creator, to put his trust and confidence in him, to be obedient unto him, to invoke & call upon his name, and to acknowledge and confess that all goodness proceedeth from him, & by that means to glorify him in all his actions. And since the fall of man, God hath given him a greater and more ample knowledge of his glory, and hath further obliged him to acknowledge & magnify him, by the benefit of the redemption of mankind, accomplished in jesus Christ, and of the regeneration of all the faithful (the most happy fruit of the high mysteries of our salvation) for in that Christ is called the image of the invisible God, and that he was given by the Father, to the end, that whosoever believeth in him, shall not perish, but shall have life everlasting; 
Col. 1. 16.  that in his sacrifice he vanquished and overcame the devil, sin, death, and hell. I say, we may know and lively feel the wisdom, the holiness, the righteousness, the mercy, the goodness, the love, the truth, and the power of God (Father, Son, and holy Ghost) that we might love him, put our whole trust and confidence in him, 
job. 3. 16. 1. joh. 4. 5.  cleave unto him, fear him, pray unto him, and acknowledge him to be the overflowing spring and fountain of all goodness. And thereby to obtain our last and principal end aforesaid. For in all these great mysteries of the works of our salvation, consisteth the 
Gen. 3. 15 Gen. 4. 5. Apoc. 12. 9 Hebr. 2. 14.  means, by the which being withdrawn from death and eternal damnation, we are made the children of God by jesus Christ (God made man) and heirs of his kingdom and glory.   

3. Three principal ends of the life of man.  
By good right then, we say it is great folly in man, not to know wherefore he liveth, and yet this gross ignorance is much more common than it is thought to be. For of this sort, are all those that think to live for themselves; as Artificers to nourish their families, Merchants to enrich themselves, Courtiers and Captains to make themselves great, and to attain to high estates and honours: and others (worse than bruit beasts) to give themselves to all delights and worldly pleasures: and to be short, all those in general, that think they live in the world, to accommodate themselves therein with all things that flesh and blood lusteth after, and desireth. Wherein experience more than evidently showeth, that there is not almost any man, that knoweth wherefore he liveth, or at lest, that applieth not his actions to an other special and principal end, then that for the which he aught to live: which is a most pernicious error, and full of ingratitude. For as all other creatures made for the use of man, continually do bend all their actions to that end and purpose whereunto they are ordained, that is, to serve man, by furnishing him with that which is necessary for him. Man only knowing not wherefore he liveth, turneth the end of his salvation upside downward, attributing his essence, his life, his feeling, and his understanding to himself. And yet he seethe evidently, that no other thing is created for itself, but to serve an other (as we said before.) Nevertheless, he being only endowed with reason and understanding, is so foolish, as to believe, that he is not created for the service of an other greater than he, but only for himself.  
Now to make us wiser, and better advised, let us learn by the holy Scriptures, that to obtain both the one and the other end (first and last) of our creation; There are three special ends and purposes, whereunto we aught to direct the course of our lives. The first, to glorify God. The second, to attain to eternal life. And the third, every man to apply all his actions in his particular vocation, to the service of God. And as the knowledge of our God, is requisite and necessary for us, to frame our minds to that spiritual wisdom; so that wherein we aught specially and principally to exercise and employ ourselves, is to acknowledge God, that by knowing him, we may bend all the course of our lives to those three points, whereof we intent to speak. For the first and principallest of them, which is to glorify God, it consisteth herein, that we confess with our mouths, and show by our works, that we esteem and accounted of him in our hearts, to be the same that he is, and that he showeth himself to be towards us, as we are taught by Saint Peter, speaking to all the faithful in these words, Ye are a chosen generation, a royal Priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people, that you should show forth the virtues of him, that hath called you out of darkness, 
1. Peter 2. 9  into his marvelous light. Now the virtues of our God are, that he is a God most puissant, most good, most wise, most merciful, most holy, most just, and most true. Whereunto that hath reference, which David (exhorting all men to praise God, adding a reason) saith, For his loving kindness is great towards us, and the truth of the Lord endureth for ever. Therefore in 
Psal. 117.  these four points also, we give him that glory, & yield him that service which we own unto him, that is, in putting all our confidence in him, in obeying him according to his will, in calling upon him in all our necessities, & in acknowledging all good things to proceed & come from him. Thus you see in few words what the first end & purpose of our life aught to be. The second which tendeth to eternal life, is, seeing that God hath sent his son into the world, that the world might be saved by him, & that whosoever believeth in him, should not be condemned, 
joh. 3. 17.  it appeareth evidently, that as the end of our redemption, accomplished in jesus Christ, is to save the elect: so we that believe in him, aught to have this special intent & purpose in all the course of our lives, to be saved by him, otherwise it is as much as in us lieth, to overthrow the excellent & admirable work of our redemption. God hath created man without comparison, more excellent than the bruit beast. Nevertheless, if man doth not attain to an other life but only terrestrial, he is more miserable than the brute beast, which passing this terrestrial life, with less pain and trouble then man, feeleth no evil nor torment at all being dead. To the contrary, those that have not this intent, and firm, and certain assurance to obtain eternal life, having endured divers calamities, and many corporal, and spiritual afflictions in this world, when they die go into hell, there to suffer and endure incomprehensible and infinite torments. Therefore it is, that the precepts and instructions of the holy Scriptures, which tend to the grounding and establishing of our faith, do not promise' us pleasures, and delights in this world, nor yet honours, riches, nor other commodities of the flesh, whereunto vain and foolish men aspire, but to the contrary, much labour, pain, and travel. And to be short, a life full of trouble and anguish: which being lightly and soon passed over, hath for reward, a heavenly and eternal life. Whereunto jesus Christ's own words tend, saying, Blessed are the poor in spirit, (who being utterly void of all fond opinion, and trust in themselves, put their hope only in the mercy of God) for 
Matth. 5. 3.  theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, (feeling their own misery, and therein seek remedy in God) for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek (which are ready, rather to suffer all things, then to be revenged) for they shall inherit the earth. That is, in assurance, and peace of conscience, under the protection of God. The Lord also, calleth all those happy that are pure in heart, which hunger and thirst for righteousness, which are merciful, which are peace makers, and which suffer persecution for righteousness sake: for (saith he) theirs is the kingdom of heaven, and they shall see God. This then is the end: the sovereign good, the joy and the felicity, whereunto our great Lawgiver and Saviour, will have us aspire, and which we hope by his grace to attain unto, and whereof Saint Paul making mention, crieth out, and saith, (The things which eye hath not scene, neither ear hath heard, neither came into man's heart, are those which God hath prepared for 
1 Cor. 2. 9  them, that love him. Now when a man hath a journey to make, and is loath to go out of his way, it is necessary for him to know whether he goeth, and to whom he goeth, to the which end we have both the one and the other, in jesus Christ, very God and very man. For in that he is God, and consequently life, it is to him that we must go: and in that he is man, it is by him that we have access unto God, and are united unto him, thereby to enjoy eternal life. Therefore it is said of Christ, That he is the way, the truth, and the life. Touching the third end and purpose whereunto we aught to bend the course of our lives, and 
john 14. 6.  which consisteth in every one of our particular vocations, it is certain, that it is not our own profit, honour, or advantage, and carnal contentment alone, that we must seek for, but that also of our neighbours, (that is all men) for that in serving them, we serve God. Our most puissant Creator and Redeemer could if it pleased him, preserve our bodies, and save our souls without the ministry of man. But he doth us the honour to accomplish his work by us. Therefore that there might be bread to nourish our bodies, he hath by his providence ordained that there should be husband men to till the earth, millers, and bakers: To furnish us with clotheses and apparel, shepherds, shearers, combers, spinners and weavers of wool Fuller's, Dyer's, and Tailors: To build and make us houses, Carpenters, Masons, and Bricklayers: and to be short, Artificers, and Merchants of all trades and merchandises, to furnish and provide that which is necessary for man's body. As also he hath ordained Kings, Princes, and Magistrates, that by their authority, every man should be compelled to follow their vocations uprightly: and that they should exercise and execute the charge committed unto them, to preserve and defend the good, and to punish the wicked. He hath also given, and doth give, and ordain Pastors, Doctors, and Ministers of his Word, To save (as Saint Paul saith) those that hear them: illuminating, 
1 Tim. 4. 16.  planting faith in them, and forming them to his obedience, by the ministry of the Gospel. In this manner, God effecteth, and perfecteth his work, and his will, to be protector and preserver of our bodies, and Saviour of our souls, employing men in his service, every one according to his estate & condition. For very slaves and servants serve God, Doing service to 
Col. 3. 24.  their Masters, (as the Apostle witnesseth) wherein specially we have a singular consolation & comfort for all persons, called unto, and exercising most base and vile vocations, and which seem abjects & contemptible in the sight of the world, for if we consider that therein serving man, we serve God, no state nor condition can be dishonourable. For his Majesty is so great, that there can be no base nor vile estate in his house. Now all the earth is the palace of his glory, and before him being infinite, there is nothing great nor little, more nor less, near nor far: those things are marks and evident signs of finitie and imperfection. In such manner that there is nothing so vile, but as the creature of God, it serveth to his glory; nothing so small, but he useth it for great matters; and nothing so great, but he maketh it bow and bend under the lest things. So that if a poor maid Servant that sweepeth a house, and doth other abject works, shall remember, and think with herself, that the Lord of all men, hath called her to that state and condition, and that serving her Master and Mistress, she serveth the Sovereign Master of the world, it will be a contentment, and an assurance unto her of a reward (without comparison) greater then that which she expecteth at mortal men's hands. For as God is great, yea, and infinite; so he esteems much the service that is done unto him. And his children are so dear unto him that for the service that they do unto man, he will not only recompense them, with a mere temporal reward, but also, (because therein they serve him) he will have them to attend and hope for a reward from him, that is, life eternal. To that end also Saint Paul saith, That the woman shall be saved, through bearing of children, if she continued in faith, love, and holiness, with modesty. For it is true, that the woman bearing her child in her womb, bringing it forth and nourishing 
1. Tim. 2. 15.  it, endureth much pain, great grief, and exceeding trouble, but if she thinketh and remembreth that God (who will have the world preserved, and continued by generation) hath called her to that state and condition, and that her end, purpose, and intent is, in all those services, that she doth to her child, how vile and base soever, to serve God, doing the duty of a mother: let her be of good comfort, and serving God in that manner she shall be saved, and shall receive the great reward and guerdon of the heavenly inheritance.   

4. Conclusion of this Chapter.  
By that which is said, it evidently appeareth, how dangerous & pernicious this folly is, not to know wherefore we live, and that it is a most necessary wisdom an instruction for a man to know himself well, and the end wherefore he was borne. And therefore we must learn, that the principal end of our life should be to increase more and more in the knowledge of God, that in knowing him, we may glorify him, and obtain unto ourselves, eternal life: wherein consisteth our only sovereign good. And further, that every one in his particular vocation, should bend his mind to serve God, in serving men, whereby we shall be induced to walk before him, in a good conscience; and as those that are bound to yield an account unto him of all our actions, and not as before men, to please them or to get and reap unto ourselves, human profits and commodities. If we live in this manner, we shall be in the way to heaven, which the effect and meaning of the divine law of God teacheth us, that is; to love God, with all our hearts, and our neighbour (in God, and for the love of God,) as ourselves.    

That man aught to deliver himself from the fift folly, which is, To judge of the happy or unhappy state of man, by exterior signs. Chap. 6.  

1. The children of God are inclined to stumble at his providence, and wise and just conduction of men to their ends.  
THe fift principal folly by us set down, is, to judge of the happy or unhappy state of man by exterior signs, which folly is the rather to be noted, because it is very common, not only among irreligious, and all sorts of profane people, but also among the children of God, and so much the rather to be rejected, because it is most pernicious. Against this stone the wisest men have stumbled, and therewith pushed at the divine providence of God, wherein is comprehended, his goodness, his wisdom, and his justice, which specially appear in the wise and just conduction of man unto his end. The great Prophet David confesseth, that he was possessed with the same folly, esteeming wicked men) because of their prosperity) 
Psalm 73. 1.  to be happy; and to the contrary, those that walked in piety, and godliness, and drank up affliction like water abundantly, to be unhappy, and acknowledged that he was so much troubled to think thereon, that his feet were ready to set forward to join in league with the perverse and wicked: that he thought that there was no providence in God: and that it was but lost labour, and in vain, to seek to serve him holily and uprightly. But after that, again he saith, That it was a great stupidity in him, that he was foolish and ignorant, and knew nothing, and that he was a beast before God. jeremy touched with the like error, entered into disputation with God, Why the wicked prospered, and to the contrary, 
jerem. 12. 1. job. 21. 6. 7.  Good men were afflicted? In like sort job saith, I am afraid, and fear taketh hold on my flesh, wherefore do the wicked live, and wax old, and grow in wealth? How many times doth David complain, looking upon the outward show of his afflicted estate, as if he were 
Psalm. 22. 2. 13. 2. 79. 5. 77. 10.  forsaken and abandoned of God, as if he had forgotten him, as if he were angry with his servant, and as if he had withdrawn his grace and mercy from him? So the Church of Israel considering her affliction, entered into an opinion, and complaining that God had 
Easie 49 4.  forgotten and abandoned her? To be short, it is the nature of all men to stand upon exterior things, & to judge them to be happy, that prospero according to the world & the flesh, and that escape the pains & punishments that they deserve: and those unhappy, that are afflicted, and endure poverty, & oftentimes shame & punishment, which they deserved not.   

2. Man's false judgement of good and evil things.  
To preserve and deliver us from this folly, first we must resolve upon this point, that it is not requisite, nor any reason, that we poor worms of the earth should know & understand the counsel of God, nor the resorts, causes and circumstances of his will and divine providence: for if it were so, than he should no more be God, or we should no more be men. Much less reason is it for him to subject the just & wise conduction of his creatures, to the rules of our senses, & corrupt judgements. For as there is nothing so clear, nor so easy, as to believe & acknowledge a God, nor nothing so difficult, as to know what he is; so we are constrained to believe a most great & sovereign providence, which presedeth over all, and governeth the world generally & particularly: but to understand the causes, moving & measure thereof, as it is not requisite nor reasonable, so it is altogether impossible. A Pagan saith very well, that man's understanding, is as fit and proper to comprehend celestial and divine things, as the eyes of a Bat, to see the light & brightness of the Sun. And seeing that kings & princes, as much as they can, keep their counsels, secret and unknown to the vulgar sort, esteeming it a sure rampire and defence to their authority, and good government; we are thereby to learn, not to be abashed, nor astonished, that we cannot understand, nor penetrate into, the eternal deliberations, determinations and profound judgements, which the king of kings holdeth, & are passed in the secret consistory of his infallible providence. Than let it suffice us to know, that God governeth & ruleth over all, as the Master and Lord of all things, and that he knoweth how to use, and to dispose of them all, for the best. Now in the question which is in hand, we must note, that therein our judgement is erroneous, proceeding from an other folly and abuse, which is, that it seemeth unto us, that riches, honours, greatness, health, delights, abundance, and a long prosperous and a happy worldly life, are good things: and to the contrary, poverty, contempt, abjectness, sickness, discommodities of the flesh, & a short (and in the end) a miserable life, are great evils. From whence we draw this consequence, that by them we have evident testimonies of the wrath & anger of God against men, and of his favour and blessings towards them. But therein we reckon amiss, and make a false supposition. For neither riches, nor any other the like things which are pleasing to flesh and blood, are properly and truly good, no more than poverty, abjectness, & the like (which the world abhorreth) are evil, neither can ●ee termed so, but falsely, & unproperly, unless that in saying so, we make this distinction, that they are good or evil, external, sergeant, transitory, false, frail, and corruptible things. Now all such good and evil things, are common to every man, and both the good and the bad have part therein in differently. And by them also, man can neither be good nor wicked, so far forth, as they touch not the principal part, which is the soul, nor penetrate to the quick, but only stay at the outward bark or husk. They may be occasions and instruments of good, or of evil, as the person that they meet withal is affected, as when a man's stomach or his body, is sick or whole, the meat that he eateth changeth either into good nourishment, or into offensive humours. For to an honest man, riches, & other commodities, & worldly advantages, are helps to do good, & profitable means unto him, to exercise virtue, & so is poverty & affliction, because riches make exploits in great matters easy, & poverty & adversity by their sharpness, & difficulties, do thereunto add more praise, commendation, & worth, & provoke, & stir up the courages & minds of honest men. Where on the other side, they are as many occasions, and instruments to the wicked to make them worse & more disordered by riches to commit insolences, and violences, and by poverty to despair, and to enterprise all unlawful actions; otherwise, nothing can hurt man, nor take any thing from him, not not death, what show soever it makes, as hereafter we will more at large declare. For all such good and evil things are superficial and exterior. But the true, interior, and substantial good things, proper to the children of God, are piety, virtue, innocency, joy, tranquility of spirit, peace of conscience, and contentment. As on the other side, the right and true evils, proper to the children of the devil are impiety, superstition, vice, trouble, covetous affections, dishonest desires, anguish of the spirit, horror of conscience, and perpetual disquietness.   

3. Not exterior thing can make man happy or unhappy.  
The special and principal reason that maketh us judge falsely of the happy or unhappy state of man, is, because we think and suppose, that there is no favour, grace, blessing, nor felicity but only in honours, dignities, riches, and other commodities pleasing and agreeable to flesh and blood: which makes wicked men flatter with themselves, and to be hardened in their iniquities. As Dionysius the Tyrant of Sicily, who after he had forcibly taken, and carried away the gold and ornaments of the Temple; being at Sea, with a prosperous wind, said, Now you see that the immortal God's favour Sacrilege. And the Prophet Malachi, attributeth the like blasphemies to the wicked in his time, that said, It is in vain to serve God, and what profit is it, that we have kept his Commandments, and that 
Malac. 3. 14, 15.  we walked humbly before the Lord of Hosts? Therefore we count the proud blessed, even they that work wickedness are set up, and they that tempted God, are delivered.) From whence it cometh that many that suppose themselves to be honest men, do follow the common train of others, that they may be advanced to high estates, and greatness in the world, by corrupt means, or give themselves to unlawful trades, frauds, deceits, and other iniquities, because they imagine, that such as abound in riches, and possess great dignities at their pleasures, are happier than they, that walking uprightly and justly, are base, contemned, poor and afflicted. The reason hereof is, because we are short of sight, and have our eyes so dazzled, with the bright show of human vanities, that we cannot pierce through exterior prosperity, under the vail thereof to see iniquity, which cannot but be accursed of God, and produce evil, with what colour soever it is cloaked or covered. We perceive nothing but that which glistereth superficially, both in poverty and riches. We see the clotheses, and not the body, or rather the body and not the soul, the exterior work, and not the workman. The Prophet saith, Happy is the man that doth not walk in the counsel of the wiccked, nor stand in the way of sinners, nor sit in the seat of the scornful. This is 
Psalm 1. 1.  easily believed, if we behold those wicked sinners, mockers, and scorners, either upon ascaffold, or a ladder ready to be executed to death, or cast into hell.  
But when we consider them clothed with riches, endowed with honours, and rejoicing in their pleasures and human prosperities, than we easily altar our opinions, and casting our eyes upon the apparel, pleasing and delightful to the flesh, we esteem them happy, and forget David's counsel, That we cannot be happy, but by abhorring the actions and ways of wicked men. And so we resemble those, who beholding a man laid in a rich and sumptuous bed, served with delicate fare, and music playing before him, esteem him happy: and he to the contrary, feeling intolerable pain of the gout, or of the colic, or other diseases, which make him lie in his bed, complaineth miserably. Let us know then, that God oftentimes giveth not exterior blessings to his children, and that for good causes, and for their profits, and many times suffereth those goods that they have, to be forcibly taken away from them by thieves and wicked persons. For the which if they complain, they do unjustly; and if therefore they esteem and think themselves to be more miserable, it is blasphemy against God's providence. For touching the first, there is no reason why we should complain, because we have not riches, or because we loose that which we may well be without, and without the which we may live well, happily and contentedly if we will: as also that without them we came into the world, and shall die, and leave them behind us. They are none of ours, and that which we need is not much, and we may easily obtain it. Do we see many men die or perish for want of a gown, or of bread? Why should we desire more, unless it be to torment, to shame, and to condemn our own weak and frail desires? and that which may hurt, corrupt, and spoil us, and which hath overthrown many, who before living privately under the discipline of poverty, were honest men. Are we bereft of that, which so many notable parsonages despised, and willingly forsook, as hurtful burdens, and hindrances unto them from good actions? We are by that means rather much more assured, & protected from evil. That which we think to be hurtful and loss unto us, is rather our profit, and a means for us to shun a greater misery. For the second point, why should we tax God? wherein is he bound, or obliged unto us? But why do we not rather think well of him, and thank him, because he doth thereby lighten our ship, by throwing so heavy and burdensome a farthel over board, jest we should sink and be cast away? Because I say, he taketh care of us, as the Physician of our souls, which he hath made, and knoweth well, and in that for our salvation, he giveth us such a purgation, diet, and restraint? For with the one hand taking from us the shady hard crust of exterior blessings, with the other he giveth us the substance and solid truth of interior riches, filling us inwardly with joy, rest, and contentment, which cannot be bought with all the goods in the world. This peace of conscience is the true health, the true riches, and the true good of man; a gift of God unto his elect, and a singular effect of his divine providence.  
But all those human things which fools so much admire and esteem, are like a little wind, or a dream, vanishing like smoke, dissolving like scum, passing away like a shadow, and to be short, having no firmness nor assurance. Therefore we must no more trust in them, nor desire them, then rejoice when we have gotten them, or be sorrowful when they leave us. And certainly, as he is near unto, and resembleth God, that hath a contented mind, and hath no need of any thing, (for what other thing is it to be God, but that) so he only is worthy of the Deity, that can despise and abandon all things that is not God. We must also judge the like of all the afflictions, and crosses that happen to honest men, as banishments, proscriptions, ignominies, opprobies, unjust condemnations, premeditated, untimely, violent and shameful deaths. For although such disgraces much dislike us, and oftentimes vex our souls: nevertheless, we must not unadvisedly, or rashly judge of those things, but take leisure to think upon them, and call to mind how many ways they are and may be profitable and commodious unto us.  
It is certain, that harsh and hard afflictions serve especially for a true and an assured means to make a man known to others, but much better to himself. What knoweth he, 
Seneque of providence.  or what can he assure or promise' to himself that never was tried, that never entered into the lists of tribulation, that never suffered any thing, or never incurred any disgrace? Prosperity is a mask, affair curtain, and a deceiifull vail, which disguiseth, and covereth the truth of things, and which stealeth and hideth ourselves from ourselves. But adversity showeth things openly and plainly, till that happeneth all is but colourable, & a fair outwad show. To the good, & such as profess godliness, crosses, & troubles, are the true & only means to exercise them, & to refine & confirm their virtue, which otherwise, would languish, slacken, & loose their strength, and utterly become weak, and withered. A Pagan was wont to say, that there is nothing more miserable in this world than he who never felt any kind of adversity; because (saith he) that such a man hath no occasion to make proof of himself, as long as all things fall out according to his desire: adding farther, that the gods had an evil opinion of him, because they thought him unworthy once in his life to vanquish and overcome fortune. And shall we that are Christians, be ignorant and not know, that by afflictions God proveth, exerciseth, and hardeneth to endure all pain, those whom he loveth, and by discipline prepareth and maketh them better, notabler, excellenter & perfecter, that so they may attain to the highest degree, of the rewards and recompenses, which by his free mercy and gracious goodness, he hath prepared for them in heaven. For tribulation is a medicine, & a proper remedy against all evil, that might corrupt & infect us. In tract of time & with long prosperity we may forget ourselves & become degenerate, & adulterate. But adversity holds us down, breatheth, purifieth, & cleanseth our souls from the rustiness of sin, & thereby retaineth & containeth us within the bounds of fear & obedience. The thing which most grieveth our hearts at the first, & seems troublesome to digest it, is that which we said before, touching untimely death, specially when it is violent & shameful; but let us call to mind & remember, that death is a debt which we must pay, and a common path way, which every man must tread, & go through. That death is not a pain, but natural to man, & that he came into the world, to go out of it again. That the law of nations requireth, that every man shall restore that which he hath received. That our life is but a short pilgrimage, which we hasten to an end every day, to attain to heaven which is our country: and that if we die young. Death it may be delivereth us from some great evil, at the lest, from that which old age bringeth with it, than what skills it, when, or in what manner we pay that tribute, or pass that way, soon or late, in our chambers or in our beds, in battle, or in a public place, by water or by land, specially when serving God in our vocation, and with a good conscience, we yield our soul unto him. Precious in the sight of the Lord (saith David) is 
Psal. 116. 15  the death of his Saints. Howsoever, than it cometh to pass, divine providence directing all things to a good end, doth all for the best to those that love him, both publicly and privately. King josias (a Prince of whom the Scripture saith, he never had his like, and whose nativity had been prophesied so many years before, together with all his actions) died in the flower of his age, among the darts and arrows of his enemies, bewailed of all the people, and bitterly 
2 & 3. of Kings. 13. 23. 2. Paral. 35.  lamented by the Prophet jeremy, that composed his lamentations in form of mournful ditties, to be read and sung in honour of him. Who is so dull of understanding, that will esteem josias less happy for his untimely death. It is a general rule, and a universal judgement, that to let a thing rest in itself, and in his inseparable nature, until it cometh and attaineth to the natural end, it will be the utter ruin thereof: and that the means to preserve and lengthen the essence, use, and profit thereof, is to anticipate or prevent the end of it. If your spare and leave flowers and first-fruits still upon a tree, or on their stalks, in the air, they will whither, rot and dry. To make them live long, and to give them, as it were, an other essence, and a better and longer life, you must pluck, gather and preserve them, and as we properly say conserve them. How many men have been seen and known to have gotten and obtained a good reputation, being young, but when they came to age lost it again? how many have seen their labours and conquests die before them? and how many have overlived their glory? for which cause their friends said, that it had been better and more expedient for their honours, that they had died ten year before. Now God all wise, that knoweth good men, and that hath made them such as they are, and therefore loveth them, knoweth well ●nd how far it is good both for them and for the common good, that they shall live. Wherhfore, although he may, and can by good right ask their lives of them again, at all times when he will, without doing them any wrong, he asketh it again, at such time and season, and taketh it away in such manner, as is fit both for them, and for the world to lose it. Their death is a sowing and an obtaining of a better life, and if it be speedily, it is done to put them the sooner in possession of the inheritance of heaven. And again, if death be shameful to the world, it is to make it more honourable, & notable before the angels, If it be violent and cruel, than it is richer, worthier, and of more efficacy, and recommendation, and a sweet and perpetual odour to the posterity. It is a precious crown and a most fair conclusion of their lives, a preservative of honour for them, and a notable pattern and model for others, of all which benefits, both they and others had been deprived, if they had died in other manner. Those to whom such an end hath happened, it is the fairest, richest and the last and best action that ever they did.  
There was never any thing performed nor done in the lives of Socrates, Phocius, Seneque, Regulus, Pampinian: no nor in the life of jesus Christ himself, nor of the Martyrs (that is to say, of all the great personages that ever lived) that was comparable to their deaths, which hindereth them from dying, and makes them live for ever. To be short, our God is so good and so puissant, that he maketh Treacle of poison, and converteth death into life.   

4. The conclusion of this Chapter.  
To conclude, we must be resolute, and fully resolved herein, that death, exile, tears, grief, and such like things, are no punishments nor evils, but rather quit rents, revenues, and tributes imposed upon our lives. Than it is evident and plain, how great and pernicious this folly is, to judge of the happy and unhappy state of man by exterior things, it being most true, that such a foolish opinion, abolisheth faith, hope, and affection in us, to walk in the fear of God, as also his providence. To amend our lives in this point, we must judge men to be happy or unhappy, according to the certain and infallible testimonies of the word of God, firmly believing this sentence by him pronounced. Say ye, Surely it shall be well with the just: for they shall eat the fruit of their works: we be to the wicked, 
Easie 3. 10. 11  it shall be evil with him, for the reward of his hands shall be given him. Resting upon this spiritual wisdom, which only knoweth both the exterior and interior, things present, and things to come, we will conclude against the false judgement of the world and of the flesh, that the wicked although they that prospero, are miserable and unhappy, and that good men fear God, and have their confidence and hope in his grace, and mercy, what adversities and tribulations soever they suffer and endure, are always happy. Whereby we shall reap this benefit, that as the contrary opinion serveth in a manner for chains and strong cables in the hands of Satan, therewith to draw and provoke men to live wickedly and profanely: so for our parts, (by that which hath been said before) we shallbe able to break and rent in sunder, those wicked cords, and be encouraged to persever in holiness and righteousness of life, knowing, that our labour shall not be in vain before the Lord    

That it is necessary for us to leave the sixt folly, which is to give more credit to our enemies, then to our friends. Chap. 7.  

1. Man is naturally inclined to credit and believe three great enemies.  
We read in Ecclesiastes this notable advertisement, saying, Ask no counsel of religion, of a man that is without religion; nor of justice, of him that hath no justice; nor of a woman touching her of 
Eccles 37. 12. 13. & 14.  whom she is jealous; nor of a coward, of matters of war; nor of a Merchant, concerning exchange; nor of the buyer for the sale; nor of an envious man touching thankfulness; nor of the unmerciful, touching kindness; nor of an unhonest man, of honesty; nor of the slothful, for any labour; nor of an hireling, for the finishing of a work, nor of an idle servant, for much business: harken not unto these many manner of counsel. Now if it be a folly to believe the advice and counsel of a man, not so much an enemy unto us, as a friend unto himself, in that wherein he may have any consideration, and respect of his own person and actions. It is a much greater and unexcusable folly to believe and to give credit to the counsel of our enemies, which only seek and pretend our utter ruin and decay. A certain wise man saith, That as the industrious Bees, out of the bitter herb Time, suck and gather the most sweet and driest honey: so a wise, provident, and virtuous man, knows how to draw profit and commodity from his enemies. But that is not, by believing them, but rather by being wary and fearful to fail and err in his vocation, and more earnest industrious, and diligent, to manage his actions wisely, and to reform the imperfections, whereunto he findeth himself inclined: being well assured, that an enemy is like a spy towards him whom he hateth, and ready to publish and make known, what imperfection or vice soever he findeth to be in him. But the question here, is not of any such, but rather of three principal enemies, which are so much the more dangerous, as they are either in us or about us, and which is worse, whom naturally we are much inclined to believe. The first is, the love of ourselves, (or as the Scripture commonly calleth it,) of our flesh, and the concupiscences thereof, The second the world: and the third the devil.   

2. The flesh and the concupiscences thereof, the first, and a great enemy to man.  
Man is borne with a disordered, and a kind of blind love of himself, which maketh him inclined, and thrusteth him forward to consent unto the desires and affections of his heart, so much corrupted by sin which dwelleth in him, that he can produce and bring forth nothing but wicked concupiscences, which only tend unto evil, & are adversaries and enemies that lodge within his body, that seek to seduce him, and that continually fight and strive against his salvation. For which cause Saint Paul advertiseth all the faithful to cast 
Eph. 4 22. 1 Pet 2. 1. Rom. 8. 6, 7, 8. jam. 1. 14, 15. Rome 6 24.  of the old man, that is corrupt, through deceivable lusts; & S. Peter willeth us to abstain from carnal desires, which war against the Soul. Our flesh is a most dangerous and pernicious enemy. For as Saint Paul saith, The wisdom of the flesh is death and enmttie against God, whom they that are in the flesh cannot please. For which cause Saint james compareth concupiscence to a wicked mother, conceiving and bringing forth sin, and consequently death of the soul to eternal damnation. For (as the Apostle saith in an other place) the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life, through jesus Christ our Lord Whereupon also he exhorteth the Romans, that sin should not reign in their mortal bodies, to obey it in the lusts thereof. Nevertheless, we are so foolish and senseless, to harken unto, and to believe our flesh more than God; whose love towards us, is certain and incomprehensible. But what are the counsels of the flesh, but only to covet and desire those false riches, 
Rom. 6. 12.  whereof we will speak hereafter, to get and obtain wealth, by what means soever we can, to aspire to honours and dignities of the world, to excel others therein, and to follow pleasures, delights, and other such like affections. When in the mean time we know, that God condemneth all such wicked and damnable counsels; declaring and showing by 
1. Tim. 6. 9 10  his holy word, That the root of all evils, is covetousness and desire of riches, which maketh men fall into divers temptations and snares, by many foolish and hurtful thoughts, which bring them to misery, and utter destruction: That it is not the duty of Christians to be covetous of vain glory: That whosoever shall exalt himself, shall be brought low: 
Gal. 5. 26. Matth. 23. 12. Mat. 20. 26, 27 Luke 1. 51. 1. Cor 13. 4. Luke 8. 14. Hebr. 13. 4. Col. 3. 5. Ephes 4. 22 Rom. 8. 13. Mat. 16. 14.  That whosoever will be great and chief among us, shall be our servant: That it is he that scattereth the proud in the imagination of their hearts: That love is not envious, love doth not boast itself, love is not puffed up: That the pleasures of this world hinder and let a man from reaping any fruit by the word of God: That it is the Lord that will judge fornicatorus, and adulterers. And to be short, the holy Ghost admonisheth us, throughout the whole Scriptures, to mortify our flesh, to cast it off, to renounce it, and all the desires thereof, as an enemy that counseleth us to do that which is evil.  
Now if every one will examine his own conscience, and look into the ordinary and common course of man: judgement will soon be given, and resolved upon, that all men in general have a desire to enrich themselves, to become great, and of higher authority than others, that they envy those which exceed them in such vanities: that they hunt after carnal pleasures and delights of the flesh, and that they rather and sooner believe the counsel of the flesh, then of God. Experience showeth it too manifestly, and the only example and open confession of S. Augustine, a man endowed with great piety and holiness, shall serve to overthrow and convince us therein, who speaking of covetousness, ambition, pride, 
August. lib. medit. cap. 4.  pleasures, and other concupiscences, and affections of the flesh: saith, I have an army of traitors within me, who under pretence and shadow of friendship, are mine enemies, nevertheless, they are the same, with whom I have lived from my youth upwards, whom I have sought to please, and whom I have believed: These are the friends whom I cherished, and made much of; the masters to whom I obeyed, the Lords whom I served, the domestical neighbours among whom I dwelled, and the counsellors in whom I put my whole trust and confidence.   

3. The world an other great enemy to man.  
Our second great enemy, whom we too lightly and too soon believe, is the world, not the beautiful and great frame of the universal globe, whereof the divinity, order, and equal firmness of all the several parts, together with one perfect harmony, obeying the gracious and sovereign government of their Creator, by good right deserve to be called pure, for without so excellent a disposition, there would be nothing else but an unclean, and polluted disorder and confusion. For the world so taken & expounded, signifieth no other thing, but an ornament, or an order of things well disposed and set together. But to the contrary, in this place, as we mean & understand the world, and according to the ordinary style of the holy Scriptures, it is the corruption and universal disorder found to be in all men, who commonly and by nature, addict themselves to evil, staying and settling their thoughts and imaginations upon this present life, little thinking upon, nor caring for the kingdom of heaven. As Saint Paul calleth the world evil. And Saint john saith, that all the world lieth in wickedness: whereof he propounds certain examples, saying, for that which 
Galliard 1. 4. 1 joh. 5, 19, & 2, 16.  is in the world, that is, the lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of our heavenly Father. For by the lusts of the flesh, he understandeth, a desire to live delicately at our ease, with all terrestrial commodities; by the lusts of the eyes, the vanities of unchaste looks, braveries, pomps, and other superfluities; and by the pride of life, ambition, pride, vain confidence, and love of ourselves, always joined with the despising of others. This kind of world is our great and puissant enemy. For being so corrupt and vicious, it inviteth, and moveth us, by the examples thereof, to follow it, and so to addict and abandon ourselves, to the said corruptions. And we are so foolish, to believe so great an enemy. For experience too evidently showeth, how easily we are drawn to follow the world, and to conform ourselves thereunto. The ease of the flesh, which some men enjoy, the pleasures and lusts wherein they delight, their riches which make them honoured, the reputation to be better than others, by great expenses in banquets and sumptuous apparel, and such like vanities, serve for a fair show to title, move, and entice us to follow the train and company of worldly men. And as every man easily believeth that which he desireth, so we without any great resistance, suffer ourselves to be persuaded, to walk with the world, whereunto we are naturally inclined. It is a secret of nature, that the Adamant stone draweth Iron unto it: But that the world draweth us unto it, it is as natural a thing, as to see water run down out of a river, a chariot to go swiftly down a hill, and when we see a man gape or yawn, to do the like after him. For being all borne with sin, which carrieth and thrusteth us on to all corruption, we need no aid to drive us forward, nor much soliciting thereunto: The only sight of that which we already love, easily pusheth and draweth us forward. As a crafty subtle whore allureth her lover, the bait upon a hook enticeth the fish, and the infectious air; infecteth those that draw it in. To be short, it happeneth unto us, in this terrestrial habitation, as unto those, who conversing with Colliers and Miller's, can hardly keep themselves, from being blacked with coals, or whited with meal: In such manner, that we ordinarily see, that where we aught by our holy conversation, to draw and entice such as are lewdly and worldly given to follow us: to the contrary, they are strongerthen we, and carry us away with them. And whereas we aught to serve for bright shining lights, in the middle of a crooked and perverse nation, to draw worldlings out of the dark & wrong 
Phil. 2. 15.  ways, which they are in: to the paths of light, truth, and salvation: To the contrary worldly darkness extinguisheth our light, and maketh us err & wander in their obscurity. Than let us know, that if we suffer ourselves to be carried away by the enticements of the world, If we do never so little cast behind our backs, the care of our souls, to get and heap up mortal and transitory riches, if we follow after vain and profane men of this world, addicting our minds to the delights and pleasures of the flesh, and the ordinary excess, wherinto they willingly run: our gold, silver, costly household stuff, pleasure, pomps, unprofitable expenses, and superfluities, will be as many fools caps on our heads, which with aloud voice will cry out and say, that we are fools indeed, so to believe and give credit to our enemy the world.   

4. The Devil an other great and principal enemy to man.  
The third and principal enemy to man, is the devil; whom jesus Christ for that cause calleth the enemy, which his name of Satan also signifieth: of whom we are so many times 
Math. 13. 28.  warned in the Scriptures to beware. And to speak truth, all his counsels and policies tend to death, and the utter destruction of mankind. And for that cause also he is called a murderer, 
john 8. 24. Gen. 3.  and an homicide from the beginning. As he showed himself evidently so to be, to our first parents Adam and Eve, when under pretence of love and favour towards Eve, he persuaded her to eat of the forbidden fruit, of the tree of knowledge of good and evil: whereupon God at that time, as it were by sound of trumpet, published open war between Satan and us: The Lord himself saying, that he would put enmity between Satan and the seed of the woman. Now sith the devil was so bold, as to enter into terrestrial paradise to assail and deceive our first parents, they being then in the image of God: And if after that, he was so rash and so presumptoous, to follow jesus Christ himself, in the 
Math 4. 1. Luk. 4 1. 1. Pet. 5. 8.  deserts, and there to assail him, tempting him forty days and forty nights, and after that making those three powerful assaults against him, set down and rehearsed in the Evangelists; have we not reason to harken unto that which Saint Peter saith, that this our great adversary is, and always will be, like a roaring Lion about us, seeking whom he may devour? An enemy so much the more dangerous because he is invisible, because he is never weary of the combat, and because he transformeth himself into an angel of light, thereby the easilier to seduce & deceive us. He presenteth unto our eyes, (saith S. Cyprian) enticing pleasures, that by our sight, he might destroy the chastity of our hearts, he tempteth 
1. Cor. 11. 14. Cypr. tract. 10. de zel. & livor.  our ears with the sweetness of music, by our hearing to weaken the strength and force of christianity: by injurious words, he moveth the tongue to speak evil; and by outrages, inciteth our hands to fight, and to kill man; he offereth unlawful gain, to induce us to use fraud and deceit, and pernicious commodities, to kindle and stir up our souls to covetousness: he promiseth terrestrial honours, to bereave us of heavenly joy, he teacheth falsehood, to ravish us of the truth. To be short, he useth a thousand kind of subtleties, in time of peace, and violences in persecutions? then what extreme folly, or rather desperate madness is it, to believe and give credit to such an enemy? But who is it (may some men say, that will be so ill advise, to ask or take counsel of the Devil? or when doth he speak to us, know this for certain, that then he speaketh unto us, when he giveth or presenteth unto us (but yet under the providence of God) Richeses, honours, high estates, pleasures, delights of the flesh, prosperity, and all things at our desires in worldly affairs. For those are the assaults of Satan. That is the wrestling which we have against principalities, against powers, against worldy governors, the princes of darkness of this world, and against spiritual wickedness, which are in high places. To be short, those are the fiery darts of the devil. It is true, he presenteth not 
Eph. 6. 11. 12. 13.  himself unto us, always under the condition which he propounded to jesus Christ saying, (I will give thee all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory thereof: if thou wilt fall down and worship me.) He speaks not always so plainly like a devil. But oftentimes offereth 
Matth. 4. 8.  himself unto us as a friend, to serve and accommodate us in our wishes and desires, yet we may easily perceive and feel by the effects, that there with he induceth, and mixeth certain venom and pernicious counsel, to make us wander and stray, out of the paths of truth & virtue, sometimes by persuading us to dissemble with evil, and to deal therewith, to dispense with ourselves in manner of living according to the lusts and pleasures of the world, and in practices dissenting, and far off from piety, charity, and true christianity, which may be veiled with the cloak of indifferency, or of the custom and manners of the time and place, which permit us not (as we think) to do otherwise, and oftentimes incinuateth in our thoughts that simple men are not fit to live in this world, that whosoever will make himself a sheep, shall be eaten and devoured by wolves, and that if we live among wolves, we must live like wolves. This enemy both to God and man doth more and worse than this: for he maketh us seek after riches, to put our trust therein, to use them in superfluities and delights, and to forget that we are mortal men. After that again, (as he knoweth how to extract venom & poison out of all things,) he taketh away (God permittingo) ur goods, and makes us poor, he afflicteth us with long and grievous sickness, and bringeth us into disgrace, shame, and discredit with men, and with that kind of proceeding, he will seek and go about persuade us, that we have good reason to murmur against God, to complain of him, to forsake him, to reject and drive him away, when he presenteth himself to us in our consciences, As the Gadarens sent Christ away from among them, because they had lost their hogs, which the Devil threw headlong into the sea and which is worse, to curse God, as the story of job evidently showeth unto us. Further, if we be great sinners, our great enemy 
Math. 8. 34. job. 1.  the devil will present unto us, the rigour of Divine justice, thereby to plunge us into despair, and if we have our hope and confidence in the mercy of God, he will move and incite us to sin, falsely alleging, that where sin aboundeth, there grace abounded much 
Rom. 5. 20.  more, and that to be saved, there needeth no more, but to say a good peccavi, before we die. To conclude, the temptations and allusions of the Devil, are infinite, and he knows too well how to put them in practice: If man will never so little yield unto him. Nevertheless, let every man search and sound into his own conscience, and withal consider the common train of men, yea and among divers of those that make profession to know God; and they must of force yield and confess themselves to be of the number of those, that willingly hear, believe, and too often follow the counsel of Satan their enemy, If they will 
Eph. 4. 27.  not deny their own works, which are as many examples, and witnesses against them.   

5. Conclusion of this Chapter.  
Than let us remember, that all such thoughts, imaginations, motions, affections, and temptations aforesaid, are the counsel of our capital enemy the Devil. That we lodge and harbour another (as the second) with us, and in such manner in us, that it is as it were ourselves, which is our flesh, with the concupiscences thereof. And for the third, we have the world, which we love and whereof we desire to be beloved, although the love thereof is enmity against God. Therefore let us conclude, for a truth, that it is an extreme folly, and 
Rom. 13. 14.  mere madness in us to believe and give credit to such enemies: and that to leave our folly, and to amend our lives, we must take better advise, and believe him that is our true 
jam. 4. 4.  and perfect friend. That is, our God speaking to us in the holy Scriptures which only contain in them certain wholesome and saving counsels, and therefore what counsel soever, the world, the flesh, and the Devil, shall give unto us, let us oppose the Oracles of the holy word of God against them, and with David protest, That it is the light of our paths, That the Testimonies thereof are our counsels, and that we look to our ways when we 
Psal. 119. 105 24. 9 Ephes. 6. 17. Mat. 4. 4. & 7.  observe his word. That it is unto us the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the spirit, against all illusions and temptations, and to make answer with jesus Christ, It is written, It is written. To be short, let us practise the commandment of God, to read and mediate his law day and night. To follow the contents thereof, and assuring ourselves in his promises, we shall then conduct and guide ourselves wisely, and prospero in all our ways, and so learn how to keep ourselves from this folly, to believe our enemies more than our friends.    

That man must shun the seventh folly: which is to think himself wise. Chap. 8.  

1. It is an easy matter for a man to deceive himself, in thinking to be wise.  
NOw we are to speak of a seventh folly, which showeth man extremely and perfectly to be a fool, for that being spotted and defiled with the six great follies aforesaid, & with many more beside, yet he thinketh himself to be wise; showing thereby, that there is nothing easier than for a man to deceive and beguile himself: for man bearing a disordered and blind love to himself, is easily persuaded, that there is nothing in him, to be dispraised, or disliked, & thereby oftentimes thinketh his ignorance to be great wisdom; in such manner, that knowing very little or nothing at all, he believeth that he knoweth all things, and having no industry, nor desire to do one good and commendable work well, dares inconsiderately put his hand to things of greatest moment. But how much the more he thinketh well of himself, so much the more he discovereth his own beastliness. If you see a hundred men walking together in the streets, or in a common market place, ye shall not find one among them all, but will think himself greatly injured, and will be angry, if you call him fool, for every man will be thought and esteemed to be wise. And nevertheless, those that believe not (as they should) that there is a God: That esteem man more than God, That think to live always, That know not wherefore they live, That judge the happy and unhappy state of men by exterior things, and that believe their enemies more than their friends (for it is the common train of all men) are not they fools, and so much the more fools, that they think themselves to be wise? which our precedent discourses evidently prove.   

2. How men think themselves to be wise, and are not.  
This folly to think to be wise, may yet more generally be considered, and with notable instructions in our Christian Philosophy, that is, for that men (for the most part) thinking themselves to be created only for their own profit, and to serve as men in this temporal life, little, or not at all dream or remember that they are borne Christians, to believe as they aught in the life everlasting, for from thence it cometh, that being wise, prudent, and well advised touching the world, and worldly affairs, and in the mean time foolish, ignorant, and senseless Christians touching that which concerneth heaven, and the life to come, they think themselves to be sufficiently wise, how foolish soever they be fools I say, touching heaven, the principal point, and wise concerning the world; wise as touching men, and this transitory life, but fools concerning God, and life everlasting. For you shall found all sorts of men that are of high and honourable estate, judges, Counsellors, Lawyers, Physicians, Philosophers, Gentlemen, Captains, Merchants, Citizens, and Artificers, to be wise and well advised in their arts and vocations, who notwithstanding touching that which is fit for Christians to do, and whereunto God specially calleth and obligeth them, are merely ignorant. But it is not to be wondered at, for every one from his youth upwards, learneth an art, science, and occupation, to be a wise man and expert in his state and condition, and so to be able to provide for that which is necessary for this present life, but there are few that learn the art and science truly to be Christians and wise and well advised concerning things that belong to the life to come, which is to live with God and his Angels. Experience showeth, that a Lawyer is very wise and understanding in the civil Laws, and knows how to win his Client's cause: But oftentimes understandeth little or nothing of the divine Law, or how to defend his own cause against the Devil, to be justified before God. The Physician is skilful by art and practise to heal the diseases of the body, but thinketh not upon the means how to cure the sickness of 
Easie 3. 10. 11  his own soul. The Arethmetician, can multiply great numbers, and yet cannot learn how to reckon 70. or 80. years of his life, never remembering that it is requisite for him with David to pray unto God, to give him grace to keep that account well, that he may apply his heart to true wisdom. The Geometrician is expert and skilful to measure 
Psal. 90. 12.  the earth, but in the mean time, hath not any understanding of heaven where GOD dwelleth, nor of the way of life, which is in Christ to attain thereunto. The Astrologian can tell how great the Son is, and what course it holdeth in the celestial Sphere, but is wholly ignorant of that which the Gospel teacheth us, concerning the Son of righteousness, jesus Christ our Lord A great many Philosophers know an infinite number of the secrets of nature, and in the mean time are wholly ignorant of the mysteries of the eternal salvation of the soul, revealed in the holy Scriptures. The Merchant can tell how to keep a book of accounts, and reckonings touching merchandise, that he may thereby know what he oweth, and what is owing unto him, but knoweth not what account to make unto God of his life. A Smith knows how to make keys of Iron but is altogether ignorant of the keys of the kingdom of heaven. Every man knoweth what first-fruits Apple trees, Pear trees Cherry trees, and plumb trees bear, but few men know what first-fruits Christians aught to bear. To be short there are many men that are provident, well advised, and understanding in worldly matters, but few Christians that are wise and well instructed in religion. But what profit is to be a wise and expert Lawyer, a Physician, a Philosopher, a Merchant, or an Artificer, and in the mean time to be an ignorant Christian, and a misadvised fool? Let them be reputed and held to be wise among beasts, that are not endowed with immortal souls: but among Christians, he is so much the more fool, and senseless, who wisely serving men for vain honour and profit, and serving God foolishly, loseth both body and soul eternally. Therefore S. Augustine, reproving those to whom the books of Plato, and Aristotle were more delightful than the holy Scriptures, calleth 
Aug. li. spec. pec. ca 6.  them fools, as being people that learned a science like unto their studies, videlicet, leaves and no fruit, that is to say, fair words, and not solid and true virtues. In this manner men thinking themselves to be wise, (although they are partly wise in that which concerneth this present life) are fools and senseless, because they understand not any thing as they aught to do, touching that which is requisite for them to know, thereby to obtain eternal life.   

3. Two points necessary for men to make them wise.  
For that cause this common and vulgar sentence, Nosceteipsum, know thyself, is reputed and taken to come down from heaven, in regard of the excellency thereof, because it is necessary for man to know his own ignorance, poverty, and misery, that he may thereby humble himself, and seek for his own good without himself, and by that means be led unto God, wherein consisteth his sole felicity. On this point dependeth the beginning, the middle, and the end of all true wisdom, nothing being more certain, then that the knowledge of God, and of ourselves, are things conjoined together; and in such manner united one unto the other, by many ways, that it cannot easily be discerned which goeth before, and produceth the other. For first there is no Christian how little soever instructed in the doctrine of the holy spirit, when he beholdeth and looketh into his own estate, but presently thinketh upon his creator, in whom he liveth, & hath his force & essence. Because it is no difficult matter to comprehend, that the gifts and graces wherein consisteth our spiritual dignity, proceed not by any means from ourselves, and that our forces and stabilities are nothing, unless they subsist & depend on God. Consequently by the good gifts & graces, which like drops one after the other distil down from heaven upon us, we are led as it were by little rivers, to the spring and fountain from whence they proceed As also, that by the small portion of good things, which we obtain from heaven, the infinity of those that subsist in the Deity, are made more apparent, together with that- accursed state and condition whereinto we fell, by the revolting and sin of our first parents. Which compelleth us to lift up our eyes unto heaven, not only to pray for, and to implore from thence the graces which we want, as to poor, needy, and defective persons, but also to be moved and stirred up, to fear the eternal God, and thereby to learn humility and obedience.  
In this manner, by the feeling of our own ignorance, vanity, want, infirmity, and folly: and which is more, our perversity and corruption, we are led and induced to know, that in God only consisteth and resteth the true light of wisdom, firmness of virtue, and certainefulnesse of all good things, and the purity of justice and Righteousness. From whence we learn, that the knowledge of ourselves, not only provoketh and inciteth every man to know God, but also leadeth them by the hand to find him out. On the other side, it is evident and manifest, that man never attaineth to the true knowledge of himself, until with the eyes of faith, he beholds the face of God, and from beholding it, looketh into the depth of his own heart, thereby to see and consider all the secret corners of his soul. For as pride is naturally borne with us, and deeply rooted in our hearts: so we are still of opinion, that there is much wisdom, righteousness, and holiness in us, until by manifest and evident arguments, we are convinced and made to see our own ignorance, folly, iniquity, and uncleanness. But we are never sufficiently convinced, if we cast our eyes only upon ourselves, and do not presently think upon God, who is the only rule, by the which we must order and direct this judgement. For seeing that we are wholly persuaded by a foolish and an excessive kind of love, (which maketh us prove and inclined to hypocrisy) to flatter with ourselves, there is nothing easier unto us, then to content our minds more with a simple appearance of wisdom and righteousness, then with the effect and truth of Gods most exceeding virtues. For as it is true, that while we live here on earth, our spirits are enclosed, and as it were bounded within the pollutions of this unclean world, it happeneth that those things which are not altogether so disfigured and evil as others, please and content us as well, as if they were most pure. As an eye, which never saw any other colour but black, thinketh that which is brown, or of a mean dark colour, to be exceeding white, because it knoweth no other. But if we once begin to elevate our thoughts to God, to meditate and think with ourselves, how exquisite his wisdom, righteousness, and virtue is, whereunto we should be conformable, presently, that which we so much esteemed of, under a vain appearance of our own dignity and worthiness, will be unto us a distasteful smell and sent of our infirmity, folly, poverty, and misery.  
And thus you see, how mutual a conjunction there is between the knowledge of God, and of ourselves, and that the one dependeth upon the other. To this end that hath reference, which jesus Christ speaking to the Pharisees, (who thinking themselves to be wise, asked him saying, Are we blind also?) said, If you were blind, you should not have sin, but now 
joh. 9 40, 41.  you say, we see, therefore your sin remaineth. For thereby the Lord would show, that as the beginning of repentance, is to know ourselves, and confess our own misery and iniquity: so to begin truly and effectually to look into ourselves, is to acknowledge that we are ignorant and fools. As in truth we know nothing, if we know not jesus Christ, that is all whatsoever maketh us become Christians, and consequently children of God, and heirs of eternal life. This is the science of all sciences, which consisteth in two points. First, in that which Saint Paul saith, That he determined to know nothing but jesus Christ, and him 
1. Cor. 2. 1.  crucified. Secondly, in this chief point of wisdom, The fear of the Lord For by the first, we 
Prou. 17.  specially obtain two things, which make a complete Christian. The one, that in Christ, 
Col. 1. 15, 16.  God is manifested unto us, Christ being the invisible image of God, in whom all things both terrestrial and celestial were created, and by him, and for him. The other, that by his 
Col. 1. 14, 20.  blood shed upon the cross, we are delivered, that is, we have remission of sins, thereby to obtain eternal life, which (saith the Apostle) is the mystery hid since the world began, and 
Col. 1. 26. 27, 28.  from all ages, but now is made manifest to his Saints, to whom God would make known, what is the riches of his glorious mystery among the gentiles, which riches is Christ in you, the hope of glory, and in whom every man may be perfect. From whence we learn, that as he which knoweth not jesus Christ, knoweth nothing, and is a fool and senseless, how wise and prudent soever he is touching worldly matters: so he that truly knoweth Christ, is sufficiently wise, and well advised, how simple soever he seemeth or showeth to be. For the second point, the kingly Prophet David, is an infallible and true Doctor to prove it, saying, The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, blessed are they that keep his 
Psal. 111. 10. & 119. 2.  Testimonies, and seek him with their whole heart. For calling the fear of God the beginning of Wisdom, he censureth all those to be fools, that submit not themselves under his obedience. As if he should say, that all those that fear not to offend their Creator, and live not according to his Laws and Commandments, are like unto senseless and ignorant beasts, and know not the first grounds and rudiments of wisdom. To conclude, it is most true, that all those that know not to what end they live here on earth, are fools, and altogether without understanding. Now we are borne and live also to the end, that we should exercise ourselves in the service of God. Than it followeth, that there is no greater blindness, nor beastly dullness, then when we despise the counsel and instructions given unto us by God, to walk in his ways, and according to his commandments, and apply our minds and actions clean contrary. But if we desire to show true wisdom, let us fear God, let us willingly bear his yoke, and let us in true faith and obedience, be content and ready to be governed by his most holy word.   

4. The conclusion of this Chapter.  
To end this Discourse, and to beat down and suppress all human presumption, it shall not be amiss to insert that which Socrates said of himself, which was, that he knew but one thing, that is, that he knew nothing; therein speaking better and trulier than he thought he had done. For if a man adorned and instructed with and in so many notable sciences as he was, should be moved nevertheless to confess that he knew nothing, in regard and comparison of that whereof he was ignorant; namely, in moral and natural sciences, although he had applied his mind and whole study thereunto: how much more aught he (that by reason should be far wiser than Socrates) to confess and acknowledge that he knoweth nothing, if he hath not the understanding of divine science requisite for the salvation of his soul? And therefore we conclude, that it is in vain for us to think ourselves to be wise, if we know not that all human wisdom, science, and understanding, (without the knowledge of jesus Christ, and the science of salvation) is but mere folly. And if also we understand not that, we are but fools and senseless, when we are not well advised Christians. But if we will convert and turn unto GOD, observing that course of life, which we are taught by his holy Word to hold, thereby to attain to heaven and eternal beatitude. Than we shall amend our lives like Christian Philosophers, according to the will and pleasure of him that created us, thereby in the end to become heirs of his kingdom and eternal glory, through his son jesus Christ our Lord    

That man being a Christian, should with all his heart, affect seven principal things, requisite and necessary to attain eternal life. Whereof the four first are, the Church, the Word of God, the Sacraments, and Prayer. Chap. 9  

1. Two Families or Cities of all men, the one Terrestrial, the other Celestial.  
AS we began our Christian Philosophy with the consideration of the division which the holy Scriptures setteth down of all mankind; making two sorts of them: one, the children of God; the other, the children of the devil. So we must proceed in the like manner to consider of them, divided into two Families or Cities; and as we have already showed, that the children of God are specially to reform in themselves seven great and notorious follies, so we think it fit for them to consider of seven principal things requisite and altogether necessary to attain eternal life. Touching the first point, Saint Augustine hath written 22. books in his most painful and admirable work entitled, The City of God, wherein most learnedly, he describeth the beginning and continuance of the family of God, until the time that he lived, about 400. years after the Church of God was planted upon that foundation, which jesus Christ with his Apostles had laid. He calleth the one a Terrestrial, the other a Celestiallcitie; one, the city 
Aug. Civit. Dei livre 11 c. ●. & li. 17. c. 16. Apoc. 17. 21.  of the great King, and Spiritual Zion, the other the city of the Devil, and of Babylon. According to that which Saint john writeth in the apocalypse. For as Adam by his transgression overthrew himself, and all his posterity. And Cain his son, upon that sin, and by the murder of his brother Abel, raised the family of the Devil: God by his divine decree, having from all eternity, among all the seed of mankind, that were to be borne upon earth, chosen and elected those, who by special grace, he would preordain to be one day made heirs of his glory in life everlasting: at that time also laid the foundation of his heavenly City in jesus Christ (the second person in the Deity, and the first borne of all creatures) by the promise of his coming in the flesh. Those are the children of God, among whom he dwelleth by his spirit, as long as they live in the world, enriching them with 
Col. 1. 15. Gen. 3. 15.  his most precious gifts, as much as he thinketh to be expedient for them to walk in the ways of his heavenly kingdom. To the which end, and for the same purpose, he worketh so, that by believing in the holy Scriptures, the Saviour of the world is given unto them, as he himself, by the preaching of his holy word, begetteth that faith in them, and by degrees increaseth the same, by such means as it hath pleased him to ordain for that holy ministry.   

2. Seven principal things necessary to attain to eternal life, The first is, the holy Church, whereof all the children of God aught to be members.  
We say, that a Christian aught withal his heart to affect seven principal things, as being most necessary and requisite means to obtain eternal life. Which are, the Church, the Word of God, the Sacraments, Prayer, reading of the holy Scriptures, Charity, and Alms. Touching the first of these exquisite things, every man knoweth, that we all acknowledge one holy and Catholic Church, to the which God hath committed (as a sacred gage or pledge) all his rich treasures, to distribute them among us for our salvations. For he will that in the bosom or lap thereof, and as by a good mother, his children should be gathered together, nourished, and entertained, until they become perfect men in jesus Christ, when by his grace they shall have attained unto the last end and purpose of faith, and received the crown of glory. Whereby it is easy to be understood, that there is no greater evil in the world, than not to be of the Church, and consequently that we aught specially to be careful to conjoin ourselves therewith, and to be true members thereof.  
The titles which the holy Ghost giveth her, when he calleth her the kingdom of God, the house of God, the pillar and prop of truth, and the mother of the children of God: 
Matth. 13. 24. 1. Tim. 3. 15. Gal. 4. 26.  evidently and clearly show unto us, how great and important a duty (for the glory of God, and the salvation of man) it is in us to be conjoined and united to the true Church. As also when she is called the beautiful Bride, or Spouse without spot, the faithful City, the City of Righteousness, the Temple of God, the Congregation of Saints, 
Cant. 4. 6. Isa. 1. 21. Ephes. 4. 12.  and the body of Christ. For thereby we are evidently taught, that as the members of the Church, are acknowledged to be holy, and to be a part of the body of jesus Christ the Son of God: So they that are neither in the Church, nor of the Church, neither yet holy, nor members of Christ, necessarily are of the family of Satan, (which the holy Scripture calls the unclean Spirit, and are part of his body. And therefore all the 
Math. 12. 43  faithful believe (and it is most true) that true light, salvation, and life, are resident in the Church of GOD, and out of it darkness, destruction, and death. We know that the controversy at this day is greater than ever it was, touching this point of the Church. But it is not our intent herein to harp upon that string, neither to decide or dispute of any other question touching Christianity, It shall be the subject of a greater matter of Divinity, when we are once well form and grounded in godliness and virtue, by this our Christian Philosophy, grounded upon certain and general rules, far from any cause of disputation. It shall suffice herein to consider the Church as it is one, holy, and Catholic: one, because in unity of faith and charity, it comprehendeth all the children of God, that are, that have been, and that ever shall be: holy, because in it, God justifieth an cleanseth from sin, those whom he hath chosen in Christ, to make his mercy and glory shine and appear in them: Catholic, because it is spread and dispersed abroad, throughout the universal world, under one head jesus Christ. To this Church we are all bound to unite ourselves, thereby to live happily both in earth and in heaven.   

3. The word of God is the first and sure means to unite man to the Church.  
Secondly, we are singularly to consider the means ordained for us by God, to join and unite ourselves to his Church; which we learn evidently and most clearly out of the holy Scriptures in divers notable places, where it is said, That God hath placed in his house, some to be Apostles, some Prophets, some Evangelists, some Pastors, and some 
Eph. 4. 11, 12.  Teachers, for the repairing of the Saints, for the work of the ministery, and for the edification of the body of Christ. As they are all sent to preach the Gospel to every creature, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son, & the holy Ghost. For as the Lord himself witnesseth, That this is eternal life, to know thee to be the only very God, and whom 
Mark. 16. 15 Matt. 28. 19 joh. 17. 3  thou hast sent jesus Christ; to know him I say, that is, to honour him as we aught to do, that he may be our Master and our Father, and that we may be his children, servants, and people, dedicated to his glory: and to teach and show us the way to this felicity, he hath left us his holy word, which here on earth is unto us as a gate, and entry to go into the kingdom of heaven. Therefore he saith, My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. Again, He that is of God, heareth the words of God. And the holy Ghost throughout 
joh. 10. 27 joh 8 47  the whole Scriptures, noteth the end and true use of the preaching of this word, by the title which he attributeth thereunto; calling it the ministry of reconciliation, the Gospel of peace, the word of grace, the word of salvation, and the word of eternal life: 
2. Cor. 5. 8 Ephe. 6. 15 Acts 14. 3. 20, 32, 13, 26 5, ●0. Phil. 2. 15  Whereby we learn, that those are God's sheep, God's children, and members of the Church, that are reconciled to God, that have peace of conscience, that feel the grace and favour of God in their souls, and that hope for salvation, and life eternal, through jesus Christ, according to the certain testimonies of his holy Gospel. We cannot be saved, unless we be illuminated with the heavenly light, which leadeth us to life eternal. And where the Lord calleth his Apostles the light of the world: and Saint Paul saith, that God sent him to be a light, and salvation to the Gentiles, that is also understood by all those that are called to announce and preach the same doctrine. For it is not in regard of their persons, but of the word and Gospel which they preach, that they are called lights: and 
Matt 5. 14 Easie 49. 6. Acts 13. 47.  therefore, he that will clearly see and behold the way to heaven, aught carefully to harken unto, and to hear those, whose preaching is the shining light unto man, that he may not err nor wander out of the heavenly way. 
john 21. 15.   
Again, the Lord commandeth Saint Peter to feed his Lambs. And the blessed Apostle exhorteth his companions in the holy ministry to do the like: as Saint Paul also speaking 
1 Peter 5. 2. Acts 20. 28.  to the Ministers of Ephesus, showeth them, that the holy Ghost had placed them inthat vocation, to feed the Church of God. Than whosoever desireth to have fit nouririshment for his soul, and not let it languish, want, and finally die: aught to labour to that end, that it may be fed, and nourished by the Word of God, and by the preaching thereof. This preaching is called, the key of the kingdom of heaven. Whereby we are taught, that as by the holy ministry, heaven is opened unto those, that hear and believe the Gospel 
Matth. 16. 19  preached: so they that have no care, nor make no conscience to hear it, are excluded from thence. For it is in the Church only, that the Word is faithfully and purely preached. Therefore all the days of our lives, we aught to be careful to be taught and instructed therein, and by that means to unite ourselves more and more in the family of our mother the Church, and spouse of our Lord and Saviour jesus Christ. Besides this, let us be wary, not once to imagine, or to think, that being partly instructed, we need no more hear the Word preached. For we must daily and always be Disciples of jesus Christ, in the School of his Church, under the ministry of the Pastors which he sendeth us. Those that know most, know but in part (as Saint Paul saith) and the preaching of the Gospel is ordained to profit us, until that we become perfect men. And that we shall have attained 
1 Cor 13, 12. Ephes. 4, 13  unto the measure of the age of the fullness of Christ: which perfection cannot obtain the full end and purpose thereof, but only after death.   

4 The Sacraments and public prayer, are other true and sure means to unite us to the Church.  
Consequently for an other means, nearlier to unite us to the Church, we have the holy Sacraments, ordained and appointed therein, by our Lord jesus Christ; for by them in the family of Christ, we receive the seals and certain gauges of our spiritual regeneration, and in all truth and virtue communicate all the good things of God, and the graces, which our great Saviour brought from heaven, to make us obtain salvation and eternal life. If we were of a spiritual nature, like unto the Angels, we could only with the Spirit contemplate and behold GOD, and all his graces, and so be made happy. But because we are enveloped and covered with our gross and terrestrial bodies, it is necessary that God should use among us, sacred and visible signs, thereby to represent unto us, those spiritual and visible things, which by the virtue of his spirit, he accomplisheth in us, for otherwise we could not comprehend them: as also that it is expedient for us, that all our senses should be exercised by exterior testimonies, in the apprehension and meditation of the divine promises, not only to carry and bring us wholly to the glory of our creator and redeemer; but also to make us more certain, and fullyer satisfied in our consciences, of the mercy & grace of God towards us. For although in truth, the holy Ghost is he only that can touch and move our hearts, illuminate our understandings, and assure our minds, in such manner that it may be judged to be his work only, thereby to yield thanks & praise unto God. Nevertheless, his majesty aideth himself with the Sacraments, as inferior instruments to perfect his work in us, as he thinketh good, and as it hath pleased him to ordain (both in his holy Gospel and also in the ancient law) for the ease and solace of our infirmities. Wherhfore, seeing that jesus Christ, hath introduced those holy mysteries in his Church, to be celebrated in memory of him, and in regard of the necessity that we have of them, we must be very careful to communicate the same with devotion and reverence, according to the accustomed manner used among all true and faithful Christians. Whereunto we must refer that which the Scripture saith, (know you not that 
Rom. 6. 3, 4.  all we which have been baptized into jesus Christ, have been baptized into his death? we are buried with him by baptism into his death; that like as Christ was raised up from the dead, to the glory of the Father, so we also should walk in newness of life.) Again, for ye are all the sons of God by faith in lesus Christ, for all ye that are baptised in Christ have put on Christ. There is neither jew nor 
Galliard 3 26.  Graecian, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female, for you are all one in jesus Christ; and if you be Christ's, than you are Abraham's seed, and heirs by promise. 
Acts 22. ●6. Tit. 3, 4, 5. 1. Cor 10 6. 1 Cor 11. 24.  Again, this sacred sign being confirmed unto us, by invocation of the name of the Lord, it is a certain assurance unto us, that our sins are washed away, and that we are saved by his mercy, and the renewing of the holy Ghost. Again, the cup of blessing, which we bless, is it not the Communion of the blood of Christ? the bread which we break, is it not the Communion of the body of Christ? take, eat, this is my body which is broken for you do 
joh. 6. 53, 54.  this in remembrance of me. This cup is the new testament in my blood, this do as often as you drink it in remembrance of me. For as often as you shall eat this bread and drink this cup, you show the Lords death till he comes. Again except you eat the flesh of the son of man, & drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whosoever eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life, and I will raise him up at the latter day. For my flesh is meat indeed, and my blood drink indeed, he that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood dwelleth in me, and I in him.  
Fourthly, we accounted and esteem the invocation of the name of God, according to the form used in the Church, to be an other holy means to unite and hold us firmly in the same. For seeing that by prayer, all the service of God is oftentimes signified in the holy Scriptures, and that his servants and children are ordinarily noted and known by this 
Gen. 12. 8. 2. Tim. 2. 19 Psal. 14. 4. Easie 56. 7. matt. 21. 13  testimony, that they invoked the name of the Lord, it appeareth evidently, that those which despise the order established in his Church, to pray and to yield public thanks unto him; cut themselves off from the number of his children and servants. Our Lord and Saviour jesus Christ calleth the Temple, the house of prayer: thereby showing us manifestly, that the principal part of the service that God requireth at our hands, is, that we 
Psal. 65. 2.  should assemble together to call upon his Name. O Lord, saith David, praise waiteth for thee i● 〈◊〉, and unto thee shall the vows be performed. By those words signifying, that the prayers of the Church are so certainly heard, that God which understandeth them, will, that with supplications, thanksgiving shall be joined with full assurance of faith, to feel the fruits of the prayer presented unto him in the Congregation of his people. Therefore when Christians are assembled together, and with full consent of heart and spirit, accompany the prayers which the minister pronounceth, as the mouth of the Church, every faithful Christian may be fully assured that such prayers pierce the heavens, and that God is moved to hear them, not that he is subject to any passion, (as we are) to be moved at our words or supplications, but we must always use that manner of application, when we speak of his Deity, which having no cause, and being infinite, and only so hath all his effects and works so compassed in regard of us, that having no proportion with his divine and eternal essence, we must speak like men. Men cannot speak in better manner, for that is all that they can do. Angel's may possibly say more, and in better sort, but let them speak as well as they can, things finite cannot declare, comprehend, not understand, what belongeth to the infinity. Let us content ourselves, here to admire and praise his goodness, in that it pleaseth him to assure us by his word, that by the feeling that we have of our own affections, he assureth us of his mercy, and great love and charity towards us. Therefore in all times and ages, all people and nations of the world, (both Christians and Idolaters,) assembled together, and in their assemblies offered sacrifices, and made public prayers. This knowledge being imprinted in the hearts of all men, that have any religion in them, that they must assemble together, to call upon the name of the Lord, and to serve him, and that it is an honour which he requireth at the hands of every man, and the means for us to obtain his eternal blessings.   

5. Conclusion of this Chapter.  
To conclude this point, seeing the Church is the kingdom of God, and That it is likened to a precious pearl, and to a rich treasure hidden in the fields, which whosoever findeth, he hideth 
Matth. 13. 44.  it, and for joy thereof selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field. Let us esteem nothing more dear, nor more precious, then to be in his Church, all the days of our life. Saying with David, O Lord of Hosts, how amiable are thy Tabernacles, my soul longeth, yea, and fainteth for the courts of the Lord, for my heart and flesh rejoice in the living God, blessed are they that devil in 
Psal. 84. 1, 2.  thy house they will praise thee uncessantly. For a day in thy house is better than a thousand elsewhere. I had rather be a door keeper in the house of my God, then to devil in the tabernacle of wickedness. 
Psal 42. 1 & 26. 8.  For if David a man and a Prophet, so excellently endued with faith and godliness, herein plainly confessed, and so often in many other places also, the necessity that he had to be in the Church of God, feeling himself in a manner ravished with an ardent desire to enjoy so great a benefit: what aught we to acknowledge and feel: we I say, that are so ignorant, so weak, and so corrupt, in the middle of an infinite number of dangers and assaults, which we daily incur and sustain in this world? And seeing that this Church cannot be without her mysteries, order, and policy, and that the Word of God, and the holy doctrine thereof, is as the soul of the Church, and the Sacraments and prayers, the true and quickening food, and as it were the sinews of the whole body of Christ to maintain the same; Let us be careful holily and orderly to observe all the exercises of piety, and Christian discipline established in the Church.    

That it is the duty of a Christian, not to neglect the use of particular prayers, nor the reading of the holy Scriptures, that he may know how to practise the doctrine thereof. Chap. 10.  

1. The assistance of God is necessary for all men, and consequently Prayer.  
IF we had a true feeling knowledge of our own estate and condition, and of the force and efficacy of prayer, we should need no advise nor advertisement to pray often unto God, to present our vows unto him, to beseech him to inspire us with, and to increase in us, the understanding of the truth, to augment faith, charity, patience, humility, and other his good graces an spiritual gifts in us, to fortify and strengthen us against the temptations and assaults of the world, the flesh and the devil, to give us all things necessary for this life, to preserve us from so many dangers, wherewith we are environed: and especially and above all things, to give us his holy spirit, to guide & conduct us holily and uprightly while we live here on earth. He that feeleth not what need he hath of such graces and gifts of God, and consequently to pray unto God, for the obtaining thereof, is altogether senseless & misadvised. For as we have noted in the precedent chapter, how much public prayers, & preaching of the word of God, are necessary and profitable for us in the Church, to unite us more and more unto the same, and consequently to jesus Christ, and by him to God: so we must understand, that to obtain the same, the use of particular, and domestical prayers, and the private reading of the holy Scriptures, also do serve, and are of great use unto us to give us the understanding of that holy writ, and to practise the divine doctrine thereof. First, because every man in his vocation hath great need of the assistance and favour of God; therefore it followeth, that he aught to pray unto him, for without his grace which by prayer we obtain, all that we do is but mere folly, and vanity. But when we pray unto God, remembering his promises and the experience of his grace and favour, and that we beseech him to guide and conduct us, as a father doth his children: it is a good, and an assured means for us to believe, that all whatsoever shall happen unto us, in what estate and condition soever we be, is by the means and motion of his divine providence, and that it is her will and pleasure, which cannot but be good towards us. Therefore not only every master & ruler of a house, should every evening and morning pray unto God, with his household, but also particularly call upon him, and every one in his vocation should do the like, to the end that fathers and mothers may obtain grace of God, to teach & conduct their children well: magistrates and pastors to execute their charges and offices holily and uprightly: merchants & artificers to exercise & use their arts & traffics honestly: and every one in general is to pray, that God will bless than in their conditions, estates, works, and labours: & beside we may have divers people of our acquaintance and kindred, whose estates may be such that they shall need our prayer unto God for them. To conclude, there is not any Christian whatsoever, that after he shall have prayed particularly unto the Lord, as time, place, persons and necessity requireth, but hath need 
Mat 6. Luk. 11.  daily to practise that which jesus Christ teacheth us, saying, you shall pray thus; Our Father which art in heaven, etc. For the zeal that we aught to have to the glory of God, the charity which we should show towards our neighbours, and the good that we wish unto ourselves, moveth us every day to make this prayer unto God; and so much the carefuller and earnestlier, as saying it from the mouth of jesus Christ, that made it: we are assured to be heard, and consequently to serve for the advancement of the kingdom of God, to the good and salvation of our brethren, and for our own benefit.   

