Finis 〈◊〉 ●ax.  
DEO PROPITIO.  
Cedant arma togae  
EMBLEMA ANIMAE OR Moral Discourse reflecting upo● Humanity.  
Written By John du Plesis now Cardinal of Richleu.  
Translated by I. M.  
Also Variety of Observations delightful to the mind.  
LONDON Printed by Nic: and Joh: Okes. 1635.  
●●●reat L●lium.  
Deus Proxima.  Will Martial. Sculpsit.  engraved title page   

TO THE READER.  
Courteous Reader:  
THere are three sorts of Men. Natural, Moral, Divine; and all are partakers of Blessings, though not alike: The Natural has that of Beasts, he lives, he feeds, and dies before he can be said to be. The Moral that of Men, which is endued with Reason, which guides him to the knowledge of Arts, of Wisdom, of the perfection of Nature, the Solace of the Body, and Tranquillity of Mind. And he lives the life of a Worthy man, and leaves behind him a lasting Memory. The Divine, he flies a higher pitch then all, his Soul is mounted on the Wings of Contemplation, and having already all Moral instructions, he soars with the Eagle to attain those Heavenly Mysteries, which GOD himself hath Revealed, and never leaves till he hath seated himself by a prepared flight, and happy death in the high Tribunal of that Holy of Holies.  
Courteous Reader, the Author of this little Book (who writ it, though long since, in French) had liberal Education which diverted him from pitching upon the first. And the Controversies of the Times would not permit his Free soul to instruct the last. So that Retiring himself into a mean betwixt them both, he writ this little Book, and Entitled it Emblema Animae, which though Moral, yet he that Understands, may find both GOD and Nature in it, and in mine opinion, he makes the best Concord, that joins these together, where we may find Man in Nature, that in Him, and GOD in them both.  
The Writer or Composer of this little Volume, being a man of great Eminency and Learning, whose Fame divulgeth itself daily to the World. I hope, is enough to commend it without my weak applause. For my part, as I was the Translator, I assume nothing to myself; but only desire for my labour, that it may be entertained friendly, and cersured charitably: this is all that I shall require at thy hand, gentle Reader, and in lieu whereof, thou shalt ever have my Wishes, that what he hath Writ may work happy effects in thee; and this is the part of a Friend.  
J. MAXWEL.   

THE CONTENTS of this present Book.  

Discourse 1. How we must prepare ourselves against the assaults and onset of our passions. pag. 1  
Disc. 2. Of the choice of our Callings, Charges, and Affairs. p. 11  
Disc. 3. Of Providence and foresight. p. 18  
Disc. 4. Of each man's Vocation and Calling. pa. 28  
Disc. 5. Of a Man's Ruling and Ordering his Life. pa. 41  
Disc. 6. Of the diversity of Actions. pag. 47  
Disc. 7. Of the choice of friends. page. 58  
Disc. 8. Of dissembling and disguising of humours. pag. 63  
Disc. 9 Of Vanity. p. 70  
Disc. 10. Of Prosperity. pa. 76  
Disc. 11. Of comparing of our Fortune with that of others. page 86  
Disc. 12. Of adversity. p. 103  
Disc. 13. Of sadness and sorrow. page 125  
Disc. 14. Of the Afflictions of good men. p. 129  
Disc. 15. Of other men's faults and imperfections. p. 133  
Disc. 16. Of injuries, indignities and wrongs. p. 184  
Disc. 17. Of Death our last Discourse, and our last debt. p. 181.  
The Author's conclusion, and advertisement.   

A Table of the chiefest matters contained in the ensuing discourse, etc.  
THe four parts of the World. page 197  
The four Monarchies. p. 199  
The six Ages of the World. p. 203  
The seven Wisemen of Greece. page 212  
The ten Sibyls. pa. 213  
The twelve Apostles with their Martyrdoms. p. 223  
The ten persecutions of Christians under the Roman Emperors. pag. 230  
The eight times that Rome hath been taken. pag. 232  
The seven Electors of the Emperors of Germany. pa. 239  
The three Crowns of the Emperor. pag. 241  
The twelve Peers or Pairs of France. pag. 241  
The eight Parliaments of France. pa. 245  
The seven Saxon Kingdoms that England was once divided into. Five Orders of Chivalry which continue at this day amongst Princes. pa. 254  
The thirteen Cantons of Switzerland. pa. 265    

EMBLEMA ANIMAE: OR MORAL DISCOURSES REFLECTING UPON HUMANITY.  

DISCOURSE. 1. Of Preparation against the assaults and onsets of Passions.  
MAN'S Happiness on earth, (next to the knowledge of Christ and his Maker) depends upon his own Actions, which duly considered, and that the Soul is, as it were, the fountain and wellspring thereof, our chiefest care (if we desire to lead an happy life) ought to be spent in quieting and making calm that better part within us, endeavouring by all means, that it be not troubled, nor diseased by vulgar and popular opinions, they being things much contrary to the excellency of the nature and essence thereof.  
A Passion is a violent motion of the soul in the sensitive part thereof, which is either made to follow that which the soul thinketh to be good for it, or to fly that which it takes to be evil: And there are sundry sorts of them, which are therefore called Passions; to put a difference betwixt them and the fancies of the soul, which are naturally inbred in it. Now ther● are two seasons, the one of prosperity, the other of adversity wherein the soul is wont to be vexed and tossed with those of the inferior part, as with so many violent & impetuous winds. And therefore we must herein imitate Mariners, who before they lose off from the Port, do furnish themselves with all things necessary and needful for resisting of Tempests and storms: and provide ourselves aforehand of such sound and substantial discourse, as may anchor and stay the mind against the push of our passions, when as they, like so many surging waves, do nil we, will we, overflow into our Boat; and as Xenophon did exhort his fellow Citizens to sacrifice unto God in time of prosperity, to the end they might find him the more ready and favourable, when as they should invoke him in their adversity: So must we do, and even at our first leisure, contract acquaintance with rectified reason, to the end, that when we shall stand in need of her aid and assistance, she may come running to us, as knowing us by our voice, and having already an affectionate and earnest desire for our defence.  
For Reason is the office of Virtue, and not of fleeting inconstant Opinion, or tumultuous passion; but is man's bonus Genius, his good spirit, in such sort, that he cannot without shame stumble; & the discourse of rectified Reason is both the master and daunter of all peevish and perverse affections: for, when as we have once taken good notice of them by an earnest examination and trial, made and had touching the same; and that we have ripely & advisedly weighed both what power they have over us, and what Empire we hold over them: They are not thereafter so fierce & furious in our behalf, but are more easily, and with much less labour appeased & pacified. They therein not a little resembling our little dogs, which will bark uncessantly at such as they are wont to see and know; but by and by are quieted as soon as they hear the voices of them.  
The Empiry or seat of the mind, when it is fixed in its proper Sphere, is Wisdom, Science and Art being the two supporting pillars, and these three are the mistress parts of a reasonable soul, whose governor and guide being the mind, the Wise have compared the commandment of it above this sensual and terrestrial part of the soul, out of which our passions do spring, unto the office of a Rider, who teaching and training his Horse, and sitting within the saddle, manageth and turneth him at his will. But if he should bring a young Horse to the Turney or Tilt, which had never before borne the Bit, or galloped the round, he must needs reap great discredit thereby; as not having before broken him with convenient Discipline, fit for a management of so great importance. In like manner, before we put our backs under the burden of any business, or expose ourselves unto the public view of the world, we must endeavour to break and bring under this wild and unbacked part of the soul, and make it, as it were, to bite upon the Bit, by bringing it to learn the laws and measures whereby it must be managed, and mastered in all occasions, and at all occurrences: and in the mean time, we must not forget to enhearten and encourage it, by acquainting it with the pleasure and contentment, wherewith is accompanied the issue and end of all worthy and virtuous actions.  
Meditation is a secret lifting up of the soul from vanity, and a fixation of the mind upon things really good and honest; and it is much helped by Eloquence, which being a purity and elegancy of Speech, stirs up discourse in the apprehensive parts of man: and when it is connext with Meditation, they both give an edge unto the soul, and make it steele-hard unpierceable, even unto the sharpest point of the strongest passions; and usually we prove admirable at every such exercise, when we have before hand accustomed ourselves unto, what difficulty soever they may seem to carry with them. On the other side, there is nothing (be it never so easy) which will not seem hard and difficult, and withal much trouble us, if we are found but novices, and new apprentices therein. How often think ye, must Canius have meditated upon death, and revolved in his mind what thing it should be, who being condemned by the Tyrant, and sent to the place of execution, was so fare from being any whit dismayed thereat in his mind, that merrily, and as it were jestingly, he bid the Centurion, who came for him, remember that he was stronger by the advantage of one Chesseman, than he against whom he played at that hour? And who taking his leave of his nearest and dearest Acquaintance, for his last farewell, uttered no other words but these: Now my dear friends, I shall presently find that which I have so long longed after, and so much desired to know; if the soul be immortal, and whether men in dying, do feel the separation of the Soul & Body which they endure? We must needs think that this man, though a Heathen, had a long time exercised himself in commanding and overruling his passions; and that he had aforehand armed & fenced himself with fair resolutions, seeing that with such constancy and gravity he went to undergo a death both cruel and unjust. If the only desire to understand what should become of the soul after death, could make the torment and torture not only tolerable, but also acceptable unto him: What resolution then ought the certain and assured knowledge of the Souls immortality, together with the hope of eternal felicity, work in such as do seriously meditate upon the same in their minds? May not these goods, think ye, make unto such minds not only supportable, but even comfortable and delectable, both Death itself, and all other disastrous afflictions which they endure, seeing they are as waves which do push us forward unto the sweet and sure port of everlasting rest and repose?   

DIS. 2. Of the choice of Callings and Affairs.  
EPAMINONDAS Prince of Thebes, so hated idleness, that finding one of his Captains asleep in the day time, he slew him; for which act being reproved by his Nobles, he answered, I left him as I found him; comparing idle men to dead men. And truly man is not borne to live idly; but rather, as one of the fairest members of this fair frame, he must-conferre, and contribute his whole travail and pain to the conduction and conservation of that civil society and condition wherein he is placed. And because in the choice which men make of a calling, their rest and quietness doth principally depend, and that nothing doth so much avail to the leading of a contented life, as when they find themselves fit for the same: They ought before all other things, to take a trial and survey of their own strength, and seriously bethink themselves of that charge which they are about to embrace: seeing usually we presume too much upon our own power, and attempt more than our ability is fit to achieve; this error is incident almost to all our actions. And hence it is, that some will dispend more than their means may well bear: And others in labouring and toiling, go beyond their abilities; some are not masters of their own anger; others dallying, disporting, and playing the pleasant, will not spare any person, no not the Prince, although thereby they should incur the danger of hazarding their Heads. Some are unapt to manage public affairs, being either of a sullen and solitary humour, or of a slack and slow disposition. Others it doth not beseem to be at Court; for that they be either obstinate in opinion, or uncourteous in behaviour. And that which maketh us to fall into these faults, is that we do not throughly see and look into ourselves. Whence it cometh to pass, that neglecting to take a true trial of our own ability, we often undertake employments of such gravity and weight, as that afterwards we must either abandon them with ignorance and shame; or else if we go on with them, we must needs suffer much trouble and anxiety of spirit.  
Now that a man may the more warily weigh his occasions, or affairs, before he put under his back; let him remember, that always the bearer must have more pith than the burden for if it be huge & too heavy, who seethe not that the undertaker must be constrained either to leave, or else to lie down under it; and consider, that there are diverse kinds of affairs, some whereof are hard and uneasy; not so much for that they be weighty & important of themselves, as for that they be matched and mingled with a multitude of toilsome and troublesome businesses which follow them? Therefore actions of this kind, are to be shunned, because they do very much disquiet the mind. And we should rather make choice of such affairs, as we may well and easily execute, or at least with a reasonable industry bring to an end. For always it is a good thing to desist from the profecuting of our begun businesses, when as we shall find, that they take not such a course and way, as in the beginning was proposed and expected by the undertaker. I say not this to affray, or dismay, nor so to discourage any man, as to make him decline and eschew the undertaking of necessary and needful employments, because of the manifold encumbrances and cares wherewith they may be accompanied: so that not daring to intermeddle with any matter of moment, he should abide without some business and charge, which were to lead a life both unprofitable and unpleasant: Nature prompting every man to listen to somewhat, and chief unto such things as be expedient and profitable for the Commonwealth. But I mean to insinuate, that seeing the life of man is naturally subject unto perplexities and pains, it behooveth him so wisely, and warily to demean himself, that if it be his fortune to be called to the undertaking of virtuous and laudable actions, he neither be so feeble-hearted, as to shun or relinquish them for their difficulty; nor yet so foolhardy, as to undertake such affairs as go beyond the reach of his power. And if the narrow room of Poverty, or ample palace of Honour hath either advanced any beyond employment, or taken them from it, there is no Vocation so lawful and just as Religion: Therefore let none despair of business; for here he shall find both labour, and rest; labour in searching out the Knowledge of God, and himself: Of God, replete with Wisdom and Mercy; and that in his Son, humbled, weakened, debased; Of himself, dust, ashes, earth; and grass: And rest, in the saving Love of the one, and well performed Duty of the other. And this Exercise is most fit for a Christian; and above all, for them, on whom God hath bestowed no other Talon.   

DISC. 3. Of providence and fore sight.  
A Wise man in time of peace makes his preparation for war: a good Mariner before he go forth of the haven, makes provision of what is necessary to resist the violence of a tempest; it is too late to provide against an evil, when it is already come, and O how much are we deceived, and how little judgement have we, when we think that that which happeneth to others, can not likewise fall upon us. Therefore take order that ye be not surprised by any humane accident that ye have not beforehand prudently foreseen, which thing ye shall easily perform, if in all the affairs ye shall take in hand, ye diligently forethink yourself of such it conveniences and cross encounters as may fall out, according to the nature, quality, and ordinary issue of your affairs; and such provisoes do marvailously mitigate, sweeten, and abate the sharpness, and harshness of all sinister accidents and chances: which cannot then bring any sensible, or notable alteration, by reason of their not coming unlooked for, but contrarily do endamage such persons as suffer themselves to be surprised, not considering how that nature sending them into this world, hath allotted them rough, and uneasy feats. Such men do not mind how that about their own door; many times they have with their eyes seen loving wives weeping and bewailing their deceased husbands, and husbands with dewy eyes burying their beloved wives, & dear children. They do not ponder how that such persons as did yesterday walk, & talk with them, to day dead, lie buried in their graves. So appear we to be deceived, and so little foresight have we in our own fortune, that what we see daily with our eyes happen unto others, we never or seldom consider that the like may befall ourselves.  
If we would take notice of things as we ought, we should rather find occasion to marvel how that disasters and dangers which do follow us at the heels, have delayed so long to overtake us, and having overtaken us, how it could be possible that they should have handled us so harmelesly, and gently as they have done. But we grossly deceive ourselves, when as for fear that men take us to be timorous and fearful, we think ill to forecast and foresee dangers, and will not a whit mistrust our own judgement. It behooveth the Pilot who is minded to set sail, to know that he is in possibility of a storm; so we must know that the chance which hath happened to one, may likewise befall unto us, and that which hangeth over the heads of all, may fall upon any one, without exemption or exception whatsoever. That which some make light by long suffering, a wife man makes light and easy by long Cogitation. He considereth exactly the nature of all things that may offend him, and presenteth unto himself whatsoever may happen unto him most grievous and insuportable, as sickness, poverty, injuries and examineth in them all that which is according to nature, or contrary to it; he marketh well another's misfortune as a thing which may no less befall unto himself, than it hath already done unto his fellow, and hath this advantage, that before any such mischance take hold of him, he is already armed against the f●ry and force of the evil. He knows that it is too late for a man to make head against a danger, when it is already come, and bootless to say, I did not think, that such a misfortune should have befallen me. And that there is not any wealth in this world which hath not following after it poverty, or any health that is not apt to be diminished by a lingering disease, or any honour which is not in possibility to be turned into dishonour & disgrace? or any high rising which is not apt to downfall? or any estate from the pedlar even to the Prince, exempt from alteration, so that which hath befallen to one may likewise befall another? he that standeth, let him take heed lest he fall: it is a thing far more easy to be cast headlong, then to rise up to eminency, & in a man's trouble this is the most assured comfort, that in his pristine providence he hath armed himself agains: those present evils which now have light upon him. It were a matter both tedious, and contrary to our design, to discourse of such as fortune (if so we may speak) from high degree brought low; and of mighty men in a moment made miserable. In such a variety and vicissitude of matters, if ye do not forethink how that all humane accidents may touch you, as well as others, ye give adversities great power over you, which by the prudence of him that forseeth them, are not a little abated, and made more mild. Against public evils, a man ought to consider from whom and by whom they are sent, and to mark their cause. It is God his providence, from whence cometh & dependeth an absolute necessity, which governeth and ruleth all, and whereunto all things are subject: and if we desire in any thing to be like him, our minds out of question, would be in greater rest: Let every man therefore employ his actions about such things as be of a more certain and constant condition: So shall he sit down with content, and enjoy the sweetness and commodity of tranquillity and ease.  
But seeing that in this world, all things are subject to tottering and turning and that there is nothing under the Cope of Heaven stable and firm: the Remedy most fit unto our infirmity; is to foresee this instability, and not to passionate, and turmoil ourselves about those things, the possession whereof is no less toilsome and troublesome, then was the acquisition and purchase thereof. And therefore we must love them as things which may leave us, and withal, have so much foresight, that they never leave us first. When on a time it was told Anaxagoras that his Son was dead: I knew very well, quoth he, that he was a man, and that he was borne to dye once. In like manner, must we be prepared for all adventures. My Friend hath not assisted me: well, I knew that he was a man, and one that might change. My Wife was very virtuous, and yet was she but a Woman. Afflictions of Body, and of Mind, sickness, casualties, losses, imprisonments are befallen me: They are welcome; these are as great blessings, as Dignity, Health, and Pleasure; seeing they proceed from one, and the same, the giver of all things. And he that thus before hand bethinketh himself of humane accidents, shall never betaken at unawares, neither shall he ●ave need to say, as customably the unadvised are wont, 〈◊〉 did not think of such a thing: ●nto whom the chances of Fortune do occasion much affliction and anguish, because they ●inde themselves disarmed of ●his wise foresight. Ulysses' overpassed many dangers & difficulties, and yet none of them all ●●d afflict him so fore, as one ●hing which did take him at unawares; even the death of a dog which he loved dear. And ●●ence the common Proverb proveth true: That a person surprised, is half beaten.   

