ESSAYS Of Certain PARADOXES. At London, Printed for Th. THORP. 1616. praised. K. RICHARD the 3d The French POCKS NOTHING Good to be in DEBT THE PRAISE OF King RICHARD the THIRD. THat Princes are naturally ambitious, and that Ambition makes them to effect their desires, rather than to affect the equity of their designs, may more truly then safely be avowed. For all of them, I think, were the record of their actions indifferent, might be taxed of this vice. But this excuse clears not the accused; yet it testifies, that Princes err against nature, if they aspire not. We hold (not without reason) that if the bill of the Plaintiff be stuffed with frivolous assertions, that the complaint favoureth more of malice, then of wrong. Why should not the same Axiom be a motive to clear this wronged Prince, whose accusers lay to his charge the anguish his Mother felt, when he came into the world? then which accusation what can be more frivolous; it being a punishment hereditary to all women, from the first? His being toothed, as soon as borne, seems to me rather a blessing, than any imputation, as being a presage of his future worthiness, and as all Nurses will confess, an ease of much pain and danger. But he was crook-backt, lame, il-shapen, ill-favoured. I might impute that fault to Nature, but that I rather think it her bounty: for she being wholly intentive to his mind, neglected his form, so that she infused a strait mind in a crooked body, wherein she showed her careful providence. For oftentimes, the care to keep those parts well form, withdraws men's minds from better actions, and drowns them in effeminate curiosity. His lameness turned to his glory; for with those imperfect limbs, he performed actions most perfectly valiant. How rightly his Father a Rich. D. of York, father of Edw. the fourth George D. of Clarence, & Rich. the third. claimed, his brother b Edw. E. of March, eldest son of R. D. of York, after K. by the name of Edw. the fourth. obtained the Sceptre, is sufficiently known, and therefore superfluous and impertinent: and also how his brother dusked his right, (if right) by abrogating the oath, which he swore at York, that his coming in arms was only for that Dukedom. c For the Dukedom of York, as his right, fro his father D. of York. But to dilate how variable, and inconstant the people of those times were, shall be more necessary and effectual, that knowing their inconstancy, their traditions (like themselves) may the less be believed: so lightheaded, so foolish, so irreligious, as their opinion (for what else are the thoughts of Ignorance but opinion) made them break their oath to their Prince, d K. Henry the sixth. and to such a Prince as they did not shame to dislike, only because he was too good. Him they abandoned, deposed, after restored; not as desiring, (being guilty of their own fault) but only that it stood with the liking of Warwick the child of their love. e Rich. Nevile Earl of Warwick, surnamed the King-maker If then they were such, (as indeed they were) and that those relations we have, must come from that people, it were better (I think) to bury their traditions, then refute their objections, were not our age, apt to err, infected with this folly. For his brother K. Edward: f K. Edward the fourth. though his vices seem not to add virtues to this condemned Prince, yet questionless they do; making all his ill-estimated actions of an other nature. He obtained the Crown, but rather fortunately, then wisely, were not all wisdom thought folly, to which Fortune lends not success. For I think, Lust, or if you will term it Love, could not more have prevailed with the most licentious creature, then at once to break the bonds of amity, discretion and policy; and all to enjoy a woman, in respect of his height, base: a widow, g Lady Eliz. Grace, widow of Sir john Grace Knight, afterward married to K. Edward the fourth. and of his enemy, without bringing him either alliance, or riches; props most pertinent to his new-erected buildings. Wherein, besides his breach of regal discretion, with his chiefest friend the Earl of Warwick, whom he had sent into France, to treat of marriage between him and the Lady Bona, h Lady Bona, Niece to the French King Lewes the eleventh, & daughter to Lewes D. of Savoy. (wherein being deluded, he became his mortalest enemy) his abuse to God was more abominable; being before betrothed (as his own mother constantly affirmed) to the Lady Elizabeth Lucy: in testimony whereof he had laid such earnest, i For he had got her with child. as should have bound any common man, much more a King, to performance. How soon the wrath of God followed this his irreligious inconstancy, his being driven from the Seate-Royall into exile; the birth of his son in a Sanctuary; (having no place else of freedom in his Father's kingdom) the misery of all his partakers sufficiently testify. In which general misery, who did more truly follow him? Who more faithfully aided him, than his now disgraced Brother? Whereas his other Brother k George D. of Clarence, second brother of K. Ed. the 4. Clarence not only left him, but joined in marriage l He married Isabella, daughter of Richard Nevil Earl of Warwick. with the daughter of his principal enemy, and holp to expulse him: with what love, what constancy, his endeavours, his adventuring his life to restore him, doth witness. Never was he noted all the life of K. Edward, to thirst after the Kingdom; never denied he any commandment of his Prince, but performed all his employments discreetly, valiantly, successfully. The suspicion of helping his Brother Clarence to m He was drowned in a Malmsey butt in the Tower. his end, was but a suspicion, since the kings old displeasure awaked by a new prophesy, was undoubttedly the cause; if otherwise (when he after repented him) he would have misliked of Gloucester, it being natural to sin; but unnatural, to ease others of their crimes. For the kill of the Heir of the house of Lancaster at Tewksburie, n Edw. Prince of Wales, son of K. Henry the 6. slain after the battle of Tewksbury. (if so) seems to me, rather the effect of love to his Brother, than cruelty to the Prince: for he was an enemy, yea, the chief and principal enemy of the contrary faction. Yet it cannot be proved the action of Richard, but that it was an act wished by the King to be done, and executed in both their presences, by the Duke of Clarence, the marquess Dorset, the Lord Hastings and others. The death of Henry o The death of Henry the 6 in the Tower. the 6. in the Tower, can no way belong to him, since the same reason that cleareth his Brother, fitteth him; he being able, if desiring his death, to have effected it by a more unworthy hand. And indeed this accusation hath no other proof, than a malicious affirmation. For many (more truly) did suppose that he died of mere melancholy and grief, when he had heard of the overthrow of his friends, and slaughter of his son. But if it were true, though it spots him with blood, yet it confirms his love to his Prince; which love was so coldly requited, as might have moved a true lover of Rewards more than of Virtue, to have altered his endeavours, whether it were a jealousy of the Nobility of his blood, or of the height of his spirit, whether the abundance of affection to be led by a woman, or that he was defective in all brotherly affection, certain it is, he rather employed him, then rewarded his employments. Contrary, the Queen's kindred, daily to rise, merely without desert, but that they were of her kindred; and their baseness being thus suddenly exalted, not only to pluck from him promotions, due to his deserts, but to envy the Duke, and contend with him; how insupportable it must be to so magnanimous a spirit, whose memory bear witness of their unworthiness, his own worth, any like spirit may imagine. Thus continued this unequal contention, until the King, sent for before the great a The death of K. Ed. the 4. King of Kings, to make an account of his greatness, left his body, to testify the world's folly in contending for Worlds, when one little part of the earth must contain them. b King Edward Prince of Wales son to K. Ed. the 4. His successor at that time very young, was wholly possessed by the mother's blood, whom the c Richard D. of Gloucester made Protector. now Protector had great reason to fear, being ever his mortal enemy, and now most strong, by being most nearly allied to this Prince: Therefore jealous of his own preservation, of the safety of the Commonweal, and of the ancient Nobility, with great reason and justice he executed them, whom, if he had suffered to live, were likely enough to have been the destruction of him, it, and them. But the deed accomplished, stirred up no little fear in the Queen-Mother, and her faction: For the Queen's taking Sanctuary with her younger son d Richard D. of York, younger son of Edward the 4. Richard Duke of York, without any cause that he knew, drove Gloucester to suppose that they doubted of their right, and put him in possibility of obtaining his own: wherein by ambitious e Hen. Stafford D. of Buckingham. Buckingham he was assisted, who then related to him afresh the unlawful Marriage of his Brother, that being unlawful, consequently his children were bastards, and so undoubtedly the Crown was lawfully his; to which discourse he annexed protestations of furtherance. Though perhaps an earthly spirit would not have been moved with these motives, but rather have desired safety, than Sovereignty: yet in a true Heroic spirit, whose affect is aspiring, they could not but be embraced, using the