THE ANTIPATHY between the French and Spaniard Englished By Robert gentilies  
Sold by R Martin at the Venice in old Baly 1641    

THE 〈◊〉 AND THE Spaniard. OR, of the world, displayed in lively 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 representing the Antipathy of their Humours and different Dispositions. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of the customs of both those Nations.  
By R. G. Gent.  
LONDON, Printed for 〈◊〉 at the Prince's arms in Paul's Churchyard.   

TO THE RIGHT worshipful SIR PAUL PINDAR Knight.  
YOur well known goodness which makes you admired & praised by every one, excited long since a desire in me to testify unto the world, and yourself, that though a stranger unto you, yet I was not such a stranger in the city, but that I had heard and taken notice of your daily pious and charitable works. So that this my translation being to go forth into the view of the world, I have made bold to dedicate it unto you for two causes. The first, my desire to make known unto you that you had an unknown servant, who had long wished for some opportunity whereby he might manifest the desire he had to tender his service unto you. The second, to make this poor work more acceptable to the world, by prefixing your beloved name in the front of it, which is greater in the world's esteem, Quam cui possit invidia nocere. Your courteous and noble mind will (I hope) not disdain the gift, though so small that it meriteth not so great a Patron: I promising ere long to present you with something which shall be mine own invention. So wishing you many happy days, forerunners of eternal happiness, I rest,  
Your worship's most devoted servant, Robert Gentilis.   

To the Reader.  
TO obviate an Objection I thought good to write these few lines unto thee. For it may be said that the extolling of one is in some sort the vilifying of another: and the glorious praises given in this book to the French and Spaniards may seem a disparagement to our Nation. But when I think upon that Prince, who desirous to have a valiant man brought before him, and one being presented unto him, who had many scars about him, (which were questionless tokens of his bold adventurousness) said he had rather have had the man who gave those wounds. I resolve myself that our Nation is rather commended and magnified by their praises then otherwise. For if their conquests be so glorious, what must the English renown be, who never could be said to have had but the upper hand of either of them, in all attempts or enterprises, witness Histories & Chronicles of all ages? If the author have been any thing hyperbolical in their praises, impute it to the Spanish phrase & humour which cannot speak in a low stile or strain, & in your own discretion accept of his meaning, & circumscribe his generalities. As for example, when he saith that these two great Monarchs protect & defend others, tax him not with so much indiscretion as to imagine he meant all, but only such petty Princes & Dukes as have their adherencies and dependencies upon them. And not those who equal in power need not crave aid of any but God, either to defend, or vindicate them. So submitting my author and myself to thy courteous censure, I rest  
Thine if thou esteem me worthy of thy favour, R. G.   

The opposition, and conjunction of the two great lights of the EARTH.  

CHAP. I.  
That Peace and union, are God's Attributes, and the perfection of nature.  
THAT supreme God who made the Heavens, chroniclers of his glory, and greatness; to give us by his visible effects some knowledge, and notice of the invisible treasure, deposited in the deep treasures of his own omnipotency. In all his operations, as well internal, or (as the Divines do term them,) ad intra, which are the generation of the word, and production of the holy Ghost; as also in the external, as the creation, the providence, the preservation, and the like, showeth us, that his most essential and proper attribute is Union. Since the real distinction, admitted by sacred Divinity, between the Divine persons is not sufficient to make the Son not to be the same with the Father, and both one with the holy Ghost. Nor doth that infinite variety of divers natures, whereof this artificial frame of the world is composed besides the universal dependency, which they have from one beginning, refuse the bond of peace, wherewith they are straightly joined together. For proof of the first, the efficacy wherewith the same God, did so much give in charge and urge unto his chosen people the unity of his divine nature, shall serve me for a concluding reason, he saying unto them a thousand times; harken O Israel! thy God is one, and one is his name. Which words as they are most true, and unreproovable witnesses of this truth, shall save me a labour of proving it by natural, and theological reasons.  
The second, which is the dependency which all creatures have, from one only beginning, may be plainly demonstrated by that which historical Moses writ the beginning of his sacred history, attributing the creation of the world to one sole cause. Which truth that great Mercurius Trismegistus did also leave engraven in pure Emerald, being there in followed by the whole troop of Philosophers, who unanimously confessed one first cause, eternal, independent, and immortal; needing therein no other Tutor, but only the light of natural reason. And if any curious man should ask me the proof of the third point, he may yield himself satisfaction, by considering the straight bonds, and intrinsical union, wherewith all natures do link themselves one with another▪ until they come unto the first link from whence they were taken. Nor let any one think this union, and natural concord of the creatures to be a borrowed perfection; or accidentally belonging unto them: seeing that the supreme architect, who made all things deliberately, and with wisdom, and measure; having set every one of them in their own post, and place convenient for their natures, gave unto them all joined together union, for the centre of their preservation. And that so properly, and intrinsically, that if the said union could be broken, the whole frame of the world whose harmony consisteth in the reciprocal consonancy of all its parts, would be brought to nothing.  
He that shall with particular attention consider the seven rings, or links, whereof the chain of this world is composed, shall easily find out this marvelous bond of union. Beginning from the first and last, which is God; who though he be generally united to all creatures, which live in him, subsist by him, and move through him; yet by a more particular assistance, he is united unto the angelical nature, as the perfectest of all creatures. This joineth itself with the nature of the heavens, which by reason of its incorruptibility, is the most perfect next unto the angelical. To the celestial enterlaceth itself the elemental, in whose link consisteth the diameter of the chain; as that, which according to the order and perfection of nature, is farthest from the first. The fifth is composed of the last element, which is the earth: and this is the first link, which begins to turn towards it beginning, and it is the vegetative nature which intresseth itself with the sensitive, and that with the rational, which uniting itself immediately with God, shuts up the chain and circle of this succession. And because the last knot or link of this chain was to unite itself with God, and betwixt God and the creature there could be no proportion of equality: therefore the eternal wisdom created the soul, which being immortal and incorporeal, should have some resemblance of God, and so uniting itself perfectly with him, the chain of the fabric of this world should so close up and shut. And in case, that some curious body, not content with the general union, of the seven rings or links, which have been set down, should desire more particularly to find out the point of this truth, he may satisfy himself, with the internal searching out of each nature and link of the said chain. And beginning from the first, he shall find in it an infinite abyss of perfections and attributes, which are wisdom, Omnipotency, Justice, goodness, Glory, Mercy, and innumerable more, which are all with an unspeakable incomprehensibility gathered in, and united unto the indivisible latchet of the most simple divine nature.  
Concerning the second link, which is the angelical nature, he may very well apprehend, not only by the light of faith, but also by the strength of his own understanding: the marvelous order, & perfect concord, wherewith those angelical spirits are united together; the Cherubins joining themselves to the Seraphins, the Seraphins to th' Archangels, they to the Angels, Thrones, Powers, Dominions, & the other kinds of the twelve quires of Angels, with such great uniformity and concord, as may be presumed in that heavenly commonwealth. Then if we shall cast our eyes, on the contemplation of the third link, which is the nature of the heavens, we shall plainly see (if Ptolemy deceive us not) that the primum mobile, is united to the crystalline heaven, this to the eight sphere, the eighth sphere to Saturn, who joineth himself to Jove, Jove to Mars, Mars uniteth himself to Sol, Sol adheres to Venus, Venus to Mercury, Mercury to Luna, from whose hollow superficies takes it beginning: the fourth link of th' elemental nature, joining itself unto the annexed fire, it unto the air, whom the element of water followeth, until it comes to unite itself unto the earth, which is the universal centre of all heavy and ponderous things.  
From the earth begins the fifth link, to go upwards again, and this is the Vegetative Nature; which, like unto the rest, keeps it dependence and succession united unto all her species and kinds, beginning from the biggest trees and of greatest fruit, even to the lowest, humblest, and poorest grass of the field. In this vegetative nature consists the basis and foundation of the sensitive, which is utterly unable to put in practice th' operations of moving, and feeling without it. This likewise is not different from the first, and hath it kinds and degrees of succession and dependency, the noblest, and perfectest of them, which is the lion, uniting himself to the poorest worm of the earth. This sensitive nature, links itself at last with the rational, which being (by means of the soul) spiritual, exceeds in perfection; the corporeal, vegetative, and nutritive, remaining at last united with God. So that the aforesaid union is not only to be found in this whole universal frame, but also in every one of its parts. It being impossible that there should be any one not linked and united to the rest, by the analogy of some attribute, which is indifferently proper to them all.  
