A BUCKLER AGAINST ADVERSITY: OR A TREATISE OF CONSTANCY.  
Written in French by the Right Honourable the Lord DV VAIR, Keeper of the great Seal of FRANCE.  
And now done into English by ANDREW COURT.  
LONDON, Printed by BERNARD ALSOP, dwelling in Distaff Lane at the sign of the Dolphin. 1622.   

TO THE READER.  
COurteous Reader, I have long been in Quest for some worthy piece to present unto your view: at last by good Fortune, I have lighted upon one, cut by the curious hand of France; which in its proper colours deserves all commendations. If my unproper colours have any ways discountenanced it, I hope you will not blame the piece, though you have colour for it. I am confident, those who are judicious, well know how hard and difficult a thing it is for a Stranger to attain unto the perfection of the English tongue; and what labour he must bestow to seek and sift, beg and borrow proper words and phrases to express himself. Therefore for such errors as I have committed, I presume they will grant me their pardons, and take nevertheless this little Essay of mine in good part. Which if I can obtain, I will reprieve many an hour from my other occasions to do them service in this kind.  
A. C.   

Errata.  
PAge 5. line 31. read this age. p. 9 l 26. r: you shall be bound to. p. 10. l. 30. r. Estimative. 14.14. their tears. 14.15. did depend of. 21.9. not the. 27.9. separated. 27.21. we ought not. 28.15. penetrate into our. 29.27. fees. 45.21. their Destiny. 75.27, of so many. 81.4. and infamous. 82.15. almost all their. 83.7. Bastille. 83.10. City. 86.30. all this is nothing. 87.16. are eaten. 90.3. you have. 90.27. fall on. 93.3. All good. 96.25 to teach others. 96.32. desire into the soul of those that live in following ages to resemble. 97.10. others are utterly. 98. ill encounters. 101.18. which were so troubled. 102.8. dim fire. 102.23. whether. 102.29. ever. 103.11. Poets. 103.20. persecuted. 106.5. he doth not punish the wicked but by the wicked. 110.21. evil. 119.5. that this. 123.11. and bringing. 124.26. with it. 127.14. It is time. 128.1. the loss. 129.5. and unexperienced. 129.9 that it is. 130.14. rash. 136.5. according. 136.6. rise as early. 136.12. his sisters. 136.27. sent away. 137.12. Citizen's may compose. 137.13. an excellent and perfect. 141.23. no knowledge thereof but. 145.2. drawn. 148.18. chooseth for its. 151.7. I do not say only. 151.10. and many others after him. 151.27. the very name. 154.15. which is false, is not. 154.25, he embraceth all. 155.18 bring it to pass. 156.2. and all his motions. 15.22. into that celestial.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, AND MY singular good Lord and Master, HENRY, Lord Morley, and Mount-eagle, Baron of Rye.  
SInce your Lordship hath been pleased to make me the undeserving Object of many of your Favours, thereby to demonstrate unto the world the truly Nobleness of your own disposition, in favouring such weak Deserts, as durst not presume so much as to challenge the honour of your Lordship's favourable aspect; I could do no less, then in a thankful remembrance thereof, by this poor Testimony of my bounden service, express the desire I have to manifest unto your Lordship my thankful heart; and withal, seek for safeguard under your Lordship's Protection: Hoping thereby, that the Beams of your gracious Aspect will disperse these Gusts of Calumniation, and Gulfs of Envy, which will strive to swallow this poor strange Bark, adorned in English Rigging. Unto which, if your Lordship will be pleased but to add the Colours of your own Honour, thereby to be known to whom she belongs; I make no question, but by that means she will be securely wafted along through these Tempests, unto the Haven of Benign Acceptation; And there will remain ever at your Lordship's command, as daily will also  
Your Lordship's most humble and obedient Servant, ANDREW COURT.   

MUSAEUS, OR THE FIRST BOOK OF CONSTANCY.  
ON a day, during the siege that Paris suffered with so much Misery; I walked alone in my garden, being sad to the very soul for the hard fortune of my distressed Country. And as a man's passion being too much soothed up, doth increase beyond measure; I began to accuse heaven for pouring down upon us such cruel influences; and could with a good will have argued with God himself; had not a secret fear awed my sorrow. Amidst these my perplexed thoughts, there arrived one of my dearest friends, a man perfectly seen in all manner of Sciences, especially in the Mathematics, but fare more to be commended for his singular honesty, and faithful integrity (rare virtues in this Age) his name for this time shall be Musaeus; since his Modesty forbids me to call him otherwise. After the first salutation, and some familiar discourse, he seriously eyed me, and beholding the fresh marks of my tears on my Cheeks, saith: I do not ask you, what discourse you entertain yourself withal, I read it in your countenance, good men are little busied, but with the apprehension of the Public calamity. This wound striketh us so sharply, that we cannot but point at it: But how is it? Yesterday when I visited you, I found you in the same case: For the first time I made no show of any reprehension, but seeing you continue, and suffer yourself to be overrun with passion, I must needs ask you, what you have done with your Philosophy? I seek you in yourself, for I cannot believe, that he, from whom I received so much comfort, can now be wanting to himself. There is nothing so just, as for one to receive that which he hath prescribed another: either restore me to the liberty of weeping, that your discourses took from me, or else obey the law, yourself ordained for sorrow. O dear Musaeus, I learn now by experience, how much easier it is to speak then to do: and how weak, and sinew-lesse the arguments of Philosophy are in the School of Fortune. Shall I tell you freely, what I think of it? Our Philosophy doth nothing but brag, and boast; she triumphs in the shadow of a School, with her foils in her hand: It is good sport to see her stand on her guard, showing her several postures, and so nimbly defending herself, that you would think it were impossible that any worldly cross should come so near as to give her a hit; but let her come in open Field, with naked Sword, and that Fortune chance but to strike her one sound clap, she is quickly daunted and disarmed. This grief which with words we strive withal, is a feigned thing, like those wooden men, or Quintanes, set up for Countrey-Boyes disport, which suffer themselves to be aimed at, and receive the blow defenceless. True grief is another thing, it is lively, vigorous, and stirring: it assaulteth, and surpriseth us, and gripeth us so fast, that it leaves us helpless. Hath it once touched us? Let us set as good a face on't as we can, it smarteth nevertheless: and though for a time we gnash our teeth, obstinately enduring the pain, for fear we should confess what trouble it is; yet in the end, it will make itself known, and wrest from forth our breast, those groans, and sighs, that we refused to grant unto it voluntary. No, believe it, that in such fits as these, Nature and our Philosophy cannot agree together: You must choose which of the two you will keep. Had you power to expel Nature, that is the lawful Mistress of our passions; and which she fearing, that we might suffer ourselves to be beguiled with sly words, and alluring discourses, and so withdraw us from her obedience, keepeth within us a garrison of her affections, which narrowly observe and watch us, and upon all occasions that are offered, exact from us the tribute that we own her? Either tears are no natural signs and marks of a true grief, or else we ought to yield them to the Evil wherein Nature is most offended, which is in the ruin & subversion of our Country; for by that fatal Blow are wounded all those, that are conjoined to us either in Blood, Friendship, or Alliance: but if we have no feeling of their pains, and compassion of their miseries; I say, that then we violate and infringe both Civil Laws and natural Piety, and the Majesty itself of that great God, whose Spirit resteth among us, as a Protector of the rights of human society. I was already offended with your troublesome Philosophy, which forbiddeth us tears: but reading to day an ancient Author, I resolved to drive her away spitefully, so pleasing was a place to me, I lighted on by chance, wherein he writeth, That in the Town of Cumae, there was a Statue of Apollo, which was seen to weep, and shed forth tears, when the Romans destroyed the Town from whence it was fetched, as being grieved that its Country should be ruined, and that not able to assist, because the ruin of it was fatal, and had been by Apollo long foretell. And shall a Marble Statue find tears to deplore its Country, and I find none to bemoan mine? Being removed so fare off, it suffered for the calamities of its fellow Citizens; and shall not I sigh upon the view of mine, and amidst all their miseries? No, no, I am a truehearted subject; I am bred and borne in the Town, which I see now exposed to ruin: believe this, that a man whose eyes are without moisture at this present, had need to have a heart of Stone; yea, I think, if Piety were not fled out of the World, we should weep as well as the Cumaan Apollo, for our reasons (I am sure) are greater. This fair City, the Metropolis of the most renowned Kingdom of the Earth, the Seat of our Kings, the Throne of justice, and Estate, and as a common Temple to all France; to perish in our view, and even by our hands: the Richesse of her Citizens, the Magnificence of her Buildings, the Learning of so many famous men, that she hath brought up, could neither save, nor help her. O how fitly did an ancient Author express the power of God, under the Name of Fortune, when he said, That when she had resolved upon any thing, she blinded the eyes of man, for fear he should interrupt her purpose! Consider a little, how we have almost every one of us unawares given way to our own ruins, and afforded our helping hands to the plucking down even of our own houses: for you know Musaeus, what infinite number of men, even of the wisest amongst us, have combined to set forward this design, and cast us into this boisterous storm of worst then Civil Wars. Behold, we are in it, since that it is God's pleasure, at the Eve of a great shipwreck, wherein we must fear alike the rage and fury of our zealous domestics, thirsting after the blood of those that wish for the public welfare, and the violence that may happen from those that are abroad, which should be inflicted promiscuously against good and bad; and in this Sea of Miseries, you will forbid me tears. As fare as I see, replied he, this time causeth every one to shift sides, which perhaps is the fault of the age: for my own part, I have ever maintained Nature against your Philosophy, for in my conceit, you made her too powerful, and would have given her a commission too violent, and tyrannical. But it falleth out commonly, that the wrong that is done to one, whom we love not, reconcileth us to him, and moveth us for pity sake to undertake his defence. I see you dishonour the day, and disgrace Philosophy, that hath so tenderly, and dearly fostered us, and that you suffer passions to tread upon her, who dares not so much as to defend herself. You surnamed her afore Queen of this Life, Mistress of our Affections, Tutrix of our Felicity; and now you only keep her as a Buffoon, to spend your idle time withal: entertain her at least as one that is descended of noble Stock, you have no reason to forsake her; if you will divorce yourself, restore unto her the liberty she brought your house, let her retire with safe honour, and with all her rights and privileges. As for my part, I maintain her free, and profess myself a protector of her liberty: I dare not give her the power, to take away from body and soul the sense of pains and grief, for I know it ought to give way to natural affections: but I hold, it keepeth in, and restraineth sorrows within their bounds, and banks, which otherwise would overflow the soul, and in time will qualify, and assuage those swelling evils. I see by your countenance that you are too much incensed, and will agree to nothing: here come happily two of our best friends, unto whose judgement I hope you willingly submit, and as for my part, I am content to stand to their trial. Now these were two famous men: the first, whom for this time we will name Orpheus, besides the knowledge of Arts and Learning, he hath purchased himself by his long and dangerous travels great experience: Tho other shall be called Linus, who is known for one of the most learned in Europe, whose judgement and sincerity is much esteemed. O Musaeus, you have (quoth I) chosen judges that I cannot refuse, for indeed they are not chosen, but rather as I believe, they are sent unto us even as the gods that were let down by device in Tragedies, to act some great exploit beyond the power of man. For my part, I hold my opinion to be so sound and true, and so deeply printed in my heart, that none, but such holy hands as theirs can root it out. Upon this we drew near and saluted each other. We fear (quoth they) we hinder your discourse, wherein it seemeth you are fare gone, and by your looks we judge you disagree. You guess well (quoth Musaeu) and you are seasonably come to reconcile us, for we have assigned you judges of our controversy. The precept of the wise, forbiddeth us to be judges betwixt our friends, yet we will do our best to reconcile you: but we must tell you freely, we have come fare, therefore give us leave to sit. Then Linus began to tell, that he heard a pitiful History of a poor woman, which for want of Bread to give her Children, hanged herself on a Beam in the top of the house. And I (quoth Orpheus) did see even now, a poor maid, that fell down stark dead for lack of food: and a little after, I met some poor folks, feeding upon a dead Dog, all besmeared with blood, that they had broiled; and as I avoided this grievous Spectacle, I met with certain Women that cried out and said, That the Lanskenets had eaten up Children, hard by a place that is called the Temple, which I cannot believe. Hearing this, we all burst out into sighs: whereupon I replied, my cause is gained; since none here could forbear, but needs must, upon recital of this pitiful History, express how sensible they are of the public misery. I leave it then to your consideration to imagine, how we ought to quake, and tremble, when we bethink ourselves, how many several sorts of Miseries are spread over this  and populous City. Alas, how many secret Wounds is there that are hidden and covered by shame? then how great and fearful are the Calamities we foresee, expect, and cannot almost avoid. You upbraid me with my tears Musaeus, but you may with better reason object unto me the hardness of my heart, which is the only impediment that so sharp and stinging grief doth not at one instant end both my life and sorrows. Then turning towards Orpheus, and Linus, I gave them to understand, what discourses passed between Musaeus and myself, and upon what points we differred: Which when they heard, Our good Fortune (quoth Orpheus) hath brought us hither in a very lucky time, to hear so learned Disputations: but Musaeus, since you have done us the honour to give credit to us, give us also leave to make use of the authority you have granted us, and in stead of discoursing and demonstrating your Propositions, apply them, and make trial of their virtue upon us, whereof you boast, against this irksome disease of the mind, which is the grief that we all receive from the public misery: you have a fair and large subject, for I verily believe, there is not one of us, whose mind is free from this disease. I assure myself, that if Antiquity hath invented any medicine for the curing of a troubled mind, you are the likest to have got the best and profitablest receipts. But I fear it falleth out here, as it doth in your Mathematical demonstrations, wherein you prove by a thousand fair Propositions, what no Artificer can make use of, either upon Wood or Stone. Proceed then, and make your account; if you can assuage our mind, and free us from this grief wherewith we are vexed, than your suit is granted; for deeds are stronger proofs than words: beside, if you beguile us, you shall do us but a courtesy to rid us of so great an Evil, & so I am sure our Landlord will be glad to be overcome, for he shall gain by the loss. I will do my best endeavour to content you (quoth Musaeus) but let me entreat you, to remember that we labour in a common piece of work: therefore, if I chance in rehearsal of this matter, to forget material reasons; that you call to mind, and supply my wants, since that our strife is only to try Truth out: and to the end Reason may overcome, you ought the more to favour her side, in respect the reward of victory is equal to us all.  
The chiefest thing to be observed in the curing of a disease, is rightly to know the cause of it: wherefore, if we be desirous to free our soul from sorrow, and restore it to a quiet estate, it is needful in my opinion to examine from whence proceeds the malady which torments it. The nature of man hath not only a great proportion and correspondency with the whole World, but also with every part; and especially me thinks, when it resembles the Royal State, they are both almost of like conditions, and subject to like casualties. The Sovereign Prince that is to rule a multitude of men, Towns, and Provinces, appointeth subordinate Magistrates: And to direct and instruct them in the execution of their charge, gives them his Laws to rule their Actions by: and beside, adviseth them to refer doubtful and important matters to him, & attend his censure. Certainly, as long as this Order is observed, Subjects obey the Magistrates; and Magistrates, the Law and Sovereign Prince: the State remaineth in Peace, flourisheth, and wonderfully prospereth. But contrary, when those which judge and rule under the Sovereign, suffer themselves to be overreached by their own softness, or bribed by favour, in deciding controversies, and that without respect unto their Sovereign; they make only use of their authority, for the execution of their rash Decrees, whereby they bring all things to ruin and confusion. In man, the highest and most sovereign faculty of the Soul, is Understanding: being enthroned in the highest place, to guide and conduct all his lives Actions, hath appointed and ordained an under-facultie, that we call Imaginative, to dispose and judge by the representation of the Senses, the quality and condition of things offered, with authority to rouse and stir our affections, for execution of its judgement. And lest that Faculty, as it is great and important, might do any thing rashly, it hath proposed unto it as a Law, the light of Nature, which shineth in all objects, and moreover hath given it means in all doubtful and weighty matters, to have recourse to the discourse, reason, and counsel of it that commandeth over all. There is no doubt, as long as this Order is kept in the managing of man's life, but he is in an exceeding happy estate, and that this great, and generous creature, showeth himself worthy to be the masterpiece of that Sovereign Architect that created him. But I know not what ill luck is the cause man doth not enjoy this happiness: for this Faculty, that is beneath Understanding, & above the Senses, to whom belongeth the censure of things, suffereth itself for the most part to be corrupted and misled, and so conceiveth rashly; and after it hath so conceived, stirreth and moveth our affections at random, and leaveth us full of trouble and unquietness. The Senses, true Sentinels of the Soul, set abroad to view all Objects, are like soft wax, on which is printed, not the true and internal Nature, but only the superficial and external form of things: they present their Ideas unto the Soul with favour, and even with a foreiudgement of their quality, according as they appear severally pleasing and graceful to them; and not as they are profitable and necessary to the universal welfare of man: and moreover, let in with the Ideas, the fond opinion of the Vulgar; from whence is framed, that inconsiderate Opinion we have of things, that they are good or bad, profitable or hurtful, to be imitated, or to be shunned, which certainly is a dangerous guide, and rash mistress to follow, and justly such as our Belleau hath set it forth.  
Opinion that is constant never,  
That works in vain, and striveth ever:  
That builds herself a firm assurance,  
Upon the sands of light inconstance.  
But whosoever will carefully observe her effects, shall find her fare worse than he describeth her: for she is no sooner bred up, but she without respect or understanding, seizeth upon our Imagination, and there, as if she were within a Citadel, standeth out in defiance against true Reason: And like a Tyrant, that violently hath seized on a Town by force, setteth up Wheels and Gibbets for those that will not readily obey, and offereth reward to those who will follow his party. Even so, when she intends to make us fly from any thing, she setteth it forth unto us, with a horrid and dreadful visage: but when she would delight us, she painteth it over, and giveth it a smiling countenance, whereby she slideth down into our hearts, and stirreth our affections with violent motions of hope and fear, sorrow and pleasure: and because she would be sure for to disquiet us, she rouzeth up our passions, which are the true disturbers of our Soul. But amongst all the other, and above all the rest, this sorrow, wherewith I see you possessed (which is nothing but a decay of Spirit, and drooping, bred by the opinion we have, that we are afflicted with great misfortunes) is a dangerous Enemy to our rest: for it is incredible, how much this rust and mouldiness, that is gathered in the Soul by such accidents, is contrary to Nature, and doth blemish and disfigure her workmanship: it marreth her Faculties, dulleth and benumbeth her Virtues: when contrariwise she should rouse up herself, to withstand the mischiefs that threaten us, and letteth into our hearts a deeper cause of our grief. Now since she is hurtful to us, me thinks we should beware of her; and to the end she may not deceive us, discover, and diligently view her before she hath got footing in us, & withstand her in the very Frontiers. And whereas she would insinuate herself under the name of Nature; let us observe that she is an Enemy to her, who only maketh a show, as if she would ease our pain. But let us take notice how she increaseth it, as much as she can. She seemeth to be devout, and religious, let us bring forth her deceit and impiety: when as she would slip in by the favour of Error, let us drive her away by the authority of Reason and Truth. First of all, to show that she cannot be sheltered under the name of Nature, that she proceedeth not from her, and is not a common Affection, where with all men be tormented alike: do we not see those things that cause grief and sorrow to some, to breed mirth and delight in others? That one Province weepeth, for what another laugheth? That such as come near them that mourn and lament, do exhort them to be of a good resolution, and leave off their tears? Hear the most part of them that are afflicted, when you have spoken with them, and they have taken time and leisure to examine their own passions: they will confess, it is a folly to be vexed, and within three hours after, will praise them that have manfully withstood Fortune in their adversities, and encountered their own afflictions with a bold and generous courage. So that in all this, there is neither equality nor certainty, as there is in the works of Nature: and thereby it appeareth, that men do not frame their moan to their sorrow, but to the opinion of those they live withal. Remember I pray you that public mourning, the Ancients did so much affect. What do you say of them that were hired to weep and lament in Funerals? The tears which came from others eyes, that were shed only to be seen, and were dried up as soon as they were not looked on: were they natural, or artificial? What was the intent of those that were hired, and likewise of those that hired them but only to submit themselves unto that tyrannical opinion forged in those countries', that in such accidents it behoved us to weep: and as for them that had no sorrow of their own, were bound to buy it of their Neighbours for ready money? Did not such people betray their own Reason wittingly, and purposely prostitute their manliness? Shall we deem they did ever learn such bad conditions in the School of Nature? But rather in the School of Opinion, that teacheth how to pervert Nature to please the Vulgar, and which bringeth forth nothing but is counterfeit and painted. For proof of this, will you behold, with how much vanity, it breedeth, feedeth, and bringeth up this sorrow, wherewith we are so much tormented? I pray observe in yourself, and in all those that are afflicted, whether those things she setteth forth unto us, as causes of our grief, do not vex us either more, or sooner than they ought to do? The chiefest instrument she hath, and wherewithal she most disturbeth us, consisteth in evils to come. She hath power over us only by fraud, and deceit. She knoweth, that the crosses we stood in fear of, prove not so heavy when they are come, as we did imagine them, and are assuaged by use, and custom. Therefore she casteth herself upon time to come, as into a thick darkness, and taketh her opportunity, even as many choose night to strike men with fear: upon small occasion, she doth then represent calamities unto us, as they do Robin-good-fellowes unto little Children: They raise, abate, increase, and lessen them at their pleasure, because they talk unto them of things they never saw. She tormenteth us with Evils that are not: but in regard we deem them, or fear them to be so, and which do not so much offend us by their nature, as by our apprehension; how many have we seen make their calamities true Evils, with overmuch grief, which for fear to be wretched, are become so, and have turned their vain timorousness into a certain misery? Some have been so frighted with poverty, that they have fallen sick upon't: Others through jealousy of their wives, have been driven into a consumption: And the like may be said well-near of all other fears, wherein for the most part, it serveth us in no other stead, but to make us find, what we seek to avoid. Let us fear no more, we shall have no hurt, at least we shall not have it, till it comes; and let it come when it will, it will never be so bad as we thought it. As for me, I believe, that of all Evils, Fear is the most powerful, and troublesome: for others are Evils no longer than they last, and the pain ceaseth with the cause. But Fear is, of that which is, of that which is not, of that which perchance shall never be, yea, many times of that which cannot be. O tyrannical Passion! which to vex man, goeth beyond Nature, and by our discontents, extracteth a grief out of that which is not, and to satisfy the opinion of a feigned, and imaginary misery, draweth from us sharp, and stinging torments. Like unto the Painter Parrhasius, who the better to express the fabulous torments of Prometheus, put his Bondslaves to the Rack. Why should we be so ambitious to our harm, and in such hast meet with our evils? Let us take a little patience, and suffer it to come near; happily, the time which we think will bring us afflictions, will afford us comfort. How many chances may there fall that may avert the blow we fear? A Thunder bolt is turned away with the wind of a Hat, and the fortunes of powerful Kingdoms, are altered in a moment: a turn of a wheel setteth up that which was down; and often from whence we expected ruin, we receive safety. There is nothing so easy to be beguiled, as humane Prudence: what she hopeth for, miscarrieth, and what she feareth, comes to pass, and that falleth out she looks not for. God keepeth his counsel by himself, what man resolveth upon one way, he determineth another. Let us not make our selves unhappy before the time, and (it may be) we shall not be so at all. Future time that deceiveth so many, shall as soon deceive us in our fears, as in our hopes. It is one of the chiefest Maxims in Physic, That, Predictions are never certain in sharp diseases. If violent motions of heat, bereaveth the Physician of judgement; what wise man dare be so bold as to assure any thing of the success of our Civil dissensions, which are apparently seen to be stirred up, and maintained by a more than human power? It is a hard matter to warrant the safety of our State, but it is likewise uncertain to foretell his ruin. How many Cities, States, and Empires, have been shaken, and tottered with intestine accidents, and such, that those which beheld them, looked certainly for their fatal period; and nevertheless, have the better settled themselves, and become more puissant and flourishing then ever they were?  
