Moral DISCOURSES AND essays, UPON several Select Subjects.  
Written, By T.C. Esquire.  Non praestant Philosophi, quae Multum loquuntur, tamen praestant, quod loquuntur, quod honestâ mente concipiunt. Seneca de Beata Vita. Pudet dicere; Honesta colimus, quantum vacat. Ibid. Ep. 75. 
LONDON, Printed by S.G. for Charles Adam's, and are to be sold at his Shop at the Sign of the Talbot, near Saint Dunstan's Church in Fleetstreet. 1655   

PROOEMIUM.  
THey are thought to have a very hard, but have indeed, perhaps, an eas●e task, that are to treat of Subjects, wherein many Excellent Pens having gone before, may seem to have anticipated all that can be pertinently spoken: It is, I confess, in some measure true of those which will handle Ar●s and Sciences, from whom some new discovery is justly expected; Neither will their Modern terms absolve them from the Censure of affecting to write somewhat, though to no purpose, if they deliver nothing new in substance. From an Essay or moral Discourse, we are to require nothing, that was never harped on by any Orpheus; For the Theory of Morality is a path so trodden with throngs of authors, that perhaps Solomon himself, if he were now alive, would find it hard to say something in this kind, which might be as new to us, as Gunpowder and the loadstone once were.  
From it therefore we are to expect only matter well digested, with such a trimming and fur●ushing of the Argument, that the Reader may be tempted, like some Gentlemen, as it were to buy that Horse in Smithfield, which himself lately sold in a Country Fair, Such an Art of new compounding the same notions in variety of Expression, ●hat the Herbalist shall have much ado to discern his own Simples.  
The Consideration hereof hath encouraged me to publish these essays, most of them written upon Themes very popular, Whereby, though I may well despair to purchase the name of a● author, Yet I may seem to b● a digestor of what I have rea● in this kind, and without assu●ming to inform any man's Iudge●ment, may serve in some sort t● clear his Notions, or at least entertain his pass-times; which as it is not a work of much mo●ment, so I am confident, it is a● useful as many larger Volume which have been published 〈◊〉 our Age so fertile of aborti●● Births   

THE TABLE.  
I. Of Favour and Eminency in Court or State. 
1  II. Of faithful Ministers to unthankful Princes, 
8  III. Of Fame, 
18  IV. Of Reputation, 
21  V. Of Valour in Princes, 
26  VI. Of History, 
38  VII. Of Education, 
51  VIII. Of Travelling, and the qualifications unto it, 
66  ix.. Of Religious Fear, 
75  X. Of Church Discipline, 
82  XI. Of celibacy, or single Life, 
88  XII. Of Duties Matrimonial, and conjugal Love. 
92  XIII. Of Flattery. 
99  XIV. Of Beauty, 
106  XV. Of Craft, 
111  XVI. Of Kindness, courtesy, and Civility, 
116  XVII. Of Youth and Old Age, 
119  XVIII. Of Honour, 
124  XIX. Of Learning, 
127  XX. Of Peace, 
131  XXI. Of Conscience, 
134  XXII. Of Frugality, 
136  XXIII. Of Active, and Passive Valour, 
140  XXIV. Of Clemency, 
144  XXV. Of Magnanimity, 
168  XXVI. Taci●●nity, 
173  XXVII. Of Temperance, 
177  XXVIII. Of Gratitude. 
182    

ERRATA.  
FOl. 24. l. 12. for expert, read exposed. l. 12. may disband. f. 29. l. 1, 2. r. expected. f. 34. l. 18. r. siege of Pavia. f. 70. l. 20. for, in France, r. in ● Trance f. 106. l. 8. For, rather than augment, r. rather augment. f. 165. l. 10. for, being such as, r. such as. f. 169. l. 16. for pers●cutes, r prosecutes. f. 18 ●. l. 16. for dare not affirm, r. dare affirm.   

I. Of Favour and Eminency in Court or State.  
HE that stands by, and observes the supple Addresses, and sedulous applications of the Court, how greedily wise men sell their liberties, and sacrifice their time unto it, with what patience they undergo attendance, more grievous than pilgrimage, must needs imagine that to be a sacred mystery, which deserves such superstition; nor can he expect less than the philosopher's stone, where he sees so many furnaces set on work, and such rare alchemists engaged.  
He that marks the pomp and splendour of eminent men, the solemnity of their visits, the exactness of their ceremonies, and l●stre of their Equipage, cannot but be enamoured of so rare a scene, wherein each person acts a part of greatness, and every day seems to be festival.  
He that examines the Grandeurs of Moecenae, the lofty flights of Favourites and chief Ministers; how they manage the reins of the commonwealth, whilst Princes only sit in the saddle; how they give Laws to the people, signals to the soldiers, example to all; how all their virtues are magnified and multiplied, and even their errors with veneration concealed, with what ease they trample upon their adversaries, and prefer all their dependants, how can he, refrain from d●awing at so fair a Lottery, or escape those delicious charms, which would almost delude a Stoic, to mistake them for his summum bonum.  
But, alas, these are only outsides, to amuse the ignorant, these stately scutheons serve but to hide a dead corpse, and these excellent odours to perfume a sepulchre: The factions wherewith every Court and State is perpetually pregnant, The Envy and Emulation, which though not so loud, is yet perhaps fiercer then open war; The spies, which (like Eunuchs) are set upon all men's actions, and behaviours, to observe and report them to jealous Powers; The keen and postilent slanders and censures, by which even innocency is ensnared, or at best, perpetually alarmed, These are not presently discovered, and indeed, fit it were, they should be concealed, lest we avoid Courts as persons in debt do prisons, and dread greatness like infection.  
It falls not within the compass of every one's notice to observe how Grandees make a prey of inferiors, like fry in a fishpond; and how the inferiors again, though emulating each other, yet with a secret spleen conspire unanimously against the Favourite, like little beagles to pursue the Royal stag.  
All are not sensible of the slippery estate of great men; with what slender props those magnificent structures are supported, How brittle and fungous their greatness is, they being exposed, besides infinite other uncertainties, even to the satiety of their masters, who commonly delight in nothing more, than by changing their Minions and servants, to exercise the wantonness of sovereignty; were but this duly considered, I am persuaded men would rather content themselves with the freehold of a Cottage, than grasp at Palace●, where they are but tenants at will.  
Few have the wisdom to foresee, how hard it is in greatness to pursue honest, and safe maxims, what resolution is required for the Potent to be innocent, what Providence to be so accounted; what sordid interests they are forced to espouse, and by what insensible degrees they are brought at last to swallow those actions and compliances, without chewing, which at first, they looked upon with loathing; But alas, proceed they must, and in their stations apply themselves to serve the designs of their masters, for Princes will not endure that their Ministers shall dispute their pleasures. When it was proposed by Henry the third of France, to Grillon Captain of his Guard, that he, as the fittest instrument, should dispatch the Duke of Guise, the honest, but blunt soldier freely professed, that he was ready, if commanded, to fight with the Duke; But to murder him un●onvicted, would not stand with his honour, being born a Gentleman, and professing Arms; which answer coming from one that was a sworn enemy to the interests of the house of Lorraine, deserves to be recorded to his everlasting praise; Yet though Grillon, that refused, was the worthier man, Lognac, who greedily accepted the employment, seems to have been the wiser Courtier; The one, exposing himself to all the hazards of misconstrued virtue, the other, endearing himself to his Prince, by the pledges of guilt and odium, the greatest engagements of future confidence. For it was observed of Sejanus, that his favour could not be purchased without some notable crime. If this were sufficiently weighed, such, I presume, as love virtue would not so precipitate themselves into public affairs, where interest is seldom preserved without a shipwreck of conscience.  
But besides, as the snares, hazards, and anxieties of great men are innumerable, so their Eclipses are fatal, and their falls desperate; They are always surprised with ruin, and their defeat is like that of Legions, when they are cut in pieces before they can rally or make head. Private men oft times fall upon their legs, and find friends to relieve, or at least pity them. Even bankrupt Merchants are daily seen to rise again, like Phoenixes out of their own dust: But with Courtiers and Statesmen, there are no degrees of misfortune; Their best comfort is not to survive their destinies, and their greatest misery is, when they outlive themselves, to see their families buried in their ruins, and all the advantages of their honour and fortune, turned against them, like an Army dissipated with the fury of its own Canon. Whilst they find themselves forsaken of all those alliances which they had, with so much wisdom, contracted, imagining to have laid a foundation of everlasting greatness, whilst their best friends shun them most, and those that were raised by their countenance, dare not own any love or honour to their persons, lest they be likewise invol●ed ●n their crimes; whilst their innocency is as it were proscribed, and impeachments find such favour in their regard, that their own servants are encouraged to betray them; Their enemy's triumph over them, and all their ●ontemporaries think to exercise their charity in affording them a kind of insolent pity; The people which probably hated, but feared them before, are now privileged to curse them, and the Prince himself, in whose service perhaps they bleed, uses them as the screen of envy, and hoping with their ruin to gratify many, and please all, becomes inexorable.  
In fine, they have no sanctuary to protect them, having long since forfeited their innocency, the sweet retrea● of oppressed virtue: Were our gay spirits herein awakened, they would not so court danger as they daily do, but would rather learn to hug themselves in a mediocrity of fortune.   

II. Of faithful Ministers to unthankful Princes.  
It is no new thing to see the greatest virtue and merit misconstrued, and persecuted, even by those that owe i● most favour and protection. History is full both of the fatal rewards of worthy service●, and tragical resentments of oppressed innocency. Even Henry the fourth of France, notwithstanding the absoluteness of his power, and clearness of his fame, was observed hardly to brook any, that might seem to share with him in his laurels; The piety and wisdom of King David himself seems to be scarce exempt from such jealousy in the behalf of his kinsman Joab, though covered with the speciou● 〈◊〉 seasonable pretence of a Royal and exemplary Justice.  
Whether it be, that excess of desert turns at last to a kind of demerit, whilst Princes apprehend, that they cannot sufficiently requite it without impoverishing themselves; Or whether sovereigns are apt to look upon the lustre of their subjects actions, as an Eclipse of their own; Or lastly, whether they think their Authority endangered by those whose eminent▪ virtues have drawn the eyes of the people, or hearts of the soldiers towards them, so that nothing seems to restrain them, but their modesty, which in the great, is ever justly suspected; It is indeed but too evident, that Monarchs more willingly pardon great injuries, than great services; That they as ill endure the name of a benefactor, as of a Rival; And by the example of Galba, can least of all brook such as may seem to challenge the merit of their establishment. He seems too potent a subject that hath trod upon a diadem, and possibly he that hath once renounced a kingdom, may yet upon second thoughts repent of his moderation.  
Machiavel could invent but two sorts of remedies for so imminent a mischief; The first and more excellent, he faith, is to yield to the torrent, by assuming no honours, arrogating no triumphs, entertaining small retinue; Finally, by taking all occasions to slight their own achievements, that so all glory may flow to the Prince, as to its Oceans, without the interruption of mills or Dams; But since virtue being the disease, Loyalty seldom proves the cure: His next and safer counsel is, not to trust too much to innocency, merit, or present appearances, but to be as jealous as their masters, like Ravens, to smell gunpowder at a distance, to lie perdieu for their own safety; And upon the first discovery, to be beforehand with danger, to make use of the utmost advantages they are trusted with, to assure themselves of timely retreats and confederacies, that preventing fraud with fraud, and repelling force with force, they may be in a condition not only to stand upon thei● guards, but take revenge of their Master's ingratitude, and perhaps if need be, set up for themselves.  
Truly, if we look upon the Counsel of this great politic with the eyes of nature, above all things concerned in its own welfare, it seems to be a friendly whisper, an admonition full of prudence, and favourable to virtue; it teaches men to determine resolutely of their affairs, to cut off parboyled fear, and frozen delays, to hope even in despair, and to prevent preventions. Thus we read of Getulicus, that warned through the numerous examples of his Master's rigor, by a kind of prudent disloyalty, he secured himself, and of all Sejanus his dependants, alone survived so bloody a scene. Thus Agrippina, observing a change in the countenance of Claudi●s towards her, scarce thought herself alive till he was dead.  
Surely such unworthy practices are a foul reproach even to moral virtue, much more an infinite scandal to Religion, especially Christian, with the bare profession whereof they cannot consist. Germanicus, albeit a Heathen, was a better proficient in true wisdom, who being at once exasperated by the undeserved malice of his Uncle, and tempted both by the loud applause of the people, and entire obedience of the Legions, yet chose rather to expect the Empire with danger, than with safety to possess it, and preferred the envy of virtue before the security of a crime.  
But what shall we think of great Bellisarius, disgraced, deprived not only of liberty, but even of light, without conviction of the least crime, even by that great lawgiver Justinian, whom his single virtue had rendered almost as great a conqueror as Julius Caesar? What shall we say of the great Captain Gonsalv●, for feigned crimes in default of real, neglected and ruined by the same Ferdinand, the foundation of whose greatness was laid in his sweat and valour, not to say, his overmuch Loyalty, which tempted him even to break his faith for the service of his Prince? Or what shall we account of the Duke of Alva, who though he found feet to trample upon the weakness of unhappy Flemings, yet had not a heel to lift up against the just power of an unjust master? What shall we think of these and many others, that have chosen rather to be innocent, than great or safe? Shall we believe they wanted either wisdom to discover, or courage to resent the cruelty of their sovereigns? Or, shall we not distinguish their integrity, even with rubrical Characters, from the treason● and insolences of Sylla, Catiline, Narses, Bourbon, Guise, Wallestein, &c. who suffered themselves to be enforced by odious necessity▪ inveigled with wicked caution, or with treacherous opportunity debauched.   

III. Of Fame.  
THough the Stoics are to be much commended for their excellent Ideas of virtue, their generous contempt of the body, and indifference in outward things, yet they seem with too much ostentation to undervalue Fame, even decrying vanity with a kind of vainglory. Certainly there is no reason why virtue should altogether sleigth it's own echo, or such as profess the study of Immortality, despise that, which in surviving its subject, and outrunning time, hath at least some feature of Immortality.  
It seems rather an heroical device of that noble Brederode, who lived at the beginning of the Low-Country war, and worthy to be added to the dignity and antiquity of his coat of Arms, God preserve my soul and my honour; it expressed a lively endearment of his renown, since he thought it only worthy to be mentioned with eternal happiness; it proved, that he had virtue in the highest veneration, since he stooped even to kiss the hem of her garment.  
I confess, where Fame and virtue are inconsistent, we are obliged, as it were, to save the V●ss●l from shipwreck, by lightning the fraught; But this is he severest touchstone of Philosophy, neither hath conscience a worthier servant than he, who is content to espouse her, even with Infamy.  
The Scriptures are so elegant in describing the infamy of the wicked, as if they meant to aggravate it beyond any earthly misery, so establishing it, as a kind of unfeigned Purgatory between this world and hell, by these and the like Characters, the memory of sinners shall rot; And again, in the next generation, let his name be extinct; from the latter of which places it is observable, that they then immediately proceed to blot that name out of the Book of life which they have first razed out of the Register of Fame.  
And yet methinks, though Fame may be desired as a concomitant of more important blessings, surely of itself, as Fame, it seems neither odious nor amiable, but the most indifferent of outward things: When I read the last scene and final exit of Anthony of Vendosme, King of Navarre, who being mortally wounded at the assault of Roven, by him, with infinite fury and bloodshed, then taken & sacked, refused the ease and decency of a horse-litter to view his lamentable Conquest in a posture of triumph, and with this silly, or rather barbarous satisfaction, immediately breathed out his benumbed and inconsiderate soul. I would fain imagine him already senseless, and so not guilty of such sinful Pageantry: But, alas, how many are there, who in the midst of guilt and reproach, to gratify their childish consciences, can listen to the rattle of applause? nay, how many are they, that to purchase popularity, have sold their peace both outward and inward, like that other Frenchman, who freely hazarded and lost his life, to recover his feather. Virtuous fame, I confess, may be honestly wished, but to gape for it, is a beggarly and sottish ambition: For as it is no more than worth finding, so it is utterly lost with overseeking. Both virtue therefore, and Prudence, require that our pursuit of it be moderate and careless, like his that rides a hunting to take the air; if h● spring and catch a Partridge, it is well, but though he miss of Game, he hath ye● obtained his end, whi●h was the exercise of his body, and preservation of his health.  
Truly we shall find the less encouragement to court this seeming beauty, when we consider how light and prostitute ●he is, and with how little choice she admits her Gallants; All person● and actions that are good or great, are promiscuously entertained, yet the great much rather than the good: virtues she registers indeed in Quarto, but splendid crimes are recorded in Folio; Nay, if we remember how corrupt and injurious ●he often proves (as being prompted by success) in loading oppressed Justice with Invectives, and daubing prosperous Vices with panegyrics, we may perhaps be rather tempted to disdain than bare neglect.  
Wherefore the motives which incline wise men to value their fame, are not those shadows and dreams of an earthly immortality, nor yet the transportations of affected honour, (for virtue is no sensual or ticklish quality) but the real advantage it yields of improving their generous designs to public benefit.  
They find that the Infamous are to some like infected persons and lepers, whom common Providence command● us to shun, to others like light women, whose company the awe of censure obliges us not to frequent, and to all, like such as disgracefully stammer or squint, whom we hear with impatience, and see with as much aversation, as we do an Eclipse, which by tradition we believe to hurt the eyesight; that there is neither vigour in their precepts, nor virtue in their examples; since the merit of their virtues being swallowed up in the scandal of their evil manners, they seem to put on the odious vizard of hypocrisy, and to do well, in them, at best, is imputed but to an escape of Custom. They see that even obscure persons where they might perhaps speak with advantge, yield rather to the modesty of secure and harmless silence. Again they observe, that such as have once purchased an undoubted fame, are afterwards heard like orators, and obeyed like Magistrates; so that the only danger i●, lest their errors should get the reputation of an axiom, and their Imperfections pass for current virtue; As King Alphonsus of Arragon, being naturally wry-necked, soon begat in his Courtiers a general affectation of the Prince's posture; That their discourses seem apothegms, and their manners are cited like the purity of Primitive practice; Finally, that upon their reproofs, not only private amendments, but public reformations ensue. Great reason therefore they conceive to endear and vindicate their fame, the aid whereof doth so much further, and the want obstruct the design of virtue.  
And yet perhaps those that are perfect in Philosophy, may seem so much already to have surmounted fame, that they no longer need it, having cemented and incorporated it with their manners: However, to Novices it is a necessary incentive and guide; these like coals, not yet sufficiently kindled, must be blown with bellows, and like young swimmers upheld, though with a bladder; To such it is like the Drum or Trumpet to raw soldiers, or the Reveille to lazy sentinels. They use it as marks-men do their Aims; nay, they swallow it as hungry Fishes do fresh worms. Neither ought we to discourage or despise the hopes of such auspicious, though tender plants; Fo● albeit the Learned indeed determine that virtue can have no worthy End without herself, yet surely these are Cacumina Philosophiae, rather to be wished than expected; Lik● imaginary lines, described to signify the fantastic motions of heavenly Orbs; or the Element of fire, imagined to subsist without fuel.  
Should we confine our virtue to these narrow limits, we must at once dash out the names of all those Worthies, whomglory hath inflamed, or emulation provoked, and then let us consider how thin the Register of fame would be; It would be hard to name any splendid action, especially amongs● Heathens, wherein Honour did not give the bias. To conclude, though virtue cannot be too much exalted▪ yet being thus abstracted, it is in danger to resolve into mere metaphysics.   