The little microcosmos of man may be an example of this, her being an epitome and cipher of the whole fabric of the world, in whom all natures are united, he being participant of each virtue and perfection; for he hath his body of the heavens, elements and stones; his vegetating or growing, from the plants; his feeling from beasts, his discourse from Angels, and the image and likeness of God. And passing to that which is proper unto this nature, we shall find that all his actions have a dependency one from the other; the understanding being not able to understand any thing, unless it unite itself to the senses; nor these produce any sensations or feelings, unless they join themselves, by means of the species and image, which presents itself unto them, with the object. And according to the philosopher's doctrines, the object unites itself to the external sense, the external transmits it to the common, the common represents it to the fantasy, from whence comes the names of phantasmaes: With these imaginations doth the active intellect join itself, illustrating them, and with taking away all their materialities, makes them of sensible, intelligible. The active intellect unites itself with possibility, which cannot operate, unless the active disposeth it to it, by representing the species unto it, disrobed of all matter and singularity. From thence the intellect or understanding being disposed produceth its first operation, which is the simple apprehension; and this coupleth itself with the second; which is affirmation or negation; from whence groweth the third, which is discourse. The discourse goeth united with the will, which could not produce any act of love, or hatred, or election; if discourse had not gone before, it being impossible to will or refuse that which hath not before been known. So that all things which are enclosed within this frame of the world, are nothing but union, accord, and amity; not only through the dependency which every thing hath from one sole beginning; but also through the loving correspondency, which they hold amongst themselves.  
And if any one shall ask me the reason of this marvelous link, and intrinsical love wherewith so many, and so different natures are linked together, I will not answer them with that which is ordinarily said, that God had so ordained. But I will say, that the supreme artificer, having determined in the creation of the world, to make a perfect and durable compound; variety and union were very requisite therein: it being impossible to make any thing beautiful, which was not composed of varieties, or durable, if it were in and against itself divided. To this end he appointed all creatures (at the least the corporeal ones) a natural, and proper mean, which hindereth all that which is contrary to the union, and preservation of this world. And this is that prima materia, argued upon by all, but (as I believe) known by none. This materia (which some say, is pura potentia; others an entitative act; others, that it is neither quid nor quantum, nor quale) is a beginning, in the which stand united all corporeal or bodily natures. It is not engendered, nor it doth not corrupt; for so the union and pacifical harmony of the world might come to be lost, whose preservation is grounded upon the incorruptible unity of this matter. It hath been created, but not from everlasting, as Plato, and others have affirmed; it being impious to give or attribute the glory of eternity, and of being, without a beginning, unto a creature, which is due only to God. Finally, it is sufficient for us to know, without engulfing ourselves into any other metaphysic, that the matter whereof all corporal things are framed, is of one and the same kind; and by that reason, all your material species or kinds, are united and coupled together.  
And because that the forms of the compounds, which must necessarily be sundry and diverse to make a perfect and fair compound, should not deviate from that unity, which God ordains, and nature pretends: The supreme Artificer determined that they should all come forth of the entrails of the materia▪ or (as the Divines call it) de potentia materie, that so in all their alterations and changes, they might be tributary unto that beginning, out of whose bowels and entrails they came: the power of corrupting, engendering, and altering, resting only in it, as not being subject to go out of the bounds of union and peace.  
By this doctrine, is confuted the opinion of many modern philosophers; who judging by the sense, that which is contrary to reason; believe that the forms of the Elements, have no other end, then to destroy and corrupt. As for example, the fire, which we see consumes, and devours all as it finds, living in perpetual war with the water; as also the earth with the air: For if we leave that seemingnes, which sense showeth us, and examine the truth with reason, we shall find, that the elements being constitutive parts, whereof all your mixtes are compounded, it is repugnant, and contrary to them, to have destruction be their end, their nature being essentially ordained to compound. Whence is concluded, that the natural end of the Elements, is nothing but union. And although there ordinarily seems to be a continual enmity between them, destroying one another, yet we must hold for a certain, that this war is only made for the preservation of peace and union; since the fire in seeking to persecute its contrary, doth nothing but seek a temperament, to the rigor of his proper strength; and any thing else which might hinder the union and conjunction, whereby the compound is preserved.  
So that we will conclude this Chapter, saying, that Union is an attribute of God, the treasure of nature, the natural centre of creatures, and chain of the whole world This unites the mortal with the divine; as the eternal Word with human nature. The mortal with incorruptible, as the body with the soul. The material with the spiritual, as the understanding with the senses. The living with the insensible, as beasts with the earth. The heaven with their elements, the elements with man, & man with God. And finally, from God, to God, there is nothing but peace, concord, union, agreement and love.   

CHAP. II.  
That enmity and discord are monsters of nature, and the devils own children.  
FRom the precedent Chapter, we may by very good consequence infer, that, which we seek to prove in this: For if union and peace (as we have proved) be God's attributes, and the perfection of nature, it is plain, that enmity and discord (Capital enemies of union) must of necessity be contraries to God and nature, being altogether averse to the noblest perfection that our understanding can conceive in God, which is unity and simplicity; wherewith his divine attributes and perfections, are so indivisibly united together, that no manner of distinction can be admitted between them, either real, formal, or fundamental, as Divines do term them; unless we should allow of the distinction of reason, which our understanding licentiously frameth conceiving that to be distinct, which in itself is indivisibly one. Daily experience showeth us, the great repugnancy, and contrariety that is between discord and nature, either of them showing it by their effects: seeing the proper and principal end of the one, is to corrupt, diminish, ruin, and undo. Of the other, to generate, to join, to multiply, and unite all worldly things, with the most firm bond of peace. Because that knowing by evident induction, that discord and enmity, are enemies unto God; and the very plagues of nature, we may, with good reason, conclude them to be, the works of the devil, wrought by his own hands: so pestilent a fruit doubtless proceeding from such an accursed tree.  
The Apostle did in three words admirably set down the genealogy, and descent of this fierce monster, saying, that through the devil's envy, death was come into the world. Wherein we must note, (according to the exposition of some Doctors) that the Apostle in this place, calleth dissension, and discord, by the name of death: And that very properly, seeing that the doctor's meaning by death, as well the souls, as the body's death, we shall find death to be nothing else, but a wretched separation, and unfortunate divorce tending to ruin, and perdition. And as for the death of the body, none can be so ignorant, as to deny this truth, beholding with his own eyes, the dissolution of the straightest, and internallest friendship, as human understanding can conceive; and after that, the miserable accidents which ordinarily accompany a dead carcase. And if this passage be taken for spiritual death; it being an enmity, and divorce, between God, and the soul, and not an ordinary divorce, but an infinite one by reason of the infinite distance, that is between God and a sinner: we still conclude that death, and discord, are one, and the self same thing; and both daughters to the devil, and envy, as the Apostle saith, the motive which moved the devil, to bring this accursed dissension into the world, was a cruel, & impatient rage against man: being not able to endure, that God should grow enamoured, of so ugly, base, and wretched a nature, as human nature is; and that he should enrich it, with so many extraordinary favours & privileges, as unite himself hypostatically to it, and make it the instrument of redemption; denying that favour, to the angelical nature which is more noble and perfect, than the human: and so being desperately enraged, he contracted matrimony with envy, in which wedlock, death was borne: so that death, or discord, hath the devil for her father, and envy for her mother: her grandfathers were pride, and contempt, and her first root was ambition.  
This cursed plant was the first Angels plague, and that which made him to exceed the bounds of his own nature: rashly opening the way unto an unbridled appetite, and ambitious desire, to climb up unto the heaven of divine perfection, to place his throne above the stars, and to be like unto the most high. Making the consideration of himself, and the beauty, and perfections, wherewith he was enriched, the instruments of so blind a pretence, and proud absurdity. Judging himself thereby, to be worthy of so great an honour: out of which consideration grew pride, which augmenting the raging fire of her mother ambition, caused the angel to forget the respect and honour due unto his creator, and to become the heir of contempt. These two fierce monsters of nature, Pride and contempt, made such a slaughter of that fair creature, that they left not in him the least sign of perfection and goodness▪ yea, they did so deprave and pervert his will, that seeing himself banished out of heaven, and condemned to a perpetual priva●ion of God, and ●o the terrible habitation of those darksome prisons of hell▪ he enragedly protested to be revenged. And being unable to execute his vengeance against God▪ his infinite perfection and greatness, being not to be reached unto; he purposed to wreak his vengeance upon man, as the creature in most favour, not being able to endure those particular favours and prerogatives wherewith he perceived God did intend to honour him. Out of which consideration sprung envy▪ the devils spouse, and mother of death.  
