THE FIRST PART OF THE CONSIDERATION OF HVmane Condition:  
WHEREIN IS CONTAINED the Moral Consideration of a man's self: as what, who, and what manner of man he is.  
Written by I.P. Esquire.  
Amo ut invenio.  
AT OXFORD, Printed by Joseph Barnes, and are to be sold in Paul's Churchyard, at the sign of the Bible. 1600.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, HIS VERY ESPECIAL GOOD LORD, THOMAS Baron of Buckhurst, Lord Treasurer of England, one of the LL. of her majesties most Honourable privy Counsel, Knight of the Honourable Order of the Garter, and Chancellor of the University of Oxford, I.P. wisheth increase of honour and eternal felicity.  
IN the forefront of this small and slender building, many things are wanting (Right Honourable, and my most honoured Lord) which through the distraction of business, the shortness of time, and the unskilfulness of the builder could not be finished, as it was purposed. For the same fortune falleth out many times unto writers of books, as doth unto Builders of houses: when as in both, at the beginning of the work, they, which frame the first foundation and plot, do propose unto themselves less labour and expense of time, then in the end they must bestow, before it be fully finished: So, sometimes they are constrained to leave their well-begunne labours without any end, or else rudely and roughly to finish the same. Such is the conclusion in the first part of this poor cottage of Consideration, which I have builded like an unexperienced workman, and which I have presumed humbly to offer unto your Lordship's Honourable patronage, not so much for the worth of the work, as to testify the acknowledgement of my most zealous faith and affection unto your Lordship, being thereunto bound by your Lordship's honourable favour and furtherances. For which I can yield no other offering, but the fruits of this my yet unperfected labours, with the continuance of my vowed devotion (next to my most gracious Sovereign) to do your Lordship service. And so I humbly end, with my prayers for your Lordship's preservation and increase of honours.  
Haroldston the 16. of Novemb. 1600. Your Lordship's most bounden, and ever to be commanded, I.P.   

To the indifferent and friendly Reader.  
I Know that they, which publish any thing in writing unto the world, do submit themselves unto common censure. And I am not ignorant, that as it is more easy to find a fault in things done, them to do the same so substantially, as no fault shall be found therewith: so is it more easy to amend, then to make. If therefore I have erred in any thing (as I acknowledge no such excellency in me, but that I may easily mistake) Let accustomed community of erring excuse me amongst others. For, humanum est errare. And if he that peruseth this tract, do find any faults therein, I shall desire the direction of his better judgement to amend them; which I willesteeme as a very great favour. I commend this first part of Consideration to thy honest and discreet construction. It containeth the Moral Consideration of a man's self. There are three other points of Consideration by me intended to be published: the next whereof is the Political Consideration of those things, that are under us. The third is the Natural Consideration of those things, that are about us. The fourth and last is the Metaphysical Consideration of those things, that are above us. This first, which is here published, I have offered as a taste of my labours, and a trial of thy good or ill allowance; if it be accepted with as good meaning, as it was offered, and that the honourable parsonage, to whom this is dedicated (and to whom all the rest of my labours are due do not direct the contrary; I will proceed as speedily, as conveniently I can, to publish the rest. But if this yield thee any distaste, or be disliked; it is but so much labour lost in that, which is all ready done, and so much labour saved, in that, which should be hereafter done. So as thou wishest well, farewell.  
From my house at Haroldstone the 16. of November. The well willer of them, that wish well. JAMES PERROTT.   


THE CONSIDERATION of human Condition.  

CHAP. 1. How necessary, and what Consideration is.  
PLants have but a Vegetative faculty, and beasts have but a Sensitive power to produce those effects which nature (or rather the guider of nature's works) hath ordained them to execute in their several kinds: but man alone (above all the rest) hath the most excellent help of Reason to order his affections, and govern his thoughts, and his deeds. Why should not man then (so far. exceeding all other creatures in this most admirable and powerful gift of Reason) expel thereby all the perverse passions, the bestial lusts, and the fond desires of the mind: which many times make him inferior to the most vile and most contemptible creatures of the world? If we would know the reason of this so great an evil, it is because he doth seldom accompany his actions with Consideration, which is the chief ruler and governess under Reason: for where Consideration doth not first open the door, and make the first entrance into any action of account, there commonly the success is such as breedeth but sorrow, shame, and confusion: and where due Consideration cometh before, and with our deeds, it is seldom seen there, but that the event falleth out according to our expectation. This being so, it were not amiss to look somewhat into this glass of Consideration, therein to behold (as near as we may) the map and character of human Condition.  
And because consideration is found to be a matter of so great moment in directing the course of every man's life, as that it may justly be called the loadstone of man's life: it were convenient first to know what this consideration is, before we endeavour to judge of the effects thereof.  
Consideration (as Thomas Aquinas doth define it) is the operation of the understanding, 
Consideration.  or the process of Reason pertaining to the contemplation of the truth. Consideration therefore is more general, 
Cogitation. Meditation.  & more profitable than is Cogitation, or Meditation. For Cogitation is but a particular power of collecting individual intentions: and Meditation, but an inward beholding, busied in the inquisition of things: but this our Consideration, is the operation of all the understanding: as hath been already defined. 
Contemplation. Deliberation.  Likewise some allege that Contemplation belongeth only to divine things. And Deliberation properly appertaineth to human and political matters: but this our Consideration doth comprehend both, or at the least is conversant in both.   

CHAP. 2. Why some men are more given to Consideration than others.  
THe causes that some men are more deliberate, and more considerative in their actions than others, are divers: either proceeding from the well or evil situation of the interior senses; or arising from the good, or bad constitution of their complexions; or coming of the company that they most commonly keep, and the exercise that they do chiefly use.  
As touching the first, 
The first cause.  which is the situation and due proportion of the interior senses: how much that doth avail to the attaining of Consideration, by this we may conceive; that as the senses have their several seats in the brains, so do they receive their temperature, according to the temperature of that part, wherein they are placed, and thereafter are men made apt or unapt to enter into due Consideration.  
As for example, the first of the interior senses (which both Philosophers and Physicians do call the common sense, 
1. Common sense.  because it is common to all the exterior senses to convaigh their shapes and forms unto it) is placed in the forepart of the brain, having a several cell or room, in which the five nerves (coming from the five exterior senses) do meet, if this be not conveniently moist, and of a convenient quantity, it cannot receive the right shape of these, and consequently the other senses cannot concur to consider aright thereof.  
The second sense is called the Imaginative sense, 
2. Imaginative sense. Although Aristotle maketh no mention of this Imaginative sense, yet I thought good herein to follow other Philosophers, who do make this distinct from the other three.  which also is placed in the forepart of the brain next unto the Common sense: and the office thereof is to contain & retain the forms of those things, which the exterior senses do present unto the Common sense: for that the Common sense of itself consisteth merely of moisture, which is apt to receive, but not to retain: and this Imaginative sense is composed of dryness, which conserveth the figures of things more firmly: therefore if this sense hath not also his right quality and condition, the true objects of things sensible cannot be well conserved to be considered of.  
The next is called the Fantasy (or as some say) the Estimative sense, which is placed in the middle part of the brain, betwixt the Common sense and the Memory: this sense serveth to compose, to divide, and to distinguish of the shapes, which are presented unto the Common sense, and preserved by the Imaginative sense; 
3 Fantasy.  and this sense is seated in the middle part of the head, as a cel to receive those figures from the Common sense and Imaginative, as to take them again out of the Memory being the storehouse of the head: it is composed of heat, by which it is in much motion, and into it do resort all the moving spirits, but if it do exceed an ordinary temperature of heat, it maketh too much motion in the brain, and leaveth no liberty to a settled Consideration.  
The last of the interior senses, is the Memory, 
4 Memory.  which is placed in the hinder part of the head: the cell and situation of this sense is more dry, and somewhat harder than the rest of the brain, because (as it was said before) that dryness is the cause of Retention, so this sense being made to retain the shape of things, which are delivered from the Common sense unto the Imaginative, but also the Memory must retain the shapes of intentions, which the Imaginative doth present unto it: so as it is truly termed the Treasury of the mind: and therefore if the Memory have not his just proportion of dryness neither exceeding nor wanting much thereof, than it cannot retain well; and so the Consideration (which is not only a Messenger, but as it were a Counsellor betwixt the Memory & the rest of the Senses) cannot receive his right course.  
The second cause, 
The second cause,  which we said first did much help, or hinder our Consideration, is the Constitution of the four Complexions according to the operation of the four Elements in man's body: for the Philosophers affirm that the temperature of the mind, followeth the temperature of the body: and the temperature of the body consisteth in the Composition of the four Complexions, which receive and participate the qualities of the four Elements; as for example; the sanguine Complexion doth participate with the Element of the air, which is by nature hot and moist: these two qualities in the sanguine Complexion do work this operation, that it causeth a ready conceit, but it doth divert the mind from any deep Consideration.  
Also the Phlegmatic Complexion, consisting of cold and moisture, hath this property, that by reason of over much coldness, it doth dull the spirits, whereby they cannot aptly conceive; and because of much moisture, it cannot retain what is received: therefore it is unapt for Consideration.  
The choleric which doth consist of heat and dryness is somewhat more apt to conceive then the Phlegmatincke, and yet in that the heat is not mixed with either cold or moisture to qualify the same, it doth not plant any firm leisure to consider what is to be done.  
The melancholic Complexion, that is made of cold and dryness, (which in their natures do make a better mixture of moderation) doth plant a firm leisure to consider what is to be done, and therefore is fittest for Consideration.  
Besides this absolute predomination of each of these first four Qualities in men's bodies, whereby they are made either apt or unable for Consideration sometimes; there is a mixture of the Complexion in one body in such sort that it can hardly be said which of two hath the greatest power or predominancy, and then there is many times the best temperature in the body, and consequently the mind is more apt for Consideration and the life of man is longer preserved. As for example; when the choleric and phlegmatic Complexions are so mixed, that the choleric hath some what the superior power, and the phlegmatic is proportioned unto it, than the dryness of the one doth somewhat qualify the overmuch moistness of the other, whereby this temperature maketh a man more apt for Consideration. So sanguine and melancholy, being mixed in such sort as the sanguine in some small degree doth surmount the melancholy, it maketh a more even proportion of the four first Qualities in one body: by which composition (and as they call it a Communicating of the contrary qualities in the four Elements) there is made a reconciliation of their contrary effects, and a conjunction of their forces, whereby the mind of man is more fit for Consideration. 
The third cause.   
The third cause which helpeth or hindereth Consideration is (as hath been before alleged) the Company, which we keep, and the Studies which we use: for though these forerecited causes may be great helps or hindrances to our Consideration, as the situation of the senses, and the constitution of the complexions, as being instrumental causes of Consideration, yet these may be aptly disposed, and yet Consideration in some sort may be wanting. For as we see instruments, which are excellently composed, and have in themselves a very sweet sound, if they be well tuned and well played on; yet if he that should play thereon doth not perform his part; either by reason of the company, with whom he is, and doth more attend their actions, than his own play; or else, by means of some other actions he hath in hand, doth not exquisitely use and exercise his skill; then the instrument, on which he playeth, looseth the sweetness of his sound, and the true use thereof: so is it in the use of Consideration; for although the interior senses be well seated, and the complexions well composed, which are as instruments of the mind, yet if the mind itself be not by good company and good exercise well settled to Consideration, these instruments lose the sweetness of their sound, and the effects of Consideration by them cannot have a right course. For proof hereof; first, to begin with company & conversation of good or evil men, how much the one helpeth & the other hindereth Consideration, we may see by the example of sundry young men, who of their own dispositions have been civil, discreet, and well inclined to Consideration, until that they coming into evil company have by imitating their light behaviour been brought to be altogether careless and unconsiderate: 
Eccles. 13.  It is true, that he which toucheth pitch, shall be defiled therewith, and that he, which keepeth ill company, shall be in the end carried from all good consideration. 
Psalm. 18.  For with the good (as it is said) then shalt learn goodness, and with the perverse thou shalt be perverted. Again we see on the other side, that the company and conversation of grave, learned & considerate men doth much move us unto the consideration of their behaviour, and by their example we learn the like to become considerate as they are: and by the counsel of such grave men many times the rash and unstaid humours of youth are tempered and tuned to the right mean & measure of Consideration: as Cato's grave conversation was not only a lantern, but also a lesson (for all those that knew him) to learn consideration.  
Now lastly for exercise, 
The fourth cause.  how that doth help or hinder the course of our Consideration, we may conceive it by knowing that exercise is of two sorts; either of the body, or of the mind: the exercise of the body we call Labour, the exercise of the mind we call Study. For the first, which is the exercise of the body, we find that this being moderately used maketh the body strong and healthy, whereby the mind is also made more free to fulfil his functions, especially in the course of Consideration: but if the body be over-laboured, it breedeth a weariness and a weakness in the parts thereof, whereby also the mind is molested, & less at liberty to enter into Consideration what ought to be done. Likewise for Study, it hath the like or greater operation, than Labour hath, in making the mind fit or unfit for Consideration: because we have it in daily experience, that moderate Study doth enlighten the mind, & kindle the pure bright-shining fire of Consideration. Yea many times it hath the power to divert men's minds from evil cogitations, and to convert them unto the due consideration of themselves and of those things, that belong unto them. 
Xenoph de dict. & fact. Socrat.  As Socrates said unto a skilful Physiognomer, who told him that he was a man of a wicked disposition, (whereat others laughed knowing the contrary) it is true said Socrates which thou tellest me that by nature I was wicked and of a lewd condition, but by my study, learning, and consideration, I have corrected those evil conditions. So we see that moderate Exercise, and moderate Study do much avail to the attaining of Consideration, & of those good conditions which do follow Consideration. But on the contrary, immoderate Study doth much spend the spirits and weaken the brain, whereby the course of due Consideration is very much hindered.   