IV. Of Reputation.  
AS upright and good men ough● not to contemn their fame, so neither should the wise and eminent neglect their Reputation, there being nothing more available to the greatest persons in their greatest actions, than to ride in its triumphal Chariot; wholly to steer by it, is perhaps beneath them, but to carry it along with them, is but to sail with Wind and Tide, and should be, if not their study, yet their care, at l●ast to keep it always in their view, as a seaman doth hi● compass. For as Arts and Sciences have certain simulachra or shadows, which though in themselves suppositious & feigned, yet serve to real purposes, and help to demonstrate exc●llent Truths; so in Policy itself, the trifle called Reputation, though but a blast of the people's breath, proves sometimes so considerable, that scarce any Art or Conduct can supply its defect; wisdom therefore which weighs all things in the scale of Advantage, will not so undervalue it, because it is vain, as not to cherish it, since it is useful.  
It is observable of money itself, the price of all things, that it was invented only for supply of Credit, ease of Commerce, and abridgement of tedious barter; that it is only valued for being everywhere current: And indeed, since a very slender fortune would perhaps satisfy nature and ordinary convenience, Poverty itself were not poor if it were not attended with obscurity and neglect; neither can a wise man find other advantage in wealth, than to afford him the wing of Reputation.  
Reputation is (as it were) sinews to the weak, and eloquence to the dumb; It removes obstructions, and answers objections before they are made; Harbingers are not more necess●ry to Accommodate the Great, nor Pioneers to the Marche● of Armies in enclosed Countries; It is the right hand of Action.  
To pass by Merchants, who in a manner breath no other Air, than that of their Credit; I appeal on the one side to all the principal Actors on the Scene of this world, if it have not afforded them success without hazard or difficulty; If it have not yielded them advantage beyond hope or foresight; If it have not been to them like a porta●le Bridge, or as a Bridge of Boats lying always ready to transfort them over Rivers strongly guarded, and nowhere Fortable; On the other side, I ask the unfortunate, and such as have shipwrackt in their honours, if the want of it do not oft oppress them beyond any weakness of their own, or strength of their enemies.  
In the affairs of war, how oft have we seen the wariest Generals rather choose to precipitate themselves upon the Rock of unequal hope, than languish in a posture of inglorious safety, yea, though they naturally feared and abhorred the Critical events of battle, as discreet men do great game at Di●● yet lest by declining the combat, ● should appear they were not able to protect their party, they have easily complied with the necessity of hazarding the sum of their affairs, to maintain the Reputation of their Arms. neith●● commonly are they less jealous of pe●sonal honour, from which they mudraw the very breath of their fortune● for it being once eclipsed, they are 〈◊〉 expert, that every blast of ill succe●● should disband their Troops, which having little confidence or awe of the● General, are only cemented by so●i●t and example; Upon which account Kaetherine de M●dicis, perhaps wisely granted large terms to the Protestant after the death of the Constable an● Duke of Guise; Since though the● wanted not Captains of equal wisdom and experience, yet they found not an● of Reputation sufficient to beget a universal and unquestionable obedience.  
Again, how frequently may we observe Commanders, great indeed in courage, but little or not overmuch fa●oured by fortune; as Eumenes, Sertorius, and even Marius himself among the Ancients; In latter times, Peter Strozzi, the Admiral of Chastillon, William Prince of Orange, Francis the first, Henry the Great of France, and others, who having, even in the dissipation of their Armies, preserved the entireness of their names, have suddenly arrested the precipice of their fortunes, and revived their withered Laurels, nay, some of them have at last built as it were one goodly Vessel, with the floating planks of many shipwrecks.  
Neither is Reputation more necessary in Camps, then in Courts and counsels; nay perhaps, Armies being still alarmed by the common enemy, preserved by one common interest, diverted with continual action or duty, and tamed with Martial Discipline, swell not with such constant billows, nor seem so much to want the government of an eminent Pilot; Whereas in S●ates, the approaches of faction are so strong, the Mines so subtle, and br●aches so saultable, that to prevent or curb the insolency of Conspirators spirators, wisdom, Valour, and even Majesty, have sometimes proved too weak, without the seasonable support of Reputation, which being the Atlas of Authority, hath a predominancy above power itself, and can like Tiberius, steer a Senate with its eye.  
Upon it depends the very essence of Magistracy, since it is most certain, That the sceptres of Prince's wax and wane with their honours, ●nd that scandal or contempt hath still made way for their ruins, and in it consists the vigour and lustre of great achievements, for through its influence, Caesar, like a Basilisk, could kill his adversaries with his mere looks, and Germanicus reduce his revolting Legions with a bare harangue.   

Of Valour in Princes.  
IT is clear, that R●putation highly condu●es to the safety and lustre of a Crown; That it delivers Princes from the perpetual thra'ldome & nonage of factious times, which (to use the Language of Lewis the eleventh) keeps them in their Pages Trunks, even after they have beards; That it renders them of Kings at the mercy of others, Lords at their own discretion. But this Rep●tation is not easily nor presently acq●ired; For though we find among the Romans Lucullus, and in l●tter ages, the marquess Spinola, who through maturity of Judgement, and vast Theory, becam● Generals as soon as soldiers, therein imitating Princes, whose Prerogative it is to be born Leaders of Armies, yet others must ●xpect to ascend the steep Mount of honour by many and difficult st●ps; N●y, sovereign's themselves, if they will, indeed, raise a lofty Reputation, m●st f●●st lay their foundation in honest Fame, and beginning with the early and diligent practice of private virtues, orderly proceed at last to signaliz● themselves by public ●tchievments.  
To be great in A●thority, they must first be great in virtue: They must be vigilant and industrious, for greatness is the Captive of diligence; They must be patient and constant, that they prove not the Pageants of Fortune; They must be temperate, and of proof both against Luxury and Passion, for such as will indeed conq●er, must first practise upon themselves.  
But truly, of all heroic habits, there is none that swells so big and suddenly with Reputation, as Valour; Whether it be, because it acts upon a more open Scene, and produces more immediate and visible effects; Or rather, because our servile and unthankful natures are apt to be more deeply affected with terrible then favourable objects; for even those that would trample upon the meekness of Henry the sixth, will crouch to the roughness of Henry the ●ighth.  
It was a wise reflection, even beyond the years of Charles the ninth, who upon his deathbed expressed full satisfaction, That he lest a brother to succeed him, from the Reputation of whose approved manhood, much might be expressed to allay the tumours of a distempered State, rather than any cradle of his own, whose nonage and impotency would certainly revive and embolden factions; But the event answered not the prudence and merit of his hopes; for that brother imagining that he had already supererogated and got the start of honour in his youth, fancied, that to continue still in Armour, was but the life of a Tortoise enchassed in his shell, and thought it was now high time to ease his shoulders from the weight of a C●irass●: In fine, became as unsatiable in L●xury, as he had once been greedy of Conquest; whereby he fell int● the contempt and rivalry of his ●ubject●, who thinking that ease had melted and softened him to a jelly, and mistaking his sloth for a deep Lethargy, had learned to undervalue that man, whose childhood they had feared, and were by his long patience encouraged to accumulate their injuries, till, at last, despair extorted from him a resentment, pe●nicious first to his enemies, but at last to himself.  
In ancient times. Kings were nothing else but Crowned Captains; Their Laurels were their Diadems, and their Swords their sceptres; They accounted the danger of their lives a small hazard, and only relished that sovereignty which they had themselves achieved, like Venison of their own hunting; By such vigorous policies, they exalted their Thrones above the reach of creeping faction, which d●lights rather in cheats and thefts then brave robberies, and commonly aims no higher than Burglary; The only Seditions they feared, were the mu●ini●s and revolts of their Legions, when they wanted Pay, or disliked their Winter Quarters.  
B●t in latter ages, policy varying, or rather manhood declining, Majesty hath left the field, and betaken itself to garrison; It dwells no longer in Tents, but in Courts and Cabinets; Princes, they say, must not now appear in Armour, lest they hazard that Reputation which indeed they never had; It seems more honourable for them to act by their Lieutenants, I wish it prove as safe and prosperous: Philip the second could fill Europe with the noise and terror of his vast Expeditions, himself scarce budging from Madrid, but he conq●ered accordingly, and his Victori●s were but like the encroachments of the Sea, which what it gains in one place, is observed to lose in another▪ Certainly there is odds on Cyrus and Alexander's side against Croesus and Darius; N●ither is it easy to secure the tame Autho●ity of Chil●erick from the aspiring genius of Charles Martel.  
This eminent advantage redounds to Princes by their continual pres●nce in the Camp, That into some it infuseth glory, to others it insinuates shame; It aff●cts all with emulation; That it sec●r ●s them from competitors in honour, and forestals the treacherous hopes of ambition; Lastly, that it teaches en●mies to despair of any but dear and bloody Victory: for if the Romans accounted that Town or fortress in a manner won, upon the walls whereof they had once planted a standard, knowing that the soldiers would not desist from their beloved Eagles; How much more invincible must their courage be, that fight in view of sovereigns, who undergoing equal hazards, stand ready to reward their merit, or punish their cowardice? Nay, their bare countenance is, to generous spirits, an ornament above any recompense, and their mere neglect a terror beyond the sentence of a Court Martial.  
The sovereign use of Princely Valour is to chain and muzzle the fierceness of such as, resembling Bears and other beasts of prey, know no restraint of mischief, but their impotency, to be like a fiery bit in their mouths, whom the gentle Snaffold of Authority cannot hold; It either is or should be but justice in a larger Volume and bigger Character, differing from it not re, but modo & gradu. Truly it is but an hard-favoured, rugged, and uncourtly virtue, destitute of all those graces and charms which are wont to captivate our aff●ctions; Its face is fuller of scars, then old age of wrinkles, and its presence like the surprisal of Ghosts and Hobgoblings; its voice is as the sound of Thunder; doleful cries and confused noises are but its whispers; its ●mbergreece is dirt and sweat; its perfumes are gunpowder and Carrion.  
And yet in the midst of these determents it hath likewise certain subtle enchantments, by which it attracts even love; Those that would fain accuse, are by a secret influence compelled to flatter it; so that it is become more popular, than Faction or Liberty itself. It is indeed a kind of general V●r●ue, with its lustre supplying the obscurity of many others, and quitting enormous Vices: For it hath been observed, that valiant Prince●, be their private manners or public governments never so obnoxious, yet at worst, escape universal obloq●y.  
And whereas the extremes of other virtues in stead of improving their kinds, degenerate, only R●shn●s●, which is but the transportation and fr●●zy of the Valiant, if it be not secure from blame, is safe from reproach, and subj●ct to be no oth●rwise discommend●d, than the best and liveliest parts in Comedies, when they are over-act●d in tone or gesture. Whilst it is fortunate, it is canonised by the Vulgar, and ev●n wise men put on their spectacles to discern it from its virtue: Victory in its trouzes becomes a Giant, and men are as much taken with its real exploits, as children with the tales of Garagantu● and Bevis: B●t if it sink with the weight of its enterprises, it is yet by some excused, by others pardoned, generally pitied; and since it seldom survives its misfortune, it hath a stately Funeral, and Princely Dirges.  
Most remarkable it is, that when Francis the first was defea●ed and taken prisoner at the siege of Paris, by him begun with more confidence than counsel, and continued with greater obstinacy than wisdom; yet in regard he had acquitted himself like a c●uragious Prince, many of his chiefest Gentlemen that escaped the slaughter, enamoured with the beauty of so glorious a Captivity, though they might hav● fled, chose rather to go with their Prince to Madrid, than return with their liberty to Paris, willingly mistaking hi● prison for a flourishing Court: I commend not their Prudence; to languish with him was but a silly Relief, a treacherous loyalty to seal his Captivity with their own● neither do I allow of their magnanimity, for the truly stout only lament their losses in repairing them; But I admire their Devotion to majestic Valour▪ in real duty exceeding the affec●●tion of fond Lovers.  
It is therefore great wisdom in Princes to build their Authority upon their Valour, as being a firm and popular Basis, the fr●sh●st and most fragrant flower in their Garlands: Only they should consider, that rashness is but alchemy, and hath none but Vulgar and Imaginary honour, as loathsome as Knight Errandry. That as it produces sometimes the most notable Eff●cts, so it often meets with signal and fatal Affronts, yet with this scandalous difference, that it se●ms to owe its a●chievements to Fortune, its miscarriages to Desert.  
Upon the account of this giddy virtue it wa●, that Henry the Great of France went oft times himself upon the Forlorn Hop: To speak in the Duke of Parma's Language, he could not content himself with the Dignity of a King and General, but aff●cted and usurped the Office of a Scout-master, and a Captain of Light Horse, giving the arrogancy of the Spaniards subject to scoff at him, and say, He did them much Honour in coming to view the Order of their Army, that he might learn how to range his own; He should rather have remembered that notable Epigram of his predecessor, It is high time, said he, to quit this dangerous Post, and no longer upon these unequal terms to stake a double Henry against a Carolus.  
Prince's therefore may learn to be good husbands of their Valour, to reserve it only for honourable and important Action, to avoid the cheapness of picqueering, and making a little war, like the Tories and Bandit●; unless they d●sire to imitate the fierce and ill-tempered youth of Sebastian of Portugal, who observing a tempest, would usually put to Sea in a Shallop, that he might seem to daunt the Elements, and show himself unconcerned, when even the Mariners themselves were afraid. Whilst they needlessly engage themselves amongst swords and shot, if t●ey enhance the reputation of their courage, yet they wound the same of their wisdom; nay, they seem Valiant rather out of ignorance, than contempt of danger, and perhaps resemble (as extremes are apt to meet) the distressed Valour of a Coward, who is said to wink and fight. But if arguments from nature and discretion will not yet convince them, let them at least consider, that in their untimely deaths, all the designs of their projected greatness commonly vanish, their Garlands presently wither, their enemies insult, their heirs are oft exposed to a dang●rous nonage, and their Countries to a kind of Interregnum; For wise and virtuous governors are the happy Intelligences of the world, and the persons of excellent Princes are the precious stakes of Common-weal●hs.   

