Imprimatur,  
Decemb. 27. 1692. Edmund Bohun.   

SELECT ESSAYS Tending to the Universal Reformation OF Learning: Concluded With The Art of War, Or a SUMMARY Of the MARTIAL PRECEPTS Necessary for an Officer.  
By William Freke, Esq;  
LONDON, Printed for Tho. Minors, in the Inner-Temple-Lane. 1693.   

THE AUTHOR'S Apology.  
DEo, Patriae, tibi, seems a Common Motto, that all Mankind are equally fond, and ambitious of; I will not say, that they all Answer it▪ alike: But the Character which is so universally approved of, surely▪ needs no Apologies for its Entertainment: And yet, after all, I know a Censure that will as naturally, as unjustly, follow it; What! Saul among the Prophets, or a Man attending Business in Print? And so, O Sir! you are an Author! And why not? What is the shame of it? Is not a good Author a Master of as great Charity as an Almoner?  
An Author not Licenced by Common Vogue, as well as Authority▪ looks like one with the Plague-sore upon him; and every one that passes by him, is ready to Write, Lord have mercy upon him on his Door; and not a Man-Gossip, but what is for passing his Verdict upon him. But, whatever others imagine, for my part, I am none of Captain Tom's Followers, nor ever will be: I shall never think any Man, for that Reason alone, to be Reflected upon in his Business, because withal, he is a Master in Science, and Notion also.  
Besides, it is no more agreeable to my Constitution than my Inclinations, to glide away insensibly, and leguile myself of half my Time at a Tavern: I know there are a great many petty Arts full as advantageous, as real Skill in Professions; but use them who will, I am resolved not to unman myself for Interest: and I neither can, nor will buy▪ Favour at the rate that 'tis beneath me, to purchase it at; if it come in a more regular w●y, 'tis welcome.  
'Tis a much more pleasant Exercise to me, thus to bestow my leisure hours in curing the several Errors of my Mind: And, whatever others may fancy, I shall never think it loss of time, nor barely a diversion, pertinently to improve my Understanding: True Sense is a Sword to him that Commands her; and he's an ill Master of her, that having once got her, is not able to turn her to all Advantages upon Occasion.  
I know 'tis a prudent Rule in Life, not to ramble out of the way in needless Excursions: Nor do I think that in this I have transgressed it; it is my design but to perfect my Notion, and in what is absolutely useful, and not to run to either Folios or Trifles: Nay, and even this is not a Work as of to day with me. The Papers I Present the Reader with, are not new, I have had them Years by me; and what I have done of late, has been only to Correct and Revise them a little for the Press.  
But, Do I seem too Pert, or Pragmatical in what I Write, in pretending so Confidently to Instruct our Seniors and Masters? why I have just the same Excuse that all other Authors have had before me: You may be sure, I had never Wrote what I have, had I thought it had been, Impertinence and Arrogance only; and, after all, Will you say I am deceived? truly I have no other Answer for you neither, than that Authors seldom call a Council, to know whether what they Write, be all just Orthodox or not.  
So, Do you think, in Humility, I ought to have forborn presuming thus? Why truly, and as to the Point too, I am a little conceited, I must confess it; nay, I were an Ass for Printing what I have done, if I did not think it to the purpose. But what! after all, I am mistaken in my mighty Imigination; and it may be so: but surely then also, I have done no more, than what a whole heard of Fools has done before me.  
And yet, after all, the World may be deceived, and find my matter better than they expect it: All Perfections are entailed on no Man, and there is many an excellent Spokesman that makes a bad Writer, as well as there are a great many good Writers, That, as St. Paul and Moses Write▪ of themselves, are neither of Voluble Tongue, nor Extraordinary Presence.  
It may be too, you think my Style too light; and truly if you do, I shall not alter it, nor quarrel with Nature for not giving me another Genius, or Disposition: Alas! our Style is like our Stature, no more to be altered by our Thought, than our Bodies: suppose, with the same Reason, you should quarrel with the Features of my Face, or the Gate or Mien of my Body; And why may not I, with as much Reason, Complain, and be aggrieved at the sight of yours?  
After all, Mr. Johnson, and Mr. Rimer's Mettled Styles to me, look with full as much Native Beauty as ever a slow-paced Don's in the Universe: Every thing in its way; 'tis as natural for the Choleric, and the Sanguine, to be daring and sprightly, as 'tis for the Melancholy and Phlegmatic to be heavy and dull.  
But will not all this please you neither? Truly, I shall not cramp myself to a Spanish Cutt to do it; if it won't, I have wrote what I have, and I have thought it worth Publishing: accordingly, I have published it; and I hope, I have no need to be ashamed to Father it; I have delivered it in my own way, for I am resolved never to turn fool by an unnatural Imitation.  
After all, I have made my Title, Apology, and Book, all of a piece; if thou likest it, 'tis at thy service; if not, I am resolved not to be melancholy upon it: I won't say, Ad captum Lectoris habent sua fata Libelli; for I am willing to submit the Judgement of my Book to the Readers, and to allow it no greater weight than he is pleased to standard it at: but surely, I might add also, That a great many good things have been lost in the world, because men have not known the value of them.  
And, however the World may relish it, yet surely, I think, I may say too, That there is a Gift of Thinking and Digesting, as well as Flourishing and Bantring, or writing tedious Tomes or Volumes either; 'tis not every tall Boy that can jest with flashy Wit and Thought at random; nor every Author that can appear in Folio, that can either speak, write or judge of Good Sense, or true Wit; and though even such may prove Master Critics in a Coffeehouse, or Well-Titled in a Booksellers Shop; but then, Ne suitor ultra crepitum.  
In plain terms, the haughtiest Combatants through the mere dint of Extempore Natural Parts only; and the greatest Mountebanks disguised with the false Paint of Learning, prove but as Pigmy Drolls to a moderate Man at Arms, and one truly accoutred with the Weapons and Defence of good Thought and Literature.  
Non Cicero, Cicero, nec Appelles, natus Appelles;  
Id, quod uterque fuit, fecit utrumque Labour.  
After these, I know no other considerable Apology, but that thou pass by some roughness. Perhaps thou mayst be offended at too frequently in my Style: I tell thee beforehand, 'tis greatly collective; In the Temple Church there are Stones that they say are cast, and many composed out of one; alas! we have lost the Art: And when thou considerest therefore, that the Building I am rearing, lays its Foundations as wide as all the Knowledge of the Universe, thou needst not wonder that every stone in it is not melted or cemented as into one, or carved, or gilded and adorned, like baubles in Lady's Closets.  
Surely, he's a good Workman in such case that joints his Building well, and that handsomely pursues his Draught and Designs: If therefore the sense and sincerity of my Work has been full and just, I think I may well leave the Fretwork and Chequering it to an after part. Perhaps I know as well as another Man, what it is to have my Style heavy, bodged, and incoherent; but he must be more than a Man, yea an Angel, that can perfect so laborious a Task as I have designed, without such faults.  
To be short; As to the substance of my Attempt, I hope I have answered it to the full; as for the rest, Reader, use thy pleasure; thou seest I undeceive thee before hand; and therefore if it displease thee, be angry at thyself, and not me: And yet, I hope, I shall not vex thee so much neither by it; for I have not taken a little pains in the matter, to make my coherence as polished as needful.  
To shut up all; Are you offended that I write so little of Logic, and so much of Censure and Reputation? Heads that seem to be but as Trifles, when compared with a Science; and so in many other the like cases. Why truly, at present you must consider, That you are with one that sets up for a Reformer, and perhaps at last, thou mayst be convinced by him too; not only that too many of our Sciences are trifling, but that there are many other Subjects that require far more of our care than any of the little Kick-shaws, that the Schools have dressed up for us; if not, I can but again tell you, the Reformer may err as well as the Science-maker.  
To conclude; after these, I might add, I expect a whole Troop of petty Carpers, Critics of the most noise, but just of as much judgement as to be able to make Errata-men for the Press; and truly, as for these, the Author is willing to let them applaud themselves in their Kackling; their Censure is not likely to do either much harm or good; if it were, he would tell them, he does not pretend to be able to correct every Comma, Letter, or little Variance in his very sense, by the Press from his Copy: But, as for these Men, the Author is rather of Opinion, That they want an Apology for what themselves do, than he in Vindication of himself against them. And so he bids all  
Farewell.   

THE ENTRANCE OR THE Digester.  
THE Turkish Spy tells us, the Arabians say, That a Man must forget twice, and learn thrice, ere he can expect to be perfect. If that be a good Rule, I am persuaded these Essays will please; for if to perfect and lay by, and then to mend and lay by, and then to correct again and lay by, be the way to render a Book complete and useful, I am sure these Essays cannot be defective; which like the Venetian Vessel, have suffered through time, so many Corrections and Alterations, that the Author himself hardly knows, whether there is ever an Original Piece lost in them. Painters ordinarily present you with your Picture after twice or thrice sitting. Books are the draughts of our Souls; and why then should we be less curious in the Pourtraictures of our Souls than our Bodies?  
Some Men again think it enough, if their Porch be well adorned, and their Reader when first ushered in by a brisk Sally, wheedled with the hopes of an Entertainment accordingly; but surely, how agreeable soever such Methods are for the interest of the Bookseller, the Author gets no Reputation by such Arts: For my part, I declare, there is not an Essay herein, that to the best of my knowledge, has not cost me full as much pains as this Entrance; and I don't know of one thought that I have inserted throughout, that I would not have expunged, if I thought it would nauseate with my Readers; that in some cases I am a little larger in explaining myself, surely may be very well allowed: Are all men's Capacities either equal to receive Instructions, or their Prejudices easy to be rooted out?  
As for the design of my Book, it may seem to interfere with a great many lately published. We have every day Journals of Abridgements, and the Philosophical Transactions, the Authors of the Universal and Historical Bibliotheque, together with the Athenian Society, have obliged us with large Volumes of Abstracts; but none of all these is what I have here proposed and designed. They abridge Books, I Subjects; they refer you to Authors at large, and Analize several on the same Subject; I on the contrary have endeavoured to extract the Marrow of all, by all to render each Subject entire, and to trouble the Reader with neither Catalogues of Authors, nor Quotations, but purely the very heart of his Subject entire, or Reflections in what is useless in it.  
And shall any one after this, acquaint me, that my Performance is short, that my Design is large; alas! he forgets what I propose is but in Essay, nay, that the Perfection of Knowledge is more than human; and that more than Essay is not modest. If therefore by these short Essays, I can prove a faithful Remembrancer to the Learned, of the present State of Knowledge, and a happy Guide to the Student, through the several useless Labyrinths, introduced by Pedantry into human Knowledge, to keep him from those unhappy Rocks, that have Shipwrecked many Excellent Parts, I think my brevity in it will be the more acceptable, and my design such, if well answered, as all the World must cherish.  
For my part, I could wish I were even yet shorter than I am, 'tis the bane of good Books, when their length makes them tedious: But to be more brief, I as much despair at, as to be more perfect. The whole Field of Wisdom and Science is my Subject. What Man so vain, as to think to contract it in a Sheet? So that Body of Knowledge that has puzzled whole Ages of the wisest, who is so weak as to arrogate the Masterdom of it alone in himself? Surely, one might as well expect to decipher a Court in a Cottage, as Universal Science in a little Tract; nay, the Bounds of Universal Wisdom are such, that the best of us know but in part; and GOD has made it one of the Bonds of the Universe, that we mutually rely on one another in our Imperfections.  
But to pass by all further Apologies, and to descend into the very reasoning of our Methods, both of our Writings and Studies, let us consider a little: We Study, but why? that our Knowledge may be profitable to ourselves and others, and benefit Posterity. But instead of this, and for want of a due Method, what do we do, but entangle ourselves in the Cobwebs of nicer Notions, and even confound all that follow us?  
Alas! the very Source of Wisdom is almost corrupt amongst us; and a Learned Man is a Chimaera we have now no Idea of. Show me one in a million that can tell you the Bounds of Learning, that can tell you Abstract from Pedantry, how much is fit to be known, and that can satisfy the mind, that all further Inquiries will be needless?  
A Youth that is now bred a Scholar, is like a Vessel launched at Rovers, and in the midst of the Ocean, without either Pilot or Rudder; he may do well or not; but if he does succeed, 'tis through the Vigour of his own Parts: For, as for the Directions and Helps he is to expect, they will rather amuse and distract, than lead him right.  
We enter upon Languages, and their Criticisms are infinite; so we proceed to Sciences, and there we are lost in a Wilderness of Subtleties; our Metaphysics puzzles us, our Logic fetters us, and our nice Mathematics is a Field, where even our greatest Masters are lost.  
Nor is even our Morality better; our Virtues and Vices are lost in endless Schemes and Subdivisions; and our Divinity is wrangled to Pyronism, so that when we look about us, we know neither where to begin, nor where to end; and when we would proceed, we do not know where we are.  
Hence also, if a Man be Learned, yet he is never known; there is no Standard to try him by. And hence it is, that there is no Encouragement for real Wisdom; all that the World looks for, or knows how to esteem, is but the little Cant of Pedantry; and if a Man leave that, tho' on never so good grounds, he is more likely to get the Name of a proud illiterate, than of a Scholar or Wiseman.  
But where is all this while then our real improvement of Wisdom? Alas! this is but a more perplexed and subtle Ignorance, and a Chaos of Literature. And what does not this Lumber require a Digester then? Indeed a Man of Vigorous Parts himself may dispose it some way to his use; but how many become mere Scholars, and are lost in the Confusion, and that dare not so much as look out of this Cloud?  
What a shame 'tis, that Man that was made to be as a Lord of the Creation, should thus be lost even in his Dominions over his own Notions! And what shall we call this Art that leads us thus? no, 'tis a laborious Distraction. Were this an Art, 'twould facilitate our Actions; whereas, instead of that, it clogs them, and impedes our natural Force. A Bird that's wild, sings better than one ill taught.  
Besides, can that be an Art for the use of life that would require even two Ages of us, if we had them to attain them? Or shall we ever esteem that as an helpful Speculation that must drown us in the Theory, before we can come to Practice? And is not this too true in the common Circumstances of Learning? Is not what we call a moderate competency of Knowledge, now become almost even a work for our Lives?  
Who can almost enumerate, much more think to peruse the infinite Volumes of Science? Nay, let us but state any one of the Arts and Sciences in the whole Enciclopaidion, and let us see who has the command of all her Branches, and to whom we may not add; nay, let us see, how many are imperfect Plagiarys, and how much is wanted in the best, that might be added on the perusal of all.  
Let us see likewise what vast Bodies the Sciences even contracted compose, is Alsteds' Epitome, in his Enciclopaidion, fit to be enlarged: Or can we reduce the Schoolmen to a Nutshell? Nay, or can we complete the usual Tables, much less an absolute Curses Mathematicus, in one managable Volume?  
And what then! Are all these fit for a Scholar to study? or can we not obtain a competent Idea in these things without our Leaders melancholy Schemes and Niceties? Alas! if we Cant, we had better banish Studies, and burn our Books, and live like true Philosophers altogether, Secundum Naturam.  
The mischief of it is, we have a sort of men Title and Table learned, who because they can manage the inconsistent Scraps of Authors, to get themselves a Reputation by it, cry up, and endeavour to support this Gallimaufry; and without one had a 1000 mouths to outcry the little Beagles, that these men raise up to support their Reputation, one had as good save ones Breath as speak, tho' with never so just a Cause.  
I must confess for my own part, I have not been wanting to study, and may be as much as the best of them, and that in the whole Body of Learning too; and whatever Mountains others can espy in it, I declare, I am unfortunate and thick-sighted, for I can find but few.  
This I find indeed, that the weight of Universal Learning, as it now stands, is too great for mortal Shoulders, too long for their perusal, too nice for their Memory, too various for their Imagination, and too confused for their Judgement; but this I must declare withal, I see not why it may not bear a rational Contraction; for the most part of it is merely curious and impertinent, or at least it seems so to me.  
So curious may I say, that could any Man foresee the fruitless Labour that our Pedantry would cost him, before he would be able to lay by her Spectacles, as he should do, he would as soon go into an House of Correction, as undertake so irksome a Task, as to be a Scholar, and so impertinent. That in the most of his Studies, could he but judicially see what he was doing, he would as soon busy himself in catching of Butterflies.  
But the Matter is, when a man enters thus amongst the Crowd of Learned Fools, 'tis a Thousand to one, if ever he keep his Senses longer for to be able to bring him back again. And hence it is, that we have few or none to lead us from it, whilst we have almost infinite Examples to encourage us in the Dotage.  
And thus when I first begun my Studies, I could quickly see that there was a World of Pageantry that ought to be laid by, that our Books were even composed of a specious Empty Vein, and which beguiled us with Appearance in stead of Substance: but how to separate this Dross from the Finer Oar, or how to cut off the Excressence, and preserve the Body, that seemed a work almost as difficult even as Alexander's in Conquering the World, I may say Herculean, and harder than to cleanse the Augaean Stables.  
I plainly saw also, that as the Present State of Learning was a Veil for the Hypocrite, being too dark to let Men really Ingenuous, be otherwise than Modest, and leaving full room for Confidence and Ignorance to vent their pretences; so I saw plainly that there was a sort of Men in the World, that would oppose any such attempt, were it only to keep their own Blindness from being exposed.  
But as withal I saw, that if such a Work were finished, it would even force its own way in the World, and illustrate its self; and, through its use, turn its own Advocate in proving so Beneficial to Mankind; so I was resolved to see what I could do about it; and as I was satisfied of the Lawfulness and Charity, nay, and I may add, Goodness of my attempt, so I durst trust the Success of it to God, in duty to whom I designed it.  
As for my Method in it, I have not exactly followed the excellent Des Cartes, I never yet engaged myself to a Nine years' Oblivion of what I formerly Read, nor have I tied myself to any Principles whatever, absolutely, whether Divine or Moral; I always thought both those courses of little advantage to him that studies Wisdom, in truth rather Obstacles than Assistants.  
Indeed in this I have imitated him, I have Meditated most freely; but withal, I have both Read and Herd too: for my part, I have neither feared Errors, nor been jealous of my Genius; but I have trusted it freely, as it were upon a Promise, in my Judgement, that at all hazards 'twould be sincere to me, nay, and in all cases, and against all prejudices whatever.  
And to this purpose I perused all the Books I could come near; nor did I care on what Subject, so they were Excellent; for my Designs were after an entire Reformation of Learning; and tho' I designed, in a manner, to Rebuild all anew, yet I did not think to be so ill an Husband, as to tear up all the Old Foundations, where I found them sound and ready before me.  
So that, by this means, I Collected almost without end; I took the Notion, and left the Dress; nay, and I carefully separated what I thought might be of use, and left what I saw as needless: I did it but in Sentences indeed at first, because I looked for only Matter, and not Form: but then I did it carefully, that if possible I might not leave any thing material that I should not reduce to its proper Head.  
Indeed, in my Method how to deliver it to the World, I was not a little confounded; for as I saw that to heap up Precepts without Order, were to make them useless: so on the other hand, I observed, to tie myself to a clear coherence, were a burden intolerable; and besides▪ not consistent with those perpetual Additions that would be necessary to a growing Idea.  
I chose therefore a Mean for my Digester, and as such a loose Essay, a Body that could either Retract or Dilate, so I chose also rather to deliver my Essays in Confusion than Order; for since so vast a Subject could not rationally seem to bear an orderly coherence; I did not see why I should affect it, especially when I considered, that such a careless change and variety, would not only ease and delight myself, but my Reader also.  
To be short, Wisdom, in full perfection, is too great for Man: and, as one would reduce that useful part of her, that is within our capacities, to an apt and pertinent brevity for use, so withal, one would not arrogantly think to force her to Bounds too exact for the reach of Mortality: as I despaired therefore of ever attaining any pre-eminence in her, by the vigour of any single attempt, so I rather chose to leave my Method freely to an easy looseness, that might be apt for any Addition or Amendment.  
Whether what I have now done, may be ever done fuller or better, I cannot tell; I am sure it has mine own full Vigour in it, and I should have been glad with all my heart, could I have met with a Companion, to have improved and assisted my Designs: but 'tis generally the Misfortune of Men, who are Charitable in so great and laborious Undertake, to be forced to walk alone.  
I have no more to trouble thee with in this place, except it be that thou excuse the Roughness of my Style; remember 'tis Collective, and though by pains I might make it more Correct, yet I hope already 'tis sufficient for Use, if not for Ornament. Oratory was never agreeable to the rigidness of my Genius, I could never yet leave Matter to catch at Butterflies, and gather Flowers.  
Besides, the Niceties of Curious Discourse are infinite; and I am sensible, that after my greatest care, I must Write with a Style and Method imperfect, or not venture at Five Words a day: Pure Perfection in all things in only God's; and when a Man has once achieved in any thing the full strength of his Genius, what he attains after, is but by Sallies, and at best makes but Abrupt, Imperfect, and Incoherent Efforts.  
But why should I Court thee thus with Apologies? if thou art Ingenious, thou canst not but follow thine own advantage; If thou art Humoursom, I had as good endeavour to embrace the Wind, as to move thee. Whether therefore thou likest me or not, I am not deceived in thee: That Man must think of Reconciling Contraries, yea Impossibilities, that aim at Captivating all Men, the Perverse and Tractable, the Contradictious and the Modest, the Virtuous and Vicious, Pious and Wicked, Learned and Ignorant, with the same Discourse.  

Of BOOKS.  
A Good Author should have the Style and Courage of a Captain, the Integrity of a Dying Man, and so much sense and ingenuity, as to impose nothing, either weak or needless on the World.  
Some Men thrust out their Bats amongst us, ere they are at the Stature of Wisdom; and not knowing the present growth of Learning, oblige Men with Crudities instead of Discoveries: But who suffers most by it? the Reader can easily lay them by.  
So some even Fire the State to get Books suppressed, and they're in the right where they are Seditious; or else sure Man has an equal Right to Writing as Speaking; or, if not, Why one more than another?  
Does the Variety of Books offend you? surely it has at least this good in it, it hits all Humours. Do they overwhelm you with their Number? Certainly you mistake; and rather want Judgement to discern what are proper for you.  
So, Does an Ignoramus present you with Mushroom Thoughts, and cannot you lay them by? Must none but Civit-Cats have leave to sh—? and, if not, Who shall sever the bad, without endangering the good?  
Nay, I may add, The best of Authors are not without their Faults; and if they were, the World, I fear, were too purblind to entertain them, as they would deserve. Enoch's, the first and best of Books, are lost.  
Thus one, by a long Preface, cools the Fancy ere he entertains it; a second frights his Reader by his Voluminousness. Alas! we must consult the weakness of Man, as well as the Mere extent of our Subjects.  
Nay, did the real dignity of our Subjects lead Books, they would be short enough, while sprightly hints would more delicately pourtraicture our Minds than the largest Circumlocutions.  
And surely therefore I may add, there is an empty Wantonness in all the profuse Embroideries of Authors. And what are our Legendaries, our varnished Comparisons and Explanations, but a beggarly and tedious Tautology in a better dress?  
Thus the peddling Canter never wants a Nosegay of Virtue or Religion, be his Text never so barren; and there is not a Subject that he shall not screw in his whole stock of Knowledge upon it.  
On the contrary, your finer Poets have made but six Verses a day, and a late famous Author would return back to his Study again, but to secure some more excellent Notion from Oblivion; and yet there is an Error even in this also.  
One keeps his Book Seven years by him ere he Prints it, as if it ripened by lying, and not Care, Examination and Perusal.  
A Second citys Euclid, to prove a Circle Round; and a Third condemns the whole Body of Wisdom for some little peddling Nostrum.  
A Fourth Enamoured with the Whimsies of the Ancients, had half his Book Quotations, and creeps along by the Shore of Authors, as if he were afraid to trust himself to the free Compass of Reasoning.  
Surely I would no more Quote Authors by Tables thus, than slight their Assistance altogether, by laying New Foundations. When thou Readest my Book therefore, I expect thou look for my Sense, not Aristotle, or St. Austin's.  
So shall I Write nothing that is not purely my own: alas, there is nothing New under the Sun; nay, And why have not I as much right to my Thoughts, as he that Wrote them a 1000 years ago?  
Should I say, I borrow nothing from no Man, Who could gainsay me? I have the same circle of Creatures, and I must needs therefore tract after others, and surely therefore our invention about them is equally ours also.  
Succeeding Ages feed upon one another; and the Sense and Flesh I have digested, are as much mine, as they have been others before me, or else may be I cannot say I have either Sense or Flesh at all.  
We have all our appointed seasons to enjoy Wisdom, and the Sun in; our Ancestors have but beat the Track before us, where our Posterity would follow of course; And who can claim a Common Road?  
Where then is the injury of Plagiarism, does an Author deserve his Merits must preserve him, nay and they will too, if he has them: Who shall add to a Picture of Apelles? Ex pede Herculem.  
At worst, is Honey the worse for being gathered from many Flowers? Indeed to theive meanly is ungenerous, and to follow Parties, corrupts all; or else is not my diligence in Collections to be preferred?  
But alas, after all, the Fountain Error of Authors is vanity; and that which puts them upon the Tenters, is, that they seek Eternity; but surely 'tis one thing to have it, and another thing to deserve it.  
You think your Truths will make the World commend you whether they will or no; alas, you must prostitute you honour to obtain the common Vogue.  
A Man had as good be a common Hangman, as an impartial Moral Monitor: and as for Speculative Knowledge, the Man that found, but that the World was round, was treated, even by St. Austin, as an Heretic.  
As my Lord Bacon rightly says, the World, like a River, bears up things swollen and empty, while Gold and Jewels sink; and thus Vainglorious and Romancing Ovid no doubt survives many a better Author.   

Of CRITICS.  
A Critic to a good Author, like the Refiner's Fire, but Purges his Imperfections to make him shine the brighter, whilst the Answerer, like Don Quixot, exposes himself with post-absurdities.  
Shall we say of a Garrisoned Army of Thoughts, that'tis taken, because the enemy has defaced the Walls with dirt, when the truth is, the Answerer like the Viper, by gnawing the File, has but bit his own Teeth away.  
Critics, like Baldpate Boxers, while they attack others, generally take care to Print nothing of their own, they maliciously root up all they can, thought they Plant nothing in the World of Learning themselves.  
Critics, the Robbers, are only excellent in a Plunder, and in which case, their only Game is to Magnify themselves by Exposing others; their Armoury the whole Field of Malicious Railing and Wrangling.  
Surely if our Brother is weak, we ought rather to pity him, than abuse him; nay, is he Perverse and Fallacious? yet can it either become us, or our Cause, to Confute him otherwise than with Humanity: that Conquest is to our Credit, where our Adversary is duly Magnified.  
What says the Scripture of Pious Frauds?  
Will it let us hold the Truth in Unrighteousness? No, we may not do ill that good may come; if we do, we are assured our Damnation is Just.  
Some Men indeed are so linked to their Errors, that Charity, which loves to Answer all with Tenderness and Softness, would be glad to part them; he that errs, through Frailty, is at least out of the harms-way of Error; but he that offends Presumptuously and Obstinately, must need fall together with it.  
But the meaner Critic that even hunts for Slander, and delights in Contumely; the generous Mastiff should teach us to scorn such Currish Yelping; indeed 'tis a Reflection on a Man of Sense, to give a Common Railer but the hearing.   

OF DIVINATION and ASTROLOGY.  
THere are certain Truths enough in the World surely, to improve our Understandings by, that we need not confound ourselves so much by Conjectural ones as we do; 'tis true, the Influence of the Sun and Moon might tempt one to an Essay in this matter, but when it has been so long successless, I don't know whether the prosecuting it further will argue rather a Madness and a Folly, than a Presumptuous Contempt of God's Commands, in prying into those things he has so designedly concealed.  
Nay, did Men understand themselves aright, the very vanity of these things were enough to make them hate them, and they would sooner be idle then squander away their time so impertinently; but above all, had they any Conscience, they would regard God's Wrath against our deluding Diviners, if they had not the Wit to see how they were imposed upon by them.  
'Tis full time now to sweep away these Cobwebs of Superstition, and Relics of Paganism; were we to contract with the Devil, than these Little Blinds might be wisely set to Disguise the Predictions he acquaints us with, and to seem to tell that little Foreknowledge he hath, by our own Skill; but for us otherwise to dive into Senseless, Groundless, and Irrational ways of Prediction, I declare, in my Opinion, is such a mere stupidity and weakness, that we had much better cast the die for our Fortune▪  
So, would not a Man of Moderate Thought be ashamed to imagine, that God has given an Extraordinary Power of Conjuring by his Name Tetragrammaton Adonay Sadai, etc. So, Who but a Madman would think the Number Five Cabalistically sanctified, because a Man has Five Fingers, Five Toes, etc. And so who but one that has more Fancy than Judgement would mind the Climacterical Years, when indeed the year is since much lengthened? yea, several days since that Whimsy was first broached, so that 61 now would have been 63 then.  
So, that shall I say of our Common Crosses and Charms? the Devil fights with us, like a Parthian, flying; pretends himself to be vanquished by us▪ that he may the better Conquer us through Superstition by his flight? So what shall I say to your Set-form of Words, the Seeve and Sheers, and your other Trifles and Gewgaws? If words do any thing really, it must be through Faith, and if Faith be once so powerful, it can easily effect without a Set-form, like Conjuring; but if Words prove powerful without Faith, Latet anguis in herba, we have all the Reason in the World to apprehend some Delusion from our Common Enemy the Devil.  
Nor indeed, with all the Power of the Devil himself, are we likely to do or know much, whatever our Corruption and Rebellion may promise us; Alas; the Devils are under perpetual Chains of Darkness, the best of their Oracles were always doubtful; and if God has denied the Foreknowledge of things even to the good Angels themselves, as Christ assures us, How is it likely he should show a greater Favour to the Wicked Apostate Spirits?  
So we are curious in other Predictions; we are desirous of an exact Foreknowledge; alas, Shall we never be contented with the plainer Dispensations of Providence? Is God obscure and mystical in his Prophecies, even to lead his Church its self? And shall we desire presumptuously a Prerogative he has not vouchsafed even to the Universal Church; nay, and when all the Pious and Learned Men of Ages have not been able to unfold those Holy Prophecies that in the Revelations, and otherwise he has given us? Can we be so mad to expect, or rely upon more certain Predictions of their own?  
In short, if there be any Divination lawful, it must be through the signs of Natural Causes; thus Christ himself allows to Divine by the Face of the Sky. 
Sero rubens coelum cras indicat esse serenum.  
Si mane rubescit ventus vel pluvia crescit;  and so we may guests when a Western wind blows, or that a Rainbow looks pale, that Rain is likely to ensue; and that when the Rainbow looks clear, that it is going away; but what is beyond this, must be either Sin or Delusion.  
But to proceed a little to particulars, and so first  

Of Astrology.  
Our Astrologers pretend, that the Bodies above are the Male, the Terrestrial the Female; and the Creatures on Earth are the Offspring engendered between them: But pray, who shall declare their Generations? I do not doubt but that there is such a Art as Astrology▪ in some degree; But who is the Artist? What are the set-Bounds of influence? And how are we to gather it? How far does Providence and its Free-Agents interrupt it? And what Stars are more particularly eminent in their influence.  
Let our Stargazers allege what they will, the Reviewing Histories passed in the Stars would have perfected this Art absolutely before now, if it had been attainable by the Wit of Man; when alas, consult but your Astrologers, and you shall not find two to Prognosticate alike: After all these advantages, Read but their Books, they agree not in their Methods; nay, if they foretell the Wether, which is more immediately under the influences of the Stars, and which Grace cannot be supposed to alter their influence in, to give them their old Shame, Astra regunt homines sed regit astra deus: yet you shall find that they as often miss as hit, and which, in my Judgement, in plain terms, declares mere Chance.  
St. Austin's Confessions give us an excellent passage of the impertinency and fallaciousness of this Science: It seems the Mistress and the Maid were both with Child by their several Husbands at the same time, and an ginger being willing to Predict the several Fates of their Children, ordered care to be taken of Marking the exact time of both their Births; now so it happened, that Mistress and Maid were both brought to Bed at the same instant, and their several Messengers met at the just halfway, to give each other accounts of it; And what think you then ought to be the success of this Chance, ought not these two Sons, as they then happened to be, to have equal Fortune and Success in the World, at least with respect to their several Circumstances? yes surely: but alas, the Stars failed their Artist, the Servant was born and died a Servant; whilst, as St. Austin observes, the young Master afterwards became vastly advanced in his Fortunes.  
But I give Astrologers too much ground when I trifle thus upon Experiments; let me hear them reason a little; thus what particular virtue is there in a Sextile or Trine, before the Quartile or Opposition? besides, if there were, like Blockheads, they take the Trine of appearance, and never mind the real one; thus a Retrogradation shall imaginarily give you two Trines of Saturn and Jupiter, when, in reality, neither of those is the true Trine; so what stuff your direct Retrogade stationary and swift are, when, in reality, the Planets have no such imperfections; and all that Trumpery we conceive, forsooth, because we will follow the blind Mazes of our Ancestors, and their Errors in Astronomy, and which made them make them in their Astrology also.  
Further, how ridiculously they have framed and ordered out their Twelve Houses, and attributed their several Powers to them, according to the two old Latin Verses, 1 2 3 4 5 6 Vita lucrum fratres genitor nati valetudo, 7 8 9 10 11 12 Vxor mors pietas regnum benefactaque Carcer.  
What Nonsense 'tis to give the Ascendant most power, which can scarce have any Operation for Distance, and vapours upon the Native, whereas, in truth, the Mid-heaven, and the Planets most Southerly, and the Stars in the Zenith, aught to have the greatest Operation in all reason; and so in case of their being Perigeon, and Apogeon; so, how absurd 'tis to give Saturn a greater influence on the Native, than even the Sun, that in truth is the very Earthly giver of Life.  
Besides too, were Astrologers▪ true to their Rules, and Examined all Significators, Planets, Houses, and Fixed Stars, with their several Aspects, Applications and Transits, they would find themselves so confused, that they would never be able to pick out a Judgement: And what if you add to all this the part of Fortune, the part of Honour, and several other parts that Nice Astrologers order to be Calculated, as well as the capat & cauda Draconis▪ all Castles in the Air; Where could you and your Judgement be able to be fixed amongst such almost innumerable significators and their Applications.  
Nay further, one tells you your Fortune by a Horary Question, another by a Revolutional Figure, another by your Nativity, another by Profections: Now if you examine it, all these Figures shall, nay must be different, and yet your Artist, from the Latitude of Foretelling, I before described, must by one Significatour or another▪ serve them all up to one Tone, and whether the Devil may not sometimes inspire them in this Chance to their Delusion, I very much Question.  
Hence also if you consult them, one shall cast up your Significatours stronger, another weaker; one measures the time of Accidents one way, and another a second; a third Person does not like your Common Tables of Houses, and yet forsooth all these must speak, and write as infallible in their way, although no Reason can reconcile them, or show one more in the right than the other, nay, though they contradict one another; yet alas we must believe them all, as the Infallible Oracles of Truth; H●● quanta fides Hominum▪  
I have Studied this Art myself, and I have flattered myself often in Chance predictions; but when I have considered that in all things there is but a wrong and a right, and that all Men naturally favour, and even Deify Divination, I cannot but see, and detest my own Weakness in regarding it; indeed, if Astrological Predictions were certain, they would by their fatal necessity destroy and consume Religion, and all the Arts and Sciences with it.  
To be short, if Men must have their Prognosticating Whimsies, were it not better rationally to frame them from the Noble Hypothesis of Des Cartes, than from such mere Maggots as our common Artists do? Thus Spots growing in the Sun rationally would foretell ruin to his Sphere, and Comets Prognosticate a Disorder, would follow in Nature; but to lay such weight on mere Chimaeras, as the Imaginary Houses▪ Nodes and Fancies of Astrologers are, at best favours of a little tincture of either Melancholy, or Imposture, judge which you will.   