CHAP. 3. Unto what we should apply the scope of our Consideration.  
NOW having said somewhat how necessary, and what consideration is, as also what things do most help or hinder this Consideration; it cometh next in order to show unto what we ought chief to bend the course of our Consideration. Wherein we may behold by the example of other men's behaviours, that most men are very careful and do use very great Consideration in the compass of those things which they do desire most. As for example, the covetous man doth labour all the power of his Consideration to attain unto riches. The ambitious man doth enter into Consideration of no onething so much, as how to come to preferment, and to obtain dignities and honour. The lascivious man doth strain the strings of his Consideration only to compasle his pleasures. So that these men (and others of all conditions) seem to use no Consideration in any thing, but only on that, which they desire most, and about which they apply all their care and industry, leaving all other things, as matters (in their opinions) of no moment: when as perchance that, which they so much seek after, and do so carefully employ all their Considerations about, in other men's constructions may be of no such consequence, and worthy of no great Consideration: As the covetous man doth admire why the ambitious do bend their whole Consideration about the seeking of honours, great authority, great names and pre-eminence: which the covetous accounteth but as blasts of wind, blown away with the breath of men's mouths: on the other side, the ambitious man reckoneth of the covetous man, but as of one, that is base minded, because he bestoweth all his Consideration to procure him wealth without using the same to any other purpose then to pinch himself and his poor neighbours, not knowing who shall enjoy them after his decease, or whither he shall have them himself as long as he liveth. Likewise the lascivious man laugheth at both the covetous man and the ambitious: & they both as much at him, whom they deem altogether unconsiderat, in that he hath no other Consideration of any matter, which doth concern him most, but only his vain pleasure, which they can say he doth most commonly purchase with repentance of his time misspent, his health decayed and his ability consumed: so that we see most men do mislike the course of other men's Considerations, and few do take the right course themselves of due Consideration, because all do aim at an end, which they think should be good unto themselves: but there is a goodness, which is in appearance only, but not indeed: and there is a goodness on truth, & on substance, without vain show. Now to the attaining of this goodness (which is true goodness indeed) ought our Consideration to be directed: and for effecting thereof, 
Bernard de Consid ad Eugen. We ought to consider four things.  we must follow the course & counsel of Bernard in his four books of Consideration written to Eugenius, whom he willeth to consider chiefly these four things: first, thyself: next, those things that are under thee: then, those things that are about thee: and lastly, those things that are above thee. In considering thyself (saith he) thou must learn to know, What thou art: who thou art: and, What manner of man thou art.  
In considering What thou art, thou shalt find in Nature that thou art a man, that is Reasonable and Mortal: being Mortal, thou mayest be sorry: but being Reasonable, thou haste cause to mitigate thy sorrow.  
In the consideration of thyself Who thou art, thou must find out the perfect footsteps of thy parentage, thy calling, and thy ability.  
In considering What manner of man thou art, thou shalt seek out thy natural inclination, thy conditions, qualities, and the course of thy life. In this sort doth Bernard begin a brief, apt, and an excellent entrance into the most profitable points of Consideration. First, he beginneth with that point of Consideration which concerneth the Knowledge of thyself, being the beginning of all true knowledge, and without this no knowledge or consideration can profit thee, be it of matters never so exquisite, or of mysteries never so high. For as it doth concern every man to learn what is done at home, before he go abroad: so doth it behove him to know himself, before he look into others. It is true that many men seem to know many things, and yet, not knowing themselves, they know nothing at all: or at least, they know nothing in that, which doth most avail them.  
Concerning these circumstances of Consideration, Chrysostome goeth somewhat farther in words, though not much farther in effect, than Bernard doth. He saith, that it doth behove every wise man to consider what himself is, what is within him, what is below him, what is above him, what is against him, what is before him, and what is after him: all which Considerations (saith Chrysostome) bring forth a fowre-folde fruit: as; Profit to thyself, Charity towards thy neighbours, Contempt of the world, and the love of God. This division though it differ some what in words from the former, yet it is the same in substance and effect.   

CHAP. 4. The Consideration of thyself what thou are in thy Creation.  
IT is necessary to prosecute the first division of the points of Consideration, laid down by Bernard, some what more particularly than he did, because he applied all his exhortations therein unto the person and profession of Eugenius, than Pope of Rome, as particular instructions for his place & calling. Therefore it were not amiss in this our Consideration of human condition, to amplify somewhat on the condition of human estate in general, and of every kind of estate in particular (as near as we may) without offence of any, and yet for the instruction of all: observing still and strictly those members of division, which this learned Father hath laid down, to direct us unto the perfectest points of Consideration. To this purpose it behoveth to begin with the Creation of man, wherein we may consider what he is: whereof, if any do ask the Philosophers, they will deliver diverse contrary opinions: And to begin with Anaximander he alleged, that man was first made of the earth and of water, which two Elements (as he affirmed) were tempered and shaped with the heat of the sun. Then Empedocles conceived that all the members of man were made of the earth, and that all the other Elements (as he conjectured) did concur to frame and fashion the same: as the fire to give heat, the water to yield moisture, and the air to send spirit unto the rest. But omitting all vain conjectures, & such like fabulous inventions of Prometheus' fire, Deucalion's stones, which the Poets feigned to be the causes, or the causers of man's Creation: let us level first (in the consideration of man's Creation) with the more certain grounds of Philosophy in this point, and then conclude with the undoubted verity of the sacred history.  
Some Philosophers do define Creation to be a process or a progression from that which was not, to that which is: or else, from nothing, to something; when as yet there were no matter to be presupposed out of which it might be made. This opinion, as it is contrary to that of other Philosophers, which said that, 
1. Phys. c. 4.  Ex nihilo nihil fit; that is, of nothing, nothing is made: so it draweth nearest to the truth, and agreeth best with the infallible authority of the holy Scripture, which saith that the world was made of nothing, 
Gen. 1.1. Eccl. 10.9.12. Wisd. 11.14  by the word of the everliving word, without any other foreknown matter save only God's word, his will, and his wisdom: and of this nothing (made something) was man at the first created, as holy writ doth testify: for he was made of no other mould then of the dust of the earth, a weak and slender beginning for a high and haughty mind, but most fit, to set forth the great might, of the almighty Creator.   

CHAP. 5. The Consideration of thyself what thou art in thy Conception, and natural Constitution.  
THe next Consideration after thy Creation, is, the Consideration of thy Conception, and of thy natural Procreation, and Constitution of body: wherein, if thou wilt know what thou art: first consider that by the fall of thy first Parents (who were purely Created without any Corruption) their disobeying of their Creator's commandment, caused the curse to fall on them, & on their posterity: whereby not only they but, for their sake, the earth & all other creatures were subject to the curse, so that of a pure Creation (by man's transgression) became an unpure Generation. And that thou mayest farther consider what thou art in this kind of generation (or as we call it Conception) learn that generation is a beginning to be that, which it was not, but by way of mutation of one form into another.  
Now to come more near unto the Consideration of thyself what thou art in this thy Generation or Procreation; if one should ask thee, how thou wast conceived? and how thou camest into the world? thou wilt (it may be) answer, even as other men did, & do: I was begotten of my father, & borne of my mother. Yea but how is that? not to rip up the secrets of nature (for that would rather savour of immodesty, then farther thee in the due Consideration of thyself what thou art:) thou mayst know that thou hadst but a mean beginning of Conception (be thy birth never so great) and know thou, that thou hadst no other means of Procreation, than the meanest man living, for thou wast (whatsoever thou art) conceived without honour, delivered with woe, & that with the great danger of her, that brought thee into the world: so that, though we omit the manner of thy first fourming in thy mother's womb (where of thou oughtest to take no pride) yet Pliny the most excellent natural Philosopher, 
Plin. nature. hist. lib. 7.  and most exquisite Secretary of nature's works, will tell thee; that beasts are not bound in chains, when they are borne, but thou man art most unhappily borne with thy hands and thy feet bound, beginning the world with punishment: O madness of man (saith he) thinking that of these beginnings he is borne to be proud, when as the first hope of strength, and the first, gift of time maketh him like to a four feoted beast: for he is forced on his arms and legs, being not otherwise able to stand or go: This saith Pliny of thy birth. But if thou wilt enter farther into Consideration of thy natural Constitution of body after thou art borne, thou shalt find that as thou art borne naked, so thou dost still of thyself remain naked, having by nature no other covering or any defence save only thy bare body, but that thou dost borrow helps of other creatures, which thou accoumptest but as base and vile: for thou cloathest & keepest thyself warm with garments made of wool, being but the covering of silly sheep: with skins, the natural garments of bruit beasts: thou deckest thyself with silk, being but the excrements of poor worms; with flowers, being but the overgrowing of wild fields: with stones, being but the ofscowring of the earth, of the sea, and of rocks: all which the needy naked man doth borrow of beasts, and of other creatures, to cover, to maintain, & to adorn his weak and all wanting body. But thou, not being content to use the help of those natural creatures for the supply of thy natural defects, dost yet therewith take occasion to grow proud; like the beggar, who having borrowed a new coat, should therewith presently fall into liking of himself & scorn all the rest of his fellow beggars. So doth the naked unconsiderat man borrow of birds, feathers; of beasts, skins, wool, with other cover; of both birds and beasts, the flesh to feed him; he borroweth savours & ornaments of flowers; of fruits, sustenance; of those things which come out of the earth, beauty etc. And having all these helps not of himself, but of other creatures, he useth them as instruments to increase his pride, rather than to sustain his necessities. This might serve in the Consideration of thyself, what thou art according to thy natural Constitution of birth and of body, to teach thee how weak, and how unprovided, how mean, and how needy thou art by nature: whereby thou mayest profitably learn humiliation, and to abate that proud conceit, which good success and prosperity might plant in thee.   