VI. Of History.  
WE are not sufficiently sensibl● how much we owe to the Historian, who having no other end then the good of mankind, and innocent fame, hath by his noble industry furnished us with so many lively patterns of heroic virtues, like baits to allure us, and with such eminent examples of God's Justice, like Sea-marks to warn us; hath bestrid the Tombs of our ancestors, and rescued their names from Oblivion and Dust; hath ex●lted flitting time to a kind of immortality, and digested barbarous Tradition into useful K●owled●e.  
There is not a greater benefactor to true Knowledge, than the Historian, who doth not amuse us with Airy Notions, or feed us with tea●ms of Art, but directs us to the study of Men and Manners, affording us a looking-glass for our Actions to dress them by, and ●nabling us to find that wisdom in Books, which else perhaps we must purchase of dear Experience. We will therefore call a Historian virtue's Secretary, or the world's Recorder, and History itself we will define to be the Art or Faculty of Recording and Describing human Actions and Affairs, with discreet Choice, with clear Integrity and perfect Knowledge.  
First, with discreet Choice; for there must be in History a certain Prudence to discern what Actions or Affairs deserve Recording, wherein the information and instruction of the Reader is to be our Aim and compass. It should not be li●e an abrupt Gazette, or seaman's Journal, it should not give way to the endl●sse impertinency of r●lating common accidents in nature, the fondness of marking idle Prophecies, and childish Omens, nor the superstition of observing Critical Events, or raising a grave and moral descant from a silly plainsong, these being the weeds that choke many of our fruitfullest Histories. And therefore here in we should imitate his wisdom, (Tacitus Annal. l. 3.) that determined to pass by all such actions as were not notable either for Honesty or Infamy, as knowing, the end of writing Histories to be, That our virtues may survive our Persons; and that wicked men may stand in some awe, if not o● present times, yet of posterity, especially the great and eminent, who perhaps might use History in stead of Astrology, to read their own Fortunes.  
2. With clear Integrity; For a Historian ought, of all men, to be sincere and unbyass●d, since his works are designed for future Age●, who wanting other means of information, must take his single testimony for undoubted Truth. A little falsehood is enough to disguise and leven a large s●ory; and by reason of the sovereign influence it hath upon human faith, the best of moral certainties give Reputation to those errors which could not hope to receive the like countenance from any present Authority. We see in matters of Religion, errors have not so sure a Buckler as the corruption of Ecclesiastical story, for heresy dreads the name of Innovation, but triumphs, if it have but colour, to vie Antiquity with Truth; Neither will Schism value to be cut off from the present Church, whilst it may pretend and boast its conformity with Primitive times. Historians therefore should be men of such presumed sincerity, that their bare assumptions may justly challen●● belief. But, alas, how many of them are bribed into fulsome panegyrics, awed into sordid Concealments, or exasperated into Libellous Invectives? It were not to be endured, if partial story did not, for the most part▪ carry its brand in its forehead, whereby it passes not current without the grain of allowance, and is read with as much prejudice as it was written, to make the scales even.  
3. Perfect Knowledge; For the vending of Rumour for History, is as bold a cheat as the selling of Copper or alchemy for fine Silver; And indeed, it is injurious to expect that the Reader should take that for granted, which is but a non liquet to the author. To Knowledge are opposed Ignorance and Conjecture; Ignorance is an invincible defect, like natural lameness, or a dead palsy; Conjecture is many times but the Crutch of Ignorance, and like an eye of glass or crystal, yet sometimes it consists in wise Argument, and rational Inference, and so becomes a seasonable supplement to imperfect knowledge. Wherefore, ●o long as it is probable and weighty, it deserves not to be wholly ex●l●ded, though not too frequently admitted.  
History, as an Art, r●quires Method; And as an Art of R●gistry and Description▪ it implies a Style: Method consists in p●rfect Chronology, and in a comely series of relati●g Affairs in their due time and order, so digesting, and disentangling the variety of the matter, that to the Readers eye it may be straight & transparent, rather like a good perspective, than a rude landscape. One thing must, like a Harbinger, make way for another; Counsel must precede Resolution, Resolution Action, and Action Event; That there be no precipitating or interfering, and that great and wise Agents be not immediately brought to handy strokes, like Clowns in a Match at Cudgels: This is so necess●ry, that without it the writing of History is no better than discord in music, or the jangling of the Bells. Style consists in the aptness of Connexion, Gravity of Compos●re, and Care of delivering matters with the same seriousn●sse and solemnity wherewith they were acted, free from the Incongruity or D●formity of common talk, the Gaudery of D●clamations, and Levity of Romancs.  
Now if we examine our Historians by these severe limits, we shall scarce find any so able, so diligent, or indeed so sincere; Since all must write, either of other Times and Countries, or of their own; If of their own, they are in danger to prove, not Historians, but pensioners, and malcontents; They either will not or dare not write all truth, or, at least, not all the truth: If of others, they are exposed to so much darkness, and want of fitting materials, a● no wisdom or Dexterity can supply, whil●t they borrow their Truth from Tradition, and their Intelligence from rumour; well may they quest aloud, but can have no clear sent at so great a distance.  
But perfection is nowhere to b● found, neither in our virtues, nor Arts; And therefore if Historians be charged with Imperfection, they may well answer, that their Defects are not greater than those of philosophers, schoolmen, Lawyers, and o●her famous professors, who yet pass current amongst us, and look big; nay, they may allege, that they are more exact than their subject (the lives and actions of men) deserves: For in them there is such irregularity of Manners, such shifting of Scenes, such interfering of Counsels, such a Chaos of Events, as would confound Ord●r, and puzzle even Method itself to disentangle them, being fitter matter for Comoediane, than Historians, to be personated, then recorded.  
Yet divers excellent Registers time hath produced, who pardoning them the painter's fault, of making the Picture, like indeed, but much fairer and handsomer than the face, may pass for sufficient authors; And since, where the subject will not bear defining, a description serves the turn, These commendable Writers, Comparatis comparandis, deserves to wear the name and badge of Historians.  
Of these, Cornelius Tacitus seems to lead the Vann, though some have imagined him to differ from a Historian, as descant doth from plainsong; He recites none but weighty matters, and those weightily; He peirces the Cabinet like Lightning, and where he gives way to Conjecture, he doth it so wisely, that those who could never have made his discoveries, must yet consent to his Reasons: His style is as quick as thought, and his words not long eno●gh for his matter▪ 'Tis strange to s●e a History so truss●d up: His Conceptions keep pace with the mysteries of State, and subtleties of Court; nay, it is well, if he observe no more than was meant, and make not those times and persons more politic than they were. To read him understandingly, would make an exquisite statesman, if it did not fi●st req●ire a statesman, understandingly to read him. I know not whether to prefer, his Annals, or Histories, since, in effect, they are both short Annals in brevity of Language, and both in fulness● of matter large H●stories.  
Livy, though not so compact, is not of less● weight or depth; An author as full of Majesty as the Senate; so ample and copious, that to such as have read Livy, scarce any History or Affairs can be new: He d●livers the story of times, when Civility and Policy, both the Arts of War, and Laws of Peace, exceedingly fl●●r●sh d. And truly they have lost nothing by his Recording; If he seem a little partial or fond of his subject, pardon and impute it to the love of his Country, which indeed abounded with persons, for virtue so eminent, that some degree of flattery seems even justifiable in their behalf, neither could they be worthily commended, without a kind of Hyperbole.  
Caesar's Commentaries are as a Grammar for soldiers; With so much judgm●nt he gives an account of his own Expeditions, that it were almost as easy to imitate his Sword as his Pen; with such modesty and wise ingenuity he relates his own great Actions (Always speaking in the third person) that his Reader finds those virtues and Abilities in him, which himself would seem to sl●ight and cover, as with a Mask, not willing to be the trumpeter o● his own fame. This is a hist●●y indeed, as pure as the Fountain, nothing of lameness or disguiz● in it; for the materials were such as needed no ornament, but only good adjustment; and therefore the A●thour so●ght no o●her Eloquence, than Simplicity, no beauty, but naked tru●h, which was ready at his hand, being, without other information, wholly derived from his own breast.  
Sall●st treads fast upon their heels; His weighty Argument and composed Style resemble a still stream in a deep channel, and show, to what perfection the Art of writing was grown in his Age.  
To forget Plutarch, were to affront virtue, his choice of excellent Theme● his Characters of noble persons, whereby he hath even canonised them, his wise and accurate comparisons of Grecian and Roman Worthies, equalise him with the best Writers. As none that converses with the Stoics, can continue an Epicure, so neither can any, not void of Ingenuity, read the life of Cat● in Plutarch, without being transformed into that Idea. He that will know much History with little study▪ let him turn to Plutarch.  
Florus is so trim an Epitomist, that it is pity he wrote not more, or more largely; For Ann●ls are but pygmy-histories, and render us rather not ignorant, then intelligent; their chief use is, to read them before History, as Preparatives, or after History, as Recapitulations; but the pleasure is more than the profit, they being rather Land-skip●, then maps.  
Amongst modern authors, Philip de Commines is famous; His memoirs are so exact, and withal so natural, that it appears, he was a great Agent in the affairs he treats of; Truth and Ingenuity are so much beholden to h●m, that he seems more tender to them, then to his own honour; for in discovering the policies then used, he makes himself a kind of Interloper, and leaves the Reader to judge, whether he served C●arls or Lewis more faithfully.  
The History of the Council of Trent cannot be enough extolled, for judgement. learning, and moderation; It is as straight as the flight of Arrows▪ as transparent as the light: This author, whilst he only recites, confutes, and hath the Vigour of a satire, without the Spleen or Aggravation; The Pope cannot justly accuse, yet will never absolve him; for to some persons, nothing is so terrible, or offensive, as truth.  
Thuanus is as an Atlas of History; so orderly, and withal so large, that his industry and vast intelligence would pass for a miracle, if it did not appear, that where it was needful, he wisely supplied his own defects, by calling in foreign aid.  
What Encomium can I give to D' Avila? who in his notable History of the Civil wars of France, hath done so much right, both to Italians and Frenchmen; To those by his ●minent Ability, to these by his singular exactness and Fidelity; Others find enough to do, in representing the affairs of their own Countries, to dive into foreign interests, is indeed a work, which deserves the activity of a transalpine wit.  
I know, I have passed by very many authors, of no less worth, than those I mention; but to treat of them all, were to write a History myself: I once more conclude, we ought to enshrine the memories of such Hi●torians.   

VII. Of Education.  
AMongst the many miscarriages of our times, there seems not to be any of greater importance, than the errors committed in the Education of Youth; which yet, having taken root by Custom, are hard to be removed. If we understood the value of good Education, what Vices it prevents, what Manners it plants, Parents would not be so indifferent in the discharge of a duty, which imports their Children more, than all the fortunes they can leave them.  
There is no nature so fierce, no not that of wild Beasts, but it may be tamed, if endeavoured in Youth; no inclination so violent, but it may be checked, before it take head, and be fortified with habit, all vices being yet as curable, as flesh wounds, whilst they are green; but as we grow old, our faults learn to prescribe; then if the Parent reproves, he is answered with snarling and resistance, if the friend go to perrwade, he makes himself an enemy. The Ghostly Father hath a fine time to wear out his lungs with invectives. Alas, good precepts work upon well-disposed minds; but a vicious person is a prejudicate Auditor, and hath so sick a palate, that he can relish nothing that is good or wholesome: One early and seasonable reproof shall prevent, what a hundred Sermons cannot reform, When men have contracted so much rust, that they are past all remedies, but the Law, And, indeed, are fitter to be made examples, then hear precepts.  
But not to shoot at random, the errors, I observe in our vulgar breeding, are these.  
First, I conceive, in outward accomplishments, we study too early and greedily to advance our Youth, and, by such outsides, they commonly are valued; but, as for just and sober principles, the love of virtue, and restraints of Conscience, these goodly and fruitful plants we neglect to cherish in them; Hence it happens, that our best hopes are freedom from enormous● vices, and a kind of female 〈◊〉 but the foot steps of that masculine worth, which was in our Ancestors, are even worn out, we have little Nobility left us, save that of the pedigree, neither are the seeds of knowledge so ●ertile in a●, as in many He●thens, who lived by the light of Reason, and principl●s of Philosophy.  
Some indeed there are, that judiciously observe the diff●rence, betwixt a sure foundation, and a curious paper-building, or painted Balconey●, but then, perhaps, they either think, by flacking the reigns of Authority, to decoy and flatter their youth into Duty, or else, by an over-austerity, will needs precipitat● it into perfection, and cut down tall Vices, like great Trees, with one stroke of the Hatchet, or make virtue's spring, like Mandrakes; both of these are erroneous, for virtue is the issue of Discipline and Time.  
Our Education, in respect of Arts & Professions, seems much like the methodical Travels of the Germans in France, which they say, consists in riding a certain tour or Circuit. For first, Children are put to school at a venture, where they are exposed to the fury of Pedants, and like Galley-slaves, condemned to the Oar, till dull experience proves them unfit for learning, and perhaps renders them uncapable of other course. When they have learned to construe Latin, though possibly, not to understand it, they are either directed to some Trade, wherein that little which they have learned is useless, and soon forgotten; or else they are sent to Universities, inns of Court, and beyond the Se●s, there to surfeit as fatally of liberty. as starved stomachs do of plenty. Thus ●kipping all degrees & methods, of Children, they become men at a stride; And it is well, if they prove not Senators.  
I know it is easy sometimes for fools to censure, what the wis●st men can hardly reform. And withal I am not ignorant, that much hath been written upon this subject, and by men whose wits and abilities, I dare not so much as emulate; yet in a matter of so great and public importance, I hope, I shall not be too severely blamed, if I adventure likewise in a short Essay, to offer some expedients of redress, to those many mischiefs, which proceed from erroneous Education.  
First then, as the husbandman with much observation proves the nature of the soil, before he resolve what grain he will commit unto it, And as the Architector d●signes several sorts of wood, for several uses in building: so let not Parents destiny their Children to courses, without a diligent sc●utiny and examination of their Genius. Like some z●alous, or covetous Catholics, who, before their innocent Daughters know what belongs to a vow, bury them, as it were, alive, in Monasteries. Experience daily teaches us, that such as are not apt for liberal Arts, yet many times prove able M●rchants or mechanics, And those, that would never be spruce Courtiers, prov● dogged Swisses. An aspiring Genius will contemn mean Professions, airy souls were not designed for sedentary employments, nor excess of melancholy for action; He may prove an excellent Mathematician, that would never be good Lawyer, for that depends upon the strength of Imagination, this of Reason. Great Logicians are oft times but ill Orators; For the one requires a strong, the other a fine and Courtly wit; some have solid judgememt, some vast memory, some excel in elocution, some in dexterity of the Pen, some have quickness of dispatch, some invincible industry. Every Creature is said to have its peculiar virtue, in some kind or other; but the vast bulk of learning, and general abilities, are not to be grasped at, save by such wits, as are almost as rare as the Phoenix or unicorn.  
Secondly, therefore, let every Genius be directed solely or chiefly to those studies and employments, to which nature first designed them; for that eye which is intent and fixed, sees clearly, whereas variety of objects dazzles; That water, running in one great channel, makes a navigable River, which being divided into little streams, they all prove no better than ditches. I conceive, if this Rule were practised, Youth would not be so routed and defeated in what they undertake, as now they are, whilst they attempt those Arts and Sciences, which are both for quantity too vast, and for quality, improper for them, like Horsemen, commanded forty to win passes, and take sconces. Whatsoever the stomach digests not, proves but crudity; and variety of imperfect notions, serves only to puff men up with arrogance, and ostentation, and produces at best but learned ignorance, or confident errors. Whereas by this means, every one would thrive in his way, and the commonwealth of Learning, which consists in perfect societies of all Arts, would exceedingly flourish. The Jesuits, chiefly by pursuing this wise and accurate method, have advanced literature, enlarged their own same, and ●xalted their colleges, to the envy of all Universities.  
Thirdly, let not superficial Ornaments be so much regarded, as solid foundations, and let not the substance be placed in those things, which were meant only for glosses and shadows. For though all accomplishments may be commended and desired, yet not all equally, nor alike in all. It were methinks, but vain ambition in a Gentleman, that should strive to excel the Danoing master, in exactness of Dan●ing; or the Va●●●ing School●, in a●tivity of body; wher●in, if by his indiscreet diligence, and long practice, he should arrive at perf●ction, he were yet in danger, sometimes to resemble Nero, descending from the imperial Throne, to play his part in a consort of music, and expecting the applause of the people, for his well singing upon the Stage. The Spartans were so sev●re in their Philosophy, that they rejected many of those Arts, which are so precious in our times, as the Canke●s of virtue, and underminers of Liberty, framing men's minds, rather to the pomp of vicious pleasures, than the simplicity of virtuous exercises. Their censure herein may perhaps be too rigid, yet we should remember the debt we owe to public, and to posterity, and not resemble our Virginia Planters, whose poverty forces them to plant nothing but Tobacco and other Commodities of present vent; we should use a more excellent Husbandry, like those that bend their designs to set up manufactures, to settle Trade, to establish policy, and turn a Colony into a commonwealth, by such well-grounded and durable Arts, that future times may reap the ben●fit of our industry We should therefore prize virtue and innocency in youth, far above all outward Ornaments, and eve● above learning itself; for a commonwealth hath much more need of honest, then wise Citizens, and one good man is worth a myriad of great wits.  
Fourthly, We should endeavour to season Youth with Ingenuity, and stir up the seeds of emulation, that they may no longer act like pressed soldiers, but Volunteers. That duty may be their delight, and knowledge the subject of their pride; incentives far more powerful, than terror or restraint; for what can probably be expected from those that go to school, as if they went to Bridewell, and at best, love book● no better than a Turn-spit doth his Wheel?  
Fiftly, There should be a northwest passage found, for the attaining of the Latin Tongue, that we need not use such a tedious ambages, as is, in effect, more barbarous, than the tying of the horse's tail to the Plough; nor instead of a journey, which might be dispatched in few days, wander, like the Children of Israel, forty years in the Wilderness. For in learning Language, which yet is but the gate or avenue of art & knowledge, we not only lavish our time, but waste that stock of industry, which nature endued us with, for higher and nobler designs; so as being harrassed with this drudgery, we have little vigour left us to attempt Philosophy or human Learning. And let no man object, that our early years are not capable of such improvements. For why should we doubt, but that mathematics, History, and even morality, in some degree, may be insinuated to us very young, since Children are so soon put 〈◊〉 make use of Invention, their strong●st fac●l●y, and which, indeed, as yet is but too slender and barren? Half that time and diligence which they trifle away in Epistles and Themes, (exercises, miserably patched up of childish matter, and stolen phrases) would yield another manner of fruit, if it were employed in translating to and fro, the best moral authors, whereby not only the Language would soon grow familiar, but the stile would imprint itself, and perhaps, the spirit and Idea remain with them. Neither do I see, why they should converse so much with the poets at that Age, when they read them, with so much difficulty, and so little relish, unless there be a design, in perplexing the Scholar, to amuse his Parents. and lengthen the employment. As for Greek, though it seems to be in some proportion necessary to the perfection of the Latin Tongue, yet I am sure, to many that learn it, it is of little use, especially being taught as it is, by halves, as if it were learned on purpose to be forgotten. Certainly, were the Rules of the Latin Tongue discreetly abridged, and no other Language spoken in public Schools, it could not require much more time or industry, than the F●ench and other Tongues, which commonly cost those that are least pregnant, no more to gain, even the perfect speech of them, than the leisure or pastime of two or three years.  
Sixthly, The learned and able Professors of Arts and Sciences, should endeavour to render them more clear and Mathematical, by vindicating them from many of those uncertainties and intricacies wherewith they are now entangled, that our knowledge be no longer buil● upon such Hypotheses, as are more easily admitted, then consented to or proved; so that m●ny of our found●tions being blown away with one blast of denial, we are as far to seek, ●s if we had n●ver studi●d, And being once beaten from Aristotle, stand as mute, as an ignorant Catholic would do, if he could be driven from his impregnable Citadel the Church. Why should Scholars in disputation, give such false fire, wrangle about mere notions, and fight with their own shadows? why should Sciences be encumbered with such a throng of distinctions, wher●by Sophistry is maintained, and truth concealed, like a true Diamond, in a heap of counterfeit Jewel●? why should we acquiesce in Authori●y, which, though most necessary to Law and Gospel, is the bane of Arts, and a ne plus ultra to knowledge? Some I confess, have very auspiciously begun a Reformation in this behalf; but it is in the embryo, and will require a college of the most learned to finish it; indeed it is almost like the translation of the Bible, work fitter for national Synods, the private men.  
S●venthly, Those p●rsons to whose direction and conduct youth is committed, should not be taken at random, but with the same prudence and choice, wherewith we elect our Magistrates or Delegates; their profession should not be made the last refuge of such men, as despair, or are baffled in better preferments, but should be accounted▪ as indeed it is, most honourable. And the● should know, how much, both the pr●sent age expects from their Fidelity, and future times from their virtue, as well by due regard to their persons, as encouragement of their labours; but, alas, our Age so abounds in loathsome pedantry, that as the contempt of the Calling discourages many worthy men from professing it, so the contemptibleness of the ●ersons, yet brings the Calling into greater contempt.  
Lastly, There should not be wanting encouragements and rewards, proportionable to the number and merits of ●arned and excellent men, And wise governors should study to distribute them, not by chance, but true desert: The end of planting Nurseries, is seasonably to convert them into Orchards, otherwise the Planter is commonly a loser by them. Where therefore there is no recompense expected, men will rather content themselves with easy and thrifty ignorance, And he will in time be a learned Priest, that hath his breviary by heart. Hence, I fear, it partly happens That such amongst us as have free fortunes, and can live of their own, account themselves, ●s justly exempt from study, and ingenious industry, as in some country's Gentlemen are from paying Taxes: for all our virtues are fostered by necessity, or fed with expectation; no knowledge or excellency is without its arrogancy and ambition, which renders it impatient to be herded with the vulgar, being conscious of its own desert. That wise Emperor Charles the fifth, in his excellent Legacy of politic instructions to his Son Philip, advising him to purchase the service of able men, at any rates, tells him, he must by all means seek them out; for as their virtue teaches them Modesty, so even that Modesty hath its Pride, and looks that Preferment should court it. Indeed the want of seasonable and convenient advancements, for great wits and spirits, drives them oft times to seek it by indirect means, and possibly hath been the hidden spark, that hath in all ages, kindled notable flames in the world.   