2. Examples and considerable advertisements touching Prayer.  
It is certain, that the most excellent servants of God, addicted themselves most unto 
Deut. 9 18. 19 1. Sam. 12 23. Psal 119. 147 & 88 14.  private, and particular prayers. We read of Moses, that He continued 40. days and 40. nights prostrate on the ground before the face of God, that his prayer for the people might be heard. And Samuel protests saying, God forbidden that I should sin against the Lord, & seize praying for you. But specially David in his divine canticles, showeth that he was in a manertied unto prayers by ordinary exercise, saying to that purpose, I provented the morning light, and prayed, for I waited on thy word, mine eyes prevent the night watches, to meditate on thy word. And I cried unto the Lord and prayed unto him early in the morning. Cornelius the Centurion prayed 
Acts. 10 4.  earnestly unto God, and received this answer of the Angel of the Lord, saying: Thy prayers and thine alms are come up into remembrance before God. And Saint Paul in divers of his epistles 
Phil. 1. 4. Eph. 1. 16. Col. 1. 19 1. Thes. 1. ●. & 7. 5. Col. 4. 2. Mat●. 6. 6.  saith, that he prayed unto God incessantly night and day, for the Church, and ceased not to give thanks for them, making mention of them in his prayers, and exhorteth all the faithful by his example to pray without ceasing, and to persevere in prayer, watching in the same, with thanksgiving. To move us to follow this example, let us specially note the words of jesus Christ, when thou prayest (saith he) enter into thy chamber, and when thou hast shut the door, pray unto thy Father which is in secret, and thy father which is in secret shall reward thee openly. And although this exhortation specially tendeth, to correct the hypocrisy of those, that make open shows and boastings of their devotions, the Lord nevethelesse by that doctrine giveth us a general instruction (and that very profitable) to exercise ourselves in prayer, not only publicly, but also privately, withdrawing ourselves into our Chambers to pray, with assurance in his promise, that it shall not be done without profit. 
Gen. 24. 63. Acts 10. 9 Mark. 6. 46. & 1. 35. Luke 6. 12.  And so we read of Isaac, that he went out of his house into the fields, to meditate and pray unto God. And Saint Peter withdrew himself apart, upon the top of the house (for the roofs of the jews houses were flat) to pray unto God. And jesus Christ himself went oftentimes aside to pray. In like manner we shall not do amiss, If according to his example, we withdraw ourselves apart, so much the freelier and quietlier without trouble or disturbance, to lift up our hearts unto God, presenting unto him the pleasing sacrifice of our lips. And because we are not willingly inclined thereunto, but rather careless and negligent in such spiritual exercises, we shall do the duties of faithful Christians, when we accustom ourselves to pray certain hours in the day, not superstitiously, but to help our infirmities and slackness; for otherwise it may be, we would 
Psal. 55. 17.  oftentimes pass the day over without praying. David so much exercised in Spiritual works, practised this instruction, as he showeth, saying, That he called upon the Lord, in 
Dan. 6. 10.  the evening, in the morning, and at noon time. And it is written of Daniel, That three times every day he entered into his chamber to pray unto God.   

3. The reading of the Word of God, recommended by authority, and which way a man may profit thereby.  
Touching the reading of the word of God, if we do not exercise ourselves therein carefully and diligently, it is as much as in us lieth to contemn that which he often commandeth us to do, throughout the whole Scriptures. For Saint Paul writing to the Colossians, saith thus, (Let the word of God devil in you plenteously in all wisdom, teaching and admonishing 
Col. 3. 16.  your own selves) he speaketh to all the congregation of that Church, and desireth that the doctrine of the Gospel should be so common and familiar among them, that it might in a manner be rooted in their minds, that thereby they themselves might not only be instructed, but others also profit by them. Saint Peter likewise writeth to all the faithful jews and commendeth them, because they took heed, to the word and doctrine of the Prophets 
2. Pet. 2: 19  as unto a light that shineth in a dark place. Which is as much, as if he exhorted us together with them, to take good heed unto those sacred oracles, and to make them familiar & common unto, and among us, that by them we may be directed to the light of life. As David also saith. That the word of God was a lantern to his feet, and a light unto his paths. Again the 
Psal. 119. 105 Eph 6. 17.  Apostle calleth the word of God, the sword of the spirit, wherewith he would have all the faithful to be armed, to fight against Satan, which they could not do, if they did not diligently and oftentimes read the holy Scriptures, by the example of jesus Christ, to withstand and repulse the temptations of the Devil, saying (It is written, it is written.) And further if Saint Paul saith, whatsoever things are written aforetime, are written for our learning 
Math. 4. 4. 7. 10. Rom. 15. 4.  that we through patience and comfort of the Scriptures might have hope, It would be a means to make God's providence unprofitable unto us, that hath given us, and at all times miraculously preserved the same registers of his word, if we should not carefully and diligently read them, thereby to be comforted and fortified in faith and hope of that, which therein is revealed unto us in Christ, for our salvation. Let us hereunto add, that if all the Scriptures (as the same Apostle witnesseth are given by inspiration of God, & are profitable 
2. Tim. 3. 16. 17  to teach, to convince, to correct, and to instruct in righteousness, that the man of God may be absolute, being made perfect unto all good works. It followeth from thence, that we taught diligently to exercise ourselves in the reading and meditation of those sacred registers of the holy Ghost, from them to gather so excellent and notable first-fruits. All men are flatterers, and we are all blind in our own conceits and imaginations, and suffer ourselves naturally to be led away by them. Therefore it is necessary for us, oftentimes to hear God speak unto us, by his Prophets and Apostles, which instruct, reprove, correct, and exhort us to do our duties. Saint Luke much commendeth the Bereans, because they searched the Scriptures daily, to know whether that which Saint Paul preached unto them, 
Acts 17. 11.  was therein contained, that they might believe, and so confirm themselves in Christian faith. The Eunuch of Candace: Queen of Ethiopia, riding in a Chariot took time to 
Acts. 8. 28.  read the prophesy of Easie. Whereby we are to consider that which is written upon the same place by Saint chrusostom, speaking against those that excuse themselves, for not reading the holy Scriptures, alleging them to be difficult, and obscure, saying remember the Ethiopian Eunuch, who notwithstanding that he was a barbarian, hindered by innumerable affairs, and business of the world, and understood not what he read, would not travel by the way, without reading the Scriptures; then how much less did he neglect the same when he was at home in his house? And if he read them when he did not understand them, how much the rather and the sooner did he read them after he had been instructed therein? And God seeing his diligence, and great zeal, sent Philip unto him to teach him. God will not dislike nor despise our affection and desire to profit in his holy word, but to the contrary often reading the same, he will make us feel and perceive the truth of this promise, which is (that they shall all be taught of God) let us be ashamed, (saith he in another place,) that a woman having had five husbands, and she a Samaritane, was so diligent and attentive 
Esa. 54, 3, john 6. 45. Chris●hom. 3. chap. 40. in john, jer. 4.  to learn, that neither the time nor her business could 'cause her to leave Christ, by whom she desired to be taught: and that we being Christians, seek not, neither yet inquire after any thing that concerneth our instructions in divine things. Who is he, that being at home in his house, doth any thing worthy of the name of a Christian? Do any of us employ our time to inquire of, and seek to understand the Scriptures? to the contrary we shall sooner see a pair of tables, or a chess board lie before many men to play thereon, but the bible little or never in their hands, to read therein. And yet we must know that the holy Scriptures are given unto us, to read and to imprint them in our hearts. The books of the Prophets and Apostles (saith he in another place) are the artificial instruments of Christians, 
Sermon 3 of Lazarus,  to make them obtain salvation, and life eternal. And upon these words of the Apostle (let the word of God devil in you plentifully in all wisdom) he saith, ye that live here on earth, having wives and children hearken and understand, how Saint Paul specially commandeth you to read the holy Scriptures, and not slightly nor carelessly, but continually and diligently: buy the bible, which is the cure of the Soul, therein to learn wholesome and good instruction, for ignorance of the holy Scriptures, is the cause of all evil. Saint Hierom. 
Upon the Epist. to Col. Hom 9 Hierom ad Gaudent.  doth not exempt young children from reading of the Scriptures. When a young girl (saith he) is seven years old, and beginneth to be shamefast, to know what she should not speak, and to doubt what she should say, let her learn the Psalter by hart, and till she cometh to twelve years of age, let her make the book of Solomon, the new Testament and the writings of the Prophets a Treasure in her hart. Again, let her love those divine books in 
〈…〉. Laet.  stead of precious stones, and costly apparel, and let not the gilded and fair outside of those books please her better than the true and notable doctrine of faith contained in them: let her first learn by the Psalms of David, to abandon and forsake the vanities of the world, let her be taught and instructed to live virtuously, out of the Proverbs of Solomon, let her have the Gospel always by her, and never lay it out of her hands: let her with all her heart study the acts and the epistles of the Apostles: and when she shall have enriched her soul with such treasures, let her learn the doctrine of the Prophets, and the books of Moses: & lastly the canticle of canticles: for if she should read them at the first, she might be hurt in her mind, by not understanding those holy songs, of spiritual marriage, set down under carnal words.  
This discourse of Saint Jerome, aught at this day, not only to make maids and young people ashamed, but men also, yea and such men as think themselves most lofty and great personages, though otherwise altogether ignorant of the books of the holy Scriptures: Some of them never seeing the Bible but on the outside, others contenting themselves slenderly to open it once a week, or at the most once a day, as it were going by, and it sufficeth them to have some small beginning in Christian instructions, how obscure and mean soever it be; not once remembering, that it is our duties as long as we live, to increase more and more in the knowledge of the mysteries of our salvation: As without doubt the frequent and often reading of the holy Word of God, imparteth unto us that notable benefit. For by often hearing Christ speak unto us, by little and little we learn to understand the language of the holy Ghost. And as there are divers odoriferous drugs, which the more you rub them, the sweeter savour they yield; so the more we search, read and handle the holy Scriptures, so much the more they give us the knowledge and feeling of the Treasures, and delightful first-fruits, which they keep and closely hold in their sacred oracles. And if some men reap no profit by reading them, let them accuse and blame their own default, in that they do not prepare themselves as they aught, to hear God speak by them unto us: Such are all they that open the Bible, as if they held a profane book in their hands, are not attentive to that which is written therein, and which are not moved with anardent desire to profit thereby, for the glory of God, their own salvation, and the amendment of their lives: And to be short, that pray not unto God, to give them his holy spirit, to understand his will, and the truth thereof, that they might walk in the same, and live accordingly hereon earth. For with the reading of those holy bocks, we must join piety, the fear of God, and a true intent & affection to amend our lives. And doing so, we may assure ourselves, to obtain that which is written in the Psalms. That God revealeth his secrets to them that fear and honour him, and giveth them the knowledge of his covenant. To them (I 
Psal. 25. 14. Psal. 1 19  say) that ask him the Spirit of Wisdom, thereby to understand the mysteries of his holy word.   

4. Conclusion of this Chapter.  
To conclude we must amend our negligence and carelessness, in not employing our time in private and particular prayers, from hence forth so addicting our hearts and earnest zeals thereunto, that watching and praying unto God continually, our requests may be showed unto him in prayers and supplications, with thanksgiving, (as Saint Paul saith.) And to accomplish that advertisement with Saint Peter giveth us, to be always ready to give 
Luke 21. 30. Phil. 4. 6. 1. Peter 3. 15.  an answer to every man that asketh us a reason of the hope that is in us, with meekness and reverence, having a good conscience: let us be careful and diligent to read, and often to meditate the word of God, that with Saint Augustine we may say: It is my delight and pleasure o Lord to hear speaking of thee, to talk of thee, to writ of thee, and to imprint in my hart that which I read of thee. Therefore I enter into the delightful meadows of the holy Scriptures, therein I find the fair green herbs of sacred sentences, which I eat and 
Aug. cap. 21. meditate.  chaw, and gather and lay up in the closet of my memory, whereby we are to note that the meaning of all this is, to direct our lives according to the will and commandments of God, and by that means to put in effect and practise, not only that which we shall reap out of the sacred vergiers of his holy word, but also what graces and blessings soever we shall obtain of him by our prayers. Wherein consisteth the full height of our good and perfection, and by this means the Soul uniteth itself with God, as to her last end, renouncing her own will to fulfil the will of her creator, and to do as he commandeth. Otherwise, let us not esteem ourselves to be Christians and children of God, to learn the knowledge of him, if we do not the works that belong thereunto. Blessed are they (saith jesus Christ) that hear the word of God and keep it. And Saint Paul saith, The hearers of the law are not righteous before God, but the doers of the law shall be justified. And Saint james, be you doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves, for as a sun without light, is 
Luk. 11. 28. Rom. 2. 13. jam. 1. 22.  but the picture of the sun, a coal without fire, is a dead coal, and a body without motion liveth not, so (as Saint james saith) faith without works is dead. And to end with the words of the Apostle, (But you have not so learned Christ, of so be you have heard him, and have been taught 
jam 2. 17.  by him, as the truth is in jesus, that is, that you cast of (concerning the conversation in times past) that old man, which is corrupted through the deceivable lusts, and be renewed in the Spirit 
Eph. 4. 20, 11.  of your minds, and put on the new man, which after God, is created unto righteousness and true holiness:) Let us always seek to live so, that at the last we may be without reproof, spot, wrinkle, or blame, and that the image of God may be replete and shine in us.    

That a Christian aught with an ardent zeal to embrace charity, and be careful to give alms, and to help the poor. Chap. 11.  

1. Man by nature hath a sinful body, and in many good things is inferior unto beasts.  
If we desire to know what man become by the fall and transgression of Adam, it is the very same that Saint Paul (following the Prophet David,) setteth down, saying. That there is no man just, not not one, none that understandeth, none that seeketh God, none that doth Good, 
Rom. 8. ● Psal 14 & 54. 4  Their throat is an open Sepulchre, deceit is in their tongues: The venom of Aspice is under their lips: Their mouths are full of cursings and bitterness; destruction and misery is in their ways; They have not known the way of peace, and the fear of the Lord is not before their eyes. It is a wonderful corruption, that divers beasts surpass man in many virtues, as the Dove in simplicity, the Ant in diligence and industry, the Stork in humanity, the Dog in love and fidelity, the Ox and the Ass in memory, and acknowledging of benefits, the Lamb in meekness, the Lion in magnanimity, the Cock in watchfulness and liberality, the Serpent in wisdom, and all of them in sobriety and contentment. But which is worse, touching vice, man surpasseth all beasts; being more traitorous and cruel than a Wolf, craftier than a Fox, prouder than a Peacock, more voluptuous and unthankful than a Hog, and more dangerous than an Aspice. And to fill up the measure of his evils, Those wicked inclinations which are alone, and particularly in divers beasts, are oftentimes found to be altogether (or at the lest a great part of them) in one man. For there are many men covetous, proud, subtle, cruel envious, unthankful, and thieves all at one time: and which is more, If the heart of man be destitute of the Grace of GOD, he is the most dangerous and venomous beast in the world, and the receptable of all disordered desires. And for that many members united together make a body, the Apostle calleth the body of sin, a heap of sins, 
Rom. 6. 6.  every vice being as it were a member of that body.  
By which assertion we may well say, that as in the body of a sheep, all the parts are good and profitable; as the flesh to eat, the wool to make cloth, the guts to make strings for musical Instruments, and so of all the rest: in man it is clean contrary, for all things in him are nought, and serve to do evil, his reason to deceive, his liberty to disordered lust, his eyes to see and behold vanity, his heart to covet the same, his hands to fight and sleale, his feet to run unto evil, and his tongue to slander, lie, and blaspheme: In such manner, that there is no member in man, that serveth not for a instrument of some iniquity. (As S. Paul saith) and for that cause he admonisheth us, not to mortify two or three 
Rom. 6. 19 & 8. 13. Col 3. 4. Matth. 16. 24.  members of this body of sin, but the whole body, and so to put off the whole man: which jesus Christ calleth the forsaking of ourselves.   

2. The love of God, and of righteousness, conjoined by the band of Charity, are the fountain of all good things.  
Herein consisteth the true subject of our Christian Philosophy, that is, that renouncing and forsaking our natural corruption, we endeavour to attain unto the end of our Regeneration in Christ by his holy Spirit, in such manner that in our life there may be a sweet melody and accord, between the charity and righteousness of God, and our love and obedience. By this means ratifying and confirming the adoption, whereby he hath accepted of us to be his children; for so the Image of God shall be repaired and renewed in us, when we amend and convert unto him, to love and fear him, and to walk in newness of life, to his glory, and for our own salvation. And as the Philosophers have certain ends and purposes of honesty and uprightness, whereunto they lead and direct all particular offices, and actions of virtue, that man aught to frame himself unto: so the holy Scriptures, in that respect have their manner of working, much better, and more certain than all human wisdom, and consisteth in two parts. The one to imprint in our hearts the love of God, and of all righteousness, from the which by our natural corruption we are utterly fallen. The other to give and prescribe unto us a certain rule, which suffereth us not to err and wander here and there, nor to take a wrong course for the direction of our lives, to live holily and uprightly.  
Touching the first point, which in this place is the subject of our argument. The holy Scriptures have many excellent, good and strong reasons to induce and incline our hearts to charity, & consequently to the love of that which is good, they being things in such manner conjoined, that the one is the ground and spring of the other. For charity is the only true cause and motion of all good works, which in truth, is the proper effect of charity; which in it hath two respects: the first towards God, according to that which we are commanded by jesus Christ to do, for the accomplishing of the Law: that is, To love God withal our hearts, with all our souls, and with all our strengths, and our neighbour as ourselves: to love God I say for his own sake, and our neighbour for the love of God. To make us bend all our actions to attain to this perfection, the holy Scriptures 
Mat. 22. 37.  could not lay a better foundation, then to tell us, that Charity proceedeth from God, that he that loveth is borne of God, and knoweth God, and that he that loveth not, knoweth 
joh. 4. 7, 8.  not God, for God is charity. For by this we learn that God is the fountain and spring of love, and that his affection runneth into and spreadeth itself abroad in those parts of man, wherein the true knowledge of the Deity dwelleth.  
In such manner that as the true apprehension of God, necessarily engendereth in us the love of God; so consequently it followeth, that where there is no charity, there is no true knowledge of God. And therefore we may well say, that we love God, according to the knowledge that we have of him, and of his benefits towards us. As we are taught that God loved us, at such time as we were his enemies, and dead by sin, yea, and loved us in such manner, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have life everlasting. Which maketh us love him: (as Saint john saith,) That we love God, because he first loved us. And so, for that the more 
Eph. 2. 4. Rom. 5. 8, joh. 3. 16. 1. john 4. 19  he exhorteth us to live uprightly and holily; so much the more cause have we, to assure and comfort ourselves in the love which he beareth unto us. For the interior feeling of our love towards God, is a certain testimony unto us, that he loveth us. As jesus Christ by the signs of love of the sinful woman, weeping at his feet, and washing them with her tears, showed the Pharisees, that God loved that woman much, & that he had forgiven her many sins. For as the sun is the fountain & the original spring of all bodily light, and that without it, there should be none, and where most light is, necessarily there is a greater participation of his radiant beams. So God is the beginning and fountain of all 
Luk. 7. 38. 47.  charity, so that no creature can love him well but by himself; & where he imparteth more abundance of the heat of his love, there necessarily appeareth a greater reflection of love towards the Deity: and further if God did not prevent man, with the savour and sweetness of his love, embracing him with the living flames of his Charity, there would be nothing but a kind of coldness in him, and no true knowledge of God's benefits.  
Let us here note the saying of an Infidel, that true amity consisteth only in willing, and not willing: so we aught manifestly to show our love towards GOD in conformity 
Cicero de amiciae.  and subjection to his will, in desiring to do that which he willeth us to do, and in hating that which displeaseth him. For the highest, the chiefest, and the most perfect degree of love, is that which leadeth us to the perfection of virtue, that maketh us of men to become Angels, and that maketh us Citizens of heaven, while we are yet living here on earth. Therefore every man aught to make account, that he hath so much, and so far proceeded, and entered into the love of God, and that he shall have so much the more peace and quietness of conscience, as he is less in love with himself, and nearer united unto GOD, referring himself in all things, at all times, and in all places to the will of GOD, to do that which he commandeth, and to shun that which he forbiddeth.  
Touching the other point, of the love of our neighbour: It is the most visible mark of the children of God, and the true disciples of jesus Christ, and for that cause most recommended, throughout all the holy Scriptures. Specially, by our Lord jesus Christ, when he saith, I give you a commandment, that is to say, whereon men aught to think continually, as if it were renewed every hour: That you love one another, as I have loved you, to the end that you also should love one another. By this shall all men know, that you are my disciples, if 
joh. 13. 34. 35  you have love one to another. To the same end Saint john saith, If we love one another, God dwelleth in us, and his love is perfect in us. And Saint Paul, after he had exhorted the faithful unto 
1. john 4. 12.  all holiness and righteousness, and specially to the observation of this commandment of God, To love their neighbours as themselves, maketh this conclusion: Therefore love is the fulfilling of the Law. Whereunto that also tendeth, which he saith in an other place, 
Rom. 13. 10. Gal. 5 6. 1. Cor. 13. 1.  That faith working by love; is that which availeth with Christ, and that without this divine virtue, all other gifts and graces profit us nothing. From whence we specially gather this doctrine, that none but those that are truly faithful, are endued with charity, because they only know God, by faith in his word; and love him, and their neighbours in him, for the love of him. For we must believe this divine sentence, That if any man saith that he loveth God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar. 
1. john 4. 2.   
Thus you see how the love of God, and of our neighbours, are inseparable things, to work and fulfil all righteousness, by the bands of charity.   

3. The duties of Charity proved by two natural reasons.  
Consequently, and without going from the matter which we handle, we may evidently prove that duty which God requiteth at our hands, towards our neighbours, by two natural and just rules, which necessarily follow the divine precept, To love our brother as ourselves. The first, (which also was common among Infidels and Pagans') is, That we do not to others, that which we would not have done unto ourselves. The second, consisteth in that which Christ himself expressly commandeth, saying, Whatsoever you would 
Matth. 7. 12.  have men should do unto you, even so do you to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets. For the love of ourselves requireth, that we do not only desire, that other men should not hurt, nor do evil unto us, but also that they should do us good. Therefore as in one short and brief sentence, God hath comprehended all that duty, which we are to show one unto another, that we may live together justly, peaceably and happily: Saying, Love thy neighbour as thyself; so to perfect all commentaries, or discourses that may be made upon this Christian policy, these two natural rules shall suffice. That is, not to do that unto another, which we would not have done unto ourselves: and to do to others as we would they should do unto us Observing well these things, we shall be clothed with that charity which Saint Paul calleth the band of perfection. For then there will not be found among us any injury, fraud, wrong, nor outrage: all ambition, pride, envy, hatred, 
Col. 3. 14.  evil speaking, and other such passions hurtful to our neighbours would cease, and nothing should be seen nor found among men, but uprightness: peace, concord, amity, and mutual support and assistance one of another. As Saint Paul very well noteth all these excellent first-fruits of charity, writing to the Corinthians. To the which also we must 
1 Cor. 13 4. 1. Pet. 1. 22.  refer that which Saint Peter saith, Exhorting all the faithful to purify their souls, in obeying the truth, through the Spirit, to love brotherly without feigning, loving one another with a pure heart fervently. For as he saith in another place, Charity covereth a multitude of sins. 
1 Pet 4. 8.   
Now if we follow this doctrine of the holy Ghost, touching our duties towards our neighbours, there will be nothing to dear nor precious unto us, which we will not be ready to do, give, and bestow, for the love of them, not not our own lives. Besides this, the zeal and fervency of this Christian charity, will make us reject and cast of all that, which by any means may cool, or slacken the same: as ingratitude, injuries, hatred, and all indignities that may be used against our brethren. For if we aught to love all men, for the love of God; If the image of our common Father and Creator, which they bear, obligeth and bindeth us to procure unto them all the good that we can, and if they being our own flesh, we aught wholly to bend ourselves to love them: It followeth, that what indignity soever is in them, God aught not nevertheless to loose his right: his Image by that means is not defaced in them, and the conjunction which he hath set and placed between them and us, still remaineth.  
To this purpose let us note and mark well, In the parable of the Samaritane which jesus Christ teacheth us, that every man whom we know, or know not, a stranger, yea and our enemies, (as the Samaritans and the jews were one unto the other) is our neighbour, whom 
Luk. 10. 29.  we aught to love as ourselves. As our Lord also correcting the pride and vain glory of the Pharisees, declareth: saying, you have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, 
Mat. 5. 43, 44.  and hate thine enemy, but I say unto you, love your enemies: which love he will not have us to show in speech only, but in deed and in our works, in blessing them that curse us doing good to them that hate us, and praying for them that hurt and persecute us. And as Saint Paul saith, (If thine enemy hunger, feed him, If he thirst give him drink, and sour shall be 
Rom. 12. 20.  children of our Father which is in heaven, that maketh his Sun to rise, on the evil and the good. But to love them that love you, Publicans and sinners do the same, saith the Lord 
Math 5, 45. 40    

4. Alms are the proper first-fruits and effects of Charity.  
Among the testimonies and first-fruits of our Charity, the good, help, and assistance that we do to the poor is one special thing. For we should falsely brag and boast of the love we hear to our neighbours, if we show it not in our endeavours, to help and to do good to those that are poor and needy. Whosoever hath this world's Goods (saith Saint john) and seethe his brother have need, and shutteth up his compassion from him, how 
john 3. 17, 18  dwelleth the love of God in him? Let us not love with words, and with tongue, but with the heart, and truly. Therefore it is written, that when the Apostles gave Saint Paul the right hands of fellowship, they recommended no other thing unto him, but only that he should remember the poor. Which he also did, as he witnesseth 
Galliard 2, 9, 10. 2 Cor. 9 9  very well in his Epistles. Whereupon it is to be noted, and specially marked, that the latter judgement, and the sentence, which our Lord will then give (of eternal blessedness or cursedness) unto man, shall be grounded upon our duties of charity (or the neglect thereof) to the poor. That is it which we call Alms; which word signifieth pity and compassion. From whence we learn, that the aid and assistance 
Matth. 25. 34.  which we give to those that are in want aught to proceed from the feeling that we have of their affliction. As Easie showeth, saying, If thou power out thy soul to the hungry, and refreshest the troubled soul, then shall thy light spring out in darkness, and thy 
Easie 58. 10.  darkness shall be as the noon day. For by the first part of this sentence he teacheth us, That true Alms is as it were an opening and communication of the heart, by compassion feeling an others man's misery.  
And to that end Saint john proveth, that there is no charity in him, that seethe his brother's need and shutteth up his compassion from him. Signifying by the word 
1 john 3. 17.  Compassion: the pity and mercy wherewith every man aught to be in wardly touched, for the poverty of his neighbour, that he might help him in necessity. For it is most true, that the apprehension which we have to hear of the pitiful estate of our neighbour, is of no such force to move our hearts, to pity and compassion, as that which the sight thereof procureth. Therefore the faithful aught to be careful to visit the poor in their afflictions, to the end that seeing with our eyes those that lie upon straw, that are sick and naked, that shake for cold, that want bread, whole little children cry out for want of food, and that are lodged in such places, wherein we would heardly lay our dogs! such spectacles, I say, move the inward parts of our hearts to have compassion of them, that are in such miserable state, and to help them with our means.  
That is it which Christ teacheth us, when he would have us not only to supply the want of the poor with meat, drink, and clotheses, but also to visit them, avouching that to be done to himself, that we shall have done to the poor and needy. For thus he saith, I was sick, and you visited me. And Saint james sayeth, Pure Religion, and undefiled 
Matt. 25 36. james 1. 27  before God, even the Father, is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their adversities, to comfort them both by our words and our means, which giveth great force and efficacy to the word: and to speak plainly, he that helpeth not the poor, having means to do it, is a murderer. For as a man puts not out a lamp only by blowing, but also by not putting more oil unto it: and as we put out the fire, by not supplying it with wood, as well as by throwing water upon it: and as in an extreme hot Summer, many herbs dry, not only by cutting, and pulling them up, but also for want of watering: So we take away the life of man, not only by kill him with a sword, or by doing other violence unto him, but also by denying and refusing to give him that which he needeth to sustain his life, As Saint Ambrose saith, That not to 
In Psal. Beatiimmacu.  give the poor that which they want, is as much as to kill them: Than let us beware of burying their lives in our chests and coffers, with our riches. If GOD by his providence gives us more riches, than he gives to other men, it is not to that end that we should devour and hide them in our chests, but to serve him as Ministers and Stewards to nourish, and to maintain the poor: Which if we neglect, their want, hunger, and nakedness will cry unto GOD, and accuse us of ingratitude, and infidelity: And he as a just judge, hearing their cries, and therein being dishonoured, will be revenged: for therein consisteth his glory, specially in this, that when we supply the want of the members of his Son, Our charity (saith the Apostle) causeth thanks to be given to GOD, by them, acknowledging the care that he 
2. Cor 9 12,  hath of them, in that he giveth means and will unto others to supply their necessities.   

5. Conclusion of this Chapter.  
To end this discourse, seeing that the sum and effect of the Law of God, is charity out of a pure heart, and of a good conscience, and of faith unfeigned, (as Saint Paul saith, Let us be clothed with this precious heavenly gift, and with this supernatural virtue, which the eternal God our father distilleth into us: that is, Charity: That 
1. Tim. 1. 5.  we may be perfectly united and conjoined unto him, by love, and by the same means to our neighbour, thereby to obtain the perfection and beatitude, whereunto we are called.  
And seeing that the promises are the foundation of faith, let us meditate upon them touching this point, that we may be assured, that Charity hath a great recompense before God, that all the days of our lives we may reap greater abundance of fruit, calling to mind this sentence of the Apostle, That he which soweth sparingly, shall reap also 
2. Cor 46. De Verb. Domini,  sparingly, and he that soweth liberally, shall reap also liberally. And that which Saint Augustine saith, That the poor man's field is fertile, quickly yielding, and in great abundance, that which was sowed therein. And to speak truth, it is a fat ground, ready tilled and prepared by the Lord, to receive our seed: therein is neither Ice, nor dryness, Caterpillar nor Locust, Hail, nor Armies of Soldiers, that can hinder us from reaping the happy harvest which shall continued with us for ever. For giving to the poor, we lend unto 
Prou. 14. 7.  the Lord (saith the wise man) because it is Christ which demandeth his benefits of us, as having given them unto us, to use and disose of them well, and yet in his great liberality, he giveth himself as a pledge and surety unto us for them, with promise to restore them double unto us again, and further to give us a great reward in heaven, for GOD taketh pleasure in such sacrifices. Therefore While we have time let us do good to all men, but specially unto them which are of the household of Faith. According to the Apostles counsel; 
Luke 6. 35. Heb 13. 16. Gal. 6. 10  for if to day we be rich, the next day we may be poor: for that fire, war, thieves, and bad debtor, may be means to bereave us of our goods. If the husband man knew that an army of men were coming, he would carry as much of his wheat as he could out of his barn into the town, and leave it there with some friend of his, to keep it safe for him. But we are sufficiently advertised and forewarned of a thousand dangers which are as it were at our heels, to make us by death loose, or soon leave our goods, which by consequence should be lost to us. Than let us give unto the poor according to our abilities, before we loose them, and by that means we shall carry them, or at the lest some part of them, to heaven, by the hands of those that ask of us for God's sake. And if in this manner we give him our riches in keeping, he will offer us them again, in the great day of his glory, with life and eternal joy.    

To lead a happy life, a Christian Philosopher must purge himself of seven pernicious vices, that is, Covetousness, Ambition, excess of Apparel and meats, Voluptuousness, unlawful pleasure, Envy, and slander. Chap. 12.  

1. Reason's out of the holy Scriptures to make men inclined to holiness, and righteousness.  
IN the former Chapter you have heard the reasons out of the holy Scriptures, which aught to move and incite us, to give and incline our hearts unto charity, as to the first and general virtue of a Christian, and which in him is the cause of all good works. Now we must note and set down the reasons of the same word, which serve to make us love holiness and righteousness, that so we may see the commonest and principallest rules that therein are to be observed by us, to teach us to lead our lives virtuously voided of all vice. Which in truth is a most ample subject, sufficient to fill a whole volume, for him that would writ thereof at large. But as it hath been said before, it shall suffice herein to show some order, whereby a Christian man may be led and conducted to a right end and course, to order his ways in such sort, that he may live happily. To that purpose, that we may first show how the holy Scripture useth a singular and most excellent method, to print in our hearts the love of righteousness; we may well say, that it could not lay a better foundation, then to tell us, that we must be sanctified, because our God is holy. For so it is written, that the Lord spoke to Moses' saying, Speak to all the Congregation of the children of Israel, and say unto them. you shall be holy, for I the Lord your 
Levit. 19 1. 2.  God am holy. And Saint Peter to the same end saith, As he which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy, in all manner of conversasion, because it is written, Be you holy, for I am holy. To 
1. Pet. 1. 15, 16  the which foundation agreeth, and is very convenient, the exhortation which we have already noted to be given by jesus Christ himself, and by his forerunner Saint john Baptist, saying, Amend your lives for the kingdom of God is at hand. For the final end and purpose of all these sacred Oracles is, that we should purge ourselves of all vices and all uncleanness. Now there is nothing more difficult then to persuade and bring men to this point, that they should wholly put off the body of sin, wherein they are borne, renouncing all carnal affections, to frame themselves to serve God holily. For they willinglier 
Rom. 6. 6.  rest and abide in their corruptions, and uncleanness, ordinarily using an exterior mask and vail of holiness, and righteousness, to hide the vice which is within them. Than by good right and divine reason, we are called by the holy Ghost to this conformity, that all the faithful aught to have with God, who by our adoption seeketh to restore and repair his image in us: that we may bear it as it becometh lawful children, thereby to represent their Father. For although the most perfect, yea, the Angles, are far off from making themselves equal in holiness with God, (and to presume thereunto would be a mad and senseless enterprise or desire:) Nevertheless, the infirmities of the lest Christians hinder them not to aspire unto the example of God, and to approach near unto it, according to the measure of his grace, and as their capacities can bear it. For the end of our vocation, (whereunto we must always have regard, if we will make answer to GOD, and subsist before his face) is, That seeing he hath separated us from that body of sin, to be his people, we must purge 
1. Pet. 2. 25.  ourselves of all pollutions, and uncleanness of the world. For seeing that, as lost sheep that have go astray, he hath brought us back again to the sovereign Pastor of our souls, by the band of holiness, we must be united to him, and by him to GOD, the King of Saints. That it belongeth to his glory to have no familiarity nor acquaintance with iniquity and uncleanness, and that he hath united us 
Apoc. 15. 3.  unto him by Christ: we must be holy in all manner of conversation: (saith Saint Peter) to the end that no part of our lives should be void of that sweet savour of holiness. To the same foundation we must bring this admonition of the Prophet, 
1. Pet. 1. 15.  which is, If we will devil in the tabernacle of God, and rest in his holy mount, we must walk uprightly, work righteousness, and speak truth in our hearts. As Easie in his prophesy of the joy to come which the Church shall have under the Messiah saith. And there shall be a path and a way, which way shall be called holy, the polluted shall 
Psal. 15. 1. 2. Easie. 35. 8.  not pass by it: as we must also consider that the Scriptures to move us the more to this love of righteousness, showeth us in divers places, that as God reconciled himself unto us by the death of Christ his son, that suffered for us; so he hath left us an example and pattern, 
Rom. 5. 10. 1. Pet. 2. 15. Phil. 2. 5.  whereunto we must be conformable, by following his steps. In such manner, that the same affection that was in him, should be in us, and that as he hath done, we should do. And to that end also the Scripture taketh occasion to exhort, and to tell us, of all the benefits of God, & the parts of our salvation. When it saith, that we are the children of the Lord 
joh. 3. 15.  our God, that we may be a holy people and precious, and that we should keep his commandments. That in times past we were darkness, but now are light in the Lord, That 
Deut. 14. 1, 2, 26. 28. Eph. 5. 8. 9 1. john. 3. 3. 1. Cor. 16. 19, 20.  we might walk as children of the light, according to the first-fruits of the spirit, in all goodness, righteousness and truth. That whosoever hopeth to see God, must purge himself, as he is pure. That our body is the temple of the holy Ghost, which we have of God, & yet are not our own, being bought for a price, that we glorify God in our bodies and in our souls, which appertain unto him. That being redeemed from our vain conversation, by the precious blood of jesus Christ, as a lamb undefiled and without spot, we must purify our 
1. Pet. 1 18. 19 22. 23. Rom. 6. 3.  souls, in obeying the truth, being regenerated by immortal seed, that is, the word of God which liveth and endureth for ever. That we are baptised and buried in the death of jesus Christ, that we should cease from evil works, and walk in newness of life, doing good works. 
1. Col. 31. 5. ●. Cor. ●. 17 & 6. 4, 7. 1. These, 5, 22 23.  That being raised with Christ, we should seek those things that are above, and mortify our members from all evil concupiscences & uncleanness. That we are in Christ to be new creatures and to make us approve in all things, as the servants of God, by the armour of righteousness, on the right hand and on the left: abstaining from all appearance of evil, that both in body & soul, we may be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord jesus Christ: thus many good and fit foundations we have, to teach us to lead our lives orderly in holiness and righteousness.   

2. General rules out of the holy Scriptures, thereby to frame the life of a Christian, to all righteousness and holiness.  
Now we must enter into the consideration of certain rules, which the holy Scriptures prescribe unto us concerning the means how we shall frame all our actions and works according to the model of that perfection, which God requireth to be in his children. In the deduction whereof, we will first begin with a special discovery of the most vicious corruptions which we must necessarily leave, that we may not falsify that name of faithful Christians, which we desire to keep and preserve. For if we be well persuaded to leave and forsake vice, we shall soon enter into the paths of virtue. We have already showed what Saint Paul prescribeth unto us, touching the same, that is, To destroy and mortify our bodies which are borne in sin, to live to God in jesus Christ, and to give 
Rom. 6. 6. and ●1 13 Ephe 4. 22, 23 Mat 16. 24. Mark. 8 14. Luke 9 29.  our members as weapons of righteousness unto God. And to cast off the old man, to be renewed in the Spirit of our mind, by putting on the new man, to walk in holiness and righteousness: which jesus Christ calleth forsaking of ourselves, which is in truth to be understood, when man's heart is once moved to forsake himself, & to abandon pride, covetousness, intemperance, delights, superfluities, and all other vices, which are begotten by the love of ourselves; leaving his soul free without hindrance to serve God in humility and all good works. As to the contrary, in all places where this forsaking of ourselves is not, man easily runs into all iniquity and filthiness; or at the lest, if he retaineth some small appearance of virtue, it is always corrupted with some desire of vain glory. But the Apostle giveth us another notable and general instruction concerning a Christian life, wherein he beginneth with these words, I beseech you brethren, by the mercy of God, that 
Rom. 12. 1  you give up your bodies a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable unto God, etc. For there also he goeth on with this exhortation, tending to this end, that the faithful should not conform themselves to the world, but be changed by an interior renewing of the mind, to hate all evil, and give themselves to goodness. Which transformation or renewing of the mind, as Saint Paul saith, and which is the first entrance into a happy life; all the Philosophers were ignorant of, as also of the forsaking (aforesaid) of ourselves, and the mortification of our bodies, to put on the new man (all which things tend to one self same doctrine) for those wise men of the world only taught, that reason aught to rule and moderate man, according to the precepts of honesty and virtue, which they could well declare and discover, being not able to sore or mount up higher than to expound the dignity and natural force of man, when it was requisite to show him what belongeth to his duty. But to the contrary, the Christian Philosopher will have all our reason withdraw itself, & give place to an interior regeneration, which is the proper work of the holy Ghost; that we may wholly be led by him, in such manner, that man liveth no more of himself, but hath Christ living and reigning in him. For so we attain to that virtue, when having forsaken ourselves, and as it were destroyed and mortified all our natural corruptions, we become and are made new creatures, faithfully and truly to apply all our studies to follow God, and his commandments. And when the holy Scripture enjoineth us to the forsaking of ourselves, the intent thereof is, not only to deface and pull out of our hearts, covetousness, insolency, presumptions, and such like natural corruptions, but also to root up all ambition, desite of human glory, and other such like poisons and pestilences which lie secretly hidden in our breasts. Which is as much to say, that a Christian man should be so well disposed in mind, that he should believe and always call to mind, that all his life time he walketh before God, and that he must yield an account unto him of all his thoughts, words and works.  
To that end Saint Paul in an other place more distinctly setteth down and disciphereth all the several points belonging to a Christian, to order his life here on earth according to the vocation, age, and sex of every one, beginning thus: That the elder men be watchful, 
Tit. 22. and 11. 12.  grave, temperate, sound in faith, in love, and in patience, etc. And then proceeding in that manner to instruct all sorts of persons, he saith, For the grace of God that bringeth salvation to all men, hath appeared, and teacheth us, that we should deny ungodliness, and worldly lusts, and that we should live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world. Whereby we see, how the Apostle draweth all our actions into three members or parts: whereof the first, which is Sobriety, signifieth as well chastity and temperance, as the pure and moderate use of God's gifts, and likewise patience in all adversities. The second, which is righteousness, comprehendeth the upright dealing that we aught to use, with, and towards our neighbours, to give unto every man that which belongeth unto him. The third, which is Godliness, purgeth and cleanseth us from the pollutions of the world, to unite us unto God, to live holily. And to say truly, when these three virtues are joined together by an inseparable band, they make an entire perfection. But because there is nothing more difficult in this terrestrial muddiness or filthiness, then to attain to such an Angelical life. The Apostle Saint Paul, to comfort us in our infirmity and weakness, and withal to teach us 
Ibidem 13.  to do, as much as in us lieth, to unburden our souls of the bands of sin, calleth us to that blessed hope, which we aught to have of the apparition of the glory of our great God, and of our Saviour jesus Christ; that is, at the coming to judge the quick and the dead, and where the first-fruits of the salvation which he hath procured for us, shall appear and manifestly be seen. Whereby it is certain, that the Apostle seeketh to withdraw us from all the allurements and enticements which are accustomed to dazzle our eyes in this world, and to hinder us from aspiring (as it is requisie) to that celestial glory, and eternal happiness, whereunto God by his grace hath ordained us.   

3. Seven pernicious vices, whereof we must purge ourselves. The first, Covetousness.  
Now to apply these so excellent general rules of all Christian righteousness, to our most dangerous corruptions. To deliver us from them, as we began the foundation of our Philolosophy, upon the foot or perfect number of seven; so we will proceed in the same, by making it manifestly appear, That it is the duty of a Christian, to purge his soul of seven pernicious vices, which are covetousness, ambition, excess of apparel, and meats, voluptuousness, unlawful pleasures, envy and slander. For the first, you must note, that covetousness is a word which signifieth to desire or covet, which the Grecians call love of money, or desire to have more: nevertheless, it is very true, that all the desires and affections of the soul are naturally good, as nature itself also is, as it is created by God. But as it hath been corrupted by sin, so it is corrupted in affections, by the disorder which the nature of sin worketh therein. And to speak plainly, the first original of coveting, is a faculty and a virtue of the will in man, by the which naturally he desireth good things, in such sort, that it is given him by God, to the end, that he should wish & seek for that which he thinketh to be good and profitable for him, and that having obtained it, he should hold and retain it. Now forasmuch as God is the true and only good of the soul, and that this good is infinite, it is not against nature, that the breadth, length, and deepness of our desire or coveting, should be as it were infinite, and cannot be filled with any other thing whatsoever but only with God: for it is natural unto us to desire that good, and when our desire is filled therewith, than it will stay and rest itself. But as it wandereth and strayeth hither & thither, among terrestrial things, by the corruption of our nature, it never findeth end, nor contentment in her affections, but to the contrary, one begetteth another, whereof we see and found an infinite number, which have their particular names from the things which they most desire. For the desire of gold and riches, is called covetousness; the desire of honours, ambition; that which passeth the bounds of lawful conjunction between man and woman is called lechery; the excessive desire of meats and drinks, gluttony and drunkenness, and so of the rest. From thence it cometh, that when a man once begetteth covetousness in his hart, to love money without measure, with a desire to have more than he hath, he becometh insatiable in his desire, always greedy, always thirsting, and always burning with a fervent passion to increase his riches. That which he possesseth is to him as nothing, to aspire to that which he hath not. And because that which he hath not is infinite touching man, so his desire is never satisfied. His purse and his chests may well be filled, but not his desire, which is bottomless, which maketh him never contented with that which he hath, thereby always to torment and vex himself in mind, to covet after that which he enjoyeth not. Therefore Anacharsis said, that a man which is covetous of money, is hardly capable of good counsel. And Socrates saith, that it is a hard matter to restrain the desire, and that he which coveteth after riches, is mad, because neither shame of the world, nor fear of death, can repress covetousness. Which corruption Easie lively describeth unto us, and withal pronouneeth a curse upon it, saying: Woe unto them that join house to house, and 
Easie 5. 8.  lay field to field, till there be no place to buy, that they may be placed by themselves, in the midst of the earth. For there the Prophet showeth that covetousness is so far distant from satiety, that it spreadeth itself over all that whatsoever it can come by, to the end not to leave one foot of ground unpurchased, which it desireth to have, as if a covetous man should possess the whole world. It is a disease always much more common than we think it to be, as experience hath at all times showed, by the most pernicious fruits thereof. The Prophets likewise spoke of it in their time, one saying; (Every one looketh to their own ways, and every one to his own desire.) An other saith, (For from the lest of them, unto 
Easie. 56. 11. jer. 6. 13. & 8. 10. Matthew 6. Luke 12. 6. Eph. 5. 1. Cor. 6. 2. Tim. 3. 2. 2. Peter 2. 3.  the greatest of them, every one is given to covetousness) Our Lord & Saviour jesus Christ and his Apostles reprove and condemn that vice in many places. And Saint Paul notably foreshoweth, and Saint Peter also, that in the latter days, there shall be men that are covetous, Seducers and false Prophets, who through covetousness shall make merchandise of our souls. It is most true, and worthy to be noted, that this vice contrary to the nature & condition of all other vices, which die and lessen with age, waxeth stronger in age, although it is a monstrous thing, that many covetous old men, have nothing in them more unreasonable, than this, that the less way that they have to go, or time to live, they seek to lad 
Cic. 4. Tus.  themselves with greater store of provision, as if they had a long voyage in hand, or should live ever. Which moved a Pagan to say, that the disease which lieth in man's veins, which is rooted in his bowels, and which growing old cannot begotten away, is called covetousness. Which also bringeth with it all other sorts of evils & miseries. For as the Apostle saith, That 
1. Tim. 6. 9 10  they that will be rich, fall into temptations and snares of the devil, and into many foolish and no some lusts, which draw men into perdition and destruction: that the desire of money is the root of all evil, which while some lusted after, they erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.  
A Sentence in truth, which aught only to be more than sufficient to make and perwade us to leave all covetousness. For seeing that as Christians, we know that Satan is always watching about us, to cast us headlong into sin, and therefore daily pray unto God, not to lead us into temptation, what appearance or likelihood is there, that we would nourish covetousness, which maketh us fall into the snares of the Devil, to be drawn into hell? Again, what worse thing can be said of it, then to call this vice the root of all evils & miseries, which plunge men over head and ears into ruin and perdition, making them fall from the faith? In it consisteth the fullness of all evil, because the end thereof draweth on itself the pains of eternal death. Than let us truly say, that covetousness is like the fire and the Anvil, wherewith the Devil forgeth a thousand chains of iniquity, to draw men into hell, and so many fiery darts to wound them deadly, by poisoning their hearts with the baits of all kind of vices. Saint Bernard compareth covetousness to a Lady sitting in a Chariot, the four wheels whereof, are as many vices, that is, despising or contemning of God, Inhumanity, Defiance, and forgetfulness of death: The two horses, niggardliness, and greediness, and the coachman, Covetousness to have. Saint Paul 
Barna: Sup. Cant. Sermo 39 Col. 3. 5. Matth. 6, 24. Luk. 16. 13.  likewise calleth covetousness, Idolatry; and the covetous man an Idolater. And our Lord jesus Christ saith, that No man can serve two masters, (that is, God and riches) because he will either hate the one, and love the other, or cleave to the one, and forsake the other. And in truth the covetous man maketh an idol of his money, and to satisfy and serve his own covetous desire, forgetteth his duty towards God, and so doth injury unto him, but much more to his neighbours, divers ways. For ordinarily he wanteth no inhuman nor cruel inventions and devices to draw other men's goods unto himself, sparing no man, easily persuading himself, that other men are exposed unto him as a prey to enrich himself thereby. Which made Saint Chrisostome properly call the covetous man, an enemy to all men: but 
Chrisost. home 9 super Mat.  which is worse, he is an enemy to himself, for that perpetually procuring trouble to himself, to get that which he thinketh to be well gotten, he permitteth no rest nor quietness to himself, nor yet leisure to reap any pleasure of his own riches.  
A certain ancient Father was wont to mock at the Rhodians superfluity, saying, That they built houses as if they were immortal, and made havoc in the kitchen, as if they had 
Stratonicus.  but a short time to live. But covetous men get and spend their riches, as if they should never die. They are like Mules, which carry great burdens of gold and silver upon their backs, and eat nothing but hay. They resemble a rich Ward or an Orphan, that dieth young, before he hath enjoyed his patrimony. For in effect they are always poor, and like him that hath nothing: and comparable to Tantalus, whom the Poets feign to be in hell, and there dieth for hunger and thirst, living in the middle of great store of fruits, and water about him up to the chin.  
To amend this accursed vice of Avarice, the fruitful mother to man of many children, that make him an enemy to God, to his neighbours, and to himself. Let us learn and be persuaded, that temporal riches, are so far from giving contentment, and making a man happy, that to the contrary they breed and engender a thousand griefs, and cares in his soul, and therein serve for as many thorns therewith to choke all the seed, and root of virtue, by their means making us miserable and unhappy. Let us consider that every covetous man, that cannot be content with his daily bread, but seeketh by all the means that he can daily to increase it, as many times as he maketh that petition unto GOD, in the Lord's Prayer, he plainly mocketh with God: seeing to hide his covetous affection; whereas to the contrary, true prayer should open and show the interior desire of the heart. Therefore the better to instruct us, let us remember that godliness is great 
1. Tim. 6. 6. Matth. 6. 9  gain, if a man be content with that he hath. And that as we are Christians, we aught not to lay up treasure for ourselves upon earth, where the moth and canker corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal, but that we must lay up treasure for ourselves in heaven: Imparting liberally of that which God giveth us, to the poor, and bestow the rest of our riches upon good uses. For by that means, we shall obtain the fruits of David's Prayer, which is, Lord incline my heart unto thy Testimonies, and not to covetousness. 
Psal. 119. 36    

4. Of Ambition, Pride, and Boasting or bragging.  
For the second point we may well say, that among the desires or concupiscences which have the greatest force in the soul of man, Ambition is one: which is an unmeasureable lusting or seeking after honour, glory, and reputation. Which vice we may truly describe to have three faces. First, for that man not content with his state and condition, seeketh and desireth to be of greater authority and command. Secondly, when he pretendeth to get glory and reputation of men, presuming upon some graces, that he hath received of God, more than others; which kind of ambition, may properly be called pride, or arrogancy. Thirdly, for that many men say or do things, to seem more than they are, or then they have in their own powers; which is called boasting or bragging. Now as we said in the precedent proposition, we must also consider two original points; or first causes of all our affections: the one, of pure and entire nature; the other, of the corruption thereof; and so we must and may say, as it is true, that ambition might well be in a man as a virtue; If he had not degenerated from his creation, and had considered the excellency of his estate, and the great benefits which he had received of God, specially in regard of his soul, by nature celestial and divine; for so he might have continued in a holy pride, to desire to be made like to his creator in goodness, by the only means which God had ordained, to maintain him in the form of his image, that is, in obedience, and for other things in such a degree as is convenient for the creature. But our first parents giving ear unto him, who before had overthrown himself by his own pride, presuming not only to be equal with God, in goodness, but also in power and greatness, easily believed (by the liberty of their will) the promise which that liar made unto them, of an estate and condition higher and more excellent, then that wherein God had created them. So Adam made according to the image of God, and ordained to be Lord over all his other creatures, was not content therewith, but coveted 
Gen. 1. 3.  and sought to be greater, and to be equal with God. At which time that false pride began to enter into him, by turning from the Lord, (whereof Ecclesiastes speaketh) which 
Eccles. 10 14, 15.  was the beginning of sin. Which corruption hath in such manner corrupted his posterity, that there is no one child of Adam, which is not pricked forward and wounded with covetousness, to rise and climb up to a higher degree of honour and authority than he hath; yea, if he may to be the highest, and (which is worse) not for the glory of God, or the good and profit of his neighbour, but only to content his vain desire, and to please his foolish and carnal affections. For as the covetous man is never satisfied with money, no more is the ambitious man with honour and greatness: because his vice will not permit him to remember from whence he came, and to what estate he is exalted, but forcibly carrieth him to that which he seeketh, and aspireth unto. In such manner, that if he be the second person in any high estate and dignity, his only and continual thought is, how to elevate himself above him that precedeth him therein. And if he cannot make himself chief commander of a great kingdom, like the Prince himself, he will at the lest assay, to be next unto the person of the Prince, as jonathan said to David, Thou shalt be 
1. Sam. 23. 17  King of Israel, and I shall be next unto thee. As it is written, That the mother of john and james the Apostles besought Christ, that one of them might sit on his right hand, the other on his left in his kingdom. And in the Scripture one Diotrephes is said to have sought the pre-eminence in the Church. And the Apostles disputed among themselves, who should 
3. john 1, 9  be the chiefest, and asked the Lord who should be the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. So that there is no vice nor corruption whatsoever, which this covetousness of honour 
Mark. 9 34. Mat. 18. 1.  doth not beget, as such an elder daughter of the incredulity of our first parents could not but be a fruitful mother of most wicked children. Whereof Saint Bernard maketh a notable description, saying, That Ambition is a secret poison, a hidden plague, a forger of 
Bern. Serm. quadrag.  deceits, the mother of hypocrisy, the fountain of envy, the spring of all vices, the moth of holiness, the blinding of the heart, and that which converteth wholesome medicines into diseases, and Physic into languishing dolours: and likewise calleth it the ape of Charity. For as that Christian virtue is patiented, expecting eternal good, Ambition endureth all for temporal things. Charity is favourable to the poor, Ambition to the rich; Charity endureth all for the truths sake, Ambition for vanity; there being no iniquity nor cruelty, how great soever, whereinto Ambition will not thrust itself. What other thing but this pestilent vice only moved Corath, Daihan, and Abiram to murmur against Moses 
Numb. 16. 2. Kin. 11. 15 1. Kings 16. 2. Sam. 15. 18.  and Aaron, and to raise that sedition which is spoken of in the holy Scriptures? Athaliah to kill all the blood royal, to reign Queen of Israel? Zimri and Omri, and many others to murder their Lords and Princes? Abimelech to massacre seventy of his brethren the sons of Gideon? and Absalon an hypocrite and an ingrateful child, to drive his own father out of his Kingdom, and to pursue him with an army to put him to death?  
The second kind of Ambition, properly called Arrogancy or Pride, which is aswelling of the soul, or of the heart, and proceedeth of an opinion in ourselves, to be endowed 
Of pride.  with gifts and graces more than others: provoketh a man to commit true sacrilege against God, making man to attribute the glory of that unto himself, which he hath received from God, and therefore due unto him. Which he doth two ways, that is, in glorifying himself, and presumptuously esteeming of his own person, because of the graces and gifts that he hath, or at lest thinketh to have more than others: And again, when he seeketh, and with great desire receiveth glory of others, in such manner that he rejoiceth much, when it is given unto him, and is angry if any man denies it him. The true cause of this pride is, the inconsider at love that every one beareth unto himself, which hindereth man to know himself. For if he had that true knowledge, he could not see any thing in his own nature, but that only which would 'cause him to despise, and humble himself: so far off should he be from finding any thing therein, whereof to brag and become proud: for as touching that which he may have more than an other, by the special grace of God, he aught to harken unto Saint Paul speaking thus, for who separateth thee? and what hast thou, that thou hast not received? and if thou hast received it, why reioicest 
1 Cor. 4. 7.  thou, as though thou hadst not received it? And yet the Apostle confesseth, that he himself had been in danger to fall into a proud conceit more than become him, by the greatness of the Revealations that he had, If God had not prevented him. Whereby (as he saith elsewhere, that knowledge puffeth up) he noteth how common this infirmity is to all men, to take an occasion to wax proud, by reason of the increasing of the gifts of God. And it 
2. Cor. 12. 7. 1. Cor. 8, 1.  is most strange, that it creepeth sometime into humility itself, and into all other virtues. For you shall see many men, who condemning pride, and other vices, without measure, to the uttermost setting out and affecting their own modesty, and such like graces, take pleasure therein after a proud manner, and by such means fall in to that pride, which they found fault withal, and blame in others. Whereby it appeareth how crooked and slippery this vicious serpent is, and into how many shapes it transformeth itself, to infect and poison our hearts with his arrogancy, and withal corruptions. And yet it is most true, that if we put our miseries and vices in one scale, and all those excellent graces and merits which we presume and brag of in an other scale; the counterpoise of abjection will weigh down all our glory and make us blush for shame and confusion.  
Let us only weigh our ignorance against our knowledge, our want of virtue, against our perfection, our sins against our righteousness, and our corruption against our holiness, and it will be more then enough to abate all the Pride and presumption wherewith our minds are infected. It is said, that the peacock having so many beautiful feathers, and but two feet only, taketh a great pride to behold her tail when she spreadeth it abroad, and that as soon as she looketh upon her feet, and sees them to be so ill favoured, presently she leaves her pride, & let's fall her tail, seeming as it were to hide that, which before she thought to be very fair and beautiful. How much more aught we by the feeling and apprehension of divers filthy feet which sustain us in vice, (that is our corrupt and perverse affections,) to humble ourselves, and to beat down the pride and arrogancy which liveth in us, of things which are lighter than feathers: that is our own natural inclinations, which have only a beginning and an appearance of beauty? for as touching supernatural & divine graces, how much the more they abound and increase in us, so much the more we are bound in all humility of heart, to give honour to God, and to use them all to his glory, without making idols of ourselves, by sacrificing to our nets, and burning incense to our yearn, as the Prophet saith. We see that when the sun shineth directly over our heads the shadows of our 
Habac. 1. 16  bodies are but short and little, which by experience we find to be true about noon time, and a little before and after noon. So there aught to be less pride and presumption in us, when the son of righteousness with great force casteth down the beams of his gifts and graces upon our souls.  
Touching Boasting and bragging, which is the third common effect of Ambition, there are some men so foolish in this respect, and in such manner carried away with the desire of glory & praise, thereby to nourish and feed their pride, that the less matter that they have in 
Boasting.  themselves to be proud of, so much the more they boast and brag: in such manner, that their vaunt are certain signs and testimonies of their indignity and misery. For as it is a sign that the Sun descendeth and goeth down from us, when the shadow of our body's wax and grow long: so we may hold it for a certain and true argument, that virtue decreaseth in that man, in whom we see presumption to increase, by his boasting and bragging. And as we judge a vessel to be full, by the little sound that it giveth, when we knock upon the head thereof; and when it sounds hollow, that is a sign that it is empty: so we may well believe, that in such men as take great pains to make their valour and merits sound high, there is more wind and untruth, than truth & effect of virtue in them. They are like to peddlers, who out of their little packs willingly show every man all that they have; where to the contrary, merchants hung out but small musters of the rich wares and merchandises which they have in their great warehouses. And as ears of corn when they hung down their heads, ordinarily are full & well graind, but those that stand upright and highest, make men guess that they are light, and have little or nothing in them. So we commonly see, those that are humble and modest, are as much replenished with all laudable conditions, as bragger's and glorious boasters are unfurnished thereof, and want them. And as experience showeth us, low valleys are commonly fertile, and to the contrary, the higher that hills are, so much the barrener they are.  
Again, we must consider, that such bragger's & boasters commonly bereave themselves of more glory and commendation, than they get by their vaunt, for presently they discover themselves to be liars, for although they speak truth, yet they make themselves odious to the world, by praising and commending themselves, whereby that happeneth unto them both in the one & the other, which we naturally see by experience, that a shadow runneth away from him that followeth it, & followeth him that goes from it. To correct & amend this kind of ambition, let us remember the great number of the pernicious effects of this vice, and the horrible vengeance which God hath always taken of ambitious & proud persons. How fearful was his judgement upon Adam and Eve, because of the sin whereinto they fell by this concupiscence. And what punishment did he lay upon Aman, Athaliah, Absalon, Nabuchadnezzar, 
Gene. 3. Esther 7. 10. 2. King. 11. 16 1. Sam. 18. Easie 14. Dan. 4. 2. Pet. 3. 5. Matt. 23. 12. Luke 1. 51. 52  and Herod. Let us think upon those judgements which the holy Ghost hath pronounced, That God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the humble: that whosoever will exalt himself, shall be brought low, and whosoever will humble himself, shallbe exalted. That God scattereth the proud in the imagination of their hearts, and exalteth them of low degree. To be short, let us despise all the glory of the world, which is nothing else, but as it were a blast of wind, or a little smoke. And if among worldly men, we are held to be abjects, and contemptible in this world, in this life, (which is of so short a continuance) let us be content and comfort ourselves in that we are great, rich and full of glory before God, in his Son jesus Christ, being his children, and heirs of his kingdom. Finally, let us learn, that humility is the foundation of Christian Philosophy, and of all commendable virtues: and that as our humble behaviour in all things is the glory of God, the only efficient cause of our good: so the confession of our indignity, hath for reward his mercy & goodness. And yet we must not be proud or vain glorious thereof, but only in this, that by our humbleness we have learned wholly to depend upon our Father which is in heaven, to be new creatures in the Lord   

5. Of excess of apparel, and meats, and of drunkenness.  
Consequently, and for the third kind of our greatest corruptions, we must note, that the desire of vain glory showeth itself in 2. other principal things, besides those before rehearsed, that is, in sumptuousness of apparel, & ornaments of the body, & in superfluity & excess of meats & drinks, which vanities have need to be reform in us. For the first point, every man cannot choose but confess in conscience, that the ordinary excess in apparel & ornaments of the body, proceeds from a foolish desire that we have to be of great account among men. It is true that there are three things much esteemed in the world, that is, nobility, riches & beauty, (specially in women & maids) which is the cause why every man will be accounted to be rich, or noble; & for women, either they would be, or at lest thought to be fair. And because costly ornaments & sumptuous apparel, are means to increase the appearance, show, and reputation of riches, beauty, and nobility, from thence specially it proceedeth, that every one exceedeth in this corruption. The Artificer goes like a Merchant, the Merchant like a Gentleman, the Gentleman like a Prince, and so every one raiseth his estate, and in truth go beyond it, to excel and surpass others of the same and the like quality. Whereby the curiosity and superfluity thereof is such and so great, that there must be an excess, either in the price of the stuff, that they may wear the finest, and consequently the dearest; or in the quality thereof, as wearing silk in stead of woollen cloth, or in broad guards, or else 4, or 5. guards one by another; or else in new fashions, accompanied with superfluity & unseemlines, as in ruffs, cuffs, coiffes, cawls, and other foolish, worldly & fleshly inventions. Whereof women are such curious mistresses of art, that the greatest part of them openly show, all their study and care almost to be, how to dress their bodies, and to tyre their heads: which is no new thing, for in the Prophet Esaies' time, The women of judea ware ornaments upon their 
Easie 3. 18.  slippers, or shoes, chains, bracelets, necklaces, clasps, buckles, spangles, rings, tires, jewels, and carcanets of gold, jewels hanging one their foreheads, mantles, lose frockes, veils, bodkins, looking glasses, curled and frizzled hair, and locks pulled, and laid out, and hanging down by their ears. Which vanities many women and maids in these days use, and often surpass them, and which is worse some are not content with the colour which God hath given them, and to wash their faces with pure water, to make them clean, but use artefical waters, mixed and composed with colours, therewith to look whiter or redder in their faces, than they are, and to show (as they think) of a greater beauty in them then ever God made. Now as this folly and kind of sacrilege, was in the time of jesabel and by succession hath been, & continued in all those that have not refrained to follow her sleps; although dogs did eat jesabel her & her paintings: so the holy Fathers sharply blamed such corruptions. S. Augustin expressly wrote a whole treatise thereof. And Tertullian having showed that God created no painted or sergeant coloured 
In Epist. ad Possi●●on. Tert. de cul●● mulie.  men asketh if they thought to rise again at the latter day with their faces painted and artificially coloured. Which being unlikely, he strictly exhorteth women, to abstain from it, as from things clean contrary to their creation & resurrection, calling them servants of the devil which do the contrary. S. Cyprian confirmeth the same by a similitude, saying, If a painter having made an image or picture, another should come, & seeking to mend his work, 
Ser. 5. de laps & li. de hab. vic. Hom. 31. in Math. Contra Helui & ad let de inst, fill. & in Epist. ad Fur.  would put other colours upon it, he would be angry & offended thereat. How much more them, saith he, may our Creator be angry, if a mortal man taketh on him by painting, to correct the image of his God? S. Chrys. saith, that women which paint themselves, are like to those that put dirt and filth upon a painted or golden image. And S. Jerome calleth it a reproaching of God, because he made them not fair enough. And to the same purpose reciting a story of a woman that was plagued by the hand of God, because she had painted her daughter; he addeth, that those that use it, violate the temple of the holy Ghost. In another place calling such painting, fires which inflame youth, nurseries of lechery, & signs of an unchaste heart. But to return to our purpose, of pomps & supper fluities in apparel, we are all found guilty of great excess therein, & too common among us, & for that cause every one speaketh, complaineth and crieth out thereof, and say that they can see no amendment therein; that it is still worse & worse, that it deserveth a great punishment, & that God will punish us for it: which are as many judgements registered in heaven against us, which we shall once feel (if they be not already laid upon us) when God proceedeth to the execution: for besides that those which love such foolish expenses, & to their shame & confusion, consume their goods, which they aught to employ in charitable works, oftentimes they employ other men's goods therein, & sometimes the substance of the poor, which many of them get into their hands by unlawful means, for which cause many times, seditions, civil wars, tyrannies, & cruelties are moved, begun, & executed in commonwealths, towns & states, to the end that such stewards' desirous of vain glory, & fishing in troubled waters, may have the better means to maintain their pomps and braveries. But that is far from the duty of christians, whom God in his word commandeth to seek peace, as also not to forget, that they are instituted & ordained by his divine authority, not to be lords, but stewards of the goods that he giveth them, upon condition to yield an account thereof, and to use them in such sort, that being modestly clothed & fed, they should with the rest help the poor & needy. It is not without cause, that jesus Christ foretelleth us of the judgement which he will pronounce at the latter day, which is, Departed from me ye cursed into everlasting fire: for I was hungry, and ye gave me no meat, I thirsted, and ye gave me no 
Math. 25. 41. 42. 43.  drink, I was a stranger, and ye took me not in to you, I was naked, and ye clothed me not, and in prison, and ye visited me not. In which sentence there is enough contained to make all those quake for fear, whose excess in apparel would largely suffice to cover the nakedness of many poor members of Christ: of whom they make little or no account at all. And yet they are their own flesh and blood (as Easie saith) which they are bound to cloth and cover. Besides this, they show themselves to be altogether ignorant of the manner and quality of the 
Easie 58. 7.  apparel which God made for our first parents Adam and Eve in Paradise, and also of the cause why that apparel was made. For it is certain, that their clotheses were made of beasts 
Gen. 3. 21.  skins, to teach them that in their fall and transgression of God's commandments, they were become like poor beasts, and that the shame they had to see themselves naked by sin, was the cause to make them seek for clotheses. And so the first use of clotheses is a manifest reproach unto us of sin, to humble us before God: And no cause to make us glory in our apparel, but to the contrary, they are as it were a fading or whithering state of death ordained to fall upon our forefathers and us, because of the ambition and pride of Adam and Eva, seeking to make themselves equal with God. In such manner, that the only, beholding or looking upon our apparel aught to put us in mind, to renounce and forsake all pride and vanity, and to seek to clothe our bodies honestly, to hide our shame, and not sumptuously to increase it. The second use of our apparel is, to keep and preserve us from cold, rain, and heat of the Sun, wherein also there is no subject or matter ministered unto us, to be proud, but rather to make us humble, putting us in mind of the wrath of God against sin: for if man had not offended God in Paradise; neither heat nor cold should ever have hurt him. Than let us remember Christ's exhortation to amend our lives, let us forsake and detest excess and pride of apparel, beginning at the reformation of our hearts. For as every sort of seed produceth herbs or first-fruits according to the kind, so the heart (as the nursery of the affections of the soul) being humble and modest, will be the cause to make us wear and put on the like apparel, as to the contrary, an ambitious and proud heart, cannot but delight and take pleasure in pomps, pride of apparel, and other vanities. And let us know that it is a great folly and extreme iniquity for us, to have more care of the garnishing of our bodies, then of the ornaments of our souls. But as the body is more & dearer unto us than our clotheses, & that many times we sell & pawn our apparel, to feed or heal the body, if need require. So we aught to abandon all affection & desire to cloth our bodies richly, that we may the better benefit our souls. Humility, holiness, chastity, and charity, are the precious ornaments of the soul, whereunto nothing is more contrary than pride & ambition: which show themselves in the excess & superfluity of exterior apparel. Again, if it be a common thing among us, that we have great care to wear better apparel then ordinary, when we are bidden to a banquet, or to an assembly of honourable personages, where we are to be & converse with our equals: what aught we to do in the behalf of our souls, by the which through faith here on earth, we converse with God, and his holy angels all the days of our lives (if we live like true christians) that when we die, we may be ready, and effectually be received into that celestial company in heaven? It should be as it were an overthrowing of all good order, if not thinking upon this difference, we take more care to adorn & beautify that which is exterior & mortal, than that which is interior & immortal. Let us rather follow S. Peter's exhortation, which he directeth to women, & toucheth men also, that is, Whose appareling let it not be that outward, with 
1. Pet. 3 3.  broidered hair, & gold about, or in putting on of apparel, but let it be the hidden man of the heart, which consisteth in the incorruption of a meek and quiet spirit, which is before God a thing much set by. Or as S. Paul saith, Likewise also the women, that they array themselves incomly apparel, with shamefastness & 
1. Tim. 2. 9  modesty, not with broidered hair, or gold, or peal, or costly apparel, but as becometh women that profess the fear of God with good works. To be short, let us so renounce all our ambitious vanities, that every man according to his quality (not imaginary, but true) that is, as his state & condition requireth, and can bear it, appareling himself modestly, may show by effect that he feareth God, and desireth to edify others. For if Pythagoras did so much by his instructions, that the 
Just li. 20.  women in his time (being infidels) left off their jewels, and other costly ornaments, as serving only for instruments of folly, and incontinency, and learned from him, that their only and special ornament was chastity; we aught much more to fear to wrong jesus Christ our sovereign doctor and great master, in such manner, that his authority & doctrine should not take place among us that are christians, to make us leave & forsake our vanities & follies.  
Touching the other point, wherein also appeareth a covetous desire of vain glory, that is in feasts and banquets, it is manifest, & well known to all men, that there is no banquet, not nor 
Banquets.  any ordinary meal made by many men, wherein there is not superfluity & excess. Nevertheless, we know that meats & drinks are given unto us by God for two special purposes; the first, to nourish & sustain us, that by food our bodies receiving force & vigour (which we properly call refection) we may apply ourselves to serve God, every one in that vocation whereunto he hath called us. But to the contrary, we commonly see, that our meals for the most part, serve to make us unfit for our vocation, our bodies by long sitting at the table, and the abundance of several meats, becoming so heavy & out of order, that rising from our meals, we are fit (like hogs) to lie down to sleep, then disposed (like Christians) to do our duties to God, specially in regard of reading his word, giving him thanks, & praying unto him. So that thereby we rather destroy and kill, then feed and nourish our bodies. Whereas if we had a regard and care to eat and drink soberly, and necessarily, our bodies would be in better temper, and our souls so much the more and better disposed to their proper actions. Sobriety is the mother of health, and the nurse of virtue; for the Spirit is always apt to comprehend that which it professeth, when the brains are not troubled by vapours, which the supper fluities of meats sand into them. A Pagan was wont to say, that if the greatest & sovereign good of man, is to have no need of nourishment, it is manifest that the next good thereunto, is to need or use but a little, An other said, that when we sit down to meat, we must make account that we are to feed 2. guess, the body & the soul, and that all the meat 
Solon.  which we put into the body, presently passeth through it, without any great profit, but that which is good, (as wise discourses, & prudent thoughts) entereth into the soul, & stays therein 
Epictetus.  to a profitable use. To this purpose a graecian captain having supped with Plato in his schol where he had but a sober & a small meal, (for the greatest banquets which the wisemen in those 
Timotheus.  times used, were only made with olives, cheese, apples, coleworts, bread & wine, said that those which supped with Plato, were sure not to be i'll at ease the next day, nor long time after. For it is true, that they ordinarily met together at supper & dinner without any excess of meats, not to fill their bellies, but to refresh their minds & spirits, and to learn instructions one of the other, by notable discourses of Philosophy, which concern the art and science of living well. And it is to be noted and specially considered, that in the holy Scriptures, we found that our first parents for a long time, lived, and fed themselves only with first-fruits, milk, meal and water. And who could ever after their times, approach near, or attain unto the long and happy days and ages which they lived? What preparation or store of dainty meats might the Israelites (being six hundred thousand men that came out of Egypt) look for, or expect to carry with them, when they went into a strange country, being 40. years on their journey in the deserts, and therein drinking nothing but water, and many times could found none? The other end and use of eating and drinking, is to praise God, and to extol his goodness & liberality toward us. To the which end, S. Paul saith, Whether you eat or drink, or 
1. Cor. 10 31  whatsoever you do, do all to the glory of God. But where is there one among us, when he eateth and drinketh, that is moved in heart to say with David, Lord thou art good and gracious. And in how many banquets do men take occasion or subject to enter into an acknowledgement or any discourse of the graciousness, mercy and power of God, author of all goodness? But rather 
Psal. 119. 68  consume and pass the time away in vain and foolish talk, or else to welcome one the other, and to move and press them to eat and drink. Plato, Xenophon, and other Philosophers, were of advise, that it was a commendable and profitable thing, to gather and to keep a record of such discourses, and speeches as should be spoken and made, when men were at 
Plut. Simpos. li. 1.  a banquet, or at a great feast. But if that were practised among us that are Christians, such registers for the most part would be filled with narrations, so unworthy our profession, that profane persons would be ashamed to use the like when they were at meat. For in truth, in our banquets ordinarily there are no discourses of learning or godliness, but only a manner of merry & pleasant entertainment, altogether savouring of the world, & oftentimes too much of the flesh. And to fill up the measure of excess, Drunkenness is the next point, so much used in these days, that it is become a vice almost without remedy. For now we think we 
Drunkenness.  have not made our guests good cheer, nor bidden them sufficiently welcome, if we move not all the company at the table, as it were by constraint to drink more than they desire, & in many places & countries, till they be drunk. That is it whereof some make great brags and vaunts (as if they gloried therein) how much they have drunk, & how they made their companions drunk. Some have glasses without feet, that men cannot set them down out of their hands, till they have drunk all out; & some have little bells hanging at their cups, by the ringing thereof to show their valour in drinking all out. Some proceed further, & have a die placed and closed in the foot of the cup, which when they stir it, he that drunk last is bound to drink again, or some other of the company, according to the number of the points that shallbe found upward upon the die, when it hath been shaked. A devish invention without doubt, if ever there was any, in such manner to profane the providence of God, & the use of wine, so excellent a creature, applying it by lots or chance to drunkenness. Again, there are many other like accursed means used for the same purpose, as meats expressly prepared by art, which are called shoing horns for wine, to force & constrain men to drink without thirst, till they be drunk. And yet the inconveniences which happen thereby, are so apparent, noisome, and so well noted by Pagans' that it is a monstrous thing, that there should be Christians found that do not abhor, nor are not ashamed of to detestable & pernscious a vice, as drunkennesis. For to say truth, there is no vice more contrary to the excellency of the creation of man endued with understanding & reason: for by means of that excess, he loseth the use of understanding, reason, & judgement. Again, how can it be the light of understanding which maketh him different from brute beasts when wine bereaveth him both of sense & reason, & taking man from man, placeth him among the rank of beasts, as it is plainly confessed by a drunken Proverb, That some drunkards are like apes, some like hogs, & some like lions. As experience showeth, that some being drunk are like apes, for foolish toys & light behaviours: others sleep & wallow in their vomiting like hogs. And others quarrel & brawl, wrangle, & fight like lions. And we may well say, that all drunkards are true lions to themselves, because they do injury to themselves, waste their goods, & consume both body and soul. Therefore a Pagan said, that drunkenness is a voluntary fury. And an ancient father saith, it is a wonder, that the bodies of drunkards, which by nature are of earth, being so much distempered with drinking, do not consume to filth & dirt, but that the soul serveth them in a manner for salt, to keep their bodies for a time from rotting. 
Senec. in epist 84. and Lucil. Bassil. in sermoon●. Ebri.  And certainly, the excellency of the spirit in Christians, serveth to meditate upon things that belong to God, & there is no exercise that can be more commodious & profitable for than, nor wherein the Lord is more glorified, than in prayer, praising & giving thanks unto God. But drunkenness wholly abolisheth the use thereof, as also of the reading, & hearing of the word of God. For if being sober and fasting, often times and too much, we fall asleep when we hear it, there is nothing to be expected of drunkards but only a mere beastly senselessness, which wholly depriveth them of the profit of divine doctrine. For as a great continual rain (saith Saint Augustine) moisteneth and soaketh the earth, and makes it so boggy, that it can not be laboured, nor ploughed to bring forth fruit: so our flesh drunk by over great abundance 
Serm. 231. de Ebr. cavend.  of wine, is not capable to receive spiritual tillage, nor to bear first-fruits fit and convenient for the immortal soul. And therefore we must take heed, that our bodies to much distempered, and as it were drowned in wine, become not like marshes, wherein there grows and breeds nothing but weeds, frogs, snakes, and such like creatures. O great wickedness in human kind (saith this ancient Father in an other place) that we should oftentimes press and force men that are full already, to drink more than needs, & refuse to give a 
Serm. de temp.  cup of water to a poor body, begging it at our door: Sitting at the table we say (to those that are full up to the throat) you are not merry, you eat nothing, to have them eat more, and refuse a morsel of bread to a poor hungry man. We speak to our guests whom the abundance of sweet wine and dainty meats (but too much provoke them) bidding them make good cheer and be meery; and forget them, that wanting bread for themselves, and their children, sigh, mourn and weep. O great Sacrilege (saith Saint Jerome) in such sort to give the goods of the poor, to those that are not poor. The Drunkard (saith Saint 
In epist. hom. 1. de 〈◊〉 Apost. 〈…〉. Ad●acr. Virg. 1 Cor. 6. 10. & 5. 11.  Chrisostome) is a voluntary Devil, guilty and inexcusable of his own ruin and decay. And Saint Augustine saith, That drunkenness is an amiable devil, a dainty poison, and asweet sin. Saint Paul telleth drunkards, That they shall not inherit the kingdom of heaven. And to show how much we should abhor this vice, he forbiddeth us to keep company with those, that professing the Gospel, are addicted to drunkenness.  
Of necessity (said an ancient Father) we must be in company of those, with whom we meet in a ship or in the wars, but to be conversant with every man to eat & drink, it is not 
Plut, in seven. Sap. conviu.  the part of a wise and virtuous man. If a Pagan Philosopher could make answer to Antigonus, and said (when he asked his advice and counsel what he should do, being bidden to a banquet where certain insolent women should come) that he should remember that he was a king's son; thereby advertising him, to beware of dishonest company, and so to shun all occasion 
Menedemus.  of evil: how much more aught we to remember, that we are the children of the king 
1. Pet. 2. 9 11.  of heaven, his royal priesthood, his holy nation, and his free people. That we may abstain from fleshly lusts, which fight against the soul, and therefore must not haunt any company whatsoever, to feast, drink, or do any thing that may any way tend to disorder, riot, or excess? But it may be some will say, Is it unlawful for us when we are at feasts and banquets, to speak of other things then of God, and to serve him? or must we never make banquets, and feast our friends? Thereunto I say, there is great difference between always and never; that nothing hindereth us from recreating ourselves together, with seemly speeches, and modest mirth, well becoming a christian life, & that God permitteth us to make feasts and banquets, according to the examples thereof found in the holy Scriptures; which also we do 
Gene. 21. job 1. 1. Kings 3 2. Sam. 3. Esther 9 Matth. 9  not restrain to a strict manner of eating bread & herbs, and drinking water; nor yet to half an hours time. God hath created good meats, and sweet & delicate wines, to use them for our food & necessity; but we must always use sobriety and honesty, in such manner, that our feasts may be seasoned with christian discourses, and that therein we use no excess in abundance, curiosity of meats, nor sitting long time at the table. And at such times specially we must remember the poor & needy, and that which jesus Christ to that purpose saith, Therefore 
Luke 11. 41.  give alms of those things which you have, and behold, all things shall be clean to you. For thereby he showeth, that our meats upon our tables, and all the goods that we have shallbe unclean, if while we enjoy great plenty of wealth, we have no care nor desire to bestow a part thereof on them that want: let us therefore spare as much as we can of our abundance and superfluity to help the poor. To the which end also in an other place he exhorteth us at our feasts and banquets, not to invite the rich that can hid us again, but the poor, the maimed, the lame, and the blind, which have nothing to give us again, and saith, that we 
Luke 14. 12.  shall be blessed in so doing, and sure to be recompensed at the resurrection of the Iust. As also he admonisheth us to take heed to ourselves, jest at any time our hearts be suppressed 
Luke 21. 34  with surfeiting and drunkenness, and cares of this life, jest the latter day come upon us unawares, and suppress us to our utter destruction.  
To conclude, let us remember the saying of Solomon, That we, sorrow, grief, murmuring, wounds, and redness of eyes, happen to them that tarry long at the wine, and to them that go and 
Prou. 23. 29.  seek mixed wine: which goeth down pleasantly, but in the end thereof it will bite like a Serpent, and hurt like a Cockatrice. And let us learn this sentence of Easie, Woe unto them that rise up early to follow drunkenness, and to them that continued until night, till the wine doth inflame them, and 
Easie 5. 11.  the Harp and Viol., the Timbrel and Pipe, and wine are in their feasts, and regard not the Work of the Lord, neither consider the work of his hands. Let us use wine soberly, for the preservation of our health, (as Saint Paul exhorteth his Desciple) by that sweet liquor, taking occasion to praise God for his bounty, and not to abuse it, and so to offend him that created it. 
1. Tim. 5. 23.  Above all things being careful to be filled with the holy Ghost. To be short, let us drive 
Ephes. 5. 18.  from our banquets and feasts, all excess, proceeding of ambition and vain glory, and from that foolish desire to be esteemed rich, and liberal in such vanities, more than others: thereby not to incur the disgrace of poverty or nigardliness. Let us rather seek for reputation in sobriety and affection, to give a good example to our neighbours: that so changing vice into virtue, we may altogether (in the abundance of the blessings of God) acknowledge his great liberality toward us, to his honour and glory.   