Of the Dependants of Astrology.  
But besides its self, it's scarce conceivable what a pack of Brats and Monsters Astrology brings forth with it; it marks you out Natural Magic by Planetary Influences, and Characters on Herbs; it tells you men's Fortunes by Figures, the Planets make through Moles, Lines, and other Marks; and hence it teaches you Chiromancy, Physiognomy, Metaposcopy, nay Augury depends on the same Root; and not a Bird that flies to the right, but portends Ill-luck, though to a Thousand Spectators: indeed, there is not a Man, either Mad, Bewitched, or Prophecies, but straight the ginger will give you a Reason for it; though by and by again, to save himself at a Fault, he will tell you, a Good Man is above the Stars.  
Thus Telesmes, or Talismans' also, and our Divining Rods, are a Spawn of Astrology; but, in my Judgement, of just as much force as Powder of Post, without the assistance of Witchcraft, and then I don't know but a Man may do feats, like the Egyptian Magicians, but by the power of the Devil, and not by our little Conjectural Blind Arts, unless Ceremonially; for my part I once made a Telesme of Venus myself in Silver, but found no more effect in the Metal than before. So Brown in his Vulgar Errors, says, he tried the Divining Rod, but he found it all Cheat and Deceit.  
Further, Geomancy is another Offspring of Astrology, indeed her very Ape, for she follows her into her Divisions and Partitions of Houses, etc. Cornelius Agrippa wrote a Book of this; and in his Treatise of the Vanity of Arts and Sciences tells you, he believes it as good as the best; but withal, that it is all Lies. And indeed, What an odd Chimaera Foundation this Art has, that Men, by making Points backwards, with their Left-hands upon the ground, should fancy the Stars should lead them, by drawing those Points into Figures, to Predict by them; a Man had better by half bestow less pains, cast a pair of Dice, or dip a Leaf in Virgil, if he is resolved to be Superstitious, and so discover his Fortune that way, rather than run himself to the Niceties of Geomantic Houses, and Fathers, your Laetitia, etc. for it.  
So I cannot but wonder too, what Intelligence, and of what Planet it was that taught us the Jurisdiction of Planetary Days and Hours? 'twas very happy the Natural Day was not divided into Twenty Hours, as it is now into Twenty four; for if it had, our Divinors had been forced to have made a New Computation; besides, that as it is, every Planet has not his equal share in the day, And why should he not have it in the Day, as well as he has it in the Week?  
Astrology therefore, if it serves for any thing, it is to be as the Devils Lure into the more obscure and black Recesses of Magic: I myself remember too well, what Studies it wheedled me into, when I gave it the favour of my Thoughts; as first, to seek to the Planets intelligences for my Knowledge, and after to other Spirits: Now, though I resolved to pay an exact deference to the Duty I owed to God all the while, yet I could not, in a long time, persuade myself, but that such Arts, as in the case of Balaam, might be lawfully attainable, though at length I was convinced they were presumptuous.  
But where shall we end the further Whimsies of Predictions? Pythagoras' Lot, Predicting by the Number of our Names, the Jewish Caballa telling Mysteries, and Prognosticating from Titles, Numbers and Letters; your Rosacrucian Figments, what shall I say, Do not Men deserve to be deceived, when they employ themselves to catch such shadows of Wisdom? indeed, 'tis their due reward, that they miss and lose the substance by it.  
So what shall we say to Hydromancy, Puromancy, and Aeromancy, nay and Alectromancy, that foretelleth by the pecking up of Corn by a Cock, Are they not trumpery, that scarce deserve the naming? So of Palmistry; How shall we reconcile the giddy and senseless contradictions and variations of Authors about it? So in Physiognomy, Who but one that had it from some Spirit, or Star-Intelligence, could be brought to think any useful or certain ground in it? Only Man that runs a Whoring out of the Ways of Truth, seeks to, and believes every thing he should not. Or else who would fancy, that Mars must be thrust into the Palms of the Hand, while little Venus and Mercury have the honour to possess in chief, with the grand Planets, the Thumb and little Finger?  
But besides these, there are Omens also, the weakest of all Fore-telling; but how often of fatal consequence, not from the Prediction I mean, but from the deadning the spirits of them that superstitiously believe them, I need not mention; indeed they are so uncertain, that their very Interpreters are forced to fly to the Mind of the Person Omened, and what conception he had of the accident, to Construe it; and which is, in short, to make men's Thoughts and Fancies Predictions.  
William the Conqueror was an evident confirmation of this Truth; at his first Landing in England, his Foot slipped, and he fell flat on the Earth; and the Morning he fought, his Esquire put on his Back-piece before, by mistake. Now these Omens daunted some, but the Conqueror Interpreted them best, who merrily said, the Fall showed the Earth was willing to be acquainted with him; and the change of his Armour showed, he was to change his Dukedom for a Kingdom, as it after happened.  
As for Prophecies, when they relate to State-Affairs, they are dangerous; and have deservedly drawn down many good Laws to suppress them, not that they are so formidable in themselves neither; but that which gives them credit, is, First, That Men mark when they Hit, and never when they Miss. Secondly, The Nature of Man, which loves to turn all to Divination, calls even probable Conjectures, and obscure Traditions, Prophecies; And Thirdly, and lastly, that almost all of them being near infinite in number, have been Impostures, and by idle and crafty Brains, merely contrived and feigned, after the event past, with some evil design and influence on the present times.  
But why do I stay so long upon Particulars? Where shall we end the more noxious Methods of Deluding and Superstitious Theurgy, Devilish Geocy and Necromancy? as if the Devil could not personate a Ghost: So where shall we conclude, with the Faeiry Sisters, the Invisible Ring Witchcraft and Conjuration, the use of Crystals, Pentangles, Circles, and an Hundred other little Devilish Machinations, wherein, though the Devil does not Immediately, as in Witchcraft, draw Men to Express Covenant with him, yet as by many sad Experiments has appeared, he gradually sinks them into all manner of wickedness, and in the end drowns them in Eternal Despair; and thus he tempted our Saviour at first, only to fall down and Worship him: He is a subtle Enemy, and knows very well how to bait his hook suitable to the Persons he intends to catch by it.    

Of MEEKNESS.  
SUrely Meekness needs no Praises: Meekness is the Moral Paradise, nay, Meekness is the only Cement to the Faults and Errors of Humanity; What can we do without bearing with one another?  
Meekness was the Perfection of Christ, and Peace is the very Attribute of God himself; and can any thing be wanting then to make them amiable?  
Alas! Do not we every day, without thinking, commit a Thousand little faults against others? And will we not give the Charity we cannot but desire?  
And yet after all, the Subtlety of the Serpent must be mixed with this Dovelike Innocency; 'tis a strange Temptation Men have, that see they can wrong us with Impunity; And why should I, by a too great softness, proclaim myself a prey to all?  
The World may call such Submission, Virtue and Clemency; but, alas! 'tis Facility and Fear that lead to such Cowardice, and not Meekness. True Virtue is a straight Line, that neither virges for Laziness nor Glory.  
So the Imperious Commander, the Dogmatical Opinionatre, and the Morose Cynic, who desire all to be enrolled among the Virtuous, are Men that would seem too perfect to be born with; but, alas! who want the Meekness and Patience of others more, who err more, and yet preserve the Peace less?  
I have not an Interior Peace in a union of Thoughts and Opinions with my Brother; But must I therefore in Self-conceit break the Exterior Peace in the Devoires of Humane Civility?  
Does my Brother err? And why may I not as justly quarrel at the Diseases of his Body, as the Imperfections of his Mind? nay, Why am I not as angry at the imperfect variety of the Wether?  
To reform others perfectly, is as impossible as vain: What have we to do then, but to despise all little Capricious Humours, and to amend ourselves?  
Do I hazard the Peace in rebuking my Brother? And why may not he be as rough to me? at least, may he not as justly resist so unjust an Imposition?  
I am obliged to love my Brother; And how may I then make him look coldly on me, through my crossing him; is this my Humility, in doing as I would be done unto?  
I. S. has different Opinions from me; And what then, ought I not to have all the Consideration that Truth or Charity will permit me for them: Indeed is it fit that I should cavil with him about them?  
I have condemned myself in Errors often; but I cannot say so of my Brother; Is it not just then, that I rather humbly and submissively prefer his Judgement before my own, than be angry at the Variance?   

Of CONTENTION.  
A Contentious Spirit is both Barbarous and Brutish: What is the benefit of Humane Reason, unless in Humanity? And are not Humanity and Contention contraries?  
Contention either Infects us to a Likeness, or Cankers out our Spirit with Cowardice: What, all the day in Battle, and neither Fly nor Fight?  
Christ says, to call our Brother Fool Contentiously, is as Damnable as Murder; Can he that delights in Provocations be assured what will follow them?  
The least Evil of Contention is, that it abates our Virgin Respect, and Civility for one another; And is it a slight matter for us to traduce each other to Contempt?  
My Contention is in Revenge; And what then? Is Revenge, either a Christian or Moral Apology, or is there not a just and modest Vindication of myself without it?  
Do we think, through Contention, to back every Wild Colt we meet with? nay, And can we otherwise then expect some time or other to meet with such Swine, as will turn again, and rend us?  
Surely, gentle and soft Applications are best for Conviction; and as a Contempt passes to our Persons through Contention, so to our Instructions also.  
Does Seneca wrangle with a Fool? he degrades his Philosophy by the equality of the Contention; But does Seneca advise, and is the Fool stubborn? Indigna est Caesaris Ira.   

Of CONTRADICTION.  
DOes my Brother Contradict me, he has as much right to it, as I to speak to him? And why then am I concerned? but he does it, you say, unjustly; And are you as assured that you do not as unjustly provoke him to it, by requiring too hard things of him?  
I have a right to hold my Tongue, and be silent at all times; but if I speak to my Brother, I have not right to make him Answer me just as I please.  
But my Brother is Cross and Perverse you say, and will unjustly contradict me; And what then? Whose fault is it that he is uneasy to me? Am I Mad to dispute him when he is out of Humour? Or do I want to see how he can Cross me, or I vex myself?  
Besides, Alas! there is no end of some men's Perverseness, and 'tis in vain to expect to cure it; Should even God himself Write or Speak, he would no more want an Answerer, than the Devil in the like case, an Advocate.  
And yet after all, and for all this, though I can see my Brother is in an Error, and I am obliged to use agreeable means to set him right, yet can I discern his heart to say, He lies, is false, or that he is perverse?  
Surely God only, who fearches the heart, can lay such charges to my Brother; and what though in such case I may contradict him, yet, in Charity, I wrong him, to say, he is either false, or lies? I see but the Mistake.  
Thus, though I have the strongest Natural Duty on me to Reprove my Brother, and nothing but his Malice for it can discharge me of it; yet does that give me either power to Judge, or Force him in his Actions?  
The Wise and Good indeed have a rightful Dominion and Empire in reigning over men's Thoughts, and we are bound in Conscience to submit to it; but surely every confident Contradictor has not the same Reason for our Submission?   

Lapis Errantium; or the Stray-office: For all manner of things Lost, Found, or Mislaid within the Weekly Bills of Mortality of the CITY of London.  
IT is not my business at present to run out upon the Ancient Use of this Office in other Kingdoms, which, by its very Name, I am persuaded a great many Learned Men are not unacquainted with; I shall wholly confine myself therefore to show, of what a General and Great Benefit such an Office must needs be to this present City; and, in doing that, I shall fully Answer my End in this Little Treatise.  
And that I may the better do that, therefore, First, I shall, briefly as I can, give the particular State of such an Office. Secondly, I shall Answer all manner of Objections against it: And Thirdly and lastly, I shall show the wonderful Conveniences of it; And in all these I shall be the shorter, because the very hinting at the Great Uses and Conveniences of it, will be sufficient to excuse all need of other Apologies for it.  
The State of the Office I shall Represent briefly thus; First, In a Set-Table of Rates and Fees, to be Paid and Allowed to the Finder and Office; And, Secondly, in some few Reflections on them.  
 l. s. d.  l. s. d.  l. s. d. If the Thing Found be Valued at 0 0 6 Then the Finder to have of it for his Honesty and Care in Bringing it, 0 0 2 And the Office to have for their Keeping it. 0 0 1 0 1 0 0 0 4 0 0 2 0 2 6 0 0 8 0 0 4 0 5 0 0 1 0 0 0 6 0 10 0 0 1 6 0 0 8 0 15 0 0 2 0 0 0 10 1 0 0 0 2 6 0 1 0 2 0 0 0 5 0 0 2 0 4 0 0 0 9 0 0 3 0 8 0 0 0 16 0 0 4 0 100 0 0 10 0 0 2 10 0  
My Reflections upon this Table, are these,  
First, That all things Found shall be Valued, at a Rate, by Appraisement, and that if any Difficulty arise between the Finder and Loser, so it shall be decided, each of them choosing an Appraisor, and if they shall not agree, nor find an Umpire in two days, that then the Office shall do it for them; and that shall be Decisive.  
Secondly, If either finder or loser, or the Lord on Escheat, in two days notice refuse to appoint their Appraisors; that then the Office upon both or either of their Defaults, shall be able to get Appraisors to set a value, and to give the finder his due thereon, and to keep the Goods, or sell them, if perishable, and keep the Money till the Loser, or the Lord of the Royalty shall allow him both his, and the finders Fees.  
Thirdly, That all things enclosed, as Writings in a Box, Money in a Bag, or clothes in a Trunk, shall not be opened till the Loser come, or the Lord of the Royalty claim them; but that then the Finder may have them to be opened, to be Appraised, or otherwise as he shall desire it, before they be delivered out of the Office.  
Fourthly, That all things of real value, the Office shall be ready on bringing in to receive, and to give the Finder his due immediately; but for Dogs Pocketbooks, and Keys, it shall reserve them to give an account of them, or else make an Entry where they are to be found, as the case shall reasonably require.  
Fifthly, If Goods, perishable are found, that then the Finder and Office shall have power in convenient time, to sell them by Appraisors, and so to be answerable for the Money only.  
Sixthly, That if any thing above 20 s. value be found, that it remain in the Office at least a Week, that the Right Owner be not cheated by a Collusion of the Finder; So if Goods, or Money, above 20 l. value be found, that they remain in the Office a Months, before they be Delivered, except the Pretended Loser give in Security for their Forthcoming; but after a Month, that they be delivered him only on a Note of the Losers place of abode and quality, to inform after Claimers.  
Seventhly, That all Pocketbooks, or Dogs that are found, shall be valued as at 5 s. and Keys of all sorts, as at 12 d. to avoid all Disputes; and that Bills of Exchange, by which the Money might be received, shall be valued as Mony.  
Eighthly, That all things under 20 s. value shall be forfeited to the Lords of the Royalty, if not called for in six weeks; and all things under 10 l. value, if not called for in a Quarter of a year: As for all things, of a greater value, to remain a Year and a day, as the Law directs before, the Lord to have them.  
Lastly, Let no Man think that to allow to the Finder and Office, in this case, 12 l. 10 s. in the Hundred, is too much; for, as when he is in hazard of all, it's well if so little will procure it; so indeed, less will not be sufficient, either to encourage the Finder, to bring in what he has discovered, or to Answer the trust and hazard of the Office in Keeping and Registering it.  

The Objections that seem likely to be made in this Case, are these;  
First, That such an Office will destroy Royalties.  
As to that I Answer; 'twill rather vastly promote them: For, as now, all Findings are Concealed; so, by this Means, they being Discovered, they will be assured of them: indeed in this case they will be forced to make some allowance to the Office and Finder for their Care; but that surely will be Reasonable, when 'tis no more than is required of the Loser.  
Secondly, That the Gazette will be wronged in their Publications.  
But as to that I Answer; It must needs be very inconsiderable; For Publications there are generally of Dogs stolen of Value, and of Horses, and of other things lost in the Country; and, as to those, you see, this Office gives no diversion.  
Thirdly, That this may be apt to encourage Thiefs; but, as to that, I say, on the contrary, that it cannot but be the greatest disincouragement to them imaginable; for when they who have lost, or been robbed of their Goods, shall repair to this Office, and make their Entry of them there, not only the Office will be ready to seize them, but every one that happens on such Suspicious Goods, will know speedily where to repair to know whose they are, and whereupon a Discovery must necessarily follow.  
Fourthly, That we shall want power to make the Losers, and Lords of Royalties allow the Fees of finding, and the Fees of the Office; but, as to that I propose, we may be effectually helped by an Act of Parliament; if not, by the King's Patent.  
Fifthly, But you will say, What Security shall the Loser and Finder have, not to be wronged by the Office? I say, they shall have a Public Security given in by him that keeps the Office, to see that what ever is left there shall be forthcoming, and the Office-Books lying always Public, they shall make their Entries, if they please themselves; and if Goods of Value be found, the Office shall be responsible to the Finder, that it give him notice to have a just Appraise●…nt, if he desires it, before the Goods are delivered to the Loser; and in the same manner shall the Lord's Right be secured also.  
Sixthly, But you will continue to Object, that Finders will still conceal their Goods and Money notwithstanding: I say, to prevent that, a Clause in such an Act of Parliament, That if the Finder bring not in the Goods or Money within a Week after they are found, he shall not only lose the Profit of such his Finding to the Informer, but be liable to an Action of Trover, with treble Damages on Conviction; I say, such a Clause would make it almost impossible that any thing should be concealed from the Office.   

The Benefits of such an Office, would be such as these.  
First, You see this Office will be as a General Place of Notice for seizing all manner of Suspicious Goods.  
Secondly, This Office will as well Encourage, as Threaten a return of Found Goods; For when Men see they may have honestly a good Reward, they will scarce, by being dishonest, hazard the losing all, and paying for it too, by an Informer, which, in the present Case, they will be in great danger of, especially when we consider, that Finders have generally too much Joy to be Silent.  
Thirdly, An Informer, in this Case, would be so far from a contemptible and servile Office, that it would not be too mean, even for a Gentleman to undertake; and, though he might give his Reward to whom he would, yet, in honour, he might assist any one, when so basely and meanly injured.  
Fourthly, As nothing is so inconsiderable, that some People have not a Fancy for; so nothing scarce can be of so little a value, that this Office would not draw to it, a little, sure, and honest Profit would tempt thither, even things of Six pence worth; and he, that in such case, will not care to carry the thing to the Office himself, will not want some one or other, that he might oblige by it.  
So that the benefit of such an Office must needs be, I may almost say, past Expression; in short, 'twill make this Great City and Suburbs to have the Correspondence almost of a Family; and it should be no small Recommendation of this Office, to a considering Man, that it has been in another Nation before, and therefore consequently to be presumed to be of success, as well as of most considerable public benefit to this.  
In short, if Use and Innocency can recommend any thing, this Office has all the advantages possible; and I shall say no more of it, because no Man can look into his own Thoughts, and not be convinced of it, and that even in many things not here mentioned.   

The PROJECT; or, The Method of putting this Office in Practice.  
First, That for the ease of Finders, there be four or five places appointed for the Receipt of Found Goods; As at, 

1. Charing-cross.  
2. Temple-barr.  
3. Leadenhallstreet.  
4. Southwark. And    
Secondly, That for the ease of the Loser, these be only places of Receipt; and that one Chief Office being appointed, as at Temple-barr, that all Found Goods and Money be fetched daily from those places of Receipt, about the hours of 8 and 12 each day; So that Goods left in the Morning shall be ready for the Owner, for a certainty in the Afternoon; and those left in the Afternoon, the next Morning at the one Principal and only Office of Delivery.  
Thirdly, This Method to continue all the Week, and all the year round, Sunday excepted.  
Fourthly, That several Books for Entering such Goods and Money be kept as well at the several places of Receipt, as the Principal Office, and that they be in four Columns, and under four Heads in manner and form following.   

Things Lost. Place where. Finder. Loser.  
Fifthly, That when such Goods are fetched from the said several places of Receipts, that then a Duplicate be brought with them of all their several Entries, to be Recorded in the General-Office; of all, which Duplicates, the General-Office may once a Week, take an Account, by comparing them with the several Books of Receipts.  
Sixthly, All the Office-Books to be Marked; and lie Publicly; so that if the Finder see but the things Entered, 'tis impossible but that they must come to the Losers knowledge; and 'tis as impossible that any Lords of Royalties should be able to lose their Rights.  
Seventhly, The Goods being thus removed to the General-Office, the Finder may receive notice when to meet at an Appraisement, if he has not received his due before; and the Loser may know what his demands are; so that, if he agree to them, there will be no more, but that the Office receive the Mony.  
But as for the Entry of Suspicious Goods to be seized, that as it ought to be in a distinct Book, so for the Readier Recourse, it should be only done at the Principal Office at Temple-barr; so the like for a Caution Entered for Goods Lost, that the Owner may have Notice sent him if they come to this Office; and for this the Office is to be particularly paid, according to the length of their Entry; but where the Goods are found, no other Fees are to be paid for the Entry, than in the Table before.    

Of CUNNING.  
THe Cunning Man and the Wise Man differ not only in point of Honesty, but Ability. He that can pack the Cards does not always play well.  
Cunning Men, like Jugglers, are only versed in two or three Little Tricks, while Wisdom excels in the whole Ring or Circle of Action.  
But is Wisdom to be despised, because others sculk through their Cunning? Shall a General abandon all Discipline, because his Parthian Foe fights flying? No; rather discovering his petty shifts, let him destroy him in his Wiles.  
Surely, Cunning Men are too weak for Council; for Practice, and Understanding Men, indeed, they may do well enough; but he abuses himself that turns them out of their Channel, and trusts them.  
Were Men always Skilful, they would never use Craft or Treachery: Alas! that Men are Cunning, is from their little Minds, which, if it can conceal its self in one place, quickly discovers its self in another.  
Hence the Cunning Man is as ridiculous as odious; while the greatest art of such Subtle Men is, to conceal their Skill; the wiser sort of them know therefore their interest, and are Subtle only on some great Occasion, and for some great Advantage.  
Besides, he that is out of the plain way to deceive others, has not so ready a prospect of the Cheats designed against him; so that not only a Man is soon deceived, when his conceit of Cunning beats him from his Guard; but Cunning Men are afraid of us, when they see an exact simplicity.  
And thus 'tis the Perfection of Wisdom, to seem to fall into Snares laid for us, for fear of worse, and yet to avoid them; but, by Subtlety, 'tis as easy to deceive one's self, and not perceive it, as 'tis difficult unperceived to deceive others.  
Usual Tricks of Cunning, are, to surprise, and fascinate with the Eye, to propose in business, when our Friend is in haste, to surprise with bold Questions, and to foil, by Ungrateful and Unseasonable Desires, the thing we would not have done.   

Of WISDOM.  
MAN is not more above a Brute, than the one above the other, through the advantage of Wisdom. Plus posse, surely is also Nobilius Esse.  
Wisdom as from a Tower, gives us the true prospect of things. Where the higher we climb, the clearer we see, and the fairer is our View.  
And yet Wisdom consists not in trifling Curiosities and nice Speculations. Wisdom not only solidly pourtraictures Virtue, but gives it practic Life also.  
The Fool hates Wisdom as exceeding his reach; the Sluggard envys, instead of attaining it, while the wicked Man abhors it, as the Touchstone to his Actions. But surely he that hates Wisdom: hates his own Soul with it.  
Wisdom is as our guard assigned us by God. Wisdom clears our mind of undigested Thoughts and Resolutions, while she looks down with Contempt and Unconcernedness on the little tumults of Fancy and Passion below.  
Reason hastened in the digestion by Fancy and Passion, the giddy Apes of Judgement and Courage, like Fruit gathered unripe, sets the Teeth on edge, whilst Wisdom leads us without Repentance.  
Our Saviour tells us, Qui sequitur me, non ambulat in tenebris: And surely, not without the justest cause; if the fear of the Lord cannot be the beginning of Wisdom, what else can move us to act or judge impartially?  
Surely, 'twas by Wisdom, that holy men approached to God, and became Prophets, Wisd. Sol. cap. 8. Can we think, we shall not answer to God for it then, if we omit to improve our Reasoning?  
Was it nothing, that Moses was skilled in all the Learning of the Egyptians? Surely, God had neither gathered his Prophets into a College at Bethel, nor made the Learned St. Paul, the chiefest of the Apostles, if he had not regarded even our industrious self-improvements?  
But alas! what are all our improvements without the grace of God, and sincerity? Solomon tells us, Wisdom will not enter into a malicious Soul, Wisd. 1.  
The perverse, be he never so ingenuous, yet by degrees will he vitiate his Principles by his Practice; the corrupt Man may shift and be a good Sophister, but never reason well; to be wise and good, are reciprocal.   

The Seeming WISE.  
REason has not more Admirers than there are Hypocrites; who admiring only the Profits of Wisdom, approve just so much of her, as can be agreeable and serviceable to their ends.  
Some indeed see but the Appearance of things, their Thoughts and Resolutions, perpetually tripping up one another; and they deserve our pity. But how many set up the Hypocrisy of a formal Gravity, above all the Reasoning of Man?  
How many through a wild Banter and Paradox, content themselves in mere endless and giddy Extravagances? A decaying Merchant has not more Tricks for his Credit, than such Persons for their Sufficiencies.  
Sometimes they are so close and so reserved, that they will not show you their wares, but by a dark Light, hinting as if somewhat more weighty were concealed; and they'd at lest have you think, that they understand more.  
So sometimes they are shrewd by Countenance, and wise by Signs; while they bear it out by speaking a great Word, and being Peremptory.  
Is any thing beyond their reach? 'tis easily exploded as curious or impertinent; and then even their ignorance seems Judgement. But alas! Can such shuffling appear otherwise than ridiculous to any Man of sense?  
Some are never without a difference, and so amusing Men, by a subtlety blanche the Matter; so they find it easy in deliberations to affect the negative side: When Propositions are denied, there is an end of them.  
But certainly, this affecting of objecting and foretelling Difficulties wholly, is the very Bane of Wisdom. There is an harder work indeed in perfecting our Contrivance; but surely for that reason alone, a Man somewhat absurd, is better either for Business or Counsel, than one either over-formal or exceptious.   

Of LOGIC.  
IF any thing can excuse the superfineness of our present Logic and Argumentations, it must be the depth of their Wisdom, and the state of the Universities in using them; and yet even then in my sense, they were better laid aside, or at least more regulated, and more pains spent in the exact definitions of Words, and settling ultimate Principles and Maxims, than the mere Forms of Reasoning.  
In truth, the Schools have rendered the Niceties about Syllogisms almost infinite: So that when we have looked for the Purity and simplicity of truth through their Disputes, we have found ourselves mazed by our own Forms, and Rules in our search, and instead of being helped out in our difficulties by them, we have discovered ourselves sunk deeper by the weight of our Guides: And when we should consider about the substance of our Argument, we are taken up with thinking whether we may say properly, Negatur Minor, or no.  
I shall not therefore descend into the little Niceties of Logical Propositions, their Categoricks, Hypotheticks, Disjunctives, Universals, Indefinites, etc. nor into their Formalities of their several Argumentations, their Enthimems, Inductions, Exemplums, Sorites, Dilemmas, and Syllogisms. Let them that have a mind to catch Butterflies pursue them if they please, for my part I will not.  
So, what shall I say of our ordinary Logical Fallacies, as Quod emisti edisti, Carnes crudas emisti, ergo, etc. so Duo & tres sunt par & imp●r, quinque sunt duo & tres, ergo, etc. Would not a Man of any judgement be ashamed to think, that one should be put to a formal distinction in terms to answer such trifles, to be forced to have set Topics to discover the Mystery of Nonsense: In truth, were most of their Arguments but reduced to writing, nothing would be more ridiculous▪ they are nothing but a few empty Catches in mere Words at best. And the Excellency of a Sophister, as I find, is not to fly to Principles of Truth, but Quirks.  
In short, therefore in my judgement, and I think I judge right, this Sophistry is so far from an improvement of the Understanding, that 'tis as a Crop of Thorns and Weeds in our Ingeny; and though the forms of Argumentations, and their several Rules, as Barbara Celarent, etc. may have a great deal of Art in their Regulation and Composure; yet, no one, at best, can deny, but that they are rather curious than useful; that a Disputation may be very well brought to a just Crisis without such formality; and consequently, that the great study and labour about it, might be better spared about something more material.  