With such weapons doth this fierce Leviathan persecute mankind, and with them he brings to an end all his pretences: subjecting unto his empire and command, all the Provinces of the earth. It being most certain, that cities subject to discord and dissension, cannot be free from the devil's bondage, and consequently subject to ruin. The epithets which the Prophet Nahum gives unto the city of Niniveh, shall be sufficient, and faithful witnesses for me herein; when he calls it the city of blood, the city of misery, the city of death and perdition; attributing the cause of these wretched effects, to nothing but to the discord and division of her inhabitants. And he doth with so much efficacy, insist upon this point, that he pronounces an infallible curse upon that city, which shall stand divided and in discord. The same doth the Prophet Hosea, concluding by an enthymeme the ruin which comes through dissension, saying, Their heart is divided, and therefore they shall perish. And if this be not sufficient, let us consider that wretched trick he served our first fathers, in the beginning of the world; where it being a hard task to beat down such knowledge and wisdom, so perfectly infused, as Adam & his wives was, he used no other weapons than these, persuading them, that God had enjoined, upon pain of death, not to taste of the tree of life; only through an artificial malice, because that none should be so wise as himself: which he could so well, and with such lively reasons persuade them, that (being already moved with an ambition and desire of knowledge) they conceived such enmity and hatred against God, that casting away the respect and obedience which they knew was due unto him, they did contrary to that which was commanded them; remaining thereby subject unto death, and their posterity to an abyss of miseries.  
Let him that is curious, observe for the confirmation of this truth, the sentence which God pronounced against the Serpent; when as being willing to punish him by way of retaliation, or as they say in Latin poena talionis. He took for a means of the punishment, the same way as the Serpent had taken, to make man fall from his original justice and state of innocency; saying unto the Serpent, I will set enmity between thee and the woman; as if he should more plainly say, thou hast procured through thine accursed persuasions and lies, to set hatred and enmity between the woman and I, to make her a slave, and all her posterity subject to thy will and tyranny. And I say unto thee, that thou shalt be chastized with the same punishment, for I will sow such terrible hatred and deadly antipathy betwixt you, that you shall always live in continual war and enmity, she endeavouring with all her might to break thine head, and thou to set snares for her heel.  
Finally, by means of enmity and hatred, the devil did catch Cain, never letting him rest until he took away his brother Abel's life. By means of these two, he stirred up Esau his anger against Jacob, Saul his revenge against guiltless Duvid. Pharaoh's hardness against the children of Israel. And with dissension, discord and ambition, the devil hath brought under his dominion and obedience, the most noble and fruitful Provinces of the earth; burning up the fruits of peace, respect, fear, reverence and zeal of the public welfare towards them, to whom they were subject, by divine and human laws.  
Many times have I considered that excellent and admirable invention which Samson used to revenge himself upon the Philistines; and I truly find, that it is the same as the devil useth to be revenged upon man; since, if that I well remember the story, Samson having sought all the surest ways, to be revenged of the wrongs he had received, could find none more effectual than division, verily believing, that thereby he should ruin all his enemy's goods and wealth; and to that end he took a number of Foxes, and binding firebrands to their tails, he let them run into the Philistines corn fields: The beasts feeling themselves loose, began to sever and divide themselves in the fields, with such disorder, that there were not two left together, all taking several ways, fixing their eyes towards their own homes and terriers. Which division was the cause that all the corn was burnt up, leaving the land spoiled, and Samson revenged. With such like industry doth the devil subject unto his Empire, all the countries of the world; overthrowing the best things he can find in them, and leaving them utterly unable to help themselves. Seeing that to turn a quiet and peaceable city into a city of blood and wretchedness, the first thing he doth is to stir up ambition in them whom he finds most disposed thereunto, and alluring them with their own proper interests, he kindles the fire of discord and dissension in such sort, that it being impossible to pacify and unite it: the fear of God, the zeal of public welfare, the respect and obedience due to the Prince, and the charity towards ones neighbour, are all beaten down: whence immediately followeth, the total perdition and ruin of the commonwealth.  
By all this which we have said, we may surely infer, that since discord and division produce no other fruit but blood, ruin, perdition and death, they cannot be positive effects of God, to whom is repugnant to be the author of evil: Nor yet of nature, whose treasure consists in unity; but merely the devils, who seeks nothing but to oppose himself to all goodness and perfection, which God or nature brings forth in this world. The contrary effects also, which are found in both, may bear sufficient witness to this truth, since that all which God and Nature pretend, is nothing but peace and union: that which the devil professeth, is nothing but wars, and dissension. Nature loves preservation; the devil ruin; that to generate, this to destroy. Nature finally desires to make every thing like unto itself, by means of peace, love and union: the devil strives to subject every thing under his dominion, by means of division, hatred and discord. Therefore such effects being directed unto such a detestable and perverse end as destruction, we cannot attribute them to God; to whom, by reason of his infinite goodness and perfection, is not only repugnant to be author of evil, as the Apostle saith, but also to will it or desire it.  
And if any self-weening, or peevish man should contrary this, alleging the words of the Prophet, who said, There is no evil done in the city but God doth it: and likewise the words of the Apostle in the ninth chapter to the Romans, where he seems to prove, that God is cause of the evil which is done in the world: he may satisfy himself with the Fathers of the Churches ordinary exposition of those places; considering that in evil, or sin, there are two things, whereof the one is the material of it, which is the physical action, or real execution, to which God doth positively concur, it being impossible for the creature to do any real act without the ordinary concurrency of the Creator: Since that all that is in the world, lives and is preserved through him: and in this sense are to be understood those texts which prove God to be the cause of evil.  
But the formal, and malicious part of sin, as the deformity of it, and privation of righteousness, depends only from our free and absolute will, and not positively from God. Because if that were so, God should not only go against his supreme perfection of being God, but should also be unjust in punishing man; he not being the true and immediate cause of sin. And so we must freely confess, that the proper and essential cause of sin, is the maliciousness of our will, depraved both by itself, and by the devil's temptations.  
And though we find in holy Scripture, that many times God punisheth one sin with another, as Pharaoh's insolency with the hardness of his heart; the Pharisees incredulity with blindness, we cannot for all that say, that God is the author of evil; because that although those which God punisheth with, considered in themselves, are sins; yet if they be considered as effects of the divine justice, to which belongeth to reward and punish every one according to their desert, they ought not, nor cannot be so called. And so our conclusion always remains true, that enmities, wars, discords, divisions, and other such like accidents, are works of the devil.   

CHAP. III.  
That it is monstrous in Nature for one to persecute another that is of his own likeness.  
ANY speculative understanding, will be quite astonished, and full of wonder, if he consider the abyss of chimaeras, falsehoods, deceits, persecutions, and garboils, which pride and ambition do breed in the heart of man, to so detestable and perverse an end, as the destruction of the particular creatures of the same kind: A thing so horrible, monstrous and terrible, that it goeth beyond the nature of the fiercest beasts of the earth; amongst which you shall hardly find any that will abuse and persecute another of the same species or kind. And therefore he said very well, who left it to us for a proverb, that man with man is like unto a wolf; since that this beasts cruelty in tearing in pieces a poor Kid, is not greater than the rigor and tyranny of a brutish and soulless man against another man. Another said, that one man against another, is a Lion: and a third, who would express the venom of his heart, said, that one man towards another, is a man declaring unto us that his fierceness surpasseth the fierceness not only of these, but also of all other beasts, whereof there is not any that abhorreth from the preservation of its own species and nature.  
And if we do, in truth consider this point, we shall find, that among creatures there is not any; which hath more ground, or reason to humble itself, and to love the particulars of its kind; nor less reason to grow proud, and persecute them, than man. Since that pride hath always for her seal some nobleness, prerogative, or excellency, whereupon she builds her close pretences, and presumptions. And man is far from all these: his composition, and first frame being of the lowest, basest, grossest, and vilest dross of the world, which is the earth; out of the slime, and ordure of which man was framed. And therefore the monstrousness, and violence of pride, is no lesser in man, then if one would exalt the element of the earth, above the heavens.  