6. Of Pleasure, Adultery, and Lechery.  
Touching pleasure and voluptuousness, which we also set among the most pernicious vices: it is certain that all the affections which God hath placed in man's nature, tend unto as many good, proper, and convenient things, whereof he may obtain the possession and fruition, and in them pleasure and delight, and that his affections are given unto him, as goads to prick him forward, and to induce him to seek after God his sovereign good, in whom only he may find true joy and entire pleasure. But as those affections have been depraved by sin; so they produce effects contrary to their original, and with great difference between natural men, and those that are renewed by the holy Ghost. Now it is not always true, that voluptuousness or delight is an ease, which the heart taketh, in the enjoying of that good which is convenient and fit for it, nor that every man may receive pleasure and joy in all parts both of the body and of the soul, aswell by the interior as the exterior senses, as every one is more or less addicted to one, or divers of those parts, and taketh more pleasure in the delights that he may receive by them. For we see that the meaner and common sort of people, and those that are the rudest, and the ignorantest, are more moved, and take greater delight in corporal and exterior things, which concern the bodily senses; then in spiritual things, which are of a higher quality, and more convenient for the Spirit, and wherein they may receive more delight. But men that are wise and prudent, know well how to embrace the one, and to leave the others. But the subject of our proposition leadeth us here to speak of the most vile and abject pleasure of all others, which is received by the sense of feeling: against the which generally, there are an infinite number of notable sentences, set down by the Pagans' and infidels, whereby with the common consent of all the world, this false pleasure and delight is blamed and condemned, as most dangerous, most pernicious, and altogether unworthy of man.  
One saith, That there is no deadlier plague than voluptuosness, that it is the spring and 
Architas apud Cic. in li. de Senct.  original of treasons, and the ruin of common wealths, there being no enterprise so wicked, whereunto man is not pricked forward and provoked by this vice. Plato calleth it the fishhooke of all evils: for by sweet delights and pleasures, men are taken and carried into all miseries, and put to death, like fishes caught by the fishhooke, when it is covered with a bait, saying further, That it continually procureth hurt to man, and engendereth grief, folly, forgetfulness of wisdom, and insolency in his mind. Plutarch saith, That pleasure dissolveth man's body, and softeneth it by delights, mortifieth his strength, and decayeth his force: from whence proceedeth abundance of diseases, and is the cause that we see the beginning of weak old age to appear in young men. An other Pagan saith, It is a cruel beast, which makes men slaves, and tieth them fast in chains of Diamonds. An other, That pleasure and grief are twins, whereof the first is no sooner borne, but the other presently followeth, and holdeth it as it were by the heel, to supplant it, and to change pleasure into repentance. An other compareth it to a white sepulchre, or tomb, fair without, but full of infection and stinking deadly savour within. An other, to a strong poison mixed with hippocras or milk; as in truth voluptuousness poisoneth man in such sort, that it killeth reason and virtue in his soul, and health in his body.  
But if all these sentences aforesaid were said by Pagans' and Infidels, that only regarded natural man, and this present life, how much more aught this vice to be detested by the children of God, regenerated by his holy Spirit, and in regard of eternal life? It is the cares of the world (saith jesus Christ) that hinder them which have heard the Gospel preached, to bring forth fruit. And Saint Paul also meaneth the same, when he saith, They that 
Luke 8. 14. Rom. 8. 8. 1. Tim. 5. 6. Rom. 13. 14.  are in the flesh, cannot please God: That he which liveth in pleasure, is dead, while he liveth. Wherefore it he cometh the faithful, not to take care for the flesh to fulfil the lusts thereof. Than let us beware of so dangerous an enemy as pleasure is; let us fly the occasions that may move us thereunto, and such companions as are addicted to it: For as green wood laid on the fire, will not burn at the first, yet at the last it burns and consumes. So it is with him that haunteth and keepeth company with riotous and voluptuous fellows, he may for a time resist and forbear from evil; but in the end he plungeth therein, and sinketh over head and ears.  
To that end let us shun and avoid Idleness, as the true mother of voluptuousness, as a Pagan saith, That doing nothing, we learn to do evil: and that as by continual labour, concupiscence decreaseth; so by idleness it increaseth. Standing puddle waters easily corrupt, and so do idle men. But specially let us consider, that nothing is more contrary to amendment of life, in God's children; nor to the sighs and tears (required of them by the holy Ghost) for the bewailing of their sins and corruptions, then carnal pleasures. For as it is a thing contrary to nature, to light fire in water: so it is monstrous, that voluptuousness and pleasure should breed in a sorrowful and grieved heart for his sins. When the holy Scripture calleth us to a solemn acknowledging and feeling of our iniquities, it exalteth us to fast, to weep, and to mourn, and saith, Let the bridegroom go forth of his chamber, and the bride out of her bedchamber. 
joel 2. 12. 16.   
Therefore let us submit ourselves to the wholesome advertisements of the holy Ghost, endeavouring our minds to tame and pull down our rebellious flesh, and to quench the fire of concupiscences, by fasting, weeping & prayer to the Lord And so we shall triumph over that monster voluptuousness: for it is true, that when the flesh is extenuated and kept low, it sharpeneth the forces of the spirit, converteth the vigour of the body into the virtues of the soul, restraineth the carnal marrow thereof, from casting out stinking and villainous exhalations, keepeth the secret provocation hidden in the entrails from heating the brains, and preserveth the senses, allienated from their right functions, from lusting after that villainous pleasure which inciteth and provoketh them thereunto, and which slideth and passeth away as soon as it is borne: that so the spirit only may take her rest, and sole delight, in the meditation and enjoying of the supercelestial good, which is convenient and fit for it, and rejoice that it hath vanquished and overcome her greatest adversary the flesh. But all that which we have formerly said, being generally spoken of voluptuousness, we must now show the particular kinds thereof. The holy Scriptures speaking of the monstrous corruption of men, worse than beasts in this respect, setteth down such abominable kinds thereof, that chaste hearts would abhor to hear them named, and therefore we will leave to speak of such sin against nature, for the which the persons guilty, were utterly to be rooted out of the earth, by the law of God. Neither will we here speak of incestuous conjunction forbidden by the Lord, but only of two kinds of Concupiscence or 
Levit. 18. 28. Deut. 18.  Lechery, too common among Christians, & yet most pernicious and damnable. The first is adultery, whereby we understand that lechery which is committed between such persons, whereof the one or both of them, are otherwise linked by marriage, so odious a vice, that 
Adultery.  among the infidels, it was most exactly looked into, and grievously punished. Aristotle saith, If a man or woman committeth adultery with any other than their own wife, or husband, 
Aristotle. Polit. 2.  such a one aught to be placed in the rank of most villainous and infamous persons. And among the Locrians, there was a law made by one Zaleucus, that condemned adulterers to have both their eyes put out, which was afterward so well kept and observed, that the lawmakers own son being found guilty therein, though all the people entreated for him, that he might be spared, Zaleacus would not harken thereunto, but caused one of his own eyes to be put out, and one of his sons, that so the rigour of the law might be observed. Augustus Caesar also made a law called julia, touching Adultery, which permitted the father in that case to kill his daughter. And the son of Fabius a Senator of Rome, having killed his mother, and him that was taken in Adultery with her, was absolved and aquitted of the fact by the Senate of Rome.  
To be short, it is certain, that in all nations, where honour and civility bore never so little sway, his vice of Adultery hath been grievously punished, and much hated of all generous persons. For if any man had but moved or solicited a woman to commit adultery he was punished with divers pains, as the civil laws declare. And yet the dispensation, slackness, and negligence of Christians in suffering such iniquity, hath begotten such liberty, 
Exodus 20. Deuter. 5. Levit. 20. 10. Deut. 22. 22. Gen. 38. 24. 1. Cor. 6. 10.  that now it is a great and a rare commendation given and attibuted to married persons, to say that they have lived faithfully in marriage. And yet God saith, (Thou shalt not commit adultery) and hath enjoined the pains of death upon that offence: and which is more hath given that judgement against the maid, that is betrothed to a man, and to him that shall lie with her.  
For which cause juda the Patriarch, being told that Thamar that should marry with his son, had committed Adultery, he command her to be burnt. And these santences are set down in the holy Scriptures (that Adulterers shall not inherit the kingdom of God) that marriage is honourable among all men, and the bed undefiled, but whoremongers and 
Heb. 13. 4. Malachi. 3. 5.  adulterers God will judge. To amend this detestable vice, first let us note, that as a man committing Adultery sinneth more grievously than the woman, because he aught to surpass her in virtue, and to guide her by good examples, so the fault of the woman is most great, and without remedy, for thereby proceedeth confusion, and doubtfulness of children, whereby many times, men's goods are transported and given to those towhom they belong not; but because, that both in the one and the other, there is breach of faith, and promise' before God (as Solomon saith) they sin equally and alike before his majesty, and shall receive like and most grievous punishment at the latter day. Let us also remember, that the Lord having pronounced the sentence of death against Adulterers, is constant and resolute 
Prou. 2. 17.  in his judgements, and that if Magistrates do not execute them here on earth, God hath divers means to execute judgement, and to do justice, both in this life; and in the life to come. As the Scriptures specially witness, by the examples of Sedechias and Achab that were Adulterers: of Solomon that committed I dolatry by means of that vice: and of David, by the effect of the sentence given by the holy Ghost, that the sword should never departed 
jerem. 29. 23. 1 Kings 11. 2. Sam 12. 10.  from his house.  
The other kind of voluptuousness, now in question, is fornication; which is committed between free persons, whereof neither the one nor the other, are married, It is true, that although the Philosophers wrote many notable precepts against this vice, yet the Pagans' never 
Fornication.  made any great account thereof, nor sought much to punish it. But they are neither law makers nor judges for us. But the most holy and ever living God; who, forbidding Adultery, therewith also prohibiteth carnal copulation between unmarried persons (as it is written) There shall be no whore of the daughters of Israel, nor a Sodomite of the sons of 
Deut. 23. 17. 18  Israel. Thou shalt not bring the hire of a whore into the house of the Lord thy God. The history of the children of jacob, (which under pretence of circumcision massacred all the 
Gen. 34.  people of Sichem, because they had defiled their sister Dina,) showeth how much God hath always been pleased with chastity, and detested fornication, when he suffered so horrible vengeance to be taken upon Sichem, his father, and all his subjects, because one of them had deflowered a maid.  
And that specially which is written in the Scripture, that for Fornication God caused three and twenty thousand jews to be slain in one day, which is a most certain testimony, 
1. Cor. 10. Nomb. 25. 9  how he always condemned, and grievously punished this sin. Therefore it aught to be abhorred among us that are Christians, and so much the more apprehended, in regard of the Lords judgement to come, we having received greater measures of the graces of God, and a more clear, more ample, and livelier instruction of his will, for the preservation of our bodies and souls in purity and chastity, than the jews had. For so we aught to practise and put in ure the sentence of Saint Paul, saying, That every one of you should know how to possess his vessel, in holiness and honour, and not in the lust of concupiscence, 
1 Thes. 4, 3, 4.  even as the Gentiles that knew not God. For this is the will of God, that we should abstain from fornication: and for that cause he exhorteth all the faithful to mortify their members, which are on the earth, as fornication, inordinate affections, and evil concupiscence. And in another place, he requireth, That fornication and all uncleanness, should not be once named among us, as it 
Col. 3 5. Ephes. 5. 3.  becometh Saints. And that we should not company together, If any that is called a brother be a fornicator, or infected with other vices forbidden by God, and that we should not eat with such a one. We have already noted the sentences and judgements set down in the holy Scriptures, against dissolute and impudent persons: which judgement to come Saint john representeth unto us, in a most fearful manner saying, That the fearful and unbelieving, 
Apoc. 21. 8.  and the Abominable, and Murderers, and Whoremongers, and Sorcerers, and Idolaters, and all Liars, shall have their part in the Lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.  
To conclude, let us remember, and meditate upon the lively and pregnant reasons aforesaid, showed to this purpose; and upon this also which the Apostle propoundeth unto us, to make us abhor fornication, saying, Know ye not that your bodies are the members of 
1 Cor. 6. 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20.  Christ, shall we then take the members of Christ, and make them the members of an Harlot? God forbidden. Do ye not know, that he which coupleth himself with an Harlot is one body? For two, saith he, shall be one flesh, but he that is joined unto the Lord is one Spirit. Flee Fornication, every sin that a man doth, is without the body, but he that committeth Fornication, sinneth against his own body; Know you not that your body is the Temple of the holy Ghost, which is in you, whom you have of God? And yet are not your own, for you are bought for a price; therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit, for they are Gods. And to the same end, let us think one that which an Ancient Father hath written, saying: That when Fornication hath once seized on man's understanding, it hardly suffereth him to think upon any good 
Gregor. in moral.  thing; that the natural desires are glued, that from the suggestions of the flesh proceedeth thought, from thought affection, from affection delight, from delight consent, form consent action, from action custom, from custom desprire, or doubt of amendment, from desparie excuse, from excuse glorifying in sin, and from glorifying in sin, the inevitable condemnation and judgement of God. And lastly, that if by the infirmity of our flesh, we feel ourselves to be carried away to the first degrees of so damnable corruption, let us break, or at the lest, in so good time prevent the other degrees which mount higher, that we may avoid running headlong, and falling into eternal death.   

7. Of unlawful pastimes, Dancing, Dices, Plays and Comedies.  
We must also note, that among our most pernicious corruptions, are reckoned foolish pastimes, and lascivious and hurtful recreations, which many with great desire seek after; specially, Dancing, Dicing, Plays and Comedies. For the first, we must (to our great shame and confusion) acknowledge that it is a common thing to see married men and women, young men and maids, in companies together dancing with great lightness, vanity, signs, and gestures, savouring of lasciviousness; either with instruments of music, or singing dissolute songs. And yet those dances were always the effects, subjects or dependences of great vices, namely of Idolatry, drunkenness, and fornication. Resembling the Pagans' in their most villainous and dishonest banquets; as their feasts of Bacchus, Pan, and other such like Idols were celebrated with dances.  
And it is written of the jews, that when they had offered to the golden calf, they sat down to eat and drink and rose up to play, to dance after flutes, and to sing. And all 
Exod. 32. 6, 18. 19  great banquets and drunken feasts are commonly celebrated with the same vanities, as the Prophet saith, when the belly is full, the legs are light to dance. For we do not often see that exercise used in the morning, or when men are fasting, And it is said of the Amalekites that when they sacked Siceledg, David found them dancing, after they had eaten and drunk. For this cause an ancient father writing against dancing in his time, said, that wine is the cause thereof. But be it what may be, we must of force confess, that all dancers are 
Basil. Serm. in ebrietate.  moved and provoked to that action; by the pleasures of the flesh, from whence also fowl concupiscences, condemned by God do proceedee: which would easily be transformed into fornication. If God by his mercy and divine power did not preserve many from it. We know that Christ saith, whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her already in his heart. For the eyes are like windows, whereby the poison of concupiscence entereth into the heart. And so it appeareth into what danger men and 
Matth. 5 28.  women run, when by dancing they have liberty to see each other to meet together, to feast, to embrace, to touch, and to kiss. Which are atonements and enticements to kindle the fire of Concupiscence of the flesh, or to spaeke more properly, right solicitres of lechery, and an invention of the Devil: to throw men headlong into that which they aught specially to abhor. Which made an ancient father aptly compare man and woman to two earthen vessels, which Satan causeth to meet together, in the tempests, leapings and gambadoes of dancing, to bruise and break each other. And Ecclesiastes after he had said, that many wondering at the beauty of a strange woman, have been cast out, for her words burn as fire, addeth, Sat not all with an other man's wife, neither lie with her upon the bed, nor banquet with her, jest thine heart incline unto her, and so through thy desire fall into destruction. 
Eccl. 9 10, 11.  Whereby we may conceive, into what danger they run, who having eaten & drunk with women in some banquet, where commonly they dress themselves bravely to the show, choose and take them by the hand, lead them to dance, approach near unto them, kiss them, and show them their agility in turnings and windings about, frisking, and steps backward and forward: They doing the like. Which actions are like great winds that kindle and set on fire their hearts; which are already but too much naturally inflamed with concupiscence. And if there be any impudent devices in dancing, lascivious songs, or sound of Instruments, which put them in mind of such things: Is it not as much as if one should cast oil into the fire of concupiscence, which naturally burneth in our breasts, and to augment the danger of our utter decay? As Saint Paul saith, that Evil words corrupt good manners. And Saint Peter saith, It is sufficient for us that we have spent the time 
1. Cor. 15. 33. 1. Pet. 4. 3.  passed of our lives, after the lusts of the Gentiles, walking in wantonness, lusts, drunkenness, in gluttony, drink, and in abominable Idolatries. What can we otherwise understand by these insolences but that which is contrary to modesty, and Christian chastity; and consequently all those lascivious toys, fooleries and vanities, which are seen and found to be in dancing? Let us consider this exercise in itself, and look upon the leappings, skippings, turnings, and returnings, doings backward, and forward, capering, windings about and beating or stamping of the ground with their feet, with divers other such light toys; and it may be truly said, that all such fooleries and undecent actions, make them that do them resemble men troubled in mind, or mad, rather than such as are wise, or of stayed judgement. And again, if standing in a high place, or on a hill, we should see a company of people dancing and leaping, and hear no music play, nor any man sing, we could judge no less, but that they were fools, mad men, or drunkards.  
This dancing also brought the use of Masking and Mumming in request: the shamefulness 
Masking and Mumming.  and scandal whereof, is so notoriously known, that it needs no great discourse, and therefore we will only say, that the face being given by God to man, to show it openly, and the mouth to speak, we do as much as in us lieth, to cross the divine ordinance of God, and wholly to contrary him, when we put one a counterfeit face, and speak not. They also are no otherwise to be esteemed of that put on strange apparel to make themselves seem of another sex and kind, then by nature they were created. For it is nothing to the purpose for any man to allege, that many of those that do such things, think no evil, because that which is evil of itself, is unexcusable, and all actions or things done and devised to be done by the motions and affections of the flesh, are not allowable.  
All the ancient fathers and doctors of the Church do agreed in one, and writ against dancing; Saint chrusostom hath written whole volumes thereof, and in one of them, wherein 
Chrict. Hom. 49. in Matth.  he speaketh of the banquet made by Herod, among other things, he saith, It was the Devil that made him take such delight in the king's daughter, for whom he so much lusted: for where there is dancing and leaping, there the Devil rules. Because God give us not legs to fetch gambadoes, and to show tumbling tricks, but to walk and go modestly or to be quiet in the company of Saints. But when the body turns, winds, and becomes deformed by leaping impudently, it is to be thought and believed, that the soul becometh worse, and more villainous. And in his exposition of the marriages of Isaac and jacob, he exhorteth 
ibid. in duab. Hom. Sup. Gen.  Christians to mark and observe, that there they had no dancing: behold (saith he) how civilly they celebrated their marriages: understand this you that make so great account of Satanical pomps, and contaminated filthiness at the entry into the holy estate of matrimony, was there any viols? was there any drumbes? was there any diabolical dances there? Saint Ambrose saith, That no man danceth unless he be drunk or mad. And touching 
Ambro. l. 3. de Vi●g.  Herodias that had taught her daughter to dance, he saith, what say you holy women to this? you see what you aught to teach your daughters, and what you should make them leave and forget: by this maid that danced, being the daughter of an incestuons harlot. But let her that is a chaste matron or mother, & a godly wife, teach her daughter's godliness and not dancing. It belongs to impudent women (saith an other Father) which have cast all fear of God behind their backs, and which make account of the terrors and 
Basil in serm. de ebrietate.  threatenings of eternal life in hell, to provoke their young daughters to intemperance by teaching them to dance. Than let us boldly say, (agreeing with the judgement of this reave rend antiquity:) That it is an invention of the Devil, (what fair show or colour soever is set thereon:) that at this day there should be schools erected, permitted and openly kept among us, to teach this vanity and pernicious folly of Dancing. It were rather to be desired 
Concil. Lado. cap 53. Concil. Const 6. Concil. Agat. Of playing at dice, etc. 1. Cor. 10. 31. Eph. 5. 16. Math. 12. 36.  that all he and she dancers should carefully study, in the school of the holy Ghost, which is the doctrine of the Scriptures, to dissuade themselves from dancing, that such enticements and occasions to draw, and to be drawn unto concupiscence and wantonness might be a bolished from among Christians. Wherein we should follow the authority of divers counsels held by the Church which expressly condemned dancing. As also at the last Parliament holden in Orleans, the state of France by their deputies required, that it should be publicly forbidden, and an act was made to that purpose.  
Touching plays, we must resolve, that there is none of them lawful, if they do not procure some honest benefit and commodity to man, tending to the glory of God. For that is the meaning of Saint Paul's doctrine, when he advertiseth us, to do all things to the glory of God, and when he saith, Redeeming the season, for the days are evil. As also of jesus Christ's words, saying. That of every evil word that men shall speak, they shall give an account thereof at the day of judgement. For all these instructions of the holy Ghost are set down for the ground of our proposition, We may well say, that there are plays which consist in the exercise of the body, as to shoot in a bow, or in a harquebus, to play at fence, to wrestle, and such like; the rest in the dexterity of the spirit, as to play at chess and draughts, all which plays are indifferent things, lawful & permitted to Christians, when they use them moderately, that is in regard of the first, to make themselves active and strong, that they may be the fit, apt, and better able to serve their prince and country, when need shall require: or else for the health of men in particular, as also to recreate themselves, when they are weary with working in their ordinary vocation, that having done, they may go to it again, with a livelier spirit, and somewhat refreshed. Whereunto the second kind of plays may serve. But here we must advise you of two things; First that there be no excess used in these plays, whereby men shall be seduced to leave and neglect their ordinary vocations. Secondly, that we must not therein use to play for money, for failing in the first point, we should loose and abuse time, in stead of redeeming it. And for the second, it is certain, that plays are not in any sort approved by divine or human laws, therein to employ, or thereby to get money, which to the contrary, God puts into our hands, to be faithful stewards thereof, and to use it with a good conscience. It is true, that it is otherwise to be understood, when the Magistrate propounds certain prizes in games, made for corporal exercises to draw his subjects the willinger to come to them, and thereby to make them abler for the public service of their country.  
Again, there are other plays, which depend upon casting of lots, and hazard at dice, and cards, from the which Christians aught wholly to abstain. For first, it may well be said, that they are forbidden by this divine precept, Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain: because the right use of lots, is to refer them to the wisdom, providence, 
Acts 1. Prou. 163. 3  and power of God, wherewith he worketh among men. So the Apostles used it in the Election of Mathias. And Solomon noteth, saying, The Lot is cast into the lap, but the whole disposition thereof is of the Lord Wherhfore we may use Lots in things of great consequence, where the will of God, aught to be known extraordinarily. But to apply them, (and consequently God's providence therewith) to our vain and frivolous pleasures, and oftentimes accompanied with offences against the Divine majesty, we may say, that lots in that manner are abused, and so the name of God is taken in vain.  
Secondly, such plays as are permitted aught (as it is said before) to bring necessary commodity to the body, or to the Spirit: otherwise they are idle works, and so there is time lost, for the which we must yield account. The plays at Cards and Dices contain no kind of exercise, neither yet bring any profit to the health of the body, nor true recreation to the Spirit. For touching the body, by sitting long, it is made heavier, and ladeth itself the more with gross humours, which by using any stirring exercise, or by travel, are moderated and consume: and touching the Spirit, the doubtful chance of the Dices, or event of the game, expected by those that play, and the fear they have of their money, either to be lost or won, holdeth them still in pain and anguish. If there be any shadow or show of pleasure, or contentment in them, the only ground thereof is covetousness, and a desire to win money, which while they are in play, they fear to loose, and so have no true delight. And they never receive so much pleasure in winning, that can any ways countervail the displeasure that they have when they loose their money. So you see how the spirit cannot be properly recreated, by casting of lots, nor yet the body receive any commodity or profit thereby.  
Thirdly, that which utterly condemneth plays at Cards and Dices, is that the true end and purpose of play is to draw unto themselves other men's goods, because in them there is ready money s●akt down. For from thence proceedeth an infinite number of most pernicious evils. That is, the loss of their goods, when the Dices cross one of the players, 
Matth. 22. 39  and manifest theft in the other, which thinketh by unjust gain to keep that which belongeth to his neighbour. Which is far from the duty and effects of Christran charity, and specially from the obedience of God's commandment, to love his neighbour as himself. And from such iniquity proceedeth quarrels, contentions, debates, and oftentimes murders, swearing, cursing, blaspheming, and to conclude, manifest impiety. Than who will not give judgement, that the tree which bringeth forth such first-fruits is most wicked and worthy to be pulled up by the roots? Therefore these kind of plays have always been detested and prohibited in all well governed estates, both Christian and Pagan. Yet it is said, that the Lydians being in great necessity and want of victuals, invented this exercise, that by playing they might find some means to relieve themselves in that time of famine, for that many men sat playing two days together without eating, which kind of life continued among them for the space of 28. years together, and preserved their country from a great famine, by sparing victuals in that manner.  
But to the contrary, at this day we see, that we are so far from recompensing (by fasting) the fault that is committed, by so villainous an exercise, as carding and dicing is, that it is rather used with all kind of dissoluteness, gluttony, excess, and superfluity. Which by experience is too much seen, in those new faculties of gamesters, and people that live wholly without any care: unless it be of their bellies. It is certain that the ancient wisemen of the world, did always abhor the manner of passing, or rather losing of time, which aught to be unto us the dearest thing in the world. As among other examples, this one of a Pagan is specially to be noted, who being sent from Lacedemonia to Corinthus, to entreat of 
Chilon.  peace between those people, and finding the governors playing at dice, he turned back again, and would not deliver his message, saying, that he would not defile nor stain the 
Digest. lib. 11. Tit. 5. lib. 1. Ascon Pedian Sur la 2 deum. Col 3. 'tis 43 Lalearum usus  Lacedæmonians glory with so great an ignomy, as, to make peace and amity with dice players. We have a law in the Digests, which speaketh of punishing those, that induce others to play. And at Rome, they that used this exercise were condemned to pay a fourth part more than that which they had lost at play, for a fine. The Christian Emperors strictly for bad these kind of plays, And the Emperor justinian, among other things ordained, that no man should be constrained to pay that which he had lost in play, and that if he did 
Can. Episco. dist. 35.  pay it, it was lawful for him to ask it again, commanding that it should be restored to the party, excepting a prescription of 50. years. In the Cannon Law, those plays are prohibited upon pain of deprivation of the communion, as the Apostolical canons (so called) declare 
Cap. 42. & 43 Cyprian de Alcator.  And S. Cyprian purposely wrote a treatise to show how Christians aught to abhor such kind of plays, wherein among other things, he saith. That such plays are snares & inventions of the Devil, which he forgeth to keep idolatry in greater use, and recommendation among men. Noting upon that point, that Mercury one of the Pagan Gods who is said to have been the inventor of the plays at cards, caused his picture to be painted upon them, ordaining that when men began to play, they should kiss the cards for a sacrifice unto him, or else shed some wine upon the table to honour his picture. Which corruption Christians having received from Idolaters, have only changed the images, putting the pictures of a king, a queen, & a knave, (as we term it) on them, in stead of the Pagans' idol. Therefore we may well say, that to play at cards and dices, is to take pleasure in the works of the Devil, and in some manner to refresh and confirm ancient Idolatry, in stead of utterly abolishing the memory thereof. To conclude with Cyprian, let us be children of God, and not players at cards and dices, let us throw down our money upon the Table of the Lord, where Christ preseedeth and angels behold us, that it may be given to the poor, and not lost foolishly. Let us in that manner give our goods to Christ to keep, who will restote it us a hundred fold again, in perpetual fruit. Playing at cards and dices is dangerous, worthy of death, and full of folly. There is no truth in them, but a quagmier of all sorts of lies, and false oaths: let us withdraw our hands. Turn back our hearts, and take away the mist of darkness which Satan cast our hands, turn back our hearts, and take away the mist of darkness which Satan casts before our eyes, that our hands may be clean, and not defiled by honouring the devil, taking pleasure in his inventions, Let us fly from such an enemy, that persuadeth us by such crafty devices; and employ our time to learn the true wisdom of the evangelical doctrine that we may resist and beat back the hurtful darts of our malicious enemy. Let us lift up pure hands to Christ, and that we may please God, let us never look on Cards nor Dices any more. So be it. In this manner Saint Cyprian endeth his Treatise.  
Touching Comedies and Tragedies. It is certain that in that manner of recreation, which within these few years is become so common among Christians, there is nothing 
Comedies and Tragedies.  else but lewdness and corruption. To prove it, all the places of the holy Scriptures before alleged, against playing at Cards and Dices, wherein we are advertised to do all things to the glory of God; to redeem the time, and to beware of evil words, and unprofitable works, do specially serve. For no man is ignorant (if his judgement be not perverted) that in such shows acted by Stage-players, God is dishonoured and offended many ways, time ill employed, and good manners depraved. Let us hear certain Ancient Fathers speaking to this purpose, who not content to reprove these foolish representations, because long since they were instituted by Pagans', in honour of their false gods; (for in regard thereof only, we must confess that they are detestable, and not to be used among Christians (but also for divers sins therein committed against God, and for the vices which proceed thereof, to the great detriment and hurt of many. S. Cyprian saith, Although such spectacles had never been consecrated to false Gods, yet 
Cyprian lib. de Spect  Christians aught not to see them, nor to be present at them, for if it were not so great a sin as it is, in them there is an infinite number of vanities, and many things altogether unfit for, and ill becoming Christian gravity. For if man of himself be inclined to all vice, what will he do when he hath examples to entice and provoke him more thereunto? And if our nature of itself, be subject to imbecility and weakness, what will it be when by indirect courses it shall be led headlong into vice? And in another place, he saith, Upon theatres and Stages, you see things acted whereof you should be ashamed, and much moved in 
Ibid. lib. 2. de Ep. in 2.  mind thereat. There you have a lively representation of murders, incests, and other execrable actions, to put you in mind of the wickedness in former times committed. All that are present to hear and see them learn thereby, that the same which in former ages hath been done, may be done again. Sin is not defaced by length or space of time, no age suffocateth wickedness, neither doth oblivion bury Iniquity. But that which for a while was left of, being in these days renewed, serveth for an evil example.  
Lactantius saith, What do the gestures or countenances of players teach us, but villainy and filthiness? what will young men do, when they see such abominable things represented 
Lactan. li. 6. de Just ca 20  upon stages, without all shame or impeachment, & that every one beholdeth them so gladly, and with so great applause? It is not to be doubted, but that the things which they see there put them in a conceit to do and practise the like: and that they are provoked and stirred up unto divers filthy motions, by the pleasures which they take in that which they behold, and return home with their hearts full of bad desires, and their souls corrupted with the venom thereof. S. john chrusostom saith, At plays adultery is conceived, and dishonest 
Chrys. Hom. 42 in act ●den Hom. 3 de David & Sa●●  love taught: calling them the school of intemperance, the band of all dissolution, a place to minister laughter, and the example of dishonesty. If concupiscence (saith he in an other place) and evil desire assail us in the Church, while we are singing Psalms, while the word of God is preaching, and when we are most attentive therein to pray, how is it possible when we are at a play, where we neither hear nor see any thing that is good, and where we are environed with many perils and dangers, for us to escape and shun the power of so many subtle and crafty enemies, as are there assembled together? And if when man by chance meeteth with a woman, appareled as she ordinarily goeth, oftentimes hath his heart so much in flamed by beholding her, that the sight of her only sufficeth to entrap him, & to move him to lust after her: what shall we say of them which spend whole days in theatres, at their leisures to see & behold beautiful women bravely tired and appareled, hear nothing but lascivious speeches, Sirens songs, enticing vows, & look on painted faces, alluring eyes, and bodies set forth in such manner, that there are thousand snares to entrap and deceive those that behold them? We must not (saith S. Basil) employ our sight to behold the vanities of stage players, nor use our ears to hear music and songs, which seduce and corrupt 
Basil in ora●. Legend. li. gent.  our hearts: for such kind of delights draw after them perpetual ignominy & servitude. Saint Augustine calleth theatres, Storchouses of incontinency, and a public profession of 
Aug. super Psal. 119.  wickedness, saying, That among the occasions of sin, which they most shunned, who in times passed earnestly repent, one was, Not to be present at such spectacles. Saint Saluian saith, That sin only and ordinarily infecteth those senses and powers of the body, whereby they are seen and received, as filthy thoughts corrupt the souls, unchaste sights the eyes, and filthy speeches and words the ears. And that although men offend God by one of these parts, the rest are still clean and without sin. But when we are present at Comedies, there is no part in man exempted from sin: for there the soul is inflamed with evil desires, the eyes are poisoned with that which they see, the ears with that which they hear, and whatsoever is done therein, is so filthy and pernicious, that it cannot be spoken of without blushing. To be short all the ancient Fathers, condemned such plays and spectacles, placing them among the works of Satan; and for a certain cause and occasion of the corruption of manners, and the ruin of Common wealths. And therefore divers politic, and well governed common wealths, (although they had not received the light of Christian faith) would not permit Players in their Towns. Others knowing what hurt and damage they brought into their Cities, banished them from thence, and some would never suffer their wives and daugthers to go to such sports, esteeming them that did so, to be so infamous, that they deprived them of their freedom, specially at Rome. Saint Augustine saith, yet it is true, that as virtue in man is finite and limited, so it cannot always be employed in grave and important affairs, but hath need of some respite 
Aug. lib. 2. De Ciu. Dei. c. 13  and intermission in labours, and some honest recreation, as we have already said touching all men in general; In such sort that for a man to know how to recreate himself, and to entertain others therein, with requisite means and measure. It is an action of virtue: which the Ancient Fathers termed joyfulness. But we must know, that it is sin in such recreations to use lascivious words, or dishonest gestures to suffer 
Arist. li. 2. de Ethic. c. 8  ourselves by excess to be carried away to the vain pleasures of any pastime whatsoever, or to say or do any thing, which is not commendable, and convenient for the time, place and persons which recreate themselves. And after that manner, it may happen, that things which are acted in some Comedies, may be honest and holy, and those that Act them, should be notable persons well advised, to be have themselves in such sort, that thereby no hurt nor scandal should arise or be given. Yet we cannot always excuse, the bad actions which are oftentimes mixed with those good Acts: for whatsoever may be alleged to the contrary they are prejudicial to virtue, and wholly unfit for Christian gravity: specially, such plays as ordinarily have those pastimes in them.  
To conclude, if evil words corrupt good manners, (as the Apostle saith:) And if the holy Ghost forbiddeth us to cast our eyes upon a wicked woman, if we will not fall into 
1. Cor. 15. Eccles. 9 3, 4.  her snares, and not to use the company of a woman that is a Singer, and a Dancer, nor to hear her, jest we be taken by her craftiness. And if our Saviour hath taught us, that he which looketh upon a woman to lust after her, hath already committed adultery with her in his heart: what hurt will not villainous and filthy actions do, which are showed openly upon stages in Tragedies and Comedies, and whereby all the senses are tempted and corrupted? Who is so vain glorious, and presumptuous, to think or imagine, that he can be assured in so evident a danger, and feel no evil motions among those infernal practices, nor commit any sin, finding himself to be in the company of so many fair, lascivious, and wanton women, not only of those that ordinarily play upon the stage, but of others that willingly frequent them? It is an easy matter for them, by their indecent motions and gestures, their unchaste eyes, their dissolute apparel, and their sweet voices, like Sirens to enchant and transform those that delight to hear and to behold them into beasts, giving them so much the greater occasion to overthrow themselves, as they are shameless, wicked, and incontinent.   

8. Of Envy and Slander.  
There resteth yet two other most pernicious vices, to make the number of seven complete, wherein we have comprehended our greatest corruptions. That is Envy, and Slander: which also proceed from the forger of human miseries, the enemy of our salvation, and are branches of Satanical malice, as it is written, That by the envy of the Devil, death entered into the world. For this wicked and malicious enemy of mankind, being so envious that he could not endure to see the glory whereunto 
Wis. 2. 24.  God had called man, was moved thereby to tempt our first parents: whose ambition and disobedience gave place to sin. And the first branch of this wicked plant being Envy, was the cause that moved Adam's eldest son to kill his younger brother Abel. And to speak truth, this vice of Envy, is a passion of the soul, breeding bitterness, malice, 
Gen. 4. 5. 8.  and grief therein, against the commendable and worthy qualities that are in others. From whence in an envious man's heart, there riseth a secret hatred to those, whom he seethe to prospero, whether they be his superiors, inferiors, or equals: being grieved that he is not comparable with the first; and fearing that the others would prospero and become his equals, or else surpass him: resembling one that hath a tender sight, to whom the light or any bright shining things is hurtful. Therefore, whereas all other vices bring some pleasure with them (although friovolous and accursed) envy only to the contrary, is always accompanied with sadness and grief, because man's heart is settled therein, and receiveth and feelth it in his body, as if it bit and gnawed his stomach. Whereby it may well be approved, that they did not much err, which said, That envy is most just, because she procureth that pain and punishment to the envious man, which he deserveth. Saint Augustine 
Aug. ad jul. epist. 111.  saith, she resembleth a ship, tossed in the waves of the sea, always troubled, raging without cause, held in misery full of fury, and like to a ravening Wolf. It is the scurf of the soul (saith Saint Cyprian) the turbation of the thoughts, and the rust of the 
Cyprian de Zeli et Livot. Basil tract. de individ. Prou. 19 30.  heart. For as rust eateth Iron (saith Saint Basil) so Envy eateth him in whose heart it lodgeth. Which Solomon very well noteth, saying: That Envy is the rotting or corrupting of the heart. And as the Viper knaweth a hole in the mother's belly to come forth: so envy consumeth his heart that hath conceived it, to bring forth that which is hurtful to another man. For desiring and wishing no good to any man, she useth a general injustice, wholly abandoning the office and duty of humanity, to hurt those whom she aught rather to love and cherish. So it appeareth, that there is no vice more detestable, nor more contrary to charity, than envy. And therefore Saint Paul saith. Love is not envious, it rejoiceth not in iniquity, it thinketh no evil. And Saint james giveth it the name of 
1. Cor. 13. jam. 3. 14.  bitter: understanding thereby, that it is a venom or poison of ill will, converting all things into bitterness: from whence ensueth contentions and debates. As the Apostle 
1 john 3. 15.  addeth, that where envy and strife is, there is sedition and all manner of evil works. As in truth, hatred (which Saint john placeth in the rank of murders) willingly followeth envy, and so powerfully in some men, that it makes them commit homicides, and other crimes.  
We have already showed how by this second passion of evils, man from the beginning was induced to harbour murder in his heart, to moisten the earth with brother's blood. Adam's sin then beginning to take his first effect in his son Cain upon innocent Abel, for a testimony in time to come, that wicked men should have prerogative in this world, to oppress the good. Saul, by envy oftentimes sought to kill David: And the children of 
1. Sam 18.  jacob consulted together to put their brother joseph to death, and afterwards sold him for money to Merchants that carried him into Egypt, from among the children of God, by that means exposing his body to misery, and his soul to utter perdition. Whereby we learn, 
Gen. 37.  and may well say, that there is no vice more odious, nor more to be shunned, than envy, which having diminished no part of the malignity of her original, thrusteth men forward into wicked and execrable actions.  
And yet, to what passion can we say that we are more inclined, or willinger to give place, then to this most pernicious vice? Let every man enter into the cabinet of his own Conscience, and he shall therein find a thousand sprigs of envy and jealousy, engraffed in the best part of his soul. For as the foolish love of ourselves, is a plague wherewith all the children of Adam are infected: So is envy, which proceedeth thereof. From whence this Proverb riseth, That one Potter always envieth another, either in respect of commodity, or of honour. An other Proverb saith, That our neighbour's eye is always an enemy, or envious unto us. And to verify it, we see very few that can endure, without some dislike, that those that are of their quality or trade, should be more esteemed, and rise to be greater than they, much less can we without envy endure, that those whom we esteem to be of less estimation than ourselves, should attain to degrees of honour and reputation above us: And to be brief, This vice in one sort or other, infuseth her venom into our breasts. And yet it should suffice us, that our own wickedness which is great and abundant, doth afflict us without troubling our minds, at the prosperity of others, and by that means make ourselves two fold miseserable. But malignant envy, enemy to the quietness of him that entertaineth her, will by no means permit it. Wherhfore, seeing this vice begetteth and nourisheth so many others, to revenge her own iniquity in herself, and that there is nothing more contrary to Christian Charity, nor that sooner thrusteth men forward to commit most detestable crimes, when by degrees this cursed passion possesseth their hearts: let us abandon and utterly forsake all the branches of envy; which (as all other damnable affections) is borne and conceived with the corruption of our nature: And let every man content himself with the estate and condition whereunto God hath called him, faithfully employing his time therein, and attending the blessing of the Lord, let him never be jealous for the good gifts and graces which it pleaseth him by his most just liberality to bestow upon others. For whosoever doth to the contrary, opposeth himself (as much as in him lieth) against the providence and sovereign liberty of GOD. Who according to his divine wisdom and power, most wisely ordereth all things, by number, weight and measure. It is true, that if in us there remains any sparks or seeds of the true affections of nature, as it was first created in our hearts, we might serve ourselves with provocations of envy, to prick us forward, and to move our minds, to get and obtain those true benefits whereunto Saint Paul doth exhort us, speaking of divers gifts of the spirit of God 
1. Cor. 12. 31  in his Church, That we might be desirous of the best gifts, without discontentment, rather rejoicing, and giving glory and thanks to Christ, for those wherewith he enricheth our brethren.  
Let us imitate the good (saith Saint Cyprian) if we be able to second them in virtue, if not, let us rejoice to see them grow up in godliness, let us be partners with them in 
De Zel. et Livor.  love, instead of envying at them: Let us make ourselves coheirs with them of virtues by conjunction for Charity, and brotherly unity. As Saint Paul making mention of 
2. Cor 9 2.  collections for the poor, saith, Achaia was prepared a year ago, and your zeal hath provoked many. As if he would say, that the emulation and holy envy, which others had conceived by the example of the Corinthians, had pricked them forward to enlarge their charity towards the poor. To conclude, let us remember that there belongeth a good and convenient envy 
Psalm. 119.  to Christians, which respecteth and hath a regard to good and virtuous men, to follow their steps, and to the just, to become just with them, as Saint Augustine saith.  
Touching the vice of Slander, Backbiting, and Reviling, (for these three words signify 
Slander.  all one thing, when a man speaketh against his neighbour, to the prejudice of his honour, reputation and credit) they are expressly prohibited in this divine precept, Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour. For the branches of this commandment extend themselves very far. As first, They that before a magistrate or otherwise by oath, or words simply aver and affirm a falsehood, to the prejudice of an other man, are herein condemned; and are properly called callumniators, and consequently children of the Devil, the first inventor of this iniquity, as his name also signifieth: for that false Serpent to deceive Eva, durst take upon him to bely God, as if he through envy had forbidden Adam to eat the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil: by which means causing man to fall, he devised by sin to infect Adam and all his posterity with the same venom and poison of calumniation.  
Secondly, although that which is reported or alleged against any man, be true in itself, yet if it be related and recited otherwise, & in another sense than it was said or done, that also is false witness. Likewise we fall into the same vice and error, when we tell that which is true, thereby to gather matter of slander, and to perswademen to believe some other wicked and reproachful thing. We know that God in the judaical Law, ordained, That a 
Deut. 19 16.  false witness should be punished with the like pain that the crime or offence wherewith he charged his neighbour wrongfully deserved. And to that purpose Solomon saith, That a false 
Prou. 19 5.  witness shall not be unpunished: and he that speaketh lies, shall not escape. We read in the Psalms of David, how many horrible curses he pronounceth against those that had 
Psalm 109.  slandered him. Which are so many Prophecies pronounced by the holy Ghost against callumniators. For which cause if there be any sparks of conscience in us, we will abhor false witnessing, and withdraw our minds from giving out, or spreading false reports of our neighbours: That we may not be esteemed children of the Devil; which is the father of lies. for it is the duty of a Christian, to keep himself pure and undefiled from all detractions and evil reports (how light or small soever we esteem them) which consist in relation and recital of the faults and infirmities which we note to be in our neighbour, although, that which we can say and justify be true. And yet there is no vice more common among men than this, because we are wickedly inclined, rather to speak evil than any good which we know of our neighbours: and when with this natural imperfection, hatred, ambition, or envy joineth, it is as it were oil cast upon the fire, which we secretly hatch within our breasts to make it flame out, and burn brighter. For evil speaking against, or of him whom we hate, giveth us a kind of inward contentment, as a manner of revenge which we take of him. And every Ambitious man willingly imagineth and conceiveth his honour to be the more increased, by how much the more he taketh away the honour and credit of him whom he blameth or slandereth for envy hath his intent and purpose, to lessen and diminish the credit of his neighbour, by speaking evil of him, that it may be a step or footstool to the envious, to elevate and raise himself above an other. Therefore Moses saith, Thou 
Leu. 19 16.  shalt not go up and down as a tale bearer among thy people. By this word Go, properly taxing those, that run from place to place, curiously to inquire of their neighbour's imperfections, afterward to report them abroad, and so to speak evil of them. Which imperfection is also represented by Saint Paul saying, All men are naturally infected with these vices, To 
Rom. 3. 1●.  have their throats an open Sepulchre, to use their tongues to deceit, to bear the poison of Aspices under their lips, and to have their mouths full of cursings and bitterness. For the common and ordinary speeches of those that are any thing familiar together, sufficiently show, that their usual manner is, to discourse of the faults and infirmities of their neighbours, because our tongues are so bitter & full of venom, instead of being mild, and inclined to charity & compassion. Which is a disease so much the more dangerous, because we cannot easily prevent it, and for that the the contagion thereof, which redoundeth to another man's hurt, is most pernicious. For we may easilier take heed and beware of one that stealeth any thing from us, then of him which detracteth from us, and violateth our good name, which nevertheless, is much more to be esteemed then riches: as the slander of a malicious tongue is almost incurable, it being a difficult thing for a man so to rid and justify himself of a slander once raised against him, that there will not remain some evil impression thereof in many persons, as it is seen by great wounds, which leave a scar after them when they are healed. Which Diogenes well noted, who being asked, What beast biteth hardest, made answer, that among Domestical or tame beasts the Flatterer, and among Savage beasts, the Slander biteth sorest. And those that give ear to slanderous and backbiting speeches, 
Plutar. in Apotht.  are no less to be blamed and reproved then the slanderers themselves, because they show themselves to be touched with one self same imperfection, to take a delight to speak evil of an other. But (which is worse) whosoever taketh pleasure to hear the imperfections and infirmities of another, showeth thereby, that in him there is no zeal of the glory of God, nor charity towards his neighbour. For seeing that God is dishonoured by the sin of men, when any man tells us of them, we aught to be sorrowful to hear & understand of any such offence made against the divine majesty of God. And Christian charity should beget in us compassion towards our brother, because that by his vices he draweth the wrath of God upon himself. Therefore David protesteth that he which receiveth a false report against his neighbour, shall not devil in the holy mountain. As S. Bernard advertiseth us, saying, 
Psal. 15. 3. Sup. Cant.  Take heed of being curious or inquisitive to look into, or rashly to judge of an other man's life; and although thou findest or perceivest any thing in him that is evil, judge him not, neither condemn him therefore: and if thou canst not excuse the fact, at the lest excuse his intent, ignorance, forgetfulness, misaduisednesse, and other inconveniences: And if the thing be so evident, that thou canst not excuse it, nor make any commendable conclusion thereof, to the honour and credit of him that hath committed the fact, look into thyself, and say in thine heart, Certainly it was a strong and vehement temptation that incited and moved this man thereunto, I myself might also fall under such a burden, if God did not sustain and uphold me by his grace. By this means an affection of compassion and charity towards our neighbour that hath erred, would rise in our hearts, together with an effect of wisdom, and good advise for our own instruction, and will not suffer evil report and slander to have any place within our thoughts.  
And we may in regard of ourselves make an other profit and benefit of this so common a vice, (if we be not foolisher than Infidels were) who taught, that the best way and means for man to stop the mouths of slanderers, and the notablest revenge that may be taken of them, is, to be the more earnest to practise and to study to do well, as we see they are prove, and more inclined to slander us. For as the Sun being right over the head, or top of any thing whatsoever, casteth but a very short shadow, because of the light that shineth round about it: so the excellency of virtue and desert in whomsoever it be, in the end constraineth the slanderer to hold his tongue, and in a manner clean extinguisheth his slander, not being able any more to hurt a right honest man. Than if we hear and understand that one speaketh evil of us, let us live in such sort, that credit may not be given to false reports, and let them likewise serve us for an advice, to beware of falling into the same vice, for the which we are blamed: because we are weak, and always ready to err. But let us specially remember that the patience of a Christian is tried by detraction and false reports, wherewith they are pursued by the wicked, as Saint Augustine saith. In this therefore we must follow jesus Christ, of whom Saint Peter witnesseth, That when 
Cont. Petil. 1. Pet. 2. 23.  he was reviled, reviled not again, but committed it to him that judgeth righteously; so far was he from being any thing moved when men spoke evil of him. To this example we may add that of David, to comfort us likewise; who protesteth, That when those that had charged him with false reports were sick, he put on sackcloth, and humbled his soul with fasting, and doubled his prayer for them, with a sorrowful and an 
Psal. 35. 13.  afflicted heart. Yet it is not said, that an honest man should neglect his honour and good reputation; but rather that he aught to maintain and preserve the same, by all commendable means that GOD shall afford him, without breach of Charity, and peace with his neighbour, always having a special care to live honestly, and uprightly, not only before the Lord, but also before men, as Saint Paul saith. Otherwise we 
2. Cor. 8. 21. Ibid. 6. 8.  aught to be satisfied with the testimony of a good conscience, walking between honour and dishonour, evil report, and good report, being well assured, that God in the end will make our innocency appear, and will bless the patience, peaceableness, and contentment which we shall have in him.  
To conclude, let us observe these three points of the duty of a Christian: first, to abstain from all slander and detraction: secondly, not to harken nor give ear to backbiters: and thirdly, not to be moved nor vexed so much for any evil reports or slanders raised against us, as to give evil speeches again, or to do evil for evil. Touching the two first points, if we do the contrary, we serve the Devil; by the one with our tongues, by the other with our ears, and give evident testimony, that we are utterly bereft of love towards God, and charity towards our neighbours. For the third and last point, a true Christian aught so to behave himself, that he should never do injury for injury, knowing, that doing so, he shall do evil. And for conclusion of this instruction, let us carefully engraff in our memories, this sentence of Saint james, saying, If any man among you 
james 1. 26.  seem religious, and refraineth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, that man's Religion is vain.   

9 Conclusion of this Chapter.  
Thus we see, by the discourse of the eight several divisions of this Chapter, that Christian Philosophy is not a Doctrine of words, but of a holy life, purged and cleansed of seven principal and pernicious vices, and that this science aught not to be comprehended by the understanding and memory only (as other human disciplines commonly are) but should rather have an interior possession in the soul, and be seated in the depth, and profundity of the heart, and so become profitable and fruitful, continually showing forth the virtues thereof. To the which end, let this be our special care and intent, so to direct and bend all the course of our actions, that by integrity of life we may attain to that perfection, which the Gospel teacheth us, which according to the common phrase of the holy Scriptures is, to have a pure simplicity of heart clean void of all dissimulation that we may walk holily and righteously before God, all the days of our lives. Than let every one of us take this course, as near as possibly we can, every hour to better our lives, that we may attain to the prize of our salvation. And if it happen not unto us, as we wish and desire, yet we shall continually get something, if we live better this day than we did the day before. Always having a constant regard to the end whereunto we must attain, and not to deceive ourselves with a vain flattering, pardoning, and bearing with our own vices; but rather let us continually strive to become better until we have attained to that sovereign goodness, which we are to pursue and search after, as long as we live here one earth, to obtain the same, when being despoiled, and having put off the infirmities of the flesh, we shall be fully made participants of the only and eternal good, in the Kingdom of heaven.    

That there are seven principal vocations, wherein every man is bound to show the first-fruits of Christian Philosophy: whereof marriage is the first, and to know what common duties belong to a married man and a woman, as also the particular offices of a woman towards her husband, and of a man towards his wife. Chap. 13.  

1. Men are called to divers vocations, and every man is to follow the same uprightly.  
HItherto in the particular discourses of our Christian Philosophy, we have propounded and set down general rules, whereby every one may be led and directed unto a right course how to order his ways here on earth, withal showing, wherein principally we aught to amend our lives. Now we must proceed further to particular vocations, specially to those that are of most account, which being truly ordered and observed, make all the rest proceed well, for the good and profit of mankind, For by the holy Scriptures, we do not only learn, that the distinction of estates and degrees are ordained by the providence of God' but also that in his holy word he enjoineth and commandeth us to observe and follow 
Gen. 4. 2.  the same. As the two first sons of Adam, the one was a husbandman, the other a shepherd. And the servants of God always exhorted the faithful carefully to look unto their actions, every one in their vocations, to be content therewith. To follow the same, & not inconsiderately to enter into, or seek for any other. As God (saith Saint Paul) hath distributed to every 
1. Cor 7. 17. 20.  man as the Lord hath called every one, so let him walk. And again, let every man abide in the same vocation, wherein he was called. Therefore it belongeth unto us to labour in our estates and lawful manner of living, as a certain abiding assigned unto us by the divine majesty of God, and as a perperpetuall rule whereunto we must bend and direct the end and purpose of all our intents. That so we may enforce ourselves even to the last day, to become the same, which finally we shall be, If we follow the will and commandments of God, assuring ourselves that there is no work done by us, how little or base soever it is held & esteemed to be, which doth not as it were shine, and is most precious before the heavenly throne: if it be done in faith, and for the service of God, in that estate and condition whereunto he hath called us.   

2. Seven principal vocations, whereof Marriage is the first, and the common duty required and requisite to be observed by them that are married.  
To go on and to proceed with our discourse, we must consider of seven principal vocations whereunto men are called here on earth, which make every well ordered estate and Common wealth, complete and flourishing. That is the state of Marriage: of Fathers and Mothers, of Children, of Magistrates, of Subjects, of Pastors, or Ministers, and of the Congregation of the faithful. Touching the first, we know, that after God by his great power and goodness had created man, he presently gave him a woman, to be his faithful companion, and a gracious comfort unto him during his life, and for the increasing and continuing of human kind: wherein we are to consider that it is the first and commonest vocation of man, and honourable among all, That is it which we learn of Moses and the Apostles and holy Evangelists testify, that our Lord jesus Christ honoured marriage not only with his own presence, but also with his first miracle. Than as those which intent to live in that holy vocation consecrated by God himself, aught to proceed holily 
Gen, 2. 18. Hebr. 4. 4. john 2. 1.  therein, with pleasing prayers and vows made unto the Lord, so being entered thereinto, they are to use the benefit of marriage, as a divine institution, with all purity and honour: Thereby to ease the infirmity of the flesh, (as Saint Paul saith, and not to be provoked to the lusts thereof, by intemperance. Now for a first and principal point of this vocation, man and 
1. Cot. 7. 2.  woman must never forget that which God said, when he created Eua. (It is not good that the 
Gen, 2. 18.  man should be alone, I will make him an help meet for him:) for by this sentence, all married couples have a leasson and a certain instruction touching the end of marriage, that they aught mutually to aid and help, and comfort one the other, with all good, amiable and willing desire. For first God saith, that company is profitable for man, and that marriage shall be a great comfort and secure unto him during his life. Than he appointeth the woman a rule to govern herself orderly in her vocation, to the end to teach her and the man also their duties. Por whereas in our common translation we say (to assist or help him) the hebrew translation saith, (before him) with a distinction importing similitude or resemblance. Whereby we learn, that woman is as it were in the presence of man, that they may have correspondence and conformity together, and be an aid and comfort one unto another, (as Saint Paul a good interpreter of the divine words aforesaid) saith. Let the husband give to the wife due benevolence, and likewise also the wife unto the husband: adding, the wife hath not the power of her own body, but the husband, and likewise also the husband hath not the power of his own body, but the wife. Than their requisite common duties consist here in, that with a good accord, and agreement, they must live and love together, holily, amiably, 
1. Cor. 7. 3. 4.  and peaceably, nor only in begetting of children, and bringing them up, but also in the government of their houses and families, and all things cencerning the service of God, and the salvation of their own souls. Consequently we must note, that chastity aught to be the inseparable band or knot of their conjunction, both of them being very wary and circumspect above all things, not to make any breach of faith, in marriage by adultery, and not that only, but they must also with great and special care, shun all things, which in any wise may tend or provoke them unto that iniquity, or that may procure any entrance, appearance, enticement, or occasion thereunto: for by the word adultery, is not only understood the actual deed of lechery, but also the enticements, gestures, words, and unchaste looks of those that are provoked thereunto; according to the sentence of our great Master & law giver jesus Christ: saying, but I say unto you, that whosoever looketh upon a woman to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her already in his heart. And withal they 
Math. 5. 28.  must also carefully prevent all matter of jealousy, which is a most dangerous disease, and hard to be cured, and yet easily fallen into, and by that means turn a good & happy marriage into a most miserable state and condition. For the other common duties required between man and wife, first in regard of their children, it consisteth in the bringing of them (whereof hereafter we will speak more at large.)  
Secondly, concerning the means how to nourish and provide for them, as also for their families; for therein belongeth a common care unto them both, in such manner: nevertheless, that properly it is the husband's charge to get and gather wealth, and the woman's to distribute and dispose thereof in her house. But in such sort, that as the woman according to her quality & ability aught to be an aid and assistance to her husband, in the getting of their goods, so she must help him in the dispensation thereof: For he that troubleth 
Prou. 29.  his own house, (saith the Wise man) shall inherit the wind. This order and policy consisteth herein, That the man must do his own work, apply himself to his own office, and follow his business according to his vocation, without any molestation therein to be given him by the wife, as seeming to meddle therewith, or to control him, unless it be with great discretion and modesty: And likewise, that the husband should not but soberly and with good consideration look into, and meddle with household affairs properly belonging to his wife. For as the husband is jealous of his authority and reputation; so the wife is much inclined to suspicion of being despised therein by her husband: And as the husband doth not easily nor willingly endure, that his partner should be better advised then himself, in that which belongeth to his charge: so the woman cannot abide, that her husband should despise, and esteem her to be unfit for the government of his family, and seek to meddle with the petty business of the house.  
These two points well observed by them both on either side, it will be a great means to make their marriage peaceable, & 'cause them to live commodiously together: As to the contrary an idle, slack, and slothful husband in his vocation, and a woman that is a careless improvident housewife, are two gulfs and large currants to utter ruin. He that hath such a woman, throws his labour into a sack that is full of holes: and a wise woman that hath a fool to her husband, draws a cart without horses, heavily laden in a sandy way. But if there be any remedy for a wise man, that falleth into such an evil, it is patience, with some moderate severity, and wise instruction, but specially earnest prayer unto God to remedy the same: As the woman is to support, and kindly and modestly to exhort her husband, always giving him an amiable countenance, & entertainment, that so at the last by gracious means he may be brought to be careful to follow his vocation, and to keep at home. We must further note, that all the common duties between a married man and his wife, aught singularly to be grounded upon the union of their marriage. For that God saith from the beginning, that they are one flesh, and jesus Christ confirmeth the same in the Gospel. For so we must consider of the creation of Eva, made of one of man's ribs, whereby we are taught, that 
Genesis. 2. 24. Math. 19 58. Mark 10. 8.  the wife is a part of her husband, and as it were the half. In such manner, that man in his wife, hath as it were a glass to behold and contemplate himself; as the woman also aught to consider the like in her husband, seeing she is flesh of the flesh of man, blood of his blood, and bone of his bones, as if she were his own body, or else an other himself. From this union should proceed their mutual love. For no man hateth his own flesh, (saith Saint Paul) but nourisheth and cherisheth it, and therefore commandeth husbands to love their wives, 
Eph. 5. 25. 29. Tit. 2. 5.  and wives to love their husbands. Of which love nevertheless, the foundation is there united, which maketh both of them to be one flesh, the man as the head, and the woman as his body, and so it followeth that their reciprocal love aught to be firm and inviolable. But the mischief is, that it is not so in many marriages, but to the contrary, is grounded upon beauty, riches, parentage, and other such like worldly and carnal considerations, which as they are subject to change, alteration, loss, and many other discommodities: so their amity which like straw easily set on fire, waxeth weary, and upon small occasion is soon quenched. And therefore the remembrance of two in one flesh, by the holy conjunction of marriage, aught specially to be continued between man and wife, that so they may obtain and conserve between them that benevolence which proceedeth thereof, and which is the mother and nourisher of peace and concord, which only maketh a happy and blessed family. For from want of this love, strife, dedate, disorders, and other such like afflictions, spring and have their original, which convert and change the paradise of marriage to a very hell.  
From the dissension of the husband and his wife (saith Saint Augustine) proceedeth the trouble of the house, and consequently the ruin thereof. They must therefore love one another, to avoid all strife and debate, and specially before all things, have a care thereof when they are newly married. For as a vessel made of two pieces glued together easily breaketh at the first, but in tract of time waxeth stronger: so it is with a married couple, newly joined together by the band of matrimony. Therefore it importeth them much, in the beginning to cut of all enmity between them, whose wills should be one, their affections a like, and there two hearts conjoined in one, as we have formerly said. This love, (the mother of peace) begetteth care & endeavour graciously & friendly to support and bear one with the other in all things, and so to practise that which S. Paul requireth, at the hands of all the faithful, to be courteous, tenderheated, and forgiving one the other. As God for Christ's sake freely forgave us. And so thinking thereon, the husband should remember that he hath married a daughter of Eva, replete with infirmities and corruptions; and the 
Eph. 4. 31.  woman likewise, that she hath not chosen an Angel to be her husband, but a child of Adam, full of vice and corruption. And the wisest of them both must sanctify the other, that they may bring upon them and their children, the blessing of God, which hath called them in peace, always beseeching him to conform them unto his divine will, and with 
1. Cor. 7. 14. 15.  patience stay the time till their partners do the like, that they may live happily together. Therefore when the husband is inclined to be angry, and the wife to be froward, one of them should be wary to abstain and give no occasion. A bell (saith the Proverb) is an instrument of a great sound; but whosoever will not hear it, must not ring it: and if the one beginneth to be angry, the other should either counterfeit the deaf, not to hear, or the dumb not to speak. As Alphonsus' king of Arragon said, That marriage would be peaceable and without dissension, If the husband were deaf, and the wife blind. Which is as much to say, that the woman should bear with many infirmities in her husband, as if she saw them not, and a man should dissemble and wink at his wives angry speeches, as if he heard 
Erasm. lib. 7. Apopht.  them not. And to be short, If one the one side, the woman aught to be subject and obedient to her husband, as to her head, and therefore endure much at his hands, the husband for his part also aught to have compassion on his wife, and to govern her with more lenity and courtesy, as being frailer, and by her natural complexion weaker and subiecter to passion: And both of them must not so much respect that which they endure, each at the others hands, as that which they endure for their own profits, for by that means they shall easily avoid all strife and contention. We must also note, that from this good agreement grounded upon the union of two in one flesh, proceedeth a second common duty, never to seek, nor once so much as to think upon separation, according to the sentence pronounced by the Lord, saying. Let no man put asunder that which God hath coupled together, for as the conjunction is made by God, (saith Saint Augustin) so divorcement proceedeth from the Devil. For there is nothing but adultery only, that can separate them, in all 
Math. 19 6. Aug in john tract. 9 Matth. 5. 32.  other things they are bound to support and bear one with the other, that they may live in peace. But specially above all other things, both the husband and the wife, must pray unto God, to give them grace to obtain peace and reciprocal amity, and that they may be helpful one unto the other, for their salvations.  
These are two singular common duties, belonging both to the husband and to the wife, of the first whereof, whosoever shall desire to taste the sweetness of the first-fruits, which it produceth, aught to be most careful daily while he liveth, to crave the same at the hands of the God of peace and concord. Otherwise, those that live, contentiously, and carelessly, examining their own consciences, may find occasion to impute the reason of their miserable estate, to their own negligence, of not employing themselves in that duty of praying unto God, to obtain a peaceable life. For the second point, to help on the other touching their salvation. It consisteth in the practising of that which S. Paul teacheth us. Let those that have wives be as though they had none, which is as much to say, that they should in such manner 
1. Cor. 7. 29.  enjoy the benefit of marriage, that there may not happen any divorce between them & God, that they be not hindered nor withdrawn from doing any diuty towards God, nor towards their neighbours, nor that any trouble or vexation proceeding from household affairs, should make them careless, or give them any motion to think or conceive any thing in their minds, contrary to their union and profession of the children of God, but to persist and continued together to glorify him, and to encourage each the other, to do good works.   

3. Particular duties of the wife.  
Touching the particular duties of the wife, first we must note, that as marriage (among other principal things) was ordained for the generation of children, the wife in that respect is particularly called, and subjecteth to the charge of bearing children, to the pains in bringing of them into the world, and to the trouble and care to give them suck, and to nourish them in their infancy. As the first mother of all living creatures by her transgression, was bound thereunto for all her posterity, by the ordinance of God: therefore as this 
Gen. 3. 16.  consideration aught to make & move a woman to live humbly, as bearing in her pains and travels a brand of sin: so the same condition also aught to comfort her, (which S. Paul saith) That the woman shall be saved through bearing of children: for such is the pleasure of God, that the same which is the cause of much discommodity and travel to a woman, should be turned to her good and salvation: for in that manner peaceably obeying her vocation, she serveth her Creator, who by his infinite wisdom and goodness, ordained her by that means to be brought to life eternal: so she continueth in faith, love, and holiness with modesty, (as Saint Paul addeth.) But we must note by this word, to bear children, is also understood to nourish and give them suck. God having given two breasts 
1. Tim. 2. 15.  to a woman, not to set them out bravely for a show, but therewith to help her husband, by nourishing for a time the children proceeding from their bodies, and therein serving God. For which cause he hath by nature ordained, that the blood which nourisheth the child in the mother's womb, should be converted into milk, which mounteth up into the breasts, having two small nipples, to give that sweet drink to the child, to the which also God giveth the industry and understanding to suck. Which teacheth us, that the woman which can, and doth not give her child suck, refusing to do the office of a mother, showeth great ingratitude towards God, refuseth to aid her husband, and in a manner abandoneth the fruit of her own womb. Anna the wife of Elcana, that nourished Samuel her son until 
1. Sam. 1. 13.  such time as he was weaned, is unto them a good example. And Sara Abraham's wife also, as Moses noteth in these words, (Who would have said to Abraham, that Sara should have given children suck.) Whereunto also we must add, that which was said to Christ, (happy is 
Gen. 21. 7. Luk. 11. 27.  the womb that bear thee, and the paps which thou hast sucked.) For as the first part of this sentence cannot but be meant by the Virgin Mary, so like reason attributeth the rest to her, and from thence we may draw, that she gave suck to our Lord and Saviour jesus Christ.  
Touching the other duties of a wife, they are comprehended in this, to be subject to her husband as to her head. It is the ordinance of God, (grounded as Saint Paul saith) upon this 
1. Tim. 1. 12. 1. Cor. 11. 8. 1 Tim 2. 14. Gen 3 16. Eph. 5. 24.  that man was first created, that the woman, is of the man, and made by him, and that having been deceived by the serpent, she seduced the man, This was the sentence pronounced by God unto Eva, saying, Thy desire shall be subject to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee. And the Apostle more plainly noteth this duty, saying: (Therefore as the Church is in subjection to Christ, even so let the wives be to their husbands in every thing.) For thereby he teacheth them, that as the Church entirely dependeth upon the wisdom and will of jesus Christ her Lord, and her spouse, so a woman should rule and govern herself in all things, by the wisdom and good pleasure of her husband; because he is her head, and she as his body, and that the conduction and guiding of the body, consisteth in the head and not in the body. For although there may be divers women found, that are wiser than some men, (as the Scripture speaketh of Abigail and others:) and that not without good cause Solomon 
1 Sam. 25. 3. Prou. 14. 1. Eccl. 25. 11.  saith, A wise woman buildeth her house, & blessed is the man that hath a wise wife. Yet they must in such sort use those graces given unto them by God, that their husbands may thereby be honoured, and not despised, neither by them nor by any others; in all their actions giving their husbands that pre-eminence of superiority which of right belongeth unto them. Upon this discretion dependeth the obedience of the wife to her husband, as S. Peter noteth, by the example of Sara, who obeying Abraham, called him Lord And S. Paul saith, Let the wife see that she fears her husband. For fearing to offend him, she will be careful to yield obedience unto him: for disobedience begetteth contempt: and contempt wrath & colour, as it appeareth in the history of Hester, from whence proceedeth great troubles in a family. 
1. Pet. 3. 6. Eph. 5. 33. Hester 1 12. Col. 3. 18. Eph. 5. 22.  But this obedience due unto their husbands by them, must not pass the bounds of honour & holiness (as S. Paul saith), Wives submit yourselves unto your husbands, as it is comely in the Lord Lastly, the rest of the wives duties are particular, as to keep at home in her house, to observe and please the nature, inclination, and manners of her husband, which are not evil, to dicsover unto him her desires, and her secrets, to impart to him her pains and afflictions, & in all things to follow his counsel and advice, and not to be addicted nor given to curiousness in dressing of herself, nor in costly brave apparel, more than it pleaseth her husband. To conclude, piety and modesty are the precious ornaments of a woman, & cost not much to get 
1 Tim. 1. 9 1 Pet. 3. 3  them. And lastly, this sentence agreeth well with the subject of our proposition, that those which are most curious to dress and set out themselves for a bravery & show to the world, are most negligent to adorn and deck their souls, with holiness, as we noted before.   

4. The particular duties of husbands.  
Touching the particular duties of a Husband, first he must remember, that being created and ordained to be head over his wife, it is to guide and govern her with reason, wisdom, and lenity, and not indiscreetly and roughly. For the creation of man, plainly and sufficiently teacheth us, that all the parts in the head, as understanding, judgement, sight, hearing, and other gifts and graces of God, serve for the necessary and comfortable conduction and guiding of the body, and not to afflict it. For that is the true and natural duty of the husband towards his wife, (as Saint Paul noteth) by the example of jesus Christ, head of the Church, and Saviour of her body, from whence he draweth this conclusion, That husbands aught to love their wives, as their own bodies; for he that loveth his wife, loveth 
Eph. 5. 3.  himself: for (saith he) no man ever hated his own flesh, but nourisheth it, and cherisheth it, even as the Lord doth the Church. An argument taken from nature itself, as if he should say, It is a natural thing for every man to love himself: And no man can love himself, but he loveth his wife also. Therefore it is a thing against nature, when a man loveth not his wife. He proveth the minor of the argument thus, that marriage was ordained by God, to this end, that two should become one flesh, and to the end that this unity might be esteemed more holy, he showeth that it is compared to Christ and his Church. Than the duty of the husband is, so to love his wife, that nothing should be nearer to his heart, than a loving care, to preserve and keep her from all calamity and misery, and to find the means to make her live happily, and contentedly with him in the participation of all his goods and honours.  
In this manner a wife and well advised husband, will make a good harmony and accord, between his authority and love, that so he may not abuse his authority, but rather use both the one and the other, to the benefit and comfort of her, that is his faithful partner. And from thence also will proceed, the effect of his duty to bear with his wives infirmities, as also to forbear from dealing rigorously with her, whereof we have many good instructions in the holy Scriptures, specially in this where the Apostle saith: (Husbands love your 
Col. 3. 19 1. Pet. 3. 7.  wives, and be not bitter unto them, and dwell with them as men of knowledge, giving honour to the woman, as to the weaker vessel, as they which are heirs together of the grace of life, that your prayers be not corrupted. For as the sickness or weakness of the body, provoketh not the head to be angry therewith, to vex it the more, but rather inciteth it to compassion and duty to secure and support it. So (if God having created the woman weaker and more subject to frailty then man) hath joined her with him, and of two made one flesh, he did it not to the end, that beating her he should hurt her, but wisely to bear with her, and by that means peaceably to enjoy that comfort and help which God by her giveth unto him. Therefore he should honour her, and graciously respect her, as she, who in her condition is a great comfort unto him. As God himself hath pronounced, and whom he loved so much in Christ, that having been redeemed with man, by his precious blood, she is with him made heir of the kingdom of heaven. To this we must put the singular reason, which S. Peter addeth, 
Gen. 2. 18.  of the human and kind behaviour which man should show to his wife, to the end saith he, that your prayers may not be interrupted. For God cannot be called upon as they should, if their minds be not peaceable and quiet, and holy prayers have no place among debates & quarrels, yet this doth not argue, that a man neither can nor may tell, his wife of her infirmities and faults, for a correction unto her, specially in things that displease God. But such telling & chiding should be lovingly rather to persuade then to force her, for with good words and moderate exhortations, (rather than by force) women are willinger moved to yield unto their husbands. They must also be careful by all the means and ways that they can, to remove all blocks and stones, against the which women may chance to stumble, & take occasion of complaint, looking likewise into themselves, that they be not stained with the same faults and vices, which they blame in their wives: but rather give them good examples thereby to induce and encourage them to follow their steps. As also that their reprehensions be done in secret, that the woman be not moved (with too great apprehension of her faults in company of others) which would easily provoke her to reply, contradict, and stubbornly to contend with her husband.  
For if it be an unseemly thing in a man, to praise and commend his wife in company of other men, it is much more dangerous for him to reprove her openly. A learned Graecian 
Cleobulus. Marcus Aurelius.  willeth husbands neither to flatter nor to chide their wives in the the presence of strangers. And a Pagan Emperor said, That a wise husband which desireth to live peaceably with his wife, aught to observe three rules; that is, often to admonish her, seldom to reprove her, and never to beat her. An other speaking of the infirmities of women, saith, That the husband must take them away by fair means, or else bear with them patiently: and that he which can observe the first point, shall thereby make the woman very commodious and fit for him, and that by the other, the man maketh himself better and more virtuous.  
To conclude, the husband must consider, that as God made the woman, not of the head, to be equal in authority with the man; so he made her not of Adam's foot, to be trodden upon and despised: But of one of his ribs, to go jointly with him, guided by reason. Whereby it appeareth, that the husband doth not rule his wife, as the master doth his servant, or a Lord his slave; but as the Soul should govern the body, that is, with true love, and holy affection, whereby he is joined with her, in such manner, that all the dominion and commandment which the husband hath over his wife, tendeth to this end, to procure joy, profit, and contentment to his wife, in all honest and seemly things.   