Its Parts.  
But to descend more particularly into its parts; And so, first, as to its Predicables, Predicaments, and Ante-predicaments: Would not a Man think, that those Termini comprehended some Divine matter? Surely one would: But, when it comes to the Test, 'tis all Trifles. Thus what a ridiculous and obvious distinction is Vnum vagum ut aliquis lapis, unum determinatum ut Johannes, unum Demonstrativum ut hic arbour, & unum Hypotheticum ut hic filius Senior: Is this Quibbling, in trifling distinctions, worthy of a Philosopher? if it is, let my friend peruse Dr. Wilkins' Universal Character, and he shall have enough of them, though by that Ingenious Author designed for a far better purpose.  
So for your Proprium's quarto modo; As, 1. Proprium soli non omni ut hominem esse doctum. 2. Omni non soli ut hominem esse bipedem (Plato's Goose.) 3. Omni & soli sed non semper ut ridere. 4. Omni soli & semper ut risihilitas in homine: Is not this pretty stuff, that a Man must be bound to tell another he talks Nonsense, by the Rule of Proprium 4 to. modo? What is this but Pedantry? indeed but a kind of Brutality, and unworthy of the liberal and generous search of a Rational Soul.  
Indeed, the Rule of genus, species, and difference, might be of excellent use, were it in proper place, as in a Treatise of Method, or Analysis, but disguised in such Cant, with a summum subalternum simpliciter; or, secundum quid; in truth quite defaces it, and makes it to become all of a piece with the rest.  
So further, What shall we say to the Ante-predicaments, the Equivocum, Vnivocum, Analogum, and Denominativum? And why may not we as well bring in the Metaphoricum, Ironicum, and an 100 more? And so for your Voces abstractae, concretae, simplices, complexae: Why may not you as well add, finitae, relativae, and infinite others? In short, Is not this mere Trumpery, and fitter for a Dictionary, or a Castaneus' distinctions at best; but surely, not worthy of a Philosopher, to strut up a Science withal. Indeed it makes Logic appear like a Gouty Leg, in respect of the Body of Wisdom.  
So the Predicaments in new Philosophy, are: 
men's, mensura, quies, motus, positura, figura,  
Sunt cum materia; cunctarum exordia rerum.   
And why may not these do as well as Aristotle's 10. Substantia, Quantitas, Qualitas, Relatio, Actio, Passio, Vbi, Quando, Situs, Habitus: Ludovicus Vives is of opinion, that you may add many more; and for my part I think 'twere no hurt there were none at all; indeed if they are of any use, 'tis to help invention: and as for invention it ought to be treated of distinctly, at least it belongs more to Rhetoric than Logic.  
So also, what Predicamental Distinctions we have got, as Quantitas Entitativa, & quantitativa? So that there are five intellectual Habits under Quality, viz. Intelligentia, Sapientia, Scientia, Prudentia, & Ars; whereas they may as rationally make fifty, and by the same reason distinguish every several Object of Wisdom into a several intellectual Habit.  
And to shut up all I have to reflect of this nature, I shall add, what has Logic to do with Definitions? She is only to teach men to reason: Let the Vocabulary help them to Terms, particular Sciences to Principles, and Definitions; her business is only to cast up the Account. So what hath she to do with Divisions into Universals, Essentials, Integrals, Subjects, Accidents, etc. Let her leave all to their proper places, to Analitica and Method, and the Principles of the Subjects she disputes of.   

Of Arguments.  
But as we would thus take away our too formal University Disputes, as the Mothers of Quibbling and Wrangling; so on the other side, one would leave so much to Art as might be able to lead a Dispute to a Crisis. Thus we ought to let our Descriptions, Definitions, Genus and Differences, be laid down as Postulata or Principles; and if they be denied, prove them from the Fountain Topics of Sciences.  
So we ought to skill, how to run an Argument to a Contradiction or Absurdity; not I mean a Nice and Logical Contradiction and Contrariety, than which nothing is more Pedantic; but to a real and obvious Contrariety and Inconsistency, and under which every one ought to submit, and not to dispute on, as if he aimed at Victory, and wrangle, rather than to search for Truth; and therefore, in sincerity, we ought to desist, as if we had no further Reason for what we first affirmed: Where we are sensible, we are not able to make any thing further appear.  
But as for your common Logical Contradictions, as I have said nothing, is more impertinent: Thus, that two Negatives make an Affirmative, can only be from custom. Indeed, did Men follow the true Concatenation of Thought, and were they not more Artful than Wise; two Negatives were Nonsense. So what need have we of the puzzle of Contrary, Subcontrary, Subaltern, and Contradictory; is it not to maze us?  
So when two Dispute, is it not much easier to bring all to the Test of a plain Contradiction to find Truth, than to stand quibbling, Quidam homo est doctus, quidam homo non est doctus? Indeed, as Cornelius Agrippa well reflects, Logical Terms and Niceties are like the Trojan Horse, which though not powerful enough to enter by force of Reasoning, yet when once admitted, and taken for granted, will at least baffle and destroy your Cause, by their starched and empty Formality.  
And yet this we must needs grant of Arguments in general, that they are as much better for the growth of Wisdom, than Lectures as many Heads are than one. As the Understanding is more lively when whetted and sharpened by Contention, than when flat in its self; but yet your single Discourses are better than Disputes, when debauched to a perverse Wrangling: And hence, how often have our wisest men reflected on the Formality of Syllogysms?  
In the infancy of Philosophy indeed, such a show of Wisdom were tolerable; but such Pedantry at these days, that the two or three first Years of a University Students time, should be spent on such Trash, as I remember too well, is intolerable.  
In short, therefore as nothing but Perverseness and Malice can come from Contention and Wrangling; so if you dispute, let nothing provoke or confound you. Is your Adversary hot? be calm and slow; measure your Words as it were by the Pendulum of a Clock. Is he interrupting and violent? Let him alone; 'tis easy after an hours Discourse by three or four words quite to confound him, if he is in an Error; and remember there is a way to Answer short and smart.  
But as in Set-Disputes, for the better progress, we ought to limit each one's share to a proposition or two at a time. Thus suppose it were only by Enthymems, that we entertained our Disputes; so we ought never to admit of Metaphors or Similes in a rigid Argument; to let a man dispute us so, is to let him fight in a Cloud, when he ought to appear on equal Terms, and naked; and so to grant the least point in dispute wrongfully, is a confusing Folly; and so not to be able to reduce your Argument to particulars; what is it, but to make it recoil in its self?  
Are you in a Dispute therefore, and do you find your Adversary perversely through a Spirit of Wrangling, to withstand you in clear and evident Principles of Truth? Never suffer him to move you to further Argument after that. If you have no Moderator, cease for good and all, standing firmly and eternally on the first Error. He that admits the least corner of a false Foundation, forgets that his whole Building will surely fall by means of it; and besides, that Sophistry in its self, is Devilish; and when it has other ends than a fair and candid search for Truth, is to be hated and avoided by all.  
Further in Arguments: Without you are sure to speak alone, and not to be interrupted, as in the Pulpit, never multiply Reasons; for since one or two is enough for Conviction, and sufficient most times for an honest Mind; to allege more, what is it but to leave room for Perverseness, and to give the better opportunity for Wrangling?  
But above all, in Disputes you must remember to proceed from Words to Sense; for 'tis in vain to argue, when you do not understand one another's Terms: Nor is it less necessary in your method to proceed first to some Fundamental Principles, such as Self-Preservation, Demonstration, etc. To think of arguing otherwise, is weak and foolish; and though one would explode and banish the Formality of Syllogisms, yet if one takes away the method of Reasoning of clearing first Terms, and granting first Principles, one had better never speak than argue; for it must be endless.  
I proceed to the last part of Logic or Method.   

Of Method.  
Several Subjects and several Genius's delight in several Methods; in which case, what is clearest and easiest to all, is undoubtedly the best. 'Tis a fault in Method to give more Labour than Benefit. Method is for Matter, and not Matter for Method. I must confess, as to general Learning, I wholly esteem Essays, first, as by their short and pithy fullness, they are more apt and assistant to a complete Judgement: And, Secondly, as by their looseness, they are most ready for Corrections and Additions.  
To write too largely of a Subject, scatters and distracts the Sight, and to write too little of it, leaves determination to a Lottery: The best method therefore is to be short and full, to give most large and ample general Directions, and to leave the judgement to manage lesser Corollaries, Particulars, and Consequences; and as for the advantage of such good Methods, 'tis scarce expressible; you will not think how gently, and with what ease, even the difficultest parts of Wisdom well ranged, will lie in our minds by it.  
And in this one may justly say of Knowledge, the Diamond or Jewel is not immediately ready so soon as it is got; it wants polishing and trimming, yea, and beautifying, and setting at last also: And even so in Wisdom, the Labour is not inconsiderable, even after it is gotten and obtained, by exact Method and Order, to address it, and set it out to the best advantage.  
In truth, Method is not much less considerable than Matter its self; 'tis obvious every day to observe how much deliberate and orderly proceeding, confounds even truth when irregular. Indeed, Method is a sort of Truth, and Confusion a Lie, and as generally Men judge of the Cause by the Proceedings, by a kind of precipitancy and haste in Judgement; so those truths had need be very bright, that can shine and command attention, under the vail and disguise of Disorder.  
As for the form of Method in General, 'tis best to pursue the Order of Fact, and to connect all the parts of the Discourse duly; thus to acquaint Men first with the Informing, or Explaining part, that they may know the better how, and to what to bind their Attention, and then to proceed to the several Parts of Discourse, as they best agree together; and there to take care that nothing be either wanting or abound, but to make every part of the Discourse agreeable and suitable to the Main End.   

Of Genesis and Analysis.  
But that you may the better Skill how to form a Subject into exact method, I shall here present you with the Pattern of an exact Genesis and Analysis; in which case, the right forming of a Subject in Discourse, is called, the Genesis; and the Anatomy or Dissolution of it to its prime Heads the Analysis; the Head dividing we call the Genus; the Heads divided till they come to Particulars Species; but when Particulars, as Peter, Paul, John, etc. Individuals.  

Notions. 

Abstracted. 

Ideas 

Pure  
Relative.    
Words, Discourses.    
Real. 

Vniversals of 

GOD,  
creature, 

Body,  
Spirit.    
WORLD.    
Particular 

Substance, 

Animate,— 

Rational. 

Peter,  
james,  
john.    
Sensitive, 

Exanguious. Infects. 

Sanguineous. 

Beast,  
Bird,  
Fish.          
Vegetative. 

Imperfect, as 

Stone,  
Metal      
Perfect. 

Herb,  
Shrub,  
Tree.            
Accident. 

Quantity 

Magnitude,  
Space,  
Measure.    
Quality, and so either 

Habit,  
Manner,  
Natural Power,  
Sensible quality,  
Sickness.      
Action 

Mixed,  
Simple. 

Corporeal,  
Spiritual.      
Relation, 

Private, or Oeconomical i● 

Possession,  
Provision.    
Public 

Ecclesiastic,  
Civil 

Judicial,  
Military,  
Naval.         
As an Ingenious Author well observes, Algebra is the Pinnacle of Argumentation, and Analitica is the Gage of men's Parts; and, in which case, though several Discourses may be equally adorned in being Florid; yet 'tis only by the Analysis, or Anatome, that you are able to discern the Wisdom, and the Solid Matter, and Composure of a Treatise.  
Nota, If you would see the exact Distribution of such an Analysis, through all Subjects, you must peruse Dr. Wilkins' Universal Character, and Alsted's Encyclopaidion, where you have an unspeakable Variety in it.    

Of ANGER.  
THere is an Anger from Pride, and an Anger from Complexion more excusable, but surely neither tolerable when raised to a Passion.  
The Picture of a full Passioned Anger is a Tiger bathed in Blood, assailing, fierce, cruel and inexorable: And can any Provocation then justify a Vice so inhuman, and barbarous?  
As Seneca says, Anger appears like ruin, which breaks its self upon all it falls. While the Man in Anger is out of possession of his own Mind, he's like the vexed Bee, that stings all, nay equally the next unconcerned Person, as his Enemy: Annimamque in vulnere ponit.  
But above all, Malice and a settled Hatred are most pernicious. If Anger is able to endanger our Quiet and Safety; What must Malice do? Surely a settled Anger, or Malice, must needs tear up the very Roots of Humane Society.  
Besides, Anger leaves neither room nor mercy for failty or mistake. Be there but a possibility that the Adversary is in the right, yet is the Angry Man in a temper to consider and do him Justice.  
The Scripture says, Be Angry and sin not. Learn to turn the course of your Anger therefore, and instead of showing a bitterness, and an irrevocable resentment of Indignation, learn the Courage to change it to Pity.  
Above all, beware of revealing Secret, and of Bitter Words, whether Railing or satire in your Anger; For why should you be perfidious in the one case, and add needless fuel to an unreasonable fire in the other?  
Alas! Man is such a touchy thing, and yet so unconstant, that almost all his Passions depend upon his opportunity and temper. To day he bears Abuse, without measure; and, to morrow, every circumstance of Contempt and Reputation whets the Edge of his Resentment.  
Undoubtedly therefore, Anger is the Child of Weakness and Baseness. Is it agreeable to a well-balanced temper and courage, and a due resolution, to make even desperate efforts of resentment for trifles?  
Women, Children, Sick Men, and Old Folks, we may justly allow them to be Angry, as fit Subjects for the Weakness of Passion; but Men should be above it, and learn to make others tremble, while themselves stand unmoved: The Superlative Courage answers to Aquila non capit muscas.  
To be short; Are you provoked? therefore Repeat the Alphabet; nay, rather by't off your Tongue, then let him make it a Billinsgate-Scuffle for you; not only for the ungenerousness of it, I mean; but when you begin with evil words, Do you know what actions they may lead you to?   

Of MURDER.  
HE that intends to avoid Murder, must shun violent Anger also, or else he may set his Guard too late. Can you reasonably expect to stop the stream, that you are not able to keep within its banks?  
The Scripture says, He that hates his Brother is a Murderer. And you see, not without a cause; if we once let Vice get the Reins in managing our Actions, Need we wonder that we are to Answer for all the Consequences thereof?  
The Laws of God and Man allow us even to kill another in our own defence; nay, whether Chastity, or a Limb be only threatened; yet even then we are excusable: But shall I destroy my Brother for a Blow, or an Affront only?  
What though mine Enemy is desperate in his Malice, yet shall I meanly distrust the Providence of God in my Protection, so as to kill him for it therefore?  
But above all, the Self-murderer is the most stupidly presumptuous. What, shall I fly in the Face of my Maker, because of his Trials of Patience, and other Virtues, nay, and for which he has Promised to Reward me in another World?  
What, now that I am as Gold in the Furnace to be tried, will I rather Rebel against his Will? nay, and if I do, What can I think my God to be, either Rational or Just, and not expect but that as he at first gave me a Talon of Life, so he will Resuscitate it again to an unhappy Immortality for my contempt of him?  
The World, I know, has Sainted some Self-murderers, as for Chastity, and otherwise: But can the World excuse such shuffles to the Masculine Trials of God's Afflictions? Are we to live and die to God, or to Fantome Honour, and Humour?  
To be short; 'Tis easy and light to die: The Women in some Countries burn in Compliment, with their Deceased Husbands; And what then, shall we be less grateful to the Lord of Life, who pretend to be of the Nobler Sex?   

OF REVENGE.  
REvenge is to be Rooted out as Wild Justice. A first wrong does but offend the Law, but Revenge puts the Law out of Office: Surely when Government is once established, Revenge belongs to none but the Law and God.  
And yet the Vice of Revenge shall not keep me from a lawful Resentment; nay, I am as strongly bound to Self-preservation, as against Revenge; and even St. Paul would not refrain Appealing to Caesar to Redress his Injuries.  
So the same Christ that bid us turn the one Cheek when the other was smitten, yet could himself Whip out those that defiled the Temple: And even so I, while I bear another's Injuries, through mistake or frailty, surely I may well choose to refuse to let him slave me by it.  
'Tis true, Providence can reign in even the furiousest Tyrants, to Protect us, but shall that Enthusiastically make me surrender myself a Prey to corrupt Men?  
But has my Brother, as I have said, injured me through inadvertency, or reputes? 'tis noble to forgive him; Revenge would equal us, but Pardon makes me Superior; and besides, is it prudent to rub a Sore to keep it from healing?  
So, Does your Enemy Vow to be revenged on you? Answer him, I Vow I will persuade you to be better Minded if I can. Whatever others are, Can that excuse you of your invincible Christian Charity?  
To conclude, I will dread Revenge where I have injured my Brother; but when I have offered him Reparation, I'll force myself through a Christian Magnanimity to Satisfaction and Content, and only be sorry my Brother has so much Malice as to be my Enemy.   

OF REFORMATION.  
ARt thou sorry, my Friend, that Christians have such Variances and different Ideas? Thou art sorry then because they are not Angels: for, as we are Men, we cannot but Err; and if we Err, 'tis impossible but that we must differ. What remains then to Reconcile us, or preserve Peace, but Charity? Divine Charity! let us follow that therefore, and not seem to quarrel with God, because he has not made us otherwise. In truth, Were the Apostles themselves ever free from little Animosities, Acts 15. 38, 39  
Think of this therefore, my Friend, and pity Mankind in their Weakness; do not enter into Contention, but bear with a Mercy like God's; nor despair, but do all that thou canst to Reform them; nor be angry if they are not exact, for 'tis more than Human to be so: Nay, if thy Designs miscarry, be not discouraged, for thou must do thy best always, and yet expect still that God work his own way. Remember what Luther said to Melancton, when he was too anxious about the success of the late great Reformation, Desinat Melancton esse rector mundi: Why should Melancton take upon him the Cares proper to God? For though Man may Reason even Divinely, yet 'tis only God that can give Conviction, and dissolve the stubborn Heart.  
Besides, as a Rational Man, I may modestly give my Advice to Reform the World, as 'tis every Man's Duty, where he lawfully may and can: But I am presumptuous against all the Laws of Nature, if I seek to Impose it on others. Is the World Corrupt? why, and even my very Knowledge of its Corruption is uncertain: And how dare I then presume too freely to be its Reformer? I may do well to Pray to God to Inspire apt Persons in a lawful way therefore, or else I sin; that with my known weak Performances I increase the Confusion.  
You think what you would enforce thus, may be of use and benefit; and it may be so; But will you on the hazard of that presume on all the Consequences of your Proceedings, and how far you may stir up others to disturb the Peace by it? Nay, speak from your Conscience, Do not you often vary even in your own thoughts, and with yourself? And can you expect then to set up a better Sect than some already are? Or if you can, Can you assure yourself the benefit will exceed the Blood and Divisions that may be occasioned by it?  
Alas! our best and only method to reconcile these our Differences in Religion, is, by setting up, or imposing nothing on no hand, but reassuming the Ancient and Apostolic Liberty; more especially a compliance is fairly and humbly to be desired, where most likely, and where there is most Judgement; and therefore I may add, that if the Magistracy to whom we ought to address in this case, and who ought to be the strong Trespass on their weaker Brethren, by imposing on them, though never so innocently, the People will hardly ever be induced to a submission to it, though never so reasonable, be it almost only for the very Imposition sake.  
But for Private Reformers, and Quacks in Religion, Who shall set any bounds to their Giddy Methods? In truth, one may say of all such Men, that they have rather Essayed than proceeded in any thing like a Reformation, while the Imperfect Embryo has turned to a Monster in the Womb: Alas! the best of them have not said sufficient Fundamental Precepts to support or continue it by; and, in truth, when I consider this, I wonder not that their Flocks go astray, when even as the Poet Sings, Their Guides themselves know not the Way.  
Besides, I have a fair System, says one, and a second sets up another, and so infinitely, etc. And pray what must the State do in this Matter? She is in equal Peril if she disregard either, and all have an equal right to her Hearing: Nay, one tells her, she is Jure Divino; a Second, That she has the Spirit; A Third, The Dominion is founded in Grace; And a Fourth, translates the Supremacy: In short, all would fain make the State a Property, and Rescue the Sword out of her Hand.  
If She accept one, She's Damned by the rest; and if She accepts none, like young Vipers, rather than fail of their Birth, they'll eat through their Mother's Womb: And what then, ought She not to crush such Cockatrice's Eggs in the Embryo, and confound their Sanctified Treasons for God's sake? And so, if She suffer them to Clamour each other, She's in danger even by that also. So that till you can convince us Mankind will never disagree in Reasoning these Methods and Principles of Reformation so apparently against the Peace of States; must needs be Seditious and Unlawful, and after that I need not add Irreligious.  
You say, alas! what you do or propose has none of these Evils in it; you do not think to give any General Disturbance, or to offend the State: But why do you Write then what She will not bear, and Publish Doctrines without Her Licence? Either you Write to be regarded, or not; you are not so ridiculous I am persuaded, as to say the latter; if not, can you assure yourself to Rule all your Followers, to say, thus far you shall go, and no further? or, if you are so ridiculous to think so, Is the State bound to believe you, and sit still while you Sow your Seeds of Discord in her Bowels? No, from a small Spark may rise a mighty Flame: And they who will not destroy the Lion's Whelp, may strive in vain when the Lion's Grown.  
Besides, we forget our Saviour's Advice, That we ought first to cast aught the beam out of our own eye, before we can expect to see how to cast out the mote out of our Brother's: And hence, methinks, considering the Corruption of the World, 'twere hard to expect a Reformation Perfect, semel & simul, especially without the Immediate Power of God; and yet, methinks, we might all have had the Wit in Common, not to be offended at Trifles, and to have Joined against the Roman Wolf: But alas! our New Reformers are Reformed into as great Errors of their own, and our Corruptions will not let us Unite.  
But you will Object then, What, is it never lawful to Reform Publicly, but when the State will give you leave? No, surely: And, in truth, Can you justly desire it? Can you value your little private Opinions before the Public Good? you see plainly, that if this Liberty of Zeal be allowed, it must Destroy the State: The case than is, Which must stand, Religion or Government? I mean your little Model of Religion, or the State? Surely, as Populous as the World now is, we had better have none of your Religion, than no Government: And therefore if we consult the Good of God's Creation, we ought rather to omit our little Speculations, than Disturb the State with them.  
Besides, if every Prejudiced Reasoner were allowed of himself to Disturb the State, and to set up a New Religion, Would it not rather Distract than Help the World? But, no, you say, you are sure you are in the Right: No, you are Proud: What! Did you never err? and if you did, What Assurance have you that you do not now? Nay more; were you sure you had even the Standard of Truth; yet ought you not to take this Liberty? Not, I mean, that any Man can reach that Perfection; but to Anticipate all Proud Thoughts, I say, we ought to forbear such a Liberty: For what, Might not many Men think they might justly leave your Standard Truth, and yet follow your Presumption.  
Nay, and if I undertake to reform Men, and know I can do it but Imperfectly, What do I do by it, but give Offence? Christ refrained Doctrines, because Men could not bear them, though he knew how to Instruct them: And what shall we Essay then to Teach, what not only Men cannot bear, but what we know not how to instruct? I would Reform the World therefore, but I would not put it into a greater Confusion: I would put my Neighbour's House in Order; but, I would not Fire it about his Ears. And what do I do otherwise, if I so much as Countenance every little Reasoning to be able Saucily to Disturb the State? Farewell Government! farewell every thing! If this may be allowed, who shall stint how high such Liberty may arise, and what Effects it may produce? Nay, may be at last, even to resist the Government its self, on pretence of unlawful process against such Reasoning, and consequently to Anarchy?  
Nor is it enough in such case to say, that the State is bound to see, that they prohibit nothing but what is unlawful; for as Good and Evil in this case is doubtful, so the State ought therein to have an entire Power or Liberty given them, or else you had as good take all Power from them whatever; when alas! in truth, as I have said, 'twere better there were no Printing than no Government; and no humane Teaching, or religious Instruction, than no Laws.  
Government is the great and only humane Foundation of Religion: To destroy Government therefore, or to disturb it, without a particular Revelation to advance Religion, What is it but to tear up the Foundation for Materials to raise the Building? nor is it enough in such case, to say, that you have a Charity for men's Souls, and that such Opinions are damnable. For pray, how come you to judge so of Opinions? or what, have you got a particular Warrant to show us, That God has flung all the Care of the World on your Shoulders?  
If Christ's, or any others Revelation, have threatened the wilfully ignorant or perverse, yet where is your Warrant either to limit exactly their Damnatory Sentences, or to raise new ones of your own? If you modestly and peaceably offer your sense in such case, you oblige Mankind in reforming them, and they are engaged to you for your Charity. But if you endeavour either by Might or Calumny to force them, may they not most justly ask? And why have we not the same Right of force on you also?  
But you say, your Zeal to God moves you; Does it so? And how are you sure that it does not move others as well as you? Besides, that's strange too; Can the God of the World be better pleased that you destroy his Creation, than that you omit every little Speculation that you think will tend to his Honour? And what do you do otherwise, when that you but endeavour so dangerous a Work, as thus violently to innovate either in State or Religion, against the leave of the Government?  
You say, God has wrought Deliverances by such Reformers; sometimes 'tis true, and so he has by Tyrants and Usurpers also: But must that justify their Methods? or what think you, that God cannot stir up Reformers where he sees good, without our presumption?  
Men should therefore think it enough, that they are so happy as to have freedom in themselves, and thank God that they have the Truth; and if they have a Charity for the World, they should show it regularly, and in Prayers, that God might send as lawful & real Reformers; and not thus pragmatically confound us by such unaccountable Presumptions of their own.  
And besides, scarce one in the hundred of such Reformers, but what have miscarried; and if ever any have got Success in remedying Evils, they have too often promoted new ones, and as bad of their own, if not degenerated again to the first State; so that at best, generally they have done more hurt than the good proposed. And, thus we see how many have reformed of their own heads, and we see the effects of such Reformations, instead of reducing the Church to a Primitive Purity; by them they have but rend her into uncharitable and senseless Divisions, worse I may almost add, than even Popery herself.  
In short, Can I expect to prevent all Corruptions in myself? or if I am so proud as to think, I can, am I able to do it in my Followers? if I cannot, therefore before I hazard the mischief of a Change, let me consider to what degree of good I can expect to Reform? nay more, may not God be willing, that this Generation should have just such a Dispensation of Knowledge? and what, shall I cross Providence then, or destroy myself to reform Mankind, whether they will or no?  
God allows you to reprove personal Vices where ever you see them provided, but consistent with your safety; and so national ones also, where you are not in danger. But when a Man or Nation becomes so unhappy as to turn again, and rend you for your kindness, methinks you might rejoice that you are quit of your Office, in leaving them to reform themselves. And thus also, there is a lawful Liberty for Writers, and there is an abuse of it; and there is a convenient Liberty of suppressing Books by a State, and a pernicious one: And thus it is either the misfortune or the wickedness of a State to suppress those Books that might give them good Advice. But if it is either, who shall call the State to account for what it does?  
But to turn the method of mine Argument a little: Am I not presumptuous to go before God sends me? And who has required these things at mine hand? And indeed, were God resolved to have such a Reformation, might not I as rationally expect he would empower some person orderly in his Providence towards it, as he has done before, through Moses and Christ, without my presumptuously going of my own head?  
And indeed, were not this God's instituted method, Why should God complain, that men came that were not sent, and threaten them for it, as he does by his Prophets, if it were no Offence? and the common mission of the Law of Nature were sufficient, in truth a warrant that needs no more to confute it, than to consider: Should every man take the full liberty of it, what a World it would make?  
Not that I would mean from hence, Neither that the Law of Nature is not sufficient to direct every man privately in his Duty: I am not so much a Pyronist as that comes to neither. Nay, I think, that by the light of Nature, and the common Assistance of God's Spirit in our Consciences, we may very justly take the liberty to advise and reprove one another; yea, and more that publicly too, when the Law prohibits not. But as I have said, Shall this general Commission only Authorize us to be idle to other things, to teach others, or endanger the Public Quiet or Peace by it? Surely we need a Warrant from God, like Christ and his Apostles, as well as a bare Conviction of Consciences, to proceed thus far?  
But you will say, this is cowardly, and not to the bravery of a Martyrdom. I say, it is: For tho' every man is bound to stand to the truth, and confess it, even to death; yet no man is bound to preach it, or spread it to this degree, till he has a Call to it; nor is it enough to say in this case, That because Christ would not let him be silenced, that preached in his Name, that therefore we may follow him without some order; for if God will not destroy our Trials, so as forcibly to obstruct us in our Ignorances', yet he does not therefore require us to continue in them.  
Thus even Christ, did not go about purposely to preach publicly, till he had the Warrant and Protection of a Mission; nor did Moses or Elijah hazard themselves till God commanded them: And what, would I seem braver than they? Would God have chosen Moses, if his flight for being a Deliverer, had been Cowardice and not Duty? Surely not; and that because the Apostles lived and continued in this hazard, was withal, because they were sent.  
In short then, should I not be a Self-murderer to run myself into the fire? and should I not forfeit God's Protection from Enthusiasm, to arrogate Spiritual Power, and to pretend to be a Guide where I am not? What, can God order me to live by Miracle without express notice? nay, and am not I an Enthusiast, to run myself even into the very jaws and pit of Destruction, in hopes of his Help, and that even in inevitable Dangers?  
And indeed, what has made God let so many well designing Men be sacrificed in this case, but Presumption? And if I attempt any such thing therefore of myself, can I expect either to far better, or have other success? In truth, if I do, thus I go of my own Errand, and I must not expect the protection of God to bear me out; nor will it be enough for me to suggest in such case, that such an Error is considerable, or not; for if we admit that, we admit all; for all Immoralities are equally pernicious, and the least were no more to be born with than the greatest.  
Nor indeed is the Vice of such a seditious Practice worse than the Vanity of it: Am not I an unstable doubting thing myself? and how can I expect then that I, as the Blind, should be able to lead the Blind? When I am commissioned from God indeed, I may justly presume on his Warrant, or else my Fallibility will make me a Deceiver, though never so sincere.  
It is the real Duty of every man therefore to say, I will not move an inch beyond private Advice, till God shall give me Authority; nay more, no faint Dream or Vision shall empower me, and all the presumptions of this nature, that I have been guilty of before, shall remain as Monuments in my Memory, to keep me from the like for the future.  
Indeed, may I say, is it not a ridiculous thing, to see a little petty Reformer fond of his trifling imaginations, and really ignorant of the true state and nature of Religion; neither knowing of what nature Catholic Communion is, nor what is the guilt either of Heresy or Schism, blindly to run himself and others into amaze, that he no more knows how to get out of again, than how first he got into it: Alas! what a miserable Spectacle may I add it is, when such men take fire into their Zeal, and lay a necessity, either that they destroy the State, or the State them.   

But this ESSAY being on a Subject somewhat singular, I have thought fit to add a Passage of the Incomparable Archbishop of Canterbury's, much to the same effect; to confirm it, see Tillotson's Sermons, Vol. the 3d. p. 372.  
AND to speak freely in this matter, I cannot think (till I be better informed, which I am always ready to be) that any pretence of Conscience warrants any Man that is not extraordinarily commissioned, as the Apostles, and first Publishers of the Gospel were; and cannot justify that Commission by Miracles, as they did, to affront the Established Religion of a Nation, though it be false; and openly to draw men off from the Profession of it, in contempt to the Magistrate and the Law. All that persons of a different Religion can in such a case reasonably pretend to, is to enjoy the private Liberty and Exercise of their own Conscience and Religion; for which they ought to be very thankful, and to forbear the open making of Proselytes to their own Religion (thou they be never so sure that they are in the right) till they have either an extraordinary Commission from GOD to that purpose, or the Providence of GOD make way for it, by the permission or connivance of the Magistrate; not but that every man hath a right to publish and propagate the true Religion, and to declare it against a false one: But there is no obligation upon any man to attempt this to no purpose; and when without a Miracle, it can have no other effect, but the loss of his own life, unless he have an immediate Command and Commission from God to this purpose, and be endued with a Power of Miracles, as a public Seal and Testimony of that Commission which was the case of the Apostles, who after they had received an immediate Commission, were not to enter upon the Execution of it, but to stay at Jerusalem till they were endued with Power from on high. In this case a man is to abide all hazards, and may reasonably expect both extraordinary Assistances and Success, as the Apostles had, and even a miraculous Protection till his work be done; and after that, if he be called to suffer Martyrdom, a supernatural Support under those Sufferings.  
And that they are guilty however of gross Hypocrisy, who pretend a further Obligation of Conscience in this matter: I shall give this plain demonstration, which relys upon Concessions, generally made on all Hands, and by all Parties; No Protestant, that I know of, holds himself obliged to go and preach up his Religion, and make Converts in Spain or Italy; nor do either the Protestant Ministers, or Popish Priests think themselves bound in conscience to preach the Gospel in Turkey, and to confute the Koran to convert the Mahometans; and what is the reason? because of the severity of the Inquisition in Popish Countries, and of the Laws in Turkey; but doth the danger then alter the obligation of Conscience? no certainly; but it makes men throw of the false pretence and disguise of it: but where there is a real obligation of Conscience, danger should not divert men from their Duty, as it did not the Apostles: which shows their case to be different from ours, and that probably this Matter was stated right at first; so that whatever is pretended, this is certain, That the Priests and Jesuits of the Church of Rome, have in truth, no more obligation of Conscience to make Converts here in England, than in Sueden or Turkey, where it seems, the evident Danger of the Attempt hath for these many years given them a perfect Discharge from the Duty in this particular.   