'Gainst whom in entering, Fortune in hate doth burn,  
On those she often smiles in their return.  
It is his pleasure, those that are cast down, should hope still; and shall not we, that are but as yet declining? The Romans, which I willingly challenge for witnesses in brave and generous Actions, as the renownedst and most courageous people that ever were in the world, had great cause to despair of their affairs, after the Gauls had sacked their Town, and with Fire and Sword rooted out the very Ground-plot of their State. Notwithstanding, they abated neither in their hopes, nor affections they boar their Country: But contrary, adversity increased their courage, and were so confident as to bid another Battle, wherein Fortune was so propitious to them, that they drew many brave Triumphs from their own ruin. After the loss of so many Battles against Hannibal, and that they had wasted all the Youth of their City; in so many encounters, and disasters, had they not cause to be sore troubled? Contrariwise, there were Citizens found, which bad Money for the Field whereon Hannibal encamped, being still in good hope of the public welfare.  
And to pass to the Civil wars (which are commonly the fatal & deadly maladies of great States) Who would not have thought the Roman Commonwealth had been struck dead at the very heart, under Marius and Sylla? And that the very City herself under Caesar and Pompey, was carried into the Pharsalian Field, there to be at the common charge and cost of all men, torn and buried by all the Nations of the World? And nevertheless, she was never so puissant and triumphant, as after the time of Marius and Sylla. And the wars of Caesar and Pompey were but the fits and gripings of bringing forth the greatest, fairest, and most flourishing Empire of the World.  
But to return from strange Nations to ourselves: Who could have believed that our poor State, laid level on the ground, at the coming in of Charles the seventh, having almost neither pulse nor breath, should have raised itself again in so short a space, and stretched its Arms over all the neighbouring Provinces, as it did soon after under his next Successors? One may say of the fortunes of Towns and Kingdoms, as they do of man's diseases, As long as there is life, there is hope; Hope remaineth in the body, as long as the Soul.  
But well, let us hope for nothing, let us hold our Evils for certain, although they be uncertain: let us think them to be present, though they be to come. Do you think if they did happen, they were so irksome and intolerable as we imagine them? They would come fare short. Banishment, Poverty, loss of Honours, loss of Children, wherewithal is composed that Host of Evils which so tormenteth us; their number is not so great, as we think: yet whosoever will examine them one after another, shall find they are but rascal striplings, set in battle array, to affright us; if we be armed as we ought, none of them dare make a shot, our very looks will defeat and scatter them. Do you deem it nothing (will you say) for a man to lose his country, and so to be enforced to change his dwelling? What do you make of that natural love we own unto our country? I do but the same which Plato did, when he forsook Athens, to go and dwell in Sicill and Egypt; I do but the same as you had done yourself, if there had been an honourable occasion offered to you, to go Ambassador into some foreign country for ten or twelve years: you had not only forsook your city, but (if you will say true) had it been needful, you would have forsook the land to choose a ship for the place of your abode, and tie your life to the tackling of a Bark. Let reason persuade you to that, which a little Honour would have done: the Commandment of your Prince, that had charged you with it, would have made you like it well: Let fate, and necessity, unto whom you own more obedience, do the same. How many men is there even at this day, that voluntarily have banished themselues out of Europe, to make plantations in the extremest parts of Asia? See them, they praise their Fortune, as safe, and sure, and replenished with all manner of happiness, and pity ours as altogether wretched, full of poverty and troubles. It is heaven is the true and common country of man, from whence they are come, and whither they must return: and that is the reason why it is seen, & showeth itself to every one almost whole, in all parts of the earth, in one day & night; whereas contrariwise the earth that is but a small point in comparison of it, and all which she incompasseth with her Seas, and watereth with her Rivers, is not the hundreth and sixtieth part of the magnitude of the Sun; showeth herself to us only in the very place we do inhabit.  
Would we tie the affections of man to so narrow an object, as a corner of the earth? and enforce him, for to be happy, to dwell still in one place, which pleaseth him in no other respect then that he may leave it when he listeth? Confine him to that country wherein he took so much pleasure, it will become irksome to him in an instant. He that lived all his life time within the walls of his town, until he was fourscore years of age, died for grief as soon as he was forbidden to go out of it, and began to hate that he did enjoy by force, and to love that was forbidden. And that brave Roman Rutilius, being called home from his banishment by Sylla, would not return, and preferred the solitariness of his Island, before the greatness and magnificence of his city. See in how short a time he had learned to make a small reckoning of his country, he had rather lose the sight of it, then endure the sight of him that oppressed its liberty: he could brook well banishment, but hated the Tyrant. But question him, he will not only tell you that his banishment was tolerable, but will set it out to you to be sweet and full of pleasure: he will show you that all his virtues followed him, and moreover had purchased the friendship of Philosophy: and will tell you further he hath lived no longer than he hath been banished. It is no other than an imaginary Love that you bewail, which hath no root but in opinion, that a small thing may pluck out. To a wise man all countries are alike, or at least, as Pompey said, he ought to esteem that his country where he hath his liberty. All sorts of men are his fellow-citizens, he acknowledgeth them for Allies, for Kinsfolks; all come from one main stock, which is the hand of that great Father who hath created all.  
You see that fortune even leadeth some by the hand out of their country, to make them great and mighty in a Foreign. Reckon up, I pray you, the Emperors that reigned in Rome since Traian: how many of them were natives in the city? will you say, that these men, whereof some had left Spain, some Sclavonia, some France, some Afrique, to attain unto the greatest Empire of the world have been sorry, or aught to wish for their own country? yea but our condition shall not be alike, we shall come from the sacking of a town, naked as from a shipwreck, and shall lose all our fortunes. It is poverty than we fear: That's freely spoken. And what is it to fear poverty? but to lose a few fair moveables that we have gathered, the commodity of a house well furnished, a soft bed, meat well dressed. Take off the Mask from our complaints, & then you shall see the true face of our sorrow. We are effeminate, there is our disease. A man that hath his limbs, ought he to complain of poverty? he that hath a trade, ought he to fear it? He that is brought up in learning, ought he to fly from it? Extreme poverty, that hath not wherewithal to suffice Nature, doth seldom happen: Nature dealeth very justly with us, she hath framed us so, that we stand in need of few things. If we apply ourselves to her desires, we shall be sure of sufficient; if to the opinion of the Vulgar, something will always seem to be wanting. This other poverty, which is rather mediocrity and frugality, is to be desired, so fare it is from being dreadful: It is that Archesilaus said to be like unto Ithaca, which was rough and harsh, but did bring forth generous and temperate men. It is virtue's dowry, and especially in these times, where few rich have been virtuous, and few virtuous have been rich: and where, to speak in a word, nothing hath hindered so much honest men from getting riches and honour, as to merit them. What strange cares do you think he shall despoil us of, that shall bereave us of our fortunes? he shall make us truly Masters of our selves: of which, affairs, suits in law, & quarrels, carry away the greatest part: it shall be then all ours, we may then employ it as we list. O false goods, whosoever should know you rightly, would deem you to be true Evils! Who makes us Bondslaves but you? who causeth our injuries but you? who taketh away our liberty but you? who toeth us to the gates of Princes, makes us Slaves to their servants, to observe their actions, bow at their nods, but you? O Pelf, none can praise you, but must dispraise liberty; none can get or keep you, that doth not lose himself; and nevertheless you are called Goods. Yes, as convenient instruments, & sometimes necessary to worthy actions, whereof the use is so ticklish and hard, that it seldom happeneth, that you do more good than harm.  
Now I grant it is good to have wealth; yet for all that, it is not ill to have none: for poverty and richesses are indeed several things, but not contrary; they are several Goods, several Instruments of Virtue: With the one she worketh with more ease; with the other, to more perfection. But howsoever, Povertie availeth more to attain to that sovereign Good, at the which all the world ought to aim, which is the rest of the Soul, and the tranquillity of the Mind. How many have we even at this day, which for the selfsame cause do embrace wilful poverty? How many which think not themselves free, but since the day they made themselves poor? that deem they only live, since they died to the world? Since that our life is so short, and we must departed from hence without carrying any thing with us, is it not for our ease to be as lightly loaden and encumbered with luggage as we can? The life of a poor man is like unto them, who sail close by the shore; and that of the rich, unto those that are in the main. These cannot land would they never so fain, but must wait for Wind, and Tide; those come near when they please, it is but casting a small rope, and their Bark is brought instantly into the Harbour. O poverty, how many things art thou fit for! he that should know thee, would not censure thee! Alas, if we did see as plainly the jealousies, fears, suspicions, terrors, and desires of great men, as we see the roofs of their houses, and forefronts of their Palaces, the brightness of their household furniture, the glittering of their clothes, we would not envy their fortunes. If one should say to us, Lo you there, you must take all, or leave all, bethink yourselves whether you will enjoy his fortunes with all his incommodities; we would go back, and never go through with our bargain, and deem ourselves happy in our poverty. If it were as bad as they make it, we should not so highly praise the Fabritii, Serrani, Curii, for that frugality, when they refused Gold and Silver to till the ground, delights and pleasures to embrace labour, and dsinties to feed upon Bread and Onions. What was it else, but a voluntary Poverty? It is a wonderful thing, when we judge of Poverty in strangers, she gaineth her cause; she goeth away with praise and reputation: what is that, but to declare that our private interest doth corrupt and hinder us from judging right when as it concerneth ourselves? Certainly amongst impartial persons it is commendable, but amongst any it is tolerable.  
Now if we can endure Poverty, how much easier the loss of our dignities & honours, that are but a voluntary servitude, by which we are deprived of ourselves to be bestowed upon the Commonwealth? Honours, that always have brought unto great men, that have worthily managed them, banishment and poverty? Remember the Histories of the Ancients, and when you find a Magistrate, who boar any great sway with either Prince or Commonwealth, and that desired to carry himself worthily, & speak freely. I will hold you a wager, that this man was banished▪ that was killed, another poisoned. At Athens, Aristides, Themistocles, and Photion; at Rome infinite, whose names I spare, for fear of filling Paper, contenting myself with Camillus, Scipio, and Cicero for antiquity; Papinianus for the time of the Roman Emperors; and Boetius under the Goths. But why should we fetch them so fare off? whom have we seen in our time keep the great Seal of France, that hath not been preferred to this place, with an intent he should be thrust from it with disgrace? he that had seen my Lord Chancellor Oliver, or my Lord Chancellor de l'Hospital, go from the Court to retire themselves into their own houses, questionless would say, that such honours are but as so many rocks and shelves of sand, whereon Virtue may split herself. Present unto your memory those brave and venerable Ancients, in whom all manner of virtues did shine; in whom, amongst an infinite number of exquisite parts you could not tell what to choose, endowed with learning, exceedingly well experienced in all affairs, lovers of their country, and truly worthy of such places, if the time had not been unworthy of them. After they had a long time tired out themselves in the commonwealth, they picked idle and slight quarrels, and false accusations to put them from affairs of state, or rather deprive the state as a tossed ship, of the directions of so wise and experienced Pilots, whereupon she might the sooner suffer wrack. It is ambition at all times to desire public offices; and faintheartedness to moan for them when they are gone; in this time it is madness, in this I say, wherein the Magistrates authority doth humbly, yea shamefully serve the passions of those, that have the power in their hands, in a time where Freedom is capital, and Truth offensive, where public Misery imploreth your help, and the violence of the wicked stoppeth your mouth.  
It was not counsel Cato gave unto his son, but an oracle he uttered to men of our times, when he advised him not to meddle with affairs of state: Because (quoth he) the liberty of the time will not afford thee to do any thing worthy the name of Cato, nor Cato's name to do any thing unworthy his generosity. As for me, I accuse them that keep yet public offices, & believe that if there be any thing wherein threatening Fortune may favour us, it is to discharge good men of that burden, that presseth their shoulders so sore. So it is, that whosoever will reckon his honours among his losses, like unto those that are to be lamented, and which may be alleged for a just cause of sorrow, like unto these we fear; I esteem him to be overnice, and censure him from this present, unworthy of the dignity he feareth to lose.  
But, some one will say, what will you answer concerning the loss of our friends, our kinsfolks, our children, whereof we are threatened by such accidents as we fear? I will answer you, that although it were come to pass, that the ruin of our town had overwhelmed them, we should have wherewithal to comfort ourselves, for death would be very welcome unto them; we are not discontented, in my opinion, for that they are borne mortal, & therefore they must die one day, but only that they die at this time: we are not to learn that since they be borne men, they must be respected from us, they must either go before, or follow us, & even as well in peace, as in war, as soon by sickness, as by sword: howsoever it be, they cannot avoid the stroke of death, but either sooner or later, a little before, or a little after is the matter troubleth us so much. Can death come to them in a fit time, then when as life is irksome? if they were to wish for it, or we for them; what more convenient season could they choose? is not a harbour most to be desired, when we are extremely weatherbeaten? The true end of death, is to put a period to our miseries; if God had made life happier, he had also made it longer. We ought than to bewail their death for their sake, & to do it for our own were unseemly: for it is a kind of injury, to be grieved at the quiet of those we love, because we are disturbed thereby, specially concerning the loss of our friends: there is a remedy left to us still, which Fortune how harsh and cruel soever she be, cannot take from us; for if we survive them, we have means to get others. As friendship is one of the greatest blessings of life, so it is one of the easiest to be obtained: God maketh man, and man maketh friends, he that wanteth no Virtue, shall never want friends. It is the instrument wherewith they be made, & wherewith when the old ones are lost, new-ones are procured. If Phidias had lost any of his famous Statues, what means had he to repair that loss? none but to make up again such another: Hath Fortune taken away our friends from us? Let us make new-ones, and so we shall not lose them, but multiply them. Those shall go afore, and stay for us in the place prepared for fair and pure souls, and the others shall make the rest of our way more delightsome by their company.  
Perhaps (you will say) we may take patiently those adversities you told us of; for, to speak truly, that striketh but upon the gown, and toucheth only what is about us, goods, honours, friends & children; but if the evil comes any further, and doth penetrate our person, how shall we do that we may not feel it? or feeling it, we may not torment ourselves for it? Forasmuch as you foresee, that if the fury of our seditious citizens be turned once upon us, which they suspect already, they will cast us into prison, put us to the rack, and rage against us as they have done against so many others, from whom we have not been otherwise distinguished, then by our good Fortune; or else as we are near upon it, if the town be taken or surprised, and is sacked, and spoilt, we shall fall into the hands of barbarous & inhuman soldiers, the more for that they are strangers, which after they have beaten and tormented us, will keep us in a woeful thraldom, where perhaps we shall remain sick, and languishing without relief; it may be they will add torture to sickness: And in the end we shall see ourselves dying in this misery, and for a surcharge, we shall have about us a company of poor little children, void of all comfort, and to whose compassion we shall afford nothing but sighs. What mind so well settled will be able to endure such fits? and finding himself in such a remediless agony, doth not curse a hundred times a day, and abhor the hour of his birth, wishing rather to have been abortive, then seasonably borne in such a dangerous time. I confess this to be the hardest, and most irksome, of all that may befall us; but I deny it intolerable, and maintain that Virtue may bravely withstand this assault, get the victory, and keep our mind safe under her Buckler, full of quiet and content. But if we must come to fight, let us not give our enemies more advantage than they have already; let us not make them bigger than they are, let us not suffer them to come in a throng against us; let us compel them to come one by one to the breach.  
The first that appeareth to fright us, is a number of long & tedious diseases. Why rather now then 20. years a go? Do we think diseases to be more frequent and troublesome in want then in wealth, in frugality then in prodigality? Good God, how blind we are! Did we ever find in Cottages the Gout, the Stone, the Winde-collicke, or the Megrim in the head? I confess I never saw any there, and yet I have diligently observed it. All such evils which are sharp and stinging diseases, are most commonly in cities, in great men's Palaces: they are the Sees of Banquets, Feasts, Watch, and of nights passed in pleasing sports. So that the miseries we endure, amongst other commodities they bring unto us, they take a way the cause of those great maladies, and root them, out cutting off the Fibers & Branches of pleasures, which fed and maintained them. But admit they were to happen, where may they be better cured then in Povertie? What do you think there is in the Books of Galen and Hypocrates, wholesomer to all, or at least to most diseases, than Sobriety? All those other remedies Physic hath invented with so much Art and industry, are almost only for Effeminate people, which would be cured with delight, and abate nothing of their pleasures, choosing rather Art then Nature for their Physician. But yet I will grant we may want remedies: should we want courage for all that? Shall we suffer ourselves to be subdued by pain, and submit that which is absolute and sovereign in us, unto that strange power? It were too great a weakness, seeing the means Reason and Discourse afford us to withstand it. Either the Diseases that befall us, bring with them a violent, or a moderate pain: if it be moderate, it is easy to be endured: We that are used to suffer, ought not to complain of small twitches: and being that we look for greater, we ought to give thankes unto our Destiny, for quitting us at so easy a rate, and making us less wretched, than we made account to have been. Briefly, who can endure the plaints of him, that moaneth for a touch, specially in a season where no body is free from Evil? If the Evil be violent, it shall be short; Nature doth not suffer great Evils to be lasting, and hath given them that comfort, that their quickness doth almost take away the sense of them. That goeth like a stream, in an instant you see it dried up, and know not what is become of it: so short an Evil giveth you no time to complain; it is past, afore you have taken notice of it: if you escape it, it leaveth you with a kind of pleasure to be out of it; if it beareth you away, it carrieth with you the sense of the pain. But whatsoever it is, the evil can never be so great, but reason and discourse ought to overcome it.  
I could rehearse unto you the examples of the Ancients, not of men, but even of women, which have endured long and sharp diseases with so much constancy, that pain hath bereft them sooner of life, then of courage. But why should I go seek them so fare off for you, that have a domesticke-one of your own, fare worthier than any Antiquity can afford? I mean of your virtuous and dear sister, which in that raging Colic of six months, that in the end carried her away, hath showed so constant a mind, so invincible a courage, that her speech, which never failed her until the very end, was a comfort unto them that saw her, and praises, and thanksgiving unto God, from whose hand she received consolation and strength to endure the evil. But less us pass lightly over this scar: I fear in stead of healing a new wound, I fester an old one, that hath so lively and deeply touched you. As for the torments we are to fear from them, into whose hands we might fall; we ought not to doubt, that if we can take the resolution, unto the which both the reasons and examples heretofore by me related, invite us, but we shall easily overrule them, for they are not harder to be borne then great and painful diseases: it seemeth rather, that having body and health to resist them, Nature doth second us in this fight, and to put the victory into our hands. It is incredible, what power Reason and Discourse have in this place, nor only to make us constant, but even to make pain appear to us sweet and pleasant. It were an infinite thing to allege the examples of those, which have not only with an undaunted courage waited for torments, but persuaded by Reason, have sought and endured them with a kind of pleasure.  
You know, how that in Lacedaemonia, young Children whipped one another, when one could not perceive in their face any token or apprehension of pain: What then? were they insensible? No certainly, but in those tender years they had so fully persuaded themselves, that it was a great glory, to suffer and endure, to do their Country service, that by their courage they easily overcame pain, and grief, and laughed at that, others were wont to weep for. Cannot we for the honour of Virtue do the like as they did for the honour of their Country? And for the quietness of our Mind, that which they did for the good of their Common wealth? Alexander's Page suffered himself to be burned with a Coal, and made no show to be moved at it, lest he should commit any unseemly thing in his Master's presence, and trouble the Ceremony of the Sacrifice. And shall not we in the presence of Men, Angels, Nature, and of God himself, endure somewhat that may show we can accommodate ourselves unto the Laws of the World, and to the Will of our Sovereign? Pompey being Ambassador for the Romans, was surprised by King Gentius, that endeavoured to wrest from him Public affairs: but to show him, there was no torture that could draw it from him, he put his own Finger in the Fire, and suffered it to burn, until that Gentius himself plucked it away. He sought torment to make show of the strength of his fidelity: And shall we betray our Soul, if torments befall us? And forget the duty we own unto that, that is Divine in us? Shall we then bear a dejected mind, and enthral it to our body, to condole and suffer pains equal with it? Fare more generous was that brave Anaxarchus, that half bruised in the Tyrant's Mortar, would never confess his mind to be touched with pain: Stamp on (quoth he) the case of Anaxarchus, for as for him you cannot hurt. Hence came that fair resolution. Hence as from a quick-spring did flow that Constancy, whereby he had learned to despise the body, as a thing that is not our own, nor in our power, and use it as a borrowed garment, to make show for a time of our mind, upon this low and transitory Theatre.  
Now, were not he overnice that should howl and cry out, because his Gown were spoilt, or a Hook had grappled it, or some one going by, had torn it? some base Broker, that would make gains of such Ware, would complain of it. A Prince, a great Man, a wealthy Citizen, would laugh at it, and in comparison of the rest of his wealth, would make no reckoning of it. Let us value ourselves as we ought to do, let us be curious of our Honour and quietness, and we shall make little account of all our body can suffer in this World. Yea, but the pain will be so great, we shall lose our Life by it, and shall see the Thread of our years cut off in the very middle: Who can free himself from the Fear of this blow, that even Nature herself doth abhor? for though Death comes in due time, yet it is dreadful: How much worse will it be when it is hastened, and gathereth us up fresh and green, in the very prime of our Youth? We deceive ourselves, our Death hath nothing dreadful of herself more than our Birth, Nature hath nothing that is strange and terrible, Death is amongst us every day, and doth not scare us, We die every day, and every hour of our Life that is past, is dead. It is not the last drop comes out of the Bottle emptieth it, but finisheth it; and the last moment of our Life doth not cause Death, but only showeth it. The chiefest part of Death consisteth in that we have lived; the more we desire to live, the more we desire Death should gain by us: but from whence comes this desire? Even from the Opinion of the Vulgar, that measures all by the Yard, and deems nothing precious that is not great; whereas exquisite and excellent things are commonly thin and slender. It is the part of a skilful workman to enclose much in a little space; and we may say, that it is almost fatal to illustrious men to dye quickly: great Virtue and long Life seldom meets together. Life is measured by the End; so that it be good, all the rest hath its proportion; quantity availeth nothing, to make it more or less happy; a little Circle is as round as a great, it is Figure doth all. Yet you will say, one would wish to die quietly in his bed, amongst his own people, comforting them, and receiving comfort from them again. It is a pitiful thing to be killed in a Corner, and be deprived of decent Funerals. So many men that go to the wars, and take Post to be present at a Battle, are not of this Opinion. They are going to die all alive, and bury themselves among their enemies. Little children fear masked men; uncover their faces, they fear them no more: Even so believe me, Sword and the flames of Fire terrify us in the manner as we imagine them; take off the mask, the Death wherewith they threaten us, is the very same whereof women and little children die. But I shall leave behind little children without help or assistance: as if those children belonged more unto you, then unto God; as if you loved them more than he, which is the first and truest Father, or as if you had more means to keep them safe than he. No, no, they shall have the common Father of all the world, that shall watch over them, and preserve them under the wings of his favour, as he doth all his creatures from the greatest to the least.  