DISC 4. Of each man's Vocation and Calling.  
Virtue and Industry are the chiefest props of an honest calling, and it behoove tha● wise man to carry himself equally between them both, taking Virtue for the guide, and Fortune for the Companion, and follower: for it cometh oftentimes to pass, that such as do not think diligently of that which they do, are seen to fall into such a kind of life as is painful to bear, and uneasy to be abandoned. Which is certainly a great straight, and a case that doth require much prudence, and patience, with piety to implore the aid and assistance of God; for patience with humility in God's behalf, is the remedy which doth most lighten and ease the evil. Consider poor prisoners, at first what pains they endure to bear the burden that is laid upon their legs, but after that they are once accustomed thereunto, necessity teacheth them, and use maketh all such hard usage easy unto them. There is no manner of life, howsoever hard and strict it be, which hath not some kind of solace and refreshment to sweeten it. And truly there is not any one thing, wherein Nature hath so much favoured us, as in this; that she maketh us to find the remedy, and mitigation of our misfortunes in the sufferance of them.  
The case then standing as it doth, that man is borne obnoxious and subject unto all manner of miseries; we must consequently suppose that we are all of us the prisoners of Fortune, who holdeth us, tied and fettered hand and foot; and that there is no difference, saving that the fetters and chains of some, are of Gold, and of other some of Iron. We are all of is in one and in the same prison, and those that hold others captive are in the like condition and case themselves in regard of others. If the desire of honour turmoileth thee, the desire of riches doth trouble another. If the baseness, and obscurity of birth doth afflict thee, to others Nobility and greatness doth bring a thousand discontented thoughts: Art thou subject to the commandment and will of another, that other is subject at least to his own, having his brains and his breast beaten with ten thousand heartburning, & diseasements which thou dost not espy: in sum, if ye mark all things well, our whole life is nothing but a slavery, wherein every one ought to take good heed how to demean himself in his calling, & how he may content himself therein, winking at that which is evil in it, and applying himself unto that which is good. For there is no calling, howsoever Painful and toilsome it be, wherein the patiented soul doth not find some contentment and gain, though that cunning and skill be more exquisite in time of adversity, then of prosperity. For when as calamities and crosses do present themselves, then must we gather all the forces of our wits together, and set our whole vigour and strength against such imminent or present evils, reposing our whole confidence in God. jonas had leisure even in the Whale's belly to make his supplication and prayer unto God, and was presently heard. In this manner all accidents, how grievous & uneasy soever they be, may be sweetened and lightened.  
To this purpose also it is good that each one set certain bounds and limits to the hopes of this life, and that he think with himself, that howsoever humane thing be different and various in the outward semblance and show: yet nevertheless inwardly they resemble one another in their inconstancy and vanity.  
A Calling is the Tie of every man from Sloth; it gives him health, it draws the mind from thinking on such things as precipitate the Soul: By it Commonwealths have their true decorum, and are therefore permanent; because upheld by continual employment: It is ever best, when Honesty steers the course, and mean ones bear not envy against such as are in higher places than they; for oftentimes that which we account height, is as a steep hill, from whence a man with very little ado is hurled down headlong. And truly such as have lived content, have not been always those that have made the better choice: but rather those who prudently and discreetly could carry themselves in that estate and calling which they once made choice of, taking patiently the evil that fell out therein, and endeavouring to redress such accidents as did cross their desires. This advice likewise is required to keep discretion, which seasoneth, and giveth a taste and relish to all things. And for this cause Plato did compare the life of man to the play at Dice, whereat whosoever doth play, ought always to strive to have a fair throw, and yet content himself with any cast that cometh. For seeing that good or evil luck is not in our power, at least wise we must labour to take cheerfully our chance, and withal to thank God, for that the worst that could, is not fallen out. Whereas men of weak wit, having Fortune at will, are so transported with joy, that scarcely they know what they do, they are so insolent, that no man can keep them company; they can abide no body, and no body can abide them. Whereas in the time of adversity they are so amazed and so melancholy, that they are almost overwhelmed with sorrow and heaviness of mind, ye shall see them like unto the sick of a languishing, and anguishing disease, which can neither abide heat nor cold.  
Whatsoever thy fortune be, bear it with patience, if thou art Low, strive not to Emulate those above thee, for in so doing the bow which thou seekest to bend, will fly back upon thee; and if thou art high, contemn not those meaner under thee: for that is to take up a stone to fling at thyself; but so weigh both thy mind, and it, as that a golden means may be the Centre of all thy hopes.  
The Philosopher Theodorus was wont to say, that he gave his Scholar's instructions & lessons, with the right hand, but that they received them with the left, and so doth it far often times not with a few, who with the left hand take hold of the luck which fortune (I mean God's providence) reacheth them with the right. It were much better in my judgement wisely to imitate the wise diligence of the Bees, the which of Thyme, which is but a dry and harsh herb, do make the sweet and pleasant honey. So should we out of this harsh and cumbersome life extract and draw whatsoever therein is good and chase away what is evil therein; or case and cover it closely, and who knoweth not but that such as are exercised in the actions of Virtue, can draw by a certain secret and supernatural kind of Alchemy, good out of evil? Diogenes was banished, but he made good use of his banishment, in that he did in the mean time betake himself unto the study of Wisdom. And this shall not be so difficult and hard to do, as it seemeth to be, if by frequent exercise ye do endeavour to acquire the habitude and settled custom of living content. Can ye not abide in the Houses of Princes and Great men? content you then with your own. Do ye find yourself uncapable of government in the Common wealth? play then the good Citizen's part, and be content to obey. Thus doing ye shall make unto yourselves facile, and easy, that which most men deem to be strict and hard in the course of your life.  
Moreover it shall much avail you in your discontentments, to represent unto yourself the great and fame us personages of the time past: how and with what wisdom, and courage they have remedied and borne the crosses and calamities which befall them in this life. Doth it displease you that you are destitute of children? Consider how many Kings, Princes, and Potentates, have died without issue. If poverty doth vex you, weigh in your own mind, how many excellent men have been likewise poor; who nevertheless have lived patiently without complaining. On a day it was told the philosopher Stilphon, that his daughter had done amiss: the fault (quoth he) is not in me but in her fortune and mine. To live is a gift, to dye is a debt: and then is that ransom only paid, which all thy life time was due to Nature for thy being, and this is much eased by the patience of a discreet man. If the churlish and froward conditions of your own grieve you, set before your eyes so many wise, honourable and illustrious men, as have quietly comported with the importunities of theirs, Socrates had the most froward wife in the world, and he said that by enduring of her at home, he did learn to be patiented abroad. Look upon holy David, a man after Gods own heart, who yet was troubled and angered by his own Children.  
The world is full of such examples, and if we did not love ourselves so much as we do, it is certain that in the greatest crosses and encomberments of this life, we should find comfort enough. For there is not any prison, how dark or straight soever it be, which will not give place unto a Song, to refresh somewhat the poor prisoners perplexed mind. Finally, I say, that if ye serve God, and fear him, Charity shall be able of itself, to procure peace and tranquillity unto your spirit: which the whole world cannot perform, although every one should offer themselves to help you. Let Truth guide thee, whose purity will cleanse thy heart: Ask not what it is, but embrace it: It is ●he Rule of Reason, and Birth of Uprightness; by it thy life will be full of sweetness and pleasantness; thy profession, ●hy end shall be better than thy beginning, and that also full of ●ope.   

DIS. 5. How a man must order and rail his life.  
NO man would accept of life, if he knew what it were: for all men do so much complain of it, yea, even the wisest; that if that length of days which those in the first Age before the Flood, enjoyed, were given them, it would but increase an● augment their sorrow; and thi● happens through the unconstancy of the world. Therefore 〈◊〉 is expedient in my conceit, tha● a man hold, and keep a certain stayed and settled manner of living, and that he  not with every wind. Ye shall see many much subject to this vice o● changing their manner of living from day to day; so tha● they cannot ground or fett● themselves upon any thin● whatsoever. Wherein they d● resemble such as have neve● been accustomed to be at Sea● who as soon as they begin t● sail, run out of one vessel into another, leaving the bigger, to put themselves into 〈◊〉 lesser, and by and by leaving the lesser, to return to the bigger again. And thus they continue in changing, until they evidently know that nothing can fit them; because that whither soever they go, their queasy stomaches do keep them company, and consequently, their vomiting disease.  
Also, there are others that bring their passions with them unto their affairs, and seek incessantly after a new manner of living, and never accomplish what they have once begun. All things go against their stomach, all things displease them: whether to be employed, or to be idle; to serve, or to command; to be married, or to be single; to have children, or to have none at all: finally, nothing doth fit their fancy, nothing doth satisfy their desire, save only that thing they have not: and such folk must needs live as miserable as prisoners fettered in perpetual pain.  
There is likewise another manner of men not much unlike unto the former, that cannot keep themselves quiet, nor be at any stay, in any time, or in any place. They cease not to go and come, always intermeddling with affairs, without being thereunto called, and busying and bestirring themselves about that which no wise concerneth them. These men when they go out of doors, if ye but ask them whither they go, they will answer you thus; I know not, I go to do as the rest do. They run along the streets, they haunt the public places, and then they return home full of vexation and weariness, without any design: for there is nothing that doth so much irk and weary men's minds, as to labour in vain. They are like unto little Aunts, which do climb upwards upon trees, and after they have mounted to the top, are forced to creep down again the same way they went up, without bringing down with them any good at all. Many do live in this manner, whose life is nothing else but a busied leisure full of tumults and toils, ye shall see them posting on with such vehemency and speed, as if they would carry away with them all that they find before them in their way. The Streets, the Churches, and Markets, are ordinarily full of them.  
These be they which forge, and frame news: they will be the weighers of men's worths, and the givers of garlands. They will talk lavishly of other men's lives, and discourse of other men's offices, keeping a babbling coil. It is a principal point of Wisdom truly to know how to esteem of life; he that esteemeth and loveth his life for the love of itself, he lives not but to live: But a wise man lives no longer, then that his life may be worth more than his death; a great part of life is lost to those that do ill; a greater to those that do nothing; and all to those that do that they should not do; some begin to live when they should dye; some ended before they begin; and amongst other evils, Folly hath this, that it always begins to live. But the actions of a well advised man tend always to ●●me certain end; neither doth ●e burden himself with more businesses than he can conveniently the man that undertaketh ●●uch, must needs, in my mind, ●ive Fortune much power over ●im.   

DISC. 6. Of the diversity of Actions.  
EVery one in my Opinion ought to take pains in enabling himself to comport with the time and matters according as they accidentally happen: and not to tie themselves so much to one manner of living, but that in case of necessity they may forsake it. For if we consider man according to the life we shall find him full of vanity, weakness, inconstancy, misery and presumption; a fruitful argument to divert him from singularity. For even a● a man that is whole and sound, should not subject himself to the keeping o● one certain rule in his diet, bu● ought rather to accustom himself to eat sometimes more, & sometimes less, at one time of one meat, and at another time of another meat; to drink now of wine, and then of water, to abide sometimes in the sun, & sometimes in the shade, sometimes to labour, and sometimes to rest● so must he frame and fashion himself to all manner of accidents, for in so doing, any new chance whatsoever, that can befall (for there are infinite in the course of our life) shall neither trouble him, nor disquiet him: ye though he be driven to betake himself to some other manner of living, yet shall he do it without much trouble (provide always that temerity and rashness be away) by reason that he shall be so well enured thereunto before hand, that it will be easy for him to give place unto the time that offereth itself. And truly the impotency and weakness is all one, not to be able to change in time of need, and not to be able to continue constant in a good course, for he that loveth riches, shall not be satisfied with it; and he that cannot comport with necessity has not the valour of a Christian.  
Moreover, we must mingle and temper our matters in such sort that they may be fitted proportionably one to another. As for example. At one time to be solitary, at another time to be in company, the one for our friend's sake, the other for ourselves: for we must not always remain in our grave mood, for that will make us abhorrec●: neither must we show ourselves continually jocund and glad, for that will render us despised. But we must carry ourselves discreetly, observing comeliness & conveniercy of time and place, as the life of man doth require. For it is a needful thing for a man at one time or other to recreate himself by giving intermission to his more serious affairs.  
Labour in some is a weakness of the Spirits, in others a waste; in some it makes the head dizzy, in others the back, and ●ll suffer; though not a like. Recreation is the Physician that ●ures all those, and makes them ●gree in a sweet harmony; and ●herefore he that will not mix ●hese two together, is guilty of his own distemper, and ●n enemy to the Law of reason.  
We read of Socrates, a most grave Philosopher, that he made no scruple to play and refresh himself with little boys: & of Cato, a very austere man, that sometimes he did feast his friends, thereby to refresh himself with the pleasure of their company, and to recreate his mind, wearied with the weighty affairs of the Commonwealth. Also of Scipio Africanus, that he would delight himself with dancing.  
And this we have said to show that the mind of man requireth some release. Neither hath he his due liberty, who hath not the means sometimes to beatleasure. The fruitefullest grounds if they are not laid to waste, become barren in a short time. Continual labour maketh the mind of man to become slack and weak: even as laziness and and luxury doth make it heavy, feeble, and faint. Our recreation ought to be as our sleep, which restoreth our strength, and giveth us breath to return more gaily, and joyfully to our work. For if we should sleep continually, it would be a death and not a sleep.  
The law of reason establishes a conveniency in the ordering of all things; and knits it self to Nature: which ordains four seasons, wherein trees appear, Leaves bud, bear fruit, and ripen, and after retire their ●ap into the body of the earth, to teach even men, that rest is altogether as necessary as Labour, and those which of old did establish laws, have ordained there should be also certain feastival days in the year, to the end men might in a manner be constrained to surcease from the employments of their ordinary callings, and take some pastime after their toil: and of old we find that many excellent men were wont to allot some parcel of time to their recreation. Asinius Pollio a great Orator was never so much busied in affairs, but he reserved for his pleasure and pastime the two last hours of the day; during the which space, he would not so much as read the Letters which he received from his friends, fearing lest they should minister unto him some new care and cogitation. Others were wont to labour until noon, and the remnant of the day they did spend about meaner matters. And the Canon itself allows civil Recreations, and that on the Sabbath, to those whose weekly labour hath afforded no releasement. The lights which they distribute to servants at Court, do likewise limit and bond the times appointed both for labour and rest. Conscience also which is placed in the mind of man, to decide the difference betwixt the Body and the Soul, even in holy exercises ordains a repose, following that first Institution of rendering God his glory, and man his right.  
And there was a Decree of the Senate of Rome, which did bear a prohibition, that no new thing should be propounded, or mentioned in the last two hours of the day. Furthermore, when a man is weary of his work, he doth find himself marvailously refreshed and restored, when as he goeth out into an open and spacious place; and it seemeth that the free air doth repair and renew the strength and vigour of his dispersed and spent spirits. For conclusion, ye ought to love diversity and change according to the time, and take heed lest ye nourish, and cherish your minds too delicately and daintily.  
For that having of its own nature great strength, provided that it be wakened and roused up, it were not reasonable ye should suffer it through voluptuous and delicious living to wax feeble and faint. And no sooner do ye come to that point to be impatient and delicate, but as soon all things begin to cross your good liking. Divers things are offensive to diverse men, which to others are not so: and that is a Cure to this man, which to another is hurtful. To eat, it goeth against your stomach; to be hungry, it hurteth you; to sleep, it slayeth you; to be awake, it vexeth you: and as a sick or queasy person, ye go on in a restless maze, always searching and seeking after some new thing: such delicacy and tenderness hath been the cause that diverse have had much ado to comport with the very things which are necessary in this life, as to lie, to sleep, to wake, to rise, to dine, to sup, to talk, to walk, to  and unclothe themselves: so that some have thought it a death to be always wearied in beginning anew again, and reiterating so often the same things. Such people come to so great extremities, that they can hardly manage, or maintain the manly courage of their mind; neither can they frame themselves in all, to know and taste of many things, and always in every of them to carry a good stomach. For in this case there is the like reason & condition of the body & of the mind. Hence it is that ye shall espy some men so tenderly disposed, that a small noise of their neighbour will annoy them, and the sound of a little Bell will trouble their brain. For as unto a crazy and ill complexioned body, so unto a drooping and languishing mind it doth semblably befall, that what thing soever toucheth it, doth prick it and sting it full sore.   

DISC. 7. Of the choice of Friends.  
IT is not with Virtue as with worldly Princes; her pride consists not in her plumes, nor the glory of her state, in the greatness of her Train: But she is as well contented to lodge in a poor Cottage, as in a Kingly Palace: Her greatest Glory is in Friendship, where two hearts are mutually connext, and dare lay down their lives one for another: There she exults, and esteems nothing more heavenly; to this purpose she hath dispersed her rays, that Amity might be in common to all.  
Therefore seeing that the life of man necessarily hath need of Friendship and Fellowship; for it is a matter both harsh and hard for a man to have always his mind bended about business; and would be yet more wearisome, if he had not one with whom he might take some release; and that we prove commonly too negligent and careless in making our choice: We ought in my judgement to choose such people for our friends as be of a mild and meek conversation, and who because of their calm and quiet disposition deserve to be beloved, for there is not any thing that so much doth content, and deligh: the mind of man, as faithful and trusty friendship. It being a great contentment to find a person so disposed, unto whom ye may safely impart your most secret affairs: whose counsel may advise you, whose cheerfulness may qualify all your cares, and whose presence may appease all your pains, and expel your pensiveness of mind: And therefore ye must endeavour to choose such friends as are free from covetousness, and all notorious vice. For vice like the fire taketh hold of that which is nearest unto it. So that we must do as men are wont in the time of plague and pestilence: which is to separate ●nd sever the sick from the whole: it being a contagion and ●n occasion of sickness to let ●hem live together. Nevertheless I do not like that we should be in our choice too scrupulous, but seeing we cannot find folks together perfect, we must hold those for good which be less evil.  
Amity is a sacred flame kindled in our breasts by nature, and hath expressed its first heat, between husband and wife, brother and sister, friend and friend, it is the soul and life of the world, more necessary than Fire and Water. Friendship is the companion of Justice, the bond of Nature, the Defence and Safeguard of a Town or City the comfort of old age, and the quiet harbour of man's lif●● By it all things consist, & discord decays, & therefore in the election of friends, ye ought chief to avoid such as be extremely sullen or sad, who weep and wail at all things, and despair of all things, although otherwife they be such as d●e love you, and would prove faithful enough unto you. For it is a thing that must needs trouble us much to have such a man for our friend as is always sad, sighing and sobbing at every occasion. For seeing that friendship, and fellowship is ordained to drive away discontent, sorrow, and grief, it were neither reasonable no● convenient to choose such a one for your comforter and friend, as in stead of delighting you, and of lightning your grief, should by his sullenness and sadness increase your sorrow, and every day occasion unto you some new vain apprehension and fear.   

