THE GOVERNMENT OF THE PASSIONS, According to the RULES OF Reason and Religion. VIZ. 

Love,  
Hatred,  
Desire,  
Eschewing,  
Hope,  
Despair,  
Fear,  
Anger,  
Delight,  
Sorrow, etc.    Sapiens uno minor est Jove. Horat. 
London, Printed for J. Knapton, at the Crown in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1700.   

To the Right Honourable John Earl of Marleborough, Baron Churchill of Aymouth and Sandridge, Governor to His Highness the Duke of Gloucester, and one of the Lords of His Majesty's Most Honourable Privy Council.  
My Lord,  
A Soldier cannot lay the Endeavours of his Pen any where so properly, as at your Lordship's Feet. We have seen you in Flanders, as great as at Kensington: You were the Delight of our own Troops, and the Terror of our Enemies, the mighty Darling of Mars and Minerva. In Your Lordship alone, we found all those fatal Contrarieties reconciled: The Captain was a Courtier, the Courtier a Man of Honour, the Man of Honour preferred. But not to be tedious, where the most that can be said will be too little; Your Lordship was all that Man could wish, or Man could be.  
The brightest Planet of the Creation has been Eclipsed; But Europe's Genius alas could not long support your Retirement: For tho' his present Majesty, 'tis true, could manage an Army without a Marlborough, yet there was another task more difficult, and out of his Sphere too, I mean that glorious Employment Your Lordship possesses at St. James'. The Education of so Great, so Young, so Hopeful a Prince, adds not more to your Grandeur, than it subtracts from your Tranquillity: For the Charge of so inestimable a Jewel, cannot but make Your Lordship very solicitous. The Early dawning of his Infant Years, gave us all assurances he would be something extraordinary: Every day shows us more and more the collected Endowments of all his Royal Predecessors: And if the rest of those who are about His Highness' Person, could come any thing near Your Lordship in Care or Capacity, He cannot possibly be otherwise than as Wise as Tiberius, as Victorious as Alexander, as Valiant as Julius, and as happy as Augustus.  
But I rob my Prince and the Public too by the length of this Dedication: Wherefore my Lord, I humbly crave Pardon for the Liberty I have taken, so publicly to profess myself,  
My Lord, Your Lordship's most Obedient and most Entirely Devoted Servant, W. AYLOFFE.   

The Government of the Passions. The Introduction.  
REason is that Emanation from the Divinity, which if it be not the sole end of our being, yet is one difference between us and the rest of the Creation. Those who first studied the improving it, were justly called Wise Men: for as they excelled in knowledge and understanding, they seemed the better Copies of their great Original. We may indeed form to ourselves some Principles of Moral Philosophy, because its Object is the Work of Man: But it was a bold attempt of Reason, and somewhat more curious than cautious, more daring than advised, to pry into the Eternal Wisdom of the Almighty. St. Austin's defining the World to be a great Theatre, where the Art of him that made it shone forth on all hands, was more pious than exact. The greater effects of God's Wisdom and Power are concealed from our Eyes, and utterly impossible for us to comprehend. Those many wonderful Springs by which every part of this glorious Machine is moved, are all behind the Scenes, and past our finding out, we see no more than the Dial Plate of the Clock (as it were) and nothing at all of the movement. Matter is we know not what; this Globe is suspended we know not how, and the whole Universe is we know not where. Might not the World be rather thought a wonderful Riddle of the Infinite Wisdom of God, to employ our admiration, but punish, if not prevent our Curiosity. The causes of all things are so abstruse, and our Capacities so shallow, that not only the Astronomers, but other Natural Philosophers too may find all their Principles vain; and that Man is equally ignorant of the Grass that grows in the Fields, and of the Sun that moves in the Firmament, of a Fly, a Pismire, and his own Person. Every thing is so uncertain in the Systems of Natural Philosophy, that our greatest prudence is not to meddle with it at all, but humbly admire what whilst we are here below we can never understand. Aristotle himself, that had the profoundest Capacity of any Man, if he knows any thing at all now, sees a great many mistakes in his Books of the Heavens, of Meteors, and the Soul, etc. For experience and the benefit of new invented Instruments have taught us a great many absurdities in his Works; and hereafter we may come to find that we are not far from being altogether in the dark: For Man's Reason is not so universal, but that she is limited in most Subjects. Pythagoras, though he learned much Natural Philosophy from the Egyptians, yet he was more curious of Morality; and found out a method of improving that even whilst he investigated Nature. Socrates was a great and good Man, and reduced it to Principles. Zeno affected a Gravity in all the Air of his Philosophy; and that supercilious Sect, when they thought as others did, could not be brought to omit the haughtiness of their stile: In other Points they sought by a captious Dialectic to conceal the defects in their Doctrines to be Sophisters where they could not be solid, the better to varnish the falsehoods of their Philosophy, they thought to outvie the Modesty and Patience of the Primitive Christians, but acting by a different Principle, their Virtue was frequently overthrown, and in short, most of their Virtues were but a Policy whereby they concealed their Ignorance and Vice, and imposed upon the unthinking part of Mankind.  
The whole Study of Philosophy is charming, and every part of that body has its beauties as well as its benefits. Ethics I confess has the least lustre, and if its utility did not enhance its worth, Socrates had walked by himself, and no body been in the Porch with Zeno. However. Epicurus would have been crowded, for where Sensuality is the great Principle of a Sect of Philosophers, the School will never be empty; if Paris be Judge, and fair Helen the Bribe, Venus may be sure of the Cause. 'Tis true, our dispute is somewhat unequal, and the Enemies we are to engage with in this Intestine Warfare, are not only powerful, but dishonourable. St. Paul seemed to mention his Victory at Ephesus with disdain, since he fought with Beasts, and what alas are all our Passions but such? To triumph over Avarice is not a subject to boast of, since daily experience informs us, it is its own punishment, and we are as anxious in concerning, as we were in acquiring; nay, the horrors wherewith we apprehend a loss, and the eager desires of gaining more, are two such tormentors, as make the covetous Man suffer more than one Hell? What glory is it to be not prodigal, since what is got by Rapines is squandered away by indiscretion? and we foolishly lavish what we unjustly got. Is not the ambitious person a slave to every one that can promote his Interest, and is he not advanced by so unpardonable a servitude, that necessity itself can hardly render it supportable to an ingenuous Temper. Morality has this signal advantage, that it makes us good Men, good Masters, good Servants, and good Subjects: whereas speculation spoils Men, it renders 'em morose in Conversation, and almost useless to the Commonwealth. The Republic being a Man the poorer for every such Philosopher.  
Utterly to destroy our Passions were foolish to attempt, since impossible to effect; alas, they are too fatally, and too firmly interwoven in our Nature, and can have no other period but what is in common with our very Being. However we must try to take from them the depravity they labour under by the Corruption of Nature, and restore 'em to their Primitive condition in the state of Innocency. In checking 'em alone we prevent most Vices, especially those whose commencements being with delectation, we can hardly afterwards resolve to disengage ourselves from. And indeed we are rarely, if ever, criminal, but when our Passions rebel against Reason, and thereby make the flesh unhappily triumph over the spirit, and the Man over the God.  
The measures which the Philosophers took could never effect this great design, they thought Nature and Reason were two sufficient guides, and without any other assistance they could travel through this dangerous Veil of Misery, and bid defiance to the infirmities of humanity. Their vanity gave 'em some courage, and being not acquainted with the difficulty, they very readily attempted what was infinitely out of their reach. It is more easy, alas, to know what is good, than to do it. Universal Nature speaks through the mouth of Medea— video meliora proboque deteriora sequor— Neither the Philosopher's Eloquence, nor the merited Encomiums they give Virtue throughout their whole writings, can put us in possession of it: our Malady is too inveterate to be awed by such feeble cathartics; and if Grace were not prescribed to help Nature, Virtue would be impracticable. We have liberty enough to undo ourselves by following our own impulses; but are not able to advance one step towards our salvation; that proceeding from Grace as the other does from Free will. If we may credit St. Austin, the Best actions of the Heathens were criminal; being defective in their principal motive. Not acting by Grace, they acted by Concupiscence, and made their own selves the end of all their actions. Glory or pleasure being what they ever aimed at. The Sages themselves, who knew a little more Philosophy than the vulgar sort, yet were equally to seek with them in this important affair; for tho' they give glorious Epithets to what they called virtuous actions, yet all terminated in their own peace and tranquillity; some Vices are painful, some are ignominious, and others there be which all Ages have had in detestation: Now that any Man who had the least shadow of common sense, should be guilty of all these, were a perfect Paralogism.  
The Epicurians esteemed the summum bonum to consist in mere voluptuousness; the rigid Stoic thought Virtue his happiness, but we christian's think Grace our greatest, nay only felicity. The first made the Soul a Slave to sense, and reduced their wise Man to the beatitude of a Beast. The second sort puffed up the Mind with nothing but vain glory. Lucifer-like, the misery of their condition did not make 'em modest, but they were as proud in their Chains, as if they were still at the right hand of their Creator. The latter confess their inabilities, and sensible of how little moment, Nature and Reason could be to 'em in this dangerous Conflict, they implore the assistance of Grace, and pretend not to conquer but by the Powers of the Almighty. Reason, alas, is not our only advantage; and if I may be allowed to say so much, 'tis not our most essential distinction from the rest of the Creation. Adam was not made to be only Rational, nor could he have been saved, if with his Reason he had not had Justice. His advantage was our undoing, for he could save but himself, and might damn us all. Nature and Grace being united in his Person, they could not be separated but by sin. Thus our first Parent by disobedience lost Original Justice, and revolted from the Empire of his lawful Sovereign, and in his Fall threw his Posterity under the Tyranny and Power of the Devil.   

The Government of the Passions. The First Part.  
TO be subject to Passions is one of the indispensible Conditions of Humanity: and no Man was ever so very moderate, as not sometimes to be shaken with their fatal violence. That we are not all equally so, is more the blessing of our Temper, than the result of our Judgement: so that our Moderation is not so much a virtue as a felicity. No part of all Moral Philosophy has been so frequently handled, as this: but in my humble opinion, they have most written with more pomp than profit: showing their own Eloquence, without ever helping in the least our misfortunes. Some of them have been extraordinary industrious in declaring the Causes of all such irregular Motions; but have never subjoined the least Caution how we should govern them. These may justly be accused of having informed us of our distemper, without prescribing any remedy. Others more zealous, but less penetrating in the secrets of Nature, have confounded the Passions with Vices, making no difference between the impulses of the sensative Appetite, and the disorders of the Will: the necessary Consequences of whose Argumentations, is, that we cannot be passionate unless we are Criminal likewise. Some again would stifle the Passions; elevating Man to the immediate condition of the Angels, without reflecting that he consisteth of both Body and Soul, and that the Soul can never be here totally freed from the malignant impressions of the matter in which she is so deeply engaged.  
As the Stoics have always been remarked for the most haughty proud Sect of all the Philosophers; so their Arrogance appears in nothing more palpable than in the Wars they have so loudly proclaimed against the Passions. They think it easier to destroy these Monsters, than to tame them: that at best they are but so many diseases of the Soul. That the grand Miseries of Mankind consisteth in this, that he owes his safety to his Ruins, and all his glory to his wretchedness; in as much as he cannot be Courageous without being Choleric, or prudent without fear. However, notwithstanding the florid gloss of all these elaborate and adorned reasons, they could never produce a Philosopher according to their definition, but in imagination alone. To elevate their Wise man they degraded their Jupiter, yet the whole World has long since been sensible, that whilst they endeavoured to make a Divinity, they only consecrated an Idol. 'Twas indeed admirably well observed of St. Austin touching the insolence of the Stoics, that they only differed from other Philosophers in an affected Arrogancy of terms; and that although their expressions were more haughty, yet were their sentiments no sublimer than those of other Sects. In effect they blame not so much the Passions, as their Excesses; and if they vainly boasted some fond desire of smothering them, yet they never had any hopes of effecting it.  
It seems much less difficult to govern the Passions than the Senses: for Love and Fear, are sooner brought to reason, than Hunger or Thirst: so that in as much as we can command our Senses, we may by reason subject our Passions likewise, and render our desires and fears, as virtuous as we make our fastings and watch religious acts.  
Reason is the great propriety of Man; all other qualifications are but exotic and adventitious; he loseth them, without impoverishing himself, and provided he be rational, he can always style himself Man. This must be the great source of our felicity; and by managing the motions of the inferior part of the Soul, we shall learn how all the Passions may serve to our advantage. Fear proves our security, and Hope animates us to generous Erterprises, by so much the more glorious as they seem to be environed with difficulties. In short, the Passions are not so predominant, but that they may be subjugated by reason. Virtue would want employ, if she had not Passions to vanquish, or at least to regulate. Fortitude bridles in Fear; Modesty measures our Desires, Temperance represses the violent instigations of Voluptuousness. Clemency moderates the efervescency of Choler: and if it were not for this, Princes would neither be merciful nor just.  
If the Passions receive such great advantages from the assistance of Virtue, after some training in her School, they repay her richly, and serve her as faithfully. Fear is the greatest part of Prudence; and tho' some tax her with anticipating Evils; yet she doth not so much forestall dangers, to make them more afflicting, but by considering them at a distance, she teaches us how we may happily avoid them, or patiently undergo them. Boldness attends Valour, and the most illustrious Conquerors own their Laurels to the generosity of this Passion. Choler supports Justice, animating Magistrates to the punishment of Criminals: so that there is not any one Passion but what is subservient to Virtue, when it is guided by reason, and those who have vented so much of their malicious Eloquence in crying down the Passions, have only shown they were ignorant both as to their use and merit.  
We may define Passion then to be a motion of the sensitive Appetite, occasioned by imagination of a real or an apparent good, or evil. In its birth it hath no other malignity than what it contracts from the Corruption of Humane Nature. But when the understanding gins to be obfuscated with the fuliginous Clouds of their Vapours, or else vanquished with the softer blandishments of their solicitations, and so perverts the Will, then, and only then, their motions turn rebellious, and who was but irregular before, is now become entirely criminal: for as the impulses of the inferior part of the Soul are no ways free of themselves, they cannot be vicious but when they are voluntary.  
These Passions we shall endeavour to bring under the Government of Reason: and by the assistance of Grace happily transmute them into so many Virtues. 'Tis not enough here to know the Cause of our Malady, unless we are instructed in the Cure too. For these are distempers which charm, and the Patient frequently fears nothing more than recovery. We cannot destroy our Passions without making a rapture in the Oeconomy of our Nature; yet we may draw great Service from them; more than barely as some fancied, by trying our Courage in repelling their too rapid violence: or our constancy in supporting them patiently. I hope to demonstrate that as Providence did work our Salvation out of our ruin, so we may gather our tranquillity and happiness out of that very mighty disorder which our Passions occasion in us.  