And if we will show his beginning, state, and end, we shall plainly see this truth, reduced into a short and compendious definition, which most patient Job made of him, saying, that the nobility of man consists in being borne of woman; to whom the expositors upon this text do attribute variableness, fragility, imprudency, and all manner of imperfections. In having a short life, and full of miseries, calamities, and afflictions; there being none of Adam's children, that can glory, of having had the least shadow of pleasure, and content, which he hath not paid for, with a thousand griefs, and bitternesses; in a most incredible inconstancy, and variability, because he never continueth in the same state, and purpose, but is wholly a disordered, and confused chaos, which hath no determined nor sure end. And finally, it is a brickle, and unsafe vessel, into which, as the Prophet David saith, the treasure of life is deposited, and which one, and that a very small stone, is able to break, and reduce to nothing. Because that though his fantastical prides be all of gold, and silver, and do reach up to the heavens; yet the foot, and basis thereof being of clay, like Nebuchadnezar's statue, some small stone of weakness, or disaster, hitting against it, they straightways come down with their whole frame, and all their chimaeras; and fall into a poor, and stinking grave: so that if we consider him from the top, to the toe, we shall find nothing, in him, but is contrary, and repugnant to pride. Whence followeth that man, having no ground whereupon he may grow proud, he cannot have any, for the persecuting of others, persecution being the daughter of ambition, and arrogancy; but that the baseness of his composition, should rather invite him to peace, amity, and love.  
And though these forealleged reasons, should not move man, to withdraw himself from such an execrable, and cruel monstruousness, as to be the butcherer of his own kind: yet his equality, and similitude, with all the rest, might move him to procure peace and amity; the holy Ghost in S●lomons books, and nature itself, teaching us, that all things do love their like; which being most true, it shall also be more reprehensible in man, to persecute one another, then in any other creature: seeing that amongst all the created species, there is not any that hath its particulars more like, equal and proportionable than man, reserving its similitude and quality so well, both in the beginning, middle and end; that there is not the least tittle of difference: For as for the beginning, it is well known, that they all came out of the dust, or slime of the earth, and that they were all borne naked, and came into the world weeping. The equality of the end may be known by the universal attribute which all Adam's posterity do owe unto their birth. Since that neitehr sceptre, nor mitre could ever find any Antidote, or spell against death. And as for the middle, which is from the time of their birth, until death, we have already said with Job, that man's life is a continual warfare, full of all manner of afflictions, and calamities, as may be devised or imagined. And this is universal and common to all, there being none exempt from crosses.  
So that there being in man a perfect, and total similitude with all his particulars, and all agreeing in one, and the same degree of misery, baseness, and calamity, there being none in this more noble, or privileged than others; we conclude that pride, and persecuting of his like in man, is a monster, and prodigy of nature and a frenzy of the understanding. He being by his baseness bound to humble himself; and by his equality tied to love those of his own species. Whence I do infer, that your naturalists do with very good reason, call the lion King of the Beasts; and prefer him before other Beasts for generosity and strength; because God made him advantaged, and showing odds of the rest, but by what reason can one man esteem himself to be more than another? What prerogative or excellency did nature grant unto him, which she denied to other men? which being most certain, we may securely say, that a man which is proud, and at enmity with another; is worser than the devil, or to say better, pride, and ambition, is not so unproper for the devil as for man. Because if Lucifer did pretend to set his throne above the stars, to be like unto the most high, and had other foolish fancies, and rash propositions; though he had no true nor real ground for it, the creature being incapable of the creators perfection and nobleness: yet he saw, and knew in himself some likelihood, and colour for his unbridled appetite; knowing himself immortal, incorporeal, and the most beautiful of all creatures; being as Isaiah saith, not only a bright shining star, but Lucifer unto the morn, and the most perfect of all other angelical spirits. Moreover the whole army of devils is united, and concordant in the persecution of the soul, one not intermeddling in the others office, nor endeavouring to disturb or cross the temptation, that another shall intend.  
Whereby it is proved, that man being the most abject, and wretched creature, and having nothing but what other men are also partakers of; growing proud, and persecuting another man, he goeth beyond the nature of a brute beast, and is worser than the devil himself.   

CHAP. IV.  
Of the nobleness of man.  
THE conclusion of the precedent Chapter, gives us great occasion to treat in this Chapter of the nobleness of man, and of his excellencies, by reason of a motive any one may have to wonder at our last proposition, wherein we concluded, that man is the most abject, imperfect, and wretched creature of the world: Which being considered at the first sight, seemeth quite contrary to that which both Scripture and common Philosophy teacheth us, canonising man for the noblest and perfectest creature. And truly if we do with particular attention consider, that high sublime and lofty degree of nobleness and perfection which man attained unto by that hypostatical union, which the divine word made in the incarnation, we shall freely confess that it is the noblest and perfectest of all creatures; since the angelical nature did not only remain inferior to it, but also subject to adore it in Christ's humanity. Whence (as some Doctors testify) the first angel took occasion to rebel against his Creator, not being able to brook the exaltation of human nature, and the extraordinary and exquisite favours, which by revelation he knew God would communicate unto it.  
Neither is that proof which is ordinarily brought by them who think man inferior to the angel, of any great force or power; for whereas the vulgar translation saith: Thou hast made him little less than the Angels, the Hebrew hath it, Thou hast made him little less than Eloim; which according to some Rabbins interpretation, signifies, that man is little less than God: because that the word Eloim signifies many times God, and many times angel. And that exposition is not much out of purpose, but grounded upon very good reason: for if we attentively consider that marvellous union which God made with our nature, we shall find that God's epithets were thereby so appropriated unto man, that it may truly be said, that man is little lesser than God; which thing the angel cannot glory in, he being deprived of so notable a favour.  
And although in all creatures there be in some fashion a certain resemblance of God, yet it is more perfect in man then in any of the rest, since that in none but man is to be found the Word incarnate. His composition consisting of soul, whose three powers are correspondent to the three divine persons; and of body, which united to the soul, is correspondent to the divine Word, in which are divinely united Body, and Divinity. And of all this the angel is incapable, because he is incorporeal.  
The Divines call these perfections, perfections of mere grace, because that God would out of his will and mercy so favour this nature, though she could no way deserve it by any virtue or excellency. And in this all confesse, that human nature is more noble than the angelical, since God did not bestow so many favours upon the angel, as he did upon man. But if we consider both these natures of themselves, without any respect to grace, many, or almost all will say, that the angel is more perfect than man. In the deciding of which question, I cannot resolve myself, but with a distinction: Noting first, that in man there are two things to be considered, the soul and the body. Of the soul some say, that it is of the same substance & nature as the Angels are, incorporeal and rational as they; but that is not a complete substance (as Logicians call it) wherein it only differs from Angels.  
Others ingulfing themselves into an abyss of metaphysics, say, that the angel is more perfect than the soul, since he is not subject to the imperfections and miseries of the soul, and hath his will, not indifferent to good or evil as the soul hath, but only frame himself to do that which is good and just. Which reason I cannot allow of: For considering the angel according to his own nature, or in puris naturalibus, as Divines term it, he is as indifferent to good or evil, as the rational soul; which is evidently proved by holy Scripture, which saith, that Lucifer and all his followers did sink themselves into hell, and Michael and other good Angels remained in Paradise. For if the angel by nature had been impeccable, and could not have sinned, he could not have damned himself, nor much less save himself, if his will even from the instance of his creation had been precisely determined to evil. Besides the Scripture telleth us that there be good and bad Angels, and that the last fell from Heaven for the sin of pride: whereby is concluded, that the nature of Angels precisely considered, is peccable, and may sin, being indifferent to good or evil, as well as the soul. Yet the Angel being now confirmed in grace, loses the indifferency which he had, and his will remains now governed and subject only to good. And all this may the Divine find to be likewise in the soul punctually: there being none so foolish as to imagine that in the blessed there is any indifferency or possibility of sinning. So that by the foresaid reason it is not concluded that the angel is more perfect than the soul.  