VIII. Of Travelling, and the qualifications unto it.  
I Confess, I am not of the humour of the age I live in, which takes it for granted, that such as travel not, have scarce lib●●al education, so that their lameness can be no way supplied or out▪ grown. I conceive, Wisdom to be none of those Merchandises, for which we traffic only in far Countries, nor do I take good manners to be of so vast a b●lk, that they require the fraught of a Ship or Bark; If change of Climates and Meridians were sufficient alone to produce those excellencies we aim a●, what abilities might we not exp●ct in our public messengers, and weekly Posts? certainly, there are as wise men, and every way as accompl●shed, that never fo●sook their native Countries, as those that have traversed the known world.  
I rather incline to their Stoical opinion, who believe, that notwithstanding those goodly glosses and appearances, which fond Custom hath put upon this method of breeding, yet the goodness of the fruit scarce answers the fairness of its blossoms, but that, on the contrary, it is the Sep-mother of Learning, the Imposture of virtue, and a vast prodigality of Time; for it is observable of many novices, when they travel, that at best they do but spend their curiosity, in gazing upon sensible Objects, Towns, Palaces, Bridges, and the like, as if they were only sent for silly spies, to view the situation of the ●ountry.  
B●t since the prejudice of times in this behalf is such, that to disp●te against it, is in danger to be accounted, rather heresy then good Philosophy, I will endeavour to offer some preparatives by way of caution, that Youth may travel with more benefit, or less mischief.  
Let then the grounds of true Religion be first imprinted in early Youth, with such lively Characters, as will not easily be defaced, for Travellers seldom meet with those that catechise th●m; many objects indeed they shall have to distract, and alienate, but few or none to persuade, or encourage them, in pious duties; so that if they have not a stock, to subsist in time of dear●h, they may soon perish, being so remote from the nurture of Parents, and destitute of friendly admonitions, in Countri●s● where a different worship being established, they are constrained either to forsake, their Religion, or forget their piety.  
Let them have civil and liberal Education, to shame neither their friends, nor themselves, for else they will seem to travel, like Barbarians into Greece, not so much to learn the Arts and Ornaments of other Countries, as to discover the nakedness of their own.  
Let them be untainted with Vices, which in travelling increase like snowballs. Above all, let them be armed with Temperance, and free from the habit of Wine-bibbing, else the novelty of delicious fruits and pleasant Wines in Southern Climates, will debauch them, to the hazard of their health and wits; and for reputation, make them seem swine in the eyes of such civil and well-governed people, as those amongst whom they shall live; neither will any caution preserve them virtuous, where Incontinency is boldly professed, and Lust is become, not a Custom only, but a Diet.  
Let them be endued with understanding, and natural parts, at least more th●n vulgar; for travelling is a Trade, not to be set up, nor driven, without a reasonable stock, neither do we endeavour to enamel or polish the common Flint, but reserve our labour for metals and Jewels, as only worthy of such Art.  
Let them be competently furnished with human learning, and at least matriculated in Philosophy; for though travelling may perhaps build, yet certainly it lays no foundations: There are methods and degrees of breeding; And no man ever at once vaulted into perfection. The knowledge of terms, and things, must, in good order, precede the study of men, else it will resemble those that learn Languages, only by the ear, without Rules, who may, indeed, speak intelligibly, but scarce elegantly, and their want of Orthography shall always discover their lameness.  
Let them not be so much strangers to Story and maps, that when they first see France, they shall think, they discover America, and be so surprised with the novelty of objects, as if they saw not men but theaters, and when they changed stations, sifted scenes; for then their time will be wasted in vain amusements, and they will not have traveled, but dreamt, As Children when they first come to London, are lost in the street●, As mere Country people admire the gaudy signs before every shop, and are in France, when they see Westminster or the Exchange.  
Let them stay, till they have gotten some habit of discretion, and experience in conversation; for they must know how to stand upon their Guard, and support themselves; they can rely upon no man's tenderness, to consider their youth, and pardon the errors of childhood. All their blots will be hit, all their forfeitures will be taken, since to men of prudent behaviour, it is commonly a great privilege to be strangers, but to indiscreet persons, a greater prejudice.  
Let them, (if possible) be perfect Latinists, not only for pen, but speech, for that, in travelling, is as current coin in Trade, and somewhat more necessary, in this respect, that it cannot so readily be supplied by way of Barter; The Loadstone hath made all the world, in effect, one continent, and the Latin Tongue ciments, at least, all the learned world, as it were, into one Nation. Without it, Travellers are, for some time, such silly mutes, that it rests in the Companies charity, to think that they have Reason.  
These are the principal cautions, which readily offer themselves unto me, and which I recommend to all young Travellers: from these they may expect much security and benefit; Yet, since we first learn to swim with Corks and Bladders, And it seems, too unsafe, to trust so unfixed an age, only to its own conduct, methinks a provident Father should not easily be drawn to venture his Son abroad, without a discreet Tutor or governor, who is so needful to supply the Authority of a Parent, and the familiarity and assistance of a friend, that the best that can be found, is to be purchased at any Rates; I will therefore briefly describe, what such a governor, either is, or should be; some qualities and conditions in him are absolutely necessary, others very expedient.  
Necessary is sobriety of life and manners, to give his Pupil none, but good example, which will add vigour to all his Counsels and reproofs; Prudence, to sit like a wary pilot at the Helm, and foresee inconveniences, before they fall; Urbanity and gentleness of speech and behaviour, to be the ha●binger of persuasion; for counsels roughly given, are received with prejudice. And lastly, Gravity to preserve and redeem (if need be) both his Person and Office from contempt or neglect; very expedient is abundance of learning, especially human, that, daily insinuating the best notions, by way of discourse, his conversation may at once unite the pleasure of entertainment, with the benefit of an Academy; An Age not superannuated, nor much unequal to that of his Pupil, lest it deprive him of that diligence, or complaisance, which belongs to his Office; Decent and manly behaviour, because his Scholar will be apt to imitate him; To have traveled himself before, That he may instruct his Pupil from his own experience, And being skilful in Languages, supply his defects.  
To travelling, especially so attended, belongs a plentiful and honourable allowance of expense, without which, we do but travel on foot, and in Quirpo. Indeed, too much expense is the Mother of idleness, vanity, and folly; But discreet plenty should be afforded to every one that pretends to travel for his advantage, that he may keep pace with Gentlemen, and men of parts, may be in an Equipage, capable of their acquaintance and civilities and not confined to Chambre Garnie, or a poor Pe●sion, where he shall probably converse with none, but persons ignorant of good manners, and of all things which a Traveller should be most ambitious to know or learn; For young men are supposed to travel, not that they may save money, but gain knowledge; If they be sent forth without competent maintenance, This is not to travel, but shift, which they would better do in their own Country, than in foreign parts; where their hands are bound, and their tongues tied, having neither language nor credit to help themselves. Money is to Travellers, as Wings to Birds, they have no other friend, or passport, nothing else that can recommend or address them to society; for they must buy their acquaintance, almost, as they do that which they eat or wear, and by discreet prodigality, woe acceptance, since they are not welcome upon ordinary terms, And whosoever lodges a stranger, makes account he hath a booty, wherein, though the wary and prudent frustrate their expectation, yet they cannot prevent their hopes, nor alter their prejudices.  
Thus furnished and qualified, young men may, indeed, travel the more safely, perhaps profitably; otherwise to send them abroad, at least without many of these furtherances and cautions, is to employ them upon a very hazardous, but unprofi●able adventure, and too much resembles the exposing of Infants, to be nursed, like Romulus, by Wolves and Bears.   

Ix.. Of Religious Fear.  
HOw little do they understand the nature of true Piety, that cannot distinguish the terrors of Sinful guilt, from the just apprehensions of a Religious soul, but look upon fear, as the fatal Omen of an evil conscience▪ which is the only symptom of spiritual life? The chirurgeon having no other proof, that the cure is not desperate, than quickness of sense.  
There is a confidence, grounded upon the precipitated admission of those things for certain truths▪ the soundness whereof we are afraid to examine: Happy are they, that seasonably discover the rottenness of such foundations, and apply themselves to lay sure ones. There is a faith, more d●bious than the Sect of the sceptics, It will not believe its senses, nor the Demonstrations of the mathematics; Experience gives it small satisfaction, because it as much suspects the experiment, as the thing experimented: Such an uncertainty of Med●ums, such an Imperfection of Organs it imagines, that every Object seems to it a delusion. It s●lf lest of all it trusts, knowing what an impostor dwells in its own breast: And these cautions work so powerfully, that they render it indefatigable in the pursuit of happiness. So that this fear, (though sometimes it may seem to fight with its own shadow) is a safe and fruitful fear, recompensing the Anxieties of a moment, with eternal security.  
But say some▪ We ought to rest only upon the love of God; We, that are Elect and redeemed Fear we leave for Reprobates, who having no sense of God's love to them, receive no impressions, but those of terror, and are like sl●ves, condemned, as it were, to the Galleys of Fear. An Argument, certainly full of sweetness, If it did not tend wholly to undermine duty, and reduce the Power of Religion into Airy Speculation; If it did not teach men to be so unmannerly at their Devotions, that their Prayers prove commonly but contempts: should the Heathen, (who profoundly adore the workmanship of their own hands,) see their Irreverence, They would with some colour be apt to confirm themselves in their Idolatrous surmise, That it is better to have visible, than invisible Deities.  
Fear is as a bridle to the Conscience; That soul which hath no fear, is like a Ship, that carries all it sails, but hath no ballasts, If it could escape over-setting in the Sea, yet it is sure to split upon the Rocks: We do not more need the zeal of generous Love, than the caution of well advised Fear.  
I acknowledge those Acts of Piety to be the most excellent, that proceed purely from the Ingenuity of love; But these are certainly the least for number, The greatest are such, as derive themselves from a principle, mixed of necessity and choice. Love indeed makes the purest Holocausts, yet are not the Sacrifices of innocent fear to be undervalued; I am persuaded, Fear hath resisted, as many, and as strong temptations, as Love.  
But who is so chemical▪ that he can extract, who so Metaphysical, that he can abstract love from fear? Fear is as the Lees of Love, which it can never work out in this life, nor will it ever be purged of those Crudities, till it ferment into perfect Charity. Love is no bondage indeed, but a nonage it is, and a filiation, which for the present, differs little from the condition of a Servant.  
A lively Emblem of this truth, we shall find in friendship; What a critic is it of words? What a searcher into thoughts? what a spy upon our actions, and manners? How doth every omission beget a kind of guilt? How are true friends more sensible and fearful of unkindness than wounds, of giving then receiving? And this is the Estate of all virtuous or real Amity; A relation, notwithstanding, which primâ fancy, seems to consist wholly in Confidence.  
A yet nearer, and more sublime Idea of our Love to God, is natural Conscience, That, by whose light and aid, Philosophers achieved such Miracles of virtue and self-conquest. What a Curb was this in the mouths of good Heathens? What a restraint, far beyond any sense of Honour, or fear of punishment? How did it suppress the passions, and smother the thoughts, that they durst not so much as dream extravagantly? And yet what society to good men, so sweet as solitude? He that is not clear in his own sight, where should he establish his Confidence, where shall he contract a firm league? Howbeit this is certain, that true Philosophy enjoins every man, to be his own AEacus & Minos.  
But that it may yet further appear, how love and fear are mixed and interwoven, Every day's experience proclaims it; For whence comes the miser's love of his money, but from fear of poverty? wherein consists the Enjoyment of health, but in security from sickness? And how could miserable life be so precious, even to unfortunate men, If they did not rather fear the approach of death, than love or relish those dregs of their lives?  
Now therefore, since God is greater than our Consciences, more intimate than any friend, more precious than life, What an awe must we have of his presence, what a horror of his absence? What prostration to him can be accounted superstition? what Zeal, Will-worship? what ambition can we entertain, but that of humility? what emulation, but that of reverence? who can be morigerous enough in his duty, who circumspect enough in his behaviour, what repentance is sufficient to pacify, what prayers to entreat, what addresses to adore him?  
What signify those precepts of awe an reverence, so frequently repeated, as well in the Gospel, as under the Law? The numerous Catalogues of such, as with speedy vengeance have paid the forfeiture both of Impiety and saucy Devotion? Those Characters of his wrath, with so much terror recorded, unde● the notions of a jealous God, a consuming fire? What meant that transcendent Devotion of primitive Christians, which some (I presume, that they may not be obliged to imitate it) scarce commend? Their watchings and fastings? their self-revenge and violence done even to nature? What do they all teach us? but this, That God will be served with industrious fear, and not with lazy love?  
But, if any yet seem to doubt, let him reflect upon himself, How he hath complied, not with the rigour of the Law, but the latitude of the Gospel; What he hath deserved at the hands of God, and what will certainly befall him, without an Ocean of mercy, He shall then find far greater ground of distrust, then of confidence, If not, yet let him not acquiesce in an insufficient trial, but rather suspect his experience, then deny so great a truth.   