Of the Number of our Passions.  
SOme have made the Passions, as 'twere to flow from two different Springs, which they term the Concupiscible and the Irascible Appetite: Supposing that such contrary Motions could not be effected by one and the same Power, or part of the Soul. Yet, with their leave, I should rather follow the Opinion of St. Austin, not believing that a diversity of Sentiments presupposes a diversity of Faculties too, since one Man frequently desires Things contrary in themselves; yet he conserveses the unity of his Person in the variety of his Desires. The Holy Father had a severe Trial of this in his Conversion; his Soul was distracted with differing Sentiments, and the good Saint wondered that having but one Will, he should be capable of forming such very opposite Resolutions; so that the Passions may possibly flow all from the same individual Source; since the Soul is not either divided or multiplied by its various Faculties; preserving the unity of its Essence, even in the multitude of its Operations.  
The Philosophers themselves are divided in their Opinions concerning the Number of the Passions; yet I can't but side with St. Austin in this particular likewise; and hold, that Love is the only Passion which agitates us: For as the same vast Body of Water, generally termed the Sea, has distinct Names in every respective Part of the World through which it passes; or as the Heaven's made a different Divinity of each Attribute and Perfection of God; so the various Effects of this one Passion has been the great occasion of Man's judging that there were many of several Natures, supposing that it changed its Condition as often as it changed its Conduct. Thus Reason confirms our Belief that there's but one only Passion, and what others have thought to be such, were but only so many Properties of this one. Desiring and Shunning, Hope and Fear are the Motions of Love, by which it seeks what pleases, and flies what is disagreeable to it. 'Tis but a very frivolous Objection to this Hyyothesis, That Love must of Consequence transform itself into its Contrary, which is Hatred; for even that very Motion of Love is reconcilable with Reason and Experience; since one 'Cause produces contrary Effects; the Sun melts wax and hardens Clay; Justice punishes Crimes and rewards Virtue; or if we may presume to fly a step higher, God only hates sin, because he loves himself.   

Whether there were any Passions in the State of Innocence.  
'TIS so long a Tract of Time since Man lost his Innocence, that we at present have but a faint Idea of what it was; nay, did not the Justice of God punish the Crimes of the Father in the Person of the Son, peradventure we should hardly regret the loss, as irreparable as it is. Every one discribes the State of Innocence according to his own Imagination, yet doubtless as the Earth brought forth no Thorns, so the Heavens had no malignant Influences; every thing conspired to the Felicity of our first Parents, and the very Beast which inhabited the Woods (for Deserts there were none) could not be called Savage, the Viper was without Poison, and the Tiger without Treachery: Yet alas this is all but Opinion too; and we are as far to seek concerning his Nature, as concerning his Beatitude, 'tis but congruous to think that Adam, being created Perfect, was subject to neither Malady in his Body, nor to any Disturbance in his Mind: He was obliged to eat indeed to support Nature, but as Time would have attenuated his Strength, so had the infinite Providence of God prescribed him the Tree of Life to restore him to his pristine Vigour. Nothing could kill him but Sin, so that he was not immortal by Nature, but yet by Grace he was so. His Soul was questionless as happily stated as his Body, since he knew every thing by the innate Faculties thereof. He had only good Inclinations, his Affections were under Subjection, and though he was not insensible, yet nothing could disturb him, his Passions were as natural to him, as ours are to us, but with this happy Circumstance, that they were more obedient, and as the Oeconomy of his Natural System, made him capable of our Motions, so original Justice prevented their Disorders.  
Not but that we must grant some of the Passions to be inconsistent with the State Adam was in; sadness and despair could not have Place in a Soul completely happy, so that he was rather unmoved with them through want of a Subject, than want of Capacity. In so great a Pitch of Beatitude as Adam enjoyed, his Reason could not be thought to excite Passions, designed only for the Wretched. Doubtless Adam was afraid of the Punishment annexed to his Transgression, and hoped for the Reward in Case of Obedience. As he desired to preserve the mighty Felicity of his Mate, 'twas but naturally Consequential to apprehend an Alteration in it. As his Senses were a Part of his Body, so were his Passions Part of his Soul, and they differed from ours, not in their Nature, but in the absoluteness of their Subjection to his Will.   

If there were any Passions in Jesus Christ, and wherein they differed from ours.  
IT would argue an extraordinary and unpardonable Ignorance in a Christian, not to know that our Blessed Saviour took upon him the Form of a Man, subject to all the Infirmities thereof, Sin only excepted. He was constrained to support his Life with Meat, and refreshed his wearied Body with sleep; he was punished with the Winter's cold, and was dropping with the Heat in Summer. The very Elements which reverenced him as a God, had persecuted him as a Man, and he felt the Pangs and Agonies of Death itself upon the Cross, which he had delivered Lazarus from.  
As Passions are the most natural Weaknesses of Humanity so he would not be exempted from them that they might be a Testimony of his Love, and an irrefragable Argument of the Verity of his Incarnation. He mingled his Tears, with those of Mary Magdalen, and though he was going to remedy them by his Power, yet he would first feel them by his Compassion, and by that Weakness show he was a Man, before he would work a Miracle to show he was a God.  
As he had a real Body, so he could not have Supposititious Passions, and as he was actually a Man, so was his Affliction actual too. But whilst we would magnify the Love of the Son of God to us, we must not subtract from his Grandeur; Passions he had, but not disorderly like ours; they were always subject to his Will, and waited on his Reasons to accomplish his designs.  
But alas! 'tis infinitely otherwise with frail Man; his Soul is in a continual and violent agitation; one Passion gives way for another to create new confusions, and amongst so many and so powerfully tyrannical Enemies, how is it possible for him to enjoy any considerable rest? our desires are inordinate, and most of our sorrows ridiculous: Our Anger transports us so far, that we are as rigorous in punishing an ill word as a Murder. And if any one would seriously compare our Passions with the Causes that excite them, they might easily remark that 'tis scarce possible we should ever have any that were not Criminal. Our Hatred exceeds the Injury which created it, our Hope is solid where the thing hoped for is perishable. Our Saviour his Anger was to revenge the dishonour done to his Father, or else to chastise them, who by their worldly negotiations profaned his Holy Temple. 'Tis a new obligation we have to his Bounty, that he did not despise our Infirmities. What everlasting and bitter reproaches may he justly make us, should we not have an ardent desire for his Glory, who has showed so much for our Salvation: or should we not combat against his Enemies, since he has utterly vanquished all ours. What, shall we not shed a tear for his disgraces, who poured forth his Blood to satisfy for our sins? Indeed he would have too great reason for to complain of our Ingratitude. Should we not use all our Passions to specify our Love to him, since he has employed all his to demonstrate his Love to us?   

Of the disorderliness of Man's Passions.  
THough there be many stupendous things in Man, worthy our consideration, and which do loudly express the greatness of that Wisdom which created him, yet there is nothing more extraordinary than his Constitution: both Heaven and Earth are united in his Person, and he is at once both an Angel and a Beast. As the Power of God was manifested in the union of these two Parts so highly disagreeing in themselves; so his Wisdom was not less apparent in causing so good a Correspondency between them; the Soul participated of all the Contentment and Satisfaction of the Body, and the Body ministered to the Purposes of the Soul without suffering a Violence towards its own Propensities.  
This happy Intelligence between them lasted no longer than Adam's Obedience, for he had no sooner fallen, but the Beasts did rebel against his Authority. His Subjects became his most inveterate Enemies, to execute the Justice of his offended Creator. The very Elements were at discord in his Body, and his Body risen up against his Spirit; and this intestine War was by so much the more easily kindled, as the preceding Peace was rather the Result of Grace than Nature. Nor is there any prospect of any Enjoyment of Peace here on Earth; since, as the Apostle tells us, the Flesh evermore is rebelling against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the Flesh.  
From this mighty Disorder proceed all the Malignity of our Passions, and though they are equally Daughters of the Soul and Body, yet these so unnatural Children only serve to increase the Division between their Parents. Thus the Spirit of Man can never be at rest; but is forced to nourish in his Bosom those very Vipers, which he sees devouring him. This Disorder is the Penalty of our Transgression; and the Frailty under which we groan, is not the Product of our Nature, but the Chastisement of the Justice of God. For the Revolt of the Flesh against the Spirit, is not a Condition of our Being, but a severe Punishment of Sin.  
Since Man then is Criminal, and his Reason which ought to regulate his now disobedient Passions, is become obnubulated; he must of necessity have recourse to Grace, and implore that from Mercy, which Justice has deprived him of. And since he cannot hope for a Peace, so must at least labour to obtain a Victory.   

Nature alone cannot regulate our Passions.  
THere was some specious Pretext of Verity in the confounding all our Passions with Vices; for in that State to which sin has reduced us, we have no Thoughts but what are impure, and as our Nature is totally corrupted, so of Consequence all our Inclinations are disorderly; for the Streams must necessarily be troubled which flow from a foul Spring. 'Twas a generous Effort, I confess, of the Philosophers, but vain withal, to attempt the making Man as moderate in the State of Sin, as he was under original Justice. But we Christians have learned other Documents from the sacred Scripture; we know that Grace must assist Reason to repel the violent Emotions of our Passions; for of ourselves we are not capable of remedying their Irregularity, though we do not approve of it.  
Nature in herself has not lost any thing of her original Excellency, tho' examining her under the miserable servitude of sin, she has not the power of exerting herself to so much good as formerly. She is not annihilated, tho' she is become Criminal, and even under this Frailty there remains some Tincture of her Ancient Condition. For, as St. Austin says, there is doubtless no question, but we esteem the Being of Man, tho' we condemn his Sin: nor can we more reasonably blame him, than in showing how he dishonours that by the fatal Contagion of his Iniquity, which was so very honourable by its own Nature.  
Even under sin Man has some good Inclinations, but wanteth the power to follow them; he has good Purposes, but knows not how to effect them, and like Birds caught in a Net, can't use those very Wings they have, or recover that Liberty they desire. Grace only can comfort us under our Misery, and give us strength to resist Vice, practise Virtue, and regulate all the Inordinateness of our Passions.   

Of the necessity of Grace to govern the Passions.  
THE Grace which Jesus Christ has purchased for us at the expense of his Blood, is infinitely more precious than what we lost in Adam's Fall; its Advantages are so gloriously great, that they exceed our very Desires. It not only elevates us far above our Condition, and promises us a Felicity equal to that of the Angels; but makes Christ our Head, and obliges God himself to acknowledge us his Children, partakers of Glory with his own beloved Son: But this only respects Futurity; for tho' we have already received the happy Pledges of these most gracious Promises, and that this Grace lies in the bottom of our Souls; yet alas! the Body is still wallowing in its Iniquity; and tho' the Spirit be reinforced, yet the Flesh is still oppressed with its usual Weaknesses, and groans under an intolerable Bondage, whilst its other Sister tastes all the Sweets of Peace and Liberty.  
Baptism doth not totally take away Concupiscence; it only moderates it; and tho' it strengthens the Soul, yet it leaves her still in a certain languid Condition, which cannot be taken away perfectly till she comes into Glory. This Weakness and Imbecility of her State is not a Sin; and tho' it prove the exuberant Source of many, yet it doth not render us culpable, but when we too poorly submit to its Instigations. We consider not so much the Beginning as the Cause of a Man's Anger: Nor do we weigh the deepness of his Sorrow, but the Subject of it: Nor do we examine so much, if a Man be seized with any panic Apprehension or not, but wherefore he is so. If he be angry at a sinner, to reclaim him; or if he is afflicted with the miserable, to comfort them; or if by his fear he can prevent the ruin of one, who was precipitating himself into danger. I cannot imagine any Judge would be so severe, as to condemn Passions so useful; and he must forfeit his Pretensions to Rationality who would forbid us such innocent Affections as those.  
Of consequence then, the Excess only is , and the Passions are no longer Criminal, than they are immoderate. Concupiscence is born with us, and grows in vigour and strength, as we do ourselves; nor doth it generally leave us, but with the last gasp. However in an Affair so important to our Salvation, it behoves us to be very circumspect, lest by our Negligence, we should add new Forces to an Enemy, that is but too puissant of its self. Since we have entered the List together, let us manfully attack it; and, if it be possible, by Art or Industry, make that die before us, which came into the World with us. But the Consummation of this great and happy Victory is not to be hoped for in our Condition; and since Grace is not able to extinguish Concupiscence neither can she utterly master our Passions.   

Our Senses are chief the Causes of the Disorders of our Passions.  
I Cannot but lament the sad Condition of the Soul, when I reflect what a Prisoner she is to the Body; nor can I wonder, that she so very frequently mistakes Errors for Truths, since her Intelligence is conveyed to her through the Parts of the Senses. She can know nothing but by the Ears or the Eyes; and their Information is generally so deceitful that Blindness were preferable to their false Lights; and an utter Ignorance less insupportable than the fatal dubious Knowledge they procure us.  
Nature engaging the Soul in the Body renders her a Slave to all the Senses, and thereby obliges her, in her most Noble and Considerable Operations, to take Advice of those who are Stone-blind. From hence is it that the greatest Part of our acquired Knowledge, is but a painful Composition of Errors; and even the Truth itself is never unattended with some Lies. Our Opinions are uncertain, and our Passions, which are generally guided by them, cannot but be irregular.   