DISC. 8. Of dissembling or disguising of humours.  
DIssimulation comes from Distrust, which is the Sienna or seed plot thereof: for if that were not, and that there were trust and fidelity in all, dissimulation which opneth the front, & covereth the thought, could have no place. Now it is a great pain, & a testlesse molestation of mind, for men to labour to appear different in show from that which they are in substance. And a marvellous trouble and torment it is, for them to take always heed unto themselves, for fear lest they should be discovered. Look how often men look on them, so often do they think that they are espied: so that in the end it falleth our, that whether they will or no, they do bewray the humour and inclination which beareth rule in their breast. The excessive care they have to hide their natural humour, putteth them to an unexplicable pain: and again, to be discovered, it putteth them to almost an intolerable shame. So that in this covered and masked kind of carriage there is not that pleasure and ease, which is to be felt in the other plain & simple kind of conversation that Nature doth lead each man unto. And though there be some little danger accompanying this plainness, that a man may be the less esteemed of by reason of this his inclination when it is descried: notwithstanding in my mind, it were better for him to be a little less accounted of, and to live openly; then with such pain to disguise and carry himself dissemblingly. And yet in both the two there is to be kept a reasonable mediocrity and mean: for there is a great difference between a frank and free fashion of behaviour, and a negligent or careless kind of carriage.  
To understand this point somewhat better, we have to consider, how that Nature hath endued man with two divers qualities and properties, the one general and common to us all, in making us reasonable and capable of discourse, wherein we surpass the bruit beasts a 〈◊〉 other particular to each one of us, as to be inclined to gravity, to policy, to melancholy, of 〈◊〉 some such humour. In this every one should follow his natural inclination, provided that it be not absurd, unseemly, or vicious. As if a man her subject to too much laughter, in behoveth him to endeavour to amend this imperfection. But in such qualities, as are not , it is good not to use counterfeiting, cloaking, or dissembling. For it is a thing very uneasy for that man always to Act the grave, who is not naturally inclined to gravity, as to change his countenance, to enlarge or raise swellingly his voice, to fashion & frame his eyes & looks to austerity, majesty, and greatness: The which gestures if a man chance to forget through negligence and oversight, by & by he is discovered.  
In my conceit it were much better for such a man to follow his inbred cheerful inclination, and gay humour in conversing with others.  
Notwithstanding, if it be a man's fortune to be preferred to a place of dignity and honour, such as doth require a grave, or severe countenance and carriage, then in this case it behoveth him to constrain and command a little his jovial inclination. But this must be done with much discretion and moderation, and by degrees, and in such sort that this change offend no man. And this kind of dissembling, or disguising of humours cannot be blamed; seeing the quality of his charge doth require it, for the seemly bearing whereof, he must be content to take the pains, to put aside; or rather to smother a little of his facile and easy disposition.  
But there are some lightheaded and ridiculous, which notwithstanding men take for grave, stayed, and magnatimous: Others there are, and some great ones, on whom God hath bestowed both Riches and Honour, and yet these do give themselves over to a depraved and lose voluptuous will, when as their open Carriage preclaimes them wise, modest and discreet: And there are others again, who without cause labour to counterfeit and cover, or rather smother their good inclination; for being borne of a mild and meek disposition, they endeavour to dawb themselves over with the untempered mortar of inhumanity; roughness, and austerity. Also others there are, who being very cowards, will yet make show as if they were the most valorous in the World, and by no means can they be brought to know themselves.  
But yet this their coloured and constrained courage they cannot carry fare off without discovery: The common saying always proving true, That no violent or constrained thing hath long continuance.   

DISC. 9 Of Vanity.  
VAnity is the most essential and proper quality of humane Nature: there is nothing so much in man, be it malice, infelicity, inconstancy, irresolution, (and of all these there is abundance) as base feebleness, sottishness, and ridiculous vanity: And therefore Pi●darus hath expressed it more to the life then any other, by the two vainest things in the world; calling it the Dream of a shadow. So that is a very hard thing, yea, I dare say impossible, that a vain and ambitious man can ever attain to taste sweet and most desirable tranquillity of mind, which the ●ise have so diligently sought ●or, by Sea and by Land, on note, and on horse, sparing no ●aines: For he that hath his ●inde and heart even with the ●hawing worm of Ambition, cannot attain to that which he desireth, to wit, that place, credit, and account which he doth ●rave. And as of himself be promiseth always more than he can perform; So likewise in his habits, attire, and all his other things, he doth usually go beyond his measure: And is found to be in the self same pain, wherein are lodged all those which strive against the stream, or which creep and grasp upwards against a steep Rock, and because in setting forwards they make too much haste, therefore they lie the further behind. Moderati● carries a soft pace, and submit herself to the rule of Temperance, she vails under a slo● sail, and by little and littl● creeps along; yet in that neglected pace goes further the● the galloping scope of prodigality: the true means to attain unto ease is, for a man to make smaller semblance and show then indeed his power and ability doth bear, and to set aside all pompous superfluity and vanity, as well in his attire, as in his train: and to hold always for his measure and rule that which is necessary, not that which hat● no other ground but a vain opinion, or a frivoulous concei●● yea in our very eating and apparelling, we must take heed there appear nothing so singular, or odd, that men may in an extraordinary manner take notice thereof. It is likewise very expedient and profitable, that we refrain our hopes, and that we extend not our designs further than we may well attain unto. As for riches, endeavour to come by them rather of yourself, then of fortune: And every way it is a principal point for a man to be moderate as well in his actions, as in his intentions. For when any tempest, or storm of fortune shall fall out, it shall have the lesser power to prevail upon him, and to give him the overthrow, if it find him with his sails gathered in, rather than hoist up to the full wind. Finally, a man ought so to dispose and demean himself, that although fortune should frown on him, by reason of lack of means; yet let him beware lost he be at once both crossed in his Condition, and quelled in his courage by the incommodity of want.  
If your Mind giveth you to love Books, endeavour to make them serve you for another use and end, then for ornament to your Chamber walls, as some do which purchase & buy many, only for Ostentation; therein resembling Asses, and Mules, which carry good Victuals on their backs, and yet eat not thereof at all. The immoderate multitude of Servants, bringeth unto the Master a multitude of charges and cares, with an excessive great pain: And they on the other side, are marred and made worse, by reason of too much ease. For conclusion, in what thing soever it be, if ye intent to live according to the opinion of others, ye shall never be content; but if ye do live according to Reason, and that which Nature doth require, ye shall never have Want. O how securely and quietly doth the Humble and Moderate man live, and how little pains doth he take, to provide and furnish himself! And truly, even unto the very brute Beasts which we do feed we have in horror such as be untameable and wild, and will not suffer themselves to be fed and led after our fantasy & Will. What reason have we then to approve of wild and immoderate men, which come so near these unmanageable and unsatiable Beasts? In brief, and for a good advertisement, call to mind how that the Thunder and Lightnings do fall ordinarily upon the tallest Trees, the highest Hills, and the stateliest Towers.   

DISC. 10. Of Prosperity.  
PRosperity is the life of Peace in a tumultuous War, where all seek to be conquerors over poor men, whose weak stability can hardly support itself without them; his happiness being not much unlike a fair house, whose foundation is rotten and decayed. And therefore when fortune smileth on us, and (as they say) every thing falleth out according to our wish, it is then, yea even then, if ever at any time, that we ought heedfully to look unto our selves, to hold our affections in raines, and watchfully to order our actions by reason. For adversity may procure our very enemies and foes to pity our affliction; but prosperity may move our very Friends to envy our fortunate condition.  
If we would rehearse in this place all those which have miserably miscarried by sudden and violent Death, because that they could not in their prosperity moderate and master themselves. The Story would be too tedious; it being our intention to use brevity, we will therefore leave that Discourse: For scarcely shall we find any man, who hath not some Knowledge thereof: And therefore when as we enjoy the smiling favour of time, we ought diligently to avoid all presmuption, and pride, which ordinarily doth accompany prosperity: and must endeavour to diminish, and abase, as much as we can; this haughty humour, and strutting be behaviour which always doth follow the heels of a more favourable fortune.  
True it is, there are some which sustain such a rank and dignity, that they cannot conveniently debase themselves, except they either fall from their place, or at least, not carry themselves in the same as they ought. King Xerxes and Cyrus got such abundance of wealth by war that being there with puffed up with pride to take erterprises in hand, through persuasion of of wealth; the one after he thought to rob and spoil all Greece was slain by Artabanus, the other thinking to subdue all Scythia, was vanquished by Tomiris, the Queen thereof: see here both these proud Princes, how by having too much wealth, nay rather for not using it well, they lost both it and their lives too: and truly men most employ their prudence and wisdom in tempering their gravity, so that others may be brought to impute it to their charge and calling, and not to the natural disposition of their mind; and therefore it is good that they excuse themselves towards their friends, and such folks as be of a meaner rank, whom they have known familiarly before, that they have not the leisure to entertain them, and to make much of them, by bearing them company, as otherwise they would very willingly do: Yet so, that they use in the mean time, all the facility and affability their condition and calling can suffer them to use; not bewraying or showing any stormy, or angry mood, by their visage or words, if a man chance to come to them at an unfit hour, or speak to them somewhat more importunately, or undiscreetly than reason would require. For it is a like vice for a man not to know how to carry himself in his prosperity, as not to be able to comport with adversity: we ought therefore to observe an equality in our whole life, and to show always (if it be possible) in all the changes and chances thereof one and the same countenance, full of courtesy, mildness and gentle in behaviour. Prosperity is very dangerous whatsoever there is that is vain and light in the Soul of Man, is raised and carried with the first favourable wind; there is nothing that makes a man so much to lose & forget himself; as great prosperity; and therefore it is necessary that a man look to himself, and take heed as if he went in a slippery place, and especially of insolence, pride and presumption. Alexander the great did far outrun his father Philip King of Macedon, by his high and excellent feats of war: but his father did far surmount him in humanity and gentleness of mind. The father was always virtuous and well-beloved, but the son was oftentimes vicious and hated: In such sort that their counsel is questionless wholesome and sound, which tell us that the higher and loftier men are, the humbler and lowlier ought they to be.  
Antonius Primus overthrew himself and his whole house, by nothing else then his overmuch glorying in his valiant deeds, and found this Maxim too late to be true, that a proud and insolent carriage towards men of spirit can hardly compass any thing, unless in some sort or other he that useth it be able to over awe them. Scipio Africanus was wont to say, that even as men are accustomed to put wild and untamed horses in to the hands of Equitiers and Riders, that being daunted and tamed, they may serve them at their need; So likewise is it needful to tame proud and insolent persons, that have grown wild through the abundance of fortune's favour, and to bring them again within the round and compass of reason, by setting before their eye the wretchedness and weakness of humane matters, and the mutability and instablity of fortune. And for this end we ought in our greatest prosperity to use the advice and counsel of our friends, yea, than we should give them more authority and power over us then at any other time, to the end they may be more bold towards us in telling us the truth. We must also stop our ears to flatterers, which may very easy beguile us: For at all times men do deem and esteem themselves to be such, as aught to be praised and extolled, but most of all in time of prosperity: In which it is a thing very rare and difficult to find a man who doth not incline to attribute unto to himself the cause of his own good hap. Neither is there any other Season in which men sooner forget God, then when they enjoy health and wealth, dignity and felicity according to their wish. So that mishap whensoever it doth happen them, doth serve them for a medicine, because it bringeth them home again unto the knowledge of themselves.  
This opinion of self-conceit, for a man to think too much of himself, and to give credit lightly unto the fawning lies of flatterers, maketh men to stumble, and to fall into many gross faults, yea, giveth occasion of mocking and bitter reviling, and out of all question, it is a great oversight, and a folly, for a man to rely more upon another's judgement concerning himself, then upon his own. This Philip (of whom we spoke before) seeing himself very mighty and victorious, and considering with himself, as a wise and moderate man ought to do, how that humane things do not always abide in the same stay, appointed that one of his Pages should each Morning salute him with these words, Philip, remember that thou art a mortal man. But how much more may the wise and well-disposed Christian say every day to himself, Remember that thou art earth, and to earth thou must return.   

DISC 11. Of the comparing of our fortune with that of others.  
IT is an ancient question, whether Industry and Fortune hath most credit: For it is out of all doubt, that both have; and it is clearly false; that one only doth all, and the other nothing; and commonly they that settle themselves unto the one, contemn the other; but the difficulty is to join them together, and to attend them both.  
Therefore it is much available for the attaining of this tranquillity of mind, that a man setting aside all passions, consider with himself what means and commodities he doth enjoy, and in the next place, that he set before his eyes such men as have not so much: not doing as many are wont, who have their eyes only upon such as surpass them, admiring and reputing them only happy and blessed. The prisoners hold them happy that are set at large; and again, those esteem such blessed as are altogether free. The free think the rich only fortunate, and the rich again those that command. They that command, account Kings of all other most blessed, and Kings those of their degree that excel them in ability and power. Hence it is, that men finding themselves unable to equal such as surpass them, they do remain discontented, and no wise satisfied with their fortune, wherein they both bewray their ingratitude towards God, and beget a torment to themselves. A wise man will not be male content, though many surmount him in means, but rather representing to himself the great numbers of afflicted and miserable men the world doth afford, he will rejoice and be glad of his condition and case. If ye see then a man well mounted and furnished with fair horses, richly arrayed, do but cast down a little your eyes, and consider how many there are that go a foot, which leading a poor life, esteem that of yours to be happy, for it is not reasonable that the good fortune of one, or of a few, should have greater force to make you discontent, then should the bad fortune of many have to move you to be content. How many poor folks see ye daily that live of their labours; and are laden with children, & pinched with poverty, and which is worst of all, have no hope at all to escape out of their misery? How many is there to whom your life, which ye so much deplore, would bring much consolation and ease? Fortune may make a man poor, sick, afflicted, but not vicious, dissolute, dejected: many times a man complaineth unjustly, for though he be sometimes surprised with some ill accident, yet he is more often with a good, and so the one must recompense the other: and if a man consider well thereof, he shall find more reason to content himself with his good fortunes, then to complain of his bad. We are come to a time so miserable, that one man's life dependeth more of another's then of itself; and the good of our Neighbour doth occasion us greater grief than is the gladness we reap of our own. But if it were possible for men to see unfolded the fortune of such as they esteem happy, they would feel and find in it oftentimes more anxiety and pain, than they do in their own. Who is he that doth not account the condition of Kings of all other to be most happy? And yet hearken what a great King saith of himself in Homer; Great jupiter hath imprisoned me with great perplexities and cares. O how happy then are those that live in their little corners out of these dangers and fears! And if it be so that ten thousand folks would be content with the estate wherein God hath established you, what reason have you to complain, for that ye have not the estate & fortune of one whom ye envy? Ye have no cause at all to kill yourself with sorrow and care, for to attain unto another man's rank, seeing there is nothing that so much roubleth and tormenteth a man, as this affection and immoderate desire of mounting from one degree of dignity to another. For such folks ordinarily do follow without consideration any hope whatsoever that offereth itself; the which if it fail to succeed according to their wish, they presently begin to accuse Fortune, and to accurse their hard hap; whereas they ought rather to blame themselves for their rashness & lightness, and their want of foresight. Neither do they consider what a folly it is for them, to impure unto another the blame of their own weak understanding, and the fault they have fallen into, by following that which was either uncertain, or impossible for them to attain unto. They are like unto those, in my conceit, which fret and fume for that they cannot fly, or shoot an arrow with a bow as big as a plow-beame.  
The cause of this evil, is the excessive affection men bear unto themselves: Whence it happens, that in all things they will needs strive and labour to be the first. It is nothing in their eye to abound in Wealth, except they have much more than other rich men have.  
Solon the Philosopher saith, that Wealth is the Mother of Excess, Excess the Mother of Lust, Lust the Mother of Violence, and Violence the Mother of Tyranny. Behold how this vice reigneth, or rather rangeth in all estates. Dionysius the first was not content to be King of Sicily, neither esteemed he his dignity accomplished enough, because Philoxenus did surpass him in Poesy, and Plato in Philosophy. Whereupon he was so furious, that he condemned Philoxenus to the quarries, there to wring Verses out of the hard rocks, and banished Plato out of his country. But it were good that he & all other complainers did practise the saying of a wise man, that if all the evils that men suffer, should be compared with the blessings they enjoy, the division being equally made they may see by the overplus of that good they enjoy, the injustice of their complaint. And out of this immoderate love it doth also proceed, that men will speak of all things, thereby to show that they know all things: whereby thy make themselves often to be mocked at, as it once happened to Megabyses the Persian, a man otherwise of great reputation, and valour who having upon a time entered into the lodging where the famous painter Apelles did ply and practise his art, began to discourse touching the same, and would needs give him to understand, that he understood the nature and secrets thereof. To whom Apelles, as being a man wise, and well conditioned, thus answered: Truly, Megabyses, before I heard you speak, I held ●ou for a discreet man, for ●our silence did grace your ●rave apparel, but since ye have meddled to talk of my ●rade, trust me, there is not the smallest boy here that grindeth the colours, but will mock you for your labour.  
Hannibal that great Captain of Carthage, after that the Romans had chased him out of Italy and Africa, fled to the King of Bythinia, where he was invited to go into the Schools, to hear a great Philosopher discoursing of the stratagems, tricks, and subtleties of war, his auditors wondering at his eloquence and science of the military Art, asked of Hannibal. what he thought of him; who laughingly answered them: That he had known many old fools, but that he had never seen, nor heard any man uttering so many fond and foolish words as that man did, whom they all so much admired. And not without cause did he answer them in this wise: considering how that this man did take upon him to discourse largely and lavishly of a matter which very hardly can be taught or learned in the shade of a School, and that in the presence and audience of the greatest Captain, and most experimented warrior that was then in the whole world. Which may teach every man to contain himself within the compass of his calling, without meddling or troubling himself with that of another man's. The which thing the Poets also have taught us, when as they feign that their gods do content themselves each one with his own calling and charge. Mars meddleth with war, Minerva with arts, Mercury with eloquence, Cupid with love, Neptune with the sea, Pluto with Hell, jupiter with the heavens, and so of the rest, each one keeping himself within the bounds and lists of his jurisdiction. And if that any of them had encroached upon the office and function of another, he had been scoffed and chastised for his presumption.  
How ill a fool's cap becomes the head of a wise man; and yet through that disguise he is discerned to be discreet, when all the choicest garments in the world cannot cover the nakedness of a fool. And hence we may gather, that all things do not be fit, nor become all men, and that each one ought to consider what calling he findeth himself most apt and sufficient for, and that he contenting him therewith, and containing himself therein. They that follow the profession of letters and learning, have need of leisure and ease. He that will follow the Court, and laboureth to have the countenance and acquaintance of great men, and to find access unto Princes, must needs undergo much pains. So that these conditions, and the like, are not sitting for all: and it standeth each one upon to know whereunto he is most apt. The Horse is fit for riding, and running: the Ox for opening and labouring the ground. The man that is sorry that he cannot bear a Lion in his bosom, as he may a little dog, is he not more then mad?  
If Fortune be a blessing to thee, why shouldest thou contemn it in another? or if not, why despairest thou that thy neighbour is richer: does not the same sun shine upon all? and is there not a God above the power of Fate? who knows what is better for man, than himself: if so, thou art most happy in being the least: in that thou art not daily in fear to be made so. But there are some, who without leaving any part of their ease, and of their vice, would be as wise as the Philosophers that have both day and nigh spent their time in study. The good wrestlers of old contenting themselves with their prize, suffered the other Champions to win likewise theirs at running. Contrariwise such as despising and disdaining their own good, do sighingly seek after another man's do they not live in displeasure and pain?  
They say, that in times past, there was a notable kind of men in Boeotia, which did complain of their gods because that their fig trees did not bear grapes, and that their vines did not bring forth figs. We must imagine that God hath fashioned & framed diversely men for diverse affairs, & that each one ought to content himself with that ability or place which God hath imparted unto him, without passing beyond his own, to pursue, and follow after that which is another's. For these kind of people make no account at all of that which they have, but only of that which they would have: they go always looking a fare off, and little think of the place wherein they are.  
There was of old, in a certain Temple, an image portrayed, which did represent the manner of men, that always wait on the time to come, and neglect the good opportunity of the time present. The picture was of a Rope-maker who did still work, but suffered an Ass that stood behind him to eat it up. And thus do the ingrate people in God's behalf, who make no reckoning of the goods they enjoy, but suffer them to be buried in oblivion, and are always covetous of things to come. In the harmony of the world, the differences, or distances are to be observed: so likewise in humane things, all are not of one sort. And as in music there are tunes and sounds, some grave, some sharp, and some mean, of the mingling whereof the skilful Musician maketh a sweet melody: so doth the prudent man make an harmony of the good and evil that occurreth in this life, not taking the good or the evil alone, but consorting and tempering the one with the other, as things which in this world can never be fully severed. That fair proverb uttered by Eurypides, but used of all, proving true: That sorrow and man's life are sisters of one womb.   

