THE ROMAN. THE CONVERSATION OF THE ROMANS AND MAECENAS, In Three Excellent DISCOURSES, Written in French By Monsieur de BALSAC.  
Translated into English.  
LONDON, Printed by T. N. for J. Holden at the Anchor in the New Exchange. 1652.   

THE STATIONER TO THE READER.  
NOthing but great Subjects can fall from the pen of Monsieur de Balsac, who having formerly ravished the world with his immortal Prince, hath now for a choice cabinet piece illuminated in small an invincible Roman; Neither can any pen so powerfully commend his, as his own: Even commending Antiquity he hath outdone it; So that the present Age may glory, that the virtue of well speaking is as high as ever. Nay, he hath so highly praised our Predecessors, that with an unheard of rhetoric he forcibly persuades the contrary, & ravisheth for himself what he seems to bestow on them; So that by his example we need not doubt but Posterity is as capable of true Nobility. And that Antiquity itself must confess, that in parallel lines, although the parallel must be after the first, yet it may as well be drawn above as below it. But as he of Hero's, so we may say of Writers, there is but one Balsac. And indeed his Translator thought it a bold attempt to make him speak English like himself, and to dare copy so high a subject after so illustrious an hand. And therefore conceals himself, behind the Curtain, and timerously bids me inquire of you whither he hath done the author right. If you are therefore pleased, we are all so; But we are all at a loss, unless you favourably pardon the escapes of the press, which are many, and require thy judgement as well as the help of this Errata.   

ERRATA.  
PAg. 23. line 15. read ever. p. 45 l. 6. r. Heroes: p. 48. l. 11. Conversation begins the Paragraph: Id. l. 18. r. Nations: p. 98. l. 22. r. writes: p. 120. l, 11. r. he never fell: p. 123. l. ult. r. nobleness: p. 125. l. 19 r. could: p. 126. l. 1. r. modest: p. 133. l. ult. r. appeased: Ib. l. 14. r. it: p. 134. l. 6. r. debated: p. 135. l. 2. r. when: p. 136. l. 8. r. even: p. 137. l. ult. r. thorns. p. 142. l. 16. r. of.   

THE ROMAN, TO The Lady Marquess of RAMBOVILLET.  
Discourse I.  
WHAT hath been told you Madam is most true, and if you desire an illustrious witness, I will confirm it, Caesar shall assure you in two or three places of his commentaries. There is no doubt but those great souls of which we have so often discoursed, were lodged in bodies of a mean size; your Ancestors were Hero's, but were not giants, and the most part of their enemies had the advantage, both in stature and bulk: This historical truth being without difficulty received, there can be nothing more just, than the consequences drawn from thence; That had the men of those times been weighed, and valued by weight; an Alman had been near upon worth two Romans.  
The Almans were both longer and larger; The Galls were stronger and more numerous; The Africans richer and craftier; The Greeks better polished, and better skilled in the exercises of wrestling and coursing; But the Romans fit for command, better disciplined, and more knowing in war; And with this discipline which some have called, the foundation of the Empire, the source of their Triumphs, they have subjugated the strength, the number, the wealth, the subtlety, and even the virtue of other Nations.  
You ought not to doubt but there was virtue in the Provinces; The despising of death was common among the Barbarians: The love of liberty, and the desire of glory were not unknown unto them. But, Madam, the true use of all these things was to be found at Rome: Rome was the Shop where the gifts of Heaven were wrought, and where the goods of Nature were perfected. It was she, who, first of all showed to the world judicious Armies, & wise Wars: It was she knew how to mix, as it ought to be, Art with Adventure, Conduct with Fury, and the Divine quality of the Understanding, with the brutal actions of the Irascible part.  
Whereby it appears, That the Soul is sovereign Artisan, of all things, as welll of Military Actions, as of Civil Affairs: The principal part of valour depends not on the organs of the Body; neither is it a privation of reason, and a simple overflowing of the Gall, as the People fancy it; 'Tis neither the eyes that see, nor the ears that hear, nor the arms that move; 'Tis the Soul, as a Poet says, quoted by Aristotle; 'Tis the Soul that doth all, without which the eyes were blind, the ears deaf, the arms paralitical; It is the principle, and the author of all the operations of man.  
By the Soul a child hath cast down a Giant, and Bulls are led in a string; By the Soul an Architect sitting still, orders the work of a thousand Masons, and builds Temples and Palaces; By the Soul a Pilot without stirring, works more than all the Slaves at the oar, and a man would vainly sweat to hoist and lose the sails, did he not find his way by the Stars; By the Soul, Madam, a Consul having been commanded to make war against a King, an Enemy to the republic, studied the way so well, and became so knowing in a profession, wherein he was altogether ignorant; That going from the City a man of Peace, he arrived at the Army a Great Captain, and divests his robes to gain presently a battle: Thus did your Predecessors commence; Thus did they manage their first arms; Their prenticeship was a masterpiece.  
I am confident you would see one of those people? Can we find out no way to show you a Roman Consul? Is there no safer and more innocent means, than that of magic, to bring him whole from the place where he is? For, without doubt, you would see him, both in body and mind, with that gravity, which bred respect in the heart of Kings, and ravished the people with admiration; you would see him, with that visible & acknowledgeable Authority, which accompanied him to Prison and banishment, which dwelled with him when he had lost all, whereof Fortune could not despoil him, when she had reduced him to his shirt. Here he is, Madam, who comes not from the Elysian fields, nor from a fabulous habitation; He comes forth of the Histories of Polybius or of some such like Country, and methinks he deserves very well to be looked upon.  
First, he no less knows how to obey the Laws, than he knows how to command men, and with an elevation of spirit, which sees the Crowns of sovereigns beneath him, he hath a soul wholly subject to the power of the people; He reveres the sanctity of that power in the hands of a Tribun, or of a furious Man, or of an Enemy, or perhaps of both. Believing, that to fail is the only ill that can happen to an honest man; He believes there are no faults little, and making a religion of the least part of his duty, he even thinks he cannot be negligent thereof without impiety; He more esteems a day employed in virtue, than a long delicious life; A moment of glory, more, than an age of voluptuousness; He measures time by success, and not by its durance.  
Acting by this principle, he is always prepared to hazardous undertakings; He is always ready to devote himself, for the good of his Citizens, to take upon him the ill fortune of the commonwealth; And whether the Oracle direct him, or the Inspiration come from his own spirit, he thanks the Gods, as the greatest grace they ever conferred on him; for that it was their will he should be the General, which was to be killed of that Army which should gain the Victory. In pursuit of this, Madam, there is nothing but must be easy to him, and nothing but we may believe of him; He knows neither nature, nor alliance, nor affection, where the interest of his Country is concerned; He hath no other particular interest but that, and neither loves nor hates, but for public concernments.  
A soul without a body, and rid of matter could agitate in no other manner, nor could it be less incommodated with its passions; but let us say more; It could not be less sensible of the vain appearance of human things, as welll those which astonish, and those which dazzle us; The Bravadoes of the day make no more impression on his constancy, then yesterday's caresses: Princes are as weak against him with their wild beasts, as with their treasures. And if he had never seen Elephants, and were it possible from behind the tapestry to bring forth all those which are in Africa, or in the Indies, he would consider them but as a sport, or the mummeries of Pyrrhus, and not as a frightful and threatning thing for Fabritius. All what ever is frightful and terrible, in the world, is not capable to make him wink; All what is splendid and precious cannot afford him temptation; He is neither to be overcome; Nor to be won.  
He is of those courages, Madam, which were invincible, were they assaulted only with a lively force, and were a man always to fight, and always to make war. But proposing for the object of their valour, to overcome what was most to be feared in their enemies, they imagine it unnecessary to mistrust the rest, and are least careful in those things which they believe less difficult; whence perhaps that fancy of the Poets comes, that the demigods had a part about them which was subject to death, and a place whereby they were mortal: Because according to my opinion, there is always imperfection in the works of nature, and that she never takes so much care in finishing what she makes, but that she always leaves the one side weaker than the other: Now, Madam, it is not to be doubted, but that this commonly is the weak part of great courages, and here their hearts are of flesh, which everywhere else are of Diamond. There needs not so much resolution to resist the violence of Tyrants, as to defend one's self from their favours; and the power which was given them to do ill, is less dangerous than the means they have whereby to oblige men.  
Yet do all these means fail, when they are to be employed against a Roman. This mortal part is not to be found in his soul; he is equally strong on all sides; He is impenetrable to vanity, as welll as to fear and avarice; His severity cannot be sweetened, not even with the compliments and flatteries of the King of the Parthians; He at once subverts discovered endeavours, and guards, himself from hidden artifices; Nothing is contagious to a mind naturally so sound, and so well purged by the discipline of his Country; Neither the poison brought from far, nor the neighbouring corrupted air, nor stranger, nor citizen have the power to change the goodness of his constitution.  
Malcontents lose their time and their pains, if they think to make him relish novelties, by infusing in him an ill opinion of the present; How specious soever the pretences are they propose, though they speak the public good or liberty, he understands not the language; You were as good court a Vestal; 'Tis not a human enterprise to shake his immovable fidelity; A Poet said the Capitol was not so stable, And that Rome might sooner change place; He would rather destroy Tyranny, then share it with any man, and rather declare himself an Enemy, than a Colleague with an Usurper.  
Can any thing be added to so great a Title. This one thing more, to witness the highest proof of his virtue: The republic, Madam, cannot lose him, how negligent so ever she be to preserve him; He suffers not only patiently, but gladly injuries and injustices. It never sunk into his mind to revenge himself of her by a civil war, and he prefers the name of an innocent Banditi, to that of a guilty Victor; He hath been persuaded from his childhood, and since never doubted, That a son can never acquit himself of all he owes to a mother, though a wicked mother, though even she became a Stepmother. And that a Citizen is for ever obliged to his Country, even to his ungrateful Country, which even hath used him like an Enemy.  