There is more Irregularity in the Passions of Man, than in those of Beasts.  
MAn's Advantages are prejudicial to him; and Reason itself, when once she becomes a Slave to the Senses, only serves to make our Affections so much the more unreasonable, as they blindly believe themselves in the Right. The brute Beasts only apprehend the Danger that is immediately falling down upon them. And as they have no Knowledge of what is future, so do they hardly ever reflect on what is past. But Man, born for his own Destruction, solicitously looks out for Danger, before it approaches, as tho' he was in haste to pluck down his Misery; or to enlarge the vast Empire of Fortune he prevents her Malice, and anticipates Evils, to which she had not as yet given birth. Our Fear is equally busied with what's past, and what is still to come; and as we shiver at the Remembrance of a Danger long since happened, so we tremble at a Disaster, not as yet fallen upon us: Thus are we as wretched by what may happen to us as by what doth.  
The Brutes are affected with but very few Objects; and abstracted from things that are requisite to the mere support of their Lives, they look upon all other things with an Indifferency that shames even the Philosophers. Neither Necessity nor Reason can put Bounds to Man's Desire: Useful is not enough, he must have Superfluity. And we may truly advance this short, but pathetic Characteristick of Man, that he is as ingenious as assiduous in his own Destruction; generally employing the Sagacity of his Wit, to make him either more miserable, or more criminal. The Beasts are stupid, and their Complexion being most of Earth, renders them insensible, thereby happily exempting them from those numerous Evils which only wound us, because they first wounded our Imagination.  
The Life of Brutes is uniform in reference to its self; and Nature having confined them to narrow Bounds, they have but a small Number of Passions; Fear and Desire making all their Motions of the sensitive Soul.  
But as Man is subject to Ten thousand Rencounters, all of differing Natures, as of various Circumstances; his Passions rise up in Multitudes, and on what side so ever he but turns, he meets with new Subjects of Fear or Anger, of Pleasure or Pain. Which Consideration alone did give occasion to the Poets to unite in the Person of every Man, the Malice of a Serpent, the Fury of the Tiger, the Choler of the Lion, and the Lubricity of the Goat; demonstrating from hence, that Man alone had as many Passions as all the Beasts together. And indeed Man has not only more in Number, but they are much more impetuous in their Eruptions. 'Tis not unworthy remarking, that the Brutes must be provoked to Anger, the roaring Buffler is not furious till he is hard hunted; and 'tis the Cry of the Hounds and Hollowing of the Huntsmen, that stirs up the dreadful foaming Boar: Their Pain or Danger is no sooner over but they forget the Injury; whereas Man, once the Glory of the Creation, can't support a wry Look; and so far from pardoning Affronts, that he bequeathes 'em to his Posterity to revenge after his Death, leaving them equally Heirs of his Indignation and Malice, as of his Substance.   

As there is nothing more difficult, so there is nothing more glorious than the Government of the Passions.  
LEst the glorious things of this World should be too common, Nature has wisely made them to be difficult. The never fading Laurels of the happy Conquerors, cost them a thousand and a thousand Toils; they are purchased with their Blood, and sometimes at the Expense of their Lives too. They must surmount Dangers, and acquire this Felicity with innumerable Fatigues. But how glorious then must the Victory be, which we gain over ourselves? Capricious Fortune can be no ways assistant to us here; and tho' she conducted Alexander through the whole World, and brought him so triumphant Home; yet she could not prevent his murdering Clitus, and by one rash Action tarnish all the Glory he had acquired by so many and so incredible Victories. Our Passions are in a Sphere beyond the reach of that fickle Goddess; and what enhances the Lustre of our Conquest, is that we fight against Part of ourselves, and acting both as Commander and Soldier, none can pretend a share in the Glory of our Victory. In most other Combats we are egged on by a certain Point of Honour; nay, sometime Revenge and Choler constitute the greatest part of our Bravery. Hope stimulates us on, and the vainglorious Desire of vanquishing makes us exert our uttermost Efforts to accomplish it. But alas! here our Forces are divided, and we engage with but part of our Troops; and tho' Duty and Virtue may animate us to an Attack, yet the tender Affection we bear our very Enemies makes us so much the less resolute, apprehending an Advantage that must cost us all our Pleasures. Tho' our Passions are irregular, yet are they part of us; and we cannot readily resolve to tear out our Bowels, because they sometimes displease us. If Grace doth not assist us, our Self-Love will betray us, and we shall spare those Rebels, because they are Relations.  
The Nature of these Enemies makes the Conquest difficult, and an utter Overthrow almost impossible; they may be worsted, but never so defeated, but that upon the next occasion they are as insolent and as formidable as at first. Their Being is so bound up with our own, that both must either die or live together. Hydra-like these Monsters increase by their Ruin; or as Antheus, gather new Vigour by being suppressed. They must be loaded with Irons, and used like Galleyslaves, to whom is left the Freedom of their Arms, only to row withal; so since we cannot hope for a complete Victory over these stubborn Enemies, or destroy them with ourselves, we must bring them to Reason by force, and make all their Motions subservient to Virtue and Prudence.  
If the Greatness of the Difficulty frights us from undertaking the Conflict; the Glory that accrues from it should push us forward, in as much as the Sun shines on nothing more illustrious than a Man who commands his Passions. No Diadem is sufficient for such a Hero's Brow, no Encomiums equal to his Merit, and it must be Eternity alone, that can recompense so great a pitch of Virtue. The Reality and Substance of such a Conquest must needs be inestimable, since we adore even the very Appearances and Shadows of it. What makes us admire the Sages of the World, but for having seemed, rather than in effect that they did conquer their Passions? Cato surpasses Pompey, and Socrates the great Alexander; their Victories caused no Bloodshed; made neither Widow nor Fatherless: They swum not to their Laurels in a stream of Tears, nor did they depopulate Cities to erect their Trophies. If they fought for their Liberty, they made none miserable thereby, and without taking others Prisoners, they freed themselves from an odious Tyrannical Bondage. How must it tarnish the Lustre of those Hero's Glory, who owing all their Grandeur to their Injustice, have only been famous, in that they were extraordinary Criminal, and of whom Histories would have made no mention, had they not burnt Towns, plundered Cities, killed Men, and ruin'd whole Nations?  
Those who only wage War with their Passions, enjoy a far more solid Pleasure in the benefit of their Conquest, than the other Heroes do, whose satisfaction is allayed; and the remorse of Blood and Death, Destruction and Misery abates the Glorious Triumph. The Former we praise without Flattery, and admire them without base Envy; we extol them above the Throne of the most Puissant Monarch here, and when we have followed them through the Church, we ascribe them happy Mansions in Heaven. Their Examples help us to complete the same great and glorious Designs; we read their Lives with admiration; and learning from their experience those innocent but sure Artifices, with which they prevented the insurrection of so very troublesome Enemies, we facilitate the same happy Victory to ourselves.  
Their chiefest Maxim upon which they depended, was never wholly to rely upon their own strength; for Nature is depraved, our Resolution weak, and Temptation strong as the Devil is subtle; so that nothing but Grace can secure us the Conquest.   

No Slavery is so miserable, as that of being overpowered by our Passions.  
LIberty is so charming, and Servitude so insupportable; that without exageration, we may say, if one is the greatest Bliss, the other is the severest Misfortune Man can lie under. Nature seems to suggest to us the sweetness of Freedom, when she prompts us to expose our very Lives, to secure that, or prevent Slavery. Yet tho' this Evil be so anxious to bear, notwithstanding the tyranny of our Passions is something beyond comparison with it; and we must grant, that no Bondage upon Earth can be equal to that, where these cruel Masters domineer. Others are but Slaves in the less worthy and considerable part of Man, viz. his Body; their Soul is at liberty, tho' their Limbs lie in Irons. But our unhappy deplorable Slave is fettered even in his Soul, and hath not the liberty of thinking as he pleases, but when he will be Criminal. The violent impulses of his Passions dictate to him what he must desire, and what he must dread; he loses that freedom, which the darkest Dungeon, or the most ponderous Fetters can't deprive the poorest meanest Slave of, and which the most cruel bloodthirsty Tyrant cannot deny to his most abominated Captive.  
If our Masters are too austere, we can change them; and few Slaves but have the benefit of a Ransom; yet wherever we go we drag our Shackles and Bolts with us, and change not our condition, tho' we do our residence. The Fatal cause of our Misery is within us, and we transport our Enemies, wherever we go ourselves: Nay, for a surcharge of our Wretchedness, we are so very strangely bewitched with this Vassalage, that we have not only lost our Freedom, but we have lost even the very desire too of regaining it. We are in love with our Servitude, and kiss, nay hug the weighty Chain; and by an unheard of Blindness, we are so fatally enchanted with our Captivity, that we dread and apprehend a Deliverance. How miserable is that Man, and how deservedly is he so, who will not be at the pains of one generous Resolution, one brisk vigorous Effort, to free himself from so detestable a Prison, so ignominious a Thraldom as that of his Passions?  
He who is a Slave to any one Man, may in process of time, by submissive comportment and faithful Service alleviate his Bondage: For he who has but one only Master to please, cannot be extremely miserable, or long so. If it be impossible to please two Masters, how is that Wretch stated, who has as many as he has Passions, and is necessitated to obey them, even under their contradictory Commands? No sooner one ceases, but another gins more despotic than the precedent. For here every change is for the worse; new Passions being always the most rapid and impetuous. Every Master is here a new Executioner, and his Commands so many different Condemnations. See Alexander ruining Greece, and then depopulating Asia; storming at Nature for the narrowness of her Extent, and repining that he was necessitated to terminate his Victories, where the Sun did its course: Reflect a little on Pompey, intoxicated with a vain desire of Glory and Grandeur, and raising Civil Wars to satisfy his Ambition, establishing his Authority at the expense of his own Country's Liberty. He runs over the World to make an Enemy where he found none; and after all these formidable Actions, he will not believe himself really great, tho' his Countrymen call him so, unless Julius Caesar subscribes it too. These commanded vast Armies, and were commanded by their Passions; being Martyrs to their Ambition, and Slaves to all things that the World calls Great and Magnanimous.  
If the servitude of Ambition be so very uneasy; what is that of Lubricity? He that has once given up his thoughts to this flattering infamous Passion, has no prospect of ever recovering his Liberty. No Man can be Master of himself, who has once submitted his heart to the imperious Domination of Love. Cleopatra governed Mark Anthony; and might boast indeed that she had revenged Egypt on Italy; and subjugated the Roman Empire by enslaving him who commanded it. No wretched Vassal ever laboured more to insinuate himself in his Master's favour, than this poor spirited Prince did to please his proud insulting Mistress. He durst not Conquer at the Battle of Actium; but chose rather to desert the Army, than renounce his Love. But what can we expect from one who has lost his Heart with his Liberty, and was so far from fight, that he could not live absent from Cleopatra's Eyes? Histories will furnish us with Examples enough of these Heroes, who have suffered greater and base Slavery under their Passions, than what their prosperous Arms had imposed upon the most barbarous Nations. Thus Nature punished all their Homicides, making them suffer more in their own proper Persons, than they were capable of inflicting on others.   

To govern our Passions we must first moderate them.  
THough the Passions are designed as Assistants or Servants to Virtue, and that there is not one which may not be profitably employed; yet we must confess there goes no small Skill and Artifice in effecting this. Indeed considering our Condition through sin, they cannot be helpful to us, unless they are moderated. That unfortunate Father who has made us Heirs of his Crime, did not transmit to us our Being in that Purity, which he himself received it: Both Soul and Body have their Punishment; and as they were both culpable, so they both suffer. The Soul has its Errors and Blindnesses; our Inclinations are inordinate, our Memory treacherous, our Senses deceitful, our Imagination but frivolous, and our Understanding dark. The Body which was the fatal and accursed Channel, through which Sin was conveyed to the Soul: That, I say, has its appropriated Miseries; and though it was the least Guilty, yet it is the most unfortunate. Every thing is there in Confusion and Disorder; the Senses are all distracted by the Variety of Objects, and thus deluding our Imagination, they occasion all the Disorders in the inferior Part of the Soul; they excite our Passions, and like young Necromancers, raise more evil Spirits than they are able to lay again. They are not now under that Command they were in the blessed State of Original Justice; they are all turned Mutinous, and their detested Rebellion is to be assuaged, rather by Art, than Force. They rise with so much Rage and Impetuosity, that their very Natural Motions are violent; like fine pampered Horses, full of Fire, but not of Force; or like the horrid Ocean, generally tempestuous, and never very calm but precursorily to a dreadful Storm.  
To effect this great Work of Moderating our Passions, we must follow the Methods of Nature and Art. Though she composes all Bodies of the four Elements, yet she first tempers them according to their respective Qualities, so that they may the better operate in the Production of that particular Body she designs to form. Art has found out the secret of reconciling Black with White; so that from these two Colours, Painters have composed all the rest. Lion's have been made to draw Triumphant Chariots; and as if they had forgot their Royalty and Courage, have patiently suffered the lash from a Slave. Elephants have carried Castles into Battle, and have been unconcerned, whilst ten Thousands of Deaths flew momently about them: Thus Reason must imitate Nature, if she designs to reap any Advantage from such furious Beasts as our Passions are.  
Let us consider how many sad Troubles the rebelling of our Passions have caused in us. 'Tis one act of Prudence to draw benefit from our Misfortunes, and grow wise at our own expense; the most just Anger will fly out to an excess, if we have not a great precaution; and what was innocent in its birth, will grow criminal in its progress; and for want of mature deliberation, thinking to punish a slight Injury, we commit a gross Enormity: Fear often surprises us, and drives us into a real danger to avoid an imaginary one.  
The second precaution is to oblige our Reason to keep a strict Guard over all those Subjects, that may probably excite our Passions; watching their motions will secure us from surprises. Dangers that are foreseen are not so astonishing when they arrive. The cautious Pilot who sees a Storm gathering in the Sky, or makes haste into Harbour, or to avoid Ship-wreck puts out again to Sea, to be at once out of danger of the Rocks or the Flats. 'Tis want of consideration only, that makes us so very frequently prevented by the rising of our Passions; we might avoid it if we would be at the pains to foresee it; so that in reality, we own all our great Overthrows to our neglect alone. For if our Reason foresaw the dangers, as she easily may, 'twas no difficult matter so to prepare our Senses, that our Passions should hardly disturb the tranquillity of our mind.  
The third precaution is to study the nature of every respective Passion, which will highly conduce to the moderating them; Some must be used with severity, others must be flattered to be brought under reason, others again must be deceived; and tho' Virtue is too generous in herself, yet she is obliged to accommodate herself to our weaknesses, and employ cunning where force will have no effect. Love is of this nature, and to bring it off from an unlawful object, we must propose to it a legitimate one; and since we cannot banish it from our Heart, we must by an innocent Cheat fix it upon a lawful object: Anger is also of the same Constitution; to go to oppose it were to make it more furious. Fear and Grief are of a contrary complexion; to yield to them, were to increase their impetuosity; these must be forced down, and mal-treated to be moderated.  
Thus may we with care and industry, so find out the qualities of the Passions, that we may daily oppose fit Remedies to them in their birth; and not let them mount to such a prodigious height, as that they over-top our Reason and become vicious; but keep them in such a subordination, as that they may be assistant to Virtue in all her designs.   