DISC. 12. Of Adversity.  
WIth what a Labyrinth is purblind man encompassed, no sooner borne with hope of a prosperous life, but that is crossed with variety or adversity, which is of its own nature grievous and heavy unto our hearts, in sickness, the loss of children, of friends, with such like other dismail accidents. But yet in part we follow popular opinion in the apprehension thereof, and this we do principally in our own wants necessities and in matter of affronts, circumventions and scoffs, when as we imagine that the honour is deferred us which we deserve.  
Against these crosses it were good for us to apply unto ourselves the saying of the Poet Menander, That which hath befallen you, is not indeed grievous, but only seemeth so, and that it is so, it may appear in that ye have your mind and body as much at commandment, as ye had before the cross did befall you. And against the crosses of the first kind ye ought to consider how that ye endure nothing contrary to the Law and course of humane things, in regard that all these accidents are annexed unto man's being, and that from his birth they are allotted to him for ordinary; and the truth is nature hath not framed us so feeble, to bear out adversity, as we make ourselves. Let us always think that it is but our inferior part which is subject unto fortune, and that we have the principal in our own power: & that that which lieth in us, as concerning virtue, cannot be overcome by any other thing, without our consent: For we know that we have not need of any great forces for the doing hereof, we having none to fight against, but our own selves, and the better part of the victory consisting in mastering our own will: whereunto add this, that God will always favour the man who through the aid of rectified reason disposeth himself to be the stronger. Fortune (if so it be lawful for a Christian to speak) may well make thee poor, abase thee and afflict thee but she is not able to make thee vicious, lazy, or il-conditioned; neither can she bereave thee of the courage and vigour of mind, wherein doth lie greater strength to govern thy soul, then there is in the Art of Navigation to direct a ship. For the Mariner, let him be never so skilful and wife in his Art, cannot withal his skill assuage the surging tempest of the Sea, nor yet take away fearful apprehensions from another man's fantasy. Whereas Virtue and Wisdom in a well ordered mind doth assure and settle the body, for it preserveth it from diseases through temperance, and pulleth it back from wicked and vicious dispositions by continence: and whereas any thing, wherein there is danger, shall present itself unto our mind (as if it were in a quicksand) it is good that we leave it, and pass furthered or else if the evil be unavoidable, let him comfort himself, and think that the haven is not very far off: and that his soul goeth out of the body, as out of a crazy or broken bark, holding death for a sweet and assured harbour, chief considering, that in regard of the nature of the soul, her out-going from this life, is her in-going to a better. Which consideration ought to add much unto the courage of Christians, yea, and make them not to fear that which bringeth affrightment unto others. And truly, if we had skill and courage enough to look Fortune in the face, and to meet her in the way with a stou● stomach, prepared to sustain all her assaults, nothing in the world could dismay us, or make us suffer. And this thing would certainly come to pass, if we could once be accustomed never to promise to ourselves any great or assured hopes, or yet any certain and settled estate, during this miserable life, and if we would take heed diligently, considering whether those things we do account as evil, be so evil as we deem them to be, or if happily they be not so evil, but rather less than we imagine. Finally this thing would happen if we would behold a far off, & wisely foresee frowning fortune, for in so doing we might assure ourselves, that at her coming she should not affright us, but the nearer she came to us, the bolder we might be to look her in the face, and to esteem her not to be so lusty and strong as her picture doth import, and if no man be able to boast during this life, so fare as to say, I am exempted from this bitter potion, at least may he say thus, though I must swallow it down, yet shall I not be aghast, weep and wail I will not, neither despair, as many men do. I will not bring myself into so deplorable a plight as diverse do, amidst their disasters. Though poverty pinch me more than many others, for all that will I not beguile my neighbour, nor yet take that to myself which belongeth to another: I will not lie, much less will I forswear myself. Briefly there shall nothing unto me seem so intolerable, as that for to shun it, I would choose to become vicious. If by honest means I cannot avoid indigence and need; at least necessity shall make this necessity of mine easy to be borne. Besides, the common law of humane things, doth not allow us to esteem that thing heavy and unbea●eable, which so many daily do carry, and bear on their backs: for choose what manner of afflictions ye will, ye shall find more men burdened therewith, then exempted therefrom.  
Adversity is a Penelope's web, which undoes all that the day of Prosperity had woven: In the day of Adversity, consider, saith the Wise man; and the Ancients give a clearer revelation of the Knowledge of God unto it, then to Prosperity; because it is a nearer way to Heaven. Therefore we must likewise comfort ourselves with this consideration, that where there is no sin, ●here can be no true evil at all: ●nd that the virtuous man is more came and quiet in his deepest adversity; then is the vicious man in his highest prosperity: And such were the crosses of the righteous men of old, which by the help of the divine grace, were so accompanied with fortitude, patience, and humility, that how sharp and rough soever they were, yet they brought them not so much vexation and anguish as their conscience did them consolation and ease, and even as those that are sick of a Fever, feel sooner, and in more painful manner, the heat and coldness of their fit, then do the whole and sound the sharpest cold of Winter, or the scorching heat of Summer: So likewise doth it sure with those that are trouble with the fever of their vicious affections, the which do burn and blister extremely and continually their conscience: for they are much more vexed with the corrupt and vicious qualities they do beget and bear in their bosoms, then are virtuous men with all their adversities. For the virtuous quell pride by humility, covetousness with temperance, and all things with patience: and these having the inward and better part sound and without wound, cannot be hurt by outward accidents, whereunto they oppose a lively and lusty courage together with the force of an honest and inviolable mind, which is more strong than any thing else whatsoever. Think not that riches, howsoever abundant they be, can afford so great contentment to the owner thereof, as virtue doth unto the virtuous man, which is sufficient to make him content: For virtue in whomsoever it be, is always the reward and recompense of herself. We read how that Aglaus a poor shepherd in Arcadia, was by the Oracle of Apollo preferred for his contentation before King Croesus of Lydia, who esteemed himself the happiest man in the World for his riches: and even as the most precious plants & sweet-smelling trees, though they be cut in pieces and dried, keep always their sweet and pleasant sent, when as the unsavoury and barren do not please the sense, even then when they are whole and full of blossoms and flowers: even so the virtuous man in the very midst of his adversity reapeth more pleasure and contentment of his virtue and honesty, than the vicious can do of his wealth and superfluity, being beaten and scourged with a cursed conscience. In one word, in what time, place, or condition soever ye find the virtuous man, ye shall find him always content. O what a blessedness then, if considered aright, is Adversity? which though common to all, yet worketh diverse effects, according to the Subject whereupon it lighteth. To fools and reprobate persons, if serves to drive into despair, afflict, and enrage them: to sinners and offenders crosses are so many lively instructions and compulsions, to put them in mind of their duty, and to bring them to the Knowledge of God: To virtuous people they are the lists wherein to exercise their Virtue, and to win to themselves greater commendations, ●nd a nea●er alliance with God; ●nd to all a guide, that leadeth ●ut of this life into a better.  
It is reported that Diogenes ●he Philosopher, seeing on a ●ime a certain man dressing and ●ecking himself for a Festival ●ay, said unto him thus: Why ●oest then take such pains to ●rimme thyself to day, considering that every day is a festival ●ay to the virtuous man? And ●uely every day of the life of ●he virtuous man is a Solemn ●ay, and fit for a moderate re●oycing and mirth. For if we ●ooke well unto the matter, the world is no other thing else but 〈◊〉 fair and holy Temple, into which a man is brought so soon ●s he is borne: and within this Temple there is to be seen two bright Lamps or Torches set up, the Sun and the Moon, with many other Starry lights. There may we see and behold diverse kinds of Creatures, by means whereof, Man attaineth to the Knowledge of other Essences, that cannot be seen. What a sweet sight is it to see so many fair floods, and clear running Rivers, which send out always fresh Water, to behold so many fruitful and flourishing Trees, Plants, Herbs, and Roots: the beautiful variety of Beasts, and of stones, together with graffie hills, and high Mountains on the one hand, and low Valleys and pleasant plains on the other? if man were so wise as he should be, this same sight & show might serve him for a pastime, and a delight. For what thing is there in this Life more worthy to be seen, than the pass-times and pleasures which God doth afford and offer us in his Creatures, if we could use the same as we ought? Why do we take greater delight in any artificial sport of Beasts, than we do to behold them acting their several parts of Nature's play, each kind of them their own part, upon this fair & wide stage of the world? Or is there any Music sweeter than the chirping and singing of Birds? In brief, it is a great delectation to see and observe the diversity of creatures which God hath framed and form each one to his kind: we consume and spend away our life about so many purposes and practices, so many toils & broils, that hardly we do enjoy any part thereof, and yet for all that we leave not to enjoy the other good creatures of God. If a man could once attair to this point of perfection, as to ●id his mind ou● of these manifold entanglements, and to give it some space and place to entertain, cherish, and nourish itself with the knowledge of the creatures, and of the Almighty Creator, nothing should, or could cast it into any excessive sorrow, except it were sin: for the Soul being once unite I with him that made it, by contemplation and meditation, by knowledge and love, it would gather itself together calmly and quietly, and man lead and live continually a gladsome life, considering that at one time or other some evil hath befallen him, yet oftener hath he tasted of good. So that requiting, as it were, the one with the other, he may well say that he hath greater occasion to rejoice of his good success, then to complain of the evil adventure of another time; as we are accustomed to turn our eyes away from such things as offend us, and to cast them upon green, and gay colours that please us: so should we divert the eyes of our understanding together with our thoughts, from sad and sorrowful objects, and apply them to such as are more pleasing and agreeable thereunto, neither must we be like unto the malicious man, who beholdeth another man's faults with the eyes of an Eagle, but his own with the eyes of an Owl. But our perverseness is such, that very often we do resemble the boxin-glasses, which draw and drink up the corrupt blood, and leave the pure and clean blood behind. There was in former times a certain rich wretch, who had in his house great store of wine; but yet was so nigardish and near, that he sold the best, and kept the worst for his own use; a certain servant of his, observing this pinching and preposterous niggardliness of his Master, fled away from him: and being asked afterwards why he left his Lord, answered thus: Because I could not endure to stay with a man, who having that which was good, made choice of that which was evil. The Philosopher Aristippus, made yet a fare better reply, who having lost on of his three Farms, said thus unto his friends, That it was babishnes to be sorry for one Farm lost, and not to be merry for the other two that did rest in his hands, seeing that all of them had lain open to the same adventure. We are like unto little Children, from whom, if ye pull but one of their Rattles or Knacks, they will presently, without more ado, fling away all the rest in despite. For if, of many good things that we enjoy, it chance that one of them, either be taken from us, or that it be lost, by and by we begin to bewail it, forgetting all that resteth behind in our hands.  
But some man bewailingly will ask me, saying: alas! what have we? To whom askingly I would answer: But what rather have we not? One hath great reputation and credit, another hath Wealth, and another health, one hath a Wife according to his wish and will, another hath sweet Children, and another faithful and trusty friends.  
Comforters in Adversity, are divers, and most of them such as job had: if they see a man forsaken, by those who perhaps were his dearest friends in a better fortune; they think him forsaken of God also, and few there are that attribute his fall to a trial of his patience or love: censure not thy brother, for as his afflictions are greater, so are his comforts, and the one would not be given but that it makes the other greater.  
Antipater of Thrase did reckon it among his other good fortunes, that he had sailed prosperously between Sicily and Athens, but we each one of us would have all, though we have not in the mean time the understanding to thank God, for the smallest thing. Neither make we any account or reckoning of the greatest goods because they seem to us to be too common, as to live, to be in health, to see, to hear, to speak, to enjoy peace, to eat and drink, to have food for our belly, and  for our back, to see and enjoy the fruits of the labourable ground, together with the commodities of the saileable Sea, that we can talk, or hold our tongue, sit, or stand, sleep or wake as we will. If men would but consider in their minds, what displeasure and grief redoundeth unto such as do lack any of these abilities, they would no doubt, live much more content than they do. What think ye would the sick give for the benefit of health? the blind for the use of his eyes? and such as are despised for a small measure of renown? we wretches are so blockish and blind, that we can never prise the goods that we have, until that we be deprived of them; and have them no more. For we care not if what we do be right or wrong, so it make for the raising of our fortune, and thus hath vice by the contempt of adversity been entertained.  
That which resteth, I wish you always to be advised that ye fall never so fare in love with the things of this life, that the fear ye have to lose them vex you with unrest, or yet having lost them, immoderate sorrow for them hurl you headlong into despair.   

DISC. 13. Of sadness and sorrow.  
Sadness, or heaviness of heart, is a languishing feebleness of the spirit, and a kind of discouragement engendered by the opinion that we have of the greatness of those evils that afflict us. It is a dangerous enemy to our rest, which presently weakeneth and quelleth our Souls: it corrupteth the whole man, brings his virtues asleep; and it is the Daughter of Adversity, which doth beget in us vexation and grief, according to the greatness or smallness thereof: whence likewise there happeneth some fault: For now adays we may see men ordinarily mourning and moaning excessively for many things, not so much for that they have cause, as because it is the custom. One lamenteth the mishaps of his neighbour, or friend, and carrieth a pale and heavy countenance, to show that he is very pensive, although he be nothing sorry at all. This kind of customable compassion is altogether unprofitable, in regard that even in your own adversity, ye ought not to be sad, but only so fare forth as reason doth require, and not as custom doth command. There are six kind of men that are never without sorrow: He that cannot forget his trouble; an envious man that dwelleth by Neighbours newly enriched; he that dwelleth in a place and cannot thrive, where another did thrive before: A rich man decayed, and fallen into poverty: He that would obtain that he cannot get: And he that dwelleth with a wise man, and can get nothing of him. And besides these, how many is there who weep when others look on them, and do think it should be a very ill favoured thing, not to shed tears when as others do mourn? How many frivolous sorrows hath it made many to slide into, to lean too much upon the tottering and unstayed prop of opinion? How much better were it in such cases, to devise some new fashion, and to feel humane accidents after that mood which best becometh wise and moderate men? What good do their immoderate sighs and sobs, either to the living, or to the dead? Doth there any other thing flow therefrom, save that they waste themselves wretchedly and recklessly away? For though it be true, that oftentimes such disasters and accidents fall out, that it is impossible for men to pass them over without being touched with sorrow for the same: nevertheless we must always be ware to be more sorry than reason doth allow; and seeing that time ought to heal us in the end, it were a babishnesse not to prevent it wisely, and to do that betimes, which at one time or other we must do perforce.  
How many men shortly after the death of their children, or wives, have recomforted themselves, esteeming the time lost which they had spent in sadness and in sorrow? For although though it be true, that such persons are worthy to be renewed in our remembrance, yet we ought to bring thereunto that moderation and remedy, which at last will needs offer and apply itself, though ye would never so fain resist it.   

DISC. 14. Of the affliction of good men.  
Grief is the next friend unto solitariness, enemy to company, and heir of desperation; and it is not a small occasion of sorrow unto vigorous minds, and such as are touched with humanity, to see virtuous men vilipended or wronged: and truly it seemeth to be nothing less than a heavy heartbreak, and almost an unsupportable pain to behold wise and peaceable men afflicted, troubled, and vexed, yea to be ill-used, and trampled; as it were, under feet by the vain world, and to say the truth, it seemeth that this doth touch us very near: for when as we weigh with ourselves that the portion and lot of virtuous men is no other but affliction, and labour of mind, we do thereupon presently imagine, that thereby our best hopes are hemmed in.  
If then such a case disquiet you think with yourself, that if they be honest and patiented men, then are they in that case so much the more happy, because that in this life which is so short, they purchase to themselves a life eternal in the heavens, for ye must know that the first good which such as go to rest in God's house do obtain, is to be quit and discharged from the tentations and torments of this troublesome life.  
Afflictions on earth are as so many good companions unto the godly; which though of themselves unworthy, yet make their cause the better, who aim at a higher end than the blinded eyes of the ignorant without dazzling can behold; and so becomes the master of their own hopes, before others perceive them in trouble. The heavens are their only prospect where they behold the creator of Nature in his height of wonder, and themselves are the Mine into which they dive, to find reason Triumphant by which they govern their insurrective passions. Moreover, set before your eyes the roll and scroll of holy men of old, the blessed Martyrs of Christ, of whom some have been beheaded, others have been hanged; some have been burnt, and others have been broiled; some have been cut in pieces, and others have had their skin pulled off. Besides that during their life they have been afflicted with hunger, nakedness, and need: of whom certainly the world was not worthy, and therefore it had them in horror as those in whom it had no interest at al. But God loved them dearly, and by his divine providence, which cannot be deceived, appointed them to pass through such Tribulations, as through a needle's eye, into the place of perpetual repose. Yea the pains and perplexities that virtuous men do endure, do even prick them forwards to have a more earnest desire to loath, and to leave this wretched world. So that in the end they dislodge out of a bad and sad prison, they escape and slip out of the dark caves and obscure corners, and having no deep apprehension of death, they find the fair beaten way that leadeth them to a better life.   