X. Of Church-Discipline.  
HE that compares the present Maxims of some blind Z●lots, with the wisdom and moderation of ancient laws, will find it a strange Method, to root out Superstition by decrying Devotion, To prevent heresy, by introducing an instability of Truths, and a bijearrery of Religions, to meet with will-worship, in the Abolition of all Duty, and to batter Babylon by erecting Babel.  
Certainly, our Age is not so regular, that it needs no restraint, Our manners are not so exact, that they will admit no censures, Our piety hath not so high a Calenture, that it had need lose so much blood: God preserve our Religion from a Lethargy, and a Consumption, we shall deal well enough with the Pl●urisie.  
Religion is like a curious Watch, soon out of frame, And Discipline is as the case that preserves it; Religion is like the Apple of the eye, tender and obnoxious to every dust, And Discipline is as the eyelid that shelters it.  
I see not, why any should hate Discipline, but such as resolve to abuse their liberty; There is no enemy to laws, but the lawless, and such as think they have more interest in their punishments, than their protections, or hope, that in a general medley and Chaos of disorder, their evil manners will pass unreproved, nay uncontrolled, For what restraint is left for those sins, which stand in awe, neither of justice nor shame?  
Not of Justice, For how wickedly do many live, even to the reproach of that holy faith which they profess, and yet either satisfy, or delude the Law? How many sorts of Impieties are there, whereby Conscience is wasted? As legal, or subtle oppressions, secret malice, neglect of all good Duties, and even apostasy itself, which yet de●ie public Justice, and can certainly fear nothing, but a Court of Admonition to reprove, and brand their Enormities. Justice cannot take hold of them, without such extreme rigours, as will in its execution expose it to Arbitrary Power, and make it rather a snare to Innocency, than restraints of mischief. Not of shame, For in a general disorder, none is censured, And whilst every one is scandalous, no man is scandalised.  
The sarcedotal, and Apostolical Offices indeed, are ceased, But the Evangelical function still survives, Nor are those ordinary jurisdictions lost, which the Apostles held, not as Apostles, but Bishops, whereof none ever seemed to have so much need, as this latter and perilous Age, which is prophetically entitled to such a Catalogue of enormous sins, as the simplicity of primitive times was scarcely acquainted with: We are indeed to expect no miracles, But shall we submit to no Government? because we cannot have Moses, shall we admit of no Magistrates?  
Long lay the primitive Christians under the grievous yoke of Heathenish Tyranny, enjoying neither toleration, nor connivance; They had then no laws, but of their own admission, No governors, but of their own permission; They lived rather by Examples than laws: It was then but necessary, there should be extraordinary, to supply the defect of ordinary powers; Now that Christians are our Magistrates, It may justly be expected, that what was planted by Miracles, should be cherished by laws: But no persecuted Church can be in so deplorable a condition, as that which wants Apostles, and rejects Pastors.  
The Church is not so limited to forms and methods, but that she hath still a latitude left her to act according to her Emergent necessities, and frame to herself such constitutions, as self-preservation requires, and the example of all societies will justify; I cannot see, why civil property should be secured and empaled with the best laws, that wisdom and experience can devise, And yet Christ's Vineyard should be left without a hedge, The Army of Martyrs like disbanded Troops, and Christians like a multitude of people, that hath entered into no society.  
B●t perhaps the Magistrate is jealous of his sovereignty, And fears, lest the spiritual jurisdiction should reign in men's hearts, to the supplanting of secular O●edience; I confess, this fear is not wholly void of colour, yet is it not a just fear; For Church-Discipline is in itself so innocent and passive, that it seems too wise a Providence, wholly to deprive the Church of spiritual Arms, lest she should usurp temporal.  
Truly, as the Civil Sword protects the Church, so again, the Church being armed with convenient Discipline, may add much force and vigour to the Civil Powers, and even protect its own Protector; By planting in men's hearts the awe of Religion, which is the main pill●r of obedience; By advancing virtue in those free habits which exceed mere D●ties, and prevent Justice with charity; By weeding out such errors, as human Authority would have much ado to pluck up, And checking those vices in their source, the course of whose torrent, laws are not able to oppose.  
We admit indeed of a moderate sway, in matters purely Ecclesiastical, But we do not embrace their violent Coertions, that would seem to engrose all truth, and make it heresy to doubt, where they define; That would ●ain save Christ his pains in propagating or defending the Gospel. The true Church deals with shame, not with Tortures, with Censures, not with Gibbets; The largest Power she pretends, is to sequester from her Communion; Now, if schismatics will allow themselves the Power of separating, when they please, why should they repine, if she banish from her society▪ such as even judge themselves unworthy of it? Wine will naturally sever itself from its lees.  
M●thinks, They of all men, should not except against this gentle severity, who by not submitting to her Authority, seal their own banishment, It being a M●xim, to which, I pre●ume, none of them will dissent; That such as withdraw obedience, renounce protection; If therefore they desired her Communion, they should not so harden themselves against her just and wholesome Decrees.  
Wholesome Decrees, I call all such, as being either warranted, or not forbidden in Scripture, tend either to the advancement of Piety, the sole end of our Creation, or to the increase of Charity, the band of Perfection; or to the Establishment of Peace and Unity, without which, neither Charity, nor Piety can long subsist.   

XI. Of celibacy, or single Life.  
CAElibacy is a state of Abstinence, both from the unlawful and lawful Bed. From Continency it differs, For that is not properly a state of life, but a habit of the Mind; And again from Chastity, For that is not confined to abstince, but ex●ends to lawful and regular Use.  
An Angelical Estate it is, And seems to share in honour with Martyrdom, Fo● it bids defiance to Lust, It plucks up Avarice and Ambition, by the Root; It is not content to obey the Commands of the Gospel, but pursues even its Counsels and intimations, And that it may not miss of happiness, aims at Eminency.  
There is not a greater testimony of Pious Prudence●●For, whereas most men, by giving Hostages to the World, create to themselves such difficulties, that they must needs either fall dangerously, or stand doubtfully, The single man is like a Ship, which having no charge, but its ballast, sails swiftly, and securely, in those Seas, where stronger Vess●ls, that are full fraught, hazard to founder and overset.  
The Ancients esteemed no greater hindrance of heroic achievements than marriage, They thought, he could not serve his Country, as he ought, that must likewise serve a Family; but would always float betwixt virtue and Nature, and apply himself to public Interest, but by halves; Hence it was thought a Qu●stion worthy the Roman Senate, Whether a Proconsul, going to the Government of his Province, should be permitted to carry his Wife with him.  
Howbeit, All cannot receive this Doctrine, only such, as have received from above the Power of receiving it: For celibacy suits with none but excellent Minds; such as compass it with violence, and invade it ●●th the rashness of their vows, foil an● ensnare themselves.  
But far more pernicious is that licentious error, or rather practice, that opposes celibacy only to Wedlock, allowing it the latitude of using any, but lawful freedom.  
This is at once to frustrate and cancel both celibacy and Matrimony, To supplant the Remedy, and cherish the disease▪ It resembles the checking of a River, in its proper channel, to make a deluge, in the bordering Plains.  
But let not our Age, (whose glory it is, to fight against Religion, with her own Arms) mistake this Argument, for a kind of universal dispensation; It is not easy ●n●eed, yet possible; It is not necessary, yet very profitable; It is but a help to devotion, yet helps would not be slighted, where all is but too little, and we can never be sure enough. No man is excused without trial, Neither can he answer it, to virtue or Conscience, that might probably have obtained, if he had not neglected it.  
B●t what talk I of helps to Devotion, or Perfection in virtue? A Mediocrity will serve turn, A discreet Religion that can cut the thread, and just turn the s●ales; No plucking out of eyes, I beseech you, no cutting off of hands, but a method of practical Divinity, as short and easy, as flesh and blood can contrive; And good reason, For then at least, we are not in danger of will-worship, the hideous bugbear of so devou● and Orthodox an Age, as our●.   

XII. Of Duties Matrimonial, and conjugal Love.  
HAving briefly treated of single Life, It remains now to take a survey of conjugal. The first concerns few, and those esteemed but a kind of Anchorites, and looked upon as the schismatics of human Society; The second is of a general extent, And whatsoever is said upon that subject, seems to touch Mankind: Give me leave therefore to offer somewhat by way of Essay only (without Argument or reproof) in relation to Duties, so vast and public as those of Matrimony; And let not any marvel, That being neither in Act, nor Contemplation, as yet a Husband, I am so busy to thrust myself into the Charge, and instruct the married; For I conceive, That as a third Party, uninteressed, I were the fitter, if need required, to interpose; However, since I undertake to state no Controversies, but deliver Truths, generally received, and favourable alike to both sides, My forwardness in this kind, if it deserve no commendation, can procure no just offence.  
The Duties then betwixt man and wife are considered, as common to both, or peculiar and proper to either: common to both, And so they owe reciprocally, each to the other;  
1 To make their Union an Act of prudent choice, not of chance, fondness, or mere Avarice; For it is no wonder that should miscarry, which was misconceived, Or that bitterness should be in the event, where folly was in the Design.  
2 Communication of virtuous knowledge, and spiritual Commerce. We cannot but desire to promote the happiness of those we love, And that Passion should be so much the more fervent, by how much its end is more excellent; wherefore such as delight in each others welfare here on earth, cannot but far more earnestly covet to meet in Heaven.  
3 Mutual Fidelity; For falsehood of affection, dissolves the Bond of Matrimony, And those that transgress the limits of lawful love, are already, before God, in a State of nullity; We may say of them, like St. Paul, upon another account, They have apostated from the faith, and are worse than Infidels.  
4 Quiet Conversation and complianc●, without public jars, or secret grudges; If any discords happen, yet they ought to be little & short, that by a sweet & ingenuous return of friendship, they may rather quicken, then discompose the Harmony▪  
5 Communion and Constancy, in good and evil Fortunes; To joy and sorrow, thrive and wither, live and die together, since they are involved in each others sufferings, and have espoused, not persons only, but Conditions, even Afflictions and Infirmities.  
6 An entire affection to, and care of their common issue, whereby conjugal love is increased and intended, like reflected heat; Indeed, what greater reinforcement of affectio● can there be? since faithful friends despair in any thing so lively to express or testify their love and respect to deceased Parents, as in the endearment of their surviving Children.  
Peculiar Duties are either of the Man to his Wife, or the Woman to her Hus●band: The Husband owes his Wife.  
1 By his freedom and Complaisance in her society, as much, as in him lies, to gratify her just and kind expectations, improve the comforts of her life, and sweeten her solitudes, lest she have cause to think herself in the condition of a Widow, even whilst she is married; For since, whilst she was free, and might have refused, her love to his Person, bribed or swayed her, to submit to his yoke, He were very ungrateful to neglect her that chose him; If elective Princes oppress, they have no excuse, since they violate not only the Rights, but even the good will of their electors.  
2 Tend●rness to her errors, and a kind of equal jurisdiction, not assuming the Authority of a censoriou● pedagogue, not p●tting her to the wrack of observance, not expecting so much regard, as discreet wives, of their own accord allow.  
3 Confidence in her virtue, and honest freedom in her Actions and behaviour; For jealousy is like a perpetual alarm, Herein most unjust, That it bind● its Criminal to prove the Negative, And arraigns her for a Crime, whereof, being once charged, she can never purge herself.  
4 Communication of Counsels and secrets, so far at least, as will consist with Justice to others, and by his own Prudence; For he that locks up his bosom from his Wife, especially in matters of Common Interest, questions her fidelity, or, at best, condemns her discretion.  
5 An Equal use of temporal Blessings; Indeed a Wife is not like a Steward, or Receiver, Neither ought any Action of account to lie against her, who sharing with her Husband in Wealth and Poverty, may not be presumed prodigal of her own Interest, and improvident for her Children.  
6 A sober and careful Managery of his Estate, without sinful embezzleing, or slothful impairing that Weal●h, which is but half his own; For what delight can there be in a declining fortune? What seeming fondness can repair suc● a real injury? The wife may well pity or indulge, but cannot truly affect a Husband, from whose Luxury, she apprehends, or feels her own ruin; let him pretend what love he will, if she do no● distrust, she hath too much cause to disdain it. The wife owes her Husband,  
1 Serenity of undoubted virtue, able of itself to prevent suspicion, or confute jealousy; And this indeed is rather presumed, then prescribed, ●ince he that examines the Chastity of women, ●mpeaches it, And hath already strangled their Innocency, before he have proved their Guilt.  
2 Singular Modesty, and simplicity of behaviour, as the necessary Handmaid of honour: For though, unchastity be the fouler sin, against God and herself, Yet the scandal of Impudence i● far the greater wrong to her Husband.  
3 Sincere Love and endearment, the perfection of Matrimonial union; This would tame the roughest satire, and molli●ie the fiercest Scythian, This would reclaim the most dissolute, and wean the most extravagant; Where it prevails not, it is a sign there remains no trace of virtue, or tincture of Ingenuity in that soul; In all traverses of fortun●, or distempers of mind, this will teach her Husband, to court his ease and relief in her Company, and retire to her, as to a Sanctuary; No kindness will he think worthy of her kindness, No return equal to her merits; She shall reign in his aff●ctions, as a perpetual Mistress.  
4 If not a Confidence in his Prudence, Yet in most cases a submission to his Judgement, not disputing his Authority, nor f●rcing him to assert it; For such Controversies are ever unseasonably moved, The power of Wives consisting in the generous love of their Husbands, who, if they be not barbarous, will even strain Compliance with them, And preventing their reasonable desires, will of their own Accord, know, That to insult over their Wives, is to unman themselves.  
5 Discretion, if need be, to keep secrets; That by her imbecility, she force not her Husband, to the unhappy choice of unkind reservedness, or indiscreet confidence, of standing in her behalf upon his Guard, or betraying his own affairs and prudence.  
And lastly, Frugality; whereby her Hu●band shall find, that to trust her liberally, is his best and most honourable thrift, And being encouraged by her approved Mesnage, securely refer his domestic affairs to her Charge and Government.   