Behold, Madam, you have near upon sounded the bottom of our consul's heart, and the root of those wonderful things which you shall read in the Histories of Polybius and Titus Livius.  
Let's now a while look on his outside, on that part which is more exposed to the sight of men.  
You may observe in his Actions neither a Cowardly or a heavy coldness, nor a temerous and precipitat Vehemency. He softly makes haste, and advanceth with an insensible Motion: Without disquieting himself, he moves inferior things neither more nor less, than the Intelligences without tiring themselves move the Celestial Spheres. To see him so little troubled about his business, a man would say, That he were not the Undertaker, and there appears so much facility in the most painful functions of the Charge he executes, That although he doth nothing meanly, Yet he doth nothing with Violence. Observe how with his eyes he leads the whole Army? How a Nod of his head keeps all the World in their duty? How his presence only establisheth Order, and drives away Confusion? Truly, there is a delight even for Philosophers themselves; and even for those who take no interest in human affairs to observe him in those occasions. The least Motions of his body are accompanied with some virtue which renders him lovely. 'Twere hard to tell, Whether he be more necessary to the republic, or more pleasing to the Citizens. He Commands well but it becomes him well to command. His command, Madam, is so grateful, That there is a crowd, There is an ambition, that there is a sensible pleasure to obey him.  
That good Grace which shines in all he doth, being infused into solid qualities, and being joined with Understanding and other necessary qualities, is an admirable charm and enchantment for him to sweeten the bitterness of disgustful Orders; so that he can execute them without trouble of mind, or repugnancy of will: It hath a strange force to win the heart of the soldiery, and draw their inclinations, were they harder to move, and more insensible than the iron and steel they use.  
By this charm they bind themselves not only to him, but they unloose themselves from all other things; They mind neither Pay, Plunder, or recompense; They neither care for the feasts of Rome, nor for delights of Italy; They demand and desire nothing but their General, of whom they are so enamoured, even so jealous, that they apprehend the end of the war, for fear only they should lose him by a peace: They murmur against the Senate, when he is revoked, neither can they consolate themselves with a Victory which ravisheth the Victor from them.  
What an one, good God Must so passionate a Militia be; 'Tis not obedience in pursuit of command; 'Tis zeal which even prevents it; 'tis not affection which obligeth them to the cause of their Chief; 'Tis a transport which ravisheth them from themselves, and makes him say, I am going with the tenth Legion against the Enemy, of which I am no less confident, then of mine own person; I know it would pass through the midst of flames naked, did honour, will, or necessity require it. So that, Madam, they are no more soldiers of his army which march with him; They are as the members of his body, which move when he stirs; They are as we may say, stranger parts of himself, which are more united to him then his natural.  
On the other side, the respect they bare him, is no less powerful, than the love they show him; at least its more powerful, than the right of life and death, which he hath over them; This respect governs and rules all his troops; He drives or stops them, as he needs their different obedience; He might be unto them instead of Discipline. Let no man think, that it is the laws of war, or military orders, which hinders the soldiers from committing offences; 'tis his presence and his testimony. When they fail, they fear more lest he should know it, than they fear to be punished, and divers have been kept in their duties with apprehension of displeasing him, which would nether have done it for fear of punishment, or dishonour.  
That, Madam, was the only thing, which the Roman Army feared; and never did soldiers so much slight their Enemy, nor so much redoubt their chief. There never was at once Spirits so fierce and so docile, did overflow the Field with more impetuosity, and retire to their places in the Camp with less appearance of having even gone out. After they had done wonders for Courage, they came to inquire whether they had done well or no; They came to render an account of their Victory, whereof they were sometimes fain to justify themselves, and for which they were sometimes punished.  
This fear of Piety and Religion, hath produced thousands of examples in pure Antiquity, and in the Colleges they passed over them, they are so common, and so numerous: But we must choose what we are to present you; I must show you, Madam, a mark of that generous fame, even when the Empire declined, when Rome was no more than the sepulchre of Rome; When Nature according to my Opinion, would preserve her Rights, and make known that the Ashes of things sovereignly excellent are still rich and precious.  
Under the Empire of Justinian, a Captain named Fulcar, inconsiderately casting himself amongst the enemies, and having engaged his Troop in a disadvantageous fight, when a certain man in that extremity, represented to him, That if he would he might yet retreat with a good part of his men. 'Twere better to die, said he, For how shall I be able after this, to endure the sight of Narses. 'Twas not that Narses was cruel, but that the sovereign virtue is redoubtable. 'Tis that the Mine of the General of a Roman Army is frightful to those who have it not from naked swords, or assured death. With a look he pierceth the guilty to the heart, & punisheth them with his sight.  
Is not this, Madam, an effect of that Authority which comes from Heaven; of that Authority inherent in the person of him who hath it distinct and separate from that other authority bred by the power given him by the republic, verified by the Senate, and to be read in patents of Parchment, and confirmed with Eagles, and Dragons in picture, by Rods, Axes, and Archers?  
This second Authority of which you presume I should say somewhat, which as yet was never said, Is a certain light of glory, and a certain character of greatness, which heroic virtue imprints in the countenance of men. And this Character, and this Light, corrects the defects and the imperfections of nature, makes little men appear great, imbellisheth ugly faces, defends the solitariness and nakedness of a person exposed to the outrages of fortune, overpressed under the ruins of a destroyed party, abandoned of his own wishes, and of his own hopes.  
This Character, Madam, is to this person a safeguard from Heaven, against the violences of the Earth; Renders him inviolable to his provoked enemies; binds the hands of Traitors which come against him with ill designs; finds respect and tenderness amongst Scythes and Tartars.  
By this mark the Roman Princes were known by their enemies in the Wars, although they disguised themselves, although they were mixed in a crowd of soldiers, although they had never been seen before. Nothing is able to blot out this character, nor to obscure this light, not even disgraces, imprisonment, and the chains of a poor Captive. The Executioner falls backwards at sight of his patient, and can scarce forbear to beg his life of him. He fancies that a great flame issues out of his eyes, which enlightens the Dungeon, and that he hears a hideous voice which cries out, Who art thou unhappy man, who darest lay thy hand en Cajus Marius.  
Are not these, Madam, give me leave once more to ask you, are not these the highest and the dearest favours which can be received from the supreme virtue. And this second Authority which survives the first; This Authority which preserves itself in the ruins of power, which consecrates misfortunes, chains, and dungeons, which renders affliction holy and venerable. Is it not far a more noble thing than the unworthy prosperity of the happy? Then all the sceptres, all the Diadems, and all the Magnificence of idle Kings.  
Questionless, Authority is far more noble than power, and that which is formed from the reverence of virtue, far more worthy than that which is established by the terror of punishments. The pure and innocent triumph of an infinite many subjected hearts, is far a more illustrious and glorious sight, than the bloody and miserable trophies of some cast-down heads. I mean cast away without any extreme necessity, and for a show only of a tyrannical and savage power, and if the poet's Fables are the Philosophers mysteries. Me thinks, Madam, that their Jupiter did an action far more admirable and more worthy the Father of the Gods, and the King of Men, when he removed all things with one of his eyebrows, and shaking his head caused Olympus to tremble, than when by force of thunder and tempest, he tears up Trees, and breaks down Roofs.  
Power is a heavy and material thing, which draws after it a long Train of human means, without which it would remain immovable. It acts only with Land and Sea Armies. Upon a march it must have a thousand springs, a thousand wheels, and a thousand Machines. It commits a violence in fetching a step. Authority on the contrary, which holds from the Nobility of its Origine, and from the virtue of divine things, quietly works its wonders, Needs neither instruments nor materials, nor even time to set them on work. It's all wrapped up in the person of who exerciseth it, without seeking aid, or demanding a second. It's strong, though naked; and alone fights, though it be disarmed.  
Authority needs but one word to persuade; Three of its syllables, Madam, humbles the bold, makes the rebel repent, stops the impetuosity, of mutinous Legions, stifles sedition at its birth, and those whom the General was wont to call my companions, cannot endure that he should name them either my Friends, or Sirs, Gentlemen of Rome, or how you please to render Quirites. They fancy that that very word hath already degraded them, That those three syllables have torn their belts and swords from them, that it hath put them amongst the scum of the most unclean, and most vile populacy.  
I would but ask you the question, Madam, whether the name of Quirites, coming out of any other mouth, but that of Caesar, would have entered so far into the hearts of the Legions, and would have had the same power over their minds. For my part I should hardly believe it. I know the height of rhetoric, and understand the virtue of the best pronounced words. But it reacheth not so far. Authority is incomparably more persuasive, than Eloquence. The soldiers would have mocked a dozen of Cicero's Orations, and yet yield themselves at one of Caesar's words.  
Nay, I do verily believe they would have yielded to his silence, had he been content to have given them but a sign of leaving the Camp, without having taken the pains to have spoken to them. By this dumb condemnation, treating them as accursed, and excommunicated by their Country, & declaring them unworthy of any kind of society with their General, beyond that of complaints and reproaches which he might have made them. Such a scorn would have so grieved them, that they would have begged death for a favour, & would have cast themselves at his feet to pray him that he would handsomely dispatch them.  
But I am vexed that so great a word which was so great an action, was not of some Roman in the good and healthful time of the republic, that I might not allege a doubtful virtue, whose cause was undecided, as was that of Caesar. I would, Madam, that this example of Military Authority were either of Scipio, or of Fabritius, that I might justly join it with that other example of Civil Authority, after which you will give me leave to conclude.  