Reason alone is able to restrain the Passions.  
THO' the notions of the sensitive Appetite seem so many Monsters and Tyrants, yet we must be so just to confess, that as Art prepares Poisons, and makes them so Medicinal, that some Maladies can't be cured without: So Reason and Care may bridle in our Passions, and of insolent Masters make serviceable and faithful Slaves. And tho' Sin has made them irregular and disorderly, yet Reason can always manage them, so as to draw both Benefit and Glory from their Service. Considering them in their Infancy they are tractable, and may be easily curbed, which made the Platonists call them Affections, as unwilling to give a Criminal Appellation, to what as yet was not so. But if we stay too long, we shall find their fatal strength increasing so fast, that we shall no longer be able to restrain its impetuosity, and of simple Affections they turn guilty Passions. Yet even under this Circumstance too, they may be managed; for their irregularity proceeds from their abuse and error; and they could hardly be impeached of a Crime, if they were not mistaken in their Object. Nature has not lost so much by the Fall, but that she retains still, and ever must, that grand Principle of loving what is good, and fearing what is prejudicial to her. Did not our Senses make so many false reports to our Imagination, we should be freed from many perils which we daily fall into. The Devil knowing we are not as yet so depraved as to love Ill for its own sake, deludes our Senses with an appearance of Good, under which he conceals the Evil he tempts us to; so that we fatally love what we should abhor, and detest what we ought really to love: This is the Artifice of the Devil alone; and our Passions are only criminal because they are deceived; would we take away that unhappy Gloss which is put upon things, and show them in genuine Colours, our Senses would not so blindly incline to them, nor they give such powerful occasions to our Passions, of raising such commotions in us. Open but their eyes and they will soon leave the mere apparent good, to cleave to what is really so: For tho' our Passions have lost considerably of their primitive Innocence, yet they have still good Sentiments, and in most of their motions, there is much more of mistake than of premeditated malice.  
If we consider them in that effervency and extreme violence, when their fumes begin to obfusque the understanding, there is no remedy but patience; we must wait till the ebullition is over. Reason can do no good here; 'tis now too late for any advice; waiting too long has brought all to a desperate State: We must leave it to Time to assuage this Tempest; which when it shall happen, and by the intermission of this raging Storm, Reason gins to have some force; then must we by a severe Penance and unfeigned Sorrow, seek a redress of our so turbulent Ills, from him alone who was offended thereby, and by humbling ourselves before God, grow rich by former Losses; thus learning Experience at our own expense, we shall never permit our Passions to grow to that fatal height again, as to offend God, or dethrone our Reason: Thus our very Misfortunes may be made to tend to our Advantage; and Examples in other things show us, that a Storm may drive us into the wished for Haven; and the same furious Billows that cast away our Vessel may cast us afterwards on shore. Not that a wise Man would leap overboard, and trust his safety to the necessity of a Miracle: no more should a prudent Christian permit his Passions to come this length, to reap the benefit of Repentance for it, whereof he is not assured. We must not sin that Grace may abound. In pursuit of these Truths, we may venture to advance on more, which is this; that considering all things, our condition is not so deplorable as some of us (peradventure) imagine, who impute the greatest share of our Misdemeanours to the misery of our Nature. Our good Fortune is in our own Hands; we sail upon an Ocean, whose Billows are absolutely at our disposal; we can both avoid the danger of Rocks, and if there arise any Tempest, we can immediately lay it; and what was instanced upon another Juncture, we may apply here in honour to Reason, which is an Emanation from God himself; 'tis something extraordinary since the Winds and the Seas of our Passions and corrupt Nature obey it.   

By what means we may moderate our Passions.  
WE might here use the Policy of the Huntsman, who uses tame Beasts to catch the Wild; and oppose Hope to Fear, that she might not despond; Joy to Sorrow that it grow not excessive. However, there may seem some plausibleness in the method, yet it is not safe: We may prove the reality of Ovid's Actaeon, and perish by those Hounds we used for our pleasure. We fortify one Passion to repel the violence of another, which now having its force augmented, by our indulgence, may rebel itself, and be more hard to repress than the other was. 'Tis not safe to show them how to conquer. Tho' in common Policy the practice may hold off making War toobta in a more advantageous Peace, or to use the interest of reconciled Enemies to pacify those who still harass us with Incursions and acts of Hostility; and to sow Discord between those Neighbours, whose agreement and good intelligence might be prejudicial to us; yet in Morality those Maxims have no Authority at all.  
Reason, which is the grand Sovereign of all the Passions, must use her utmost care and diligence, in watching over the first motions of our Passions, and by taking away from them all those Objects, which serve only to promote their Rebellion, keep them in order with so much the less difficulty. The Effects must cease when the Cause doth. The only great Remedy against these fatal Intestine Commotions, is not to give them any occasion of revolting. 'Tis the Pride of the World, the Grandeur of Court, the Glories of a Triumph, that foment our Ambition; and by showing us these splendid Trophies of other Heroes, make us uneasy till we have acquired the same empty Vanities for ourselves too. So Caesar wept at the reflection that he began to follow Arms at that Age wherein Alexander had conquered the whole World. In the private retirement of a Country Village, or a poor Farm, we see none of all these empty Toys, they are utterly strangers to such things, and by not seeing any Image of them, their Souls are never agitated with that raging Frenzy that sacrifices every thing to its own ends. Nor indeed can we expect it should spare any thing, since it sacrifices its own tranquillity to the accomplishing its own desires. So is it likewise with Sorrow; dim Lights, dark Chambers, every thing coloured with black, a profound slence through the whole Family, amazement and horror in every Face, makes the impression so much the deeper. And indeed one would think Man did not labour so much to bridle his Passion, as to indulge it. Take away these lugubrious ornaments; let the person afflicted, but go abroad, and converse with those who have no cause to weep, and the source of their Tears will quickly dry up. Nature itself will be weary of always lamenting, and peradventure no Sorrow would be so very intense as 'tis, did we not heighten it by Circumstances. The same may be observed of all the other Passions which are not so difficult to govern, but that we will not seriously set about it; but on the contrary, by our fatal Artifices we render them more obstinate in their Rebellion, and assist them in their Insurrections, as if we were desirous of being miserable by them, or afraid of being victorious over them.   

Our Passions are really in themselves so many Seeds of Virtue.  
THE Knowledge of Man being generally but superficial only, we are taken with the mere Appearances of things. And this was it which made the Dogmas of the Stoics be received with so universal and so great an approbation: They promised no less than to make Angels of their Sectators, and to place them in a Condition beyond that of poor Mortality. Philosophy alone was to elevate them above all the Storms and Thunders of our Passions, and by fixing them in a higher Region of Serenity, free them from all those troublesome Disorders which interrupt the happy Calm and Tranquillity of the Soul. But alas! these were empty deluding promises, and all these proud Waves turned into mere Froth. Had it been possible for them to have made good these haughty pretensions, they had at once superseded all those Helps which Nature has given us to become virtuous, and the inferior part of Man's Soul had been without any function: For the Passions are but the mediate motions thereof, by whose means, without being separated from its body, it is united to what it desireth, or keeps at a distance from those Objects it apprehends. Joy is the dilation of the Soul, and Sorrow its contraction; Desires make us as it were advance, and Fear solicits us to retire. So that to abstract the Passions from the Soul, were to deprive her of all her motions, and render her impuissant as well as useless, under the notion of constituting her felicity. No reasonable Man would sure purchase his Happiness at so exorbitant a price: For if Contentment consisteth in tasting the good we possess, it must incontestably and naturally follow, that the Passions are so many necessary motions of our Soul, and that Joy must consummate the Bliss to which our Desires at first gave Life. The Passions being so many Seeds of Virtue, that if we will be at the pains to cultivate and improve them, they will produce extraordinary delicious and agreeable Fruit.  
The Man is not born virtuous, and that the Art which renders him such, is as difficult to acquire, as 'tis glorious to possess; yet it seems to be one power of the Soul to have inherent in it the principles and fundaments of Truth; and the Will also seems to be endowed with the Seeds of Virtue, which want more of manuring than sowing. The Infancy of all our Passions represents them to us as so many budding Virtues, and a little care will make them perfectly such. What is Fear but a natural Prudence, prompting us to avoid a danger that threatens us? Or what is Choler but a species of Justice, that arms us against our Enemies, and by a legitimate fury repels force with force? What is Desire but a separating us to unite us to what we think better, a sort of elevating us from Earth to Heaven? Where is the mighty difference between Sorrow and Repentance, but that one is the pure product of Nature, the other the effect of Grace? Both of them be wail an evil; nay, sometimes they mingle their Tears to deplore the same Iniquity. There is none of our Passions but may be made Virtues; for since they incline to good, and abhor evil, there wants only Conduct and Management, to make them change their Condition. A just Object of our Love will make all the other Passions innocuous: And correspondent to the governing of that, 'twill produce Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude, and Justice. Were it not then barbarous even to endeavour the stifling those Passions which have so great an affinity with Virtue? or were it not high Ingratitude, not to acknowledge those mighty advantages we have received from Nature? or is it not Injustice to give such infamous denominations to so innocent Subjects, who by our own prudent Conduct, might be easily brought to merit a much less inglorious Character?  
We will state it then as an indubitable Aphorism, That the Passions are seeds of Virtue, and that their grand Employ is to fight under her Banners, and revenge all her Quarrels. As the negligence of the Prince, is generally the occasion of the Revolting of his Subjects; so 'tis the weakness of our Reason only that gives birth to the disorders of our Passions; the Soul is more to blame than the Body, and the Prince than the People. Doth not our Fear hold an advantageous intelligence with our Enemies? and by observing all their motions, know how to give us such a faithful information, as may prevent our overthrow? We own indeed most of our Miseries to our having neglected her Advices. Doth not Hope embolden us, and give us Courage to undertake Erterprises as difficult, as they are glorious? How weak and languid would our Virtues be, (not to say imperfect) if they were abandoned by Passions? How often has the fear of Ignominy 
☞  retained Soldiers from a shameful flight? and the bare apprehension of a scandal alone has preserved Women in that Virtue and Pudicity, which opportunity had almost triumphed over. Nature has made nothing in vain; and since she has given us hopes and fears, let us employ them in propagating Virtue, and expugnating Vice.   

There is no Passion which may not be changed into a Virtue.  
IN the preceding Discourse, having shown that the Passions are so many Seeds of Virtue, from whence we may expect most happy, and advantageous productions; we shall here go a step higher, and teach Christians the grand Secret of changing them into absolute Virtues. This operation is difficult, but however not impossible: And Nature will assist us with Instructions how to divest them of all their savage and monstrous qualities.  
This prudent Mother of all things doth not use so much violence as industry, when she sets about any notable Metamorphosis: She consults the respective qualifications of each; she rarefies Air only into Fire, and consolidates the Earth too from Minerals; and that Gold which we so much esteem, is the product of a whole Age's industry.  
Our Morals must imitate Nature, and consider and weigh the several Properties of each Passion; that we may thereby the more easily change it into a Virtue, which is no ways Heterogeneous. Prodigality draws nearer Liberality than Avarice doth; and a rash Man may sooner be brought to be Courageous, than one who is a natural Coward. In like manner is it with our Passions; some have more Reference to one particular Virtue than another, and the just Application facilitates their Reduction. Take away that Panic Terror, which ordinarily accompanies Fear, and it becomes Prudence. Hope, that by a happy Anticipation enjoys that Bliss, which is as yet locked up in the Womb of Futurity, may be converted into Assurance. Anger, which arms us to revenge Injuries, is not so far from Justice, but they may be reconciled, since the Purport of both is to punish Crimes. If we love only what is amiable, and hate what is really odious, these are not so much Passions as Virtues; and merit rather to be applauded than stigmatised.  
Sorrow and Despair, Jealousy and Envy, I must confess have a terrible Aspect; and seem rather so many Executioners of Divine Justice than Adjutants of Virtue. But our Reason must pull off this frightful Masque, and make them appear in less inglorious Forms. A moderated Envy becomes a virtuous Emulation; and Jealousy, when not extreme, may assume the Character of Zeal; Sorrow has so many Commendations in the very Holy Scriptures themselves, that plainly show, that if she be not a Virtue, she's highly profitable to it. She it is that raises us from Earth to Heaven, and by despising the deluding flattering Blandishments of this Life, makes us long for those of Eternity. What can argue more the Praise and Power of this Passion, than that it appeases even the Anger and Indignation of the Almighty? and no sin was ever produced, before she prepared the way. How can we conclude to the Disadvantage of a Passion, which has more Instances to heighten its Merit, than all the others put together? Even our blessed Saviour was seen to weep, but never known to smile. Despair has nothing terrible, but its Name; for considering it Right, it is a prudent Invention of Nature to cure some dangerous Maladies of the Mind. We make a Virtue of Necessity, and out of our Misfortunes gather our Security. Despair makes us easy, when Desire deceives us by its Promises; the one flatters us, the other disabuses us: Despair, by giving a new Force to our Courage, has sometimes gained Victories, for those who were vanquished just before; and the utter Impossibility of retreating has occasioned an Overthrow to a conquering Army. This Passion has such wonderful Efficacy, that the most brave and circumspect Generals have always avoided the bringing their Enemies to this fatal Necessity; and apprehended more the Ruins of an Army, with this Passion alone, than when it was entire, and not as yet conquered. The Poet Lucan had the same Sentiment of the wretched Remainders of the unfortunate proud Pompey's Army.  
— Spes una salutis,  
Haec fuit afflictis, nullam sperare salutem.  
To conclude all with the Opinion of St. Austin: Christians make a good use of their Passions, when they employ them to the Glory of Jesus Christ and the Salvation of their own Souls. We have Reason to fear the just Judgements of God, and the Miseries of Damnation: Our Desire is just when its Object is those innumerable and infinite Pleasures which are at God's right-hand for ever more. That Grief is but innocent, which we feel for the Loss of our Liberty, by our first Parent; and when we deplore those many Infirmities our Nature is at present subject to, thereby eagerly panting after the Liberty of the Children of Grace. 'Tis a holy Joy with which we expect the Felicities prepared for us, and by a firm Hope, taste already the Promises of our great Master. Thus being sorrowful for him, and rejoicing in good Works, we convert our Passions into so many glorious and sanctified Virtues.   