CHAP. 6. The Consideration of thyself what thou art in the fruition of this short and uncertain life.  
AFter thy birth & constitution of body, the Consideration of this life's fruition craveth place: wherein if thou wilt know, what thou art, consider first how short this life is. Touching this it is true, which one saith, that nothing doth deceive men so much, as that they are ignorant how short a space they have to live, and therefore do always promise unto themselves a longer time to live. And as an unseasonable year doth either parch the leaves of trees by reason of excessive heat and drought, so that they whither and fall away, or by extreme cold are consumed, or by blustering storms are blown of: so doth any extraordinary distemperature either of heat or cold, dryness or moisture destroy, or at the least endanger the life of man. And if thou doubt hereof, the Physicians will tell their opinions plainly, that there are four faculties by which the life of man is maintained, and that if any of these four faculties do miss his force and operation, than man's life presently perisheth. The first, is the Attractive faculty, by which the nourishment is drawn into the parts nourished: that consisteth of heat and dryness: and if any of these two do abound or be deficient, then presently the Attractive looseth his office, and the life of man is mightily endangered.  
The second faculty is the Retentive, whereby the nourishment attracted is retained until it be digested: this consisteth of cold and dryness; and if either of these qualities be not always rightly proportioned, the Retentive faculty faileth of his force, and then the life of man is likewise in peril.  
The third is the Digestive faculty, by which the attractive and the retained nourishment is digested: this consisteth of heat and moisture, the which two qualities, if they be not well conditioned, then also the life of man cannot long continue.  
The fourth is the Expulsive faculty, by which all superfluities are ejected: this consisteth of cold and moisture, which if they be not moderately mixed, than the expulsive faculty cannot perform his force, and so the excreaments which should be expelled, do turn into inward corruption, whereby the life of man is soon cut of.  
Lastly if any of these four faculties have not his due effect, than the stomach (in which is the Nutritive appetite) doth decay: or the liveor, in which the subtle matter is separated from the gross, is defective: or the members to be nourished, are not nourished by way of the veins, through the which humour and moisture are conveyed: or the arteries, by which the vital spirits are led. In all this it doth appear how short the life of man is, and how soon it is cut of by sickness, besides many other (almost innumerable) means, which are instruments to shorten his life. If then there be so many means to endamage and endanger man's life, and so few to preserve it, how can there be any reckoning made of the length of it? but that with the Princely Prophet and Prophetical Prince King David it may be deemed to be but as a span long; or, 
Psal. 59.6. Psal. 90.9.  like to a tale which is told, and suddenly ended; to a bubble upon the water soon broken; to a mist, which quickly vanisheth; to a ship, which saileth so speedily, thaa it cannot be seen which way it went; and to an arrow, or a bird flying in the air. Many such sharp similitudes have been set down by them, that have duly considered the shortness of man's life. And surely though some live a little longer than other, and most men do hope or at least desire to live long: yet every man doth see that he which liveth longest, doth but borrow (as it were) a small time of his fellows, and in that little time, that he liveth longer than others, he still hasteneth unto his end: for as a man, which is in a ship sailing on the seas, whither he sit, stand, or walk, the ship still goeth on her way, and he that is in her, goeth with her: so man howsoever he be busied in this world, whether idle or occupied, whether asleep or awaking, time passeth away, and his life in, and with time, yea even in a moment of time is cut of. For if the longest liver in the world be asked how long he esteemeth the time, or how soon it is past since he was borne, he will answer it seemeth unto him but as yesterday: except it be one, whose life hath been full of miseries, to him (perchance) every day will seem a moonth, and every moonth a year, 
Psal. 90.10.  and the time to long that he hath lived, David the Prophet telleth us that the age of man is three score years and ten, and if he live any longer, it is rather to be reckoned a vexation, than a life: this is a short time, for a man to live no longer, and yet if every one might attain to these years, the life of man might be said to be of some length. But if it were possible to record the years of every man that dieth, we should find in that large Register of men's lives, that where one man arriveth to the age of threescore years end ten, there are a hundredth which do not see half so many: there die many more in their infancy, then in their ripe years; & more in youth, then in old age: all which showeth how short this life is, and what thou art in the Fruition thereof. Add unto this the Uncertainty thereof, wherein thou mayest quickly conceive how many and sundry sorts of casualties thy life is subject unto, which makes that more uncertain than the wind, that is, ever mutable and full of alteration. To confirm this, if we should go about to reckon how many instruments death hath to bring every man's life to an unexpected end, the best memory would rather fail to reckon up the several engines that death useth to destroy man's life withal, than that death would want means to work a sudden and an uncertain end of man's life.  
This may be proved by divers examples of men of all degrees, sorts, and conditions, who in their best strength and chiefest time of their health and prosperity have been suddenly set upon by the uncertain executioners of death, when they least suspected them or thought thereof. 
Awl Ge Lib. 15. Cap. 20.  As for example; The famous greek Poet Euripides (being in good health) supped with Archelaus; after the which, as he returned home, when he thought himself least in danger of death, he was suddenly, and that on a trice, torn to pieces with dogs and so found by trial, how uncertain this life is.  
Caesar (who had past infinite perils in the wars) was (by Brutus and Cassius) slain suddenly in the Senate house, 
Plutarch. in vita C. Caesaris.  where he thought his life to be most safe, and lest suspected the danger of death: so approving (by his untimely end) the uncertainty of every man's life. Q. Curtius writing the history of Alexander the great, reporteth that when he had conquered the world and death to, as it seemed to himself, he was, coming to Babylon, caught suddenly by death, and made to know and confess that uncertain is the life of man: though he were so great a monarch. T. Hostilius, the third King of Rome, 
Plutarch in vita Numae.  when he supposed himself safest and freest from deaths dart, was strictken on the sudden with a thunder bolt, and his house burn to ashes with the lightning. Tarqvinius Prtscus also the 5. King of Rome was, sitting at dinner, (when he least dreamt of death) choked with the bone of a fish, and died thereof that night: all which may well witness how short, and how uncertain the life of man is. The Poets have preatily feigned that there are three sisters, whom Seneca called the Destinies, 
Cic. Lib. de natura dear.  and Cicero supposed to be the daughters of Herebus and Nox, whom they affirm to be very much busied about the life of man: their names are Clotho, 
Clotho colun gestat, Lachesis irahit, Atropos occai.  Lachesis, and Atropos: the first doth weave the thread of life, the second doth lengthen it a little, and the last doth clean cut it of: but the last of the three hath the quickest hand in her works; for what the other two do frame for a time, that she doth undo in the moment of time: and the thread of life, though it should be somewhat long in spinning, yet it is cut of in the twinkling of an eye, and when we think it is stron. guessed, then cometh Atropos unawares to perform and play her part. Death hath also three principal servants, which he employeth much, and often about this business, and they as diligently put in execution and perform what he commandeth for the shortening and soon cutting of, of the life of man, whose names (as casualty, infirmity, and old age) gave sufficient proof and testimony that short oftentimes, and most uncertain is the life of man, & what account we should make of it, and what man is in the fruition thereof.   

CHAP. 7. The Consideration what thou art in the fruition of so painful a life.  
THis Consideration concerning man's life, is of the grievous pains & miserable torments, which very often and most commonly do accompany thyself: as, Sickness in thy body, Sorrows and passions of the minds, the Vakndnesse of friends, the Envy of enemies, the Deceit of flatterers, and other worldly Mishaps, which breed such multitudes of miseries, as are almost unpossible to be named, and very hard and painful with patience to be endured.  
And first for the grievous pains that Sickness breedeth and bringeth unto the body, we see, and daily experience telleth us, that many men are so tormented therewith, that their whole life from the cradle to the grave is but the drawing of an everfainting breath, and (as it were) a lingering death, or rather a painful life, more grievous than death itself. As the fish Clupea (which when the moon increaseth, is white, and when it doth decrease, becometh black, growing to any greatness, killeth himself for the pains of those prickles, that come out of his own sides; so men possessed and paid with sickness do change both colour and complexion as Clupea doth, or as the moon waxeth and waneth: and when they grow to any years, the prickles of their pains is the cause of their death. If we should seek for examples to show how that many men have been mightily tormented with sickness, we might easily find & see an endless sea of instances to confirm this conclusion, wherein we will not wade much to weary the Reader, but rather refer him to consider of the cruel experiment that poor miserable men do make thereof, who pining with continual sickness languish all their lives long from their mother's breasts till they be borne of four, and brought to their last and long home: only, and for a taste herein, I will set before him a few (of many) such examples as the holy scriptures offer unto us. Mephibosheth the son of jonathan, 
2. Sam 4.4. Math. 9  the son of Saul, was lame of both his legs, and led a lingering languishing life all his days. Iïrus' daughter wasted with sickness, and the woman of Canaan's daughter vexed with a Devil, had ended their days with dolour and grief, if CHRIST, at the humble suit and petition of their parents, 
Mar. 5.  had not showed mercy unto both. Mark maketh mention of a miserable woman, whose body with sickness was wonderfully weakened, and whose wealth with Physicians was wasted, her issue of blood continually increasing, so that in twealue years she never had ease one day. What what shall I speak of that woman, whom her infirmities had bowed together? and of whom Christ said, 
Luc. 13.  that Satan had bound her for eighteen years. 
joh. 5.1.  The poor man that lay at the pool of Bethesda kept his bed eight and thirty years not able to help himself till Christ helped him. The same was the state of Agbarus King of Edessa, 
Euseb. Lih. 1. Cap. 14.  of whom Eusebius maketh mention: it were to long, and an infinite labour for me to lay down all that might be remembered to this purpose: let him that would know more, ask the Physician how many sundry sorts of diseases he seemeth to know, though he seldom cureth most of them, all which are ordained for the punishment of sinners, 
job. 1.  and are inflicted upon miserable men in all ages. Only I will end with poor and patiented job whose life during his trial was much more grievous than death, whose children were destroyed suddenly, whose, goods were taken from him violently, whose body was diseased strangely, whose wife upbraided him wickedly, whose friends rebuked him sharply; what greater Cross could be laid on man? bereast of children, 
chap. 2.  spoiled of goods, abused by his wife, condemned by his friends, sore in body, sick in mind, what misery may be compared here with? was it any marvel that he desired his death, 
Cap. 10.18.  or rather that he had never been borne?  
Now, how painful the life of man is, which is subject unto so much sorrow, we may perceive it by the visage, and see it in the estate of their bodies who are overwhealmed therewith. For most commonly their bones are dried up, and their bodies there by made like unto an anatomy: whereof grew that old Adage, which adviseth a man not to eat up his heart, signifying that such as are troubled with much sorrow, consume away, even as if they had eaten up their own hearts, and end their lives with supping up that sour potion. How painful man's life is, that is possessed with sorrow, may well be perceived, and that every man hath his part thereof, is pregnant to be proved, for that is true which the Poet testifieth thereof, speaking to man thus: 

Quocunque aspiceres, gemitus, luctusque sonabant:  
Formaque non taciti funeris intus erat.   that is, 

Which way soe'er thou look about,  
There sighs and sobs do sound:  
It is no silent burials shape,  
That in thyself was found.   These verses do well declare how that man's life is full fraught with cares & sorrows. Care men have to prevent perils as they are coming towards them, and they sorrow when they see that they cannot overcome those, which are already befallen them: so that sorrow sitteth (as it were) on every side, and at every hand, before and behind man; whereby his life is environed with perpetual pains.  
And as for the pains, or deadly torments rather, that by means of external evils (as, the unkindness of friends, the envy of enemies, and, the deceit of flatterers) do inseparably accompany man's life, they are to too well known to every man both in their own particular experience, and also in the examples of others. For the first, it is most true, and not doubted of by any, that the greatest calamity that can happen to a man, and may most grieve & molest a faithful friend, is to be unfaithfully dealt withal by him, whom he accounted and esteemed for his best friend: this made the poor Poet thus pitifully to complain of his friends unfaithfulness, 

Omnia iam fient, fieri quae posse negabam,  
Et nil est de que non sit habenda fides:  
Hac ego vaticinor, quia sum deceptus ab illo  
Laturum misero quem mihirebar opem.   that is, 

All things shall be, which once I deemed could ne'er be done:  
And nought there is, to which my faith shall not be won.  
This I foretell, because I was deceived by him,  
Who unto me I thought would secure bring.    
By this it should seem that the poor miserable banished Poet felt nothing more grievous amidst all his miseries in his exile, than the deceit of his reputed friend: whereby also this is made manifest, that great is the grief, and much is the pain that falsehood in friendship procureth a man.  
The painful torment that an envious enemy worketh a man is little inferior, nay rather it equalleth the former. For this adversary, set on rage, and inflamed with ire, 
T. Livius.  is resolved (as an unextinguishable fire) to consume the life, the honour and the whole estate of him that is envied: and who is he that is truly virtuous which is not subject to envies jaws? 
Val. Max. Lib 4. Tit. de amicit. Xen. in Paed. Cyri. l. i.  And as Xenophon saith, he is in very evil case whom no man envieth: neither could he in his days remember any virtuous man that was not cruelly stung with this poisoned and most venomous serpent: whereby we may well note how that man's life is much tormented with envy.  
Lastly, of the deceit of flatterers, hue far forth it tormenteth man's mind, this at the first is not seen of most men, but lieth hid as a pad in the straw. For the flatterer covereth his knavery with the cloak of good counsel; and shadoweth his subtle devise by soothing and smoothing of him, whom he is about to deceive, evermore praising and commending his actions, how evil soever; and dispraising the works and deeds of others, how good soever; as he findeth his humour, and may best feed the fantasy of him that he followeth, until he have won him to work his own woe, and in the end brought him to the deep dungeon of utter destruction: then (but commonly to late) men repent them that ever they knew such companions: and are weary of them, when they perceive how that they have brought them sorrow, shame, and confusion, to vex, grieve and torment their minds continually and as long as they have days to live: neither is this the least adversary, though last set down here, that troubleth and disquieteth the life of man.  
By these and such other means, more than can well be manifested, to man's life (fraught with anguish and pain) is made so loathsome unto himself, 
1. Kin. 19.4.  that who is he which with Elyas doth not wish to die, & confess that he is not better than his fathers: whose bodies be at rest, as he would be? and saith not with Paul: Cupio dissolui, 
Phil. 1.23.  & esse cum Christo, I desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ? For that were to a Christian heart advantage in deed. By the rules of Christianity we should learn truly to be contented with all crosses and calamities which happen unto us in the course of this life; yet our natural corruption is such, as it will not suffer us to endure troubles with patience. This, that hath been said, may in some sort suffice to show (though not fully and perfectly) how painful, how tormenting, and how full of cares the course of this life is: & serveth fitly to stir and move thee to consider and weigh well with thyself what thou art in enjoying of so short, so uncertain, & so painful a life, as this is.   