Of WIT.  
THE common abusive Wit, what is it but the crude Digestion and Excrement of Reasoning? What can I call a Talking Thing, when the truth and sincerity of its Judgement is gone, but a Parrot at best?  
To Ridicule, to Droll, to Banter, etc. what, are all such Contentious Railleries', either to be commended or used for? is the best of them agreeable either to Sense, Justice, or good Manners?  
In short, Raillery is a false Theatre Jewel; and whereas true Wit stirred up, does Wonders, and becomes as a Cordial to alleviate the Cares of humane Life. Raillery confounds and embitters all.  
Besides, such little peddling Satirists can't show themselves without the company of Blockheads, and yet not but that they will rather sometimes be speaking evil, even of themselves, and their best of Friends, than not talking.  
But are not all such Scoffers then taken deservedly as common Enemies? nay, and are any more ridiculous than such, to men of sense, especially when they are unmasked, or as the Player, ere he is in his Disguise?  
But as for real Wit, there are undoubtedly many pretty things, which the mind searches not, and yet finds in its self; it seems they are hidden there, as Gold and Diamonds in the Bowels of the Earth, and which when produced, even dazzle and enamour all Mankind with their lustre.  
And yet, there is a general Revolution of Wit, that changes its Fashions, as well as the Fortunes of the World; and whilst all her little Idolaters to magnify themselves, support her in them, they too often sacrifice their very judgement in compliment to her.  
Politeness of Wit in general, is a frame of Mind, as always presents us with things genteel and delicate; and gallantry of Wit, what is it but an easy way to please, whilst as for its deceits, they are as many and various?  
Thus, 'tis not fruitfulness of Wit, which makes us find out many Expedients in one Affair; but 'tis rather a darkness in the Understanding, which makes us lay hold on all that Imagination presents, and hinders us from seeing presently what is proper for us.  
To be short, 'tis the Character of a great Wit, to make a great many things be understood in a few words; and in recompense of it, I may say, the little Wits have a Talon of talking much, and saying nothing.  
To conclude, the general Excellency of Wit is in diversion, and on a ready turn, while its mischiefs are, that its Delicacy is too often apt to destroy the laboriousness of Consideration, and its lightness to offend in Seriousness and Business.   

Of REWARDS.  
GOD has put it in the power of Princes to encourage us by Rewards: Punishment and Revenge whets but on one side of the Edge of Virtue, unless Rewards be added to sharpen the other.  
Nor is it less the duty than interest of great Men, in such case, to bestow such Rewards duly. Surely, neither an Aesop nor Socrates should be neglected, if we would encourage Goodness and Virtue truly.  
You give your Pimp his hire, & he in gratitude, like Timon's Friends, seeks thy ruin to be rid of the Obligation; had he any real worth, he would rather starve than pimp for thee: Can he be faithful to his King, that is not so to the King of Kings?  
So surely, to give for a Jest or a Trifle also, is to be prodigal, and not reward; but alas! how often are true Abilities and Merits suppressed, lest their Lustre should eclipse the false Lights and Deceits of the World?   

Of PEDANTRY.  
THere is a common and lazy Asilum in Learning, Ars longa vita brevis; men's Judgements are so dazzled with the Curiosity, the Fine Dresses and Excursions of Authors, that they think Learning as bad as infinite; and lazily and sluggishly rest in a confused view, in despair of all Perfection. But why? because they know not how to separate the Gold from the Dross, and to encumber themselves only with what is really material.  
I must confess my Genius is too hardy to approve of Trifles; and as I hate all Superfluicies, so such little Formalities have been of no annoyance to me: I have flung aside all such Embroidery of Science as Nonsense; I cannot bear what cannot be digested to use; my Reader therefore must excuse my freedom, if I have laid aside all such loser Thoughts, as Deluding Chicanery and Speciousness, and presented him only with the main and solid Substance. But to proceed:  
Among the rest therefore, 'tis the particular work of this present Essay, to show wherein such trifling Pedantry consists, and that is it I am now to Write of.  
Now, First, As the Chief among these Disguises may be reckoned our Terms of Art, the Cant of Learning, that makes Trifles Mysteries, and obscures even common Sense, the rise whereof, one may justly say, is all Hypocrisy; we would magnify our Reasoning, and we would rather, like Gipsies, be shrewd for our Gibberish, than nothing.  
So for our Distinctions also; how preposterous it is to set up Terms of Art paramount to Sense; Terms to Sense ought to sit like clothes to the Body, Usefully and Ornamentally; but never so as to cramp its motion; So, What a Senseless thing 'tis to Explicate by Distinction that, that is obvious to every Reason? An admirable way to reduce Learning to Studied Ignorance and Trifling, but the only course to divert the real growth of Wisdom.  
For my part, Words are my Counters, and I make my own Criticisms on them; surely if a Notion make me wrest a word a little, Terms may well bear a compliance to Arts: If besides the weight of Sense, you bind an Author to the nice and endless Criticisms of Words, you are unreasonable; if my Meaning be good therefore, surely you may well inquire a little into my peculiar Sense of Words, and then you leave me a freer liberty for Invention, and to digest my Matter.  
Nor were even the Teaching of Arts and Sciences in this matter difficult neither, were they but reduced from Pedantry, a little time would suffice; while 'tis the Weight and Formality of our Rules, that not only ruins the Perfection of our Ideas, but obstructs their Communication also. Thus, what but this has made Cornelius Agrippa and many others rail at their vanity in General; not that I think them in the Right neither; for surely, that Abusus tollit usum is a most Barbarous Maxim, and we should rather Reform Wisdom, than fling her quite aside for it.  
So amongst the rest, one of the greatest Blemishes of Learning is, that Men have made her stoop to Trifles; so that when a Man comes and expects to find something, as it were Divine, instead of Philosophy, he is entertained with their Picking of Straws, Notions so idle, and yet so particular and superfinely nice, that they seem rather designed for petty Jugling-Tricks, to puzzle idle Wits withal, than to be of any real use or benefit.  
And from whence but hence comes that common, but too true Reflection, that the most exquisite Folly is made of Wisdom spun too fine; and we are never made so ridiculous by the Qualities we have, as by those we affect to have; and indeed one may justly add, that Pedantry is the very Plague and Contagion of Learning, that diverts and mortifies all good Parts, with the pretence of assisting them.  
'Twere an Heroic Act therefore, would some Prince dissolve these Cobwebs in our Voluminous Rubbish Libraries; and by a select Committee, collect, perfect, gelled, and reduce them into a manageable and useful form: I should rejoice, could this my little Rationale be subservient to so excellent a purpose: But, alas! I am afraid this is a matter we must rather range under the desideranda studii, than really expect.  
And, in truth, the Fault is rather in the Will than the Understanding; alas! Men will not reduce their Sciences to Purity, and to Sincerity and Truth, their Prejudices will not let them; they are afraid of the Light, because their Deeds are Evil. Our Sciences indeed ought to repair the pure Image of God that we have lost, and they would too, did we pursue them right; but we make use of them only to lead ourselves into greater Darkness.  
You see therefore I have the Fire of the greatest Charity to spur me on herein; nor is there any difficulty to demonstrate the usefulness of my Design: How many ingenious Men would not only have been good Scholars, but exceeding serviceable to their Country also, were but Learning to be achieved with a due case; whereas, as it is now, in a despair, they leave it to a pack of Perverse and Wrangling Sophisters to make their ends of it, while Mankind suffers equally by their Villainy and Ignorance?  
Like a good Physician; An honest Man cannot pretend to that Knowledge he has not; while the Quack, that knows little or nothing, will Swear you, he is infallible: the one, if you converse him, shall acquaint you, Learning is at her Perfection; whilst the other modestly shall let you know, that his industrious Labours have found it imperfect; nay, so far, that he questions almost in Conscience, whether he may use the little Skill of his Profession.  
So if you examine Men of integrity, the common Idea of the Arts and Sciences, as they now stand, is a Sea of Learning, and hardly ever to be Fathomed; they'll tell you, Our Books run in Formal Tracks in Quest of them, but never take care of their full and true Reasoning; that's a Gulf that few or none have been so hardy as to dive after.  
And yet even this has not discouraged me; I have resolved to hint at least, at the Leading Substance of all Arts and Sciences, not only towards the better completing a Body of Wisdom, but that I may be the better able to Censure what is impertinent in all. I hope my Reader will excuse me therefore, if when I see a Science drawn even Cobweb-fine, I inquire her Merits, as what portion of our Memory, or Judgement she really deserves; and that we may no longer imprudently squander away our pains in dividing Fractions, and Atoms to Infinity.  
Nor need a Man be accused of satire, to say, almost all our Sciences are Pedantry; indeed Science and Wisdom ought to be really one; but as Learning is now degenerated, 'tis as unnatural as uneasy; and he that will reduce it to its full power and substance, must envigorate it with brevity, and by docking it from its superfluous Pedantry.  
In truth, 'tis the Sphere of Wisdom only to give a general and clear Idea, and a Universal Prospect of the Sciences; fully to trace their nice particulars, were not only to be tedious and volumnious, but to cloud your clear and brighter leading Truth; whereas the general and leading Ideas, well fixed, will lead, of course, the lesser Corollaries. When a Prince gives an Ambassador Instructions, he only gives him General Orders; and even so Wisdom, whom she enlightens, she Teaches General Precepts; and Accidents, as too many for Instruction, for fear of a greater Confusion she leaves to Discretion.  
To be short; Both Arts and Sciences are then only good, when they are useful; when they Answer to our Service, and the Circle of Creatures about us; and even as a Watch, though it have Wheels, yet if the Teeth are not fit, and placed apt for Motion, is good for nothing: So Arts and Sciences not disposed for Practice, become, not only a Burden, but an idle Evil; nay, and indeed, as Piety is the only Rule for Arts, so, whatever is purely curious, is evil also: And what shall we say then to those, who Write Volumes about Genealogies, and whole Libraries of Notions purely Speculative? Do they not rather deserve an House of Correction, than a Reward for their Encouragement?  
As Hobbs well Notes, we have now but one true and real Science, to wit, the Mathematics, that begins well, lays down Principles sure, and proves its self, as it proceeds; and yet not, but that were other Arts and Sciences managed, as they should be, we should not let their Principles neither be so precarious as they are; but, founding them on Undoubted Truths, give them a certainty, at least, near equal to Demonstration.  
Nor is this little Cant less pernicious in our Languages and Schools, than our Sciences; I may add almost to turn our Reason to Madness. If Ovid does but cry, Omnia vincit amor, though the Sense and Words were but worthy of a Schoolboy; yet straight, by Pedant Spectacles, we are Ravished by an Elaborate and delicate Adage, with a lofty and incomparable stile, and purity of Language; nay, and a Mystery shall supply the Sense, rather than fail; and, as if the Sentence were delivered Personally by some God, and Mortals durst do no other than commend it.  
And thus also, Who can Write a Poem, but he must straight invoke the mighty Nine, the Muses, and by and by, we must have some Heathen Gods, Bacchus, Mars, Vulcan, or some one or other to Agrandize our Style, when, in truth, the surer Reason why they are brought in, is not so much in Conceit of the Elegancy, but that they are as lazy Topics to supply the imperfection of our Invention.  
But in Reality, What is it but to drive away Richer Notions from our Heads, to fill up our Discourses with such Formalities of the Furies, as Fatal Sisters, and the Graces, etc. we were pardonable, did we do like Hackney-letter Scriveners, who Write all Epistles in one Form, for that were to confess a Downright honest plain Sense: but we forsooth would strive to be Elegant, and to Charm the World by our Wits, when, at the same time, we ride none but the Hackny-fancies of Thousands of years standing.  
So, our Gods, Victory, Music, and such Hieroglyphical Statues and Emblems, are fit enough to set out the Great Mock-Prince at Versailes; but to imagine them Learning, or to think to get much out of their Story or Moral, surely is an impertinency too great for a Philosopher; or, at best, if we must value this petty Sapientia veterum; Can't we take the Substance of the Advice, and spurn away the little fairy Stories of their Gods.  
Nor do I think it a less Vanity, though more common, that Men, at every turn, must confirm what they say, with Stanza's from Virgil, etc. to make Men think they are skilled in the Poets; Alas! What is my Opinion the better for bringing sententiously every Man's Fancies to support what I Write? I say, let every Man's Work stand and fall by Reason, and by the mere dint and force of Justice, Sincerity, and Truth.  
So in Sciences also; What are your common little formal Analysses, wherewith they are Patched up, but Pedantry? And what your little set, and cramp Forms in them, but so many Mysteries and Blinds, to keep the Understanding from Truth? 'tis true indeed, such trifles hardly deserve to be taken notice of; and yet even trifling, when it appears in Formality and Method, deserves a Censure, nay, and that even to a Ridicule, lest at Weak times they prevail upon us, and by their mere Speciousness bias our Judgements; and yet not that they deserve to be Carped at, or Answered, so much as Laughed at.  
I have perused Alsted's long Enciclopaidion, sincere 'tis true, but besotted to all the little forms of Pedantry: there you have even all Mechanism reduced to Sciences; indeed Arts infinite, and Definitions and Niceties without end: in his Method seemingly short, yet too full for a ready recourse; nay, so Voluminous with Distinctions, Glosses, Philosophic Notes and Quotations, that to peruse him orderly, would, at least, require two years Work: And, is this, think you, a fit Body of Wisdom for use?  
Nay, I will say more for Alsted, though he handles all Subjects in General, yet in most particulars he is so excellent, that I know few single Treatises that exceed him, even at their own Mark; but especially in his Rhetoric; and yet for all that, they that can bear Pedantry in Piece-meal, will be even sick when they peruse his Mass of it, though never so Correct.  
To be short; his heaps of Analysses', and his incoherent Florilegiums, would even Distract a Man to Comprehend, or reduce them to use: I would as soon think to reduce the Ocean, as to bring in Order every one of his little Notions: Indeed, a Wisdom so nicely pursued in an Angel were somewhat, but in a Man, 'tis as if we would try to carry a Mountain on our backs, besides the Impertinency of it in a great many Parts: What, if a Melancholy Genius, Hag-ridden by an Art or Science, dwells, and raises Castles in the Air on it, Must I be bound to follow the Dance of his Frenzy?  
Nor would I be thus Uncharitable to quarrel at the Body of Learning, had I not, at the same time, essayed to make it more perfect; but now I hope I may be excused, that I endeavour to display its giddy confusion: Alas! What a Scene 'tis to see? here lies one Man confounded and sinking into Sceptism; another satiated like Cornelius Agrippa; sits down and spews up all that he has Read again, because he cannot digest it: Another Rails at, and Undervalues all, because 'tis so Intricate he cannot reach it.  
Hence nothing in the World confounds Wisdom like Pedantry; nay, and when Men are once seasoned with it, 'tis as hard for them to unlearn it, as it is to learn what is Real Knowledge; nay, to root out a rotten Leven of Principles, and to rectify formal Errors, is more difficult than to dive into Simple Knowledge; Natural Folly is bad enough in Man, but when he has got Letters and Sciences to maintain his Madness, his Frenzy is intolerable.  
But, alas! I am afraid, after all, I Write in vain; Men are so bewitched to the borrowed Sergeant Ornaments of Learning, that when the Devil Pedantry is cast forth, they will be even offended at the Innocent Simplicity of Wisdom, and slaved to their old Pageantry, they'll not be able to relish, even Substance, without their old Forms.  
Men delight to continue in the Maze they are Educated in, they hate to come to the Light of Truth; So that I may justly say, this One Accursed Knot of Pedantry has baulked all the Improvements and Amendments of Learning: So that when Men have once laid this rotten Foundation, because they are unwilling to bestow the pains to New-lay it, as Wisdom and Folly can never Piece together, so they run, like Sheep in a Flock. I have known Men following Meditation, hit of Truth exactly; but Pedants, like Wild-geese, follow one another in Trains, for fear of losing themselves; the Reason is, they have not Truth, nor any other Method to keep themselves in a Body, but to tread in one another's steps only.  
And hence all those that have pursued the Natural Powers of Reasoning sincerely, have even done Wonders; whilst Pedants, sneaking Pedants, whatever blind Path the first happens to enter, you shall see Ingenious Men, and even Men of Parts, afterwards make up the Specious Train of Fools.  
Nay, and I do not know whether I may not justly add, that as such Blunderers wander on, our Learning as we generally have it now, rather corrupts and disables, than helps or assists a Wise and Active Life of Employment: and I think, the Turks are the only Wise Men in this, in rejecting all our petty Sciences, since they are clogged so far with Artful Vice.  
And, to shut up all; Whence but from hence is it, that one cries Learning is infinite, and will trouble himself to know nothing: A Canter comes, and will only know Christ; he Rails at Archimedes for Dying in a Study; as if Man were not made to be Charitable and Serviceable to his Country, as well as to Worship God; and so all have Racked against one Rock or other, and not one in a Million has had the Courage to reach after the Haven of a True Humane Competency, or Perfection of Knowledge.   

Of PITY.  
WHat is Pity, but the sense of our own Miseries in another Subject; while we lament others, only to engage them to succour us on the like Occasion: Surely Pity therefore, for the most part, is but as a good turn done beforehand to ourselves.  
And thus, alas! an Hypocrisy is in all our Afflictions; we lament our dead Friend, But why? we weep for ourselves; we bewail the loss of our Pleasure, and Esteem, in the Person Deceased; So that I may truly say of most of our Tears, that they fall for them that shed them.  
At best, we are apt to respect the Misfortune more than the Cause or Person; the sad Spectacle prevails on us, and we Weep as Men Laugh, or Yawn for Company: But, deserves such a Pity as this then to be called a Virtue?  
So, some Weep to get the Reputation of a Tender Heart, others to avoid the Shame of not Weeping, or to be Weeped for again, while others aspire at Glory, through an Eminent and Immortal Grief; away with all these Deceits.  
Give me the Friendship that is not so weak as to be Soft-hearted, that has a tenderness as Lasting as Moderate for me: if I Dye, yet let my Friend be happy; Can his Anxiety bring me back from the Grave again?  
We can easily hear of others misfortunes, when at a distance from us; nay, and time abates the greatest of our proper Griefs; And why should we then, either through Weakness, or Hypocrisy, support that Concern and Passion that is manifestly so unaccountable and unreasonable?   

Of PARDON.  
HAs my Brother offended me? 'twas one he took for me; he's misinformed of me; And, What shall I leave no room for his Misunderstanding? No surely, I will have Mercy to the last: what shall I Condemn, where I am not sure that God does?  
Nay, nor is it less Christianly and Generous, than Prudent, to Pardon our Enemy: Christ could say, even on the Cross, Father forgive them, they know not what they do. And it makes Men Desperate, while we leave them no hopes of Forgiveness.  
Besides, Is it not Cowardice, either to have Malice, or seek for Security through Vicious Means? Have I Rivals? I have Society then worthy of myself. Have I Enemies? let my very good Behaviour reduce them to an esteem of me.  
But shall we forgive no body that offends us, either through surprise or mistake? Surely, than we shall no sooner forgive ourselves than others. St. Peter denied his Master, and St. Paul was a great Persecutor, and yet both the greatest Apostles.  
Certainly, God the Prototype may be our best of Examples in this. I will have mercy therefore to the last, but I will not destroy my Justice by passing by the Injuries I have received without Repentance; but who shall charge his Brother on mistakes?  
To forgive before Repentance, indeed is never to take offence; if such had been Christ's Doctrine, why should he have added, That if our Brother offend us, we should tell the Church of him? and that if on that he repent not, he be to us as an Heathen or a Publican.  
I may add, in this it is to be harmless as the Dove, and wise as the Serpent, to guard ourselves from known ill men; and yet, were mine Enemy the bitterest Villain on Earth, I would not only love him, but trust him again, were I assured of his Conversion.  
But shall I pardon out of necessity, or save a Murderer to cut my Throat? alas! 'tis Cowardice, not pardon, to pretermit without Repentance.  
To pardon in general is to encourage Vice; while there are Laws indeed, I will pass by Revenge, but the least escape of due punishment is unjust; and how can we forgive, where Mankind has the right of Vengeance against a Villain?  
Christ bids us indeed, to part with our Coat, and to go two Miles where compelled one, but to regulate a contentious Claim, and to preserve Peace, and not to destroy either Property or Justice.  
So the same Gospel that bids us love our Enemies and forgive our Persecutors withal, forbids us casting Pearl before Swine, and not flying from City to City to avoid them: But do I fly my Persecutor, while I repose too dangerous a Trust in him?  
To be short, I love my worst of Enemies; he shall not want the common Deuce of Humanity from me; nay, and I forgive him too, as to private Malice and Revenge; but I owe to myself and Family, to sue for Reparation for the Injury he has done me.  
Nay, and if I have Reparation, I have but my own again; indeed, if I sue for Trifles, I have Malice, and I forgive not my Brother: but in weighty Injuries, I am no more obliged to pass by my amends, than to trust him that deceived me again.   

Of RHETORIC.  
Rhetoric is the Art of speaking delightfully, and prettily tickling and pleasing men's Passions by our Discourse; its Instruments are acquaint, active, and moving Figures and Modes of Speech, but the greatest Skill lies in managing them, sometimes lowering ourselves, and sometimes again raising a more lively Imagery to continue always in the same strain; be it what it will, at least cloys and satiates, if not lulls the Auditor's attention asleep.  
And hence, we should have a graceful Embroidery, not a daubery in Expression; the Crisis of an Affection should be gently touched, and not over-worded, lest we corrupt it. The best Mean in this case therefore indeed were, to intermix Sentences; the first material, the second only diverting and circumstantial; the first weighty and deliberate, the second easy and voluptuous; and thus to continue through the whole Speech. For why should we palls the edge and sense of what we intent to recommend? and yet even in this I would not be superfluous neither.  
True Eloquence consists in saying all that aught to be said, and nothing but what ought to be said, and in giving every Sentiment a several Tone of Voice, Mien, and posture of the Body, which is proper to it: Nay, I may add, 'tis this Agreement that makes good or bad Comedians; and other persons please or displease us in their Discourse: And thus there is an Eloquence in the Eyes, and the Air of the Person, which persuades as much as that of words; and there is as much Elegance in the Tone of the Voice, as in the choice of words themselves.  
The common Error in Rhetoric, is to make every Quirk in Speech a Figure; now the best method is, to have a few & choice Figures, Precepts sufficient to adorn our Speech, and yet not to burden our Use or Idea: So for our speaking, a composed Discourse by Memory may have a more set and formal stile than another; but it will want much of the lively coherence of a Discourse delivered Extempore; the one commands all the helps of Invention which happen during the Discourse, whilst the other, besides the insipidness of Formality, quite cuts off all Advantages that of nature.  
To be short, a Man would no more use himself always to repeat a Form, than he would to walk with a Staff; when I am either too young or too old, I will support my feeble parts with props: but when I am Adult, though I will never speak without a condign deliberation, yet will I not too far confine my Speech neither: I will remember my Method and Analysis, but I will not manacle mine Imagination; I will rather with a generous Freedom, keep it ready against any new Emergency.  

Of Delivery.  
And even so for my Delivery also, I will not think to excel by Loudness; were I in a Dispute, should I be willing to put the Crisis of my Controversy on scolding, an Expedient excellent for him that is foolish or in the wrong, but madness in a wise or good Man? Indeed, an Emphasis sometimes answers to a rise and fall in Music, and carries a kind of Charm on men's Passions, but a continued bauling can have no Original or Source from Wisdom.  
Men are like Violins; if you strike the Note right in one, the other immediately answers you, and the Affections and Passions move together with the Music; but if you lay too much Emphasis on your Words, and more than the Affection will bear, what do you do but vitiate your Delivery to a Cant? A Man may have a zeal without knowledge, as well in Wisdom as Religion.  
By the same reason also, it is not good to be short or abrupt in our Speeches, as Loquacity is, like a noisome Fistula in the mind; So short Speeches are like Stab, and seem by their fierceness and quickness too near a kin to fire: Besides, as by a long Familiarity and deadness of Speech, we levelly ourselves too much to Censure, by abating too far the edge of Men's Respects; so by a Speech too abrupt and short, we let men answer us before they duly weigh the deference and esteem they owe to us, and the Truths we deliver.  
Above all therefore, we ought to keep a Mean in our Discourse, neither to let Fancy run us a-drift from one Subject to another where ever she pleases, nor to let our Delivery run a gallop, too swift for the care of our Thoughts (like Schoolboys that long to be at the end of their Lesson;) but rather, as we ought to avoid a Poynancy, so we ought to regulate our Fancy by Discretion, and our Celerity by a due presence of Mind: Nay, is our Discourse like to be long? 'Tis a pretty skill in Speech to refresh our Hearers by Pauses. Such little Rests revive men's apprehensions; and not only give leisure for their Refreshments, but pre-occupy a season for their Conceptions also.  
So 'tis of excellent use in our Discourses, to condescend to the Customs and Capacities of our Hearers; the Vulgar admire their own Phrases, and applaud no truth so much as what is in their own Dialect; just as when we talk to Children, to please them, we lisp, and bring down our Voices in imitation of theirs, to persuade them we are rather going gently to lead them, than violently to force them on with the harsh and manly Voice of Authority; and yet a Voice loud, clear, and distinct, is of excellent use, where we talk to men of Courage and Judgement.  
As for our Method in this matter, I think our old way of Rhetoric is well enough: Thus, first, to begin and inquire demonstratively An sit, and when we are fully satisfied of the reality and considerableness of our Subject, and have satisfied our Hearers withal, than we should proceed to deliberate, Quo modo sit, an bonum facile aut necessarium; and if bonum, an jucundum utile aut honestum; and after we have done this regularly and perfectly, we may boldly speak our judicially, and cry, Sic sit.   

Of Persuasion.  
I shall now proceed to Persuasion, in which case as 'tis most successful and safe to sail with the Tide, so 'tis a singular Art in Persuasion, where we find our Auditors Affections engaged against us in what we are about to speak, first to plead for a candid Audience, and to stay the entering on our Subject, till we have moved a convenient stream of Affection in them, to carry and entertain our Discourse: For why should we labour in vain? And indeed, who but one besides himself, is so hardy as to engage, when he hath both the Wind of Passion, and the Tide of Inclination to oppose him?  
In truth, one may say the Passions are the only Orators, which always persuade, they are a kind of Art of Nature, whose Rules are infallible, and which once moved, are strong both in Hearer and Speaker; the veriest fool moved to a true pitch of Passion, persuades more than the greatest Orator without; so that, could men at all times command such accidental Advantages of their Passions, they would never be without them; but the matter is, we are fearful to do those things in Temper, that in Passion we make light of.  
But to proceed a little more particularly: to persuade to a thing unknown, first insinuate yourself by things known, and and yet doubtful, and then without Hyperboles, relating what you would have believed, urge it with a meet confidence; and yet, taking care as you do it, first to show a due caution, That you be not taken for a Babbler; secondly, to show your grounds for your ' diffidence, that you be not judged as credulous; and lastly, to fix all, yet with so meet a confidence, that you be not taken for a Dissembler.  
And besides this to persuade, we ought to skill how to lay hold of men's particular Passions, and so to know to which they are most obnoxious: Thus the Miser was cured of his Lethargy, by being made jealous and watchful of his Gold; and thus the Milesian Virgins were cured of the Humour of hanging themselves, by dragging the dead Bodies of the like offenders through the streets; and thus Selenicus took away women's gorgeous Apparel, by an order, that no one should be allowed to be a Whore, but she that was so and so dressed, and had such and such Attendance.  
But, if you would persuade one that is obstinate, and that neither Sense nor Arguments can immediately prevail on, straight turn your Reasoning, and seem to follow and admire his Methods, and then by pursuing them on as his friend, run him as at unawares on absurd consequences, and so fright him by those Reasonings in you, that in himself he will not admit to be examined.  
Thus the Mobile in a certain Common Wealth, being enraged once at the Senate, yet voluntarily put themselves into the hands of a Friend, to be judged by them; and he thereon advising the Mobile first to choose a new Senate for fear of mischief, before they proceeded to the cutting off of the old one, straight thereby he begun to show them the consequence of Upstarts; so that they immediately agreed, to continue their old Senate on again.  
And yet, as when we have not men's Passions of our sides, we must thus by Preambles, Apologies, Preparatories, Mollifiers, and other Topics of Argument, endeavour to root out the old Bias of men's Prejudice, and to implant a new and truer Idea in their stead; so on the other side, when we have men's Inclinations on our sides, we may avoid this prolixity, and begin freely, triumphantly, and openly, or else, till we have engaged a party of thought and Passion of our side, we are imprudent to launch too freely into the Ocean of Discourse.  
And yet even in all Cases, we ought to know, how to limit our persuasions too: Thus I would not seem too fond, lest I make men believe the interest I persuade them to, is more mine than theirs, as appears by my concern; and yet I would neither want Fancy nor Vigour enough to express a thing fully, nor to illustrate what is more rare and singular to the life; but yet then, no more than is fit; for why should I seem either so interested or poetical, as to deaden the Edge of my persuasion.  
Nay, and though abruptness generally be a Vice, yet sometimes little hints are of excellent use in Persuasions; it sets men to beat out our Notions in themselves, and they are ever more fond of Bats of their own Brain than others: Besides, that setting men so upon such a Scrutiny, makes them engage in a Party for us, and nothing obliges men more than to let them seem to be their own contrivers.  
So further, 'tis good to know the force of every Argument and Figure: Thus for instance, a Repetition or Recommendation by Figures and Allegories, can command the Affections, and charm the Passions; but only Reason without Art, and with Sincerity and Truth, are able to move a durable and steady Resentment and Courage: Indeed, Figures are but for Ornament, and he mistakes their very end, that makes them Substance, or that disguises his Discourse by using them too far. Ornaments are to recommend and beautify, and not to blind or deform, if we have not skill enough to apply our Ornaments therefore, we had better neglect them altogether.  
But above all Ornaments and Figures in Speech, there are none so useful as Parables, Fables, Metaphors, and Allegories; when Reasoning will do no good, when the mind is quite blind and deaf with Prejudices, Allegories and Parables can revive it, and by Parallels confirm it. Thus Nathan convinced David's sin in Vriah, and humbled him, and brought him to Repentance, by the Parable of the poor man's Lamb, when the bare sense of the Action alone could never do it.  
But indeed after all, as I have said, no Rhetoric is like Honesty, and no Speech like Reason; if we have Truth on our side, that's all, and enough, if we take but care to illustrate that sufficiently; only this we ought to remember in prudence, to let our last Words be most forcible, as they are most likely to be of the most lasting Impression: And indeed, to leave truth and follow Colours too much, is like Aesop's Dog, by catching at the Shadow to lose the Substance.  
I will not rely therefore on Fancies or Figures of Speech; but if I use them, it shall be as by the by; but my main Weapon shall be clear sense and reason; if men have either any judgement or truth, my very Sincerity shall force their Attentions; and while Flowers only dally to delight the mind; by a lively apposite Expression with Notion, I'll even strike to the Quick.  
So 'tis an Error in Persuasion also, to multiply Reasons, and aim at Conquest by Numbers; the best arguing is from few Topics and from general Heads, the retreat of the Discourse the easier, and the Management the better; nay, and the Memory and Passions of the Hearers are the more easily captivated by it, whilst as for Figures they may be used but seldom: 'tis better to be regarded for Matter than Form, Reason than Words, and yet it is not convenient neither to let our sense want a suitable Dress.   