wings of Time, to bring him to that height. Be not obstinate (Mortality) against this climbing Axiom, for hourly you commit worse errors, more groveling, more base. Were it not common, every days issue, it were admirable to note the impudency of man, who at this instant condemns actions, which himself would instantly accomplish, were he permitted by occasion. The Queene-mothers' fear, his own right, Buckingham's aid, and his own jealousy to erect a Prince, too young to govern himself, much less others, but was likely to be governed by his Mother, and her kindred, the Protectors mortalest enemies, men of mean birth, not enured to government, such as were likely to destroy the ancient Peers, to fortify their new Nobility, could not but draw a true discerning spirit, to favour himself, to protect the ancient Nobility, to defend the people from being wasted, and oppressed by the ambition and tyranny of new unexperienced Statists, and to respect his own preservation, rather than others. For well he saw he could not live, unless he were a King; that there was no safety, but in Sovereignty. Should I put thee in choice (condemning Reader) whether thou wouldst not be, rather than be a King; thou wouldst perhaps answer no: but that answer should proceed, rather from the knowledge of thy want of power to Royalize thee, then through the abundance of thy modesty. No, no, it is a desire befitting the most worthy desirer; and were all men's affections so high, their actions would not prove so unwor-thy. The State being thus in labour with Innovation, the Peers in counsel about their Infant King's Coronation, all busy, yet dissenting in their business; in a Council holden at the Tower, Hastings Lord f Wil L. Hastings, Chamberlain to Edward the 4. Chamberlain was apprehended, and no sooner apprehended, but executed. The not leisurely proceeding by form of Law, may seem to plead Hastings innocency, the Pretectors' cruelty. But they that consider the nature of the people of that time, apt to sedition, greedy of innovation, and likely to be glad of so pitiful a colour (for Hastings was a man grown very popular) will hold the Protector in that action very judicial, and, if guilty of any thing, of discretion, and policy: But could Hastings be innocent, whom g Phil. de Commines, Lord of Argenton in his History. Commines reporteth to be a Pensioner of the French King, Lewis the 11. the only subtle Prince of that time? he, of all others, that most affected tyranny, and was naturally the mortal enemy of this kingdom. Or was he fit to be a Statesman or Counsellor, who being corrupted by the bribes of an enemy, had dissuaded his Master, the late King Edward the 4. from assisting the oppressed Lady a Marry sole daughter and heir of Charles D. of Burgundy, after married to Maximilian the Emperor. the heir of Burgundy, against Lewes the French King, whereby that Lady was driven to seek aid elsewhere, who, otherwise, was likely to have married with the Duke of Clarence, or some other English Prince, and so to have united that Dukedom to this Crown, to the eternal benefit and security of both Countries; who gloried in his private revenges, who not only enticed his Master, but accompanied him in all sensuality: who in the deflowering of men's wives, c Shore's wife. and such other his unprincelike actions, was his perpetual attendant, and sometimes (as it is thought) would begin to him? d Doct. Shaes' Sermon at Paul's Crosse. Doctor Shaes' Sermon not a little illustrates the malice of his accusers: For I think, no man that is discreet, will imagine this Prince so indiscreet, as to have witness that he commanded that Sermon, and gave instructions what should be said: Then how do our Chroniclers report it for truth, were not their malice greater than either their truth, or their judgement? But they are Historians, and must be believed. Alas, poor men, how would they be believed, whose greatest authorities (as a learned and honourable Knight writeth) are built upon the notable foundation of hearsay? Sir Philip Sidney in his defence of Poetry. men that have much aid to accord differing writers, and to pick truth out of partiality. But it is not mentioned, that Shaw ever executed this action, with alleging him to be the cause. It is likely indeed, that Shaw being ambitious, gaping after preferment, supposing some such intent in the Protector (as he had a reaching head) was bold to set his Rhetoric to sale, to publish his fancies: but seeing his hopes vanish into smoke, and his expectation deluded, seeing the Protector neither rewarded, nor regarded his Rhetoric, he soon after languished and died: a just example to teach Theologians so boldly to intermeddle with Prince's affairs, before they be commanded: for (doubtless) had the Protector set him a work, he would have paid him his hire. But if it were so, that he commanded the Sermon (as that is yet unproved) was that an offence to make the people so publicly partakers of his right; yea, to prostitute his cause to their judgements? for charging his Mother with adultery, was a matter of no such great moment, since it is no wonder in that sex: And surely he had more reason to adventure her fame, than his Kingdom, because of two evils it is wisdom to choose the least. If it were true, it was no injustice to publish it; and what could be expected from his, but true justice, who was so impartial, that he would not spare his own mother? if untrue; good faith, he was therein too blame, and her innocency the more meritorious; but certain it is, the people approved his right: for he was crowned f The Coronation of K. Richard the third. with such consent, and so great applause both of Peers and people, that if we will judge by the outward behaviour (the only mark our judgements may or can level at) we must determine them so contented, as no actions which might testify the satisfaction of their minds, were omttted: surely, if ever the unjudicial multitude did any thing judicially, it was in receiving this Prince, whom his chief disgracers cannot but acknowledge for valiant; then who was more meet to restrain domestic, to subdue foreign seditions? For these civil dissensions had almost wasted and made desolate this populous Nation: discreet he was and temperate, (two so rare and excellent qualities, as he that truly possesseth them, meriteth the possession of a Diadem:) for in these virtues, joined with that Cardinal virtue Fortitude (whereof also he had a very large portion) consisteth the soul of Sovereignty, which whosoever wanteth (be he a while never so powerful) his own greatness so crusheth him, that he forfeiteth all in a moment: most liberal he was, desiring rather to want, then to suffer worth unrewarded: and this liberality is the only true Nurse, and fosterer of virtue; virtue unrewarded being unsensible, our flesh being governed, advised, yea mastered by our senses: this worthy, this Princely ornament some calumniators have sought in him to deface, alleging; that his liberality to some, proceeded from his extortion from others: but even those cannot deny him to have been politic and wise; then is it likely that a Prince of his wisdom and policy, could not discern between the worthy and unworthy? And to take from undeseruers, to bestow upon deservers, must be acknowledged a Virtue. He was neither luxurious, nor an Epicure, not given to any riot, nor to excess, neither in apparel, nor play: for had he been touched with any of these vices, doubtless they which object lesser crimes, would not have omitted these: then (without question) he was largely interessed in virtues, (their contraries) but those (through malice) are either not registered, or (if registered) so infamed, as if all his virtues had a vicious intent: yet to acknowledge the virtues of the vicious, is such a right, that what Historian willingly omitteth them, therein becometh vicious himself. But in all that I have hitherto among tee vulgar observed: Calpatur factum, non ob alaud, quam exitum: they approve, or disprove all things by the event; which though sometimes it proveth like the cause, yet it is more often governed by the will of the divine providence. And surely, but that the gracious goodness of God, to manifest the weakness of human policy, overthrew his designs, took from him his Kingdom; and contrary either to man's hope, or our merit, united by a blessed and happy conjunction a The two dissenting factions of York and Lancaster, united by the marriage of Henry the seventh to Eliz. eldest daughter to Edw. the fourth. the two dissenting factions, to the true establishing of sweet peace and prosperity of this desolate kingdom: for, otherwise, had he lived to have left Issue to have succeeded him, such might have been his and their merits, that Fame would have been no more injurious to him, then to his Predecessors, the fourth Henry and Edward, whose reigns were polluted with much more royal blood: for he omitted nothing, that in wisdom, or true policy might secure himself, or establish peace, or good laws in this Kingdom. His Statutes are extant; what can be found in them not becoming a King? what, not befitting the service of God? the worship of Religion? the good of his Country? yea, I have heard of some, accounted both good Lawyers, and good Statists; that in those three years of his government, there were more good Statutes for the weal-public enacted, then in 30. years before. He was no taxer of the people, no oppressor of the Commons, though he came to manage an Estate, whose treasure was exceedingly exhausted; no suppressor of his subjects, to satisfy either