The Government of our Passions is the Business of Virtue.  
THE Condition of Man is so very wretched by sin, that even his Advantages themselves reproach him with his Misery: And his greatest Excellencies, show him that he is Criminal. The nobler Habits, which embellish his Soul, have only slavish Employs, being engaged in Combats not only difficult, but dishonourable. For the most singular Virtues of Man have no other Occupation than waging War with Vice. That very Prudence which is our Guide, shows us, that we wander not only in Darkness, but in an Enemy's Country too. Temperance points out to us the Disorder of our Constitution, and teaches us, that Voluptuousness only flatters us to our own Ruin. Justice obliges us to confess, that we are not absolute Masters of those Goods, we are actually in Possession of; but that as they belong to another Proprietor, so we are but so many Stewards.  
Although the Virtues have many Employments here below, yet the most Necessary is the governing the Passions. Nature seems to have given them a Being only to tame these savage and terrible Monsters: Some by Cunning, others by Force; some by Menaces, and others by Promises, using several Mediums to accomplish one and the same Design. Prudence enters not into the List, but is rather Moderator or Superintendant, giving all necessary Orders to suppress their Motion, even in its Infancy, thereby to prevent Danger. Temperance indeed must struggle hard, and that with Enemies, which are so much the more formidable as they are agreeable; and is forced to maintain the Heat of the Action, against all those Passions which flatter our Senses. Yet when she finds her Forces too few for such powerful Adversaries, she calls in the Assistance of Penance and Austerity, and by so severe Virtues, she triumphs at last over those dissolute Enemies. Fortitude makes us bear up against all the Attacks of Sorrow. But as the Number of Troops are never disadvantageous, provided they are well disciplined; so the Aggregation of Virtues must needs facilitate our Victory, if we dispose them right. If Temperance can't regulate our immoderate Desires, we must have recourse to Humility and Modesty; persuading us that the Glory of the World is not due to us, if we are Criminal, nor worthy of us if we are Innocent. When Sorrow proves too powerful and obstinate, we must call in the Assistance of Hope, and take the sweetness of her Promises to animate us to a Conquest. Thus Nature, fortified with the Succours of Grace makes Man Victorious in all these so doubtful Combats: And Virtue regulating the Motions of his Passions, he cannot but enjoy a Tranquillity of Mind, not much inferior to what our wretched Father by his Transgression deprived us of.  
The End of the First Part.    

Of Passions in Particular. The Second Part.  

Of LOVE.  
LOve has this Property of the Divinity, that we all know that it is, but none know what it is. The Philosophers gave it several Names, all Infamous, not knowing how to grant a good One to a Passion so disorderly; and as the Poets made him a God, so the Platonists thought him a Demon. Aristotle himself, who defined the Soul, would not undertake to do the same by this Passion, leaving Posterity to despair of ever arriving to the Knowledge of a thing whereof he was Ignorant.  
But in pursuit of our former Hypothesis, we shall still respect Love as the only Passion; his different Motions being but so many Attributes, which have occasioned some to think they were other Passions. In his Infancy indeed he bears the most glorious Title; for the first inclination which is formed in the Heart, when a charming Object sweetly imposes upon our Will, is termed Love; when we sally as it were out of ourselves, to be united to that Object, 'tis called Desire; when he is grown more vigorous, and promises himself success, 'tis Hope; when he is animated against those difficulties which oppose his satisfaction, 'tis Choler; but in every one of these States 'tis Love too. His first Condition is the Rule of all the rest; for as he is more or less violent in his birth, or to speak more properly, under that circumstance, wherein he still retains the softer appellation of Love, so are the other degrees of his motion more or less rapid; like the Heart, he distributes life and heat to all the depending Members; and he commands with so despotic an Authority, that nothing on Earth can parallel it. He makes Monarches neglect their States, and Generals forget the nicety of Punctilios of Honour. Emperors have been disobeyed, but Love never; and as the Moon is the occasion of the ebbing and flowing of Rivers, so this powerful tender Passion Love, causes all the tranquillity and distraction in our Soul.  

Of the good use of Love.  
WE must not so much consider the natural perfections of things, as the good use which may be made of them. Gold is but condensed Clay, tho' the covetous Man's God: Yet when 'tis employed to relieve the Needy, to redeem the Bondslave, to  the Naked, and secure the Orphans; who could disapprove of it? tho' when it serves only to corrupt Judgges, pervert Justice, debauch Women, and oppress the Innocent, there is no Body but must.  
Love is the most holy of all our Passions, and the greatest Favour Nature has conferred upon us. 'Tis as much a Duty as 'tis a Delight; 'tis an abbreviation of Humane Felicity; in a word, 'tis what the Divine Eloquence has thought fit to term the Law and the Prophets. By this innocent Artifice, we change Condition without changing of Nature, and transform ourselves into the things we love; it makes even toils and hardships agreeable; and finds a pleasure in attempting Difficulties, which it cannot surmount: 'tis the most unallayed and real satisfaction Man enjoys here below, and a shadow of that supreme Felicity which the happy Angels taste above. But Morality must prescribe us Rules by which we must govern it: For an absolute freedom may not be indulged to a Passion, which is by so much the more dangerous, as 'tis charming and agreeable.  
There are three Objects of our Love; God, Man, and irrational Creatures: The first we cannot love too much, he being infinitely worthy of our highest Affection; yet 'twere our Happiness if we could dilate our Hearts and Souls wider, to be more capable of this Passion, for the most incomparable deserving Object of it. The love we bear the Creatures, is always restless, and never perfect, because attended with so many uncertainties. Those whom we love most, may, or hate us, or be treacherous to us; but admitting they were all that we can desire they should be; yet alas! they are mortal, and that Fidelity which they protested to us, cannot exempt them from the Law of Nature: As they were born, so they must die. By consequence then, where the Creature is the Object of our Love, we cannot but be unhappy. Fixing then our Love upon God can only secure our Felicity; We are certain he will love us, as long as we love him, since he even loved us before; the infiniteness of his Goodness, and the immutability of his Nature may arm us against all Apprehensions: He deserves the most to be beloved, since his Love to us can't change but with our Love to him; and whenever we by transgression dissolve this union, he is ready and willing to pardon us upon our Repentance, and take us into favour again.  
Friendship is one of the principal effects of Love between Man and Man; even Barbarians esteem it, and Nature could not subsist without it. To banish it the World were to subvert Governments, overthrow Cities, and turn the Condition of Man into that of Beasts, to live wild in the Deserts; 'tis the Band of humane Society, and the greatest moral Contentment we find here on Earth. However, if it have its Charms, it is not without its Cruelties too: For as Nature has made nothing without some Blemish, so there is no Pleasure so entire but has some Stings. Absence is a short Death, and Death an everlasting absence. We are vulnerable in the Person of our Friend, and often more sensible of his Miseries than of our own; what Misfortunes fall upon him, are by so much the more insupportable to us, as the Person was esteemed. Who loses a Friend loses the better half of himself, surviving that part only to be the more sensible of his Misery.  
Friendship between different Sexes, as it is not to be contracted but with danger; so 'tis much better to avoid it. For tho' there is no distinction of Sexes in the Soul, yet such an amity cannot be without Scandal, tho' it might be peradventure without a Crime. The World is grown too corrupt; and a strict familiarity between Man and Woman cannot be long entertained, without sensible peril to both: Nature will be mixing certain motions with those of Friendship, which cannot but have fatal consequences. When Man shall be an Angel, he shall be permitted to converse with Woman: For till he is divested of his Body, he will not be without a Criminal desire. Therefore we must resolve never to approach too near these glittering Stars, whose malignant Influences ruin our Innocence, and whose Rays do not so much enlighten as they burn.  
We must not only love our Friends, but Neighbours: Every thing that is Man has a right to our Affections: But the consummation of this Passion is, when setting aside those base ignoble Considerations of Profit or Pleasure, we arrive to that glorious pitch, as to love even our very Enemies. This is a real proof of the verity and ardour of our Affection; and if it is not advanced so far, it can't but be imperfect, and so forfeit all its pretensions to the reward of a Virtue.  
'Tis intolerable to see with what Idolatry the Miser beholds his Bags, and how much Love he bestows upon a Metal, that can make as few returns to his Affection as it is insensible of it. With what extravagancy some admire a Flower, which fades even whilst they smell it, and which is irreparably lost if they crop it. Others, more Brutes than the very Dogs they follow, postpone every thing to a Kennel of Hounds! 'Tis a shame for a rational Creature to place so much fondness on one that is insensible. There is I know a feeble shadow of Fidelity in Dogs, and of Love in Horses; but as they are irrational, they are not properly Objects of our Love; we may esteem them answerable to the service we draw from them; but more is unpardonable. 'Tis highly absurd indeed (if we reflect seriously on it) that that Noble Passion, which was given us to constitute our Felicity, should be so misplaced, as only to argue the highest Folly in us that can well be, and that one Heart should love God and a Beast at the same time.    

Of the Nature and Properties of Hatred.  
ONE would think there were nothing in Nature more contrary to Man than Hatred is; and since he derives his Name from Humanity, he should never be reconciled to a Passion, that breathes forth nothing but Blood and Cruelty. However, this is as much a part of his Essence, as Love itself is. And if he has occasion for Love to unite him to those things he desires, he stands in no less need of Hatred, to preserve him from those that might annoy him. The whole Universe subsisteth but by the contrariety of the Elements: If the Water's coolness did not allay the violence of the Fire, the whole World had been long since in Cinders. So is it with the lesser World of Man's Body; did not the radical Moisture, temper the natural Heat, he would perish immediately without redress,  
Hatred is as necessary a Passion as Love; and we might justly accuse Nature of Cruelty or Neglect, if having given us a propensity to Good, she had not also taught us to hate and avoid what we thought not so.  
Hatred is in its birth no more than an aversion to any thing that displeases us; 'tis an Antipathy of the Appetite, or the impression that a disagreeable Object makes on the inferior part of the Soul. It has this property in common with Love, that it often prevents our Reason, and is established in our Will, without ask advice of our Judgements. And it has likewise this property different from Love, that we perceive it even in its conception, proceeding from an Object that wounds us, she makes us suffer from her very birth: and is not sooner established in our Breast, but she turns our Tormentor. One moment only is enough to produce her, and if she be not curbed immediately, she casts Fire and Flame through all the Faculties of the Soul, and like that active Element, converts all it meets with to its Nourishment. Her greatest Evil is, that she dies not so soon as Love doth; when once it hath taken root, it laughs at all attempts of repressing it. Philosophy that boasts such mighty Victories over the Passions, could never cure this Frenzy. I wonder not that Hatred when inveterate, should make some Parents oblige their Children to a perpetual enmity with their Enemies, and so expire cursing them if ever they should hearken to a reconciliation; since it is so impetuous in its motions, that it makes a Man despise his own life to prosecute his Revenge; nay, die with Joy and Consolation, if he can but crush his Enemy with his own Fall. From hence we may learn the violence of Hatred, that there is no Torment but it despises; no Crime so enormous, but it resolves on it presently to farther its furious Instigations.  
If the Properties of this Passion are so very strange, its Effects are fatal. She is the occasion of all the Tragical Actions which swell up History; and indeed he who follows her counsel, is capable of committing any thing. This Hellish Passion taught us, that Man could die in the Flower of his Age, without any Distemper, and that a Brother was not always safe in the company of his Brother: She gave us first the Cursed Instructions of mixing Poison with Drink, and murdering People under the colour of Hospitality. 'Twas she, and not Avarice tore up the bowels of the Earth, to furnish Instruments for her Cruelty. She teaches us to kill Man decently, and makes us approve of a Parricide, if it be but according to Art. In a word, after she has pronounced most bloody Sentences as a Judge, she will herself have the pleasure of executing them as a Hangman.  

The Good Use of Hatred.  
ALL the Works of Nature are perfect, and cannot without Jnjustice become Objects of our Hatred. Another likes what I do not; and what displeases my sight, gratifies his smell: And what Nature has produced of most unacceptable aspect, is a foil to the most charming, and illustrates the variety of the Created Being's. All such things than must be exempted from the violence of this Passion. Sin only can be its proper and legitimate Object; and that with this reservation too, that our own Offences be rather made so, than those of our Neighbour. We know not so well the Circumstances of his Transgression as our own. We are not Judges over him, therefore must not exercise our hatred with his failings. It's greatest edge must be against ourselves, and there it can never prove excessive; when we justify God's Goodness by our implacable hatred of iniquity. 'Tis an act of Justice to abominate sin. And David thought he shown his Love to God, when he demonstrated his hatred to his Enemies, and therefore ceased praising him to curse the wicked and ungodly.  
To make our Hatred meritorious, as was that of the Royal Prophet, it must have those two Conditions with it which his had: That is, we must hate Sin, but not Nature: We must detest the work of the Creature, but cherish and admire that of God. Thus by the assistance of Grace, Hatred becomes a Virtue, and assistant both to Justice and Charity. But she is practised much more securely against our own Imperfections, than those of our Neighbours. Self-love here will tie up our hands that we shall never exceed in it; what holy Fury soever our Love to God might inspire us with, yet that natural inclination we have to ourselves, would hinder us from proceeding without any dangerous severity.  
The hating ourselves is one of the Foundations of Christ's Gospel. We must deny ourselves and follow him, if we will be his Disciples. Love and Hatred are taught in his School after an extraordinary manner. For we are to give all our Love to our Neighbour, and to reserve the same degree of Hatred for ourselves. This Command is more rigorous in appearance than effect: For under the severity which it seems to carry along with it, there is concealed the sweetness of Love; for by a happy destiny attending this prosecution of Hatred, we love ourselves so much the more really, by how much we hate ourselves for sin.  
This Doctrine of our Saviour extends to the Spirit as well as the Flesh, and enjoins us not only Mortification, to repress the saucy motions of the Body, but Self-denial, thereby submitting our very Will to that of God. Our Hatred cannot be perfect if it reach no farthet than the Body alone; for it must equally act against every disorder that is caused by sin: And as Nature has lost her Original Purity, so both the parts, whereof she consisteth, are become criminal. The inclinations of the Soul are not more innocent than those of the Body; they have both their imperfections, and are both corrupted. What thick Clouds of Error and Ignorance obfuscate our Understanding? With what labour do we learn, and how easily is it all forgotten? our Memory which passes for a Miracle in Nature, treasures up Ideas that are false, as well as what are not so: She is treacherous, and leaves us at a pinch, furnishing us rather with futilous unnecessary things, than what are of moment to us.  
Perfectly to practise this great Doctrine of Jesus Christ, we must denounce War against both Soul and Body; and Combat the Darkness of our Understanding, the Weakness of our Memory, the Malice of our Will, the Error of our Imagination, and the Perfidiousness of our Senses, together with the Rebellion of every Member of our Body. These ill Qualities which deface the Image of the Creator in the Creature, are the proper Objects of all our Hatred; we may abhor them with Innocence, and punish them without Injustice. In a word, we must detest and abominate every thing that Sin produces, and which Grace cannot suffer.    