Evils than are never so great, as our Ambitious Opinion setteth them forth unto us; she doth fright us by her guile: But she doth altogether mar and corrupt us, when as she strives to persuade us, that in such occasions we must grieve and pine ourselves. Certainly, if the sorrow it bringeth had nothing worse than the deformity wherewithal it is accompanied, we ought to fly from it with might and main. Observe it, as soon as she getteth into us, she filleth us with such a shame, we dare not show ourselves openly, nor so much as in private to our friends; after we are once seized on by this passion, we seek nothing but an odd corner to lie dreaming in, and shun the sight of men: we will have no witnesses to our actions, the sight of our friends is troublesome to us; what is the meaning of this, but only that she condemneth herself, and doth acknowledge how uncomely she is? would not you think she were a woman that had been catcht in the act, that hideth and concealeth herself, and is afraid to be known? or Terentius his Chaerea, that having attired himself like an Eunuch, to perform a piece of knavery, is overtaken in the midst of the street, or in a strange house? It is indeed to apparel men like Eunuches; yea, geld them altogether, as to suffer them to fall into that sorrow which bereaveth them of whatsoever they have manly and generous, and giveth us all the countenances and infirmities of women. So the Thracians put men that mourned into women's apparel, either to make them ashamed of themselves, or to cause them to give over quickly such uncomely and effeminate behaviour. But what need was there of such clothes for that? for it seems to me their countenances and their actions might have been a sufficient token to show they were no more men. It was in my opinion a public disgrace, the Laws inflicted upon them for their pusillanimity, a summons to remember themselves, and put on again their manly courage. The Roman Laws, that were more generous, have not sought remedies by disgrace against these effeminate lamentations: for they have utterly prohibited them, by their first and purest ordinances. They deemed not the death of either father, mother, children, kinsmen, or friends, a sufficient cause that we should unnaturalize ourselves, and commit any thing against manliness. They have tolerated the first tears, that are wrested by a new and fresh sorrow: Those tears, I say, that may fall even from the eyes of Philosophers; and which with humanity maintain dignity; which may fall from our eyes, without Virtue falling from our hearts. Such were those, as I think, trickled along the cheeks of fair Panthea, when as Araspes fell in love with her, because he had seen her to his great liking weep very tenderly and pitifully for her husband's death. For the first violent brunt of sorrow, raiseth in us such lively passions, that they slip easily into the mind of those that look upon us, and fill them with a like ardour. But this inveterate sorrow, that hath pierced unto the very Marrow of our Bones, withereth our face, & disturbeth our Soul, so that there remaineth nothing in us, that is lovely and graceful. And if Nature hath disposed of any thing comely in either our Body or in our Soul, it is faded by this bitter passion, as the beauty of a Pearl is dissolved in Vinegar.  
It is great pity then to see us, we walk with our head hanging down, and our eyes fixed on the ground, our mouth without ever a word, our limbs without motion, and our eyes are in no stead but to weep: you would deem us to be but sweeting statues; it is not without cause the Poets have recorded, Niobe was turned into an image of stone with overmuch weeping. Their intention was not only thereby, as an Ancient hath thought, to represent to us the silence she kept in her mourning; but also teach us, she had lost all manner of feeling, by giving herself over to sorrow. We ought then to avoid it, were it but for that it is so unbeseeming and dishonourable.  
Furthermore, it is strangely hurtful, and so much the more infects us under colour of doing good; she maketh, as if she did hasten to help us, and contrariwise she doth offend us; she seemeth to pull the Iron from the wound, and she driveth it into the very heart; she doth promise us Physic, and she giveth us Poison; her Blows are so much the harder to put by, and her Attempts too cross, because she is an enemy fed and brought up with us, so that we have bred ourselves to our own mischief. It was she, in my opinion, the Comical Greek spoke of, when as he cried out against men: O poor people, how many evils do you wittingly endure beside those needful Nature sendeth unto you? for who can we complain of, but of ourselves, when after the feeling of evils passed, we retain still their grief, and opinionate ourselves to ruminate and continually bring them into our memory; or that for fear of time to come, we faint for want of spirit and courage? Doth not this evil befall to us from ourselves? whereof we ought not to wonder, that it is so lasting, seeing it is like Rivers which come from the Sea, and return into it, and fetching their spring from the same place they run into, are never dried up. Poor fools! why do we so carefully water this plant, that beareth such bitter fruit? Can we find any good taste in these moans, griefs, sorrows, sighs, wherewithal she pestereth our life, and poisoneth all our actions? for as long as she dwelleth with us, what do we do worthy the name of men? when do we think of doing service to our country, or performing the duty of good Subjects, to oppose ourselves against the factions of the wicked, to defend the Laws from the assaults of Ambition and Covetousness, to protect our friends from the oppression of the malicious? what respite have we from this importunate passion, to lift up our eyes to heaven, and with a pure spirit give thankes unto that great and sovereign God, that hath placed us here in this world, and bestowed upon us so many blessings and favours, that if we had nothing else to do but to give him praise, yet we should not have half time enough to give him his due? Truly she cannot be excused: she is either very undiscreet, or very malicious; either her end is bad, or else she erreth and strayeth from her end.  
If it be her drift to increase our evils, and that the more she seizeth on us, the heavier & more distasteful she makes our life: why do not we put her back at her first entrance? why do not we shut her out of doors? or at least, why do not we drive her away by the head and shoulders, as soon as we know her design? we are traitors to our own rest, if being acquainted with its enemies, if having notice of those do disturb it, we receive them, and uphold them, and cherish them. If it be her end to ease our sorrow, to qualify and soak it in our tears, Why should we employ so long, so bad and rash an Officer that doth what is clean contrary to her intent? Who did ever see her attain unto it? What Mind did she ever enter, that she hath comforted? But contrariwise, if she found it quaking, hath she not quite overthrown it? If upon falling, overwhelmed it? There cometh not one out of her Claws, but spoilt, maimed, and bruised. When she hath gone over it, she leaveth behind neither strength, nor resistance, and becometh like unto a deep and hollow place, which is not only defiled with the filth that groweth in it, but on all sides, Sinks and Gutters run into it, so that pure Water is corrupted therein. For a man possessed with Sorrow, is offended with his own Evils and other men's both, with public and private: even good fortunes befalling him, do displease him. All things wax tart in his Mind, as meat doth in a debauched Stomach. But besides all this, I say that Sorrow coming upon such an occasion, as it doth to you, is very unjust, and I dare almost call it impious. For what is it, but a rash and outrageous complaint against Nature and the Common Law of the World?  
The first voice which is pronounced by Nature, is that all things which are under the Circle of the Moon must perish, and as they have had a beginning, so shall they have an end. You would free your City from it as by a Privilege, and make it Immortal. Kingdoms, States, and Towns are of the same condition the other parts of the World are of, nay, their being is more uncertain and weaker. For most other things have their form, which uniteth their members so straight and so strong with one only knot, that they can hardly be severed: but States and Cities are composed of so many different things one from another, which are knit and gathered together only by the will and consent of men, moved to a communion and society, by some Celestial inclination. And that will and consent being subject to waver, the ruin of Towns is still at hand, and almost present: for from the stirring and motion of that consent, springs wars, and seditions, which bring them to their end. But though no diseases do befall them, that is to say, violent mischances, wherewithal most commonly they perish; yet age must make an end of them by the Common Law of the World, for they have their Youth, their virility, their Old age, like men; and though all the rest of their age hath been strong and sound, yet Age must consume them. Now if we have foreseen this, why are we vexed at it? If we have not foreseen it, what do we complain of, but of our imprudency? The condition of Nature is very hard and wretched, if she must bear the blame & wrong of all such things as are unkowne to us, when they come to pass. Is it her fault we know them not? Hath she concealed it from us? Is there ever a nook in the World where she hath not set it in writing? It is wonderful that we are more just and righteous to every one then to Nature, which nevertheless is more gracious and favourable to us then all the rest. If we had hired a House, and the Owner were in mind to pull it down because it were old, and must build it up again, or that he would apply it to his own use: we would go forth willingly, and seek for another without any more ado. Why? it is the Common Law that suffereth him to make use of his own in this fashion. Would you know who be those which do grieve when they must remove, that complain, and vex themselves? They be the Children of such as have Leases for many years, because they have seen their Fathers enjoy them still, they never troubled themselves to look into the Titles of their House, they made account the Fee simple was theirs, and said themselves with that opinion. They passed their youth and never learned any Trade, never used to work, when as they are grown in years, the Lease is expired, they must provide themselves elsewhere. This unexpected blow astonisheth them, they weep, they lament, & in stead of giving the Owner thanks for suffering them to enjoy it so long at so good a rate, they rail on him. But we are yet fare unwiser, and more unjust towards Nature, than they are towards their Landlords: For they perchance have a chargeable Lease on it, they have perhaps paid a great Income: we are here but Tenants at Will, what we have, we hold it by entreaty, and only for a while. They have forborn to give them warning until such a time the Lease was expired: but Nature doth declare to us every day the Conditions we live here upon.  
I pray you tell me, when we come into the World, do we enter it, or are we brought into it? Do we come into it to command, or to serve, to give the Law, or to receive it? I think, you will answer me in a word, that we come into it, to obey, and follow what we find already established. We must accommodate ourselves to Seasons, Days, and Nights, to the temperature of countries'; briefly unto all that happeneth in the government of the world. Now this Law is mild, kind, gracious, all that is in it, if we consider it well, is meant for our good and favour. And nevertheless if there were any hard thing in it, the only way to mitigate necessary servitude were to obey voluntary. Ought not we to think, that when we come into the world, we do bargain with Nature, and bind ourselves to observe the laws she hath given and published so many ages since in Cities, Commonwealths, & Kingdoms? As she is wise, provident, and desirous to preserve the beauty of her work, she hath given to every thing as long a continuance as she can; but the vice, and imperfection of the matter, whereof things are created, hath been the cause, that of earthly things, there can be none immortal: and even of those that are mortal, many last not so long as their nature requireth, the vice of the matter preventing the grace of Nature. The remedy she hath provided for this inconvenience, is a lasting by succession she hath given unto things, so that losing one form, they receive another, nothing at all being lost but only altered: she keepeth the earth in her hands like soft Clay, which she kneadeth and mouldeth over again in sundry fashions giving it a new face, covering the old figure with a fresh one, and by those means doth imitate in this world immortality, which she could not altogether afford it.  
From thence it is, that Towns, Kingdoms, and Empires, change in this manner, & grow out of one another's ruins. The Play is altered still, and nothing remaineth sure and firm but the Stage. What is there more just, seeing that she is a common Mother to all men, then for her to desire to grace all parts of the Earth with a turn of greatness & magnificence, which she hath caused to pass from place to place? This turn at last is come to us, and we have seen in our days, our Country so plentifully stored with Riches, Glory, Wealth, Pleasure, that we could wish for no more. We are now upon our return, our good Fortune is fled from us, as out of a house cracked and crazed on all sides; we have stayed behind looking for its fall: some cry out, some gaze upon it, some run away. What is there so much to wonder at? An old man dyeth, an old house falleth, what should you cry out for? What is there in it, but what you see every day, and every where? Fruit doth blossom, knot, increase, ripen, rot: Herbs spring up, spread forth, whither away: Trees grow, stand a while, and afterwards are dried up: All living Creatures are brought forth, live, and at last dye. Time itself, that wrappeth all the World, is in the end wrapped in its own ruin: As it slippeth away, so it is consumed; it rolleth softly seasons one upon another, and all those that are past, are lost. Of all those changeable things, what would you make constant? Of all those mortal things, what would you make immortal? Will you make me wonder? Let me see something permanent in this World.  
But I do you wrong to entertain you with such gross reasons, you, I say, whose laborious study is as the mirror of Nature, and which may represent to yourselves in an instant, and draw from the treasure of your memory the face of the world, as it hath been ever since its creation. Run, I pray you, over it again, and consider what is become of those great and admirable Cities, builded up with so many year's labour, beautified with so many toils, enriched with so many troubles. Each of them hath had many ages that have not been otherwise employed, but to despoil the rest of the world, to furnish and bedeck them. Asia showeth you Troy the great, proud Babylon, stately jerusalem; Africa setteth forth Thebes with a hundred gates, mighty Carthage, wealthy Alexandria; Europe representeth unto you learned Athens, triumphing Constantinople, and Rome, the miracle of all Cities, and of all the world. What reason do you think it were all these fair Cities have so flourished, but only to be overthrown? And why have they been overthrown so often, saving that the Destiny seemed to stand out against Nature, and uphold the frailty of humane things? How many times hath every one of them seen their enemies overthrew their walls, sack their houses, kill their citizens, and burn their Churches? Their necessity to perish hath been so great, that when they have wanted foreign enemies to work their overthrow, they have armed their own Inhabitants, to execute what was ordained about their end. There is no remedy, that is the Law, you cannot go against it: when we see, or hear of others ruins, that is a foreiudgement for us, when our time is come: what happeneth to one, may happen to all; the blow that hitteth the foremost, threatneth him that followeth.  
Scipio he that overthrew Carthage, seeing fire in it, which devoured such infinite richesse and stately buildings, & consumed the mightiest City of Africa; moved with compassion for the frailty of humane affairs, fell a weeping for the mischief he did, and uttered two verses of Homer to this sense.  
A fatal day will come wherein Troy so doughty,  
With Priam and his subjects shall all be made a booty.  
Meaning of Rome what the Poet had spoke of Troy, but he was fare deceived in his Prophecy, for how many days, and not one alone hath she been made a booty? how many times sacked? how many times destroyed? how many times burnt? and yet she hath raised herself out of her ashes; and being obstinately bend to withstand her own mischief, seemeth to have tired her ill fortune, that she would not work her ruin any more. Notwithstanding the common Law teacheth us, she must suffer as others have done, and though she did escape some ages, yet shall she not escape the end of all, and the firing of the world. Plato had much troubled his brains to lay the foundation of his Commonwealth so fast, that she might be permanent and everlasting: and notwithstanding after you have granted him all his dreams for true, and you ask him, whether this fair Commonwealth can be made immortal with all his precepts? he hath freely acknowledged it could not: he, I say, which maintained the world to be immortal. But being desirous to grace his works, and flatter his own conceits, he bringeth in the Muses, discoursing of the continuance of states, and proposeth certain proportions of numbers, by the observation whereof, they might be kept up flourishing a long time, and yet avoucheth plainly, that as all States have their birth, and beginning, so they must have their end. It is the common Law of Nature to which we must bow, and follow willingly, lest it should drag us away with violence: obedience unto it is sweet, violence full of pain and shame.  
In the mean time I understand well enough what you would say, it is as it seemeth we hasten ourselves our own destruction, and with our hands push forward the end of this poor Kingdom and do not stay until old age carrieth it away, that it may sweetly, and without striving, pass from life to death. You deceive yourself, those creatures never die otherwise, they never have an easy end: for as those which die of diseases, whose causes lay in the sinews and brains, are troubled with great convulsions afore they give up the Ghost; the like have commonwealths, which commonly come to ruin, because their Laws, that are as their sinews, are broken and violated. Now if it be as they usually say, that foreseen blows amaze not so much, we have, as it seemeth to me, great occasion to bear more patiently, & with more resolution the fall of our State, seeing how long it is since it began to shake, and the great tokens, and apparent marks we have had heretofore of its ruin.  
First, it is very old, and so old, that there was never any one seen to last so long. To wax old is to be accustomed to die. They use to ask commonly of such as are exceeding old, whether they be yet alive? we ought rather to wonder at their life, then at their death; when they are dead, they say, He is gone at last, as if they would say, He hath held out longer than one would have thought. Besides his age he hath had two hundred years since, great and irksome diseases. The quarrels of Orleans and Burgundy have brought him to the brim of his grave. Being recovered of this great fall, and grown healthy again, he hath lived very loosely under Francis and Henry the second: in this disordered and lewd life, he hath gathered many ill humours, and fare worse conditions. Under the youth of our last Kings, he is returned to his infancy, and hath wholly altered his complexion; for since the fashions of strangers began to please us, ours have been so depraved and corrupted, that we may say long ago we are no more Frenchmen. There is no part of this State that hath not been only spoilt, but even made infamous with excess and superfluity: for as touching our Nobility, which is the chiefest pillar of our Kingdom, and that hath raised it unto the greatness we have seen it, and ever maintained the same, and unto which is truly due the glory the French name hath among foreign Nations; they have omitted no craft and guile to spoil and drive it out of heart, and drown in luxury, sensuality, and covetousness that ancient generofitie they had hereditary from their fathers, & cause them to lose the love they owed to the safety of their state. As for the church, which ought to have been the mother of piety, the pattern of good manners, the bond of alother orders; they have dishonoured & defamed her as much as they can, making the greatest charges, & prelacies to be the reward of the vilest, yea foulest services of the Court. So that impiety and ignorance have in many places sat them down upon the throne of holiness & truth, & made the order odious by the lewdness of such as were preferred thereto. The officers of justice, who alone might in some sort have kept the rest in their duty, if they had been honest & true, as they ought to have been, have suffered a marvelous change; their principal authority hath been withdrawn towards the sovereign, not to be administered, but perverted by courtiers, at their pleasure that were in favour. And to crown so many disorders, and heap up mischief on us over and over, are fall'n out the quarrels about Religion, upon which occasion have been raised parties and factions by whomsoever it hath pleased, which were easily entertained by the facility and lightness of our people, and by the devices of our neighbours, which sought to shelter themselves under our ruins. With these sparks hath been kindled the fire that hath almost consumed us; every one hath run to it, not to quench it, but to carry away his share, as out of a general firing.  
Must we wonder if an old state dieth of such a disease? we ought rather to admire if it should recover it. Add unto this old Prophecies which long ago were made touching its destruction, which to our great grief have proved so true, that they have got glory unto the Art, and credit unto such people as have ever been held for Cheaters: Which teacheth us, that revolutions of great States come from above and are delared even afore they come to pass. I say then, when as that which you fear should happen, it were but an ordinary thing, natural, & foreseen; & therefore we ought to bear it patiently, as we do the vicissitude of seasons, the alteration of elements, and other changes we daily see in all parts of the world. And notwithstanding, I do not say it is a thing must come to pass upon necessity, & despair not yet of the welfare of my poor France, nor of my poor Paris; yea I persuade myself, that if her end and ruin cannot be avoided, God will put it off till some other season: for although the signs of this disease, not only contagious, but also pestilent and infectious, that hath seized on this State, are deadly for the most part; nevertheless it seemeth Nature now beginneth to help herself, and the noble parts show yet some strength and liveliness to endure the remedies.  
The people which suffered themselves to be carried away with this ruinous commotion, and by the winds of Fear and Hope; Fear to lose their Religion, and Hope of some ease and relief: see plainly they have by their mad counsels drawn on the mischiefs they shunned, and put back the good they expected. Let us suffer the humours to ripen, and you shall see Nature will work of herself, and bring forth wholesome effects; moreover the leaders of the people, begin to lose the hope that moved them to this project: that beam of popular favour, which had roused their spirits, is passed like a lightning, and Fortune hath showed she did not favour them so much for their good, as for our mischief. They see more, and see it evidently, that strangers, with whom they made account to underproppe their greatness, wish for nothing so earnestly, as for their ruin, and borrow their arms, only to make use of them, to do their work, having resolved not to do them any other favour, but what the Cyclope of Homer promised to Ulysses, which was to eat him up last of all. Do you think them so unwise to their own good, and so unnatural to their own country, so ingrateful to the people, who have loved them so well, that seeing things in this case, they choose not rather to make France beholden to them, restoring peace, and rest unto her, and keeping still those great and honourable titles, which they may have; then to make their name and memory odious for ever, casting themselves under the shameful bondage of an ambitious Spaniard, and tumble down headlong with them such as have put their life and safety in trust upon their fidelity? No, I will never believe they intent to stain their reputation with so base an action, and therefore I hope they will bend themselves unto the wishes of the people, that invite them to quietness: if they do it, what should not we hope for? and when they do it, what should we despair of? seeing that God hath brought forth in our days, and just upon the nick of this fatal commotion, a Prince to succeed this crown, only in the world able to raise up, either by peace or war, the burden of this decaying State. For peace he hath the name of that Great and Royal family of Saint Lewes, which calleth back to his obedience all the Subjects of this Kingdom, which cannot hope to be governed by a happier auspice, then of the Race of that great King, that hath raised up to heaven our French Sceptre, and hath lifted himself on high by his piety, to be as the Guardian and tutelary Saint of this State. He hath a natural goodness and clemency, that reacheth even to extremity, and would make him to be suspected of negligence, if his valour and generosity, which appeareth in all the parts of his life, did not blot out this suspicion. For though his Fortune, more crossed than any Princes of his time, hath brought him forth amidst civil arms, and amongst injuries, you cannot mark one only example of Revenge; being so fare from doing it, that he hath not so much as sought for it, thinking himself to be sufficiently revenged, in despising his enemies, and taking away from them the means to do harm: so that he hath made it doubtful, whether it be more happy for him to overcome his enemies, or for them to be vanquished by him.  
Now, if with all this, God that keepeth the hearts of Kings in his hand, do dispose his, to that which is yet necessary for the perfect union of his Subjects, and to that end converteth him to the Catholic Faith, and Religion of the Kings his predecessors; who can hinder our happiness and repose? Now we have great reason to hope well of it, as they report of the nature of this Prince, who is very capable of reason, and easy to be persuaded unto that, which they make appear to him to be fit to be done. We know what he hath promised about it to all his Nobility, he hath been ever commended to be a faithful Prince, and who never breaks his word; I assure myself, in the end we shall have what we ought to desire at his hands in this respect, and by those means shall beat down the arms of such, who protest to have taken them only for this occasion. If notwithstanding the obstinacy of those, who seek their greatness in public ruins, doth enforce him to try out by the edge of the sword, what the edge of reason ought to decide; who could succeed to this State more sufficient to settle the Kingdom anew again, and cover under the shadow of his buckler this poor crown, assaulted on all sides? God hath given him a heart full of valour, and invincible courage in adversity; and lest his courage should be slackened with overmuch rest, he hath exercised him from his childhood in continual travels and dangers, with such Fortune, that so many hazardous passages have been to him in stead of a School of Virtue, and a Harvest of Glory, and seemeth certainly, seeing the progress of his Fortune, that she hath on purpose raised this war, and called to it so many several nations, to behold the spectacle of an extreme valour, and an extreme good fortune. No, no, believe it, you never observed in the succession of times and course of ages, that States are overthrown, when God sendeth such Princes to command them. They have perhaps been shrewdly shaken and tossed, but afterwards, they have settled themselves again by the virtue of such Commanders; so that I presume, that the motion and change we feel, is not for the extirpation of the State, but only an incision that is made with a painful and rough instrument; and in lieu of the branch God hath cut off, he will put on a graft upon the royal stock. And therefore I hope God will find, when we look least for it, some convenient means to save us all, and specially this fair and famous City, wherein there is a number of men, which call upon him with a pure heart.  
Nevertheless, if it should fall out otherwise, we must take it patiently: for such great accidents happening by the eternal providence, it is no more lawful than possible to oppose ourselves against them, & say further, that it is neither just, nor profitable to be vexed for them; being most certain, that whatsoever is ordained by that sovereign Hand, is for our good and his glory. But since it is supper time, and that this discourse may be better continued by those that harken to me, then by myself, I will leave it to them, seeing our misery is common, that they may afford something to our common comfort.  
There Musaeus ended, and we rose with a more settled mind than we sat down. This is not all, quoth I, Musaeus: seeing you discharge yourself from prosecuting the discourse you have began, you must choose some one that will finish it. Whereupon he kissing a withered posy that he held in his hand, presented it to Orpheus, I give it you, quoth he, against to morrow: I accept, answered Orpheus, the posy, but not the charge to come upon the stage after Roscius as the Proverb is. And so we parted with a mutual promise to meet there again the next day at the same hour.  