You know well that honest Man Appius Claudius, look upon him I beseech you, burdened with years and diseases, who so long time never stirred out of his chamber, and can scarce get himself from his bed to his chimney. Yet in that condition, he resolves to be carried to the Senate, to quarrel with all the Senators single, and to oppose himself to the shameful peace they were about to conclude. 'Tis to be believed, Madam, that they were no less frighted to see that hideous old man, then if it had been a ghost, which entered the council Chamber, and in my thought, they did not at first take him for Appius Claudius, They took him for his shadow, or his fantasme, which came from the other world to give them Lessons, and make them Remonstrances. Who came to tell them with a tone of command, and a strong voice, which his anger raised in the weakness of his confiscate body. Who ever was the Author of so filthy a Proposition, is no true nor legitimate Roman. He must either be a foreigner or a Bastard. He must be the son of one of our slaves, or he hath not a drop of blood left of our fathers, which his baseness hath not corrupted.  
What would not this angry old man have done had he had his eyes, and the rest of his body at liberty? Would he not have beaten those which he was content to chide only? Would he not have deposed Pyrrhus, and interdicted him his kingdom far from relinquishing by Treaty an inch of Land in Italy? I know not what he could have done. But I know very well, Madam, that he did very much. Rome and Pyrrhus were agreed upon conditions for a Treaty of Peace. Claudius opposeth it, and at the conclusion, comes and breaks it off. So that he proves stronger than Rome and Pyrrhus' both together, and carries it away from either of them.  
When so strange a news was told Cyneas, its likely he cried out, Behold, a greater thing than I have yet admired in Rome. I have there seen a multitude of Kings, but as yet I had not seen their Tutor. 'Tis this blind Man who is the light of the Commonwealth. 'Tis this sick Man, who wars against us. 'Tis this good Man, who was unable to stir from his bed, who drives us out of Italy. 'Tis this Chair which bore him to the Senate, which is more to be feared, than our towers full of soldiers, than our Elephants, than our machines.   

A Discourse of the Conversation of the Romans. TO The Lady Marquess of RAMBOVILLET.  
Discourse II.  
But this was while your Ancestors of old  
For virtue with the Gods their names enrolled.  
Nature in wonders fruitful was, & young,  
The world with Hero's peopled stout as strong,  
Our age's vigour now, alas, was spent,  
The languors o● old age it doth resent,  
Your Rome is d●●●, & all its glory gone,  
The supreme virtue is in history alone.  
Let's be content their active strife t'admire,  
Which made that fatal place 'bove all aspire  
Th' example of those grandees let's adore,  
With incense let's your sought for temples store.  
'tIs near the matter, Madam, What I yesterday answered you in our common Discourse, when I took my leave. I have since found the sense of my prose in the Verses of a Poet, who never made any but those. And I conceived it was not amiss after that manner to enter upon this days Conference, and to bind with a knot, which perhaps will not displease you, the things I told, with those which you would have me write unto you. Let's again, Madam, confess it. It's certain, that at the beginning, God dispensed great largesses, and although his arm is no shorter than it was, yet are his hands less open than they were. Besides, birthright, which Antiquity hath over the latter times, it hath had other advantages which ended with it, and are not to be found in the succession. It hath had virtues which our age is not capable of. It belongs not to us to be Camillas, and Cato's, we want the vigour of such Men as those instead to provoke our courages, they make our ambition despair. They have rather braved us then instructed us by their actions. By giving us examples, they have obliged us to an unprofitable trouble. They have given us what we cannot take. These examples being of that height that there is no way to attain unto them.  
I do not say, Madam, that in the most miserable times, God cannot send some chosen Soul to make us remember his first Magnificence. I will not deny but that he may take a particular care of that soul, and but that he hath means to preserve it from the vices of the Court, and the contagion of Custom. In the most general stupidity of the world, there is some one found to awaken the rest, who breaks the bounds of the age, who is capable to conceive the Idea of ancient virtue, and to show us that the miracles of History are still possible things. It's true, Madam, there is such an one: But this one makes no number; he marks even sterility, neither doth he hinder this solitude. Is there a privileged soul, an extraordinary person, an Hero or two in all the world. Yet is there not a multitude of Heroes. There is no people of extraordinary persons. There is no more a Rome, nor Romans. We must seek them under ruins, and in their Monuments. We must adore their relics in the Books I have told you of, and in the places I have desired you to observe.  
I at first thought to be quit, having marked those places, and chosen you those Books. Yet are you not satisfied therewith, and it seems you pretend that I should add what is wanting to those Books. The glories and triumphs of Rome, satisfy not your curiosity. It inquires of me some things more particular and less known. You would desire, Madam, that I should show you the Romans, when they hid themselves, and that I should open to you the door of their Cabinets. After having seen them out of ceremony, you would be acquainted with their conversation, and know from me if so direct and elevated a greatness, could stoop to the use of a common life, could descend from affairs and employments even to sports and divertisements.  
I doubt it not, Madam, all the hours of wise men's lives are not equally serious. Their souls are not always extended, nor always contracted, & yet in the same vigour, though not the same action. Does any man believe that the Sibarites only loved Feasts, and that they alone rejoiced. The Romans did it also: But they did it in another manner, & loved other manner of Feasts.  
A voluptuousness which riseth higher than sense, which seeks the superior part, and fills it with images: That holy, chaste, and altogether innocent pleasure, which acts on the mind without changing it, or moves it with so much sweetness, that it stirs not out of its place, or with so much address, that it removes it to a better place than it had. This pleasure, Madam, was not a passion unworthy of your Romans, Scipio and Laelius, used it without scruple. Augustus and his friends were of those honest voluptuous persons.  
The Senate and the Field, Civil affairs and Military actions, had their seasons conversation. The Theatre and Verse had theirs. The pleasures of the mind were never better tasted, then by them, and with the same hands with which they gained Victories, and signed the fate of Nariaeis, they wrote Comedies, or applauded those who acted them before them.  
There is not every day Hannibal's to be conquered, nor an Africa to be subjugated. Antony and the sons of Pompey died but every one once. And then came the general Calm in which the most turbulent were at leisure, and the world suffered itself to be as peaceably governed, as if it had been but one family. So that they have sometimes wanted enemies, & sometimes rested in peace. And in this State, Madam, why should they have made wars against themselves? why should they have sought enemies in their own bowels? why should they give themselves a prey to a distemper worse than Hannibal, and more cruel than Africa? Why should they be afraid to rejoice, there being nobody to disturb their joy. The Sicilian Sea being scoured, and Egypt reduced into a Province, Sixius Pompey, and Mark Antony, being only names and phantasms. I must confess, Madam, the desire of glory was a ruling passion: But Tyrants themselves do not always reign tyrannically. 'Twas the fever of their minds, but this fever did not always burn them with an equal ardour, it had as well its releases, as its doubles. And do you not believe Scipio was out of his high fit, when he gathered Cockles on the Sea shore with his friend, or when he lent his words to Cremes and Micio in the Fables of Terence.  
I undertake not here to decide whether he & his friend were the true authors of those Fables. It sufficeth me to say, That probably they were the first approvers, and that they loved them, if they did not make them. And it may even be, That the Poet changed the disposition of some scenes by their advice, and that some half verses of theirs may be there. And what we find finest and best aju●ed, was not so much what he borrowed from the works of Menander, as what he h●d learned from the conversation of Scipio.  
As for the Emperor Augustus, in whose person I consider the end of their good days, as I do the flower of them in that of Scipio. It's most true, Madam, that he hath judged most wholesomly of the value and merit of every thing, and that he loved Glory, but that he hated not Pleasure. I speak of Pleasure in general, because he tasted of all, and having afforded his senses very much, he refused his Mind nothing. He discerned good and fair in all the subjects wherein it was to be found; and for that enquiry, he employed the best skilled, and most curious spies, so that they left nothing for the succeeding ages to discover.  
I dare not say, as one hath already said, that the Muses were his Buffoons and jesters; 'tis an injurious and an uncivil word; I shall only say, they had the honour to be his familiars and his domestics, and at that time they were of his Court and Cabinet.  
They were at least called at hours of conversation, if not to the deliberation of affairs; and if it be too much to say, that Virgil was the Fourth of the council held between Augustus and his two friends, To know whether he should Maintain the Empire, or Restore Liberty. I somewhat suspect the History of that council, and I can scarce persuade myself, that the gallant spirits of those times were so much the Emperor's confidents that he should communicate with them affairs of that nature. I am satisfied to believe that they intended his virtuous pleasures without aspiring to a more important direction; and that he caused the Palace gates to be open for them, when they were shut to Supplicants and Petitioners.  
But when in far distant Countries; nay, in the midst of the Palaces clouds did rise, which obscured the Calm I spoke of; It was then, Madam, when the Muses were no less necessary, than they had formerly been agreeable: 'Twas then they did him service, & helped Livia to uphold her husband; who began already to stoop with cares and under affairs. During this diseased and impatient season, they were only employed to seek pleasures & divertisements for him: They did strive only to charm his pains with their songs; they studied to appease and set at rest that impaatient part of his soul which incessantly watched & tormented itself, To estrange his fancy only from the debauches of his daughter, and from the defeat of his Legions; To take away the sight of troublesome subjects by the interposition of pleasing ones.  
Now, Madam, as it was no small matter of merit for human Men sometimes to make Augustus' sleep, & sometimes to cheer him, the good Goddesses thereby justified themselves from the calumny of the Barbarians, who accused them as useless to the republic, & as fit to have no rank in the world. This good Prince suffering them also to extend the too large violence of his thoughts, & by taking some intervals of release in those spectacles which they took care to provide for him at the same time they did divers good acts. For besides that they avowed themselves to be his. They protected the innocent against the Licence of the old soldiers, & the cruelty of the civil victory. He got pratlers which use to be heard in all ages; and honouring them with familiarity, he rendered them triburary to his glory. But chiefly, Madam, he followed the council of Nature, which will have all who work, rest; which entertains its durance by moderation, & threatens violence with an end.  