licentious humours, or to enrich lightheaded flatterers. But (alas) who robs virtue, but ingratitude, detraction, and malice? what a curse is it to Mortality, that no fashion of life, no merits, no regards can free Princes from discontentments in their life, and infamy after death? who is it that hears of any one so endued, so laden with virtues, that judgeth him not happy? yet he is defamed; and by whom? even by those, for whom he cared, laboured, and omitted nothing that might profit, committed nothing that might prejudice them. This, the charge and commandment that he gave presently after his coronation, to the Lords and Gentlemen (whom he sent home into their Countries) that they should in their Countries▪ see justice duly administered and impartially, (that no wrong, nor extortion should be done to his subjects) doth testify; this, his laws, and all his actions approve: yet neither the care of his Country, his laws, nor actions, are thought to be sufficient to plead his equity and innocency: for malicious credulity rather embraceth the partial writings of indiscreet Chroniclers, and witty Play-makers, than his laws, and actions, the most innocent, and impartial witnesses. It is laid to his charge (as a main objection) that he was ambitious, let us examine the truth of this accusation. Was he ambitious, who was only content with the limits of his own Country, who sought to be rather famous for instituting of good Laws, then for achieving great conquests? No, no, he wanted nothing to make him an accomplished Prince, but that he was not ambitious enough: for had he imitated that worthy King Henry the 5. who, in a like unsettled estate, led out the Nobility and people, to make wars upon foreign enemies, to make conquest of France, and to imbrue their Warlike swords (lately bloodied against one another) in the blood and bowels of strangers: he might (perhaps) have had a fortunate success: For he wanted not the like title, he was no less valiant, no less politic. So might he have reconquered that kingdom, and those Territories, which by the pusillanimity of some of his Predecessors were given away, and lost, & (peradventure) so busied the stirring heads of the Nobility and people, that they should have had no leisure to think upon any Innovation or partaking at home: so might he happily have secured himself, and enlarged the bounds of his conquests beyond any of his Ancestors. What lets or obstacles could hinder him from those glorious enterprises? His Subjects were warlike, trained up in arms; somewhat too much exercised in blood, because it was in their own. His neighbours, the French, were governed by h Lewes the 11. a king, who had some policy, but so little valour, that he would rather yield to any Capitulation, then hear the sound of an adversary Drum. So that his people, being unured to wars, were easily to be conquered by that Nation, which had so often beaten them in the height of their daring. The Scots, their colleagues, he had already been victorious over: his name among them was grown terrible. For in the time of his Brother he wan from them many Castles, and Holds. But principally he conquered Barwick won from the Scots by Richard the third. Barwik, the chief and principal Town upon their frontiers a piece of special importance, either to make easy our entrance into that kingdom, or to keep them from invading ours: so that I cannot justly accuse him of any crime so much, as that his ambition stretched not far enough. To justify his adversaries accusation, in this time chanced the death of his two young d The death of Prince Edward, & Richard D. of York in the Tower, Nephews in the Tower, whose deaths promising quiet to him, and wholly imposed upon him, how truly, I have reason to doubt; because his accusers are so violent, and impudent, that those virtues (which in other men are embraced, for which they are esteemed as Gods) they impute to him rather to be enamellers of vices, then really virtues: His Humility they term secret pride: his Liberality, Prodigality: his Valour, cruelty and bloudthirstinesse: yet in these days, their partial opinions are thought to be of validity sufficient, to make proof of any imputation: But if it were so, that their deaths were by him contrived, and commanded, the offence was to God, not to the people: for the depriving them of their lives, freed the people from dissension. And how could he demonstrate his love more amply, then to adventure his soul for their quiet? But who knoweth, whether it were not Gods secret judgement, to punish the Father's transgression in the children? and if it be so, complain of their Fate, not Richard's cruelty: (for in these fatal things it falls out, that the High-working powers, make second causes unwittingly accessary to their determinations) yet, in policy, Princes never account Competitors (how young soever) innocent, since the least colour of right provokes innovating humours to stir up sedition, which (once kindled) threatens the subversion, both of Princes and Subjects. And if some wise, and politic Princes have imprisoned, and put to death, such as have been reputed their heirs and successors, because some factious heads, (weary of good government, and hoping for authority by alteration) have sought to establish them before their times; (as commonly, giddy-brained people do more reverence the Suns rising, than his fall) had not King Richard great reason to deprive them of their lives, who were not to succeed him, (but in many men's judgements) had most right to be invested before him with the Diadem? And (indeed) the removing such occasions of civil wars in a well-ruled Commonwealth, is most profitable, most commendable; being no cruelty, but pity, a jealousy of their subjects, and a zealous regard of their own safeties. And (indeed) if we duly consider, how much the duty we owe to a Country, exceeds all other duties, since in itself it contains them all, that for the respect thereof, not only all tender respects of kindred, or whatsoever other respects of friendship, are to be laid aside; but that even long-held opinions, (rather grounded upon a secret of government, than any ground of truth) are to be forsaken: since the end, whereto any thing is directed, is ever to be of more noble reckoning, than the thing thereto directed; that therefore the weal public is more to be regarded, than any person or Magistrate that thereunto is ordained, the feeling consideration hereof moved King Richard, to let principally before his eyes the good estate of so many thousands, over whom he had reigned, rather than so to hoodwink himself with affection, as to suffer his Realm to run to manifest ruin. If any man shall object, that his course was strange, and unlawful: let him know, that new necessities, require new remedies; and for him there was no remedy, but this one. Then if for this action he ought to be condemned, it is for indiscretion in the managing; for as safely might he have had the realms general consent, in disposing of their lives, as of their kingdom. Had he held a secret execution best, he might have effected it more secretly: but he rather chose a middle way, content to let the people know it, holding their knowledge equal with their consents: And it should seem, the people, (though they were at that time very factious) yet approved thereof: for we find not that in any action, either inward or outward, they showed any dislike. And (truly) such is the difference between the thoughts, the actions, the dispositions of Princes and Subjects, that I hold no subject sufficiently judicial, to censure them: their courses so unlike, that what is meet, expedient in a Prince, in a lower fortune is utterly unmeet, unexpedient. Therefore let no servile condition adventure to condemn them, since all such eyes lose their faculty, if they but gaze against the Sun of Majesty. It is sufficient for us to know how to obey; this Nature commandeth and exacteth of us: but to search into the actions of our Commanders, dilates more curiosity, than honesty: Nay, though we would, we cannot: for our knowledge extends to things equal, or inferior; those above us, in divinity, are comprehended only by faith; in terrene matters (if superating our estates) they are only snatched at by supposition. And this our Laws approve, which appoint every man to be tried by his Peers; shall then the head, the director of civil policy, the anointed Majesty of a King, be barred from the right, allowed to subjects? No (surely) it is preposterous, most unlawful to condemn a king, if not found faulty by a a A King not to be condemned, but by a jury of Kings. jury of Kings. Were man in his innocency, this advice were not lost: but being nuzzled in misusing of his malicious tongue, ever to condemn others, never to amend themselves, it is (as they will be for their abuse) perpetually lost; No more then for them. Let us yet further clear this wronged Prince: It is constantly affirmed (say our Chroniclers) that he first noised, after, contrived the death of his wife: b Anne Wife of K. Richard the 3. daughter of Ri. Nevil E. of war.. & widow of Prince Edward, son to Henry the 6. and that it was bruited, before it was effected, thereby with her sorrows to confirm the report. This evidence they adjudge pregnant, and effectual enough to condemn him: did Fame never lie? What are more generally received for untruths, then flying reports, seeing no creature sensible will give credit to Fame, or take her word, without a surety, whom they may assuredly know to be credible? But constantly (say our Chroniclers) could their words