The end of the first Book.   

ORPHEUS: OR THE SECOND BOOK OF CONSTANCY.  
LONDON, Printed by Bernard Alsop. 1622.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, AND All-praise-worthy, the Lord BARCKLEY.  
YOur Lordship's very name (were there nothing else that did induce me) might he argument enough to make me dedicate this, and with it my own self also to your Lordship's service: but when by the world (which seldom gives Virtue her due) is added to your Lordship such perfections, as made the Heroes in former times so fare surmount the rank of ordinary men; ever knowing Virtue to be truly Noble: I could not choose but also invest your Lordship in these titles, from whence those famous men thought themselves to have reaped no small honour: and that was in patronising studious endeavours. Which interest in you if it may seemerather to be by me usurped, then justly challeaged, or rightly deserved; blame therein not my presumption, but rather your Lordship's virtuous fame, that emboldened me so fare as to present so small a thing unto your view: which if you vouchsafe to look upon with a gracious eye, I shall think myself bound for ever to remain  
Your Lordship's most humble servant, ANDREW COURT.   

OR PHEUS, OR THE SECOND BOOK OF CONSTANCY.  
THE next Day, presently after dinner, there was an Alarm beaten in the town, & because we were all four of one quarter, we met together in the Court of Guard: there we gazed one upon another speaking with our eyes and faces, & saying to ourselves; what pity is this, we must stand armed against our own good, and drive in a manner our good fortune from us? for what good man is there, who doth not wish, even with the sacking of the town, rather to get out of this extreme misery, & deliver the kingdom from it, then to sacrifice our lives thus to the rage and fury of a small number of seditious, who desire to satisfy their cruelty and covetousness, with our anguish & poverty? What fatal sluggishness is this, that all this people, or at least, most of those we see armed here, know their evils, and wish for its remedy, & may have it if they will, and notwithstanding have not the heart so much as to complain, and maintain those who show them the way how to save themselves? so far hath this poison of sedition severed their wills, & the fear which the wicked have printed in the hearts of simple people, hath frozen their blood, and stifled their spirits. Now being come near one to another: Well quoth I, our meeting is put off, as fare as I see we are like to want such a sweet afternoon as we had yesterday. Nevertheless, this shall not excuse you of that you own us, rather the forbearance shall increase the debt, for as you see our evils wax great, so your reasons must be stronger. I fear much, quoth he this day will scatter us, & deprive us perhaps for ever of so sweet & delightsome a fellowship. I can assure you that if death had taken me away yesterday when I came from you, she had found me very content, and had finished my life to my liking. For I confess that the discourse of Musaeus so assuaged my grief, and so settled my mind by the weight of his reasons, and by the sweetness of his words, that I could wish to be sad every day, if I were sure to be always so well cheered up.  
It is a happy disease that is cured with pleasure: oh how earnestly did I desire he should have continued his speech, yea upon condition I had lost my supper, nay upon condition that I had not supped all the year. Such discourses are nothing else but Nectar & Ambrosia: it is meat more necessary this day to the mind, than bread & wine to the body; it is both nourishment & physic. I swear to you, when I heard him me thought that the fair Helena of Homer, with the same hand wherewithal she stole the hearts of the Greeks' and Troyans', poured into my mouth that sweet and gracious Nepenthes, which lulled asleep the sorrow of the afflicted, & restored them their courage. He hath, quoth I, turned over his charge into a good hand: I hope what he hath began well, you will finish it fare better. Thereupon it was told us that the noise was past, and we might retire. Then I took them all three by the cloak: you must come, said I, where you promised yesterday; it is lawful for armed men to right themselves: if the Roman law permitted to draw into judgement those who refused to go; how much more the right of arms? We will not go only, quoth Linus, we will run thither. After we were come in, and had put off our arms, and walked a turn in the garden, to gather our spirits; I pray you quoth I, let us take our places again, and let us provide for rest, and quietness, for in my opinion we shall have time enough to stand. And since that it belongs to you, Signior Orpheus, to continue this discourse, look for no more entreaties, and use no excuses, for in a word we will not receive them; after some such summons Orpheus began thus:  
It is indeed the greatest, and surest comfort man can receive, and take in public, and private calamities, to persuade himself, that whatsoever befalleth him is ordained by that eternal power, distributed by that infinite wisdom, which governeth the world with the same goodness and justice wherewithal he created it. When this opinion is once rooted in the heart of man, I do not see what winds can shake his constancy: For as much as we ought to believe, there cometh nothing from that kind, and gracious hand, but what is intended for our good. Now although this Providence (which we may define to be the perpetual care God hath in the government of all that He hath created) doth shine continually in all the parts of the world, and appeareth in wonderful effects; nevertheless, most men turn their eyes, and look awry upon it, striving to deceive themselves, to the end they may not be beholden unto that wise mistress, who ruleth the birth, and conserveth whatsoever is seen in this Universe. There hath been truly very few, that durst be so impious as flatly to deny it; but if there hath been any, I will forget their names, and being so unworthy, I will suppose they never were. There are a number indeed, whose opinions I have heard, but always rejected, which acknowledging divine wisdom, and power in the first creation of the world, have taken the government thereof from it, after it hath been created; some attributing it unto that order, which they call Nature; some to a fatal necessity, some others unto Chance, and Fortune, wherein they seem rather to have changed the name, than the power of divine providence: for in expounding their opinion, they plainly declare, that in all worldly accidents, they acknowledge some Entity, that is great, and divine, the nature whereof is incomprehensible; and nevertheless, by I know not what careless presumption, they would have that little which they understand of it, to pass currant for sound doctrine, and a part for the whole, choosing rather to mistake Providence, then acknowledge their ignorance.  
It falleth out with them, as it might do with three several persons, which coming three several ways, should see a fare off, a great pyramid of Marble, such a one as you might imagine that of the kings of Egypt, carved on three sides with many Characters and hieroglyphical letters; every one marking at first that face which is on his side, and coming no nearer judgeth there is no more but that, and goeth back with an opinion he hath seen all; so all of them report sundry tales of one and the self same thing, each of them maintaining it to be as he had seen it on his side. But had they approached nearer, and walked round about it, than every one of them should have seen all the three faces, and have known that all three make but one body; would have been well informed of the thing, and would agree all together in it. When these men are come to contemplate that Sovereign power, which conducteth and governeth this Universe, and that they have considered it in its effects, every one of them hath had enough to behold it a fare off, and apprehend as much as the first sight afforded him.  
He that observed an order and continual course of regular causes, which are brought forth one of another, hath called it Nature, and hath believed this Nature did all. He that had seen many things come to pass, which had been foreseen and foretell, and nevertheless could not be avoided, hath called the power that produced them Destiny, and fatal necessity, and deemed all to depend from thence. The other that had seen an infinite number of casualties, whereof they could give him no reason, and which seemed to happen without cause, hath named the power from whence such events did proceed Fortune, and hath esteemed all things to be managed on this fashion. But if every one of them had taken the pains to approach nearer unto truth, and report publicly what he had seen in private, perhaps they might have known truly, what was the figure of that first and sovereign power, from whence are derived all the things, and all the accidents of the world, and understand, that in this Nature, in this Destiny, in this Fortune, gathered all together, shineth through humane ignorance, that wise and excellent divine Providence, known nevertheless more according to the proportion of our weak understanding, then according to her incomprehensible greatness and Majesty.  
For I doubt not, but in the Creation of this Universe, God hath established a rule and a certain Law, whereby all things must be produced, disposed of, and maintained, which if any one will call Nature, I will not gainsay, so that he makes not of it an Essence separated from God: unto the which he should think he had committed the government of things created to set himself on rest. Contrariwise, this Nature can be nothing else but the first Power and Virtue, which from the beginning, without any separation from him, hath printed itself in the matter, and hath given unto it that regular motion by the which things are maintained in their being, and bring forth their effects beside. Which Power and Faculty is by him from day to day, and hour to hour, and moment to moment inspired in the world: which as it preserveth it, so it doth create it anew again, and repair it still, and every day makes it up as it was made in the beginning. In such sort that it seemeth, God hath built it only as a shop for him to work in perpetually, and keep still in action his infinite goodness, which cannot endure but it must communicate itself unto men. True it is, that like a great Architect he hath many workefolks under him, which he doth employ about this great government, not so much for any need he hath thereof, as for the ornament of this stately workhouse, the gracing of its brightness and magnificence, to impart unto his creatures one of his most high, & sovereign faculties, & cause them to produce, & create in a manner something as well as he. And therefore through an admirable wisdom, he hath left some part of these low & terrestrial things imperfect in some kind, to serve unto man as matter & subject to work upon, & hath forthwith given him the art to adapt & apply them. He hath given him stones, & hath not given him buildings, but the art to make them; he hath given him mines, and hath not given him money, but the art to make it: he hath given him corn, and hath not given him bread, but the art to make it: he hath given him wool, and hath not given him cloth, but the art to make it.  
To be short, it seemeth that after he had created man unto his likeness, he hath shared with him the honour of the Creation of things, yea even of the Creation of man himself, his will and pleasure being he should cooperate with him in the generation of his posterity: and that as he, Sovereign and chiefest Creator, had made the soul in his image; so man as an associate to his glory, should make in the generation another body like unto his: And though God hath kept to himself the creation of the soul of man, as of a great Master piece, which cannot be wrought but with his own hand; yet in that he hath also called man even as to his help, having granted him the institution, discipline, and polishing of it, that he might brag in a manner to have afforded something to his own perfection. But you must neither say nor think, that the authority he hath given unto creatures, doth lessen his in any thing: he doth not rely upon their care, neither doth he rest upon their vigilancy: contrariwise, the greater power he hath given them, so much the greater need hath he to watch over them; and the more labourers he hath at work, so much more necessary it is he should have, not only the Eye, but also the Hand over them, to amend what they do amiss, & contrary to the perfect pattern he hath proposed unto them, and to guide and direct them in their works, which cannot any ways stand nor last without his help and assistance. This will I then say, that what great faculties soever we observe in second causes, we ought not to think for all this that the first is idle, and that the others do any thing but by his direction: and fare less believe, that this order and continuance we see in all things, is the chiefest and universal cause thereof, seeing it is but the effect; no more than in Music the melody is not the cause, but the effect of concord's, produced by the Musician his skill and art, who gathereth the sounds, and ordereth them into good consonance.  
Now as it is Providence, which by this regularorder that is called Nature, bringeth forth and maintaineth every particular thing, according to the general Law that is appointed for every one of the same kind; so it is she which besides this regular order called Nature, giveth sometimes unto worldly things qualities, and intermingleth accidents, which one while are different, another while contrary to their nature, and then doth bring about the meeting of things amongst them, to make them bring forth the effect she hath ordained: so that knitting and gathering up many different causes, she draweth from the connexion and weaving thereof, not the end that is natural, or propounded to every one of them, but an event prescribed by herself. Insomuch, that as Nature is seen, especially in the creation, production, and maintenance of every thing in itself, according to its kind, and condition, and by an ordinary rule, and ever alike: Destiny contrariwise appeareth in events which proceed from the meeting of these things already created; which being ordered by a rule unknown to men, produce fore-ordaind effects which seem incuitable, and do not concern, nor accommodate themselves so much to the nature of every particular thing as unto that of the Universe.  
Certainly it should seem that this Law had not been needful in the world, if every thing had kept the first motion God had given unto it at its creation: for having infused in every one the most perfect form and principle of working that could be desired; it followed, that if they had continued in that condition, their own Nature had of herself directed their actions to good effects one towards another, and consequently to the good of all the world, and glory of the Creator. But either through the vice & imbecility of the matter, or through the tenderness of their form, which could not subsist, without they should adhere perpetually unto their Creator, they have been disfigured, and strayed from the way which Nature had traced out unto them.  
For example, Angels and men were created as the most perfect and absolute pieces of the world, and God in the Creation had infused in them a lively and pure light, to direct their actions to make good use of worldly things: and consequently to bring forth works to his glory. But as it falleth out usually in great Buildings, that a rich Wainescot, or an artificial winding Staire wrought with great skill, will soon decay; because that the more excellent a piece of work is, so much the weaker it is: so those most perfect creatures have first of all declined from the right way, perverted and violated the end of their Creation. Which disorder did not remain only in them, but for the great power wherewithal they were created, they have caused it to slip into the things they had abused. And moreover it seems, that by their fault other things that were created for them, were presently changed, either by a secret consent, or by a secret judgement to serve for their punishment. Therefore it hath been needful that this All-seeing-eye, which pierceth through ages as the Sun through the Air, having from the beginning foreseen this confusion, should even from that time appoint a remedy, to stay the presumption both of men and Angels, and let them, lest they should stretch their ill actions as fare as their ill wills.  
The remedy hath been this inviolable Law, by the which he hath provided for all events, and hath ordained that things should happen as we see them fall out; not altogether after the ordinary power of causes, but as it pleaseth God to make them work, sometimes increasing, sometimes lessening their strength: and now and then causeth them to work against their nature; and bringeth back to his will what men think to do at theirs. But some one will say, that this Law seems to be contrary to the first; God being immutable in his essence, should be so likewise in his determinations. Ought we to think, that he, who knoweth all things from all Eternity, taketh new resolutions? The alteration that is in this, is not in God, but in his works; which being separated from him, who is unchangeable alone, could not be like unto him, but subject to decay, and waste away by the defect of the matter whereof they are made. And the remedy God hath brought unto the evil, is not a new advice, though it be put in use since the corruption of Nature, nevertheless it was resolved upon even before her creation.  
For as a work man that sets a Clock to go four and twenty hours, before he taketh up the weights, and setteth it on going, can foresee, that either rust will stay its course, or that some idle fellow will stir the needle, touch the wheels, or remove the balance; & even then provides whatsoever is necessary to set it in order again, & restore it to the first point: so God, that hath foreseen even before the Creation of the world, what would fall out in the government and maintenance thereof, did in the same instant appoint remedies for it: which though they come not to our sight but after a long time and succession of ages, yet they were prepared from all eternity. For as the Poet must have his Play in a readiness afore any body comes upon the Stage; and that as soon as the Prologue gins, he that is to play the last Act must know well his Quew: even so fareth it with all the things that are come to pass, and that shall happen hereafter during so many years in this world; whereof the last that must finish the age of the world, was known, and ordained by the Creator, afore the first began to be. It is that, as I think, Diarchas in Philostratus would intimate, when he said God had begot the world all at once, as the Beasts do their young ones: notwithstanding that he hath brought it forth by little and little as they do, causing one part to come out first, and the other after. It is not Time that is the father and author of things, he is but their Steward, and as Tatian shown unto the Greeks', the Dispenser that bringeth them upon the Stage.  
Yea but some will say, If things were ordained from all eternity; and that this decree cannot be violated: what will become of the liberty of our Will? must it not be a Bondslave unto this Law, and be such, or such, good or bad, according as it hath appointed? No: for this Destiny that hath fore-ordained all things, hath decreed that our Will shall be free; so that if there be any necessity in our will, it is this, that it is necessarily free. And as for that our Wills have been foreseen such as they shall be, they have been foreseen, because they shall be so: and are not so, because they have been foreseen. But another will say: What availeth our will, seeing that of such things as we would have to be done, there comes nothing to pass but what God hath ordained, and there is almost nothing in our power? We cannot almost desire any thing, how easy soever it be, if it were but in a manner to carry our hand to our mouth, that may not be hindered by an infinite number of chances: it is that which the Proverb saith, There falleth out many things between the Belly and the Lips: Though we can do many things that we will, and will many things that we can do, yet we cannot say that any event how little soever it be, depends wholly upon us.  
Notwithstanding, out Will remaineth free, because it is not the action, but the motion unto action, and serveth us nevertheless: because that although it be not the only cause, yet it co-operates with the rest, which are gathered and bound by Destiny into the same knot, to bring forth one only effect. When it aimeth at the end which it ought, it is backed by Destiny, and favoured by the meeting of other causes, and so doing it is conducted unto its own purpose, or at least to another end, that Providence judgeth to be good for it. When contrariwise it is bend to an ill end, it is by the concurrence of other causes, and force of Destiny, carried away to a clean contrary end from its own, but still for one purpose; from the which in spite of it, God draweth his glory, & the good of the Universe. For although Destiny most commonly changeth nothing in the nature of causes; and suffereth those that are voluntary, to work voluntarily; and those that are necessary, necessarily; and those that are natural, naturally: nevertheless, from the mingling and gathering of them altogether in the point & form wherein he causeth them to meet, he bringeth forth such effects as he listeth, drawing oftentimes from the self same causes clean contrary effects, as by the transposition of the self same letters we compose words altogether different. He is so cunning a worker, that he can apply any thing to do his pleasure: yea many times when as we think to withstand his counsels, suffering us to have our will, he carrieth us where he pleaseth: just like unto that great Circle in heaven, that invelopeth all the others; though he letteth not their natural course from West to East, nevertheless he draggeth them all every day along with him from East to West. Whether we run or go, hasten or stay, go right or wrong, we come still to our lodging with Destiny: we cannot avoid it, we fall upon it in recoiling from it, we find it when as we fly from it, we run upon it thinking to over run it. This Destiny comes from too wise a power, and too powerful a wisdom, to be resisted either by force or craft.  
Now such, and how great soever it be, it is but even as Nature, one of the effects of that wise Providence, which filleth & governeth all things, & that is spread over all the parts of the world, being even as its soul. She ruleth all the parts of it with wife and infallible counsels, & most certain reasons; which often we do not apprehend but very late, and sometimes not at all: either for that her wisdom is so deep & inscrutable, that we cannot penetrate into it; or that our negligence and stupidity is so great, we do not vouchsafe to open our eyes to consider it: from whence it comes, that men attribute unto Fortune the accidents whose causes they comprehend not. And from thence it is come, that some being grown so brutish, as they observed no causes of the effects which they saw, they deemed all did happen by chance. So out of their ignorance and brutality, they have made themselves a Goddess, which they call Fortune, and paint her out blindfold, turning with a wheel worldly affairs, casting all at random, and throwing her presents, and favours by chance, as they do new money at the first entrance of Kings into a town, according as they stand near, so every one takes up, what falls upon him. But I could wish that those which would make the world to be governed so many ages, by this rash, and blind fool, would but suffer her to govern their houses for one year: they should see fine economy. Silly people! they perceive well enough that a small family cannot subsist a year without great prudence: and they would have this great Universe, composed of many different parts, to subsist so many thousand years, under the conduct of Chance. They would not have given a flock of sheep unto a Shepherd that were ill sighted: and they would commit unto a blind temereity, the government of so many legions, both of Angels and men. O ingrateful kind of people! why do you set up Altars to your gods, if your sacrilegious opinions worship nothing but Fortune? Why do you offer sacrifices after your victories, to give thankes unto her, that saw you not when she saved you, and seethe you not, when you give her thankes? you think perhaps that this Hobgoblin hath better ears than eyes. That which filled men with this error, and compelled them to snatch the Rule and the Compass from the hands of Providence, to make all things to rush at random one against another, and happen by hazard: it hath been, in my opinion, for that they would accommodate the greatness and power of God unto their infirmity, and that they would acknowledge no higher and deeper Divinity, but what the first object of things offered unto their senses.  
Divine Providence is an abysm of light, unto whose bottom the wit of man cannot reach, but only in keeping his eyes fixed upon it a long time, and yet they must gather their sight into some little hole, and guide it as by a level, for fear this infinite brightness should dazzle it, and put it out. Nevertheless, for to know simply that she is, and that there is no Fortune; the least and weakest wit of the world may suffice. For let us observe never so little the government of the world, and of the parts thereof, we judge presently, that there is nothing in it rash and adventurous, except our ignorance and indiscretion: and yet it is so only to ourselves, because that even our temereity and inconstancy is certain unto Providence. There is nothing in the world, how little soever it be, that can escape her: she manageth and guideth all things, she holds them, and keeps them in the very place where they ought to be, as well for their particular, as for the good of the Universe. Now amongst all others, there is none in my opinion, over which she watcheth so carefully, as over Empires, and Kingdoms: whereof she is the true mother and protectrix. We see ever their offspring and beginning marked in heaven and let down into the world by the revolution of the Stars. We see them come to pass with so strange commotions among nations, that you would say, that Earth is in labour, and travel to bring them forth. They increase with such wonderful accidents, with such memorable jolts, and happy chances, that Divinity is not seen in any other place to further and advance more evidently the success of affairs, then in the establishing of new States.  
Call to mind, I pray you, the coming of the jews into Palestine, and consider how miraculously a company of poor wandering people hath subdued so many Nations, overthrown so many Provinces, destroyed so many Cities, to build up that great and stately jerusalem, and set up that rich and magnificent Temple, wherein alone God would be served and worshipped for a time.  
Come afterwards unto that observation of Titus Livius, upon the increase of the Roman Empire, comparing unto Rome the Nations wherewith she was compassed about in her minority, which were all more potent than she in richesse, men, and arms, and in all commodities: he wondereth she was not stifled a hundred times in her cradle, and that she was suffered to grow into that greatness, as much envied as admired. But God seemed to lend her his helping hand to overcome her enemies, and put (as the Statue of Fortune did unto Demetrius) towns ready taken into her Fist. Surely God had chosen that part of the Earth as fatal, to be the chiefest place of the world, to gather under this head, Europe, Asia, Africa, as the members of that Empire. When I consider also the establishing of this heretofore so brave and flourishing kingdom of France, whose honour and fame hath been spread from East to West; and that I observe with what number of wonderful chances it hath been founded, raised, and maintained by the space of near twelve hundred years, and how often it hath been threatened, and saved from great and imminent ruins: I think it cannot be denied, but that it is divine Providence which hath kept it, and maintained it until now. And to speak truly: Wherein can she more delight, then to see a great number of men assembled together, live religiously under just laws, as usually do new-setled nations: & observe in their order, Politic government, and obedience, the same harmony that shineth in all the world? Now as this wise Providence doth dispose of the beginning of Cities and Kingdoms, so doth she dispose of their end: she ordaineth nothing but what is just, how can we then complain of her? Consider, I pray you, the destruction of all the Monarchies, & of all great Cities: confer their beginning with their end, and you will deem their first actions worthy to be favoured for their virtue, furthered in their enterprises by that holy Providence; & afterwards you will confess that their end was just, and that their wickedness had even as it were enforced divine jastice to destroy them.  
I omit the first Monarchies of the Persians, & Assyrians, which plunged & drowned themselves at last in delights & pleasures; the Commonwealth of the Greeks, that have been choked by ambition & covetousness: & will desire you only to turn your eyes towards the ruins of that woeful jerusalem: & consider whether in the time of her destruction, she was not a burden unto Earth, and a blemish unto Heaven; as well for that she was the Theatre, whereon impiety did strive against the Son of God, as that she was then a sink full of Villainy and wickedness. Was not Providence seen to proceed by degrees unto the punishment of this people, whose wicked actions were long before prophesied; & after they were done, were threatened, and the punishment preached that waited for them? And when the time was come, did not all things dispose themselves unto it? and have not they themselves wrought their own ruin in such sort, that it was not in the power of their enemy to save them? All things were more merciful to them then themselves, and of all the mischiefs they endured, there was none more cruel than such as they did with their own hands. Wickedness is just in this, she usually punisheth herself, carrieth herself in spite of all the world to the Gallows, and is often her own executioner.  