CHAP. 8. The Consideration what thou art in thy death, and manner of dying.  
THe last Consideration of this first part, is; concerning thy death: we mean not here to discourse, but cursorilie, of the difference between corporal and spiritual, temporal and eternal death, best beseeming the pens and pains of great and grave Divines, but only to speak of the death of the body most familiar and best known to all men. It is an old saying & very true: that as sure as man is borne, so sure he is to die. Some said that death is three fold, but rather might have said, and that more sound, and more truly, that it hath three degrees: the first Natural, the second Criminal, the third judicial. For the first, which is Natural or the dissolution of nature, this (as is said before) as it is common to all men, and no man is exempted from it, so it hath in it many things seeming very fearful, and procuring much amazement, which yet ought not to be feared at all: as when death draweth near (sending before him his habinger Sickness) he presenteth unto the sick man a ghastful countenance, and lean bones without flesh: yea he doth offer to his remembrance the loss of all his goods and honours, his departure from his friends, the sequestering of his soul from his body, and the separating of himself from the world & from all things in the world, how dear and delightful soever unto him: whereby the senses are all overladen and burdened with sorrow; according to the saying of the Poet: 

mill modis lethi miseros mors unafatigat.   that is, 

A thousand kinds of deaths and more,  
Death hath at hand, to work manswoe.   All which, beheld of the mere natural man in the grim visage of death (as it were in a looking glass) seem very dread full; but of these chiefly, the love of this life maketh him most of all to fear death, and yet to him that is truly wise the sad sight of death yieldeth no such hideous aspect or discontentment, but rather moveth him to remember and make good use of that excellent saying of Seneca: 
Sen. epist. 62.  Before old age I had care to live well, that I might in old age die well, that is willingly. For to die willingly, is to die well: which if a man would consider and put in practice, than needed he not to fear this natural death of the body. Full well said the Heathen Philosopher, 
Cice. in some Scip.  that unless God should free man from the keepers (or from that prison) of the body, there could be no passage into heaven. Though death do dissolve this temporal and momentary life from the body; yet if a good death follow a good life, it addeth a longer life unto this temporal and transitory life, and it taketh away all cares and calamities from the body and life of man, in so much that such a death may aptly be called the end of labours, the conservation of victory, the gates of life, and the entrance into everlasting felicity. Thus may the virtuous, discreet, and considerate man learn to know what he is concerning the first degree of death, which we call natural, or the dissolution of nature. As touching the second degree of death, which we call Criminal, or the death of offence, this unto many men seemeth nothing fearful, although it ought more to be feared then the first. The first degree of Natural death every man must yield unto, and pay undoubtedly as a due debt to Nature, or rather to the Creator of Nature's works: but the second degree of death, which is the death of offence, as it begun and brought in that first death which we term Natural; so is it, or it ought to be much more feared than the same. For one of the Fathers saith, 
Aug. sup. Gen.  that Adam and Eve began to die in the same day that they did receive the law of death; that is when they offended first, and that by one man's offence, death came unto all men. This death of offence which is cause first of the Natural, then of the judicial death, ought therefore most of all to be feared; yet we see, and that to to commonly, how men make small reckoning of this death and do least dread it, else would they not be so prone and ready to run on headlong, and to commit those offences, that do procure death, and perpetual destruction. This death of offence, or the offence itself, which causeth death, aught to be very much feared. For though men, while they live, do lightly and little regard it; yet it bringeth with it to torment them (when they are a dying) shame horror and confusion.  
The last degree of death, or the last effect of it, is the death of judgement: this hath three steps or stairs by which it mounteth either to eternal happiness, or else descendeth unto endless pains and torments. For judgement is said to be of three sorts: the first is of ourselves; the second is of men; and the third is of, or, by the Creator of man. For the first judgement of ourselves concerning our deaths and of our deserts of death, this is inward and contained in the Conscience of every man, which Conscience when it giveth judgement against a man, it makes him feel the pains of death in life, and it figureth unto him the perpetual pains which he shall endure after death. An heathen Philosopher could say that a guilty conscience is like to an ulcer in the body. 
Plut de animi tranquillitate.  For it leaveth sorrow and grief wounding him and feastering in his heart and mind continually. When reason can relieve the mind moved otherwise to sadness, nothing can ease the galling and torture of a guilty Conscience; 
Ovid lib 1. de Ponto Eleg. 1.  which caused the comfortless Poet to confess and say: 

Paenitet, o si quid miserorum creditur ulli,  
Paenitet, et facto torqueor ipse meo.   that is, 

I do repent, if any wretched wight,  
Might credit have, or be beleud in this:  
It grieveth me, and galleth day and night  
My woeful heart, that I have done amiss.  
This is the fruit, and only ease I find,  
A guilty deed, yield to a galled mind.   Therefore this judgement of ourselves in our own consciences, that we have not only deserved this temporal but an eternal death, is (without it be eased by perfect Penitence) a double death unto us.  
The second step of ludgment, is the judgement of men: whereon death also doth depend. As the judgement of ourselves is internal, and in our own consciences: so the judgement of men is external, depending upon exterior proofs & probabilities, whereby they give their judgement of life and death. And although that the judgement of men, be not always true in their difinitive sentence, and decree of men, how they have deserved either to live or die; because that they which are the ludges, whither with authority or without, may mistake the laws by the which they judge: or else those, that produce proofs unto them, may either wilfully or ignorantly misinform and misguide them: yet it behoveth every wise man discreetly to submit himself unto that sentence of the Law, which limitteth unto him either life or death. 
Demosth. Con And  For as the excellent Orator affirmed, it is not lawful to malign magistrates though they be wicked & evil: the reason thereof is, because that they, when they do give judgement of life and death, are the substitutes of him, who is the author of life and death. And, if thou wilt die well, avoid and eschew all evil deeds, which are the occasions of this judgement of men, which deem and judge thee worthy of death. For this judgement of death doth commonly follow the evil actions of a bad life.  
The last step, in the last degree of death, which is called the final judgement, followeth death, at the latter daic, when the universal judgement of mankind shall be, and either eternal life or eternal death ensueth. Of this I purpose to speak but as an occurrent by the way. Then shall be the beginning of glory to the good, and to the wicked of shame and confusion: then shall be the separation of the sheep from the goats, of the corn from the cockle; and of the blessed from the accursed. After this, than they, that receive the sentence of life, shall never die or fear death any more: and those, which are appointed to die, can never hope for life again: whatsoever some men have dreamt of this matter, whereof we purpose not here to entreat. This last degree of death, or difference between life and death, hath in it either much fear or much joy: fear to the wicked in respect of former offences, but joy unto the faithful in their hope of enjoying future happiness, which followeth after a virtuous life and a godly end. 
Lactan. in divinis inst. Lib. 6. cap. 4  And as Lactantius allegeth: if it be asked of us, whither death be good or evil, we must answer, that this or that man's death is good or bad, as his life was either good or bad which he had lead before. For if thy life be good, then will thy death also be good unto thee: but if thy life be evil, then likewise is death evil unto thee.   

The Conclusion of this first part of the first point of Consideration concerning thyself, What then art.  
BY this little touch or light handling of Consideration, herein (gentle Reader) tendered unto thee, (if thou hast read over the same with good regard) thou mayest thereby make some trial concerning the knowledge of thyself, what thou art in thy Creation, in thy Procreation and by'r the, in thy Life, and in thy Death. All which, if thou do well and advisedly consider, thou shalt find that to be true, 
Bernardus. in senten  which Bernard affirmeth, that man is sick of a threefold malady; in the beginning, in the middle, and in the ending; that is, in his birth, in his life, and in his death. For his birth is unpure, his life is perverse, & his death dangerous. His birth it is unpure, by reason of our first parents fall, and the daily offences of our natural parents, 
Psal. 51.5.  which moved the Psalmist (well weighing it) to say that in sin he was conceived. His life is perverse, because that by nature he is prone to all evil actions. His death is dangerous, because his life is vicious. There is in our birth, a beginning of sorrow: there is in our lives, a continuance of the same: & there is in our deaths, either a dissolution, or else a perpetual possession thereof.  
The end of the first Section of the first part of Consideration.    

The Consideration THE SECOND SECTION OF the first part of the Consideration of human Condition.  

CHAP. 1. The Consideration of thyself, who thou art.  
NOw having said somewhat concerning the first part of the first point of the Consideration of thyself, which is, What thou art: it is necessary that we proceed. farther to the second part of this first point of Consideration; which is, Who thou art. The Consideration whereof doth contain in it the remembrance & reknowledgement of thy parentage, lineage, and descent: the knowledge of thy state of body, of thy wealth, calling, dignity and wisdom. To the goodness and greatness of which gifts the Philosophers in former times have attribured a great part of man's felicity; calling Riches, Nobility, & Honours, the goods of fortune; Health, Strength & Beauty, they termed the goods of the body; Wisdom, Learning and Virtue they esteemed to be the goods of the Mind.  
By the true Consideration of thyself, who thou art in the possession of these blessings, thou mayest learn to know, that if thou have any, or all of them, thou art yet no otherwise happy in them, then according as thou dost use them: for if it be true, that there is a difference between using and enjoying of things; in that we are said properly to use only those things that are temporal; 
Pet. Lumb. Lib. 1.  and to emote those things that are eternal: thou mayest consider that thy parentage, thy health, thy dignities, & thy wisdom being things temporal & transitory, are then only to be used of thee here for a time, & that but for very short time; for thou mayst by no means enjoy them always. This, well pondered & thought upon, will soon bring thee to the knowledge of thyself, Who thou art. For there is nothing that letteth and hindereth a man more from the knowledge of himself, than the opinion and fond conceit he hath of the goodness, greatness, and durableness of those worldly blessings, which he doth possess, and so entirely affect. Therefore to weed out the overweening opinion thereof, we will first begin with thy lineage and parentage, and so bring thee by little and little into the consideration of thyself, who thou art. Art thou descended of a noble family, or of a base lineage? if thou be noble borne, then commonly pride and presumption catch hold and lay such violent hands on thy will, thy affection, and thy understanding, that they can hardly be removed from thee, till they have removed thee from the knowledge of thyself, who thou art. For thy presumptuous pride and selfe-liking affection will make thee believe that thou art much better, than indeed thou art. This makes men many times to measure their own greatness of birth as they do their shadows, which always seem bigger than their bodies, and by degree it draweth them to believe that their birth and parentages are far better than the births and parentages of any others are, or may be.  

Q. Curt.  As, Alexander the great, after he had obtained many & notable victories, could not then be contented to be called any longer the son of Philip King of Macedon, but would needs be accounted the son of jupiter Hammon, and so be deemed to have been descended from the Gods. Sabor King of Persia called himself King of Kings, partaker of the planets, 
Herodotus Lib. 2. H  and, brother to the Sun and Moon. Hanno the Carthaginian caused birds to be taken, and taught to say, Hanno is a God: which birds were afterward cast abroad in divers places, that they might publish this his feigned Deity unto the people.  
Even so commonly we see that many of noble birth and great parentage persuade themselves that they exceed all others in estimation of blood and lineage: whereas they might consider with themselves that how nobly soever they are borne, their Nobility hath a beginning, not by their own, but by their Ancestors deserts & virtues; wherefore if that there be not in them good parts and properties answerable to the behaviour and good qualities of their Elders, and their own births, then are they but a blemish to their Elders, and a stain to their names, and honours. We see the fairest and richest silks, when once they receive any blemish or stain, they are more disfigured and in greater disgrace than cloth, or other matter of less moment and reckoning: even so is it in the estimation of Nobility. For a fault in a man of great birth and parentage is more noted, and breedeth unto him greater disgrace and dishonour, than the same should do unto a man of less and lower dignity. It is not enough to be borne of high blood, without virtue answerable to that birth: neither with reason may a noble man, because he is honourably descended, challenged love, estimation, and honour of the actions accomplished by his Ancestors, unless his own carriage be correspondent & answerable to theirs, 
Sen. in Here. fur.  and to his own calling: for Seneca sayeth, & that very truly, that, be which braggeth of his kindred, commendeth that which concerneth others. 
Ovid. lib. 13. Meta.  And the Poet speaking to the same purpose said very well.  