be so constant, whose actions were the very stage of inconstancy, who opposed, deposed kings at their pleasure, and (to make sure to be no worse than they were) swore allegiance to two c To Henry the 6. and Edward the 4. Princes at once, and with both broke thief Oaths? But I will spend no more time, in proving the vanity of these Chroniclers, since their own pen contradicts itself; first, showing the affections of this people to be mutinous, and after, approving them: for certain it is (but uncertain, that the King caused it) that such a rumour there was, and that it made a great impression in the Queen, deeming (as women are ever fearful) this prophetical relation to be the forerunner of her end: which bewailing to her husband, he fought with all kindness to remove that melancholy fantasy. What more could he do to testify his love, to cure her passions? But how absurd is it to think or imagine, that the king contrived her death? Where, if he had pleased to marry elsewhere (for that is made the cause) he might and would have used a more safe means by a divorce; did not the French king Lewes the 12. (because a The wife, from whom he was divorced, was joan, daughter of Lewes the 12. sister of Charles the 8. Ga●. Iab. 4. his wife was barren, and crooked backed) sue a divorce, and obtained it from Pope Alexander the sixth, and afterward by his dispensation married with Anne Duchess of Britain, the widow of his predecessor Charles the 8? Might not King Richard have done the like: for he had the like cause (his wife being barren) whereof he had often complained to Rotheram then Archbishop of York? And the Popes of those times were not so nice conscienced to deny Princes such requests, but were easily won thereunto, either by favour, or rewards: therefore, that he contrived her death, was a slanderous, false and absurd accusation; but her b The death of Anne wife of Richard the 3 and second daughter of Richard Nevil Earl of Warwick. time was come, which Mortality might sorrow, but sorrow might not prevent, Death being deaf to all human lamentations. After her death, being desirous to reconcile himself to all such, as held themselves offended (as at his Coronation he had done with Fogg a mean Attourny, who had highly offended him) he laboured to win the one sort with benefits and rewards, and freely pardoned the others misbehaviours and offences: he had no cause to fear Fogg, therefore fear was not the cause. No, it was a worthy, a kingly humility, that would rather abate of his greatness, then to have it stained with the blood of so mean a vassal, for a crime committed against himself, yet was he guilty of counterfeiting his Royal hand and Signet, and of a most untrue and infamous libel: therefore how falsely do our Chroniclers seek to clear Collingborne, who was (as may appear by his indictment c Collingborn executed for Treason, not libeling. executed for treason against the state, not for that rhyming, foolish, ridiculous libel? for neither they, nor any other can ever prove, that ever he revenged any injury whatsoever committed particularly against himself. For the good and safety of his kingdom and people, he was zealous, he was fervent: for, only for their peace, for their quiet, he was content to suffer his nearest kinsmen, his dearest friends to be executed; so now with the mother Queen he laboured reconciliation, he often solicited it, at the last he effected it: This rare, this excellent work of Christianity, this true cognisance of a Religious Queen, our Chroniclers defame, and impute it to her as an horrible crime: such is the obstinate error of mankind, that, when hatred is by God absolutely prohibited, they dare say and maintain the contrary: but (were not they thus corrupt, partial, governed wholly by affection, not truth;) their Histories would be the wisest guides, making men that are young in years, old in judgement, making experience most precious) most cheap: For Knowledge, judgement, and Experience are dearly purchased, when we must wander into infinite errors, ere we can be perfect in our way; nay, they were most dear, were they had with no other expense, but growing old before we enjoy them, waxing rotten, ere they grow ripe. The end and scope of this reconciliation was, to unite himself in marriage with his d The Lady Elizabeth eldest daughter to Edw. the fourth, after wife to Henry the seventh. Niece: a contract (no doubt) inconvenient, and prohibited the Vulgar; but amongst Statesmen it is like to produce infinite good, both to Prince and people. It is an inconvenience, most convenient, nothing strange, because usual, and accustomed amongst Princes: tolerated, yea allowed by their received Oracle of divinity; the Pope, who considering the cause, ordinarily dispenseth with the Consanguinity. It is granted that this desire of marriage was mentioned by this King, in respect of the public peace; to make satisfaction to the Mother, in exalting the daughter, for the dejecting of the Sons, and to avoid the effusion of much of the people's blood, which was likely to be spilled, if his Niece should marry elsewhere: as if (sayour Chroniclers) the first could not be established, the latter avoided without this Platform of Policy; No, had not God's secret working been beyond man's wisest apprehension, it could not: for well he knew the headstrong obstinacy of this people could hardly be kept in awe by a man, therefore impossible to be restrained by children: this made him dispossess them of their Kingdom, & (peradventure) of their lives: for had they been suffered to live, they would ever have been the firebrands of new seditions; and therefore he thought it more convenient, they should be quenched with their own bloods, then with the bloods of infinite numbers of the people; yet to make satisfaction for this wrong, (if it were a wrong to deprive the disturbers of the common good) he was contented and much laboured to marry their Sister, his Niece: but he is therefore adjudged ill: why? because his accusers would be reputed good, though (without doubt) he was a good Prince, and they all, or the most part of all, evil, fantastic, and seditious people. And even at this day, though the fortunate & successful government of our later Princes, hath somewhat altered their natures, & bettered their conditions; yet it were a less difficult quest to find one good man, than many. But it pleased not the divine Ordainer of marriage to permit that conjunction, but rather to set a Period at once to his kingdom and life. About the time of the plotting of this marriage, the judicial Buckingham, (not thinking himself sufficiently regarded) grew discontent, and got the Prince's favour to retire himself into the Country; where (no doubt) his fantastic melancholy would soon have vanished (being a man more happy in the inheritance of his Father, then in the legacy of Nature, discretion, or judgement) had not the Prisoner corrupted the jailor: namely, a This Moreton was after in the reign of Henry the seventh Archbishop of Canterbury, Cardinal and Lord Chancellor of England. Moreton, Bishop of Ely (committed by King Richard to his custody) who finding this Duke discontented, more desirous to inflame his griefs, then to redress them, with his fiery wit so wrought upon the Duke's combustible matter, that suddenly he brought him to kindle a fire of rebellion, and to take up arms against his Sovereign: this K. Richard soon hearing, he prosecuted him as an enemy, and so laboured (what by his own wisdom, what by his especials) that within a while he took his head from b The death of Henry Stafford D. of Buckingham beheaded at Shrewsbury. his body, for being no better able to advise him in his proceedings: was it a fault to punish perjury in him, who had sworn true allegiance? then the executing of law is a sin; if so, let transgressors be accounted innocent, and Magistrates and judges guilty of transgression. And had this been the action of some other Prince, it had been good, just, necessary; but being his, it is censured the contrary: so that sin is not sin, nor virtue accounted virtue, by their own natures or effects, but are made virtues or vices, by the love or hate that is borne to the committer: such is our human understanding, as they rather confound all things, then by distinguishing them to make choice of the worthiest; for let a Nobleman be popular, if he have an ill face, it is termed warlike, his drunkenness is termed good fellowship, his slovenliness, humility, his prodigality, liberality; thus is virtue suppressed, and forced with her own titles to adome her mortalest adversaries. But, to return to our defamed King had not his mercy exceeded his cruelty, his safety had been better secured, and his name not so much subject to obloquy: for though he cut off the head of a mighty Conspirator, yet he suffered the conspiracy to take so deep root, that (in the end) the branches thereof overtopped his glory, and overshadowed his greatness. c Margaret Countess of Richmond, wife of Thomased. Stanley, mother of K. Henry the seventh. For the Countess of Richmond labouring in her sons right, daily enticed and inveigled many to be of her faction: to streng,then which the more, it was plotted between the two Mothers, to join a Q. Elizabeth mother to Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Edward the fourth, and Marg. Coun. of Rich. mother to Henry the seventh, after King. the two dissenting houses in unity, by b York and jancaster. a marriage. This practice the King well knew; yet mercy, love, lenity so prevailed with him, that he only sought to prevent that