I know well that this sovereign Understanding which was given to Princes for the Conduct of human things, is incapable of being tired, and would agitate continually, could it be alone. But being engaged with the body, and having Organs which are extremely frail and delicate, it must manage them for their benefit, and in spite of itself, fit itself, to the necessities of a society, with which it is engaged. Prince's cannot always be Angels, divorced from sense, and enjoy the purity of a simple being; They must sometimes be Men mixed with Matter and Subject to the changes of things composed. There must, Madam, after the Tempests of Affairs, and the anxious Objects of the ills they are to combat, be a care taken to find them pleasures. Ports to divert and refresh their Minds, and attracting Perspectives which may untire and rejoice their eyes. They are the needs of human life, how rich and sufficient so ever it may otherwise be of itself. Labour would weaken the strongest minds, had they not their helps and stays to support them. Melancholy would suffocate them, did they not thus respire. To speak properly they are the voluptuousness of reason, and the delights of the understanding. And he who hath discovered all the Truths under Heaven, and was ignorant of nothing which could be known without Revelation, made so particular an esteem of it in the Fourth Book of his ethics, that he was not afraid to say, That sport and divertisement were no less necessary to life, than rest and nourishment.  
It's true, he makes a difference as well as we of plays and divertisements. He is not a councillor of all kinds of debauches; neither will he have wise men pass their time as the Vulgar do. He hath discovered a Mean approved by reason betwixt an ill humour, and a buffoon in which the soul dilates itself by a moderate motion, and doth not enervate itself by a violent dissolution. And of this Mean, Madam, he hath made a Moral virtue, which respects the good of company, in pursuit of two others, which he proposeth to us in the same Chapter, for the same end. The first of these three virtues is a certain sweetness & facility of Manners, which can accommodate itself without servility, and approves not all that is said without choice; neither by distaste doth he disapprove it. The second is a clear freedom, and a custom to speak the Truth even in indifferent things, in as far a degree estranged from vain ostentation, and an affected restraint. I intimated before what the third was, and their three virtuous habits, according to the opinion of Aristotle, rule all the commerce of words, and extend themselves to all the entertainments which Men have of one another, whether we hold pleasing or distasteful disputes, whether true or false, whether sad or joyful. So that, Madam, without the first of these three virtues, the Assemblies of Men would be but Troops of Enemies mixed together, who would scratch & fly in one another's faces, or Circles of Lovers, who would adore their own defects, & esteem their wrinkles fair. Without the second, they would but be the schools of Dissemblers, who would scarce tell us what of the clock it were, or that it were day at Noon, so fearful are they of mistaking. Or Theaters for Captains, who say more than they know, or then they have done, or then indeed could have been done. In fine, without the Third, of which we have spoken, the Assemblies of Men being too sad or too merry, would seem either as the convoys of afflicted persons, and the representation of a public grief, or spectacles of naked persons and the image of those licentious Feasts, which durst not appear before Cato.  
The Mean betwixt these two is a virtue of a truth, neither so splendent nor so high as Wisdom and Magnanimity; yet it's a virtue allowed by the Philosophers, even by the Philosophy of Cato. And should we banish it out of our Morals, the communication we have with one another, would have been but dry and thorny. Our Discourse would rather have been a toil and a labour of the Tongue, than an ease and a discharge of the heart: and Society if we had permission only to dispute and to contradict, would trouble us far more than Solitariness, wherein we at least may laugh out of memory, and rejoice in our own thoughts.  
I cannot assure you, Madam, that the Romans were acquainted with so praiseworthy a quality in the Infancy of the republic; and although one of their Poets reports well of King Numa, and of the Nymph of Egeria, the Conferences which they had together, passing without witness, they could speak of them but by conjecture.  
These Victorious Peasants knowing nothing but husbandry and fighting, were sensible only of gross pleasures proportionable to the hardship of their births; there is no great likelihood that they did possess a virtue directly opposite to the rudeness they made profession of, and which seldom accompanies poverty, which is almost always followed with an ill humour.  
So long as their Eloquence, to use the terms of Varro, smelled of garlic and Onions, we could expect nothing very exquisite, and it was hard for so sad an austerity as theirs to harken to raillery, and to be touched with joy. First, than they were without weakening to soften themselves; They must sweeten their courages, and unrust their Manners, That at last they might advise to cultivate themselves, as they did their Gardens and their Lands.  
They indeed did it with so much success, and found so happy a foundation, That presently the good Genius was amongst them a popular thing. This politeness past from the Senate to inferior degrees, even to the lowest form of the meaner people. And if in their cause their own witness is to be believed, they have blotted out all the Graces, and all the virtues of Greece, and have left the Atticism thereof far short of their Urbanity.  
It's that, Madam, which they called that lovely virtue of Society, after having practised it many years without having given it a Name, and should use have ripened amongst us a word of so ill a savour, and have corrected the bitterness which might have been found in it. We might accustom ourselves thereunto, as to others, which we borrowed from the same language.  
Now whether that word expresseth in Ours a certain Air of the great World, and a colour and tincture of the Court, which not only marks words and opinions, but even the tone of the voice, and the motion of the body. Or whether it signify a less perceptible motion which is known but by chance, which hath nothing but is noble & high, and nothing which appears studied or learned; which is felt, and is not seen, and inspires, a secret Genius, which we lose in seeking it. Or whether in a farther stretched signification, it means the Science of Conversation, and the gift to please in good company: Or restraining of it, it be taken for an address to touch the Spirit with I know not what kind of pricking, yet whose pungency is pleasing to who receives it, because it tickles, and hurts not, because it leaves a wound without grief, and awakens only that part which malice offends. To conclude, Madam, according to the judgement of a good Judge in such cases, It was a knowledge abused by the Greeks, which other people were ignorant of, and from whom the Romans only learned the true and lawful use. Being so fit for them, and so incommunicable to their nearest neighbours, that those even of Italy; could not acquire it without some failings, nor so nicely counterfeit it, that the resemblance should not mark the diversity.  
It was then according to this account, a domestic plant which could grow up but on the shore of the Tiber, or on the Mount Palatin, or at the foot of the Capitol, or near the Camp of Mars, and near some other quarter of that capital City of the world.  
Is it possible that the Heaven and the Sun of Rome, should have so much force and so much virtue? Did they so sensibly agitate on the spirits of men? Were they so absolutely necessary to make them good company? I fear not of myself to say it, not to wrong the rest of Italy, and the rest of the civilised Provinces. But to speak in general, its certain, Madam, that the Citizens of Rome, had great advantages in the world, owed much to their Mothers, and to their Breeding, and knew many things which nobody taught them: there is no doubt but in their most familiar entertainment, some graces were neglected, some ornaments without art, which the Doctors are ignorant of, and which are above rules and precepts. I doubted not but when I had seen it Thunder, and Heaven and Earth mix in the O●ations of the Tribunals, but it was a change most agreeably pleasing, to consider them under more than an human appearance, disarmed of their Enthymemes, and of their figures, having left their feigned exclamations, and artificial angers, appearing in a condition wherein one might say, They were truly themselves.  
'Twas there, Madam, for example, where Cicero was neither Sophist, nor Rhetorician, neither Idolater of this man, nor furious against that; neither of this, nor of that party: There he was the true Cicero, and after mocked himself privately of what he had adored publicly. 'Twas there he defined Men, & painted them not, where he spoke of Cato as of a Pedant of the Portico, or at most but as of a Citizen of Plato's republic, where he said, That the purple of the Senate was finer, but the steel of the Rebels was better, where he confessed Caesar was the Contriver of his own Fortune, and that Pompey was but the work of his.  
These sentiments which parted from the heart, were hidden in great Assemblies, and were discovered but between two or three friends, and as many faithful domestics, and with whom he communicated this secret felicity. And if some of them have said that they reigned all the time they orationed, so sovereign was the power they exercised over men's minds; we may speak even of those which in their conversation restored the liberty which they had taken away in their Orations, That they set at large and at ease the minds of those they oppressed and tormented; and that they drew them from that admiration which had agitated them with violence, to make them sensible of a sweeter transport, and ravish them with less force. I have seen a great Prince in the low countries, who in that envied the fortune of their free men, and of those inferior friends, and of the meaner sort, which they had brought out of slavery, to choose them their confidents; and in effect, it was a wonderful contentment to be a witness of their interior lives, and to be private to the more particular hours of their leisure. And it were an incomparable satisfaction to know those good things which have been said of Scipio and Laelius Atticus and Cicero, and other honest people of every age, To have the History of their conversation and Cabinets to add to those of Affairs & State.  
Being born in the Empire, and bred up in Triumphs, all what proceeded from them bore the Character of Nobleness, which distinguished them from Subjects. All of them were sensible of Command and Authority, though government and conduct were not in question; all was remarkable and exemplary, even their Secrets and Solitude.  