Nam genus, et proaves, et quae non fecimus ipsi,  
Vix ea nostra voco.  
that is.  
What kindred did, or Elders ours,  
And what we have not done,  
I call not ours: it scarcely hath  
Us any credit won.   
This caused a Gentle man of great worth and worthiness, 
S. Philip Sidney.  as any that hath lived in our age, to add this mote underneath his coat of arms: Vix ea nostra voco. Who although he might most deservedly have claimed unto himself as much honour as ever any of his Ancestors have had, yet he would not appropriate their virtues (which could not be called his) unto himself: for he had rather gain glory by his own noble and worthy acts, then be accounted renowned for the greatness of his Ancestors, how near and how dear soever unto him. As his noble mind is worthy of memory in all ages, and his heroical acts never to be committed to oblivion: so are they (which degenerate from their Elders, or do disgrace and dishonour the honourable actions of their Ancestors) to be accounted worthy (if not of all shame) yet of a place in Lethe's lake to lie in perpetually. Q. Pompeius' Praetor of Rome did most stoutly and wisely carry himself, when he did interdict and dishinherite the son of Q. Fabius Max. from the use and benefit of all his father's goods, because he did degenerate from the virtues of his noble father, and spent that most luxuriously, which his father had most honourably gotten. There was a law amongst the Rhodians, that what son soever followed not the footsteps of their father's virtues should be dishinherited: which law if it were kept, & did continue in force amongst us this day, it would make many a son go without goods, and leave his father's living for others to inherit. For out days make experience of that, which the Poet spoke, and applied to former ages.  

Aequat rara patrem soboles, 
Honter.  sed plurimi ab illis  
Degenerant, pauci superant probitate parentem. 
Odyss. 1   
that is,  
Few sons are found of father's minds,  
Or equal them in virtues acts:  
The greatest sort grow out of kind;  
Who doth regard his father's facts?  
Children seldom seek indeed,  
Their sires (in goodness) to exceed.   
Now again on the other side, if thy birth and parentage be mean, then most commonly art thou drawn to despair of having any great advauncement, although thou do deserve it well: for Envy always followeth Virtue, and that most of all, when it is placed in one of mean Parentage. For usually those, that hold themselves better in birth, will contemn and envy their inferiors in blood, although they be far their superiors in virtue and desearte. But this should not dismay him that deserveth well, to expect the reward of his deserts, how mean soever ever his birth be. For we find it in experience true, and the examples are infinite, how men, whose parents were mean and poor, have (for good parts in them) been preferred to very high and great dignity. As David, a shepherd, yet afterwards anointed King of Israel. 
Psal. 78.  Tamberlane the son of a poor shepherd in Scythia, and, as some say, a shepherd himself, by his valour and prowess became King of Persia, and was a very mighty Monarch. The father of Sforce Duke of Milan was a poor man, who lived by husbandry in Catiniola, a small town or village situate near unto Ravenna: and yet his son for his worth and worthiness so highly advanced to so great a dignity. Many examples might be brought to the same purpose, of such as in former times, yea and in this latter & more ungrateful age of the world have gotten by their virtues great preferments & high advauncements, though their births have been but very base: of whom we omit further to speak, because we purpose not to disgrace or offend any, but rather to commend virtue, and to wish the advauncement thereof in al. Yet by the way of advice we could wish such as be of mean parentage, & so preferred to high places, to beware of all swelling conceit of pride, which to to often hath infected many.  
And so if the noble borne have care of his carriage, & avoid presumption in the estimation of his honourable descent: & the mean man shun despair or doubt of obtaining advauncement by reason of his birth, and to lofty a conceit in his prosperous estate, then shall either of them consider well and wisely who, and what he is in his descent, and by his parentage.   

CHAP. 2. The Consideration of thyself, who thou art in the state of thy body.  
THE next Consideration is of thyself who thou art in the state of thy body: wherein consisteth the estimation of thy health, of thy strength and of thy beauty: in considering whereof thou shalt find who thou art in possessing health or sickness, strength or weakness, beauty or deformity, wherein if Nature hath bestowed on thee her gifts liberally and friendly, she giveth thee no better gift than the Poets feign that Paris gave to Venus, or the reward that he received of her again. For when she strove with juno and Pallas for the golden ball, which was to be given to her whom Paris deemed fairest of the three; Paris bestowed the ball on Venus, and with all continual contention with the other twain: and she rewarded him again with Helen which was his utter confusion. This fable was not devised without very good signification and a certain moral or meaning, what molestations many times follow the friendly course of Nature in them, that are healthy, strong, and beautiful in body. For if thou hast thy health, than thou art commonly careless of thy diet, and so fallest oft to surfeit, or else to use some such exercise. as may endanger thy health. For he that doubteth not of his health, dare eat of many dishes, and (as Seneca saith) eating of many meats brings many diseases: 
Sen. ad Luc. Ep. 99 Jd●m, Rhet. 10.  and in an an other place, whatsoever (saith he) birds do fly, or fishes swim, or beasts do run, they are buried in our bellies. If thou ask (saith he) why we die so suddenly? it is because we live by the death of so many creatures: and they that have most strength, are most boldest to devour most creatures, whereby most commonly they abate their health, and consume that which they would feignest pamper and feed, even their bodies. The exercises also, which strong bodied men are most given unto, do withdraw many times to to many of such, from the better exercises of the mind. For seldom is it seen, that men of much might are much given to the study of liberal sciences, or the meditation of divine things: which moved Xenocrates to exhort men that they should not exercise the body much without the mind, nor the mind altogether without the body; for the first best beseemeth wrestlers and such rude people; the second belongeth unto Idle persons; the first breedeth strong & sturdy ignorance; the second begetteth studious dullness: but they that are apt and fit for best things, are indifferently exercised in both body and mind. For those men, that have strong bodies, for the most part have weak minds, because they so much exercise the strength of their bodies, that they seldom or never regard the study of the mind: 
Sen. ep. 81.  how weak, sayeth Seneca, are they in mind, whose strength of body we do much marvel at? so that natural strength draweth on unnatural effects, and defects of things most to be desired to be in men. If thou have also beauty and comeliness of body, this blessing eftsoons maketh thee in the enjoying thereof many times miserable and infortunate. For it maketh proud such as enjoy it, and provoketh others to unlawful lusts and wicked desires, coveting the accomplishment of their fleshly appetites, and sensual pleasures, through the abuse of others beauty, which is the nourisher and procurer of pride, as the Poet telleth thee, when he saith:  
Fastus inest pulchris, 
Ovid fast. 1.  sequiturque superbia formam.  
which is,  
Disdain doth dwell in beauty's bower,  
And pride with beauty hath great power.  
It is to often tried, that they, which are by nature beautiful, make their external beauty of the body to be the betrayer of the inward beauty of the mind: whereby we see what inconveniences do follow the health, strength, and beauty of the body.  
Now contrariwise, if thou art either naturally subject to sickness, or accidentally weak; if thou art by nature, or by casualty deformed, what anguish, grief, and torments of mind these defects and blemishes do bring with them, every one either feeleth and findeth in himself, or at the least may see and perceive it in others. Therefore to temper those intemperate affections, which usually abound in such as abuse the blessings of the body: and also to avoid the inconveniences, which do pursue the wants of those natural blessings of the body, thou oughtest to conssider, that if the Creator of nature's wroks hath bestowed the blessings of health, strength, and beauty upon thee, that he bestowed not them to that end upon thee, that thou shouldest grow proud of them, or abuse thy body, or devise how to make others enamoured with thy beauty, and the rather for it unlawfully to desire thee. For thou hast received these sweet blessings to another end: even that to the ableness of thy body thou shouldest join the willingness of thy mind, to do those comely and commendable deeds, which do beautify both the body and the mind, and which last longer than the soone-fading blossoms of beauty, the weak and ever-slyding staff of strength, and then thy health, which is more uncertain than all the rest; for it is soon impaired and very quickly brought to utter decay. If then thy beauty fade, thy strength fail, and thy health consume and wear away; dismay not thyself, but rather be armed with patience. For as long as the mind is endued with reason, and good resolution, no sickness or afflictions can bring the body so weak, or so out of shape, but that a mind prepared with patience and directed by virtue may very well endure. Infirmities may be a mean to subdue, or at least to move us to sustain stoutly all dislikes and discontentmentes of such defects and effects in nature. Which Consideration (with the circumstances of the same) concerning thy health and sickness, thy strength and weakness, thy beauty and deformity if thou bear always in thy mind, and make good use thereof, thou shalt consider of thyself aright, and soon know what, and who thou art in the state of thy body.   

CHAP. 3. The Consideration of thyself what, and who thou art in the state of thy wealth and riches.  
THe Consideration of thy wealth & riches doth contain two circumstances to be conceived of thee, and to be carried continually in thy remembrance. The first is of thy wealth and possessions, how thou hast gotten them: the second is, how thou dost use them. For by these two courses of getting & using thy wealth & goods, they are made either good or evil unto thee. Sometimes men do get their goods well, by honest and lawful means, yet may they use them evil: but they do seldom, or almost never, that get their goods by evil means, turn their goods so gotten unto good uses.  
Now first, for the obtaining and getting of riches whither it be by lawful, or by unlawful means: it is to be considered that if thou haste riches, lands, or any kind of livelihood, thou hast either gotten it by inheritance, by gift, or by thine own industry. If thy goods and possessions come unto thee by inheritance, and that thou haste sufficient by thine ancestors to maintain thy estate, then, the more thou hast the less should be thy care and toil in travailing to augment thine abundance, seeing that by inheritance thou haste sufficient to sustain necessity, and to maintain thy calling: and yet this competency should not breed a carelessness in thee to preserve that unto thy posterity, which thy predecessors carefully procured for thee. But such commonly is the condition of man's nature, that he always doth desire an alteration of his estate, which maketh him, that hath great possessions left him by his parents (not knowing or considering what pains they used in the obtaining of it) to be careless how he consumeth it: he having no experience how hardly it was had at the first, foreseeth not how uneasily it is recovered when it is gone, or what the lack and loss of it is, when it is misspent. We see many times that a prodigal son succeed a miserable father: who, when he cometh to plenty (not by his own, but by his parent's industry) never ceaseth to seek mean, to spend that which others have gotten for him, being drawn by delight to lavish in expenses, with a vain opinion of getting fame, and procuring friends, or other preferments by his liberality, as he thinketh; but more truly by his prodigality, as others do think, and as himself shall find when all is gone, and when it is to late to grow thrifty. The reason of this is, that things which are hardly had, are sought with greatest desire, and kept with greatest care: and on the contrary side, we commonly see that when wealth or almost any other worldly benefit is bestowed on men freely, or that they obtain it without any great labour or difficulty, they than least esteem it, and are soon won to depart from it. Therefore to shun both these extremities of prodigality, and misery, in administering and bestowing of thy goods and possessions, which come to thee by inheritance, use this mediocrity, that plenty make thee not prodigal, nor poverty cause thee to be miserable: the mean in this, as in other things (though it be hard to attain unto) is the safest and the profitablest course, when it may be compassed and well kept: as the Poet saith.  


Horat lib. 1. serm. sa●. 1.  Est modus in rebus, sunt eerti denique fines,  
Quos ultra citraque nequit consistere rectum.   
which is,  

There is a golden mean in things,  
And certain bounds are pight.  
Beyond, beside, or short of which  
Cannot consist the Right.   
Then if a man grow to wealth, or great living by other men's gifts, such as were not his parents, or from whom he could not expect the same as an hereditary right; which happeneth divers times unlooked for to many: wealth so obtained, worketh like effect as that doth, which is had by inheritance; that is, it maketh him that cometh so suddenly and with so small travail to his abundance, to take the less care in keeping of it, or in spending it well; for such a one commonly will verify the old proverb, which saith, light come, light go: So did Caius Caligula, who consumed great treasures gathered together by Tiberius the Emperor. For it is reported of him, that he spent seavenscore thousand Sestertia in one year. So did Cleopatra the last Queen of Egypt, who at a supper, which she made to M. Antonius, putting an excellent pearl into tart vinegar, wherein being resolved, drank it, being esteemed at Centies Sesteria which is of our money 50000.li.  
Many such we have in these our days bearing the like prodigal minds, though they have not the like means and ability: who are as ready to spend all their wealth, whither by gift or by inheritance, yea and that as vainly as Heliogabalus, by wearing of precious stones in their shoes: or as Caesar the son of Pope Alexander the sixth, who spent every day two hundred crowns in banqueting, maintained a multitude of parasites, whom he fed and appareled on his own proper cost, and kept in pay eight thousand soldiers continually: all which prodigally and vamely he spent and consumed during his father's days. Have not divers heirs, and such as have large legacies in our days, spent as lavishly what they had, as their parents got the same wickedly? to whom may well be applied what the Poet writ of Canna, saying unto him thus: 


Mart. epig. lib. 9  Nam tu (dum metuis, ne quid post fatarelinquas)  
Hausisti patrias luxuriosus opes.   which is 