5. The conclusion of this Chapter.  
For conclusion, let us remember, that if the first blessing of God given to marriage taketh not the full force and effect thereof in this world so much corrupted, the reason is, that the order of nature established by God, hath been subverted by man; that if he had continued in his integrity, he would have respected & loved his wife only in God, as she also in him, would have been a faithful companion, and both of them in such concord & sweet agreement (as also their posterity) would have continued, not only in a holy, but also in a loving and peaceable society. And that although Marriage hath been corrupted by sin, yet the goodness of God hath wrought so, that by his blessing they enjoy many benefits, which daily increase, as either of them are careful, and take pains to do their duties. And so, that it belongs to a wife loving her husband, and which desireth to do her duty to the Lord in her vocation, to study and take care to observe the duties aforesaid, that to her praise & commendation that may be said of her, which is written of Marriage, Blessed is the 
Eccles. 26. 1, 2, 3.  man that hath a virtuous wife, for the number of his years shall be doubled. A virtuous woman is a good portion, which shall be given for a gift unto such as fear the Lord And for the husband, that as God hath showed him singular grace and favour; by making him an help like unto himself, he aught always to consider, how many ways his wife is an aid and comfort unto him, the easilier to pass his life, that so the feeling of such a benefit, might induce him to give thanks unto the Lord, and make him disposed to use it to his glory, and for the consolation and salvation both of himself and his wife; constantly surmounting all difficulties and afflictions that happen in marriage, as not properly proceeding from that holy state of Matrimony, but by accident, and by the corruption of the persons that are married. As also the husband must study to restrain and correct his own proper infirmities, and imperfections by amendment of life, and pray unto God to give the like grace unto his wife: to the end that the nearer they approach to the divine image of God, wherein they were first created, they may feel so much the more felicity, and acknowledge how great and perfect the bliss of our first parents had been, if they had continued in the same state of innocency, 
Gene. 2. 8.  wherein God had placed them in terrestrial paradise.    

The duties of Fathers and Mothers towards their Children, and of Children towards their Parents. Chap. 14.  

1. It is a good family, when all the parts and members thereof, are well and wisely governed.  
A wise Grecian said, that we must not call a house a good house, because it is fair and sumptuously built, nor because it hath a great revenue belonging unto it, but it 
Anacharsis.  must be judged in that respect, by the domestical things and ornaments that are within it, that is the children, the wife, and the servants: to whom the master of the house communicating and distributing part of that which he hath, they being wise and well conditioned, whether they devil in a cellar, or under the shelter of a tree, it may be termed a good and a happy house. In like sort, as from the head, the sinews spring and have their original, and are the instruments of feeling and moving, and that by them the brain sendeth the vital spirits into all the parts of a man's body, without the which the members thereof cannot use nor exercise any natural faculty of feeling or moving. So from the father or master of the family, the other parts thereof ordinarily, receive the custom of manners and conditions, specially when he is wise, well advised, and useth all the care, diligence, and industry that he can, well and orderly to govern those whom God hath given him in charge to bring up. Therefore, every good governor, father or master of a family, aught to begin the right and true government of his house from himself: showing gravity, modesty, chastity, sobriety, peaceableness, piety, fear of God, and love to his family, & by the effects of his duty, giving good example to, & encoraging every member thereof, to labour, to do well. But specially, and before all, he must have a great care of his children, for that on them dependeth the principal discharge of his duty towards God, and his country, together with the honour, reputation, and settling of his house in time to come, that is, when he instructeth and bringeth up his children well, virtuously and Christian like; wherein the wife also is obliged to her husband, that so she may obtain, and merit the worthy name of a mother.   

2. Discipline and instructions which fathers and mothers aught to give unto their children.  
The first instruction of human life is properly called discipline, which by little and little, and as it were by degrees moveth and stirreth up the minds of children to piety & virtue; so that attaining to the age of discretion, they may be able to know and do that which the laws of God and man commandeth. Which to effect, the first and surest means is, to imprint in the hearts of children, from their youths upwards, a love, fear, and reverence of their fathers and mothers, and therewith of God, teaching them to say the Lords prayer, which they must often repeat, as also the Creed, and the ten Commandments of God. Thereby to frame and fashion them to know the Deity, that waxing to riper years, they may by degrees comprehend the reason of that which they use so often to recite: thereby to comfort them, and to receive instruction for their salvations. And as the tongue is called the glory of man, because that by his speech he is singularly discerned from bruit beasts: so it is requisite, that as soon as the child beginneth to speak, the tongue should be employed to give glory unto God, to call upon him, and grounding itself upon the principles of faith, to honour and serve him according to his will declared in his word. Than if the father and mother perceive and see any vice whereunto their children are specially addicted, as to lying, choler, melancholy, covetousness, pride, contempt of Father and Mother, promptness to fight, and such like corruptions, which naturally breed in all the posterity of Adam: they aught carefully in time to reprove and correct them for the same, as we use to pluck up weeds, before they are too deep rooted, lest they should grow up among good herbs, and choke and spoil them. We see by experience, that when a woman swadleth her child, she hath a care to lay the legs, and other parts thereof strait; and if it be given to use the left hand, she chides it, and binds it up, and otherwise rerestraineth it from the use thereof, to teach it to use the right hand. As also if it be tongue tied, she cuts the string, that it may not be hindered in the speech: Than by greater reason parents must have a special care and regard, that by their negligence or winking at fault, their children's souls may not be drawn awry, and that the interior vices thereof, may not increase; but rather in the infancy begin to frame and fashion the spirit unto virtue, remembering that which is commonly known to all men, which is, that when wax is soft, you may the easilier set any mark or print upon it, and when a bough being young and tender waxeth crooked, it may easily be bowed and bend to make it strait. Fathers and mothers also aught to be careful, to learn their children to writ and read, it being a great help to pass their lives here on earth, and a treasure much more worth unto them, then great store of gold and silver: the principal intent whereof, aught to be to the end that they may read, and reap profit by the holy word of God, and so comfort and instruct themselves, thereby to attain a happy life. For which cause, they should use them every day to read certain chapters of the Bible, that so they may incline their affections to those divine oracles, accustom themselves to the phrases of the holy Ghost, and by little and little learn the doctrine of life everlasting.  
Saint Athanasius to this purpose saith very well, (If thou wilt have thy children to obey thee, acquaint them with the holy Scriptures, and it will be a great benefit unto thee for them to read and to hear the Word of God. For in it they learn, and are taught this Commandment, Honour thy Father and thy Mother. And a Pagan being asked, what things were best & fittest to teach children, said, You must learn them such things, as they have need and occasion to use, when they are of elder years. Than what folly is it, to teach and learn them vain, light, and unprofitable things, which when they 
Athan. in ca Eph. Plutarch in Aptoh.  attain to riper years, they either leave or forget; and not at all, or very little to instruct them in that, which they aught never to forsake, and which will make them live when they are dead? Fathers & mothers ordinarily are careful to teach their children some kind of art, science or occupation, which they may use & live by when they grow to man's estate, & therein they do well:) but as the soul is of greater worth, and dignity than the body, so they are more bound to learn and instruct their children from their youths upward, that which they are to practise all the days of their lives; that so they may yield unto God that which belongeth unto him, while they live here on earth, and thereby be made heirs of eternal life. These words which I command thee this day (saith Moses) shallbe in thine heart, thou shalt teach 
Deut. 6. 6, 7.  them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou risest up. S. Paul, commandeth Christians to bring up their children in instruction and information of the Lord For if fathers and mothers, 
Ephes. 6. 4.  either for want of understanding, or of will, take not occasion or leisure for themselves to teach their children that which concerneth their salvation, but use to sand them to School to learn liberal Arts and Sciences, and place them with such men as shall learn them that Occupation, which they would have them to use, that so they may have a trade to live by here on earth, they can never excuse themselves, if their children be ignorant, or ill instructed in that which concerneth the glory of God, and the kingdom of heaven, for want of providing them good Teachers and Masters in that Science: and in truth it concerneth them in this point to give children good Masters, such as are wise, virtuous, and fearing God. For as the children partly follow the qualities of their parents or elders: so the vices of their Masters and Instructors are soon imprinted in their minds. And therefore fathers aught to have a great regard to keep them from wicked and vicious company: for ordinarily we see, that thereby they learn filthy dishonest speeches, and all kind of corruptions: And for that an inclination to do evil, is so much engraffed in some children, that instruction by words is not sufficient for them; in that case they must proceed to chasten and correct them. God commandeth it, and experience showeth how necessary a thing it is, it being a notable and certain testimony of true love towards our children, and a desire that we have of their good and salvation, when we take the pains to correct them. He that spareth the rod, (saith Solomon) hateth his son: but he that loveth him, chasteneth him 
Prou. 13. 24. and 29. 17.  betimes. Correct thy son, and he will give thee rest, and will give pleasures to thy soul. It is true, that to those which are of a good nature, commendations when they do well, and reproof when they do evil, are of greater efficacy and effect than blows: for if praising encourageth them to virtue, chiding or reproving restraineth them from vice. Likewise we must not ask or require more of them, than their age permitteth, that thereby they be not discouraged, and drawn to hate study, and those honest exercises wherein they are employed; it being requisite and convenient to make and procure them to love that which we desire they should learn and reap profit by. And therefore we must sometimes give them leisure to play, and to recreate their minds: for by moderate pains & travel, they profit & wax skilful, but by over great labour they become dull and weary. Another duty of fathers and mothers is, to bring up their children peaceably with concord & amity: for if discord and contention be hurtful in every place, much more in a family, there being nothing more perilous, nor easier to bring it to utter ruin, than discord between brothers and sisters. And the ancient and true sentence verified, That by concord small things increase, and by discord great things diminish and decay. Which is specially seen and found to take effect among children of one family.  
Therefore, as near as they can, they must love, and use them equally and alike, which is a great means to maintain concord. Further, they must take great heed, that when children begin to grow to man's state, they haunt not such places, persons, nor exercises, whereby the wicked vice of fornication may seize upon them. If between Amon and Thamer, David's children, there happened a great inconvenience of iniquity, how much more is it 
2. Sam. 13.  to be feared, that by too much familiar conversation between those that are not of kindred, or at lest not so near, they might commit the like offence? And again, if the daughters of Shilo had not been permitted to go out to dance, they had not been ravished by the Beniamites. Marriage is a remedy appointed by God, for avoiding of such uncleanness: 
judg. 21. 21.  Therefore, when a father and a mother have honestly matched their child, specially a daughter, by the happy band of Matrimony to a husband, they have discharged themselves of a great care. It belongeth to them to be diligent therein, jest their carelessness, difficulty, or choiceness in foreseeing thereof, be the cause of their children's fault. And when they marry them, let it be in the Lord, (as Saint Paul saith) that is, not to give 
1. Cor. 7. 40.  them a husband, of whose piety and Christian virtues, they have not good testimony, preferring those qualities before riches, and other worldly and carnal considerations. For fathers and mothers aught to consider what inconveniences may arise by contracting matrimony between persons of contrary Religion, or where one of the parties is more addicted to the world, then to that which belongeth to the kingdom of God. For it is to be feared, that the one would draw and entice the other to do evil, and to damn his soul, rather than the contrary. What troubles and contentions ordinarily rise by such alliances, so far, that at the last they proceed to Divorce, how final comfort and consolation is there between them; what little care mutually to pray to God in their family, and what negligence and hindrance to instruct their children in the fear and lawful service of God? For if the fathers and mothers did duly set these things before their eyes, they would abhor to think upon such marriages. To make an end, we will add two general points more to all the rest aforesaid: first, that they must be examples and mirrors to their children of holiness, and wisdom in all their words and works. Secondly, (and which is the principal) that they must pray earnestly every day unto God, that he would be pleased to guide them by his holy Spirit, in the government and instruction of their families, with all recommending their children unto him, that he may bless their labours towards them. For by the first point, their instructions, exhortations, and corrections shallbe of greater efficacy, and authority: for to reach and instruct well, and to live wickedly, is as much as to build an house with the one hand, and to pull it down with the other. For experience showeth, that men easily cast down that which they set up with languishing and pain. And the evil examples of fathers and mothers are like great cords to draw their children to follow them, which the Prophet Ezechiel showeth, saying, I have brought thy way upon thine 
Ezech. 16. 43, 44  head, (saith the Lord God) behold all that use Proverbs, shall use this Proverb of thee, saying, At the mother is, so is the daughter. Therefore it belongeth unto those that will make their instructions of any valour, and effect, continually to approve them by good life and honest conversation. They must do like those that are guides, which show the right ways and shallows or fords of rivers to those whom they lead and conduct safely on their journeys. For by those means fathers and mothers shall bring their children to follow them, and to conform themselves to their virtues, with them to be made heirs of salvation, and of eternal beatitude. By the second point, directing their prayers unto the general father both of them and their children, and from whom proceedeth all good graces and gifts, both temporal and spiritual, he will fill them with his blessings and graces, to profit in all things which shall be necessary in their families, to the glory of that great God, and for the good and welfare of their posterity.   

3. Duties of children towards their fathers and mothers.  
Touching the duties of children towards their fathers and mothers, we may consider of them as they are comprehended in the fift commandment of God, wherein it is said, Honour thy Father and thy Mother: a precept so much the more to be marked, as it is often repeated and rehearsed in the holy Scriptures, and for that God hath specially added thereunto a promise of long life, unto those that truly observe it. For in truth, by this word (to honour) is signified, that love, reverence, respect, obedience, subjection, entertainment, or help and assistance in time of need, which children own unto their fathers & mothers: upon which points all their other duties depend. Touching love, it is clearly confirmed by the sum of the second table of the law. Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself: wherein we must specially consider this, that fathers and mothers are not only neighbours to their children as other persons are, but nearer unto them, in that they are the cause and subject that they live. Therefore it should be an extreme & most wicked ingratitude in children, not to love their fathers and mothers, specially & before all others, seeing that next after God, they hold their being of them, together with a great number of continual benefits, as also that the love which they daily find in them; notwithstanding the travels, pains, and cares which they procure unto their parents, binds them by all reason, reciprocally to love them: although it be a very difficult thing (if not altogether impossible) that children can so much love their fathers and mothers as they love them. As the proverb saith, that love descendeth, rather than ascendeth. But this is certain, (as an ancient father saith, that if you take away the beams of the sun, it will shine no more, the currant of a fountain it will dry up, a branch of a tree and it will whither, a member from a body and it will rot, so take away the love of children from their fathers and mothers, and they will cease to be their children, to become brethren and companions unto those, to whom jesus Christ said, you are children of the Devil. This love aught specially to show itself in the care, desire, and affections which children aught to have, to minister joy and contentment unto those that begot them, that is, by living virtuously, according to their Discipline, and taking care to give them no cause of sorrow and grief by doing evil. Therefore Solomon admonisheth them, saying, A wise son maketh a glad father, but a foolish 
Prou. 10. 1. & 17. 25. Math. 23. 9 1. Kings. 2. 19  son is a heaviness to his mother, and a foolish son is a grief unto his father, and a heaviness unto her that bore him. Again, this love aught to be accompanied, with reverence and respect, as the name of father, proper unto God (as jesus Christ said) bindeth children thereunto. For in that, those that brought them into the world are called fathers, they bear towards them the title and image of God. As the example of Solomon showeth, who understanding that Bathshebath his mother came to speak with him, notwithstanding, his regal estate, rose up to meet with her, to do reverence unto her, and set her down on his right hand. Which duty we must not only show exteriorly, but also in heart, in all our affections and works, to honour and esteem of our fathers and mothers, & never to despise them, not not in their infirmities, nor yet suffer them to be despised of others, without showing grief and displeasure for the same. From thence also proceedeth the subjection and obedience which we acknowledge to be due unto them, (as Saint Paul saith,) Children obey your fathers and mothers in the Lord, for this is right, Honour thy father and mother which 
Eph. 6. 1. 2. 3.  is the first Commandment with promise, that it may be well with thee, and that thou mayst live long on earth. Saint Luke noteth, that jesus Christ was subject to his mother, and to 
Luk. 2. 51.  joseph his reputed father. And Saint Paul saith, that although jesus Christ was in form of God, and thought it no robbery to be equal with God, yet he made himself of no reputation, and took on him the form of a servant, and was obedient unto God his Father even to the death of the cross. Wherhfore we aught to be resolved, that in this obedience due 
Phil. 2. 6, 7, 8.  to fathers and mothers, there is nothing that is troublesome or difficult, and that there is no greatness nor excellency of estate, which children should not spare to lay down and leave, to do their duty unto those that begat them, nor any kind of abjection or oproby no nor death, wherein they should fear to fall to serve them. But rather to endure also whatsoever, then to offend them, by disobedience and contempt.  
Children (saith the Apostle) obey your parents in all things, (adding for a reason) for 
Col. 3. 20.  that is well pleasing unto the Lord Whereby he taketh away all replies that may be made against the same. And accordingly Moses saith, You shall fear every one his mother 
Levit. 19 3.  and his father: for whosoever loveth them, feareth to offend them by despising their authority and commandments. It is true, that this obedience and subjection aught to be holy, and in the Lord, (as Saint Paul saith,) for otherwise this Apostolical rule is altogether and always inviolable, (that it is a just thing before God, to obey him rather than men.) 
Acts 4. 19   
But this restraineth not children from not obeying their commandments, which are contrary to the glory of God, nor hindereth them not from continuing to love, honour and respect their fathers and mothers, whatsoever they be, wicked or heretics: for as the law of nature, (which is inviolable) is not annihilated by the vices of men, (because they cease not still to be men:) so wicked and perverse fathers and mothers continually and for ever retain and hold their right over their children, to be honoured and respected while they are fathers: and also to command, and to be obeyed: so it be not in any thing which is forbidden by the Father of all men. Lastly, it is the duty of children, to comfort their fathers and mothers in their afflictions, to supply their wants, and to aid and help them in all things that they have need of. Wherein they shall but pay a part of their debts, being thereunto most firmly bound by the benefits which they have first received from them that brought them into the world. To this duty, S. Paul expressly bindeth them, saying, If any widows have children, or nephews, let them learn first to show godliness towards their own 
1. Tim. 5. 4.  house, and to recompense their kindred. As their fathers and mothers, and ancestors; for that is an honest thing and acceptable before God. Further, in this point whereof we speak, we must make no small account of the promise which God addeth to the commandment, to honour father & mother, which is, That thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee. For herein it is clearly showed, how much God esteemeth & respecteth the honour & obedience that children give to their fathers & mothers. It is true, that God spoke properly to the Israelites of the land which he had promised to give them for an inheritance, & which should be unto them as a witness of his goodness & love toward them. It being as much as if he should have said unto them, to the end that living long in that land, you shall in tract of time, by experience feel and find the benefits of my graces and favours towards you. But from thence we gather this thing more, that now seeing all the earth is blessed unto the faithful, the promise to live long therein, is a particular blessing of God unto us. First, because we cannot live long time, without being participants of divers great benefits received from God by his divine providence, in regard of this terrestrial life: and secondly, because it is a better means for good and honest men, to employ themselves the longer time to serve him, for whose glory they were borne, and wherein they aught to think themselves happy. For to the contrary it happeneth oftentimes, that God taketh his best servants, and most obedient children soon out of the world. But in this, and all other the like points, where God promiseth us terrestrial benefits, we must understand his promise with this condition, that is, so far forth as it shall be expedient for our spiritual good and salvation: For if that were not so, there were nothing but misery in long life, and in all the greatest benefits that we enjoy in this world.   

4. Conclusion of this Chapter.  
For a summary conclusion of this Chapter, let us observe, that as Saint Paul calleth the family of Philemon, The Church, and that also of Priscilla and Aquila: so all fathers and mothers, are bound in such manner to govern their children and servants, that their 
Philem. 2. Rom. 6. 5.  houses may be as little Churches: From whence (according to David's protestation) all vices and all manner of corruptions should be banished, and driven away, that their dwelling may be holy, and God therein praised, served, worshipped, and called upon, morning, and evening, and at meal times, and every hour in the day. For families so governed, shall find and feel the truth of the promises of God, and that he will be in the middle of them, as in his Temple, to bless them with the graces which he uncessantly poureth down upon his elect, and all the faithful. And it belongeth unto children (as Ecclesiastes saith) to hear their father's judgements, that they may be safe: for the Lord will have the father honoured of the children, and hath confirmed the authority of the mother over the children. He that feareth God, honoureth his parents, and doth honour to his parents, 
Eccl. 3. 2, etc.  as to his Lords, that he may have God's blessing, and that his blessing may abide with him for ever. For the blessing of the father, establisheth the house of the children: and the mother's curse rooteth out the foundation. And if a Pagan did acknowledge, that there is no prayer which God more willingly heareth, then that of a Father made unto him for his children; by great 
Plato in lib. de Legibus.  reason, those that are Christians, aught to fear the curse of their fathers and mothers, for their offences, and to seek the means (by honouring them) rather to be blessed by their prayers: For without doubt such blessings shall be ratified in heaven, as those which Isaac gave to his son jacob evidently declare. 
Gen. 27. 28.     

The duties of Magistrates towards their subjects, and of subjects towards their Magistrates: of Pastors or Ministers towards their flocks, and of their flocks towards them. Chap. 15.  

1. The duties of Kings, Princes, and Magistrates.  
We must here say something of the duties of Kings, Princes, Magistrates, and others, which Saint Paul calleth superior powers. And of that duty also, which 
Rom. 131.  their subjects own unto them. And by the same means (to accomplish our first treaty of Christian Philosophy,) give a taste of the duties of Pastors, or Ministers towards their Churches, and of their Congregations towards them. For (as we said before) our intent is not fully and at large to speak of these excellent things; for than we should make a great volume thereof, but only of as much as shall suffice, to perform that which in the beginning we promised; that is, of the true means to attain to a happy life in every vocation. Touching the first point, all Magistrates desiring duly and truly to fulfil the duties belonging to their charge, aught to remember that God hath called and placed them in that authority, not for their own particular profit and honour, but to the end that they should serve him, by procuring the good and benefit of his people, of whom he giveth them the government. That is it which the Apostle meaneth, saying, That the Prince is the Minister of God, for the good of all men, which he confirmeth in an other place more 
Rom. 13. 4. 1. Tim. 2. 2.  particularly, declaring, that the end of the vocation of kings, and of all those that are in authority, is, that we may lead a quiet and a peaceable life, in all godliness and honesty. These are three notable points wherein consisteth the whole sum of the duty of their charge; for that piety comprehendeth Religion, and the service of God, peace and tranquility, the first-fruits of justice and judgement: and by honesty is understood, modesty of manners, and all virtues requisite to live civilly and uprightly.  
This Book of the Law (saith God to the Prince of his people) shall not departed out of thy mouth, but thou shalt meditate therein day and night, that thou mayest observe and do according 
joshua 1. 8.  to all that is written therein: for then shalt thou make thy ways prosperous, and then shalt thou have good success. So the duty of all Magistrates is, to be well instructed in the truth and will of God, to live accordingly, and to 'cause all their subjects to do the like: that so they may prospero in this world, and enjoy the happy estate of life eternal. Which is so singular and special a point, that all the parts, graces and perfections, which the great polititions, both Philosophers, and Christians could ever desire to be in a complete Prince, may be comprehended in this duty only: for from it proceedeth integrity of religion, and the benevolence or good will of the people, which are two firm pillars of every well established estate and Common wealth. For to the same we may refer the three principal offices and actions required in a King, that is, to rule and govern by good Laws and examples, to nourish his people, and judge them by wisdom, providence, and justice, and to keep and defend his country and subjects, by valour, care, and vigilancy. And that also is the meaning of those, that in a Prince, require holiness in time of peace, force and magnanimity in war; and in both of them wisdom and prudence, that he may specially remember, that he beareth the Image of God, in regard of his office, (as Magistrates in the Scripture are oftentimes called Gods) that he may not say or do any thing against the divine Majesty, and that he may use justice and clemency, following the example of God, infinitely just and benign: Which he should be especially moved unto, by this sentence of the Prophet, That he must die like other men, in thinking that he is called to 
Psal 81. 6  his charge, as well to praise God, as to command others.  
And in julius Pollux, every man may see, (by the titles and points which he desireth to be in a prince,) divers notable instructions to teach them to frame themselves to the same duties. 
Ibid. 7.  Who would have him to be the father of the people, mild, gracious, wise, just, courteous, magnanimous, a despiser of money, a commander of himself, surmounting all passions, and vices, using good reason and judgement, sober, religious, loving his subjects, constant, no deceiver, holding his word, ready to do good, slow to revenge, a lover of the virtuous, desirous of peace, valiant in war, an example of good manners, a maker of good laws, and an observer of the same.  
But Saint Augustine proceedeth further in this matter, saying: The justice of the king is, not to oppress any man by power, to judge justly without exception between man & man, 
Aug. lib. de 12 abus. gra. 9  to be a protector of strangers, orphans, & widows, an impeacher of theft, a punisher of adultery, no advancer of vicious men, no intertainer of quarreling and licentious fellows, an exterminer of wicked persons, vigilant to put murderers & perjured persons to death, a maintainer of Churches, a nourisher of the poor, a planter of upright and honest men in public offices, one that chooseth ancient, sober, and wise counsellors, no harkener to diviners, magicians, and evil spirits, not choleric, a defender of his country against enemies with magnamity and justice, putting his whole trust in God, not proud in prosperity, patiented in adversity, an upholder and maintainer of the Catholic faith, no favourer of wickedness in his children, employing certain hours in the day to pray unto God, & one that eateth not but when necessity requireth, (according to the saying of Ecclesiastes) woe be to thee, o land, when the governors eat early in the morning. These things (saith this good father) give prosperity to this life, and lead the prince to a better kingdom, that is, heavenly and eternal. A perfecttable of the duty and office of magistrates, who among other things may thereby learn, that their authority shall much increase, and be of great effect, when their power is accompanied with many graces and virtues, more than are in their subjects, thereby to serve unto them for examples in all things that are convenient for the children and servants of God: Wherein they aught to be careful, that they do not permit nor suffer them selves, which may any way be tolerable in others, much more aught they not to dispense with themselves therein, by any means. As we may note by divers testimonies and examples, that (God even in the greatest personages) punished certain faults, which in outward appearance were very small; as of Moses and Aaron, who because they did not strike the Rock, that the water might come forth, with such an assurance of the power of God, as in that case was requisite, they were bard from entering into the Land of Canaan: of David 
Numb. 20. 7. 11. 12. 2. Sam. 24. 1. 14. 15. Esa. 34. 2. 6.  for numbering his people, for the which 70. thousand of them died of the plague: and of Ezechias for showing his treasure to the Ambassadors of the King of Babylon, for the which he lost his riches, and his people were led into Captivity.  
We must further note, that as it is the duty of Magistrates to give good examples to their Subjects: so they should persevere and continued therein, because their state is slippery. For as trees that grow in high places, are more subject to storms and beating of the wind, and consequently in greater danger to be blown down, than others that stand lower: So Kings and Princes raised to high degrees above their Subjects, are puissantlier assailed, either by the devil, which knows the great importance of their fall; or else by Cicophants, and evil counsellors through the feeling of their own greatness (provoked thereunto by the corruptions, concupiscences, and vices which are natural to all flesh) which makes them inclined to all kind of lasciviousness; and therefore they aught to know, and often meditate thereon, that there is nothing more difficult then wisely to govern and reign over others, that they may daily pray unto God, for that wisdom and perseverance which is necessary for them, in their duties, by his divine blessing as Solomon did. 
1 King. 3. 9    

2. The duties of Subjects towards their Magistrates.  
Concerning the duties of the common people, and Subjects towards their Princes and Magistrates, it is certain, that as in the fift precept of the Law, God commandeth us to honour our Fathers: understanding by that name of Fathers, all Superiors that have any charge or command over others, and consequently Magistrates: So the word to Honour containeth in it all offices and duties whereunto inferior persons and subjects are bound in respect of their Princes and Governors: Which Saint Peter confimeth saying, Honour the King: by the which he teacheth us; all that which the Scripture commandeth touching 
1 Peter 2. 17.  the Love, Reverence, Subjection, Obedience, and aid which we are bound to show and give to our Superiors; as also, that we aught to pray for them, that God might bless and prospero them.  
For the first point, if we are bound to love our neighbours as ourselves; specially, because of the Image of the Deity, which all the posterity of Adam bear, how much more than Kings and Princes, which are as it were, our Fathers, and that bear a particular Image of God, in that they are his Lieutenants to rule and govern his people. I have said you are Gods, and children of the most high, (saith David) speaking of Magistrates. Than 
Psalm. 82. 6.  we are bound to this duty, to love, as also to reverence them with heart, affection, words and works: otherwise it is a despising of God in them, because there is no power but of God, and the powers that be, are ordained of God, (as the Apostle saith) and thereupon maketh this most true and certain conclusion, Whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance 
Rom. 13. 1, 2.  of God, and they that resist, shall receive to themselves condemnation.  
And from thence we are also taught, what subjection and obedience we aught to yield unto our Princes, according to the exhortation of S. Peter, saying. Therefore submit yourselves unto all manner of ordinance of man for the Lords sake, whether it be unto the kings 
1 Pet. 2. 13. Rom. 13. 5.  as unto the superior, etc.  
And to that end Saint Paul saith, that we must be subject to the Magistrates, not because of wrath only, but for conscience sake. Whereby we learn, that although we may scape punishment of the prince, for disobeying him, yet that we must not refuse to obey his commandments, always remembering, that God is offended therein, because we disobey those whom he hath placed to be superiors over us hereon earth. And which is more, as S. Peter admonisheth servants to be subject unto their masters, withal fear, not only to the good and courteous, but also to the froward. So subjects are bound to obey their Magistrates, 
1. Pet. 2. 18.  though they be infidels, wicked, and Idolaters, as they were that ruled in the Apostles time: And whom they commanded Christians to obey, for as Christian Religion doth not overthrow the order of politic government, so the iniquity and wickedness of Princes, doth not in any sort deprive them of their right and authority of commanding, neither yet exempteth Subjects from their duty of obedience, not simply as unto men, but as to God, whose image and authority they bear. It is true, that God doth not thereby loose any part of his own authority, nor doth dispense with us, from obeying him, in obeying the Magistrate. For seeing that they have no authority nor power, but only that which is given them from above (as jesus Christ saith) it is not convenient that to obey 
john 19 11.  their commandments, we should not do the commandments of God, for that without authority from him, they have no power to command. And seeing that it is for the love of God, (as Saint Peter saith) that we own subjection unto them, we must not obey them, to the prejudice of that love, which is the fountain of good works, as the Apostles constantly showed, and maintained before the Governors of the jews, saying unto them. judge you whether it be right in the fight of God, to obey you rather then 
Acts 4. 19  God.  
Again, all Subjects are bound in time of need to aid and assist their Magistrates, as well with their bodies, as with their goods: with their bodies, by bearing arms under the authority and commandment of their Princes, to aid and help him in the execution of his office, as also to defend him from all outrages and villainies: And with their goods, to the end, that the Magistrate which emploieth his time and labour, for the good and benefit of the Common wealth, should have such revenues as are fit and necessary for his estate and dignity, and as it were in manner of a remuneration and salary for his pains taking therein. As also that he may be furnished with money to defray the charges and expenses necessary for the conservation and entertainment of the Monarchy and Common wealth, committed to his charge. To that end, Kings and Princes are authorised by God, to impose and take tribute, tallages, subsidies, customs and impositions of their Subjects, and the Subjects are bound to pay it, and to furnish them therewith: which the Apostle teacheth: as also Christ himself commandeth it, and confirmeth 
Rom. 13. 6. Matth. 22.  the same by an example, in paying tribute due unto Caesar.  
Lastly, harken what Saint Paul speaketh of another duty belonging unto subjects, saying, I exhort therefore, that first of all, Supplication, Prayers, Intercessions, and giving of 
1. Tim. 2. 1.  thanks, be made for all men: For Kings, and for all that are in authority, that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life, in all godliness and honessie. And in truth, this charge of Magistrates (touching public tranquility and holiness) evidently showeth, how much we are bound unto that duty, to pray unto God for them, that they may be led and strengthened by his Spirit, with all necessary grace to effect the duty and end of their vocation. As in truth also, in those prayers and spiritual exercises, consisteth the best and most profitable service, that Princes are to expect and desire of their good Subjects, according to the example of David, who being a King, according to Gods own heart, and abundantly endued with his graces, nevertheless, knowing what need he had of the prayers of the people, to that effect, made that notable prayer for them to use, which we find in the 20. Psalm. 
Psalm 20.    

3. Duties of Pastors or Ministers toward their flocks.  
Now let us say something of the duties of pastors or ministers, we may reduce them all to the special head and end of their vocations, and to that which is requisite to attain thereunto. That is, to save the souls of the faithful, redeemed by the precious blood of jesus Christ, as Saint Paul saith to his Disciple; for although that God only is the Saviour, 
1. Tim. 4. 16.  it pleaseth him nevertheless, to use the ministry of men for the accomplishing of their salvation, in such manner, that the Apostle for that consideration, calleth ministers of the 
1. Cor. 3. 19  Gospel, coadjutors, and fellow labourers with God. Whereunto also we must refer, that which he saith else where, that he therefore gave some to be Apostles, and some Prophets, and 
Eph 4. 11.  some Evangelists, and some Pastors and teachers, for the repairing of the Saints, and for the work of the ministry, and for the edification of the body of Christ. From whence we learn, that for the accomplishing of the end of their vocation, their first and singular duty is, to preach the word of God, which Saint Paul for that cause calleth, the power of God unto salvation, to every one that believeth. And in another place, to the like end, earnestly recommendeth the same duty to Timothy, and in him to all the pastors and ministers of the 
Rom. 1 16. 2. Tim 4 ●.  Church. And as all professions and arts are known by the workmen that use the same: as a Tailor by cutting out and sowing of apparel, a shoemaker by making of shoes, A physician because he employeth his time and study, to heal and cure those that are diseased, and so of others. So a Bishop, Pastor, or a Minister is known, by preaching and pronouncing the word of God, and that by the same he comforteth the hearts of the afflicted, exhorteth the slack and negligent, strengtheneth the feeble, and encourageth those that are cast down by affliction, and such as ate strayed from the truth, which he doth not lightly, & as it were for order sake, but carefully, diligently, and constantly. As the Apostle protesteth of himself, that both night & day for the space of three years together, he ceased not with tears 
Acts. 20 31.  to admonish every one. It is the office also of a Pastor or Preacher to minister the Sacraments unto the people, and to celebrated the same faithfully, to the glory of God, and the edification of the Church: as likewise he is bound to have such a care of his flock, as well generally as particularly, that he must visit them in their sickness, miseries, and anguishes, to strengthen them in faith, and patience, providing as near as he can, that they may be aided and succoured in their necessities and wants. And for that no man is able of himself to execute so great and weighty a charge. And that the graces, gifts, and labours of those that are most able therein, are unprofitable and unfruitful without the special blessing of God, every faithful minister aught to employ his mind oftentimes, with an ardent and singular zeal to pray unto God, that he will endow him with his spirit, and daily increase his graces in him for the accomplishing of his vocation.  
Saint Paul so excellent an Apostle, and a chosen vessel to preach the glory of God to the Gentiles, was not content continually to pray unto God, but also recommended himself 
Ephes. 6. 19  to the prayers of the faithful, to the end that utterance might be given unto him, and that he might open his mouth boldly, to publish the secret of the Gospel, and to speak as he should.  
Again, a Minister aught by prayer to beseech God that he would bless his labour, that it might take effect and force among his flock, and that generally and particularly, he would be pleased to keep and preserve them all, and increase his graces in the Universal Church. And to that end, the Apostle saith, That he had planted, and Apollo 
1 Cor. 3. 6.  watered but that it is God which giveth the increase. And we see in all his Epistles, what diligence and zeal he showeth to recommend the assemblies of the faithful, and divers particular persons unto the Lord Which are as many notable considerations for ministers to think upon, that they may spend their time carefully to pray unto the Lord, as also that it is the principal means to nourish and increase piety, a good conscience, ardent zeal, charity, diligence, and fidelity in them. All which are qualities wherewith the true Ministers of Christ, and of his Church, aught to seal and confirm their doctrine, that by conversation and conformity of life according to their doctrine, they may be good examples, and an edification to their flocks. As Saint Paul saith to Timothy, Unto them that believe, be an example in word, in conversation, in love, in spirit, in faith, and 
1 Tim. 4. 12.  in pureness. As he addeth also unto Titus, and as jesus Christ saith unto his Apostles, You are the lights of the world, Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good 
Titus 2. 7. Matth. 5. 14.  works and glorify your father which is in heaven. For as when it is night, we 'cause one to go before us with a light to show us the way: so in the darkness of the soul, wherein we are borne, the lives and behaviours of our Pastors, and spiritual Fathers, aught to serve for burning torches to conduct and guide us in the way of salvation and eternal life. Which they aught specially to practise, wholly abandoning those vices which are condemned and forbidden by the word of God; specially, Avarice, and Ambition, for which cause Saint Paul saith, That a Bishop must be unreprovable, the husband of one wife, watching, temperate, modest, harberous, apt to teach, not given to wine, no striker, not given to filthy lucre, but 
1 Tim. 3. 3  gentle, no fighter, nor covetous. Which Saint Peter confirmeth also. And to take away all occasions for a Minister to become ambitious, by presumption and desire of glory: The 
1 Pet. 5. 2.  Apostle saith thus, For who separateth thee? And what hast thou, that then hast not received? If thou hast received it, why reioisest thou as though thou hadst not received it? Whereby the Apostle 
1 Cor. 4. 7.  teacheth Ministers to know, that God communicateth his graces unto them, not to puff them up in pride, but to the end, that in their modesty and humility, he only may by them be exalted and glorified: for the good and salvation of those, whom he hath committed to their charge.  
Touching the duties of Christian people towards their Pastors, seeing they are also understood by the word Father, in the fift Commandment of the Law of God: It followeth, that in the word Honour, is also comprehended all the duties of the faithful towards them: that is, Love, reverence, subjection, obedience, and assistance in time of need: For the first, If we aught to love all men; and namely, our enemies: by greater reason we aught to love those whom God useth and employeth to beget us in Christ, that we may be his children, and heirs of his kingdom of heaven. It is said of the Galatians, that they bore so great an affection to Saint Paul, that having received him as an Angel of God, yea as jesus Christ, they would willingly, (if need had been) have pulled out their eyes, to have given them unto him. A true sign of a singular love, because that 
Galliard 4. 14. 15.  is more, then for a man to give his goods, or his life for an other. This cordial love cannot choose but beget a certain respect towards Ministers: In consideration of the honourable charge whereunto they are called by God, being made Stewards of the secrets and mysteries of eternal salvation, God's Ambassadors for jesus Christ, bringing the message, 
1. Cor 4. 1, Tit. 1. 7. 2. Cor. 5. 20. & 3. 6.  and glad tidings of our reconciliation, coadjutors and fellow-labourers with God for our eternal good, and ministers of the new alliance in spirit and life eternal. For all these titles which the holy Scriptures give to Pastors and Ministers of the Church, evidently show, what reverence and respect Christian people, aught to yield unto them, and that no man aught to despise them, without despising Christ in them, (as he himself teacheth) and so become too unthankful for the benefits, which God by them offereth unto all the faithful. But specially we must love & respect them, when they employ themselves faithfully in their charge 
Luke 10. 16.  as by the titles aforesaid they are admonished, & bound thereunto. From thence also proceedeth the subjection & obedience which is due unto them, as the Apostle commandeth the Hebrews, saying, Obey them that have the oversight of you, & submit yourselves (adding this reason) That they watch for your souls, as they that must give account, that they may do it with joy, and 
Heb. 13. 17.  not with grief. Which subjection and obedience consisteth specially in three points: the first, carefully to hear the word preached, to communicate the Sacraments, and to be assistant at public prayers; the second, to bring forth fruits, and show forth the effects of those holy exercises; and thirdly, modestly and humbly to receive their instructions, reprehensions, and admonitions. Lastly, there is an aiding and assisting due to Pastors, and Ministers, as well with our means, (that they may have a convenient entertainment and allowance for their maintenance) as with our prayers unto God, that he will be pleased to preserve and bless them. To the first point, mark what S. Paul saith, Who goeth a warfare any time at his own costs & charges? Or who feedeth a flock, and eateth not of the of the milk of 
1. Cor. 9 7. Gal. 6 6.  the flock? Again, Let him that is taught in the word, make him that hath taught him partaker of of all his goods. To prove the second point, in almost all the Epistles which the Apostle writeth (Although he was endued abeundantly with the gifts of the holy Ghost,) he exhorteth the particular 
Eph. 6. 19 Col. 4. 3. 1. Thes. 3. 1. Rom. 15. 38. Math. 9 32.  Churches, incessantly to pray unto God for him. And seeing that Christ commandeth us, to pray the Lord of the harvest to raise up labourers, or workmen therein, it followeth, that when he hath given us those that are good, we aught to give him thanks for them and continued our vows and prayers unto him, to desire him that he will be pleased to preserve and keep them, for the advancement of his glory, and our edification.   

5. Conclusion of this Chapter.  
For conclusion of that which we said before, seeing that all Superior power cometh from God, and likewise the distinction of the order and degrees thereof: Let every man have a care to look unto his vocation, to walk therein as the Lord hath appointed him. Let Magistrates that are desirous to amend their lives, examine themselves, touching the points of their duties herein specified, that so correcting and amending their own faults, they may employ their minds more and more to govern their subjects holily and uprightly: that God may be glorified, and they and their Subjects attain everlasting happiness. Let those that are borne to obey, love and reverence their Superiors, yielding voluntary subjection unto them, and employ both their bodies and goods to aid and serve them, being assured that doing so, and praying unto God for them they shall live happily under their conduction. Let Pastors and Ministers often read and meditate that which Saint Paul writeth to the Bishops or Ministers of Ephesus, and generally all his Epistles, from him, and his writings, to take and draw a pattern of all that which is requisite for the vocation 
Act. 20. 17. etc.  of a faithful Minister of the Church of God, remembering the promise of the holy Ghost, That every one shall receive his wages according to his labour, and that those 
2. Cor. 3. 8. Dan. 12. 3.  which turn many to righteousness shall shine as the stars for ever and ever. Let all the faithful acknowledge how precious those spiritual benefits are, which we receive by the Ministry of our Pastors, and that for sowing such rich treasures in our souls: It is a small matter that they reap our carnal riches. And lastly, in consideration thereof and of the most honourable and holy charge which God hath given unto them for us, we must 
1. Cor. 9 11.  love them with an upright heart, and in all respects obey them, and have a care of them, specially in our prayers, that the Lord both of them and us, may preserve and fill them with the graces of his holy Spirit, for his glory, and the advancement of the salvation of the Church.    

That by seven causes and divine reasons, a true Christian Philosopher should be induced to embrace all the means of a happy life, set down in this Philosophy, specially by that which hath been said, by our Lord and Saviour jesus Christ, that the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Chap. 16.  

1. Seven principal causes and reasons more than sufficient to make a man forsake, and amend all his follies and corruptions.  
NOw we come to the end and intent of the first part of our Christian Philosophy, touching the means of a happy life, wherein if we have not proceeded so well at we desire, we have at the lest done as well as we could, by the measure of the divine graces, which God hath bestowed upon us. But before we pass to the second part & proof of this Academical Theology, as we began generally to frame the actions of the soul to the love of piety, & righteousness, grounding upon this foundation of the words of jesus Christ, Amend your lives, and showed that we aught specially and principally to practise this commandment of the Lord, in regard of seven pernicious follies whereunto we are naturally inclined, thereby to leave and forsake them, limiting and bounding our other discourses, with the number of seven. In like manner, to move and stir up our minds with greater zeal to embrace the admonition of our Saviour, and to live holily and uprightly. We will herein set down seven principal causes, and divine reasons, by the which all Christians in general, and every one of them in his particular vocation aught to be touched by the Spirit of God in their hearts, and also feel and confess themselves to be specially bound to a true and perfect amendment of their lives, and to bring forth the first-fruits of repentance. For as we have already said, If the number of seven, commonly signifying perfection, is sufficient in our discourse to show, that man is altogether ignorant and a fool, until such time, as becoming wise and understanding, he leaveth his follies. So the like number of reasons taken out of the holy Scriptures, concerning the same subject, and matter of amendment of life, shall suffice to induce (every man that is worthy of the name of a Christian Philosopher) unto the same.   

2. The first cause of amendment of life is the authority of jesus Christ.  
For a first cause to move us to amendment of life, we have the authority of our Lord and Saviour jesus Christ, who commandeth us to do it. For the only commandment of him, being the Son of the eternal God, saying, Amend your lives, aught to lead and induce us to yield ready and voluntary obedience unto him. And the names and titles which he hath, sufficiently declare and show his authority unto us. First, it is the Son of God, (who in the preface of the law, received by Moses, exercising the office of a Prophet, a King, and a conductor of the elect people of the jews) that spoke, saying, I am the eternal Lord, thy God, which brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. From whence we may draw a double reason of his authority, which bindeth us to obey him. 
Exod. 20. 2. Deut. 5. 6. Psal 81. 10. Exod. 3. 14. Acts 17. 28. Col. 1. 16. 17.  First, from the name of eternal, which in the Hebrew tongue is called jehova, which signifieth, Essence, or He that is, as in him, and by him only we are, we live, and have our moving. And as the Apostle witnesseth, That all things were created in Christ, or by him, and that they also consist by him. The second reason is, in that he addeth thereunto, Thy God, to signify to the Children of Israel, that they were his peculiar people, redeemed by him, and therefore dedicated and consecrated to his divine Majesty, as mention is there presently made, of their deliverance out of the Land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage; for a certain testimony of the love of God towards his people, and of a resurrection and re-establishment of a free and a happy life. Whereby we learn the two fold and double right, belonging unto the Lord, commanding us this day to amend our lives, as our Creator and Redeemer, and that therefore it should be a monstrous double ingratitude, not to obey him, who declaring his will unto us, in the first object letteth us plainly see, that we cannot subsist, neither corporally nor spiritually, neither in this life, nor in the life to come, without his power and grace. Which teacheth us how we must reap profit and instruction from this, that since the Law of Moses, we have had the accomplishment of the same, and of all the shadows and figures thereof, in jesus Christ our Saviour manifested in the flesh, having been delivered from the power of darkness, and in him obtained redemption through his blood. That is, forgiveness of sins: and therefore we acknowledge and confess him in the Creed, to be our Lord And Saint Paul calleth him 
Col. 1. 13. 14. 1. Tim. 6. 15.  The only Prince, King of Kings, and Lord of Lords. And therefore King of all the world, in such manner nevertheless, that he is also and specially King of his Church, as David saith, That he which dwelleth in the heavens, hath set his King upon Zion his holy mountain. And 
Psal. 2. 5, 6.  therefore we conclude for the first cause of amendment of our lives, that all those names and titles of jehova, Creator, Redeemer, Saviour, Lord, and King, which he beareth, that enjoineth and chargeth us to convert and turn unto him, being considered as they aught to be; show unto us, what authority he hath to command us, which is most sacred and inviolable, whereby we are most firmly bound unto him, as his creatures, children, subjects, and servants.   

3. The second reason of amendment, is, the name of Holy attributed to Christ.  
The Prophet Easie saith, that he saw the Lord sitting upon his Throne, with many Seraphins, 
Easie 6. 3.  about it, crying one unto the other, Holy, Holy; Holy: is the Lord of Hosts, the whole world is full of his glory, which is said of jesus Christ, as S. john witnesseth, reciting, in an other place. That in a vision which appeared unto him, he saw four beasts, which cried night 
john 12. 41. Apoc. 4. 8.  and day: saying Holy, holy, holy Lord God Almighty, which was, and which is, and which is to come, Which title repeated three times, among other things teacheth us, that Christ God & man is soveraignely, and infinitely just, good, merciful, wise, puissant and true. Yea and so excellently and perfectly, that in his divine and such like properties he is most holy, by no means participating therein with his creatures. For if there be any goodness, righteousness, wisdom, or truth in man, he hath it not of himself but from God. And yet he hath but certain drops, and sparks thereof, which are accidental, and unexpected graces or qualities, (as they say in schools) in such manner, that without them, he ceaseth not still to be a man. But jesus Christ hath all those properties of himself: in him they are perfect and infinite, and they are his proper essence: in such sort, that to deny his righteousness, wisdom, power, mercy, and goodness, it is to deny God. So by good right Christ is called Holy, holy, holy, and therefore it is no marvel, if this, and that which proceedeth thereof, surpasseth man's understanding. For it exceedeth the capacity of Angels. As Easie showeth by his vision, saying: That the Seraphins covered their faces with their two wings, as being not able to behold the splendure of his holiness. Now the more it is incomprehensible, so much the more it admonisheth us of our duty, to humble and subject ourselves, under the obedience of his commandments, by amendment of our lives. For it is written, Be ye holy 
Easie 6, 2. Levit. 11. 44. 1. Peter 1. 16. & 14. 2.  as I am holy, and as he which hath called you is holy, be you also holy in all your conversation. And again, We are elected by the providence of God, in sanctification of the Spirit, to obedience, and to be sprinkled with the blood of jesus Christ.   

4. The third cause to move us to amendment of life, is the title of Emanuel given to jesus Christ.  
Christ holy, and most holy, is also called Emanuel, which is as much to say, as God with us, by which title is signified and expressed, the manner and means whereby God communicateth 
Easie 7. 14. Matth 1. 23. john 17. 20.  himself unto us, not only receiving us into grace, but also joining himself unto us in jesus Christ, by that means making us one with him, as Christ also prayed unto his Father. Therefore this name of Emanuel, admonisheth us of two things which aught to move us to amendment of our lives. First, as there is nothing more contrary to the holiness of jesus Christ, than impiety, unrighteousness, malice, iniquity, avarice, ambition, lechery, and other such vices and corruptions: So there is nothing that should more forcibly stir us up, and correct in us, our uncleanness, and so reform all the impiety of our actions, and manner of living, than the remembrance of the name of Emanuel; that is to say, God with us, who by his secret virtue, being conjoined and united unto us, so often crieth out in the holy Scriptures by his word, and in our souls by his spirit, Be ye holy, for I am holy: which is, as if he should daily make himself to be heard in our consciences, saying, that we cannot pronounce this title or name of Emanuel, unless we separate ourselves from all filthiness and corruptions, because they cannot be joined with the holiness of the Lord Therefore Saint Paul earnestly exhorteth us, to this duty of purity, and all the doctrine of 

Levit. 11. 44. & 19 2. and 20. 7.  
1. Cor. 6. 14. jer. 22. 23. Psal. 33. 13. Heb. 4. 13.   the Gospel tendeth to that end, that we may both say, and retain God with us. For the second point, the same name of Christ teacheth us, that we have God in every place with us; and consequently, that he seethe all our thoughts, wills, words, and actions, as all things are naked, bore, and open unto his eyes: for the Deity is all in all, That is, all with us, in us, and near unto us. Our darkness and obscurity, are light to him, all is clear and present before his face, as well past, as future things. Than let us earnestly think upon, and detest the ordinary manner of the life of the wicked, which dare presume to think, say, and do those things in the sight of the eternal God, which they would be ashamed of before men.   

5. The fourth cause or reason to move us to amendment of life, is meditating upon the five other names and titles attributed to Christ.  
The titles of Admirable, Counsellor, the mighty God, the Everlasting Father, and the Prince of peace, are attributed to jesus Christ, by Easie, which aught to induce us to amend 
Easie 9 5.  our lives, by loving God, fearing to offend him, and by taking pleasure to yield obedience unto him. For whereas the Lord is called Admirable, it is to assure us, that in his wisdom, power, and goodness, he surmounteth and surpasseth all whatsoever man can comprehend, or conceive of the wisdom, force, blessings, and benefits of God, wherewith it pleaseth him to endow his elect. The title of Counsellor, showeth that Christ is filled with all understanding & knowledge, to give us true & faithful counsel, in all our necassities and tribulations specially in that, which concerneth that holy service, which is agreeable & pleasing to the Lord, and the hope of our salvation. He is called the mighty God, to make us certain and assured, that his force and greatness is infinite, to execute and accomplish all whatsoever he will, whether it be in defending, and saving us from the ambushes and forces of our enemies; in punishing those that resist against him; or in communicating his gifts & graces unto those that obey him as his children and servants. He is called Prince, because he is the author and fountain of all prosperity and felicicity, both present and to come, propery signified by the name of peace. Lastly, he is called Everlasting Father, thereby to teach us, That jesus Christ is the beginning and the foundation of the Church, continuing it for ever, preserving it on earth, by continual protection, and conducting it unto heaven, to give it eternal joy and permanent glory in the everlasting world.   

6. The fift reason to move us to amendment of life, is two other names of our Saviour, jesus and Christ.  
The Angel of God sent to joseph, when the holy Virgin was conceived, told him, that she 
Matth 1, 21.  should bear a Son, & he should be called jesus, adding thereunto for a reason of that name, That he should save his people from their sins. And to same end it was said unto the Shepherds, This day is borne unto you a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord Now as it is, the 
Luke 2 11.  same jesus which commandeth us to amend our lives: so the consideration of those two names, aught specially to move us to yield that obedience unto him. For first, the name of jesus, which is a Saviour, admonisheth us, that By nature we are condemned, and that there is no salvation for us, but in Christ only. As Saint Peter also saith, For which cause, we are bound to acknowledge that we are not our own, but his that saved us from eternal damnation: 
Acts 4. 12. 1 Cor. 6. 19  And consequently, That we must renounce and forsake all our own righteousness, not to live to ourselves, nor according to our own wisdom, and wills, but according to the good will and pleasure of our Lord and Saviour jesus Christ. That so forsaking our natural corruptions, and living in Christ, being regenerated and renewed by his holy Spirit, we may amend our lives. Touching the Title of Christ, (a Greek name) in the Hehrewe tongue, it signifieth, the name of Messiah, which is as much as if we should say, Anointed, by which unction is understood the fullness of the holy Ghost, which the Lord received. As Saint Luke noteth, Who was filled therewith, That we (as Saint john saith) might he participants of his 
Acts 10. 38. john 1. 16. 1 john 2. 27. 1 Cor. 3. 16.  fullness. And that the unction which he hath given us, by the same spirit, may devil in us, and we in him. Saint Paul calling us, The Temple of God, (addeth for a reason) because the holy Ghost dwelleth in us. And the name of Christ also, drawn from Christ, and proper to his Disciples, confirmeth the same: For (saith the Apostle those that have not the spirit of Christ, are not in him. And as we cannot say, that in such a place there is a true and a natural fire, if heat and light proceed not from it, so the holy Ghost cannot be in us, if we neither feel nor show forth the effects that belong to the holiness thereof. Therefore this name of Christ, teaching us that we are participants of the unction of his spirit, aught to be a notable and strong reason to enforce us to amend our lives. Which if we do not, it is in vain for us to say we are Christians, or to vaunt and host, that Christ is our Saviour, and that his spirit dwelleth in us.   

7. The sixt reason to move us to amend our lives, is that we are strangers and pilgrims in this life.  
The holy Scripture oftentimes calleth us strangers, pilgrims, and travelers, (not as Abraham speaking to the Canaanites) said, I am a stranger and a foreigner among you: nor as 
Heb. 11. 13. Gen. 23, 4.  it may happen to divers men, which leave their native Countries to devil in other places, but specially in regard of the kingdom of heaven, our true and eternal country. And if we be citizens of heaven, (as S. Paul teacheth us) we are strangers here on earth. Now our spiritual birth proceedeth from our heavenly Father, and we receive the seal thereof in the 
Ephes. 2. 9  Church, which is the kingdom of God. His dwelling is in heaven, where our eldest brother jesus Christ is, and all our brethren and sisters also in him. Our immortal riches, and inheritance not contaminated nor corruptible, are kept & preserved in the land of the living, that 
1 Pet. 1. 4.  are happy for ever. Than our country is there, and in regard thereof we are rightly called strangers, pilgrims, and travelers in this mortal and transitory world: which aught to encourage & move us from hence to lift up our thoughts, minds, & understandings to our celestial habitation, that so beholding God with the eyes of faith, and the glory of Christ, together with the excellency of our inheritance, we may all the days of our lives rejoice with the Angels, and the souls of the Saints, already ascended up into heaven, and with them by a holy & spiritual communion, continually without ceasing praise the Lord As S. Paul saith, That we which believe in jesus Christ, are come to mount Zion, to the City of the living God, the Celestial 
Heb. 12. 22.  jerusalem, and to the company of innumerable Angels, and to the assembly of the first borne, which are written in heaven, And to God the judge of all, and to the Spirits of just and perfect men, and to jesus 
Apoc. 13. 8.  the Mediator of the new Testament. Wherhfore, having ascended so high, and having our conversation in heaven, as Citizens of the heavenly kingdom: we must no more look down upon the earth, to make any account thereof, much less of the vanities (which the fools of the world) therein admire, and look after; But rather continually meditate and remember, that here we are but strangers, pilgrims, and travelers, that so we may be persuaded to amend our lives, renouncing and forsaking the world, and the flesh, and preparing ourselves by faith, hope, and good works, to go to take possession of our celestial inheritance, at the time ordained and appointed by God.   

8. The seventh reason, to persuade us to amendment of life is, because the kingdom of heaven, or of God, is at hand.  
Lastly, and for the seventh reason to persuade us, to amend our lives; the reason is added by jesus Christ himself, to his first exhortation, that is, For the kingdom of heaven, or of 
Matth. 4. 17.  God, is at hand. To understand it better, we must note three significations of this kingdom. First, by the same is meant, the happy state and incomprehensible felicity which we shall enjoy after the resurrection: as when the Lord said, Many shall come from the East, and from the West, and sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and jacob, in the Kingdom of heaven. 
Mark 1. 15. Matth. 8. 11.  In which manner of speaking, there is an allusion to a table in a banquet, as if Christ said, They shall enjoy eternal life, with the holy Patriaches. Secondly, the Kingdom of heaven signifieth, the regenerated man, which consisteth in a true knowledge of God, by faith and mortification of the oldman Adam, and newness of life: as when Christ saith, The kingdom of God is in you, And the Apostle, The kingdom of God is not meat nor drink, but righteousness, 
Luke 17. 21. Rom. 14. 17.  and peace, and joy in the holy Ghost. Thirdly, the Kingdom of heaven oftentimes signifieth, the holy ministery, and preaching of the Gospel: as when Saint Paul speaking of certain faithful servants of God, saith, These only are my work fellows unto the Kingdom of heaven. As the Lord said, That he that is the lest in the kingdom of heaven, is greater than john 
Col 4. 11. Matth. 11. 11.  Baptist. Whereunto also we may add, that which he teacheth in the Similitude or Parable of the same kingdom, as the seed cast into divers kinds of grounds, to signify, (that the holy ministery doth not produce fruit in all those that hear the Word.) To a Treasure hid in the field, and to a Merchant that seeketh for good pearls, to show how much 
Matth. 13. 3. & 44. 45.  we aught to esteem of the preaching of the Word of GOD. All these significations aught to move us, to amend our lives. For first, when by the kingdom of heaven is meant, the happy state, and the unspeakable and eternal beatitude which we hope for and expect in the world to come, it advertiseth us, that our condition is far different from that of the bruit beasts, which when they die, consume to nothing: But when men die, all is not dead with them, for those which believe in jesus Christ, shall be better, and enjoy a life full of glory, peace, joy, and incomprehensible felicity without end. And to the contrary, they that shall be hardened in their incredulity, and in wickedness, shall be tormented in the fire of the wrath of God eternally. As Daniel saith, That many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth, shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and perpetual contempt. As the Lord also confirmeth 
Daniel 12. 2.  the same in the Gospel.  
Than to understand the true meaning of this reason, For the kingdom of heaven is at hand: we must undoubtedly believe (as it is an article of our faith) that Christ shall come to judge 
john. 5. 28.  the quick and the dead, some to eternal life, in all happiness with God: and the blessed spirits, others to eternal death and condemnation with the devil and his angels. It is the foundation 
2. Tim 4. 4. Acts 17. 31. Math. 25. 31.  or ground of the Apostles argument to exhort men to repent and amend their lives, saying, and the time of this ignorance God regarded not, but now he admonisheth all men every where to repent, because he hath ordained a day in the which he will judge the world 
Acts 17. 30. 3 2. Cor. 5. 10.  in righteousness, by that man whom he hath appointed, whereof he hath given an assurance to all men, in that he hath raised him from the dead. How in righteousness? because (as he saith in another place) we must also appear before the judgement seat of Christ, that every man may receive the things that are done in his body, according to that he hath done whether it be good or evil. And that God will reward every man according to his works, that is to them which through patience in well doing seek glory and honour, and immortality, 
Rom. 2. 6. 7. 8.  life everlasting, but to them that are contentious and disobey the truth, and obey unrighteousness, shall be indignation and wrath. Secondly, when by the kingdom of heaven he understandeth the state, wherein the children of God are established in this life, by faith in jesus Christ, It aught to inflame our hearts, with a right & true desire of amendment of life This kingdom (saith S. Paul) consisteth in righteousness, peace & joy in the H. Ghost. By righteousness he understands the singular benefit which we obtain by this, that Christ by 
Rom. 14. 17.  his death having satisfied & appeased the wrath of God for our sins, & so paid all our debts, he hath given & imputed unto us his perfect obedience, that so we might be justified before the judgement seat of God, a benefit which is the must assured foundation of our salvation, & therefore incomprehensible in regard of the greatness and excellency thereof. By peace, the Apostle understandeth that peace which is with God, and in our consciences, whereof he had said before, that being justified by faith, we have peace towards God, through our Lord jesus Christ. And by the joy which he saith of the holy Ghost; he understandeth that full and perfect joy which the Lord hath promised us, and which shall never be taken away from us. So the remembrance of the kingdom, which Christ saith is within us, and which consisteth 
Rom. 5. 1.  in righteousness, peace, and joy, aught to move and make us to abhor all sin and iniquity, If we will not change this righteousness into damnable unrighteousness, peace into 
joh 16 22. 24 jo●n 15 11. Luk. 17. 21.  war and trouble of conscience, and joy into weeping & gnashing of teeth. Thirdly whereas the kingdom of heaven signifieth the holy ministry, it teacheth us divers notable reasons, which bind us to amend ourlives. As in this, whereour Lord said, speaking to his Apostles, 
Luk. 10. 16. 1. These, 2 13. Math. 10. 14. Mar. 6. 11.  and in them to all faithful Pastors and Ministers of the word. He that heareth you, heareth me, and he that despiseth you, despiseth me, & he that despiseth me despiseth him that sent me. And S. Paul witnesseth to the Thessalonians, that they had received the word which he preached unto them, not as the word of men, but (as it is indeed) the word of God. And as jesus Christ saith, that whosoever shall not receive you, nor hear you, when you departed thence, Shake of the dust that is under your feet, for a witness unto them, Verily I say unto you, it shall be easier for Sodom and Gomorrha at the day of judgement then for them. Now if we think upon the fire that fell from heaven, which burned and consumed those towns, and others were adjoining unto them, with all the men and women both young and old, and also their cattles, and after that turned the place where those towns stood into a 
Gen. 19 24. Deut 29. 13. Melan cro, li. 2. Egesip de ex●●d. Hieros' 4. c. 18.  stinking and an infectious lake or pool, eight dutch mile in greatness, (as many men note) with other testimonies of the wrath of God rehearsed in the Scriptures, what is he, that is able to refrain from quaking for fear, if in his conscience he knows that he hath despised God, speaking unto him, by the mouth of his servants, and faithful Ministers.  
Again, In this holy ministery we have another reason to move us to amendment of life, in this, That Christ having breathed upon his Disciples gave them the holy Ghost, 
john 20. 21.  with power both to them, and all faithful Pastors, by the preaching of his word, to retain the sins of the incredulous, and to remit the sins of the faithful, who converting, truly confess and believe him to be the Son of God. And as the administration of the Sacraments is a part of this ministry, so they aught to move and persuade us to amendment of life. Holy baptism is the seal of the alliance made by God, specially comprehending two graces; that is, remission of sins, and our regeneration or spiritual renewing. For charity and the Spirit of Christ, being as it were the soul of the new man reform to the Image of God, in that sacred washing: from thence forward he aught not to have any motion in thought, word, or work; but that which proceedeth from the same spirit dwelling in him, according to the measure of Grace that is given him from above. And the holy Sacrament of the eucharist, is the nourishment of our souls, to a spiritual and eternal life, by the communion of the body and blood of our Lord and Saviour jesus Christ: For from thence there aught to follow and proceed a life complete with thoughts, affections, words, and works, like unto that sacred food, that is holy, and spiritual, putting us in mind, that as the celebration of that most divine mystery, is the Table of the children of God, and the members of the Church of Christ. So the participation thereof, is a manner of solemn protestation made by us, that we are of the number of his children, and members of the holy Church, and that we separate ourselves from profane and vicious people, to live holily, righteously, and religiously.  
Further also, public Prayers are apart of the holy ministry, and every faithful Christian aught to accompany the mouth of the Minister (with their understandings, wills, and hearts) when he pronounceth them: as if all the Church spoke to God by him. The sum and effect of that which we demand and crave of God in those prayers, is, that the Lord by his spirit would work in us, that which he requireth to be done by us, that we may obey & please him; and consequently that he will give us the grace to repent & amend our lives. In such manner that this request made to God, sufficiently admonisheth us of our duties in that point. Lastly, there is the excercise of Ecclesiastical discipline, which is a dependence of the holy ministery, the principal intent whereof is, that every member of the Church, should walk in the fear of God, and that if he turneth back to stray from it, he should be brought into the way of Salvation by amendment of life.  
Thus you see how the Ministry signified by the kingdom of heaven, and considered in all his principal parts, aught to move us with great affection to amend our lives. Again, we are to mark an other notable thing in this, that by the kingdom of heaven, or of God, is signified the felicity of his children in heaven, and his kingdom in them, and also the holy ministery of the Gospel, or of the Church. For this title of the kingdom of heaven, common to those three different estates, sufficiently showeth, that notwithstanding there is between them a great band of conjunction and unity, and such, that when we are in this world of the kingdom of God, that is, in the Church, and using the holy ministery, we are in the infallible way to heaven. Likewise, if the kingdom of God be in us, by his Spirit of Regeneration, we are certain to enter into the celestial kingdom that is above. In such manner, that here on earth we have as it were two degrees or steps to mount up unto it, and two gates which we must pass through, to go into it. For whosoever desireth to be assured in his conscience, whether he be one of the number of the children of God, and heirs of the kingdom of glory, he aught to seek for the knowledge and certainty thereof in himself, because that if he be a member of the Church, enjoying the holy Ministry, men may well hold and accounted him to be the child of God belonging to his kingdom. And if he hath attained to the second degree, feeling the kingdom of heaven in his heart, let him be assured, that God holdeth him for one of his elect, and that he shall enter into his inheritance of eternal glory. Now if there be nothing more happy, then to enjoy the kingdom of God in heaven; by the like reason there is nothing to be more desired, then to enter both into the first, and second gate of that kingdom.  
This therefore is a most lively reason, to induce us to practise that which jesus Christ commandeth us, That first we should seek the kingdom of God, and the righteousness thereof; and consequently, that we should repent and amend our lives. For if the apprehension 
Math. 6. 33.  of the kingdom of glory which is in heaven, aught to ravish us with an ardent zeal and desire to attain thereunto, and if we cannot obtain it, unless the kingdom of God be in us, that is, if we have not that faith which bringeth forth good works, and amendment of life. And also if the kingdom of heaven cannot be in us, unless we be members of the Church, which is the holy ministery of Christ. It followeth, that there is nothing which we aught more earnestly to desire, nor carefullier to seek for, than the kingdom of heaven; that is, to be participant in the Church of the holy ministery, and by the exercise and use thereof, to establish the kingdom of God in us, thereby at the last to enter into the possession of the eternal kingdom of God with the blessed. Now we must consider of the last part of the sentence pronounced by Christ, saying, That the kingdom of heaven is at hand: which may be referred to the three degrees whereof we have spoken, that is, to the kingdom of glory, which we hope for in heaven, to the renewing and restoring of man, and to the preaching of the Gospel. And so the kingdom of heaven being considered in these three points, did truly approach and draw near to man, at the coming of our Lord jesus Christ.  
Touching the first, we know that Adam and Eva by their transgression were driven out of the garden of Eden, or Paradise, and that God placed and set Cherubins on the east side 
Gen. 3. 24.  of the garden, with a flaming sword, which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life. Now God having thereby showed, that man was driven out and banished from heaven, and from life eternal: at the building of the Tabernacle, and after that of the Temple in jerusalem, gave unto the people of Israel, a certain figure of the entry into heaven, by the Messiah to come. Who being come, and by his death having opened the way to heaven, and by his resurrection, when he mounted up into heaven God and man, the kingdom of heaven did also thereby draw near unto us.  
Secondly, when by the mystery of our redemption, he destroyed and overcame him that had the power of death, that is the Devil, and crucified our old man, to raise us up to newness 
Heb. 2 14. Rom. 6. 6.  of life, thereby destroying the kingdom of Satan, he brought the kingdom of heaven near unto us. For it was not so near to our fathers the patriarchs, and other faithful jews. They had the promise made to Adam, that the seed of the woman should bruise the serpent's head, but the accomplishing thereof was seen in jesus Christ, when by his death he destroyed the Devil and the power of hell. As the Israelites also had the law and the sacrifices for works of righteousness, and assured gauges of life and salvation. But the Gospel and grace was brought unto us by Christ: by accomplishing of all righteousness, that so we might be made new creatures, to worship God in spirit and in truth, and by taking good heed to the things that had been said unto us, that we should not fall from it.  
Thirdly, we have the preaching of the word of salvation, which drew near to us clearly and effectually, at the coming of our redeemer. For by the holy ministery of the 
john 4. 12. Heb. 2. 1.  Gospel, clear and certain knowledge was given to the Church, of the person of jesus Christ, how he was conceived by the holy Ghost, and borne of the Virgin Mary, & therefore very God, and very man. As also of his offices, having in all fullness received spiritual unction to be our high Priest, King & Prophet. Consequently of his passion, death, resurrection and ascension into heaven, and so of the certainty of our justification and salvation by the mere grace of God. Let us add, that the kingdom of heaven is near unto us, and every day approacheth nearer unto us, in at wofold manner. First, for that every day, the separation which is to be made of our souls from our bodies, that they may ascend up to heaven with jesus Christ, draweth nearer.  
Secondly, because we daily attend and expect the day of the Lord: when he shall come to judge the quick and the dead. Which should so much the more move us to a true amendment of our lives, knowing well that no unclean thing, neither whatsoever worketh abomination or lies, shall enter into the supercelestial City, and that we must always be ready and prepared, because the Son of man will come at an hour when we think not on it. And if the remembrance and representation of the Kingdom of heaven, 
Math. 24 44.  so near unto us, doth not ardently move our hearts, to attain thereunto, and by desiring it, to amend our lives, to walk in the way that leadeth us to that felicity, it is a certain testimony, that we esteem ourselves to be simple bruit beasts, having no hope of happiness after death. As also on the other side, If the apprehension of the fire which never shall be quenched, of worms which gnaw continually, of fearful perpetual darkness, of weeping and gnashing of teeth without end, by the feeling of the terrible wrath of the living God, doth not move our hearts with fear to offend him, and by offending him, that he will cast us headlong into the gulf and bottomless pit of eternal condemnation, it is an evident sign that we are Atheists or Saduceans, neither believing the resurrection of the body, the immortality of the soul, heaven, nor hell.   

9 Conclusion of this Chapter.  
For conclusion of so many causes and reasons, for the which every Christian, which is the child of God, aught carefully to embrace the means which his word teacheth us to amend our lives and so to make them most happy: Let us remember that we are borne, and purchased servants to our Lord jesus Christ: Born, because he is our Creator; purchased, because he hath redeemed us, to be more particularly unto him. Therefore it should be a double Sacrilege and profanation of that, which for two special reasons aught to be dedicated and consecrated to his service: If we obey not the commandment which he giveth us with a double authority, to turn unto him by true repentance. That the names and titles given to this Saviour of the world, as Holy, Emanuel, Admirable, Counsellor, most puissant God, Prince of peace, Eternal Father, jesus and Christ, aught to be as many goads unto us to prick us forward unto that amendment which he requireth at our hands, as also that in this life we are strangers, pilgrims, and travelers. And specially the reason which the Lord addeth to his exhortation, That the kingdom of heaven is at hand. And that it belongeth unto us, in time to prepare ourselves, that is presently in a manner to be in his kingdom, while we live here on earth, that we may be ready to enter into heaven, there to take full possession of the eternal glory, which is certain and assured to all those, who being led by the holy Ghost, forsake and renounce all the works 
Gal. 5. 18.  of the flesh, to live according to the fruits of the same Spirit. Let us remember the counsel of Christ, That if the master of the house knew at what watch of the night the thief would come, he would watch to keep his house from being broken: Adding, That happy shall that servant 
Math. 25 1.  be, whom the Master shall find busy when he cometh. That is it which our Saviour showeth us by a similitude of ten Virgins, whereof five were wise, and five foolish, and that because the foolish had no oil in their lamps, they were shut out of the bride chamber, and the wise went in. This day of the Lord approacheth, to accomplish his kingdom, and the mystical Banquet of him and his Spouse the Church. Therefore let us get good store of holy oil, and let us put on our wedding garments, jest the Master of the Feast 
Apoc. 19 6, Mat. 23. 12. 13  should cast us out into utter darkness; but rather finding us to be clothed with a true knowledge of God, and of faith, charity, holiness, and all other good works, he may lead us into the place of glory, there to live happily for ever.     

THE SECOND PART OF CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY.  
Of the true and only means to attain to a happy life.  

That man being a true Christian Philosopher, aught to exercise and comfort himself in seven principal things: whereof the first is, meditation of the life to come, and to be well assured of eternal and celestial felicity, promised to the children of God. Chap. 1.  

1. Human life is to be esteemed of by the faithful, although it be full of miseries, and that a man may comfort himself therein, by seven singular and special things.  
TThose Philosophers which judged, that our sovereign good here on earth is never to be borne, and that the next great benefit after that, is to die quickly, and following that opinion. The Scythians used to weep, when their children were borne, and to the contrary rejoiced when any of their friends and parents died, and making a 
Pliny. Hiracletus. Timon. The Scythians.  great and solemn feast, were of opinion that they did well, as they thought in their human sense and understanding: Although they profited nothing thereby. For seeing they were infidels, void of the light and knowledge of God, and of true religion, they could see nothing but poverty, misery and horror in terrestrial life. And because they wanted the true doctrine of faith, they did not see, how that which is neither happy, nor of itself to be desired, turneth into salvation to the faithful. And therefore the end of their judgement was despair. But we, being the children and servants of God, instructed by his word, although we know well, that this life is full of misery; nevertheless, by good right we hold it to be one of the blessings of God, which are to be esteemed of, specially herein, that to the faithful it is a testimony of the goodness of God towards them, being wholly ordained to be a means of their salvation: For thereby it pleaseth him, before the full revelation unto us of the inheritance of immortal glory, in things of less moment, to declare himself to be our Father, that is, in the blessings and benefits which we daily receive at his hands: In such manner, that here we begin to taste the sweetness of his benignity, in this, that he preserveth us in this world, and giveth us all things necessary to maintain our lives; that so our hope and desire may be incited to expect the full revelation of his love towards us, by the which he hath called us, to be heirs of his kingdom. Therefore this should be our intent and special purpose, touching this transitory & mortal life, that beholding the calamities and miseries wherewith it is replenished, we should be fully resolved, and better prepared, to exercise and comfort ourselves in seven principal things. Which are, Meditation of the life to come: knowledge of the means which assure us to be the children of God: to know how to apply the marks of this adoption unto ourselves: To have a full confidence thereof, though it be but weak in us, to confirm and assure ourselves therein: To make use of afflictions, constantly to persevere to the end in our vocation: and to proceed and go on in our course of life, here on earth in holy prayers.   