DIS. 15. Of other men's faults and imperfections.  
NOw joy gins to bud, and the blossoms of felicity appear, yet after that ye have thus disposed of yourself, and have appeased your own passions; yet shall ye have the vices of others, and the faults which are done in public, making an onset against you to trouble your mind. Considering the great disorder that is amongst men; which is so great, that scarcely there cannot any thing be found in the room where it ought to be; and that there is hardly any one that doth the duty whereunto by birth and calling he was ordained. The man who should prove a wise Judge, is a simple Citizen: and he that ought to be but a mere citizen is made a Judge, and that man doth command who ought to obey.  
It is a strange thing to consider, how that almost every thing is corrupt and sold, and how that, as it were; all things are turned upside down. To see how that the poor man is punished for every petty trespass, and the puissant and wealthy person is spared: to see, I say, how the whole plotting & plodding of men now a days, is altogether for money; when as riches are but the gifts of Nature; but goodness of God himself; and canst thou think that he that created man good, hath not bestowed a greater portion on him, than those whom fortune hath made rich: what if thou be'st poor, content thyself, thou shalt find greater consolation in that, and goodness, than the bad, and rich shall with all their store.  
Again, it cannot but bring grief unto a good man's mind, to consider how small occasion and example of living virtuously such persons do minister unto us, as hold the chief offices, and the first ranks in the Common wealth. The virtuous man is holden every where as a monster; abhorred, despised, and disdained. And what shall a man say, when as he weigheth with himself the variable & mutable disposition of the multitude, one while loving, and another while loathing, at one time praising, at another time dispraising, one and the same thing, one and the same party? How many be the miserable changes that fall out amongst men? And what a hard case is it, when men make none account of that they should diligently hear: and on the other side hearken to that whereunto they should rather stop the ear. The despite and dislike that many have conceived, by reason of such courses, hath made them bid the world far well, and moved them to withdraw themselves into deserts and solitary abodes, as not being able to behold with their eyes, that which did breed, & bring so much displeasure to their minds, whose intentions were wholly bend upon that which was really good, laudable, and honest. And therefore such have chosen to live rather amongst the wild beasts, amidst the  wilderness, and rocky mountains, then amongst so many wild men, swarming with vile and wicked manners.  
Nevertheless, in these, and such other occurrents as cannot be amended, man must command and master his mind, and carry himself in such sort, that these unamendable evils make him not to abhor the company and society of men: but rather he must take occasion thereof, to be the more watchful and wary, lest he become one of those that forget to carry themselves discreetly amongst men; he must also beware lest he minister occasion to another, to blame in himself that which he doth blame in his neighbour. A man must hold more on Democritus then on Heraclitus, for he did weep always at the faults he saw men fall into; but Democritus did laugh at them: To the one, all that men do, did seem to be but misery, to the other fondness and folly. And it seemeth to be the better of the twain, when as things amiss cannot be amended, that we sweeten them a little, if it were but in covering them with the cloak of a fair show, it being a likelihood more consonant to man's nature, to laugh at the manifold miseries of our life, then mourningly to bewail them with tears.  
But yet ye shall do better, if that for the vices of other men, and such as are done in public, ye do keep a mediocrity and mean, neither always lamenting, not yet always laughing at them: for it is both a miserable kind of disposition, for a man to afflict himself excessively, by reason of another man's miscarriage, and a pitiless kind of pastime to be laughing always thereat.  
But there be some, to whom this advice will seem to be of no weight: for not only they cannot comport with the imperfections of their friends, but also those of their enemies do afflict them. Their honours, precedencies, wrongs, and incompetencies vex them: the importunities of their friends, the way wardness and peevishness of their Servants, and Acquaintance trouble and torment them daily. But how much better were it to have patience in such accidents, chief seeing they win so little by willing and wishing the amendment thereof: Ye must rather imagine & think with yourself, tha● these men, which thus take pleasure to annoy you, are as dogs which be borne to bark. And impute all this evil to their perverse nature, wherein they are enough punished by the means of a perpetual peoplexity, which pricketh and peirceth their mind.  
But if your weakness be such, as to stumble at all that ye see ill done, by such as are about you, ye are then, in that case merely forlorn. For if the vices of strangers, or of those that be your own, come once to win ground on you, to close with you, and to overcome you, ye shall be abashed, and amazed to see how that all such importunities and troubles, like water, shall run into you, as the rain doth from the gutter into the base cour●, or from a steep hill into a low valley. And out of all question it is to be undiscreetly tender-hearted for a man to be always sorry, when those with whom we do haunt, do not entertain us so carefully, or respectively as we desire. He that avoideth conversation, doth nothing else in effect, but contradict the power of his Creation; therefore he ought so to principle himself, as that his carriage may be pleasing and acceptable unto all men, to the intent that Love, Peace, and Charity may be preserved.  
The immoderate affection we bear unto ourselves, doth deceive us, and the delicacy of our own condition maketh that we cannot bear with the defects and neglects of our servants, we not considering how that very often they know not how to do any better. We require at their hands perfect things, when as yet we ourselves do fall into so many faults, and are subject unto so many imperfections.  
And most often we play the passionate and fretting man's part in our servants behalf, either being moved by the distastes that our own ill conditions do occasion unto us, or by the quality and kind of the business we have in hand: and thus foolishly we cast the fault upon them which are innocent, and do the best they can. The angry was never a good man, and he that perversely follows his own passions, without balancing his actions, shuts himself out of this Kingdom of reason and Humane society: be not rash, but weigh another's faults in thine own scalls, so when thou comest to be weighed in them thyself; thou shalt find thy sins so much the lighter, by how much thou hast borne with the errors of others.  
There is also another thing which doth bring unto us much disquiet, and that is to affect too much one and the same thing, and thereupon to fall into debate with our friends. For there was never yet any perfect friendship amongst them which are led and miscarried with an obstinate emulation and contention who shall overcome. If ye belabour, & accustom yourself, through exercise, to frame yourself to times and persons, ye may easily govern and rule men at your will, and withal purge them from such evil humours as ye find them subject unto. And whensoever it shall fall out, that it shall seem unto you a thing impossible to comport with them; think that it is your fault, and that this floweth from your own inability: considering how that so many others could, and yet can very well comport with the same. You must not strive or contend to go beyond others in apprehension, Sin, judgement, or Conceit, but Moderate your understanding, and somewhat abase the value and estimation of your worth; so shall you sail with much more safety, and by a surer compass, than those that shall do otherwise. For even as the sick are wont to say, that they find all meats bitter, and contrary to their taste, thinking that the fault is either in the meats, or in the man name into ●●ared them: but as soon 〈…〉 ●ther men eat them, wit●●●●ren requ●●●●ny whit against their stomac●●●●tledness ●o know that the imperfection ●ieth in themselves. In like manner, as often as ye call to mind, how that many others have suffered, and yet do suffer, with a gay and courageous heart, the most troublesome, and toilsome accidents of the world, ye must confess that the fault must be imputed to your own feebleness, and to nothing else.  
Regal Government is that of a King, domestic of a Master, as the first is sometimes merciful, sometimes severe to his subjects, so should the latter be to his Family. Oeconomy is that which every man may practise, and find sufficient employment: there is power given to wh●● Tyrannize, and pow●● out, that it ●●erne well: theref●●● you a●● thin●●●●vised, and re●●● comp●● that only the go●●●●inke tha● wise receive the blessed reward of doing happily.  
If the manners and conditions of your wife vex you, ye must bend them, and bow them gently and softly, if it be possible, and that by using all kind of mild and amiable means. But if your misfortune be such ●hat ye cannot prevail with her, by way of pleasing and peaceable persuasions, than it behooveth that wisdom and discretion teach you to endure patiently her cross conditions, and to master and dissemble the evil which ye cannot amend: otherwise ye shall turn your house into a prison, your quiet rest into restless coil, and your good name into an intolerable shame.  
In your children require not that sageness and settledness, which ye find in old folks: seeing that they were not borne old: This age carrieth in it many things, the which if ye should endeavour on a sudden to draw to a perfection, ye should undertake a task of no small trouble, and if in young trees, ye are content that they bear leaves and buds, why do ye require ripe fruit in your children before the time? Who craveth the thing▪ that cannot be had, laboureth for that he shall not obtain. The mean is to touch and in instruct them diligently, to bring them up virtuously, and not to chide them continually, or check them immoderately: if peradventure they fail to do a thing as they ought.   

DISC. 16. Of Injuries and Indignations.  
THree things a rise of an Injury done to us; first hatred in our affection, secondly the sign of this anger is, when it appeareth in the countenance; thirdly when we intent action by law for wrongs; we are bound to pardon the first, although our enemy sue it not of us; we are bound to pardon the second, when our enemy sues it of us; but we are not bonud always to pardon the third; for there are some men, which could patiently comport with all other kind of affliction, only they cannot away with an indignity and wrong. The which thing, nevertheless, befalleth them more for being persuaded that the injury offered them is unsupportable, then for that it is so of its own nature. In which case one thing may avail you much; if ye can resolve with yourself to keep you aloof from the common opinion, and if ye can consider without passion, each one of the things that are wont thus to toil, and turmoil men's minds. For in so doing, ye shall see, if ye have reason to think upon the wrong offered you so immoderately as ye do.  
There is one kind of displeasure, which we call an injury, or wrong, that is, when any one overthwarteth us in our affairs against all equity and right. And there is another kind which we call an indignity, or affront, when as in our body, or name, we are used by word or deed otherwise then is fitting.  
For both these kinds, ye ought to know, that the virtuous man is not subject to receive any wrong: not that I do mean that there is none to offer and to infer wrong, for there is nothing so sacred, but there will be found sacrilegious hands to touch it. But that though there be not wanting multitudes of men, whose tongues and hands have no other, employment, but to defile, and diminish, so much as in them lieth, the honour of God, and of men: yet, for all that, the virtuous man's mind is not a whit the less assured: & though that such mischievous, and malicious men, level right at him to hit, and to hurt him with their harmful shaft, yet do they come short of their aim; for either they hit him not, or if they do, they hurt him not all: for an inviolable thing is not simply that which cannot be hit, but rather that which being hit, receiveth thereby no hurt or at least, careth not at all for it. And thus doth it far with the virtuous man, who of himself offereth no man any occasion of offering him any wrong. But his carriage is so level and even, his love so meek and humble, that even the vicious admire him. And if it fall out, that a man, out of a proud & haughty stomach, or rather out of a malicious disposition set upon him, and assail him, he is then in that case like a brazen wall, which the darts of the wicked cannot pierce through.  
Moreover; we know that the virtue and vigour of him, who in fight hath vanquished his adversary, is always greater than his who never did try the combat at all. And even the very same must we think and say of the virtuous wight, and well disposed person: who, like to good mettle, the more he is fired, the more he is fined; the more he is opposed, the more is he approved. Wrongs may well try him, touch him, or prick him, but they cannot imprint in him any false stamp. And if (peradventure) some flout, or affront be fling upon him, yet doth he in the mean time remain firm and unremoved; he maketh no reckoning, nor yet taketh any notice thereof, as assuring himself that it doth not reach so fare as unto him. Add also hereunto, that there is almost no man, but he will hold the wrong-offerer for wicked, and the wrong-sufferer for honest, as not deserving any such outrageous usage. The force and strength of his Virtue appeareth so much the more in this kind of adversity, and his mildness and meekness of mind, shineth so much the more clearly, by how much the more bitter and grievous the wrong offered was. But unto such as are of a more cowardly and base courage, an indignity is more uneasy to be borne withal.  
But would you see how men do measure wrongs by opinion? Such vanity there is in the things of this World, that some will make less ado for a bloody blow, then for a light box on the ear. Yea, some will make a greater stir for a vanishing hard word, than they would do for a deadly blow with a sharp weapon. We are fallen into such blindness and babishnesse, that opinion annoyeth us more than the Soar itself, being like unto little children, which are amazed at a mummers mask. If it chance that a man be hindered, or wronged in his goods, it is a wonder to consider what a coil he doth keep about them. But the discreet and welstayed person; who judgeth of things according to reason, not measuring them by opinion, as he holdeth all things, even as if it were by borrowing, so he feeleth the loss of them, as if they were things in no part his. And even as he should not cease to be content, though he had never had them at all, so he taketh the loss of any part of them, as the necessary out-casting or foregoing of one portion to save another, in the midst of a tempestuous storm. Yea the foregoing of his whole goods will not make him to forget his own worth and vigour of mind: he knowing well that not only his goods, but also his life, honour, and whole happiness doth only depend upon him who is the giver of every good thing. Such a one perhaps hath cozened you of so many crowns, hath deceived you of so many Ducats. Well, it is a damage he hath done you, yet is it a loss but of a part only of your goods, & not of the whole. And the man that hath the heart to give or forgo the whole, can he be much sorry to let go, or lose apart.  
But if it be the manner of your loss which doth most vex you: than ye have to think, that as your virtue would have you comport with Fortune and her frowns; so ought ye likewise to bear with insolent and audacious men, which are no thing else but the hookish hands of the same hard fortune. And trust me, our impatiency doth us much more harm, than those of whose violence and injustice we do so bitterly complain.  
What? (will some say) such a one did disdain to put off his hat to me; such another in speaking to me did not use that respect in my behalf as he ought, and I thought he should have done such a one did not give me place, but sat him down before me, and such another would not give me the wall. What terms, I pray you, be all these, but mere plaints flowing from the soft and feeble courage of an effeminate mind?  
Divers things displease us, which otherwise would not do so, if we had the will to construe them aright, and to take them in the better part; whereas through our own indiscretion, and distrust of ourselves, we make that an indignity which of its own nature is none; in so doing we judge ourselves well worthy thereof, and what other thing is this but lack of courage, though we feel the wrong never so sensible, not to be able to tread it, and to trample it under our feet?  
And if we will but weigh and observe how, and in what manner the nightly visions and imaginations of dangers, which do present themselves in our dreams do suddenly vanish, and sometimes do make us laugh when we remember them, we should do well to endeavour to do the like in our injuries, to think when as any wrong is done us, that we do but awake out of a dreaming sleep: a virtuous and well-disposed man (assure yourself) will be loath to wrong you in your body, goods or good name; and as for any ill-disposed wretch, what shall it avail you to complain, seeing that he is no more his own man, then if he were mad? If the good affect you, and applaud your laudable endeavours, why should you fear the malice of the wicked, seeing that the first are rewarded with a crown, but these with folly; ye will willingly endure any thing at the hands of a man that is out of his wits, neither will he make any complaint for aught he hath said or done to you, but will rather pity his case: even so must ye bear with the mis-behaviour of a foolish undiscreet person, who is no better than a man distracted: ye will endure well enough what a Jester or sporter will say unto you, be it never so unpleasant, and would think it but a base part for you to inform against, or to complain upon such a person, as if he chance to utter any pleasing word amidst his carping discourse, ye take it and taste it as a savoury disport. Consider therefore how unfitting and unseemly a thing it were that the same word uttered by one, should cause you to laugh, and by another to lower: the case so standing, that the man that is in choler, hath no more judgement than a simple Jester hath; if he have so much.  
The Hebrews say, if a man have offended his neighbour, he must go and seek reconciliation of him; but if he will not be reconciled, he shall take three men with him, who shall intercede for him, and seek reconciliation: but if he yet will not pardon him, this is a great iniquity to be so cruel, and then he leaves his neighbour inexcusable. But what shall we say of those that are offended with little boys, and silly women? persons that do offend rather of weakness, then of a wilful or wicked design? for conclusion ye shall never attain to tranquillity of mind, if ye take in ill part every cross chance that doth offer itself.  
Some will say, this offence may be well borne with ', but that others must not be borne with at all. But these men do shut up virtue into a too straight room, and confine her abilities within too narrow bounds, as i● they should say, virtue may we● vanquish this wrong, but no● that other: truly if Fortune b● not wholly beaten down and defeated, she will remain mistress. But what then wil● ye say, occasion of affront is given me? how then shall I, or can I bear it patiently, and go with an open face? If the injury hath his birth from your mis-behaviour, ye must think then, that it is not so much a wrong as a correction: and this ye ought to receive discreetly, and withal make use of it as a chastisement of your own misdemeanour. If it chance that a man flout you for some imperfection of your person, because the features of your body are not to their mind, take not this to heart as a revengable wrong: for it is but a mere folly, for a man to care much for that which falleth not out through his own fault. Fidus Cornelius did weep for very anger in the Senate, because Corduba S●●thio said to him scoffingly that he did resemble much a piled Camel: Behold, if one counterfeit our gesture, we are by and by offended. But what miserable blindness is it for a man to vex himself, because another doth imitate his mood or manner of going. The remedy rather were this, if Nature, hath laid upon you any defect or blemish which doth deform your body, speak of it first yourself, as knowing it better than any other: for by this means ye shall take away from others all occasion of scorning or flouting you for it. Thus Vatinius was wont to mock himself, in regard of his neck, and feet which were somewhat deformed: so that his enemies and il-willers could not take any advantage thereof to break upon him any bitter jest. Moreover it is not a small policy to deprive the party that doth you wrong, of all the pleasure he intendeth to reap, by holding your peace, as not thinking him worthy of so much as one word of your mouth, of by leaving him there where ye found him, disdaining to brabble or quarrel with him, to take any notice of the man, or of his manners: if ye will be advised by me, make never answer to an insolent malapert person, for in holding your tongue ye leave with him lying in his mouth, yea in his mind, his vice, folly and rashneffe, whereas in answering him, ye shall conform yourself to his naughty nature. There is nothing that equalizeth so much men among themselves, as the participation of one and the same vice: neither can there any such chastisement befall unto an ill-humored man as to make no reckoning, but to let vanish with the wind his vain and unsavoury words, for both by your silence are his speeches condemned of impertinency, and he deprived of the pleasure he promised to himself by provoking him to anger.  
Jests are the superfluity of their discretion who make it a pastime, to revile, and a sport to condemn others; they spare none, & had rather suffer then suppress their thoughts: they are like a woman with child, who longs to be delivered, although the birth may prove abortive; and therefore it likewise behoveth a man to be very circumspect and wary in his jesting at others. For we find by experience, that men do commonly fly the company of such as make profession of scoffing and deriding. We find likewise, that no man can entertain a certain Amity and unfaileable Friendship with such a one as is averse from pardoning such as have offended him. For a generous and Heroic spirit will yield to fortune as he sees occasion: He will not strive to swim against the stream, nor sail against the Wind. The greatness of his mind gives place to the weakness of his means: when he cannot what he would, he wills but what he can, and ●hinkes these plots and counsels ●o be best, which though they ●ee inglorious, and want that ●ustre which prosperity might ●end them, are yet convenient ●o be followed in regard of Circumstance.  
The Emperor Caius Caesar, a man of an injurious inclination, and in his Army a certain Tribune, Che●ea by name, a man of a shrill, small, and womanish voice in speaking, and therefore one of whom they had no great opinion. This effeminate voiced man having on a time asked the Emperor what should be the watchword, he of purpose to scorn him, gave him such a word as was dishonest. By reason of which indignity the Tribune was so deeply offended, that thereafter associating himself among the murderers which did wickedly seize upo● the Emperor, he was the ma● that did beat out the one half of his brains. So that he who seemed unto Caesar to come somewhat short of a man, proved most the man (though indeed he had more malice than manhood) in cutting him impiously off, from being any more a Monarch among men. To use such bitter taunts bewrayeth want of discretion, and not to be able to digest them, doth argue lack of courage. Socrates hearing himself flouted to his face, did no other thing but laugh thereat, without making any show of a displeased mind. It is reported of him and of Lelius the Roman, that they two did so happily entertain this Tranquillity of mind, that they were never seen to change their countenance. How ill did michal's jesting become her, when David with such zeal danced before the Ark? cannot religion be spared? One would have thought his greatness might have freed him from reviling: but whom will impiety not offend, when it spares not the great not the holy; yet even he sets her words at naught, and was for all that no way hindered in performing holy duties.  
Furthermore ye ought diligently to avoid all noise, brabbles and strife: for this brawling and quarrelling humour altereth not a little the whole man, and maketh him ill-conditioned. Be not lavish of your language, but rather sparing of speech. Let your words be such as carry with them their due authority and weight. And withal accustom yourself to pass diverse things under the great Seal of silence: It being the part of a wise man, to make a virtue of necessity, and with a settled countenance to swallow down upon an urgent extremity, the bitter potion of indignity; if when the winds do storm, he cannot harbour where he would, he will anchor where he may. Suffer not yourself to be beguiled by the unreasonable opinion of the miscrdred multitude, which do hold such folks only to be free as may do what they list, be it never so evil; and such only to be courageous and generous spirits as can put up no wrong.  
It is true liberty for a man to live not according as his lawless lust doth lead him, but as reason doth rule him: and to do not what ever sensually he would, but what reasonable he should. And it is true courage and magnanimity, for a man to put up wrongs, to disesteem, and not to be moved by them, but to command his affections, and to overcome his passions. That which he shall never be able to do, who hath not his spirit composed, and his mind ordered to despise these vanities and delicacies, which do shake the feebler sort: finally, endeavour to have the upper hand in fetting light by all humane crosses, and popular conceits: for it is no sign of good, when a man is always crying and complaining that they touch him; and so it fareth with the mind. Let that therefore be mollified with comfortable and peaceable plasters, such as are joy, exultation, and delight; and these will bring unto you greater content, than Humanity can imagine.   