Thou hast consumed thy father's wealth,  
To feed thy lustful mind:  
For fear lest thou shouldst after death,  
Leave aught of it behind.    
Now touching the getting and spending of those possessions, which do accrue unto thee by thine own pains and industry: the goods so gotten, as they are obtained by thine own endeavours, so Desire was the mother, Pains the father, and Care the nurse of the new-born babe, Wealth: which many times maketh such as brought forth and nourished so unnatural a child, like unto the viper, which with the birth of her own young ones, is always bereft of her own life. Therefore in the getting and using of thy riches and wealth remember these rules, that the goods, which are evil gotten, do not bring so much present profit, pleasure, and prosperity, as they do cause future dangers, 
Ambr. sup. Luc. Lib. 8.  and yet the fault is not in the wealth, but in them, that have wrongfully gotten it, or in them, that cannot use their wealth well. For that is true, which one saith, 
Osorius.  that by how much the more any thing is in his own nature excellent, by so much the more is the abuse thereof pernicious and dangerous. So it is not the lawful use, but the unlawful abuse of riches & wealth, that is always condemned. Neither are the opinions of Crates, Antisthenes, and other Philosophers of their judgement, good and to be followed therein, who would not have any wealth (but gave away their goods) thinking that they would be hindrances to their desired happiness: wherein they were deceived, seeing that riches in themselves are neither good nor evil, but become such, as they are used: good to the good, and bad to the evil and wicked: 
Ambr, ut Sup.  to the good they are good helps to virtue and to virtuous actions: to the bad they are goads to prick forward, and supporters to maintain all evil and wicked actions: they make not a man the better that hath them, except they be well used, more than a golden bit makes a horse the better that beareth it: and to use them well is to enjoy them: as to use them evil, is to abuse them. The good or evil use of them also consisteth in the estimation that we make of the same. For if we grow once into to great a liking and love of our goods, than they steal away the heart of him, that hath them, and make him a slave to his own substance, according to that which the Poet saith: 


Ovid. fact. 1  Creverunt et opes, et opum furiosa cupido,  
Et cum possideant plurima, plura petunt.   That is, 

As riches doth increase with men,  
So furiously they rage:  
Still craving more, the more they have:  
What may their lust assagwe?    
So that they do, as the Tragedian testifieth, drink poison in gold: 
Sen. in Thy.  or as Midas, whom the Poets feigned to have desired of the Gods one petition, the which being granted him, he wished that whatsoever he might touch should be turned into gold; which he obtaining purchased nothing thereby but his own destruction. For when he should feed, his 〈◊〉 (by reason of his former request) becoming so hard a me●●●●●, might well choke his, but never nourish him. This was set down to signify how much harm they procure unto themselves which purpose nothing but the heaping of wealth without regard, how it is gotten or how it shall be spent. For it is true that juvenal saith, 

Tantis parta malis, curâmaiore, metuque  
Servantur: misera est magus custodia census.   that is, 

Ill gotten goods, are kept with greater care and fear:    
Great charge of wealth the miser's heart doth break & tear. Besides the wrongful getting of them, and the great care that he hath in keeping of them, there is as great danger in the evil using of them: either in not using them at all, but hording them up to the hurt of many: or else in employing of them otherwise, them they ought to be employed. They that have great store of goods, and use them not at all, keep them close, either because they know not what to do with them, or else because they cannot find in their hearts to deparr with them. For the first sort they are like unto them that have good horses in their stables (as Isocrates saith) and know not how to ride them, whereby for want of use they become altogether unprofirable. And as for the second sort, that have no desire to use their goods, though they know how to do it; they are not very unlike unto the sheape which makes so much of her youngons, that, with continual clasping of them, she many times crusheth them to death: so these covetous creatures (that know how to use their good, and will not) do so clasp it, and hide it in their coaffers, that with the close keeping thereof they do (as it were) crush it to death, for that they bury it in the sepulchre of forgetfulness, and unprofitableness. So than it is the estimation that we make of riches, which maketh a man either happy or unhappy in the getting, in the having, and in the using of his goods. For unless his mind be his moderator therein, there is no law, but the law of Reason, that can limit his desires. 
Plutarch. in Vit. Lycurgi.  Lycurgus' made a law among the Lacedæmonians to take away their coin of gold and silver, allowing them only coin made of iron; thinking that he thereby should have brought them to despise and contemn coin by the baseness of that metal; yet all this could not banish covetousness out of the city. For, their minds being basely bend, they were aswell in love and liking with the base, as with the better metals. Take away from a man all his wealth, yet you cannot take from him his covetousness. For that remaineth still in his mind. If he hath little, he desireth much, if he have much, he desireth more: so that desire is the fuel, that setteth his mind still on fire. If some men doubt why GOD giveth plenty of goods unto the bad, who knoweth not how to use them; and taketh it from the good, that can use them well; Augustine will answer them that if GOD should give his temporal blessings only unto the good, 
August. de verb. Dom. Serm. 12.  the evil would think that he ought to be glorified only for this and nothing else. Again, if he should give them unto the evil and wicked only, the weak would be afraid to be converted, lest that they thereby should want. If it should be taken from the evil, than they would think that this only should be their punishment. From the good he often taketh it, that they should desire better things; which they have not common with the wicked. Now that thou mayest make a right use of this Consideration, in weighing how thou hast gotten, and how thou dost spend thy wealth, observe always this, that in thy reasonable care to obtain sufficiency, thou keep unto thyself a safe conscience not to wrong them, with whom thou dost deal: and that thou grow not into to much love with thy wealth; in the dispensation thereof thou oughtest also to use justice unto thyself in observing these four circumstances, to Whom, Whou, Wherhfore, and How thou bestowest thy wealth; which if thou perform, than hast thou well considered, who thou art in the state of thy wealth.   

CHAP. 4. The Consideration of thyself, who thou art in the state of thy calling and Authority.  
FOr the Consideration of thyself who thou art in thy calling and dignity; either thy estate is honourable & worshipful, or mean. 
Two enemies unto an honourable estate. The first enemy.  If it be honourable, than hast thou two great adversaries to assail thee; the one without thee; the other within thee: that without thee is Envy: that within thee, is pride. Thy external enemy, Envy, is ever feeding and gnawing on thy felicity, so that it is impossible for thee to escape Envies jaws; and that especially, if by thy virtues thou be advanced and brought to an higher calling. For than thou shalt be sure to be set upon on all sides by this external enemy. 
Arist. lib. 2. Top. & 2 li. Eth. ca 7.  For Envy is (as it is defined) a grieving and a grudging at other men's prosperity and happiness. There are certain degrees, by which Envy doth work against them, that are envied by reason of their high callings come unto by their good deserts. The first is a secret murmuring, when they repine at his well-doing, whom they hate and would feign diminish his praise and glory. The second is, when by detraction they seek to deprive him of his good name. 
Ad Heren.  Of such Cicero saith, that they by other men's dispraise do hunt after their own commendations. The third, is when they do rejoice in the adverse fortune and fall of him, that hath been advanced for his worth and worthiness. The last is an evil affection and inward hatred, 
T. de Orat.  which they bear, grieving at the excellency of another man, and therefore seek his confusion. Cicero saith, that men do many times envy their equals, and their inferiors. For when they find themselves left behind, they are grieved that they are outgone by them: and very often do they envy their superiors, and that the more vehemently, by how much more highly they esteem or reckon of themselves, and in their judgement do pass the equality of common right by reason of the height of their dignity and fortunes. So we see that too high a calling is accompanied with Envy, but chief, when arrogancy and haughty behaviour is joined with it. And although that Envy, this external enemy, is very dangerous, yet is it never so hurtful unto a high estate or calling, as is the internal adversary pride. For the foreign foe, Envy, 
The second enemy.  may be easily prevented, because he cometh commonly to bid the battle with his banners displayed, so that he may thereby be discerned to be an enemy, and being known, may the more easily be withstood. But the domestical and inward enemy, Pride, doth more secretly assail thee, and stir up civil wars within thine own city and within thine own self: he cometh unawares to thee when thou knowest not of his coming: or if thou haste knowledge thereof (which is but seldom) yet he cometh not in the appearance and likeness of an enemy, but as a friend. For he maketh thee believe that he cometh to maintain thine honour, reputation, & credit: & therefore, not fearing or suspecting him, thou canst the more hardly resist him. And pride, this inward enemy, is so much the more perilous (as one saith) than other enemies, because other vices have power in our evil doings; 
Aug. lib. de nat. & gratia.  but this doth proceed and taketh strength and full growth of our good actions and best deeds.  
Besides these two forenamed adversaries, 
A third enemy.  an high estate or calling hath yet another enemy no less dangerous than the two former, which is, the flattery and dissimulation of Parasites: and surely there is no man advanced to any great calling, but shall be attended with such hypocrites, which are rather followers of his fortunes, then of himself; and are always ready to applaud even his worst actions, as honourable and virtuous: whereby they blindefolde him, and in the end drown him in the deep and dangerous pit of misbelief: neither will such soothing fellows give him any encouragement to undertake any virtuous action or laudable exercise. For they hold that no policy, sith they find it best to follow him in his own humours, which they take to be the only way to come by his love and favour: so that by these means great states, and men of high place and calling are soon corrupted in their conditions: and as, when they do amiss, few men dare tell them their faults; so their flatterers will be ready to make their faults seem no faults unto them: whereby such followers make them worse than of themselves they would be.  
Now to withstand these strong assaults, & to save thyself from such dangerous invasions of three so mighty impediments to the knowledge of thyself in the state of thy calling, as are Envy, Pride, and Flattery; use these weapons to defend thee: against Envy, use Virtue; against Pride and Ambition, use humility; and against Dissimulation, use Discretion, to make difference between faithful and flattering followers, and this may be a mark for any generous mind, among such as follow him. The faithful and such as desire his honour and credit, will not spare to tell him his faults; but the flatterer will forth him in all his doings. This if thou carry in thy remembrance, and put in practice, than hast thou well considered who thou art in, thy estate and calling.    

THE THIRD SECTION OF the first part of the Consideration of human Condition.  

CHAP. 1. The Consideration of thyself what manner of man thou art, first as touching thy learning.  
THe third and last point of Consideration concerning the knowledge of thyself is, what manner of man thou art. For as the second point of Consideration (which is, who thou art) doth appertain to the knowledge of of the body, with the ornaments that do belong to the outward estate thereof: so this last point of Consideration (which is, what manner of man thou art) doth chief contain the true understanding of those things, which do adorn the inward estate of the mind. To attain to the true knowledge whereof, it behoveth to have the helps of the intellectual, moral, and theological virtues. 
Lib. 6. Eth. ca 3.  The intellectual virtues are said of Aristotle to be five viz. Art, Prudence, Science, Sapience, & Intelligence. Intelligence is defined to be the habit of principles; Science is said to be the habit of conclusions, 
lib 6 Ethic. Eth. ca 6. & cap. 3.  by which we learn to distinguish truth from falsehood. By these, together with Art, Prudence, and Sapience (which are also parts of the intellectual habit, of some called the intellectual virtue) we learn those grounds that do lead us to the more perfect rules of pacifying our inordinate passions. For it is said that knowledge and learning do mollify men's manners. 
Ovid. lib. 2. de Pont.  But thou oughtest chief to know what kind of Art, and what knowledge it is, that can amend the mind of man, & then to follow the same. For there are some Arts, that when they be learned with great labour, yet are more hurtful than profitable: & there are some Arts (as they are oftentimes used) unnecessary, and some altogether unlawful. Those that are unnecessary be such, as yield no commodity or profit to the public weal, nor yet much to the private use of him that doth exercise them: as the vain use of Logic and Rhetoric, when he that hath some insight in them; hath not yet Reason how to use them: so that he maketh himself like to the prattling & prating Pie, 
Ovid. de Ph.  whereof the Poet speaketh thus: 

Picaloquax varias modulatur gutture voces  
Scurrils strepitu quic quid et audit, ait.   which is, 