Let us pass unto the destruction of the city of Rome, and let us see when it happened, and in what manner. It was not when their conditions were pure and godly, that justice, Faithfulness, and Magnanimity flourished therein, insomuch as it made Tertullian to say, that their Laws came very near unto Innocency; but it was after they had despoiled all the earth of her Riches, and that together with the Gold and Silver of their Provinces, they had drawn their vices & corruptions. It was after Truth had been a long time preached unto them, and that they could not be recalled from an incestuous and profane idolatry, to the pure service of God. And how came it to pass? Even by miraculous means, and wherein Providence shown herself continually. There were seen unknown Nations, moved by secret motions, and hidden inspirations, having scarcely any intelligence one with another, rise whole from their seat, to overflow one after another this Monarchy. And in the same time the Emperors and the subjects, which had in times past kept by the only fame of their virtue all the nations of the world under their obedience, so faint-hearted, so divided into factions, and so ill advised, that you would have said, that Providence had sent Mowers unto a ripe Harvest ready to be cut down.  
But we need not to look after foreign examples; let us but examine what estate our France was in when the storm came upon us, and the manner how we have been beaten. I will no more than you, have so bad a conceit of the welfare of my country, nor despair so much of the mercy of God, that I think her utter destruction to be at hand. Nevertheless, what way soever things fall out, it must needs breed an exceeding great alteration, full of misery and calamity. Can we deny but that this calamity is justly come upon us, and that we were grown then into such a disorder, an infamous corruption, that we were ashamed of ourselves, and served as an argument unto Impiety? to conclude that God who forbore so long to punish us, had no care of humane affairs. I will not offend your ears with a new rehearsal of the abominable vices that reigned amongst us, and be alleged by posterity, for a witness of the shame of my nation, and of the infamy of this age. I will content myself with that which Musaeus hath touched of it in general, and very sparingly: and with that which you all know in particular, to your great grief, as I believe. I desire only to enter into consideration with you of the manner which Providence hath used to punish us all one by another: leading & guiding our actions to an end altogether different from our own intent, & turning all our counsels against ourselves for our punishment. We are here amongst our faithful friends, I believe that whatsoever we shall speak, shall not go over the threshold of the door, we may speak freely.  
If humane means and policy might serve against the decree of Providence; questionless it seemed that the late King might easily have avoided the mischief that overwhelmed him. For first, there was no likelihood to use against him the pretext of Religion: seeing that he was not only a Catholic, but even excessive in show of devotion, leading the life rather of a Friar, then of a King: so that whatsoever the opinion of religion may work in a State, it was on his favour, and seemed to do much for his conservation. Amongst his subjects, the Princes of his blood were of his party: as well for the duty they owed unto his dignity, as for that they were persuaded, that the new faction which was raised in the State, was to suppress them. The Nobility was almost all at his command; as well for the same reasons, as for that they knew full well, that if the people made an insurrection against their Prince, they would pull down all that were high and lofty. The poor country people were so wearied with the last wars, that they sought for nothing so much as rest; those of towns, and cities had almost their wealth in the Prince's hands, either by reason of the Rents or Offices that every one had bought of him, he having bestowed the places that belonged to war, and the execution of justice upon them, that enjoyed them at that time. Among Churchmen, the Prelates were all made by his hand, and whosoever looked for any preferment, could not expect it but from him: and for the meaner sort, he graced and favoured them as much as he could. Who would ever have thought, that a King strengthened with such means, should have feared any thing? specially a commotion that was the certain overthrow of all such as should put their hands unto it? And at least, who would ever have mistrusted, he could have received such an affront as he suffered that fatal day of the Barricadoes, that birth day of our misery? Me thinks I dream whensoever I call it to mind, and cannot believe what my memory representeth unto me: so fare this accident seemeth to me to go beyond all sense and reason.  
The King was in his capital City, attended by a very great number of brave Princes, Lords and Gentlemen; his Parliament was there, and his officers of justice, he held the battle, and had in his power all the strong places of the town, the Ordnance and Munitions of War, the Mayor and Sheriffs, Colonels and Captains of the Citrie were all his Officers and obliged Servants, and much affected to his service: he had moreover near six thousand men of war strangers, disposed of abroad as he pleased himself. Notwithstanding all this, a popular commotion raised upon a false report, made him to behold his people armed against him, and his own person besieged in a manner within his own house. It was a wonderful thing for a man to consider the humour of the people in their mutinous fits; for among so many armed men that came forth, the better sort judged well enough the end of this action, and even the most part of the rest, were kept back by the respect due unto the Sovereign. So that if they had been questioned every one by himself, there had been few or none that had not wished this stir had never fall'n out, or that it had been already appeased. Nevertheless, the fury that moved these people, did so incense their courages, that those which feared at first to come forth into the street with weapons in their hands, were ready the next day to go & besiege their sovereign Prince even within his Castle. So that he was enforced for to save himself, to retire as if he had fled away; & yet these people were so mad that they would willingly have pursued him. A strange thing! that those people whom he had so much cherished, and fed with the spoils of the rest of his subjects, with whom he had made himself familiar and inward: yea fare beyond all decency, which had more interest than any other in the conservation of the public quiet, should lose in an instant the respect of royal Majesty, the remembrance of his bounty, the fear of the Law, the reverence of his Magistrate: to cast themselues headlong by such an insolency and rashness, into a bottomless pit of woe and misery.  
What meaneth all this, but that there was a higher power, which stirred those spirits, and gave life unto this sedition, that it might be the beginning of the punishment, that God had prepared for the King and all the kingdom. For I hold, that even from that day the crown fell from his head, and to our great mischief and his too, began to be broken. And since that, all things were turned to our ruin, and all the counsels that could be taken for our recovery, have been turned into our misery and calamity, and into theirs that were the authors thereof. But that which is the most admirable in the continual course of our evils, is that, since God suffered this poor state to be torn into those two great factions: he used them in such sort, that you would have said, they had been set and disposed to give one another by turns each of them a blow, as if they had been wagered by divine justice to punish one another. The first blow was that which the king received; great certainly to see himself driven out of the chiefest city of his kingdom by his own subjects: to see himself banished in the midst of his estate: to see himself deprived of his authority and of his commodities. To be revenged he made the second stroke at Blois, which was a great wound to his enemies, but was no cure to his. He thought by this deed to have blown up all the contrary party, and smothered in the blood of those two Princes, the firebrands of civil war; but it fell out far otherwise, for he kindled them by it, & did let out by this wound the torrents of blood, which have since overflown all France. For you know how that presently after this, almost all the great towns of this kingdom rebelled, combined themselves and conspired together: you remember how that soon after he was besieged and almost taken in Tours. Truly all things were so bend against him, and Fortune seemed to be so favourable to the league, that those which were on that side thought they had won all, and behaved themselves very insolently in their Fortune. But the battle of Senlis cooled them, & plucked down the pride & the hope of those that were gone from hence, to buy the pillage of that town, which we accounted already even as taken. Afterwards followed the siege of this City, which brought us within two fingers of our destruction; and truly there was no means to avoid it, when the Chance began to turn, and that the king was treacherously killed with that fearful blow that ended his life pitifully, and put all his into a great confusion. The heart of the League began then to increase, and new hopes appeared unto their leaders; specially when as the King that now is, was besieged in deep, and that they reported in the market place he should be brought forthwith prisoner to Paris. That good time lasted not long, for every one wondered to see him, and feel him in the Suburbs of Paris, and almost within the city itself. Certainly that amazed us much, but we grew never the wiser for all that. The League had presently after a mighty Army, and took Vincennes and Pontoise, they promised themselves no less in Paris then that the King should be instantly taken: for they think here, that to give a battle, and win it is all one. They were taught full well, they are two sundry things; for the League gave the battle, but it was terribly beaten. This loss was seconded with others, to wit, that of Mante, Corbeil, and Melune: nevertheless, the Fortune of the vanquisher was not such, but that he found a thorn at Sens, that stayed his course. Now behold Paris is beleaguered, suffering all the calamities that one may, not only say, but imagine: they look at this present for the succour of strangers, that will come and spoil the country, and seize upon France if they can.  
What is all that, but an Ebb and Tide of misery, a turn and return of calamity, that will swallow us up in the end, if God hath no more pity of us, than we have ourselves? who is so blind, either of body or understanding, that seethe not, that all is nothing else, but the hand of God, which whippeth us one after another by turns, with the rods of wars, without any body be able to exempt himself from it? who judgeth not plainly, that he makes use of our malice and wickedness, to punish us one by another. Kings, Princes and Nobility are chastised by the insurrection of the people, which shake off the yoke of obedience, seize upon their houses, cause them to wander up and down with their desolate and ruined families: they are chastised by the wounds unto the which they are exposed every day, by the effusion of their blood, wherewithal the field is stained almost all over. The people on the other side are chastised by the soldiers that rob, spoil, and ransack them: towns are taken again and again: and those that may be kept and eaten up with Garrisons, surcharged with Watching, harried with Toils, afflicted with Poverty and Famine, and which is worst the Inhabitants Rob, Sack, and Eat up one another. As for the Churchmen, whose Vices have as much as any thing else inflamed the wrath of God against us, and kindled this war, which they maintain still as much as they can: they are the common play-game of all the rest, and as the subject of the insolences and injuries both of the Nobility and Commons. I forbear to say, that the service of God is forsaken every where, that impiety and blasphemies increase, that all manner of sacrilege and pollution is committed in holy places, and whereas that should be the most grievous and and sensible sorrow, yet it is that we do less complain of.  
But as for their wealth, and temporal goods, for the which we have been so tormented; and to say truly, raised for their cause all these Tragedies: how are they dealt with all? Their Benefices, their Lands and Rents are seized on, overthrown, and burnt in the country: and their bodies imprisoned, ransommed and wronged in the Cities, the greater dignity and honour they have, so much the more are they vexed and tormented. And which is more remarkable, they are yet worst used by those of the faction they have raised, then by those which they deem their enemies: No title, no quality, no order, no holiness can protect them from the insolency of the seditions of towns and cities, or soldiers of armies, or country Gentlemen.  
Now behold how God overthroweth the designs of men, and how he can punish them at his pleasure one by another: what is lacking to give contentment and satisfaction unto those that have made any question of divine justice, but only to see a few lewd villains, that live in peace, and practise their wickedness upon innocent people, punished in their turn. We are not yet in the end of this Tragical play, let us have patience but until the last Act, we shall see what we expect: we shall see, I say, that the same people which they have stirred against good men, shall purchase their own ruin. For people in commotion are like unto the Sea, which in a storm and tempest raiseth to the top of the water all the filth that is in the bottom, but by little and little it casteth it on shore. We have seen the example of some already, whose ambition and covetousness hath been requited by the disdainful contempt and injury of the base multitude. We must hope the rest shall have their turn too, and shall participate unto the afflictions they have procured to so many honest men. That which is most to be feared, is, that God will wrap us altogether in one, and the selfsame ruin, as we are much threatened; and exterminate all at once so many evil consciences that are amongst us, being no otherways able to amend them. The surest remedy we have left, is, to prostrate ourselves devoutly before his divine Majesty, and by the humility of our prayers, bend unto Mercy the rigour of his justice, and obtain of him, that he will be more merciful unto us, than we are ourselves; and that seeing we have found our own mischief, in what we desired most: he will be pleased by his grace, to let us find our good, in that which we have most feared. Nevertheless, if his wrath doth continue against us, what Fortune soever falls upon us, we must bear it patiently, and with great reverence, as proceeding from that great and just Providence, whose balance is never stirred, but by the weight of Reason, unto which therefore we must submit our will.  
I apprehend well enough what offendeth you in this discourse, it is the same thorn which galled me in times passed upon this very same way. You cannot comprehend, why good men in such accidents should suffer together with the wicked, the innocent with the guilty. If there be Providence, she is just: if she be just, she ought to reward the good, and punish the wicked, and not wrap them altogether in the selfsame affliction. But to clear this doubt of yours, I would ask you, in what part of the earth, have have found this innocence you bemoan so much, & by what tokens you can know it. Our faults and sins are committed by our members, and visible parts of our body: but they are bred inwardly within our soul, that is the womb wherein they are conceived, which they pollute no less for being not brought forth, then if they had really come to light: for yet, an ill action which we do, is usually followed with grief and repentance, that doth somewhat purge it. but as for ill intentions, which we foster in our mind, as burning coals under ashes, we think because they are not known, they are not ill, & do not abstain from them. If the seat of sin be in our soul, and that we cannot penetrate into it; how should we have notice of another man's innocence, seeing we know how often we have offended God ourselves, without others could be able to perceive it? But that goeth beyond our reach; let us suffer him to take notice of it, that is the only judge of the heart, and voluptuousness of men: and if we may presume any thing in this, let us follow that conjecture which is most reasonable: let us presume for his judgement, and believe that he is just. As truly it is very hard in so corrupted an age, that his thunder should fall out on any place where there were not some guilty. Fishes have that property indeed, that they are bred and nourished in the Sea, without any taste of the saltness of it: but, that men may be nourished and brought up in the filth and infection of the earth, and never be defiled with it; if it be not impossible, it is very difficult and hard. But I grant you may find amongst us a good number of godly and innocent people, that are most of all afflicted by the public calamity; I will maintain notwithstanding, that they have no cause to complain, rather they are bound to give thankes to God for it, as for a great favour: and reckon those accidents amongst the greatest benefits they receive from him. This medicine seemeth bitter unto you, seeing the manner how you taste it: but take it down, and you will feel it sweet and wholesome, and will more settle your mind then any remedy you can use: yea I say, that that which we call miseries and calamities, are gifts of God most precious and profitable. To persuade you thereto; it might suffice I have showed you that they happen for a good cause, and proceed from a hand that is perfectly good: from whence, as from a quick spring, are derived all the veins of our goods. But if they have a good cause, they have yet a better end, and that will I prove easily. Nevertheless afore I take it in hand, I will answer some objections, that as I read in your face, you have a mind to allege against me concerning the means that are used to attain unto this end.  
You will say, Are not wars, murders, sackings, ravish, & other plagues wherewith we are afflicted bad things of themselves? those that commit them, have they not an intent to hurt us? do not they desire our harm, do they not endeavour themselves to undo us? Can you call our miseries, evils, but you must accuse the vices of those, that are the instruments thereof? and defile their hands with so many sacrileges and wicked deeds? To clear this doubt, I desire you to make a distinction between the afflictions that happen to us. Some proceed but from natural causes, as Famine, Dearth, Earthquakes, Plagues, Floods, Mortality's, and such like: in others the Will of man doth cooperate; as Tyrannies, Wars, Murders, Sacking. Those questionless, have no other intent but our good, for they have no other end, than his that ordaineth them: these undoubtedly have an ill intent, for they are managed by the will of the wicked: but it is an evil, which God turneth to good. For though private men which God doth use in such actions, are bend to an ill end: nevertheless, the last end where he causeth them to meet together, is our good and welfare. Even as the Archer shooteth the Arrow at a mark which the Arrow seethe not; so doth he conduct them to an effect, that they neither desire, nor understand. Which we ought not to think strange in the actions of this Alwise Providence, seeing that even in humane affairs, to attain unto a thing, we use oftentimes that which is intended for another, either different or contrary.  
Behold an Army of Soldiers going furiously to a Battle some are incited to it by quarrels, others induced by a desire of glory, others moved by spleen others by hope of booty: but they do all conform themselves in the end, to the intent of the General, that is the victory. Good and bad are in this world entertained under God's pay, and fight for his glory; some are chosen & instructed, others are as bondmen & slaves. Why (will you say) should he use the wicked, he that is still All-good, & Allmightie, hath he no other means to work his will? He hath not made the wicked such, they are become so of themselues, but seeing they are so, he must make use of them in something. A great workman ought not to have any thing unprofitable in his shop. Art can draw from the worst things that are, very good & wholesome effects. I will tell you more, that there are many things very beneficial, which could not subsist if there were not some ill thing in them. That famous medicament called Treacle, an invention truly divine against poison; hath for its chiefest ingredient the viper, that is one of the most venomous of all serpents. Would you argue with God, for that in the afflictions he sendeth to us, as a medicament as needful, as wholesome for the purgation of our souls: he mingleth a little of that humane viper, to wit, the perverse will of the wicked, which he doth so qualify with many other juices he addeth unto it, and by the fire of the holy Charity, wherewith he loveth us, that there is nothing can be ill to us but the taste, which we think a little bitter, as are all medicaments of great strength and virtue. The effect of it questionless is ever good, and the end is never otherwise then for our good and profit, whether we be virtuous, whether we be vicious, whether we be innocent, whether we be guilty.  
And as for the first, what can a father do more for his children, that are to live in a country vexed with war, then to bring them up to labour and toil, teach them to endure heat and cold, hunger and thirst, train them up to arms, accustom them to fear nothing, go to the blows as to a wedding. Those that have been brought up in this manner, live at liberty, preserve their goods, purchase honour and glory, and are deemed happy. Contrariwise, those that have been kept daintily, and have bastardized their souls with delights and pleasures, are made a booty to others, serve humbly to the stronger, endure all manner of injuries, live and die without honour. Man comes into the world as into a pitched field, wherein all sorts of evils beset him round about, even from his birth to his death he hath no other exercise but fight. Do you wonder if this good & wise father will often exercise us, to harden us to labour? No, no, he doth not flatter us like a fond mother, that spoileth her children: but reproveth us like a wise father that useth them severely. He keeps us in awe continually, and doth exercise us not only till we sweat, but even till we bleed. He knoweth very well that a soldier doth not become a Captain but by working, suffering, bearing, abiding, enduring day and night, hot and cold, the rain and the Sun. The Sailor groweth to be a Pilot amongst tempests and storms: and man becomes not a man indeed, that is, constant & courageous, but in adversity. It is affliction makes him know his strength, it is she which as the steel from the flint draws from man that spark of divine fire he hath in his heart, and maketh his virtue shine and appear.  
There is nothing so worthy of man, as to overcome adversity; nor means to overcome it, but to strive with it; nor means to strive with it, but to meet it. There is the first benefit affliction brings to a good man, which is not small. As that hath some labour joined with it, so this which followeth hath very much comfort. It consisteth in this, that calamity letteth him know what reckoning God makes of him: for we ought to think he doth not set us out to perils and dangers, but for a good opinion he hath of our virtue, and for the earnest desire he hath to see us behave ourselves well. A Captain doth not pick out a mean soldier to try a painful and dangerous enterprise: he chooseth the most valiant and courageous; and whom he respects above all the rest, he setteth them foremost. It is an honourable judgement is made of a man, when a hard and troublesome place is committed to his charge. Even the heathen themselves made the like judgement of adversities, and deemed them to whom they happened, to be most beloved of their gods: by such degrees they made Hercules climb up to heaven. And as for us that are better taught than they, we have our lesson in writing, that tells us, we shall not be crowned if we do not fight. Ought not we to think, that when we are invited to the fight, we are invited to the glory? What voice do you esteem to have been more pleasant unto those, that presented themselves unto the Olympic games, then that of the trumpets which called them into the lists? Do not you believe, that even in the heat of the fight, the desire they had to please the people, and get an honourable judgement, took away from them the feeling of the pain, and made their wounds seem unto them gentle and easy.  
Now besides the pleasure we receive in our soul, whilst that we are employed about brave, and generous actions, and that constancy worketh in a manner, and wrestleth with adversity, there remains afterwards unto us a greater taste of it, when as we are delivered, and are come into a safe harbour. For there is nothing more pleasant in the world, nor that gives a greater contentment to our souls, than the testimony our conscience beareth unto virtue, and the remembrance that is left to us, how we have undaunted lie withstood ill Fortune. We are filled then with an unspeakable pleasure, and the splendour of a true and sound glory seemeth to shine about us, and give us some preeminence amongst men. There is another benefit proceedeth from our patience, that ought not to comfort us less than the precedent. It is the benefit which those that come after us reap by our good example; that is unto them in stead of a Torch, to lighten them to fair and glorious actions. We own unto posterity most part of our best actions, & me think those, that are borne to honour, have not any more earnest, & more usual wishes, then to sacrifice their lives for the public good. Insomuch that it seems unto me, that the occasions which afford us means to each others to do well by our imitation, and make us illustrious in time to come, by the commendation of our virtue, should please us exceedingly, because they make us very honourable and profitable unto posterity. The sweeting and bleeding of those that behave themselves virtuously in their calamities, are so many fountains that are never dried up: from whence runneth a generous desire to resemble them. There is no doubt then, but good men get profit by the calamities, that happen unto them, and the public also reap by them many great commodities.  
Let us see whether those that fall upon guilty people, that are fare greater in number then the others, be of the same nature. Yes certainly. There is two sorts of those that have strayed from the way of virtue, and the obedience they own unto God (which is the true and only innocence.) Some do but begin to swerve, the others utterly lost; affliction is to both of them a wholesome and a needful remedy. It is to the first in stead of a gentle and fatherly correction; it is as the rod wherewithal God brings that man back again to his duty that is swerved from it, using towards us the office of a wise father, that chastiseth his children so much the more carefully, as he loveth them dearly: he correcteth them for small and light faults, least being neglected, they turn into custom, custom into crime and imputation, and fall into the hands of the public Magistrate, in regard they have not suffered domestical reprehension; and endure a cruel and shameful punishment for their stubbornness, in not receiving a fatherly and charitable correction. I will tell you more, that as God is infinitely wise, and yet better towards us, doth often prevent our faults; and as he seethe our will inclined to do ill, he doth redress and correct us by adversities, as with a bit, that he putteth in our mouths, to stop out ill inclination, & tame our affections by our afflictions. Let us tell the truth, how many times in our life hath Providence catcht us in ill thoughts, and with a knock upon our fingers hath forced us to let go our hold? How many ill members have we had, that have spoke to our conscience, pulled down our pride, and advertised us that we were men.  
It is reported, that the Great King Francis (truly great, for he was endowed with great virtues and great vices) being taken prisoner in the battle of Pavia, was carried into a Monastery; where the first thing that was offered to his eyes, was an inscription over a gate, containing this verse of a Psalm; It is well O Lord that thou hast humbled me, to let me know the power of thy justice. Another will impute this to a Chance: as for me, I think it a singular work of divine Providence, that carried this Prince to that place, after such a misfortune, that he might see his Lesson in writing, and comprehend the warning God gave him, to make use of his calamity; and moderate that vanity wherewithal he marred, and corrupted many rare virtues that were in him. The mightier Princes are, so much the more are they watched by that Sovereign Governor, who knowing the importance of their actions to the ruin, or conservation of their people, slackneth and bendeth their heart and their hand, according as he thinks fit for our good and his glory. There is no body can express it better than the Scripture. The King's heart is in the hand of God. They are his Attorneys and Administratours, that he sendeth hither with a full and large commission, which nevertheless he can recall or moderate when he pleaseth. Seeing that this discourse hath made me to light on this example; I will add another to it, of a young French Gentleman, who in our days had caused these words to be engraven in a Dagger; I strike without respect. It happened that dancing a Coranto, his Dagger slipped out of the Scabbard, and wounded him so sore in the Thigh, that he was like to die upon it. judge you whether this blow did not speak to him, and upbraid him for his temereity. Now if we consider the afflictions that happen to us, either before we commit any fault, or after our first and lightest faults; we shall find, that God useth us still very meekly and kindly. They are commonly but gentle corrections, like unto those of the Persians, that whipped the  in stead of those that had done the fault. He meddleth only with our goods, our honours, and some such rags: he takes them away from us now and then for a time, as they do Knives, and Daggers from little children, lest they should hurt themselves with them. Thus much for the first.  