Of the Nature and Properties of Desire.  
DEsire is the Motion of the Soul towards a good which it loveth, but is not yet in possession of; from this Definition we may gather its first and chiefest Property, which is Inequitude.  
There can be no real Contentment where this Passion is conceived. Some have voluntarily condemned themselves to horrors and miseries, thinking every Remedy pleasant that cured so intolerable a Malady. Seneca tells us of a Woman who followed her Son into Banishment, choosing rather the Torments of Exile, than those of regretting her Son's Absence, and desiring his Return. But Nature, who designed this Passion for a Plague, hath given us Hope for to mitigate the Horrors which its Motions create; for 'tis the wretchedness of the damned to desire, without Hope of ever obtaining, and to languish after a Felicity, which 'tis impossible for them to possess. This Torment alone is far more insupportable to them, than the scorching of the inquenchable Flames or the Company of Devils, nay, more sensible than the very Eternity of their Damnation itself.  
But 'tis not in Hell alone that this Passion exerts itself in the Rigours of its Cruelty, she afflicts Man here upon Earth; and she is a Minister of Divine Justice, she is also by a Holy Artifice, subservient to Mercy. The Innocent and Godly desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ. This Passion gives Life and Motion to all the others in our Soul. Hatred only tortures us, because it desires Revenge; Ambition, because it thirsts after Honours; Avarice, because it longeth after Gold; and all the Passions are only insupportable, because they are attended with Desires, which, like a Contagious Malady, is spreading its fatal Poison through all the Faculties of the Soul, to render Man so much the more miserable.  
If Desire be so cruel, she is as shameful, for it is as much an Argument of our Indigence as our Affection; for we never desire but Things that we have not. Alexander the Great, who could make Sovereigns of his Slaves, could not accomplish his Desires in other Things: He saw his dear Friend Hephestion, at the Point of Death, and could only specify his Love to him, in the Fervour of his unfeigned Wishes for his Recovery. The Vows he made to Heaven for his Health, were so many evident Proofs of his Weakness and Incapacity, as well as of his Love and Sorrow.  
Desires are so many Public Marks of some Private Necessity; for the Soul that wishes shows its Indigency. This made Tertullian say, That Desire is the Glory of Things desired, and the Shame of the Party desiring; the Honour of Riches, and the Infamy of the Miser; the Reputation of Dignities, but the Scandal of the Ambitious.  

Of the good Use of Desire.  
ALthough there is nothing more frequent, than Desires, yet there is nothing more rare than their good Use. For of so many who make Wishes, how few know how to moderate them? Nature has bestowed on us this Passion, in order to the acquiring the Good we want and which is necessary for us. We must be cautious, and have only faint Desires for Transitory Things; and be reserved in our wishing for what may be taken away from us with Violence. The Fruition of no sublunary Felicity, can be so fixed, but by a Reverse of Fate, it may be interrupted; therefore we must love them, without Ardour, desire them with Moderation, possess them with Indifference, and part with them without Sorrow.  
But the great and principal Use we ought to make of this Noble Passion, is to elevate us to God, and unite us inseparably to him; for as he is the only and proper worthy Object of our Love so must he be of our Desires likewise. The most glorious Things below, are but imperfect at best; and if they have some Charms to attract our Affection, they have also many Faults, which merit our Contempt. The Sun with the beautiful Lustre of his splendid Rays, hath found People so Captivated with his Glory, that they raised Altars to him; & Christianity which spread almost all over the Face of the known Earth, has not been able to convince these of their Idolatry; yet he has his Imperfections too, which argue him but a Creature; he cannot enlighten at once both the Parts of the World; and though he goes round it every Day, yet but the one half of it enjoys his Light. He cannot avoid Eclipses, and see his Glories obfuscated by a Planet much inferior to him, both in Magnitude and Beauty. His Influences are not always propitious; he is the Parricide, as well as the Parent of Flowers. If his Rays warm us here in Europe, they scorch those in afric. But God has nothing which is not amiable in the highest Degree: Millions of Angels sing forth the Honour of his Perfections, which have had immortal Admirers, paying Homage and Adoration to them, from the very Infancy of the Creation. This is that supreme Good which we all long after; he alone is able to fill the vast Immensity of our Desires, with the Infinity of his Glories, the Exuberancy of his Perfections, and the unutterable Joys of his ravishing Beauties. Let us then hug our Misery, and rejoice that Nature has given us this Passion, since it may serve as Wings to elevate us to God, and as Chains for to fasten us there too. Our Wishes after Salvation. can never be Fruitless, the Object being Good, their Virtue consisteth in their Ardour. Our Converssion depends upon our own Will. Desire animated with Grace, blots out all our Transgressions; and though Heaven be so glorious and so happy a Place, yet it has cost little more than Desires to them who now enjoy it.  
The Power of this Passion is so great that it makes us heard in Heaven, even without speaking; and nothing was ever refused there to the Importunity of its Demands. It makes one of the glorious Appellations of Jesus Christ; for before he was known by the Name of the Saviour of the World, he was known by that of the Desired of all Nations.    

Of the Nature and Properties of Eschewing.  
WE should have but too just Reasons of reprehending Nature in the dispensing of her Favours, if after having given us an Impression whereby we covet Good, she had not also given us one to avoid Evil; for since we hate it, 'twould be a severe Affliction not to be able to fly it. This Passion seems to be the Daughter of Hatred, or her Handmaid at least; she is as impetuous in running from any Object, she apprehends, as Love is in pursuit of what it desires. Her Motions are generally innocent, and rarely Criminal but by surprise. We must then consider, whether the Evil she labours to shun, is really or apparently so: and if Opinion has not persuaded her of an Error, instead of a Truth. There is properly but two things that may be termed Evil, that is, Gild and Pain; yet as we are much more sensible of the one, than of the other, so are we more diligent to avoid it; and there are but few Men, who had not rather be criminal, than miserable. We fly the Plague more than Sin; and though we would not live in an Air that were prejudicial to our Health, yet we run daily into Company that robs us of our innocence. However, Pain has this great advantage, that it contributes equally to the Salvation of Man and the Glory of God: For he is as much glorified in the punishment of the wicked, as in the rewarding of the Just. Therefore we must adore the Arm that strikes us; and love the stripes for the dear Hand's sake which inflicts them, and teach the whole World, that the Thunderbolts of the Almighty are just, since they who are struck with them even adore them.  
Sin is a real Evil, and there ought our aversion to be irreconcilable. There is no motion of it but what is odious; the irregularity of the Will is its Cause, and an infiniteness its Object; it violates all Laws, and dishonours both Angels and Man. All the Miseries we suffer here are the punishments of its Disorders. This is the great Evil we must eschew, which has Hell for its place of residence, and Eternal Death for its Chastisement.  
Of all the Sins, none seems more properly to stand in need of this Passion to curb it, than that of Lasciviousness; other Passions may jointly be employed to combat some Vices, but nothing can be so efficaciously applied here as eschewing. No Charms will be so powerful, no Temptation so strong, no Opportunity so favourable, but that if we retire from them, they can't hurt us. 
Here flying only can secure the Field;  
Who stays to parley, will be sure to yield.  'Tis by this Passion that Chastity is preserved in the World, and by this that Men retiring from the Earth, become Angels in it, triumphing over the Wiles of the Devil, even in the infirmities of the Flesh.  
Since we have so great obligations to this Passion, owing our Salvation partly to it; let us consider a few of its Properties: For we ought exactly to know a Passion, to which we stand indebted for so considerable advantages. 'Tis the reverse of Desire, as Hatred is of Love; and its effects are as powerful as either of them all. 'Tis likewise an argument of our weakness, since by our retreating, we confess we have no other Strength, to surmount an Evil which attacks us.   

Of Hope.  
THat Art which raises itself from the Earth to contemplate the Heavens, and neglects the Beauties here below, to gaze on those of the Stars: This Art tell us, that the Sun changes not his Nature, tho' he changeth his Houses; and that the Planet which Eclipses him, doth not diminish his Light. Moralists, who acknowledge no other Sun than Love, confess that he assumes new Influences with new Aspects; and that he altars not his Essence when he varies his Name. But that he accommodates himself to the Sentiments of our Soul, according to the sundry Effects he designs to produce. He is melancholy and dejected under Affliction, violent in Anger, prompt in Desire, cast down in Despair, and easy in Joy: yet he is never so agreeable as in Hope.  
This seems to be his Throne, whereon he never sits, but in all his Pomp and Splendour. This is the most generous motion of the Soul; an inciting the Hero to every thing that is glorious. At her Solicitations, Alexander undertook the Conquest of Asia, and distributed the Fruits of his Victories to his Captains; and he who thought the whole Universe too narrow for his Sword, was contented with Hope alone for his share of all things. All the Conquerors were her Votaries, not to say her Slaves; and that Ambition which precipitated them into so many Dangers, took all her Counsels from this Passion.  
Her Empire doth not extend only over Princes, but the meanest Vassals live by her Flatteries. The Husbandman Manures his Land, the Merchant tempts the Constancy of the Seas for gain; and if Hope makes the former strive, by Patience and Industry to overcome the barrenness of the Earth, so she makes the latter trust all to the fury of a more treacherous Element. She is so happy in her Subjects, that we believe her, tho' we have been deceived by her. She knows so well how to give specious Glosses to her new Promises, that upon her word alone, we throw ourselves into new Dangers to compass our Designs, which were frustrated more than once before. There is no condition of Life so very wretched, but 'tis made less intolerable by this Passion; whence came that true, tho' old Proverb; Were it not for Hope the Heart would break; she comforts the Slave in the Galleys, and the Captive in his Bondage; and tho' she deceives us never so often, yet we cannot be brought to renounce her.  
Hope is the motion of the Irascible Appetite towards a good, that is absent, difficult, but possible; and if she may be abused, whilst indiscreetly employed about Futurity, relying too entirely on its incertainty, yet she is of great use in Religion, when she is founded upon Eternity.  

Of the Good Use of Hope.  
CHristian Religion is wholly grounded upon Hope: And as she despises the Felicities of the present, so she waits and longs for those which are to come: We are not of this World; no wonder then if we are mal-traited in it: But as we have nothing to possess here below, we ought to expect all above. 'Tis here we wait to receive the fulfilling our Redeemer's Promises, and really taste those Joys, whereof we have at present but the Pledge. With a bold impatience we long for that happy day, wherein the Son of God will punish his Enemies, and crown his Servants; and think ourselves already saved, because in Hope we are so, and in the midst of all the Crosses and Calamities that afflict us in this Life. We build our consolation on this Passion, which promises not so much, but that she performs more; since as the holy Father St. Austin says, the end of Hope is Eter-nal Happiness.  
This powerful Passion sustained the Martyrs in the midst of their Flames, and through the Tortures of implacable Tyrants, showed them a Crown of Glory which waited for them. The great Apostle of the Gentiles has poured out all his sacred Eloquence, to show the miraculous Effects of this glorious Passion. Sometimes he styles it the Anchor that keeps our Vessel firm and steady in the midst of the boisterous Ocean, and procures us a Calm even in the most raging Tempests. In another place he calls it a Shield to quench all the fiery Darts of Satan.  
From hence we may gather Hope is necessary to us in all conditions and states whatsoever, and that we may very usefully and profitably employ her, in all the several re-encounters of our Lives. She is our assurance in Storms, our Defence in Combats, and our Glory under Affronts. We must beware that she takes not the things of this Life for her Object; no, we must propose more noble ones to her, and by quitting all pretensions to these sublunary Enjoyments, only look after the Blessings which Christ has promised us, in the World which is to come.    