DISC. 17. Of Poverty.  
THere is a twofold Poverty, the one extreme, which is the want of things necessary and requisite unto Nature: The other is the want of things that are more than sufficient, required for pleasure, pomp, and delicacy. This is a kind of Mediocrity, and that which we fear to lose, is our riches, and moveables, when such poverty is rather to be desired, then feared: And therefore the Wise man asked of God neither Poverty nor Riches, but things necessary. He that can make that reckoning of life and death that he ought, poverty can never afflict or bereave him of his rest: For it were a thing very unfitting, that he who can despise death, should suffer his courage to be cast down, or to be quite quelled by poverty and need which nevertheless is that the common people do most apprehend, and most complain on, when as they cannot attain unto a sufficiency of goods whereupon to maintain themselves in a gay and gallant manner. They not being able to content themselves with such things as may serve for their necessity; but esteeming Wealth man's sovereign good; and Poverty and Want his chiefest evil. And yet were it not better for a man not to have at all, then to lose it when he hath it? And how is it possible in this life that some should not lose, seeing that one cannot be rich, except many other be poor, and many cannot inherit, except others do die? And yet there is in poverty this consolation, that as it is not subject to the receiving and incurring of great damages, so is it not accompanied with so many monstrous turmoils as plenty and abundance is.  
Wisdom if she be poor is never respected: fools have the fortune, and that not without good reason; for they have the most need of it. Desert if she be mean, may to the Cart, there is no room for her in Court, where judgement looks a squint, and casts her eyes but upon outward adjuncts, unless she be perfumed and ruffle in her silks; let her avoid the gates of greatness. And to think that rich men have more courage to comport with losses then other men have, is an error. For the pain of a sore is as sensible and dolorous in a big body, as in a small; yea we see ordinarily, that the greatest men are the most tender and delicate.  
The Philosopher Bion was wont to say, that the pain is alike which is felt by plucking, or pulling the hairs from an head that hath many, and from that which hath few.  
All the difference that can be, is this; that the bald head hath less hair to lose, and consequently cannot feel so much smart as the other doth that is full of hairs.  
If thou wilt live according to nature, thou shalt never be poor; if according to opinion, never rich: Nature desireth little, opinion much, and beyond measure. Moderate and quiet poverty by the law of nature is great riches, and godliness is great gain with sufficiency, and hence it is that we see, for the most part, the poorer sort of people to be more jocund and joyful then commonly the richer sort are, because they have not so great care as they have, neither do they fear so deeply the storm of adversity, as they do. For they are eaten up with this double worm, the care of conserving and increasing the goods they have got, & the fear of losing that which they enjoy. But poverty is a castle and fort, assured and fenced against fortune, yea the whole world. She feareth nothing, and is able withal to defend herself against all her enemies. Thouman who soever thou art that goest drooping and dying for riches, for worldly pelf, and wealth, tell me I pray thee, if since thou hast got them, they have brought unto thee any more knowledge unto thy mind, or more Tranquillity and peace unto thy spirit, or more rest and happiness unto thine heart, than thou hadst before thy came into thine hands? The wise men among the heathen have taught us, how much poverty is to be prised and praised, when as they did portrait and paint their Gods naked, attributing unto them all things according as they conceited to be most befitting their natures: and as for myself, I shall never repute that man poor, who is placed without the reach and power of fortune. There is one thing sufficient to express unto us the nature of poverty, to wit, that no virtuous man speaketh thereof, but he praiseth it; and avoucheth that the wisest have been those who have suffered the same with most contentment, and truly it is a great weakness and tenderness in us, not to be able to endure that which so many others have passed through, and it can be no other thing but a vain apprehension and frivolous fear to endure and suffer, which maketh us so feeble hearted; for if we were indeed of a generous and magnanimous disposition, we would love and like that for ourselves which we approve in others: and therefore howsoever this peevishness and softness of ours is not altogether to be comported with; we ought at least to limit our affections, and dress ourselves in such sort that fortune may find the less advantage to offend us: for a small body that can cover and gather itself together under a buckler, marcheth on towards the enemy with more surely than a bigger body doth, that lieth at large & open unto blows. If it were not mine intention to husband the time, and to spare paper, I could enlarge my discourse by reciting of almost ●nnumerable examples as well of Heathens as of Christians, which have placed a great part of their perfection in poverty. But ye ought to consider one thing for all, that jesus Christ was poor, who was Lord of the whole world: his Disciples were poor, which did possess all things, and the Saints were poor which might have been rich. If ye should never dye, I would advise you to set your affection upon riches: but I see to that those to whom they most befall, do find sooner the end of their living then of their longing. Why then should a man torment himself for a thing that he must necessarily leave? and why is he not rather content quietly with that which is needful, chief considering that the fairest kind of wealth is for a man to be neither too poor, nor yet too far off from poverty?   

DISC. 18. Of Death.  
CAesar said well, that the best death was that which was least premeditated; and to say truth, the preparation before death hath been to many a greater torment, than the execution itself. The Mexicans salute their Infants coming forth of their Mother's womb, thus; Infant, thou art come into the world to suffer; endure, suffer, and hold thy peace. Why then should a man be sorry to dye, when nothing but life is miserable. And it seemeth, that all incommodities and misfortunes may be borne with, either by the means of a long custom, or by the help of a strong discourse, only Death and the apprehension thereof, is the thing that putteth us in greatest fear.  
Now the only remedy and true easing of this evil, is that ye make this reckoning of the world, and all that is therein, that ye have nothing which is your own, neither life, nor living, no not so much as your own self; but that ye live always borrowing and holding your very life, not in property, but on condition to restore it unto him again, who hath lent it you, whensoever he shall require it at your hands: yet for all this ye must not neglect it as a thing not yours, but must keep it faithfully and carefully, in regard that God hath trusted you with the custody thereof, and when it is time, to render it to him that gave it, not grudgingly, but gladly, and with a cheerful countenance: in the mean time thanking GOD, the giver of all good things, for the time ye have had the use and aid thereof, and saying unto him in this, or the like manner; Lord, I render unto thee again this Soul and Life, with as good an heart as it pleased thee to give me the same, yea, even with a better and readier will than I did receive it: for when thou gavest it me, thou gavest it to a little weak Creature, which knew not the good thou then didst bestow, but now thou dost receive it again at the hands of a Creature more accomplished, who knoweth what it is he commendeth into thine hands, and therefore rendereth it unto thee withal frankness and readiness of will: and truly we may easily imagine that it is not a hard thing for a substance to return to the place whence it first came, the body returning to the earth, and the soul (if it go the right way) must go to him that gave it. To be short, that man doubtless never learned well to live, who knoweth not how to die: we must therefore in this case be so affected towards ourselves, as we are wont to be in the behalf of fencers which must fight in a barred field: for we commonly hate him that beareth himself faint-heartedly, and favour the other, who out of a brave courage had rather choose to dye then to be overcome. Besides the fear of death is sometimes the cause, or occasion of it, to him that flieth fastest from it.  
And seeing ye know well, that life was given you upon condition to render it again; ●e ought not to be so unjust, as ●o desire to enjoy that thing for ever, which was given unto you for a day, by making yourself Lord, and owner of the thing whereof ye are only a depositary or keeper.  
Moreover men will say, that it is a matter of great import, to wit, the fear, and apprehension of death, and that it is the extreme of all terrible things. But ye ought to understand that Death is not to be found fault with for this, seeing that it proceedeth not from the nature of Death, but from our own imbecility: who are commonly overtaken and entangled with delights, with a desire of this transitory life, and with an immoderate love of this miserable flesh? And if ye take good heed, it is not so much Death i● self that is dreadful, as the opinion which we hold concerning the same. For every man feareth it according to his judgement, apprehension, and conscience. And if it be so, that ye have no fear thereof, but only for this occasion, then lay the blame upon yourself, and no● upon it. For it fareth with men of an evil conscience, when they must dye, as it doth with riotous spendthrifts when they must pay their debts. They will not come to an account for the distrust which they have of their ability, to satisfy for what they have done.  
And to say that ye fear death ●y reason that it is the last point ●●d period of man, hath but lit●●e reason in it. For the Soul 〈◊〉 always, it liveth ever, and ●●nnot dye.  
The Greeks' call man's decease ●●e end, giving us thereby to ●nderstand, that it is the period ●nd end of wearisome life. O●●ers a death, of which there ●re four kinds; the first is the natural death, or separation between the Body and the Soul; ●he second is a spiritual death, ●r a separation between the grace of God and us; the third ●s a ghostly death, or a separation between our sins and us; and the fourth is an everlasting death, or a separation between Heaven and us for ever.  
But the Holy Scripture calleth death a sleep, to assure us of an assured Resurrection, and to the end we weep not as Infidels do, which are without hope. Let us consider with ou● selves how many holy men and women have prized it, and desired it as the only easement of all their anguish.  
The writings of Solomon, job and the histories of God's Saints are full of the praises of this Christian desire of death. What a vanity is it to love so much this miserable life, this Jail, this prison, this vale of ●eares, seeing that the longer we live, the longer we live in sin, the more days we spend, the more we err, and so go on, each hour purchasing unto ourselves a new pain and punishment?  
The day of Death is the Master-day, and Judge of all other days; the trial and Touchstone of all the actions of our ●●fe: Then do we make our greatest assay, and gather the whole ●●uite of all our studies. He that ●●dgeth of the Life of a man, ●ust look how he carrieth himself at his Death: for the ●nd Crowneth the Works, ●nd a good Death honoureth a ●ans whole life, as an evil de●●meth it. Therefore fear it ●ot (On Christian) for that day which thou fearest as thy last, is ●●e Birthday of Eternity.  
Divers days have been ●appy and unlucky to diverse, ●en; as Friday to that great Captain Gonsalvo in the Wars of Naples; the twenty fourth day of February, to Charles the fifth; Wednesday to Pope Six●us the fifth: Sunday to Henry the seventh of England: And Saturday in the three times taking of jerusalem by Pompey, Herod, and Titus. But no day 〈◊〉 either happy or averse to a ch●●stian, but his day of death: Ho●● careful ought ye then to be 〈◊〉 prepare himself against th● day, wherein he shall be rewarded according to his worke● which if good, with a Crow● of blessedness, but if bad, wi●● unquenchable fire.  
It was a custom among th● Indians, when any of the m●dyed, his wives with their mo●● glorious Habits and greate● pomp as if it were on the●● nuptial day, threw themselv●● into the fire, she accounting h●● self happiest that was the firs● and those that refused, were fo● ever after rejected and mad● slaves. Let not Heathens ou● strip thee O Christian, let th● death be more honourable CHRIST is the Spouse of th● Church, follow him therefore, ●●t not thy life only but thy ●eath be godly: otherwise thou ●●t no better than a slave to sin ●nd Satan, despised not of men only, but of the Devils themselves.  
This consideration of our death 〈◊〉 a great help, not only to provoke us to live a good life, ●ut besides that to dye well: In ●hings that be hard and dificult, foresight and preparation before ●and is a very great help to ●ring them well to pass. Now so great a leap, as is the leap of death (which reacheth from this life to the everlasting life to come) cannot well be leapt, unless we make a great course, and fetch a long race to run the same. No great thing can be well and perfectly done at the first time; seeing therefore it is so great a matter to dye; and so necessary to dye well, it shall be very expedient for us to dye oftentimes in our life, that we may dye well at the very time of our death. We must not be unwilling to dye, and to yield our bodies as a debt due to Nature: no, for the Body at the best is but the Coffin of the Soul, as the Grave is the coffin of the Body. The souliders that be appointed to fight, do first practise themselves in such postures and exercises, as whereby the may learn in time of peace, what they must do in time of war; the Horse also that must run at the Tilt, traverseth all the ground before, and tryeth all the steps thereof; that at such times as he cometh to make his course, he be not found new and strange in doing his feat. Wherefore seeing we all must run this course (insomuch as there is no man alive but must dye) considering also that the way is so obscure & stony (as all men know) and the danger so great, that whosoever falleth shall be tumbled down headlong into the bottomless pit of hell fire; it is very requisite that we tread diligently before hand all this way, and consider particularly, all the steps and places thereof one by one, because that in every one of them there is much to be considered; and let us not think it enough to consider only what passeth outwardly in our conversation, but let us endeavour much more to understand what passeth inwardly within the heart, so shall both our life and and death be acceptable.  
And to shut the door unto all fearful apprehensions of death, we must learn to do two things which the world can never teach us; the one is to live well, for a virtuous and Christian life maketh even agreeable the very memory of death: the other is that we believe that the thing which it hath pleased God to afford us for a remedy, and easement of our manifold labours, and toils, is not so harsh, nor so horrible, as we do imagine.  
And for a final conclusion, let us remember how that the Saints have held life a pain, and death an ease. And that every part of Heaven shall together shine upon us; who wholly shall behold all the glory thereof in his due place, which now through the straight and narrow passage of the sight, we do but see and discern a fare off: And let us close all up with this, that though our mortal bodies are dissolved here on earth, yet God will raise up both Soul and Body at the latter Day, to Crown them with Everlasting Happiness.   

The Author's Conclusion.  
BEHOLD here th● Flowers that I hav● gathered here an● there out of the garde● of the flourishing Wits and Writing of the Wise. Them I lay open in common between you an● me, even as busy Bees do their Honey which they have reaped i● fair and well furnished Gardens▪ and flowery Fields, to the end we● together may draw from thence the sugared sweetness of this pleasant Emblem, or Happiness of the Mind. I am of opinion, that of the ancient Poets had throughly known this, they would not have composed any other Nectar, or brewed any other Ambrosiac for the dye● of their Gods: but should have thought them well feasted in serving them with ●his dish alone, for all messes and ●neales. Seeing therefore we have the opportunity offered us ●f finding out, and using so di●ine a thing, let us make use of ●t in the most thrifty manner we possible may: Acknowledging in ●he mean time that this Happi●esse we talk of, is a Gift from Heaven, which the bountiful influence of the World's maker must distil into our Minds; He being the true and living Wellspring whence floweth all our Felicity and Bliss. Whose Name therefore (according as we are bound) we bless and magnify for ever. Amen.   
FINIS.   

THE MINDS DELIGHT.  
OR, VARIETY OF MEMORABLE MATTERS WORTHY of Observation.  
Lege, & Collige.  
Collected by J. M.  
LONDON: Printed by Ni. and Io. Okes. 1635.   

THE MINDS DELIGHT: OR, Variety of Memorable Matters worthy of observation.  

The four parts of the World.  
EUROPA so called from Europa, Daughter of Agenor King of Libya; and of the Phoenicians brought hither (as Poets feign) by jupiter, in the shape of a Bull: but as Historians writ, by a Cretan Captain named Taurus, is separated from Asia, as is hereafter shown; and from Africa by the Mediterranean sea. It is in length 2800. and in breadth 1200. miles.  
Asia so called from the Daughter of Oceanus and Thetis, Wife to japetus, and Mother to Prometheus; or as some say, of Asia the Son of Manae, King of Lydia; is separated from Europe by the River Tanais, now called Duina, by the Sea called in time past Palus Mcotides, now Mare de Zabache: and by Pontus Euxinus, now Mare Maiorica; and by part of the Mediterranean Sea: and from afric by the River of Nile, the Red Sea, and the Egyptian Isthmus It stretcheth in length 5200. miles, and in breadth 4560. miles.  
Africa, which some say is so called of one Affer, of the line of Abraham, is separated from Europe by the Mediterranean sea, and from Asia by the Rod sea, and the Fiver of Nile. Africa is in length 4155. and in breadth 1920. miles.  
America, o● West-India, so called of Americus Vespusius, but first found out by Christopher Columbus of Genua, the year of our Lord 1492. it is like an Island, round about environed with the great Ocean▪ but the length and breadth no man knoweth. Africa is greater than Europa, Asia then Africa, and America bigger than all.   

The four Monarchies.  
THe first Monarchy was of the Assyrians, founded by Ninus about the year of the World 2220. augmented by the Queen Semiramis, and after it had endured the term of 1300. years, it was translated by Arbactus unto the Medes: and there having endured 350. years, it was lost by Astyages, and conquered by Cyrus.  
The second Monarchy was of the Persians, founded by Cyrus, the year of the World 3425. which after it had endured 191. years, was lost by Darius, and subdued by Alexander the great.  
The third Monarchy was of the Grecians, founded by Alexander the great, in the year of the World 3634. and before Christ 320 years; after whose death it was divided among the Prefects, which in his life-time he had appointed in diverse Countries: By which division Seleucus was King of Syria, Ptolomeus of Egypt, Antigonus of Asia, Cassander of Macedonia and Greece: all which Countries were after subdued by the Romans.  
The fourth Monarchy or Empire was of the Romans, founded by julius Caesar, in the year of the World 3914, after the building of Rome 706 years, and before Christ 47 years. This Monarchy flourished about the space of 470 years, till that after the death of Theodosius the great, it was divided by his two Sons into two Empires: Arcadius was Emperor of Constantinople, which Empire endured (though afterwards much diministred by the invasions of barbarous nations) until the year of our Lord 1453, and then was quite lost by Constantine, and conquered by Mahomet second King of Turks. Honorius was Emperor of Rome, which Empire shortly after, in the year of our Lord 475, and about the ninth month of the reign of Augustus, was utterly ruinated by Othacar King of Goths. And long after, the year of our Lord 801 it was restored by Charles the great, and by him united to the Crownne of France; and by his successors translated into Germany, where it yet remaineth as a shadow only, or representation of the greatness and majesty of the ancient Roman Empire.   