Now for the others that are past all hopes of amendment, whom fatherly correction could not turn, & against whom God is constrained to show himself a just judge, and appoint a severe punishment; it cannot be said, but their calamity is very good, and very profitable. If we consider the person of him that sendeth it; the unchangeable Law of his eternal justice requireth, that whatsoever cannot be amended, be taken away, and cut off from this world. If we consider the general interest of humane society, it is certain it could not subsist, if the wicked were not chastised, and kept under for fear of punishment, seeing the love of virtue is not able to restrain them. Those that govern Towns and Borroughes, think necessary for their conservation, to punish Cut purses and private Thiefs: and you would not have him that ruleth all the world, to chastise Kings, Princes, Commonwealths, and whole Cities, whose power and authority is above the civil Law, and hath nothing over it to punish it, but divine justice: without whose help the Evil would seize upon all, and stretch its corruption over all the parts of the world? Now who can disallow of that which is beneficial to all the world, & complain of it for his private interest? We call that ours, which is common to us and others too; & a good that belongs to all the Universe, shall not we call it our Good? Doth it not concern us all, that divine justice should show examples to teach men, that there is an All seeing eye that judgeth and examineth all things, that we may hear the wicked amidst their torments cry out, and give warning to all men, To love justice, and still remember God.  
It is a thing too plain and too easy to persuade men, that it is needful the wicked should be punished. But perhaps it will be harder to persuade them, that the deserved calamity, which befalls them for correction, is for their good and profit. It should be indeed the chiefest desire of man, not to deserve punishment, but having deserved it, the next is to acquit it with speed. For that which God sendeth to men in this world to chastise them, proceedeth not from one that hath a mind to hurt them, but only to stop the course of their wickedness, and by the same means the course of their misery. For so much as divine justice, being to appoint the severity of correction, according to the greatness of offences; the more she should forbear the wicked, so much the more should she increase the measure of their torment. Will you see how punishment is for the good of the wicked? Remember those you have seen at public execution, which praised the justice and the Laws that caused them to die. O how godly are those thunders, that even such as are strooke with them do worship! I say more to you; there were some seen that had committed heinous offences, were so troubled in mind, that after they had been hidden a long time, came of their own accord to accuse and submit themselves unto punishment: deeming the torment ordained by the laws, fare easier than that of their own conscience. If there be guilty men that receive death thankfully, ordained by civil laws for their offences, and find some comfort in it; how much the more are they bound, to take patiently the calamity appointed by divine justice; which being received with an humble and meek spirit, if they are to live any longer in this world, purifieth their soul, and setteth their conscience at rest? and if they die, delivereth them from eternal torment? If we have a rotten limb, we go to the Surgeon; and if we cannot go, we send to entreat him to come and cut it off, for fear it should infect and spoil the rest; and are not we willing that our soul to be kept from the filth and pollution, wherewithal our body staineth it, should be stripped by that Sovereign Physician, that cometh of himself to us, and doth nothing but for our good?  
I perceive by your countenances, that out of the divine fire of this Discourse, there ariseth a smoke that makes your eyes to smart. It is in my opinion a great inequality of proportion, that is seen in punishment of the wicked, that lesseneth the credit of that which we have already said concerning Providence. For we see daily, that amongst the wicked, some are punished, and some are not: some that have committed many grievous offences endure much pain, and others to the contrary. That which I have said heretofore might suffice me to answer this objection, to wit, that the will of God is the supreme justice, that sithence he will have it so, it is well. The same reason wherefore he doth all things, requireth also, that no body should ask him the reason of them. His counsels are deep, unsearchable, and bottomless depths; and when our eyes, that hardly can see that which lieth at our feet, cannot reach: and nevertheless, if we will follow his footsteps, we find it so just, yea so tolerable, that it will give us a reason even of such things, for which it is not bound to yield any: and shall find his justice in most part of the things that torment us, even like unto himself. And though for a time it hideth itself, it comes forth at last, and appears of the same colour in one place as well as in the other: imitating therein diverse rivers that are lost under ground in some places, but nevertheless spring up again, and run when they come near the Sea.  
First, in regard you esteem there are some wicked unpunished; you are deceived: wickedness and punishment are twins that are borne together, and forsake not one another. The sharp and stinging remorese of conscience, heavy and mournful sorrows, bitter repentance are his domestical executioners, that are never wanting. Do not think them Fables, that the parts represented by the Furies, with firebrands in their hands, coming to terrify the guilty. It is a lively picture, expressing naturally the passion endured by the wicked, that are tormented by their own conscience. Esteem not the pains of a Wheel, or of Fire, or any other humane torture, to approach any ways unto the cruelty of Furies, vexing the mind of the impious. What torment could be invented so great, and that could have racked so much that same Catulus, which presented the jews, as his own conscience, representing unto him in his dreams, a great multitude of men by him massacred; whose dreadful and bloody shapes uncovered their wounds, and challenged him for their children, whom he murdered; for their goods that he ransacked; and in the end threatened and foretold him horrible calamities. What torture do you think it was to Herod to hear night and day the Ghosts of his Wife and Children, that reviled and vpbrayded him with his cruelty, in regard he had most barbarously and wickedly slain them? What richesse? what magnificence? what pleasure can cheer up those that are troubled with such thoughts? Is not all their life a continual torture? But I grant there be some that escape those torments in this world; what nation was there ever so barbarous, that made any question but there was a hell, that waited for them after their death, and where their pain should be the more horrible and fearful, that it was put off until that time, to be discharged and acquitted, when as they shall be most sensible of it? Their torment doth not begin in this life, lest it should end with life: it stayeth for them, till they are come to that place, where they shall keep it for ever. And this may be observed in the wicked, whereof also they give tokens enough: for how many do we see, that seemed afore, to live in great tranquillity and quietness of mind, that approaching near their end, began to despair, and tumble, and toss strangely up and down, foretelling the miseries that attended them in hell? The wicked then cannot fly from the hands of divine justice.  
But some say, they are punished too late, and that Providence is too blame to forbear them so long: for if they were chastised for the first faults, they would not commit the second afterwards? It is a very easy matter to answer this curious objection. For though Providence had no other occasion to be so slow in punishing, but to give us an example not to be too hasty, when we are to judge of the life of men, she had reason enough. Would to God we might make good use of the instruction she give us in this place. If she that knoweth all, that searcheth the bottom of our thoughts, proceedeth very slowly and by degrees to judgement; what should we do, we that in the clearest things can see nothing, and are commonly deceived in those we esteem most certain? If we took as much leisure and care to judge of Providence, as Providence doth to judge us, we should be better informed than we are, and should find she doth nothing, but with very great justice and wisdom. But she hath yet another evident occasion of this slowness: she will make those that are incorrigible, inexcusable, and take from them all reason to say, they had no time to amend; and give leisure to the flexible and tractable to remember themselves, and come back to salvation. There hath been many men seen in the world, whose first offences if God had strictly punished, he had smothered great, yea admirable virtues, that have since flourished in them. The first boiling heat of Youth, doth sometimes cast out the scum of it, that makes even old age more pure and moderate. Which the Greek Poet would signify when he represented Ulysses, that with a naked sword in his hand forced Circe to give him his companions again, and restore them to their first shapes: for he saith, she rendered them to him again fairer and purer than ever they were. Meaning to let us understand, that when Reason, that is signified by the sword, forceth Voluptuousness, that is signified by Circe, to restore men to their true nature, and put them again into their first perfection; they become fairer, then if they had never been defiled by pleasures, and are even as scoured with the gravel and dregges of the world, wherewith they had bemired themselves.  
Would you have another reason yet of the slow execution of God's judgements against offenders? It is because his executioners are not always ready. He doth not punish the wicked: he forbeareth sometimes to chastise a tyrant, until that a cruel and bold murderer be found, that will undertake to kill him. Sometimes he stayeth for a more fitting season, to have the more beholders of his justice, and that the example may be the more observed. Sometimes he will keep in it solemnities and ceremonies, to make the action more famous: so it was his will and pleasure Caesar should be slain in the Senate house, whose authority he had usurped; and before the Statue of Pompeius his son in law, whose ruin he did so ambitiously pursue. So it was his pleasure since, Brutus and Cassius should kill themselves with the same daggers wherewith they had killed Caesar.  
But above all the objections that are made against Providence, the hardest and most difficult in my opinion to answer, is this; that we see often some commit the fault, and others to bear the blame and punishment: and as the verse of Solon saith; Often for one wicked, God doth destroy a town.  
The father offendeth, and the son or the grandchild are wretched for it. He that shall be as curious to sift and search out the effects of Providence to defend it, as they do to overthrew it, this difficulty shall be very easy to resolve: where they argue much iniquity, they shall find much wisdom and justice. For by these means God giveth warning unto all men, to watch and be careful to hinder evil, and punish it when it is done, for fear that if they stay till he taketh it in hand, he will tax those that permitted it, as well as those that committed it. How much do you think, the custom that was observed amongst the Romans, to decimate and tithe every Legion; nay, whole Armies, did encourage and hearten good soldiers to fight manfully, and die rather with honour and glory by the hand of the enemy, then shamefully by the hand of the Executioner? Who praiseth not the law that is in Turkey, by the which the inhabitants of a Town or Borrough, are bound to answer for any robbery that is committed within their liberties? That maketh them so careful and diligent to look to it, that there is no speech of any. At our coming into the World, and inhabiting of Towns and Countries, we contract a secret society, and are bound to God one for another. He is the true and first Lord of the Earth, and of all it containeth; he giveth it unto us, to enjoy it in common: but he setteth in the condition; that we be good men, upon pain of his high displeasure if we be otherwise. Why should not we be liable to the whole of the conditions, whereupon he hath bestowed so many blessings on us? If we have dealt with a Merchant of a company, the whole company is answerable for it: if a town or a corporation oweth us any thing, we distrain private men's goods.  
If we had called this often to mind since the beginning of our Broils, and that we had considered, we were to bear indifferently the punishment for the insolences, robberies, and villainies we have seen committed, and that we have fostered and maintained by our weakness, or to speak freely by our slackness, when as we might easily have smothered them in their beginning, we had kept ourselves, or I am deceived, from so many evils that torment us; and our country from the ruin and destruction whereof it is threatened. But whilst that every one hath endeavoured himself to save his own, the public hath been left and abandoned unto all them that would ransack it. We are now engaged under its fall, and learn too late the saying of Solon to be true; that, There was never either Lock, or Bolt that could hinder pubike evil from coming into private houses. In vain doth he think to save his house that suffereth the State to go to wrack. It is truly well said. He that betrayeth his country, yields up himself.  
Let us answer a word unto those that complain, that the children bear the punishment of their father's sins. I do not know why they find it so strange, seeing that civil laws extend unto the children, the punishment of those that are attainted of high treason. Do you esteem the Majesty of God less than that of worldly Kings and Princes? And do not you think God hath the same consideration which Lawmakers have: and desireth to restrain the wicked by the fear of such things as can move them soon? Some one cannot be stayed back by his own evil, that is kept in by that which is proposed to his children. We are fare more afflicted with their misery, then with our own. How can that fatherly charity of the father towards his children be better bestowed then to bind him more strictly unto the obedience of the service of God; & conjure him by the good & fortune of his posterity, not to move him to anger? Now since all the afflictions we endure come from the hand of Providence; they happen to us justly, they happen to us wholsomely, though oftentimes we do not apprehend the cause, & foresee not the end. Nevertheless, we are bound to submit ourselves gently to it; and honour by our patience, and humble silence, this holy judgement that hath ordained it so.  
For as in the sacrifices of Eleusine, as reports Clemens Alex. the Novices, and such as were initiated, lay all a long upon the ground till the service was ended: even so in this great Temple of the world, during the sacrifice, we are bound to do perpetually unto eternal wisdom, in the contemplation of his works: we have no countenance that is so comely as humility, the cognisance of his greatness and our baseness; of his might and power, & of our infirmity & weakness; of his wisdom and our temerie; of his goodness, and of our perversity. Let us obey then his ordinance, whether our City, for her old age and frail feebleness be to fall down on the ground, and obey the common law of created things: whether that by the revolution and vicissitude of humane affairs, the honour and magnificence she hath enjoyed so long, be to pass into another place, and be transferred elsewhere: whither the end of all ages doth approach, and that the common ruin that is to overwhelm all the parts of the earth doth shake us first, and begin by us, what she is to spread over all: or whether (and this is it which I fear most) that God will punish all at once, so many treasons, falsehoods, murders, poison, adulteries, incests, blasphemies, and hypocrisies, that our City hath hatched a while since, and specially within this thirty years: Let us submit ourselves to his will; let us follow cheerfully so wise a Captain, and that loveth us so much. If he leadeth us to blows, he leadeth us to glory: if it be only by wounds, they shall be honourable: if by death, it shall be happy, so that we undergo it in his service. Let us therefore embrace constancy, and let us stand upright on the steps of our duty, making head still against adversity. Our overthrow shall be our victory, the blows that shall light upon us, shall settle and strengthen us the more: we shall weary and astonish the civil by our confidence, like unto that most renowned Callimachus, in the battle of Marathon; which being shot through with an infinite number of Arrows, stood upright, sustained, and upheld by the same Darts which had killed him: and even stark dead frighted the Barbarians, that deemed him immortal, in regard so many blows and hurts could not make him fall.  
The afflictions that are borne constantly, and with the counterpoise of reason, do maintain us strait and strong: and whereas without them, we should bow too much to the earth, they set us up again, and lift us up to heaven. For we have nothing that giveth us so sure a testimony of the immortality of our souls, and a glance more evidently of the hope of eternal life, than the courage that is infused into us by constancy; which exhorting us to brave and generous actions, and unto patience, seemeth forthwith to propose unto us the reward, and give us a secret feeling of the place, where we ought to expect it. Which is not in this wretched and mortal world, wherein all is full of misery and poverty: and wherein (as the Greek Poet saith) Calamity walketh continually over men's heads. But above in heaven in a permanent City, that is the true and natural dwelling place of the soul, and the harbour, where after the raging waves and storms of this world she is to enter, and rest eternally, full of joy, pleasure, and contentment, such as may afford her the infinitely happy object, and the blessed fruition of all beauties and bounties, drawn out of their first and purest Original.  
There ended Orpheus his Discourse: but though he held his peace, we harkened to him still, thinking that our silence should invite him to continue; for we could not forgo the great desire we had to hear him. He rose first, and we after, sore against our will.  
Then Musaeus said; I expected, when you began to touch this last consolation, of the hope we ought to have in the life to come, that you would rehearse unto us some thing, out of the Discourse I have heard you tell in times past, that that godly ancient man, who held the first place in our Senate of France, in whose behaviour shined French loyalty and sincerity, so dearly beloved and honoured of us all, used unto them that visited him the day before he deceased. It is almost eight years since he died, and the good fortune of France with him. I took so great pleasure in that little which you told us then, that I have been desirous to entreat you, to rehearse it unto me all over. I told you, answered he, as much as as I knew of it, for I came but at the end of his discourse, but here is Linus, that was all that day long with him, who can satisfy your desire. It is worthy of another afternoon's discourse, keep it till to morrow.  
The end of the second Book.   

LINUS: OR THE THIRD BOOK OF CONSTANCY.  
LONDON, Printed by Bernard Alsop. 1622.   

TO THE RIGHT WORTHY AND GENEROUS SIR OWN SMITH KNIGHT.  
Virtue is an object that every man looks upon and admires: whence it comes, that those which are endowed with it, are most sought after by all manner of people, as being the main pillars of civil life and humane society. Which only occasion enduced me to tender unto your acceptance this little Pamphlet, as to one upon whom Nature hath prodigally bestowed many rare gifts, which with a sparing hand she keeps from other men. Wherein if I may be so happy as to get your approbation, and that you will be pleased to receive it with your accustomed humanity and courtesy, it will oblige me to continue all my life time, as I am,  
Your humble servant ANDREW COURT.   

LINUS, OR THE THIRD BOOK OF CONSTANCY.  
I Have heretofore held no better than an old wife's Tale that which Homer writeth, of those that sail to wards the Lotophages; that they are so taken with the Loton, that is a pleasant & delicious fruit, that they care no more for their country, and lose the desire to return unto it. But amusing upon it a while ago, I began to conjecture, that the Author by this Fable would, as by mystery of ancient wisdom, give to understand, that the Philosophers which dwelled in those parts, entertained men that came thither, with such sweet and pleasant discourses, that they caused them to forget their proper and particular affections, by the contemplation of divine and celestial things. Which I judged by example easy to be performed: for I have found my mind so alured, and eased by the two last afternoons, that I had no other care nor desire, but to entertain those honest men, and enjoy at full their sweet company and delightful consolation. I vow to you, after I had heard them, me thought my Fortune was altered, and even as Cenens of a Girl was turned to a boy; so of faint-hearted, I was become constant and courageous, and of miserable, almost happy. So powerful is an eloquent discourse, with good reasons, to change our opinions, and with our opinions, our passions. I believe that even as in Music, those that sing have as much, or more pleasure, than those that harken unto it: so these wise men received as much contentment by this conference, as myself: for they came all again the next day, even before the hour; so that using no ceremonies, we placed ourselves as we were before. Then quoth I to Linus, Orpheus engaged you yesterday to rehearse unto us now the last words that were uttered by that famous man, (whom we loved so much during his lise, and bemoaned after his death,) unto his friends before his decease. I see that you are disposed to do it; but me thinks you should escape at too easy a rate if you afforded this company nothing but your memory alone: We deserve for the friendship's sake, wherewithal you are pleased to honour us, that you bestow upon us something of your own invention. It is true indeed, that the discourse which Orpheus hath promised we should have from you, is a fair piece, that might be very fitly joined unto that he told us of Providence. Nevertheless, seeing I am here, like a sick man among Physicians, bear a little with me in this; and before you take this matter in hand, I pray you let me have your opinion in some things, that are come into my mind since I heard Orpheus, and then you shall go on with that as it shall please you, which we desired of you yesterday.  
The discourse that you bring is so fair, that I assure myself, it will be fit for any place where you will apply it; and perhaps you shall find it will serve to resolve the question I mean to propound now unto you. I am forced indeed to confess, that that wise Providence governeth all in this world; that from her ordinance proceed happy and unhappy events of affairs, and that there falleth out nothing but justly, even in the conversion of States, and ruin of Cities and Kingdoms. But on the other side, it seems unto me from thence one might infer, that seeing we cannot hinder, or stop any thing that is ordained above, in vain do we strive against the stream: and when we see our State tottering, it is in vain we offer to prop it up, it is in vain we endeavour ourselves to resist them that undermine the foundations of it, it is in vain that we are troubled to know what side we should follow. Is it not the surest and wisest to take the party of Destiny, and follow Providence, when we know her inclination? or howsoever, were it not better for us to lie still and rest, then to roll this stone over and over again, that will fall at last do what we can. I have seen certainly the wisest of our age much troubled about it, seeing the juster overthrown by the stronger party. Some have with an undaunted courage, withstood whatsoever seemed injust unto them, and even as of purpose wrought their own ruin by it. Some others like unto Mariners have tacked about, when they could not go strait forward; and going aside, avoided the dangers which they thought impossible to shun without shipwreck.  
I would desire to know of you, which of the two we ought rather to imitate: and if we see the striving of Virtue against Violence, to prove unprofitable to the public, and hurtful to ourselves; whether we ought to forsake all public actions, and withdraw us wholly from business; or whether Virtue ought even amidst the greatest storms keep on her course, and rather suffer herself to be overwhelmed then to go back; or whether there be ever a a middle path between an obstinate austerity, and a shameful servitude, by the which an innocent prudence may be saved harmless from these civil broils, and craged cliffs, wherewith we are on all sides environed. To the end that doing the Commonwealth service as fare as we are able, we may pass away this mortal life, waiting for the hour wherein we shall be called to the next that is immortal. As I see, quoth Linus, it will be in this, as it is in Princes feasts; those that entertain first, do it best cheap; the charge and magnificence is ever greater for the last. But since you come as unbidden guests, and that you take me unprovided, I shall give you but course Far, which I would not do at all, were it not rather to give you satisfaction and entertainment, then for any hope I have to handle worthily so troublesome a subject, being no manner of ways prepared for it. I have been in the like opinion myself heretofore, as you are now; and it seemed wiser and safer to me in the beginning to yield unto Violence, and give way, as you say, to Destiny. Because it is labour lost to be vexed for a thing you despair to obtain. It is hope only that giveth life and heart to our travel. He were not only a fool but worst then mad, that should hope to prevail against Providence. But as it falls out commonly, that those objects we see a fare off, appear otherwise then they are when we come near: even so searching narrowly into this proposition, which at the first sight seemed wise unto me, yea, godly & religious; I found it unadvised, nay impious, & perceived it was nothing else but a faintheartedness, that seeketh to withdraw us from the Sun, and labour to set us in the shadow and at rest. Which she doth with such pretences, as are easy to be discovered by any one that will boldly draw the Curtain, and behold the plain and naked truth. Why should we say, we ought to be idle in the time of public calamity, lest we should oppose ourselves against Providence and Destiny? There is a Providence; it is true: there is a Destiny; I believe it, and we cannot hinder their effects. But I pray you, how do we know what Providence is minded to do? How can we guess at the intent of her counsels? By how much she is certain and unchangeable in her will; by so much are we uncertain and ignorant what is her will. God hath covered Time to come with a thick cloud, that cannot be pierced with the eyes of our weak understanding. Wisely indeed, and happily for us. For if man had been sure of the good fortunes that are to befall him, it would have made him so unquiet, and he would have carried so high a mind, that he could not have been kept within the bounds of his obedience. And on the other side, the certainty of future evils, would have driven him into such a perplexity, and brought him down so low, that he could not have been cheered up by any means possible.  
Seeing then that future things are so uncertain, and that our hopes and fears beguile us alike; what assurance can we take to resolve ourselves, for fear of time to come, to forsake our present duty? God is resolved, will we say, to ruin our Town, we see many signs of it. There is a number of ambitious and wicked men, that turn upside down all Order, Laws, and politic Government; I will let them alone, for I cannot withstand them. O faint and cowardly speech! who made you so wise in a little time, and acquainted you with God's counsels to understand his designs? Hath not the uncertainty of humane things taught us yet, how those we esteem surest, are soon overthrown; and those we think ready to fall, are set up again, and strengthened on a sudden? And though we were sure that we were not able to save our country, should we forsake it for all that? We do not forsake those that are stricken with incurable diseases. It is no small smatter, in my opinion, to make death gentle and easy to them which cannot avoid it, and give them lenitive remedies, when others can do no good. There is a kind of comeliness in dying handsomely, and they esteem it a friendly office to close up their friends eyes, and lay all the parts of their body in a decent and orderly posture at their death. Though we were not able to do any more; why should not we yield this last office unto our country? And fare less ought we to forsake it in great commotions, seditions, and public calamities; the malady can never be so desperate that we ought to despair of recovery. But the difficultest thing to be resolved on in such a case, is, whether we be bound necessarily to take the better and juster party, and follow it; or keep ourselves quiet in that wherein we are engaged, expecting opportunity of working the reconciliation of both; and bring those that have strayed from their duty, to the acknowledgement of their fault. For it is not a question to be asked; whether we ought to further and help the party we know to be unjust, but only by those that have neither Virtue nor Conscience. The Law of Solon seems unto me very prudent and wise; which ordained, that in civil divisions every one should presently choose his side; because of two factions, the one being still in the wrong, and that offers injury to the other: the subject is inexcusable, that forsaketh the party of the laws and public welfare, to become a spectator of the ruin of his country.  