And if the curious person will give me leave to speak my opinion freely, in this case I will say (Always subjecting myself to the doctrine of the Fathers, and correction of the Church) that the soul in this world, even with its indifferency of sinning or not sinning, is more perfect than the angel, though he neither doth nor can sin. The reason is, because the soul having the power to sin and not sinning, gains a greater excellency and perfection than she should otherwise have, if she were good because she could not be bad, as the angel is: So that the indifferency which is in the soul, and her being subject to so many temptations which daily fight against it, argues an excellency of perfection; whereby making her victory more glorious over her enemies, her reward shall be so much the greater. For I would fain know what great commendations is it for a man to be quiet and peaceable, when there is no body strives against him? Or what is it for one to be good, when there is nobody to provoke or entice him to be evil? And what perfection shall it be not to sin, when the will is so tied and subjected as that it cannot sin? None verily: Whereby I conclude, that the soul even in her own nature is more noble than the Angels. True it is, that if we will consider in Angels that which is accessary, and concomitates this their unaptness to sin, which is glory, and the beatifical vision, in this he shall be more perfect than the soul, and there shall be as much difference between them, as there is between him that is blessed, and him that is not: whereof I intend not now to discourse. But if we will consider the counterprises and inconveniences whereunto the soul is subject whilst it lives within this mortal body, (I mean the dependency it hath upon the senses in all her operations) then questionless the Angel being incorporeal, and without any dependency, is more perfect than it. Yet otherwise the soul exceeds all other creatures in nobleness, amongst which she only participates somewhat of God.  
Of this nobleness of man in respect of other creatures, I do not purpose to discourse, but only by the way; it being a thing which requires much metaphysic, and speculation; wherefore laying it aside, we will treat of that, which it hath in respect of its own individui, that is one man, in respect of another: seeking wherein consists the nobleness of man: that is to say, who amongst men may justly call himself noble, and what requisites he ought to have, that deserves such a title, and name. I am moved to speak of this by reason of the conceit every one hath of himself, of what quality soever he be, esteeming himself noble, and well borne. And this evil is grown so common, that if you ask a cobbler an account of his genealogy, and descent, he shall puff up like a Peacock, answer you, that he is descended by a direct line, from the Emperor Sigismond, or Alexander the great: and he will speak it with such confidence, and ostentation, that even he shall be bound to believe him, that knows it to be false. I will not say, that nobleness is repugnant to a mechanical artificer, nor to him that lives by his hand labour; Yea I hold them to be in a great error who ordinarily style country men and those people who live by their labours, to be peasants, and base people, banishing them out of the number, and company of the noble, by reason of their vocation. Since it is certain that the noblest of all men that ever were, was Adam, and he had no other quality, nor trade but a labourer: being forced to eat his bread with the sweat of his brow. The sons of Adam were noble, and they exercised themselves only in mechanic and base trades: as as to be Smiths, and the like. Noah was by all men held to be noble, yet his recreations were nothing, but planting of vineyards, and sowing of fields. Abraham and his children were noble, seeing that from them came the Jewish nobility, yet had they no other means to live, but what they got by labouring: Saul, and David, were noble, and Kings, yet were nothing but shepherd's. Finally, all the ancient nobility was occupied in bare and mechanical exercises: whereby I conclude, that they are deceived who judge of nobility by their exercises and trades. Neither doth true nobility consist, in being private, or in favour with Kings: since there are many who not only are out of favour with Kings, but also are persecuted by them; yet their nobility, stands still firm, alive, and secure. Neither doth it consist in learning; since that ordinarily the most learned, and wise, if they have nothing else but learning, are the most vile, and contemned of a common wealth. Whence I draw this conclusion, that true nobility consists in every ones generous actions, be he rich, or poor, citizen, ignorant, or learned. So that he may lawfully be called noble; who shall be most noted for some heroical enterprise, either of fidelity, or valour, or any other rare virtue. And it is reasonable and just that such a ones memory should be preserved in his posterity, all of his lineage holding the name of Noble.  
This is the true nobility which is called discreet and wise men's nobility; because those that are so, aught to hold or esteem none but such to be noble: But the vulgars' nobility, which this day is practised in the world, is not this, but wealth; so that in this our wretched age, he is only esteemed noble, that is rich. And if the discreet and wise reader will give me leave to prove the nobleness of wealth by the baseness of the contrary, which is poverty, he shall clearly see, that the vulgar sort are not much deceived therein, since there is no mishap nor misery can be equalled to a poor man's. Poverty is the quintessence of contempt, the root of all worldly miseries, and the grave of virtue. Give me the valiantest and couragiousest man in the world, if he be poor, a Hare shall not be more timorous or cowardly than he. If he be honest and mannerly, there is none, but seeing him poor, will esteem him an hypocrite. And finally, poverty coming to any man's door, the world knows him not: his kindred denies him, his friends retire from him, his servants forsake him, and he seems a stranger to all, the world flying from him, as if he had the plague about him. Poverty is the mother of Infamy: for finding a man poor, he will be apt to work any deceit or roguery, and attempt any treachery: his ordinary companions being dishonour, cruelty, ignorance, contempt, falsehood, infidelity, treachery; which, and the like, a poor man shall be apt to commit. What difference is there between a poor man and a withered tree, a bow without a string, a ship without tackling, a cart without wheels, a bird without wings, or a body without a soul? Surely not any: Since he remains as unable to do any good thing, as the abovenamed things. Since therefore these are the effects which poverty produces in man, with very good reason the vulgar sort affirm, that nobility consists in the want of nothing. And what doth man desire more, then with nobility to enjoy those privileges which wealth bringeth with it: For let a man be the most infamous fellow under the sun; yea, let him be a hangman, if he be a rich man, and in prosperity, he shall straightways be a Cavalier, Noble, and well descended from the line of Alexander the Great, and the first of the Baldwins: Let him never have taken sword in hand, nor seen battle, unless it were drawn in some picture; and they shall presently say, that he is a valiant captain, and that in the gulf of Lepanto he overcame the Turkish army, and took the King of Miramamolin prisoner. Let him not know the first letter of the A. B. C. and they shall suddenly canonize him for a Mercurius Trismegistus. Finally, being rich, he shall in the vulgars' eye, have all the virtues, eminences, and nobleness in the world: for all will respect and reverence him, pulling off their hats to him a mile off. If he comes into the Church, they will all make way for him, and give him their places. At banquets they place him at the upper end of the table; when he speaks, they all stand attentive, and harken to him, as if a Cicero were speaking.  
The rich man's house is frequented by all men, his children are made much of, his servants are respected, and styled gentlemen; if he be sick, the City is turned upside down to find out presents to bring him; his gate stands full of foot-cloths, his hall full of visitors, his tables attended on with music; and in conclusion, as all manner of miseries accompany the poor man, so all contents, favours, and privileges belong to the rich, since in this wretched age money is the absolute Lord over all our actions. This commands, governs, and keeps in subjection all the world, and all things, as Solomon saith, obey it. It attains to all things, makes all things easy. Money is the object, motive, and end of all man's cares and desires; towards it are bent all his endeavours and employments, and every thing is governed by it. This makes the bitter sweet, the impossible easy, the little great, the false true, and finally of nothing it makes all things; and by reason of its great power and worth, all the world loves it, seeks it, and adores it, tormenting and even martyrising themselves for to obtain it. What moves the soldier to march up to the knees in water in the winter time, loaden with iron, nigh dead with hunger and thirst, broken and bruised all in pieces, with death daily before his eyes, but only money? what makes the Labourer to break his arms, yea his whole body, tearing up the earth with his labours, but only money? What makes the mechanical artificer pass continually the winter nights in working, but only money? Who makes the Merchant venture his life upon two inches of plank, and suffer so many storms and tempests, but only money? Who makes the Lawyer lose his sight in studying Bartolus and Baldus, the Physician Hippocrates and Galen, but only money? Who makes the counsellor confound his brains to defend his causes per fas & nefas, but only money? In conclusion, money is the end towards which man directs all his actions and endeavours. The physician's Recipe, the Apothecaries misce, the Lawyers Bartolus, the scrivener's Pen, the Notaries &c. the Logicians Ergo, the Grammarians Nominatives, the Astrologians Heaven, the Philosophers infinitum, the Metaphyficians unum verum & bonum, the shoemaker's Nawle, the tailor's Needle, the ploughman's Plough, the nobleman's Gentility; and finally, life and death itself lies in the hands of money: since reward is able to condemn a just man to death, and to give life to one that is condemned to die. Whence finally I conclude, that the vulgar sort speaks not much out of purpose, when it attributes all the nobleness of the world unto money, since in the world infinite wonders are wrought by it.   