The prattling Pie feigns every kind of voice,    
And what she hears, she speaks with chattering noise. These Arts are not in themselves unnecessary, although for want of the right use of them, they may be made unnecessary & unprofitable. Other Arts there are, that have more pleasure then profitable use in them, and in their own natures are nothing or very little necessary, as Music and the like: yet I know that the lovers and practisers thereof, will frame reasons to prove the profit and necessity of them. There are also other Arts, which are not only unnecessary, but are also altogether unprofitable and unlawful: as the use of that part of Astrology which some call Medicinary, wherein they would seem to set down the certain times of death, and life; of barrenness, and plenty; of war, and peace; of marriages, of pestilence, and the like future accidents. This Art in itself, is both unnecessary, unprofitable, unlawful, and uncertain. For, as Cornelius Agrippa (one that was much given to that study in his youth, 
Corn. de van scien.  and very excellently well seen therein) saith: Astrology hath nothing in it else but mere trifles, Poets fables, much and monstrous forgery and feigning, wherewith they have imagined that the heaven is replenished. 
Higher de nat.  Of whom another learned man saith, that these be they, which lift themselves up against the knowledge of all that is done, promising unto themselves a feigned knowledge, and referring the event of all things unto the rising, falling, and course of the stars, following therein their Mathematical errors. But we will leave these, as unlawful and altogether uncertain; and not worthy to be reckoned or esteemed of as an Arte. 
Lib. 6. Cap 4.  Aristotle doth define an Art to be a habit of doing with true reason. That therefore which hath no truth, nor true principles or certain grounds, can be no Arte. But, to come unto those Arts which are both profitable and necessary, we may do well to consider first, that Arts are either liberal, or illiberal and Manuary. The liberal are said to be the Seven sciences; and they may be called liberal, because they require a liberal mind to be bestowed on them, that is free from other cares, free from passions, free from sordiditie. The other Arts, which are Manuary, although they do not so much adorn the mind of man, yet are they necessary for the use of man, and they sustain his necessities, keeping him from idleness, which is the canker of the mind: yet omitting those Manuarie Arts, as matters that do not of themselves much beautify the mind, we will say somewhat concerning the knowledge of the other Arts, which are called the liberal Sciences, whereby it shall be seen what manner of men they are, that attain to the knowledge of them, and to be perfect Artistes. And first, as touching the obtaining of those Sciences; it hath been a question between Philosophers of former ages, whither knowledge, virtue, 
Whither virtue and knowledge be in us by Nature.?  and science were in us by nature, or that it came unto us by study and exercise: wherein Plato's opinion was disallowed and rejected of Aristotle and others. For Plato his position was this, that the soul and mind of man was at his first creation adorned and invested with all science, virtue, and knowledge, but that by reason of the infirmities of the body, it is (as he said) dulled & darkened with forgetfulness and ignorance: so that whatsoever man learneth afterwards it is but (as it were) a calling to remembrance, 
Scientia (ait Plato) est reminiscentia: scire est reminisci.  and a renewing or restoring of that, which first he knew. But Aristotle, that famous Philosopher, is an adversary to this opinion. For he doth not acknowledge any such absolute excellency in nature: but confesseth that there are in man by nature certain seeds and sparkles of knowledge. And we are said to know, 
Arist lib. 2. Ethic. cap. 1.  and to have science by Definition, and Demonstration. The Definition, and Demonstration we do gather from Particulars. 
Omnis doctrina et om.  For out of individuals we gather the Definition of the Special: and out of the specials, we gather the definition of the General. But these Definitions and principles of demonstration are not found or settled in the first frame and foundation of Naturc. For by help of the fantasy, which doth stir up and offer unto the mind the Idëas or imagination of things, the Mind doth gather the essence and qualities of things, which was not at the first perceived or planted therein. It may be conceived that Plato imagined that there should be absolute knowledge in man by nature, by reason that he read (as some have supposed) the first book of Moses, uz. Genesis, whereof his works do savour somewhat: and finding therein that man at the first was created absolutely good, 
Genes. Cap. 1  according to the likeness of him that created him, he was moved to imagine and think (as you have heard) that he knew allthings at the first, never remembering, or little regarding to examine further of his fall: and how Man, desiring to know good and evil (whereof he was ignorant, and therefore knew not all things) did thereby lose that light of knowledge, which was originally engraffed in him; whereby also all his posterity were and are plunged in the sea of ignorance, as a punishment paid on them, and on us all for our first Parent's disobedience. And although that Aristotle seemeth to refute Plato's reason of man's perfect knowledge by Nature, yet he himself affirmeth that all Doctrine and all discipline proceedeth out of a praeexestent knowledge. 
Arist. Lib. 1. Poster. Cap. 1  Whereby he might seem in some sort to consent with Plato's conclusion. Yet this is to be understood that, that knowledge, which we have is praeeistent, yet not in us, but in them, from whom we do receive it. Which is made plain by an other plaice in the same Author, where he saith: that, that doctrine & science proceedeth from man unto man according to the comparison which the teacher hath unto him that is taught: 
Idem. lib. 1. Poetriae.  this is a proof that it cometh not by Nature, but by instruction.  
But now to to conclude this point of Consideration of knowledge and learning, we ought to know that the beginning & ending of true knowledge and learning is to know ourselves. Therefore by how much more thy knowledge and learning doth abound, by so much more ought thy humility to exceed: lest, forgetting thyself, thy knowledge and thy learning do little benefit thee. Which rules if thou always remember, than hast thou considered thyself aright what manner of man thou art touching thy knowledge and learning.   

The consideration of thyself what manner of man thou art in thy wisdom. CHAP. 2.  
HAVING considered thyself. What manner of man thou art concerning thy knowledge in learning, as in Arts & sciences: it cometh next in course that thou shouldest consider what manner of man thou art in thy wisdom (for Wisdom is said also to be one of the intellectual Habits) & this by some is divided into two parts, that is; into prudence and sapience. Prudence (as they affirm) is the knowledge of human affairs only; 
Aug lib. de Trin. Cicer. lib. 4. Tusc.  but Sapience pertaineth to the knowledge of things both divine and human: which is the cause that we imitate divine things, and all human inferior matters are lead by the force thereof. Therefore if some men esteem Prudence (which is commonly called Policy) to be the chiefest part of Wisdom: yet how short this Prudence or human policy is of that true wisdom, which containeth the knowledge of things divine and human, we may measure it in this, that by how much the heavens are higher than the earth; by so much the knowledge of heavenly things is more worthy, and more excellent than the knowledge of human affairs & earthly things. 
Plut. lib. de morals vertute.  Prudence also is unperfect and uncertain being (as a wise Philosopher affirmeth) many times drowned in things full of errors and of turbulence, and it is constrained to be coupled with things casual, to use Consultation in matters doubtful, which being done, it must use the help of things unreasonable for assistance. As touching the parts of Prudence, which are reakoned to be Reason, Understanding, Circumspection and the like, as they are good helps to furnish and set forth the praise of Prudence; so are they but seldom seen to some & concur altogether in one: or if any one doth attain to that excellency of Prudence, so as he do possess all the parts thereof, yet doth it serve but to set before him heaps of cares, and Labyrinths of difficulties: so that the works of Prudence and human Policy may very well be compared to the Spider, who taketh great pains, and useth great art (in her kind) to weave her web, which when it is finished, doth serve to no other use, but to catch some few little fearful flies: as for the great flies they either go by the weak web, or through it without any danger at all: and many times after all the pains taken therein, either the violence of winds, or of some other fowl weather on the sudden doth deface and destroy that wrought web. So falleth it out full often with the workmanship of human Policy. For when a man by Prudence and human Policy hath fashioned some cunning, fine, or artificial web (fair to the outward appearance of the world) and that withal the devises, that a curious and a painful conceit can frame; yet (in a manner) it is but as if it were a work to catch flies in the air, or (in deed) fools with vain allurements upon the land: as for the greater flies, which are as strong and cunning as the Spider herself, they will catch the Spider as soon, or rather, than the Spider shall intercept or entangle them. Admit thou (oh worldly Politic man, whosoever thou art) that thou hast woven thy web with the thread of Prudence very strongly, procuring thyself great patrimonies, honourable alliance, preferments many, and high advancements: yet perchance on the sudden, and when thou thinkest least of it, some sudden storms of ill fortunes will fall upon thee, and so tumble thee in thy wrought web of Prudence and Policy, that it will be all to rent and torn in pieces: or what thou dreamest least of, the last Conqueror Death, he cometh, and (as an unplacable enemy) breaketh in pieces thy whole web so prudently wrought and so politicly finished to thine own content, to the great joy of thy friends, & to the wonder & admiration of most men. But lest we should be thought to set aside all estimation, and to make no account of Prudence, or human Policy, which in worldly matters carrieth so great a stroke amongst men, it were not amiss to examine the parts of Prudence and to estimate thereby the value thereof: and they are reakoned by some to be, Reason, Circumspection, Counsel, and the like. 
Macrob. in Com. somn. Scip.  Now Reason as it is a part of Prudence (for Reason sometimes is taken for the principal faculty of the soul & so it is the subject of Prudence and other Intellectual Virtues) is the discourse of the understanding by which the universal principles of things that may be done, are applied unto particular things which are to be done, though divers & uncertain. And so Reason & Understanding are not distinguished as two divers powers, but as two divers acts of the same power. For, to reason, is to proceed from one understanding unto another, yet every kind of Reasoning is not that part of Prudence, which we speak of in this place, because, if we take Reasoning largely in that sense, as it is a proceeding from principles unto conclusions, as in Syllogisms, and in the Art of arguing either Rhetorically, or Logically; this is rather to be reackoned as an Art of Reasoning, than Reason itself. For if Reason did consist in speaking eloquently, or in disputing subtly, than the idle Rhetorician, and the subtle Sophyst should be most possessed, and best endued with Reason; and consequently, should enjoy chief that part of Prudence. Isidorus saith, that Discretion is the provident fore-seer in judging the causes of things, 
Isidor. in Sin  & the reason of moderating men's minds: according to which application Reason is applied or defined by him to be, the order of doing things proceeding from their cause, as, what, in what place, and, how thou shouldest do, speak, and understand.  
Next unto Reason, 
though Agu. Sec. 2.  Circumspection claimeth a place in the effects and operation of Prudence: which is defined to be the attention of circumstances in moral matters: and if it be an attention of circumstances, than it must consider what doth belong unto place, person, and time: and not so much to follow the time in all things. For that were irreligious, although some Politicians prescribe that as a good rule, & very requisite to be observed of prudent men: but to yield unto necessity is a rule, which both Reason and Circumspection doth teach us, because we are not thereby constrained to forsake the bounds and law of honesty. In this, Conjecture comes in as an harbinger, to lodge the Circunstances of our Circumspection, and to prepare the way to Election, as what, when, and how, things ought to be done: neither may there be too much Circumspection used (for that it oftentimes turneth to jealousy, or suspicion without cause) & as the Comedian concludeth: 
Plaus. in Cap.  he, that is most circumspect, lest he be deceived, is scarce circumspect mough, when he is most circumspect, and this provident man, when he is most careful, is most commonly caught. After Circumspection cometh Counsel, bringing with it the Conclusion of Prudence. For after Counsel there is nothing to be performed but the execution thereof, which is the end & event of things. 
Cic. lib. 1. Rhet. Jdem lib. 2.  This Counsel is called the inquisitive appetite of doing things thought upon with Reason: and the same author saith, that it is the subtle foreseeing of the mind in causes to be examined or governed: to the attaining whereof Seneca giveth singular precepts, 
Senecatract. de virtute.  saying; if thou desire to be prudent, intend and extend thy foresight to future things, and ponder what may come to pass: let those things that must needs be done of thee, be (as it were) before thee always and in thy sight, For he that is wise, saith not, I thought this could not be; he doubteth not what shall happen, but expecteth and looketh for it; he doth not suspect it, but he doth look and provide to prevent it: seek therefore (saith he) if thou wilt prove wise in deed, the cause of every thing, & having found the beginning, consider and bethink with thyself what may be the end thereof. These precepts that concern Counsel (though they are excellent) yet notwithstanding are easier to be given, then to be followed or put in practice and accomplished: this is the substance of all difficult matters and such as have need of Consultation; wherein we find by common experience that every man can more readily, and with words more liberally advise another man what he should do, then if the case did concern himself. For anxiety and doubt of doing that, which a man may damage himself by, doth divers times so distract his senses between fear and forthinking, that his judgement thereby is much and mightily darkened. In Counsel therefore, whether it be for a man his own self, or for his friend a due Deliberation of any thing in doubt is always requisite. For, as Seneca saith, there are two things, 
Sen. in Proverb.  which are contrary and adverse to good Counsel, that is festination, or overmuch haste; and Anger, or choler. And the same author adviseth every man to deliberate long of that thing, which he must do & perform, though it were but once.  
If thou wilt understand, what manner of man thou art in owing and possessing of Prudence or worldly Policy, or whither thou be happy or unhappy in having thereof, let this be unto thee as a certain rule, that it is, as all other worldly blessings are unto thee. Gold is good, if it be turned to good uses: yea it is also evil, & maketh thee evil to, if thou do not use it well. Such is the effect of Prudence or human Policy: it worketh also according as thou dost use it. For as Seneca saith, if a prudent man exceed his bounds, 
Sen. lib. de benef.  he showeth himself to be a subtle searcher of things hidden; a finder and a follower of all faults, evil, full of pride, crafty, an enemy to innocency, a commender of crimes, and in conclusion, accounted of by all men as of a lewd person, ungodly, and very wicked. And this is true, that men, which are by nature politic and well practised, or of great experience in worldly matters, if they follow not a right course, apply their hearts and wits to that which is good, keeping themselves within the compass of honesty and a good Conscience, they are of all people most pernicious and most dangerous to converse, or to be dealt withal.   