Having from their infancy seen Kings led Captives through the streets, and other King's Petitioners and Solicitors come in person to demand Justice, and expect at the door of the Senate their good or ill success. They could retain nothing that was low in such raised and purged spirits from such spectacles. The very lees of such a people were precious: and if by mischance some Gentlemen were found who had vulgar spirits, it's to be believed that such great objects would presently have raised them. It's likely, that being not only covered and environed, but penetrated, even filled with so much light which resplended even on their least actions, which they could not lessen nor hide so well, but that they always were strong and illustrious. I speak as I believe, and you know well the dead have no flatterers. 'Twas impossible for them wholly to divest themselves of their greatness, because it was in their hearts and in their minds, because it was rooted in them, and was not applied to their fortunes. No gesture, nor outward motion of theirs was unworthy the sovereignty of the world: Even they laughed and sported with some kind of dignity. 'Tis what I fear not Madam, to present unto you, who descend not only from the same Origine and from the same blood, but who beyond all this, are the daughter of their discipline and spirit, and retain no less a share of the Magnanimity of the Caesars, and of the Scipios, then of the honesty of the Lelia's, and of the Comelia's.  
Your Ancestors were great even in the least things. And since formerly a Sect did believe, That a wise man sleeping, was like himself; neither did he then forbear to be wise, (It was an Idol and a Wise man formed at pleasure) since that Sect hath left it for a dogma, That the dreams of this imaginary Wise man were reasonable and judicious. We may have leave to believe, That truly Wise men might rule with gravity by their reason, and conduct one part of their lives, which is more capable of either then sleeping, and that their less violent and less serious actions were animated with vigour and the Majesty of the republic.  
Would you have me verify what I tell you, and raise myself higher than Scipio's time, To show you that their was always wit in Rome; But that there was always Authority and greatness mixed with this wit: It shall be only the good Fabritius, whose Letter you saw to Pyrrhus, which will furnish the example we seek. And I pray consider it, Madam, in that celebrous conversation which he had with the same Pyrrhus, and with Cyneas the head of his council. Cyneas having made a long Discourse in praise of a Contemplative life, and amongst other things having said, That there was a great person at Athens named Epicurus, who preached Rest and voluptuousness, and held the Government of States unworthy the employment of the Wise, Because Wise men ought not to disturb themselves for fools, for ungrateful persons, for men. Fabritius had the patience to hear the vanity of the Grecians, although he approved them not: Yet with a disdainful smile which he addressed to him who brought them forth. O said he, How soon would the Romans have done, if all the world would be but Epicurian.  
Do you not believe, Madam, that Cyneas was surprised with so unexpected an answer, and so far from the admiration he looked for from so unlettered a Man, whom he thought he had ravished with his Eloquence. That little saying at one blow overthrew the opinions of that great man of Athens, and the Eloquence of that brave Orator. And a regular refutation of Epicurian Philosophy undertaken by a Stoic prepared for the business, would not have had the force which this exclamation of one line had, which rendered Epicurus ridiculous, which confounded Cyneas, and astonished Pyrrhus.  
Yet Fabritius, Madam, did use to astonish Pyrrhus with his answers; he usually laughed at the Propositions which the King seriously made; And when he once offered him the first place next to him in his kingdom, supposing that he would not dispute so advantageous a grant, and that without difficulty he would change poverty for riches: The poor Citizen answered the rich Prince in these words, which I have drawn from a Greek Manu script: I love you Pyrrhus too well, to accept the conditions you offer. If to day I were your favourite, who could assure you but that to morrow I might be your Master? Of a truth you are worth much, yet you cost more; And do you not believe, That did your subjects know me, but that they would rather receive exemptions from me with the security of all they have, then to pay Tribute to you, and have nothing they can call their own: Make me therefore no more of these offers, which might ruin you if I took you at your word; and never promise me what you cannot keep without the loss of your Crown. A ●ough Commonwealths man born with the hatred of Monarchy, would have answered rudely, that he would have nothing to do with a King nor to be Lieutenant General of the kingdom. But, Fabritius, who was harsh in fight only, and knew only how to offend armed Kings, being unwilling to receive what was offered, yet would he refuse with a good grace: He would by that gallant and ingenious refusal, once more make himself to be desired by Pyrrhus, and show him that he was not only a man of very great use, but also a man of good Conversation.  
These, Madam, are the first essays of politeness, and as it were the design of Urbanity in a republic of brass and Iron amongst simple and innocent Citizens; but simple and innocent in such a way, that we cannot say their simplicity was smooth, & their innocency spiritual: The Consuls and the Dictators laughed after this manner. Thus they spoke when they did not speak seriously; and the seriousness of the Grecians was worth nothing to the rude and imperious raillery of the Romans.  
Even the Censors, Madam, although Grief seemed to be one of the functions of their charge, did not absolutely renounce all kind of raillery: They did not opinion at themselves to an eternal severity; And that hasty and insufferable honest man, I mean the first Cato, did sometimes forbear to be angry and insupportable; He had rays of joy, and the intervals of a good humour; Sayings have escaped him which were nothing ungrateful; And if you please, Madam, you may judge of others by this.  
He married a well fashioned woman; and Histories observe, that she extremely feared thunder, as she did extremely love her husband; these two passions counselled her the same thing; She ever chose her husband for her shelter against thunder, and cast herself into his arms; at the first murmur, she imagined she heard from Heaven Cato, who was pleased with the storm, & who was not angry to be carressed more than ordinary, could not retain the joy of his heart. He reveals this domestic secret to his friends, and tells them, speaking of his wife, That she had found out a way to make him wish for ill weather; and that he was never so happy, as when Jupiter was angry. Severity itself rejoiced in this manner: It was extreme rigidness: 'Twas sovereign Justice, which thus laughed; and indeed, Madam, although he and the rest were incorruptible Judges, yet must we not therefore say, that their good dispensation of justice proceeded from their ill humour: They knew how to change virtue according to the diversity of time and place: They received at night in their closets, the favours they had in the morning rejected on the Tribunal. But the Graces being at home with them, they were neither affected, nor licentious: They were wise and modest; They painted not Majesty; They dressed her the least they could, and hindered her only from frighting others. These Graces, Madam, and this Majesty, were at last separated; and the Graces appeared again under their Emperors: But they appeared alone for that Majesty, I mean the Majesty of words was lost with their Liberty. Fabritius his style lasted but till Brutus and Cassius; and indeed it's very observable whether it be in some of their Letters which are still visible, or in the Discourse they had together the Eve before the Philippi battle.  
There is no man so much a stranger to Antiquity, who is ignorant of Brutus his evil Angel, and who knows not their Dialogue. Next day after their Funeral Conference, Brutus related it to Cassius, with more trouble and disturbance than he had when the Daemon appeared unto him. But observe, Madam, with what a bias turned so distasteful a matter, and how he made it profitable for the use of Conversation.  
Without appearing an astonished admirer, or an incredulous opiniator, he laughing, told his friend, That the cares of the mind, the contention of the spirit, the weariness of the body, and the darkness of the night might be the cause of his vision, and had formed unto him those strange Images. That as for him from the principles of Philosophy, which he professed, he could not believe there were Daemons, and much less that they were visible: Yet nevertheless, he wished there were, and that his Philosophy were false; Forasmuch as apparently those spirits without bodies ought to be just and virtuous. The action of the Ides of March was so fair, and the cause so honest, that undoubtedly they would bear their part in it. And that so they would be friends and allies of whom he had not thought, of which would come to his relief, and Troops of reserve, which at a need would fight for them; which being granted, he ought not to reckon of their party, only so many Companies of foot, so many Cornets of horse, so many Legions, and so many Vessels: But besides that, there was an immortal people, and a most happy Militia, which needed no pay, and declared themselves for the good cause, and which he never need fear would serve Antony against Brutus, or prefer Tyranny before Liberty.  
These words, Madam, were the last words of the republic, which she uttered before she gave up the ghost, and after which she expired: 'Twas the Character of the spirit of Rome; It was the natural language of its Majesty: And do you not find that Cassius was very Eloquent in that Tongue? Would you not be well pleased to be more particularly acquainted with that Excellent Man, to see him in other society than this, and to hear him discourse on less ungrateful subjects, and at another time than the Eve of the Philippin battle.  
The mischief is, that a quick voice dies as soon as it's brought forth, and leaves nothing after it, forming no subsisting bodies in the air: Words have wings, you know its homer's epithet, and a Syrian Poet hath made a sort of language amongst birds: So that, Madam, if we stop not these Fugitives by Writing, they easily escape our memory.  
Even all that is written, is not sure to last; and Books perish as Tradition is forgot: Time, which ends Marble and Iron, wants not strength against frailer subjects. And the Northern people who seemed to come to hasten time and precipitate the end of the world, declared so particular a war to written things, that it was not wanting in them, but that even the Alphabet had been abolished.  
Elsewhere, Madam, there is a fate of Letters which loseth and saveth without choice the motions of human intelligence, which pardon ill verses, and ill intended fables, to suppress Oracles, and deprive the world of the Light of needful History. The Ancients acknowledged a Daemon, who presides at the birth of Books, and sovereignly disposeth of their fortune & success; whether they result well or ill, whether they are short or long-lived, as it succeeds either favourable or adverse.  
Now its certain, if this Daemon were an ill willer to the public, and envious of honest curiosity, and contrary to the reputation of great persons, it was principally in that part of their Memories, which designed their humour, which acquainted us with the relishes and delicacies of their minds, which discovered the truth of their Manners to posterity, and the secrets of their private lives.  
What a misfortune 'tis, Madam, that we cannot accost them by that accessible part & proportionable to the debility of our strength; that we have lost that easy object, and which we could better bear then a higher elevation of their glory; That we know the most part of their battles, and order of their Militia, and yet are ignorant of their calm Conferences, and of the Method they used in their treaties with one another, knowing of their solemn Feasts, and great Ceremonies, and yet have no share in their familiarity, or in their domestic affairs.  
Truly, Madam it had been no small unhappiness, had it altogether so befallen us; yet methinks we cannot with reason deny but that some amongst them have had a care of us, nor justly complain, that we have been frustrated of what by succession belongs unto us. Two or three by way of Comedy have left us the tract of four and twenty hours; I mean the representation of some merrily past day, and others have showed them us in their Dialogues, and in their Letters.  