Parts of Discourse.  
But as it is the misfortune of a great many persons to make a good Cause ridiculous by their ill Proceeding, so 'tis good to know also, what order is decent in an Oration; and if it be written, to mark it as it proceeds, for the greater clearness with your Topics in the Margin: Nay, and not only so, but to be sure not to neglect the Cogent Topics of Recommendation, as praising your Judges, or at least assuring yourself, that they have so much Honour, that they would not hear you, if they were not resolved withal to give you an impartial Sentence.  
And thus in an orderly Discourse, I may say, there ought to be five parts: First, A Preface pertinent and short, to open your design, and to prepare the minds of the Hearers. Secondly, The Narrative true, & well circumstantiated to instruct them. Thirdly, A Confirmation, and that solid, to convince them. Fourthly, A Refutation nervous and strong, to refute all Colours for them. And Fifthly and lastly, A Conclusion pathetic, and forcive to move them.  
But if we extend our Discourse beyond an Oration, that is, if we write a Book, than a more perfect Method ought to take place, and we ought to proceed by the exactest Rules of a complete Genesis; our very method ought to be so conspicuous as to supply the part of an Index; and every Clause, Sentence, Chapter, and part of our Discourse, whether greater or less, aught to be framed so naturally, as to fall into a beautiful Body, and joint its self, so as to be able even actually and orderly to force the Readers Conviction.  
And when I consider this, I cannot but reflect, that had men either any Reverence for themselves or others, were they cautious of their own Reputation or others Trouble, they would not thrust out their shapeless Cubs upon the World as they do, but would lick them into some order before they did it; when alas! were some Discourses but dissolved to their first Principles by Analysis, what would they contain too often? scarce a Chapter, nay, or a Sentence to the purpose, that the Authors seem to be blind, or they could never publish what they do.  
What you enter their Book, their Title speaks you fair, and makes you fancy they'll perform as well as promise; but when you come to peruse their Substance and Solidity, you find yourself fooled and ne'er the wiser for the Subject; and our Author who has a world of Humour and Fancy, when may be not three grains of Digestion, gives you a broadside of Maggots; and if he confounds and mazes your Reason by them as bad as his own, he is satisfied and is wise in his own Conceit, because he is a fool in Company.  
I shall add no more, but that our Fable and Emblem Writers deserve no better Censure: 'Tis true, an Example or Metaphor occasionally in Precepts, is of excellent use; but 'tis an Elaborate way of making Learning intricate and confused, to turn her in pursuit of such laborious and disorderly Excursions and Trifles, as far from the clear sight of Knowledge, as a Cloud, or a Maze, or a Veil.   

Of Invention,  
I proceed to Invention in Rhetoric: Now to help that; our best Method is, to have recourse to General Topics; Examples whereof I shall give you as follows.  


Topics Intrinsic.  
1. Definition.  
2. Destribution into parts.  
3. Etymology.  
4. Conjugates.  
5. Kind, Genus species.  
6. Form.  
7. Similitude.  
8. Dissimilitude.  
9 Contraries.  
10. Adjuncts.  
11. Antecedents.  
12. Consequences.  
13. Repugnances.  
14. Causes 

Efficient  
Material  
Formal  
Final  
Instrumental    
15. Effects.  
16. Comparison.  
17. Possibility.  
18. Bonum 

Honestum.  
Vtile.  
Jucundum.      


Topics Extrinsic.  
1. Prejudication.  
2. Report.  
3. Laws.  
4. Oaths.  
5. Torture.  
6. Witnesses.  
7. Scripture.  
8. Learned Men.  
9 Circumstance. 

Time.  
Place.  
and  
Person    
Predicamentals, as 

10. Substance and Person.  
11. Quantity, and Demonstration.  
12. Quality ordinary, or not.  
13. Relation.  
14. Action.  
15. Passion.  
16. Place.  
17. Time.  
18. Situation.  
19 Habit.       

Of Figures.  
Figures of Rhetoric are either in Words or Sentences; the Usual are as follows; 

Figures of Words.  
Metaphor, as Vir gregis.  
Irony, as O● bon● vir.  
Epizeuxis, as Vicimus, Vicimus.  
Anaphoras, as Nobis voluptati, nobis solatio.  
Epistrophe, as Ibimus, pugn●bimus, triumphabimus.  
Epanalepsis, as multa promittis, prestare teneberis multa.  
Climax, hoc animum, animus virtutem addit.  
Epanadoes, Non vivo ut edam, sed edo ut vivam.  
Polyptoton, as qui memorat, quod ille meminit.   

Conversion.  
Complexion.  
Conduplication.  
Disjunction.  
Equality of Cadence  
Numbers.  
Adjunction.  
Gradation.  
Paranomasia.  
Repetition.  
Synonime.  
Syncohdoche.    


Figures of Sentences are,  
Augmentation, He Beat him, he Murdered him, he Crucifi'd him.  
Apostrophe, as audite O cali, vos eritis mihi testes.  
Concession, as sit humilis ortu, at est probus.  
Correction, tacebo? Imo loquar.  
Diminution, He Beat him, he Filluped him, he Touched him.  
Exclamation, as O Tempora, O Mores!  
Interrogation, Sicoine fieri opportet?  
Preoccupation, dicat aliquis, sed regero.  
Prosopopeia, as Egone Sol luceo, ut vos dormientes altum stertetis?  
Reticence, as plus possum dicere, sed de his tacebo.   

Allegory.  
Antithesis.  
Communication.  
Deprecation.  
Distribution.  
Dubitation.  
Ethopeia.  
Expolition.  
Hypotiposis.  
Imprecation.  
Interpretation.  
Irony.  
Licence.  
Preterrition.  
Sermocination.  
Subjection.  
Sustentation.  
Transition.    
Thus, you see, I have given you here a Catalogue of the more Eminent Figures of both sorts; but I have not given Examples but of some few that I thought more Useful: indeed, whoever peruses Alsted's Enciclopaidion, will see such a multitude of Figures, that they are not only almost without number, but that there is not a Quirk in Speech scarce, but what that by one Author or other, is reduced to some Figure: So that indeed this Exuberancy now seems to require some Limitation.  
Lastly, For the use of such Figures, I shall only say this, one would Read them sometimes cursorly, as so many several Patterns to form one Speech, and as so many Moulds to be committed to our Memories in Reading, to shape our Utterance and Delivery by; but to think otherwise, to force our Thoughts just to such a precise Form, or Cut, is to make them more unacceptable in being unnatural, than all the Ornaments of Art can add to them.    

Of JUDGEMENT.  
WHatever intuitive Knowledge, or Divine Ideal Truth Adam had, his Posterity are forced to Blow the Soul for Wisdom, as well as the Earth for Fruits.  
We must tract Truth step by step, and weigh as well Ideas as Propositions to attain her: He that takes Truth by the Gross, or Jumps into her without a due Comparison of things, at least knows not in Judgement, whether he is right or wrong.  
The true Judgement is Mathematical, Reason's the Scale, and Propositions are the things weighed, while Judgement, like Justice, favours the heavier Scale.  
Where there is most Consideration, therefore there are likely to be most Propositions, and consequently the more assured Decision of Judgement; while to Judge without Propositions forethought, is like weighing with the Scales empty, and Shooting at the Mark Blindfold.  
As for the Errors of Judgement, they are either want of Consideration, or Irresolution: The inconsiderate Man leaves all to happy Chance; while the Irresolute is like a ruffled Skein of Silk.  
In Truth, Judgement, like an Army, aught to March slow, with full Trains of Imaginations, and not a Concatenation of Thought ought to be unconsulted for fear of the Ambushes of Error.  
To conclude, were Poets as happy in holding the Scale, as in their sprightly and vigorous Sallies of Fancy, Poets assuredly would have the best Judgements, and accordingly make the best Philosophers: but our experience shows us the contrary, and where they fail.   

Of HAPPINESS.  
FOr all the difference of Estate and Quality among Men, there is notwithstanding such a common allay of good and evil, that all, in the main, are equally happy.  
Felicity, alas! is in Content and Opinion, not the things we Possess. Thus 'tis what I Love, and not what another Conceits, that makes me happy.  
And thus, indeed, what but our Pride makes us Miserable, and restlessly Ambitious? Our great concern, in truth is, to show, that a Man of Desert is unfortunate.  
'Tis not to be disputed, but the Blessings of Health, Wealth and Friends are valuable; But are they comparable in the making of us happy, to Virtue and Content?  
The best of such Enjoyments are casual, momentary, and disgusted by Conscience and Passions; But can any thing rob us of Virtue?  
Pleasures enjoyed with innocence indeed, are real; But can there be any satisfaction with regret, to catch at the baits of Sin and Vice.  
Nay, were there no Hell, the Epicure should be moderate for his Gusts sake; so that we are doubly brutish, to palls our Palates by Luxury.  
The Virtuous enjoy Pleasures truly, and can thank God for the Refreshment, while neither Satiety nor Passion annoys them.  
Besides, a virtuous Soul, I may say, is as a Rock against the Waves and Storms of the World, while she looks down with pity on Giddy and muddling Mankind below.  
I want to Coach and Dainties; And what then? Are not Walking and Temperance wholesomer? But Oh, I love Fine clothes; And what am I not ashamed to be so like a Peacock?  
Prithee Friend tell me; Can thy Gold or Purple keep out Diseases? Or thy Guards, Garrisoned in Iron, repel bold fears and despair?  
Virtue, indeed, as she is indifferent against such Trifles, so is she hardened to evil; Virtue turns all Misfortunes to Martyrdom.  
What though mine Enemy Rage? Can he move a foot beyond Providence? Does he intent to kill me? And can't I rejoice to be so soon with God?  
Does he torment me? And have I not God and a brighter Crown of Martyrdom to support me? Nay, or can my despondency relieve me?  
I will allow a Man Groans to relieve his Spirit, and an honest Submission to appease his Enemy; But shall I surrender my sincerity to him, and give him opportunity to destroy both Soul and Body too?  
But, alas! thou art Grieved to Die so soon; And what art thou afraid to be with God? The Apostle could desire to be dissolved: And, Art thou, on the contrary, so unwilling, as to repine at the call of his Providence?  
Surely, faithfully to love God, and observe his Laws, therefore as they are the great end of Man, so are they his greatest and best Methods to happiness also; and in which case, the quicker & sharper our passage in prospect, the more desirable; without we think there is no God, or future State, to reward us in what we do and suffer.   

Of PRESENCE of MIND.  
WHat good will all the Precepts in the World do whilst a Man wants his Presence of Mind, the necessary clue to lead him through them.  
Surely our Senses ought always to keep due Centinel, and our Understandings as readily to attend their summons: Can he Fence well that is not on his Guard? Archimedes died for being too busy to give an Answer.  
Carelessness and Disattention therefore undoubtedly are the Daughters of Folly: Certainly the Judgement ought to be in readiness for every new Object that approaches. I may add, What is Madness but such a Debauch of Thought, to a greater degree, and when an Idle Soliloquy disjoints the whole Reasoning of the Man?  
We ought therefore to avoid all such Violence of thought, as Poison; at least the Blow of Thought, Clogs and Cuts but heavily, that's never sharpened by rest.  
Nay, even for the very unseemliness one would avoid such flurts in Reasoning; for surely 'tis as disagreeable to others, as pernicious to ourselves.  
And yet after all, certainly there are Diseases in the Mind, as well as the Body; and after our best endeavours, our Sense will slacken, and our Styles vary, do what we can: What! Are we not Men?   

Of SECRETS.  
THe Mind, like the Body, exposes its self, by appearing naked; it discovers its weaker parts, and lies more liable to Injuries; undoubtedly therefore Secrets ought to be embraced as Armour, and admired as Sovereign Prudence; but yet then, we ought to remember also, that we cannot be too wary in them; our Looks often speak as well as our Tongues, and we must be careful our Nakedness appear not through the little Veil of its clothes.  
So, though Secrecy and Silence thus be undoubtedly Virtues; Dissimulation, whether in Words or Actions, is the furthest from it imaginable: Dissimulation is an act with an intent to deceive, a downright Lie; Dissimulation is the weak art of those, who have not judgement enough to manage a concealment.  
As for the difference between Simulation and Dissimulation, it appears in the Old Latin Verse, Quod non est simulo, dissimuloque quod est; their Benefits are these,  
First, They lay Opposition asleep.  
Secondly, They leave a room for Retreat.  
Thirdly, By their Lying, they draw out Secrets.  
Their Mischiefs are;  
First, They spoil business through Fearfulness.  
Secondly, They bar the Assistance of others.  
And, Lastly, They take away all trust and belief, while, as for secrecy, it has all the Prudence, and none of the Vice of either of them.  
But to return; if we would keep a Secret, we are bound, in pain of Indiscretion, to discern who we trust with it; indeed, How can we hope another should keep our Secrets, if we cannot keep them ourselves; So we ought also to stand in Guard, even of our Servants, and not to make others jealous of us, by being too busy; on the one side Cardinal Richleiu took care wisely to turn away that Man that he found looking into his Letters; and, on the other side, How can we expect that others should not inquire after, and guests at our concerns, when we seem to busy in our jealous inquisitiveness at theirs?  
But, besides this General prudence of Secrecy; Secrecy is a Sacred Obligation, even in Discourse also: thus, when Two Discourse, they render each other mutual Depositors or Thoughts, and which they trust one another withal; so that, let it be that we require Secrecy, or not, in such a Case, our Discourse is always as a Pawn, which ought never to be disposed of but according to the intentions of him that trusted it.  
And yet the Rule of Secrets seems to be this also; though what I am told, I am bound to keep as a Secret; yet if I knew it before, that cannot make that a Secret to me, that was none before; though with regard to the Relator, that I make not him the Author, it is, and yet not, I fear, but that this Liberty has been often abused; and many that have not known a Secret before, yet have pretended they have, to salve their Reputations in breaking it.  
But then, 'tis an undoubted Exception from all the Laws and Obligations of Secrecy, when any one acquaints us with a wicked or criminal design; for Friendship loses its Obligation in Wickedness, and there can be no tye between God and Belial; a Man ought therefore to have wit and honesty enough to discern of what he speaks, before he requires Secrecy, or else 'tis at the peril of his Imprudence to betray his own wicked Intentions.  
To be short, unless in case of these few Exceptions, when we enter into a Discourse with a Man, we begin a Friendship with him, and which, at least, includes the Obligation, not to abuse his confidence; now, though this Friendship continue but for a Minute, or for an hour, year, or years, under greater or lesser Trusts, yet the Obligation to Secrecy is still the same, and all one, whether in an hourly, or a perpetual Friendship.  
In truth, a good Christian is not only no Man's Enemy; but in this, he loves all Mankind equally; that he shows more kindness to one than another, is from the Providence of his Association, his outward Compact, or Friendship; but this general tye of Humanity to Secrecy, is, what nothing can dispense with in us.  

To attain Secrets.  
As for the particular Methods to obtain Secrets, there are several: Thus some have gotten them by frightening with a contrary dangerous design; and thus the Priest that would know whether such a man frequented the Church or not, got it out of him by accusing him of a Contempt of the Service.  
So have you employed Informers to find out Secrets; and would you know whether they deceive you or not? employ such as can have no manner of Acquaintance with each other, and then in what they all agree, you may be assured, they are in the right.  
Some have attained a Secret by pretending, they knew in part of it already; and thus men to save their own Bacon, jealous of others treachery, have been the first Informers themselves.  
Some, when they have not been able to attain the Secret desired, have fished for some other, and by that tempted the persons Friends, as by Tokens to reveal the other: And thus the Grand Signior, by ask a Prisoner when he lay with his Wife last? by that as with a Token, drew the Confession of the Prisoners Gild from his Wife.  
Nor is that other Method less certain of obtaining a Secret by a Secret, for men when they think they have possession of others Secrets, presume that they have so much advantage of them, that they may safely trust them with their own: And thus by Dissimulation and Trifles, sometimes the weightiest Matters have been discovered.  
Sober men you may fathom by obstinate and reproachful Controversies; by which means their very Passions will open them, and as for their Tempers you may know them by what they were at School; but as for Drunkards the only way to fathom their Speeches, is to examine them by their other Frolicks, whether they have not been for a constancy foul-mouthed or Lying, etc.  
So, to know whether a suspected person be guilty or not; do but charge him with things false and true at the same time, and you shall see it quickly by the different manner of his Vindication; for as sound sleep, a composed mind, & careless behaviour, are great presumptions of Innocence; so you will easily discover him as not concerned at the fictitious Forgery.  
A King of France being willing to destroy a Treacherous Noble that was in company with him among others, if he could get the consent of the rest, put forth the Nobles Treachery in a Parable like David's Lamb; whereupon understanding all their Resolutions, he made the Application of it as it were by all their consents upon the Lord that offended him.  
And now I have wrote thus much about the Discovery of Secrets, I shall add a little also about the management of them, and occult Writing, and conclude.   

Occult Writing.  
If to be Secret be lawful, which indeed the strictest moralist and Religious cannot deny; for, in truth, Secrecy is one of the considerablest Branches of Wisdom, and we are taught to be subtle as Serpents, as well as harmless as Doves: If Secrecy I say therefore, be not only lawful, but a Virtue, besure unsearchable ways of Writing must be of excellent advantage, since by such occult Writing, we can communicate Secrets to whom we please, and conceal them from every body else.  
Now to enumerate the several Methods of secreting our Sense in Writing, were a work as frivolous as endless: I take it therefore for granted, that if I describe some of the best Methods, and leave them to be improved, altered and changed by every man's own invention, 'twill be far better than to tyre him with all particulars; for when once the Mystery of an Art is unravelled, there is no difficulty to copy it a Thousand ways by our own Invention.  
Some make a new Alphabet, and alter only the Characters of the Letters, as suppose I wrote English with Arabic Letters, not understood in this Country; others alter only the signification of Letters, and use the common Characters, as suppose I should all along write a for b. b for c. c for d, etc.  
Thus for Example, were I to write the word (and) it must be by z mc. for z goes for a. m for n. and c. for d. being all the immediate Letters before them, and consequently aught to take their places as so; but this method is easily discovered by the Vowels and short Words; and yet it may be blinded too, by inserting insignificant Letters, and multiplying the Characters of the Vowels.  
Some will invent a peculiar Cant like Jipseys, which is indeed like making a new Language; others will cover their designs in a dark Metaphor; as suppose I treated of a Common Wealth of Bees to reflect on Government, or cited some anitent Historical Passage to represent the present Scene of Affairs, and the correspondence between them: And this is the method used by the Prophets in Scripture.  
Some will write with common Letters, and in common English, but alter the placing of the Letters; thus suppose I wrote Moses said, I write the Odd Letters in the first word, and the even Letters in the second; and so it will be Mssad Oesi; and so I go on with every two words till I end what I write.  
Others dispose every 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, or 12. successive Letters, according to a Table of Chimes for Bells, and then divide them into words at their pleasure; and after all to make it the more intricate, you may dispose the words in Sentences by the Rule of such Chimes, as you did before the Letters in the words; so that without you Key, the Table of Chimes, 'tis impossible to read what you write, since at this rate by double Chimes you may vary your Letters a Thousand, nay, I may say, Ten thousand ways, if you please.  
But all or most of these ways are imperfect; for as they cannot but infallibly breed a jealousy and suspicion, so many times they are as mischievous and dangerous, as if they were revealed: And therefore those methods of Secret Writing are most beneficial, that cast a Blind before men's Eyes, and by giving them a fair and seeming Sense to read, take away all Imagination of their being a Secret couched under it.  
Thus some will write you a common and civil Letter, but do it by the Key of an Alphabet of Synonemas for every word; so that when you examine it by your Key, every word in the Epistle shall give a Secret Letter, which being collected in order, shall give you a secret Sentence; but if you read it in the ordinary and currant sense, you see a plain familiar Letter, without either doubt or difficulty in it.  
a g n t b h o u c i p w d k q x e l r y f m s z  
Some again will write by Muscial Notes, and so make love by a Song; thus the words shall be what you please, but the Notes shall carry the Secret: For in this case the six Spaces or Lines shall signify the Letter you desire to write, according to your pleasure; and the Notes of time which shall distinguish them, being Four, make just 24. the Alphabet, being multiplied by 6. the Spaces, as above.  
Note, You may prick your Notes or put them on the Line or Space at your pleasure.  
Others, will make the first word in the first line; the 2d. in the 2d. & the 3d. in the 3d. etc. to contain the Secret, while the other words in the several lines are ingeniously contrived, with the significative words, to make a good and common sense for the disguise sake.  
Others will cut Papers in Figures, and then all that is not wrote within the compass of such Figures, is superfluous; others will write what they would have read with Black Ink, and reserve the Secret to be written in a by-place or corner of the Letter, with a white Ink, etc. others again will refer through Numbers to the Letters, or Words in a known Page and Line of a particular Book, and so indite.  
But in short, the best and least suspicious way, is to reduce your Secret to one or two words, and then having several Keys to write it by, to intimate to your Friend by what Key you write, by the manner of Writing your Name: And thus you may make a few such Letters blacker or bigger than ordinary in several lines, or make seeming accidental Blotts, and so discover your Sense.    

Of COLLECTIONS.  
SUrely, it can avail us nothing to quote Authors in Catalogues, and to raise large Folio's with Recitals. What is Wisdom, if too long for use and recollection? or what are Precepts good for, when scattered in Libraries?  
Good Precepts 'tis true, are like Rocks and Anchors to the instability of our Thoughts. The perfection of Virtue indeed, consists in the Uprightness of the Will; but what is the Will without an Understanding accordingly?  
Nay, what will the most excellent Understanding avail us, without agreeable Precepts, and those ready and at hand? The best of us dose, dote, and slumber at times; and among huge and numerous Volumes, where shall we find what we want, unless in the Meridian of our Reason we store up Precepts for Old Age?  
Alas! we have seen the force of an Extempore strain, in its imperfect Essays towards it, often enough; we see how far the Waves of proud Fancy can reach; nay, we are not ignorant even of what Enciclopaidians can do.  
But what! Can a little whifling Treatise command Respect? Surely, a Body of Philosophy and an Army of Thoughts much more; nay, what is even a Library, but an undigested Rubbish, to pure and select Precepts?  
Has man leisure to peruse or pursue every current of Thought nicely? Surely, he cannot even survey all the Books that are, and are not the Extracts and Spirits of Thoughts then, far more eligible than your flat and endless Corollaries.  
No doubt, a general Body, if so prepared, were of admirable use, the Universal View would clear our Prospect, and lead and direct our Notions and Actions; nay, and Error and Vice would appear through their dissonancy to the whole Body of Knowledge.  
To conclude, Reasoning like figured Silks and clothes, is only truly to be judged of in the whole piece, while the composition of our Precepts, like a Garrison, should be for strength, and use only, each place defending its self, and defended by another.   

Of PRECEPTS.  
THere are several methods to Virtue; but surely Precepts excel all. Can an Harangue make you good; and why not the Precept in short?  
Examples are lively 'tis true, but time alas! will allay all their Emulation; while as for the close Reasonings of Precepts, can they ever fade?  
The Man's a false Proselyte that does not love Virtue for Virtue's sake; and are long Examples then comparable to brief and wholesome Precepts?  
What avails it, as I have said, to have Volumes of Cautions one knows not where to find? By Precepts I will store up Wisdom against Age; nay, I will fortify my Virtue by Reasons impregnable, the Quintessence of Wisdom.  
Our first▪ Thoughts are too crude for Wisdom; Nature does not give Virtue: And 'tis a kind of an Art to become good. Nay, without Precepts our Wisdom is brutish, and our Virtue, Constitution and Inclination, not judgement.  
While petty Virtues sink in their Trials, Precepts will levelly every wrinkle that disturbs the Tranquillity of the mind.  
Pure Precepts will smell sweet, when the little Gusto's of Fancy shall fade. I know the World love to hide their Vices under the broken Fragments of Morality; but are not wilful Ignorance and Disobedience equal, as well in Morals as Divinity?  
Besides, Can any thing excel good Precepts? or is any thing more desirable? Nay, is not Wisdom the Unchangable Good of God himself?  
True Precepts will compose thy Spirits beyond Music, and lull thy Passions asleep. True Precepts are a perfect Antidote to Vice, if thou but use them duly.  
The true Philosophy is clear and self-evident; it leaves neither Difficulties nor Scruples, but cheers the Mind, enlightens the Understanding, and confirms the Courage, where e'er it comes.  
Some admire Precepts; but why? they want Variety and Change. Alas! they want but diverting Strains: True Precepts are one, and eternal.  
Can true Virtue be ever out of fashion? Surely then, 'tis a defect in God, that he is not vicious for Variety; if not, I will not be giddy in my Precepts, lest I become giddy in my Morals also.  
In truth, Is Virtue such a Trifle as to be sacrificed to Novelty and Curiosity? or am I so wretched as to think so of her? No: let her be as unchangeable in my Breast, as she is pure and chaste in herself.  
Neither Reading nor Meditating, neither Study nor Discourse, neither Passion nor Zeal, therefore shall give me that advantage, that I will not secure by Precepts; but then to perfect, not to change my Virtue.  
To conclude, I may add, 'Tis even ridiculous to see what slight Passions can discompose us, when Reason does not Rule. Surely therefore, good Precepts are as Armour, and the only way through which to attain the Perfection of our Nature.   

Of SINCERITY.  
I Am sorry, I may say too often, our heart by habit is apt to cheat our Reasons, while our Sincerities become but as a more curious Art, to draw a Religious Respect to what we say.  
The true Sincerity is good without a witness, and can love unfashionable Virtue? The true Sincerity never fails: Is it frail? yet at least it keeps in the Track of Virtue.  
A pure Integrity has no Reserve; she dreads not the Scrutiny of the best of men; she will not do evil even that good may come: her Loyalty for Goodness can serve her without either Livery or Dower.  
Wilt thou be good therefore? let no Temptation impurify thy Will: or if thou wouldst be wise, let not the least Error blemish thy Judgement. Is a Castle ever easier maintained, than when without Breaches and Disunion!  
Alas! the exactly Sincere is so between God and himself only: the World has but the Colour of Integrity; The true Sincerity would not be hired from the Paths of Virtue.  
How earnestly do some men seek Excuses to be corrupt? But can we say, that man is good, that does not wish and endeavour to be better? Surely, God and Virtue elect by our Wills, and not by our Powers or Actions.  
Pure Virtue is even in the bottom of the heart: Christ says, He that lusts after another's Wife commits Adultery with her. Indeed, why should I tantalise myself so with Lusts, did I not love the Temptation?  
When I reflect on the integrity of Seneca and Marcus Antoninus, and other Heathens, methinks I am ashamed to hear corrupter Christians say, That such Divine Men are damned.  
Are we the better for knowing or believing only? and, Why not the Devils also, who tremble with it? Are we rich in grace? alas! we forget that God accepted the Widow's Mite.  
To be short, the true sincerity will even in this life benefit us; it leads us to Truth, and it gives us credit; nay more, 'twill add us respect also. 'Twas Christ's sincerity that made him speak as with Authority.  
Nay our sincerity will benefit us, though in a mistake: Thus what but Integrity could bring St. Paul from the greatest Persecutor, to be the greatest Apostle.  
Surely, both Piety and Virtue lie only in sincerity; if Action without Intention were valuable, we should even make Bruits virtuous also. And if any thing be Virtue, or there be any Virtue, 'tis mixed with sincerity; for Sincerity is really the great and only Touchstone both of Religion and Morality.   

Of VOWS and OATHS.  
ALl Vows, of that which is unlawful, are void; Nor avails it in such case, whether the thing Vowed be a greater or lesser evil, since nothing can oblige a Man to what is really evil: 'tis as unlawful to tell a Lie to fulfil an Oath, as it is to Murder a Man: And as it is impossible that God should love to have ill done, so it is impossible that he should engage us to it, purely because we have Vowed or Promised it.  
I may add, the Nature of Good and Evil, still remains, notwithstanding the influence of any Vow, Oath, or Promise whatsoever, and is in the eye of God and Reason only Obligatory; and therefore according to Scripture, and the best Casuists, it is, that it happens, that the Vows of a Servant, or Wife, may be good in part, or void in part, as consistent with their Prior Duty; and so also where there are two Oaths, the Prior ought only to take place.  
And, in this Case, that the Superstitious Notions of Vows and Oaths have been wrong, ought not therefore to make us to follow them: 'tis true, in the Reformation, we ought to preserve Piety, and not to contemn what is really Sacred; and yet we ought to examine matters so sincerely also, as not to leave ourselves partial, blind, or confused in the Search.  
What shall not a Man pay his Debts, because he has Vowed he will not? And must a Man Starve, or Murder himself, because he has Sworn it? This were for him to set up a New Law in opposition to God's Sacred Law of Nature; and, by Artifice, to subvert the most holy Will of God: And thus I may add also, Humanity and Charity are as great Debts even as a Bond; and therefore if I Vow not to pull off mine Hat to another, that is even void also.  
Upon this therefore, I conclude, that no Vow can change our state, or bind our liberty; to confine ourselves against a prospect of Good, is an ill; and it is the only power of a Vow to bind us to a known Duty, from a known Evil, or in a thing indifferent; nay, if any thing be indifferent, if the confinement fret us to the injury of Body or Mind, from that instant it becomes ill, and ceases to oblige us as not indifferent also.  
And thus a Vow may engage me to the greatest self-denial, so as consistent with my duty, but not to the least evil, though even but of imprudence: A Vow to fling away my Wealth into the Sea, is void; but I may well Vow all I gain to the Poor, and yet even then I must reserve me Maintenance, and bestow it with Discretion.  
So I may bind myself from Wine and Flesh; but if so, their want impairs my health, I must use them: And so I may bind myself from going into the Country, till my Health, or a better service from God and my Country require it; but I may never thereby obstruct the advancement of any greater Good or Talent: And so, though I Vow to go to Rome, if I cannot propose some good by my Journey, the imprudence of it makes it void, in idly neglecting my Business; and so also, though it were but to go half a Mile, the evil is the same.  
So also to serve a Man's Country in the best employ he is capable of, is every Man's Fundamental Duty; and to neglect it, is to bury our Talents: For any Man therefore to Vow such a Vow, as engages him from his best capacity of Serving his Country, as to lead a Monk's Life, etc. is of itself unlawful, and, ipso facto void, as it forbids an apparent Duty, and renders us little better than Drones in the Commonwealth we live in.  
Nay, and such breaches of Oaths and Vows, in such case, like that of Corban, are no sin; that we need not fear not to keep them, they being of themselves void; the rash making of them indeed was a sin, but they have not the guilt of a black and wilful Perjury, as the World too often mistakes, but rather a rasher resolution only in them.  
A False Witness is guilty of a wilful Contempt to God, and Injustice to Man: but, in this, we have nothing more to repent of, then that we called God too lightly to Witness to a Resolution not well weighed and understood: And, if this were a sin, How could the Jews leave their Vows to the Law on Christ's Converting them? Or how can the Husband break his Marriage-bond, by Divorce, as even Christ gives leave for Adultery, and be guiltless?  
So, if I make a Vow, it does not bind mine Heir; Or if as an Officer, it does not bind me as a Private Person; So, Are you a Prince, and would you know how far Your Parliament-Oath engages? all the Power not transferred to You remains, the Law of Nature makes all States complete in themselves, though by Compact it may be limited.  
So also, as 'tis impossible to think of all necessary Conditions, as Life and Capacity of the Parties, etc. so we must have an Implicit regard to such Conditions, in whatsoever Vows we make; and yet on the other hand, Christ Teaches us, That though I Swear but by myself, yet am I as much bound, as if I Swore by God; so though I Swear by false Gods, yet my Obligation to Verity and Sincerity is still the same.  
But to return; Though there may be many things that may thus make a Promise void, although confirmed by an Oath, witness Adultery in Marriage, etc. yet Justice, in many Cases, will bind a Promise much stronger than a Vow, because of the Expectance and Dependence thereon, and its necessity in Commerce and Conversation; and yet little petty and deliberative Promises to one's self only, as, I'll go to London to Morrow; or, I'll buy such an Horse, have no Obligation at all, but leave the Speaker free to his discretion.  
So also a Mutual Promise is not valid till accepted; and yet even so, I am bound steadily to my offer as a Proposer; but if Matters after change upon my Promise, and before acceptance, I am not then bound, till you make my first Terms good: Thus if a Person be offered, and I accept to Marry, if she fail me, I am Released of my Promise; if not, I must stand to it: And thus God resolved to destroy Nineveh, when, on their Repentance, he Revoked their Sentence.  
Further, I am bound by the Promise of my Ambassador, Deputy, or General, to the utmost of their Commission, and that though against private Instructions; and yet if by their Commission I leave them the Power only to Treat for me, none but the Sponsors are engaged beyond express Order; so I am bound, by my League, though even to an Heathen, so far, as to preserve him: But, as wicked Leagues are void, I may not fight for an Heathen to destroy Christians, for that is to add more sin to rash Swearing, like the Death of John the Baptist to Herod's Foolish Oath.  
So also, no Promise can engage me against Self-preservation; 'tis not lawful for me to lay down my Life even to save my Friends; I owe my Life only to God; and yet I may join with my Friend even to Death in a good Cause; but then I must Martyr for the Cause of God, and not my Friend: So, though I Promise to go a Journey, yet I may not go if there happen a Dangerous Tempest at the time to endanger my Person.  
But indeed, a Man has generally little need to add all these Cautious Limitations to Promises; we are too apt to promise according to our hopes, and perform according to our fears, without these Encouragements; but surely, in truth, all our Promises, whether confirmed by Oath or not, aught to be equally Sacred: and though, in one Case, we are in danger of Perjury only; yet ought not that to beguile us into a conceit that a Lie is of a weaker Gild; and yet not but that tho' I may neither Equivocate, nor strain the Words, I promise, or declare, if they are proposed me knowingly doubtful, I may justly take them so.  
Where ever therefore we have made Promises, and we have reason to Judge them faithful with whom they are made, we ought strictly to observe them; but when they are made with persons false, either by Practice or Principles, they are void, though confirmed by Oath, as being contrary to the most Sacred Law of Self-preservation; and yet, in such Case, I offend God, by Treachery, indeed Black Perjury, by offering to engage myself falsely where I cannot.  
Thus, for Instance, 'tis impossible to make a League with a Papist, who cannot only, by Principle, Swear what he intends not, but disengage himself from Oaths by Equivocations, or otherwise, at pleasure; for, as Leagues and Promises are mutual in their Obligation, and are otherwise of no force; so is it impossible that there be Faith Obliged to, with such Men; and if there be any Method therefore to make Agreements with them, it must be by Securities and Hostages; witness the late Persecution in Savoy.  
So also, if a Man has been known to be false to his Promise by practice, or otherwise, no Mutual Obligation can tie us to Fidelity with him; and yet even then, if there be no danger of Life, but only of some Temporal Damage, and I make a Single, not Mutual promise, I am bound to Fidelity. So in a Mutual promise, if the false person has actually performed his part, without he give me a Release, and then I am Discharged, though on Oath.   