2. Meditation of life eternal, is the first comfort of a Christian, the felicity whereof is incomprehensible.  
That we may begin the second part of our Christian Philosophy, with the first of the seven singular things aforesaid, (which is the meditation of the life to come) let us hear what Easie saith, who presenting a most earnest prayer unto God for the Church, setteth down the benefits which she had received by the goodness of God in her deliverances, saying, When thou didst terrible things, which we looked not for, thou camest down, and the me●ntaines 
Esa. 64 3, 4  melted at thy presence: for since the beginning of the world, they have not heard, nor understood with the care, neither hath the eye seen an other God beside thee, which doth so to him that waiteth for him. And the Apostle Saint Paul, expounding these words to be spoken of terrestrial blessings makes them agreed with that proposition which he made to the Corinthians of spiritual doctrine, and the promises of life eternal, revealed unto him by the holy Ghost, saying, The things which eye hath not seen, neither ear hath heard, neither came into man's heart, are 
1. Cor ●, 9,  those which God hath prepared for them that love him. This argument we must draw from the Minor to the Mayor, thus: That if man's capacity cannot reach to the measure of the terrestrial benefits, which God bestoweth upon his children and servants here on earth; much less can man's human understanding attain to that height, to be able to comprehend the wisdom of the eternal God; touching the institution of Christianity, and the felicity of the life to come, which is reserved in heaven for the faithful.  
And to that end Saint Augustine advertiseth us, in the meditation of future beatitude, to pass and mount up beyond all that whatsoever may be understood and apprehended by 
Aug. Enar. 2 in Psal 26. Tom. 8  us, and not to stay at the profundity and excellency of that which we imagine, but to say to ourselves: Yet this is not it; for if it were the same, it would not enter into our hearts and thoughts. As in another place also this great Doctor confesseth, That he knew not what the state and the rest of the blessed shall be, that he had not learned it by his corporal 
De Civit. Dei li. 22. & 29  senses, and that if he should say that he had seen it, by the spirit and understanding, all that is too little in man to conceive it, in regard of the greatness and excellency of the sight of God, which is promised unto us in eternal life, with that peace, which the Apostle saith, passeth all man's understanding. Therefore, if there be any good, beauty, sweetness, glory, delight, joy, and pleasure; if there be any thing desirable, profitable, complete and perfect, which man's understanding may comprehend, his heart think, or his will desire, whereby to enjoy an entire and certain contentment. To be short, if there be any subject appertaining to sovereign good, and true beatitude; our great and most good God, will be all that in his elect, at the day of the Lord in the resurrection. For (as S. john saith) 
Apoc 21. 1, 2 22, & 23. & 22 3, 4, & 5.  Than there shall be a new heaven, and a new earth; for the celestial jerusalem, whereof the most puissant God shall be the Temple, and the Lamb jesus Christ the eternal Son: and his servants shall serve him and see his face, and his name shall be in their foreheads, to reign with him in perpetual and inviolable light for ever and ever. Than this felicity of our souls glorified, and of our bodies made incorruptible and spiritual, as that glorious body 
Phillip 3, 2  of Christ, to be there where he is, in sovereign bliss and beatitude, cannot be comprehended by us, touching the greatness and perfection thereof, while we live herein our terrestrial and corruptible bodies, where we know God but in part, and obscurely. Therefore we must enter into that house prepared for us by the eternal God, where he will fully replenish us with his light, to know his glory, showing himself unto us, and such as in himself he is.   

3. The greatness and perpetuity of the goodness, which is to be expected in life eternal.  
Nevertheless, seeing that S. Paul addeth to the text aforesaid, that God by his spirit, which 
1. Cor 2. 10.  searcheth all things, hath revealed unto us those things that were not seen, nor heard, nor ever entered into the heart of man: and that in another place her prayeth to the Lord, to illuminate the eyes of the understanding of the faithful Ephesians, that they might know what the hope is of their calling, and what the riches of his glorious inheritance is in the Saints. We should be too much unthankful towards God, yea enemies of our own good 
Eph. 8, 11,  and comfort, if we should not take pains, or should refuse to understand & to know, that which it pleaseth him to declare unto us in his word touching such secrets. For let us not think, elsewhere to find any thing which draweth near to the satisfaction or contentment of that meditation. Than let us first note, that the felicity of Christians is oftentimes signified unto us, in the holy Scriptures, by the promise of life eternal, and that with great reason. For in our blessedness two points specially may, and aught to be considered: That is, the greatness and excellency of the good which we shall receive, and the long continuance and firmness thereof, which are both noted by these two words, Life eternal. The one showing the infinite & immovable continuance of celestial felicity, the other the height and perfection of the same, for God is life, and hath it in himself, which was from the beginning in Christ, to the which end, the Scripture often speaketh: saying, The eternal liveth, or 

1. john 2. 29. Titus. 1, 2.  
1. Pet. 1, 3. 4.   the Lord liveth: who by his great power incessantly distilleth into the mass of human flesh the same breath of life, which he breathed in the face of our first father Adam, when he was made a living soul. Again, he giveth to his elect the grace to be new borne or regenerated, 

john 5. 26. 14 Deut. 32. 40. Num. 14, 21. jer. 10. 10. Gen. 2. 71, john 3, 3. 5. 15. 18.  
1 Cor. 15 45. 47. 22.  
1. Pet. 3. 6. 8. 9   that is of water and of the spirit, that believing in the name of jesus Christ, they may have life eternal. As it is written, That the first man Adam was made a living soul, and that as in Adam all died, so in Christ all shall be made alive. Blessed be God saith Saint Peter, who according to his abundant grace hath begotten us again unto a lively hope, by the resurrection of jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance immortal, and undefiled, and that withereth not, reserved in heaven for us: wherein ye rejoice with joy unspeakable, and glorious, receiving the end of your faith, even the salvation of your souls. And in truth, it is the glory of God, which aught to be the end and purpose of all our desires. But as of his great mercy, he hath made his glory appear unto us, so it hath pleased him, that the thing whereunto we aspire, and the reward promised to his Church, should be life eternal.   

4. Three principal degrees of blessed and eternal life.  
Upon this general doctrine of the felicities of Christians aforesaid, we are specially to consider, three principal degrees of a blessed, happy, & eternal life, which wholly concern 
Math. 1. 23.  man, (Body and Soul.) The first, touching the soul, consisteth in the reconciliation of man with God, by faith in jesus Christ, who being our Emanuel, is the cause that God is with us: For as we consider two kinds of life, the one corporal, which consisteth in the conjunction of the body and the soul; the other spiritual, which consisteth in the union of man with God. So being reconciled, and united with our Creator, by Christ, we are established in the life of the soul, from which the sin of Adam, (wherein we are borne) made us decline and fall.  
And therefore Saint Paul saith, that at such time as we were dead in trespasses and 
Eph. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.  sins, and by nature children of wrath, God, which is rich in mercy, quickened us together in Christ, by whose grace we are saved. If we be of the number of those whom it is written, The hour shall come, and now is, that the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God, and they that hear it shall live.  
From thence we have that peace towards God, through our Lord jesus Christ, whereof the Apostle speaketh, and which all true faithful Christians feel; for that the assurance of 
Col. 2. 13. john 5. 2. 5. Rom. 5. 1. 14. 17.  their reconciliation in Christ, is a benefit which ravisheth their souls with unspeakable joy, in this that they know themselves, by grace to be drawn from the darkness of this world, to the light of the kingdom of heaven, and from the paths of death, to the way of life. In regard of the body, by this first degree of life, they feel the first-fruits thereof in miseries and afflictions, in which their natural condition holdeth them while they live in this world. For they are not only mitigated and made light unto them, by the interior feeling of the spiritual graces aforesaid, but the faithful also thereby found matter to rejoice in their corporal afflictions, because they are unto them, as many testimonies of the goodness of 
Rom. 8. 27. 28  God towards them, whereof they receive the benefit and blessing to come, in celestial glory. To this we must apply that which Saint Paul saith: That all things work together for the best, unto them that love God, predestinated to be made conformable to the image of his Son, and whose bodies are wholly mortified by jesus Christ, that of corruptible bodies, they may rise incorruptible, spiritual and glorious bodies to reign with Christ, as they suffered with him. 
1. Cor. 4   
The second degree of a happy and eternal life, is to be considered in the separation of the soul and the body, which improperly is called Death, in respect of the faithful: for 

1. Cor. 15. 42, 43.  
2, Tim. 2. 12   although their bodies lie and rot in the earth, nevertheless, being then delivered and freed from all corporal diseases, as hunger, thirst, cold, heat, and a thousand other torments, which naturally are as many kinds of death, to the frailty of the flesh, they go to rest in their beds (as Easie saith,) and resting from their labours and travels, are made blessed (saith 
Easie 57 1, 2 Apoc. 14. 13 john 11. 11 Matth. 9 14 1, Thess 4 13  Saint john.) And seeing Christ himself witnesseth, that the body sleepeth when the soul leaveth it; it followeth, that it is not dead, but living, and as if he should resemble a man, who being diseased, falleth asleep, and so feeleth no pain. Again, the resting of the body in the grave, is according to the will of God, who hath ordained that men shall once die in that manner, to whose glory all the faithful live and die, and before him their death is precious. From thence we conclude, that such rest cannot properly be called death, but rather a kind of better life: for then the soul entereth into the possession of the second degree of life; for being separated from the body, it is carried by the Angels into Abraham 
Luke 16. 22, 23, 24.  bosom, in Paradise, with jesus Christ, exempted from ignorance, incredulity, distrust, covetousness, ambition, envy, fear, concupiscence, and from all other passions and corruptions, which produce the first-fruits of death, and whereby it is besieged and assaulted, all the time that it dwelleth in her terrestrial habitation: And to the contrary, by changing of her dwelling, is fully sanctified, victorious, and assured against the devil, the world, the flesh, and hell: her capital enemies, by the most straight conjunction and union which she hath with her Creator, attending the accomplishing of her glory at the day of the resurrection of all flesh.  
Than the third degree of a happy and blessed life shall appear, when our bodies being raised out of their sleep, by the sound of the trumpet of the Angel of God, at the glorious 

Apoc. 10 6. 1, Cor 1. 42 Phil. 3. 21  
1, Thess. 4 71 Ephes 4. 10.   coming of jesus Christ, shall rise in incorruption, glory, and power, transformed and made conformable and like to the glorious body of our Lord jesus Christ. For than our souls being reunited with our bodies, they shall together be caught up in the clouds into the air, before the great judge of the living and the dead, and after lifted up above the heavens into the celestial house of God their Father. And then the life of our souls shall be accomplished, when we shall be wholly where Christ is, and with him, as members of his 
john 14 2 and 14. 24. 1, Pet 14. Apoc. 7. 14 Matth. 22 30. and 3. 43.  glorious body united unto him, and by him to God, the fountain of life, by that means enjoying the communion of all his goodness and benefits, and of the incorruptible inheritance that cannot be defiled, nor withered, which is reserved in heaven for them that have washed their garments, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. To conclude, we shall there be like to the Angels, and our bodies shall shine like the Sun. How much more than our Souls?   

5. Singular and special considerations of Beatitude, and Life eternal.  
But specially Saint Paul elevateth our minds into a most high contemplation of the felicity of life eternal, which we are to enjoy after the resurrection, when he saith, That then 
1, Cor. 15. 24, 26.  jesus Christ shall deliver up the kingdom to God the Father, that he may be all in all: For thereby we learn, that we shall be wholly brought to God, as Christ is one with him, because all those whom the Father had given to the Son, before the foundation of the world, to be redeemed, (according to his eternal counsel and decree,) by the blood of jesus Christ, and to be members of his Church, by the power of the holy Ghost, in the latter day shall be fully made happy and blessed for ever. For than Christ's work for the salvation of of man shall be accomplished, and all his offices shall cease: in such manner nevertheless, that the first-fruits and spiritual benefits which the Church received thereby, shall for ever have their full effect in the elect, because that God, Father, Son, and holy Ghost, one only God shall be all things in jesus Christ, God and Man: and by him in us, as his members, Christ being made King, Father, life, and eternal glory in us. Than that which is written shall be 
Matth. 25. 21 Aug. in Manual. cap. 34. & 35.  accomplished, that every faithful servant, shall enter into his master's joy. Upon which point Saint Augustine teacheth us a most holy and a celestial meditation, who after he had showed how all goodness resideth and dwelleth in God, as being only and merely good, and in whom all that which we love and desire is to be found: the fruition whereof procureth such joy and delight, as cannot be comprehended: he goeth on in this manner, and saith: O poor human heart, exercised in misery, and in a manner over whelmed therewith, what joy wouldst thou have, if thou hadst the foll fruition of the abundance of that sovereign goodness, ask thy soul, whether thou shouldest be capable of so great blessedness? Again, if any other man, whom thou shouldst love as well as thyself, should enjoy the same, and the like felicity with thee, would not the contentment of thine own happiness be redoubled in respect of thy good friends, and for his sake, and for his joy, wouldst thou not be as glad as for thine own? And if two or three, or a great number of thy most loving and well affected friends enjoyed the same blessedness with thee, it is certain that thou wouldst feel as much joy and gladness in thy heart for them, as for thine own.  
Than what wouldst thou do in that perfect Charity, wherewith in heaven we shall love all the Angels, and all the elect that are fully made blessed? It is certain, that if every one of us in particular shall not be capable of his own proper joy, because it shall be so great, what shall we be in regard of all the joys of the perfect beatitude of all the children of God? Thus much this good Father saith. But let us think and meditate with ourselves, how much this our delight shall be increased and augmented, to behold the glory of the Son of God, (in whom we were elected, justified, and sanctified) in heaven, to enjoy the same beatitude? When we, I say, shall see him face to face, united in one person with the Deity, and shining with an infinite brightness with the Father, and the holy Ghost, one only God in Majesty eternal.  
And let us further remember, that this perfect contemplation, which will make us know God as he is, will also make us to love him as he is, that is, incomprehensible, and therefore infinite. For, if as we love a man, we rejoice at his good, it will come to pass, that loving God which is in heaven, without comparison more than ourselves, or then all the Angels, and the blessed souls together, we shall infinitely feel more joy for the glory of God, then for our own felicity, and that of all the elect; for than we shall love him with all our hearts, with all our souls, and with all our strengths, in such manner, that we shall not be capable of the perfection of this love to the infinity, nor consequently sufficient to comprehend the fullness of the joy which shall be in us. Therefore let us say, that seeing the complete, yea and more than complete felicity which we shall enjoy in the life eternal, cannot be comprehended by us; it resteth, that being filled with our own joy, and with that Ocean of gladness which shall spread itself in our hearts, in regard of the blessedness of the Angels, and of all the faithful, we shall enter into, and be as it were swallowed up in the gulf of joy, proceeding from this, that we shall see God reigning as he is, in Majesty and glory.   

6. divers degrees of Blessedness, which are without end, and most assured to the faithful.  
There resteth yet three points more, which are of singular consolation, in this matter whereof we entreat. The first is, that although every one of us aught to understand, that as divers vessels cast into the Sea, are so full of water, that they can hold no more: so when the Sea of divinity shall be powered into us to life eternal, all and every one of us shall be filled in such manner with goodness and glory, that we cannot wish for, or possess more. Nevertheless, this is most true, that as God distributing his blessings in the world to his faithful servants, in divers manner, maketh the beams of his graces shine more abundantly upon some, then upon others, unequally, so in heaven, where he will crown his own gifts, the measure of the glory shall not be alike. For that which Saint Paul saith of himself to the Thessalonians, that they are his joy, his hope; and his crown of glory, in the presence of our Lord jesus Christ, at the day of his coming doth not generally concern all the elect: nor 
1 Thes. 2. 19 20. Math. 19 20.  that likewise, that the Lord said to his Apostles, that they should sit upon twelve thrones, and judge the twelve tribes of Israel. But the Apostle knowing that God glorifieth his Saints in heaven, as in measure he hath enriched them hereon earth, with spiritual gifts, 
1 Cor. 3. 8.  assured himself that he should receive a special crown according to his labours in the Lord, (as in another place, in proper terms he witnesseth.) And as Christ to set forth the Apostolical dignity, advertised his disciples, That the fruits of their labours should attend them in heaven, and thereupon promiseth them, and in them all the faithful, a particular reward, and an hundred fold more, than they had lost, or left for his sake. Than 
Matth. 19 29  let us say, That as jesus Christ by the variety of the graces of his holy Spirit, which he distributeth here in this world, beginneth the glory of his mystical body, in the elect of God his Father, and amplifieth it by degrees, so he will perfect the same in heaven; but always in such manner, that the degrees of glory being distinguished, according 
Aug. 22. de Civit. Dei. cap. 30.  to the divers vocations of men, and as they shall have traveled and suffered in the work of the Lord As S. Augustine saith, One shall in such manner have a gift of Beatitude less than another, and yet having it, he would not desire a greater.  
The second point is, that if it were so, that our felicity were to endure as many years as there are drops of water in the Sea, or grains of sand in the earth; yet it should not be a complete, and perfect beatitude. For although the continuance thereof would seem infinite unto us, yet one day it would have an end; because the drops of water, and the grains of sand are numbered before the Lord But the felicity which we expect, shall never have end: for it is eternal life, because we shall be united to Christ, the fountain of life. For as the spring thereof which is God, hath no beginning; so it will infuse itself into us eternally by Christ. Therefore we shall there have an infinite beatitude, and perfect joy, which shall never be taken away from us.  
For the third and last point, we aught to know, that this life eternal is promised and assured to all the children of GOD; because (as the Scripture teacheth us) 
john 16. 22.  they are heirs of their Father, and coheirs with Christ; that they are blessed of God, 
Rome 8. 17.  to receive the Kingdom prepared for them from the beginning of the world: that they are saved and called by an holy calling, and grace given them through jesus Christ, before 
Math. 3. 34.  all eternity: That they have the promise of life and immortality, by believing the Gospel; that they are members of jesus Christ, which is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, 
2. Tim. 2. 9, 10  by whom they must come to God, according to the election of him that calleth, that his purpose might remain firmly in all spiritual blessings, upon those that believe 
john 14. 6. Rom. 9 11, 12 Ephe. 1. 3, 15. john 3. 15. Titus 3 7.  in jesus Christ, (as it is written) Whosoever believeth in him, hath life everlasting. And as Saint Paul saith, That being instified by his grace, we shall be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life.   

7. The conclusion of this Chapter.  
Let us conclude from the ground of so many sacred testimonies, and divine reasons, that a man being a true Christian Philosopher, before all things aught to exercise and comfort himself in these notable meditations of the life to come, and of the eternal and incomprehensible felicity which is certainly and infallibly promised to all the children of God. Who by that means, are truly and only happy, and so much the happier in this life, that by the degrees of the blessedness which Christ hath placed in his Church, by the power of his Spirit, they may further apprehended the excellency of the glory, and the greatness of the joy, which they shall have in the kingdom of heaven. For then when their bodies shall rise incorruptible, and be reunited to their souls fully sanctified, they shall be entire men, elevated into the palace of the eternal GOD their Father, there to behold his face, infinitely much brighter than the Sun in all his resplendent light, and there enjoy the first-fruits of the prayer of Christ: for those that had been given unto him by God, to be with him, and so conjoined to him, that the Deity, one only God, Father, Son, and holy Ghost, shall be all in them, who thereby being replenished and filled with true peace, perfect charity, all understanding and knowledge, eternal holiness, only and perpetual joy, incessantly shall sing the Canticle of joy and Praise Halle-luiach, All salvation, glory, honour and power belongeth to 
Apoc. 19 2.  the Lord our God.    

The true and only means whereby a Christian (by the second consolation) may know, that he is the child of God, thereby to be made happy for ever. Chapter 2.  

1 The good and benefit that a Christian hath to know and feel in his conscience, that he is the child of God.  
IF we knew how to reap profit by that little which hath already been spoken, touching the principal effect of this our second part of Christian Philosophy, we would easily draw this Christian conclusion or maxim from thence, that there is no greater joy, no such contentment in this temporal life, nor any thing surer, nor so necessary, happily and contentedly to pass all the difficulties thereof. Than to know and feel, that we are of the number of those that are the children of God. For this foundation being once surely settled in our hearts, we shall always be persuaded, that whatsoever happeneth unto us in this world, (be it never so hard and difficult to flesh and blood) is a blessing of God the Father which is in heaven, sent unto us, and consequently a means, aid, and way ordained by his providence, either to conduct us in the way of life eternal, or to augment our glory in the same, seeing it is manifest (as you have heard) that every one shall receive a reward therein according to the industry that he hath used, through the spirit of God, to attain thereunto. From whence we learn, always, and in all things to submit ourselves to the divine disposition of God, and at all times, in prosperity or adversity, in the day time, or in the night, to have a special regard, and a vigilant eye on God, and to set our whole hearts and cogitations upon him, that so he being never out of the entire sight of our minds, we may be sure of a good guide to conduct and lead us, happily through the straits and craggy passages of this life, and of a certain aid to overcome and vanquish all the hindrances and worldly impeachments of our salvation.   

2. An exterior means given unto us by God to know his children.  
It is true, that it is proper to God only to know who are his, and whom he elected, and chose to be the same, before the foundation of the world was laid. And yet for one of our most singular comforts, he hath given us two principal means, whereby he teacheth us 
1. Tim. 2. 19 Ephes. 1. 4. 2. These 2. 13.  to know who are his children, and whom it hath pleased him to choose and adopt to be his: to be made participants of his glory. The one exterior, by visible marks to man; the other interior, by the testimonies which he that is elect of God, feeleth in his soul and conscience. Touching the exterior means which maketh us know, and to be assured that we 
Mat. 24. 31. 33 & 44 47. john 16. 11. Luc. 17. 21.  are the children of God, it consisteth herein, that we are members of the Church of our Lord jesus Christ. For therefore in the Scriptures it is often called The Kingdom of heaven, because God withdrawing his Church from the power of the Devil, the Prince of this world, by his Spirit reigneth in all those, that are members of the spouse of our Lord jesus Christ his Son, more and more sanctifying and governing them by the Sceptre of his Word, and by that means bringeth them to life eternal. In such manner that the Church is as it were the Suburbs, or the gate to enter therein. For which cause also it is called the House of God, that we may evidently know, that all those that devil therein, by good right are called and reputed the servants and children of God. As in the same respect, when in the Symbol of the Creed we have protested to believe the holy Catholic Church, we 
1. Tim. 3. 13. Heb. 3. 6. Ephes. 2. 19  add thereunto, The communion of Saints, The remission of sins, The resurrection of the dead, and the life everlasting. For all these things assure us, that they which are of the House of God, and members of the Church, are participants of all those treasures and benefits specified in the Creed: and consequently are chlidrens of God, and heirs of his kingdom. Again, to the same end, in the Church we found three marks or signs which are joined thereunto. The first, that we learn by that which jesus Christ saith, My sheep hear my voice, and follow me: that is a testimony to be the children of God, to show our 
john 10. 27. Acts ●2. 16. Rom. 6. 4 Tit. 3. 5.  selves careful to hear the Word, and to walk according to the same. The second, we observe in Baptism, whereof the Scripture saith, that it is a certain gage that the sins of those which receive it, are washed away by the blood of Christ, that they are engraffed and incorporated in his death, and resurrection, and that they are regenerated and clothed with our Saviour jesus Christ. For from thence it followeth, as S. Paul concludeth, That they are children of God. As likewise the same assurance of our adoption is given us in the Sacrament 
Gal. 3. 27. Ibid. 26.  of the Eucharist. For the bread & the wine being consecrated in that sacred mystery, to be the communion of the body and blood of jesus Christ (as the Apostle saith:) it followeth, 
1, Cor. 10. 15  that in the same banquet, the members of the Church receive spiritual and heavenly food, and life for their souls, and consequently, that as children of God, they shall receive a happy and permanent life for ever. According to the promise made by the Lord, That he which eateth his flesh, and drinketh his blood, hath life eternal. The third consisteth in that which Saint 
john 6. 54. Act. ●9. 14. Psal. 14. 1. & 4 53. and 1. 4  Luke witnesseth of all faithful Christians, that they call upon the name of the Lord: as to the contrary it is said of fools and workers of iniquity, That they call not upon God: which invocation the holy Ghost noteth to be of so great consequence, that by the same he often signifieth and comprehendeth all things which belong to the service of God, and which concern the purity of the exercise of Religion. As when he saith, That Abraham built an Altar to the Lord, and called upon his name. An that when God shall do wonderful 
Gene. 12. 8. Acts. 2. 19, 21.  things in heaven above, and signs in the earth below, blood and fire, and vapours of smoke, whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord, shall be saved. Than when the members of the Church assemble together, and lift up their prayers to God, saying as he hath taught them, Our Father which are in heaven, etc. in that manner calling him Father, they may be well assured, that he acknowledgeth them to be his children, and that he will make them feel the fruits of their lips, exhausing their prayers, as it is promised them by Christ's own mouth. So it appeareth by that 
Matth 69 Luke 11. 2. Math. 18. 19  which is said, how every member of the Church, may and aught to assure themselves, to be the children of God, by exterior and visible marks to men, and likewise to acknowledge all other Christians living in the same communion with them, to be their brethren, and children of the same Father: leaving hypocrites and reprobates to the judgement of God.   

3. Interior means to assure us to be the children of God.  
Touching interior means, which give an assurance to a true Christian, to be the child of God, it is certain, that as it is requisite to open the eyes of the blind, and the ears of the deaf man, to make them see the brightness of the light, and to hear the voice of him that speaketh: so we, being by nature corrupted, blind & deaf, touching things which belong to God, the holy Ghost must open the eyes and the ears of our understandings & thoughts, that so we may coprehend & satisfy our souls with that which is interiorly revealed touching our adoption. For it is a great mystery to be called children of the living God, as it pleaseth him to be merciful to us. Therefore it is his spirit which induceth & sealeth in our hearts this 
Rom. 9 15.  revelation to make us assured thereof; which he doth by begetting faith in us, which is as it were the hand wherewith we apprehended this secret of our calling in Christ. And therefore the effects not only of the H. Ghost, making us to be new born, & regenerated to see the kingdom of God in us: but also faith which purifieth our hearts and justifieth us, are the principal & most assured 
john 3. 3.  signs to make us know, and to assure our consciences, that God hath chosen us, according to his heavenly providence, in sanctification of the Spirit, to make us heirs of the 
Acts 15. 9 Rom. 5, 9  inheritance of the kingdom of heaven, Therefore S. Paul saith, that the holy Ghost witnesseth to our spirits, that we are children of God, in such manner that having received the spirit of adoption, we cry with assurance Abba father, which S. john also teacheth us, saying, We know 
1 Pet. 1. 2. 4. Rom. 8. 15, 16.  that God dwelleth in us by the spirit which he hath given us. Again, by this we know that we dwell in him, & he in us: that he hath given us his spirit. And S. Paul by the peace of conscience which we feel in our souls before God, by the free remission of our sins in the blood of Christ 
1. john 3. 24. Ibid 4. 13.  showeth & proveth, that we are justified by faith, & so made the children of God. By Christ, saith he, through faith, we have access to his grace, wherein we stand: & a little after, our hope 
Rom. 5. 1. 2. 10. Eph. 1. 13. 14  maketh us not ashamed, because the love of God is spread abroad in our hearts, by the holy Ghost, which is given unto us. Wherein to confirm us the more, he saith in another place, After we have believed, we are sealed with the holy Spirit of promise, which is the earnest of our inheritance. To which purpose we have a notable point of doctrine taught us, by Saint Barnard, saying, We are certain and assured of the power of God to save us, but what shall we say touching his will? what is he that knoweth whether he hath deserved love or hatred? what is he that hath known the judgement of the Lord? or who hath been his counsellor? In this respect faith must help us, we must harken unto the truth, to the end that the same which is hidden from us in the father's secret wisdom, may be revealed unto us by the holy Ghost, and the same spirit bearing witness in our hearts persuadeth 
Barn. serm. 5. in dedic. Templi.  us that we are the children of God, to the glory of eternal life. From these effects as well of the holy Ghost, as of faith, which is the work thereof, proceedeth the other, which serveth us more and more to assure us of our adoption, that is, that we love God and our neighbour for the love of him: From whence also followeth a hatred of evil, and an affection to yield obedience unto God: For if it be so, that the reason why we love him, proceedeth from this, that he first loved us, (as S. john saith,) It followeth that the love which 
john 4. 19  we bore unto him, is a testimony that he loveth us. As Christ by the signs of love which the sinful woman showed unto him proveth & affirmeth, that God loved her much and had 
Luk. 7 47.  forgiven her many offences, adding thereunto, that he to whom less grace is showed, loveth not so much. So the light of the Moon, is a certain argument, that the Son shineth upon it, for otherwise it hath no light. And in summer, the heat which we feel upon the stones, about noon time, is a sign that the son shineth upon them, and heateth them with his beams. Now by nature, and our first generation, since the fall of Adam, we are nothing but darkness, cold and subject to the dominion of sin: There is not one that searcheth after God, that doth good, or that knoweth the way of peace. Than to the contrary. If we walk in the love and fear of God, addicting our hearts to his service, 
Rome, 3. 9, 11, 12, & 17.  cheerfully employing ourselves in the works of charity, that alteration and change in us, is a certain testimony of our regeneration, and that the Son of Eternal light and of all righteousness, shineth upon our souls and inflameth them in the love of him, by his heavenly power, and consequently that we are children of God. The tree (saith Christ) is known by his first-fruits. Than, when we bring forth the works of righteousness, of holiness 
Mat. 12. 33.  and of Christian charity, we are trees planted by the holy Ghost in the sacred vergiers of 
1 joh. 4. 7. 9 17, etc.  God, and as it were a part of the foundation of the inheritance, which we shall enjoy Eternally in heaven. To this we must add, that which Saint john saith, that Charity proceedeth from God, and every one that loveth, is borne of God, and knoweth God, herein was that love of God made manifest among us, because he sent that his only begotten Son into this world, that we might live through him, and that we should have boldness in the day of judgement, for as he is, so are we in this world, as a certain seal of our adoption.   

4. The conclusion of this Chapter.  
Therefore we conclude, that as the heat and brightness of a coal, is a sign that there is fire in it, and as the motions and actions of the body, are certain testimonies that it liveth, and that the soul is within it: so the love of God and of our neighbours, the peace and quietness of our consciences before his divine Majesty, whom we adore, feeling ourselves justified by faith in jesus Christ our Redeemer, the changing of life, which touching the flesh consisteth in that which concerneth the fruits of the Spirit regenerated, which moveth and inciteth a man to an affection to walk in the fear and obedience of God, according to his word: all these things I say, joined with the feeling which the holy Ghost giveth unto our hearts, accomplish the interior means, which with all certainty and assurance teach us to know that we are the children of God, and so to be happy for ever. And even as the exterior means to give us the same assurance, consisteth in this, that we should be members of the Church of Christ, let us hear and follow his voice, communicating the holy Sacraments ordained by him, and calling upon God all the days of our lives, in the name of our Lord jesus Christ, and as he hath taught us.    

What means Christians have, for a third consolation, to apply the works of their adoption in jesus Christ, to assure themselves thereof, and consequently of their salvation. Chap. 3.  

1. Two kinds of temptations, which shake and weaken the constancy of man, to assure himself to be the child of God.  
THe means already declared before, are certain & infallible, to assure all true Christians, that God hath adopted them to himself in jesus Christ, to be of the number of his children and heirs of eternal life, and so to settle their minds with great comfort and confidence of living happily for ever. But there are two sorts of temptations, which before all others, are a means to shake this confidence. The one, which proceedeth from ourselves, either for want of well applying in our hearts and minds the exterior testimonies which God presenteth and giveth unto us of our adoption, to be members of his Church, for by a feeling of the want (as we think) of interior and spiritual marks, by reason of the small quantity and weakness which is in us of those divine graces. The other temptation proceedeth from another cause, and specially consisteth in common and long afflictions, which ordinarily assail us in this life. Now as there is nothing of greater importance than the salvation of our souls; so there is nothing which more grievously troubleth and afflicteth weak consciences, desirous of life eternal, then doubting and fearing not to be children of God, and of the number of the blessed. For from thence proceedeth sadness and anguish of mind, which none can compreh end, but those only, that have had experience thereof.   

2 True and assured means to comfort the faithful against the distrust of their indignity, merit, and ignorance, in the secrets of election and salvation.  
To aid our infirmity concerning that which toucheth the first kind of temptation aforesaid, it is singularly and specially to be noted, for one of our consolations that many fall into this distress, because they pretend with themselves, to resolve of their own salvation, by an examination whether they are worthy to be the children of God. Now as no man is nor can be worthy their doubts and distrustes easily make them fall into despair. But there are others, which content themselves in their curiosities, only to comprehend, whether they be of the number of those that are elected and predestinated, whose names are written in the book of life. Whereof Saint john speaketh, thinking they cannot 
Apoc. 3. 5. and 20. 21.  other wise assure themselves, that God loveth and holdeth them for his children, if presently they have not perfect understanding of the great mystery of God's secret and eternal counsel. And yet it consisteth not in the profound examination of worth and merits, nor yet in the high and curious searching into the predestination of the Saints, that we must seek for the assurance of our adoption. But only in the holy doctrine of the Gospel, which in proper terms revealeth unto us the marks of our vocation, regeneration, justification, and sanctification, whereof we have spoken before, and whereby we are assured to attain to eternal happiness. Saint Paul comprehendeth them in these degrees, saying, For those whom God knew before, he also predestinated to be made like to the Image of 
Rom. 8. 28, 29.  his Son, that he might be the first borne among many brethren: And those whom he predestinated, them also he called, them also he instified, and whom he justified, them he also glorified. For every one will confess, that they who in the counsel and eternal decree of God, are elected and predestinated to be made like unto Christ, representing in them the image of him which maketh them fit for celestial glory, are children of God.  
Now those that are baptised in the Church, and illuminated with the knowledge of the Gospel, believe their sins are washed and made clean by the blood of the Lamb, by the full satisfation made by Christ to the justice of God, and joyfully bear their cross, to follow Christ, and to be made conformable to him, as the holy Spirit endoweth them with grace, are called and justified at last to be glorified in the kingdom of heaven, as the whole Scriptures witness with the Apostle Saint Paul  
From thence it followeth, that they are children of God, and that so certainly, that the great Doctor of the Gentiles, opposing the will and power of God against all impeachments, 
1. Pet. 1. 2. Heb. 9 14. Matth. 16. 24. Rome 8. 30. and 5. 17.  addeth, What shall we then say to these things? If God be on our side, who can be against us? As also to the same end in another place he maketh this conclusion, saying: For if by the offence of one (that is Adam) death reigned through one, much more shall they which receive that abundance of grace, and gift of that righteousness, reign: in life through one, that is jesus Christ. Therefore let us note, that in this revelation of 
Acts 4. 12. john 20 31. and 3. 36.  the counsel of God, touching our adoption, these two things are specially to be considered that is, that there is perfect and entire salvation in one jesus Christ; and that the means to obtain this salvation, is to believe in him. And then when this truth is pronounced and made known unto us, God revealeth two points more. The first, that he will make us participants of this salvation of his Son.  
The second, that it is his pleasure, that we shall consent unto, and believe the testimony which is given unto us by his word, that we are of the number of his children, that we may be saved. And to that end S. john saith, He that believeth in the Son of God, hath the witness 
1. joh 5. 10, 11.  in himself: he that believeth not God, hath made him a liar, and this is the record, to wit, that God hath given us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. That is it also which we learn by these words of the Apostle, That God being willing more abundantly to show unto the heirs of promise, the stableness of his counsel, bound himself by an oath, that by two immutable things, wherein it is impossible that God should lie, we might have consolation, which have our refuge to lay hold upon the hope 
Heb. 6. 17, 18. 19, 20.  which is set before us: which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and it entereth into that which is within the vatle, whither the forerunner is for us entered, even jesus Christ. Whereunto we must also refer this text of the Scripture: That faith is by hearing, and hearing by the word of God. That we must believe the Gospel, and in the name of jesus Christ, is not 
Rom. 10 17. Mar. 1. 15. 1 john. 3. 23.  only to believe, that in him there is redemption, and life eternal for all the faithful, (for the Devil believeth so much) but it is to believe that this salvation is in jesus Christ, for every one of us particularly, and to say with Easie, For unto us a child is borne, and unto us a 
Esa. 9 6.  son is given, according to that which the angel told the shepherds, unto you this day is borne a saviour, which is Christ the Lord 
Luke 2. 11.   
Again, it is to believe, that the will of God is, that we shall be his children, and heirs of his kingdom, and that he will have us constantly to believe it. These foundations thus laid, are so many true & sure means, for us to apply to ourselves the marks of our adoption in jesus Christ, with all assurance of his paternal love towards us. For why should we 
Col. 2. 8.  doubt, and trouble our peace of conscience, to wander and stray from the truth, through Philosophy, and vain deceit: through the traditions of men, according to the rudiments of the world, touching the inquisition of our own righteousness, and worthiness? we are bound to obey, and to content ourselves with that which is written, Whosoever believeth in him shall not perish but have everlasting life. Than it is no presumption steadfastly to 
john 3. 16,  believe it, but obedience to God and most pleasing to his majesty; yea an honour which he requireth at our hands, faithfully to believe his testimony, and thereby confirm it to be true, as Saint john saith. It is true, that Christ in the Scriptures saith not I will save this, or 
Ibid. 33.  that particular man, naming them by their names: For if that were so, than we might have cause to doubt of our salvation, thinking that the Lord did not speak of us, but of others whose names were like ours. But when we hear him say, that he came into the world, to save sinners, either we must deny the name of a sinner, or confess that he speaketh of us, & 
Matth. 15. 9 1 Tim. 1. 15.  that he took upon him our flesh, suffered, died, and rose again, to obtain life eternal for us. Therefore let us boldly make this conclusion & say, jesus Christ is come, he hath been crucified, he descended into hell, he triumphed over sin, death, and the devil, to redeem & save sinners, I confess and acknowledge my name to be among them, (for I am a sinner) therefore he came to save me. Again, when he saith, Come unto me all you, that are weary 
Matth 11, 18.  and laden, and I will ease you, we aught well to note these words: (All you) and every faithful Christian should thereupon conclude, that it is to him that Christ speaketh, and promiseth this ease, if he be one of them which is laden and feeleth the burden of his sins.  
Touching the great secret of the counsel of God, concerning Election and Predestination, it is so far in this point, from giving us matter to be doubtful of the assurance of our adoption, that to the contrary there is nothing whatsoever that should more steadfastly confirm us therein. The holy Scripture evidently witnesseth in divers places, that God hath elected and chosen some of the children of Adam to salvation and eternal life, and hath not made the rest partakers of that benefit: and that this election is grounded upon 
Math 20. 16. Mar. 13. 20. Eph 1. 4. Rome 15 11. 9 & 11, 5. Phil. 4. 3. Apoc. 3. 5.  the only goodness and mercy of the Lord towards them, whose names are written in the book of life. If we cannot understand, and nevertheless desire to comprehend the causes and reasons of the points of this doctrine of the holy Ghost, let us not stray out of the way in our curious inquisitions in such manner as that we should seem to control or call in question the evident testimonies which God giveth us in his word, concerning his judgements. For seeing that in God, there is wisdom, goodness, mercy, righteousness, power, and perfect & infinite truth, and that his essence is nothing but wisdom, goodness, & righteousness, which infinitely surpasseth all the capacity, and understanding of man, it followeth that all our wisdom consisteth herein; that we believe, although we comprehend it not, that the will of God is the rule of all righteousness. This is a certain principle of Christian Religion, & wherein there is a true sanctification of the name of God: as to the contrary, it is an evident sign of impiety, a kind of sacrilege, and a dangerous presumption in us, to seek to satisfy our own natural reason by the examination of the works of God; in the profundity whereof he will have man to humble himself, feeling his own ignorance. For the cause may well be secret and hidden from us, but yet not unjust.  
Therefore, how much more the judgements of God, Creator of all things, are obscure; so much the more we must receive them with great humility and reverence. He that goes about to control them, shall (as the Wiseman saith) be overwhelmed or confounded 
Prou. 25.  with the glory thereof. And we know that Saint Paul taken up into the third heaven, and there having heard things which cannot be spoken, knew well how far he aught to 
2. Cor. 11. 2. & 4.  presume to reveal the mysteries of the wisdom, and providence of God. Every man may see how resolute he is in this doctrine of Election, and how constant he showeth himself 
Rom. 9 11, 12, etc.  to oppose the only will, wisdom, power, and glory of God, against all the inquisitions and replies of men. Than let us content ourselves, to believe that which the Lord witnesseth in his word, and let us attribute to his wisdom and infinite power, to know and do that which we cannot comprehend, humbly adoring his judgements: and for the rest, let us believe the testimony and marks which the holy Ghost giveth us touching the elect, and the means which we have to apply the same to ourselves, as we said before.   

3. The conclusion of this Chapter.  
For conclusion, we learn, that the Gospel which is preached unto us in the Church, containeth the revelation, and many certain warrants of our adoption, specially the Sacraments which confirm us therein. For they are (saith Saint Augustine) as a visible word, representing the grace of the message of salvation: But besides that they are communicated 
Aug. in john. Hom. 89.  unto us, and we receive them. Therefore also they serve as it were to put us in real possession of our vocation, and to give us full assurance of eternal life. The Minister of the Church doing his duty to preach the Gospel, pronounceth to all Christians, the grace contained in them: But in Baptism it is directed to every one of us particularly, to assure us of the remission of our sins, and of this, that by putting on Christ by that sacred washing, we are made children of God. As also in the communion of the Eucharist, the Minister 
Gal. 23. 6. 27.  telling us from Christ's own mouth, That the flesh of Christ is meat indeed, and his blood very drink, and that whosoever eateth that flesh, and drinketh that blood, dwelleth in Christ, to live for ever. It is more and more to confirm every one of us in the faith of our salvation, and to assure us that the Lord giveth us his body wholly, with all good things, that we should be united to him, and so with him be made children of our Father which is in heaven, and 
joh. 6 55. 56 58.  heirs of his glory.  
Thus we see the true and only means, how to apply the marks of the children of God, unto ourselves, to assure us of that blessedness to come. But before all things, let us specially consider this, and comfort ourselves therein, which is, that faith whereby we apprehended all these great benefits of the Lord, is a gift of his grace, and proceedeth from the operation of the power of his spirit: (as the Apostle saith) For this is it which we must acknowledge in the temptations which move a difficulty in us to believe the exterior and 
Phil. 1. 29. Eph. 1. 19  interior testimonies of the will of God towards us, touching our adoption. And further, we must know that it is requisite and necessary, that that great Master, and our good Father should work in our hearts, by his spirit, therein to beget, entertain, and strengthen this faith. The which grace also is assured to all that are elect, as it is written, that all those 
Acts. 13 48. Luk. 11. 13.  in the primitive Church, that were ordained to eternal life, believed it, and to that end our duty is to pray to God for the gift of the holy Spirit, in the name of jesus Christ, and to persevere constantly in this prayer, with full assurance grounded upon his promise, that he will give it unto us, and that so, accompanying the virtue and efficacy thereof with the abundant testimonies of his providence and love towards us, he will 'cause us certainly to apply them to ourselves, to live peaceably and contentedly here on earth, and after this life happily in heaven.    

That Christians for their fourth consolation, aught and may be assured and certain to be the children of God, although the marks of their adoption be weak and feeble in them. Chapter 4.  

1. Not to feel in us, the peace and joy of true faith, is a testimony of human infirmity, but not that we are without faith.  
THe feeling that we have of the want, or (properlyer to term it,) of the weakness of the interior & spiritual marks of our adoption, is oftentimes the cause of great trouble and disquietness in our consciences, and hindereth many men from applying the testimonies of the grace of God to the peace of their souls, apprehending that by incredulity, they do not fall from the hope of salvation. Therefore it is necessary, that for one of our consolations, and to remain firm in the hope of the glory of God, which confoundeth 
Rom. 4. 2. 5.  not: We should first understand, that there is great difference between incredulity and weakness of faith, which (as we have already noted) is the work of the holy Ghost in us, and whereby we apprehended the assurance of our vocation. For an incredulous man, or an Infidel taketh no care for his salvation; or otherwise, rejecting the saving grace, which is only in jesus Christ: or neglecting it, seeketh else where for some other thing to procure peace and contentment to his soul.  
But a faithful Christian, earnestly desireth to be saved, and knoweth that he cannot be saved but in Christ, and therefore seeketh his bliss only in him, and always feeleth an affection in his heart to augment this assurance, which is that there is reconciliation for him by jesus Christ the only mediator between God and man, although he doth not thoroughly feel the peace and spiritual joy of such grace, so clearly in his soul, as faith requireth and by degrees in the end begetteth in him. For it is not written, that he which 
Rom. 14. 17. Gal. 5. 22. joh. 3. 36. Heb. 1 1. 1. Rom. 8. 23.  feeleth, but he that believeth, hath life eternal, and as faith is of things spiritual and invisible, so the understanding of the nature thereof and of the first-fruits and effects that follow it, consists more in consenting, (proceeding from a peaceable spirit,) to that which the word of God teacheth us, then in a full apprehension and perfect knowledge of so excellent a gift. Which we see in the complaint made by David, & that which jesus Christ after him made, 
Psal. 22. 1. Math. 27. 46.  saying, My God, my God why hast thou forsaken me. For there we hear the testimony of faith, in these words, My God, my God, but in that which followeth, it appeareth how much this faith was altered, & distracted from the entire apprehension & lively feeling, of that perfect joy whereunto the holy Ghost by degrees leadeth the elect. For when the Prophet saith, that he is abandoned and forsaken of God, it seemeth to be the complaint of a man in despair. And in truth, when a man feels no comfort in God, it is not for him to brag or boast of faith. Here we have two notable points of doctrine, which although in appearance may be judged to be contrary one unto the other, yet they daily enter together into the heart of the faithful. When they are troubled with the interior combat of the spirit against the flesh, in the middle of their most fervent, and hot burning cares, anguishes, and sorrows, on the one side discovering their human infirmity, and on the other side yielding a testimony of their faith. Which in this manner, may well be so little, and so weak in our hearts, that it produceth not the spiritual first-fruits that are truly & lively felt by us. But if those that find and feel themselves to be in that estate, desire to have that right feeling, and ask it of God by prayer: that their desire & prayer, showeth, that the holy Ghost is in them, & that they have saith. For those are true first-fruits of their regeneration, by that spirit (as Saint Paul saith) which helpeth our infirmities, and maketh request for us with sighs, which cannot be expressed, when we know not what to pray as we aught, such holy affections being motions of the holy 
Rom. 8. 25.  Ghost in us, are witnesses of our faith, how little and weak soever we feel it, and by consequent that we are the children of God.   

2. The fears and distrusts of the elect deprive them not of true faith.  
We must also understand, that the faith of the elect ceaseth not to be true faith, although they feel doubts, fears, and distrusts in themselves. For if they take not a pleasure in such corruptions, to entertain and maintain them, but are grieved thereat, and seek to withstand them, with a desire to increase as much as they can in the assurance of their salvation in jesus Christ. It is another evident combat between the spirit and the flesh, between faith and distrust, and between the will and the deed (as Saint Paul saith) and where faith hath residents, and is sealed in the hearts of the children of God, although 
Rom. 7. 28 24  it be assailed, by all those storms and assaults of sin, wherewith they are still inveloped. Therefore also, in seeking to surmount such imperfections, while they hope for the divine 
Rom. 8. 24. 57  promises which they see not, they patiently attend, saith the Apostle, until such time as they become conquerors in all things through him that loveth them. If we consider the course of David's life. There is no mirror of faith (in all the whole Scriptures) more notable, nor more evident to be seen, then in him: and yet never any faithful Christian was more assailed with fears and doubts than he. What complaints did he make: saying, Will the Lord absent himself for ever? And will he show no more favour? Is his mercy clean 
Psal 77. 7, 8, 9, etc.  go for ever? Doth his promise fail for ever more? Hath God forgotten to be merciful? Hath he shut up his tender mercies in displeasures? And for conclusion, he useth speeches like a man in despair, saying, And I said this is my death. And yet he was not utterly void of faith, otherwise he would not have begun the Psalm thus, My voice came to God when I cried, in the day of my tribulation I sought the Lord, and ceased not in the night, my soul refused comfort, I did think upon God, and was troubled, I prayed, and my spirit was full of anguish. Whereby we learn, that even then, when the vehemency of his sorrows and anguishes, and the infirmities of his flesh, constrained him to sigh, mourn, and so bitterly to complain: faith made him to remember his error, and to correct his fault, in such manner that he derected his prayers to God, and assuredly called him his Lord, in whom he hoped for secure. Wherein he observed a good method, opposing his hope in God against his troubles, and by a holy invocation moderated the greatness of his anguishes, which afterward he bewailed. For when the afflictions of our flesh begin to move us, and that we cannot easily restrain them, but to the contrary are by them led out of the bounds of reason, it is convenient for us at the first to repress and keep them down. So David making Faith a Rampire against murmuring, bridled his senses that they might not exceed measure, in such sort that all the complaints which he made in that Psalm, are but shows of this grief, and despair, which assailed the hope he had in God, and of the combat which he sustained against such temptations.  
The Apostles also are noted in the Gospel to have had a weak and obscure faith touching their understandings, before the resurrection of jesus Christ, and yet much weaker 
Matth. 17. 23 Luke 9 45. Math 26. 31. & 14 27. & 50. 26, 70.  in heart, when the Lord was apprehended by the jews, and they forsook him, one of them utterly denying him. Yet we say not, that they were without faith in that their so great weakness, no more than when they were in the Ship in a great tempest, they cried unto Christ, saying, Save us we perish, and he called them not Infidels, nor unfaithful, but men of little faith, and fearful: and hearing them granted their desire. As it is written, 
Matth. 8. 25.  A bruised Read shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall be not quench. But rather supporting the weak, he will give them grace to increase the gifts of the spirit: 
isaiah 42. 3. Matth. 12. 20.  and to wax stronger and stronger in faith (saith the Apostle) as in the person of his Apostles, he hath taught us to pray unto God, that he will be pleased to increase faith in us. The wisdom of the most perfect Christian is still more and more to profit and increase in knowledge of holiness and righteousness. Knowing that in all spiritual blessings 
Rom. 1. 17. Luke 17. 5.  there is but a beginning, and an imperfection in the forwardest and most complete Christians here in this life. But the perfection whereunto we must aspire, and the accomplishing of our vocation cannot be perfect, till we enter into heaven. In the mean time, to turn us out of the way, and to shake and weaken our hope, the Devil casteth his fiery darts in our faces, which we must repulse, and seek to quench upon the shield of Faith, 
Ephes. 6. 16. john 4: 10.  (as Saint Paul saith) with the living water of the holy Ghost, that they enter not into our hearts. For what assaults and combats soever the Devils maketh against us, so long as he possesseth not the heart, where faith is seated, he is driven out, in such manner, that the doubts, distrusts, fears, and all other temptations which assail, and enter into the faculties of the soul, can not hurt us. They may well trouble us, or hurt us, but not with an incurable wound.   

3. A considerable distinction between the two principal effects of faith, always powerful to assure us of our adoption.  
We must know how to distinguish these two effects or first-fruits of faith, That is, quietness and peace of conscience before God, and sanctification, which consisteth in newness of life: For as the first, is amost clear and evident testimony, of the efficacy and effect of the holy Ghost, dwelling, and working in us; so the second, which giveth us an affection to walk holily and righteously here on earth, showeth, that faith is in our hearts, it being the fountain and spring of good works. Than, if one of these two first-fruits seems to languish and become weak, the other sufficeth to assure us that we are of the number of the faithful, and consequently, children of God. For as fire, which naturally subsisteth of two effects (that is, flame and heat) although the flame goeth out, yet by the heat thereof, we are persuaded, that it is natural fire, and not painted. So when the feeling of peace of conscience wanteth in us, and nevertheless, the affection to the works of the spirit (as love towards God, and a desire to live according to his commandments) are yet resting in the soul: That fruit of faith, is a certain testimony to every Christian, that faith is in his heart, though in small measure, and very weak. For, if we have but a spark of true faith, we are children of God, because Faith is of such force, that how little soever it be, yet it apprehendeth and layeth hold on Christ jesus to salvation. And to speak truly, when every one of us shall look well into his own conscience, it will evidently appear, that there is very few or none that have a great measure of faith, that the number of those that have a mean faith, are very few, and that there are many that have but a very small measure thereof. But God supporteth our infirmities, distributing so much of that celestial gift unto us, as he seethe to be expedient for his glory, and our salvation. For to speak properly, it is Christ which saveth us, and not our faith; but only in that it is the instrument, and as it were the hand, whereby we lay hold upon, and receive the grace of redemption, which is brought to us from heaven. For Faith how little soever it be in the elect, apprehendeth and receiveth Christ the Saviour of the world, wholly and not half, as a child taketh and holdeth a whole apple with his little hand, although it be not so strong and firm as a man's hand. Wherhfore, as he that is in a dark obscure Tower, seethe not the light of the Sun but at a little hole, may as well assure himself that the Sun shineth upon his Tower, as he that sees it out of an open window: so although that by the clouds of distrust, or some other infirmity, we are hindered from feeling the Son of righteousness, shine brightly, and forcibly upon our souls: nevertheless, if therein we have the testimony of some small beam thereof, it is sufficient to assure us, that the light of life shineth upon us, to free us from the darkness of death; and therefore that we are the children of God, and heirs of the Kingdom of heaven. But as that aught greatly to comfort us in the weakness of our faith: so it should be a sharp spur to thrust and put us forward, and to force us to increase therein, that so much the cleerelyer and livelier we may obtain the peace and joy of the holy Ghost in our consciences, whereby we may boldlier resist against all temptations, and more and more glorify our Lord God.   

4. Inclination to sin, aught not to make the faithful fall from, or to doubt of the certainty of the promises of God touching salvation.  
Many men take occasion to doubt of their adoption, when they consider the quality of this point, that faith cannot be without good works: for feeling themselves to be great sinners, they are of opinion that they are not the children of God. And to say truth, it is a lamentable thing, that there is no more zeal in us or the glory of God: no more fervent love towards our neighbours nor no better amendment of life. But it we have begun to hate and fly from sin, if we feel a disliking of our infirmities and corruptions, if having offended God, we are sorry and grieved for it; if we desire and endeavour ourselves to offend him no more, if we shun the occasions, if we seek and labour to walk in the commandments of God, according to our vocations, and if we pray unto God to give us grace so to do: let us certainly believe, that all those good desires and affections, which cannot proceed but from the holy Ghost, are as many testimonies and assurances unto us, that he dwelleth in us, and by consequent, that we are children of God, as Saint Paul teacheth us, 
Rom. 8. 5. etc. & 3. 10.  where he maketh a comparison between those that live according to the spirit of God, and those that live after the lusts of the flesh. For as we are the posterity of Adam, and so naturally inclined to all vices and corruptions, it followeth, that it is a sign and token in us of regeneration, and so to be of the family of Christ, when we dislike of our own infirmities, and striving as much as we can against them, seek to please God. We know that he commandeth us to love him withal our hearts, withal our souls, and withal our strengths, but as we cannot know him here in this world, but in a part, and obscurely, so we love him in part and that very little, the perfection thereof is reserved to be performed in heaven: that whereunto we can attain here on earth, is that as well in truth as in humility; we acknowledge how imperfect we are in the duties of holiness and charity which God requireth at 
Math. 22. ●● 1. Cor. 13, 4. ●.  our hands, to whom it pleaseth him, so to accomplish his mercy in pardoning us, his power in sustaining and upholding us, and his promise in saving us. The holiness, love towards God, and the obedience which we own unto him, are oftentimes signified in the holy Scriptures, by the fear of his name, which David calleth the beginning of wisdom, Therefore whosoever feeleth such love and reverence in himself towards 
Psal. 11 10.  God, that he feareth to offend him, is one of the number of his children. And we have this fear in us, when we are careful to fly the occasions and enticements which move us unto sin, when we take a pleasure in the commandments of God, and that having offended him by ignorance, unawares, or by any other human infirmity, we feel a displeasure & 
Psal. 112. 1.  disliking of the same in our hearts, with a resolution by God's grace to sin no more. Therefore Saint john saith, whosoever is borne of God, sinneth not, that is to say, that although they have certain vices and imperfections in them, nevertheless, sin reigneth not in them, neither do they willingly addict their minds to do evil, but to the contrary, feel 
1 joh. 3. 9  that combat in their souls, which Saitn Paul representeth unto us in his own person, disallowing and disliking that which they do, because it is not that which they would do, 
Rom. 7. 15.  wherein nevertheless, they have no occasion to excuse themselves, but rather to sigh, and cry out, on the one side with the same Apostle and to say, O wretched man that I am who 
Ibid. 25. & 8. 1  shall deliver me from the body of this death? and on the other side, to feel the comfort which he addeth thereunto saying, I thank God through jesus Christ our Lord, and for what? because saith he, that although in my flesh, in that inferior part of my nature, and in the relics of corruption, I serve the law of sin, there is no condemnation to them that are in Christ jesus, which in their minds, that is, in that part thereof which is regenerated, serve the law of God, and so walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.  
Let us therefore know, that when we feel any doubt in ourselves of our adoption, for want of yielding that obedience unto God, which he requireth at our hands. The Devil is hard by us, to shake and make us waver in faith, persuading us, that we must be saved by our works, or at the lest partly, and thereby make ourselves companions of the immaculate lamb, which taketh away the sins of the world. To which temptation let us make 
Psal. 16. 2.  answer and say, that we know well, that there is nothing of our own well doing, that can subsist, to justify us before God, that our good deeds extend not unto him, and that we are most great and grievous sinners. But on the other side, that the Gospel teacheth us, That Christ came into the world to save sinners, & that there is no salvation but in him, & 
1 Tim. 1. 15. Math. 9 13. 1 Thess. 5, 9 Acts 4, 12. Rom. 8, 5 and 7, 22.  that seeing we feel the affections of the spirit in ourselves, we are of the spirit, and absolved from the day of wrath, which the reprobate shall feel, that taking pleasure in our spirits or in the inward man, in the obedience of God, he accepteth us in his Son jesus Christ to be holy and righteous, receiving of us that desire to walk in his ways, for a service agreeable and pleasing unto him: and to be short, that he accepteth his works in us, and pardoneth ours. If we persevere in this manner, to oppose and with stand the temptations of the Devil, and to meditate upon so many notable doctrines of the holy Scriptures, therein fortifying ourselves by ardent and zealous prayer unto God, they are so many certain testimonies to assure us that we are the children of God. It is true, that many of the elect, oftentimes find themselves, not to be only luke warm, but also cold as ice, in the effects and first-fruits of their regeneration. And that there is none so holy and well advised, which doth not slide, stumble and go astray, and sometimes takes a great fall: but such defaults and falls, are not to death in the faithful, but rather serve them for most profitable admonitions to make them know their own weakness, and to be more humble, fearful, and better advised, and to stir them with more holy zeal and ardency to follow the works of the spirit. And so their faults turn to good, and are profitable instructions for them. Saint Peter denied jesus Christ three times, cursing himself, yet we will not therefore affirm, that then 
Math. 26. 74.  the grace of the spirit of God, had withdrawn itself from him, nor that he had no faith: 
Luk. 22. 31.  but to the contrary, Christ having prayed unto God, that it should not fail in his Disciple, and having without doubt been heard, it continued in that Apostle, yet weak, and strongly assailed, but not beaten down, nor dead.  
David having committed adultery and murder, acknowledged and confessed his sins, and besought God by prayer not to take his holy spirit from him: then he had not lost it, 
Psal. 51. 11.  but it was in him, (like a fire covered over with ashes,) and did not then show his divine virtue, to withhold the Prophet from sin. It is most true, that the gifts and calling of God, 
Rom. 11. 29.  are without repentance. But let us remember, that the great and gross faults of those two excellent servants of God, aught to be considered by us, not only to the end that understanding that they were not forsaken nor abandoned by the spirit of God, we should not enter into despair in our infirmities: but to serve us for true mirrors of human fragility, thereby to make us know and acknowledge, that when we sin not in such manner, it is by the power and Spirit of God which preserveth us from it, and also to advertise us, continually to stand upon our guard, that we may be relieved, when we have sinned, afterward firmly to resolve with ourselves, to walk in holiness and righteousness all the days of our lives. That is it which we must expect from God which worketh in us, both the will and the deed, according to his good pleasure. Therefore let us be careful every day to pray unto him, for the gift of his holy Spirit, & the increase of faith, and grace toli●● obediently unto 
Phil. 2. 13.  him. And if we feel not the first-fruits thereof so soon as we would or desire, let us not therefore think or be persuaded, that he will not bless us in all things as his children: for often times David complained and said, I am weary with crying, my throat is dry, mine eyes fail, 
Psal. 69, 3. Psal. 22. 2.  while I wait for my God. And again, O my God I cry by day, but thou hearest not, and by night but have no audience. But behold how he witnesseth, that having persevered to cry incessantly to God, he obtained the first-fruits of his requests. I waited patiently for the Lord 
Psal. 40. 1.  (saith he) and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry, jesus Christ himself exhorteth us to the same duty, by the similitude or example of the widow importuning the judge to do 
Luk. 18. 1 etc.  her justice, and at the last by her importunity obtained it. Hear (said he) what this unrighteous judge saith, yet because this widow troubleth me, I will do her 
Psal. 11. 7.  right. And will not God which is our Father; and our Saviour, (Just, and loving righteousness,) hear the prayer of his children if they call upon him night and day? for here we must specially consider, that seeing we ask him the holy Spirit, which Christ promised unto us, we desire that which belongeth unto us, by his promise, and therefore God 
Luk. 12. 13.  will give it us.  
And likewise, seeing we ask him increase of faith, and grace to serve and obey him; we ask that which he enjoineth us to have, and which dependeth on him, in such sort, that they cannot be separated from his Spirit. Therefore we neither can, nor must doubt, that when we ask that which is according to his will, that we shall not be heard. But we must give him this honour, to refer ourselves to his wisdom, touching the time when we 
1. john 5. 14, 15.  shall feel, and fully receive the first-fruits of our prayers; instantly, allowed, yea, before we ask: as also touching the manner and form now we shall be aided and relieved in our weakness. If jesus Christ had healed the Cananite woman's daughter, when she first besought him to do it, her faith had not been so great, nor so much extolled in the 
Matth. 15. 22.  Church, even to the world's end. And Saint Paul having prayed unto God divers times, that he would deliver him from the messenger of Satan, which buffeted him: he did 
2. Cor. 12. 7  more for him, (as he himself confesseth) causing his divine power to persist in the infirmity of his servant, who protesteth, as enjoying the first-fruits of his prayers (although it was in other sort than he demanded) that from thence forward he would rejoice in his infirmities; and that although he was weak of himself, he was strong in God. Whereby we are admonished, that in all the assaults which we sustain in this world, whether they be made by the Devil, or by our own flesh, we must not be discouraged, when God doth not satisfy our requests, in such manner, or so soon as we desire them; but content ourselves, that we have his grace (as he said to Saint Paul) that is, that God doth 
Ibid. 9  not forsake us, and that he always knoweth his time to provide that which is necessary for us. For to conclude, it showeth that he always heareth and granteth our requests, when he guideth our hearts by his spirit, and sustaineth us by his divine consolation, that we may not loose, nor fall from hope and patience.   

5. Conclusion of this Chapter.  
Let us conclude upon all those propositions, that seeing God (by the interior testimony of his spirit, and by the other marks aforesaid,) hath made us feel, that we are of the number of his children, There is no temptation, weakness, nor feebleness of faith, that can make us fall from the firm hope of our adoption, & calling in jesus Christ. For as houses that are built & set upon foundations of hard stone, withstand inundations of waters, overflowings of rivers and storms and tempests of winds, and stand firmly, without taking any hurt: So men's souls which are once grounded upon the rock of the promises of God, and are made fast to the fear of his name, by the cement of his celestial love, courageously resist against all temptations, and evil encounters of defiance, without any great hurt, and therefore also we must believe, that being of the number of the elect, called by our heavenly father to salvation, according to his eternal counsel, we can never perish, for such is the revelation of the spirit of truth, in all the sacred oracles of the Scriptures. And therefore the first-fruits and effects of the Spirit, with all the graces depending thereon, necessary for our salvation, can not loose so much of their strength in our infirmities, that they are not always of sufficient force, to make us live happily, and in the end, to bring us to the fruition of his celestial glory.    

The fift consolation is, that a Christian Philosopher, aught to make use of the afflictions and miseries of human life: thereby to persuade himself to be the child of God, by the excellent first-fruits which they produce. Chapter 5.  

1. Common and ordinary complaints made by men, touching the miseries of their lives  
WE said before, that the second kind of temptation, which shaketh the assurance that we aught to have of our adoption, consisteth in the common and long afflictions and miseries, which ordinarily accompany us in this life, and to speak true, who can calculate the number, or reckon the diversities thereof? Some complain of diseases, poverty, reproaches, slanders, hatred, contempt, loss of friends, increasing of enemies, and of divers other kinds of disgraces, and discontentments which trouble and annoyed man, and most commonly the uprightest men. Others complain of loss of their goods, and their estates. Others are grieved to be driven out of their native Countries, or that they are persecuted in other manner, and that by their near friends and allies, they are brought into great calamity and trouble of mind. But the worst is, we have a great number (and of those specially, which take one them the name of faithful Christians fearing God) who in their troubles, say and affirm, that they have seen and found nothing all their lives, but signs of the divine wrath of God towards them, instead of the testimony of his love; and convenient blessings to his children. Therefore we must strengthen and fortify ourselves with necessary rampires and defences against such assaults of our flesh, whrein Satan hath a great part.   

2. God is the author of tribulation, which are foreshowed and promised by the Scriptures to his Children.  
Than let us first understand, that in truth such complaints, and wrong conclusions proceed from great ignorance and weakness. For if we knew well, that GOD is the author, and the cause of the tribulations which man endureth; and specially, that he hath at all times prepared and sent them for the profit of his children, instead of being moved and troubled at them, because our flesh judgeth them to be harsh, we should be more confirmed in the assurance of our adoption, and future happiness. In the beginning of our discourse we heard, how God our Lord and Creator, is the first, sovereign, and universal cause of all things, in such manner, as they receive all their essence of his Deity, and that without it, they should all in an instant be reduced and brought to nothing, and that so their essence, since they received the same, and all their government and condition, dependeth upon his eternal will, which conducteth and derecteth his works to their end. In such sort that as the essence, the life, and the moving of human bodies upon earth, depend upon the soul, which is within them, and without it they can neither move nor live: so God is life, and as the soul of all creatures, and that without him they are nothing, neither can effect any thing, if he doth not aid them, nor use them as instruments, to do that which it pleaseth him to effect. Wherein we have a most notable and profitable consideration, to behold God in all his creatures, to walk continually before him, and as it were from his hand to receive all the success, and divers events, good or evil, which we see every day happen and fall out in the world. From whence also we learn a most excellent consequence that he is the author and the first & principal cause of all the pains and tribulations, that we endure. For it is he, who to correct and to force man to amendment of life, useth his creatures, and all sorts of scourges when and where it pleaseth him, to the end that from that, which of itself is evil, he may draw a greater benefit. Therefore Easie speaketh in the person of God, saying, I am the Lord, and there is none other; I form the light, & created 
Easie 45. 7.  darkness, I make peace and created evil. I the Lord do all these things. Who, (saith the Prophet in another place,) gave jacob for a spoil, and Israel to the robbers, did not the Lord, because we have sinned against him? For they would not walk in his ways, 
Ibid. 42. 24.  neither be obedient unto his laws? The Lord also speaketh by jeremy, saying of the jews, Behold I will bring a plague upon them, which they shall not be able to scape, and 
jer. 11. 11.  though they cry unto me, I will not hear them. And in Amos, he saith thus, Shall there be evil in a city, and the Lord hath not done it; We read also in Ecolesiastes, that prosperity 
Amos 3. 6.  and adversity, life and death, poverty and riches come of the Lord Yet it is very true, that if our first parents had not sinned, we should not have found so many, so divers 
Eccl. 11. 14  and so strange kinds of calamities, as we daily see in the world, nor so many difficulties in our proceed in this course of life, but the way therein would be plain, strait, and very easy, without mountains, turnings, windings, mud or dirt. We should need no medicines, because we should not be subject to any infirmities. But because that in Adam & Eva we have all offended, and that all of us are hurt and sick, our wounds and diseases can not be healed, but by bitter medicines and purgations. Upon this subject than we must first note, that if God had promised to use his children in this world, delicately, and to sand them riches, honours, and great estates, exempted from common troubles, and human miseries, we should have great occasion to doubt whether we were his children, If to the contrary, poverty & base condition together with a multitude of troubles, crosses, & anguishes, should happen unto us. But seeing it is so, that besides the common necessity of all men, subjecteth to the burden of the punishment of sin, either temporal, or eternal, the H. Ghost hath often & clearly foreshowed unto us, that the children of God, are ordained & appointed to be afflicted, and to suffer persecution. That they weep and mourn, while the world rejoiceth. That they are elected, that for doing well, they should suffer wrong. That they 
1 Thes. 3. 2. 2. Tit. 3. 12, john 16. 20. 1. Pet. 2. 20, 21 Matth. 10. 22. john 16. 2.  shall be hated of all men, for the name of jesus Christ, banished, and put to death by those, that will think they do God good service. Than seeing these things happen to ourselves, or to our brethren, or remembering that they happened to those that were before us. Following the steps which the Lord jesus Christ, and his Apostles traced, they aught to be unto us as many signs and evident testimonies of our adoption and vocation. And to comfort ourselves with these divine sentences. That the Disciple is not above his Master, nor the servant above his Lord That it is enough for the Disciple to be as his Master. That to follow 
joh. 10. 24. 25 Matth. 16. 24 Acts 14. 22.  Christ, We must deny ourselves, and bear our Cross patiently. And lastly, That through many afflictions, we must enter into the kingdom of heaven.   

3. The example of jesus Christ's passion, is a means to strengthen us in our tribulations, and to persuade us that we are children of God, and that we must constantly endure persecution.  
Secondly, to confirm us in the said doctrine of the holy Scriptures, this aught to serve us which we learn throughout the whole Ecclesiastical histories, that all whatsoever the holy Ghost foreshowed, touching the condition of the children of God, is by experience found to be true in all ages: For it hath always been seen, that the most excellent servants of God, were most afflicted, as the Apostle notably reciteth, showing the conjunction 
Heb, 11. 2 etc.  of faith, and patience in the ancient faithful fathers, who were tried with all manner of afflictions, and whom he opposeth against Christians, as an example for them to follow. But specially he exhorteth them, to cast their eyes upon jesus Christ the Author, and perfecter of faith, who being righteous, suffered the ignominious death of the cross: despising all dishonour and disgrace on earth, & now is set on the right hand of the throne of God his Father. As in truth the example of him only may and aught to serve us for all, seeing that specially we must be made conformable to his Image, (as Saint Paul saith,) and because he is the first borne among many brethren. This Prince of glory 
Rom. 8. 28.  entering into the world, (created and maintained by him,) found no honourable place to rest in, but was borne in a stable, and laid in a manger. Not long after the king of that country, sought for him to put him to death, which was the cause that he was carried out of his country, by the blessed Virgin Mary, to live poorly like a stranger in Egypt, 
Luk. 2. 7. Matth. 27, Mar. 6. 3.  Being returned into judaea, he lived till he was thirty years old, in a vile and abject estate of a Carpenter. When he began to exercise his charge of a Prophet, a King, and Priest, or Lawgiver to the Church: After he had fasted forty days, and forty nights, he was hungry, and had nothing in the desert to eat: there he was assailed and tempted by the Devil with three powerful assaults rehearsed in the Scriptures. Preaching the kingdom 
Math. 4. 1. 2. Marinell 1. 12. Luke 4. 2. Luke 8. 3. Math. 11. 19 & 27 63. john 27. 10. Luke 4. 29. Math 26 27. Luke 22 4●. Math. 26 38. & 27. 46.  of God, he lived of the maintenance which was given him, by certain simple women that supplied his want, with their means and possessed nothing. He was often injured and railed upon by the greater number of the people, that called him glutton, drunkard, seducer of the people, and a Devil. He was led upon a high mountain, from thence to be thrown down headlong: betrayed by one of his Apostles, imprisoned, spit upon, buffeted, beaten, mocked, whipped, crowned with thorns, condemned to dye, and hanged upon the cross between two thieves. But besides these exterior torments, what anguish did he feel in his heart, when he said, that his soul was heavy to the death, when he fell upon his face on the ground, and when he cried up on the cross (My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?) He that attentively will consider the life and death of this great Saviour of the world, cannot but be greatly comforted in all his tribulations, and seek to imitate the patience and meekness of jesus Christ, who having no sin, suffered and endured so much for us. But specially and before all things, we are by his example to learn, that it shall be a great assurance unto us of our adoption, and to be heirs of God, and coheirs with jesus Christ, when we suffer with him, (as the Apostle saith) to the end to be glorified with him: when (saith he elsewhere) we shall have the honour to accomplish 
Rome 8. 17. Col. 1 24. Phil. 3. 10.  the rest of the afflictions of Christ in our flesh, that we may obtain celestial riches. For feeling in ourselves a participation of his sufferings, even until the last act of our lives, we shall have matter presently from thence to apprehended the power of the resurrection of the same jesus Christ, with certain and firm hope to enjoy eternal glory with him.  
But let us a little consider, how feeble and weak, the occasions of our complaints are, touching those things which we call the miseries of this life. Sicknesses, poverty, and loss of friends, commonly are three of the greatest crosses that we complain of. But that grief which is not gotten by infirmity, and vain opinion, is light, and may easily be borne, if the patient will be of a good courage, and say, This is nothing, or very little, it will soon pass away, or if it be extreme, it is a sure means to obtain perpetual rest. As for poverty, if we look into our nature, we shall never be poor, but if we follow the opinions of men, we shall never be rich: For one contenteth himself with a little; another, the more he hath the more he desireth. But godliness is great gain if a man be contented with that he hath. Have we lost our goods? It may be, they would have been our destruction, if we had not lost them: we shall from thence forward be in less danger; and we are most happy, if we have altogether lost covetousness. Touching death, which taketh from us our nearest and best friends, it is in vain to torment ourselves therefore, when we cannot remedy it. We wrong ourselves to be grieved for that which is happened to one, when the like may happen to all, in vain is that complaint and desire where the thing desired (which is gladly and soon to follow our friends to the grain,) is so near to him that wisheth it. To complain for any man's death, is as much as to be sorry that he lived and was a man. Every man's life from the beginning to the end, is nothing else but a way and a disposition to death. Therefore we must rather give thanks to God for the time that he made us enjoy our friends on earth, then by a kind of ingratitude towards them, and the divine majesty of God, to lament the joy and the felicity which the passage by death out of this world into heaven bringeth them into.   