CHAP. V.  
Of the nobleness and Worth of the French and Spanish Nations.  
IT were fitting and reasonable to leave this chapter unto fame, as a lawful Chronicler of this heroical enterprise, it being only reserved for her to end that which my pen could not in an age begin. For if true nobleness consists in the generosity of actions, as we have said in the precedent Chapter, the actions of these two Nations are so many, so excellent, and so heroical, that it would be impossible almost in an age to rehearse the least part of them. I will not now stand to set down the beginning and descent of these two most noble Nations, it being notorious unto all, and ordinary for them who have written of this matter. I will only insist a little upon the contemplation of the rare and perfect virtues which God infused into them: of which he may come to have knowledge and notice, who will attentively consider the marvellous order which God held in the six days of his Creation, in which time he had beautified the large field of this world with so many varieties of nature; and that they might make show of the perfection which he had granted them, he made the fourth day two fair and bright lights, to which he gave certain vicars and substitutes, giving them full licence to assist the day and night, dividing, ordering, and appointing times and seasons, and producing those marvellous effects which daily experience presents unto us in the theatre of this visible world. The greatness and perfection of these two Lights might sufficiently be proved by the only knowledge of the senses: since he must be altogether blind, that opening his sight towards heaven, doth not know, that the sun and moon are authors of all the rejoicings and gladnesses of this world▪ and of all the varieties, changes, and alterations that are seen in the four elements: and that their absence causeth many troubles and sorrows amongst men, which the horror of the night, and nightly impressions may testify by the sun's absence, together with an infinite company of other effects, which for brevity sake, I do omit. Notwithstanding the strongest means I have to prove the excellent perfection of these two lights, is to see that the Prophets, and the whole Scripture, when they would make us conceive the greatness of the Creator, they know not to whom better to compare him, then to these, calling him sun, and moon, and astrology teacheth us, that all the stars, and luminous bodies receive their light, and splendour from them, and that from them proceed all the alterations, and motions, of all that hath, or hath not life.  
These and infinite other greatnesses, shall the contemplative man find in these two great lights which God placed in the celestial globe, so noble, fair, and bright, that an acute understanding can not sufficiently praise them, but only by admiring them. For if those do enlighten all visible and material things; these do enrich, and govern the reason, and the actions of the will, which are so much above the sensitive, as the being free, and voluntary exceeds the natural, and depending. These have for their ends generation, corruption, variation, and change; these to eternize, to conserve, and also to attain to the infinite, since they do produce marvelous effects, as virtue, counsel, understanding, learning, and doctrine, which eternize the soul with God. Those have their seat and place, in an incorruptible, yet material substance; and these hold dominion over human nature, for whose service the first were created; and because that the middle, or means, cannot be more perfect than the end for which they are ordained, the heavenly lights with all their influences, and virtues, being only created for man, it is certain they must be less perfect than man.  
Yet we will compare the nobleness of these two earthly lights, which are the Spanish, and French nations, with the two heavenly ones, there being more amongst creatures which may better represent their rare perfection, seeing that the one hath such proportion, and correspondency with the other, that it seemed the divine architect took from these the original▪ which had ab aeterno been framed in his divine mind, to produce in time their pourtracture, and place it in the first, and fourth sphere. These are they which in rigor of justice deserve the name of two great lights; that which now virtue, learning, and advice, do publish the truth: so that the evangelic faith holding her seat between these two most firm, and inexpugnable columns, that is between a Catholic, and a most Christian, she stands firm, and secure, out of danger of being stained by any cloud of infidelity, or persecution. They do command the day, and the night, since there is no nation from one pole to the other, which doth not obey them, spreading their names into all, both barbarous, and Catholic provinces, as the fear of the lion's voice amongst the other beasts of the wood.   

CHAP. VI.  
Of the nobleness, and valour of the French.  
LET Christendom publish the strength of the valiant French arm, and let faithful Europe exalt her famous acts, let not England altogether contemn her valour, and let Germany celebrate her fearless assaults, let Italy solemnize her valiant endeavours, and let perfidious Turkey divulge without passion, her heroikall erterprises and actions, wherewith she doth daily eternize her immortal valour: let the same fame also speak (if it doth not through passion grow dumb) and tell that which my tongue and rough pen cannot: let the powerful Ottoman aright confess this truth, which holds itself unconquerable by having one company of French soldiers. And let not great Persia dissemble the qualities and valour of this great Nation, since it studies nor labours for thing more than to imitate their manners and warlike hardiness.  
The memory of Roman antiquity is now forgotten, her proud command, her so renowned acts, through the singular prowesses and rare generosity of the unconquerable French nation. Fame which was once so appassionate of the excellent enterprises of Alexander, and Caesar, remains now tributario unto the heroical and immortal actions of great Henry the fourth, father of his country, pillar of Christendom, scourge of the Infidels, and shade of the whole world. And from such a foundation and premises, let them begin and continue unto this hour, to sing and praise the rare prudence and extreme wisdom of great Lewis, worthy son of such a father. Let the seven Planets, and all other stars of biggest greatness, which in this French firmament receive their brightness, and light from this sun, speak, and communicate unto the world his peregrine valour, that every one may admire it. Let that almost infinite number of Princes, which like bright stars adorn this sky, discover the magnanimity of his bright influences, that the wise may conjecture the beauty of the whole, by the beauty of the parts. Let the Earth eternize thy renown, since the Heavens, as an elect vessel of perfection, do bestow singular favours upon thee, beautifying thee with all those conditions and requisites which belong to a just and lawful King. And if one (as the Scripture saith) would have excused himself from being King, saying that he was no physician, neither was there bread in his house: that cannot be spoken of thee, who art abundance itself, and furnishest other nations with bread, wealth, nobility, infinite valour, virtue, knowledge, mercy and piety. And to this plenty is added thy being a physician, whereby thou dost arrive to the non plus ultra of thy greatness; remaining upon earth the mirror of Christians, the scourge of Infidels, the fire of thine enemies, the death of the envious, the haven of the passionate, the comfort of thy subjects, the protector of thy orphans, the justice of thy wronged.  
None can tax thee, unless it be some one, who bursts with envy, or rages with passion. When did ever the poor, wretched, or needy come to thy door, to ask for succour; but that thou didst with a free and liberal hand, remedy their necessities? when did the afflicted, ever lay open his griefs, and sorrows, unto thee; but that he found thee always disposed like a pitiful mother to yield her a remedy? when ever did oppression, wrong, or subordination dwell within thy breast? was there ever any affect found in thee, towards thy children other than clemency, liberality, generosity, and virtue? can there be aught found in thee to obscure the least atom of the perfect splendours? No surely, thou art the quintessence of greatness, and valour, thou art the Infinitum in actu of worth. Finally, thou art the content and harmony of this our hemisphere.  
The last attribute belonging to these lamps of heaven, which is to cause changes, alter the times, and produce divers effects, belongs also to this nation, may easily be proved, without spending many words, by the quotidian experiences, and marvelous effects, which her glorious enterprises do work amongst all nations; since that every time as France takes arms in hand, other nations presently, confused, and changed, and with a deadly heart beating double their garrisons, fortify their walls, renew their munitions, give orders, and prepare themselves with such care for defence, as if they looked for a new deluge in the world. The fierce roaring of the Lion in the night, doth not more affright the other beasts of the wood, than the sound of the French trumpet, or drum, affrighteth other kingdoms: what lightning broke out of a cloud, comes down whirling more furiously through the air, than the fearless, and warlike French doth in setting upon an enemy's camp? what kingdom, Nation, or Province, is upon the earth, that having France on his part, hath not Mars in his arms, a Lion in his breast, an Eagle in his hands, a crown on his head, and an assured victory on his side? are the treaties, complots, expeditions, and undertakings of other nations, powerful and strong enough, if French valour doth not aid, and confirm them? No surely, since we see that as the sun beams do dissolve the Chaos, and obscurity of the clouds; even so the French strength, and industry, once beginning to show itself, breaks, splittes, and annihilates, the plots, and stratagems of all other nations: so that they do if this will, they have if this gives, they get if this suffer, they conquer if this helps, they lose if this go from them and finally, if this persecutes, they are destroyed.  