Of CENSURE.  
THe better to deliver what I have to Write concerning Censure, I shall distribute my in Discourse into Four Parts; The First Part of my Essay, to show the Nature of Praises; The Second, to show us what Contempt is; The Third, to add a few Words concerning Libels and Satyrs; And, the Last, to add some Reflections on all manner of Rash Judgements and Reports whatever: But First, as for Praises.  

Of Praise.  
We Censure others to be Commended ourselves; and, in truth, it is rather to exalt our own Judgements, than the Merits of those we Praise, that we enlarge in their Commendations; so that at the bottom we Praise ourselves, when we would seem to Praise them. In plain terms, one might almost conclude, That neither Vice is blamed, nor Virtue commended, but out of Interest; and, that for Interest we can admit any Praise: and so also, the Modesty which seems to refuse Praise, is indeed, nothing else but a desire to have it in a way less visible, and more delicate.  
Thus also we do not love to give Praises, nor do we bestow them but rarely, except for Interest. Indeed, I may say, Praise is a concealed and delicate Flattery, that satisfies differently him that gives it, and him that receives it; the one takes it as a Recompense of his Merit, and the other gives it as a Mark of his Equity and Judgement; and yet Praises have at least this good, that they serve to fix us in the Practice of Virtue; and the Approbation that is given, to Wit, to Beauty, or to Courage, at least augment and perfect them, and make them do more than they were able to have done of themselves.  
But, besides this, some Men too often use poisoned Praises, and which show, by a side-glance, the Faults of those they Praise, and which they dare not to discover otherwise; thus they exalt the glory of some, thereby the better to lessen that of others; and give Men a little Commendation, that they may be the better able to Accuse them also.  
And thus it happens sometimes, that there are Praises that Reproach, and Reproaches that Praise; and yet there are few people that are wise enough to love the Reproof which does them good, better than the praise which betrays them; and yet▪ they shall refuse praise too; but yet then 'tis as with a desire to be doubly praised.  
Upon the whole, he that always praises me, is undoubtedly a Flatterer; but, he that sometimes praises, and sometimes reproves me, is probably my Friend, and speaks his Mind: And yet in such case, did we not flatter ourselves, others would do us no hurt; but, when Men take shelter under the Arch-flatterer one's self, than it is that they injure us.  
And as Men are thus apt to be fond of praises, so are they no less inclined to be aversed to contempt: In truth, I may say, nothing makes Men greater slaves than Mockery; yet not but that Flattery is more dangerous than Contempt, though less acceptable: Contempt at least keeps us in the Methods of Plaindealing; whilst Flattery carries multiplied Mischiefs in it, and not only cheats and cousin's us, but eats out and destroys the very fountains of Truth in us.  
To be short; Well might Augustus lament for Varrus' death, because, said he, I have none in my Country that dares tell me Truth: And, if any thing upon Earth can make us miserable, surely it must be to be fooled and cheated by the false Lights of flatterers: I do not mean your little common flatterers, that seek no deeper than into a few General pleasing Attributes only; but your Arch-flatterers, and such as are too common in Courts, and who, perverting the whole course of Sincerity and Truth, aim at nothing else but serving up all things, just to please and delight the party Courted.   

Of Contempt.  
But on the other side, as for Contempt, one may say, the Rich and the Poor have the same appetites and passions, only differently expressed and disguised; and all people, nay even the meanest, are alike impatient of Discountenance or Contempt, be the person never so great from whom they receive it.  
Nay, and we all agree further in this, that we are more impatient to have our Understandings reflected on, than our Manners; and we can better bear the imputation of Vice than Folly; the reason is, we value our Credit and Interest more than our Honesty, and we had much rather save our Estates and our Pleasures, than our Souls.  
But indeed, had we courage enough to be wise, we should regard Resentments only from their Reason, their Depth and Weight, and not from Popularity and Opinion: Now, should we do so, I say, not only our greatest concern would be at Vice and Sin, when they reproach us, but, as 'tis evident, that Contempt, Scurril and Laughter, are but as the Froth of Reasoning, and have no other bottom, but Vanity and Folly; so they ought not to be regarded in no sort, but as the effects of Weakness, and want of Judgement.  
Wisdom bids us be Charitable, and bear with others; nay, and not only so, but assist them in their Infirmities: How contrary then must this Malicious Resentment of Contempt be, which Delights and Rejoices in others Misfortunes, and endeavours all it can, to advance them?  
Besides, Contempt is a set, stubborn, and resolute aversion and hatred: Now, I say, as this can neither with Justice or Charity be paid to any thing but Vice or Sin, so we are unjust to give it to any thing else: And hence, What though a Man be Vicious, and his Crimes deserve all the Contempt in the World; yet his Person, and as he is our Brother, he rather deserves our Pity?  
And, in truth, we are Rash Fools to hate any thing that God does not; he only and wholly aught to be the standard of our Affections; and besure as he neither does nor can hate us for our Misfortunes, as indeed it were to hate us for being his very Creatures to do it, and which is impossible; so the only occasion of his contempt of us, is our Misaction, and our Aberration from his Law; and yet even then also he has Mercy: and we, if we will be like him, surely ought not to be without it.  
Nay more; Is any one weak and foolish, 'tis my positive duty to pity him, and, in Charity, where I can, to advise him, much more not to despise him? So, Is there any one Wicked, 'tis my duty to Reform him, and not harden him by Scoffing at him? And, indeed, Christ, by his Example, shows us, That we ought to Pray for, and Advise, not only our Enemies, but our Murderers also. And, With what Arrogance then shall we presume to leave our Stations, as Creatures I mean, in continuing in invincible Brotherly Love; and, to take upon us, like God, through a rash and peremptory Contempt, to Judge, Censure and Condemn, as our little Fancies shall lead us?   

Of Libels.  
But, above all things, in this matter, our Personal Satyrs and Libels are the most Pernicious, the most Vicious and Uncharitable: I might say, nothing deserves satire, but Sin and satire. And if a Man would ask the Question, When a Wicked Man most resembles the Destroyer of of Mankind? 'Tis when he is Maliciously dipped in the Barbarous Gild of satire, and flinging Firebrands about him, to the Distraction and Confusion of all he Converses.  
Nor know I any Remedy against this Pest, but such a scorn and contempt as it deserves. Some have prescribed Humility; and say, a Flint is easiest broke on a Featherbed: Others, to avoid it, like Sir John Sucklin, have Laughed at themselves first; but, my sense is, they deserve none of this care. What a Wasp, a Child, or a Fool fleers at my Actions! and he understands no more a true Reason for his Censure, than a Parrot; only he is well-skilled at the Elegancy of Railing; and, for prevention, cries Blockhead first.  
And, hence it is as a Secret belonging to the Wise, to give full liberty to the Malice and Envy of such, the base sort, and to let them vent themselves in Calumnies, and false Reports; so that when they have spoken very ill of brave and worthy Men, at length finding their own Reputation and Fortunes to lie at stake, for fear of Revenge they may be brought to forbear.  
And, indeed otherwise, the only Remedy against Satyrs and Libels, is a Contemptible Silence: Nor can you half so much vex their Authors, by a Witty Retort, as such a Neglect: By the first, you at least acknowledge their Power, and you may be sure they will not be without hopes or endeavours to be even with you again; for, they have seldom that Charity as to forbear abusing you, while, by the latter, you shame them, and irretrievably condemn them as Billinsgates.  
Upon the whole, our best Lesson that we can learn from hence, that I see, is to know the true Value of Contempt, and Reputation: Now, as the only benefit of a good Name therefore is like clothes to defend us from outward Accidents, and the only real mischief of Contempt, the Impediment of our Affairs; So, Why should we value it further? Alas! What is a Name when we are dead? were it not to advance our Children and Posterity? the Honour otherwise that is not paid us in person, vanishes into idle Air: And what, tho' our Names remain, our little tickling and fond Vain Glory, which is the only itch we aim to satisfy, perishes with our persons.   

Of true satire.  
And yet after all, not but that there is a satire as excellent and profitable as innocent; a true Juvenal shall lash men out of Vice as fast as ten serious Sermons; but then withal, it ought to be against Things and Causes, and not Persons; against Vices and Errors, and not their Subjects or Professors: Thus, like Elijah, we may innocently droll at Ahabs false Gods, and say, they are sleeping, talking, or gone a journey, and therefore they cannot hear us; while our Charity at the same time, shows all tenderness for our Erring Brethren, and that we are ready with him even to a Miracle, if in our power, to reform them of their Errors: But otherwise, who can write or speak satire, and be guiltless?  
And just so in our ordinary Writings also, when we take care to give all the Deuce of Charity to our Brother; 'tis a modest sheepishness not fully to rescue Truth from his Clamours; Vice and Errors deserve their true Characters; and 'tis false Reasoning, not genteelness, to speak easily and smoothly of Wickedness, to soothe men in their Corruptions: Give me the man that dares give all Subjects their proper Colours; I hate the stile that nautiates with too many broad Words; but the mincing Frenchifyed stile that Compliments all things, and ruins the Partition Wall of Truth, what is it but lying and impertinent, in that it wants the true and opportunely life of Satyr● in it?  
I might add, to what end do we let such harsh words pass like current Coin amongst us, if they have not perfect Ideas? if they are Chimeras, in God's Name, let us fling them quite aside; but if we must hate the word Poison for the thing, if we must not speak a word that is not Alamode and Agreeable, for fear of grating dainty Ears, let us also for the same Reason, neither see nor converse, lest we meet with those very Objects themselves that are more disagreeable. In plain terms, these finical Sir Courtly Nice Wits want Judgement, not Elegancy for their Apology: Alass-a-day! we must not speak out broad Vice and Whoring, for fear of touching their guilty Consciences.  
This I grant, I would not rip up unknown Vices, lest their very Repetitions should breed Contagions: In that indeed, there is some Virtue in being modest and obscure in our Discourse; but in known and every day practised Crimes, to lose the vividness and force of half our Notions, by a tedious circumlocution, and beating of the Bush; is in plain terms, no other than a mean and cowardly sneaking to a worldly false ideaed Honour, a gild the way to Hell, and right Devil-Advocate like, a means to destroy all those true Ideas of Horror, which genuinely and naturally quadrate to the setting forth of the odiousness and deformity of Vice.  
If any one think I write too bitterly in this case, let them know, I think, even this very sheepish Insipidness as great a Vice as reigns in our Age; and let them not wonder then, that I treat it accordingly: Our Saviour, and the Apostles, and Prophets of Old, treated their Generations of Vipers in Styles answerable to their demerits; but we forsooth are afraid, in genteelness to own their Whore of Babylon, as Monsieur Jurieu well reflects; tho' all the Scriptures require it at our hands, to brand her for her Fornications and Adulteries: But let such Cowards and Lukewarms (that the holy Revelations sufficiently threaten) do what they will; for my part, I shall always condemn Vice and Sin, in as gross and harsh Characters as the monsters deserve. To me 'tis no wit either to lie, or write insensibly; and what do we do else, when we do not pourtraicture all the things and notions we treat of to the full life?  
Should a Painter draw the Picture of a Bear, and omit his Claws, or his Brawny Muscles; or should he Decipher a Tiger like a Lamb, or slim the Wild-Boar to a Greyhound, and omit his Tusks? Should we value the Pictures for their insipid genteelness? No: the grace of the Bear were in his Terror, the beauty of the Tiger in his active Fierceness, and the whole Life of the Boar in his Horror and Deformity: And even so in the Pictures of Sin and Vice also; 'tis all the Art in a true moralist and Religious, exactly to delineate their Tusks, their Claws, and their Jaws; nay, 'tis the object of Elegancy, to be nice in those Parts; and not to be afraid to display them for fear of offending silly Women, weaker Men and Children.  
The Vulgar indeed, like unskilful Dawbers, spoil this Liberty, and are so bewitched to painting Bears through their Malice and Railing, that they can hardly draw a Man without some Bestiality; either they add Claws to him, and make a Beast of Prey of him, or Gay Feathers, and turn him to a Peacock, or add him a Tail, and turn him to a Monkey: But what! must their Blundering make us paint nothing but Beauties, their Deformities make us deal in nothing but Angels? Surely, after all, and in all cases, the true good Picture answers the Life, and neither Humour nor Fancy can change their Natures; and, if on the one side we will avoid the Billingsgate Colours of the Mob, on the other the Proverb, Stulti dum fugiunt vitia in contraria current; will certainly hit us, if we do not draw the Owl and Bat to the life, as well as the Dove and Eagle.   

Of Rash Judgement.  
But to return, and proceed a little more particularly to false Judgements and Reports.  
Most people see nothing in others, but the Repute that they have in the world, and what their Fortune merits; and yet they are as confident in their Censures of them, as if they had Windows into their Hearts. Indeed, we are perfectly known only by our Friends, and yet our Enemies and Strangers will judge us most, and who know least the truth of what they Censure.  
And one might say in such case, our readiness to be evil without examining, is pride and laziness in a Medley. We would willingly find persons guilty, but will not give ourselves the trouble to examine their Cases: But alas! had we no Faults in ourselves, we should not be so apt to observe them in others: I may say, we are naturally apt to disapprove in others what we think in justice, others may disapprove in us.  
To cure this rash Judgement therefore, I may add, We should take care as well to rectify our own Faults as our Reasonings: In our Reasonings we should be rather slow to speak, and considerate, than fiery and precipitate. In our Errors, should we but have perpetually Memorandums of the Failings of ourselves before us, we should not be so apt to have so little mercy for others; but alas! we are neither so just as to reflect on our own Faults, or the Excellencies of the Persons we would condemn.  
And hence indeed, I may add, were our principal Quarrel at Reports for the Injustice of their rash Censure, and not from Self-love, we should be equally cautious and concerned at their Injustice to others as ourselves; but really our general Grievance is, when ourselves are the Object of them; and so in truth, all our Judgement of them is partial.  
Nay, and we are the more concerned at such rash Censures, as if we fancied ourselves the only Objects of them; and whereas indeed, we are not: but all the World in general, are apt to judge by Appearances; and whoever has such and such Appearances, or where ever they happen, just such a Censure follows, whether in ourselves or others, of course.  
So that, I may say, till we can hope to rectify this common, but unjust Judgement, by Appearances, and which to me seems next to an impossibility, we had as good fancy, that common Robbers had a particular design upon us, that meet us, & rob us, with all that they meet in such a Road: For just so Men censure such and such, that they find marked with such offensive Qualities.  
Nay, and it is even Ridiculous therefore to expect to be the only Person the World will spare, since Christ himself was nor privileged in this case: Can you walk the Streets and not expect to be dashed? Surely, if such Judgements can put us out of Humour, we shall never be pleased.  
So also, suppose that any man tell thee of such a Censure; what is it, but that a whisper is revealed to thee, and a giddy Report Published? for thou art beside thyself, if thou expect there should be no Censure of thee; and if so, no wonder that some of them happen to be Published, of thee, and to thy disadvantage.  
And besides, do we expect an Universal Love? we are unjust, and there is none of us that deserves it; nay, and as there is nothing more free than Love, so we ought not to pretend to purchase it by Complaints and Reproaches, but Love and Complaisance: Nay, and suppose we deserve not this Love, yet would we put a force on men's Passions, and make them to love us whether they will or no?  
Nay, and indeed suppose we really deserve to be loved of Men, but some light appearances make them Censure us, we ought rather to complain of their weakness and lightness, and of the frailty of Humanity than of their Injustice; 'tis not he that mistakes, but he that wilfully Censures wrong, that is Unjust.  
Besides, some love us not so much that we deserve their Love, as that they fancy an Idea we have such Qualities as they esteem amiable, and which possibly we have not: Suppose then that Truth were settled in Censure, we should lose as much Love as Hate; for Mankind is giddy and unsteady, and has not set the sure grounds of Piety and Virtue for their Censure; for indeed those Qualities are only really amiable, and all other Friendship unstable and fleeting.  
But to proceed, if such rash Judgements and Censures of any sort really injure us, 'tis more that they join with our imagination, and by them affect us and disturb us, then that they have any real Power in themselves; alas! in themselves generally they are but Air, and their Love and Flattery is more hurtful than their Spite and Mischief; for that too often poisons our hearts with a mortal sweetness; while as an indifferency leaves our Journey toward God with more liberty.  
And besides, if others are faulty in their Censures, their injury is to themselves and not to us: It deserves our pity, not our complaint. When we do our Duty to others, we do it for God's sake, and frustrate our ends; when we expect our Reward, and return from Man, we should be glad, that God gave us the opportunity therefore; and we should dread a recompense from the World, lest our hearts should accuse us, and say, This was not done purely for God's sake.  
In short, when you are charitable to the poor, Do you expect they repay you? and so, when you are charitable to the Slandered, to the poor in Fame, must be return your Compliment? Well may God, may I say, punish us by their ingratitude, when we so basely translate the true end of our Actions from himself to his Creatures; and indeed, what Fools are we to value a Compliment and Trifle, before the great Rewards of an All-sufficient God.   

Of Reports.  
Therefore, I think, that by this time, we may very well conclude that.  
Lastly, As for Reports, 'tis a common, but grievous Error among Mankind, that Justice should let men's Tongues lose to a full liberty, in respect of them, more than in the more solemn distributions of Meum and Tuum; whereas certainly, in truth, and if Men would but duly consider their Duty, they would find, that Justice and Charity engage them equally in Reports as in Commerce.  
And thus, suppose any person of Credit informed me, that such an one was a Cheat: I say, I have no Title hereby to condemn or call him so, no more, than to hang a Felon through common Fame: and yet I may justly refuse thereby to give him any great degree of Credit; nay, and to indempnify my Friend from him, I may acquaint him with the just grounds of my Jealousy, but than it must be to preserve his real interest, and not maliciously; and therefore, I am bound in Justice not to add to the Story I have heard.  
Nor is it a less Vice in Reports, to commend wicked Persons more than they deserve, than to defame and blemish the Reputation of the Innocent; for thereby we Authorise and make an Example of what is abominable: And surely, nothing can be more pernicious than such a Course! Thus we ought not to praise the Devotion of a Man that is a known Cheat, nor the honesty of a Robber or Pirate: Can we assure ourselves how far the influence of such our Commendation shall extend?  
But to strike at the Bottom of Reports; Did we proceed with Justice, we should do like Judges; and not condemn one side, till we have heard t'other, till we have examined Witnesses and Proofs, even scruplously on both sides. I am sure, no man but would think himself hardly used with other Measures in a Court of Justice; and why not in Reports also, when we presume with confidence to affirm groundless Scandals of one another?  
I may add, How often are the Sense and Coherence of Men's Words wrested, quite contrary to their Primitive Intention? And who is more apt for such an Injustice than a captious and idle Tale-bearer? So, how often are the best and fairest Actions represented even as Vices? And if so, What care can we take sufficient in our Censures and Reports? or what real value can one place on Reputation, when one considers the Inconstancy and Injustice of the World?  
To conclude, When Reports therefore are faulty of us, we ought rather to pity the World in their Weakness, than to be angry at them: For is it not a spectacle full worthy of our Compassion, to see men love to ruin one another's Reputation? and if they entertain an esteem of any one, 'tis as it were against their Wills, and in spite of them, and they are glad of every little Scandal to blemish the fair Character.  
Upon the whole, defame not good persons, tho' for accidental Blots in their Actions, in justice to the rest; and for evil persons, tho' never so mean, do not too easily defame them, in justice to thyself, and left they be revenged upon thee, remember Aesop's Beetle could fling down the Eagles Eggs; and though 'tis true, Innocence is a Breast of Steel against Malice and ill Fame, yet only in our own Consciences; for it will not preserve us from outward Mischiefs.    

Of POETRY.  
THE Traffic of Poetry is but in the froth of Reasoning, and the colours of Morality. I must confess, for its Light and careless Touch to the Mind, like Music, 'tis an excellent Recreation sometimes; but for any Man to set his Genius upon it, is to Trade in Cockle-shells, and to catch at mere empty Noises and Shadows.  
Give me the Diamond that is true Brilliant cut in its self, and that needs nothing of the Golden Caskanett, to set it off, or adorn it: I may say, 'tis a kind of Whoring of true Wit, to dress it in Poetry; and if a true Poet hates to see the Plot, and turn of his Play fumed away by Opera into Show and Noise; much more may genuine and vigorous sense, scorn to be cramped and manacled by Verse, for the sake of a little paltry Rhyme and Metre, to set it out with.  
And to me therefore, it appears no other, than a Reflection on Mr. Hobbs, who would otherwise seem a Philosopher to translate Homer; not that I would so much undervalue Homer neither, as the employment of his Judgement, and that he should squander away so much time in a mere Diversion, and the endless jingle of Words.  
Would you know why Poets are poor; I think it is their due Reward; for when men weakly are too much enamoured with Butterfly Fancy, 'tis fit, as a piece of natural Justice, that Poverty, as an armed Man, should come upon them, and force them to Reason, and to worldly and heavenly real Cares to employ them better.  
And yet, to show the Vanity of Mankind, 'tis wonderful to see how they are bewitched to the Charming Rhymes of Verses; but more especially, if they are satire, men are naturally envious, and love to admire themselves, chiefly, in the degrading of others: And hence 'tis, that you shall find a Lord R— malicious Wit, cried up for a Miracle, when may be a fifty times greater or diviner in a good Man, is scarce discernible.  
But above all, what infinite Lies and Fables our Poets, Ancient and Modern, have filled the world with? Who can end the Stories of their Gods, their Riots, and Metamorphoses, etc. the most pernicious means in the Debauch of the Old Heathen Morals; and so even now, Who looks into a Poem and expects truth? And alas! What is it but our common Plays and Poems that paint Vices for Virtues, and turn even the Devil to an Angel of Light?  
And what, shall we call these Poet's Prophets then? No: if their Rage be inspired them, 'tis by the Devil; if they deal in History, they sophisticate it; or if in Morality, they rhodomontado it: So that in truth, Poetry may very properly be called Vinum Daemonum, and deserve no manner of respect with men of Judgement; for tho' the Subject be good and pious, yet who delights to see it strained beyond truth? Surely, Poetry when it is excessive, deserves rather to be called a Madness than an Art.  
As for the Laws of Poetry, 'tis idle to set fixed Forms or Bounds for Rhymes or Metre either, since the only Rule for Poetry, is the adding the Delight as it were of Chiming Words to the Sense; nay, and that may be as well without Rhymes as with. Witness Milton's Paradise Lost, and the Latin Poets, or without set Metre, as Horace and Cowleys Pindaricks, or indeed, any other way whatsoever.  
And, so as to the Feet of such Meeter, whether Dactyls, or Spondees, etc. and as to the bounds of such Meeter, whether Iambics, etc. the search is both idle and endless: Indeed Alsted reckons up no less than 124. several Feet; so that Custom is only able to limit them, and Pleasurableness is their greatest Excellency. Smoothness even in Oratory is necessary, that its Roughness may not interrupt Attention; and more even in Poetry, is idle.  
So, What shall I say to our several sorts of Meeter also; your Acrostics, your Anagrams, and an Hundred other little Baubles; as Echoes, Riddles, Meter, composed in the shape of Pots and Crowns; so your Verses that are to be Read backwards, and that contain the Year of the Date in Roman Letters? Are not these endless and innumerable Trifles, and fitter for a Toy-shop, than a Wise Man's Head?  
So also, What a sputter we have to know the Long, and the Short of a Syllable! forsooth, we must have Whole Volumes for the sake of such a Trifle: So, What a Noise we have to know the due Bounds of a Poetica Licentia, as if there were some Mystery, or Divinity in the Impertinencies of Poets; Risum teneatis amici?  
And yet after all, not but that Poetry not abused, may be both pleasant and useful too, in its time; but than it ought precisely to follow Truth in Story, and not be cramped in the Meeter: To be short, the two great Faults, in my Sense, and that generally destroy the Air of most Poetry, are, when Men either cripple it with too Nice Rules, like Aristotle; or, in stead of presenting us with an even current of Thought in it, patch it up to us as with an endless Fardel of Fancies.   

Of Preface and Dedication.  
OUr common Preface-makers tell us, That a Book without a Preface, is like a Face without a Crevat; But, suppose a rugged Spaniard is aversed to this little Alamode de Paris; I hope the true Englishman will not refuse to Converse with him therefore.  
Just so, if the Preface be the Crevat, surely Dedication is the Beaux-string; and the Man is as no Body, that cannot prostitute himself genteel and Delicately to Rhodomontade and Flattery in it.  
In plain terms, Men use their Books like Begging-passes, more to procure themselves good and easy means by the way, than to hasten themselves really to the truer ends of Life by them.  
So our Dedications also run in a strain, as if they were to beg a Protection to our Books; but alas! consult the Author's real Sense in the Matter, and he'll tell you, he has rather done an honour, than expects such a favour by it.  
I won't say, That all our Prefaces and Dedications are Composed of such a Medley as this; but surely too many of them are so impertinent, and so luscious, that the Authors have often spoiled a good Book by them.  
The Zealous Puritan, that will not so much as Smoke a Pipe of Tobacco without a Grace; yet, when more solemnly he comes to make a Publication to Instruct the World, his Interest shall make him Sacrifice all his Cant to some profitable Brother or Sister.  
God smote Herod for taking the Honour of his own Speech to himself: Alas! we are infinitely more Arrogant than he. We Dare so great a Property in such our Glory, that we can presumptuously transfer it to another; 'tis well we live not among the Primitive Dispensations of Judgements.  
What a delicate medley it is; a Book full of Raptures of Devotion, and a Dedication as vile and wicked, as Unmanly and Ungenerous in its Flatteries.  
Did you approach, by a gracious permission, the Presence of a King? And would you be so Saucy, as to make the Noble favour and honour done you, only the occasion to Compliment some little petty Courtier before him?  
Much more, dare you appear in the Presence of the King of Kings, in solemnly presuming to declare and deliver his Laws, and at the very Footstool of his Throne, presume to exalt the Merits of any Mortal Man?  
Surely, if e'er we take God's Name in vain, 'tis then; and when we rob the Divine Majesty of a suitable Reverence; But who has the loss by it? And who suffers by our bringing the Sacred Deity into contempt? surely ourselves: If we reverence him not duly, 'tis we shall suffer for it: Alas! he himself stands in need of none of our honour.  
Some Heathens have never delivered the Name of GOD but in Great Letters; nay, others have never Printed any other Word in the same Line, lest the hasty Reader should heedlessly pass it o'er; but, Can this be to the honour of us Christians, who thus care not how we treat him?  
Were we to Write the Life of Alexander the Great, and after some singular Praises and Encomiums, should Dedicate it to some illustrious, overgrown, and singularly well qualified Mouse; Would not this redound, by way of Matchless Honour, to Alexander?  
Even so, when we treat with the Great God of Heaven, Is it decent to magnify even Princes in his Presence? nay, Is there any Parity between Finite and Infinite? and the dishonour to God and Alexander in such case?  
Surely, all our private Dedications are, at best, but an Injustice to God therefore; but such as these a manifest Contumely to him: We ought not to Name the Name, much less to treat any thing relating to the Divine Being, without the greatest sense of his Majesty.  
When we Name therefore the Invisible, Infinite and Eternal Maker of all things, Is it suitable, even to Aggrandise the whole Earth in his Presence? and to whom the whole Globe is but as a drop of the Bucket?  
When we deliver his Truths, Is it suitable to any sense of Providence to crave the Protection of any Man on Earth for them? Good God How great is the vanity, as well as the Impiety of these flatteries?  
He that alone endures for Ages, that disposes of Kingdoms at his pleasure, and in whose hand, are, and have been all the Mightiest Men upon Earth; Needs he an Assistant, lest his eternal Will should fail? And, if 'tis not his Will, Who shall support it?  
To be short; I wish what I Writ could Persuade Men to a more truly Religious frame in this Matter; if not, I yet shall be content, that I have done my duty in Warning them, and to the Will of God be left the Success on it.  
But, for my own part, I declare, were I either to lose or gain the Indies by such Methods, I would sooner burn myself and Papers, than stoop to so mean and corrupt a Practice.  
I will not say, that like the Apostles, we may not justly write Epistolarly to a Church, or Brother; for certainly, so long as we preserve the due Decorum of Decency and Verity, that must be most Innocent; but surely, whatever exceeds that, must savour either of Vanity or Evil.   

Of STUDY.  
Study's serve either for Delight, for Ornament, or for Ability; for Delight in Retirement, for Ornament in Discourse, and for Ability in Judgement, and Disposition of Business; and yet to spend too much time in Study, is sloth; to use them too much for Ornament, is Affectation; and, to confine our Judgement too precisely to their Rules, is Formal and Pedantic.  
And thus likewise, Reading makes a full Man, or copious Notion; Conference a ready Man, and a temper Conversable; and Writing an exact Man, or a Complete Idea. Indeed, there is no stoned, or impediment in the Wit, but that may be wrought out by fit Studies: And if there be any knot, that I cannot by Study work off at one time, Meditation shall do it at another.  
But he buys himself but a melancholy slavery, who Studies more than necessary: Now, such our necessity appears by this, either in attaining agreeable accomplishments, or in preparation for business, or in a Charitable instruction of our Brother: But rather than Study beyond these ends, we ought to confine ourselves even to set-hours, and to times and seasons.  
To be short; Crafty Men contemn Studies, as the longest way about, and, as true Wisdom is too laborious for them; simple Men admire them, as it is their very Exaltation to be in Wonders; and Wise Men use them: they perfect Nature, and are perfected by Experience: for Natural Parts, like Natural Plants, are the better for Pruning and Grafting.  