XIII. Of Flattery.  
I Have always pitied the misfortune of the great and beautiful, whom either the fondness of Custom, the treachery of others, or their own imbecility, hath rendered so obnoxious to cheap and Mercenary Tongues, that they seldom hear tr●th form any but their confessors; It seems, indeed, a kind of homage to their Quality and S●xe; But the friendship of it resembles his favour that is strangled in silk.  
Yet so sensual a Quality is Pride, that it had rather be smothered in a Feather-B●d, then accept of hard Lodging, which would hurt its tender Limbs; It refus●s nothing that is pleasant, But the bitte● Potion will not down, The Palate disgusts it, the stomach loathes it, and the Belly fears griping; Indeed, the manners of great Men are commonly so proud and ulcerate, that they will not endure the Probe, Their actions are like that virulent scab, which they call the Noli me tangere.  
Truth agrees with none but the Innocent, And Reproof complies only with those, whose lives, (if they be not bl●meless) yet are not ripe and rank with scandal: They fear not the Censures of others, that are Cato's to themselves, And such have great reason to slight the Attestations of foreign applause, as have the satisfaction of a witness without exception within them. The Birth of Flattery bears date from the Fall of Adam, It is our nakedness, which this officious Vice would seem to hide with its charitable Fig-leaves; They are the wrinkles of ou● withered beauty, which require this sedulous handmaid to help us lay on the fucus: When Women began to paint, Men were encouraged to cajole, And ever since Greatness hath declined to look day in the face, appearing only, like Masquer● in twilight, Copper-lace hath been in fashion; Whils● Ladies were vertuou●, plain-dealing was not rejected, as barbarous, And whilst Princes were upright, honest freedom was not proscribed as seditious; Parasites prove, of late, as necess●ry to them, as Cooks, their sins seeming to be but dry Venison, without the sauce of the Court.  
And as gnats ever swarm in unwholesome airs, so through the corruption of the times, are sycophants spawn●d and multiplied among us; Nay, They are become so busy and familiar, that the Traveller can scarce keep them out of his eyes; No virtue or sagacity is free from their attempts, For like the Wolves in Germany, by daily preying upon carcases, they come at last to venture upon living men, And have learned of Satan, still to tempt, though with little hope of succes●.  
They find, no question, That, as we say of Towns and Forts, There is none, which may not be either won by Assault, or taken by Approach, or reduced by Famine; so all men prove either soluble or malleable to flattery; That not only Princes may be soothed in their Titles, Ladies in their Features, and soldiers in their Exploits, But Philosophers in their goo●ly B●ards, friars in their meritorious cowls, and Prelates in their Reverend Miter●.  
It is true, That one address doth not ●it them all; For, neither do we bait Salmons as we do Gudgeo●s, nor hunt the politic Fox, like the nimble stag; some can swallow a lump of downright p●ayse, (which (as we say of hard and dri● Cheese) would choke the very daws) without mincing or chewing; O●hers will not endure to be courted in broad Scotch, nor scarce in good old British, Yet they cannot resist the Charms of Italian; For others, Language will not suffice, without the help of Arts and Sciences, The figures of rhetoric, the gravity of ethics, the subtlety of the Schools, and Authority even of the Gospel, to serve them like Henry the first of France, reported to be poisoned with consecrated Wine.  
Indeed Flattery is no Profession for the unlearned, Novices must not think to practise upon this Scene, nor Asses to tune this Harp; For gross commendation is like Sugar unrefined, fitter for Clysters, than sauces, And loud panegyrics are always either despised, or susp●cted; Tiberius, as he feared plain-dealing, so he hated broad flattery, And when Dolabella moved, That he might be received in triumph, at his return from Campania, deeply resented the bitterness of the scoff; So jealous are the guilty, And so difficult it is to flatter those, that censure themselves.  
Sycophants therefore, if they would not run the hazard of infamous discovery, must understand not only Languages and Arts, but Passions, Prejudices, and (as they speak at Court) blind sides, (in one word) Persons; (A precious and pious Quality indeed, that diverts us from contemplating and lamenting our own foul sins, to study and serve the execrable Vices of other men) They will not therefore content themselves with specificial knowledge, but descend to individu●ms, They pry, and seek o●t the Vain, to soothe them, The Ulcers of Discontent, to rub and exasperate them, The Coals of Faction, to blow them, The greedy and Covetous, to tempt and feed them, The Ambitious, to inflame them; They find compliance for the humorous and Froward, Faith for Travellers, Prostration for Insolency, and a fools paradise for Self-love; They must know how to stalk with the glory and confidence of Cethegus, the phlegm of Lentulus, the pedigree of Cornelius, the reproach of Autronius, and the necessities of Pis●; For I take Flattery not to be that common and harmless faculty of good Language and plausible address, But a Diabolical A●t of holding Intelligence with natural corruption, and accommodating itself to our Vices, whatsoever they be.  
Certainly, as it is said of com●on liars, That they had need have vast memories; so much more may we affirm of the busy Flatterer, That he deserves not only a piercing wit, a demure carriage, and a tongue that never stammers, But brows of brass, and cheeks that have forgotten to blush; The temper of a Sto●ck, The patience of a Mule, The feet of a fawning Spagnel, and knees of an humble Camel, The Religion of a mere politic, and no more soul, than a bare Vegetable.   

XIV. Of Beauty.  
I Am not ravished with natural Vermilion, so easily counterfeited by Art, or imitated by Artists; Yet neither am I so severe a Stoic, as wholly to contemn it, Methinks, as our unadvised Philosophers, labouring, with their profound exorcisms, to cast out the fear of death, rather than augment its terrors; so some men, by decrying beauty, with pedantic gravity, enhance its Reputation, or increase their appetites, whose ●ick palates are apt to long for M●shrooms, and other meats, forbidden them by the Physician.  
With some men, indeed, Beauty hath the force of witchcraft, They are transported with it, as if they had renounced their Reason. Many emin●nt person●, (especially such as professed Arms,) have been servilely addicted to it, not disdaining, or forbearing to lay their honours and interests at its feet, Thus, Vasques a prudent Spaniard, and great Captain, deferred the assault of Leyden, a●ter he had by battery, and other pressures, in a tedious siege, rendered it almost uncapable of further defence, purely at the instance of a Mistress, native of that Town, And so gave his active enemy time and opportunity to relieve it, whereby his M●sters affairs in those Provinces, were infinitely prejudiced, if not ruined, choosing rather, to incur the Censure of the severest M●jesty, than the displeasure of unkind Beauty; Thus, the great Crequi oft times would not stick to boast, That he was, indeed, a Gentleman, by the service of his Prince, but a Knight, by that of Ladies; But what example can parallel that of Anthony▪ who apparently sacrificed the Empire of the world, to the entertainment of his Cleopatra.  
Truly, I am astonished, and much scandalised at that solemn, yet silly pageantry, which they call the courting of the Dames; It much resembles their more commendable employment, that endeavour to charm the Bees with the harmony of a Kettle, and hath as much of superstition, as the Christening and hallowing of Steeples and Bells; It seems to be too much in jest, to be indeed in earnest, And, if those that so much profes● it, do not buffoon, we are to pity their more innocent, and less affected folly; Charity bids us hope, that it is only the mist of Knight-Errandry, whose fantastic blindness is apt to mistake windmills, for Enchanted forts.  
Wisdom easily discovers the imbecility of this passion, which renders the lives and actions of men, not at all more serious, and but little, more ingen●ous than a Puppet-play; Yet he is two blind, that sees not a kind of Excellency, or finds not real and solid Charms in Beauty, especially where it is seconded with lovely Modesty, and true Honour; For than it becomes, as it were the Roman Eagle, and imperial banner of virtue; since where they are united, they multiply, like ciphers added to Figure●.  
The discourse of beauty points perpendicularly at Women, who have so engrossed its perfection, that they brook not to hear of any Rival, except the Angels; so as to slight beauty, is in effect to slight Women, who being wholly excused, and partly excluded from heroic Actions, yet triumph in their passive Excellencies, whereby, if they do not equal, yet they parallel the brave●t men; In passive excellencies, indeed, yet not merely passive; For what Trophies are more memorable than Beauties?  
Certainly, It was not given them in vain; It is the Royal stamp and impression, for which, at least, they are valued, as excellent medals; with this badge of their order, as with a religious habit, they travel everywhere, like secure Pilgrims, And Violence offered them, is like breach of the Law of Nations; Nay, it not only preserves them from injuries and neglects, but recommends them to all the advantages and prerogatives of life; And therefore with much reason, they are of nothing so impatient, as that their beauty should be once questioned; It is as high a Treason, as to scan the title of a sovereign, As bold an heresy, as to dispute the infallibility of the Pope.  
But men have also their beauties, As a generous Mine, A face promising somewhat more than vulgar, proper Taille, & C●urtly Gesture; These are beauties indeed, but not beauty which is peculiar to Women, and consists rather in delicacy, than solidity; in fineness then substance.  
The Beauty of men is their honour, not that of Pomp and titles, but real worth, The Uniformity of their lives, and symmetry of their Actions, In one word, the Idea of their virtues, great Excellencies indeed, if they were not apter than those of Women, to be corrupted with Flattery, blasted with Arrogancy, and counterfeited with Craft.   

XV. Of Craf●.  
CRaft is a kind of honourable knavery, Or the art of halting betwixt honesty and wisdom, to each of which, it highly pretends, but is in both, equally lame and defective; For it hath nothing stable or solid, It stands upon no Basis, It owns no Principles, all its motions are eccentric, and it is but a trick of shifting and living extempore, like those that are put to seek their fortunes.  
True Prudence, whose practice is regular, and whose end is virtue, is scarce to be found; a●d therefore this Courtly imposture cannot but pass current, in so corrupt an age as ours, when the highest aim of men's actions is to save their Credits, and their best Religion, to sin demurely; When no man thinks himself guilty, till he be apprehended, Nor imagines any offence, but where he must do penance. Who is he, that dares call the crafty man knave? None I presume, but himself; Others indeed may shrewdly suspect, But it is no less charity to believe, than prudence to speak warily, They are, I hope, no Recusants that go to Church, no Bastards, that were born in marriage.  
But alas, This is as a secret vermin, knawing the very root of Honesty, And is such Leven in all our actions, as turn● the sweetest milk, into the soureness of a Rennet, It poisons virtue at the spring head, by infusing that Italian Maxim, That all heroic habits have their birth from D●sign, and their nourishment from Ambition.  
This is the disguise, that renders those Actions plausible, which if naked and uncouched, would not be patdonable, This is the dress, which favours deformity, and the boot which hides the crookedness of the Leg; For whilst hypocrisy p●lliates sin, Craft shelter● hypocrisy, which would otherwise be more obnoxious, than sin itself, since wicked men live as cowardly, as the wild Irish are said to make war, And would every day be cut in pieces, if they had not the retreat of a bog.  
This is that Mock-Authority, which gives a counterfeit passport to all our Vices, And affords a safety to guilt, beyond the security of the innocent; which by its false marches, and continual traverses, leads the laws a Dance, and even harasses the Magistrate, with the frequency of its Alarms, The only good it hath, is this, That it proclaims the necessity of a Resurrection, when simplicity shall triumph over Craft.  
Truly, Nothing doth so fatally evidence the declining of our Manners, as to see Craft in such Reputation, being exalted with all the panegyrics due to wisdom; As if we were to be trained up to virtue, like the Lacedaemonian Children to the wars, In whom the dexterity of Stealing, and impudence of Lying were held presages of heroic Spirits; Craft, which dares not look others, nor its own Conscience, in the face, which fears the light, and hates the dark, is become the currentest coin in our Mints.  
Methinks, Though commonly it pass without detection, yet where it is once unmasked, it should appear so much the more ugly; Though it be too wise to incur mischief▪ yet shame should light upon it, If it scape the halter, it should get a brand in the shoulder, And, if it be permitted to live, should, with Perkin Warbeck, be stripped of its Majesty, and confined to the Kitchen; The more secure it is, the more hateful it should be, And, like the Arts of administering poison, be accounted the treason of society; For thus ingratitude, whilst it escapes the Law, is stigmatised with reproach, equal to the greatest of Felonies.  
Yet, let it pass, It may shift for a while, But for the most part, it owes an account, even in this life; Oft times its imbecility betrays it, But seldom it outlives the countermine of a greater subtlety than its own; In the mean time, let it enjoy its self-hatred, and delight (if it can) in those perplexities & terrors, wherewith it is perpetually alarmed; whilst, to prevent discoveries, All its behaviour is no better than palliation, Its whole life is but one continued Apology.  
O how miserably is it entangled, that it can scarce turn honest, if it would▪ In other, even the greatest enormities, it is sufficient, frankly, and penitently to confess, and forsake them; But Craft, beginning then only to be a Crime, when it is discovered, cannot reform its Vice, without abandoning itself to reproach and danger: Wherefore it is obliged, as it were, by the Law of Nature, in its own defence, to multiply falshood●, wherein it becomes, at last so bold, that it proves a prey to Civil laws, and a lively Monument of Divine Justice, which triumphs in nothing more, than in bringing the sins of the Cabinet, to the punishments of the Scaffold.   

XVI. Of Kindness, courtesy, and Civility.  
IT is strange to observe, How these three Ornaments of Conversation, (which indeed, have some common lineaments of resemblance, though no perfect likeness) are in vulgar speech, (the bane of propriety) wont to be confounded; But it is yet stranger to consider, how they are apt (at least some of them) to pass for that Angelical habit of friendship, Amongst themselves, they are easily distinguished, Betwixt them and it, there is no proportion.  
Amongst themselves, criticism will show us, That they differ in their Genus and Properties; For kindness must be referred to Indoles, courtesy to Facultas, Civility to Aptitudo, The first, Innata, the second Induta, the third Imbuta, In their Objects, For the proper Object● of kindness, are our natural relations and near alliances, of courtesy, our Acquaintance, especially inferiors, of Civility, strangers. In their Subjects, For that of Kindness is the thoughts, that of courtesy the speeches, and that of Civility the Addresse●. And, lastly, in their Ends and Effects, For Kindnes● tends to beget Confidence, Courtesi● Obligation, and Civility Respect. As for friendship, they do not differ from it, but are subordinate to it, Nay, at its appearance, they Vanish like little Stars at daybreak. In the Infusion, and tincture, they are there, but no● in the gros● substance, For Friendship, though i● seems to be a sacred Compound of all virtues and Graces, Yet is it without any mixture, or loss of its entireness and simplicity.  
However, In our dregs of times, which have, in effect, left us only the name and husk of Friendship, these are esteemed great amity's, And are, I fear, the best we have; Indeed, we could, by no means want them, for they serve turn in default of better ●lment, to patch up a kind of Society, and entertain Commerce.  
Kindness is a sweet familiar of life, Most necessary, even to uphold the fabric of the World, for the Communication of earthly Comforts, and mutual aid, depend upon it; Without it, we are but a kind of serpents stinging or hissing at each other; It is the harbinger of Familiarity, and likeliest to prove the seed of Friendship.  
Courtesy is a faculty of great advan●ag●, And a Commodity of as nimble Vent, as any in the shop; It bespeaks Acceptance, it bribes Good will, and prevails, beyond Importunity. It renders our Equals, inferiors, Our servants, Vassals; falsehood uses it, as harlots do Vermilion, for it hath a singular Gloss; But even such disguises are but needful, where faces are so rough-hewn▪ For take off the mask, and their appears a General difformity, a ceasing o● hospitality, an interfering in all our Actions and discourses.  
What shall I say of Civility? It distinguishes us from the Wildest of Wil● Beasts, For nothing is so savage, as un●civil men; Pity it is, That reason should be cast away upon them; Let them rather live, like satyrs, in the Vast Woods and deserts, and feed like swim, Each in his own trough: It is wonder, Mankind doth not spew, or work them out, as Wine doth lees and dregs; For, where Civility is not, there is barbarism, and a Privation of all that is moral.   

XVII. Of Youth and Old Age.  
Whatever prejudice the foolish and sensual-conceive of Old Age, it is the Academy of Wisdom, the Diadem of life, the Porch of Immortality.  
Youth is composed of Vanity & Fren●y, Weak in Judgement, yet impatient of Counsel, Obnoxious to censure, yet uncapable of reproof; Studious of subtle Arts, before solid Knowledge; Greedy rather of eloquence, than Wisdom; Busied with Circular imaginations, Prostitute to Pleasure: Justice it measures by Power, and resolves, That whatsoever it can do, it may; Its bounty consists in Profuseness, rather casting away, then conferring benefits; Even its Valour i● more furious than resolute, so that it charges boldly, but is lost in retreats; Indeed, what true virtue can it have, that knows no Moderation?  
Young men may well be prompt and acute, For, by Reason of the heat and Moy●uire wherein they a●ound, Imagination is strong in them; And in Memory they most exc●ll, Whereby, they have means to supply their own imperfections, with foreign knowledg●; B●t their Experience is so narrow, and their Reason so unfixed, that they cannot ye● Arrive at Wisdom and Constancy, the fruits and effects of Maturer Age.  
Old men, perhaps, may be irresolute and so forfeit those. Opportunit●es o● great Actions and Events, which Younger men would probably have improved, And this, chiefly appears in the Profession of Arms, Wh●re, in regard fortune presides, Bold and Vigorous Attempts are commonly favoured, and caution may be as prejudicial as rashnes●; Wherefore the politics, indeed, prefer the Chevalery of young Commanders, assisted by A●cient counsellors, before the Prudence of Old captains, though seconded by youthful Officers: yet let not Youth too much triumph in this shadow of advantage; For even such gaiety proceeds, for the most part, from want of foresight, and ignorance of dangers, whereas the Omissions of Old Age are but the Effects of deep Providence, and Various experience, endeavouring to reduce all things to Reason or Rule, and disdaining to leave aught to the blindness of mere Chance.  
However, Admit this to be a defect Essential to Old Age, Yet it is supplied with many exce●lent virtues, which not only rescue it from Contempt, but render, even its imperfections, Venerable.  
It is, indeed, that recollected Estate of true Wisdom, wherein commonly we begin to live, and from whence we may reasonably date the time of our being, as Charles the Fifth was wont to reckon his Age, only from the day of his Retreat. It is a seasonable interval of perfect leisure, wherein the soul, being no longer biased & diverted with present amusements, seriously reflects upon things Past, and diligently prepares herself for things to come; Till then, she was wholly laid aside, the Body kept her, as it were under hatches, and she lived, but like slender Coals raked up in vast Embers. Now, being delivered from her bondage, she appears in Equipage, like worthy Citizens, recalled from banishment, to be invested with Supreme Authority. We now begin to value others, and ourselves, not by slight Appearances, but by such intrinsical habits as are only valuable▪ We have now learned to retire to the Sanctuary within us, neither expecting good, nor fearing evil, from any Creature but ourselves. We now decline those Airy speculations, which are, indeed, but the Itch of the Mind, And paring off the Excrescencies of unfruitful knowledge, reduce all our Theory into Practice. What further can be added to the just merits of Old Age, whose Actions are Uniform, and its Passions regular, whose virtues are perfect, and, even its errors secure. It Understands clearly, Distinguishes rightly, Concludes, as it were, Infallibly, and, (which Crown● all) lives conformably?  
Such indeed is Old Age, in upright and regenerate souls; B●t as general Councils, where they reform not the Church, establish its corruptions, and infect it with Canonical heresy; so an Old sinner becomes incorrigible; His Vices are Manners, and his Evil customs, Nature. He sins untempted, like evil Angels, and retains a Will, even beyond the power or Lust of Offending; He needs no other mix●ure or Change of Elements, for he is already a Clod of the Impurest Earth, rotten and sordid, beyond the stench of sepulchers, or putrefaction of Worms. Lastly, he remains the fatal pyramid of God's Justice; who, because the sins of Mankind were multiplied, in Mercy, shortened our days; For, with God, it is most just, That, such as have hardened themselves, like Pharaoh, should, like him, be hardened, And those, that forgot God, when they were Young, should defy him, when they are Old.   