I could say much more, though it would all be too little, if fear of being tedious, did not stay my tongue, and the discretion which a writer ought to suppose in the reader did not secure me, as also the infinite disproportion, which is betwixt the gross energy of my tongue, and the supreme valour of this nation. So all that which I have said, and all that which rhetoric could set down, if she did undertake the task, would be but a beginning of an infinite, an atom of an immensity, a point of a line, an instant of eternity, a shadow which passeth, and like a nothing in respect of the whole. And since the subject of my book will not suffer me to conceal any thing of this noble nation, I shall be forced to imitate the industry of that famous painter, who being commanded to draw out a Giant in a little space, finding that it was impossible to draw him out whole, he resolved to draw only one of his little nails, so as by that proportionably might be known the deformity and greatness of the Giant. Let those therefore which read this Chapter know, that if I have said any thing that seemeth too much to any one, that all this is but the least part of the whole, which might be spoken in praise of this Nation.   

CHAP. VII.  
Of the nobleness and valour of the Spanish Nation.  
THe complaints of my mother Spain begin now to buzz in mine ears, as offended by my having bent all my forces in praising of France; imagining that being drawn by some private interest, passion, or subornation, I have with silence passed over all her greatnesses. I already see the Lords of Spain angry with me, canonising me in their assemblies and congregations, for the most ungrateful, faithless, and forgetful man of the world, persuading themselves that against the natural law of my country I have taken Cesar his due from him. On the other side, methinks I meet the French quite puffed up, imagining that which I have spoken to be proprium quarto modo (as your Logicians term it) belonging only to them and not to others. I also know that some malicious Sophister, inflamed with passion, stands waiting with great impatience to see whether I will express myself, and tell which of the two Nations is the sun, and which is the moon, which shall have the title of the greater, and which of the lesser Light.  
But my intention being not to kindle the fire of enmity between these two Nations, but rather to quench that which is, and only to treat of the excellency and nobleness of each of them, without offending either of them: I say (shunning comparisons, which are odious) that between these two most noble Nations there is neither greater nor lesser, great nor little, since they are both great Lights, fair, and resplendent. And that therefore all that I have spoken of the French Nation, must also be understood of the Spanish, without diminishing any the least perfection as may be thought of.  
And to show the great proportion which these two nations have with the two Lights of heaven, upon which I have grounded my discourse, it shall suffice that the holy Scripture saith, that God created two great Lights, without seeking out any other particulars, or metaphysical distinctions. Yet to satisfy the malcontent, and those which are too curious, who will not be content till they know which of these two Nations is the sun, and which the moon; which governs by day, and which by night, I shall be forced to show a point of Philosophy, by which your delicate and appassionate understanding shall be satisfied, and shall confess that there is neither greater nor lesser between these two noble Nations, being both great, and of exceeding worth and dignity.  
Your scholars know that the whole Homogeneon, or alike, is of such nature and property, that the integrant parts of it have the same faculty, name, and being which the whole hath. As for example, water which stands in many vessels, be they great or small, still all or each of the parts retains the same name and virtue of water, there being no attribute that can be imagined which doth not equally befit all the parts. In the same manner we shall see that the light being a homogeneal and like quality, all the parts of it, though placed in several subjects, have the same nature, name, and virtue. And therefore it would be a great absurdity to imagine the light of the sun to be different, or of any other quality than the light of the moon, since God made them both the fourth day, shining with the same light which he had created the first day. Which may admirably be proved by those words of the Psalm, which say, Per diem Sol non uret te, neque Luna per noctem, giving us to understand, that the virtue of heating is in the same manner common to both, as well as the shining, the having its influences, and the lighting. And in that sense must those words of Moses be understood, Fecit Deus duo luminaria magna. There are notwithstanding three things to be considered in each one of these lights, the influence, the manner, and the light. The two first are different enough, the moon ending her course in eight and twenty days and odd hours, and the sun in a year, and therefore there must needs be some difference in them, and therefore holy Scripture calleth the one the greater light, and the other the lesser; but as concerning the light, they are both great, and shining. The same Philosophy may be found in our two earthly lights, I mean in the French and Spanish Nations, to whom God did impart worth, perfection, and nobleness, with such liberality, that he left them great, and wholly perfect, nobleness and virtue being as proper to either of them, as the light is to the sun and the moon. The truth is, that in some particulars there may be some difference, and may likewise by turns be called one greater than the other, no otherwise then the Philosophers affirm the heavens to be more perfect than man, by reason of his incorruptibility, but as being a living creature, not only man, but even the least worm of the earth is more perfect. In the same manner some things may be found in the French Nation which may cause it to be called the greater, and so likewise the Spanish may have others which may give it the same name and title. Yet these differences being accidental, do not undo the greatness of the other, agreeing both in the essential perfection, of being both most noble and advantaged. And therefore all that which hath been spoken of France, & much more which might have been spoken, may without diminishing of the least tittle be also spoken of Spain.  
And if that the enmity and natural antipathy, rooted in the hearts of these two Nations, for so many ages, shall dazzle the eyes of some passionate, and will not suffer him to know the reason, I will satisfy him with experience, the true mother to give satisfaction and faithful witness of truth, by setting down some little parcel of that most pure & unspeakable brightness which this great light communicates to all the world, to bring forth in it those virtues and marvellous effects which are in it. Of whose unlimited strength, the Eagles and the Lion, which great Philip carrieth in all his devices, shall be witnesses, giving us thereby to understand, that his command, worth and strength, flies through all parts of the world, there being no part within its spacious map, wherein his light, fear, signiory and nobleness is not known.  
A thousand times have I had in remembrance those words of David, who saith: In omnem terram exivit sonus corum, & in fines orbis terrae verba corum, which though they be construed by the Doctors, for the Apostles, and preaching of the gospel, yet I may be suffered to apply them to the singular virtue of this noble Nation, they seeming to be spoken only to this purpose; for if we attentively harken to the cries which are heard in all the parts of the world, there is nothing heard but Viva Spain and Viva Philip. If you ask Europe who is her father, shepherd, refuge, tower & strength, and who keeps in awe a many of young Lions, Wolves, Tigers, and Foxes that would bite him, it will surely be answered, that it is none but this courageous Lion. If we come into Africa, we shall hear nothing but a terrible and timorous rumour of war, accompanied with a squadron of confused and untuned voices, which in despite of them, call for mercy, and cry, Viva Spain. If we turn our hearing towards fruitful Asia, we shall hear it do nothing but lament the continual slaughter which the Spanish policy and valour makes there. And if we ask news of this great nation in America, it will answer with loud voices, that she is indebted unto it for the light of the gospel, and Christian religion, and for taking of it out of the devil's hands: and finally, for making of it a new world. And if curiosity do draw us to inform ourselves of what is spoken upon the brinish and wide seas, questionless we shall hear, that Spain enriches her Islands, defends her gulfs, and makes the passage easy to all nations. Finally, the claws, strength and valour of this great Lion, reach to the ends of the world, since that America obeys is, Africa fears it, Asia desires it, and Europe honours it.  
And as we have said above, that it is proper to the heavenly lights, to order times, divide seasons, and enrich the world with divers effects, to whom can this better be attributed, then to this valiant Nation, whose nobleness, wisdom and quickness of wit is such, that it specifies each speculative understanding? Since that all nations, even her greatest enemies, confess, that Spain is a harbour of virtue, a treasure of understanding, a sea of discretion, a garden of nobleness, an abyss of sciences, and a wonder of the world. And fear of not ending my discourse, I should once engulfe myself into the heroical attempts, and noted actions by the Spaniards, did not hinder me, it would appear that those of Mars would be abased by theirs; and all those which have been written of from the creation of the world to this day, compared with theirs, would be but as a shadow of the body, and a draught of the original, there being no fidelity, obedience, respect, generosity, wisdom and prudence in the world, which compared with the brightness and splendour of this light, be not darkened, eclipsed, and do not vanish away.  