The Method of Study.  
But, as we love to do nothing in vain, and are not willing to bestow pains, where it will not make us any return; so, no Prudent Man will venture on any course of Study, till he has first throughly settled the exactest Measures of his Method.  
And thus, if you Read, observe nicely to do it deliberately, choosing your times, when you are not likely to be disturbed; but, above all, be sure to maintain a continued and steady apprehension in whatever you do; and whenever you find that disturbed, or destroyed, never distract yourself further, but cease Study, lest you lose as much in the Confusion and want of Method, as you get in the Quantity.  
Indeed, I may add, to Study more than four or five hours a day, except it be purely in Copying Writings, is too much; it precipitates our Judgement, and sours our proceedings; And, what Improvement can you expect then, when as you increase in the Mass, you lose in the Digestion; nay, and may be, for want of Consideration, indiscernably engage yourself in nothing else but Trifles.  
Nay, and besides, What is it that makes our Studies uneasy to us, but when we are thus careless in Examining their Circumstances? if we are too violent in them, well may we be confounded and fatigued; and if we Thoughtlesly set about them, in the midst of Interruption, Can we justly charge it on the Nature of Study, when we complain of its uneasiness?  
So in Reading, Can you think that when you gallop over a good Author, you do not flatten him, and lose half his Life and Substance? surely you do: Alas! if you intent to be a Student to effect, you must learn to pursue your Subject with Patience, and Discipline yourself to a laborious constancy; but, above all, if you intent to Study much, rise early, and have time before you, For why should you impair your Health by it for want of Exercise?  
Nor be discouraged, that thou canst not succeed in thy Studies immediately, or at the first engagement; if thou aimest at Perfection, thou must not Mushroom-like, think to spring up in a day, no, nor a Year; no, alas! thou must cut thy way even through Mountains of Errors and Prejudices: And, though thou mayst patch up a Cottage in an hour, yet a beautiful City of Thought, a new Rome, fit for an Humane Soul to reign in, is not to be hewed out of the Rocks, reared and adorned in a day.  
And, in this case, had the World been as diligent in a sincere and impartial Meditation, as they have been in their Pedantry, I am persuaded that by this time, Knowledge had been Quadruple to what it is; not that I would have Men wholly fling aside all former helps neither; but I would have them make their Reading as subservient to their own digestion; for my part there's nothing that I have either received or borrowed, that I have not reduced to my own Method and Disposal.  
Hence some Books are to be Tasted, others to be Swallowed, and some few to be Chewed and Digested; some Books may be Read by Deputy, that is, by Extracts: But, in all our Methods we ought never to Read, to Contradict and Confute only; nor to believe, nor take for granted, nor merely to find Talk and Discourse; but duly to Weigh, Consider, and Digest also.  
And, in this Case, I may add, that, as an ill Stomach craves for more than it can digest, so 'tis an irregular Student that Reads more than he Considers how to Command: and, as he that in such case, eats more than he Digests, breeds Humours; so, surely, I may as justly add, that a Reader, beyond the true Capacity of his Comprehension also, breeds Errors. And, to carry the Simile a little further.  
As the soundest Meats prove the best nourishment, though they are often difficult to digest, so the Intricatest Notions commonly prove the Students best Informers, though for a little time they may amuse his Conception; for, as Marrow lies in bones, so Valuable Secrets lie generally wrapped in Difficulties; besides that, any one Difficulty left unconquered, is enough to cloud and confound the whole Idea of our Studies and Notions that follow it.  
As for Collections in Writing, and without which, to Study by Reading, is but to try to fill Proserpina's Seeve: Think first with yourself, what will be really material and substantial in them; and learn to distinguish Dressing from Subjects, and Ornaments from Things; the first may be Abridged, and Comprised in short, while the latter is various, nay infinite, and consequently impertinent: Thr first is the composure of solid Judgement, the latter but the Froth and Wantonness of Fancy.  
As for your Method in Collecting therefore, let it be clear, short, and well-advised; clear, that you may make an easy recollection, and easily continue your course; short, that you may not bestow more pains in Shadow than Substance; or Method than Matter; and well-advised, that you may proceed without Repentance, and that you may not be perpetually employed in laying of New Foundations, but be able cheerfully to build your Superstructure on.  
For my part, till I purified thus my Method, the more I studied, the more I was confounded; but thus I have not only preserved my Idea entire, but one part of my Study has helped the other, while my whole Body lies easy for me, either for Correction or Improvement, and as hereafter I shall see occasion. But besides this, we ought to consider to keep our Studies within the bounds of a due Limitation also.   

The true Limitation of Studies.  
And thus, first, we ought to limit our Studies to our use, and to fit them to supply our defects; Thus Histories will teach us Wisdom, through Experimental Precepts: Poets will make us Witty, but Light and Flashy; the Mathematics will make us Subtle and not Credulous; Natural Philosophy Deep and Reasoning; Morality Grave and Good; And Logic and Rhetoric will teach one Faction, and make one able to Contend.  
Hence also, if a Man's Wit be wand'ring, let him Study the Mathematics; for if in Demonstrations he go never so little aside, he must begin all again; so if he be not apt to distinguish, Read the Schoolmen; or if he be not apt to beat our Matters, or to call up one thing, to prove and illustrate another, let him Study the Lawyer's Cases, and so every defect of the Mind may have a special Receipt.  
So if he be apt to be Idle, let him borrow the Books he is to Study, for a time, and that will make him either diligent, or want; nor let him, in Studying, only Meditate or Read, for that is but to see his Face in a Glass, and to leave fleeting Characters in the Memory only, and that will instantly be blotted out; whereas by Writing also we draw a more lasting Picture.  
So likewise Reflection on Conversation is far better than crude Books, and too much Reading; in Truth, one may say, Not only that Book-learning is commonly too Pedantic and Formal to benefit; but indeed, that Books, in themselves, are almost as idle as infinite; and so that, in Truth, 'tis a matter greatly worth our examining, how far to Study, and what to Read; and also, what to fling aside as superfluous.  
And thus the knowing what's fit to be Studied, saves half the pains; and, in such case, just enough in Charity and Necessity is sufficient: We are not here to get Knowledge for the other World, as some idly have imagined; our sincerity indeed will stand us in stead there, but our knowledge not in the least. Alas! the Present state of our Nature and senses is Probationary, and not to last.  
Before therefore we descend into the several branches of Humane Learning, it were the highest prudence first to discern between Knowledge, profitable and useless, curious and solid; and in which case, in general, as I have said, 'tis equally vain and foolish, to think to arrive at a nice perfection of Wisdom, the prerogative of God; and we should confine ourselves therefore, as well to what is rationally within our powers, as to what is useful.  
And thus the Philosopher's Stone, supposing it acquirable, yet it were both lazy and an unindustrious encroaching on the public property to attain it; and therefore, deservedly punishable by Laws. And thus, there are some things also more directly unlawful to be studied, as I have already shown, and which will much shorten an Universal Idea, as Witchcraft, as Rebellion to God, and superstitious Magic, as tempting him.  
But, besides these greater Evils, How many may I add, spend their time about Words, and never dive into Sense? How many please themselves rather with the slight imaginations and fancies of other than trouble themselves to look for truth? I say, we need only reflect, how easily we may dispense with these, and many others sorts of Knowledge, and not envy the Possessors of them; and indeed, what but such Exuberances in Studies, make our present Philosophy a mere idle Chimaera and Vanity?  
To be short, the true end of Study, as of all things else, is the glory of God, and the good of his Creatures: Now, as we cannot say, we pursue either of these ends, when we study Trifles, so are such employments sinful; and tho' I would obtain a complete Knowledge, and raise its Banks too high for the Storms of raving Wit and trifling Error, to be able to destroy; yet withal, I would not bestow the least pains on what might look either unnecessary or evil.   

Of the Choice of Books.  
And thus also we pity our loss of Books; alas, fond Fools that we are! What is lost that occasional industry and necessity cannot retrieve? Besides, we are mistaken to seek for Wisdom in the multitude of Authors; we had as good look for it in the Mobile, where some are moon-eyed, some purblind, some confident, as Mountebanks, and others, perverse even as Devils.  
Nay, when we consider the mere multiplicity of Books, tho' I would allow myself to consult the choicer for my Assistance, yet in general, I would as soon hear every Man's Dream as read his Works; and I ought therefore, rather first to consider what Books I ought to read, and next, what may be convenient for me by way of resort.  
Now, as for the Election of Authors, I know no other method than the Vogue of the Learned; in Morality and Divinity, those whom Time and Antiquity have commended, and who have stood the Censure of Ages, are to be chosen; and not every Modern Author, whose gaudy Titles and popular Prejudices make him better at Noise than Reasoning: But as for experimental Wisdom, as interest is likely to improve the World with her Age, so the latter Authors are there to be preferred before blind Antiquity.  
But wouldst thou know a more particular Test for good Books, I mean moral ones; they are such as have Learning and Sincerity, but more especially Sincerity: And hence the Scriptures which no one can esteem, to exceed in regular Learning; yet as being most pure and transcendent in sincerity, infinitely exceed all other Books: Alas! 'tis not Notion but bright Sincerity, that duly and justly gives the Preference. Indeed, what good can a sinister, cunning, or Pedantry do us?  
Upon the whole, 'twere too tedious for me here to give you long Catalogues of Books; and besides, my designs is rather towards a general Advice; if the Student want particular Author's Names therefore, let him consult the proper Artists, and the perusal of Books themselves; and yet let him even then rather choose a few and choice Books than a Library; for a multitude will confound us, where a moderate Quantity will assist and help us; and in truth, Masters of great Libraries too commonly like Booksellers, deal no deeper than in Titles.  
As for the encouragement of diverting needless Studies, I shall only say this, 'tis fit a Gentleman should have at least an insight into all things; he need not aim at being a Master in all, and yet he may take a slight View or Lanskaf of all: for tho' he intends but one thing as his business, yet he may justly make the Survey of all, the Ring of his Recreation and Diversion: For who can distinguish things better than he that has the largest prospect?  
And yet in such loser Studies, I would not read a mean Book: Suppose he help thee to a good Notion or two, will that avail thee for thy pains and loss of time? Nor needst thou doubt in such case, but that if thou readst the choicer Authors upon the same Subject, that they will give thee the same thing, and in much better order, than a little pretender shall. I may say, our dozing ourselves with an unprofitable reading, What is it, but like poisoning and cankring our minds, and which induces us to dote away our time in perpetual maze and confusion?  
When thou hast therefore tried some few pages in an Author, and canst not like him, reject him: for as 'tis impossible for a man to read all Books, so 'tis enough if he do the best; and 'tis our Unhappiness if a Pearl lie scattered in an unproper Soil: and if a good Notion be lost, because delivered by an ill Author, I say, 'tis a misfortune in discretion inevitable; for the Man is mad that thinks to read all Books: and yet, if an Author lie in a good method, a little pains may serve to Examine him.  
Further, there is a weak and cowardly prejudice in men, I mean, when the dread of being seduced by ill Books, makes them afraid to read good ones, if they have but a bad Name: But why so, I say? If what an Author write be true, Why should I be Bugbeared from an opportunity of being wiser? if false, Am not I a fool so to question the integrity or strength of my Reasoning? and thus is it not a shame, that an Hobbs should fright an University worse than a Monster?  
I am afraid, the too common and Fondling Notions of the World are a little rotten at the heart, or else methinks their Abettors need not be put to these shifts and burnings, to confute their Adversaries: Alas! Truth, like the Sun, of its self, and without force, is able to clear all the Fogs of Fallacy and Sophistry; and nothing but Error and Prejudice need dread the Combat of Argument, and the Test of Examination.  
An affected singularity indeed in all colours, is odious; but this Perverseness in the popularity of the World, makes it, that if ever we intent to study Truth, we must be singular sometimes, and dare converse with Men and Books that are so; or else at last, we may find to our loss, that we shall explode Truth and Sincerity too often with such Authors. I shall add a little in general of Speculation and Practice, as the main rule of our Study, and conclude.   

Of Speculation and Practice.  
Our Speculation in general, aught to be so far subservient to our Practice, that I may say, we profane Precepts as well as Piety, when we take their words into our mouth, or transcribe them with our Pens, and do not live and act accordingly. In Divinity nothing is more dangerous than Knowledge without Obedience: Christ tells us, That he that knew his Master's Will, and performed it not, should be beaten with many stripes: And he that pretends to Virtue no otherwise than in Notion, is no better than an Hypocrite, or at best a Chimaera Book-worm.  
'Tis true, we ought not to neglect Speculation; and yet as Practice is the end of Speculation, surely no man will prefer the means before the end. Practise without Speculation at worst, makes us but imprudent; but mere Speculation renders us unprofitable, and drones: And in truth, Virtue, by mere Speculation, is confounded, and only ripened by Action.  
Nay, Knowledge without Practice, is but a Lust of Curiosity; and the man that cannot propose a good Moral End in his Studies, had as good divert himself with the Purling of Brooks and Pebbles, as the mere change of Words and Notions; and yet 'tis the curse of your dreaming Speculatists, that they not only have no taste of real Wisdom, but misspend the time that should lead them to it. Wisdom is Folly, and Prudence Madness, in such a man; and yet, Hypocrite-like, he shall read their Precepts even with delight, as long as their Novelty lasts.  
The measure therefore of our Speculation, aught to be this; sufficient to advance our Practice, and not impede it, of things useful, and not of unprofitable Whimsies, of bettering Life, as Virtue and Religion, and not turning men into thinking, and reading Melanchollists; 'tis a Vice to procure that knowledge that is not of advantage when had; and we misemploy our method of thinking, if we engage it purely in a puzzle of Thoughts: Indeed, the Mind working on matter, produceth worthy Notions, but on its self nothing but Cobwebs and Trifles.  
And thus also, there are some men so weak as to look for Morality even in Plays and Romances; but alas! they but flatter themselves, and seek but for the Colours of Virtue, while they dare not the Brave and Nobler Self-denial of her purer Precepts: Poor Pretenders! Why do they shuffle so? a courageable Enemy is better than a Bastard Friend: Think you ever to reconcile Good and Evil, or God and the Devil? Surely, the man that even carouzes in his Lusts, is an innocent to such as Hypocrite.  
Upon the whole therefore, you see I may make myself learneder by reading, but only wiser by moderating and regulating my Actions: I will not therefore spend all my Vigour in Discipline, in the Dressing Room of my Soul: I must live as well as think; and yet, as I know Error is too often to strong for me, I will always leave room for Repentance, Amendment, and new Precepts.  
And, as our Speculation therefore ought not to be continual, so at length, I would have a man say, Lectum, consideratum, & Scriptum est, & nunc vivam; when once I have made my Rule to live by, I'll see how I can draw my Life and Actions by it; Wisdom was never intended to be acquired only, but enjoyed; and that Knowledge is Folly, not Wisdom, that does not apply its self to the uses of Man.  
And to conclude; the only Reason that makes Speculation and Practice differ so much, comes from the vicious and chimaera Prejudices of Mankind: indeed, were our Knowledge reduced sincerely to the due bounds of Wisdom, we should find our Precepts would be like to Demonstration; and a man would no sooner read them, but he would be convinced beyond all doubt, to act by them.    

Of CONSTANCY.  
ONe may say, the Sun, the Air, and all things about us, contribute to make us what we are in every respect; but our minds, and the purity thereof, so that indeed, who ever loves us on any other account than that, their love must needs be transitory; for being made what we are by our circumstances, and they changing as they perpetually do, we become others than we were; so that in such case, it cannot be justly called an Unconstancy, to change our Affections, when the Objects themselves have changed.  
And hence it is, that our Constancy in Love, What is it but a perpetual Inconstancy, and which causes our hearts to incline successively to all the Qualities of the Person that we love, giving sometimes the preference to one, and sometimes to another? So that, in truth, the best of our Constancies, except to God, want a Foundation; and really, what are they but our Inconstancies limited, and unreasonably bound up in one Subject, by an unaccountable Obstinacy?  
And thus, What but this is it, that makes us seek for new Friends, and fresh Faces every day, and yet not but that that which makes us love new Acquaintance, is not always so much a weariness of our old, or the pleasure of Change, as the Distaste which we have, that we are not enough admired by those that we know too familiarly, and the hope we have to be more admired by those that know us but a little?  
But to return; there are two sorts of Constancy in Love; the one is, because we find perpetually in the person we love (as in an inexhausible Fountain) new Causes to love; the other is, that one holds it dishonourable to change or break one's word; and so also, there is an inconstancy which comes from a Levity of mind, and which changes every moment its opinion, or out of weakness, which makes it receive all the Opinions of others: and so there is another Inconstancy, which is more excusable, and which comes from the things themselves, through their losing their relish.  
Nor is such an Inconstancy, except in Virtue or Friendship to be discommended; for why may not I justly follow my Inclination, and the change of Things? But he that is false to his friend, or that complains of his friend, that he may be able before hand the better to justify his own levity, is guilty of a perverse Treachery; or else, I may say, our perseverance deserves neither praise nor blame; for indeed, 'tis no more than a continuance of our Taste and Thoughts, and which we may as innocently as justly be able to remove from us, or change at pleasure.  
But as for our constancy in Goodness, Sincerity, and Truth, it is the chief and crown of all Virtues, and even the best of Virtues: Virtues themselves degenerate to a Vice without it; if we have either Bravery or Goodness therefore, let us remember to crown all such endeavours with Constancy. Constancy will make even condemned Innocence glory in her Virtue; and Patience and penitent Gild submit and cooperate with Justice. Whilst I am constant to the Tracks of Virtue, my Breast shall be immovable and easy, and neither Crowns shall make me proud, nor Rags ashamed.  
Nay, and while I thus mix Constancy with Wisdom, my Affairs shall be in order, and Prudence shall cut out their seasons: I'll foreknow the variety and difference of business, and neither Accident nor Novelty shall confound or surprise me; indeed that man ought not so much as to presume at the name of prudence, that by a steady perseverance in St●●ly and Meditation, has not strengthened and garrisoned his Reason, and given it an entire prospect above the common little Mountains of Prejudice and Inconstancy.  
To be short, I would even hate my mind till I make it speak the same thing to morrow that it does to day; my certainty and my faith shall be the same, and I will have an equal regard for them at all times. Cannot human Frailty bear this? purified Reason and Precepts shall.  
My Ideas shall not be fleeting and changeable at every blast of Reasoning, nor my Resolution wavering; I will know the certainty of Piety, Virtue and Truth; if they have no bottom, I'll never hamper myself with them; if they have, if possible, I will follow them; nay, and I hope by the help of God, by the same rule, to be able to reduce my Notions to Principles that shall last as long as the Sun shines.  
Have I misfortunes? and what then! does not the same reason of things always continue? or was I ever so weak as not to expect Accidents? if not, Why is my Mind and Resolution changed? is not my Reason the same still? or what! must I commit myself to the Wind, and be as changeable as the Weathercock; be a Philosopher to day, a Fiddler to morrow, and every day find some new Whimsies for my Entertainment?  
No, Constancy is the most potent and crown of all Virtues; and through Constancy I will, nay I doubt not, but to conquer all things. Constancy even in drops wears Stones away, while nothing is more weak than a Pretender; if we have never so great an Appearance in our Actions either of Virtue or Courage, yet if we want Constancy and Perseverance, our Profession is idle, and our Pretences are vain; nay, and they reflect more upon us, than if we were absolutely negligent.  
And yet, tho' nothing can recommend its self more to us than Constancy, yet it ought to be with this Limitation, in what is good, and truth only; and not in a lie, or evil. Constancy in Vice enhances our Gild, and Perseverance in Error after Conviction, be it on any pretence whatever, is the sure method of Folly and Ignorance. Indeed, Constancy is only in good things; and 'tis Obstinacy that fixes us in evil, and that makes Sin and Vice eternal, and that forbids Repentance for fear of Change.    

OF THE Art of War.  

Of the Lawfulness of WAR.  
TO God alone belongs the Prerogative of Life and Death; and who art thou, who presumest to assume it? Art thou a King? even a King ought to be a Father to his Subjects, and not a Slaughterer: but is that for Trifles, to drown them in Blood? Surely, they forget King Phillips Monitor; Remember thou art a Man therefore, who can too easily engage themselves in War?  
And yet tho' hence we ought to abhor War, yet we ought never to forget it, no, not even in time of Peace: if the rigour of our Discipline cease, yet at least our Military Precepts should be preserved pure; for nothing surely can Disengage us of ourselves Preservation.  
And yet not that, not to be backward in just Wars, should forward us therefore to Rapine or Murder neither; God certainly has Plagues and real Causes of Wars enough to ease the World of being overpeopled by, without our Presumptuous, Murders and Desolations: Have I therefore the justest cause of War, if possible, I will stifle it.  
Thus, Is my Merchant injured? I will satisfy him by reprisal. And, have I wronged my Neighbour? I will acquit myself before God, in tendering him satisfaction.  
Indeed, Princes should consider the hardship of an unjust War upon their Subjects, before they begin it. I might add, Is the Right doubtful? And what, will not an Arbitration serve and save humane Blood?  
In truth, War without Cause is predatory and brutish, and a mere Soldier is worse than an blangman; a Generous Officer sure would die rather than fight without a good Cause declared. In doubtful cases indeed, I'll obey my Prince; but shall he make a Man-Butcher of me?  
Not but that War undoubtedly may be most lawful too; for even the same Christ that could abolish the rule, of an eye for an eye, etc. in forbearance and mercy; yet himself could once think a Sword necessary, Luke 22. 36. and Lash the Thiefs out of the Temple.  
To be short; God has given us a Being, And shall we not value his kindness, by all the lawful ways of self-preservation? And what, may we not then justly resist all violent Aggressors, and avenge ourselves of our secret Enemies, to incapacitate them in their evil designs?  
Nay, and if this be the Law of Nature; Pray where is't abolished? and surely, it is such, nay, and to that degree, that a People may lawfully Raise a War of Self-defence of their own heads, and without the Authority of their Prince, where 'tis necessary, even as all Casuists allow.  
And yet, not but that I may wickedly Prosecute the Justest War too; War should be managed, as by a Judge, to Pay the Original Debt, and not as by a Robber, to Murder and Plunder.  
Thus I have a just occasion of War, when I see another assault me, nay, when I have a good Ground of Jealousy and Suspicion, I am not bound to wait the first Blow: But are my Suspicions weak, and his Preparations trifling? Peace and Charity commands me to entertain no ill opinion of them.  
So, Do I see my Neighbour's Subjects miserably distressed? 'tis my Duty not to see Piety, Honesty and Innocence discouraged; and yet, though to Relieve the Oppressed for Religion, may be a good cause of War, yet, to propagate it, can be none.  
So, Is my Brother Ignorant, or an Heathen? Charity will let me advise him, but not force him: But does my Brother Sacrifice his Children? Is he a Sodomite, or a Murderer, as Benjamin? surely I, with Israel, may War with him, to bring him to a better temper.  
So Papists, by their Principle, That no Faith's to be kept with Heretics, give an Immortal cause of War: We sight a more generous and open Enemy, And are not we Bewitched to forgive one, Bloody, Barbarous, and Inveterate, as the Devil himself is then?  
'Tis pity, indeed, we don't Indulge their Tender Consciences, and let them Murder us; 'tis their Principle and Religion: If it be their Religion, I say, 'tis from the Devil, and let us fight them till they alter it: What! Profess ourselves Sheep for the slaughter? I don't know whether Protestant States may not Answer for't to God, as Self-murderers, that they have tendered such Vermin-Principles so long.  
So, surely, I have a right to take a Sword from a Madman, to Arbitrate my Neighbour's Popular Commotions, and to interpose towards settling the Peace of my Neighbours.  
Thus, If my Neighbour begins a War, though with another Neighbour; the Wolf shall not think, by my standing Neuter, to devour me next; and yet I will not help a too Potent Prince abused neither; For why should I assist him to destroy myself?  
Thus 'twas the War of Righteous Abraham to reduce those Conquerors that carried away his Brother Lot. And yet, if the War for my Brother be too desperate, I am not bound to fling away my Life for his sake.  
But are only my Merchants Injured, and by private Persons? I have no cause of War, if either satisfaction be tendered, or the Offenders delivered up; but such an Injury, by a Commissioned Subject, is a complete cause of War.  
So I may Naturalise a Subject of my Neighbours without offence; but if I offer to Naturalise a Town, or to encroach but one foot on his Dominions, he has a just Cause of War against me; and yet even then he ought not only to demand a Reasonable Satisfaction, but solemnly to denounce it, ere he begins with Acts of Hostility.   

Of Generals in WAR.  
ONe ordinary General is better than two excellent ones; for nothing is more pernicious than Confusion and Irresolution: And yet 'tis hard to trust the courage of one General only; the Mean seems the appointing Three several Commanders, for Van, Main Body, and Rear; and changing their Commands each Week; and so you may not only be assured of a General on all hazards, but as well secure their Fidelity, as relieve their Courages.  
Nor were it amiss also, for the same reason, once a Year for a General to make all his Under-Officers change their Commands; and which, to avoid offence, he may do by Promotion; for so he will not only instruct all, and make Military Discipline familiar, but hinder all Corruption in False Musters, and prevent all Factions in his Army whatever.  
As for the Skill of a General, it has two advantages, Duty and Stratagem; Duty, to know the force and order of Military Discipline, and therefore a General must be a Soldier; and Stratagem, to prevent and secure future Accidents to his advantage; and, in this, 'tis his own ingenuity; and a Council of War must aid him.  
Nor is any thing more worthy a General's care in this case, than the choice and management of his Council of War: Does he fear Treachery in it, and can't he talk of what he will, though he never resolves on it then, and seem to doubt in what he most intends?  
But above all, a General ought to esteem his Life as the whole Armies; indeed, he acts the greatest public good in preserving it; nay, he ought in this, to be so nice, as to be always in temper, and never suffer himself to be harassed out; he is the head of the Army, and therefore ought never to be without vigorous Thoughts and Counsils for every opportunity of Stratagem, or Service that may offer.  
And, in this, a General ought to remember also, that in all extremities he has a Commission from the Law of Nature, as well as his Prince; not, I mean, but that in affronts and trifles, he should choose to let Time give him satisfaction; but, in imminent dangers, his own discretion, as well as his Prince's words, aught to be his Rule.  
Further, a General ought to be most severe, and yet most just also; severe, to awe his Enemies, and preserve his own Discipline; and yet just, that he provoke neither to hatred: And, indeed, in this matter, nothing is better than that the General be beloved: and yet, for a Prince to permit his Army to choose their own General for their Loves-sake, is to Dethrone himself.  
But, Does a Prince see the Army hate their General? he will do well to choose them a better: So, does a General see his Army jealous of him? let his Friend head the jealousy, and expostulate satisfaction, who, besure, will be more tender than if his Enemies were to Judge him.  
But, Does a General find his Prince jealous of him? his only way to anticipate it, is, by laying down his Commission; and when he is so ingenious, he need not fear further mischief. Princes know the evil consequence of ill-treating such great Officers: if he punish one too easily, the next he may expect to secure himself, by going over to the Enemy.   

Of WAR in General.  
WAR is the decision of a Right too high for Judicature; wherein, Arms is the Trial, and Conquest the Judgement. To begin a War after Conquest perfected, and Mercy shown, is a piece of perfidy, that deserves no Quarter.  
Are you a private Man, and have received Mercy, through yielding up your Right? surely, you Merit a Thousand Racks if you ungratefully reassume it again: you might have died in the Field, or now continue Neuter; but, Is it nothing to fight against that Benefactor, that has given you your being, and so spill innocent blood?  
So to allow Quarter, when asked, is both a Christian and a Humane duty; while to execute Men by Law-Civil, forgiven by Quarter Military, is most barbarous.  
But does some Hen-roost Garrison withstand a Royal Army? they deserve no Quarter, or at least they ought to be decimated; 'tis not Generosity, but Madness, that makes Men prolong Wars, and destroy one another without prospect of Relief.  
So, Is mine Enemy perfidious? 'tis his fault that our slaughters are endless, who, by his Treachery, has put it out of our power to believe or trust him.  
Not that Stratagems are disallowable, or that Victory is the less honourable for them neither; 'tis Jesting, not Fight, to proclaim every blow we intent.  
'Twas a generous Custom of the Ancients indeed, to give notice of Battle by the sound of a Bell; the course of late is more wary, but not less bloody, to secure Frontiers by Garrisons, and spin out Wars by the Tricking of Armies.  
Wars are usually of two sorts, either of Conquest, or like Moses', to root out the Inhabitants. In a common dispute▪ the Decision of a Goliath, or Horatij, may save blood; but, an extirpating War, and such as Papists and Protestants at this day are, can safely admit of a Peace on no Terms.  
Thus, Am I entered into a War, and am I like to engage with a stronger State? by Garrisons I will stop mine Enemy, till either by Diversion or Assistance I can withstand him; but if neither myself, nor Allies, can probably resist him, I will rather generously fling myself under some agreeable Protection, than stand with a silly Sullenness to be destroyed.  
But are your Forces equal? and are you well fortified? Admit the War in your own Country, where you may command both Men and Provisions upon a loss, and which abroad may be fatal to your Army. Thus the Suiss that can fight an ●00●00. at home, strain hard to maintain but 40000 men when abroad; and yet without Forts, your whole Country's destroyed.  
So, is your War with a Trade-State? pen them but in, and stop their Course, and you make them ruin themselves: But is such a State too powerful for you? Either buy your Peace, make in with its Enemies, or distract him by some intestine Commotions; perhaps some of the Royal Family have a Claim to be assisted.  
Would you delay a War? Send an Ambassador with Proposals of Peace; but with such perplexed Terms, as may judicially require some time to deliberate them.  
But are you resolved on a War, and in the mean time would blind your Enemy while you are preparing? Amuse your Enemy by Secret Counsels and close Ambassadors; nor need you be wanting in Congratulatory Compliments and Civilities. Must I presume, my honest Demands will create a War, and may not I wait till I am duly enabled to make them?  
So, Is a War begun? Invite your Enemy by mercy, and fright him through severity. Have you two Armies? By the one block up Forts, while the other enters on the Enemy.  
So also, are you forced to proceed by Sieges? Blood will save Blood, and by destroying every Man in the Garrison, where there is not a Surrender on Summons, you will make a quick dispatch of the War.  
So also, to manage Secrets well, is a great point in War; and so for Precepts and Orations, to bear up men's Courages. One General on his Death, for this very cause, ordered a Drum to be made of his skin, only to hearten his Soldiers.  
So, as for punishing Warlike Offences, nothing deserves a greater care: Cowards alas! are not worthy of Death; let them rather live to expiate their Disgrace: but as for the false and treacherous, let them be no sooner discovered, than sent to the Father and promoter of Perfidy, lest it prove too late for you to destroy them in their second Wiles.   

Of CONQUEST.  
A Pious Conqueror ought but exactly to do Justice and Right to himself; if he acquires new Dominions, it should not be out of ambition but necessity, and because that his Enemies are perverse and implacable.  
As the Pirate notably answered Alexander the Great, What are great Conquests but great Robberies? So surely, one might as justly be guilty of a Robbery as a Conquest, unless one had the justest cause of War to move one to it.  
For my part, had I the Empire of the World through Conquest, yet like Lycurgus with Sparta, it should be but to settle their States the better by it: Did I root out a Tyrant, yet like the Old Romans, would I not rob his Heirs; or should I subdue a Commonwealth, t'should be but to reinstate them in their Ancient Purity.  
Surely, I but pretend to War for my Neighbour's Relief, while I make a Prey of him. Indeed, if a State be so corrupt, as not to be able to bear to be reformed, I will rather take the Conquest into my own protection, than leave it weltering in Anarchy and Blood.  
To be short; Robbers and Murderers of thousands in Corruption and Flattery, we admire without regret, while the more innocent Rogues from necessity we destroy in this World, and damn in the next; but surely, God will be more just to them.  
But to proceed, Would you secure a Conquest? you must root out the ancient Governors, or the Mobile in Faction will reinstate the worst of Tyrannies: so, would you transform a corrupt Commonwealth? you must either raise their chief Cities, or transplant their principal Heads, or else the first advantage that offers them will confound your Establishment.  
Thus also, a Conquest where there are NOBLES, is easier than where all are SLAVES; the Turkish Vassals will be forced unanimously to withstand you, though when subdued, your Conquest is entire and secure; while English NOBLES, that may assist your Victory, will withal by the same Hereditary Power, render your Conquest as ticklish.  
To preserve a Conquest therefore: First, Reside personally sometime upon it, the better to prevent all Plots: And, Secondly, On pretence of kindness, take some of the NOBLES Sons as Hostages with you when you depart: Thirdly, Continue Titles of Honour to the Natives, but keep all Offices to your own Servants: Fourthly, Let your Ministers be only seen in harsh things: And Lastly, take particular care of all popular Meetings, on any pretence whatever.  
To be short; All alterations naturally leave a toothing for new Changes; and therefore the best way to secure what you have got, is like the generous Romans also, to make one law of Nations: And so, if you let Humanity Crown your Peace, as Valour has adorned your War, you need not fear but to govern without danger.  
When your Conquests find themselves united to you by Marriages, their Taxes eased and remitted, and their whole States changed for the better; when you change not the customs of their Provinces, and your impartial Justice gives them not the least jealously of their Rights, you will find men are not mad to embroil themselves.  
And yet, Are your Conquests in different Languages? your vigorous beginnings must not end in too supine a negligence; you must have a jealous Eye on Neighbours, lest they join the discontented Natives; and in this Case, if you cut off Seditious Heads, yet withal you must pardon and reward as generously, but especially your NOBLES.  
But lastly, Are you so necessitated, and would you secure your Conquests by force? Do it rather by Colonies, than firing them against you through standing Forces; he that by right of Conquest is Master of all, surely may command any little particular part, and dispossess the Natives of a few convenient fortified Towns for Colonies.  
Are a few dispossessed, do you object? 'tis for the good of the whole, and they become too poor to be formidable; and as they are, you may make them satisfaction in another place, if you please, and which is best; or if not, others enjoying their Rights justly, will never assist them.   