XVIII. Of Honour.  
IF we might fancy a Generation of Angels, who in propagating would lose nothing of their Primitive Excellency, but continue their Purity in their race, It were, indeed, no Vanity, to be proud of such a Pedigree: But, since men entail only their Lands, and not their virtues, Since the children of Heroes, degenerate, like Southern fruits transplanted into colder climates, Since (as if the world decayed) giants beget Dwarfs, I see not why Tantalus should any longer vaunt himself the son of Jupiter.  
Bu●, alas, not only the channel of honour is Muddy, the very fountain is brackish; to assign reward and dignity only to merit, is indeed the proper subject of a declamation, but it speaks rather Utopian then good English.  
Some rise by undermining the innocency, and betraying the confidence of others, for the great are ever heaving, like moles: some arrive at honours by serving the Pride and other irregular Passions of the Great, Or (which is much like) by loathsome flattery, For flattery is pride's Prostitute. And some are as mere Creatures of favour, as Flies of Sunshine, The very cubs of fortune, as blind as their dam; For sovereign's delight sometimes to coin such men for Medals, as have no stamp of merit in themselves.  
The most General, most sure, and perhaps most innocent means of invading honour, is by sluggish purchase, and the infinite desert of money; No dignity Secular or Sacred is ashamed to stoop to it; It creates Cardinals at Rome, it dubbs Knights at Malta, Nay it admits even Senators at Venice; Of such honours we may say, as some Gentlemen of their periwigs, or Ladies of their Complexions, They are, indeed, their own, since they Paid for them.  
How few are they, that purchase Honour by desert? And if any will endeavour it, They must cut their way through the Rock, they must past the Pikes of Malice; For the sons of favour prove indeed the Envy of many, But those of merit are an eye-soar to all.  
Wisely indeed, and Morally did the Sage Heathens decree, That the Passage to the Temple of Honour, should be through that of virtue; But this was only a Philosophy Lecture, and a kind of hieroglyphic.  
To Conclude, The honour of our times is but like the honour of the Scene, And, if duly examined, proves, at best to be but ancient wealth.   

XIX. Of Learning.  
When I consider, how true Learning improves every faculty of the Soul, how it refines the Understanding, and reforms the Mind; In fine, how it makes almost as vast a difference betwixt men and men, as betwixt Men and Animals▪ and yet withal Observe, what slender homage is performed to the Gown, And what silly advantages most men reap from their Studies; mine ears cannot but tingle at that unhappy, yet true Proverb: Physicians get the wealth, and Lawyers the honour, whilst Philosophy walks in Quirpo.  
Surely, It was otherwise of Old; When seven Cities bandied for the honour of Homer's nativity, When the Wisdom of Socrates was attested by Oracle, When Philosophers were Princes Peers, at least their coadjutors and Suffragans, substituted, like great Clerks, to supply the nonresidence of Cardinals; When the Consulship of Rome was the daily Guerdon of Eloquence.  
But, indeed, the Cause of this difference is too apparent, such only were then accounted Learned, as lived more learnedly than they spoke or dictated; And those were thought illiterate, though never so prompt and subtle, whose halting Practices betrayed the lameness of their Minds; Sophistry was not yet in Credit, nor any of those Superficial Arts, which prove abortive of Wisdom, and fruitful only of Ostentation; There were not many that had Confidence to usurp a title so envious as Philosophy, such as then wore the Venerable Gown, having purchased fame by degrees and Methods, and so attained to Maturity, needed no other Characters of honour, than those that were written in their foreheads.  
Whereas the Learned of our Age are so far from challenging reverence or true applause, that they even fall into contempt, and are become the only persons in comedies; They may well pretend to Learning, but their behaviour proclaims them strangers to liberal Science; Though their tongues speak Greek, yet their manners savour of the Barbarian.  
Much, I confess, they peruse, but indeed read little; Variety of imperfect Notions rendering their Judgement a mere Chaos, and their Memories no better than a kind of Alphabetical Ind●x; You would imagine them to have dwelled rather in Caves than Colleges or Cities, For the Commonwealth hath not more unprofitable Members than th●y.  
And yet, methinks, I could afford to r●cant, or at least qualify my invectives; Certain it is, That no Age hath more abounded with learned men, than the Present, which by Gourmandizing books, is now cropsick of knowledge; Those Arts and Sciences, which were almost like terra incognita to our Ancestors, have been in latter times, exactly surveyed, and are described, as it were, in Vulgar maps; Those Notions which were then locked up, like Jewels in a few breasts, are now grown, as Common as the Elements; But, alas, Even moths have eaten folios; It is one thing, I conceive, to have Learning, and another to be Learned; All lay Claim to Art as Intercommoners, but few as Proprietors.  
Some select Persons, I know, there are, worthy the Noble Order, whose badge they wear; But their handful is too much overbalanced by multitudes of such, as use the decency of the Long Robe, only to palliate their Nakedness, and patronize their folly; In the mean time, they are promiscuously branded with the Vulgar, which hath Lea●n●d to call every little mountebank a Doctor. With the Vulgar indeed, For with the Judicious, Diamonds do not so diff●r from flints, nor Bat● from Eagles, as men tru●ly Learned from Pedante.   

XX. Of Peace.  
AS Rest is the End of Natural, so is Peace of Civil Motions, Though, whilst the former, proceeding from Necessary Agents, are commonly regular, The latter, being governed by Voluntary, prove very eccentric.  
The Motion of N●tural Bodies is mostly from outward Causes, Whereby Philosophy hath so oft miscarried of its perpetuity: Bodies politic have a principle wholly intrinsical to them (viz.) The restless spirits of men, The everlasting mutinies of our Lusts.  
And these Lusts are the Causes of War, both immediately, by dividing the souls of men, and mediately, by provoking the Justice of God, to make lust its own Executioner, So that the only true foundation of Peace is Innocency and Obedience; For why should he exp●ct peace with man, that is an O●tlaw to t●e God of Peace?  
But, methinks, I speak, as in Plato's Commonweal●h, P●blike Reformation is indeed glorious, but difficult and dangerous in its misconceptions: For Minerals inflame, and gentle physic operates little; He had need be very Eloquent that allays tumults with persuasion, Wisemen therefore study inward Peace, as the only haven, that d●fies shipwreck; seeing that the best they are to expect from without, is but a kind of truce or Intermission, A short space, for Champions, by consent, to take breath, Perhaps, no actual sickness, Yet a crazy conftitution.  
If any solid and durable Peace there can be, We are to expect it from the Piety and prudence of Good Magistrate●, the Guardians of public Peace, and Tutelary Angels of Commonwealths, Their Justice must enliven, Their vigilancy preserve, Their Power and Authority vindicate it.  
A just Magistrate, then, will content himself, with the just bounds of his Prerogative, and lawful limits of his Empire: He will do the work of Peace even 〈◊〉 War, and p●●fer one Olive-branch before many laurels. He will remember▪ that great Oppressions not only cause Seditions, but seem almost to justify them; and that mighty Conquerors commonly resemble such, as in swallowing, what they digest not, are rather stuffed then nourished.  
The Vigilant Prince will consider, That sucking Vices, fostered by his connivance, will soon grow tall and National abuses; That Lurking practices, unprevented, prove Open broils; And that a careless Monarch resembles a rich traveller, sleeping securely in the Company of thieves.  
The wise Emperor will value his Reputation, as his sceptre; He will rather choose to reign by Lenity and Love, yet so as to have Aw in the reserve, Though he never draw his sword, yet his hand will be always upon the hilts, That the subtle and turbulent may despair to surprise him; For unarmed Powers are already half deposed; But few will be so hardy, as once to attempt Authority, seconded with Courage, and assisted with Counsel.   

XXI. Of Conscience.  
THe Crown of Jerusalem, though, indeed, it was but a phautastick Diadem, is observed to have had more pretenders to it, than great and solid Empires; scance any Prince, that did not assume the Title, that did not use its Arms to fill his Scutcheon: Since none could possess, each resolved to challenge it, as knowing, that therein he should not give jealousy to his Neighbours, nor stir up any Rival. Truly, when I consider the throng of those, that entitle themselves to Conscience, even such, as have scarce any colour of Conquest or alliance to it, I should greatly marvel, if I did not withal remember, how easy and natural it is to claim, where there is scarce any true property, And how fit sh● is to be every man's Prostitute, that is no man's Spouse.  
That indeed is a cheerful Religion, which s●rves our temporal ends, which Courts our Appetites, and whereof, we are, as it were, our own Carvers: Surely it suits with the best policy, to comply with Conscience in appearance, that it may bring us real advantages, to humour it in professions and formalities, that it may serve us in the main. But who can away with Cynical Piety, with the crabbed Doctrines of self-denial, with such a Law, as enterferes with all that is dearest to us, and is as cross to our projects and interests, as if our enemies had invented it to countermine us?  
Who would not be content with the King of Spain, to hold the Realm of Naples, by the yearly tribute of four thousand Crowns, and a white Palfrey? Who so bade a Catholic, that he will not come to Confession, where he is sure to purchase plenary absolution? Who would not, with Lewis the 11th, carry an Agnus of Lead in his Cap, under shelter whereof he may, when occasion requires, break his promise to man, or Oath to God, without further disp●nsation, or satisfacation?  
Alas,▪ How cheap is Conscience grown, amongst the Grandees of the World? They all ask it Judas his Question, Quid mihi dabitis? What fruit may we expect from thee? What advancement of our affairs? What colour for our unwarrantabl● Actions? What Cloak for our Ambitions? Will it stalk to our Desig●es? Will it make way, or give way to our Interests? Thus Piety is grown to be the greatest intrigu● of State, Any error or crime must be committed, rather than this mask unveiled: There is nothing so politic as Conscience, if we may believe History, especially that of these latter ●imes.   

XXII. Of Frugality.  
IT seems to be an Argument, alone sufficient to persuade thrift, that without it, no man is rich or happy; For Luxury, as it tends to ruin at last, so, in the mean time, it exposes to all the pressures of a declining Estate, and interlards, as it were, Riot with Poverty, since he that hath not a fortune equal to his expense, is already in the condition of a poor man.  
And this Argument, ab incommodo, hath the greater force, in regard, nothing is more familiar, then for men of Noble Blood, eminent abilities, active spirit●, and aspiring thoughts, to endeavour somewhat worthy of themselves, wherein they could not have failed, if they had not, by their own or Ancestors improvidence, been as it were dismounted; For when they offer to soar, they find, that though they have the courage of an Eagle, yet their wings are but like the wings of a bat; Which misfortune is most observable in Princes, whose Ex-chequers being once emptied by profuse Gifts, and vain Pomp, not only their laurels, but their Coronets, and even their Olive-branches wither, their Authority is ham-strung, and of Princes, they soon become Pensioners.  
But let us withal consider, That the Riotous are no better than vermin, born to consume and devour, Drones, which making no honey themselves, eat up that which the industry of the Bees hath gathered; For though some will object, that vast expense serves to quicken commerce, and with some equality distribute wealth; Yet it were too bold a Paradox to maintain, That the commonwealth hath need of Vice to support it.  
Let us remember, that for a man to sacrifice his Estate to his present Appetite, savours of the mere Epicure, and is a more than brutish improvidence, That it hath less excuse, than the profaneness of Esau, which would plead extremity of hunger; Indeed, how can he be thought to contemplate eternity, that neglects posterity, and looks not beyond an instant of time?  
Certainly, There is much Philosophy, nay Divinity in true thrift; It is the equiballance of the soul betwixt Lust and Avarice; For thrift is not only consistent with, but near of kin to Liberality, preserving it both from vice and misfortune; since it is seldom seen, That Families are ruined with Hospitality, or Treasuries exhausted with Bounty.  
When I consider all those works of Piety, Charity, and Magnificence, which continue amongst us, as everlasting Monuments, more honourable than the trophies of Conquest; When I ask myself, who built our Churches? Who founded our hospitals? Who endowed our Colleges? I easily answer, it was not the dissolute spend, th●ift, who can enjoy nothing but what he consumes; It was not the penurious niggard, who would, if it were possible, carry his Coffers with him into another world; It was the honest Mesnager, whom God had blessed with largeness of heart, capable of pious and generous designs, with abundance of wisdom, to contrive, with amplitude of fortune, to accomplish the same.  
The virtue of Frugality dwells not in the hand, but in the mind; Else we must ascribe much virtue to our Iron Chests; Parsimony therefore is a foul imposture; For though it want not its pretence, The exorbitancies and mischiefs of Luxury having furnished it with a long and decent Cloak, Yet surely it proceeds but from that Atheistical wisdom which distrusting providence, would prevent it; And is, at best, but the doughness of an abortive soul.   

XXIII. Of Active, and Passive Valour.  
THough Patience be, in our Age, accounted a virtue, for none but Eunuchs, Women, and Stoics, Yet he that compares it with that vulgar valour, which the world so highly extols, shall find it far more estimable, more eligible: Valour may be the heavier Iron, but Patience is the truer Steel▪  
Indeed the Valour of our times seems to be the most irregular of all the virtues, subject to much Intemperance, and Transportation, Very apt to degenerate into Rashness and Insolency. Patience is a Quality composed of Religion and Reason, Free from the Neighbourhood of Vice.  
Valour resembles the leaves and blossoms of the Tree, most agreeable, indeed to the fight, but flourishing only in Summer; Patience is like the root or sap, which though secret, and concealed to the eye, yet keeps it alive in Winter, and preserves it from the injuries of Winds and Blasts.  
Valour is so much seated in the Liver and Veins, Tha sometimes it appears to have more of Complexion than virtue. Patience dwells in the upper ●egion of the soul, and hath no Commerce with the blood or humours of the body.  
Valour is exposed to many surprisals, and is observed to have its gaieties and intermissions, It is not always at hand, nor always useful, For it rusts in peace. But Patience is an armoury, always ready, always necessary, We have not greater use of the Elements, than of it.  
Alas! Who can fight against his destiny? Or what will it avail men to dare, when they are called to Suffer? When we come to grapple with death, or close with afflictions, more grievous than it, A dram of Patience is then worth an ounce of Valour: Valour like a stone Wall is broken with obstinate resistance, whilst Patience, like a Rampart of Mud, damps the violence by yielding.  
Valour is a virtue, that hath cost the World dear, Mankind is thought to have paid for it, more than it is worth; It carries, like Sylla, wrath and ruin in its countenance, And no Comet hath had so fatal an influence, upon human affairs, Witness the subversions of Governments, and Corruptions of manners, which it daily and everywhere effects, introducing for Justice & Modesty, Riot and Rapin, for the Arts and Learning of Greeks, the Ignorance and Barbarism of Goths; These are the fruits of this tyrannical virtue, which knows no end of booty and Conquest. Patience was never injurious to any, but as it is happy to itself, so it is always innocent to others, and ambitious of nothing but Martyrdom.  
Yet, in regard we are fallen into those latter times, when he that wants a sword, is advised to sell his Cloak, and buy one: Swords, I confess, are now become as necessary as laws, And we can no more want Valour, than Justice, For how shall that protect others, which is not able to defend itself; Justly therefore doth the World do homage to a virtue, which is at once both terrible, and amiable, since from it we fear our Destruction, and to it we owe our Protection; It oppresses indeed, and that sometimes heavily, But withal, it rescues us from all Oppressions; save its own: Truly it hath an excellent use; But then like strong Minerals, it must be corrected and refined from its Crudities; It must be steered by a better Pilot, For like fi●e and water, it is safer to serve, than command.  
My result and Conclusion is this, I esteem no Valour to that Christian Fortitude, which had rather suffer the greatest injuries, then do the least; And I reckon no Coward to the Impatient man, to whom nature was cruel at his birth, and wisdom a stepmother in his Education.   