These Dialogues, and these Letters are their immortal entertainments: Conversations which are still lasting, whereto we have every hour free admittance; where that Idea of virtue is preserved, of which Aristotle speaks in the Fourth Book of his ethics, where the first Master of this noble & Patrician raillery, as they call it, is to be found, which was so compatible with the Roman gravity.  
These Copies are more correct and clearer perhaps than their first Originals were; and if they have not the advantage of a lively voice and presence, which persuades the senses, and gives a lustre to vile things; they have that of attention, and of a second view, which polisheth the rude, and unmixeth the confused, which adds what is commonly wanting to sudden and carnal actions.  
Here is enough Madam, to satisfy a mind possessed only with languishing passions, and to content a hunger which is satisfied with a little nourishment: But being desirous of much, and greedy of new knowledge, and lovers of change; we must confess that there is no more than to whet our appetites. We are not children quite disinherited; neither are we heirs extremely rich: And the goods left us, are nothing so great as the losses we have made.  
My intention here is not to lament the calamities of learning's Commonwealth; I will say nothing of the ill fortune of History, of its breaches and ruins. The name of Luceius is scarce come to our ears; of that Luceius, Madam, in whose Histories Cicero solicited and begged a place. Our Sallust is but a part of that Sallust which your Fathers had: Where is the second Decad of Titus Livius? Where are his civil Wars? Where are those of Asinius, Pollio and Crematius Cordus, which were masterpieces of the Roman Liberty and Eloquence? All these Madam, are no more; and if we would know the news of a season which hath so much relation & conformity with the times we have seen, we must inquire of some stranger of Greece, who commonly is what he knows not.  
Nevertheless I perceive, that in the humour we now in these days are, and in the disgust of a distempered age, which prefers fawces to meat, and its fancy to health. 'Tis not the great and serious amongst the Romans, which we must regret, and are most angry to have lost; We might easily pass over the Annals of their wars and fields, had we but a journal of their divertisements and winter quarters. And we should without much trouble consolate ourselves at the shipwreck of needful Histories, could their fair Fables have escaped.  
It were indeed an excellent consolation to afflicted spirits, for the loss of Titus Livius his decades, could we recover the Comedies of Plautus and Terence, which we have no more, without mentioning other Poets of the Theatre, from whose wrack there remains only a few lame Verses, and some halting Sentences.  
The Satyrs of Varro, who was the Painter of the Life and of the mind, would also afford us very grateful knowledges: For though most serious Philosophy were in those Satyrs, yet was it as it were on flowers, and as in a place for debauch, all painted and perfumed with the gallantry of those times.  
There we should have seen the Conscript Fathers dispatching of their Clients, dismantled of their long robes in the purity of their nature; such as they were in the pleasures of their jollity, and in the liberties they took after supper: Such as you have asked me to see them, when you thought I could say somewhat to their Books. We should then have had Lions whole, whereas now we have but their claws; and if the fate of Books would have had it so, The conversations of Brutus and Cassius, the entertainments of Volumnius and of Papirius Poetus, would have been as long lived, as the Controversies of the Rhetoricians, of Seneca, and the Declamations of Quintilian. We should judge, Madam, of Urbanity by itself, and in whole and perfect figures, instead that we can now judge but by our suspicions, and by obscure and imperfect tracts.  
Had it pleased the same destiny, the first Caesar would yet be one of those Authors whom I alleged upon this subject: He with care had gathered what had been said, and what was every day most remarkably said. Tyron also made a Collection of all the good Sayings of Cicero, and an ancient Grammarian speaketh of two Books of Tacitus, the title of which was the Conceits Facetiae. But particularly, Madam, the Court of the second Caesar, of which was spoken in the beginning of this Discourse. That gallant and witty Court which mocked the conceits of Plautus, and the raillery of Antiquity, would furnish me wherewith to entertain you whole days, with a virtue which belonged unto them in property, and which from thence had received its last form: For we must confess with the leave of the republic, that the age of Augustus judged very subtly of things, perfectly purified by reason, gave lights to the Mind which it had not before. It was the golden Age of Arts and Discipline, and generally of all fair Literature. All was polished and refined under his reign; All were knowing and ingenious in that Court from Augustus even to his Grooms.  
It's written, that fire and lightning came from his eyes; whereto I would add, Madam, that they also issued out of his mouth, but more quick and glittering then those, which dazzled the Courtiers of those times, which obliged the one of them to complain, that it was not possible to look him in the face: He composed verses and suppressed them; and suppressing them, he gave out a word of the ill work he had made, which was worth as much as the best work which could be made. He in four words answered the long Oration of the Spanish Ambassadors; but those four words deserved another Oration longer than the former to commend them.  
Besides the Commentaries of his life, there was a long time in the world a volume of his Letters; and you may believe, Madam, they were not always concerning state-affairs nor all addressed to the Senate or to the Legions; some were of raillery, some of confidence to his friends; others of love, and of the gallantry of his Mistresses, and of the same style with those which his uncle writ to Queen Cleopatra, on tablets of Corinthians and saphires.  
But I am coming, Madam, to astonish you. Do you believe, that at this day there is anywhere any fragments to be found of those Letters written to Cleopatra? And that love, and the love letters of Caesar, survived her hatred, and her Anti-Cato's. This rarity hath been preserved in an old Greek Manuscript, which happily came to my hands, whence I have taken what I have already told you of Fabritius, of Cato, and of Cassius.  
The Author of this Manuscript is not unknown, is not the Son of Earth, he hath a name, and a country, and bears the marks of his Nativity: He lived under the Empire of the Antonines; he seemed to have the same design with the Sophist Aelian: But his manner of writing is more at large, and his work may be called a mixture of common with rare things.  
Yet truly, Madam, I cannot speak so affirmatively of the truth of these letters, but that you still have leave to suspend your judgement. I dare not assure you, that they were found in Cleopatra's Cabinet, when the Inventory of her goods was made by order of Augustus. Besides, the Sophist are men, whom I trust but in some sort: The Roman Poet teacheth us to fear the Greeks, even when they present us; and the Cardinal Historian of the Church made use of his advice on the subject of the donation of Rome, made to Pope Silvester by the Emperor Constantin. Since then the Largesses which come from Greece ought to be suspected by us, and that in that country there is a number of good willing people which are at leisure: Since the Sophists served as Secretaries to Falaris and other Princes; I know not how many ages after their deaths, they may have rendered the same service to Caesar upon this occasion: But before we determine thereupon, it will not be amiss to consult the infallible.****  
Their answers which formerly were rendered at Delphos, were not more certain than his. All the Impostors of Antiquity; All the Sinon's, and all the Ulysses of Greece, are not subtle enough to make him take one for another: And he will instantly resolve, whether what we present him be legitimate or base; whether it be gold from the Mine, or gold of chemistry.  
However it be, I believe its Antiquity; And had those pieces which the Greek Sophist allegeth been counterfeit, it would have according to my opinion awhile after Caesar, and perhaps in the time of Augustus. We will in another observe them with what remains concerning that age; unless you, Madam, esteem it as already done, and the Age also; and affording me the favour of a second Discourse, you would spare the pains of tiring myself with disquieting you.   

MAECENAS TO The Lady Marquess of RAMBOVILLET.  
Discourse III.  
THE last time I had the honour to see you, the Emperor Augustus was the chief subject of our Discourse. I brought you to consider him in the beginning, continuance, and perfection of his glory: You observed how at nineteen he vied, with the age and experience of Cicero; How in one work he acted three or four different persons; How he showed the Conscript Fathers, who would have treated him like a young man; that although he had not studied so long as they, yet he had learned more; And how he did with address employ their Forces to make his designs succeed, instead that he thought to use his own name and credit to establish his authority.  
I passed as lightly as I could that bloody Act of the triumvirate, whereof there was no way to clear his reputation; and I wished for his honour, that that part of his History were blotted out of the memory of things; I stayed at the frequent broils, the plastered reconcilements, and the last rupture betwixt him and Mark Antony, and accompanied him even to Rome, and even to the day of his triumph, after the fatal voyage of Egypt. It was not without informing you by the way, that the dexterity of his mind was always mixed with the good fortune of his arms: And that having overthrown in the Philippic plains the two dear sons of the republic, he thought he had done nothing, could he not free himself from the two coheirs he had in the succession of his uncle's power, that he might secure what he had done.  
The Conduct of that work was admirable, he went beyond his uncle, and placed himself in a better seat. The opposing virtue was unhappy; Force was found impotent: hindrance made him a passage to arrive thither. And then, Madam, the Romans began to know the design of Providence, and the mortal disease of the old republic. At last they loved to have rather an assured Master, and a peaceable servitude, than changes every day, and a perpetual fright of Civil War. Rest, which they did believe to be an essential good, was to them in lieu of liberty, which seemed now no more than a delight of the fancy. Every man was pleased to be quiet after such troublesome affairs, and the sweetness of quietness did so agreeably slide into their minds, that they even wished not for their first condition, when Augustus with assurance would have restored it; they were so weary of Leagues and Parties, that they acknowledged him for a Benefactor, who would take from them the trouble of governing themselves; & blessed his Usurpation, who delivered them from their ill Conduct. Since he leads us, said they, let's sleep in our Vessel with security; let's if we will debauch ourselves; let's laugh at Bacchus and pirates: 'tis impossible we should be lost, Caesar is responsible for our safety. Even the grandchildren of the Consuls and Dictators forgot their honour to follow their interest, and forsook a ruinous and imaginary liberty, to yield to an obedience which was convenient and full of effective advantages. They were the most subtle & most watchful Courtiers, and although they bore the names, which had made the Kings of the Earth tremble, they cared not to be seen in the crowd amongst those which give good morrows, asking favours at the door of one of their own Citizens. They said their fortune had showed them the example of their duty, and the way to the Palace of Augustus. That they went whether the Gods were gone before them; and that if they had changed party, the Destin of things, and the Daemon of Rome, had done so before them; Thus this sovereign Soul, and of the first rank, which had a Navual Empire over all other minds, found neither contradiction nor resistance: The proudest submitted to the yoke, yielded to the superiority of his spirit without difficulty past under so elevated an height, and submitted human virtues to somewhat of divine, which they acknowledged in the person of Augustus. There was no fierce courage, Madam, now to be daunted; neither Cato nor Brutus to resuscitate a dead party. Mutiny lost even its breath and noise, envy was changed in to admiration.  