4. The first-fruits of afflictions are of power to confirm the faithful in the assurance of their adoption.  
But here we must specially understand, how afflictions by their fruits and effects may and aught with full assurance to confirm us in our holy vocation in the Lord For first, seeing the relics of sin remain in this life, and that in those which are most perfect, which make us all prompt and inclined to offend God, we have need of aid and relief, to wake, to humble, and to withdraw us from our corruptions and vices, specially to make us careful and wary not to fall into them again, lest they seat themselves in us to our utter destruction, but rather by degrees to form and fashion us, to a holy obedience unto God.  
To that end are all the tribulations, wherewith God visiteth his children, and for that cause according to the doctrine of the holy Scriptures, they are called chastenings, corrections, and medicines for the soul, because they serve to withdraw our hearts from the world, to lift them up to heaven, to purify our faith as gold is purified by fire, to strengthen our hope of the glory to come, to teach and illuminate us in the ways that may lead us thither, and to conform us to holiness of life. Therefore the utility and profit which we receive, by this entertainment, which the flesh findeth to be of so evil a taste, aught to be a certain testimony unto us, that God in this manner plainly showeth himself to be our father, and that so he hath a care of our good and salvation. Nevertheless, it is true, that there are but few men, (who while God visiteth, and chasteneth them,) that receive as they aught, the bitterness of this wholesome myrrh: but yet in the faithful, tribulation always produceth some fruit, and finally worketh this effect in their souls, that the mercy and sweetness of the divine hand of God, is by them acknowledged, in that it leadeth the elect by the bridle of Discipline, to eternal felicity. Than as the troubles and miseries of this life, call and move us to feel our sins, to awake & humble us before God, so from thence in men truly touched with the fear of God, proceeds resolutions & protestations, no more by his grace to fall into the like faults, but to amend and become new men. Whereunto that which the Apostle saith, may be applied, (that no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous, but afterward it bringeth the quiet fruit of righteousness unto them which are thereby exercised,) 
Heb. 10. 12. 11  and that God chasteneth us for our profit, that we might be partakers of his holiness. As David also to the same purpose protested, saying, Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I 
Psal. 119. 67.  keep thy word.  
Again, as terrestrial blessings, and commodities of this life, in their true ends and uses aught to be means to elevate our hearts to the Author of all blessings, and Lord of all things, to acknowledge that we receive them from him, and to praise him for the same. To the contrary, our corruptions and disordinate affections in the world, convert them into thorns and hindrances of our duties towards God, and make us presume, that they come from ourselves, from our ancestors or parents, or that we have gotten them by our own vigilancy, care, and industry, and persuade us, that we ourselves also can preserve and keep them. Therefore GOD depriveth us of such gifts, either by taking them away, or by mixing them with troubles and cares, that so we should turn unto him, to ask him that which we need, confess our ingratitude, and acknowledge that we are beholding unto him: for all that we have for our benefit, necessity, and use. As also, because that willingly we esteem too much of those inferior things, and make more account of them, than they deserve, loving them excessively, & desiring and seeking to get them with great care and affection: God therein causeth us to meet with thorns, and brambles, which withdraw us from the foolish love of those false riches, and teach us to know that they are not true, to make us seek for the treasures of the Spirit, and thereby to be better disposed to follow our vocation. Experience too much showeth that we are as it were linked to the riches and greatness of the world, that they make us proud and insolent, that we esteem such vanities to be permanent, and that we think them happy that enjoy them. We easily persuade ourselves that great estates are firm, that their revenues cannot diminish, nor their honour be defaced, that the favour and the amity of mighty men will not altar nor change, that our health will not weaken, nor the strength of our youth decay, and to be short, that the flourishing time of this miserable world will never whither nor fall away: withal making such account of our parents and friends, as if they were not mortal. And yet God depriveth us of them all, when we think lest thereof, when we make most account of these transitory things, and when we are persuaded that we have most assurance of them, or else, seasoneth them in such manner with the sharp salt of tribulation, that they open our eyes, to behold and perceive the vanity of worldly pleasures, and to make us confess with David. That all flesh 
Psal. 103. 15. Heb. 11. 14. Osea 2. 6.  is grass; and with the Apostle, that having no permanent city here, we must search for one to come. I will stop thy way with thorns (saith God by his Prophet) To teach us, that as beasts go along through the high way, & on the sides thereof see pleasant green fields, thinking to go into them, and finding hedges full of thorns which prick them, go one their way, and leave them: so when the children of God, go out of the way of heaven, to enter into the pleasant fields of the world and the flesh, God makes them meet with brambles of afflictions, and scourgeth them with his paternal rods, that by the bitter sweet prickles thereof, they should leave and forsake the pernicious deceits of terrestrial and carnal affections, wherewith they feel themselves assailed. When a mother desirous to wean her child, should continually say unto it, (child, it is time for thee to leave the breast, thou art great enough, I am with child, which spoils my milk, and thou wilt be sick if thou suckest longer,) it were but in vain, the child ears being incapable of such admonitions, specially if it be fond of the breast, and will not leave it: But if the mother puts a little alum upon it, when the child feels the breast bitter it will leave it and suck no more. So, though we be never so much warned and exhorted, to leave the corrupt milk of the world and of the flesh, yet we are too deaf to harken thereunto, and rather desire to lie still at the infected breasts of our mother nature, until God, (to wean and to regenerate us, layeth the wormwood of afflictions upon them. He doth like the good husbandman, which cutteth his vine, that it may bring forth more and better fruit. And as we cut birds wings, because they shall not fly away and be lost: so God cutteth 
joh. 15 1. 8.  our beautiful feathers of the flesh, that it may not grow too fat and full, and spoil itself with vain confidence and glory.  
We see how all things that serve for the use of man, (to make them commodious and profitable for him,) endure many and divers violences, as if it were as many tribulations and marterdomes the ground is broken up, ploughed and harrowed, to make it bring forth corn, which being reaped and gathered, is thrashed, fanned, ground, kneeded, and baked: wine is priest out of the grape: wool and flax endure infinite labour, and go through many men's hands to bring them to perfection; so man to serve God well, should be refined like gold, and made perfect in the furnace of afflictions, that he may know how to use the gifts and graces which he receiveth from God. So we see, that whereas riches and honours of the world, make men insolent and proud: poverty, and mean estate, imbaseth and humbleth them.  
In banquets, feasts, and other assemblies of mirth and passetime, we speak of things that are pleasing and agreeable to the flesh, but at fasts, in sickness, when we lie one our death beds, and at the burials of our friends, we speak of life eternal, and of the means to attain thereunto. And so in human prosperity, we go divers ways a stray, and regard not the efficacy of spiritual instruction and admonitions: but in affliction, adversity and grief, we easily enter into the right way to heaven, and harken to good counsel, verefiing the sentence, which is, that where vice aboundeth, adversity beatethit down: and where virtue reigneth, it beautifieth, and maketh it evident to the world. For by nature we rely too much upon terrestrial means, and know not what it is to believe in God, (as Abraham 
Rom. 8. 14.  did) beyond hope, with hope, and to trust in his providence without pawn in hand. Richeses, estates, friends, strength, health of body, support of men, as of the husband to the wife, of the father to the child and of the Prince to the subject are as veils staying our sight upon earth and as staves therein to leave upon.  
And therefore God oftentimes taketh away those obstacles, & feeble props of the flesh, to make us feel and preceiue the vanity of our judgements, and of all human and mortal things: constraining us by that means to cast pure eyes on him, to cleave unto him, and wholly to depend on him. As Saint Paul saith, That he was brought into many and extreme 
2. Cor. 8. 9  perplexities, even of death, that he might have no confidence, but only in him, that is risen from the dead. God knows when we have need to be mortified, and tried by temptations, (as Saint Peter saith) That the trial of our faith, being much more precious than gold that perisheth (though it be tried with fire) might be found unto our praise, honour, and 
1 Pet. 1. 6, 7.  glory, at the appearing of jesus Christ. For as it happeneth to him, who sitting still at his ease, soon falleth asleep, and having some thing in his hand letteth it fall, or it is easily taken from him: So the ease of the flesh, l●ls us asleep in the world, and easily makes us loose, and let fall out of our minds, the virtues and gifts of the holy Ghost. But when we are put into the furnace of tribulations, participating with the passions of Christ (as the Apostle saith) watching in faith, works, and prayer; how loud soever the Devil roareth, or useth all the means he can to bereave us of the graces of God, the firmer and constanter we shall be to withstand and resist him. For from thence, that excellent fruit of faith (to call upon the name of the Lord) specially taketh force: For when we live at our ease, and in great prosperity, most commonly we pray but ordinarily or for fashion sake, but being oppressed with miseries, and assailed by divers strong and human troubles, the less relief and ease we find upon earth, the more we pray for and desire aid and help from heaven, and if we perceive and feel ourselves ready to perish if God doth not strengthen, aid and deliver us; then with all our hearts, and thoughts we cry unto him, and protest that he is our Father, and our Saviour, and that all our hope and trust is in him: the feeling of our diseases makes us go to the Physician. And David said to the people of Israel, That when God slew them, they sought him, and they returned and sought God earnestly. And they remembered that God was their strongth, and the most high God their Redeemer. 
Psal. 78. 34.   
Again, patience, and all other Christian virtues are proved and augmented by afflictions. For as a good Pilot of a Ship doth not show his skill when the Sea is calm and peaceable, but when it is troublesome and tempestuous, and in time of danger; and as every art hath rules and measures to direct, and effect the same: So the true level or lead to direct, sound, and examine our works, and to know how far we are go, & have advanced ourselves in the discepline of the Gospel, is patience, and constancy which we show in our tribulations. And then by experience of the aid and assistance of God therein, our hope and the assurance and certainty of the divine promise, which is, (That whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved) increaseth. And as the Prophet saith, They that trust 
Rom. 5. 3. joel 2. 32. Rom. 10 13. Psal 125. 1. jam. 1. 2.  in the Lord, shall be as mount Zion, which cannot be removed, but remaineth for ever. Which maketh Saint james exhort the faithful to accounted it exceeding joy, when they fall into temptations. Knowing that the trial of their faith, bringeth forth patience, and that if patience hath her effect, they shall be perfect and entire, lacking nothing. For when he useth us according to our desires, it is an easy matter for us to follow his will, but when he visiteth us with sickness, necessities, & disgrace, or with any other human calamities, then to feel that he loveth us, to found his corrections to be good, to praise and thank him, as we would do a faithful Physician, and joyfully to submit ourselves unto his will, is a sacrifice of true obedience unto him.  
To conclude, the profitable first-fruits and effects of afflictions, are infinite to those that receive them from the hand of God, and know how to use them. For it is most true that tribulation is like a Fan, which purgeth and cleanseth Corn; like a File which taketh rust from iron; like fire, which molifieth metal; like the pot which refineth gold; like salt which preserveth meat from putrefaction; like the heavenly hammer, which enlargeth our hearts, to make them more capable of divine love, like water which quencheth the fire of our concupiscence; like rain which watereth our souls, to make them more fertile; like wind which kindleth our charity, and like the bitter herb Orpin which maketh us leave and forsake the empoisoned breasts of nature; and to be short, it is the livery of the children of God, and a certain proof, that we are members of his Church. Therefore seeing we are his by right of creation, and redemption; Let us remember and learn, that for as much as he is our Creator, we aught in all things (how cross and adverse soever they be) to practise, and say, Lord I held my peace, and opened not my mouth, because it was thou 
Psal. 3●. 10.  that hast done it. And because he is our Redeemer, to assure ourselves, that according to the love which he beareth unto us, and his infinite wisdom, he will not dispose of us (how bitter soever it seemeth unto us) otherwise than it shall seem good to him, for his glory, and our salvation.  
To that end the Apostle saith, that God chasteneth them whom he loveth, and scourgeth, every son that he receiveth. And that if we endure chastening, God offereth himself unto us as to his sons, so saith Saint john, and Solomon. And this doctrine is so certain, that when God will give us to understand, that he is angry with any one, he saith, that he will not correct him. As he saith by his Prophet, I will make my wrath towards thee to rest, and 
Heb 12. Apoc. 3 19 Prou. 3. 12.  my jealousy shall departed from thee, I will cease and be no more angry, because thou hast not remembered the days of thy youth, but hast provoked me with all these things. And I will not visit your daughters when they are harlots, nor your spouses when they are whores: 
Ezec. 16. 42. 43 Osea 4. 14.  as to the contrary he said to his people: You only have I known of all the families of the earth, therefore I will visit you for all your iniquities: Whereby we evidently see and perceive, that corrections, and rods of tribulation, are evident signs of the fatherly love of God towards his children, who for their parts aught continually while they live to say with the Prophet, Behold here I am, let God do to me as seemeth good in his eyes, And with job, The Lord giveth, and 
2 Sam ● job 2● Psal, 〈◊〉.  the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord for evermore, and to comfort themselves with the protestation of their trust & confidence in God, with David, saying: Though I walk in the midst of trouble, yet wilt thou revine me, thou wilt stretch forth thy hand, upon the wrath of mine enemies, and thy right hand shall save me. But let us note this, which is the crown of all the first-fruits of tribulations, and a principal and special point whereunto we should refer all our actions, and ourselves also: which is, that when God visiteth or correcteth us with the one hand, he strengtheneth us with the other, in the middle of the tempest of adversities (and it is certain, that it is a true effect of the comfort and consolation which he giveth us, and never denieth it to his children,) and more effectually showeth his goodness and power in our natural infirmity; our miseries and troubles, being as it were scaffolds or open stages, whereon he maketh his glory shine, withal enlarging and increasing ours. Therefore let us say, that seeing afflictions are so fruitful, that God is the author of them, and that they are laid upon us by his fatherly love towards us, and to show the care he hath of our salvation: It followeth that in afflicting us he showeth himself undoubtedly to be our Father. And as when we see carpenters, cut and hue pieces of wood to make them square and plain, and Masons polish stones with their hammers: we ●hereby judge that such pieces of wood and stones, are prepared by those workmen to be employed in their buildings: so we must believe of ourselves, that if God doth use tribulation, as hatchets and hammers therewith to fashion and polish us, a● need requireth, being naturally crooked, and full of knots, unfit for good workmanship, it is a certain testimony, that he hath selected us, to place us in the building of his Temple, therein to be living stones, edified for a spiritual house, and consequently that we are his well beloved and blessed children. 
1 Pet. 2. 5.    

5. To suffer for righteousness, is honourable, having a promise of present and future reward.  
Further, we aught carefully to meditate upon a most great and weighty consideration, in the matter which we entreat of, specially in this point, that God being most just, never afflicteth nor punisheth us unjustly. For although we aught always to confess the same to be true, thereby during our lives to humble and submit ourselves under the corrections of our heavenly Father, and to give him the honour that belongeth unto him in all things: Nevertheless, he taketh not occasion necessarily for our sins to visit us with tribulation; but oftentimes favoureth his children so much, as that by his providence he disposeth the cause and title of their afflictions to be honourable, calling them persecutions and tribulations for righteousness, for the Gospel, for the name of jesus Christ, and for the love of God. Therefore such afflictions, to move us continually to live in the fear of God in Christ, (as Saint Paul saith) are special gifts proceeding from 
Math. 5, 10 Mark 10. 29 Col. 1. 14 Math. 5. 11 Rom. 8. ●5 2. Tim. 3. 12 Phil. 1, 29  his bounty, and love towards us, as the Apostle also saith to the Phillippians: For unto you it is given for Christ, that not only you should believe in him, but also suffer for his sake. And our Lord saith, that they are blessed which suffer persecution for righteousness: for theirs is the kingdom of God. Than what can they loose, seeing that eternal in heritance belongeth unto them, and cannot be taken from them? And what an incomprehensible joy and consolation is it for us to know, that our persecutions here on earth, do assure us of heaven, and makes us fit and disposed to attain thereunto? Further, we must note, that jesus Christ promiseth all manner of blessings and temporal rewards in this life to those which suffer persecution for righteousness, saying; Whosoever shall forsake houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands for my Names sake, he shall receive an 
Math. 19 29.  hundred fold more, and shall inherit everlasting life. For although these things do not happen in the like nature, quality, and value of such goods and terrestrial commodities which we forsake or loose, yet the contentment, quietness and joy which the children of GOD feel, in what state soever they find themselves to be in the time of their tribulations and afflictions: for not consenting to evil, nor to that which is against the honour of God, are much more available to them, then if they had then recovered a hundred fathers for one, or an hundred times as many human aids, and possessions of inheritance; for that in their souls they have the assured testimony of the providence of God which conducteth all things, and of his grace and blessings, with peace of conscience. As also that experience hath always made the faithful feel, (and that in their greatest need and extremities) the truth and effect of the aforesaid promise of temporal rewards, having found supplies in their wants, and many and oftentimes in greater abundance, than they could by human reason conceive, and also by unexpected means. As Saint Paul saith, That godliness is profitable unto all things, which hath the promise of the life present, and of the life to come. And according 
1. Tim. 4. 8  to the sentence of the Lord: That if we first seek the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, 
Math. 6. 33.  all other things shall be ministered unto us. But always nevertheless, we must specially elevate our minds and cogitations to the last and principal part of the said Text in the Gospel, which promiseth us eternal life. For although God, to show that poverty and other afflictions happen not unto his children for want of power in himself, to give them riches, and to deliver them out of adversity, oftentimes disposeth of things in such manner, that after they have sustained great loss of goods and treasures, they have greater abundance, and more ease and relief in this life: and yet notwithstanding we must be persuaded and believe, that God will not have us to repose or settle our minds upon so weak and slender recompenses, as to give us those goods and benefits, which are common to the wicked and infidels. For we read, That the Apostles propoundeth unto slaves, for their faithful service, which they shall do unto their Masters, not the reward of terrestrial riches, but the 
Col. 3. 24.  inheritance of heaven.  
Therefore the children of God should do themselves great wrong, from so powerful, rich, and liberal a Father, to expect terrestrial benefits, for a testimony of his benevolence: and fleshly commodities, which pass and slide away like water; for blessing proceeding from his paternal hands. He will not have his children and servants to make account of such frivolous things, neither that they should believe that therein consisteth any felicity for them. A father which keepeth all his goods and possessions for his son, thinks he doth very little for him, if he should give him the like Livery that his servants wear. And God will not recompense our bodies, for the service which our souls do unto him: but as he is liberal and just; so it pleaseth him to give unto the battles and combats of the spirit, spiritual crowns, and will acknowledge our labours, not according to the baseness of our hearts, but according to the dignity of his greatness, because he doth not properly recompense our works, but rather those which his Spirit worketh in us. And who knoweth not the vanity of all worldly things, and that a man cannot have, nor receive any contentment, but in celestial things? For it is true, that the enjoying of any earthly thing whatsoever, always giveth a man a new and vain desire, by this, or in this, to get or obtain that: But the soul being of an immortal essence, can never be satisfied nor contented with that which is transitory and mortal.  
The only tranquility of the Spirit, and peace of Conscience, which acknowledgeth from GOD the state of his condition, is the true bliss of man, his true riches, and whereof he only is worthy; that knows how to despise all earthly things, and to bond all his desires in God, to say with Saint Augustine, Lord, if thou shouldest 
Aug. in Manual. cap. 3.  give me all that which thou hast created in the world, it would not suffice thy servant, if thou givest me not thyself. And again, touching afflictions, Lord burn, and cut me here on earth, so thou wilt pardon me eternally: and so, he that suffereth 
●●. in Medita.  any great tribulation, aught like one that is very sick which desireth to be healed, to put all his state into the hands of that most wise and Sovereign Physician of our bodies and souls.   

6. Afflictions which pass lightly over, are recompensed with divers celestial blessings, and at the last with eternal glory.  
But specially, we must think upon the notable sentence of Saint Paul (that our light affliction 
1. Cor. 4. 17.  which is but for a moment, causeth unto us a far more excellent and an eternal weight of glory, for it is true (as he saith before) that our outward man perisheth: as if he 
Ib. 6.  would say, that we loose our health, riches, honours, friends, fathers, wives, children, and other commodities and helps, serving for this temporal life, yea and our lives also: But on the other side, (saith the Apostle) the inward man, (that is the spirit) is renewed, and daily increaseth. In the grace of regeneration, whereby also it fortifyeth itself in all virtue, by heavenly benediction, finally and abundantly to obtain true eternal blessings. In such manner that although our bodies languish and are sick, our souls are quickened and live. If men bereave us of earthly riches, GOD presenteth unto us the kingdom of heaven. If we be put from our estates and offices here in this worldly city, jesus Christ giveth us greater in the celestial City, therein making us kings, and sacrificators to GOD 
Apoc. 1. 6.  his Father. If we loose our fathers, the husband his wife, the wife her husband, and both of them their children and friends, God is always for us, and never forsaketh us, and taketh not his spirit of consolation from us, to make us remember, and to consider, that he which gave them unto us, hath taken them from us, and that being Lord of all men, and of all things, he may without doing us any wrong, dispose of his benefits according to his good will and pleasure, and to be brief, that we have greater occasion to praise and to thank him for the time, that he lent us those aids, means, and helps in this life, then to complain of this, that being his, he hath taken them unto himself, into the number of the blessed. If on the other side, the earth and that which is earthly, wil● no more sustain nor suffer us in this short and painful pilgrimage: heaven to the which we travel, draweth near, and openeth itself to receive us into rest eternal. If worldly men banish and drive us away, the angels of God, meet with us; and avouch us to be their companions in glory: If men curse and speak evil of us, they are words like to the wind; God in the mean time blesseth us, converting the curses of our enemies into blessings, (as David saith) If our 
2. Sam. 16. 12 Heb. ●. 11.  carnal father's disdain us; jesus Christ the King of glory is not ashamed of us, but avoucheth us to be his brethren, If they deprive us of their inheritance, which is but earthly, God acknowledgeth us to be his heirs, and coheirs with his son, in the Kingdom of 
Rom. 8. 17.  heaven. If men constrain us to weep with grief and sorrow for transitory and wavering things; jesus Christ presenteth himself to wipe away our tears, and to convert our 
Esa. 25 8.  sadness into perfect and perpetual joy. If we be banished out of our Countries or from our Towns, God giveth us the freedom of heaven in the supercelestial jerusalem, which 
Apoc. 7. 17. Apoc. 21. 18.  is made of pure gold, precious stones, and pearls, & whereof the Lord God almighty, and the Lamb are the Temple. And if the worst happen, if they put us to death, it is our advancement to eternal felicity, and it openeth unto us, the way instantly to enter into it.  
Than as those that pass over a river which riseth high, and stormeth, trouble not themselves to look upon the currant of the water, jest their heads should turn, and so they might fall into some greater danger, but to the contrary lift up their eyes to heaven, or else cast them down on the firm land, to fortify their hearts, and to put themselves in good hope. So we must do all the time that our ship floateth here in the midst of so many surious waters of human tribulations, withdrawing the eyes of our thoughts from them, to fix them upward to heaven, which is the only and perpetual habitation of the living, where the joy and glory which we expect remaineth. And therefore we aught specially to meditate upon the comparison which the Apostle maketh in the place before rehearsed, between our light afflictions, and of small moment, and the permanent weight of glory, of an infinite reward, which they produce. For so we may boldly say, that our evils are short, seeing that our days pass away in a moment of time, and that the blessedness of the life to come, is very long, because it continueth for ever. Our days (saith the Prophet) 
Psal. 90 10.  do not pass above seventy or eighty years, and that in men that are of strong complexion. And God speaking of the captivity of Babylon, which continued seventy years, said; For a moment in mine anger, I ●id my face from thee for a little season: calling that time of seventy 
Esa. 54. 8.  years, an instant, in regard of the permanent benefits, which he would bestow upon his Israel, as he addeth in the words following, But with everlasting mercy have I had compassion on thee.  
And to the same purpose tendeth that in Saint john, where he calleth the time since the 
1. john 2. 18  coming of jesus Christ the last hour, as if he would divide, all the time of the continuance of the world, into three or four hours, whereof one was after the birth of our redeemer, until his last coming in glory, which last hour, hath already endured, 1618. years, and yet it is not accomplished: wherein there is no great wonder, if we can represent unto our minds and understandings, two eternities of times, to be considered of by all christians, the one was before the foundation of the world, and that is an infinite time: (If that may be called a time, which hath no beginning, and which swalloweth up man's understanding when he once thinketh how God was then all in all things, and all was in him) Than there shall be another eternity, after the end and changing of this great earthly globe, when God shall be all in his elect; in the new heavens of celestial jerusalem, and that again is an infinity of time, altogether incomprehensible to the capacity of human sense.  
Wherhfore when we consider the continuance of the world, between these two eternities, which already is five thousand years and upwards; yea, let us add unto it, once or twice as much time more, (although the common opinion is, that it shall not continued six thousand years) all that is not to be accounted two or three hours in comparison of that which is to continued for ever; and shall be found to be less than agraine of sand, in regard of all the sand in the world; or then a drop of water, in comparison of all the water in the Seas. For in all these things which are created, there is number, weight, and measure: but in the eternity there is no such thing; because in it there is nothing but infinity. Which Saint Peter teacheth us, saying, That before God, a thousand years is as a day, and a day as a thousand years with the Lord And as Moses saith, That a thousand years in his sight are as 
2. Pet. 3. 1.  yesterday, when it is past, and as a watch in the night. But that which hindereth man from looking 
Psal. 90. 4.  clearly into this notable meditation, to know and learn, that his troubles and evil time is but of small continuance, as well as his terrestrial days, and to comfort his soul with the certain expectation of eternal beatitude, proceedeth specially from three things. The first is his natural impatience, which depriveth him of this proof, and knowledge of the good will of God towards him: whereof the Apostle discourseth to the Romans, and 
Rom. 5. 3.  which is the cause that true hope never faileth, but always hath an happy issue.  
The second cause of our evil is, because nature leadeth us unto a believing of nothing else but that which we see or feel with our carnal senses, a thing altogether contrary to faith, and the hope of salvation (as Saint Paul witnesseth.) The last is, that man is borne with so depraved a judgement, (as Saint chrusostom eloquently discourseth) that he feareth 
Rom. 8. 23.  that which he should not fear, and apprehendeth not that which is more to be doubted. He feareth human miseries and afflictions, which are nothing (for they cannot separate 
Chrys. Hom. 4. ad popu, Antioch.  him from the grace of God) but he hath no fear of sin, which maketh a division between God and us, and which draws and bring upon us all the evils which trouble and torment us in the world. To conclude, every one complaineth much of the tribulations in this life, and yet the greatest part leave it against their wills, and have more affection thereunto then to life eternal. Than what would they do, if this terrestrial habitation had by God been permitted to be altogether peaceable, pleasant and delightful? Who would have cared for the kingdom of heaven? or who would with all his heart and affection have aspired to that glorious immortality?   

7. The conclusion of this Chapter.  
To conclude this proposition, seeing we aught always to hold for a most assured truth, that God our Father governeth and moderateth all things in the world generally, and particularly to that end and purpose which it pleaseth him by his most wise providence and sovereign love, to ordain and appoint with a singular care of men, but specially of his elect. We must from thence draw this certain doctrine, that the same God is the Author of all human afflictions, which he disposeth in such manner, that from thence he knows how to draw great benefits, as he doth from all the other evils which happen to man, by their means discovering the treasures of his glory: That his paternal love is such, that he not only cherisheth his children, provideth for them, and defendeth and counseleth them; but also reproveth, chasteneth, and visiteth them with his rods of discipline, that we may be participants of the great first-fruits of eternal salvation: That we might acknowledge the vanity of the ordinary discourses of the flesh, touching that entertainment, which it findeth to be so hard and harsh in tribulations, and fortify our minds therein with the notable meditations of the spirit, which are drawn out of the holy Scriptures, for the comfort and consolation of the faithful, and that experience aught to teach us, that our enemy the flesh nourisheth and intertaineth itself with sweet and delicate things; as to the contrary, the soul feedeth on hard and bitter meat, that the one quickeneth by roughness and adversity, the other decayeth by vain pleasures and delights: the one maketh itself stronger and of more force by bitter and unfavory things; the other weakeneth itself by sweet and pleasing things: and as hard and severe things afflict the flesh; so soft and delicate things destroy the spirit: in such manner, that the same which for a little time maketh the one live at her ease, killeth and murdereth the other eternally. Let us proceed further in the doctrine of the holy Spirit, and comfort ourselves in this point: That affliction in the house of the Just, is a secret mercy of God; and prosperity to the wicked and perverse, a certain sign of divine indignation: remembering also the prayer of the Prophet, that with him we may often say, Lord teach us so to number our days, that we 
Psal. 90. 1●  may apply our hearts unto wisdom. For from thence we learn, that as seventy or eighty years, which Moses assigneth to be the longest time of the life of men, are but as a minute of an hour, to the understanding faithful man, that knoweth how to compare them to the eternity which we hope for: and so it is with the longest time of our tribulations. Again there is no man living, which passeth all the course and days of his life in pain, and trouble, that feeleth not many comforts and eases in his afflictions; and if it be but only when he sleepeth.  
Than whereof do we complain? we should rather rejoice in that which we heard before of the Apostle, That a moment of light adversity, produceth an eternal weight of glory: which should move us to pray unto God, to beseech him of his divine grace, so to reform our nature, that we may become conformable in our wills, to his most good and just will; to the end, that in the rugged and difficult way, in the which it pleaseth him to conduct us in this pilgrimage full of tears, we may always go on cheerfully and contentedly, seeking to do his will, and not our own. For in that manner proceeding in our course of life, being sustained by his Spirit, and strengthened by his consolation, in all estates whatsoever, the peace and joy of our adoption in Christ shall always remain firmly in our hearts, with patience to attend the great day of the coming of our Lord and Saviour jesus Christ, when he will gather together the children of God his Father, in the Kingdom of heaven, there to crown them with honour, there to cloth them with gladness, there to fill and satisfy them with the sweetness of his delights, there to exalt them with his exaltation; and there to make them participants of his eternal felicity in all fullness.    

The sixt consolation for a Christian Philosopher is, constantly to persevere in his vocation to the Lord, not to fear death, ta walk in the ways of God, and continually to pray unto him. Chapter 6.  

1. In Christian hope which is not visible, it is requisite to have singular patience and perseverance.  
jesus Christ which is the true light, illuminating and quickening all men, when he had vanquished and overcome death, gave light unto the world by his Gospel, to bring life unto light (as the Apostle witnesseth.) And therefore the Scripture saith, He that heareth 
john 1. 2. and 8. 12. 2. Tim. 1. 10 john 5. 14. Eph. 2. 6. and 19  my word and believeth him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation, but hath passed from death unto life. And we are no more strangers, nor foreigners, but Citizens with the Saints, and of the household of God, who hath made us sit together in the heavenly laces, in jesus Christ. In such manner that we want nothing that tendeth to perfect felicity. But because we must be exercised, and learn to fight here upon earth, and that with hard and difficult conditions, as if we saw no first-fruits of the victory which Christ hath obtained for us, to fortify and strengthen us in this combat, we must remember 
Rome 8. 24. Heb. 11. 1.  that which is taught us in the Word of God, touching the nature of hope. For seeing we hope for that which we see not, and that faith is an evidence of things which are not se●ne: It followeth, That while we remain in this prison of the body, we are in a manner absent from God, and travelers in this world, (as the Apostle saith.) For which cause also, he saith in an other place, That we are dead, and that our life is hid in God with jesus Christ: and that when 
2. Cor. ●. 6. Col 3. 3, 4.  Christ, which is our life, shall appear, then shall we also appear with him in glory. This in effect is the manner of our condition, which is, that living soberly, righteously, and godly in this world, we should look for that blessed hope, and appearing of that glory of that mighty God, and 
Tit. 2. 12. 13.  of our Saviour jesus Christ. Wherein we have need of singular patience, to keep us from being weary in our course of life, and from turning awry, or leaving the place assigned & appointed unto us. Know ye not (saith S. Paul) that they which run in a race, run all, yet one receiveth the price: so run that ye may obtain. For we run not uncertainly, but with assurance to 
1. Cor. 9 24.  obtain the price of our salvation, although many run better than we. It is sufficient for us constantly to follow on our course to the end, and according to the measure of grace which God hath bestowed upon us. We fight not doubtfully, or as if we beat wind in the air, but we fight the good combat of faith, being well assured of the victory, and thereby of a crown (not of leaves, which whither within two or three days; but of an incorruptible crown which lasteth for ever.) It is sufficient for us to forget things past, for 
Phil. 3. 14.  things to come, and to follow hard towards the mark, for the price of the high calling of God in jesus Christ. And although the world shall wax worse, iniquity increase, and the love of many shall be cold; we know well, that he that endureth to the end, shall be saved. 
Mat. 24. 12, 13  It is God himself which giveth this grace of perseverance to the e●ect, and which always confirmeth them therein, that they may be blameless in the day of our Lord jesus 
1. Cor. 1. 8. 9  Christ. God is faithful, by whom we are called unto the fellowship of his Son jesus Christ our Lord And therefore he maketh them participants of all his treasures, yea, and of himself, as much as shall suffice them here on earth, and fully in the life to come.   

2. Of Death, and how pleasing and welcome it is unto the faithful.  
Than at the end of the race, and after we shall have fought a good fight, if we meet with death, before we receive and obtain the price and crown of glory, which we hope for and expect, It may be our natural senses will be moved and astonished thereat, when our body and soul must leave one the other, which are so strictly and so admirably joined together, But it is a thing altogether intolerable, that there should be so small light in a Christian heart, as not to be able to triumph with a strong consolation, and firm resolution, over fear, in that last human work, For in truth death is nothing else, but the hour, to lay hold upon the price of our earthly course, or rather the day of our victory, after along time of war.  
It is nothing else but the birth of a blessed soul after a great travel: the desired gate after we have escaped the dangers of many furious tempests, the pleasing issue, or end of a perilous and painful voyage, The deliverance from all fear and trouble, the certain accomplishing of our Santification, the gate of heaven, the entry into Paradise, our wedding day with the lamb, the taking of possession of the inheritance of our heavenly father, and the full enjoying of our desires. And if death wherewith God threatened our first parents, is a feeling of the wrath of God, both in body and soul, by reason of sin; in that respect we may well say, that death and human life are twins, and by nature so united together, that there is nothing 
〈◊〉. 2. 17.  but the separation of the soul from the body, which bringeth a new and a better quality to man, in such manner, that the changing of his visible essence, which we commonly call death, to the faithful, is rather a mortal blow given unto death: for that as then their bodies are wholly exempted from dolour and grief, and their souls, from vice and corruption, staying till the rest of death, (which is the wages of sin) shall be swallowed up in the day of the resurrection. But that which deceiveth us, is, that both life & death wear false masks to beguile man: for life, the servant of sin, evil favoured, and always accompanied with innumerable miseries and calamities, wears a fair and beautiful mask, which makes men desire and wish for it. And death (which freeth men from sin) being fair, happy, and to be desired, hath an evil favoured and a fearful mark, which make men shun and fly away from it. But let us pull of these two masks, and we will soon change opinion, finding under the fair mask of life nothing but matter of sadness and dislike; and under the vail of death, so great beauty and felicity, that we will presently become enamoured therewith, in such manner, that with the Apostle we will say, Alas, wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from this body of death? And again with the same Apostle, let us apprehended what good cometh 
Rome 8. 24.  unto us by death, and say, I desire to be loosed, and to be with Christ. For all the time that we live, we have divers enemies which continually and cruelly assail us, and never cease making 
Phil. 1. 23.  war against us, as the world with his affections, which we cannot mortify unless we ourselves die. Secondly, sin which liveth in us, and fighteth most dangerously with us, until such time as we die, and then it leaves us: and lastly Satan, whose continual assaults never cease, but only by death. And jesus Christ dying once, destroyed him that had the power of death, that is, the devil: and having in his own body vanquished him, daily 
Heb. 2. 14.  triumpheth over him in his members: In such sort, that we have that great Saviour of the world, not only a spectator of our combats, but also an assistant, and an aider of us, that with the Apostle we may say, O death where is thy sting? o grave where is thy victory? But thanks be unto God, which hath given us victory through our Lord jesus Christ: Which is as 
1. Cor. 15. 55 & 56.  much to say, that we found nothing more easy unto us, then peaceably to end the course of our lives, when the hour which God hath thereunto appointed, shall come. The poor labouring man is glad, when he hath made an end of his days work: death is always sweet unto those that sign and groan under the burden of sin, and human tribulations. The memory thereof is bitter only to those who willingly are lulled asleep in the pleasures of the flesh, and that put their trusts in worldly vanities: For what traveler is not glad and rejoiceth, when he draws near to his own Country, after he hath passed over and through many dangers? Heaven is our country, and the earth to us, is like a dangerous passage in a foreign country, or to term it better (as it is accursed unto us for our sins) a right banishment. Than if by death we are repealed out of a miserable exile, to devil in our country, which is calestiall, have we not great cause therein, to receive singular comfort and consolation? And if the leaving of this world by death, is an entrance into life, what is the earth, but only a sepulchre, and to devil in the world, but only to be plunged headlong into death? Again, what is he which will not be content and very well pleased, to go out of a frail and weak house, ready to decay? This tabernacle of our body is weak, corruptible, and tending to rottenness, and must be dissolved, and as it were wholly consumed, that it may one day be restored to a better estate, firm, incorruptible, and celestial: The world which sustaineth it, is altogether evil (as Saint john saith) and we daily see i● corrupt and approaching to the end, giving no commodity nor pleasure to man, 
1. john 5. 16.  but he must buy it dearly, and makes him always feel variety of crosses, wherein sometimes he is wounded by envy, and many times by ambition, or some other vice, besides the unexpected assaults, which many diseases of the body give unto him, and a great number of griefs to the soul.  
Wherhfore there is no other means for us in this combat, to overcome all the impreachments of the tranquillity & peace of our souls, then that which is taught us by the Apostle, which is, in such sort to despise all earthly things, whose glory is confusion, that our conversation 
Phil. 3. 19, 20.  hereon earth, may be as if we were in heaven, both in thought & affection: with peace & spiritual joy every day attending, the desired death of our bodies, in most blessed hope of the resurrection thereof to life eternal. And certainly whosoever doth otherwise, and apprehendeth our departure out of the world to heaven, as if it were some great hurt or evil unto us, evidently showeth, that he hath reaped small profit in the School of Christ, for it is the part of those, that desire not to go unto him. To fear death, or to be loathe to leave the world, and as much as if they had not any will to reign with him. And in a word, to prefer the miserable estate of a prison, before the liberty of a free life full of all blessed and heavenly joy. Again, why should we fear that way or passage which every man must go, and whereunto we cannot attain, but only by the will of him, that hath given us life, to leave it again at the hour and time which he hath appointed? Lord (said David) 
Psal. ●1. 15. 1 Sam. 2. 6.  my times (every moment of my life) are in thy hand?) The Lord killeth and maketh alive, bringeth down to the grave, and raised up. And all the hairs of our heads are numbered. Who knoweth not that there is no creature more enemy to the faithful nor puissanter to hurt him, than the Devil? And in the Scripture he is called the enemy, a murderer, and a roaring Lion, always seeking whom he may devour. But he hath so little power to advance or further our deaths, or to do us any harm, because God himself holdeth 

Math. 10. 30.  
Math. 13. 39  
john 8. 44.  
1. Pet. 5. 8  
job 1. 2.  
Luke 8. 32.   him as it were with a bridle, that he cannot attempt the lest things, nor step a foot forward to hurt us, until God by his providence suffereth him, as the history of job clearly showeth unto us. He hath not so much power as to enter into hogs, without jesus Christ gives him leave: Than shall we fear men? who are all under the hand, power, & government of God. It is he (saith the Prophet) which establisheth their enterprises in such sort, that they shall not exceed the weight of an●unce abou● his ordinance. All whatsoever they do, it is by the will & power of 
1. Sam. 2. 3.  God that created them, and all that they do is for him, and for his service, and our good, to the end, that as it pleaseth him (and always justly) they should be as fire to purify us, road to correct us, medicines to heal us, bridges to pass over from the d●sert● of the world into the land flowing with all heavenly benefits, ladders to help us to ascend up into heaven, instruments to glorify us, and as the knife, cutting the cords which retain and h●ld us fast in this prison of the body, and withhold us from going to God in his kingdom, with our Redeemer jesus Christ. To be short, it is the most, and all powerful God our Father, which hath disposeth of all things in his glory to make us happy, in such manner, that there is nothing that can altar or change his will and decree, neither withstand no● make any thing that happeneth unto u●, either in life ordeath, not to serve for a help, and as it were away, to bring us to our s●●●raign●●●licitie, which is, to enjoy the sight of God.   

3. Exercises proper to a Christian, specially prayer.  
After the discourse of so many notable doctrines drawn from the holy Scriptures, we may well say with Saint Paul, But I pass not a● all, neither is my life dear unto myself, so that I may fulfil my course with joy, in the administration which I have received of the Lord jesus. Which 
Acts 20. 24.  to do, it is convenient for us, in all things to exercise that which God hath ordained, to nourish in us godliness, faith, love, humility, patience, hope, perseverance, and all other gifts and graces given unto us (which proceed of his bounty) by the which it hath pleased him to elect and to adopt us to himself in jesus Christ our Saviour; which are so many means ordained by his providence, to make us to obtain eternal life. Whereunto serveth (as it is declared in the first part of our Philosophy) the often reading, and meditating of the word of God, to instruct and to teach our families to do the same, often to be present, and to pers●uerat the preaching of the word in the holy church, there to confess and to call upon the name of God, and to communicate the Sacraments. The profession of Christians is a doctrine given from heaven, not to ●umble or toss it up and down in our minds, but to seat it in our hearts, neither yet to have it at our tongues ends, only to speak thereof, but to spread itself throughout all the parts of our lives, with the efficacy of good works. We must (saith Saint james) be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceining our own sel●eses. God hath adopted us to be his children, but upon condition, that the image of Christ should 
●●●ess 1. 22.  shine in us. He hath chosen us to be his temple, but his temple is holy, and his spirit dwelleth therein. He hath redeemed us with a price, but it is to the end that he might be glorified in our bodies and in our souls, which belong unto him. He hath freed us from sin by Christ, but to be servants to righteousness. He hath given us his well beloved Son for 
1 Cor. 3. 16. 17  our justification, but to the end also that he should be our sanctification. He would have him die for all men, but to make us to live to him that died and rose again to obtain eternal life for us. Therefore let us remember that which the faithful spouse saith, I have washed my feet, how shall I defile them?) And that which the Apostle teacheth us: saying, 
●bib. 6. 20. Rome 6. 18. 2 Cor 5. 14. 15 C●●●. 5. 3. 2 Cor. 7. 1.  Seeing then that we have these promise●, let us cleish our solves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, and finish our sanctification in the fear of God. As the conditions and bonds between him and us, is holy. But as it is God which worketh in us, both the will and the deed, even of his good pleasure, let us only resign ourselves over unto him, earnestly and continually beseeching him to accomplish the end of our vocation to his glory, prayer is the soul of our souls, it quickeneth all our affections & works. For without the grace of God, which we 
Phil. 2. 13.  obtain by prayer, all whatsoever we think or do, is vanity. Faith, is the key which openeth the coffers of God's treasures; but prayer is the hand wherewith we draw out those treasures, to enrich ourselves withal. It lifteth our heart● from the earth up to heaven, it refresheth our memory with the promises of Christ, to confirm us therein, it assureth us against all fearcs, it obtaineth all whatsoever we desire, i● giveth peace and contentment to our souls, it keepeth and increaseth our minds in the fear of God, it augmenteth our affection to be joined with him in Christ, whereon consisteth our sovereign good, it begetteth in our hearts a despising of the and a defiance of the works of the flesh, it presenteth unto, and maketh our souls feel the eternal and celestial goodness of God.  
And to be short, prayer, by the which we honour God, maketh him continued his good will towards us. There is nothing more to be desired then to converse with him that is our joy & consolation, and without whom we cannot live happily nor contentedly. God is he that giveth us happiness & contentment, wheresoever he is, there is Paradise, and where he is not there is hell; then he that will always be conversant with God, either, let him pray, or read his word according to S. Augustine's counsel, For when we pray we speak to God, and when we read the holy Scriptures, he speaketh unto us, and the more we exercise both the one, 
A●g. in Psal. 6●.  and the other, we advance ourselves in piety. Therefore we must not leave off, nor he discouraged in our prayers, although the Lord hearing us, oftentimes deferreth us from feeling the first-fruits of our requests, and giveth us more than we ask at his hands. For as we have said in another place, we own him this honour to remit and refer ourselves unto his wisdom, as touching the time to receive that for the which we pray unto him, and as cencerning the manner to be heard and succoured by his bountiful mercy.  
It should suffice us, that he maketh us this promise (and he cannot lie) That whatsoever we shall ask the Father in his name, it shall be given us. And if he delaierh the accomplishing thereof, it is for our great good. Let hope the daughter of faith, in the mean time nourish 
john 16. 23. T●tus' 1. ●.  her mother, and fortify her constantly to attend until such time as the Lord shall incline her ears unto us, and make us to feel the full effect of his promises, which are always 
Psal. 40. 1.  certain and infallible. Zacharias & Elizabeth thought they had prayed in vain, when in their youthful days they asked children of the Lord, yet when they were old, and out of hope of any children, the angel of the Lord said unto Zacharias: (thy prayer is hard) not that which he then made, for he thought no more upon having children but that which he had made unto God, long time before. And also because God oftentimes heareth us, not according to 
Luke 1. 13.  our wills, but for our profits; it happeneth sometimes, that in mercy he refuseth that unto his children, which in his anger he granteth to strangers & perverse people. As when weaske of God things concerning this life, as health, benefits, dignities, riches, parents, friends, and lands: & God depriving us of all that, giveth us spiritual graces, wherein we shall feel much more profit, joy, & contentment by his providence in the want that we have of his terrestrial benefits, ordaining the means to eucrease & augment our glory i● the kingdom of heaven, Than let us learn that when we feel a slackness and sluggishness in our duty of prayer, & when we have scarce begun to pray, that in stead of thinking upon God, & that which we ask of him, our minds are carried an other way, they are testimonies of our corruption and infirmity, whereinto Satan thrusteth himself to trouble us, & to put us in a distrust of his heavenly grace. Whereof S. Chrysostom eloquently showeth the cause, and consequently the remedy: saying, how comes it to pass, that when we speak of war, of merchandise, 
S. Christ. in Hom: de Chana●.  and of other worldly matters, we discourse and argue long time without thinking upon any other things; and presently when we pray unto God, our minds waver, and go astray? Learn this Christian (said he) it is because the devil knoweth well, that speaking of earthly matters, thou dost him no hurt, and therefore he suffereth thee to discourse as long as thou wilt. But when he seethe thee kneel down, to pray unto God, be knoweth that thou goest about to procure that which he hateth, and which tendeth to the destruction of his kingdom. And therefore he thrusteth himself in between both, troubling, and drawing thy thoughts an other way, to hinder the first-fruits of thy prayers.  
Than say to Satan, who at that time is so near unto thee: Away from me, thou tempter, for I must pray unto my God, and when thou feelest him importunate with thee, beseech God to drive him away from thee, & so persevere in thy prayer. Now for that it may so fall out, that by means of some great affliction of the body, or of the soul, some man may be so feeble, that he cannot make any formal prayer with tongue and voice, he aught not therefore to be discouraged. For at the lest, he hath power to desire his own good and salvation. There is no sickness, not nor any terrant, that can hinder or impeach him from that. The mind and desire is a prayer before God, he heareth saith David the desire of the humble 
Psal. 10. 17.  and poor, he prepareth their hearts, and bendeth his ears unto them. Therefore let us always say with him, and when we cannot say it, let us meditate in our thoughts 
Psal. 3●6. Easie 38. 14.  (Lord I power my whole desire before thee, and my sighing is not hid from thee. It is written of Ezachias King of juda, That in his affliction, he could not distinctly pray unto God, but chattred like a Crane, or a swallow, or grumbled like a dove; yet lifting his eyes up to heaven, his prayer was ●eard. What prayers doth the little child make to the 
Easie 38. 14.  mother? i● weary and crieth, and she gives it the breast, or giveth him some other thing, which she thinketh he needeth. Much more and sooner will our heavenly Father that understandeth the sighs, the sobs, and the wishes of his children, do the office of a good Father towards them, providing them of all things necessary.   

4. The conclusion of this Chapter.  
Than to conclude, let us learn to make our vocation sure unto the Lord, by walking in his ways, and aspiring unto future immortality. Let us march joyful in our race to come to death, not as if we would be unclothed, but because we desire to be better clothed. Brutus beasts and insensible creatures, having as it were a certain feeling of their vanity and corruption, 
● Cor. 5. 2.  hearken after the latter day, to be delivered from it: much more them, (In consideratiration of all that concerneth our happiness,) aught we to lift up our affections & thoughts 
Rom. 8. 19  above all earthly and mortal things, let us ask of God those graces, which are necessary for us: And if we receive them not when we would, but when, & in such measure, as it pleaseth him, let us know that his will is to give us to understand and will have us earnestly to meditate, that they are his gifts, which, when he deferreth, it is to humble us the more, by the feeling of our imperfections and weakness, so to prove our patience & perseverance. Therefore let us not be discouraged, but let us persevere at all times to pray unto God, following the example of the wise widow, who being continually in the Temple, night & day served the Lord in prayers and fastings, assuring ourselves, that as he whom we call upon, 
Luk. 2 36. 37.  desireth our good & according to his paternal love & infinite power, can give us that which we ask of him, and according to the truth of his promise, he will hear us: so according to his wisdom, he knows the fit time, and the convenient means, to make us feel & found the effect of our prayers. If we pray unto him with such a zeal, and with the feeling of the ardency and faith which is required in true prayer, let us remember, that it is in the name of 
john 16. 23.  Christ that we pray unto God, according to his word, that for the love of him he will hear us, and not for the excellency and worthiness of our prayers. Let us carefully remember and meditate, that it is by the mouth of the son, that every faithful Christian presenteth his prayers to the Father, to be sanctified in him who is his well beloved Son in whom he is well 
Math. 17. 5. Rome 12. 12.  pleased, which therefore cannot but be pleasing and agreeable unto him. Let us believe, that what weakness or coldness soever we feel in ourselves, nevertheless, we are bound to pray, and to continued in that duty towards God, and withal to acknowledge our infirmity in this holy work, in such manner, that praying we may ask double pardon and forgiveness of God, that is of our sins before committed, and of that which we commit in praying negligently. By that means God of his goodness bearing with our want in prayer, will receive it as a sweet smelling savour, and as an incense offered unto him by our great sacrificatour jesus Christ, and will make us perceive the first-fruits thereof, until our joy shall be 
Psal. 141. 2. john 16. 24.  accomplished.    

Meditations and Prayers, which a Christian Philosopher, for a seventh and a complete consolation aught to have in heart and mouth, and every day to exercise the same, to live and die happily. Chapter 7.  

1. Meditation upon the Lord's Prayer.  
ALl the precepts in the holy Scriptures, are no other thing, but commandments of God our Lord and Father, touching the obedience which he requireth of us, foundations whereon to build our hope, instructions to strengthen our faith, food to nourish our souls, guides to conduct us in the way, & helps to con●ort us in the miseries thereof, & to bring us to salvation. In such manner, that when the heart of the faithful becometh tractable here on earth, unto those sacred precepts, it is a most assured means to bring him to heaven. Among so many good instructions that are found to be in the holy Scriptures, jesus Christ hath specially appointed us a form to pray well unto God. He, I say, which is the wisdom of the Father, which hath the words of life, and by whom we live, and shall live, hath taught us what we should ask of God, to the end, that praying as his Son hath taught us, he would the willinglier harken to us, and we shall be so much the more assured that he will hear us. This Saviour of the world had taught, That the hour should come, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in Spirit and truth. And therefore to accomplish 
john 4. 23.  his word, he hath given us his Spirit, by the which we cry, Abba Father, And hath pronounced his word, for a certain testimony of the Gospel, to make us to yield unto God that spiritual service, which is convenient to his nature, saying, When you pray, say thus, Our Father which ar● in heaven, hallowed be thy Name, etc. 
Rom. 8. 15. john 4. 24. Math. 6. 9 Luke 11. 2.   
Here in the first place we see, how jesus Christ, the Doctor of peace, and the Master of union and concord, would have our prayer to be public, and common to all Christians, as all the people of God are but one body. For as in one man (the word made flesh) God saved many, and that by one eternal Spirit he governeth all his elect; so he would, that when one man alone prayeth, he should pray for all, saying, Our Father which art in heaven, etc. O happy and amiable beginning of Prayer, wherein man newly regenerated, and which is reconciled unto God, calleth and claimeth him to be his Father, because he is received to be a child, and one of his heavenly family, having been baptised, and believing 
Rom. 8. 24.  in the name of Christ, the first borne among many brethren: It is true, that God our Father is in heaven, but this is it which comforteth us, that he is our Father, that we are his, and that he accepteth of us in his beloved Son, in whom he hath elected, called, and sanctified us, to be glorified. Than for the first request we pray, and say, Hallowed be ●●y Name: 
Rom. 8. 29.  that is in us, that his glory may be exalted in our souls, in all places, and in all things, whereby also we obtain that holiness, which is convenient for his children, and whereof we are advertised in Baptism, to the end that we should persevere therein. For in truth, the name of God and his word are not sanctified and honoured by us, if we ourselves be not holy in all our conversation. 
1. Pet. 1. 15.   
Secondly, we say, Thy kingdom come: that is, in respect of us, in such manner, that we that have been servants to sin, the world, and the devil, from hence forth might have jesus Christ pvissantly reigning in us, and that God will daily increase the number of the faithful, until the accomplishing of his kingdom at the latter day. For then the kingdom of God shallbe perfect, when we hear his sweet voice, saying; Come ye blessed of my Father, take 
Math. 25. 34  the inheritance of the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. Thirdly, we ask of God, and say; Thy will be done, in earth as it is in heaven: that is to say, that we may willingly and obediently in faith do that which is pleasing and acceptable unto him. Wherein we must be assisted by God himself against the impeachments of Satan, & against the which no man can be assured, but by a special divine grace. So then, as God is eternal, so whosoever will be happy for ever, he is bound to do the will of the eternal God: that is, the same 
Psal. 103. 10  which Christ teacheth us in the Gospel, as the Angels do the commandment of God in heaven; obeying the voice of his word. After these three requests, which properly concern the glory of God, we make three more unto him, wholly concerning ourselves, and for our good & benefit: albeit, that by his infinite goodness, he doth in such manner dispose and ordain all things, that nothing can be for the honour of his name, which also is not good for our salvation; so in all our demands, which specially concern us, his glory aught to be so much respected, that it should be the end and purpose of our desires. The first of the three last requests is; Give us this day our daily bread: which may be understood spiritually by 
john 6. 35. 48. & 53.  Christ, which is the bread of life, & the necessary food of our souls. But here the Lord specially teacheth us, not to be transported, nor otherwise carried away then we should be, by the cares of this present life, but rather as we brought nothing into the world, and that we shall carry nothing out of it again, we should also content ourselves with that which sufficeth 
1. Tim. 6. 8, 9  us to live soberly, and to cloth ourselves simply; it being most true, that they which aspire to riches and superfluities, fall into many griefs, and are easily caught in the snares of the devil. Than contenting ourselves to ask of God our daily bread, we shall not be careful for tomorrow, nor to ask of God our Father greater things for this life: for the next day shall care for itself, and he that provideth for the fowls of the heaven, which neither sow nor reap, nor carry into the barns, and which clotheth the grass of the field, knows 
Mat. 26. 26, ●●  well, how to furnish us with all that which shall be necessary for us.  
Than it followeth, And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that traspasses against us. Hear we ask forgiveness of sins which are called Trespasses, because they hold us bound to the condemnation of eternal death. Which we beseech GOD our Creator, 
Matth. 6. 12.  that he would be pleased freely and graciously to pardon. For it is the only means whereby we are pleasing and agreeable unto him, as if we were righteous and innocent, and which assure our consciences of his fatherly love towards us, from whence we have salvation and life eternal. But the condition opposed to this request, bindeth us before God to forgive our neighbours, if we will have him to forgive us, as jesus Christ saith in another place, That with such measure as we meet, it shall be measured unto us again. And that if we forgive not our brethren with all our hearts, we shall 
Math. 7. 2.  be dealt withal, as the evil servant was, which dealt rigorously with his fellow servant. It is a good sacrifice which we present to our common father, when our 
Math. 18. 35.  hearts are reconciled and united together with all his family: otherwise, our Prayer cannot be pleasing unto him; for nothing pleaseth him, which proceedeth from a perverse and a hateful heart.  
Lastly, we say, And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For as God by his mercy preserveth his faithful children, and suffereth not the Devil (the author of all temptations) to seduce them, nor will not have sin to overwhelm them: so those whom God in his justice will punish, he doth not only forsake them, and withdraweth his grace from them, but forthwith delivereth them to the Devil, to be subject to his tyranny, and blinding them, giveth them a reprobate sense. From whence we learn, for our singular consolation, that this great adversary can do nothing against us, but by the will and permission of God: who sometimes suffereth us to be tempted, to punish us for our sins present or past, or to make us triumphant and victorious in temptation, when it pleaseth him so to prove us, for his glory and our good. For this is most true, that God being our Father, will never suffer us to faint, or to be overthrown in the assaults of our enemies. And praying to be delivered from evil, it is to be defended from all hurts and danger, proceeding from the Devil, from men, or from our own corruption. For having God for our warrant and defence, we need not fear any thing.  
To be brief, and to conclude our Meditation, let us carefully mark how our Lord jesus Christ, hath not only commanded us to pray: but he himself also gave a singular and special example; who oftentimes withdrew himself apart to pray, and therein spent 
Math. 26. 39 42. and 44. Luke 6. 12.  whole nights. Now if he that was exempted from sin, prayed: If three times in one night he asked one self something of God, bounding his request on these words, Thy will, OH Father, be done: With what face can we, poor sinners, well abstain from praying unto God, and how should we be weary of so necessary a work, or withal patience to attend, until we receive the first-fruits and efficacy thereof? Let us watch and pray, that we enter not into temptation, that in the day of the Lord, we may be found wise and faithful 
Math. 24 42. & 45. & 26. 41 Luke 21. 36.  servants, to be made happy and blessed for ever.   

2. Consideration of the excellency and efficacy of Prayer made in faith, with a good and a Christian resolution.  
We aught all to acknowledge and confess, that among the principal points of the service which we are bound to yield unto our God and Father, prayer hath not the last nor lest part therein: when with a true and lively faith, well assured that we are of the number of his children by jesus Christ, we present ourselves before his heavenly throne, be it publicly in the Church, or privately in our secret chambers; to speak familiarly with him; to discover our griefs and troubles unto him; to show him our corporal or spiritual pains; to make him acquainted with our necessities; and of the need which we have of his grace in our infirmities; and to desire, that according to his great mercy, and for the love of his well-beloved Son, he would have compassion on us, and grant us that which he knoweth to be necessary for our good and salvation. But to pray devoutly, and according to the order aforesaid, taught us by the Lord himself: first, the requests which we make unto God when we pray, must be done in such manner, that before all things we must seek for the glory of God, and the advancement of his kingdom: otherwise we should (in a manner) begin backward, if we abase heaven, to advance earth, place man before God his Creator, & first make petition for our own private commodities, and afterward followon with that, which aught to be dearer and more recommended unto us, than our own souls, that is, the glory of our God, and the care of his honour. We read of the Prophet Elias, who in his time was visited with many tribulations, 
1. Kings 19 10, 1,  miseries, anguishes, and troubles, (if ever any man was,) and by consequent, had occasion according to human infirmity, to seek for, and to ask of God, ease in his pains, return out of exile, enjoying of his goods, remedy against hunger, company in solitariness, deliverance out of dangers, defence and justification against slanders, honour in imbafement; and to conclude all that which is requisite and necessary to make this life pleasing, contented, assured, and honourable, (for all these things he seemed to want.) Nevertheless, we see none of all these things to be placed before, or in the first part of his prayers and complaints to God, but only that he was jealous for the Lords sake, because the children of Israel had forsaken his covenant, cast down his Altars, and slain his Prophets. Lord God of Abraham, Isaac, & jacob (said he,) let it be known this day, that thou art the God of Israel, and that I am thy servant, and that I have done all these things at thy commandment, hear me, O Lord, hear me, and let his people know, that thou art the Lord God, and that thou 
Ibid. 18. 36. 37.  hast turned their hearts again at the last.  
Thus was this holy man blessed in heaven and his prayer heard, for that, forgetting himself, he prayed for the glory of God: which aught also to be set before and preferred in all our prayers. For doing so, we can not choose, but by experience feel the infinite riches of the most powerful God, who without ceasing, by his most great liberality, recompenseth with an infinity of blessings, the prayers which we make in the name of his son our Lord jesus Christ, as by him we have access to the throne of glory, there to find all needful aid and relief. And in truth, prayer serveth us in manner of a chariot to bear and lift us up to heaven, to speak with God, and to obtain those things of him, which without this only means were impossible for man to attain unto: witness Moses who by his prayers, was the cause of victory to the Israelites: josua, stayed the Sun by the same means: Elias procured fire to come down from heaven, and obtained celestial powers to help 
Exod. 17. 12. josua 10. 12. 1 King. 18. 38 2 Kings 20. 5  him: And Ezechias in his weak and feeble state of sickness, obtained perfect health. Prayer is a sound and solid counsel for us in most doubtful causes, it comforteth us in desolation, it is a safe haven and relief unto us, in time of torments, a remedy in grief, a help of treasure, in necessity, a deliverance in danger, a retract in exile, and in our most hard assaults an impregnable place; and to be short, there is no cross nor trouble so difficult, which prayer doth not mollify, and maketh the issue thereof, in what manner soever, tend to the good & salvation of the faithful. Therefore joel said, Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. And jacob found the certain effect thereof, when he saw his brother Esau's 
joel 2. 32. Gen. 33. 4.  heart from cruel, to become courteous; from angry peaceable; and from furious, gentle. But specially, let us note, how many times David hath by prayer been drawn out of trouble, and delivered out of innumerable dangers of enemies, sorrows, and anguishes? His divine Psalms make m●enion thereof, which so highly extol the fidelity of God, which heard the languishing voice of his faithful servant, when he called upon him in his troubles. O Lord I have called upon thee (saith he) surely thou wilt hear me, OH God enclinethine ear to me. 
Psal. 17. 6. 7.  and harken unto my words, show thy marvelous mercies, thou that art the Saviour of them that trust in thee, from such as resist thy right hand. And I will call upon the Lord, which is 
Psal. 18. 3, etc.  worthy to be praised, so shall be safe from mine enemies. The sorrows of death compassed me, and the floods of wickedness made me afraid. The sorrows of the grave have compassed me about, the snares of death overtook me, but in my trouble I called upon the Lord, and cried unto my God, and he heard my voice out of his Temple, and my cry did come before him even in his ears. And Easie saith, Seek the Lord, while he may be found, call upon him while he is near. And jesus Christ saith, Watch and pray, that you enter not into temptation. 
Easie. 55. 6. Math. 26. 41.   
All which things nevertheless, we must understand to be in such manner attributed unto prayer, that we must not refer these things to the work itself, but to the power, grace and mercy of God, for that it is he, who being moved with paternal pity, and full of goodness, showeth forth his virtue, to grant that unto his children, which their prayers made by faith in jesus Christ require and desire according to his will, in such manner, that he can find a remedy in things impossible to men, and raise up admirablemeanes to make his servants feel his powerful aid and succour, in their most grievous and dangerous troubles.  
Again, let us note, that it is fit and convenient for those that pray, to observe temperance and modesty in their words, with a stayed manner full of reverence and humility; remembering that it is before the face of God, that we present ourselves. And therefore let us learn, both in countenance, gesture and voice, to please that great King of heaven and earth our Father: being most certain that there is nothing, which so much recommendeth prayer, than modesty and simplicity. We know also, that God commendeth that prayer which is made apart and secretly in our Chambers, as a thing agreeing to faith, 
Matth. 6. 6.  to make us know, that God is in all places, and that the fullness of his Majesty penetrateth even into the most secret places. And therefore, he willinglyer hearkeneth to the heart, then 
jerem. 23. 24.  to the voice, and openly giveth us that, which he secretly seethe in our thoughts and minds, humbled before his face. It is said of Anna Samuels mother, That she spoke unto 
1. Sam. 1. 13.  the Lord in her heart: So that her prayer being secret her faith was manifest, wherein also she was heard. We also have another example of a well ordered and modest prayer, in the person of the Publican, who showing the true signs of an humble heart, in confessing his sins, obtained the first-fruits of his request. Man's sins are a thick wall between 
Luke 18. 13.  God and them, which oftentimes hindereth his grace to come unto us, and our principal felicity consisteth in the remission of our sins. Therefore the most convenient preparation 
Psalm. 32. 1.  and disposition of prayer is, the confession of our sins, proceeding from a dejected soul, humbled with the feeling of her own unworthiness. And it is no marvel, if the object of her filthiness maketh her fearful to speak unto that great God, before whose infinite Essence, man is less than nothing: and before his resplendent brightness, like dung. But the soul casting itself down before his Majesty, under the shadow of Christ, and covering itself with the honourable robe of the perfect righteousness and holiness which is in this Saviour of the elect, she yieldeth a sweet smelling favour before God, and a pleasing show, that so confessing her own misery, and offences, with an humble heart, she may receive full pardon, and a new testimony of heavenly blessings.  
Again, when we pray, all carnal thoughts and imaginations, must be far from us, that the Spirit may only bend itself to prayer; that our hearts must be wholly shut up against Satan, and open unto God; for the Devil is crafty, always seeking holes and crevices to slip into our understandings, and to turn them from celestial meditations; by that means oftentimes causing us to have one thing in our hearts, and another in our tongues. It is not the sound of the mouth or tongue, which the Lord requireth, but the heart and thought.  
Lastly, it is convenient that our prayer should not be barren, to have the more efficacy, but joined with all good works; and therefore the holy Scripture often joineth it with Alms and Fasting. Prayer is a good thing with fasting, alms, and righteousness. And we read of good cornelius the Centurion, That fasted and prayed, and that his prayer was heard, and 
job. 12. 8. Act. 10. 30, 31  his alms were had in remembrance in the sight of God. And Easie saith, that among other things which the Lord requireth of all that call upon his name, it is, That with fasting 
Easie 18. 6, 7.  they should loose the bands of wickedness, and break their bread to the hungry, and cover the naked. And in joel we read, Therefore also now the Lord saith, Turn you unto me with all you heart, and with fasting, and with weeping, and with mourning. And rend your heart, and not 
joel. 2. 12.  your clotheses, and turn unto the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repenteth him of the evil. Sanctify your fasts, call a solemn assembly, and say, OH Lord spare thy people, and give not thine heritage into reproach. All these are good and convenient means to make our prayers fruitful, and by taming the flesh, to make the Spirit freer and prompter, well and truly to call upon God: all superstition, boasting, and vain glory, being wholly cut off, and laid a side. And let us say, that happy are those whom the Lord shall find in that sort watching and praying, either when he taketh them out of this world, by their ordinary death, or when in a moment, or in the twinkling of an eye, they shall be transformed in the latter, and great day of his coming, wherein he will judge the quick and the dead.   

3. Meditations upon the Creed.  
After prayer, we have the Confession of our Faith, which is commonly called, The Apostles Creed, wherein specially we comfort ourselves. For all religion (which is a revelation from heaven, teaching us the means how to honour God, and to attain eternal life) hath for a principle, and ground, To believe, that such was the inscrutable counsel of God; that man by him created entire and upright, to make him happy for his glory, (but yet free and capable to fall) sinning by distrust and pride, and falling from his glorious 
Genes. 3.  estate, should be relieved and saved by faith. And that as in the beginning he being puffed up with a desire of all knowledge, and to be equal with his Creator, he should by his disobedience err, and be the cause of his own destruction. So in his regeneration (wherein God would establish the felicity of his elect) man learning to know nothing else but one jesus Christ, and him crucified: should deny himself, and all presumption of 
1. Cor. 2. 2.  human wisdom, to believe and wholly to be led and guided by the word of the Gospel, and thereby to be brought into the way of heaven. Which doctrine being most large and ample, the Primitive Church (by direction of the holy Ghost) gathered all the principal points thereof, concerning salvation, into certain brief sommaries, and reduced them into the Articles of the faith, which we have in the Creed. Which briefly comprehendeth, and yet singularly and evidently, the sum of our Christian profession, in such manner, that although it is only called the Apostles Creed, nevertheless, it also containeth that which the Prophets taught, as in effect there is no other difference, between the Law and the Gospel, touching their substance, then of one jesus Christ to come, and of him being come. So that, in this Creed we have a true declaration, and a certain accomplishing of all that which had been written before. Which is, I believe in God the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth, etc.  
In this Creed, we have four principal parts, whereby Religion is complete: The first, or God the Father, author and fountain of all things by his great power. The second, of jesus Christ, the eternal Word and wisdom of God, in which part also is contained the history of man's redemption. The third of the holy Ghost, the infinite virtue of the Father and the Son. The fourth, the Church their common family, and of the graces of God towards it. So that we learn by these four summaries of our faith, That there is one only eternal God, of one spiritual, infinite, and simple Essence, distinguished in three persons, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost: (jehova) Which is, which only is: or (Eheie, Eheie) I will be that I will be, or I am that I am. That in this unity of Essence, every one of the persons retaining, that which is proper unto him in the Deity: The Father is the principal, and the beginning of all, and the first and sovereign cause of all creatures, which hath made things visible and invisible, in them to manifest his glory, and to bring man. (the head of his work) to eternal beatitude. That the Son, borne of 
john. 1. 1, 2, 3  the Father before all worlds, and that was from the beginning with him, consubstantial, and by the which all things were made, is the life and light of men, and their way to come 
john 14 6.  unto God, he being made flesh, and dwelled among them, that he might give unto those that believe in his name: The right to be called children of God: and to purchase this benefit for them, died once for their sins, and rose again for their justification. That the holy Ghost eternally proceeding from the Father and the Son, is he, by whom so 
john 4. 14. 7. 28. & 39  many graces subsist, and are communicate to the faithful; by regenerating, sanctifying, and giving them the water of life, in them to be made a fountain of water flowing to eternal life. That there is one holy Catholic Church, wherein we must receive all his graces and celestial blessings, because in it only God sendeth his spirit upon all his servants, to save them as he hath called them in jesus Christ. And to be short, we gather by all these great 
joel 2. 18.  and high mysteries of Christian Religion, unknown, and incomprehensible to all human wisdom: that the goodness and love of God the Father, the Creator, is the fountain and first cause of the Sovereign good which we hope for in heaven. That his Son, the Redeemer, bringeth us this grace, as a River spring from that fountain, and a nearer 
Psal. 44. 3. Acts. 2. 18.  cause to us by the satisfaction which he hath made for us to divine justice, having put on our flesh. That the holy Ghost, the sanctifier, communicateth his gifts with all efficacy in us by degrees here on earth, finally, to make us enjoy salvation in heaven. And that to keep and to make us walk infallibly in this beatitude, God calleth us in his Son there to make us participants of his blessings and rich treasures, which he committeth unto her as a gage, that she may confer them by his holy ministery to all the members of jesus Christ her Spouse, to the end that they may live and die unto him between the arms of their mother, passing from this world to the kingdom of heaven. For eternal salvation is the end and effect of our faith: that is it whereunto we aspire, and the reward whichiss 
1. Pet. 1. 9  promised to the Church Militant.   

4. Meditations and Prayers touching Faith, and to obtain increase thereof.  
The soul of every man is naturally full of ignorance, and his flesh of vanity, he cannot (being brutish) comprehend any thing of the Deity, whereof the Essence is infinite, the works miraculous, the mercies without end, and the judgements most profound. In the meditation of these things, our spirit is as it were swallowed up, and therein loseth all his reason. Whereunto also the divers calamities of this life, which astonish and beat us down, stir up impatience, and frame rebellion and murmuring in us, because we are ignorant of the power, wisdom, and justice of God; whereby, as well of good things, as of evils, he maketh a most just and most perfect dispensation and distribution; but specially, our ignorance, incredulity, and distrust is great, as well in that which concerneth the admirable work of the creation of the world, as in the miraculous work of our redemption. For being borne blind of understanding, and heardned in heart we cannot comprehend nor believe those wonders which surpass all wonders.  
Our soul (I say) being weak, cannot understand how God hath created all things of nothing, and how he was from the beginning in Christ, reconciling himself unto men. Flesh cannot find God in man, nor consider him to be Mediator between God and humane nature. These are hidden and sealed letters unto us, that the generation of the divine, pure and holy word, exempted from all sports and uncleanness, was given us for justification and Sanctification, and for the Author of peace and eternal blessing. That his wounds are our healing; his condemnation, our absolution; that his deformity, is our beauty; in his travels and passions, our rest and victory; in his abjectness, our honour; in his rejection, our recalling; in his death, our life; in his grave, our resurrection; in the anguishes and collars of his soul, our true paradise: And to be short, the flesh cannot believe, that in this Man-God triumphant, thus over sin, death and the devil, consisteth our triumphs, and the sum and full effect of our felicity. And yet it is the sum of that which is taught us in the Symbol of our Faith, and throughout the holy Scriptures. That is it which hath been so many and so often times showed unto us in the house of God (the Catholic Church.) But we have not understood it, nor believed it so plainly nor so firmly as we should. Our eye hath beheld the holy sacred mysteries and signs of this most admirable redemption of man, and yet we have not perceived, nor drawn the first-fruits which we aught to receive, from the participation of these infallible gauges of salvation, so vicious our incredulity is. Even as the earth cannot comprehend the heavens, and that which is borne of flesh, being but flesh, is not capable to mount up to the Spirit of life, of understanding, and of wisdom. Than o Lord our God Father of light from whom all good gifts proceed, which hast promised to power out the Spirit of grace and compassion upon thy servants, we most humbly beseech thee, that for the love of thy Son jesus Christ, in whom it hath pleased thee to choose us, and to bless us with all spiritual blessing, it would please thee also, to endue us with true faith, whereby we may sufficiently comprehend 
james 1. 17. Zach. 15. 10. Eph. 1. 3.  the breadth, depth, length, and height of thy love towards us, witnessed in Christ, God with thee, and man with us, to trust and comfort ourselves in thee, all the days of our life, and to bring forth fruits to thy honour and glory and to the ediification of our neighbours, that this faith may be a lively faith, and a speaking faith which calleth and crieth unto thee only in the name of jesus Christ, a faith working by charity, a faith patiented in 
Gal. 5. 6. 1 john 24. 1 john 3. 11. 2 Thes. 3, 2.  adversity, a faith surmounting the world, by the means of thy invincible force (OH most puissant God) and him whom thou hast ordained to be our Lord, it is thy commandment that we should believe in him whom thou hast sent, the saviour of the elect, & that we should love one another.  
But alas, we know that all men have not faith, & that it was an old complaint long since made by the Prophets and Apostles which say; Lord who hath believed our report? on the other side: O God and Father, there are so many false Prophets and impostrous fellows 
Easie 53. 1. Rome, 10. 16.  in the world, which tell their own dreams and inventions in stead of thy holy word, and which in the mean time transform themselves into angels of light, and also there are so many assaults, persecutions, and miseries, which fright men: and the vanity & imbecility of our nature is such, that it suffereth itself to be easily carried away with all winds; If thou (OH threefold great, and most merciful Lord) workest not that in us which thou commandest, if thou thyself dost not bring us unto thy Son. For otherwise we cannot come unto him. 
john 6. 65.  And if he giveth us not access to the throne of thy grace, we can by no means approach unto it, as also if thy holy spirit doth not conduct us in all truth, and doth not bear witness thereof in our hearts that thou art our Father, it is not in our power, to cry Abba, Father. May it please thee then, thou that art the only God, three persons in one Essence, Father, Son, and holy Ghost: according to thy merciful promises, 
Rom. 8. 15. john 14. 23.  to purify my heart, by faith, to devil and remain with me thy poor creature, to preserve and keep my spirit from being seduced by errors, my soul for affecting any other thing, than thy good will, pleasure, and holy word, and my heart from desiring any other but thee, which art the sovereign good, which art my all in all, and my abundant portion, that having, and loving thee, I may despise this world, forsake and renounce all vanities, taste and savour the delights and pleasures of thy house, loving nothing but in thee, and for the love of thee, and attending the most happy and blessed house, wherein I shall no more walk by faith, but by sight, in the contemplation of thy face. Work so (O my most merciful God) that daily increasing in faith, I may attain to the measure 
2. Cor. 5. 7. Ephes. 4. 13. 2 Tim. 2, 5 & 4. 8. Psal. 16. 11.  of a perfect Christian, in that admirable day of the restoring of all things, to receive the incorruptible crown of righteousness and glory, and at thy right hand to feel the fullness of joy and gladness.  
Amen.   