conjunction, by uniting his brother's daughter with himself, and inflicted no other punishment on the Countess, but only the committing of her to the custody of her c Tho. L. Stanley, after by Hen. the seventh created E. of Derby. Husband. Would a cruel bloodthirsty Prince have done so? could any thing have been performed with more mildness and lenity? could he do less than let her understand, that he knew her secretest practices? Surely, if he were an Usurper (as that he could not be now, standing after the death of his Nephews in the same rank, that Edward the fourth his brother did) yet his equity in justice, his mercy in pardoning offenders, his care of Religion, his providence for the safety of the people, should and ought to have tempered the bitterness of his most malicious enemies, with no less merciful gentleness he used her husband, (and that) at such time as her son was already landed, and made claim to the kingdom: for he only took his son d George Lord Strange, son & heir to Tho. L. Stanley. the Lord Strange as an hostage, and then suffered him to go into the Country to levy his forces: so far was he from blood and cruelty, as, though he knew his alliance to the contrary faction, a motive, sufficient to make him (as indeed he did) incline to their aid, though he might justly suspect him, and could not have wanted colour to have beheaded him (as being father-in-law to his Competitor) yet he only detained his son in his Camp; and when he had assured notice of his Father's disloyal revolt, yet he suffered the Hostage of his loyalty to live: an evidence effectual enough to testify, that he desired rather to settle, then to overthrow the quiet of this Land; that he laboured to win the hearts of his subjects, rather with meekness than cruelty; what Prince could have done less? Nay, what King would not have done more? since both the effect, and the present fear, are both such inward tormentors, that it is hard to determine which is most grievous: so opposite, so contrary to the nature of a Prince (borne, not to fear, but to be feared) that it is most just, most natural, to remove such a terror; but now e Henry the 7. the Heir of Lancaster being come to challenge the Crown, what did the King? Did his spirits fail him? Was his magnanimous courage daunted? No, he then gathered new spirit, he new steeled his courage, he withstood him with the height of fortitude; protesting rather to die valiantly, then to live less than a King. With what a Roman-like spirit did he resist fortune? being overthrown, how Heroically did he encounter with death? This our detracting Chroniclers cannot but acknowledge: for so high, so powerful was his magnanimity, that (in spite of malice) it prevaileth, and (like the Sun) breaketh thorough the misty clouds of his adversaries slanders: was it a fault to withstand the Lancastrian heirs claim? then those are faulty, who being in possession of lands, to prove good their title, prosecute suits, and are overthrown by the law: for the sentence of judgement makes them to perceive that to be an error, which before they imagined none. Besides, he knew well, that his kingdom & life had both one period, to which life he was persuaded his Competitor had no right, and therefore he would never be guilty of such a sin (as wilfully to betray it) till he which had lent it him required repayment. Had his life, his actions been most abominable; yet (like a slave) to have yielded his throat to the execution, would have been an imputation beyond all other imputations: but could he as openly have manifested his other virtues, as he did his valour and policy, the world's opinion had been otherwise, and I neither had taken such pains to defend his innocency, nor in some weak judgements to endanger mine own. But surely he did courageously and valiantly withstand his enemies, with great expedition rallying his forces, and performing all things with wonderful celerity, he went to encounter the disturbers of his quiet. It is reported, that, the night before the day of battle, he dreamt a most a K. Rich. dream the night before the battle of Bosworth. dreadful and horrible dream, which by our Chroniclers is interpreted to be a testimony of his wicked and tyrannous life. Did not Caesar, b Plutarch is the life of Caesar, Dion and Brutus. before he attained the Empire, dream that he knew his own Mother carnally? had not both Dion and Brutus the figures of terrible spirits represented unto them, the night before their end? and yet these were reputed good men, and lovers and protectors of their Country; and because king Richard dreamt with some terror, must his life of necessity be evil? O vain! O frivolous objection! but they hold this dream to be a compunction of his conscience: happy Prince to have so indiscreet slanderers; for how could they more truly witness his integrity? since only they which reverence and fear God, are endued with that enquiring conscience, which censureth their actions: for they which are given over to a reprobate sense, are insensible of that good Angel, which seeketh by telling us our faults, to make us repent our sins past, and to be wary, lest we commit any more. Surely, I think, his conscience (like a glass) presented before him the figures of all his actions; which he faithfully examining, humbly craved pardon for his misdeeds: and so having made atonement with God, like a devout Penitentiary settled his mind, he went with alacrity to the bloody Court, where the cause of his life was to be tried: where his sword being his Advocate, pleaded most valiantly. In all which tumult, he failed neither in discretion, nor in execution, but boldly encouraged his Soldiers, both by word and example. There is extant in our Chronicles, an a The Oration of K. Richard. Holliniheds 〈◊〉 in the end 〈…〉. Oration, which at that time he made to his Soldiers, wherein he confesseth his errors, and desireth pardon of all the world, as he hoped his repentant tears had obtained mercy of God. What a Saintlike thing was this, for a King, to crave forgiveness of subjects? for a General, to humble himself to his Soldiers? What could it be but the effect of a more divine, then terrene understanding? If (like the common fashion of men) he would have put his affiance in human assistance, and neglected his God, he might (in common reason) have promised himself the victory: being double in forces, and nothing inferior, either in valour or policy; but he acknowledged and confessed the power of the most powerful: he knew that it was not the multitude of men, but God, that giveth the victory. And therefore having first made peace with his own soul, he humbled himself, and asked pardon of those, over whom he had government: knowing no government to be so perfect, wherein some good men are not offended. This was the effect of his compunction; to put him in remembrance, that Princes are mortal, and that his being a King, bound him to a more strict reckoning, than one that enjoyeth a lesser Farm. Now whether this merciful remembrance of God disgraceth him, judge ye that have grace. But now (both battles being joined) what did this valiant King? Did he only stand to give directions to others? No, he did rigorous execution with his sword upon his enemies. Did he, when he perceived some of his Subjects disloyally to revolt, and that his forces were put to the worst, think upon yielding or flight? Though by some of his faithfullest servants he was counseled to fly, and for that purpose presented with a Horse of wonderful speed, yet he would not: for having been enured to conquest, he scorned to yield: having been a King, he would not die a vassal; and therefore, because the garland was a Crown, the prize a Kingdom; victory, Majesty, and perpetual renown the reward, this Lion-hearted King courageously charging his spear, ran into the Battalion of his adversaries; where, with his own hands he slew the stout a S. Wil Brandon Standard-bearer to Henry the 7. slain. He was father to Charles Brandon, after created D. of Suff. by Henry the 8. Sir william Brandon, Standard-bearer of his enemy: he overthrew the strong and valiant Sir john Cheney, and singled out his competitor: who being the most Heroic and valiant Prince of those times, yet had doubtless been slain, had not he been rescued by S. William Stanley, who came happily with three thousand men to his rescue, who on all sides encompassing King Richard, so assailed him, that though he did more than a man, though his Sword acted wonders, yet being oppressed by so great a multitude, he was there manfully slain; not overcome, for he conquered the betrayers of men in danger, passion, and fear. Thus lost he both kingdom and life, but nothing diminished his interior virtues: When the adjudged punishment is performed, our Laws do account the offender as clear of the crime, as if he never had committed it. Why should this common benefit be denied a King, since if guilty, his blood made restitution, and being dead, his royal body was despoiled of all kingly ornaments, left naked, and not only unroyally, but inhumanly, and reproachfully dragged? Yet neither can his blood redeem him from injurious tongues, nor the reproach offered his body, be thought cruel enough, but that we must still make him more cruelly infamous in Pamphlets and Plays. Compare him now (judicious Reader) impartially with other Princes; judge truly of all their actions, their form of government, and their Statutes and ordinances, the upholders, the strength, the sinews of government; and thou shalt find him as innocent of cruelty, extortion, and tyranny as