The six Ages of the World.  
IN the dividing of these Ages there is great contrariety of Opinions among Writers; for that some follow the computation of the 72 Interpreters, and some follow the Hebrews, and the common Text of the Bible. The first Age from the creation of the world till the universal Flood, endured according to the Hebrews, 1656 years, which agreeth with the saying of S. Hierome, Bede, Philo, and the common text of the Bible. The 72. Interpreters, and Eusebius hold that it endured 2242 years, and Saint Austin is of opinion, that it endured 2272. Of this Age few, or no things are recited worthy of memory: Except the birth of the first man Adam, and the creation of all things.  
The second age from Noah's flood till the birth of Abraham, endured according to the 72 Interpreters, Eusebius, and the greatest part of writers 942: and according to the Hebrews but 292 years: Saint Austin counteth 172 years. In this age was builded Babel, The tower of confusion: the Empire of the Assyrians began, and the great City of Ninive was builded, which contained in circuit three day's journey.  
The third age from Abraham to David, endured by the agreement of all Authors 942 years. During this age was the peregrination of Abraham: the beginning of the Amazons, Sodom and Gommorrah were destroyed: joseph was sold to the Egyptians: Moses passed the red Sea: job the just lived: jason conquered the golden Fleet: the destruction of Troy: the Latins began to reign in Italy.  
The fourth age from the beginning of the reign of David, till the leading of the jews captive into Babylon, endured 485 years: during this age the Empire of Assyrians was translated to the Medes, the Olympiades' of the Grecians began: Carthage was builded by Dido, and Rome by Romulus: Byzance was also builded: the destruction of jerusalem by Nabuchadnezzar, and thereupon the calamity of the Jews.  
The fift age from the transmigration of Babylon to the coming of Christ, endured by the agreement of all, 589 years. During this age Cyrus began the Monarchy of the Persians: the 70 year of this age the Jews returned to their Country: Consuls began to rule in Rome: Xerxes invaded Greece with an army of 1000000 men: Plato, Aristotle, and Demostenes flourished with many other worthy Philosophers: Alexander won the Monarchy of the world: the destruction of Carthage by the Romans: Caesar usurped the Empire of Rome.  
The sixth age began at the birth of our Saviour Christ, which yet endureth, and shall endure to the end of the world.   

The seven wonders of the World.  
THe first, were the walls of Babylon, built by Semiramis, of stone joined together with a strange kind of slimy and gluish mortar, which groweth in the mines of those Countries, and especially in the Lake where stood in time past Sodom, and Gomorrah, now called Asfaltida. These walls according to the town were built in quadrangle, and contained in circuit (as saith Pliny in the twenty sixth Chapter of his sixth book) 60 miles; so that every square was fifteen mile long; they were 200 foot high, and fifty foot thick: and to build these walls were hired by Semiramis, out of diverse Countries for a long space, 300000 men.  
The second was the Pillar of the sun, offered by the gentils unto jupiter. This Pillar stood in the ile of Rhodes, and was made of iron, in the form of a man of incredible greatness; in so much that a man might'st scarce fathom the great singer thereof. After it had stood 56 years, it fell down by reason of an earthquake, and so lay till the Island was won by the Sultan of Egypt; who carried so much mettle away as loaded 900 Camels.  
The third, were the Pyramids of Egypt: among the which there is one specially noted, about the City of Memphis, now called grand Cairo; this Pyramid covered about 40 acres of land, at the foot or foundation thereof, it was all built of marble ●one, and in the building thereof were employed continually, for the space 20 years, ●600000 men: and for the sustenance of these workmen, was disbursed in radish and such other ●oots 1800 talents, which according to our reckoning is the sum 1880000 crowns: this might seem uncredible, were it not that it is affirmed by so many authors of authority.  
The fourth was the Mausol, of Mausolus' King of Caria, and husband to Artemisia so called: this woman for the great love she bore to her spouse, burned his dead body, and drank the powder thereof, thinking no Sepulchre so worthy, as her own body; and the rest of the powder she buried in this famous Tomb, the stone whereof wa● of an excellent kind of marble it was 411 feet in circuit and 25 cubits high, and wa● environed about with 36 Pillar of stone, wonderfully wel● carved.  
The fift, was the Temple o● Diana, builded by the Amazons: it was 455 foot long, and 220 foot broad, and in it stood 127 marble pillars, each of them being 70 foot high: the work thereof was so wonderful curious, that it was 220 years a making.  
The sixth, was the Image of jupiter Olympius, in Achaia; all of Porphyre, an infinite number of little pieces joined together: this image beside the excellency of the work, is especially noted for the greatness thereof, and was the more famous by reason of the game, called Olympiades', there kept.  
The seaventh, was the Tower Pharos, nigh unto Alexandria in Egypt; builded by Ptolomeus Philadelphus, King of Egypt, to direct the passengers which came to take haven thereabouts, by burning of pitch, or other like things in the top: this Tower was of a marvellous height, and singular workmanship; the building whereof cost according to our money 480000 crowns. Some Authors put for the seventh wonder, the Gardens and Orchards upon the walls of Babylon. Others put the Obelisque of Semiramis; which differeth in nothing from a Pyramid, saving that it is all one stone: the Obelisque, Semiramis caused to be wrought, and taken out of the mountains of Armenia: it was a hundreth and fifty foot high, and every square was four and twenty foot broad at the bottom; so that it contained in circuit 96 foot.   

The seven wise men of Greece.  
BIas borne in the haven town of Priene, in the Country of jonia.  
Solon borne in the Island of Salamine. Chilo borne in Lacedemonia. Cleobulus borne at Lindus in the I'll of Rhodes. Pittacus borne at Mitylene in the I'll of Lesbos. Thales borne at Mileto in Greece. Periander King of Corinth.   

The ten Sibylles.  
THe first was of Persia, called Samberta, or Persica: which among other Prophecies said, the womb of the Virgin shall be ●he salvation of Gentiles.  
The second was of Libya called Lybica: One of her Prophecies was, The day shall come that men shall see the King of all living things, and a Virgin Lady of the world shall hold him in ●er lap.  
The third was Themis, surnamed Delphica, because she was borne and prophesied at Delphos. A prophet shall be born of a Virgin.  
The forth was Cumaea, born at Cimeria a City of Campania in Italy: who prophesied, that God should be borne of a Virgin, and converse among sinners.  
The fift was the famous Erithrea, borne at Babylon: who especially prophesied a great part of our Christian Religion, in certain verses recited by Eusebius; the first letters of every which verses being put together, make these words, jesus▪ Christ, Son of God, Saviour▪ These verses are translated into Latin by Saint Austin Lib. 18, and 23. de civitate die: the substance whereof followeth▪ The earth shall sweat sign o● judgement: from heaven shal● come a King which shal● reign for ever, that is to say, in humane flesh, to the end that by his presence he judge the world, so the unfaithful aswell as the faithful shall see God with their eyes aloft among his Saints; and in the end of the world, the souls of men with their bodies shall appear; whom he shall judge when the roundness of the earth untilled, shall be full of clods of earth and grass, men shall cast away their idols, and all their precious jewels, the world shall be consumed with fire, he shall pierce the inferior parts, and break the gates of hell: then to the flesh of Saints shall be given free and clear light, and the evil shall be burned with eternal fire, all secrets shall be opened, and every one shall know the secret of his neighbour, and God shall discover the consciences and hearts of all men: then shall there be lamentation and gnashing ofteeths, The Sun and Stars shall lose▪ their light, the Firmament shall be dissolved, and the Moon shall be darkened, the Mountains shall be thrown down, and the Valleys shall be made equal with them, there shall be nothing in the world higher or lower than another, Mountains and Valleys shall be made plain, all things shall cease, the earth shall be dried unto powder and dust; the fountains and rivers shall be burned likewise, then shall a Trumpet sound from Heaven in woeful & horrible manner, and the opening of the earth shall discover confused and dark hell, with the torments and pains of the miserable condemnec, and here before the Judge shall come every King: a river of fire and brimstone shall fall from Heaven. Divers other things were prophesied by this Sibyl: and because they were obscure, and therefore not to be comprehended by the Gentiles before they came to pass, she said of herself these words: They shall think me a false and blind Prophetess; but when they shall see these things come to pass, they will remember me, and call me no more a false Prophetess, but a Prophetess of the Almighty God.  
The sixth was called Samia, borne in the I'll of Samos, which said; He being rich, shall be borne of a poor Maid; the creatures of the earth shall adore him, & praise him forever.  
The seventh was called Cumana, because she prophesied at Cumas, a Town of Campania in Italy: she prophesied that he should come from Heaven, and reign here in poverty: he should rule in silence, and be borne of a Virgin. She is affirmed to have written Nine Books of the Sibyls: They were all presented by an old woman to Tarqvinius Superbus, but he not willing to pay so great a sum of money as was demanded, den●ed them: whereupon the old woman burnt three of them, requiring as much money for the other six as for all: which being denied, she also burned the other three, ask as much for the three remaining, as for the rest; which Superbus amazed, gave, and the old trot vanished. These Books contained manifest Prophecies of the Kingdom of Christ, his Name, his Birth, and Death. They were burned by the Arch Traitor Stilico; so that those Prophecies which are now extant, are only such as are extracted out of others writings.  
The eight was called Helesp●ntica, borne at Marmisea, in the Territory of Troy. A woman shall descend of the Jews, called Mary, and of her shall be borne the Son of God, named jesus, and that without carnal copulation: for she shall be a Virgin before and after his Birth; he shall be both God and Man, he shall fulfil the Laws of the Jews, and shall add his own Law thereunto: and his Kingdom shall remain for ever.  
The ninth was of Phrygia, and prophesied in the Town of Ancire: one of her sayings were; The Highest shall come from Heaven, and shall confirm the counsel in Heaven, and a Virgin shall be showed in the valleys of the deserts.  
The tenth was Albunea, surnamed Tiburtina, because she was borne at Tiber, 15 miles from Rome. The invisible Word shall be borne of a Virgin: he shall converse among sinners, and shall of them be despised. Lactantius Firmianus rehearseth diverse of their prophecies, without making any particular mention of them: they are to be referred specially notwithstanding (as it should seem) unto Sibylla Samberta, who wrote 24 Books in verse, chiefly entreating of the coming, miracles, and life of Christ, whereunto the sayings of all the other Sibyls are conformable.  
S. Austin likewise in the 2● Chapter of his 18 book De civitate Dei, reciteth those prophecies a● followeth. Then he shall be taken by the wicked hands of the Infidels, and they shall give him buffets on his face with their sacrilegious hands, and they shall spit upon him with their foul and cursed mouths. He shall turn unto them his shoulders, suffering them to be whipped; yea, he shall hold his peace without speaking ●re a word, to the end that ●o●e shall know from whence his words proceed. He shall also be crowned with Thorns, they shall give him gall to eat, & vinegar to drink: behold the feast that they shall make him: in so much that thou ignorant and blind people shalt not know thy GOD conversing among men, but thou shalt crown him with Thorns, mingling for him gall and vinegar. Then the veil of the Temple shall rend, and at midday it shall be dark night for the space of three hours. So the just shall dye the death, and his death or sleep shall continue three days: and when he shall have been in the bowels of the earth, he shall rise again, and return to life.  
Lactantius more over, Lib. 4. Chap. 15.10 hearteth these Prophecies of them. He shall raise the dead, the impotent and lame shall go, and r●nne nimbly, the deaf shall hear, the blind shall see, the dumble shall speak freely. And a little before that, saith, with five loaves and two fishes he shall nourish in the Deserts 5000 men, and the fragments thereof shall be sufficient to satisfy many more. Many other things were foretold by these Sibyls, as well of the ruins of great States, as of Christ.   

The twelve Apostles with their Martyrdoms.  
James the Son of Zebe dee called mayor, for that he was chosen to be an Apostle, was sent to convert Spain, from whence by reason of the obstinacy of the people, (for he converted in all but nine persons) he returned shortly again to preach in judea. Where by the envy of a Jewish Bishop call●● Abi●●har, he was accused, and beheaded by the consent of Hered Agrippa. His body was conveyed by his Disciples first to jerusalem, and from thence to Spain, where it yet remaineth in Compostella a famous pilgrimage.  
james, the son of Alpheus, called minor, for that he was last chosen; he was the first Bishop of jerusalem, and that by the space of thirty years: and then as he was preaching in the Temple, he was thrown headlong down by the Pharises, and by them stoned to death. He was buried by the Temple.  
Simon, by Christ called Peter, through the indignation of Nero, because he had overcome Simon Magus, I was crucified with his head down ward, according as he desired.  
Saul, after his conversion called Paul, after he had endured and escaped many dangers and torment's, as beating with rods, and put in the stocks by Philippus; stoned in Lystra, delivered to wild beasts in Ephesus, bound and beaten in jerusalem, and many others: lastly came to Rome, where by the commandment of Nero, he was beheaded, (because he was a Roman borne) the same day that Peter was crucified. Paul in stead of john, because he ended not his life with Martyrdom.  
Philip, after he had preached through the whole Country of Scythia, and converted a great part thereof in the space of twenty years, was at the last in the City of Hierapolis (when he had there extirped the Heresy of the Hebeonites) fastened to the Cross, and so died.  
Bartholomew went to preach in India, and afterward came to Albania a City of Armenia the greater, where he converted the King of that City, and destroyed the Idols, wherefore by the commandment of Astiagus, brother to the King Po emius, whom he had converted, he was flayed alive. His body was afterwards brought to Italy, and is, as some say, at Rome.  
Andrew, Simon Peter's brother, went first to preach in Achaia, and afterward preached in Scythia: but lastly he was taken at Patras, a City of Achaia, by Ege is, Proconsul of that Province: who, because he had converted his Wife Maximilla, cast him in prison, where he was sore beaten, and lastly stretched out, and bound on a slope cross; to augment his torment, and so died.  
Thomas preached the Gospel ●o the Parthians, Medes, Persi●●s, Hyrcanians, Bragmans, and converted a great part of India. He was by the Infidels thrown into a burning Furnace, and come ●●●ur hurt. Finally, because he prayed God to destroy the 〈◊〉 of the Sun, which the 〈◊〉 fi●●● would have compelled him ●o worship, he was by them thrust through with spears and swords.  
Marbent; after he had preached much in I●dea, he went into Ethiopia, and there converted the greatest part of that Country. Finally, having newly ended his prayers, and lifting up his hands to Heaven by the Altar, certain spies came behind him, and ran him through with their swords: which wa● done by the commandment of a King of those Countries.  
judas, called also Thaddeus, after the ascension of our Lord was sent by Thomas to heal Abagar King of Edissa: afterwards he preached in Pontus, and Mesopotamia, and converted many cruel and barbarous people. Lastly, he came to Persia, where for confounding of their Idols, he was suddenly run upon, and murdered by the Pagan Bishops of that Country. He is buried at Netre a City of Armenia.  
Simon, called Chananeus, brother to Thaddeus, and james the less; after he had preached in Egypt, returned to jerusalem, whereof by the consent of the Apostles he was made Bishop after the Martyrdom of his brother james. As touching his death and Martyrdom some say that he suffered with his brother judas Thaddeus in Persia, others, that he was through the envy of Heretics, accused to be a Christian before the Consul Atticus, and therefore crucified ●s his Master was.  
Mathyas, after the ascension of Christ, chosen by the Apostles to supply judas room, was borne at Bethlehem, & descended of the Tribe of juda, he preached altogether in judea; where lastly he was accused by his enemies of perjury, or rather blasphemy, and therefore he was condemned to be stoned to death by two men, during which torment; one smote him with a hatcher, and so he suffered martyrdom.   

The ten persecutions under the Roman Emperors.  
THe first began in the 13 year of the reign of Nero, in such sort, that the Christians were fain to hide themselves in caves of the earth.  
The second began in the 12 year of the reign of Domitian, who caused S. john the Evangelist to be put in a vessel of burning oil, whereof he received no hurt.  
The third began in the tenth year of the reign of Traian, which ceased afterwards by the pity and means of Pli●●y Second, perfect of the Empire.  
The fourth began under Marcus Antonius, and Aurelius Commodus Empire.  
The fift began at the commandment of the Emperor Severus.  
The sixth began at the indignation of Maximinus, who especially persecuted the Clergy.  
The seventh began under the Emperor Decius, and continued cruelly.  
The eight began under the Emperor Valerius, who though at the first he were a Christian, yet afterwards being corrupted by certain heretics, he became a most cruel persecutor of Christ his Church.  
The ninth began under the Emperor Aurelianus.  
The tenth began by the commandment of the Emperors Dioclesianus and Maximianus Herculeus: this persecution was far more cruel and general than any of the rest insomuch that Dioclesinnus in the orient, and Maximianus in the occident destroyed all Churches, and tormented the Christians with all strange torments.   

The eight times that Rome hath been taken.  
Room was first taken by the Gauls, under the conduct of their captain Brennas, the year of the foundation of the City about 365, the year of the world 4835, and the year before Christ 364. This Brennus is by the Britain, and English Chronicles reported to be a Britain, and brother to Belinus' King of Britain; but neither the Chronicles of Rome nor of Gaul do speak of any such matter.  
Rome was secondly taken by Alaricke King of Goths, after ●ee had held his siege to it the space of two years, which befell the year of the foundation of the City 1164, the year of our Lord 412, and the 25 year of the Empire of Honorius. It is written in the Chronicles of Constintinople▪ and in other places, that as Alarick (being a Christian,) marched with his host towards Rome, a certain Monk, of holy life and great authority came unto him, who having audience, admonished and counselled him to break of that evil purpose, and to remember that he was a Christian, and that for God's sake he would moderate his wrath, and that he should not take pleasure in the shedding of Christian blood, sith that Rome ha● not in any respect of fended him Unto whom Alaricke answered him, Thou must understand, man of God, that proceedeth not of mine own will that I go against Rome: bu● contrarily I assure thee, tha● every day there cometh unto me a man, which constraineth and importuneth me thereunto, saying unto me, Haste● thee, go against Rome, destroy it utterly, and make it desolate At which words the religious man being astonished, durst no● reply: and so the King follower his enterprise.  
Rome was thirdly taken by Gensericke king of Vandals, the year of the foundation of the City 1208, the year of Christ 456. who sacked and burned in it many places, which befell in the Empire of Marcian.  
Rome was fourthly taken by by Totila King of Goths, who because he could not obtain peace of the Emperor Iusti●ian, (who trusted too much in the power of his Lieutenant Bellisarius) commanded the Citizens to avoid the City, and afterward burned, sacked, and destroyed almost all the City, Walls, and the Capitol, and made it altogether desolate, in so much that never since it could be repaired according to the first form, although awhile after Bellisarius peopled and repaired a great part thereof, and calling again the old inhabitants, fortified and strengthened much the walls. This desolation, and of all other most lamentable, happened the year after the foundation of the City 1300: after Christ 548, and the 21 year of the Empire of justinian.  
Rome was fifthly taken by the same Totila, King of Goths; after that Bellisarius had repeopled and repared it: but whereas before he had almost destroyed it, he now called again the Citizens, which were fled at his coming, and travailed all he could to restore and repair that which he had destroyed: and behaved himself towards his subjects, and especially towards the Romans, not like a stranger but a father. This happened but three years after he had destroyed it.  
Rome was sixthly taken by the Moors and Sarracens, followers of Mohomet his Law, which in great multitude came into Italy, and in the year of our Lord 833, sitting in Rome, Gregory the fourth, and governing the Empire Lewis the first; besieged, took, and sacked Rome, profaning the Temple of Saint Peter: which don they returned to their ships, charged with prey and prisoners.  
Rome was seventhly taken by Henry the fourth of that name, Emperor of Germany, sitting in Rome Gregory the seventh: this time Rome was most cruelly destroyed, by reason that both the armies of the Pope and the Emperor scirmished, and fought long within the City, and the Capitole, which had been before (destroyed) was now again (repaired which befell the year of our Lord 1082: Authors writ, that Rome never was so much endamaged at any time, as at this, by reason of the lamentable destruction that was done by the Normans on the Pope's side, and Germans for the Emperor.  
Rome was last taken by Charles, the last Duke of Bourbon: who being slain as he scaled the walls at the first assault, and by that chance the Soldiers being in liberty and without a Head, pitifully destroyed the City, and committed all kind of enormities, and barbarous cruelties, saving that they burned not the Churches, although they spoiled and rob them to the uttermost: for a great part of the Army were Germans, and most of the Germane Lutherans. This adversity happened to Rome the year of our Saviour 1527, sitting at Rome Clement the seventh; and governing the Empire Charles the fist.   