But me thinks that should be understood of the beginning of troubles, which are easy to be appeased at their first birth. Now if the Prince, or he that governeth under his authority, suffereth this venom of sedition to rankle so fare; that the faction becomes so powerful, that it seizeth upon the State or City we are in; and that going forth we can do no other good, but only give a testimony of our good will to the Prince, or the public. I think in such a case, there are many reasons can excuse us for staying behind, though we should deem the faction unjust that governeth. The first is Necessity, when we are kept in by force; for that hath no Law. The second is a common Law of the affairs of the world, that wisheth us to yield unto force when it is once established. As Virtue commandeth us to wish for good things: so it giveth us counsel to bear those which happen against our will, and even abate some thing of the love we own to the State, & of our duty to the Laws, lest we should rashly cast away ourselves. And who can think this strange, since that severe and incorruptible Cato judged, it should be so; when as departing from Siracuse to go to Pompey, he wished the Sicillians to be obedient to Caesar, who had made himself master of Italy.  
The third, when our goods and means are in the place of our abode, and that going forth, we should fall into an extreme poverty. For though poverty is not a sufficient excuse to cause us to commit an ill deed: yet the fear of it ought to excuse us in some kind, if we do not perform whatsoever the rigour of the Law can expect at our hands. And specially in this season, where good men can get neither relief nor favour, but from their purse: and wherein poverty, and those that are molested with that disease, are shunned of all the world, as if they were infected with the plague. But the most lawful excuse in such accidents, is for those which find themselues tied & bound near to their old or sickly parents, or near unto a wife, and a number of children. Piety, and natural affection releaseth us of many things against the rigour of the Law.  
And though the Law saith; That for the quarrel of our Country, we must spare neither Parents nor Children, and that it seems it would purposely infringe the right of Nature; yet it must be understood, when as forsaking those that we are nearly bound unto by Charity; we may do some service, and perform some thing that countervaileth so much unto public piety, as it offendeth the Domestical.  
These considerations have kept, as you see, amongst us many honest men, that are sore grieved to see this miserable confusion; and which had wished rather than any thing in the world, to have been out of it, if they had thought the public would have reaped any commodity thereby. But they deemed it not fitting for them to forsake their friends, unto whom their presence was very necessary here, to go and be chargeable to the Prince that called them away. Now being embarked in this ship, as some of us are, bearing public offices to their great mischief, we have been forced (to speak truly) to dissemble, and let pass many pitiful things against the Laws of the State, and the duty of our places. I have often reasoned with myself, whether we ought not upon such occasions, to withstand the evil with an undaunted courage, and even in jeopardy of our lives, plead the cause of justice. After I had seen some to undo themselves by it; I found truet he saying of an Ancient, That Prudence is the beginning of all Virtues, that she ought to go before as an Usher, and make way for the others: and where she is wanting, they are no better then blind; and the more they hasten and endeavour themselves, so much the sooner do they stumble, and hurt not only themselves, but those also they fall upon. Therefore whatsoever we undertake, after we have considered, whether the end of it be just and lawful; we must examine what means we have to bring it to pass, and not undo ourselves to no purpose. And when we have not the means to perform whatsoever the public welfare doth expect at our hands, strive industriously to do the best we can.  
Now I believe that in this pitiful case wherein we are fallen, good men could do no more to acquit themselves of their duty: but divert by gentle and fair means, many cruel and dangerous practices, and retard and slacken cunningly the course of Violence, which they could not altogether stop. For as those which have given over themselves unto Novelties, and prostituted their wits to serve other men's passions, are inexcusable before God and men: So I do not account them worthy of praise, who seeing Force and Violence settled, have been undone by their own seeking. Into what case soever our country falleth, it availeth much there should be virtuous men, who so preserve their reputation as not to be esteemed averse from the common people, to the end that occasions being offered to give good counsel, they may perform it: and with a gracious and dreadless hand search and heal the wounds of civil dissensions. Sometimes a Castle that holdeth out, affordeth means to recover a whole Province: and a wise and discreet Citizen maintaining his credit in his City, may often occasion the common tranquillity. For as health is restored to a sicke body by the means of his sounnd parts, which keep whole and sound the principles of life: even so in a town, Peace and Concord is reestablished by the modest, and impartial carriage of a good Citizen. It is incredible how many admirable and wholesome effects the very aspects of those which had the name to be just and honest, and loving the public good, have brought forth among people; but it must be in a fit occasion. It Time that seasoneth Counsels. There is a certain moment in business, which if you take not opportunely, all the labours you bestow about them are in vain. Which is observed specially in them, that have the managing of the spirits of people in commotion. Marcus Aurelius the Philosopher, saith, in a place of the book ill entitled, His life; that bad opinions are impostumes in the mind of man. If they be impostumes, we must of necessity let them ripen before we open them: otherwise the Iron will cause an imflammation, and in stead of curing the malady by the cutting, we shall inflame it. We must speak the truth; A multitude of people is a strange beast: it is a hazardous Trade to undertake to rule them after they have once shaken off the Yoke of the Laws; and taken upon them the custom of liberty, or rather licentiousness. Those that have made once trial of it, will esteem nothing the less of their goods, to shun such an inconsiderate madness. But there be certain things in the world, that are learned only by experience, which is a dear and dangerous Mistress. Therefore, he that upon necessity, or through an honest intent of succouring his country, shall suffer himself to be engaged in an unlawful faction; can do no more but watch and observe all occasions, to dispose the wills of his fellow Citizens, to know their own good, and desire it. Which he may easily do, if he behaveth himself moderately, and showeth he seeketh for nothing else but their profit, making their minds capable of reason by fair words; and bringing them back by discourse, to that which is right and just. Wherein he must imitate wine, which in the beginning by a dainty and delicious taste, allureth men to drink it; then being mingled with their blood, heateth by little and little all their body, and so it intoxicateth and overcometh them. For in a word, you must believe, that all great affairs are never brought to a good end, otherwise then by gentleness and patience. Whereof Nature giveth us a fair instruction, producing all things, how great and excellent soever they be, by an insensible motion. And this must he practise specially towards those, that are in greater credit and authority; because they are as public fountains, from whence are drawn the counsels that lose or save States; the good opinion they conceive of it, is soon spread over all the others. It availeth much also, when it is used towards those that speak ordinarily to the people, because they are the Limbeck pipes through which are distilled the affections, wherewithal the vulgar are possessed, which induce them afterwards to good, or bad actions.  
But two things have hindered good men from coming near, and having access unto them. The first, that being new and raw men, and experienced in affairs, they were led and carried away by the opinions of those that had prevented them: & fed commonly upon vain hopes, whereon they built Castles in the Air. The other, that is fall'n out with than, as they say ordinarily; that those that err by art, err most dangerously; for they err most obstinately, and defend themselves with Science against Reason. They endeavoured to bring politic government, which consisteth in a particular prudence, under general rules, and make an universal Science of it. And so applying the rules, where they should have applied their exceptions, they perverted the judgement of all things. It was good sport to hear them talk, they did just like unto bad Mathematicians, who supposing a right angle, or some Geometrical figure, to be otherwise then in truth it is, make thereupon seeming demonstrations of things that are not, and cannot be at all. For after you have once granted in arguing any thing that is false, they infer from it strange absurdities. The form of arguing of this Time hath been thus: Such a thing availeth for the conservation of Religion; therefore it must be done. Now the first part of the argument which was subject to be denied and proved, and most commonly was not only doubtful, but apparently false, was ever held for most certain; nay, sometimes made an Article of faith. The propositions that were moved, were of such a kind, as aught to have been examined with great and mature judgement, by the example of the effects brought forth by like affairs, and wherein they should have consired the times, moments, dispositions of men, and a thousand other circumstances.  
Nevertheless, those that had neither the experience of things past, nor the knowledge of the present, have taken upon them the authority to judge of them. Unto all the inconveniences that were set forth unto them, unto all the ill successes that were foretold them should happen of their wrath and heady counsels; they had no other answer, but that God would provide for it. As if God had been set above only to second their passions, and frame the rest of the World to their designs; and not they placed here to observe the will of God by the disposition of things, and issue of affairs, to apply themselves thereto, and attain unto their end; or come as near as they could by effectual and ordinary means. As soon as they perceived a way somewhat long and tedious, they made themselves wings of wax, and flew in the Air, to reach unto the place where Fear and Desire drew them. And it accordingly happened, that their wings melted in the Sun, and they are fall'n; and falling, have pulled after them their fellow-Cittizens into a Sea of woe and misery.  
I would not indeed tax the intent of all, in regard I have known some amongst them, that were carried away with the zeal of their Religion. But I doubt, whether before God, their meaning shall serve them for a lawful excuse, to have undertaken so important a charge, whereof they were incapable. For if civil Laws condemn one that taketh upon him a Trade he understands not, and make him answer for all the hurt is done by his unskilfulness; shall not those who even as by force, have undertaken the Government, and by their fault cast us into so many dangers, be answerable for so many Deaths, Burn, Pillages, Ravishments, so many Sacrileges, so many Blasphemies that proceeded from their bad and giddy counsels. I beseech God to forgive them for it: but they are the cause of many evils and mischiefs, and give us just occasion to speak of our State, as an Ancient did of his; The Commonwealth was lost rather by the remedies that were applied unto her, then by her Malady. But what? You will say; Did good men hold their peace then? why did they not stoutly declare their opinion for the good of the Commonwealth? Why did not they withstand all those idle tricks? Alas there are none troubled in such things, but those that are engaged in them. Oftentimes seeing this miserable government, and the perplexity good men were in; I called to mind a History, that happened in our days in this City.  
It fell out in an honest house, that an Ape which was kept for sport, went and took a little child out of the Cradle, and carried it to the top of the house: as soon as it was spied, the father and mother ran all amazed, weeping, and not knowing what to do; for if they had cried out, and ran after the Ape, it would have let the child fall down, which had certainly broke his neck. They stood still then without ever a word, looking pitifully all in tears, and quaking for fear what should be the end of it. It happened, and it was a great gift of God, that the Ape came down again softly, and brought the child to the same place where it had taken it.  
We have been, and are still frighted in the like manner, and have seen, and see yet our Religion, and our poor State in the hands of strange men, and wonderfully rash and heedless, which play with them, and hold them up hanging in the Air at their finger's end, ready to hurl them down upon the first occasion of amazement. Would to God at least, but I dare not hope for it, they would do with us, as the Ape did with the child, and set us in the same place again where they took us first up. I think certainly good men may very well be excused, if seeing such dear gauges in their hands, and the down right pitch where they had carried them, they looked upon them a while, and said nothing.  
The first fault was committed by such as suffered them to seize and take hold on the State. The second which is imputed to us, was but the necessary consequence of the other, as much to be excused, as the first is to be blamed. Not that I would thereby defend those, which in the strength of the evil, even through overmuch fear, did ever lean on that side where they saw Force and Violence prevail; for they are partly cause, that our Evils are grown incurable; and may, with good reason, be compared to reeling Burdens in a Ship, which rolling still on that side the Ship leaneth to, when a Storm comes, cause her to be overturned. There is a mean between too much, and too little; there is difference between bending, and breaking. As you may do amiss through obstinacy, and troublesome severity; so you may dangerously offend by overmuch slackness, and connivance, and by a kind of fetching a Windless about, whereby you forsake altogether justice, under colour of following Prudence. And to speak freely to you, I have seen very many, that cast themselves away out of that Window; and going about still, found themselves in the end as fare from the duty of a good Citizen, as those that ran all at once into the mischief; and are fallen as low, step by step, as the others that leapt with a full career into confusion. It is very dangerous for them▪ which have not the strength and skill to stay themselves when they list, to venture down a steep Hill: it is needful, that those which forsake the Highway, betaking themselves to by-Lanes, should know the Country well, otherwise they may be bewildered very easily.  
Nevertheless, because this Prudence, that yields gently unto that which she cannot overcome, may serve in many such chances, as those that are befallen us, when she is used with judgement, and moderation, I will tell you what bounds I would set her. First, never to dissemble in the beginning of Commotions, nor consent to any thing unjust, or against the Laws, how little soever it might be. Contrariwise, I would withstand, even by main force, as long as it were possible, as long as the chance is common, and that there is hope, and likelihood, that by venturing, Reason may have the upper hand. It is a great error wherewith many men are besotted, to think, that one must venture nothing in a State. Often, for not hazarding while we are strong, we are brought to that push, we must hazard when we are weak; and make that afterwards very doubtful, which was but a little hazardous in the beginning. Fortune (if we may speak so) will not have us think, we can settle all things by Prudence; there are many things where she will have a share, and have the thankes of the issue to be due unto her. But the chiefest thing, is to have the right on your side: Which being done, with all the considerations and advantages that may be taken, put it to a trial, and commit all unto the Sovereign Power of God, which gives such issue to affairs as he pleaseth. If things are so fare gone, and stand upon so bad terms, that Violence overthroweth the Laws, and Force carrieth it away from justice; I would never for all that, consent to an unjust thing, except it were to avoid a fare worse, and more unjust, that should otherwise happen thereby.  
Now the Rule that I would wish to be kept in this case, is, That in this comparison of Evils, and fear of worse, we should never reckon our own particular interest, to compare it with the public: For he which for fear of the private Evil wherewith he is threatened, makes himself Author, or Instrument of the public calamity, hath nothing that can excuse him. But we must examine with care, and prudence, whether this greater Evil we fear should befall the public, cannot be avoided otherwise. If it cannot, in that case we must compound with Violence, that is, do the same which they do at Sea in a storm, cast away part of the Wares, to save the rest. It is very seldom, that those which govern disturbed States, are troubled to choose of two goods the best; but often to pick out of two Evils the least, Good is not judged to be so, but in comparison of the worse. Therefore an extreme severity were not fit for such occasions, and would rather kindle then smother the fury of unruly people. We may then (perhaps) imitate the Sun, which indeed goes always from East to West; but winding about, sometimes towards the North, sometimes towards the South, lest if he kept still under the same line, he should dry up and burn, what he must but comfort and gently warm. The good subject ought indeed to have for his end the public welfare, and the justice whereon it depends: but when the ordinary way cannot bring them to it, he must betake himself to the easiest and most commodious. He should undertake the conservation of his country in vain, if he were to cast it away by the remedies, wherewith he meaneth to save it: for affairs and counsels are measured specially by the end. There is, in my opinion, as much as a good subject may do in public.  
In private, the season affordeth him many fair occasions of doing well. He must first comfort his kinnsfolkes, his friends, his neighbours, and thereafter as the degrees of affection bind him most to every one; assist and encourage them, advice them in their business, keep them from being wronged by other men, secure them in their necessities accorto his means. Let him rise early, and go to bed as late as he will, the day will never be long enough to fulfil all the offices, unto the which other men's misery shall call him. Let him lay his hand in any place where he pleaseth, he shall find a wound to dress; this pitiful and miserable time leaveth nothing whole and sound. It is his sister's widdowshood will call him one way, his brother's loss of children another; the robbery done to his friend shall put him on this side, the imprisonment of his kinsman, or the danger of his neighbour on the other: he shall sooner find a place void of air here then of calamity. But he shall have employment enough for his Virtue within his own house, wherein he may perform the duty of a good Citizen. For who is he so happy, that hath not been touched during this time with a thousand sorts of afflictions? who hath not felt the venomous teeth of detraction? or whom have not the squinting eyes of envy looked upon? or that that the public robbery hath not hit; and that howsoever hath not been bereft of his goods by the desolation of the country, and sent way naked, as a man escaped from a shipwreck? It is here where one must show himself a man, and make appear, that Virtue doth not consist in words, but in brave and generous resolutions. It is needful first for the good Citizen to bear patiently his afflictions, judging well and religiously of divine Providence, without the which, as you heard, nothing happeneth in this world, acknowledging his misfortune to be his just share and portion of humane society: unto whose common evil he ought to participate, as he hath done, and should also have his share of the good if it happened.  
Secondly, I desire that this patience should not be settled only in his heart, but even it should shine on his forehead; as well to bear an honourable testimony unto Virtue, and show what she can do against misfortune; as to be in stead of a fair and clear mirror, on which his fellow Citizens compose and dress their actions, as by an excellent perfect pattern. It is at all times a thing worthy of praise, to serve his for an example of doing well: but it is a thing very beneficial and profitable in a time full of trouble and calamity, to be an example unto them of patience. As the first happiness is to avoid evil; so the second is to bear it constantly. But I will not undertake here to set forth the reasons which move us to this constancy, that persuade us, yea that enforce us to it, if we will continue to be men. That which Musaeus and Orpheus have spoke of it before me, is more than sufficient. Nevertheless, if all reasons were to be weighed, I should think that which remained behind, and which Orpheus did but point at should carry it away before all the others. For those which are once fully persuaded, that death is but a passage to a better life, should never fear it. Now if death, beyond which reach neither the Empire of Fortune, nor the threats of the Laws, frighteth them not; what shall the injuries and threats of men do, that are but the hands of Fortune, and the instruments of the Laws? And contrariwise, those which believe it not, what precepts may one give them? or what reasons allege that may comfort them in their calamities? for though you show them that afflictions befall us by a common right, by the Law of Nature, and not by the injury of that supposed Fortune; and that nothing happeneth but by the ordinance of divine Providence; that healeth not the wound they receive in their hearts, to see that innocency is a subject of misery and torment. If you make them see nothing, but that space that is enclosed between their birth and their death, as within two bounds; I do not see why they should forsake the pleasures of the world, to disturb their life with that harsh and bitter Virtue. I see no reason why man should not be offended with Nature, for making him the most woeful & wretched creature of all those the Sun beholdeth; and laugh Virtue to scorn, that setteth forth so many toils and labours without any reward.  
We have (saith Plato) two great Demons, which put us forward and backward in our actions; Reward and Punishment. Now I do not see how we can find them in this world, wherein for the most part, the good are afflicted, and the wicked are comforted. We must then set our hopes further, and cause them to pass beyond the bounds of this short and wretched life; and know that death is the first of all our true goods, and the beginning of our happiness & felicity. Man is not only mortal as one saith, to the end there might be an end for his misery, and that the good may be praised without envy, and the wicked blamed without fear; that riches may be despised, as unprofitable after it: but specially to this end, that the good may be eternally happy, and the wicked unhappy. That is the consolation which doth allay our labours, and feedeth our patience with the hope, or rather assurance of a life eternal, and without bound, that waiteth for us at our departure from hence. Whereupon would to God we could meditate every day, every hour, and every moment: we should find in this meditation a sufficient comfort to our adversity, and a comely moderation in our prosperities. But alas! We keep back our thoughts from it as much as we can; and which is worst, many believe it not at all, and could wish willingly to be no more after death, lest they should be as they deserve. They do what they can, to cause their soul to die with their body, and go and borrow reasons of ancient Philosophers, to deny and overthrew the only scope, the only reward, and the last end of Philosophy. As for me, I think they are punished enough with their malicious opinion; that taketh out of their hands, the chiefest hope that assuageth and seasoneth this tart and bitter life; and could willingly say, they should even suffer them to be so miserable, since they are willing to be so.  
But it seemeth that you have laid a charge upon me, to upbraid them with their error, and condemn them by their own reasons. For you could not prescribe unto me upon any other occasion to finish this discourse, with the recital of the last words of that good ancient man, but only thereby to convict them of their blindness by the light of so rare a wisdom. As for you, I know you desire neither proof nor explanation of this point; you, I say, that believe it not only, affirm, and publish it; but even make it the Preface and conclusion of all your speeches, and of all your actions. So that the discourse of it would be but unprofitable, and troublesome to you, without you be accustomed to use it, as the Egyptians did their Sceletoes; and that you cannot rise from the table without you hear some talk of the immortality of the soul, no more than they of the death of the body. Of perhaps as the memory of this man is very dear unto you, you desire to renew it with the remembrance of so fair an end. I will rehearse then, as near as I can, what he told us upon this subject, the day before God took him from hence, as from under the ruin of this State.  
This goodly ancient man had spent all his life in the Palace, being then threescore and fifteen years old. He had seen many commotions in this kingdom that had disturbed the quiet of it: but he had seen none yet that threatened the ruin and dissipation of the State. The king having sent for him from his house of Celi, upon weighty and and important affairs, and which concerned the broils that have so much vexed us since: and he having by the consideration of this business foreseen the miseries that were like to come upon us, conceived great melancholy thereby; insomuch that this sorrow overcoming his health, weakened already by age, he fell sick upon it. During the time of his sickness, he was visited by the most famous men of the Town; and because I was his neighbour, and that I loved and honoured him much, I went thither often. The day before he died, a great number of Learned men being about him, and finding himself more at quiet than he was wont to be, many discourses and questions were moved, specially about the condition of good men, that were called to great Places; which is almost ever wretched, their Virtue being rewarded with Rage and Envy, for the sweetest Recompenses; and Injuries and Wrongs for the most usual. Some one chanced to say, That yet the Religion we were brought up in, gave us much advantage upon the Ancients, proposing to us the remuneration of our Labours in the life to come, and letting us know, that the best part of us out-liveth our Body; nay, that even our Body doth rot, and putrify, to spring out and be renewed one day in a happier life, wherein Virtue shall receive the Crown she hath deserved. Whether the others, which had no knowledge but by the gloomy light of Nature, could not reach, nor stretch their hopes any further than Death; nor consequently, have any other comfort but that of this World, which certainly is very small. This good Lord raising his head from the Pillow, and leaning on his Elbow: I did (quoth he) entertain myself some part of the Night with this Subject, and after long musing upon it, I concluded, That the strongest and most certain comfort we can take, is the assurance of a second, and more happy Life. And though our Faith giveth it us, and that the Spirit of God hath specially revealed it unto us; yet I do not believe, the ancient Philosophers have been ignorant of it, and that so much Virtue as they had, did want this consolation; unless they have rejected it, when as Nature with her own hand hath offered it them. And I think, if I could rehearse unto you all that ran in my mind this Night about it, you would confess it to be so. Then framing his countenance, and speech, according as he was wont to do, when he intended to continue a Discourse, we prepared ourselves also with a great silence to hear him, and he proceeded much after this manner.  
Amongst all the things of the World, in the knowledge of whom we may err, there is none whose ignorance is more pernicious, and hurtful, then that of the estate of our Souls, after this frail and mortal life; for thence is derived a perplexed anxiety, and miserable unquietness: which is the cause, that men finding nothing happy in this world, and looking for no certainty after it, think they are sent hither as to a fatal Torment, wherein they must live, and die in grief and calamity. They hate Life, and fear Death; and lest they should fall into what they fear, they take what they despise. As Ulysses did in Homer, who to save himself from drowning, embraced a wild Figtree; not for any love he bore unto it, but for fear, that forsaking it, he should fall into Charybdis, which he saw under him. Contrariwise, those which are fully persuaded, that the Soul is here but in Pilgrimage, on the way to a more happy place, trifle not away the time, in complaining of Thorns and Brambles, that scratch them as they go by; nor in gathering and making Nosegays with the Flowers they find: but being carried away with a lively ardour, to find such a resting place, they rush through, and neglect whatsoever they meet; so much excepted, as is needful for their Voyage.  
Now I will never believe, that this ordinary power of God, which is commonly called Nature, which in all other things hath been so propitious to men, hath denied them at any time the knowledge of that which was most necessary for their good, and to get the perfection of their being. Rather I will think, that those which denied this immortality, be of that number, which the Word of God, pronounced by Saint Paul, declareth inexcusable, in regard they had the degrees of things visible, sufficient, and able to reach to the invisible, if they had not employed them rather to descend, then to ascend. Ambitious people to their own ruin! which have taken away force from the discourse, which might have made them happy, to give it unto that which will make them unhappy. It seemeth unto me it were enough to confound them, to bring forth against them the common opinion of all the Nations of the World; which, what Age soever they lived in, what part of the Earth soever they did inhabit, what Manners and Customs soever they observed, have laid this Belief for a foundation of all their Actions, Civil Governments, and Societies, That their Soul survived their Bodies, and was not subject to death. Otherwise, why should they have Deified the most famous men amongst them, and ordained so many honourable Ceremonies to their Memories? The Indians and Draides were esteemed the wisest of all the ancient Heathens, which more deeply searched into the Bosom of Nature, and purchased the highest Secrets of Wisdom. They had so certain a knowledge of this Immortality, that they ran headlong unto this corporal Death, that is the entrance thereof, and did cheerfully embrace all honourable occasions that could bring them to it.  