Of Despair.  
AMong all the Passions Despair has had the greatest Honour, and the greatest Blame from Antiquity. She was esteemed the last effort of Courage; which prompted those great Men, whom we still admire, to kill themselves rather than lose their Freedom; and employ Fire, Sword, and Poison, to deliver them from the insolency of a victorious Enemy. The Orators and Poets have used all their Rhetoric and Eloquence, in describing the Death of Cato: and they have so artificially disguised this furious Act, that if Faith did not tell us it was execrable, we should still believe it to have been Heroick. Seneca was never so florid upon Virtue as upon this Crime; and one would judge from his Encomium's, that he would persuade all Mankind to Despair, and all that are unfortunate to be their own Executioners. With what haughty Eloquence he makes the Gods descend, to contemplate Cato's Carcase; and suspend the Felicities of their Eternal Mansions, to see a Murderer wallowing in his Gore. But 'tis no wonder he makes so infamous a Murder pass for a Sacrifice, since he makes Drunkenness pass for a Virtue; choosing rather to maintain a Paradox, than that Cato's Reputation should suffer any thing; since he was so severely charged with it. Others too rigorous on the other extremity, considering that some following the impetuous motions of this Passion, have fatally dipped their Hands in their own Blood, would by no means admit of our harbouring an Enemy, that gave us such mortal Counsels.  
Both these Opinions are equally unjust: For Nature has showed her Care and Indulgence of Man, in nothing more than in giving him this Passion; since thereby he delivers himself from many Evils which oppress him, and to which Philosophy itself could prescribe no Remedy.  
Love makes us desire, and that very Desire excites such anxious motions in our Breast, whilst we do not compass what we so earnestly long for, that we become miserable, because we can't refrain loving a Good which we do not enjoy. But Despair terminates this wretched uneasiness, which otherwise would not terminate but with our Lives. By a natural Prudence she obliges us to leave off the pursuit, of what she finds impossible to attain, and to kill those Desires which serve only to heighten our Misery. We must accuse our Hope, that too easily engages us in Perils, and commend Despair that delivers us from them: She is indeed more prudent than courageous, and regards rather Safety than Glory; yet when reduced to the last push, and that a retreat is impossible, she grows honourably Courageous, resolving either to Die or Conquer. She has often snatched the Laurels out of the Hands of the Victorious, and by efforts, which might almost pass for Miracles in surmounting Nature, she preserves Man's Life by making him despise it, and obtains for him glorious Triumphs, whilst he sought an honourable Death.  
But to make this Passion subservient to our Design, we must keep it from those two dangerous Extremes, Timidity and Timerity. And tho' this Passion is sometimes innocent in Nature, yet it is always criminal in Grace. For our hope being founded on the veracity of God's Holy Word, we can't despair without accusing him, either of insufficiency or untruth. In Religion, Despair is the blackest Sin we can define, and he shows that he merits not to have his Iniquity pardoned, who despairs that it will be. 'Tis a trampling the Blood of Christ under our Feet: And what made Judas more criminal, than the very betraying of his Master, and Cain, then in the murdering his Brother?  
God has so equally mixed his Promises with his Menaces, his Blessings with his Maledictions, throughout the sacred Scriptures, that Man should neither Despair, nor yet Presume. To assure the former, he has proposed Repentance, whose Door is open to all that will come in; and to intimidate the latter, who by their delays impose upon his Mercy, he has made the hour of Death uncertain, reducing them hereby to the necessity of apprehending that fatal Moment, which being unknown to every living Creature, may easily surprise us all.   

Of Boldness.  
IF the difficulties which accompany Virtues, enhance their price, and those are regarded as the most beautiful which are the most painful; Boldness ought to be distinguished as the most glorious, since she undertakes to encounter only with what the World produces of terrible and astonishing, proposing no other benefit to itself, of all the many Conquests it gains, but the bare glory of having achieved them. Like generous Princes, she leaves the Pillage to the Soldiers, and is satisfied with Honour for her dividend. As this Passion never takes any thing for its Object, but what is both dangerous and difficult, she is rather severe than charming. It is easy to remark in the very Countenances of those Hero's whom she animates, a certain austerity and fierceness, which argues that her pleasure is in fatigues, and her chiefest diversion consisteth in surmounting difficulties; she has no Consolation but in glory, and no nourishment but in hope; with these feeble succours she attacks all her Enemies, and gains almost as many signal Victories, as she gives Battles; she promises nothing, but gives much, and tries sometimes even Impossibilities to accomplish those Promises which Hope had made us; and surmounts all mere difficulties that retard their execution: She is generous in all her designs; and tho' they are ever attended with hazards, yet they are for the most part crowned with a happy, but always with a glorious event. And if the blind Piety of the Poets made them ascribe the softer impulses of Love to a Divinity, which they styled Cupid; the miraculous effects of this Passion has constrained them to raise Altars to her, and offer up Sacrifices to her under the appellations of Pollas and Bellona.  
To make the qualities of this Passion more evident, we will subjoin some Instances, to all our antecedent Reasons. Zerxes was the most puissant Monarch that ever was; but gave the most palpable demonstration of his Power when he undertook the Conquest of Greece: His Army consisted of no less than two Millions of Men: The Rivers were too small, to make so many but quench their thirst; the Clouds of his Arrows obumbrated the Sun, and this glorious Planet suffered Eclipses which the Astrologers could not foresee in the countenances of the Heavens. All these mighty preparations were to subjugate a Country that was hardly sufficient to afford Quarters for such numerous Troops: However Leonidas possessing himself of the Straits of Thermopile, and entertaining himself between these Mountains, resolved to give him Battle, with only 300 Men. Without all dispute Hope and Fortitude elevated his Courage, and animated this generous Warrior, to an Enterprise equally difficult and glorious. As Hope represented to him the Honour of having made head against the common Enemy, and secured his Country's Freedom, prevented their Altars from being razed, and their Women from being ravished; yet Fortitude more sincere in her Counsels, showed him the greatness of the peril; setting before Leonidas' Eyes, that tho' his death was inviolable, yet he ought not to quit his Post; there was no necessity of his overcoming, but there was of his dying; and that he should do enough, if in sacrificing his own Life, he could but repel somewhat of the Enemies haughty Fury. Following then the motions of this generous Passion, he resolved to sustain the Charge of an Army, which extended beyond the Horizon, and so bid his Soldiers prepare for Combat and Death. Thus we see that Hope feeds upon Pleasures, which are imaginary, but Fortitude upon pains which are real. The Hope of Success was as much against Reason, as the being overthrown was inevitable. Yet we know, that this small Handful of Men defended themselves so bravely and so long, that tho' they fell there themselves, yet they might be said to have conquered Zerxes' Army: But at least we must allow that this was the Foundation of his total Defeat; and the so happy event of this resolution, so bravely executed, encouraged all Greece, and shown them, that so powerful an Enemy was not invincible if they durst die. The Power of a Prince may make him undertake great things, yet nothing inspires so much boldness as Innocence. For she thinks that Heaven itself is obliged to appear in her Cause, in as much as she is without offence.  

Of the good use of Boldness.  
'TIS true, that our Passions are oftener criminal than virtuous, and the disorder of our Nature since the Sin of our first Parent has occasioned their greatest inclinations to be towards Vice, yet with some assistances we may bring them from it. This glorious Passion made all the Martyrs despise their Torments, and whilst their Bodies distilled drop by drop from the glowing Grid Irons, their Tongues reproached their Persecutors, and praised their God. Grace we must grant to be more strong than Nature; yet she doth not refuse the assistance of Nature. Virtue stands in need of the succours of our Passions, and they on the other hand require Virtue to be their Guide.  
To make then this Passion a Virtue, we must see she is accompanied with Justice. He that takes Arms to ruin his Country, is rather Criminal than Courageous; and tho' he die with his Sword in his Hand, in the thickest of his Enemies, yet the illegitimateness of his intentions will take from him the Character of Glorious.  
We must likewise try our Forces before we begin to attack our Enemy. Virtue is not so rigid as to exact impossibilities of us: she requires but what is in our power, and would have us in all undertake weigh, whether the Medium we use is proportionable to the end we propose.  
But a Christian's boldness must have two other Conditions, which are Humility and Hatred of ourselves; for he who has not conquered his Inclination, cant hope to triumph over Pleasuress and he who has not declared open Wa; against his Body, is in no good condirtion of doing it against the sorrow of his Mind. Let us then make use of our Forces against ourselves, that we may the better succeed, when we employ them against other Enemies; and let us surmount the love of ourselves, if we would surmount the fear of Death.    

Of Fear.  
THere are some Passions, whose Names belie their Nature, and which are nothing less within, than what they appear without. Hope hath an agreeable Aspect; yet she procures us as many Miseries, as she promises us Advantages. Fear is looked upon as the basest of all the Passions, and is thought to be the pure result of an ignoble Spirit. But there is a great deal of Error and Injustice in this Sentiment; for she is prudent in effect, only descrying. Evils to show us how to avoid them; and as Man is exposed to many Multitudes of various Dangers, that may overwhelm him, this passion is continually upon guard, prying even into futurity itself, to discover a possible danger; which being cautiously warded off, secures our Felicity at the same time it prevents any Disaster.  
Fear then is a natural prudence, which delivers us from an Evil, by the very Apprehension alone she gives us of it, and is not less useful in the Church than in State. The fear of eternal Punishments, first made Man seek to appease the irritated Gods, to build Temples, erect Altars, burn incense, and Immolate Sacrifices. And tho' Religion bids us love God for his own worthiness sake, yet 'tis highly to be presumed, that Fear has made the most of his Votaries; nay, saved more guilty Souls than Hope itself. The fear of God (says the Divine Text) is the beginning of Wisdom; that is, in other words, the supporter of Virtue, and the foundation of Piety. Vice would grow insolent, and the Law of no use, had not Nature placed this Passion in Man's Soul, and made the most hardy Criminal apprehend Punishment: And the Judge can give Sentence but upon what he knows; yet this faithful Minister of God's Vengeance, makes the Guilty tremble in the midst of their Friends, and enjoy neither rest nor security either in Cities or Deserts.  
This may serve for one Instance, that our Nature is not entirely corrupted, since she retains still in the midst of all those Imperfections which environ her, an abhorrence and hatred of Sin, as well as a fear and dread of Punishment. Wheresoever we hid ourselves, the secret remorses of our Consciences go with us; assuring us that there is a Divinity, which sees the most secret transactions of our Lives, and punishes them after our Death. Of those many thousands of Christians, who confess and acknowledge Christ, there are but few that stand not more indebted to their Fear than their Love, and endeavour to purchase Heaven, only to secure them from Hell; loving God's Mercy, because they fear his Justice. And 'tis no small matter, that this Passion (by its motions) should open a Door of Salvation to the ungodly, and show Sinners the way to Virtue.  
If she is thus beneficial in Affairs of Religion, she is no less in Affairs of State. We live alas! no longer in that happy Age when Friendship united Mankind, and superseded Laws; when Love banished Injustice from the face of the Earth. No, now our Love to ourselves is established in hating our Neighbour; and we must restrain them by Fear, whom we cannot win by Affection: We erect Gibbets to terrify the Criminal, and invent Tortures to render Death more horrid; that so what was an indispensable Tribute of Nature, should by this means become a Chastisement of Iniquity.  
Nature has not given us this Passion to be a Torment to us, but a Security, for she considers only those Dangers that are avoidable: If once she finds them inevitable, she leaves off the intentions of struggling with them; vain efforts are to be condemned in every thing; so we must support what we cannot shun. Who would not judge Fear to be the Guardian of our Repose, who studies nothing but our security, and only gives us an Alarm, that we may prepare to oppose an Enemy who cometh to invade it? But as there are some Accidents, which our Prudence can't foresee, nor our Courage vanquish, we must not be astonished if some others surprise Fear, and get the better of a Passion, after having triumphed over two glorious Virtues.  

Of the good use of Fear.  
FEar hath this property of Prudence, that it is most especially busied about things to come; and when she has discovered a Danger at a distance, calls in all her Forces to combat it. Courage and Conduct is not every Man's Lot, and hardly any Man's in perfection; for one is the property of fiery vigorous Youth; and the other the tedious Lessons of a long Experience, acquired only in an Age, wherein we are no longer fit for Action ourselves, and therefore only proper to give Advice. As Fear is more considerate than generous, so is she more proper to deliberate than engage. She may be as successfully applied in Virtue, as against Vice: What is Shame but the fear of Infamy? and this innocent Passion protects all the Virtues. How many Men would be looked upon under a less glorious Character, were it not for the Instigations of this Passion, owing their Innocence to their apprehension of Scandal; acting not to satisfy their Duty, but to save their Reputations? If we would encourage this Passion in our Souls, we should keep ourselves unhurt from a Thousand Temptations which would otherwise triumph over our Innocence. Who is there proof against the illecebrations of the Flesh? and what refrains us from yielding to such powerful, such charming Solicitations, but the bare fear of Discredit here and Damnation hereafter?    

Of Anger.  
ANger draws its strength from the other many Passions, whereof she is composed; & seems courageous only because she is so well seconded. Sorrow raises her, Desire stirs her up to Revenge, Hope sustains her there, & Boldness carries her on to the accomplishing what she violently affects. For when we find it impossible to get that Revenge we proposed to ourselves, our Anger sinks into Sadness, & loses both its Name and its Nature.  
We may then define Anger to be a Motion of the Sensitive Appetite, seeking after a Revenge for an Injury committed; she thinks that she is always reasonable, because she has always Justice on her side. She has depopulated Cities, and made Deserts of whole Provinces; she has dethroned a thousand Monarches; sacrificed some even in the very midst of their Guards; and that august Glory which shines on a Sovereign's Brow, could not secure them from feeling the terrible Effects of this Passion. Yet in all these Devastations, she believes herself innocent, and that she has but exacted a just Satisfaction for the Injuries she had received. Thus after having called in the Assistance of Fortitude to perpetrate her Cruelties, she summons Reason to justify such Proceed. She sows Discord in private Families, Enmity between Man and Wife, and Civil Wars in a Commonwealth. Envy, with all its Malignity and Rancour, is contented with the Wishing Evil, and leaves the Event to Destiny; but this savage Passion (more criminal than all the others together) prevents the Rigours of Fate, and takes a pleasure in making others miserable; nor doth she think their Punishment severe enough, if she has not herself a Hand in the inflicting it. The Poverty of some Nations secures them from Ambition, Pride, Voluptuousness, and Avarice; but none were ever exempted from the tyranny of this Passion; it reigns equally amongst the Barbarians and those who are civilised, and employs Bows, and Arrows, and Slings to execute its Fury, where it has not as yet introduced the use of Artillery and Swords.  
The most troublesome Condition of this fatal Passion is that the smallest occasion is enough to excite it; a wry Look, a Mistake, a cross Word, a Jest from a Friend or a smart Repartee from any one, sets all in a flame in a Moment. In the very instant of its Birth, it is at full Growth, and if the other Passions may be said to push us forward, this may as truly be said to precipitate us. Since she is so very hasty, no wonder if she be inconsiderate likewise, and makes us often commit an unpardonable Crime, in revenging a small Affront, and expose our Lives to accomplish our Satisfaction for some imaginary Injury.  