Whence I conclude, if I remember right, That Envy goes not always so far as virtue. That Opinion is at last tired in following its constancy, and that there is a degree whereat Desert having arrived, 'tis beyond the reach of the ill wishes, and the ill will of Men. In pursuit whereof, Madam, an irreproachable Judge as you may call Monsieur Chappellain, raising his voice but a little more than ordinary, pronounced this fair Decree in favour of Augustus, and his new Dominion. Who is that presumptuous man that dares complain, that Heaven is above him, that thinks it strange, that the most luminous amongst creatures, is the highest, and that the worthiest is the greatest?  
No man did ever appeal from that Decree Augustus was Crowned by, the suffrage of all the company after his life was made after my manner in little. But because Agrippa and Maecenas were forgot in that life, you witnessed at our issuing out of your Cabinet, that you would not be displeased, if I should tell you what I knew of either of them. And that it would be grateful to you if I made you a particular relation of Moecenae, of whom so many have unknowingly spoken. You shall be obeyed after my fashion, and I wish it may be to your content: But as I usually do, Madam, I will give you the things you ask as they fall into my mind, and rather according to the liberty of Discourse, than the course of History.  
Agrippa was bold and wise in War, infatigable in Military labours, a religious observer of Discipline, and had all the other parts of a good Captain: But on the other side, he wanted those sweet and sociable virtues which are necessary for an able Courtier: He did better understand the Science of the Field, then of the Cabinet; Stratagems, than Intricacies, and what was in time of trouble valour in him, became in time of rest, rudeness.  
The same cannot be said of Moecenae; He was esteemed the honestest man of his time, and had nothing in his person which nature had not found with care, and which Letters and the great World had not polished. Yet Madam, you may observe, that the tincture which is taken at this great Light, and which gives a colour to natural goods, was taken from him with a reserve, and advanced not to the painting and disguise of intentions, so that it fell from the total alteration of Probity. He had the graces of the Court, but not the vices, and his actions were even as direct as his manner of acting was pleasing.  
Although the Court may debauch Saints, and commonly at first infects what it receives pure, yet it contaminated not Maecenas. It made him show, that besides the use of preservatives, which the study of wisdom furnisheth, there may be disposition inwardly so good, that they are stronger than all corruptions from without. 'twas he that gave the first example to the world, that was ever seen of an innocent and modest prospering.  
He preserved in the Court the Maxims he brought thither, and in a place where all is false and masked, he would appear what he was.  
But he had no need take care, Madam, to counterfeit the Liberal and the Generous: he could not but have been much troubled to have hindered himself from being so: For which he needed neither labour nor fighting; Giving but way to the course of his own inclination, he never fell but on good, and on virtue. And so his good actions flowing from the spring and not being drawn by strength of arms, as those of some Hero's of this age, the easiness and liberty of them was no less esteemed than the splendour and Magnificence: 'twas said of him that he was the honour of his Age, and of the Roman Empire; That he was the general Good of the World; That the Sun would sooner cease to shine, and the Rivers to run, than Maecenas to do good. A brave man of his time cries out in a Poem which he addressed to him, 'tis too much given, Moecenae, I am but too rich; And indeed the discretion only of those who received his benefits, could make stop of his liberality. If his friends would have believed him, he would have left himself nothing. Neither durst a man praise at his house either a picture sent for a rarity from Greece, or a statue of Corinthian brass, or a service of crystal glass, lest he presently should dispoil his Palace of those precious moveables, and force him that praised them to accept of them.  
Excess and Vanity might imitate Moecenae: But natural goodness only could reach his height. But we must remember, Madam, that this Noble man of spirit was not solitary and unaccompanied; All the virtues marched in its Train; 'Twas a strong and courageous goodness, an able and an intelligent goodness; and out of the same fountain whence particulars drew favours and courtesies, the public was furnished with counsels and resolutions. How great a Doctor he was in the Science of governing; The fate of Affairs never deceived him; He never was a false Politician, neither did he wander to appear a good speaker in the vast spaces of verisimilies. He always went right out to truth, and so clearly saw the sequel of things in their first disposition, That the most irregular successes did hardly belie the conjectures he made.  
Is it not true that the Emperor would have done wrong to so excellent a person, had he not honoured him with his confidence, and had he not given him a share in the government of the world? Being as he was a just esteemer of men, and knowing the value of every thing, he could not legitimately make twelve to be worth no more than two. That a many eminent qualities should not be of more use than a mean sufficiency. That the most powerful in reason should not have the first place in Affairs. In a word Madam, Augustus told not but that Moecenae must have been favourite to Augustus; And although he was to give long and opinionated battles against the restraints of so modern a spirit to make him accept what he deserved, and that he was much troubled to overcome him. Yet was he worthy of the Magnanimity of the greatest Prince in the world, that in this occasion he would not suffer himself to be overcome, and not give way. That his acknowledgement should be inferior to the modesty of one of his friends.  
He did then much good to this friend, but it was as you have already seen, to distribute it and divide it every way. To enlighten and rejoice all the earth with the light of his riches. With this wealth Moecenae bought for Augustus all hearts & all tongues, and consequently rendered them of so much the better, more noble, and of the more durable species: So that considering so new a commerce, he who gave was less liberal than he was a good husband; and who received from him was rather his Factor then his favourite. But, Madam, what I am going to tell you, deserves to be well observed: He was ever of the Religion, To receive nothing which might not justly be given, he would have nothing which might be reproached him, not only from the public complaint of his renown, but also by the secret sight of an interessed particular. Those who since had the same favour under other Reigns, used it not so. Their morals were larger and more indulgent to their passions. They had none of those delicacies of Conscience.  
When they died not soon enough of a natural death, they had recourse to accusations to advance the term of the account they made: They caused Innocents to be condemned to make their Charges vacant, and in the sight of afflicted Orphans, they bore the marks of their father's fortune which were not yet dry of his blood. Moecenae his proceedings were far different from these; he would have believed himself sullied with the confiscated goods of one proscribed, and as you may guess, How many places and houses hath he refused, because he would not touch Funeral spoils, nor take away the successions of unhappy men.  
I shall say more, and his scruples went farther; he hath often sent back the presents and gratifications of the Provinces, which he had eased, fearing lest the lightest sign of their gratitude, and that a Nosegay received in such an encounter, made not the least resentation of interest appear in his advice. He oftener set aside the profitable, which was not dishonest to embrace, what was honest barren and unfruitful; He preferred a simple satisfaction of mind to those things which the world esteems solid and essential.  
I believe, Madam, that so discreet and limited a greatness raised no jealousies in his Prince. There was no Treason to be feared from so superstitious an integrity. How should he be a pensioner to Mark Antony, had he not accepted all kind of Augustus his favours? And how should he desire new things to meliorat his condition, since he contented himself with a little part of those advantages, which the present offered. O rare example for happy Men! Such a man is not to be found. How strong and solid a piece he was in the foundation of a growing principality. Tyranny itself might have been justified by the innocency of this Minister, as it might have been upheld by the rest of his more lively and more ardent virtues.  
Yet would I not deny, but that his delicate complexion sometimes rendered him less fit for the labours of his body, and for the toils of war, and was the cause that ordinarily his mind could only work. But, Madam, without being pressed he did not forbear to do much, and to render as useful services to the State, as his Colleague, although they were not followed with so much noise and pomp. The Solitude he built himself in Town, and the shadows of his Gardens, hid the half of his virtue. His employments were covered with an outward appearance of laziness. And perhaps Agrippa, who appeared was praised for the conduct of Moecenae, whilst he was retired.  
The Emperor had more inclination for this; but remembering the battles gotten in Sicilia and Egypt, he esteemed the other more. The one he believed loved him more, and the other had obliged more. All these deliberated of general Affairs: But sometimes he consulted only Moecenae concerning the life and fortune of Agrippa. witness Madam, that little word, upon which one of Machiavel's Disciples composed a great Discourse. You must either put him to death, or make him your son in Law. That is to say, you must either lose him, or quite gain him. You must secure yourself of a greatness which is suspected to you either by taking him out of the world, or planting him in your House.  
You may thereby observe that Moecenae regarded only his Master: I speak like a French man, and thought only of confirming his Authority. Agrippa had a taste of the lost liberty, and turned his head about from time to time towards the ancient republic This never proposed counsels but such as were purely honest; but his companion wherein concerned the good of the State, would add profit to honesty. The first had the command of Armies, and fought the Enemies of the Empire. The second exercised his power even over the Emperor's mind, and therein appeased the motions which rose up against Reason.  
Which he did Madam, with so much liberty, that the Prince being once on the seat of Justice, where some criminal process was deba●●ed, and where he began to be carried away with the deceits and calumnies of the accusers. Moecenae thereupon arriving, and being unable to divide the crowd, which hindered his passage to him, he handed a Note to him, wherein were these words: Hangman, wilt thou not come away from them? Augustus in stead of taking offence at the boldness of the word, and of so pricking a familiarity, took his friend's zeal kindly: And at the same time broke up the Assembly and descended from his Tribunal, whom perhaps he had not innocently gotten down, had he stayed longer.  