CHAP. 3. The Consideration of thyself, what manner of man thou art touching the perturbations of the mind.  
THe Mind of man may be compared unto a compass or a card, by which the seamen do direct their course. Which if it be truly drawn, & the points thereof perfectly observed; then the passengers most commonly do come safe & quietly unto the haven & harbour, where they would be, but if the Pilot do not place his compass aright, & perfectly observe the points thereof, then usually the ship, wherein he saileth, is driven out of the right course, and happily runneth against the rocks. Such is man's estate in this miserable world, which is the sea, wherein he saileth: his mind is his compass, & if that be not uprightly placed & directed by the points of Reason, than the compass serveth to no use, but he is carried a wrong way with the violent storms of passions & perturbations of the mind against the rocks of miseries & many misfortunes in this world. Seeing then that a quiet, a settled, & a contented mind is the only mean & compass to carry us from the crosses & calamities of this world, & to convey us unto the harbour & haven of happiness: seeing also that the Perturbations of the Mind do much hinder the true course of tranquillity & of felicity in this life: It were not amisle to examine the entrances & passages by which these Perturbations do overwhelm the mind of man, which being found out, it will be the more easy to avoid the inconveniences and dangerous effects thereof.  
Divers and very doubtful have been the opinions of ancient Philosophers concerning the Perturbations of the mind, as what they should be, & from whence they should proceed? whether they were only active or passive qualities, or else mixed of both? what the number of them should be? Whether all kinds of perturbations were to be rejected? with divers other such doubts, wherein they did much dister. And because it doth very much concern the knowledge of man's self what manner of man he is, to be informed touching the perturbations of the mind, we will say somewhat therein.  
Zeno, being the principal of of the Stoic Philosophers doth define. 
Cicero lib. 4. Tuscu. quest  Perturbation (as Cicero allegeth) to be an averse commotion of the mind contrary to Reason. This definition some others have seemed to dislike. For they say that every kind of Perturbation is not altogether averse and contrary unto Reason, although most kinds of Perturbations be void of Reason. Which Aristotle affirmeth, when he saith that A virtue is conversant about pleasure and grief. 
Arist. lib. 2. Ethic cap. 3.  Also Epicurus allegeth that the chief felicity of man consisteth in pleasure, wherein he is misconceived of many; for he placeth this pleasure wholly in virtue and virtuous actions, and not in the pleasures of the body, as divers do untruly understand him. Neither do the strict rulers of theology absolutely take away all kinds of Perturbations from the mind of man, for as Saint Augustine saith, 
August. de Civita. Dei.  the citizens of the holy and heavenly city do fear, desire, grieve, and rejoice, and yet because their love is right, they have also their affections upright.  
Likewise the heroical virtues as fortitude and magnanimity have some of the Perturbations of the mind, as their instruments for the objects of them: as honour, glory, & victory are never obtained or attempted but thorough the prosecution of some of those Perturbations. But lest our meaning might be mistaken, and that some should suppose that we go about to allow all the Perturbations. of the mind as either necessary or tolerable, we will distinguish of Perturbations, and consider of their course either in respect of the subject, in which they are, or the objects, about which they are conversant, & the end, to which they tend. The subjects, in which they are, are of two sorts: First Creatures wanting Reason, as beasts, which by natural instinct do fear that which may be hurtful unto their kind, & they desire that, which is for the preservation of their kind. And in them these Perturbations are not against Reason, although the subjects, in which these Perturbations are, be void of Reason. But the Stoics affirm that there are no Perturbations in beasts, yet the Peripatetics and the Academics allege the contrary, that beasts have by Nature a proanes to pleasure and grief, to love and hatred, following and forsaking: all which are properly called Perturbations. The next subject, in which these Perturbations are, may be Man himself, and the Perturbations, wherewith he is possessed, may be either tolerable; or intolerable, according to the objects, about which, and the end, to which they are directed. And there is some kind of Perturbations in man not only void of Reason, but contrary to Reason. As when a man naturally endued with Reason, doth usually yield unto unreasonable actions, following his Concupiscible Appetite in lust, or the like vain Pleasures; or else the Irascible Appetite in anger, vengeance and the like, being prone through the instigation of these Perturbations to do that, which tendeth unto the destruction of his own kind: and these Perturbations are not only contrary to Reason, but even altogether raised and blotted out of Reason's books. There is an other kind of Perturbation in man (as it may in some sort so be called) which yet worketh with, and by Reason, as that Delight, and joy, which we take in virtue, and virtuous actions; and that Displeasure & Offence, which we conceive at them that do viciously behave themselves. In this here is Delight, & Displeasure, which are reackoned as Perturbations, and yet the grounds of them proceed from Reason, and work with Reason, or at the least, not contrary to Reason.  
Now next for the number of the Perturbations, they have been always left uncertain, 
Plato. de Repub. li. 9  and not agreed upon. For Plato would have them to be innumerable, when as he doth call the Concupiscible Appetite, a beast of many heads. For it containeth desire, delight, love, 
Cicero. lib. 4. Tuscul.  pleasure, and others almost infinite. Cicero according to the opinion of the Stoics affirmeth that there are four first heads of the Perturbations, under which the rest are placed, as grief, fear, joy, and lusts, He saith in that place that there are contained under grief, Envy, Emulation, Oblectation, Bewailing, Carefulness, Affliction, Desperation and such like. Under fear he putteth Sloth, Shame, Terror, Astonishment, and the like. Under pleasure he placeth Delectation, Desire, and many other, so that he setteth down no certain number of the Perturbations, although he alloweth, as it were certain roots, out of which the rest should spring But yet most do consent, that there are two foundations or fountains, from whence the rest of the Perturbations do proceed; that is, the Concupiscible and the Irascible Appetites: the Perturbations following the Concupiscible Appetite, are love, hatred, desire, delectation, and sorrow: so likewise the Perturbations which appertain to the Irascible Appetite, are hope, desperation, fear, boldness, disdain, presumption, and the like.  
Then as concerning the course of these two principal roots of Perturbation with their particular baranches, if thou wouldst know how they do come or make entrance into the Mind of man, and thereby way with thyself, What manner of man thou art therein, know that there is no man living absolutely free and clear from all these Perturbations of the Mind, and although some men are more subject unto them than others are, yet there is not any, that is not molested with some of them. Notwithstanding, it is more usual to men of some age and estate to be encumbered with some particular Perturbations, then to others. Also they are more incident to one sex then to an other. Likewise they come to some by Nature, and to other some by Accident. As for exampleahe Concupiscible Appetire with his several branches is more common, and yet not so continual as is the Irascible. For to love, to hate, to desire, to delight, to dislike, are things common to all men, though not at all times. And they come more by Accident than by Nature: And yet sometimes by both. But the Irascible Appetite with his particular parts doth much possess many men by Nature; as some are from their cradle fearful: some are by Nature angry and washpish; some are always impatient: some are never but presumptuous & the like. As touching the Perturbations proceeding from the Irascible Appetite, some have affirmed that they come of hot blood, stirred up about the heart, which doth kindle and inflame the spirits with an imagination of anger & offence. And (as one saith) there are five degrees, by the which men are stirred up to wrath & anger; the first is, Man against himself: the second is man against man: the third is against his superior power, as God: the fourth is against his inferiors, as beasts and other creatures without reason: the fift is against things without life. As for the first, which is the anger, that man conceiveth against him. self: it may in some sort be lawful and commendable, as when he is angry with himself for his offence committed in doing any dishonest thing: this anger is lawful, but when he is angry with himself, because he cannot do that, which he would, or cannot have that, which he desireth, being things either impossible or unprofitable to be performed, or else unlawful or unmeet to be desired; this kind of anger is against Reason. The next, which is the wrath that one man conceiveth against an other, this may be either tolerable or intolerable, as the cause thereof is, or as he, which is offended, doth'carrie and behave himself in the course of his wrath: the cause of anger may be such, that to conceal it, were not commendable. For when a man's good name is taken away unjustly by a slanderer or backbitter, to conceal this is not commendable: because he that is slandered, being silent, seemeth to condemn himself; yet the anger that is conceived in this case, ought not to extend presently unto extremity of revenge. For if the party moved may be satisfied with the confession of his accuser that he hath wronged him, or that he can otherwise prove himself wronged, whereby the world is satisfied, that he was slandered, his anger ought to be appeased. Third kind of anger, which is of man against his maker, is both irreligious and unreasonable, and may rather be called madness, than anger. For it is like his condition, that throweth stones into the air upright, and standeth still, until they fall upon his own head. The fourth, which is the anger of man against beasts, is but little more than bestial, when the unreasonable creature shallbe angry with the unreasonable. The fift of man against things without life showeth that he wanteth that reason, which should be the light of his own life.  
Somewhat should be said as concerning the cause & course of the Concupiscible Appetite, but because we desire to avoid tediousness, and that the shortness of time alloweth no large discourse, I will conclude with some short precept for the avoiding of these two perilous Appetites of the mind; which are the Irascible and the Concupiscible Appetite. Therefore if thou wilt shun those two so cruel adversaries unto a contented mind, as are the Concupiscible and Irascible Appetite, thou must first learn what manner of man thou art in suffering or in suppressing of these Appetites of the mind; thou must call unto thy remembrance & knowledge the use of Intellectual, Moral & Theological Virtues.  
Next in place (but before in operation & effect) are the Moral virtues, which do incline and invite men to do things honest and lawful: these do help much to quiet the Perturbations of the mind & to make a man know what manner of man he is. But especially the sour Moral virtues, which are called Cardinal virtues, do much further the conquering of those Passions: as Temperance, Prudence, Fortitude and justice. They are called Cardinal virtues, a Cardine, signifying the hinge of a door: because as on the hinge the gate is turned, shut and opened; so the heart of man, which is the hinge of the door in doing all good actions, is opened to things honest, & shut against things unhonest by force of these virtues. And although those four, called the Cardinal virtues, be of greatest force, yet all the rest do serve in some sort to govern the Perturbations of the Mind, and to make a man know what manner of man he is: As Magnificence, Magnanimity, Liberality, Modesty, Mansuetude, Urbanity, Affability. Whereof some do respect the body with the Mind, some do direct the Mind most.  
Those, which require the body's assistance (although they have wholly the minds direction) are Fortitude and Magnanimity: some belong unto the government of the senses as Temperance unto the two senses of Touching and Tasting. But Continency appertaineth to the moderating of all the senses. Some others do serve for direction of manners, as Affability in words or speech; Urbanity or civility in deeds. So by the help of those Moral virtues thou mayest learn to master the Perturbations of the Mind appertaining either to the Concupiscible or srascible Appetite. For by Fortitude thou mayest overcome Fear: by Mansuetude thou mayest conquer Impatience, anger, & such like; by Temperance and Continency thou mayest subdue Immoderate desires, as lust and such other like passions and Perturbations of the mind, where with men are much overwhelmed. Yet because Virtue is said to be a mediocrity betwixt two vices having the excess on the one side, 
Arist. lib. 2. Lib.  and the defect on the other; how hard then it is always to keep the Mean and not to fall on either side, every man may easily see and know. For as we see travelers, who have a long journey to make, sometimes do meet with many ways in one place, some turning on the right hand, some on the left, and others going outright: yet of all these ways there is but one, which is the right way, and that often seems to be the unlikeliest way, when that, which leadeth to his journeys end, is not so beaten a way, nor so much bending (as the passenger persuaded himfelse) unto his right course: so fareth it with them that travel in the tedious journey of this life: the world is our high way, which hath in it many by-paths, & the poor passengers, that travel therein, are divers times distracted, & in much doubt for the choice of their way. For the fairest way in appearance is not always (nay it is seldom) the right way: 
Xenoph. lib. 1. Paed. Cyr.  & the wrong ways are much more beaten and much more easy to find then the true way. For if a man will follow the foot steps of others example, he shall find a broad-beaten path, which is commonly the worst, and the wrong way. It is not the mediocrity, but it is the way that leadeth unto the excess, or to the defect. Therefore since it is so hard a matter to find the right way in conquering the Perturbations of the mind, it behoveth every man (if he will be master over his own Affections) to call unto his aid (besides the Intellectual & Moral virtues before named) the Theological virtues, which are Faith, Charity, Piety, Patience, and the like: by the power whereof (and the permission and assistance of him that granteth them) he may well manage his own mind, and all the Perturbations thereof. But because the consideration hereof appertaineth to the knowledge of those things, that are above, it must be lest unto that last point of Consideration.  
In the mean time thou mayest (by that little which hath been here laid down) learn somewhat concerning the knowledge of thyself (which is the first of the four principal points of Consideration) and in this thou hast seen somewhat, what, who, and what manner of man thou art.    
FINIS.