This Opinion hath wrought divers effects in divers Nations; but every one hath had it. And if any may be excepted, which believed the contrary; when as they came to frequent and resort unto others, they held again the same Opinion. Which showeth plainly, that this Belief is bred with man, and therefore it is natural, right, and true. For the Universal Nature, that is not corrupted by our particular Vice, doth not put in our mind any other, but sound and pure Opinions. As she guideth our Appetite, and that of other Creatures, only to such Meats as are fit to nourish them; so she doth not incline our Understanding to any thing else, but to comprehend the Truth, and to consent and yield unto it, as to his true Object, and Food; which being represented to it, accommodates itself presently, even as an Image is fitted to the Mould it was first cast upon. But for as much as those men despise for the most part Popular judgements, and think Truth dwelleth not amongst the Vulgar, and believe rather that Nature hath buried it very deep in the ground, where it must be found with the Divine Rod of Philosophy, and draw it out with the labour of a great and painful Meditation; let us put back whole Nations, and bring forth only such as have got the glory in all Ages to be the wisest and most learned: Pythagoras, Solon, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and such a number of others, that to name them all, one had need to have as much time, as it is since they lived; have not only left us a testimony of their Belief in the memory of men, but even delivered it in writing. Yea, they have set this Maxim of the Immortality of the Soul, as the Centre of Philosophy, where met and ended all other Rules, and whatsoever else could be introduced honest and wholesome for the conservation of Civil Life; and specially for that part they have so much laboured about, which they call the Tranquillity of the Soul.  
If there were any doubt in that matter, yet the testimony of such men, so well agreeing in it, should have cleared it, and aught to reduce unto this Opinion those that esteem them so much; which ought to suffer themselves to be overcome by the authority of those great naturalists, seeing that even doing so, they better their condition. But industrious to their own Evil, to make void the authority of those great men, they say, they regard nothing but Reason, which they will separate from the persons, to the end they may weigh them all pure, and that Truth be not in this Question balanced, or suppressed by the weight of the Name or Fame of any one. Therefore they would bind this Discourse to Schoole-Rules, and desire we should prove by demonstration, what we would have them to believe. They would willingly beeled, even by the Senses, unto the knowledge of that which is propunded them; or, at least, gather our Conclusions, for that which we will persuade them, out of the Maxims that are collected from the Senses: Too unjust and partial in that, and little considering the nature of the matter that is handled. There must be discoursing, and discussing, to know the things, whose forms are drowned in the matter. We must use the Senses then, and by the means of what we touch, and see, ascend as by degrees, unto the intelligence of that which is further from us. But for one to think to understand the nature of our Soul in this fashion; it is as much, as not to be willing to know it: for being simple, as she is, she must come in all naked into our Understanding, being to fill all the place, whatsoever she should bring along with her, should hinder her: Even the feeling of things sensible, whose sense is very sharp, is done so suddenly, that we cannot tell how it is made.  
Likewise, of things intelligible, those that are altogether pure, seize upon our Understanding so speedily, that you can say only they are, but you are not able to tell how: For they do not seek for borrowed Testimonies, to make themselves known; they open, and manifest themselves better, than any thing else that would commend them.  
Therefore, the true way how to know the nature of our Soul, is, to raise her up above the Body, and draw her back unto herself; to the end, that by her own reflection, she may know herself by herself. Nevertheless, if there be any so opinionate, that they will not see her, but drowned in the Flesh; and judge of her Greatness by the shadow of her effects, as they do of the Moon by the shadow of the Earth: yet through this dull and heavy Mass, wherewithal she is wrapped, she casteth sparks, nay flames, so lively of her Immortality, that those which behold her, must needs confess, either they see her, or else they are blind.  
They perceive, that this Beam of Divine Nature, wrapped in this little Cloud of Flesh, casteth its Light from one end of the World to the other. After it hath measured that which is limited, it reacheth to the Infinite, comprehends the forms of all things, and transformeth itself into them; receiveth Contraries, Fire and Water, Heat and Cold, without alteration or corruption. How then can they suppose any matter in her, that hath such Actions, seeing that all matters is limited and bounded by certain Dimensions; receiveth nothing bigger than itself, is capable but of one only substantial form, and cannot contain at one time contrary things? If it be not material, how can it be mortal? Seeing that Death, by their own saying, is nothing else but the separation of the matter from the form. And if, like unto others, they define it the end of motion; where shall they find it in the Soul? For we see, that Will, which is her principal part, being free, as they acknowledge it themselves, and having consequently in itself the Principle of its Motion, who can take it away from her? Seeing that nothing giveth an end unto itself voluntarily, that which is moved after its own will, shall ever move; and consequently, shall have no end of Lasting, but only of Desire, and Intention, which is limited only by infinity.  
And as for Understanding, which is the other chiefest part, or rather Virtue of the Soul; Do not we see it go out of itself, embrace all things, and then come into itself again; and by this continual reflection, as by a Circular Motion, testify that it hath no end? Which it doth make appear yet as plainly, by the nature of the Objects it chooseth its ordinary exercise, and in a manner for its food and nourishment. For it feedeth and entertaineth its self only with the knowledge of universal things, of Ideas and species, which Philosophers deem unchangeable and immortal.  
The senses which are corporal instruments mingled amongst corruptible matter, stand indeed upon particular things, and consider every object according to the weak and momentary qualities of it: but understanding which contemplateth the true Nature and Essence of things, comprehendeth that which is general and equally diffused in all the particulars and individuals, as a firm, permanent, and immutable Being. Now it is needful that all things which are borne to opeperate and effect, be proportioned unto their object. In vain should a workman labour on a matter harder than his tool; in vain should you make things mortal and corruptible, to digest and understand things that are incorruptible and immortal. And what? that insatiate desire of learning, which is natural to our understanding, doth it not testify the same? Who hath ever seen, known, or learned so much, in whom Science hath not kindled again, and increased the desire of knowledge, in stead of quenching and appeasing it? If I had, saith an Ancient, a foot in the grave, yet I would learn still. What meaneth that? It is, that the appetite of our stomach may be filled, because Nature hath proportioned it to a limited thing, that is the necessary meat for nourishment: but that of our soul showeth itself unsatiable in this world, because she hath proportioned it unto the eternal Truth; which (being hindered by the body) she cannot enjoy freely in this life, having nothing else given her to gather it but the Danaides vessel, that cannot receive much at once; and yet is pierced in the bottom, with that wretched hole of Forgetfulness, through which runneth out most part of that she receiveth.  
So that a man's whole life, if you consider exactly the actions of those which govern themselves by true Reason, is nothing else, but a striving and contention of the Soul: which laboureth as much as she can, to repair that weak mortality of the body, by the participation of eternal things, unto whose fruition she draweth him as much as she can. She would willingly eternize his life, being not able to perform it by Nature; she employeth Art and Industry therein, and procureth him by Glory and Fame, a continuation of life in the memory of men. And therefore we see her usually bend, and turned upon time to come, preventing with thoughts the time that shall be after the death of the body, as we do here the next day to that we live in; and providing herself of Praise and glory, as of convenient store for a happy and glorious life, unto which she aspireth. It is too easy to judge, that if our Soul did not foresee certainly her future being, she would not trouble herself with any designs, that aimed further than this corporal life; and would not howsoever to obtain them, venture so freely this temporal life, after which she could expect nothing.  
Certainly, those which lost their lives in such occasions (and there hath been infinite in all ages which have in a manner sacrificed themselves upon the Altar of Glory) did in so despising death, give an excellent testimony of the immortality of the Soul. Neither can any one imagine, they have so shortened their life, to increase their honour; without they were sure to enjoy it after their death: nor that they have so cheerfully forsaken the pleasures of this world, without they had some good token of the recompense they expected in the other. When the Soul comes to raise herself upon the wings of a generous desire, and she passeth from this dark and cloudy region that compasseth the Earth, unto that higher, purer, and clearer, that approacheth unto heaven; she doth observe in herself many fair marks of her being, and streaks of her great Workman, which created her according to his Image; and hath imprinted therein the figure of his Divine Essence. Which I do say only, in regard I learned it from the Oracle of Truth; but say it after them which learned it only out of the book of Nature herself. For Plato, and many before him, and many others, discoursing of the creation of the World, and of his parts, have said indeed, that other creatures were created by the lesser gods; that is, in my opinion, the Angels, as by second causes; which being something remote already from the first being, could not perfectly communicate it unto them. Because this communication is but a loan of their Virtue, separated and disunited from the first Mass, and consequently somewhat imperfect. But as for the Soul of man, they confess, God alone created her: and therefore depending without a mean from the perfect Being, she is partaker of his perfection, and is free from corruption in her substance, and consequently from death. And certainly it was very reasonable, and convenient for that great Architect, that after he had built this fair piece of work of the world, worthy to bear the the name of Beauty; seeing he withdrew himself from the sight of his creatures, he should leave behind him his Image, as a living Statue, to conserve & exact from those that saw her, the honour & reverence due unto that sovereign Architect and Lord of the Universe.  
Now it is needful, that an Image wrought by a good workman, should have some relation unto all the parts of the subject it imitateth. Wherein could she imitate the Eternity of God, but in the immortality of her Soul? Seeing she cannot be altogether like; that is, to have had no beginning: how can she resemble him, but only in having no end, that is being immortal? For since God made the World with two several parts, the one Intelligible, the other, Sensible; the one Corruptible, the other Incorruptible; there needed a middle piece to knit and gather them together, which should be partaking of the nature of them both. Man by an excellent art hath been made the middle piece; and therefore the perfections of both parts Intelligible and Sensible concur in him. He hath by the means of the body the excellentest qualities that are in things Sensible and Corruptible; and by the means of the Soul, the excellentest conditions that are in the Incorruptible and Intelligible. And though by this mixture, that which is Celestial in him is depressed, and even as kneaded with earth, and weighed down, nay sunk by the burden of the flesh; nevertheless, he showeth by a continual striving, and endeavour of his nature, the place of his beginning, his inclination, and the end of his desire; which is bend certainly evermore towards divine Essence, and to possess even from this present life the happiness we observe in God. Assuredly, he should never desire this divine Being, and should not aspire to it, if he did not comprehend it; and should never comprehend it, if that wherewithal he apprehended it were mortal and perishable. For what proportion should there be from Immortality to Mortality? Now let us see a little how much man's Understanding comprehends of it, how much of it his Will desireth; and then any one whatsoever he be must needs confess they are immortal.  
Let us consider a little, I say, from this low and thick darkness of the World with our Owleseyes the light of divine Nature. Let us consider the perfections wherewithal she is endowed, and by the which as by her garments we know her and observe her. Shall not we see presently, they are all things which man runneth after naturally, and worketh continually to get them, and hath no pleasure but in the possession and fruition thereof? God is the sovereign goodness: What desireth man? what doth he labour for, but for that which is good? If ever his affections be misled, and apply themselves to evil, they give unto it the name good: and protest they seek it not, but in regard they deem it to be good. Take away from a thing the name of good, he will make no reckoning of it; so well he knows himself to be borne for that is good. So that whatsoever will entice him, must have it either real or in appearance.  
God is the sovereign wisdom. Who is the man that desireth not to be held wise, that shuneth not the reputation of a fool? who governeth not himself with as much prudence as he can? Who seeketh not for order and disposition in all things, that rejoiceth not in himself when he can find it? that praiseth not, esteemeth, and admireth not those which are plentifully endowed with this wisdom, as approaching nearest to the excellent end for the which man is borne? God is the sovereign power: What doth man desire more than authority and command? Every one aspireth naturally unto it, and those which can do it well, are honoured amongst men as a kind of Demigods, sent hither for the conservation and direction of the inferior world. God is the sovereign Truth: What is the understanding of man bend to, but to Truth? What doth he delight in? what doth he yield unto? but to the knowledge of that which is indeed, even that which is not received but under the name of Truth. And there is not one so ill conditioned in the world, that is not grieved to err, to be ignorant, to be deceived; and contrariwise, that feeleth not pleasure and contentment by knowledge and learning. And truly we may say, that truth is the form of our understanding, for he doth neither understand, nor know, but as long as she is in him.  
God is all, and all is in God. Man desireth to be every where; if he cannot carry his body, he carrieth his mind to it. As fare as he can, embraceth all, and filleth himself with the forms and Ideas of all things. God is the author of all, and delighteth in doing all. Man hath no greater pleasure in this World, then to bring forth many things; and there is nothing delighteth him so much, as that which is produced by him, be it children, works, or inventions. God is ever, and man feareth nothing so much as to end; and desireth nothing so earnestly as to perpetuate his being. He seeketh to do it by the conservation of his life; being not able to perform it that way, he endeavoureth to compass it by the continuation of his posterity; and judging that to be too weak, he tryeth to do it by the purchasing of a great and glorious fame. God doth govern all things justly. Man loveth, honoureth, and seeketh for justice, as the sole and sure bond of life and civil society. It is wonderful, how the love of it is natural to man; even those which being corrupted, will not receive it for themselves, honour it in others. God in his government continueth still in the selfsame design; and whatsoever man undertaketh, he desireth to bring to pass; he will not suffer himself to be overcome by any difficulty or labour. It is strange to see what men endure to execute their enterprises.  
God liveth a plentiful, opulent, and pleasant life; Wealth and pleasure are the ordinary wishes of man. God doth contemplate, and admire himself: Man considereth himself, wondereth at his own excellency, valueth himself above all other creatures, and all his study aimeth to trim and honour himself, and make that appear which is excellent in him. Briefly you can imagine nothing in that great and sovereign Creator, whereof you not do perceive man to be strangely desirous, and all motions bend to get it, and unite and conform himself as much as he can, to that eldest and incomprehensible Divine Essence. Which caused the Ancient Zoroaster to cry out in amazement, O mortal man, thy boldness is extreme.  
As being not able to comprehend that its this low and mortal World, amongst Filth and Dirt; there could be found so strong a nature, that should raise herself above the Heavens, and by the knowledge of so many things, and imitation of divine actions, should almost Deify herself in this life. But he should have learned of an ancienter than he, that that which is so wonderful in man, is not a thing that comes from Earth or this low or corruptible place. It is a Divine Essence even as banished and exiled for a time from Heaven, her true place of abode, which wandereth and erreth here in our body, endeavoureth herself continually to reach to her own and true dwelling, and enter into celestial and happy Habitation, unto the which the nearer she comes, so much the more divine doth she appear.  
Why should you think, I pray you, that in the latter days of our Life, in that agony and wrestling between the Soul and the Body, our Mind hath more Strength and Virtue, disposeth of all things more wisely, and holily, forseeth more certainly Time to come, foretelleth, and prophesyeth it; but only for that he beginneth to approach unto his Offspring, join himself again with that immortal Being, and participate of Eternal Life? Do not you observe, that Stones falling from high, the nearer they come unto the Earth, the greater speed they make down? Fire contrariwise that ascendeth up towards Heaven, the higher it is, the more it hasteneth to fly; because every thing naturally, the nearer it feeleth itself unto its rest, and that which it desireth, the more it striveth to come at it. Even so our Soul, being just upon the point to enter again into her own Sphere, and rejoin herself unto that Supreme Divine Nature, showeth herself more vigorous and active, and doubleth her Virtue. Now, who shall make any doubt, but things immortal, which is so Divine, and tendeth perpetually unto the Original of Divine being? Therefore the Immortality of the Soul shineth in all her Actions.  
But though nothing else should bear testimony unto it, Divine Providence would show it plainly: For seeing there is Providence (whereof I believe, that those which have Eyes, though they had neither Wit, nor Understanding, cannot doubt) there must needs be justice in the World; if there be justice, the Good must be rewarded, and the Wicked punished. They are not ever so in this Life: where we see often, Good men live in Poverty, and die in Trouble; and contrariwise, the Wicked live in pleasure, and die at quiet. Souls must needs then live after the Body, to receive the Reward or Punishment for their good or bad Actions. The Wicked desire to smother by reasoning, the feeling which Man hath of the Immortality of his Soul; but they cannot indeed. It is a Beam of Light, which Nature hath kindled in our heart, that is in stead of a Guide unto Virtue, to direct her amidst this Mortal Darkness; and of a Furie-like Torch unto Wickedness, to anticipate her deserved Torments. We Christians are truly in this specially fare happier than the Heathen; That God hath not contented himself with that which we could learn of the Immortality of our Souls, by the common Book of Nature, and by the help of our weak Reason: but would himself confirm the Testimony of it unto us by his own Word, and kindle into a clear and full Light, the first Spark of this Natural Hope. O Divine Goodness! which presented Truth unto others, as veiled and covered; but brought it down from Heaven all naked for us, and poured it into our Minds by the means of thy holy Word. Blessed and admirable Word, which affordeth us in a moment all the best and fairest of that, which in so many years Labours could not be gathered in the Minds of the most Learned Philosophers. Perfect Science, which leaveth no manner of Doubt after her Precepts! Excellent Discipline, whose Rules are all Principles, which persuade themselves. We learn from her, That our Souls are created, and produced by thy hands, and infused into our Bodies, to conduct and govern them: That we are placed here, as in a Magnificent Temple, to contemplate therein thy Omnipotency, Worship, thy infinite Goodness, harken to thy sacred Will, and obey it: That this Life is but the Apprenticeship of our Souls, which after the Time, and Labours that are prescribed unto them, shall be relieved from their Watching, set at Liberty, and restored to Eternal Rest; which will afford them wherewithal to satisfy that desire of Divine being, whereof they have cast forth the first Sparks, through this heavy and cumbersome Flesh. From her we learn furthermore, that after this Life, our Souls do not only find another more happy, but even our Bodies rotting here, as Seed in the Ground, shall spring into a new Fruit, and shall be raised unto an Estate of Glory and Perfection.  
Therefore Divinity descending from Heaven, mingled herself again with Flesh, to mould and knead again our Humanity, disfigured and defaced by Sin; joined herself to us, that she might draw us to her; humbled herself, to exalt us; quickened her Humanity after death, to make us live in the hope of that glorious Resurrection, whereof she was pleased to be the First Fruits; and by the which we shall be brought into the Inheritance of Glory, receiving in Body and Soul the incomprehensible Splendour of Eternal Light. But the passage to arrive thereunto, is Death: Desirable Death, seeing it makes us change Lives with so much profit. Death, not Death, seeing it is the beginning of true Life; and that we are in this Body only, as the Chicken in the Shell, which must be broken, ere it can be hatched; or like the Child in his Mother's Womb, which must be left ere we can see the Day. Let us suffer them to fear it, who think, that all perisheth with the Body; or them, which expect after it, the punishment of their Wickedness. And seeing we have so many Testimonies, and so certain Tokens of our future Life, and being sure, that dying here in the fear of God, in the Faith of his beloved Son, and trust in his Goodness, we shall live again above, and enter into Glory with him, in the Throne of his Divine Majesty: Let us pass cheerfully, and lay down the Burden that hindereth and stayeth us, as we would do profane Garments at the entrance of a holy Temple.  
As for me, my Friends, I feel myself almost in the Harbour, with a great comfort of my Afflictions past; and immediately, for the Felicity I expect. I have floated in the World, in great and dangerous Storms: They tossed my Soul, but they could not (thankes be to God) overthrew it. I know very well, that the Condition of Humane Infirmity hath put me back, as she doth all others, from the perfection God requireth in us: but howsoever, it never made me lose the certain and constant desire to advance his Honour, and Glory, nor abate any thing of the good affection a good Subject oweth unto his Country. My Conscience beareth me this Witness, and this Witness makes Death sweet and pleasant unto me. I could wish, even at the last Gasp, I might do the Public some Service: but having no other means for it, I will return unto you, which are my best Friends, and it's too; and for the last Office I can do unto this so holy Friendship, I will conjure you, that since you remain here, to shut up the end of a most Wretched Age; you settle your Minds, by brave and constant Resolutions, to withstand vndauntedly the Violence of the Tempest that threateneth this State, and your particular Fortunes: For all the Ages past, have seen few Miseries, and Calamities, but that you are like to see in your days.  
The inside, the outside of the kingdom great and small are like unto mad men, bend to its ruin and desolation. You shall be amazed one of these days, when as you shall see the Laws overthrown, the Government altered, all put into confusion: those that shall have the Government, bear the intent to lose both themselves, and their own Country; and good men shall not be suffered to open their Mouth, and give good and wholesome Counsel.  
Remember then you are men, and true hearted subjects unto this crown. Let not your courage run away from you with your good Fortune. Stand fast upon Right and Reason, and if the Waves and Billows must carry you away, let them overwhelm you with the Rudder in your hand still. Behold the the time, that you must present your breast against Fortune for the defence of the State, and cover your country's body with your own. Certainly this ruin cannot be avoided without a great and generous courage, of such as shall oppose themselves against it, which all good men in my opinion are bound to do. Nevertheless, you must qualify by Prudence what an obstinate austerity would but exasperate, and make worse; and follow Destiny. without forsaking Virtue. Doing well, you shall shall run into great hazards, and shall suffer many injuries: but what can there happen so strange and horrible, that the hope of the sovereign good, wherein I shall prevent you doth not assuage?  
There is, well-near the same words that were uttered unto us by that great and wise Personage. I rehearsed them unto you against my Will, knowing full well that the weakness of my Memory, and harshness of my Tongue, would lose much of the weight of his Reasons, and of the grace of his Discourse. But if you had heard him himself, with his sweet and pleasing fashion, he had kindled in your souls so lively and ardent a desire of eternal felicity, that there is no affliction in the world, the sense whereof he had not taken away from you.  
There Linus ended his speech, and I being heartened and cheered up, said; Certainly this was a very fine Discourse, seeing that you, who in all other things give me such satisfaction, seemed unto me in the recital of this to go beyond yourself. I believe the Idea and remembrance of that great personage, that is yet fresh and present in your Memory, for the honour and love you bore unto him, quickened your tongue, and inspired into you some thing more than humane. Would to God this speech might continue as long as our miseries; I am sure I should have my Ears full of such Discourses, and my Mind free from Sorrows. I swear unto you, that since the time this Calamity fell upon us, I found nothing that made this Life more tolerable unto me, than what I heard from you three these three last days, but specially to day.  
It is reported, That Ptolomaus was forced to forbid Egesias the Cyrenian to discourse any more in public of the Immortality of the Soul, because the most part of those which heard him, hastened their death with their own hands. That makes me believe, he was ill acquainted with the Subject he handled. For I believe, there is nothing in the World giveth us more courage, to endure patiently our Miseries, than the Reasons I learned even now from you; which in few words represented unto us, what is the cause and the end of our Afflictions, and what recompense our Patience findeth, when we can persever in it unto the end. Wherefore I could wish, for the comfort of my poor distressed Country, contrary to that which was done to Egesias, you should be constrained all three to continue in public such a Discourse. But for as much as it is a thing I cannot hope for, I am resolved to preserve carefully in my Memory all that I learned from you about it; and at my first leisure (if our fortunate Studies can get any) set it down in Writing, to leave it unto Posterity, for to instruct in like occasions those that shall come after us; and let them know, that in a most corrupted Age, and amongst men strangely deprived of all Natural Affection, we have lived with a great compassion of the public Misery, and yet with a fare greater desire to be able to help it.  
FINIS.