The seven Electors of the Emperor of Germany.  
THree Ecclesiastical: that is to say, the Archbishop of Mentzes, called the Arch-chancellour of Germany: the Archbishop of Colen, called the Arch-chancellour of Italy: and the Archbishop of Triers, called the Arch-chancellour of France. Four Temporal: the Marquis of Brandebourg, great Chamberlain of the Empire: the Duke of Saxony beareth the Sword before the Emperor, the Count Palatin of Rhine, Carver, Arch-sewer in carrying the Plate: the King of Bohemia Taster to the Emperor, or Cupbearer. These Electors were first ordained by the Emperor Otho, third of that name, and confirmed by Gregory the fifth, in the year of our Lord 1000, to take away the dissension which before times had been for the choosing of Emperors: and ordained moreover, that being chosen by these seven Electors, he should be called Caesar, but being afterwards crowned by the Bishop of Rome, he should be called Augustus.   

The three Crowns of the Emperor.  
THe first Crown is of Silver, for the Realm of Germany, and is kept at Aix the Chapel. The second Crown is of Iron, for the Realm of Lombardy, and is kept at Modene, a little Town not fare from Milan. And the third of Gold, for the Empire of Rome, where it is kept.   

The twelve Peers, or Pairs of France.  
IN the Realm of France, to be a Peer, is the greatest dignity under the King, for that in many things they have almost equal authority with Kings; for Peer in the French tongue signifieth equal. But because it might be too prolix a matter to speak of their prerogatives, it shall suffice to number them, and each of their offices at the sacring or coronation of a new King. These ancient Peers are twelve in number; whereof six are of the Clergy, and six are Lay men: the six of the Clergy with their offices at the coronation, are the Archbishop and Duke of Reins, which hath his accustomed charge to oynt and consecrate the King: the Bishop and Duke of Lacon, whose office is to bring the holy Ampoule, or divine water, wherewith the king is anointed: the Bishop and Duke of Langres, whose office is to bring the sceptre and the hand of justice; the Bishop and Earl of Beauvais, bringeth the King's cloak; the Bishop and Earl of Chaalons, bringeth the King's Ring; the Bishop and Earl of Noyon, bringeth the King's girdle. The six temporal Peers with their offices at the coronation, are the Duke of Burgundy, Deane or chief of the rest, whose office is to bring the king's crown: the Duke of Guienne bringeth the first square banner: the Duke of Normandy bringeth the second square banner: the Earl of Tholouse bringeth the King's spurs: the Earl of Champain bringeth the Kingly banner, or the standard of war: and the Earl of Flaunders bringeth the King's sword. And although the five first temporal Peerdomes be united to the crown, and the sixth be subject to another Prince, yet at the King's coronation, there are other noble men appointed to supply their room and offices. These be the twelve ancient Peers, although since their creation others have been made, which though they have like authority to judge in the Court of Parliament, yet they want offices at the King coronation, and bear not that majesty that the other Peers do, for that they are not of so great antiquity.   

The eight Parliaments of France.  
THE chief and generallest justice of the Realm of France, is continually kept in eight Cities, wherein are Palaces made expressly for that purpose: and this general kind of justice is divided into eight parts, according to the eight Cities, and every of them are called Parliaments, which differ very little from our Terms: but whereas these are but four times in a year, those are continually kept, each of them having in stead of our Lord Chancellor a chief Precedent.  
The first and chiefest of these Parliaments is that of Paris, called the Court of the Peers of France: and to the equity and judgement of this Parliament, many foreign Kings and Princes have submitted themselves in matters of greatest importance, as to the most venerable and chiefest Senate of justice in the world. Such were the Emperor Frederick the second, called Barberossa, King of both Scycils, when he submitted himself to the judgement of this Court of Parliament, as touching all the controversies of his Empire and Kingdoms, which he had against Pope Innocent the fourth: Philip Prince of Tarente, and the Duke of Burgundy, who submitted themselves to this Parliament, for the controversy betwixt them upon the expenses of the recovery of the Empire of Constantinople. The Duke of Lorraine subject to the Empire, and the Lord Guy of Chastillon, who submitted themselves to the judgement of this Court, as concerning the limitation of their lands and possessions: the Dauphin of Vienna, and the Earl of Savoy submitted themselves to the judgement of this Parliament, concerning the suit betwixt them, for the homage of the Marquisat of Saluces. Moreover, without the consent of this Parliament, it hath not been seen that the Kings of France have done or passed any matter of importance touching the state of the Realm, so much is it respected both within the Realm and abroad. This Court of Parliament was first ordained by Philip the fair, King of France.  
The second Parliament is at Bourdeaux, for the countries of Gwyen, Gascione, Zaintonge, Perigort, part of Poictou, and others: and was first ordained by Charles the seventh.  
The third Parliament is at Roven, for the dukedom of Normandy, first made Exchequer by Philip the fair, and afterwards continual Parliament by Lewes the twelfth.  
The fourth Parliament is at Tholouze first ordained for certain times in the year by Philip the fair, and afterwards made continually by Charles the seventh, for the Country of Languedoc.  
The fift Parliament is at Grenoble, for the country of Dauphin, instituted by Lewes the 11  
The sixth Parliament is at Diion for the dukedom of Burgundy, it was likewise ordained by the said Lewes the 11.  
The seventh Parliament is at Aix, for the Earldom of Provence, appointed by Lewes the 12.  
The eight Parliament is at Renes in Britain, ordained by Henry the second. Of all these Parliaments Paris Parliament is the chief; and certain cases are reserved to be judged only at the Parliament of Paris.   

The seven Saxon Kingdoms that England was once divided into.  
THe f●rst, was the Kingdom of Kent: which had his beginning of the Saxon Hengist, in one year of our Lord 476: and the fift year of Vortiger King of Britain, his last reign, (for he had been deposed) the Kingdom continued 342 years, till that Egbert, King of Westsaxons vanquished Baldred last King thereof, and joined it to his own Kingdom.  
The second Kingdom was of Sussex, or Southsaxons, which began by the Saxon Ella, in the year of our Lord 482: and the second year of Aurelius Ambrose King of Britain. This Kingdom continued not above 112 years.  
The third Kingdom was of East-angles, or East Englishmen, and contained Norfolk and Suffolk: it was first begun by the Saxon Vffa, about the year of our Lord 492: and the 11 year of Aurelius Ambrose King of Britain. This Kingdom continued 376 years; the last King whereof was Saint Edmond, martyred by the Danes.  
The fourth was the Kingdom of Westsaxons, containing the West-country of England, and had his beginning by the Saxon Cerdicus, the year of our Lord 522: and the fift year of Arthur the great King of Britain, and endured from the first year of Cerdicus to the last of Alured, the term of 378 years. The Kings of this Country subdued at length all the other six Kingdoms, which Egbert began, and Alured finished, making all the South part of this Island one Monarchy.  
The fift was the Kingdom of Northumberland, containing the Countries betwixt the river of Humber and Scotland, had his beginning of the Saxon Ida, King of Brenicia; the year of our Lord 547: and the second or las● year of the reign of Aurelius ●anon, King of Britain. This Kingdom of Northumberland was at the first divided into two Kingdoms, the one was called the Brenicia, which bended towards the North, and the other Deyra (about) the Country of Durham: and this kingdom continued somewhile under one King, sometime under two, the term of 409 years: first under the Saxons, and then under the Danes.  
The sixth Kingdom was of the East Saxons, or Essex, which began by the Saxon Sebert, the year of our Lord about 614, and continued from the beginning of the reign of Sebert, till the eighth year of Edward the elder, 293 years.  
The seventh Kingdom was of Mercia, containing Huntingtonshire, Hertfordshire, Glocestershire, and others: and was the greatest of all the other, taking his beginning of the Saxon Penda, in the year of our Lord 626, after the coming of Hengist 126 years: during the seigne of Cadwan King of Bri●aine, and continued from Penda, till that Edward the Elder chased out the Danes, about 280 years. These 7 Kingdoms of the Saxons, beside that of Wales and Scotland, were all contained at once in this Island of Britain, and continued a long space.   

Six Orders of Chivalry, which continue at this day among Princes.  
THe first and ancientest of these Orders of Chivalry, or Knighthood, is the Order of the Garter, instituted the year of our Lord 1348 in Bourdeaux, chief City of the Dukedom of Guyne in France, by Edward the third, King of England, and then possessor of that Dukedom: which Order he consecrated, and dedicated to Saint George: Though the motive of the institution thereof, proceeded of the loss of a Garter, which he supposed to have been the Countess of Salisburies': but I refer the Reader to the Chronicle. And it happened in this manner; as one day he was entertaining her with pleasant talk, a Garter chanced to unloose and fall down, the King endeavouring to take it up, wittingly caused such a jest as moved the Noblemen to laughter: the Countess thereat blushing, and blaming that more than seemly familiarity of the King, for that he had caused such a jest among the assistance, said sharply to him, and the rest, Honi soit qui maly pense: which Englished, is, Evil to him that evil thinketh. And the King in recompense of his rashness, said forthwith, that before it were long, those Noble men which had made a jest and laughing at the Garter fallen down, should esteem themselves much honoured to wear it for a mark of Honour and Chivalry, and thereupon ordained the said Order, and dedicated it to Saint George, and made thereof 26 Knights, and ordained that they should wear their cloaks of Violet-colour Velvet; their hoods of red Velvet, lined with white Damask; their Bases of red Velvet, and under the left knee a blue Garter, buckled with Gold, garnished with precious stones, and about it wrought the words of the Countess of Salisbury; HONISOIT QVI MALY PENSE, and a collar of Gold, full of red and white Roses, with an Image of S. George hanging thereon: and about these Roses are written those words which are in the Garter. There are of this Order 26 Knights, of which the Kings of England are Sovereign's: and it is so much desired for the excellency, that 8 Emperors, 22 foreign Kings, 20 foreign Dukes, and diverse Noblemen of other Countries have been fellows of it. About their neck they wear a blue Ribbond, at the end of which hangeth the Image of Saint George, upon whose day the installation of the new Knights are commonly celebrated, being the three and twentieth of April.  
And all though it was first ordained at Bourdeaux, yet the said King Edward the third, would that the siege and place of the solemnising thereof should be at the Church of Windsor, here in England; where at the same time he founded Canons, or a Canonry, for the better prosperity of the knights of the order.  
The second order in antiquity, is the order of the Annunciation, instituted Anno Dom. 1356 by Amede the sixth of that name, Duke of Savoy, and surnamed the green knight. The Knights of this order wear a great collar of gold, made winding with three laces which are called of love, wherein are interlaced these words, FERT, FERT, FERT, every letter importing his Latin word, thus F. fortitudo, E, eius, R, Rhodum, T. tenuit that is his force hath conquered Rhodes: and at this Collar hangeth an image of our Lady, and of an Angel saluting her, and for that occasion is called the Order of the Annunciation. The collar is of 15 links, to show the 15 mysteries of the Virgin, each link being inter-woven one with the other, in form of a true Lover's knot. The number is fourteen Knights, the Solemnity is held annually on our Lady-day, in the Castle of Saint Peter in Tutin. This Earl ordained this Order in memory of Amid the great, Duke of Savoy, which succoured the Knights of Saint john, when they conquered the I'll of Rhodes upon the Turks, in the year of our Lord 1310.  
The third in antiquity is the Order of the golden Fleece, founded upon the fable of the golden Fleece, that jason with the other Argonauts went to seek in the I'll of Colchos, which is to say, that he went to the Mine of Gold; or in Analogy to Gedeous Fleece, as some will, and ordained by Philip the second, surnamed the good Duke of Burgundy, in the year 1430: the complete number of which Order were at first 25 Knights, and raised afterwards by the said Philip to 31. Charles the fift raised them to 51: and now there be as many as the King of Spain will invest with it. They wear a Choler of Gold, interlaced with an Iron, seeming to strike fire out of a Flint, the word ex ferro flammam; and at the end hangs the Fleece, or Toison d'or: Their Cloaks and Hoods are of Scarlet, guarded with Embroidery like flames of fire. Philip appointed for the celebrating of that Order St. Andrews day, being the 30 of November. But the Emperor Charles the fift, (heir of the house of Burgundy, and chief of that Order) changed their apparel, and ordained that their Cloaks should be of Crimson Velvet, and their Hoods of Violet colour Velvet, and that underneath they should wear a Cassock of cloth of Silver.  
The fourth in antiquity is the Order of St. Michael the Archangel, instituted by Lewis the 11 of France, the first day of August, in the year 1469: and ordained that of that Order there should be 36 Knights, which afterward were augmented to 300, Gentlemen of name and of Arms without reproach, of whom he himself was chief and Sovereign, and after him his successor's Kings of France. And the brothers or companions of this Order were bound, at the receiving thereof, to forsake and leave all other Orders, if any they had, either of a Prince or any company, only excepting Emperors, Kings, and Dukes, which beside this Order, might wear that Order whereof they were chief, with the agreement and consent of the King and Brotherhood of the said Order: and in like manner the said, King of France might wear beside his own, the Order of other Emperors, Kings, and Dukes. And for the connoissance of this Order, and the Knights thereof, he gave to every of them a Choler of Gold, wrought with Cockle shells, interlacing one another with a double pointing Ribbon of Silk, with golden Tags, the word, Immensi Arenor Oceani, which King Francis the first, because his name was Francis, changed into a white Friars of Franciscans Girdle, made of a twisted cord; and hangeth on that Choler a tablet of St. Michael upon a Rock, conquering the Devil. Of the institution of this Order, is made a book, containing 98 Articles, wherein are set down the things whereunto the Knights of this Order are subject.  
The fift Order is that of the Holy Ghost, instituted by Henry the 3. King of France, on New-year's day, in the year 1579 it was called by the name of the Holy Ghost, because this Henry was on a whitsunday chosen King of Poland. Of this also is written a Book, containing the Articles whereunto the Knights thereof are bound. Among the which I have principally noted one, that is to defend and sustain the Clergy: for the King doth give to every of them the rent of certain Abbeys, religious houses, or other spiritual lands, whereof they shall allow a certain stipend, to the entertaining of a certain number of religious persons, in every religious house under him; and for that benefit are sworn at their entering into the said Order, always to defend the Spirituality, and maintain the Clergy in their privileges: but how they keep their Oath, it is well seen in every place of their spiritual possessions: and thereof myself have oftentimes had ocular experience, for travailing in that Country, and passing oftentimes by goodly religious houses, I have sometimes for recreation (having well tried the courteous demeanour, that commonly religious men use towards strangers that come to view their houses) entered into sundry of them: where I have diverse times been sufficiently informed by the religious, how the King had given the rents and possessions of their houses to the Knights of his Order, with the conditions already rehearsed, which Knights allow them such bare exhibition, that by reason it is not sufficient to entertain the fourth part of the number by them appointed, almost all of them are constrained either to forsake their houses, and beg, or else there to starve: through which occasion, many goodly religious houses are of late fallen in decay for want of reparation, trimming up, and inhabiting, and will domore and more without a redress. And this have I learned in diverse religious houses, beside the common murmuring of the Clergy: and so we may see, how these Knights, called of the Holy Ghost, for to defend and maintain the spirituality, do under pretence thereof, rob, and prodigally waste the spiritual possessions: so that it may seem only to be a policy (under the correction of better judgement) put in the King's head, to diminish spiritual live (which in that Country are wonderful great) and satisfy his prodigal mind, in rewarding by that means his flatterers; because through his exceeding lavishness, he is scarce able otherwise to reward them. The Bishop of Rome considering what dismembering of Church-lands, & decay of God's service, cometh through this Order, in the Realm of France; will not grant the confirmation thereof, although the King hath been instant for the same: but notwithstanding the Pope's misliking thereof, the Order is maintained, though to the great weakening of the religion in that Country: Yea, at the last celebration thereof, which was on New-year's day eeven, 1581., I saw three Bishops were admitted into that Order. The Collar is of Flowers de lys, and flames of Gold, with a Cross, and a Dove on it pendent, representing the Holy Ghost, wrought in Orange tawny Velvet, garnished about with silver beams, which the Knights of that Order wear upon their Cloaks, before their heart. Their robe is a black Velvet Mantle, powdered with Lilies and flames of Gold and Silver. None are admitted to this Order, who cannot prove their Nobility by three descents at least.  
The sixth Order is of the Bath, brought first into England 1399, by Henry the fourth: They are created at the Coronation of Kings and Queens, and the installation of the Princes of Wales: Their duty is to defend true Religion, Widows, Maids, Orphans, and to maintain the King's rights.   

The 13 Cantons of Switzerland.  
THE inhabitants of Helvetia or Switzerland, after they had emancipated themselves from the yoke of the Empire, and expelled the Nobility of the Imperial faction, began to make leagues and confederacies one Town with another, to fortify themselves by that means against foreign invasions if any happened. And in process of time, within little more than an hundred years, are increased to the number of 13, which they call Cantons, by which the whole Country of Swiss is governed and defended. And here (according to their antiquity) I place them the first that confederated together, and gave example to the rest, were Vri, Swits, Vndervard, Villages: and these 3 by little & little, have drawn to their faction all the rest that follow, Lucerne, Zurich, Cities; Glaris, Zug, Villages: Berne, Fribourg, Soulleurre, Basle, Schaffouse, Cities: Appensel, Village. Whereof 7 profess the Romish Religion, viz. Vri, Swits, Vndervard, Zug, Lucerne, Fribourg, and Soulleurre, the rest are Zuinglians: which diversity of Religion hath caused dissension, and mortal wars of late years among them, although they be all sworn together to defend their liberties against Strangers.  Non munus, sed animus.  
FINIS.