XXIV. Of Clemency.  
CLemency is a generous virtue, inclining Magistrates to pardon, where laws condemn; And herein it surpasseth Equity, as much as that doth Justice, For Equity is but moderated Law, Clemency is free grace, Equity relieves against rigour, Clemency remits where no Equity can relieve.  
Now this virtue in men, is parallel to one of the greatest Excellencies of the Divine nature, For as God, when he relieves our wants, exercises his Mercy, so doth he, when he forgives o●r faults, his Clemency.  
But, Clemency, as well as Justice, is fled to Heaven, And hath scarce left her Mantle behind; Only a kind of Rag, patched up with these three sordid and rotten Ingredients, Fear, Policy, and remissness.  
Fear is like a secret conspirator, by whose unworthiness and treachery, Justice is commonly surprised and disarmed, perhaps poisoned, or smothered; And yet, when Princes have not the courage to do Justice, but are sordidly overawed by the Power, and Greatness of offenders, This their Parasites are wont to call Clemency.  
Policy, in this sense, is as a corrup● Judge, suborned to condemn, or a Messenger of Death, to strangle the laws unheard; And yet, whilst in order to some State-end, of more seeming advantage than a forfeiture, Magistrates are content to look, as it were, through their fingers, Even this Impostor must put on the shape of an Angel.  
Remissiness is as the Lethargy of Government; Howbeit▪ when the R●igns thereof are so slack, that (contrary to the Excellent Doctrine of Stoics, Parci● & indulget sapiens, non ignoscit) not only criminous persons are indulged, bu● even Crimes remitted, And that so slightly & ●requently, as it seems rather a Compliance, than a Pardon, so that vices, as Weeds, are suffered to overtop and choke the Laws, This looseness also usurps the honourable name of Clemency.  
Whereas indeed true Clemency is distempered with no alarms, awed with no duress, bribed with no end●, stupefied with no Opium, But being a free & wise habit, hath no Aim save virtue, and is a● void of design as Bounty.  
Certainly, the practice of this virtue was never more necessary, than in our days, when laws are become as dark and intricate, as the crimes and abuses they would prevent or punish, As generally penal, as if all sins were equal, And as if they were made, not with an intent that they should be duly executed, but stand, as many of them do, only for bugbears and scarecrows, Yet withal so numerous, that no memory can hope to retain, and indeed, scarce any innocency to satisfy them. Magistrates therefore, should by their wisdom and moderation, correct and sweeten them, especially in matter of capital concernment, wherein the wariness of ancient lawgivers is most imitable, who ordained the greatest punishments for none, but the greatest and most important Crime●, Thereby declaring, That even whilst they designed to punish men as transgressors, yet still they pitied and considered them as men.  
The errors of ignorance and improvidence differ from wilful and determinat●, b●ing such as seem to be extorted by a kind of necessity, are not equal to those that proceed from malice, wantonness and contempt, Some faults there are, whose punishment will neither serve for example to others, nor pardon endanger the commonwealth; some persons, whose former merits, or future hopes might challenge indulgence or mitigation, In such cases Magistrate● have fair opportunities to renown their mercy and prudence, by distinguishing the circumstances and degrees of Guilt, and interposing betwixt laws & offence●.  
Laws only examine Quid, Magistrate● should consider Quo animo; laws can admit of no excuses▪ But Magistrates may entertain Apologies; laws must not endure that their sentences be disputed, But Magistrates should listen to the equity of an appeal.  
The wi●e Magistrate doth not punish men, because they have offended, but lest they should offend; He is not angry, but provident: In all his Rigours, he hath still an eye to these three ends, The amendment of the party, the Reformation of the People, and public security. This maxim he lays as the basis of all his Justice, That it were better many great offenders should escape, than one hon●st Citizen suffer, Or a Member be unnecessarily lopped off from the commonwealth; And therefore it is truly said, That Nature and Reason designs good men for Magistrates.  
Seneca, with much earnestness, inculcates this Doctrine to Nero, That against Law, none could destroy, nor any, but the Emperor, preserve, Thereby persuading him the more to value this power of pardoning, as being the most radiant Gem of his diadem, and his best prerogative. Indeed, what glory can a Prince affect, like that of Clemency? since it is superior even to Justice, A virtue truly sovereign, and incommunicable.  
To some offences, an evil Conscience is sufficient punishment, Some are as slippery as eels, laws cannot take hold of them, Those that endeavour to restrain them with penalties, do but soil themselves, & betray their insufficiency, As that wise Emperor Tiberius observed of the pomp and superfluity in his time, That Vices of that nature could be no way redressed, unless necessity reformed the poor, satiety the rich, and shame all. A good and prudent governor will not baffle his Justice▪ in directing his severity against these and the like abuses; but will rather endeavour with the virtue of his example to supply the defect of Edicts.  
3 But why do I vainly discourse of Clemency, whilst Equity, and even Justice itself lies everywhere bleeding. Alas, the laws of most Countries are squared, rather to private Passion, then public Benefit, to serve present designs, then procure lasting Reformations: Their obscurity is not by chance. It is the aim of the lawmakers, that, in interpreting them, they may draw to themselves a power, as absolute, as if there were no laws. How then can we hope for redress, when Remedies prove Diseases? Or what room is there left for Clemency, whilst forfeitures are more acceptable than obedience?   

XXV. Of Magnani●ity.  
IT is admirable to see, how the world hath misconceived of a brave and generous Spirit, which name is commonly attributed to none, but men of unbridled Passions, & such as fortune and Education have made insolent. Now this is not properly the Courage of men, but of horses, which with high keeping are apt to grow fierce and unruly.  
He that is truly magnanimous, Judges the habit of domineering to be but a kind of pedantic Gallantry, and abhors nothing more, than the brutishness of a Voluptuous Appetite, and dissoluteness of a lawless Spirit.  
He places not all his glory in his power to Offend, as Boars do in their Fangs, But as he scorns the Imputation of a Coward, so he much more hates disloyalty and Oppression, And prefers the Idea of Cato before that of Caesar.  
He esteems war (as war, without due limitations,) to be a profession for none but Goths, and Vandals, a barbarous decision of right and wrong, the last appeal, and worst of remedies to be used, like the cutting of off Gangreened limbs.  
A just war he persecutes, only with Relation to honest Peace, To which he Courts his Enemy, even when he hath conquered him, always ready to refer or compound his Interests, and never Obstinate, but in the defence of his country.  
He is not affected with the Popular air, and for discontent he never habored it so much as in a dream, Faction he declines, not so much for the Dang●r, as the Vice and pravity of it, Reformation he intends, but listens not to Novelty; so that turbulent Spirits despair of his confederacy, and fear his Moderation, more than the Enmity of others.  
He is not easily scared out of honest Principles, nor are his sober and generous resolutions checked with any servile fear; For he hates that Providence, which, to the Prejudice of virtue, foresees all possibility of hazard, and reserves his friendship then to appear, when all others are timorous, and withdraw themselves.  
He despises not Honour, in regard it is or aught to be the shadow of virtue, yet weighs not himself by titles, since they add not to his intrinsical Value; He is rather content with the true honour of doing nothing unworthy of himself, and with the greatness of a sincere heart, Thus he never seeks preferment, but it always follows him, and he hath the refusal of it.  
He is cautious, in Promising, for he is rigorous in performing, and can give no greater assurance than his word, from which to recede, might perhaps do injury to others, but to himself violence.  
He is no Usurer of his Benefits, neither by precedent delays, nor subsequent reproaches, Full of humanity, as knowing the Instability, and contemning the Petulancy of Fortune.  
His memory is the faithful treasury of Benefits, or but Courtesies, received, which he ever quits seasonably, and with interest; In the mean time, he owes and owns them cheerfully, and looks not upon his Patron, as his Gaoler, detesting that ingrati●ude, which when it canno● requite, hates its benefactor.  
As he is strict in discharging Obligations, so he is nice in receiving them, especially from unworthy men, lest he be driven to a kind of magnitude. For such benefits are to him, as suspected as Snares, as loathsome as Prisons, as odious as Bribes; remembering that excellent address of Seneca to Cicero, where persuading him to disdain the mercies of Anthony, He alledg●s, That if his life were worth acceptance, it would not be freely offered him by so great an enemy and Tyrant.  
He is candid and tender in his transactions, actions, and so modest in his just demands, that his modesty even extorts Justice from others; In his censures well-advised, not only out of Prudence, but Conscience, He flie-blowes no man's same, his reports and narratives neither multiply, nor yet aggravate.  
Prosperity he suspects, as temperate men do sweet Wine, And therefore allays it with sober recollection and vigilancy, Adversity is more his Element, He is the same to the World in both Estates, only to himself severer in the former, doing double duty, in regard his greatest enemies are then nearest.  
He is large in all his actions, noble in his entertainments, laying the foundation of magnificence, in discreet frugality, Careless of outward things, as his prudence will permit, And if he be rich, he is not in bondage, nor pupillage to his Estate.  
He hath the Boldness of a Lion, without the Rage, The Caution of a Fox, without the Craft; Subtle without equivocation, Courtly without falsehood, Courteous without design; Friendship he esteems a holy Mystery, and would as soon commit sacrilege itself, as wrong it. Of nothing, but God, and his own Conscience, he stands in awe, And therefore is as solicitous, in directing his thoughts, as wary, in framing his discourse, And provides, that his intentions be as well upright, and reasonable, as his actions moral.   

XXVI. Of Taciturnity.  
IF it be a beginning of Wisdom to avoid folly, Certainly silence would at least challenge this honour: For there are not greater or more considerable errors or mischiefs, than those that proceed from the misgovernments of the Tongue, No greater breaches of Charity, Violations of Justice, or interruptions of Peace, betwixt man and man, in private Families, and oft times even in Cities.  
Yet, since we live not in cloisters, but commonwealths, since virtues consist not in Negatives, and Wisdom is not a dumb spirit, It follows, that as Temperance is better than entire abstinence, so the wisdom of speaking, only in due season, is to be preferred before demure silence. Sapiens non silet, sed tacet.  
No S●ct, or Order, methinks, should be so austere, as to interdict us the benefit of an innocent conversation; But discretion should always direct our discourses, to some profitable end: For, a wise man will be frugal of his words, though they seem to cost him nothing.  
He will know, that his speech can hardly be sufficiently weighed, so as it neither ssavour of levity, nor give offence, especially in such an Age as this, wherein there may perhaps be as little safety in telling truths, as honesty in speaking falsehoods, And prejudices are so many, That the veriest Sycophant finds enough to do to please all.  
He will consider, That the most innocent Discourses, may be either ignorantly misinterpreted, or voluntarily wrested, and perhaps enviously misreported, That it is not enough, to mean uprightly, unless he speak so warily, that even malice itself can misconstrue nothing; for free speakers have need of Candid Auditors.  
He will observe, How confident talkers betray themselves to snares and discoveries, Their thoughts are transparent, and their breasts, as it were, crystal; silence hath as much advantage on them, as the close Guard in fencing, upon an open posture, or a well-conducted Troop, upon disordered Squadrons.  
He will seldom give way to unprofitable Arguments; Nor loves them, for their own sake, but truths; Knowing how much apter they are to end in animosity then peace, and how subject to uncivil interferings. However, he is neither peremptory, nor loud in maintaining them; Not peremptory, For bold assertions proclaim either invincible ignorance, or overweening prejudice, which is ever blind of one eye; Nor loud, because he directs his speech, not to Sense, but Reason.  
He will remember and weigh, how great an impotency it is for a man, to fall by his tongue, How many have been accounted wise, till their own follies have confuted fame; How decently on the other side, even ignorance itself is palliated with silence.  
He will be serious, even in his mirth, and wonderful choice in the subject of his Jests, so that they render him, neither faulty to himself, nor guilty to others, For unseasonable scoffs are sometimes as much resented, as solemn injuries, And friendship hath as oft been broken in jest, as in earnest.  
In all his Discourses, he will chiefly aim at virtue, or Peace, having an especial regard to the strict Duties of Religion and Charity, And rather than transgress either of these, he will be content to live and die a Carthusian.   

XXVII. Of Temperance.  
TEmperance is a virtuous habit of governing the Appetite, according to Nature and discreet Convenience: But, in regard, all virtues consist in regulating the Appetite, lest this Definition should prove too large, we will rather describe Temperance to be the Philosophy of Diet, or Habit of eating or drinking moderately.  
Truly it is both a great virtue, and a great Wisdom, A great virtue in its Principle and Design, A great wisdom in its progress and Issue.  
Its design is self-Conquest, and t●e sovereign Command of Reason over sen●e, A noble disdain to serve the belly, An ambition to be as spiritual, as is pos●ible, And to resemble the perfection of Angels, who subsist without those feeble and dishonourable supports, Upon these grounds, The generous soul con●ines herself to simple nourishment, to exalt virtue, as far as she can, without robbing nature; Upon these indeed, yet not upon these only, she hath yet higher and worthier designs; To obey God's commandments in the regular use of his Bounty, To serve him with vigour and serenity of thought, To off●r him the sacri●●ce of chaste and pure Moditation, To give example of Christian sobriety to others, To be Christ's frugal and discreet Almoner, To reign over her Affections and Lusts, To wean herself from the love of this World, To grow old in the service of God, These are her excellent aims and endeavours; And accordingly, they prosper with her, For as Solomon, asking only Wisdom, had riches and honour cast in, so Temperance aiming directly at God's service, collaterally procures her own advantage, And her events are as happy as her end was honourable.  
She hath clear digestion, not like the Gourmand, whose afternoons and nights reproach his meals, No sour Vapours revenge the sweetness of her Morsel, No colic or Crudities torment her; she hath firm and vigorous Constitution, not like the Epicure, whose abrupt health resembles only the intervals of frenzies, Her health is entire, so that nothing but the soul takes physic; she hath lightness of body, not charged with dross and bulk, If she take a bruise, There is no resort of peccant humours, like that of verminne to Carrion, And if she get a wound, she hath no Ulcer, tha● bleeds Wine and porridge; she hath even temperature, The quartan fiend doth not haunt her, The Calenture doth not burn her, she i● not like Tinder to every spark of Infection; No ●legme intercepts her breath, she takes no head Pills to purge the brain, nor syrups, to ripen and void her rheum, lest the Gangreen seize upon her Lungs; In sine, sh● is subject● to few Diseases, and none incurable, but Age.  
She hath free and easy mirth, not like the surprisals of disbanded laughters, but such as exceeds not Moderation, Decency, or itself; Her reason is still awake, and unclowded, No mists of prejudice are cast before her eyes, Neither is she in danger to put a fallacy upon others, or herself receive one; Her passions are curbed, and offer not to swell, She can reprove without anger, or be angry without sinning, And her temper is the wonder of those with whom she converses; Her will, being unseduced by the Appetite, is simply obedient, and follows Conscience, with an implicit faith; Her soul is at perfect leisure to perform all its functions, Nay to receive divine impressions, and enlarge itself, a● if it were out of the body; Her affair●, be they never so crabbed or difficult, entangle her not, but yield to her diligence, and prove only Entertainments, so as she hath nothing to interrupt her present happiness, or intercept her future.  
And let none object, That many temperate men are far from arriving at these perfections, since, alas, temperance is unhappily mistaken for a mere negative virtue of not surfeiting, or Wine-bibbing; As for the simplicity of Diet, a Spartan Table, and the slender proportion of that which is enough, it is scarce known now a days; surely, our Bills of Mortality acquaint us not, how many dig their Graves with their teeth, who, I fear, are more in number, than those that fall by Sword, Famine, and Pestilence.   

XXVIII. Of Gratitude.  
AMongst the Characters of heroical virtues, I may not omit one so eminent, as that of thankfulness, since, he that exhorts others to be thankful, pleads the Cause both of God and Man.  
A great virtue, said I, nay rather a great Duty, and but a little virtue; since eminent virtues are such only, as seem to supererogate, Or at least enlarge themselves, beyond the narrow channel of not offending.  
Yet, I cannot concur in Opinion, with those that would have Gratitude to be a limb of Commutative Justice, no more than I esteem Bounty, a species of Commerce. But this I dare not affirm, that the unthankful are but Galley-slaves to the Law, and cannot pretend to so much, as natural Conscience; for it is observable, That even Beasts of Prey, that have no bowels of mercy, nor sense of Justice, have yet a kind of Religion to remember benefits, Nothing is unthankful, but evil Angels, and wicked men.  
An Ungrateful man is a Felon to Reason, which recommends to him Gratitude, (if possible) before Religion itself, And lays it as the cornerstone o● natural Divinity, which exalts Lex talionis, above all laws, and even teache● us to serve God, because he made and feeds us. Now, if we be thereby commanded to do in Justice, as we would be done to, How much more are we directed to deal in Charity, as we have been dealt with? Especially since thankfu●ness hath no need of Art, nor is tied to outward advantages, But is an Act of so great simplicity, as nothing but malice itself can prevaricate.  
Ingratitude is the worst kind of disloyalty, and breach of Confidence, For injured benefits are like Jewels, secretly deposited with friends, who, for want of witness, never restore them; with this only difference, that there our honesty, here our piety is concerned.  
Yet, let me not seem, in condemning the Vice, too much to eclipse the virtue, For Gratitude is the most free and natural Issue of well-born souls, not allured with hopes of reward, nor extorted with penalties, but an invisible habit, which hath only conscience for its Jury, and God for its Judge, Parallel to Charity, the Queen of Graces, whose glory it is, that she might safely have been uncharitable, Whose reward, to have expected none.  
FINIS.