The good Use of Anger.  
AS the Motions of this Passion are too impetuous to give Place to Reason, so we shall never reap any Advantage from it, but through the means of Grace; she is too sudden to be prevented, and too violent to be suppressed.  
To make her subservient to Virtue the surest Method is to prepossess our Minds with the Frivolousness of those Things which ordinarily excite her, show her how she is abused in the estimate she makes of Things; that we are only offended because we are ignorant; that they are not so much Injuries as Arguments of our great Weakness. Can we persuade our Selves, That Virtue only is all our Riches, all our Glory, we should not be surprised by this Passion. 'Tis not really ours what Fortune can deprive us of; and what is under her Dominion is not absolutely good in itself; and therefore no ways worthy the very inconsiderable Uneasiness of but one anxious Thought or Desire.  
In respect of Injuries; if they are but slight, they ought to be despised; if they seem great, we must mitigate and allay their Blackness by some Considerations. They will not do us so much harm, as to their own Author; and will be the more glorious for us to suffer, as they are unjustly done to us Had there been no Tyrants, there had been no Martyrs, and the Cruelty of the one, was as necessary as the Constancy of the other. What matters it if the Action of this Man be unjust, provided I can reap a Benefit from it? Joseph owed his Grandeur to his Brother's Malice: And if they had not sold him a Slave to Egypt, he had never been Pharaoh's chief Minister. And if we think it a happy Bondage that procures us a Kingdom here, why should we not forgive an Injury to gain that of Heaven? A frequent Meditation on these and such like Reasons, would make such an Impression on our Minds, as that this Passion would very rarely be able to surprise us.  
With these Precautions we may draw some Advantages from this Passion. Kings and Judges may use her beneficially in supporting Justice, when either Fear or Favour would try to hinder the Execution of the Laws. The Holy Scriptures assure us that God is sometimes angry: And the Wiseman giving a Description of that terrible Day, when the Almighty will take Vengeance of his Enemies, he arms the Divinity Capapee: He shall put on his Armour in his Zeal (says he;) Justice shall be his Breast Plate, Judgement his Helmet, Righteousness his Shield, and Anger shall be his Lance. Tho' the Prophet accommodates this Description to the weakness of Man's Capacity, yet 'tis certain that the Son of God had Whips and Cords to revenge the Quarrel of his Father; and had that just Resentment painted on his adorable Visage, which prudent Magistrates have when they punish Crimes and defend Innocence. The greatest and wisest King thought his People could not be well governed without this Passion. The Sword he wears aught to be as much employed in punishing Violence at HOME, as that from Abroad; and that he ought to have the same just Indignation, when the Laws are infringed by his Subjects, as when his Frontiers are surprised by his Neighbours. Anger and Mildness are the Bridles by which the People are kept in awe, and Peace made to flourish throughout the Kingdom. The Wrath of a King is as the roaring of a Lion, but his Smiles are as the Dew upon the Grass.  
Our Blessed Saviour said, Be angry, and sin not; so that this Passion may be safely admitted into our Breast; but it must be with great circumspection. If it take any other Object than ourselves, we have reason to fear an overthrow. In this is it most fitly employed about the punishing our own selves, that the instinct every Man naturally has to preserve himself, will so far moderate the effects of this Passion, that we need not apprehend its outrages. Oh happy Anger! that offending Man, appeases God; that by its Tears blots out its Iniquities, and is absoved by accusing itself, and which by small pain delivers us from the Torments of the Damned, to enjoy the Felicities of the Angels.    

Of Pleasure.  
IF Hope is thought to merit so many and so high Encomiums, as that she is the most charming agreeable Passion that rises in Man's Soul, and that which flatters our senses with the most sensible delectation; what shall we say of Pleasure, which is the delicious fruitwhereof the other was but a bud, or blossom at most? This is the effect, and the other was but a fair promise. This is the motion of the Soul that terminates all the rest: As Love is the commencement, this is the consummation, and in all the different forms which Love assumes, he is the most agreeable in this; in all the others, he is mixed with troubles, dangers, fatigues, hardships, and as many various miseries as he is metamorphosed into different shapes; yet in this of Pleasure he is absolutely all the desires; he is at once victorious, triumphant, and happy.  
Pleasure is the fruition of an agreeable good which renders the Soul satisfied, interdicting any motion of desire, sorrow, or fear; this definition excludes all those delights our Memory furnishes us with, in the recollection of a past Felicity: Those shadows of Joy may serve to entertain our thoughts with, but are not solid enough to constitute a real Tranquillity; It being as natural to regret a Felicity which we have lost, as desire one that is absent from us: As also all those infamous Pleasures which Voluptuousness creates; the pain of desiring them exceeds by much the delectation of fruition: They are such Mortal Enemies of our quiet, that they are never enjoyed without rendering us miserable, as well as criminal, at one fatal stroke wounding both Soul and Body.  
True Pleasure is never so agreeable as when 'tis extreme; the greater it is, the more it ravishes us. The solid satisfaction of a rational Creature consisteth in the Mind, and Man cannot be contented if the more noble part of his System is not happy. The knowledge of Truth, and the practice of Virtue ought to be his great divertisement: He must follow the most pure of his inclinations, and in the composition of his Body he must labour rather to please the Angel, than gratify the Beast. He must remember that the Body is but the Slave of the Soul, and in his choice of Pleasures, he ought to give the Deference to the Sovereign. If any man is of a contrary sentiment, we cannot but conclude that Sin, which deprived him of Grace, has robbed him likewise of his Understanding and Reason too. The pleasures of the Senses are limited, but those of the Soul are not so: That sweet Odour which gratifies the Smell, pleases no other Sense. Music, which ravishing the Soul from the Body, puts us in Heaven with the glorious Cherubims, has no effect but upon the Ear. Virtue satisfies every faculty of the Soul, and indeed she is never contented by halves; what charms her in one power is diffusive, and her Joy becomes universal. The happiness of the Body is but a shadow, and its felicity but an empty vain appearance: Whilst that of the Soul is real, solid, and substantial, not to be taken away from them who possess it, even by death itself, but what will accompany them into a happy Eternity.  

Of the good use of Pleasure.  
THose who condemn Pleasure, at the same time condemn Nature, accusing her of oversights in all her Works; for she has so mixed it in all the most minute affairs of our lives, that we do nothing wherein she has not equally an agreableness as a necessity. Hunger makes us eat, and our Nourishment pleases the Palate whilst it concerns our Lives. As Pleasure is useful to the Body, so it is necessary to the Soul. We would not combat against Vice, but for the Joy and Glory which the Conquest yields us. Who would go through the many difficulties that attend the acquiring of knowledge, but for the sweetness they reap after their labours? But as Nature has diffused some pleasure in all these things, 'tis to serve us, not as an impellent motive, but as an assistant only, and to be rather our refreshment under our difficulties, than the reward of them: A spur or encouragement to arrive at the end, but it must not be the end itself. The pleasures or enjoyments of the Earth may divert us, but must not take up too much of us; Nature designing them not so much for our felicity, as our comfort.  
Our blessed Saviour has assured us, that all the pleasures and happiness of this World, are not worth our looking after; and therefore he counsels us to renounce forthwith the blandishments of the World, and establish our felicity in Heaven. He has ordered us by the mouth of his Apostles, never to open the door of our hearts, but to those pure unallayed consolations which have the Holy Ghost for their source and spring; and consulting our Interests only, he obliges us to look after a Joy, which being grounded upon himself, cannot be ravished from us, either by the Malice of Man, or by the Iniquity of Fortune; and which having an infinite goodness for their Cause and Object, have their duration only circumscribed by Eternity.    

Of Sorrow.  
THis Passion seems to be natural to Man; the others but accidental: Few Parts of our Body are Partakers of our Pleasures, or capable of receiving any one Particular: But no Part of us, but alas! is sensible of Pain, Sorrow and Grief. The Spirit is dejected, and the Eyes mourn; Sadness displays itself through the whole Oeconomy. The very deplorableness of our State doth argue Pain to be more essential to us than Pleasure. We are born in Tears, we live in Sorrow, and die in Sighs. For one vain, transient and imaginary Pleasure, we feel a thousand real weighty Evils. And what is a farther Confirmation of the Misery of our Condition, we are much more sensible of Pain than Pleasure. A small Distemper destroys all our most solid Contentment; a Fit of the Gout or Stone, is capable to make a Conqueror forget his Laurels, and the Pomp of all his Triumphs.  
Grief is a real Evil that attacks both Soul and Body at once, making a double Wound at each Blow. When the Body is necessitated to undergo the sharpness of Tortures, the rigours of the Seasons, and the violence of Distempers, the Soul is obliged to sigh with her, and that Bond which unites them, makes their Misery common; she apprehends Wounds, tho' she is invulnerable, and Death, tho' she is immortal; and this only by reason of that strict Communication, which she has with the Body. We all agree, that the Soul cannot be happy, whilst the Body is miserable; and to confirm us in this Opinion, we know that the Soul of our blessed Saviour Jesus Christ, tho' it was happy in itself, yet it was pierced with Grief, when he said to his Disciples, My Soul is sorrowful even unto death: And the Felicity of his Divinity seemed to be suspended during his Agony; for it was not without Cause that he cried, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?  
The Soul is much more happy than the Body by this Union; for by the very Reflection on a past Misery she creates to herself new Pains whereof the Body feels no part, and so of but one only Evil she makes a double Martyrdom.  
The effect of this melancholy Passion are very strange; for when Sorrow is not extreme, she is ingenious, and renders Man Eloquent without the benefit of Rhetoric; to hear their pathetic Expressions, that multitude of Sighs, that so easily second the energy of their lugubrious Discourses, one would think that the greatest horrors and anguish of Nature, were infinitely less than what they groan under. But when she is extreme, she stupifies, hardly leaving Man the use of any Sense; and who was so florid in describing a small Evil, confesses by his silence, that this is without comparison greater, since it is unutterable. Curae leves loquuntur, magnae stupent. This mighty alteration gave occasion to the Poets to feign, that it Converted some into Rocks, others into Stones.  

The good use of Sorrow.  
WE must not wonder if the Stoics condemn a Passion, when they do not approve even of the very Virtues she produces; placing their Wisemen in such a State of Felicity, that no humane cause could ever interrupt: In the plundering of a City, or the destruction of their Country, they were still as unmoved, as Jupiter would be at the dissolution of the Universe; and if they granted a Sigh to a deceased Parent, or shed a Tear with the reflection of their Country's Ruin; yet this was without ever Affecting the Soul, whose Felicity consisting in its self, it could not be moved by any external Cause. But sure the pomp of these haughty Expressions, could be only to preserve the Soul in her Sovereignty, and persuade us not to be so far overwhelmed with the pain of the Body, as to dethrone the Mind; and of the Malady of the Slave, make the Misery of the Sovereign; which the better to effect, she used the policy of the Orators, who by their Hyperboles persuade us of Verities, and prove all things possible, to animate us to some that are difficult. Therefore that the Soul might not sink under the weakness of the Body, but be established in her Empire, they have made use of Terms somewhat more Eloquent than true.  
Sorrow is so reasonable a Passion, that there are some Junctures, wherein it were Impiety not to be afflicted; and we must not only bewail our own Sins, but our Neighbour's Miseries. We stand indebted to this Passion for our Innocence; because our conversion to Grace, is perfected in our sorrow for Sin; and the Justice of God satisfied with the sincerity of our Tears.  
In other Circumstances she works not so miraculously: If our Afflictions comfort the Living, they do not raise the Dead, and if they assure the Wretched of our Affection, they deliver them not from the anguish of their Torments. But the sadness of Repentance is of another nature, those grievous Sighs which oppress Sin save the Sinner; these Tears wash away the Crime, and sanctify the Criminal. Sorrow alone for having offended, becomes here a complete satisfaction: And as God knoweth that it lies not in our power, to alter any thing which has already happened; so he graciously accepts of our Repentance, for having transgressed. And as he sees the bottom of our Hearts, so when our Tears are unfeigned, he never refuses them his Pardon. Were it not for this Passion there could be no Salvation, since there can be no Repentance without Sorrow; we will therefore be vehement in the defence of a Passion, from which we receive such considerable Advantages: And tho' Princes thinking this too austere a Passion to have admittance into their Courts, by Music, Balls, Dance, Plays, and many other Divertisements, seek to keep it from an Entrance; yet before the Tribunal of God, this Passion has more Credit than all the others united in one. She can boast that she works the strange Metamorphosis in Grace; of making Saints of Sinners; and of the Children of Disobedience, Darkness and Perdition, she makes Children of Light, Brothers with the Son of God, and Heirs of everlasting Felicities, and of a Crown and Kingdom which can know no end.    

The Conclusion.  
FRom all these Discourses 'tis easy to judge, that there is no Passion in our Souls, which may not be advantageously managed by Reason as well as Grace. For to sum up all what has been said in the whole Work; Love may be changed into a holy Amity, and Hatred may be brought to a just Indignation. Desires moderated are so many good Assistants, to acquire Virtue. Eschewing is the proper security of Chastity: Hope animates us to brave and generous Undertake, and our Despair turns us from rash ones: Fear is serviceable to Prudence, and Boldness to Valour: As brutish as Anger seems, she sides with Justice: Joy is an innocent Antepast of Felicity: Grief a short pain, that frees us from Eternal Torments: So that our Salvation depends only upon the good use of our Passions, and Virtue itself, only subsisteth by the good employment of the Motions of our Soul.  
FINIS.    

INDEX.  

PART. I.  
OF the Number of our Passions. 14  
Whether there were any Passions in the State of Innocence. 17  
If there were any Passions in Jesus Christ, and wherein they differed from ours. 19  
Of the disorderliness of Man's Pass. 22  
Nature alone cannot regulate our Passions. 24  
Of the necessity of Grace to govern the Passions. 26  
Our Senses are chief the Causes of the disorders of our Passions. 28  
There is more irregularity in the Passions of Man, than in those of Beasts. 29  
As there is nothing more difficult, so there is nothing more glorious than the Government of the Passions. 32  
No Slavery is so miserable, as that of being overpowered by our Passions. 37  
To govern our Passions we must first moderate them. 41  
Reason alone is able to restrain the Passions. 46  
By what means we may moderate our Passions. 50  
Our Passions are really in themselves so many Seeds of Virtue. 53  
There is no Passion which may not be changed into a Virtue. 58  
The Government of our Passions, is the business of Virtue. 62   

PART. II.  
OF Love. 66  
Of the good use of Love. 68  
Of the nature and properties of Hatred. 73  
The good use of Hatred. 76  
Of the nature and properties of Desire. 80  
Of the good use of Desire. 83  
Of the nature & propert. of Eschewing. 86  
Of Hope. 88  
Of the good use of Hope. 91  
Of Despair. 93  
Of Boldness. 96  
Of the good use of Boldness. 100  
Of Fear. 102  
Of the good use of Fear. 105  
Of Anger. 106  
The good use of Anger. 109  
Of Pleasure. 112  
Of the good use of Pleasure. 115  
Of Sorrow. 117  
The good use of Sorrow. 119  
The Conclusion. 122    

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