the most; as wise, politic, and valiant as any: if so, censure him, his actions, his ordinances, according to their deserts, and this Treatise of mine as a charitable well-wishing to a scandalized and defamed king. Yet for all this know, I hold this but a Paradox. FINIS. THE PRAISE OF THE FRENCH POCKS. IT is the complaint of an ancient writer, Nulla tam modesta foelicitas est, quae malignitatis dentes vitare possit: There was never any felicity, whether moderately seasoned, or complete in perfection, so happy; that could avoid the griping teeth of envy and backbiting. Out of which natural inbred malice, men do not stick to defame and discredit the most noble and illustrious disease of the French Pocks, and to wrong those that be the worthy subjects in whom they reside: insomuch that the very mention of them is so noisome and offensive, and doth so much overcome their stomachs, as the naming of the things which are the purge of the belly, and are within the ward and bailiweeke of the girdle. Whereas the name of the Pocks is of so reverend estimation, and foundeth so pleasingly in the ears of them that are not passionate, that even Diana herself whom the Paynims adored for their Goddess of Chastity and honesty, took her name from them; whom the Latins call Bubones, the French Bubes, and the Spanish Buvas; Latrator Anubis Sanctaque Bubastis, Ovid Meta. lib. 9 so is she called Bubastis. Yea, the famous star Böötes, which guides Charles his wain, admits these syllables into his name, and is called Bubulco. And why then should men here on earth think scorn of this name, which is well brooked by stars of the first magnitude, and Goddesses of the fairest beauty? But because Derivations do many times drive words out of fashion, and a notation of names is of all the Artificial Arguments in Logic, one of the weakest, lest, by seeking to lift the Pastry by one end, we mar all; let us fasten upon some thing more material, and from the original of the word, come to the beginning of the thing. Amongst those rich treasures, which Christopher Columbus brought home into Spain, after his discovery of the indies, one of the chiefest was the Pocks; For in his Fleet (amongst other fraught) were wafted over certain Indian Women, with whose happy conversation the Castilians came home plentifully furnished with this holy contagion: Holy I call it, because the cure of it is that, which they call lignum sanctum, or Guaiacum; Holy, for the place, where it is healed, which is the Hospital; called by the French, Maison-Dieu, & holy, because they are great helps to make them that have them, Saints. For, whosoever shall behold the outward mortification of a pocky companion, the delicacy of the tone of his voice; his pale and meager face; his wan colour; and his whole body broken and disjointed, that a man may shake all his bones together in his skin; and lastly, shall see him wholly made a very picture and painted table of repentance; he may see sufficient tokens (at least wise) of apparent holiness: for you never see fat paunches, and plumped cheeks, and idle fellows ever admitted into the school of repentance; nor into the Stews the work-house of Courtesans; nor in the Hospital and Lazer-house of the Pock-rotten adventurers. Among the three Capital enemies which with fire and sword do assail the soul, the greatest of them, which is the flesh, is wholly subdued by the Pocks: because by them it is made unable to exercise any unlawful act. Is there any thing in the world that doth more open the gates to holiness, then to take away the occasions of sinning? and what is there that hath more efficacy to withdraw a man or a woman from occasions of evil, than this holy leprosy? for if a woman know that a man hath the Pocks, she flies from him as a ragged sheep from a bramble-bush. Again, what greater token of holiness can there be in a man, then to have a sense and feeling of his sins? Now who is he that doth suffer greater grief and pains for his sins, than he that hath the Pocks? Who are more frank and more bountiful in gifts then such men? for a Pock-master was never accounted a piled paltry fellow. For as when we see a blackmoor cross the street, we say, speaking by the contrary, There goes john Blanco: or when we see a common woman, we likewise say, There goes a good one: so we call this holy infection, the peeling disease, understanding that such a one will part with his very skin. All other aches and pains have some enemy that may destroy them; or by a bill out of the Apothecary's shop, like a writ of Remove, they may be dislodged; but the Pocks have made their peace with all drugs and confections, there is not found among all the Phials and Galley-pots any simple, or syrup so powerful, that can disturb the Pocks out of their possession: whence it is plain, that it is wrongfully and abusively called an infirmity: for the word infirmity argueth and importeth want of firmness; whereas the Pocks are so far from not being firm, that to him that hath once caught them, they continue so firm, so stable and so well settled; that they never forsake him, but accompany him to his grave; and I think, into Purgatory too, because no lenitives, or purgations, can either assuage their pain, or drive them out; surely so good a thing never goes to Hell. They that set out the worth and greatness of that excellent Poet Homer, ascribe it much to his honour, that he drew his beginning from many Cities and Islands, as Smyrna, Rhodos, Colophon and the like: how much greater is the honour of this spreading gangrene of the Pocks, which derives his descent not from islands and Cities, but from great kingdoms and Provinces. Some call it the Neopolitan disease; others the French evil; some the scab of Spain, others the Indian Sarampion or tetter, and ringworm; Others that speak with some reverence and respect to these Lady-mistresses, they fear to usurp their proper name; they do not say plainly to a man, You are a Pockie-knave, but rather Vous avez, sir, ye are peppered; and indeed such is the dignity and greatness of this malander, that they speak of it, after the style of Kings and Dukes and Grandes, in the plural number. For whereas we commonly call blains and sores in the singular number, the scurf, or the scab, or the Winchester goose, these are all saluted in the plural number, the Pocks, as if they should style themselves nos bubones, & pustulae Gallicanae. And well doth this style agree unto them, because they deal royally and nobly with their attendants; for whereas in Prince's Courts they that are suitors, do not see an end of their pretensions in many years, and when all comes to all, they seldom reap the fifth part of what they sued for: these nobles do soon dispatch all that negotiate with them, or plead at their bars, wonderfully well provided for. Now let not any man object as an inconvenient, that the Pocks do peel all those that are of their fraternity & livery, & make them as bald as an egg: for if we consider it, they do unto them no therein small benefit: For look what proportion the leaves bear to the Tree, feathers to a Bird, the same have the hairs and the bush-natural to a man, that is, they are given both for an ornament and a defence; for a covering and for comeliness. And seeing that Nature doth do trees a favour, in making them to shed their leaves, and Fowls to moulter their feathers, that so she may dight them and clothe them yearly with new; she doth not deal so with men, but leaves them to themselves, to effect it by their own industry and providence, whereunto when they are disposed to moulter and to do off their periwigs or perruques, the Pocks in this case is Nature's agent, which doth maintain herself with that which is most delicate in that subject, such as are the thin locks of the head, the daintiness of the eyelids and the eyebrows; the venerable beards, & the most valiant moustaches: for never any timorous and white-livered cowards have the Pocks, but the most foolhardy adventurers are admitted into this corporation. It is a rule infallible, that men are usually such as are those with whom they converse. And who are they (I pray you) that are most haunted with the Pocks but noble Lords, Cavaliers, and men of high parentage? The plow-swaine or day-labourer never knew that there was any such thing in the world as the Pocks; such is their miserable ignorance; nor yet the Porters or Carre-men are greatly troubled with this Luggage in their own persons, neither do they ever descend so low as to chare-maids and Tankard-bearers. But you must seek for them amongst the lusty gallants, and gay Ladies that ruffle it in silks, and outward bravery▪ And therefore may it please thee to be advertised, gentle Reader, whosoever thou be that standest upon complement; that whensoever thou shalt salute such a Lady or Cavalier in the street, by veiling thy bonnet, know, that by that obeisance thou dost homage to two Grandes and great personages at once, one to the party principal that is obvious to thy eye, the other to the Pocks which he carrieth about him. How doth the world dote upon Astrologers and Starre-gazers, that can foretell and divine of things to come, whether they be the writers of the Greek Menologies and Calendars of the Monthly variation of days; or Prognostications of the changes of the Moon: or days Almanacs for the alteration of the weather? Whereas there is no ginger more weather-wise than a Pock-master, or whose predictions are more certain: for, if there be any change of weather or season approaching, presently the intrinsical Accidents that cleave to his bones & sinews, do give him a perfect notice of it, in that he feeleth an ache in every commissure of his joints, and his bones do even rattle in his skin. Add hereunto, that men thus affected (or infected rather) have this great privilege above other men, that although they be in vassalage, and slaves by condition, yet are they observed and respected as absolute Lords; and are served of every body, whereas they serve none but God, whom by the Pocks they are brought to remember. And see, I pray you, to what a lordliness they are advanced, in that not only their persons are in a manner sacred, and may not be approached, but at a certain distance; but whatsoever is about them, and belongs to their necessary use, cannot safely be touched of any man, as if they were some holy Relics; For no man dares to lie in their bed, or to wear their clothes, or to drink in their cup, or to sit in their chairs; men willingly withdrawing themselves from these things, as from vessels consecrated to this great Idol of the Bubositie. Howbeit, it is not greatly to be marveled at; that the Pocks have attained to so high a pitch and prerogative of excellency, considering that the same act and operation, and the same instruments which Nature employeth to produce a man, which is the noblest of her creatures; the same are also the generature causes of the Pocks; I mean, the great and honourable Pocks: for those other bushes and inflammations that arise in the body, of cold, or from an overheated and exulcerated liver, are not properly pocks, but pouts and pimples. So then, this reason being considered, the Pocks may very justly take state upon them, and stand upon puntilloes of honour, and outbrave a man to his face and say, that they are issued from as good Parents as he. And surely it seems no less; for as they that are nobly borne, the better to show their greatness and to maintain their state, they live retiredly in the inmost and remotest rooms of their house: so do the Pocks, out of the same rule and reason of State, keep residence in the very bones and the marrow of him that hath them; which is the reason also why for their birth and honourable rank, they find place and entertainment in loves Court, into which nothing is admitted, but what savoureth either of greatness or of goodness, as brave, resolute and determinate men; gallant and fair women; free discourse; wanton witty Poems, and plenty of great Pocks. And lastly, what greater token can there be of a Noble Nature, then to show thankfulness to those that have suffered any thing for their sakes, or done aught to procure their good? in which kind of retribution the Pocks are no way deficient. For whereas the nose in the purchase of the Pocks doth suffer a kind of lesion and hurt by the arrosion of its gristle; to make it ample amends and satisfaction; the pocks do make the nose the trumpet, or hornpipe of their own praises; whose graceful tone varied Chromatically upon the musics and halfe-notes of snuffing and snorting, is much like the untamed voice and braying of Silenus his hobby-horse. Now if there be any man so ill an husband, that amongst other things of his own getting and acquisition hath not been so happy, as to become owner of the pocks; let him blame himself for an unthrift, that hath misspent his time; and say, that he is without them, because they are not within him: or with the Spaniard, that he wants them, because he is not worthy of them: You no Lis padezco, Porque no 'las merezco. Carnestoliendas de Castilia. Noche tercera. FINIS. The Praise of Nothing. PArdon, Grave Sages, Natures Treasures, Earth's best surveyors, heavens best measures, Who in the deeps of Sciences do wade, Teaching that Nought of Nothing can be made. I will untwist the strength of your decree, And from your errors Labyrinth you free. Sith to the making of this All-Theater: Nothing but Nothing had the All-creator: And as the structure of this world's great mass, Out of vast emptiness first reared was, Embellished with each curious ornament, Without or staff, or matter preiacent; So by great Nothings frank and free expense, We yet enjoy each rarest excellence. For Nothing is more precious than gold: Amongst all those things which Neptune's arms enfold, Amongst sublunary bodies which do range, About th' world's Centre suffering daily change, Which fill Fates mort-main, & which death death mierce, Driving them from their cradle to their hearse: Amongst all these, and whatso else we have, Nothing did ever yet esape the grave. Nothing's immortal: Nothing ever joys; Nothing was ever free from all annoys. Why should not Nothing then of us expect, That shrines and Altars we to her erect? Nothing more joyous is to us then light; Or the Springs flowery mantle all bedight With Pinks, and Primrose, when sweet Zephirs breath Inspireth life after long Winter's death. Nothing is safe in war, Nothing in peace Is just; which made Tibullus once confess, That to avoid all danger, dread and scathe, The happiest man is he that Nothing hath. He thieves by land, nor Pirate's fears, nor wracks, Nor juggling judge, whose sentence often racks The richer Client, who must seldom spare To waste his wealth in fees, his health with care. So Zenoes' wiseman only doth aspire Nothing to covet, Nothing to admire. And Socrates it his profession made, Nothing to know: which is a thriving trade; Sith not to know, but to have much to give, Is that which purchaseth best means to live. The Alchemist, who with Spagyric tricks, Doth sometimes sublimate, and sometimes fix, Nis base metals by a Chemic fire, Excocting them by art and fell desire, From Stannar and Calaminary mould, Stannar is the Mother of Metals. To turn crude Mercure, into liquid gold. How! how doth he in this gulfs Baltic sound, Calaminaris lapis, out of which brass is drawn. His wit, his wealth, himself and all confound! And all for Nothing, t' whom he is in thrall, And amongst fools moral, a pure Natural. Nothing to Phoebus is unknown, Architas Tarentinus. Hor. lib. 1. odd. 28. vnskanned, Of him that number could the Lybian sand. And you, great Clerks, who dry and waste your brains, Through sleepless nights, and with uncessant pains To compass Knowledge; if I should but ask Th'intended end of all your toiling task; Your answer, I suppose, to this would tend, That you know Nothing, Nothing comprehend. Yet Nothing is more bright than Summers' Sun; Or purest flame. Nothing can swiftly run, And fly as swift without both feet and wing; Without a voice, Tangere enim aut tangi nisi corpus nulla potestres. Nothing can sweetly sing. Nothing without a body can be touched. As wise Lucretius gravely hath avouched. Nothing can move without exchange of place: Nothing is seen without fair colours grace. Nothing's more helpful to assuage our smart, Then noble Physics evill-curing Art. Whosoever then is liver-sicke of love, And fain would Philtres and love-potions prove; Let him not seek to th' help of Magic charms, For no such spells will ever heal his harms. Only of this let him himself assure, That Nothing can loves hot Imposthems cure. Yea those who once have passed the Strg●● lake, Nothing can them from Death recover back. Nothing can conquer the infernal Furies, Nothing can alter their eternal juries. The Giants felt when with the Heavens they strove, Nothing more fearful than the wrath of jove. The gods fear Nothing; Nothing keeps in awe, Rebellious men that reak not of the Law. Nothing with God may be compared right, For justice, Wisdom, Majesty, and Might. And though within, God fill this spacious Round, Yet Nothing may without it well be found. This is the task that I did undertake, Of Nothing Nothing, something for to make. johannes Passeratius apud Theodorum Bezam in Epigrammatis. FINIS. THAT IT IS GOOD to be in DEBT. WE are fallen into that dotage of the World, in which, the worst things do overtop the worthiest, sense doth besot the understanding, drink overcometh the brain, and the eye beguileth and misleadeth the sight. And therefore in tender commiseration of mankind, I will endeavour to rectify their judgement in a Paradox, than which there hath none more intricate, been discussed and canvased among the Stoics in Zenos porch, that is, That it is better for a man to live in debt, than otherwise. Ordiar ab ovo, I will begin from the egg, that your concoxion may be the easier. In the whole course and frame of Nature, we see that nothing is made for itself, but each hath a bond of duty, of use or of service, by which it is indebted to other. The sun by his splendour to lighten all the world; by his warmth and heat, to cherish and comfort each living and vegetable thing. Yea, man himself is so framed of God, that not only his Country, his Parents and his friends claim a share in him, but he is also indebted to his dog, and to his Ox, to teach the one to hunt for his pleasure, the other to labour for his profit: so that quicquid habet genij, ingenij, moris, amoris, the abilities of his spirit, the affections of his mind, he hath them for others, as much as for himself; nay the more for others, by how much he desireth to be the greater Lord over others. Let him but look into himself, and see how his constitutive parts are debtor each to other, the soul doth quicken and give life to the body, the body like an Automaton, doth move and carry itself and the soul. Survey him in his parts, the eye seeth for the foot, the foot standeth for the hand, the hand toucheth for the mouth, the mouth tasteth for the stomach, the stomach eateth for the whole body, the body repayeth back again that nutriment which it hath received, to