He often received such like proofs of his fidelity. 'twas Maecenas who tempered the heat of his passions, and sweetened the sharpness of his spirit; who healed the wounds when he could not prevent the blows; who consolated him, when he was not in a condition to admit of joy.  
Augustus very well understood the desert and value of this Friendship. He perceived well that his person being nearer to him then his fortune, such like services were to be valued in his mind, more than the taking of Towns, and gaining of battles. He witnessed him also all the acknowledgements you can imagine from a just Prince, and who knew how to distinguish inclination from duty, and those who loved Caesar, only from those who mixed other passions therewith. Even after his death, he continued to acknowledge it to his Memory; and whensoever any domestic affliction befell him, or some outward displeasure, sighing he would say, This would not have befallen me had Moecenae been living. He thought himself unhappy in possessing the Empire of the world, since he had lost his Moecenae.  
He had indeed a great deal of reason to regret a person so equally good and intelligent, who could neither deceive nor be deceived; who could do ill neither out of weakness, nor out of design. He had great cause to weep the loss of a friend, who was both so necessary and so pleasing. A friend at all hours, and at all times, in whom he found all he sought, which was his Table and Common place Book, the witness and the Repository of his thoughts; the treasury of his mind, even his second soul.  
In effect, Madam, (to show you the worth of a faithful friend about a great Prince) how much do you think he confirmed, fortified, and augmented the reason of Augustus? How many thrones hath he drawn out of those businesses he hath had to dispatch? How many expedients did he propose to himself to facilitate his designs? How many platforms hath he made to raise his works? You need not doubt but he hath often spared the pains of his foresight, and charged himself with the cares and disquiets of the future, that he might leave him entirely in the action. That the vigour of his spirit might not by being divided, be diminished. That I might with truth at this time say, That they divided amongst themselves the several functions of the same duty, and that they both lived but one life.  
The faithful Moecenae divers times, Madam, upheld Augustus, when he was tired with the search of difficult good, and presented him with the image of a crowned and enjoyed virtue, to divert his sight from the sad object of suffering and labouring virtue, after a discovered Conspiracy, and when he judged Clemency better than justice. He fancied glory to him fairer and more attractive, than she was, to provoke him the more to the love thereof, to oblige him to convert wicked persons to honest men. By changing sentences of death into abolitions, to do so that he preferred the praise of goodness, which lasts as long as the families and races are preserved, before vengeance, which passeth as quickly as the stroke of a hatchet can be given, and an head cut off.  
And after this you may if you please believe Seneca, who condemns the style and eloquence of Moecenae. Me thinks Madam, that to obtain such like graces from a provoked soul, a man should not want Eloquence. I speak of that good and wise Eloquence, the Eloquence of Affairs and Action bred in the Sun, and in the light of the great World, incomparably stronger than the rhetoric of the Sophists, although that can far better hide and dissemble its strength.  
There is no doubt but it's absolutely necessary to speak well, for to have to do with Princes, who commonly cannot relish reason if it be not delicately prepared. 'Tis not enough that there be virtue in the remedies they are to use, they will have no bitterness in them. 'Tis not sufficient that the things we present them be good, if they are not as well good in their form, as in their matter.  
But it is not Princes only who desire pleasing words, and who are offended against the Reason which reproves them. To speak generally, there being nothing so free and elevated as the Mind of Man, it will be treated according to the nobleness of its nature: That is to say, with sweetness, method, and address. Thereby Madam, the will is carried away without much resistance, and from the Will we come to the Understanding, which is so much an enemy to constraint, that to eschew it, it estrangeth itself from its proper object, and rejects the truth when any one will cause another to embrace it by force.  
It's certain that the Understanding of an Art so necessary to Government, was sovereign in the person of Moecenae. As he was most clear sighted in discerning of wits, he was full of address in their conduct; and was no less subtle in handling them, than he had light to discover them. With this efficacious Eloquence which is nothing but the right use of prudence, which is communicated to Men by speech; he gained Augustus an infinite many servants, and after he had persuaded him moderation, he persuaded them obedience.  
All the Conferences which were held in his Palace, were sacrifices of praise and glory for Augustus. He was there adored every day in Prose and in Verse. They began to reform then the ancient Language of the republic, and to swear by the Genius and good fortune of the Prince. The Temples which at first were built for him in Spain, and in Asia, and since in other Povinces of the Roman world, were designed in that place. And to take it from its rise, a man may say, Madam, that Maecenas with his Orators and his Poets, was Founder of all those Temples, was the Institutor of that new Religion which consecrated a living man.  
Believe me and all Antiquity rather than Seneca; That incomparable favourite left always I know not what sting in the heart, which provoked the courages of the hardest to the love of the Prince and Country, to the study of virtue and wisdom. A man could not get from him without a sweet emotion able to awaken the deadness of those who were not sensible of the felicity of the reign of Augustus, who never dreamed of the beauty of good things. The air of his face, the tone of his voice, and what the Rhetoricians comprehended under the eloquence of the body, gained the outward sense in an instant, and made even to the soul by the facility of whose guard it was presently taken.  
He persuaded even with the negligence of the most familiar entertainment. In his free conversation when he devested the pomp of the Court, and gravity of his Ministry, when he forsook what dazzled the people, he still had many ornaments left which he could not leave; he had unvoluntary charms about him which he minded not, which everywhere accompanied him. These charms, Madam, particularly inspired all he said: It supplied the default of his favour; and even when he did not grant requests, he did not forbear to give satisfaction: For you know well, that all things are not always possible, and that a man must sometimes refuse. But I beseech you, what must those presents be which enriched so charming a Mouth, since the refusals which issued were not displeasing, and that in speaking he so much pleased that with his words alone he could have paid his debts.  
Yet Nero's Tutor will not have the Confident of Augustus, to speak well. He reproaches his delicacies and affectedness, even the softness and debauches of his speech, and as he says, he was the first corrupter of the Roman Eloquence. He broached forth sayings, which to him seemed lighter than they ought, but which he hath cut from a work whose matter and design we are ignorant of. And thereupon without telling us whether Moecenae spoke in cold blood, or whether he only had a mind to laugh, he declaims against the liberty of his style with all the sharpness and all the rage of his.  
To tell you the truth Madam, I doubt there was somewhat of the Philarchus, & of ill will in the proceeding of Seneca: If the pieces he makes at, were seen whole, we should see that he distinguisheth not the two Characters, and that he takes a suit once used at a Mask for the Robes of a Senator, which he every day wears to the council. Doubtless he seems not to understand raillery. He certainly is one of those testy Hypomies, who would have Plays as serious as Affairs, and Comedies as sad as Funeral Orations. Let's draw him back in all the occasions of Moecenae. His aversion towards him is too visible and too discovered. And after having scratched at his writings, he falls on his manners, with so much passion, that a man may easily perceive the spirit of his sect possessed him, and that he had a design to appear a reformed Stoic in prejudice of the honestest Epicurian that ever was.  
I do not say, to weaken the testimony of Seneca, that he was a Doctor of the Court, who philosophised in purple, and with ease discoursed of virtue. And that even perhaps he exclaimed against voluptuousness, that he might wholly enjoy it, & no man envy it in him. I only say in justification of Moecenae, that its impossible the Soul should give without enervating itself, and that as there is a composed and melancholy folly, there may be a free and jovial wisdom.  
I have heard, Madam, from our Learned Monsieur***; but he said it far handsomer than I can repeat it, that there is an Art of using pleasure innocently; that this Art was taught by Aristippus in Greece; That since it was corrupted at Rome by Petronius and by Tigillin, who abused it as poisoners have physic. He added that the practice of that Art was not defended by the Laws of your Country. That on the contrary, they had created Magistrates expressly to have a care of the pleasures of the people. That besides the Edicts of the republic, there was under the Emperors spoken of a Tribune for pleasures. And that he had seen a Science and a Discipline of pleasure in the formularies of Cassiodorus. He concluded, Madam, that it was not just to accuse the purity of things for the intemperance of men, and that it is not credible that the goods of this life should have been made only for the wicked.  
It is not credible I am of the same opinion with this rare soul, that God should have sent virtue into the world for the punishment of poor men, and that it is not virtue if it combat not against grief, unless it march on thorns, if it lodge not in an Hospital, if it even inhabit not sepulchres. Moecenae would expect till he was dead to take possession of so displeasing a dwelling; and if he were alive, & had changed Rome for Paris, I am confident a man should oftener find him in some place which I know, where there is nothing which contents not the eyes and the mind, then in other places which I will not name, where there is nothing opposeth them not. What a pleasure you would take to learn his History from himself? What a glory would he receive to have some of your Audiences? How would your modest conversation touch his mind? You could not hide yourself, Madam, he would discover that sovereign Understanding, which you veil with all the restraint, & all the sweetness of your sex. He would admire you in despite of you. We would reconcile his enemy with him at the first request you should make him, and even without a request, so confident am I of the sweetness and facility of his manners. The serenity of his mind would not be disturbed by the fumes and flourishes of the violent Sophists. He would but laugh at the pettishness and paradoxes of Seneca. He would tell you only, Madam, that we must suffer all from the race of Zeno, and the Nation of the Stoics. That all is permitted to a Philosopher, who called Alexander a fool, who it's believed had a better Title than the King of Persia to be King of Kings. And what particularly makes for our subject, who was so much an enemy of life, that he counselled Men to hang themselves when they were never so little disturbed, or in an ill humour.   
FINIS.