5. Meditations and Prayers touching God the Father, most puissant Creator of heaven and earth.  
God in the Articles of our faith, is described unto us, by his works to be the same, which his word revealeth him to be. To that end, that the knowledge which we aught to have of him, should not be a vain apprehension: and that we should plainly see, that we have good cause, to put our trust in him, as also that we may the better be discerned from those people, which do not truly know God. Than this is the proper gift of the faithful, to know God, as he is: that is, in one essence, and nevertheless in three persons (the Father, the Son, and the holy Ghost) and he that doth not acknowledge the Father, knoweth not what the Son is; and he that knoweth not the Son, knoweth not the Father: and he that believeth not in the holy Ghost, neither knoweth the Father nor the Son, and so is altogether ignorant of the Deity.  
But although that God is our father, as we call him in the Lord's prayer, yet we are but children by adoption, received, and adopted for the love of his only and eternal Son, eternally begotten by the father, and in whom he is well pleased. Than in this divine essence the first person is called Father, to show us, that ourfaith is grounded only in God, although 
Psal. 2. 7. Math. 3. 17.  this true and only Deity which we adore, and wherein we believe, is the Father, the Son and the holy Ghost: who in these three persons working together, manifested himself unto the world, by four most divine and supernatural works, that is, the creation of the world, the redemption of man, the gathering together and preservation of the Church, and the admirable gifts and benefits bestowed upon the same, specially the remission of sins, and life everlasting. What great advantage is it unto us, to know this true God, for that by this knowledge we may say with Saint Paul, That all things are ours, because we are Christ's, and Christ Gods, which is the Father of our Lord jesus Christ, he is also called most puissant, because his throne being in heaven, he doth all whatsoever he will, and whose power 
1 Cor. ●3. 22. 2 Cor. 1. 3. Psal. 115. 3. CITIZEN Cor, 2. 5. Easie 40. 12, etc.,  is conjoined with truth and justice. Than we are happy, whose faith is not grounded upon the wisdom of men, but on the power of God, which is salvation to all that believe. Likewise he is the creator, For who is he (saith Easie) that hath measured the waters with his fist, and compassed the heavens with his span? who is he that hath comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in a weight, and the hills in a balance? Who hath instructed the Spirit of the Lord, or was his Counsellor, or taught him? All nations before him are as nothing, and they are accounted to him less than nothing, and vanity. To whom then will you liken God? or what similitude will you set up unto him? lift up your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things, and bringeth out their armies by numbers, and calleth them all by names, by the greatness of his power, and mighty strength, nothing faileth. Why sayest thou OH jacob, and speakest o Israel, My way is hid from the Lord, and my judgement is passed over by God? Knowest thou not, or hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord hath created the ends of the earth, he neither fainteth, nor is weary, there is no searching of his understanding.  
Hereby we learn, that it is proper unto our God, To give a beginning to all things, to make that to be which is not, and to produce and bring forth a creature of nothing. As Saint Paul saith, That God quickeneth the dead, and calleth those things which be not, as though they were. And that of him, and through him, and for him, all things are, to him be glory 
Rom. 4. 17. Ibid. 11. 36.  for ever. Herein we must not give any place to the speculations or contemplations of the flesh, and of those fools that have disputed to know how it is possible that of nothing all things were made, seeking to measure the infinite power of the Deity, by their vain discourses, for want of knowing the force, and virtue of this world. But that which the understanding cannot comprehend, Faith is bound to believe it, as it is written, By faith we understand, that the world was ordained by the word of God: to show that the things which we see, 
Heb. 11. 3  are not made of things which did appear. For (as an Ancient Father said) the whole circuit or compass of the world, is a notable book for us, (Wherein there is as many leaves, as there are creatures in the world) therein with great praise all the days of our 
Hist. Tripart. lib. 8. cap. 1.  lives to read and peruse the name of God, and in the same to learn to know him. Lastly, to the work of the creation, is joined the doctrine of the providence of God, and of the admirable disposition of all things. For if God had only created the world, and did not govern, dispose, and maintain all the things, and parts thereof, he should not be Almighty. Therefore the Scripture saith, My Father worketh hitherto, and I work with him, blessing, multiplying, 
john 5. 17.  preserving, restoring, and disposing all things for his glory, and the salvation of his Elect. He beholdeth (saith job) the ends of the world, and seethe all that is under heaven, to 
job 28. 24  make the weight of the minds, and to weigh the waters by measure. When he made a decree for the rain, and a way for the lightning of the Thunders. But thou (said David) didst draw we out of the womb, thou gavest me hope, even at my mother's breasts. I was cast upon thee 
Psal. 22. 9, 10.  even from the ●●●b●, thou art my God from my mother's belly.  
Than OH Lord God my Father, and most puissant Creator, which created me when I was nothing, and canst again when it pleasth thee to reduce me to nothing. When I was feeble, and undone, didst recreate me, to bring me to greater glory, seeing thou presentest thyself unto me, under the sweet name of Father, let me not be a negligent child to call upon thee, and seeing thou art so ready to enlarge and bestow thy benefits upon me, let not me be slow nor careless to require them of thee. To the which end, my good God, give me grace I beseech thee, to feel how necessary thy aydeiss for me. To me I say (poor wretch,) which neither have nor possess any thing, but of the mere mercy & bounteous liberality, and with whom nevertheless nothing can prospero without thy blessing. I confess the great imperfections which are in me, concerning celestial things. For that neither faith, love, nor repentance, could be in me, if thou most loving and benign Father, didst not enlarge the light of thy countenance upon me, and help my infirmity. Every good thing and every perfect gif● is from above, and cometh down from the father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. Therefore I call upon the●, 
james 1. 17.  being assured of thy promises, that thou mayest give me, that which thou knowest better than myself to be necessary for me, for my salvation and eternal life. Give me grace with a pure heart and thought, to meditate how great and admirable the benefits are (which thou hast prepared for them that love thee,) in thy eternal kingdom, seeing (OH Lord) here in this world, which is but a prison thou givest us, the enjoying of so many notable and excellent works of thy hands, and that from thence I learn, to aspire to that felicity, which eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, tongue cannot express, nor heart comprehend, which beatitude is assured unto us, in the contemplation of thy face. that the crosses and troubles of this world, which shake and overthrow so many men, may not hinder my souls quiet depending upon thy providence, and from assuring myself of thy power. And as thou hast sustained me from my mother's womb: may it please thee also to give me thy hand to support me in my age, as being my perpetual Father and Saviour.  
Lastly, o Lord, forasmuch as of ourselves poor worms of the earth, we are not fit no● capable to think any good thing, I beseech thee always to inspire my mind, and to 
2. Cor. 3. 5,  conduct me, guiding my steps, thoughts, intents, and works. And for that all things help unto the good of those that love thee, because thou lovedst them first, and that thou chasteneth those whom thou lovest, give me grace patiently to bear thy visitations, giving me wisdom in the Sanctuary of thy holy Word to understand the miserable end of those, 
Psal. 75. 8.  who forsaking and leaving thy Ways, shall at the last wring out, and drink the dr●gss of worldly delights, and that in trusting and delighting only in thee (o God most high, and the only good of my soul) I may speedily mount upon thy holy Mountain, and to the r●st of the Blessed.   

6. Meditations and Prayers, that jesus Christ is the Son of God, and our Lord and Saviour.  
The Creation of the World, conjoined with the Providence, justice, and Wisdom of the Lord is the first testimony which is propounded unto us of God in the Articles o● our Faith, to the end we should adore him, and put our trust in him: But there is another ensuing it, which is much more admirable, and which representeth unto us his extreme bounty, goodness, and infinite power; that is, the work of our Redemption, for to redeem, and quicken a creature that was lost, and to redeem ●im with so great a price, as the precious Blood of the eternal Son of God, and not only to deliver him out of captivity, and from Death, but also to give him life Eternal, is so great a Work, and so singular a benefit, that no tongue can express it, nor no heart is sufficient to comprehend it. Man (as the Scripture saith) was created good and righteous; but he continued not in that happy estate: for, that following his own inventions, discourses, and the evil counsel of the 
Eccl. 7. 30.  Devil, he turned from his God; and by that means fell into decay, making both himselve and his Posterity culpable of death and eternal damnation, for Death and all the Citations which he serveth upon us, that is, all the adversities which happen unto us in this world are the rewards of sin. And our destruction proceedeth from ourselves, because 
Rome 6. 23. ●●●. 13. 9  our first Father abusing his own free will, become a slave to Satan, and by that means drew upon himself and all his Posterity, the just vengeance of God. What a change and pitiful alteration was it, when the Image of God in man was so disfigured? and that so noble a creature become vile, miserable, full of sin and filthiness? For although Adam was created and mad● of the dust of the earth, yet the Spirit of God had swallowed up in 
Gen. 6. 5,  him that matter of terrestrial corruption, if he had not sinned, and all Mankind had been exempted from weakness and putrefaction, whereas now by nature he is nothing else but d●st and filth, endowed with a heart altogether perverse from his Infancy, which is the cause that he hath need of regeneration, not of mortal seed (as Saint P●ter saith) but of 
1. Pet. 1. 23. joh 14 ●. 10. Rom. 4 5. Luke ●● 27. Col. 1. 15. H●b. 1, ●, 3.  immortal, that is, by the Word of God which liveth & endureth for ever, which teaching us to believe the Deity, for a true object and sure foundation of our saith, giveth us jesus Christ the second person of this Deity one in essence. For believing in him, we believe in God, because Christ is God over all, blessed for ever (as the Apostle saith) and of whom Moses and all the Prophet's spoke, and to whom they direct us, as he is the subsistant image of the invisible God. And the brightness of his glory, and the engraved form of his person, by whom also the Father spoke, and hath made all things, and which is more this divine word, took our nature upon him, and made himself Emanuel, that i●, God with us, and was manifest in the flesh. Whereupon Saint Paul teacheth us, that other foundation can no man lay, then that which is laid, which is jesus Christ: saying further, that he esteemed 
1 Cor. 3. 4, Ibid 2. 2.  not to know any thing among the faithful save jesus Christ, and him crucified: Not that he would not also acknowledge God the Father, and the holy Ghost, but because in the second person of this unspeakable Trinity, we know him wholly, and that without Christ we can not know what the father is, nor have access to his unaccessable light: If the Son doth not give us an entrance thereinto withal assurance. But we must note, that this grace, (with a saving knowledge, to know the living and eternal God, that is, to acknowledge 
Eph 2. 18. joh. 17. 3. 25.  him by Christ and by him to call upon him confessing him to be very God, and very man, and the only mediator between God and man, is a gift proper to those that are faithful and elect children of God. For against this truth, the devil hath at all tim●s raised up false Prophets, to darken and extenuate this saving knowledge of Christ in the 
1 T●m. 2. ●.  world, according to the prophesy of Simeon, saying; Behold this child is appointed for the 
Luke 2. 34.  fall and ri●●ng of many in Israel, and for a sign which shall be spoken against.  
But we have good and infallible conclusions, to oppose against their errors. As first, th●● it was requisite and necessary for us to have such a Saviour and Mediator that was very God and very man, and which participateth (to be a Mediator,) of both natures, divine and human, which were at variance, that he might reconcile them, and in such manner, that to overcome and vanquish sin, death and the devil, and to give access unto men, to the inaccessible light of God, he should be stronger than all creatures, that is, God, and the beloved 
Eph. 1. 6. Rom. 8. 3: Easie 53. 4. Heb. 2. 14. 17  of the father, in whom he might be pleased with us: as on the other ●●●e, it was requisite that in the flesh, which had been overcome by sin, the victory sh●●●d be gotten, & that the flesh which had sinned, should suffer the punishment, which Christ also took on him: and to be short, to have pity on us, that he should communicate with our infirmities and miseries, that he might beget brethren, and carry our nature up into heaven, as the earnest of our hope, and whereof he hath given us an other most certain earnest, that is, his holy Spirit, as Tertullian learnedly discourseth, saying, That we believe in jesus Christ, not 

Tert. de resurre. Christi Eph. 4. 5.  
john 10. 30.   that we have divers sorts of faith. For there is but one God and one faith, and the Father, and the Son are one. But we believe in God, as he revealed himself by the creation of heaven and earth, and in his holy word, which testifieth unto us, that the eternal Son of God, jesus Christ, taking our nature upon him, at the time appointed and preordained by the Father, to be the mediator of the alliance and contract made by our Creator, by uniting the two natures, divine and human, hath reconciled us with God his Father, when by his obedience and merits, by his force and incomprehensible bounty, and by his death, and passion he made satisfaction for our sins, and by his resurrection vanquished death, & hell, and ascended up into heaven, there to be a perpetual Mediator for us, in such manner, that for the love of him God loveth us, and his righteousness being imputed unto us, as if it were our own, God accepteth us for just, and so we are certain and assured that neither the law given by Moses hath power to condemn us, nor death, ●or the devil, to make us afraid, seeing that Christ clotheses us with his perfect righteousness, and that for u● he hath overcome all that which could make us afraid, or doubtful.  
To conclude, we believe, not only the history of the nativity, life, death, passion, resurrection and ascension of the Lord, but also, every faithful Christian by faith appropriateth and applieth to himself all the benefits which he hath gotten and obtained for us, assureth and comforteth himself, with his holy and amiable promises, and apprehendeth him as true jesus, saving and blessing us, & which hath by his precious bl●●d prepared eternal salvation for us in a happy and blessed life for ever. Thus much for the first conclusion and most certain foundation which we oppose against those, which acknowledge not as they aught, the admirable counsel of God, which hath provided us such a Mediator and Saviour as was needful for us.  
Secondly, we have for an invincible reason the perpetual consent of the old and new Testament touching Christ, wherein we see, that the same which the Ceremonies of the L●w had foreshowed, by the exquisite and divine Service therein celebrated, was perfectly accomplished in jesus Christ; as it is notably expounded and declared in all the Write of the Apostles, (specially in the Epistle to the Hebrews, where it is proved that Christ was the end of the Law.) And finally, this Doctrine concludeth the effect of this ●aving knowledge of God in his Son, which giveth quietness and peace of conscience to the Faithful, in such manner, that with great joy many have willingly suffered death for the name of jesus; and to the contrary, the end of those which blasphemed it, was always most miserable: as that of Cerinthus, Maunes, Arius, and others.  
Than most gracious Lord God, our Father, for as much as it is life eternal for us to know thee, and that we cannot know thee, but in thine engraven Image, jesus Christ, manifested 
joh. 17. 3.  in the flesh, I beseech thee to conduct me by thy holy Spirit to the true knowledge of thy Eternal Son, and in the study and meditation of so saving a Secret, to give me such a resolution, that with the good and blessed Apostle I may esteem all things as dung in regard of that excellent knowledge of Christ our Saviour. And first (o God) give me 
Phil. 3. 8.  grace, with all men, truly to acknowledge my common necessity, that is, that we had need of such a Sovereign Sacrificator, holy, innocent, without blame, separated from all 
Heb. 7. 26.  other sinners, and that was very God and very Man Also, heavenly Father, I beseech thee lively to imprint in my heart the feeling and confession of this thy admirable charity which hath showed so great love to us poor sinners, as to make thy saving grace appear in jesus Christ thy beloved Son, saving us not for our works, but of thy mere mercy, and for the merits of his death and passion. O what love, favour, and humility, hath this great King of heaven showed, in taking on him the form of a servant, and embasing 
Tit. ● 11. Tit. 3. 5.  himself, even to the death of the Cross, for us poor slaves, and worms of the earth. But before all things (OH most merciful God) give me knowledge to learn Christ well, and not to be like those, which live disorderly, with carnal liberty, abusing that so happy, and so profitable knowledge, but rather that I may put it to the true use; which is, to humble the faithful, and to make them confused in themselves, to see that our sins were so great and so inorme, that he was feign to redeem them with so great a price, and that so I may only praise and magnify thy bounty, having all my joy and glory in thee, my Lord and Father.  
And lastly, that in all calamities and human tribulations, I may always cast my sight upon that good jesus, which suffered so much for us, directing my actions to the eternal salvation which he hath prepared for us: and denying myself, to live to the praise of him, that hath redeemed me.   

7. Meditation and Prayer upon this article, that the holy Ghost is our instructor, sanctificator, and comforter.  
The Father, Son, and holy Ghost (as it hath already been said) is but one only true God, and one self same Deity, like glory, and one coeternal majesty. But this one true God, did in such manner manifest himself to the world, that the Father is properly called the Creator, the Son, the redeemer, and the holy Ghost our instructor and sanctificator. For although this inseparable Trinity, worketh together in all his works, nevertheless for our greater consolation, it hath made itself in such sort known to men, that they may understand (by instigation of his heavenly light) that without confounding the persons, or separating the substance of this only Deity, every one of them retaineth that, which is proper unto him in the things which belong to our salvation.  
And as the Son is eternally begotten of the Father, so the holy Ghost, proceedeth eternally both from the Father and the Son. So that believing in the holy Ghost, we do 
john 15. 26.  not believe, that the same spirit is only a certain moving or inspiration: but first 

Heb. 9 14. Rom. 8. 6. 1 Cor. 3. 16. & 6. 19  
1 john 57 Acts 24. & 8. ●0.  
1 Cor. 12. 6. Bern. Sup. C●nt.   we believe against the Macedonians, (ancient heretics,) that he is very God, of the same essence with the Father and the Son, and for that cause we cast the anchor of our faith in him. For we a●e as well baptised in his name, as in the name of the Father and of the Son and of whom we being made the Temples, we are made the Temples of God, (as the Scripture saith,) the Father, the word, and the holy Ghost are one. Again, we believe, that for the love and in the name of jesus Christ, this spirit comforteth and sanctisieth our souls, and that by the inspiration thereof, the holy Prophets and Apostles have spoken, and for that cause also he is called the gift of God, who being but on● in himself, produceth in u● divers operations for our edification and salvation. For as (S. Bernard very well saith). We were dead in sin and stinking creatures: But jesus Christ imbalmeth us with his holy spirit; and hath anointed us, to the end, that we might know the true God, and taste and feel his mercy. This is the heat of the divine Son, which warmeth us: this is the pure water of the celestial rivers, which sprinkle and renew us: this is the balm which maketh us a good savour: and this is the oil, which comforteth and strengtheneth us. Than where is the tongue that can express, the bounty of God towards us, of the Father, which created us, after his own image, of the word, that redeemed us by his precious blood, & of the holy Ghost, which sanctifieth us by his virtue? By the first Adam, we were made barren and unprofitable, and were debarred from the grace of God, but the Lord had said by his Prophet, I will power upon the house of David, and upon the inhabitants of jerusalem, the spirit of grace and of 
Zach. 12. 10.  compassion, that they shall look upon me, whom they have pierced, for the salvation of the world. For although that from the time of the fathers under the law, God did many great things in his mercy to men, yet it is proper to jesus Christ, to give us the Spirit of grace, of mercy, and of invocation.  
And it is the greatest and richest gift which we can have from heaven, for that, (as the Apostle 
Rome 8, 9, 16. Acts 2. 1.  saith) without this spirit, we belong not to Christ, and cannot be assured that we are the children of God. It was miraculously & extraordinarily given upon the day of Penticost, but now every day, it joineth his eternal operation, with the preaching of the Gospel, and is the cause that with assurance we call upon our Father which is in heaven, Whosoever (saith Christ) drinketh of the water that I shall give him, shall never be more a thirst. But the water that I shall give him, shall be in him a Well of water, springing up into everlasting 
john 4 14.  life. This water is the efficacy and the work of the Spirit of God, working by his word. David had well felt the effects thereof, when he said. As the Hart brayeth for the 
Psal. 42. 1.  rivers of water, so panteth my soul after thee O God. The holy Ghost (because of his fruits) is sometime called fire; because he purifieth, and consumeth our evil affections, and kindleth in us a true zeal to the honour and glory of God, as it is said of the 
Matth. 3. 11.  Disciples going to E●anss, that their hearts burnt within them, when they hear jesus speak. Sometimes he is called water, beceuse he refresheth us, in and against the burning 
Luke 24. 32.  heat of carnal temptations, and washeth and comforteth us to quench the fiery darts of Satan (as the Apostle saith.) 
Eph. ●. 16.   
But we are specially to remember the notable title of comforter, which jesus Christ giveth to the holy Ghost, saying, that he should teach the Apostles all things, and lead them to the understanding of him. God our Father (saith Saint Paul) hath loved us, and 
john 14 26. & 15. 20. 2 Thes. 2. 16.  hath given us everlasting salvation, and good hope through grace. But it is by his spirit the Comforter, that we remain firm and constant in the faith of our salvation, that we may never faint nor fail, by the temptations or afflictions, which ordinarily happen unto the world. For when we are once supported by the protection and defence of the holy Ghost, there is nothing that can abash, or make us afraid. It is true that the holy doctrine of the Gospel, doth not presently produce his first-fruits in perfection, neither do we profit so well therein, as oftentimes we desire. Yet we must not be discouraged, but always hope well, until the holy Ghost, which is the interior instructor of the souls of the faithful, speaketh in our hearts, and telleth us of those things which we have either seen with our eyes, or heard with our ea●eses in the Gospel. For although isaiah pronounceth this unto the incredulous. That the word of God shall be unto them as a Book sealed up: nevertheless, the Lord oftentimes humbleth those 
Easie 29. 11.  that are his, after the same manner. Therefore they must patiently and peaceably stay the fit time of the revelation from above, every one in the mean time increasing his talon according to the measure that he hath received, to the end that having but a little, he may obtain more. 
Matt. 25, 24   
O most eternal GOD, which only dwellest in the unaccessable light, take compassion I beseech thee on my darkness, which can beget nothing in me, but the accursed state of death eternal. For whosoever walketh in the obscurity of his nature, stumbleth grievously, and no man can err in thy presence (o God most just) but he falleth into the snares of Satan, if thy grace doth not prevent his destruction. But as the Sun illuminateth the world, and the light of man's eyes guide his body: So the only light of thy Spirit, is the guide of the soul, and in the shadow of death, thy Son jesus Christ is the clear lights illuminating all thy works, but his light, is unto us as a dark night, unless the holy Ghost leadeth us to see the hope of eternal life in the great Saviour of the world, and maketh the eyes of our understanding clearer than the eyes of the Eagle, which looks upon the great light of the world. Christ is the Son of righteousness about whom we must flock to draw life unto us, which in this mortal and terrestrial pilgrimage, cannot by human reason be perceived, without the light of the holy Ghost, which maketh us seek for victory in the Cross, glory in ignomy, rest in pain, profit in loss, joy in tears, and life in death; learning us to esteem all things hurtful in respect of out Emanuel, by whose means the Spirit of adoption is a certain earnest and pawn unto us, of our redemption in eternal salvation. Lighten then my soul (o heavenly Father) with thy holy light, that I may walk uprightly, in joy and assurance of thy love all the days of my life, and that I may as much as is necessary and requisite for the imbecility of my faith, penetrate into the knowledge of the sacred mysteries of the Gospel, which flesh and blood cannot comprehend. All men (o God) are capable to read and look upon the letter, but they only, (whom thou illuminatest) to understand the sense thereof, for the secrets thereof are hidden, from the greatest number of men, whose eyes are blinded by the Devil, and the deceits of worldly vanities. And therefore they cannot understand, how thy word, is the only knowledge, the true wisdom, the only pleasure of the soul, and the assured guide to keep men from erring out of the way of heaven. But for myself, thy holy conduction shall be my treasure, and the price of my vows. May it please thee then to created in me a pure heart, and in the secrets of my soul to renew an upright thought, cast me not of from before thy face, and take not thy holy Spirit from me: continued in me the joy of thy salvation, and let thy eternal arm sustain me: that in obedience of faith, I may always give place to thy holy Spirit, and never give it cause of dislike ●y sins and uncleanness, that it may guide me in all truth, that it may sanctify and strengthen me unto the end of my life, and that it may comfort me at my last end, praying and groaning for me, with sighs which (o my God) are pleasing unto thee.   

8. A Prayer full of comfort to the Trinity, one only God, Father, Son, and holy Ghost.  
O Deity, in three persons coequal and coeternal, in one essence, one God and true God, (Father, Son and holy Ghost) which only dwellest in eternity, & in unaccessable light to all flesh, which art, which was, and which continuest for ever, the first and the last, the beginning and the ending of all things: sovereign and most puissant Creator and governor of all things that are, that live, that feel, and that understand, which hast spread abroad the heavens by the divine wisdom, and laid the foundation of the earth by thy great power, by whose providence consisteth all moderation, beauty and order in the universal world, in the contemplation whereof consisteth the only good and true felicity of man, the chief of all thy creatures: holy and triple holy: admirable and amiable, who being just, wouldst not suffer, that man made after thin● own Image, for thy glory, and to serve thee, in blessed estate, should go unpunished having sinned, who being merciful, didst not withdraw thy mercy from him: and who being good, hast not neglelected the lest of thy works, even to the hair of a beast, the smallest feather of a bird, & the lest flower or leaf of an herb, engraving in every one of thy creatures, certain signs of thy glory and majesty, by the proportion and agreement of all their parts, as it were a sweet peace. O only God in Trinity, make, (I humbly beseech thee) thy wisdom and light, by their virtue, to enter into my soul, which honoureth and invoketh thy name to make me understand, and inwardly to see thy divine wonders, in thy Spirit, which can do allthings, which understandeth and beholdeth all things, which animateth all things, and which without ceasing, passeth through all peaceable knowledge, and resideth in every one of thine elect.  
Grant me (o eternal God, and most great and rich Father of heaven) that by this holy Spirit, I may with the eyes of faith, penetrate into the middle of thy celestial habitation, that there I may behold thy glorious face, and in it the blessedness of thy children to praise thee incessantly; for thou hast promised to open the gates of thy kingdom, to all those that knock thereat. Now is the time (o God most merciful) that the desires of my heart famished for want of heavenly bread, elevate and lift up themselves to thy holy sanctuary, and make me knock at thy door. Before thy eyes is all the desires of my soul, and my thoughts are not hidden from thee. Than turn not thy face away from me, neither withdraw thyself, because of my indignity: but rather let it please thee benignly to harken unto the cry of thy servant, that hath for his warrant the only righteousness of jesus Christ, our Emanuel, and God with us. Therefore gracious Father, stretch forth thy comfortable hand, to draw me out of the waters and filthiness of th● earth, out of this lake of misery, and out of this bottomless pit of evils, to the end that I be not shut out of the sight of thy compassions, but rather that at the day when I shall leave this earthly habitation. I may happily mount up to thy supercelestial dwelling, to be fully united to Christ my Saviour, and by him to the●, o Father, which art the fountain of eternal life. It hath pleased thee (o merciful Father) to witness and s●●w forth the great goodness, to make me know, according to the measure of thy grace which I have received, the incomprehensible secret of thee, o Father, begotten of none; of thee o Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father; and of thee, o holy Ghost, eternally proceeding from the Father and the Son, one only God, uncreated, infinite, eternal, Lord and most puissant: grant then, o ineffable and unspeakable Trinity, that believing in my heart, and confessing with my mouth, the propriety of three persons, the unity of the Essence, and the equality of the glory. In thee, true and only God, I may adore, and serve thee for ever, according to thy holy ordinance; and that by this firm and constant faith, grounded upon obedience. I may more and more draw unto me the favour of thy blessings, to the end that as the Angel's praise and glorified thee, the supercelestial powers honour thee, and all the host of heaven magnify thee. I may also once have the honour to join my Canticles and songs with that celestial company, and enjoy the same beatitude in the beholding of thy eternal light, o glorious God. I hope in thee, I have no trust nor confidence but in thy bounty, preserve me then, from all evil, and from all corruption, to the end, that while I shall be clothed with this frail flesh, my soul may always praise thee, my tongue sing Psalms unto thee, and all my senses may agreed and consent together, to say, Lord, and God, three in one, who is like unto thee, which by thy infinite power hast made us, even when we were not, and when we were lost and utterly overthrown by our own fault: thou by thy love, hast created us anew, for thy greater glory. Than suffer me not to forget thy unspeakable mercy, but make, that increasing by faith in thy word, with hope in thy promises, and with true charity, showing forth the fruit thereof by good works; I may joyfully proceed in the course of my life, following my vocation, until I may obtain the price of celestial felicity, where beholding thy face, O holy and unseparable Trinity, I may fully adore thy Majesty, singing this Hymn with the blessed. Glory be to thee o Father, which hast created us, glory be to thee, o Son, which hast redeemed us, glory be to thee o holy Spirit which hast sanctified us, and glory be to the most high Trinity, one only true God, whose kingdom is everlasting.   

9 Meditation and Prayer, touching the Catholic Church.  
To believe the Catholic or Universal Church, is, First to believe that notwithstanding the corruptions, Idolatries, superstitions, and disorders that are, and have always 
1. Peter 2. 9  been in the world, God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, chose his elect people, which he called out of darkness (wherein we are all borne) into the light of the Gospel, 
Psalm 147. 19 20.  revealing himself by his holy testimonies, to those whom he hath chosen, whom he hath washed and sanctified, and in whom he reigneth by his word, as in his kingdom, his Family, and his House, the pillar and ground of truth, set upon the Corner stone of 
1. Tim. 3. 15.  that divine building, which is, jesus Christ, against the which Church, The gates of Hell shall not prevail, because all things work together for the best, unto them that love God, who knoweth 
Matth 21. 42. Matth. 16. 18. Rom. 8. 28. 2. Tim. 2. 19 Heb. 10. 25. Rom. 10. 9  those that are his.  
Secondly, we protest and believe, that we are members of this true Church, and that we unite ourselves thereunto, to be true and faithful Citizens, never abandoning nor forsaking the holy assemblies of Christians, and in them making that profession and confession of the Name of God, which the true children and servants of GOD aught to do.  
Thirdly, it is to believe and to protest, that we do not believe all assemblies and congregations indifferently, to be the holy Church, but that which is Apostolical, and universal, gathered together by the preaching of the Gospel, & by the use of the holy Sacraments in all places of the world, under one head which is jesus Christ. As in him is grounded the Communion of Saints, by him made members of one body, participating one spirit, 
Ephes 1. 10 Col. 1. 18 Heb. 4. 5. 1, Cor. 12. 27. Acts 2 42 Ephe. 4. 4.  one self same word, and one order of the sacred Mysteries of salvation. Which faithful Christians are also united by the band of peace, and conjoined by true love, calling upon one Saviour, and as brethren expecting one self same inheritance, which is eternal life. For the gifts which God presenteth to his Church are remission of sins, and life everlasting, which we cannot found out of the dungeon or fort of salvation, the Catholic church. In the deluge, all living creat●res perished; only Noah and those that entered into the ark 
Gene. 7.  with him: which was an infallible figure of the assurance which all the children of God may lay hold on, that they cannot perish in the Church: which the most amiable Tabernacle (whereof the Prophet speaketh) doth represent; God in it giving testimonies of his presence, and there was invoked, as in this time of grace, the true Covenant and Congregation 
Psal. 84. 1.  of the Lord, is in the holy Temple of the Christians: for it is the true jerusalem, 
Exod. 33. 7  which also was figured by the royal Prophet David, saying, jerusalem is builded as a city that is compassed together in itself, whereunto the Tribes even the Tribes of the Lord go up, to praise 
Psal. 122. 1  the name of the Lord, all those that are brethren meeting therein together.  
In the holy Gospel, the Church is compared to a Sheepfold, whereof jesus Christ is the Shepherd, and wherein the sheep hear, and understand the voice of their Shepherd; as also in the Scripture, the Church is represented unto us, as a Bride well beloved of her 
john 10. 1, 16  Lord, and for the which Christ gave himself, to the end to sanctify her, and to make her glorious, without spot or wrinkle, that she might be holy and unreprovable, as it 
Ephes. 5. 25  becometh her, to mount Zion, to the city of the living God, to celestial jerusalem, to the company of innumerable Angels, and to the assembly of the first borne, which are written in heaven, to God the judge of all, and to the spirits of just and perfect men. For we are joined to this glorious company, and the to Angels, & patriarchs, which believed in the true 
Heb 12. 22, 23  God: by means of the Gospel, all these excellent titles being attributed to the Church, in regard of the elect, and all true believers, whom the Lord knoweth and approveth. For when the Scripture speaketh generally of all the visible Christian Church, and considereth the same in gross and exteriorly, she is compared to a great field, that bringeth forth great store of corn diversly, and wherein there is great store of tears or darnel; or to a draw 
Mat. 13. 19 etc. Rom. 2 28. Math, 7. 21.  net, which gathereth all kinds of fish. And in that sense the Apostle saith, That all are not jews which are Iewes outward. And jesus Christ saith, Not every one that saith, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the Kingdom of heaven, but he that doth the will of my Father which is in heaven. Therefore, o Lord God, seeing thou art the searcher of all men's hearts, to know and discern who loveth and serveth thee as he aught to do, from hypocrites, and the true members of Christ and of his Church, from those which only bear the name and title thereof. I beseech thee to vouchsafe me the grace, to love nothing more, than the so sweet and solitary company of thee, o Father, Son, and holy Spirit, and of all thy elect and faithful children which devil and are perpetually gathered together in thy holy temple, in such manner, that all the desire of my soul may be to go into thy tabernacle, and to dwell therein for ever. For what greater mischief can happen unto me then to be put out, or deprived of such company? Whosoever is not with thee, and in thy holy city, must of force be with Satan and in the company of Devils, that is, with all evil and mischief: for that, as thou givest peace, felicity, and life to those which devil in thy house, so the Devil is the author of all evil & mischief, and lastly of eternal death to all those which follow his kingdom, working iniquity. For although (O our God and heavenly 
Gen. 8 21.  Father) thou didst covenant, that thou wouldest no more drown & destroy the world with water, and that from thence forth, as long as the world should last, seed time and harnessed, cold, and heat, summer and winter, and day and night, shall not cease. In conformation whereof, thou didst establish the rainbow for a sign: Nevertheless, what is this poor life but a deluge of evils? But herein my soul is comforted, that even then, when in thy great & most 
Ibid. 9 16.  just fury, thou didst sand down great floods of rain upon the earth, OH good God by thy great favour and mercy, thou didst abundantly show forth thy admirable defence and protection from heaven upon Noah's ark. For what was the cause that he perished not with the rest of mankind? did he not see one self same deluge? did not the same waters fall upon 
Gen. 6. 14.  him? yes certainly. But in his little lodging of Gophar wood, he had thy promise, (OH most puissant Lord) he had thy grace which protected him, in such manner that thousand thousands falling on his right hand, and as many on his left, he was safe under thy wings. So Lord, although that in this world, the clouds of miseries falleth upon the good and upon the evil, and that both the one and the other die, we know that thou wilt save, and make most happy those that are in the ark of thy Church. That is it which thou hast promised by the Prophet: saying, For a moment in mine anger I hid my face from thee for a little season. 
Esa 54 8, 9, 10  Nevertheless, as I have sworn that the waters of Noah, should no more go over the earth: so have I sworn that I would not be angry with thee, or rebuke thee. For the mountains shall remove, and the hills shall fall down, but my mercy shall not departed, neither the covenant of my peace fall away, faith the Lord, that hath compassion on thee. Whereof thou givest us a lively assurance in holy baptism, therein showing us life and death, as in times past thou didst to Noah, show death in the waters, and life in the Ark. As our sins are sufficient by the means of thy just fury to drown us.  
But on the other side also, when we are received into the ●ort of thy Sanctuary, (O 
1 Pet. 3. 21.  Lord, which is the Church & engraffed in thy Son jesus Christ, by the sacred visible seal of his covenant, and show the fruits of the same, in attestation of a good conscience before thee, (OH Lord) by the resurrection of Christ, than we are saved and quickened, as it is said; Blessed are they that hear the word of God, and keep it. And to what end is it to cast seed into 
Luke 11. 23.  the ground, if therein it taketh no root, to spring and bring forth fruit? to what end or profit should we build a house, if with the first wind that bloweth, it falleth down again? They love me (saith Christ) that have my commandments, and keep them. But how 
Ma●●●6, ●7 jo●● 14. 21 Psal. 40. 7.  shall we hear his voice, if he pierceth not our ears, and openeth not our understandings: for it is nothing to hear outwardly, if God speaketh not inwardly unto us, nor is not heard within our thoughts. Than great is thy mercy, (OH celestial Father) seeing that the hearing and having of thy holy word, proceedeth not from us, but from thy mere grace and benignity. Therefore I beseech thee, to open my heart, that I may understand the language of the holy Ghost in thy School, a● it once pleased thee to do unto Lyd●a, whereof S. Luke speaketh, and proceed to execute and perform all that which thou hast promised for the conservation of thy Church, until such time as being fully delivered from all her enemies, 
Acts 16. 14.  thou makest her perfectly triumph in the kingdom of heaven.   

10. Meditations upon the ten Commandments.  
The institution of Christian faith in the Catholic Church, is accompanied with an abridgement of the means how to honour and serve God, in certain and singular precepts of holy life. For as to believe in God, (Father, Son, and holy Ghost) is the true Religion: so to obey him, is the same and most commendable virtue, which leadeth the faithful to eternal happiness. To this end the Lord hath given us his Law: for although that in the Gospel we are freed from the rigour and curse which all men incur by not being 
Deut. 11. 28 Levit. 26. 14  able to fulfil the Law. Nevertheless, touching Righteousness, and the rule of living well, which is contained in the ten Commandments, which God gave to Moses, for his people to observe; they still remain for a true pattern of a Christians life, to the end that he may frame himself thereunto with all his heart. To that end it is said in the Church: Hear Israel, I am the Lord thy God, which brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage, Thou shalt have no other Gods but me, or before me, etc. 
Exod 20. Deut. 5.   
This Law comprehended in ten Sentences or Commandments, was received by Moses, in two Tables made of stone, which he witnesseth were wrought by God, and the writing in them engraved with his hand. Therefore we consider all the Commandments 
Exod. 42. 16.  in two parts: The first containing four Commandments, which specially concern piety, and our duty therein towards God. The second having six Precepts, containing that which we are bound to do by love towards our neighbours. At the beginning of all these Commandments, God maketh a manner of a Preface, wherein he attributeth to himself the authority to command, saying, Hear; and nameth himself Lord: which word in the Hebrew tongue signifieth Eternal, and creator of the world. Than he calleth himself God of his people, to make his doctrine more amiable, and namely in this, that he delivered them from the bondage of the Egyptians, teaching us by that deliverance made of the bodies of the Israelites, that he bathe also delivered their souls, and the souls of all the faithful, from the spiritual captivity of sin, and from the tyranny of the Devil: so it followeth, that it is great reason, that we should yield all obedience unto such a Deliverer.  
The first of the commandments is, Thou shall have no other God but me, or before me: God herein requireth, that we should reserve unto him only the honour and the glory which belongeth unto him, and not transport i● else where. Which we do, worshipping one God only, calling upon him, putting our trust in him, giving him thanks for all his benefits, and observing all such things as the Scripture teacheth us to be only due to the eternal God.  
The second precept, Thou shalt make to thyself no graven Image, etc. Containeth the true manner to worship God, (as Christ afterward said) in Spirit and truth, withdrawing us from all superstitions and carnal manner of worship.  
The third Commandment is Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain, whereby God forbiddeth us to abuse his name in any manner whatsoever, and never to speak of his sacred name, but with fear and great humility, and to glorify him.  
The forth Commandment, Remember thou keep holy the Sabbath day, etc. The Ceremony whereof, concerning the ancient law being abolished, the truth and substance thereof remaineth still with us, as of all the rest and other Moisaicall figures and shadows. Which bindeth us religiously to observe the order established in the Church, to serve God, to hear his 〈◊〉 to communicate at public prayers, and at the holy Sacraments on the days appointed, ceasing from all other works: and to conclude, to submit ourselves wholly to the Spiritual and Ecclesiastical policy.  
The fift, Honour thy Father and thy Mother, etc. Whereby we must understand, that not only children are bound to be humble and obedient to their fathers and mothers, to honour and reverence them, and to assist and serve them; but also all inferior persons and subjects, are to do the like unto their superiors and Lords, because the reason is all one and alike, which is, that God is the Author of all pre-eminence and authority.  
The sixt, Thou shalt not kill, By the which, seeing it is God that speaketh, we must not think, that the Law is only imposed upon exterior works, but specially also upon the affections of our heart. And therefore with murder, God forbiddeth all hatred, and malice, and a desire to do evil to any one whatsoever; yea, and it bindeth us to love our neighbour, and to do him all the good that we can, willingly, and without dissimulation.  
The seventh, Thou shalt not commit adultery. Which in effect is, that all concupiscence is accursed before God, and that therefore we must abstain from it, for so he instructeth us by one kind, generally to avoid and shun all uncleanness and filthiness, displeasing unto the Holy of Holiest: And which is more, considering the nature of our Lawgiver, who being all Spirit, doth not only regard the outward work, but penetrateth into the depth of our thoughts, we aught to learn by this Precept, that seeing our bodies and our souls are temples of the holy Ghost, we are to keep and maintain both the one and the other honestly, in such manner, that we must be chaste in thought, word, and gesture, as well as in deed and work.  
The eighth Commandment, Thou shalt not steal. Wherein God not only forbiddeth us all theft, which is punished by justice, but also all evil trades, and unlawful means to draw unto us the goods of our neighbour, either by violence, or deceit, or in another manner contrary to Christian charity, and which the holy Scripture no ways alloweth. Wherein also we must abstain from will, as well as from deed, and every man in his vocation is to do the best he can, to preserve the goods of his neighbour.  
The ninth Precept is, Thou shalt not bear false witness, etc. Wherein God naming one kind only, giveth this general rule, That we must not falsely speak evil of our neighbour, and that by detraction and lying we must not hurt him, neither in his goods, nor in his good name; but doing the contrary, we must think well of him, as far as truth requireth and warranteth, and preserve his good report and credit as near as we can.  
The tenth and last Commandment, is Thou shalt not co●et thy neighbour's house. Whereby God requireth such manner of integrity in us, that never any evil concupiscence, nor desire should enter into our hearts, to move and stir us up to evil, to the prejudice of our neighbour, but rather, that every man should be content with his own, and glorify the Lord in his condition.  
Let us further note, that of these ten Commandments of the law, we have a brief summary set down in the Gospel, wherein consisteth the true accomplishing of all righteousness, which is in these 2. points. That we love God with all our hearts, withal our souls, and, withal our strength, and our neighbour as ourselves. It is true, that the infirmity of 
Mat. 22. 37. 39  all flesh is such, that in this mortal body we can never attain to that perfection, which is required herein. For the love of God importeth, that we should love and honour him in thought and deed: as our Lord, Master, Father, and Saviour, which requireth fear, obedience, honour, and confidence, and that which is added (with all our heart, soul, and force,) understandeth, that we should fear God, obey him, honour him, and put our trust and confidence in him, with such zeal, reverence, fervency, and confidence, that in our imagination there should be no desire, no will, no study, nor any cogitations that should contradict this love, which we should be are to God.  
Touching the second point, the sense is, that as we are so naturally inclined, to love our s●lueses, that this affection surmounteth all others, so we should carry ourselves in such sort towards our neighbours, that charity should dwell in our hearts, to lead and induce us to do all the duties of love unto them, as brethren and children of one father: from thence taking the rule of all our actions and behaviours towards them. But being not able to obtain this perfection, yet there is a certain measere to approach near unto it, and which is pleasing unto God, that is, when we study by all means, to attain unto that perfection which is taught us, in the holy scriptures, continually invoaking the grace of the holy Ghost, that we may increase in obedience of faith, and be ●orie for our infirmities, for so we may be well assured, that there is mercy for us in jesus Christ, from our Father which is in heaven.   

11. A Prayer, to ask grace of God, to live according to his word.  
Happy is that 〈◊〉 whom thou chasteneth (OH Lord) and teachest him thy Law, that thou mayest give him rest from the days of evil, while the pit is digged for the wicked. Than (o eternal God) 
Psa. 94, 12, 13  for as much as the way to heaven is taught us in thy word, and that by so many testimonies of the Prophets and Apostles, we understand which is the right way to salvation; suffer me not, I beseech thee, to be lost, by wandering in the spacious high ways of the world, following the counsel of the wicked, or the traditions and inventions of men. Make me to know, that all those that put not their trust only in thee, and which go out of the way which thy beloved Son hath made and trodden for us, are set in perilous and slippery places, to be thrown headlong into utter ruin and desolation. And suffer not (O God) that in this pleasant way of life eternal, wherein by thy 
Psal. 73. 8.  grace and mercy thou hast s●t me, I should fail or be negligent in my vocation, but rather that I may go forward therein with a fervent zeal, to my lives end, that I may be constant and firm in obedience towards thee, and that by a true faith I may be able to surmount the scandalles and impeachments which Satan presenteth unto those that have recourse unto thee. O Father of the Elect, I know well that the best runners are oftentimes subject to s●umble: but I beseech thee keep me from stumbling; and if I fall, let thy powerful hand relieve and raise me up, that feeling thy bounty and benignity, I may with all my heart serve thee according to thy Commandments. Our Spirits naturally are so much hindered and withdrawn by the cares and vanities of the world, that we are stubburner, and backwarder to walk in the ways which thou commandest us, than bruit beasts are to go the way which men direct them. But my hope is in thy virtue; it is thy aid and assistance which I expect, that by thy powerful Spirit, my weak spirit being unburdened, & my heart at liberty, there may be nothing to stay me from walking in thy ways, & running in a Christian race, wholly dedicating myself unto thy service. Happy is he, (o Lord) that hath profited well in thy School, wherein the Law of life is taught, & the holy Ghost governeth, which comforteth and strengtheneth us against all afflictions and human miseries, and also against death, showing us that we labour not in vain, but for the crown of incorruptible glory. Grant me grace (o merciful God) so to go on and 
1. Cor. 9 25  persevere in this course of life, that I may apprehended that excellent prize, and in the end attain unto thee.  
In this terrestrial pilgrimage we desire to see thy face in thy holy Church (saith the Prophet) and it is partly showed unto us in thy word: But o●, how happy shall we be, when it shall be fully discovered unto us, at such time as in heaven we shall contemplate 
Psal. 119.  and behold it in thy glory; and that we shall see thee as thou art, Father, Son, and holy Ghost: When we shall need neither Scriptures, Prophets, Sacraments, nor Figures: for than we shall enjoy the true form and presence of thy holy Majesty. But while I expect and stay for this eternal blessedness, sustain my hope by faith in thy word, which is the light of my paths; and in tribulation is sweeter and comfortabler to my heart, than honey in my mouth. Human reason (o Lord) is an excellent light which thou hast given to man, but as it is obscured by his fall, it cannot show us the way which leadeth us from sin to righteousness, and from death to life. And those that have no other light in their understandings, perish like beasts. Therefore it pleased thee to have a Church here on earth, gathered together by the preaching of thy word. Illuminate my eyes to behold and 
Psal 49. 20.  see the spiritual magnificence of this thy House, that I may love and affect it, and in such sort lighten me, that am a stranger in this valley of darkness, that seeing the paths of life eternal, in thy sacred decrees I may follow them, until I attain to our true country, which is in heaven.  
jesus Christ hath said, That every plant, which thou, o heavenly Father, hast not planted, seal be 
Math. 15. 13.  rooted out. Therefore, for as much as thy holy word is pure, and beareth good fruit, give m● grace to love it with all my heart, and to meditate thereon day and night. And seeing thou thyself invitest us to the waters of life, which thou givest us for nothing, lead me to those ●i●erss, and keep my soul from being seduced by that enemy which soweth cockle and 
1. john 4. 1.  darnel in thy fields; and give me the spirit of discretion, to prove the spirits, that I may not be borne away by all winds of false doctrines, and still retain the true pattern of thy saving words, which are in faith and love in jesus Christ. To prove those that are thine, oftentimes thou sufferest evil plants to grow; but thou knowest thy time when to pull them up by the roots, and to manifest men's untruths, by the power of thy truth. Therefore, o most powerful God, may it please thee to repress all those that make Sects and Schisms apart and partialities, and scandals against the true doctrine of the Gospel, and work effectually in the holy ministry thereof, that all errors being rooted out of men's hearts, we may all like true Christians, with peace & concord, glorify thy name all the days of our lives. Let thy favour abound upon the people whom thou hast chosen, and now when it is as it were at the last, and the end of the time, when as (o Lord) it seemeth, that the Sonn● of Truth is about to go down in the world, devil with us, and strengthen us in the knowledge of thee, according to thy promise, never to forsake those that put their trust in thee.  
Amen.   

12. Meditations and Prayers, touching the holy Sacrament of the Lords Supper, to present our solves worthily at the rece●uing thereof.  
Lord God, Father of the universal world, the heavens cannot comprehend nor contain thee, and yet thou hast done this honour to us which are thy creatures, to communicate with us, and to enter into us, poor worms of the earth. What tongue can express, or thought conceive thy admirable love, in this, that to redeem man, being a miserable sinner, and to make him happy and blessed for ever, didst vouchsafe to let thy only Son, the brightness of thy glory, take human flesh upon him, and after that he had showed and taught us the way to heaven, he was with great anguishes crucified, dead and buried, by himself making satisfaction for our sins; and which is more, that we might have this consolation and comfort, and the memory of this great benefit always present before our eyes; as also to strengthen our faith, the same body of jesus Christ, risen again in glory, should remain with us for food to eternal life? For thy word (o eternal God) teacheth us, that when our good Saviour did offer himself to shed his blood for the washing away, and remission of our sins, he presented and ordained his ●lood for a sweet and saving drink, with the communication of his body, to be● mystically celebrated for ever in his Church, in remembrance of him: to the end, that as not lo●g before he had miraculously by his great power raised La●arus from the dead: so by the institution and celebration of this great and most divine Sacrament of bread and wine, our souls should be nourished with the flesh and the blood of that Lamb without sp●t, to be freed from death which is the reward of sin.  
How great was the providence of our Lord and Saviour, to call us to the communion of his body before he died; thereby to show us, that by death it should not be destroyed, and that he would never leave nor forsake his Church! What a refreshing is it unto us, in this terrestrial pilgrimage, and how sweet a banquet, to ●ate the glorious flesh of Christ, and to drink his precious blood, when by faith in his word, being ascended up into heaven, his life infuseth itself into our souls by the virtue of his Spirit, to enrich us with all his graces and celestial benefits. O most blessed flock, that hath so liberal a Shepherd, that will nourish it with his blood, that it may live by his life. What consolation it is unto us in this vale of tears and miseries, therein to find meat which perisheth not and which maketh us live always. For by this means, and with great efficacy, we communicate with jesus Christ (God and man) by his word, by faith, and by the Sacraments, until that in heaven, without exterior means, we shall eat that celestial Bread, and drink that holy Drink, there filling our union with God, and full accomplishing of our blessedness. O most desired day, wherein we shall be ●edde and satisfied with that living Bread at the Lords Table, with the Angels, that God may be all in us: and how happy are we now, seeing that now already in Christ we taste the sweetness of this sacred Banquet, wherein we shall see the Lord face to face, and shall be filled with his glory, in peace and joy: For when we participate here on earth the Body and Blood of jesus Christ, according to his Ordinance, we begin to live in heaven.  
Than, o Lord my God, to the end, that following thy Commandment I may present myself worthily at this holy banquet of sacred meats, which the Angels admire a●d honour, I beseech thee to purify and cleanse my heart from all sports and uncleanness, and therein to infuse thy love, and all other celestial graces, by the working of thy holy Spirit, to the end, that this day receiving my Creator, I may increase in faith, and hope of my salvation, and in all holiness and righteousness. I repent, and am sorry for my sins past, and from henceforth desire to live Christianly, according to thy word, my whole hope is in thy mercy, and I do not seek nor hope for salvation, but only in thy Son the Saviour of the world. I desire simply in my vocation, to celebrated the memory of the death of our Saviour, as he hath ordained us in his Church. I forsake and renounce all the works of the flesh, and all enmity and hatred, with a good intent and courage to walk in the ways, and works of the holy Ghost, and to live in peace and love with my neighbours: I believe in the promises which jesus Christ, (the infallible Truth) hath from his mouth pronounced; which are, that he will truly make us participants of his body, and of his blood, that we may possess it wholly, and in such manner, that being made flesh of his flesh, and bone of his bones, he may live in us, and we in him eternally.  
Grant then, OH my good, and most merciful Father, that with a true sincerity of heart, and a pure zeal, I may receive so great a benefit of the same jesus Christ, so that in a certain faith, I may enjoy him and all his benefits, even as he being very God, and very man, is truly the living Bread descended from heaven, to quicken us, and to make us happy for ever. And that by this sacred mystery, I may truly participate the new and eternal Testament, that is, the Covenant of grace, in such manner to persevere in this happy society of the body of my Saviour, that from him I may incessantly draw force and life, and being united with him, I may also become one with thee, my Creator. In this manner I beseech thee, to give me the grace to celebrated with thy Church, the most holy memory of our Lord, to exercise myself therein all the days of my life, and to announce the benefit of his death, until he cometh to judge the world, in the resurrection of all flesh; to the end, that so receiving this great Sacrament of his body, with a new increasing of all goodness and celestial benediction, with so much the greater confidence, I may call upon thee, o my God and Father, and more & more glorify myself in thy mercies. So to thee, OH eternal God, protector of thy people; to thee, OH Christ, Saviour of the elect; to thee, OH holy Spirit, Comforter of the afflicted; and to thee, OH holy Trinity, one only and true God, be honour, glory, and praise for ever and ever.  
Amen.   

13. Thanksgiving after the receiving of the holy Sacrament.  
O Lord my God, I give thee praise and thanks from the bottom of my heart, because thou hast bestowed so great a benefit upon me poor sinner, as to have drawn and received me into the sacred Communion of thy Son jesus Christ my Saviour. It pleased thee once to deliver him to die, to give life to thy children, and as to one of them this day thou givest him living unto me for meat and nourishment to eternal life. I beseech thee let not my indignity make the precious blood of Christ to be shed for me in vain, and that it may be given me to drink, that in it being washed and cleansed from all my sins, I may always he quickened, as one of thine elect, and a member of thy Church, seeing that in it thou hast made me participate that heavenly bread, which thou dost not communicate but unto thy elect.  
Let me not be so wicked to abuse these sacred meats, the preparation whereof cost so dear to thy beloved Son jesus Christ, nor become like unto dogs which return unto their vomit, nor to hogs that wallow again in the dung, but rather grant (O Lord) that increasing in true faith, which bringeth forth good works, & in other gifts of thy holy Spirit I may never forsake thy holy alliance. Whether should I go, but only unto thee, and that by my Saviour jesus Christ which hath and doth teach us the words of life eternal? Let it not be for a day, that the memory of his passion and love may present itself before mine eyes, but let it remain engraven in my heart for ever, that I may incessantly praise the redeemer of the world, because by his testament he hath left us the inheritance of heaven, giving us the precious earnest of the holy Sacrament of his body. And therefore I resign myself wholly into thy hands (O glorious God) being resolved by the grace of thy holy Spirit, to go on the course of my life joyfully, and with a good conscience before thee, that I may go in peace to my grave when the time cometh, seeing that Christ is my life. Departed from me, worldly delights, and all terrestrial meats, which convert and change into gall and rottenness; seeing that within my bowels I have incorruptible meat, sweeter than honey, and which maketh me immortal, that is, the bread of Angels, the bread of God, the bread of heaven, the bread which giveth life to the world, and which without signs and Sacraments, we shall eat above in the kingdom of heaven in blessedness for ever. Than to thee, OH God my Creator; to thee, OH Christ my Redeemer, and to thee, OH holy Spirit, which by thy divine virtue workest this holy and unspeakable conjunction of faithful Christians, with the body of our Lord, and to thee only God be honour and glory eternally.  
Amen.   

14. Meditation and Prayer, touching the blessed life which God hath prepared for his children.  
This life which God hath prepared for those that love him, because he loveth them, i● made unto his children in jesus Christ, a quickening, and blessed life for ever, because in it there is all joy without sadness, rest without labour, dignity without fear, abundance without want, eternity without corruption, tranquility without trouble, chastity without concupiscence, beauty without spot, light without darkness, health without anguish, constancy without variety, peace without adversary, holiness without enticement to sin, patience without murmuring; and to be short, perfect and perpetual beatitude: A life full of science, knowledge, and love of God: a life enjoying the whole vision of his glory, & majesty, in that peace which passeth all understanding: a life which the thoughts of the Angels, and of all the blessed incessantly desired, and are satisfied by one spirit, with that living Bread of heaven, and with that permanent sacred meat to immortality, (I●sus Christ very God and very man) without whom the desire and satisfaction of this sweet nourishment engendereth pain and trouble: a life wherein those that have made their souls white with the blood of the immaculate Lamb, shall be entire men, where Christ is the first borne among many brethren, and with him, as his members, and united unto him, as to their head, and by him to God, the fountain of life: A life I say, wherein the bodies of all the faithful shall be made in corruptible and spiritual: like that or our glorious Lord, and their souls, made all light, in the splendour of divine glory, to contemplate the face of the Deity, and so to enjoy the sovereign good of m●n: To be sho●●, this life, wherein one only God (Father, Son, and holy Ghost) shall be all in his elect, who being adhered and united unto him, shall be made immortal, in full contentment and perfect felicity incessantly to sing the spiritual Hymn of praise and thanksgiving, H●lleluiach, Salvation, and glory, and honour, and power belong to the Lord our God. This is that life (OH my God) whereunto my poor soul aspireth: it is the mark whereunto it aimeth, the end whereunto it tendeth; this price I say, of the supernal vocation of the Saints in jesus Christ, by his Spirit. To this inestimable price I direct my course: I hunt after the incorruptible crown of Glory of the elect, and the great day of the restoring of all creatures, wherein our bodies being quickened, shall be rejoined with our souls, to live together a heavenly life with the Angels.  
OH most bright and admirable day of the glorious coming of the Lord; a perpetual day, without any evening or night, wherein I shall hear a melodious voice of the praise, exaltation, and confession of the most holy Name of the eternal God; and which will say unto me, Enter into the joy of the Lord thy God, in that palace of glory, where all things are great, incomprehensible, and without number, with a peaceable delight, a pleasing felicity, a happy eternity, and a perpetual blessedness, in the everlasting sighed of the most high Deity. O joy above joy, joy infinitely surpassing all other joy, and without the which there is no joy, when shall I enter into thee, to see my God in his glorious Throne, in his most holy Majesty, in that new heaven, and in that new earth, which his most p●issa●t hand hath prepared for Celestial ●erusalem, whereof he himself is the Temple, and the Lamb JESUS CHRIST, the eternal Son? Than I shall go into that holy and sacred place, where thou dwellest, O Lord, and there without doubt I shall see that which eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, and which never entered into the heart of man. I shall see these incomprehensible wonders, in that last day, wherein the most mighty Lord, judging the quick and the dead, will transform our vile bodies, to make them like unto his glorified body, by that force and efficacy, by the which all things are subjecteth unto him. For then attaining to Christ (the perpetual and infinite light) we shall see that great God face to face, and shall know him, as he hath known us, to be filled with his glory, without want of any outward thing that we can wish or desire, because than we shall fully enjoy our merciful Lord, the sovereign good, and the reward of the elect, the Sceptre and Diadem of their ornament, and the perpetual joy environing their heads, as with a crown of victory, in unspeakable peace, and continuing for ever. Thou art (OH Lord God) this light, in whose light we shall see light; that is, thee in thyself, in such sort, that in thine own splendour being made all light, we shall have the sight of thy brightness; in the same to know thy truth and thy glory, to know I say the power of the Father, the wisdom of the Son, and the virtue of the holy Ghost, in one Trinity, of one inseparable and entire essence. Which knowledge is of such worth, that in it consisteth all the felicity of the Angels, and of the Saints, the only guerdon of life eternal, the glory of the blessed Spirits, their perpetual comfort, the reward of their travels, the recompense of their labours, their rich rest, in a beautiful peace, and interior and exterior gladness, in the Paradise of God, in his holy city, which aboundeth with blessedness and delight for ever.  
Therefore (OH most coequal and coeternal persons in one Trinity) I beseech thee with all my soul, with all my mind, and with all my strength, that thou wilt be pleased, to suffer my heart to comfort and rejoice itself all the days of my life, with firm assurance, one day to see thy glory, when the gate of heaven shall be opened unto me, to enter into the joy of my Lord and my Redeemer. Behold me poor beggar, which knock at thy door (OH most great Father) and thou hast said, Touch boldly the entry into my house, knock at my door, and it shall be opened unto thee. Now, seeing that my profoundest thoughts, the sound of my voice, and the tears of mine eyes, knock and beat at the porch of thy Sanctuary, and that all my affections, my vows, and my desires are presented unto thee and in thy presence. Turn not (OH merciful God) thy amiable face from me, and withdraw not thyself from him, whom thou hast received and acknowledged for thy child, and thy servant, though he be a poor sinner. But rather beningly hear my prayer, and lend me thy comfortable hand, that it may defend me from the stinking puddle of the world, and that having escaped from such a gulf, I may come to thee in life everlasting. May it please thee (OH Father of the elect) to illuminate my ignorant youth, and despise not my crooked age, but 'cause thy holy meditations to rejoice my bones, and renew my years, like the royal Eagle, that with a most happy flight, I may rest in thy holy Tabernacle.  
Amen.   

15. A Prayer to be said by householders in the morning. Our aid and beginning is in the name of God which hath made heaven and earth.  
OH Lord God our Father, altogether good, altogether wise, and altogether powerful, Creator and Moderator of all things, we thy poor children and servants, by the grace which it hath pleaseth thee to show us in jesus Christ our Saviour, humbly prostrated here before thy face, give thee thanks for all thy benefits, specially for that it hath pleased thee to suffer us to pass over the last night under thy protection and safeguard, to live until this day. We confess, that being miserable sinners, conceived and borne in iniquity and corruption, and naturally inveloped with darkness, ignorance, and error, we are not worthy nor capable to present ourselves, nor to lift up our eyes unto thee (OH most high God) which art all righteousness and light. But according to thy great goodness, thou hast made us a way to the throne of thy grace and mercy, by the shedding of the blood of our Lord jesus Christ thy beloved Son, whom we believe in his word, (which the holy Ghost confirmeth in our hearts) took flesh of the blessed virgin Mary, died on the cross for satisfaction of our sins, & rose again in glory for our justification and eternal bliss. We acknowledge, sovereign Father, that it is a great effect of thy benignity that we which are unworthy to live upon the earth, because of the hereditary vice of Adam, & which by our offences have deserved to be cast into the bottomless pit of hell, have this good & benefit to see the brightness of the day & of the Sun, therein to behold the works of thy hands, and here on earth to enjoy the benefits of this world, which thou bestowest upon us. But, OH Lord, for as much as that by thy abundant liberality, thou bestowest these benefits commonly on all men, & that the Sun shineth as well on the evil, as on the good, and that this exterior light, serveth but for the guiding of our bodies, we beseech thee, to sand the quickening light of thy face upon our souls, and by thy holy Spirit to drive away the darkness of our understandings: blessing and regenerating us more and more to all righteousness and holiness, that we may walk, not only this day, but all the time of our lives, in the way of salvation, in such manner, that our intents, actions, and thoughts may all tend to thy honour and glory, and the edification and consolation of those whom we have means to aid. To know thee only and true God (Father, Son, and holy Ghost) is to live happily, to serve thee is to reign, and to praise thee, is the joy of a faithful soul. Grant then (to obtain of thy great benignity so many spiritual graces) that we may have an assured faith in thy word, a constant hope of life eternal, and an ardent desire to love and fear thee, withal our heart and thought, and in thee loving our neighbours as ourselves.  
To do this, quench in our souls, the excessive love wherewith naturally we flatter ourselves, and all other impure desires of the flesh, and the vanities of the world, and kindle in our hearts the pure fire of thy love, which may make us thirst after heavenly things, and tread terrestrial things under our feet. May it please thee also (most powerful God) to fortify us against all the temptations of the devil, and to deliver us from them, as also from all other earthly dangers, and human miseries, which may happen unto us in this life, granting us the grace, in the shortness and afflictions of the same, always to remember, that the figure of the world, passeth away like a shadow, and like the flower in the field; to the end (OH Lord) that we may learn principally to seek after thy kingdom, and the sanctification of our hearts; knowing, that all other things beside shall be given us of thee for our necessity, to make us live contentedly, and to die happily, to enjoy eternal life. All which graces necessary for our salvation, that we may have them all of thee (gracious Father.) Freely pardon, we beseech thee, all our sins, in the name, and by the merits of thy dear Son jesus Christ our Redeemer, as thou hast promised to thy children and servants, who trusting in thy justice, and in the merit of his death and passion ask it of thee with all their hearts.  
And although we are unworthy, seeing it hath pleased thee to command us to pray one for another, we pray unto thee for all men; to the end that those who as yet have not the understanding of the Gospel, by the preaching thereof, nor the illumination of the holy Ghost, may be brought into the way of heaven, which is to know thee the only true God, and him whom thou hast sent jesus Christ, for the salvation of the elect. And that those to whom thou hast already given that grace, as unto us, may daily increase in thy spiritual blessings, that all of us together may honour and worship thee with one heart, with one mouth, with one Spirit, with one Faith, and with one Baptism. Likewise, we pray thee for all those whom thou visitest with any kind of tribulations, either in body or in soul, that it may please thee, OH merciful Father, to give them comfort and patience, until they be fully eased of their griefs. May it please thee also by thy holy Spirit to govern, guide and direct the King, and all other Princes, Magistrates, and Superiors, that have the government and rule of the sword of justice upon earth, that reigning and living in Piety and justice, they may employ their dominion and power for the exaltation of thy holy Name, and for the tranquility, peace, and quietness of their subjects, subjecting and submitting themselves and all their people, to thee, and to thy holy word. Which to publish in all places, it may please thee more and more to enrich the Pastors of thy Church with thy precious gifts, and from day to day, to raise up others for the edification and perfection of thy holy Temple, whereof generally, OH Lord, may it please thee to show thyself the most puissant Protector, to the confusion of the adversaries of Christ, and of his Church. Humbly praying unto thee for all these things, OH God, with confidence to be heard of thee according to thy promise, and in the prayer which thy beloved Son hath taught us, saying, Our Father which art in heaven, etc. We beseech thee also, O God, to increase our faith, that it may take lively root in our hearts, to fructify and increase in us all righteousness, and good works, and that thereof we may all the days of our lives, and at our last hour, make such a confession, as we now do, with heart and mouth, saying, I believe in God the Father Almighty, etc. The blessing of God our Father, the peace of jesus Christ our Saviour, and the joy of the holy Ghost be given unto us, and devil with us eternally.  
Amen.   

16. Grace or Prayer before meat.  
All creatures attend and look upon thee, OH Lord, thou givest them meat in due season, and they receive it, and are satisfied and fed at thy hands. We beseech thee, OH Lord, to extend thy blessings upon us thy children and servants, and sanctify the food which at this present thou settest before us, that we may use it soberly, according to thy will, for the sustaining of our bodies and lives, in the name, and to the glory of thee, OH Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Ghost, one only and true God, which livest and reignest for ever and ever.  
Amen.   

17. Grace or Prayer after meat.  
Every faithful Christian aught to praise the Lord, and every one should show forth his glory, because his mercy and truth endureth for ever. So, OH Lord God, we give thee thanks for allthy benefits, and specially for that it pleaseth thee to sustain and feed us in this corporal life, administering unto us all things necessary. But specially we thank thee for the spiritual food of thy word, which thou givest to our souls, that they may live happily for ever, in jesus Christ thy Son and our Redeemer, to whom with thee and the holy Ghost, one only and true God, be honour and glory for ever.  
Amen.   

18. Prayer to be said by a household at night.  
O Lord God our heavenly Father, to whom all glory and praise belongeth, we know that thy people of Israel did every day evening and morning sacrifice unto thee, as a thanksgiving for their rest, and of reconciliation with thee their God. But the true Lamb which taketh away the sins of the world, all figures being accomplished, hath taught us in the Gospel, that a contrite and humble heart of a Christian, is a sacrifice pleasing unto thee. Therefore in all humility and reverence, we present ourselves before thy face, giving thee thanks, that it hath pleased thee to give us grace to pass this day under thy protection and safeguard. Beseeching thee not to enter into judgement with us, nor to call us thy creatures and poor worms of the earth to accounted for our actions this day past: For we have offended thee many ways, and whensoever we examine our consciences, they make us culpable of death and damnation in hell: but as the child hath recourse unto the father, and the servant to his master; so we humble ourselves before thee, OH Lord, which art slow to anger, and of great compassion. May it please thee, OH Lord, by thy great bounty and clemency, to pardon our faults, and to cover them before thy face, with the righteousness of thy beloved Son, to the end, that as all things are now covered to our eyes, by the darkness of the night, for the rest of our bodies, so our souls may take their rest in our only Saviour jesus Christ.  
Lord we know that Satan compasseth us about, like a roaring lion, that he is the Prince of darkness, and seeketh to make a breach in our hearts, when we think not on him. But thou art the defence of Israel, which never sleepest, and that if thou be'st with us, who can be against us? It is thou O Lord, that hath legions of Angels for the protection of those whom thou hast elected: we believe and hope that we are of that number, by the mercy which it hath pleased thee to show unto us. Give us grace we beseech thee this night to rest in peace, defend us from all temptations, and pollutions, from all troublesome dreams and nightly unquietness, & preserve us from all dangers that our bodies, by thy ordinance (OH Lord) taking and receiving quiet sleep, our spirits also may always watch unto thee, for the glory of thy holy name, that so rising the next morning, we may be so much the better disposed to acknowledge thy bounty, and to glorify thee as long as we live. For that in such manner going on with our course of life in jesus Christ, we may with joy of the holy Ghost, attend the happy, & most desired rest of life eternal, which is kept for us in heaven, to enjoy the same, after the sweet rest, which shall be given us in our graves, when the Angel at the latter day shall sound the trumpet to call us into judgement. But in the mean while that we comfort ourselves with the expectation of that glorious resurrection, we recommend unto thee, O heavenvly Father, the peace & preservation of thy Church, the state of this realm, and all persons afflicted with any kind of sickness, and tribulations, praying thee to give unto thy children and servants that which thou knowest to be necessary for them, that thy benignity may shine and be seen in the middle of those that call upon thy name, and have their hope in thee. Hear us, OH Lord, for the love of thy dear Son our Saviour jesus Christ, in whose name we pray unto thee as he hath taught us, saying: Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, etc.   

19 A short Prayer for every particular person to say in the morning.  
It is a good thing to praise thee, OH Lord, and in the morning to extol thy mercies. Therefore I humbly prostrate myself before thy Majesty, and lift up my hart to thee my Father which art in heaven, giving thee thanks for the benefits which hitherto thou hast vouchsafed to bestow upon me, namely, the last night, which I past under thy keeping & protection. I beseech thee, that this day, & all the rest of my life, thou wilt continued thy favours and blessings towards me thy servant, and to increase my faith in thy Church, with other gifts of the holy Ghost; that under thy conduction I may walk in my vocation with a good conscience, and with such sincerity of heart, as if it were not before men, to please them; but as in thy presence, to whom I am to yield an account of all my actions: and so like a good Christian I may go on the rest of my life, with a peaceable spirit, and quiet conscience, to thy honour, and the good of my neighbours, as thou shalt give me grace; at the last to die happily, in hope of the eternal life which jesus Christ my Saviour hath obtained for me by his blood shedding. Forgive (OH Father of mercy) all my offences, in the name of thy Son, in whose righteousness and merits, I have and do put all my trust and confidence, and for his sake, aid me in all my necessities, until such time as thou shalt take me as thy child, into the inheritance of the Saints. This which I ask of thee (& for all the faithful) with all other things necessary for thy glory and our salvation, in assurance to be heard of thee, I beseech thee to grant for Christ his sake, in whose name I continued my prayer as he hath taught me saying: Our Father which art in heaven, etc.   

20. A Prayer for a particular man at night.  
It is a good thing to praise thee (OH Lord) and to set forth thy mercy when night cometh, Therefore I humble myself before thy face, giving thee thanks for the aid and favour which it hath pleased thee to give me this day past, wherein I might have fallen into a thousand dangers and miseries, if it had not been for thy paternal care, which thou hast vouchsafed to have of me thy poor servant. But as by my fragility I have offended thee many ways, and that thy mercy infinitely surpasseth all my unrighteousness, pardon (good Father) my sins in the name, and for the merits of jesus Christ thy Son, and my Saviour in whose death and passion I put my whole trust and confidence. And seeing thou hast created the night for the rest of thy creatures, may it please thee therein to give me rest both in body and soul, against the subtlety of Satan, and of all others that would hurt me, that when day cometh, I may so much the more extol thy goodness, and glorify thee in my vocation, till that at the last I may attain, to the true rest of eternal life, which is obtained and kept for me in jesus Christ my redeemer. In whose name O Lord, I beseech thee to grant these things, and all others needful for all the faithful, as we are taught to pray unto thee by the Son, saying: Our Father which art in heaven, etc.   

21. A Prayer to be said by a sick person.  
OH Lord God, most mighty and most good, we know that among the corrections, whereby thou puttest us in mind of our duties, it pleaseth thee oftentimes to tame our flesh by divers diseases. For than thou dost advertise us, by the pains that we feel & endure not only of our sinful lives passed, but also of the end thereof which every one must suffer by death, as then also thou giust us cause to think upon the great & last day of thy judgement, at which time we shall enter into a life eternal, which shall be full of glory & blessedness for the good, & shame and torment for the wicked, which things the flesh living at ease, doth little regard. Now (O Lord most just) it hath pleased thee at this time by sickness to humble this party, which here lieth sick in his bed, making him to feel and bear the severity of thy punishments, which also puts his soul in mind of his sins, and setteth the image of death before his face. Therefore, seeing thou commandest us to pray one for another, we humbly beseech thee, with this poor sick person, that thou wilt not execute the rigour of thy judgement upon him, as he hath deserved, but rather (merciful Lord) cast thy eyes of mercy upon him, and beholding him as a child redeemed from sin, and death, by the blood of jesus Christ thy dear son, give him grace and constant courage humbly to receive thy paternal visitation, and to bear it patiently and obediently, submitting himself with all his heart and mind to thy mercy, which layest this visitation upon him. Aid him in all his pains, and be his warrant and protection against the dangers which assail him: and special if his conscience doth accuse him of his secret sins: then (o Lord full of mercy) set before him for a defence, the passion and the voluntary sacrifice of the Saviour of the world, specially of all the faithful his elect, who upon himself (hanging on the Cross) bore our infirmities and weakness, and suffered the pains of death, being made sin for us, to wash us us in his blood, and to obtain temission of our sins, and after rose again to accomplish our justification, and to open unto us the gate of the kingdom of heaven, as also to all those which believe in him, being baptized in his name. Lord make this patiented thy servant, by the gift of Chrstian faith, to feel the first-fruits and virtue of all thy great benefits, and that being oppressed with grief and pain of body, for a firm consolation, he may in his soul receive the true treasure of felicity, which is the remission of sins, through jesus Christ. That this faith of the elect may be to him as a sure rampire against the astonishments of death, of Satan, and of Hell, with assurance that Christ hath vanquished and overcome them for all Christians, members of the holy Church, to the end that suffering with him, they may also be glorified with him. May it please thee (o heavenly father) to be merciful unto him, and if thou knowest that he may yet profit in thy Church, among us, preserwe him from death, and give him health with increase of thy graces. If not, (and that thou hast otherwise ordained for him) receive him unto thee in peace, in thy glory, for he hath his recourse unto thee (o most merciful God) instead of the death of the body, grant him the life of the soul, with thy angels, until that by the resurrection of all flesh, at the great day of the Lord he may live with him an entire man. So thy will be done (o Lord) in all and by all, as it is good and just for ever: and grant us our request in the name of the same jesus Christ, and by the prayer which he hath taught us saying, Our father which art in heaven, etc.   

22. Meditations and Prayer fit to be said by him that feeleth much pain by sickness.  
My God, in my great pains and dolours I present myself before thee, I confess and acknowledge mine own weakness of nature, and the justice and goodness of thy hand which visiteth me. The original of all flesh consisteth in infection, his dwelling is a habitation of dust, full of vexations, sickness, and griefs, his end is a prey to worms, and all his glory is buried with him in his winding sheet. It is the only jewel of all the precious jewels and movables, which the most puissant mortal creature carrieth with him out of this world, with a coffin of wood, and a tomb of stone, to lay himself in a grave of six foot long. And nevertheless, man is so blind, that if he enjoyeth any time of perfect health, the vanities of the world draw him hither and thither, make him wander out of the way of heaven, make him proud, and bereave him of the knowledge of his own frail and weak condition. So have I oftentimes found myself ready to suffer shipwreck in the seas of men's vain desires. If thou (OH my God and loving Father) in my chiefest glory, hadst not punished me with the rods of tribulation, to prevent my destruction. As at this day it is thy pleasure again to correct me by thy discipline, which maketh me call to mind that I am a weak creature, to confess my misery, to humble myself, and to change my affections. My grief is great, and hard to bear, but thereby I have cause the better to acknowledge, that thou art lust (OH sovereign God) & good (OH merciful Father) that in such manner healest and correctest my sins all with one medicine. For that the affliction which thou sendest upon the body being well considered by thy children through thy grace in their hearts always produceth the first-fruits of sanctification, and salvation with patience. Than, OH thou vessel of earth, shadow of life, & mortal flesh, seeing God doth not sand this pain and torment to hurt thee, but to the end, that it may be unto thee an instruction, and a warning to amendment of life: put off thyself, to submit thy soul unto God, and thy affections to thy spirit, and without ceasing. Humble thyself under his paternal hand, that hath given thee this grievous blow, under that most puissant arm, that hath thrown the stone to bruise thee, and under that great God, who being pitiful, seethe and heareth thee in thine afflictions, and which under his most just decree, holdeth in his power the evil and the remedy, the trouble and the rest, and life and death, to make both the one and the other profitable and good for thee; and say with a contrite heart, full of hope and confidence, I have sinned against thee (OH my Creator and Saviour) I have offended thee, and provoked thee unto anger a thousand times a day, I deserve to be well punished, and all the pains which I endure, are far lighter than the weight of my faults: but thou art the God of compassion, and of my deliverance. Thou hast washed, sanctified, and justified me in thy beloved Son jesus Christ, and in him thou wilt make me happy. Pardon me in his name (OH merciful Father) all my sins, and comfort me in my grief, wherein I want force. Let not thy comfort, and the unction of thy Spirit, withdraw themselves from my poor soul, nor thy aid from thy languishing body. I beseech thee from the bottom of my thoughts, from the bitterness of my heart, and with thy servant David say, Lord hear my request, and let my cry come unto thee, hide not thy face away from me, in the day of my distress. Let thine ears enclive to my complaint, hasten thee and answer my demand; for my bones stick to my flesh, by reason of mine anguish, and my days vanish like smoke, and like a shadow which passeth away, and I am dried like a withered herb. Lord, all my desire dependeth on thee, and my grief is not hidden from thee: go not back from me, come to help me, I expect the effects of thy mercy. OH merciful God, accomplish that which thou hast said by thy Prophet, I have heard thee in time conventent, and succoured thee in the day of salvation: and while I endure pain, make (OH most powerful God) the force and abundance of the graces of thy holy Spirit, to dissolve the sharpness of my torment, and mollify the bitterness of the evil which I feel: that in peace of soul and conscience, I may always go on my course in this life with this Christian assurance, that seeing it is thou (OH merciful God) that afflicteth me, it is for my good, and that my sorrow shall be unto me as a watch, and a sign of some approaching joy, and that to crown all my miseries, the last of my most grievous days, shall be the first of my rest in life eternal.   