all the parts, discharging the retriments by the Port-Esquiline; and all this in so comely an order, and by a Law so certain, and in so due a time, as if Nature had rather man should not have been at all, than not to be a debtor in every part of him; which hath made me resolve, that to whomsoever I mean to be a friend, I will strive to be in his debt: and what can I do less? for to him that doth me a good turn, I am bound to return him the greatest pleasure; which I can no way do, but by being in his debt: for what contentment will it be unto him, when I shall repay him his own again? The Alchemists, who promise to themselves to turn Tin into silver, and Copper into gold, how will they be transported out of themselves with joy, if they should but see a happy issue of their attempt? How much more a Creditor, when he shall recover a desperate debt? It is like the joy of a Father that receives his lost Child. Again, he that is in debt, hath this great privilege above other men, that his Creditors power out hearty prayers for him, they wish that he may live, and thrive and prosper, and grow rich, and all for their own advantage. They seem to be careful for their debtors, that they may not lose their principal with the interest, for their money is their life, witness those Usurers of France, who, when they heard that the price of Corn was fallen, went and hanged themselves for grief. What a command doth the debtor gain over his Creditors? He becometh in a manner their Landlord, to whom they cap, crouch, and kneel, as if they did owe him all suits and services, and are as ambitious of their favours, as they who in Rome did canvas the people for their voices to attain the greatest offices: but here is their cunning: Laudant ut Leadant, they praise them, that they may pray upon. And therefore, you brave gallants and spendthrifts, who find by your woeful experience, that no whip gives a shrweder lash than the label of a Bond or Obligation, with a Noverint universi Skinner and Lacy. Whensoever you fall into the Mercer's books, never take care, or make conscience of paying your debts, for by that means you shall keep your Creditor in awe, and shall have him wonderful courteous and officious, and obsequious towards you, and a great mintmaster of fair words. Without debt and loan the Fabric of the world will be disjointed and fall asunder into its first Chaos. The beauty of the Stars, what would it be but vastness and deformity, if the Sun did not lend them light? The earth would remain unfruitful, if she did not borrow refreshing dews from the watery Signs and Planets. The Summer is pleasant, and promiseth great hopes of plenty, but it is, because it taketh up much upon trust, from the friendly and seasonable temperment of the Elements. And to say the truth, there is nothing good or great in the world, but that it borroweth something from others to make it great, or dareth to another to make it good. And therefore I marvel why Antiquity, who made Mildew, 1. AErugo. Fever, and scurviness goddesses, did not matriculate loan and debt among the rest. 2. Febris. 3. Psora. The Elements who are linked together by a league of association, and by their symbolizing qualities, do barter and truck, borrow and lend one to another, as being the Burse, and Royal-exchange of nature: they are by this traffic and intercourse, the very life and nourishment of all sublunary bodies, and therefore are called Elimenta quasi alimenta, whose happy concord & conjunction hath brought forth those, whom the World for the good done to mankind, hath esteemed gods, as Bacchus the great Vintner, Ceres' the Meale-mother, Flora the Tutty-maker, Vertumus and Pomona Costermongers. Now, if every man would render and repay in full weight, that which by due debt he oweth and hath borrowed from others, Saturn's golden age would return again, in which there was no difference of metals, but gold and silver were all one Oar, and made the yelke of the earth, Nature's great Egg, neither did Meum and Tuum bound out, and apportionate Lands and Lordships, by mere stones, and diversity of Tenors of sockage and focadge; since when, Qui habet terras, habet guerras, and the King of heavens peace hath been disturbed amongst men: but then all things were all men's, as necessity did allot and award, who was then the only judge and arbitrator, competently allowing to every man, that which he stood in need of. With what dearness have both gods and good men countenanced and graced debtors? To whom Diana the great goddess of Ephesus, granted her Temple for a Sanctuary, to keep them out of Bagwell: Pigeon-houses. Or if they were caught, Solon by a solemn Law enacted, would not have their bodies to be fettered or manacled amongst malefactors, but that they should enjoy their liberty throughout all the Parks and Purlieus of the prison, or to speak more mildly, of their restraint & endurance: For the Prison is built Purgatory-wise, after the Architecture of Rome, with a Limbus and Tullianum. The dungeon is the devils pinfold and the very suburbs of Hell, where varlets, roarers, and stilettostabbers are let down, as the proper food that stuffs that great greedy maw. The next room is the Lollard of trunck-hosed famulists and separatists, who after they have been rowelled in the neck, to cure them of the Megrim of the head, they are by the gentle flame of this Stove, and the heat of their own zeal, made to sweat out their contumary and other peccant humours. The upper skirt and stage of this building, is the Garret of expenseful wasters, gamesters and unthrifty debtors, where though they live robbed of their liberty, as they rifled others of their money. Yet is it their great happiness, that being glutted, as it were, with an Apolausticke voluptary life, they have an easy ouverture made to the contemplative and practic life of Virtue. Who ever lived more like a Souc'd-gurn-head amongst men, than Diogenes the Cynic, barrelling himself up in his tub like a Kegge of Sturgeon? Yet was the happiness of his contented life envied of the greatest Monarches, who having made their throats the through-face and the cullenders of meats & drinks, found an overgorged belly, to be Wits clog, Reason's sepulchre, Lust's Arsenal, the Magazine of lewd practices, and the Nursery of all vices: all which provocations are defalted by Debts wants and indigency. And lastly, the Lumbards', Usurers, and Scriveners, who are the Beadles of Beggars, and are accounted the Tetters upon the body politic of the Commonweal, who turn the Calends and new Moons, and the Festival days of quarter-gaudies, into the Octanes of disaster and Doomsday reckonings, when any of these come to Heaven, there is a wonderment amongst the Angels, and they cry out with Sr. Gurman of Alfarache, fruta nueva, fruta nueva, here is a new kind of fruit start up, a Pumparadise upon a crabstock, Lumbards' and Scriveners are become the Pope's cannonized and beatified saints. Farewell then, Vlpianus, Modestinus, and other pettifoggers of the Law, solicitors, and molesters of causes, who account being in debt a kind of bondage and servitude. I pity Senecaes' weakness, who blushed to borrow; miserum verbum et dimisso vultu proferendum, Rogo: Th. Ocleve. in. Chaucer. That Poet Laureate, forfeited his wreath of Bays and ivy twine, who made his prayers to his purse to keep him out of debt, in this manner. To you my Purse, and to none other Wight Complain I, for you be my Lady dear: I am sorry now that you be light, For certes ye now make me heavy cheer, Me were as lief laid upon a Beer. For which unto your mercy thus I cry, Be heavy again, or else moat I die. Now vouchsafe this day, or it be night, That I of you the blissful sound may here, Or see your colour, like the Sun bright. That of yellowness had never Pere, Ye be my life, ye be my hearts flere; Queen of comfort and of good company, Be heavy again, or else moat I die. Now Purse, that art to me my lives light And saviour as down in this World here, Out of this Town help me by your might, Sith that you will not be my Treasure, For I am shave as near as any frere: But I pray unto your courtesy, Be heavy again, or else moat I die. Yet welfare the Prodigal unthrift, who is magis promus quam condus, and serves at the Buttery-hatch, whatsoever is in his Binn or his Barrel, and therefore could never endure the complaint of his Purse, who thus bemoaned herself unto him. Materia infoelix, detracta cadavere; forma, tam varia, ut nec ego me mihi nosse queam. Haud melius fatum, nam pendeo more latronis, ingenium sic me fueris habere putant. Si dederis servo; seruatum reddo petenti non nisi at auriculis tracta referre volo. A skin flayed off, yields my materials, my form is various, where myself I loose, My doome's a felons death and funerals, for at a Belt I am hanged by a noose. I do not filch for mine own thrift and gain, but what you give, I closely keep and bear, And when you ask, I it restore again, yet not, except you pluck me by the ear. For the Al-te-mael, and foot of the reckoning, this is the summa summarum: Debemur morti nos nostraque. So that whilst I live, I must resolve to live in debt, in debt to God, for my being; in debt to CHRIST, for my well-being; in debt to God's sanctifying Spirit, for my new-being: And I will ever be ready to pawn my life for my Country's liberty, I will owe obedience to my Parents, Faith and Loyalty to my Prince: And when I shall pay my great debt unto Nature, I will render my spirit into the hands of God; bequeath my body to be deposed in the lap and bosom of the earth, and cry, Domine, dimit debita mea. FINIS.