Of Stratagems of WAR.  
THere are many advantages of Stratagems; but above all, that they breed confidence in your own Army, and dismay your Enemy: He'll dread to take the advantage of your Miscarriages, while he fears the Reputation of your Designs.  
Nor is it the least Excellency of Stratagem, to alter at every turn your methods. Thus, if sometimes a Cap on a Staff be made the Signal of Battle, as well as the Sound of the Trumpet, etc. how can your Enemy measure your intentions?  
So, to encourage your Army, print sometimes a hearty Speech to your Soldiers, with the promise of Rewards; so do they dread your Enemy? Skirmish him with some of your best men, to make him familiar to them.  
So, Would you make your Soldiers unanimous? let them do but the Enemy some considerable mischief before they Mutiny, and fear will do the work.  
Hannibal finding his Soldier's desert, in a Speech told the rest that stayed, That those that had left him had leave, and went as Spies to the Romans; the Romans hearing of this, cut off the Deserters right hands, and sent them back to Hannibal again.  
So by Letters or chance words in Embassies, to insinuate that the Eenemies Generals or Officers are false, will give just the same jealously and distrust as if they were so.  
Above all, Spies are greatly to be feared; are they runaway? command but every Man to his Tent, and they are discovered immediately; but Spies near your Counsels are most pernicious; if an inconsiderable Enemy can so far undermine you, you may justly dread at last, lest he destroy you by Stratagems also.  
Some to feel an Enemy's Pulse, send Ambassadors often with good Soldiers in disguise; while others to blind such discoveries, continue their number of Tents, and draw their parties out of the whole Army.  
To obtain your desire on your Enemy, sergeant but that you fear or desire the contrary, and you need not doubt his readiness to cross or disappoint you: But would you avoid fight him? besure keep at least 50 Miles from him.  
So, does he straighten you? amuse him by some Truce or Stratagem; Thus some have driven Oxen with combustible matter fired on their horns before them, and so escaped.  
Nor, is it inconsiderable, the skill and Command of Posts and Passes in this case, and yet not but that to repose your whole trust on them is as ruinous.  
But has your Enemy distressed you already in Stratagems? use the following or like Remedies.  
Thus, does your Enemy encompass you gather yourself close and break through his weaker sides; does he press you between two Hills? make but a Trench behind you, and you may fight which half of him you please: does the other half come round upon you? a wooden-Bridge made, and laid cross the Trench, frees you of all.  
So, does he stop you at a River? either privately send out a Detachment to make a Bridge cross to secure your passage at another place, or divert the Channel, and so make it fordable; some have laid combustible matter in their Trenches, while others have turned the River and drowned their Enemies with it.  
Some have counterfeited preys and fears to draw an Ambush, while others have set up Sails on sticks, and shown their Baggage retinue on an Hill, to terrify their Enemy with the approach of Succours.  
Some by favours to Captives, have divided their Enemies, and by little Messages, soothed them in their divisions; but then remember, that to attack them too soon upon it, is to unite them; and here a General's dispositions and passions are to be regarded.  
Some also have let their Enemies enter, and take Towns, and assaulted them when weakened by garrisoning; others have waited only for some advantage over him, as his passing a River, etc. but in all cases, a General had better fight than balk his men by too much caution.  
But to proceed; Is your Army at leisure? ravaging is the best employ: Seiges are uncertain, Conspiracies loss of time, storming Towns is dangerous, and Battles more hazardous; but the best Plundering is under the Enemy's Colours.  
But above all, the Reputation of a Geneals justice, his clemency and severity to perfection are most useful; he that is gentle to all but the stubborn, and implacable to the obstinate, has a double force to beat his Enemies with.  
And yet, after all, a possibility of Retreat, and a Backdoor to Cowardice, aught to be left to the most Obstinate; 'twill influence your own Soldiers with Fear, to deal with an Enemy, desperate, and beyond all power of escape: And thus Caesar would not let his Soldiers see, that a Town they besieged was reduced to a Bread of Herbs.  
To reduce your own Men to a necessity therefore, were much the rather to be chosen. Thus, I would Burn my Ships, if I Invaded an Island to make my Men desperate: But, if I stormed a Town, I would Proclaim, not to kill a Man that laid down his Sword, rather than to suggest I intended no Mercy.  
So also, 'tis dangerous after a Battle, to fall upon the Conqueror, unless he has had a very hard Victory of it. Slaughters are generally in the flight, and not in the field; and 'tis therefore no little disadvantage to attack a flushed Victor, and one just practised in ready fight.  
To conclude, Histories may teach us more and better Stratagems than these; But where shall we find them? Has a General leisure to consult Volumes for the result and occurrence of an hour? Surely therefore, even in this, Precepts exceed History also.   

Of Plunder and Slaves.  
NOt only the Goods, Slaves, and Lands of the Conquered, but their very Persons also, by the Laws of Conquest, are at the discretion of the Victors; and yet, not but that at worst, they owe them all the freedoms and duties of Humanity; nothing can excuse us of Rapes, of putting Women or Children to death, or Men, except Soldiers, or actually in Arms.  
Nay, if even Soldiers become your humble Suplicants, and surrender on discretion, only the Principal Guiltists among your Enemy ought to suffer Death, I mean in Prudence, as well as Justice; for sure, the Mercy that can soften your Enemies, is highly to be esteemed of.  
In the partition of Plunder, 'tis not agreeable the State should have all; surely the Soldiers deserve the price of their blood: but then let an Oath be Administered▪ for every Soldier to bring in his Plunder to be divided; or else, not only they may lose the day, through the Avarice of Plunder, but the worst of Soldiers will get most; while the General, and other Officers, that deserve best, will want even an equal distribution.  
In the Roman Distribution, the State had the Lands, Houses, and Goods Royal of the Conquered, while other Goods were distributed to the Merits and Dignity of the Officers and Soldiers; a share being always reserved, as a Reward for all singular Bravery.  
But Free-plunder is most Barbarous, and, of all Military Offences, deserveth Death: Nor is the Maxim less Brutish, of spoiling Countries where we come, to stop the progress and advantage of our Enemies, to destroy dangerous Castles and Fortifications, and the Fruits of the Earth, has some Sense in it; but, to Burn Houses, and ruin Temples, and Plantations, What is it but a Cowardice, and a Malicing the very good of Mankind?  
Does mine Enemy overcome me? therefore let me bravely let his Valour have such fruits of his Conquest, as may reward it; and, if it be my own happy lot, is not a Country Dressed and Civilised, better than Ruin and Destruction?   

Of SOLDIERS.  
NOthing more embroils a State, than a Standing Army; if they have not Work, you'll quickly find they will make it, tho' even as in Turkey, by Domineering over their very Princes: Besides, Is there any truer Method to Barbarism? Could Experience ever show us, that Soldiery did not destroy Property, and corrupt all Virtue?  
And yet, nothing is more unsafe than to Disband a great Army all at a time; it oftentimes creates a New Disease in a State; the better way therefore to move, is by degrees, and to Cashier those that can live without pay first, and the other after.  
But, Are you to Raise an Army? choose your Officers of the Gentry, and, if possible, Volunteers; yet still, provided they be not profligate, or dissolute; for such Men are no fitter to be Officers, than of any other Employment.  
So, let your Soldiers be hardy, your Horse from the City, and your Foot from the Country; their Age between 17 and 40. As for their Strength and Activity, you would do well to Exercise them before you List them.  
To choose an Army of your common Volunteers, and Miscreant Fugitives, is the most imprudent; an Army ought rather to be a Body of Martyrs: Debauched Men are fitter for an House of Correction, than to be of an orderly and designing Body, tho' in an Army.  
So a mean Militia and Army of your own, is much better than a great Mercenary Force: By good and constant Discipline, you may inspire the worst of Men by degrees, while Foreigners damp the Courage and Estimate of your own.  
Besides, How many States have felt the Ruin of Auxiliary Forces? if you trust them, they either give up your Cause, or Prey upon you; at least they are interested but to Fight in Jest for you; as in Italy, they shall not suffer your saucy Bombs to disturb their rest at night in their Sieges.  
Further, Forces of your own you may Command at your pleasure; while Foreigners will be only desperate for their own ends. Are you necessitated to Foreigners therefore? front them in your Army, or mix them so as to force them to Fight.  
As for the breeding Soldiers, liberty only can give us good hearts: The old Roman Peasants durst face Kings, and make Generals in the Field: their Country was as worthy their Love, as their Courage; while Men cowed, can slave to all Tyrants alike. Hen. the Seventh therefore, politicly settled Farms of such a Size, etc. to breed good Boors by.  
As for the sorts of Soldiers, your Granadeer are a Body of Men designed for any extraordinary occasion; they wait at the Flank of your Army, as the Dragoons do; and they are often as well Horse as Foot; and on sudden and desperate Emergencies very needful.  
As for Horse and Foot in a well-disciplined Army, experience has shown, Foot doubly to excel Horse; indeed, Foot with Pikes have often beat double their number of Horse. Horse, 'tis true, at a Rout, or, as Scouts, or to raise Contribution, or to confound a weak Enemy, are excellent; but, to think a Spur can force an Horse upon a Pike, is as absurd as dangerous.  
So, What are Pikes, or Muskets either, without defensive Arms, for Head, Breast, Arms, Thighs and Legs, with a Buckler? Men thus Armed, put by your Pikes, and come in with ease upon your Men with naked Swords; nay, if such Men Ride but as Dragoons, they attack you more speedily, and even just where they please.  
Nor is this a Fiction neither; the Romans, who by use, made such Defensive Arms tolerable, withal Conquered the World with them: And if either the best Politicians, or the best Historians be to be credited, this sort of Men, for all our Fire-arms, are not even yet to be despised.   

Of MILITIA.  
THat Soldiers are Voluptuous is not always so much from their Corruption, as that Perils ask to be paid by Pleasures: To die a Soldier, surely is a kind of Martyrdom; and he that blames the Profession for the Abuse, forgets, that on sudden approaches of Enemies, and Invasions, 'tis every Man's duty to be a Soldier; but more especially the Young, and Unmarried, Luke 3. 14. 1 Cor. 9 7.  
But then I would rather be a Volunteer, than a Listed Soldier: Surely it can never be lawful to kill Men purely at the Call of the Ambition of Princes.  
Soldiers in War, are Sinews to the Body-Politick, in Peace its Fever: Not that it is safe neither; quite to lay aside your Warlike Discipline in Peace; But think you there is any Justice for one Man to live sluggishly on the Labour of another?  
The justest Mean therefore must be, a well-managed Militia; and if we are for Teaching Warlike-discipline in Peace, Why do we not also turn our University Speculative Mathematics to the more useful Improvements of Fortification and Enginery?  
But, in a Militia the Disciplining a few Men, and they every time strangers, and drawn, with Charge, from remote parts, to meet in a Body; surely, such a Martial-discipline can avail little or nothing.  
Let it rather be, that every Man of such an Age, and Stature, be a Soldier; that every Parish be a distinct Body of them, having its proper Officers in its self; and, that no one, capable on any account, be exempt from Discipline.  
This would force our Gentry, as their Officers, into esteem; and, if by any means, make a Nation Invincible: And surely, 'twould rather be a delight, and a diversion, than a Charge, for such a Militia, (like as at our Ancient Wakes) to meet and Exercise an hour or two in a Week.  
And, do you fear in such case such Disciplines being superficial? How easy is the Cure, by the Examination of Commissioners for Hundreds and Counties, etc. And, Do you want an Army? How quick does every Parish proportion you a Supply?  
Nay, and such an Army you may easily Disband with a Donative; and, every Man knowing his home, is welcomely received; while you are out of danger of being pestered by Vagabonds, indeed if any such should happen to be disabled, 'twould be a Generous Charity in the State to provide Hospitals for them, or else they are provided for, with a kind welcome to your hand.  
Donatives to Standing Armies are most pernicious, even to make them at last, State-robbers; but Donatives here would be the justest reward of our brethren's Blood.  
Besides, such an Army would have Humanity and Christianity; nor need we doubt but that their constant Exercise would make them brave, as Soldiers by profession; besides, that Soldiers thus raised, would know truly how to value their Liberty.  
To conclude; The constant and universal Exercise could not but whet their Spirits and Courages in Emulation, and make them familiar to Force and Arms, while every Soldier employed, would, like the Romans of old, know how to Fight heartily for that Peace he knew what 'twas to enjoy; and especially, if when Maimed, they were assured of a comfortable Subsistence in their several Parishes.   

Of BATTLE.  
ARe you suddenly to give Battle? Publish a Speech against Cowardice: Alas! Are not all our great slaughters made, when Men run away? And can you want Topics?  
So, if possible, before you fight also, give your Men, from some Hill, the prospect of your Enemy; by that you may deride their Discipline, and expose them to the Contempt of your Army: Fear is seldom so considerable, as when of something unknown.  
So, when you Fight, make their Ensigns carry their Pay, and that will make your Soldiers vigorously defend them: Nor be without Rewards or Punishments; Thus, to kill a Captain, so much; a General, so much; and, to Mount a Breach, so much, etc.  
Does a Regiment offend? Decimate them. Are they Cowards? Mark them with a C. and let them live to the Disgrace: Are they Treacherous? give them the death they deserve. And yet, to avoid Sedition, let the General but give them a little blow with a Wand; for when you make a Soldier pass the Pikes, the Army are their own Executioners.  
As to Figures, Armies are generally drawn into Three Lines; and the Turks use the Crescent; but surely, the Ground and Circumstance ought, in this Case, to be considered.  
Thus, Is your Army biggest? fight in open field, and try to compass your enemy? Is it little? flank yourself with Trenches, and fight close. Have you no Horse? seek to enclosures; but, above all, beware of the Wind, or Sun, in your Faces.  
So, Are you assaulted in a Wedge, to distract you? become a pair of Sheers, to cut off your enemy. Are you inclined to compass him? equal his breadth, advance gradually your Wings, and retreat your Front; but this is a dangerous Work.  
When the Battle begins, Generals, by Drums and Trumpets, Order their Soldiers to the field, and Great Guns attempt the first Execution, while the Dragoons Attack them; and e'er a second discharge, the fight begins, and they become useless.  
Thus, Are the Guns in the middle of their Battalions? divide your Army, and you avoid them; the first shot is distant, and goes over, or under; or your Infantry, by their wide ranks avoid them, while your Horse are secure in their Rear.  
After this, Shouts join both your Dragoons; who, bearing the first shock, make room, by retiring to your Flank and Rear, and while more silent Orders join the Battle.  
And now the Pikes advance to keep off the Horse; while the Armies once joined, the Pikes withdraw within the Bucklers, and your Bucklers worsted within your Pikes.  
Muskets serve a shot or two, till the Fight is closed, but then your Man at Arms, with Sword, Buckler and Armour, does all; who, if the first Rank but kneel, their very Bucklers keep off the Bullets; But, What can fence your Rapier with Armour?  
The wise Romans had their Ranks wide, their Hastati, or Young Men, bore the fury of the Battle; if worsted, they retired among their Principes, or strong Men, and they again among their Triarii, or Old Soldiers.  
Your Horse, in the mean time, engage at the side of your Army, while your Dragoons retire to take care of your Camp: the proportion of your Foot is; Have you Ten Battalions? Five Hastati, Three Principes, and Two Triarii; the benefit of such Orders is, your Men are refreshed by the new support of your best Men at last; while a square Army runs, and is defeated, before half can fight.  
But now, Why do I stay? the fight's begun, Stratagems follow, Pits, Ambuscades, False Alarms, Surprises of Novel Words, Engines, Shouts, and Appearances of Succours.  
Officers fling their Colours among the Enemy, to reward the Soldiers that fetch them again; while the General minds Intelligence, and Orders Succours to the side that is oppressed, and the Dragoons refreshed; return to try to flank the enemy.  
After all, Have you worsted an unequal enemy? either perfect the Victory, or snap at his disheartened Terms of Peace: The only time of slaughter is, when Men are disordered, and lose their Confidence in one another; to let them Rally, spoils all.  
So, Was your flight doubtful, and parted by Night? carry off some Dead, to dismay your enemy, through their fewness next morning; such a Night cannot but be a Night of Dread, and the least push will be likely to give the Morning's advantage.  
But are you beat? to hinder pursuit, fight where you may retreat; at worst, retreat part of your Army orderly first; and so your Enemy not daring to divide, appoint a common place for the rest to meet at: but are your Soldiers forced to fly? yet at worst, let them detard their Pursuers, and save their Lives by scattering their Treasures.  
On the whole, in a pitched Battle to be first in the Field, is of great use; you choose your Ground, and you hearten your Soldiers by it; but even on this, nay on Victory, beware of a too careless Success; for that almost ever ruins the day, and too often sacrifice all, (while the Soldiers are careless, merry, or plundering) to some trifling Reinforcement.  
To conclude, As for Engines, surely Archimedes' Arrow-Engine must needs, even at this day, gall Horse worse than any Guns whatever. Arrows not only are of equal execution, but fret Horse doubly more than Guns can; but as for your Scithe Chariots, they are now become of no use, being so readily stopped by Stakes.   

Of Military Discipline.  
I Shall not trouble you with the mechanic Rudiments of Discipline, as Shoulder your Musket, advance your Pike, etc. a Formality not without its use; for how can men charge together otherwise! But this I shall say, You should keep your Ranks at 6 foot distance, your Files at 3. lest you cramp your Motion; so your Colours and Drums between your Muskets and Pikes, your Captain with the Pikes, and your Lieutenant with the Muskets.  
So, the general order of Martialling Soldiers, is to every Squadron, or Ten, a Sergeant or Corporal to head, hearten, and command; to every 100 a Captain; to every 1000 a Colonel; and to the whole Body a General. Or, in Battalions of 6000. thus, 10 Companies in a Battalion, 450 in a Company; and which making 4500. the remaining 1500. are to be 1000 Pikes, and 500 Velites extraordinary.  
So the proportion of a good Army, should be in 6000 men, 3000 with Bucklers, 2000 with Pikes, and 1000 with Muskets; as for your Ranks, the closer the better, as not so easily broken; yet still provided, that they leave convenient space for motion, and that their Files be so constant that their Soldiers never want to find out their Post again.  
If your Company contain 400 men, you may draw them up 5 in a File, and 80 in a Rank; or, if you'd reduce them to a square for fight, 'tis but casting your first File into your second, your third into your fourth, etc. and then there will be 40 Files of 10. and so you may bring them to 20. of 20. if you please, to be ready to answer which way soever attacked.  
And, as inferior Officers ought to reduce Soldiers to a readiness in such Discipline, to be able to answer their General's Commands upon occasion; so ought they to enure their Soldiers to hardship also, that they be not dismayed in extremity.  
Thus, to let them carry their own Corn, will not only help, but strengthen them; so for them to learn to swim, may save them on occasion; while to drown them in luxury and ease, What is it but to soften and effeminate their very Courages withal, to their Destruction.  
As for your disciplining Dragoons, there needs not so much care; they being designed rather upon extraordinary occasions than in any thing like a regular fight. Your Horse indeed should be more orderly; thus, suppose 300 in a Battalion, of which 150 to be men at Arms, and 150 to be Light.  
Your Pikes are to front the square of your Army, and as 5 Ranks of them is as many as can well charge at once; and as the Fight begun, and the Army secured from the Horse, they fall to make room for the Men at Arms; so 7 Files of Pikes, that is, 1 or 2 to be ready to supply falling men, is as many as you can have occasion to front with.  
The manner of Commanding an Army, is, the Soldiers follow the Colours, and they the Drums; the inferior Officers command the Sentinels, and the Superiors them, while the General governs all. A bad General, or a bad Army therefore, are equally dangerous.  
On the whole, an 100 men in Military Discipline, and convenient Arms, are a match for two in confusion; the one helps each other; the other promotes but one another's destruction, while the culled Angular men of Officers and Corporals in an Army, bind and hearten the whole regular Number as into a Body.   

Of Marching an Army.  
TO march an Army through a Foreign Country, observe these Rules. First, that the Prince have due notice, that Quarters may be provided, and a sufficient pay prescribed. Secondly, That the second Body go the same way that the first did, and that if they are in great Bodies, they march not every day.  
Thirdly, That damage done by Soldiers be made good. Fourthly, That they approach no prohibited place within a Mile. And lastly, That they do not quarter in Cities or Towns that are entrenched.  
The usual method is, your Dragoons march first to scour the Road, than your right Wing and Carriages are to follow; then your Body with its Carriages, and after those your left Wing with its Carriages, and after all your Cavalry.  
And, thus withdrawing a little your Carriages, you are ready for the Enemy any way, and he cannot well attack you in your march if you are circumspect, but that he will be at as much disadvantage as yourself.  
Your Dragoons who scour the Road, guard your Pioners also, who are to plain your ways, and make Entrenchments for your Camp; and in this, not to multiply Men needlessly, your own Soldiers may serve as Pioners, and who, when an Enemy approaches, may retreat to their Arms; your Spades and Pick-axes being carried by for them in Carts.  
If you march where you may be straightened in Provisions, have at least a Months necessaries before hand, and take continual care for Supplies; and to this end you may have a Market with Sutler's in the middle of your Camp, while your cattle laden with Corn, are driven by your Bakers, Butchers, and Cooks, after them.  
Above all, take care to march in exact order; and if a few Men assault you, and fly, or a Prize of Cattle appear, do not let them decoy you into an Ambushment; a General must anticipate Stratagems as he marches.  
So, Do you fear surprises or ambushes? beware of Hills, of Woods and Hedges, and you need not fear but that either Scouts, Dust, or Birds, will give you notice, that you may at least provide yourself of Advantage against their attack.  
Further, when you march, never acquaint your Army with the enterprise, lest it perish through the discovery; but rather getting a Chart, pick up some Country Guides, and make them yours through threats and rewards to conduct you.  
As for the size of your Army, the Romans by their Conquests seemed best Judges of fight, and they thought 24000, or at most 50000 Men a double Army enough; indeed, more not only confounds and devour one another, but are not well manageable, nor can they conveniently march in the Field.   

Of Treachery, etc.  
IS an Enemy Treacherous or extreme Bloody in his Wars? Does he break his Word, or lay Countries waste causelessly? He has flung up his Right either to Treaty or mercy from thee, and the mildest Quarter that he can expect upon it, is, that he be decimated.  
Now the Treacherous are not only such as are faithless, and observe no Treaties, but those that War like Robbers without the least apparency of cause to justify it, or those that abuse our Ambassadors, or any other way violate the sacred Laws of Nations.  
Not, but that the just right of War leaves me all the liberty of Stratagems to bribe or divide mine Enemy whatever; nay, I may send Spies to Assassinate him, as well as Parties to Plunder him; but if I am once either false or perfidious, my Enemy has no tye of mercy to me till I am naked in his Power.  
So I may use all the honest means of simulation; thus I may justly seem to fly, to draw mine Enemy to an Ambush, and so I may plunder under mine enemy's Colours, and make falls Alarms; alas 'tis not fight, if I am not allowed by false Passes to draw mine enemy from his Guard, the better to make a real one.  
The true Rule therefore is, all known signs of Treaty, whether by Flag, or otherwise, I am bound in veracity to stand to; but in other matters, even Christ himself gave us another Example, after he was risen from the dead; and set his Face as if he were going where he was not.  
Nay, Does even a Nest of Pirates reform to a Government, and our Treacherousest Enemy begin to leave his Perfidy? I will not too far hazard the Wiles of the Fox, but after a moderate self-justice and reprisal for my injustice, I am bound to treat both and either as my Brethren.  
But, above all Treachery, beware of trusting Exiles too far, in leading your Expeditions; consider how dearly such Men may value their own Country, and how readily they may be apt to purchase their liberty at thy expense.   

Of Fortification and Sieges.  
FOr a Fortification, take some Rocky Nap in a Plain, that is neither blinded by Hills nor Woods; the Walls if possible, are better natural than raised; for if cut out of a Rock, neither Batteries nor Mines can destroy the Hill.  
As for the thickness or height of Walls, or the number of Redoubts, they are Matters wholly at discretion. Can you make a Castle like a City? Surely, your works ought to be suited to your own size and proportion of Ground, and to the Enemy's approach, and not a Figure.  
A Fort of two or three Angles only, is of no value; but after that, the more the better, provided if not like Babylon, too big for Intelligence: But the silly imagination, that the strength of a place depends on every Mathematical Figure, is trifling.  
A Fort not strong by Nature, cannot receive much by Art; Now by Art the Walls ought to be three yards thick at least, and Towers built at every 200 Yards.  
For Ditches, two are best, without and within; if you have one only, 'tis best within, and that of 30 Yards broad at least, and 12 deep, with Artillery to scour them at every 200 Yards; and so 'tis better without Water than with; if your Water freeze, the Town is gone at an instant; and if not, a Bridge of Boats is easier made than another.  
Is your Ditch to Water, or Rock? there is no possibility of mining your Wall. Is it in the inside? there is no way to come to fill it up; your Wall in Battery will fall the other way: and so that your Ditch will be good when your Wall is flat.  
Further, in Forts, let your Houses be low, so as not to hinder your prospect; let your Gates be secured by Ravelin and and Portcullis, and let your free passage be secured by Drawbridge, or at worst by a Timber-stand from the bottom of the Bridge, and which you may command by Cannon of your Inner Redoubt.  
Little Entrenchments without the Walls are most mischievous, the losing and retreating from such little Bastions, are perfect Baits of Cowardice to your Soldiers; and surely, 'tis no good Lesson to teach them to give ground.  
Further, in founding a Fort, the Air and Water are greatly to be regarded, as also an agreeable Country, and Roads near it; if built in too fertile a Land, it may luxuriate it; if in too barren, not be able to provide against a Siege.  
The beauty of Forts in Buildings, or otherwise, is not much to be regarded; but Frontiers that are like to be disturbed by War, will require all the encouragements imaginable: Now such are, 1. Free-trade, 2. Easy Justice, 3. Asylum, etc.  
A Fort thus settled, the Inhabitants by the Law of Nations, owe the Government a Right to defend her; and in which case, tho' a single person may desert it, a Prince may justly withstand a general departure, provided he fear not their Treachery.  
But is a Siege begun? Due order is to be observed: Let Women and Children keep their Houses to avoid disturbance; and the men be distributed into three parts, 1. to be on the Guard, 2. ready as a reserve, and a 3d. taking their rest. Some add, a Mastiff Dog to their Centinel, full as serviceable as a Man.  
Nor let your Discipline be neglected on any Account; Towns have been stormed even at Dinner time; and yet not but that in such case, when they have, the Besieged sometimes by Showers out at their Windows, and sometimes by firing the Town, have made their Walls good again against the Besiegers.  
Some on the other hand, have seemed to leave the Walls, as if the Town were fired by some Bomb, only by a false Fire, the better to draw the enemy to a disadvantagous' Attack; and while at the same time, the Walls have unseen, been doubly guarded.  
But does the Siege proceed? and would you avoid mining? Dig holes every 10 Yards, like Wells by your Walls, and they will give vent; or sound the Mine, and countermine it. So, is your Ditch in the outside, and your Wall flat? make but a Ditch within of 30 Yards broad, and the Breach is as easily kept as the Wall.  
Some, when a Siege has been driven hard, have shot in empty Bombs those propositions, that the Officers would not acquaint their Soldiers with, while others seeming only to march near a Town, have fallen upon it at unawares, and so surprised it in Disorder.  
Some have seemed to fly, and leave their Camp, and so drilling out the Enemy, surprised the Town; while others poisoning their Camp-Victuals, have destroyed the Enemy that way.  
So, Where a Town has stood doubtful, t'has been secured by begging to receive some sick Men, while the stoutest men have been sent in disguise into it.  
So some have poisoned Waters, others drove in the Besieged's Friends, to consume their Victuals, while some have been relieved by Nuts floating down a River.  
Caesar made a Bread of Herbs for his Soldiers; and Londonderry fed on Starch for Bread, and Leather boiled soft for Meat.  
But are the Besieged come to a Treaty? 'Tis neither honourable nor safe for a Governor to parley in a Siege, nor to accept other Terms, than at least to go out Armed, and in order. Surely, He's mad that can trust himself naked with a Triumphant and Revengeful Army.  
Nor is't a little imprudence for a General to divide himself to destruction in besieging little Henroosts before a Royal Army; and if there be no such Army, Forts alone cannot hinder your Army from ravaging your Enemy's Country.  
To conclude, Forts are only of use against Enemies & on Frontiers; 'tis a Self-destructive Policy to think to retain Subjects in Obedience by them: the wise Romans chose rather to demolish them; but while you have Forts, Military Discipline is as necessary; for your Garrisoners in their Sallies, as your Field Soldiers in their March.   

Of the CAMP.  
THE Order of your Camp ought to be, as if you were ready to charge your Enemy; only you may stand a little wider, for the conveniency of Streets and Air, and for the benefits of reintrenchments, but always in the same manner, that the Soldiers may naturally know their home, and the whole seem a moving City, constantly with the same Gates and Lodgings.  
Nor ought your Camp, if near an Enemy, to want either Water or Provisions; nor if your stay be long, a good Air; above all, straighten not your march by want of securing Passes; nor lie too near to Hills, lest your Enemy incommode you.  
Your Ditch ought at least to be 6 Yards wide, and 3 deep, together with Halfmoons for your Artillery, to flank your Enemy as he approaches; and so your Camp may be better for conveniences, than either as on a Hill or by a River.  
Further, While you are encamped, beware of Surprise; and while your enemy is near, besure watch all comers and goers; nay, a third part of your Soldiers ought to be continually Armed; and a fourth of those, perpetually on the Watch, some at the corners, and some on the Patroll or Search, lest your enemy either Stratagem or Besiege you in your Camp.  
Lastly, In decamping, the usual order is, the General Sounds his Trumpet thrice the first time, to give notice to take down Tents, and pack them up; the second, to load their Sumpters; and the third, to march away.  
FINIS.    

THE TABLE  

THe Entrance, or the Digester. P. 1.  
Of Books. p. 15.  
Of Critics p. 20.  
Of Divination, etc. p. 22.  
Astrology p. 26. 

— Its Dependants p. 31.    
Of Meckness p. 38.  
Of Contention p. 40.  
Of Contradiction p. 42.  
Lapis Errantium p. 44.  
Of Cunning p. 55.  
Of Wisdom p. 57  
The Seeming Wise p. 59  
Of Logic p. 61. 

Its Parts p. 63.  
Arguments p. 66.  
Method p. 70.    
Of Anger p. 76.  
Of Murder p. 78.  
Of Revenge p. 80.  
Of Reformation p. 82. 

By A. B. Tillotson p. 97.    
Of Wit p. 100  
Of Rewards p. 103.  
Of Pedantry p. 104.  
Of Pity p. 118.  
Of Pardon p. 120.  
Of Rhetoric p. 123. 

Delivery p. 125.  
Persuasion p. 128.  
Parts of Discourse p. 134.  
Invention p. 137.  
Figures p. 139.    
Of Judgement p. 142.  
Of Happiness p. 144.  
Of Presence of Mind p. 147.  
Of Secrets p. 149. 

To attain Secrets p. 153.  
Occult Writing p. 155.    
Of Collections p. 161.  
Of Precepts p. 163.  
Of Sincerity p. 166.  
Of Vows and Oaths p. 169.  
Of Censure p. 177. 

Praises p. 177.  
Contempt p. 180.  
Libels p. 183.  
True satire p. 186.  
Rash Judgement p. 189.  
Reports p. 194.    
Of Poetry p. 198.  
Of Preface and Dedication p. 203.  
Of Study p. 208. 

Method p. 209.  
Limitation of Study p. 214.  
Choice of Books p. 217.  
Speculat. and Practise p. 222.    
Of Constancy p. 226.   

The Art of War.  

Of the Lawfulness of War p. 231.  
Of Generals in War p. 236.  
Of War in General p. 239.  
Of Conquest p. 243.  
Of Stratagems in War p. 247.  
Of Plunder and Slaves p. 252  
Of Soldiers p. 255.  
Of Militia p. 257.  
Of Battle p. 260.  
Of Military Discipline p. 265.  
Of Marching an Army p. 268.  
Of Treachery p. 270.  
Of Fortifications p. 273.  
Of Camps. p. 278.     

ERRATA.  
PAge 34. Line 17. read, together with your Rosacrucian figments.  
P. 64. l. 1. r. quatuor modis, for Quarto modo.  
P. 85. l. 13. r. That dominion, for the dominion.  
P. 112. l. 12. r. with such formalities, and the like as.  
P. 124. l. ult. r. of That nature, for that of nature.  
P. 130. l 14. r. Judged by him, for judged by them.  
P. 189. l. 17. r. currunt for current.  
P. 193. l. 2. r. fancy and Idea, for fancy an Idea. 23. r. their indifferency, for as an indifferency.  
P. 224. l. 15. r. Hypocrites, deal as.