23. Meditation and Prayer against the fear of death.  
The thing which often admonisheth men to embrace jesus Christ & his word, as they should do, is the fear of death. For this sentence of Christ (not to fear those that kill the body, and cannot kill the soul, but rather to fear him that hath power to cast both body and soul into hell fire) cannot penetrate into their hearts, by which sacred words in that point our Saviour showeth what human folly is: we fear death, for fear to lose our lives. But men 
Math. 10. 28.  cannot take it away from us, then why do we fear it? for our life is in the hand of God, that hath given it us, and if we endure any dolour and torments, it is not death that we fear, but those sorrows and torments whereunto we are borne and ordained, (as a bird is to fly) which we aught as patiently to bear, as a valiant soldier beareth his wounds, to be praised and rewarded for them afterward.  
Touching our bodies, which are put into the grave, we should not esteem them to be lost, fornothing is lost therein, but corruption and infection, which we should desire to loose, but our bodies shall rise again in glory. In such manner, as when we melt a piece of copper to make an image thereof, the copper is not lost, but thereby purified and honoured. And (as a 
Sosom. in hist Eccles. lib, 2. c. 10.  Martyr said) Seeing that by nature we are mortal, why do we not esteem it to be a great honour to die for Christ? But let us specially note the reason that Christ giveth, which is, that if we must fear death, we must fear the most dangerous, that is, eternal death, which God can give unto those that offend him, that is the second death, in the burning lake of fire and brimstone, which is the portion of the fearful, incredulous, execrable, murderers, lecherous persons, poisoners, idolaters, and all liars, as Saint john saith. Than blessed are they 
Apo●. 21. 8.  that fear God, more than men. God asketh no great thing of us, but that we should trust in him, and acknowledge him. The elements, the celestial spheres, the earth, the trees, & the rivers show forth his glory, and birds also with their warbling notes. Than why should not man created after the image of God, praise him? It is a small thing to God for us to confess him, 
Psal, 19 & 14 8  but it importeth us much more, that he acknowledgeth us in his glory, and accepteth us to be his. Lord thou art the author of salvation and life, and therefore it was good reason, that man turning away from thee, which at the true life, was cast headlong into malediction, to be subject to corporal and eternal death. For thy Deity being infinite, the offence committed against thee, could not receive less than infinite punishment, as eternal pain prepared both for body and soul. It is true, that corporal death and the torment thereof, is such, that it cannot be comprehended by men, but only when they feel it, but the cause (O Lord) of such and so great mischief, is only man himself, but pity and compassion is in thee, which art altogether essential benignity and mercy. And therefore from the beginning thou didst not refuse, to stretch forth thy more then Fatherly hand to Adam (the fountain of death, giving him an assurance of remedy, for his mortal wound, by the sentence of life promised unto him. A sufficient comfort to restore and assure him in his misery, but not to make him altogether exempt of the apprehension of his fall, and of the horror of the trespass, ordained for all men, by an inevitable judgement. Every one feareth this condition, for in it is seen the testimony of thy just anger, o God, against sin, and a certain argument of the miserable estate of man, by their natural corruption subject to eternal torments, but death hath not the like effect in all men, but changeth his quality, being to the wicked and reprobates a beginning and an entry into tears, and gnashing of teeth in Hell, and to all true Christians a beginning of solid joy and perpetual beatitude, to the which felicity we cannot attain but by death. jesus Christ himself, by his example showed us, how fearful a thing it is, for although he overcame death, yet he trembled before he fought with it. And although he was chosen by thee (o Father) to be the death of death, nevertheless by the tears which he shed, he witnessed the pity and compassion that he had of our deplorable condition.  
Than how should not I doubt that fearful passage which made the most perfect and the most assured among the Saints to fear? for although death could not be any ways hurtful unto them, they were in some sort moved thereat, and oftentimes shunned it, praying to be exempted from it. And what man is he, that would not fear so cruel a pain? For in what thing can we reckon the good of man to consist; but in this, that it is, and subsisteth to be perpetually happy? And what is death, but the destruction and dissolution of man? who therein is so miserable, that he is never so much afflicted, as in that dissolution, wherein although he liveth to be tormented because of sin, and although he be destroyed, yet he subsisteth without limit, and without end to receive the fearful assaults of the grave, which incessantly kill him without dying, in such manner that we may well say that he liveth eternally, so without any evil of his Essence, perpetually to feel the dolours and pains of hideous death. Lord, this abasheth me, and the apprehension of so miserable an estate maketh me afraid, until I think upon the only remedy, which thou hast ordained against so terrible a fear, (that is, jesus Christ my Saviour) who only hath vanquished death, by his righteousness, healing the wound of sin, and by his obedience satisfying the divine sentence, which holdeth man (without this only means) bond fast to the horrible pains of hell. It is he only that hath swallowed up death in victory, and that hath wholly broken his sting. It is he, who rising by his own force and virtue, (which is thine o my God) hath quickened man, not only assuring him against the fear of eternal death, but which hath given him an assurance of good, contrary to that so extreme evil of eternal death, giving him in the flesh of that great Saviour, which is our proper substance, a certain warrant of our resurrection. By this means (o heavenly Father) I change my fear into trust and confidence, and my doubt into desire. For in me there is no more fear of eternal death, seeing my soul, believing in the Son of God, before death, passeth from death to life, I do no more fear corporal death, because in respect of me it is no more a pain inflicted upon me for sin, but a testimony of the goodness of God, who by that way will have me enter into life, no more a destruction unto me, but a preparation made for me to attain to a better state, and to live happilier, nor no more a subject to despair, but an argument of hope, that I shall see my Saviour in my flesh, participating with his life, to be with him without spot or wrinkle, fear of death, or vengeance for sin: and to be short, it is to me a trial of the virtue of Christ, which said, He that believeth in me, I will raise him up at the latter day. Grant me grace (OH Lord) that with an assured hope I may go on that way, fortified by faith, accompanied by hope, and clothed with charity, seeing that all the hours, the days, the months, and the years of my life, are degrees whereby I descend into the grave, to ascend up to thy eternal glory. Learn me to know, that to live from morning to night is a portion of death, that I may make it more familiar unto me: to make me to behold & contemplate the image of death in sleeping, that when I wake I may think upon and remember the happy resurrection of all flesh: Make me to consider that night, is like the shadow of death, and that morning resembleth jesus Christ which destroyeth & bringeth it to an end. In such manner, that on the one side I may humble myself in my frail and weak condition, and an other side, I may triumph in the glory of my restoring to come, as the end of my death, and the beginning of my life, the issue of my misery, and my entrance into happiness, the end of my tears and troubles, and the beginning of my joy and felicity, & to be short my sovereign good. So that, at what time soever, it shall please thee to call me by death, (O my God and merciful Father) I may joyfully go unto it, in jesus Christ my Saviour, which liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost eternally.  
Amen.   

24. A Prayer to be said by him which feeleth himself at the the point of death, and which may also be daily said by every one that is well and in health.  
O Lord my God, most just, and most merciful, who of thy great love didst suffer thy well beloved Son jesus Christ, to die for my salvation, (which am a poor worm of the earth) I humbly beseech thee to give me grace that the remembrance of the dolours and and first-fruits of his passion, may never departed out of my heart and mind, to the end, that until the last gasp, I may be assured of thy love towards me: O merciful God, which hast redeemed me from sin, from death, and from hell, by so precious a price, as the blood of Christ my Saviour, enrolling me thereby in the Church, and in the Communion of thy Saints. Behold not (OH Lord) the offences which I have committed against thy holy Majesty, which make me unworthy of so many graces and favours, which it hath pleased thee to bestow upon me. I confess that all my works, being put into the balance of justice; are nothing but iniquity and filthiness. But remember that I am thy creature, borne and regenerated again by jesus Christ, for whose sake it pleaseth thee to be my Father, and by him (God become man among us) to make me mount up unto thee, and to make me happy for ever. His righteousness is mine, by thy great love: the promise thereof is sealed in my soul by the holy Ghost, I am baptized in thy name, nourished and quickened by the flesh and blood of thy Son, and believe in thy Word. Assist (o God in Trinity) my infirmity, and therein let me not be confounded by Satan the enemy of my salvation, when he shall go about to put me in distrust of thy mercy. I wholly refer myself thereunto, and will always willingly leave this frail and contemptible life, to live for ever with my Redeemer in celestial immortality. I am unworthy thereof, but thy mercy (o God) fully assureth me, as one of thy elect; let thy mercy be a lamp to light me in the darkness of death, and by the gift of perseverance in faith and hope of my salvation, make me approach unto thee my God. Let the last words of jesus Christ upon the Cross, be also my last words, Into thy hands, o Father, I commit my spirit, that thou mayest receive me into glory, for thou hast redeemed me, o God, of truth. And forsake me not in my weakness, and when my strength shall fail me: but when I cannot speak, Lord hear the desires of my dying heart and soul issuing out of my body, and let it interiorly hear that joyful voice which Christ uttered to the poor thief dying on the Cross, saying, This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise.     

VERSES BRIEFLY SHOWING THE SUM OF Christian Philosophy.  

Of God and his Works.  

1  
SEeing that the true and only means for man  
(To live on earth t'attain eternal bliss,)  
Who to serve God doth whatsoe'er he can,  
Within our Academy showed is:  
To further him in all true piety,  
I will add this to my Philosophy.   

2  
My sole intent in verse is to indite,  
Of Christian Philosophers estate:  
And of th' Eternal Deity to writ,  
Which truly known, procureth happy state.  
Than grant, o God, (which man of naught didst frame)  
Me grace herein, t' extol thy holy name.   

3  
A Christian Philosopher is he,  
That doth behold the Majesty, the Art,  
The beauty, splendour, and the dignity  
Of God, and all his works in every part.  
And which in heart and mind doth him adore,  
And in his Temple grace of him implore.   

4  
He knoweth that the heavenly Deity,  
Is Essence infinite, a gulf profound,  
Innumerable, all eternity,  
Chaos, and of all creatures the ground.  
And all in every thing what's' ere we see.  
In heaven, Sea, or Earth, and ere shall be.   

5  
He doth confess jehova, God alone  
To be, without beginning, middle, end,  
Before whom all things are manifest and done,  
And all upon his providence depend.  
Most Holy, Pure, Good, Just, Omnipotent,  
To wrath and anger slow, to mercy bend.   

6  
Instructed thus of God, he doth confess  
Three persons in a holy Trinity,  
The Father, Son, and holy Ghost, no less  
In power divine and heavenly Deity:  
One of them then the other, yet all three  
Of them together, but one God to be.   

7  
So hath he learned, that God by's power begat  
His Son the Word, before the world begon  
TO appear, or any Essence had, and that  
Both from the holy Father and the Son,  
The holy Ghost doth equally proceed,  
As both of them by heavenly will decreed.   

8  
He thinks upon the great invisible  
Eternity, the author of all bliss,  
In man's conceit incomprehensible,  
Yet in him comprehends whatsoever is  
Created. And can all things turn to nought:  
As of nothing, all things to light he brought.   

9  
He doth always the Trinity adore,  
Wherein are that the earthly globe was made,  
The eternity resided, and before  
By's mighty and most powerful hand he had  
Created man, or heaven and earth did frame  
In manner as we now behold the same.   

10  
He knoweth that the Idea and the frame  
Of th' earthly globe was in th' eternity  
For ever, and to glorify his name,  
By's power divine, and great benignity  
When't pleased him, did fashion and devise,  
This world to be man's earthly Paradise.   

11  
He doth in word and thought still praise his name  
That did by number, weight, and measure make  
All things to maintain nature and the same  
TO increase and multiply: and care did take  
That they should not their sex, nor order change,  
But under his direction always range.   

12  
Contemplating the beauty of the sphere  
Celestial, transparent, vaulted fair,  
And full of stars and heavenly lights which there  
With certain course, still compass 'bout the air.  
He is persuaded with the Deity,  
In body and sold to live eternally.   

31  
He seethe Eheie by his works emost great  
And what he is, his word doth well unfold.  
The thunders which are heard from heavens seat  
And lightning (which men's eyes cannot behold)  
And all the admirable things we know  
That he hath done, his lively image show.   

14  
He's taught that God by's powerful word did frame,  
Of nothing, in th' infinite the great  
And spacious world, and round about the same,  
The heavens, water, fire, and air, did seat.  
All which, and all that heaven and earth contain,  
By's providence divine, he doth maintain.   

15  
He doth to God the honour truly give,  
Thaue made the world with every other thing  
And fishes, fowls, beasts, worms, therein that live.  
subjecteth hath unto man's governing.  
And for him th' earth, fire, water, air ordained,  
Within the centre of the world contained.   

16  
He knows how out of matter without form,  
And rude confused Chaos, without light,  
God his great work so admirable t' adorn,  
Did make and frame that most resplendent light,  
Which now doth serve to light the world throughout,  
And by' s divine decree doth near go out.   

17  
He praiseth God that with admired art,  
From that great light, the purest sparks did take,  
And thereof (fixing them in every part  
Of th' orient skies) the glistering stars did make.  
Whose virtues rare, divine, and admirable,  
Are unto human kind innumerable.   

18  
He doth admire and bless that puissant Lord,  
That always without end to man doth speak  
By's heavenly works, which still with one accord,  
By constant order (which they never break)  
Assistant are in their celestial rob,  
Unto this admirable earthly globe.   

19  
His thoughts ascend, to the course circular  
Of th' azure globes, the which do always go,  
And swiftly wheel about the world, and are  
Appointed by the eternal so to do.  
But in such sort that though they turn always,  
Yet they do it not, equally in days.   

20  
He glorifieth God omnipotent,  
The which the place most infinite ordains,  
Which heaven, th' air, the fiery element,  
And waters high and low, in it contains,  
And which hung altogether and apart,  
As in a vault, by admirable Art   

21  
He magnifieth God continually,  
When he beholds the heavens high and clear,  
Transparent, light, and bright perpetually,  
Which maketh day light orderly appear,  
And in a five fold circularie round,  
enclose and compass all the world so round.   

22  
He blesseth God our heavenly Father dear,  
Which placed hath the firmament about  
Great numbers of small Stars that shine most clear,  
And light, and beautify the same throughout:  
And in each of the Spheres celestial  
One greater light among so many small.   

23  
He knoweth that the same Majestic hand  
Hath made by Art, surpassing Art whatsoever,  
Saturnus, Mars, and jupiter, to stand,  
Each one of them within a several Sphere.  
Above the splendent circle of the Son,  
And under't Venus, Mer'crie, and the Moon.   

24  
He sees how by divine power uncontrolled,  
The Sun continually doth make the day,  
And compassing the world, his course doth hold,  
(Perpetually to do it without stay.)  
Within three hundred threescore days and five:  
And yearly doth his course again revive.   

25  
He praiseth him that did created the Moon,  
And Sun, each one by turns to make the day,  
And night, so that as soon as day is done,  
The night ensues, and when night's go awayi  
The day by course doth follow on amain,  
Which orderly, all mortal things maintain.   

26  
He doth admire God's great industry,  
Which limited the elements, and gave  
To them a place, fit for their quality,  
And quantity, the same for ere to have  
And hold, distributing to every one  
A part, the which it should possess alone.   

27  
He knoweth that the Lord hath set the fire,  
Next to the skies, and th' water, air, and earth,  
In distance lower, as nature doth require,  
That all things which, do breath life here on earth,  
From them b'instinct of nature might engender  
Their several kinds, and God his glory tender.   

28  
He seethe the three divisions of the skies,  
And knows the reason of their several state  
Whereof the highest, next to th' azure sky  
Exceeds in heat, the lowest temperate:  
That in the middle seated twixst them twain  
Is always full of tempests storms and rain.   

29  
He praiseth God that by his power sustains  
The christ' line watery dew within the sky,  
(Which all the glistering stars in it contains,)  
And by the same power also there on high,  
By admirable means upholds and shrouds,  
Great seas of waters in the volant clouds.   

30  
He wonders at God's might, and powerful hand.  
Who with a finger doth uphold, and stays  
The great foundation both of sea and land,  
And by's imperious word in like sort sways  
The elements, and easily without  
Pain, help, or aid, doth make them turn about.   

31  
His soul and senses all the Lord commend,  
That gives force to the winds in every place,  
And diversly to blow, and doth them sand  
Throughout the world, and in a minute space  
In several places turns them as he list,  
For in his power their power doth consist.   

32  
He sees Gods mighty force by fearful sound  
Of thunder, which out of the skies we hear  
Upon the earth, as if he would confounded  
And clean consume the world, in such a fear  
He puts mankind, with admirable wonder,  
When s'ere it pleaseth him on them to thunder.   

33  
He knows that God within his hand holds fast  
The thunder and commands the lightning clear,  
And both of them together in the waist  
And spacious air containeth, so that there  
They cannot pass their bounds without his leave,  
Lest that they should mankind of life bereave.   

34  
He rendereth thanks to God for many great  
Effects 'gainst nature wrought by's puistant might  
In th' earth below, and heaven above to let  
Us know his will (by some prodigious sight)  
That he our sins doth punish certainly  
By famine, plague, or other misery.   

35  
He lauds the Lord, that hath far ere decreed,  
The days, months, years, and seasons of the year  
In their due times in order to proceed  
And follow each the other, every year.  
According to his will and first intent,  
When he made man, the earth, and firmament.   

36  
In all things he gives thanks to God alone  
That changeth times, and ages at his will,  
And altereth days, months, years, and every one  
Of them, doth use unto our good or ill.  
And yet though at his will he doth them change,  
In him there's no inconstancy nor change.   

37  
He seethe that God doth hold the waters fast  
That they cannot o'er whelm nor drown the land  
And holdeth captive (in like sort) as fast  
The blustering winds, in his most powerful hand  
And in each creature he doth life maintain,  
And at his will takes it from them again.   

38  
He knows that God by his power hath ordained,  
The waters to keep in a certain place,  
And then within their limit so contained,  
That to exceed their bounds in any case  
They cannot, sith all things subjecteth are  
To his most mighty providence and care.   

39  
He understands that God by's powerful hand  
To make the earth yield fruit in several kinds,  
That all his creatures might find food on land:  
Hath placed the Ocean Seas apart, and binds  
Them so within their bounds, that they no more,  
Shall drown the land, as they had done before.   

40  
He gives to him the honour to have formed,  
All creatures that upon the earth do devil,  
Wherewith abundantly it is adorned,  
And unto man, which doth them all excel,  
subjecteth hath Fish, Fowle, and every beast,  
Which he commands, and they obey his hest.   

41  
He honours him in's providence and care,  
For all the Fish in the Ocean,  
And for th' abundant sorts of birds that are  
Above in th' air, and also that for man:  
So many beasts of every sort and kind,  
He hath created, as on th' earth we find.   

42  
He wonders at the sorts innumerable,  
Of Fish great and small which God hath made,  
And much more at his power admirable,  
For that no thing on earth is to be had.  
But that the like for form and shape we see,  
And daily find, within the Sea to be.   

43  
He knows that God in's hand weighs mountains high,  
And doth the earth replenish with all kind  
Of flowers fair, which he doth beautify,  
With many several colours as we find,  
B'eperience in the Spring and Summer time,  
When they come forth, and are in chiefest prime.   

44  
He praiseth God which makes nature produce,  
And form Pearls fine, and Crystal shining bright,  
Of liquid matter, (and good for the use  
Of man, wherein he takes so great delight.)  
Which in the bowels of the earth is found,  
And in the Ours like veins lies in the ground.   

45  
He doth extol the glory of his name,  
That doth in essence maintain every thing,  
By him created, sustring not the same  
To perish, but renewing every thing,  
When th'old decay, and turns into the earth,  
The new revive, and from them take their birth.   

46  
He knows the world was made by God on high,  
Wherein so many creatures do live,  
And underneath the starry Canopy,  
All exequisite and dainty things doth give  
Unto mankind, to serve him for his use,  
While he lives here on earth, without abuse.   

47  
He doth admire and bless God's providence,  
That did created the Angels good and free,  
Light, beautiful, and his will and pretence  
To know, and to perform the same, and t'be  
His messenger's, and guides to man in th'way  
Of heaven, that they should not go astray.   

48  
He magnifieth Gods most holy name,  
That did make man, in whom we may behold  
A model of the world, and which did frame  
The heavens, earth, air, water, fire and cold.  
Which things are altogether certainly,  
A proof most perfect of the Deity.    

Of a happy life.  

49  
A True Christian Philosopher doth see  
God in his Word, by his most sacred breath,  
Infusing into man (though frail he be)  
The sparks of grace divine, whereby his death,  
Is unto him a certain entry,  
Into the state of immortality.   

50  
Of life eternal he is full assured,  
Because like to God's Image he is made,  
And by Christ jesus (which for him endured  
Death on the Cross, though no sin in him had)  
Redeemed from sin, and so predestinate  
For ever to enjoy celestial state.   

51  
Regenerate, and happy sure is he  
That doth receive the holy Sacraments,  
According to Gods most divine decree,  
And puts his trust in holy documents:  
Submitting his will to the sacred writ  
Of Christ, with all his heart obeying it.   

52  
He knoweth how at all times to remember  
God's blessings, which to him he doth impart,  
That for the same thanks to him he may tender,  
(As we commanded are) with mouth and heart,  
With spirit, soul, and body God to serve,  
That from all dangers doth us still preserve.   

53  
He thinks him happy that a member is  
Of holy Church, and doth observe God's will,  
Which unto us a full assurance is,  
Of his eternal bliss, for which he will  
That we should love him truly and confess  
His holy name, without all feignedness.   

54  
He doth believe that God by's wisdom knows  
All things, and sees into th'interior parts  
Of mortal men, and also that he knows,  
The secrets, thoughts, and wishes of their hearts,  
And so is moved to live holily,  
And to adore Gods heavenly Majesty.   

55  
He only thinks him happy and most blessed,  
That doth with all his strength, his soul, and heart  
Love God in jesus Christ, and doth protest,  
From his most holy law near to departed:  
But to do good as near as ere he can  
In all his actions unto every man.   

56  
He doth confess that God most liberally,  
Hath given him reason, senses, will and wit  
To know his law and's great benignity,  
And for access to him the benefit  
Of prayer, which in jesus Christ preferred,  
He is assured of him to be heard.   

57  
He knows how prove, and ready God's to hear  
Our humble suits, when in our misery  
We do submit ourselves, and to forbear  
His wrath, when with repentant hearts we cry  
To him for grace, and pardon do implore  
In jesus name, our only Saviour.   

58  
He knows that God is just and merciful,  
And loveth those men that are good and pure,  
To whom he is benign and bountiful.  
And how in justice he cannot endure  
The wicked man, whose punishment though he  
Defers a while, shall surely plagued be.   

59  
He never sleeps, burr still stands sentinel  
To watch his spirits, to evil wholly bend:  
As also for because high knoweth well,  
That's soul while it's in's fleshly prison's penned,  
Is easily drawn to all infirmity,  
And thereby brought in t'vtter misery.   

60  
Being chaste, he doth th'exterior matter scorn,  
Which altereth the senses by the eye,  
And withal virtues doth himself adorn,  
Which makes him like unto the Deity.  
And so transforms his mortal quality  
By power divine to immortality.   

61  
He's wise and doth not listen to the words  
And writings of those men that under show  
Of good, no goodness unto him affords.  
But carefully doth read God's word to know,  
His will therein assuredly to find,  
The truth revealed by God unto mankind.   

62  
He constantly detests carnality,  
And worldly pleasures all as enemies  
To virtue, goodness, and true piety,  
Opposing 'gainst those crafty dangerous spies  
The word of God written in his Testament,  
Both old and new, their malice to prevent.   

63  
He never is surprised by the snares,  
And wily baits of foul concupiscence,  
As knowing well that God most just near spares,  
To plague those men that with a bad pretence,  
Commit such vile abominable things,  
And them at last to utter ruin brings.   

64  
He always puts his trust in God alone  
That makes the weak against the strong prevail,  
Turns ill to good, and bitter tears and moan  
To joy, and makes our enemies' purpose fail,  
Converting the devices of his mind,  
Like smoke in th'air, or to a blast of wind.   

65  
As he's Gods child, he doth to's law submit  
His whole desire, his will, and his intent,  
And unto his good pleasure doth commit  
Himself and all his actions fully bend  
To serve one God in holy Trinity,  
Abandoning all earthly vanity.   

66  
Taught by the holy Ghost he doth pretend  
To serve the Lord, and him t'extol and praise,  
Assured, on day, when's mortal life doth end,  
To be engraffed in Christ, with him always  
To devil in heavenly bliss, and to possess,  
A life complete with joy and happiness.   

67  
His mind and thought is freed from worldly care,  
And fleshly lusts, 'gainst which he makes defence,  
And wholly doth his senses all prepare,  
To serve th'eternal Lord, with full pretence,  
His laws t'obey opposing 'gainst his will,  
The fear of God, which sin in him doth kill.   

68  
Happy thereby, and blessed from above,  
He wholly trusteth in God's providence,  
No plague, no war, nor famine, can him move  
Nor fear of death, for God is his defence.  
So constant is his resolution,  
T'endure all kind of tribulation.   

69  
Loving and fearing God with patiented mind,  
he's comforted with such sweet first-fruits, as he  
Within the holy Word of God doth find,  
And in the Church are taught, so as while he  
Is here one earth, he liveth happily  
In Christ with God in all eternity.   

70  
Taught by the Lord, he is not negligent  
Nor careless often to call upon his name,  
By prayer upon his knees most humbly bend,  
Assured in his heart, that by the same,  
He shall when Gods will is receive and have,  
That which he of the Lord by prayer doth crave.   

71  
His soul's enriched with great industry,  
Because God in his love doth still increase,  
His blessings on him, and continually,  
To prospero all his labours doth not cease.  
For that without his benediction,  
Comfort in earthly riches there is none.   

72  
He thinks it honour great and high renown,  
To bear the cross of Christ, with joyful heart,  
And for his sake with patience t'wear the crown,  
Of martyrdom thereby t'endure a part,  
Of Christ's most dear and precious passion  
Suffered on earth for our salvation.   

73  
He doth cnotemne all earthly vanities,  
Which with deceitful bait, and great desire,  
Of honour, riches, superfluities,  
And worldly joys, which flesh and blood require,  
Brings men unto their graves with heaviness,  
Bereft of God's eternal blessedness.   

74  
Within the glass of true faith he doth see,  
(Abhorring vice) into the heavens above,  
And there beholds his Saviour by whom he  
Hope's once to sit, through his great grace and love:  
Where both in soul and body really  
He shall behold God in the Trinity.   

75  
In this hope he in God hath his delight.  
But he that loves the world and earthly joys,  
Doth shun the day, and walketh in the night.  
And those that follow after human toys,  
E'er lasting death shall be their portion:  
To bring them headlong to destruction.   

76  
He knows that Christ doth live eternally,  
And therefore doubteth not that after death,  
His body shall again live joyfully,  
And with his soul repossess vital breath,  
To live perpetually in heaven to see  
God face to face in glorious majesty.   

77  
He shuns and doth contemn terrestrial bliss,  
Ambition, pride, concupiscence, and all  
Things else, that make, and move him t' do amiss,  
And draws the vain hearts of men natural:  
As with a bait to follow and desire,  
That which at last will bring them to hell fire.   

78  
He calls to mind, that one day die he must,  
And go into the grave therein to rot,  
And clean consume, and turn again to dust,  
From whence he came, and yet he feareth not:  
The stroke of death, as knowing that thereby  
He shall be freed from all misery.   

79  
He knows his days here upon earth are short,  
And therefore doth good ere he descends  
Down to the place wherein there's no comfort,  
Assured that true heavenly bliss depends  
Upon faith, love, and charity, which we  
In Christ do show, while here on earth we be.   

80  
He knows that Christ by death doth make us live,  
And that his eyes do comfort sand to all  
Mankind on earth, and to their souls doth give  
A Paradise of joys celestial:  
As also that he doth his Saints preserve,  
From death and hell which men by sin deserve.   

81  
And so he lives content, as knowing well,  
That God is merciful, and that he can  
Make him triumph o'er sin, o'er death and hell,  
By Christ's death and his passion, which for man,  
He suffered here on earth, and vanquished all  
Our deadly enemies terrestrial.   

82  
He doth believe nothing on earth that is,  
Exceeds, or can be fairer nor more rare,  
Than heavenly and celestial joys and bliss,  
Which God of his great mercy doth prepare,  
For them that love and fear his holy name,  
And faithfully in Christ call on the same.   

83  
His heart always desires to see God's face,  
In heaven above, for ever there to fill  
And feed his soul with his most heavenly grace,  
Refusing all terrestrial joys, and still  
Doth meditate on that eternal bliss.  
Which God in heaven, prepared hath for his.   

84  
With constant resolution he doth shun  
And flies from carnal lust, which for a while  
Procures joy to the flesh, but after soon  
When short delight is past, doth him beguile:  
And with shame worketh his confusion:  
And finally his sole destruction.   

85  
His mind is bend with charitable desire,  
To wish, and do that's good to every one,  
To pity those that want, and help require,  
And not to hurt, nor do wrong t'any one.  
As knowing that the Lord well pleased is,  
With that which in Christ: is so done by his.   

86  
Content with whatsoever God doth sand,  
He'steemes all things in this world transitory,  
Wau●ring, vain, inconstant, whereof th'end,  
Is sorrow, woe and extreme misery.  
And only doth in mind and heart aspire,  
To heavenly joy, which is his whole desire.   

87  
With patiented mind and wisdom from above,  
He doth resist and withstand worldly lust,  
Desiring, foul concupiscence t'remoue  
Out of his heart, and wholly puts his trust,  
In Gods most holy law the which he makes  
His study, and his pleasure thee in taketh.   

88  
As he is wise, he doth still meditate  
On death, whereof he knows he cannot miss,  
That so he may the better intimate  
His spirits to think on Christ and heavenly bliss,  
Assured that nothing's certainer than death,  
Nor more uncertain than the hour of death   

89  
With constant resolution he contemns  
All worldly joys, and pleasures, knowing well,  
That he which loveth them, himself condemns,  
Not to deserve with Christ in heaven to devil,  
And shows that's heart's possessed with vanity,  
And his delight is in iniquity.   

90  
And so hath peace in conscience, taking care  
Not to disturb the same in any sort,  
Rejoicing at that benefit most rare,  
On him by Christ bestowed for his comfort.  
A jewel which more precious is then all  
The treasures of this world terrestrial.   

91  
He meditateth day and night upon  
The holy law of God, which is his guide,  
Here upon earth, with resolution,  
And full intent near from the same to slide,  
For unto him it breedeth more delight,  
Than worldly joys, wherein man takes delight.   

92  
Reioying in the same he humbly prays  
The Lord to give him wisdom from above,  
And to direct and guide him in his ways,  
Which he with all his heart and soul doth love.  
As knowing that God never doth deny  
To aid those that to him for help do cry.   

93  
He is content with whatsoe'er God gives,  
And praiseth him for's benefits most good,  
Reposing trust in Christ, and while he lives,  
Desire's nothing but necessary food,  
To maintain life, and raiment to put on,  
Until his time of dissolution.   

94  
As knowing that what care soe'er man takes  
To gather and to hoard up worldly wealth,  
TO is not that, which him truly happy make,  
Nor any ways to's soul procureth health.  
God's blessings only which on him he sends,  
Doth make him rich, and thereon he depends.   

95  
He trusts not in the great and high estate  
Of men, nor yet in riches that are frail,  
The ill use whereof makes man unfortunate,  
And in his greatest need of help to fail.  
He only doth in God repose his trust,  
That can and will without doubt help the just,   

96  
He doth respect relief from Christ above,  
As knowing that most certainly his name,  
Is in the book of life, and that the love  
Of God is such, that he doth never blame  
Him, that in Christ to serve him's always priest,  
But will reward him with eternal rest.   

97  
He knows the man that is upright and just  
Is happy, and assured of heavenly bliss,  
For he that feareth God, and puts his trust  
In him alone, of aid shall never miss.  
And he will bless the man that in his sight,  
With fervent zeal doth strive to live upright.   

98  
For he doth ground and build his faith upon  
The rock of Christ's, most holy Testament:  
Which gives eternal life to every one,  
That with a constant mind and true intent,  
Doth serve God in the holy Trinity  
And to his power shuns iniquity.   

99  
He knows his life is short, and every day  
Declineth, and's so full of misery,  
That he may well affirm and truly say,  
That he's accursed, and no felicity,  
Is to be hoped for, by him at all,  
If on the Lord in Christ he doth not call.   

100  
He doth believe that God is always prone,  
And ready to hear those that on him call,  
And that in Christ he pardneth every one  
That with meek heart upon their knees do fall,  
And mercy crave, for his sake that's blood spilled,  
Guiltless upon the Cross, for our guilt.   

101  
Being holy he doth not his soul subject  
Under the yoke of soul concupiscence;  
But utterly withstands, and doth reject  
Such kind of folly, and mere negligence  
Of that which to mankind is pestilent,  
And shorten's days that thereunto is bend.   

102  
he's taught that on earth to live happily,  
The love of God should evermore remain  
Within his heart, thereby continually  
To move him his true honour to maintain,  
That all the world hath made and governeth,  
And to each living thing gives vital breath.   

103  
He knoweth that th' eternal governeth  
By his everlasting power and providence  
All things in heaven and earth, and favoureth  
Him that with heart, soul, mind, and full pretence  
Doth meditate on his most holy Writ,  
Observes, and is obedient unto it.   

104  
He followeth his vocation honestly,  
In fear of God, and uprightness of heart,  
Doth good to all, and near doth falsify  
His promise, nor from his word will not start,  
Although unto his detriment it were,  
So much he doth God honour, love, and fear.   

105  
He praiseth God that gives him life on earth,  
(Which should be done likewise by every one)  
But much more doth he thank him for's new birth,  
And spiritual regeneration  
In jesus Christ, which by his holy spirit,  
Made him God's child, eternal life t' inherit.   

106  
Therefore to God's commandments he obeys,  
And with heart, mouth, and soul continually  
Doth his most holy name extol and praise,  
Which he doth not neglect, but carefully  
Doth follow his precepts in every thing.  
One God in Trinity still worshipping.   

107  
He liveth soberly, and is content  
With any thing that nature doth suffice:  
For he whose mind unto excess is bend,  
Is prove to sin, and shows himself unwise,  
And doth fulfil the proverb true and old,  
That without wine and good cheer love is cold.   

108  
He knows well that the wicked man gets naught  
By pleasure which he takes in wicked deeds:  
And that the ill which he thereby hath wrought,  
Attends him still, and from the same proceeds  
The gilt of sin, the which with terror great,  
Doth summon him before God's judgement seat.   

109  
He's taught by God's word that his body is  
The Temple of the holy Ghost, and that  
Being dead, to rise again it certain is,  
And therefore vows in Christ that him begat  
In spirit, to serve the Lord spiritually,  
The which by God's respected specially.   

110  
He vows to Christ his heart, mouth, eyes, and ears,  
To love, confess, to see, and hear his voice;  
For with's eyes he sees Christ, with's ears he hears,  
With's heart he loves, with's mouth he doth rejoice  
In God, and sings praise to his holy Name,  
That hath him senses given to do the same.   

111  
He doubteth not that God by's providence,  
Most just, most wise, and most omnipotent,  
Doth govern, rule, and is the sole defence  
Of all things both in th' earthly regiment,  
And in the heavens above, where he doth reign,  
And in their essence doth them still maintain.   

112  
He blesseth God, that most abundantly,  
Out of the ocean of his treasury,  
Distils on us poor souls incessantly,  
Whole seas of gifts and graces heavenly,  
Wherewith he blesseth those that do him serve,  
And both in life and death doth them preserve.   

113  
He often calls God's heavenly love to mind.  
That doth the great assaults, attempts and wiles,  
Which Satan daily useth' 'gainst mankind,  
And him thereby continually beguiles,)  
Divert and turn, contrary this pretence,  
For of his Saints, he is the sure defence.   

114  
He doth direct his vows, and with heart prays,  
To God the Lord, and to the Trinity,  
The Father, Son, and holy Ghost always,  
Extolling the most heavenly Deity:  
For all the mercies which from thence do flow,  
The effects whereof in's creatures plainly show.    

Of afflictions.  

115  
Being truly wise he beareth patiently,  
Such crosses as most commonly are laid,  
On Christians, whom the most just God to try  
Them, visiteth, and trusting in God's aid,  
Doth joyfully receive correction,  
At th' and of God for his instruction.   

116  
He fears no hurt, nor stroke of death at all,  
For being reformed in heart, in tongue, in deed,  
His spirit, voice, and cogitations all  
Depend on God, on whom he hath decreed,  
To wait and to serve him while life doth last,  
TO enjoy eternal bliss when life is past.   

117  
Not sickness, no disease, nor poverty,  
Can once disturb, or discontent his mind,  
What ill soever, or adversity  
His body feels, his soul doth comfort find  
In Christ, and he doth live content in all  
Distress and grief, whatsoever on him doth fall.   

118  
If in his days, and time of mortal life  
He hath no mondaine blisle, nor earthly joy,  
(Which doth procure such war and deadly strife,  
In th' arts of men) he never feels annoy,  
But patiently endureth every thing,  
Without all worldly care or sorrowing.   

119  
If in grief and distress, he is contemned,  
He knows that God is ready to relieve,  
His troubled soul, yea though he were condemned.  
To die yet doth he constantly believe,  
And trust that God in Christ will give him life,  
And keep him safe in midst of mortal strife.   

120  
If ill for good be done to him, that ill  
Turns into good, for changing property,  
It is good unto him, because such ill  
Supports and strengthens his infirmity,  
And makes him strong and patiented in that ill,  
Which doth convert and turn his mind from ill.   

121  
If he on this short life doth meditate,  
He thinks the day which by death is ordained  
To end his life and change his mortal state  
Most happy, for that by God preordaind,  
He is assured, in he aven to possess,  
A life replete with joy and happiness.   

122  
If men by false report do scandalize  
His name, he knows that God (the judge of all  
Mankind) will surely plague his enemies,  
And them therefore unto account will call,  
And will convert such infancy and blame,  
To's honour, but to their disgrace and shame.   

123  
If th' injury of the envious man doth seem  
A burden unto him, and great disgrace,  
He doth such wrong, and false report esteem,  
A sweet correction by God's heavenly grace  
Upon him laid, for he that's wrongfully  
Accused, bears his wrongs contentedly.   

124  
If without cause of enemies great store  
He finds himself to have, he's not afraid,  
But puts his trust in God, who evermore,  
Is unto his a sure defence and aid,  
And doth th' unjust and wicked man correct,  
With many plagues, and finally reject.   

125  
If he be moved to see th' unjust man live  
Unpunished for a time (and that thereby  
He waxeth proud, and for that cause doth give  
Himself to sin) he knoweth certainly,  
That though God for a while his wrath doth stay,  
He will sure plague him at the latter day.   

126  
If he by persecution chance to be  
In danger of imprisonment, sword, or fire,  
Or if in any other peril he  
Doth fall, he prays to God, and doth desire  
His aid and help, for in extremity  
Prayer is the means to ease his misery.   

127  
If he should be constrained to loose or leave  
His country, goods or lands, he is content,  
For he knows well, such vanities bereave  
Mankind of bliss, and that he whose mind's bend  
For transitory joys, to leave God's laws,  
Upon himself eternal vengeance draws.   

128  
If he by travel feels his body weak,  
He doth not feed, nor keep it daintily,  
As knowing that whosoever doth not check  
And bridle fleshly motions thereby  
Doth cause and move vice in him to increase,  
And contrary true virtue to decrease.   

129  
If marriage be a burden to his mind,  
He knows that cross, turns unto good to those  
That patiently can bear what s'ere they find  
To breed dislike, and that God blesseth those  
Which in the state of marriage live together  
Contentedly, and truly love each other.   

130  
If want of issue gives him cause to grieve,  
(Sigh marriage is for procreation  
Of children) he knows that God doth give  
Them t'whom he will, and that a wicked son,  
Ill nurtured procures the father's grief,  
A virtuous child his joy, and his relief.   

131  
If children, friends, or parents chance to die,  
(As all men are ordained to die in th' end)  
He is content, and beareth patiently,  
What loss or cross soever God doth sand  
In hope that they possess that heavenly bliss,  
Which for th' elect by Christ prepared is.   

132  
If God to prove and try his patience,  
Doth visithim with sickness or distress,  
He trusts in him, which is his sole defence,  
And never in his fury doth oppress,  
Nor lays more on's elect then they can bear.  
Such is his love to them, that him do fear.   

133  
If for professing Christ's most holy name.  
He's persecuted by God's enemies,  
He doth esteemed a blessing t'endure blame  
For him that did his body sacrifice  
Upon the cross for the redemption,  
Of all God's children by election.   

134  
If for his faith he suffereth martyrdom,  
Nothing to him is more acceptable,  
Esteeming it an honourable doom,  
(Though to the world it seems contemptible)  
To be condemned for him to loose his life,  
That by death purchased him eternal life.   

135  
If's body being ready to receive,  
The final stroke of death by fire or sword,  
Doth shake and him of courage clean bereave,  
His soul by faith in Gods most holy word.  
Doth comfort and assurance to him give,  
That he thereby with Christ for e'er shall live.   

136  
If doing well he's threatened to be killed,  
Yet doth he not fear death, because he knows,  
That Gods most holy will must be fulfilled,  
And that it is a means (as Scripture shows)  
For him to devil with Christ, that overcame  
Death, for all those that do confess his name.   

137  
If the assaults of Devil, world, and sin,  
By their exceeding tyranny assail  
His body, by faith which his soul hath in  
Christ jesus, he against them doth prevail,  
And with firm hope and certain confidence,  
Assures himself of Gods most sure defence.   

138  
If any tribulation vex his mind,  
Or that at th'hour of death he is afraid:  
He knows by th'one great comfort he shalt find,  
And that the other is to him an aid,  
And means t'eternall life, for without it,  
He never can, nor shall attain to it.   

139  
If famine, war, or plague (things used by God  
To scourge us for our sins) do him oppress,  
He doth submit himself unto his rod,  
And humbly on his knees with tears confess  
His sins, thereby God's anger to appease:  
For Christ's sake praying him his grief to ease.   

140  
He knoweth that afflictions suffered,  
With patience, to the elect is profitable,  
And that which Christ for them hath merited,  
Is unto them so much available,  
That thereby all their sorrow changed is,  
Into eternal joy and heavenly bliss.   

141  
In misery he calls to God on high  
For mercy, and doth crave deliverance,  
With promise evermore to magnify  
His holy name, and's honour to advance.  
Assured that without doubt he will soon  
Relieve and ease him in's affliction.   

142  
He knows he is God's child b'adoption,  
And so persuaded that by Christ being made  
Heir of God's kingdom by election,  
By divine grace he never shall want aid,  
Nor comfort in adversity whatsoe'er,  
As long as he the Lord doth serve and fear.   

143  
He feels himself full of fragility,  
And weak of spirit, affliction much to bear,  
If Christ which aids the imbecility  
Of poor afflicted souls, did him not rear,  
And sustain him in his dejection,  
For of the elect he's sole protection.   

144  
Patient, and well content, his faith is strong,  
As knowing that the time is soon orepast,  
That he shall live, and though the perverse wrong  
Him near so much, it will not always last:  
And confidently in God putting's trust,  
Doth shun the wicked counsel of th'unjust.   

145  
He knoweth that those which are Gods elect,  
By faith upon his promises lay hold,  
And when soever he doth them correct,  
They are thereby so constant and so bold,  
That humbly praising God therefore th'assure  
Themselves, that crosses good to them procure.   

146  
Afflicted by the Lord, he doth consider  
That he in mercy punisheth his sin:  
And that with true repentance whensoever,  
To call upon his name he doth begin:  
He doth not only pardon his misdeed,  
But easeth and relieveth him with speed.   

147  
He knoweth that the world by God was made,  
And that life, death, time, and all other things,  
Both good and bad, their Essence from him had,  
And that he rules and governeth all things  
By his most mighty power and providence,  
Wherein he wholly puts his confidence.   

148  
In what estate soever, there's no thing,  
Moore wished for by him, then that he may,  
With heart and voice (all sin abandoning)  
Give honour due to God, both night and day:  
And all his grief his martyrdom, and fear,  
With patiented mind contentedly doth bear.   

149  
Being th'image of th'eternal, his desire  
And sole delight, is to live holily,  
As God's precepts and Christian faith require,  
In all'safflictions calling humbly  
Upon the Lord, as it becomes the Saints,  
When t'him they make their prayers and complaints.   

150  
If. God on him for sin doth crosses bring  
With contrite heart and soul confessing it  
He thanketh him therefore acknowledging,  
His mercy, and his most great benefit.  
In Christ, that saved him by his passion  
From everlasting condemnation.   

151  
When death from him doth take his vital breath,  
He knows Christ's power (which all power doth excel)  
And's precious death and passion, o'ercame death  
And vanquished the Devil, sin, and hell,  
That he, and all that do in him believe,  
In God with him eternally might live.   

152  
Fools in their fond imaginations vain,  
Persuade themselves that God looks not on us,  
And stops his ears when we to him complain,  
And that his fauor's drawn away from us:  
When roughly (with paternal love, and zeal,  
To try and to correct us) he doth deal   

153  
But they know not, what joy and comfort we  
Receive, by his corrections favourable,  
Nor how sweet such reproofs unto us be,  
Whereby our souls are made conformable,  
Unto his will, and 'cause us to esteemed  
A happy state: though they contrary deemieed.   

154  
Each burden's light, all tribulation's sweet,  
To him that with a glad and joyful heart:  
(When as it his chance therewith to meet,)  
receiveth it, and as it is his part  
In humble wise submits himself unto  
whatsoever it pleaseth God to him to do.   

155  
It's every true, and faithful Christians part,  
To suffer persecution for God's name,  
To honour jesus Christ with all his heart,  
And for his sake t'endure all wrong and blame  
With patience, for by adversity,  
We shall at last possess th'eternity.   

156  
The liquor of thy mount celestial,  
(Wherewith thou didst anoint the children three,  
And savedst them when upon thee they did call  
In midst of flaming fire to let men see  
Thy power) is thy grace O heavenly Lord,  
Which thou to thine at all times dost afford.   

157  
The reprobate and worldly man that near,  
Make any true use of correction  
Do mock at us, and without any fear,  
Of thee, fly's from and shuns affliction.  
Not knowing, neither seeing that by it,  
Th'elect of God receive great benefit.   

158  
By faith in our afflictions we behold  
The Saint's triumph in immortality,  
(Their heads adorned with glistering crowns of gold)  
About the throne of th'heavenly Deity.  
With full assurance, once with them t'adore  
Thy holy name in heaven, for evermore.   

159  
And so in thy great power and clemency  
(Our ground of hope) by entire charity,  
(The spring of life) and thy benignity,  
In all our trouble and adversity,  
Our souls are fortified with confidence,  
In thee o Lord, that art our sole defence.   

160  
Wherhfore despising world and earthly joy,  
We do expect the latter day of doom,  
Wherein our souls to their eternal joy  
With God shall be conjoined. This is the somm●  
And true effect of our Philosophy:  
The first-fruits whereof is to live happily.   
FINIS.    

A Table of the principal matters contained in this ACADEMY.  

A 

ADmonition: sundry instructions how to admonish wisely. Page 63.  
Adversity: who are soon thrown down with adversity, 124. the common effects thereof, 142. the Romans were wisest and most constant in adversity, 143. examples of constancy in adversity. ibid.  
Adultery: the miserable effects of adultery, 99 the punishment of adulterers amongst the Egyptians, ibid. Saleucus law, and the law of julia against it, ibid. Testimonies of God's wrath against it. ibid.  
Age: hath no power over virtue, 25. The division of the ages of man. 230.  
Ambition: two kinds of ambition, 92. the cause of ambitious desires, ibid. the effects of ambition, ibid. and 94. examples of men void of ambition, 96. ambition breedeth sedition, 93. ambitious men full of self praise, ibid. examples of ambitious men, ibid. they cannot be good counsellors to princes, ibid.  
Anger: the cruelty of Theodosius committed in his anger, 120. Valentinian broke a vain in his anger. ibid.  
Apparel: against excess in apparel, 90. examples of sobriety in apparel. ibid.  
Archbishop: the free gird of a peasant given to an Arch bishop 65. the Archbishop of Magdeburg broke his neck in dancing, 89  
Arms, Army: the exercise of arms must always continued, 309. the ancient order of the Roman army. 310  
Arrogancy: dwelleth in the end with solitariness, 64  
aristocraty: the description of an aristocraty, 238. The estate of Lacedemonia was Aristocratical. ibid.  
Arts and Artificers: the necessity of arts and Artificers in a commonwealth, 304. artificers of one Science aught not to devil altogether. ibid.  
Authors: how much we own to good authors, 19  
Authority: what authority a prince hath over his subjects, 271    
B 

BAckbiting: the prudence of Dionysius in punishing two backebiters, 160. when backbiting hurteth most. 189  
Banquets: the custom of the Egyptians and Lacedæmonians at banquets. 83  
Beard: what use is to be made of white beard. 235  
Belly: the belly an unthankful and feeding beast. 83  
Birth: the folly of Birth-gazers. 17  
Biting: what biting of beasts is most dangerous, 189  
Body: the wonderful conjunction of the body and soul of man, 8. the conception, framing, and excellency of the body, 9  
Brother: he that hareth his brother, hateth his parents, 223. the benefit that brethren receive by having common friends, ibid. examples of brotherly love. 224    
C 

CAlling: callings were distinct from the beginning, 197. six sundry callings necessary in every commonwealth, 301. holiness is the end of our calling. 323  
Captain: the loss of a captain commonly causeth the ruin of an army, 45. how captains were punished if they offended, 212. a captain must not offend twice in war, 314. what captains are worthiest of their charge, ibid. the captains of an army must be very secret, 327. two faults to be eschewed of every captain, ibid. how a captain should exhort his soldiers. 321  
Cheer: good cheer keepeth base minds in subjection, 85  
Children must love, fear, and reverence their father, 219. the duty of children towards their parents, 222. examples of the love of children towards their parents. ibid.  
Choler: whereof choler is bred, 139. how the Pythagorians resisted choler, 130. magistrates aught to punish none in their choler. ibid.  
City: what seemed good to Cleobulus best guided. 109  
Citizens: who are truly citizens. 249  
Clemency: examples of great clemency in princes, 133 etc. it preserveth the thrones of princes. 169  
Common wealth: a sure token of a desperate common wealth, 168. the spring of corruption in common wealths, 226. the description of a mixed common wealth, 239. how a corrupt commonwealth must be corrected, 282. when common wealths begin to altar, 290. the causes thereof. 295  
Commandment: the sift commandment only hath a special promise annexed unto it, 221. there is a show of commanding and obeying in all things. 236.  
Comparison: 14. 16. 19 20. 23. 26. 29. 43. 53. 62. 72. 79. 87. 118. 125. 139. 148. 153. 156. 167. 183. 189. 211. 226. 242 266 290. 307.  
Community: Plato established a community of all things in his common wealth, 201. the consutation thereof. 202  
Concupiscence: the first-fruits of concupiscence. 98  
Conscience: the force of conscience in the wicked Examples of tormented consciences. 28  
Constancy: the wonderful constancy of Socrates. 143:  
Correction: necessary for children, 219. the law Falcidia, touching the correction of children. 22●  
Counsel: what a counsel is, with the profit of it, 274. of the council of sundry countries. ibid. 275. 276. etc.  
counsellors: qualities requisite in counsellors of estate. 278  
Counsel: good counsel for counsellors, and for Princes 64.  
Country: examples of the love of heathen men towards their country. 25. 40. etc.  
Covetousness: is never satisfied, 183. the first-fruits of covetousness, ibid. examples of covetousness, 185. 186. what magistrates are best liked of covetous Princes. 187  
Coward: Agamemnon dispensed with a rich coward for going to war, 117. what vices proceed of cowardliness. ibid.  
Creation: the end of the creation of all things. 38  
Creatures: all creatures are sociable by nature. 244  
Curiosity: against curiosity in knowledge, 66. two kinds of curiosity, 67. against curious inquiry into other men's imperfections, 68 curious persons profit their enemies more than themselves, 69. witty answers made to curious questions, ibid. curiosity in Princes affairs perilous. ibid.  
Custom: a notable custom of the Lacedmonians, 61. custom in sinning is dangerous. 28    
D 

DEath: the fear of death doth not astonish the virtuous, 25. what death Caesar thought best, 108. no man aught to hasten forward his death, 120. what it is to fear death, 121. the comfort of every true Christian against death. 327  
Definition: the definition of ambition, 92. of anger, 128. of a body, 9 of charity, 132. of a city, 244 of a Citizen, 248. of comeliness, 74. of confidence, 123 of duty, 38. of envy, 188. of fortune, 192. of friendship, 57 of a house, 201. 202. of jealousy, 207. of justice, 161. 162. of intemperancy, 78. of judgement, 279. of liberality, 178. of the law, 245. of malice and craft, 50. of man, 6. of meekness. 132. of nature, 71. of oeconomy, 215. of policy, ib of passion, 13. of Philosophy, 17. of prudence, 43. of patience, 128. of pleasure, 97. of sedition, 284. of the soul, 10. of temperance, 75. of virtue, 22. of vice, 27. of wedlock. 197.  
Democraty: The description of a Democraty, with the sundry kinds of it. 239  
Desire: the effects of desire. 15  
Diseases: the end, cause, and remedy of bodily diseases, 12. the cause of the diseases of the soul. 14. the seed of diseases. 87  
Discipline: the ancient warlike discipline of the Romans, 312. the corruption thereof in these days. ib.  
Discord: all things preserved by agreeing discords. 8  
Division: of Citizens, 248. of a Common wealth, 138. of duty, 38 of a house, 202. of justice. 162. of the law, 245 of nature, 70. of Philosophy, 17. of passions, 13. of speech, 52. of the soul, 10. of Sciences, 31.  
Dowries: why the dowries of women have always had great privileges, 200. Lycurgus forbade all dowries. 203  
Drink: the manner of drinking in old time, 83. against excessive drinking. 84  
Drunkenness: hurtful effects of drunkenness and gluttony, 88 examples of drunkenness. ibid.  
Duarchie: what a Duarchie is. 253  
Duty: wherein the duty of man consisteth, 5. duty and profit are distinct things, 178. the duty of a wise man, 38. what duty we own to God, and what to our neighbour, 39 four rivers issue out of the fountain of duty. ibid.    
E. 

EClipse: Nicias feared an eclipse of the Moon. 49  
Education helpeth the defects of nature, 72. examples thereof, 73. naughty education corrupteth a good nature, 226. how Plato would have children brought up, 227. of the education of daughters. 228  
Emperors: there were 73. Emperors of Rome within 100 years, 92. what this word Emperor importeth. 256  
End: the proper end of all things. 196  
Enemy: how one may reap benefit by his enemies, 46. 158. why men are beholding to their enemies, 156. the common behaviour of men towards their enemies. ibid.  
Envy is a note of an ambitious man, 93. the nature of envy, 188. the first-fruits of it, ibid. it hurteth envious persons most, 189. a good way to be revenged of the envious. 191  
Ephories: why the Ephories were appointed in Lacedemonia. 238  
Equality: two sorts of equality. 298  
Equity: is always one and the same to all people, 247. the equity of the Moral law aught to be the end and rule of all laws. ibid.  
Error: the spring of all error 49. 112  
Estate: every Estate and policy consisteth of three parts, 237. the opinion of politics touching a mixed Estate, 257. examples of mixed Estates, ibid. what it is to hold the Estates, 277. a rule of Estate, 293. chief custom of seven flourishing Estates. 296. means to preserve an Estate, 297. 298. dangerous to an Estate to call in foreign succours. 319  
Event: we must not judge of enterprises by the event, 111. we must be prepared against all events, 126. 195. the event of all things is to be referred to the providence of God. 18  
Evil: what we aught to call evil. 26  
Exercise: what bodily exercise is meet for youth. 229  
Expenses: a good law to cut off the occasions of idle expenses. 91    
F. 

FAbles: who delight most in reading of fables. 190  
Family: there must be but one Head in a family, 209 the progress of a family before it come to perfection. 216  
Father: why many Fathers set not their children to school, 30. the story of a Father appointed to execute his own child. 220  
Favour: the punishment of one who sold his master's favour. 169  
Fear: two kinds of fear, 114 the fear of neighbour enemies is the safety of a Commonwealth, 115. good fear is joined with the love of God, ibid. examples of wary fear, ibid. a strange effect of fear in one night, 117. examples of fear which is the defect of fortitude. 116  
Feast: how wise men feasted one another in old time, 83. Socrates' feast. 86  
Fidelity: a description of fidelity. 170  
Flattery: the common practice of flatterers, 57 good counsel for Princes against flatterers. 190  
Flesh: the works of the flesh. 9  
Foe: he that hath no foe, hath no friend. 60  
Look Enemy.  
Fortitude: the works of fortitude must be grounded upon equity and justice, 103. it is a good of the soul, not of the body, 110. the parts of fortitude, ibid. examples of fortitude. 112. etc.  
Fortune: what is to be understood by this word fortune, 126. how we may use these words of fortune and chance, 193. the opinions of Philosophers touching fortune, ibid. the description of fortune. 194. examples of her contrary effects. ibid. etc.  
France: one evident cause of the ruin of France, 67. the miserable estate of France, 168. one cause thereof, ibid. the happy government of France, 261. two causes of the present divisions in France. 290  
Friend, and Friendship: the difference between friendship and love, 57 what things are requisite in friendship, ibid. the chief cause and end of all true friendship, ibid. friendship must be free, ibid. three things necessary in friendship, 61. Examples of true friendship, 60. what manner of man we must choose for our friend, 57 how we must prove a true friend, and shake off a false, 58. how we must bear with the imperfection of our friend. 59    
G 

GAming: The effects of gaming, 154. what moved the Lydians to invent games, ibid. Alphonsus decree against gaming, ibid.  
General: a good lesson for a General, 121. properties requisite in a General. 123  
Glory: how jealousy of glory is tolerable, with examples thereof, 103. etc. examples of the contempt of glory. 104  
Gluttony: the first-fruits of gluttony, 88 examples thereof. ibid. etc.  
God: all things are present with God, 167. he ordereth casual things necessarily, 192. he is the Idea of all good. 18  
Goods: the nature of worldly goods, 15. two sorts of goods, 21. and 216. two ways to get goods. ibid.  
Grace: effects of God's grace in the regenerate. 8  
Grammar: the commodities of Grammar. 228  
Grief: a mean how to bear grief patiently. 136    
H 

Happiness: All men naturally desire happiness, 13 who are happy, and who unhappy, 21. what it is to live happily, 16. 22. how we must make choice of a happy life, 101. wherein good or ill hap consisteth, 136. notable opinions of good and ill hap, 137. wherein true happiness consisteth. 138.  
Hatred: how far a man may hate the wicked, 159. the difference between hatred and envy, 188. the bound of a good man's hatred, 190  
History: the praise and profit of histories. 32  
Homage: what homage we own to God. 38  
Honour: how a man may seek for honour, 95 examples of the contempt of honour, 96. the first step to honour. 102  
Hope: hope must be grounded upon the grace of God 124. two kinds of hope, ibid. the fruit of hope, ibid. hope & fear are the foundation of virtue. 230  
House: a house consisteth of living stones, 201. small jars must be avoided in a house. 206  
Hunting is an image of war. 228. 317  
Husbands: how they aught to love their wives, 206 a husband must never beat his wife, 207. he must neither chide nor fawn upon his wife before others, 208. examples of the love of husbands toward their wives. 209  
Husbandry: the praise of husbandry, 217, 305. the antiquity of husbandry. ibid.    
I 

Idleness: it is the mother and nurse of all vice, 152 Pythagoras precept against Idleness, ibid. examples against idleness. 155  
Ignorance: ignorance of ourselves the cause of much evil, 5. pernicious effects of ignorance, 48. common effects of ignorance. 49  
Impatiency: who are most given to impatiency and choler, 129. how it may be cured. ibid.  
Impost: a commendable kind of Impost. 90  
Impudency: the description of impudence. 176  
Incontinency: the difference between an incontinent and an intemperate man, 78. Socrates' disputation against incontinency. 98  
Infants: how infants are to be brought up, 227  
Ingratitude: means to keep us from ingratitude, 177 it was the cause of man's fall, 175. great men are soon touched with ingratitude, 176. examples against it. 177  
innocency is a tower of brass against slanderers. 191  
Injury: how many ways a man may receive injury. 158  
Injustice: the first-fruits of it in the wicked, 166. it is a general vice, ibid. the effects of it, ibid. how many kinds there are of injustice. ibid.  
Intemperance: the companions of intemperance, 79 what predominant passions are in it, 78. examples of intemperance. 79. etc.  
joy: examples of some that died of joy. 15  
judgement: from whence judgement proceedeth, 37. the judgements of the best, not of the most is to be preferred, 102. judgements are the sinews of an estate. 279.  
judges: how the Egyptians painted judges, 162. a corrupt manner of making judges. 284  
justice: the first-fruits of justice, 101. the ground of all justice, ibid. examples of the love of justice, 163 how the abuse of it may be remedied, 164. the denial of justice is dangeous, 168. the spring of all corruptions of justice, 282. justice distributed into seven parts. 302    
K. 

KNowledge: the knowledge of God and of ourselves must be linked together, 5. the end of the knowledge for ourselves, 7. the benefits that come by knowledge. 30  
King: wherein the greatness of a king consisteth 23. wherein kings aught to exercise themselves most, 33. the true ornaments of a king, 74. the difference between a great and a little king, 164. what power the king of Lacedemonia had, 238. good precepts for kings, 266. a king must be skilful by reason and not by use, ibid. the first and principal duty of a king is to have the law of God before his eyes, 269. he must begin reformation at himself and his court, 270. the sum of the duty of a king. 263  
Kingdom: what causeth kingdoms to flourish, 164. of the original of kingdoms, 240. their alteration cometh through vice, 27. they flourish through virtue 25, of the antiquity of a kingdom, 256. the dangerous estate of an elective kingdom upon the death of the prince, 260. what kingdoms are elective. ibid.    
L 

LAw: what civil laws may not be changed, 245. the end of all laws, 248. change of laws in a well settled estate is dangerous, 246. what the law of nature is, 245. the ancient law makers, 246. what manner of laws are to be established in the common wealth. 270  
Learning: examples of ancient men that gave themselves to learning, 234. examples of great love to learning. 33  
Letter: Anacharsis letter to Cr●sus', 32. ● Alexander's to Aristotle, 33. Caesar's to Rome, Octavius to his nephew: Plato's to Dyonisius: Pompey's to the Senate. 54. Phisistratus to his nephew. 60.  
Traian's to Plutarch, 65. & 96. Traian's to the senate, 862 287 Macrines to the senate of Rome, 303. Aurelius to a Tribune. 312  
Liberality: a poor man may be liberal, 179. the laws of liberality, 181. examples of liberality. ibid.  
Love: love is the first foundation of every holy marriage. 206  
Life: man's life compared to the Olympian assemblies, 16. one cause of the long life of our elders, 82. Senecaes' opinion of the shortness of our life, 87. our life compared to table play, 138. no man aught to hide his life, 154. the end of our life, 155. three things necessary for the life of man, 304. wherein a happy life consists. 326 Lying: in a prince is most odious. 171.    
M 

MAgistrate: of the name of magistrate, 241. good counsel for magistrates, 242. the duty of the Magistrate consisteth in three things, ibid. what manner of men magistrates aught to be, 164. 243. the titles of a good magistrate. 250  
Magnanimity: magnanimity consisteth in three things 119. wonderful magnanimity, 24. three effects of magnanimity. 120.  
Examples thereof. 120. 121  
Malice: the malice of Nero and Tiberius, 51  
Man: the prerogative of men above other creatures, 244. the manner of man's conception & fashioning 9 the end of his being: 6. 30. 38. three things necessary for the perfection of man, 71. common effects of man's frail nature, 140. the duty of a man at the perfection of his age. 233  
Marriage: the author, antiquity, and ends of marriage, 197. reasons against marriage, 198. the defence of marriage, 199. motives to marriage, 201. four kinds of marriage, 202. the best time and place to pacify strife between married couples, 212. at what age men and women aught to marry. 204.  
Mask: against masks and mummeries. 88  
Master: what properties are requisite in a master. 218.  
Mediocrity: mediocrity must be used in all actions. 66  
Meekness: the effects of meekness, 132. examples of meek princes. 133. 134  
Memory: the praise of memory, 36. examples of good memories, ibid. reasons why quickest wits have not best memories, and contrariwise. 37  
Merty: who were forbidden to enter into the temple of mercy. 132  
Mind: base minds stand in great fear of death and grief. 116  
Mirth: how mirth is commendable. 101  
Mocking: how a man may repulse a mock, 159. examples thereof ibid.  
Monarchy: what a monarchy is, 238. 253. the law of nature leadeth us to a monarchy. 253. reasons against a monarchy. 254. the commodities of a monarchy ibid. monarchies have continued longest. 257, what agreement the French monarchy hath with every good policy, ibid. Five kinds of monarchies, 258. how the first monarchy came up. ibid.  
Money: why money was first invented. 216  
Mother: the mother is no less to be honoured then the father, 222. every mother aught to nurse her own child. 227.  
Murder: a cruel murder of a gentle woman and her household. 185  
Music: a commendable end of music, 227. when Music is most convenient. 83  
Mystery: how far we may search into heavenly mysteries. 17    
N. 

NAture: the division of Nature, 70. the corruption thereof. 71  
Negligence: two sorts of negligence, 294  
Neighbour: reasons to move us to love our neighbours. 132  
Nobility: what nobility is, with the sundry kinds of it, 303. Nobility is the ornament of a commonwealth. 300  
Number: the number of seven accounted a perfect number. 231    
OH 

OBedience to God's Law is the mother of all virtues. 39  
Offences are never without pain. 28  
Office: in what case a good man may sue for an office, 285. 40. the inconvenience that cometh by setting offices to sale. 164  
Old age: when old age beginneth 234. to whom it is not grievous. 235  
Officers: the Statute of S. jews concerning the election of officers. 284  
oligarchy: what an oligarchy is, and how it changeth into tyranny, 238. reasons against an oligarchy. 255  
Oration: Otantes otation for a popular regiment. 254  
Megabises oration for an aristocraty, ibid. Darius' oration for a Monarchy, 255. Corumus oration to his soldiers, 314. the benefit of making orations to soldiers, 315. Cyrus' oration to his Captain. ib.  
Order: what order is. 300    
P. 

PAinting: the use of Painting. 229  
Parliament: the present estate of the Parliament of France. 281  
Pastors: wherein the office of true Pastors consisteth. 302.  
Passions: the passions of the soul are headstrong 14. the scope of our passions. 13. pleasure and grief are the cause of passions. 12. 151. natural passions not to be condemned. ibid.  
Patience: the first-fruits of patience 128. what the wicked account of patience. 129  
Peace: the discommodities of a long peace, 306. the effects of peace. 307  
People: the division of the people into three orders or estates. 249  
Perjury: examples of God's judgements upon perjured persons. 172  
Perturbations: from whence the perturbations of the soul proceed, 13, the original, nature and effects of perturbations. 14  
Philosophy: how we may know whether we profit in Philosophy, 19 the first-fruits that follow the study of it, 142. examples of love to Philosophy, 20. what divine Philosophy is, 17. the chief foundation of all Philosophy, 19 the perfection of Philosophy. 20  
Philosopher: necessary points for a Philosopher, 19 what this word Philosopher importeth, 21. what kind of knowledge is chief required in a Philosopher, 32. Philosopher's aught to be conversant with Princes. 64  
Plays: hurtful effects of plays. 89  
Pleaders: against prating pleaders 53  
Pleasure: pleasure is the end of superfluity, 86. what Philosophers placed their chief Good in pleasure, 97 the first-fruits of pleasure. ibid.  
Policies: a mean to preserve policies, 165. what policy is, and from whence the word is derived, 237 no people without some policy. 236  
Poverty: why poor men are not less happy than the rich, 148. the first-fruits of poverty, 149. poverty pleadeth for itself, ibid. what poverty is odious, 151 a good law for the poor. 180  
Power: civil power aught to maintain the worship of God, 237. two kinds of public power. 250  
Praise: a good man may sometimes praise himself. 103  
Pride: the effects of pride, ibid. examples of pride punished. 105  
Prince: the lose life of Princes is dangerous for their Estates, 99 etc. a good consideration for Princes, 133. it is dangerous for Princes to advance wicked men, 141. the promise of a Prince is tied with a double bond, 171. how far Princes are subject to laws, 245. wherein their absolute power consisteth, ibid. when a Prince may deny the request of his three Estates, 246. obedience is due to unjust Princes, aswell as to just, 251. a Child Prince is a token of God's wrath, 255. it is not lawful for any to kill his Prince although he be a tyrant, 263. when a Prince may best be corrected, 264. two properties requisite in him that teacheth a Prince, 265. how a young Prince must be taught, ibid. excellent titles of a good prince, 267. Look more in chap. 59 & 60.  
Prodigality: how prodigality and covetousness may be in one subject. 184  
Profit: profit must not be separated from honesty. 39  
Promise: whether a forced promise is to be kept, 170. no promise aught to be made against duty, ibid. we must keep promise with our enemy, 171. examples of promise-keeping. 172  
Prosperity: effects of too great prosperity in commonwealths, 116. more hurtful than adversity, 140. examples of some that were overthrown by prosperity 141. of others that were not puffed up with it. 142  
Prudence: the effects of prudence, 43. Prudence hath three eyes, ibid. examples of prudence, 44. etc. a prudent man is not overlight of belief. 47    
Q. 

QVarrel: the common excuse of quarrelers, 159  
Quietness: how a man may have continual quietness. 28    
R. 

rashness: the effects of rashness. 118  
Reason: the error of the Philosophers touching the strength of reason, 10. there is a double reason in man. 6  
Recreation: how men aught to recreate themselves. 155  
Religion: religion is the foundation of all estates, 237 Socrates called it the greatest virtue, 22. integrity of religion knitteth the hearts of subjects to their princes, 268. the fruits of the contempt of religion. 285  
Reprehension: how we must use reprehension, 62. examples of free reprehension. 64  
Revenge: private revenge cometh of frailty, 134. examples of princes voided of revenge, ibid. Socrates precept against private revenge, 157. a commendable kind of revenge. ibid. 158  
Reward: the difference between a reward and a benefit. 272  
Richeses: how riches may be well used, 179. the common effects of riches, 145. a notable example of the true use of riches, 180. the nature, quality, & fruits of riches, 145. what riches are to be sought for, 147 riches are the finewes of war. 303  
Rome: of the ancient estate of Rome. 249    
SAINT 

Salic: The Salic law excludeth daughters, 260 and their sons from government. 263  
Schoolmasters: what Schoolmasters are to be chosen, 227. the properties of a good Schoolmaster. 232  
Sciences: what sciences are first to be learned. 32  
Scoffing: what scoffing is, and how it is to be avoided 190.  
Secret: of concealing a secret. 55  
Sedition: the original of all sedition, 285. the first-fruits of sedition, ibid. the causes of sedition. 291  
Selling: it is wickedness to conceal the faults of that which a man selleth. 171  
Senate: what a Senate is, and from whence the word came, 235. why the Senate of Lacedemonia was first instituted, 238. of the Senate of sundry nations. 274  
Servant: examples of moderate train of serving men 90. the duty of servants comprehended in four points, 225. examples of the love of servants towards their masters. ibid.  
Severity: an example of most cruel severity. 169  
Shame: honest shame is always commendable, 109. how we must learn to resist all naughty shame, 107 shame is the keeper of all virtues, 105. what shame is hurtful. 106  
Shamefastness: the shamefastness of the Romans, 108 of the Milesian maidens, ibid. it is the best dowry of a woman. 212  
Signs: Anaxagoras saying against the superstitious fear of celestial signs. 50  
Silence: Alexander gave money to a Poet to keep silence, 54. the praise of silence. 55.  
Sin: the punishment of sin is equal with it both for age and time, 167. how we must avoid and repress it, 106. some sins are punishments of other sins, 78. how we may overcome great sins, 19 sin the first and true cause of all our misery. 6  
Sobriety: it preserveth health, 82. examples of sobriety. 83, 84. etc.  
Society: the end of all society. 197  
Sovereignty: what sovereignty is, 241. the mark of a sovereignty. 245  
Soldiers: good counsel for soldiers, 141. soldiers must begin war with prayer, and end with praise. 318  
Soul: the soul is not subject to man's jurisdiction, 235 the soul is infused, not traduced, 10. the properties of the soul, 11. the soul is truly man, 6. 35. the actions of beauty, and delight of the soul. 11  
Speech: pleasant speeches full of doctrine, 47. how it is framed, 52. Laconical speech, 53. two times of speaking, ib. how great men aught to speak, 54. a good precept for speech, ibid. examples of the commendable freedom of speech, 55  
Spirit: the difference between the soul and the spirit 36. the proper work of man's spirit. 30  
Sports: the sports of prudent men. 46  
Study: the end of all studies. 228  
Stupidity: the description of stupidity. 81  
Subjects: what service they own to their princes, 249. 250. how far they are bound to obey their prince and his laws. ibid.  
Superfluity: how Heraclitus dissuaded superfluity, 89. good counsel for princes and magistrates concerning superfluous expenses. 91  
Swearing: against swearing. 131    
T 

TEmperance: no virtue can be without temperance, 74. four parts of temperance, 75. what passions are ruled by it, ibid. examples thereof. ibid.  
Temple: the temple of Diana was burnt by Erostratus. 81  
Theft: theft punished diversly in divers nations. 247  
Timocratie: the description of a Timocratie. 239  
Tongue: the tongue is the best and worst thing that is, 53. examples of mischiefs caused by the intemperancy of the tongue. 55  
Traffic: Lycurgus for bad all traffic with strangers, 67  
Treason: treason and cruelty never found place in a noble heart, 122. the effects of treason, 173. examples of the ill success of traitors. 174  
Truth: all men by nature have some light of truth. 8.  
Turk: of the estate of the Turk, 259. he disposeth of of all lordships at his pleasure. 260  
Tyranny: when a kingdom turneth into a tyranny, 238 tyrants are naturally hated, 251. marks of a tyranny 259. of the name of a tyrant, 261. the difference between a good king and a tyrant, 262. examples of the extraordinary death of tyrants. ibid. etc.    
FIVE 

Vainglory: Solon called every vainglorious man a fool. 105  
Valour: properties requisite in a valiant man, 110. all hardy men are not valiant. ibid. how a man may be valiant, 118. from whence valour proceedeth. 310  
Vengeance: why God deferreth his vengeance upon the wicked. 28  
Venice: of the state of Venice, 249. the dukedom of Venice is elective. 256  
Virtue: virtue is neither without affections, nor subject unto them, 127. the property of virtue oppressed, 143 three things concur in perfect virtue, 72 the near conjunction of all the virtues, 44. examples of the force of virtue in adversity, 24. the excellency and property of virtue, 23. it is always voided of extreme passions. 15  
Vice: when we begin to hate vice, 26. the effects of vice, 27 how we should fortify ourselves against vice, 29. five vices brought out of Asia by the Romans. 67  
Victory: how victory is to be used. 321  
Unhappiness: who are unhappy. 138  
unthankfulness: Draco punished unthankfulness by death, 176. the first-fruits of unthankfulness. 177  
Voice: the diversity of men's voices is a great secret of nature. 9  
Usury: biting usury is detestable gain. 216    
W 

War: a notable example against civil war: 41. two kinds of war, 286. whether diversity of religion be a cause of civil war, 195. the effects of war, 307. wherefore and when we must must begin war, 308. three things necessarily required in men of war, 310. war aught to be speedily ended, 315. affair of war must be debated by many, but concluded by few. 317  
Whoredom: the hurtful effects of whoredom, 98. etc. good counsel against whoredom. 101  
Wicked: why the life of the wicked cannot be happy, 167. the property of the wicked. 27  
Widow: of the marriage of widows. 204  
Wife: a wife is to be chosen by the ears, not by the fingers, 203. the best way to order an unruly wife, 208. how she must deal with her choleric husband, 211. a short sum of the duty of a wife, 213 examples of the great love of wives towards their husbands. 213  
Wisdom: it is a true wisdom to know ourselves, 5. the perfection of a wise man's life. 8. a wise man is ashamed to offend before himself, 28. the praise of wisdom. 29. 31  
Wit: quick wits commonly want memory. 37  
Witness: how the jews punished false witness bearing. 247  
Woman: why the woman was created of the rib of a man, 199. the natural gifts of women, 210. certain tokens of an adulterous heart in a woman, 212 against ignorance in women. 228  
Work: wherein the perfection of every work consisteth, 109. two things requisite in every good work. 39  
World: the different opinions of the Stoics and Epicures concerning the government of the world. 135  
Wrath: Cotys broke his glasses to avoid occasion of wrath. 130  
Writing: pithy writings of ancient men. 54    
X 

XEnophon: the great prudence of Xenophon in conducting an army. 33    
Y 

Year: effects of the climacterical year 231  
Youth: how the Romans taught their youth to forsake the follies of their first age, 233. examples of virtuous young men, ibid. how the Persian youth was instructed, 108. two things to be respected in the instruction of youth. 228. the common diseases of youth, 229. six precepts requisite in the instruction of youth. ibid.    
Z. 

ZAleucus: Zaleucus law against adultery. 99  
Zeal: the Zeal of the Ancients in the service of their gods. 40     
FINIS.   

LONDON Printed for THOMAS ADAMS. 1618.