And if any one judging me to be suspect through being passionate and partial, shall disallow of these my reasons, let him take the depositions of her very enemies, as eye-witnesses, and he shall see, that there never lodged fear or pusillanimity in the heart of a Spaniard; nor was there ever any Spaniard, that did not valiantly spend his life in service of his king, and defence of his country, which the continual heart-beatings, and mortal slaughters wherewith they affright the moors, can well witness, whose frontiers do water their fields with the blood of their inhabitants, in stead of water, spilled by the unconquered army of Spain. Who tames the unlimited desires, and unsatiable thirst of the Ottoman wolf, but the strength of this majestic Lion? Who humbleth and abateth his proud ambition, beating down his designs, discomfiting his armies, casting his thoughts to the earth, and causing him, like a frighted wolf pursued by dogs, to beat a retreat, but the supreme valour of this Spanish Monarch?  
I finally conclude the praises of this great Light, with that maxim of Aristotle, as true as proper to this Nation, which saith, that in every kind, there is a thing which is the rule and direction of all the rest, and which contains in itself all the perfection which severally the rest have in themselves. As for example, amongst the Beings of God, amongst substances the Angels; amongst souls, the rational; amongst the heavens, the imperial; amongst the Planets, the sun; amongst the Elements the fire; amongst living creatures, Man; amongst men, Christ: Amongst bruit beasts, the Lion; amongst fishes, the Sturgeon; amongst birds, the Eagle; amongst metals, Gold; amongst precious stones, the Carbuncle; amongst colours, Azure; and amongst Nations, the Spanish, which is the model and major of all the rest, and that which hath in itself all the prerogatives and eminences, and is the nobleness of all the nations of the world.   

CHAP. VIII.  
That the French, and Spanish Nation, being the beginning of the other Nations, naturally aught to be opposite.  
IT being concluded in the precedent Chapter, that the French, and Spanish nations, are the beginning, and spring of all the other; It must through necessary consequence follow, that they ought to be opposite, and contrary; as likewise the two great lights of heaven are, upon which the discourse of this my book is grounded: The end of the contrariety which is in the heavenly ones being none other, than the variety, whereby the spacious garden of the world shows fair, and enameled with divers colours, with infinite variety of natures, and kinds, yet with such order, and art, that all united together seem nothing but individuum of one only thing. And so it was requisite that their influence, and motion should be various, and divers; it being certain that there can be no difference in the effects, if the causes be not different; which punctually belongs to these two nations, which as the beginning, and model of the rest, must have some contrariety, in their ceremonies, humours, fashions, of clothing, conversations and the like, that other nations which look on these in a glass, might be various, and so human nature, by reason of the said variety, should be beautified, and delightful.  
And though this truth be clear to any one that shall look on it; yet I will confirm it by Aristotle's authority, who saith, that beginnings ought to be different, saying when he defineth them, that contraries or beginnings, are they, which are not made by any, neither any of them is composed of the other, but of them all things are made; which definition squares excellent well with these two nations: since we cannot say, that they are composed of any other; that is that they have taken any perfection, virtue or nobleness, from them which were before them; seeing it is plain that since the creation of the world, there never was any nation flourishing in learning, wit, subtlety, policy, or other laudable exercises, more than these two. And so it seems that God did with particular providence make them in this world, bestowing on them immediately with his own hand, those perfections which they have. Neither can it be said, that the one is composed of the other, since that neither France takes anything from Spain, nor any way seeks to imitate it, nor Spain likewise from France: yet other nations are composed of them, receiving all the good they have, from these two beginnings, and fruitful springs, so that it agreeing so well, with these two nations to be beginnings, they ought also to be of their nature, that is to be contrary.  
I hold it certain, that this variety and opposition of nature, which is in these two nations, was by divine providence. For if all were of one mind, and one humour, either all would stay at home, and would have no desire to see the world, or all would be wandering, and forget their homes, and families, against the law of nature, & preservation of human kind: and the effects of the world not have that beauty which is in them, if they were all alike. And therefore this being the pretended, and in the creation of the universe, God made these two beginnings, and nations so contrary, and shared all favours, and graces, amongst them so equally, that the one cannot prevail against the other, like two contraries of equal virtue; that cannot overcome one the other.  
Neither let any one deceive himself so far as to think that the contrariety which is in these two nations as originals, be any imperfection, but that it is in them the greatest excellenlency that may be, seeing that if we consider it well, they have no other end, than peace, and preservation, it being a thing infallible that since they cannot overcome, nor conquer one another, by reason of the equality, strength, and valour, they will preserve not only themselves, but these nations also which depend on them. It being most certain that a Province favoured, and protected, by Spain, shall not be destroyed by France: nor likewise by Spain, any nation favoured by the French. And therefore we shall find that this contrariety is ordained for the peace, and preservation of the world: and if God had not made these two original, these two nations contrary, and communicated unto them their valour, with full equality, I verily believe that a great part of the world would be left: for if God had not tempered the fury, and violence of the French, with far degrees less of Spanish patience, and solidity, they would questionless be sovereigns of the world. And contrariwise if Spanish patience were not mixed, with a slow, and phlegmatic deliberation, there is no doubt but they would bring all the kingdoms of the earth in subjection. And that therefore God, who with an equal balance, measure and wisdom made all things, sweetly disposing of them, ordained that the world should be preserved in peace by means of this contrariety, dividing the goods so equally between these two Nations, that that which the one wanted, the other abounded in, that so like two perfect originals they might give peace and preservation unto other Nations.  
This Philosophy will not seem harsh to them who shall consider in the four Elements the contrariety and order wherewith they mix themselves, to produce and preserve those things which are composed of them; for he shall in them find their qualities tempered and divided with such art, that the one hath that which the other wants. God gave the Element of fire heat (as the Philosophers call it) in summo, and dryness inremisso. For if it were extreme, as the heat, it would with its power and activity destroy all the other. And therefore to withstand that disorder, he left the fire with a remissness. If the earth had coldness in extreme, as it hath dryness, it would by reason of its clamminess & hardness be intractable, and altogether incapable of compounding any mixed. He left the water with a remiss humidity, giving the same to the air in summo. So that with this distribution of qualities, God made them originals of peace and preservation. The same art did he use in these two Nations: for he gave the French the extreme of valour, force, and gentleness, yet accompanied with the remiss of variability and inconstancy.  
He placed in the Spaniard courage, stability, and constancy in a supreme degree, but tempered with a remiss deliberation. I would lay open the point more diffusedly, if I did not fear thereby to animate, by telling of the truth, the two nations one against the other, who will not confess that they have any thing in a remiss degree, but all perfection in summo. And so we are to believe that it was by heaven ordained that gifts should be so intermingled between these two Nations, that neither France nor Spain should have all the power in either of themselves, but equally divided between them, that knowing themselves to be no stronger one than the other, they should always live in peace, and should not attempt any thing whereby they might get broken heads. The truth of this admirable piece of work was rarely set down unto us in two words by the wise man, who considering the fabric and ordering of the world, and the wonderful means which God ordained to preserve it, said that he had set one against one. Which was questionless done, because no one should overtop the other, going beyond his bounds and confines. And so considering well the whole frame of the world, we shall find that there is no one kind or nature in it, but hath its contrary. God having set against a hell, heaven; against a Lucifer, Michael; against vice, virtue; against an Adam, Christ; against an Eve, a Mary; against the fire, water; and finally, against the Spanish the French nation, from which two, as from beginnings, yet contraries, should issue such plentiful streams of valour, generosity, & nobleness, as should beautify and make fruitful all mankind; since that if any light of faith hath spread itself amongst infidels, it hath been through the diligence and labour of these two most noble Lights.   

CHAP. ix..  
How the devil envying the nobleness and perfection of these two Nations, turned the natural contrariety into a mortal antipathy.  
OUr Lord God created these two noble Nations in the aforesaid degree of perfection, that they might communicate and distribute that light and beauty which he had granted to them. But the old Serpent, mortal enemy unto peace, knowing the marvellous good and notable profit which these two Nations might have brought to the world, ●f they had agreed and lived together in peace, fearing lest they ●hould with their great learning and holiness, cause the true faith and Christian religion to spring up in all Heathen countries, and by that means get them from under his subjection, whom by means of idolatry and bestiality wherewith he deceived them, he yet kept: he gathered strength out of their weakness, and sought to hinder this fruit, making use of the powerfullest arms he had, which were enmity and hatred: which he rooted so deeply in these two Nations, that he converted his art into a nature, leaving them enmity and persecuting of one another as hereditary, there being no sign or token left of amity, peace and union betwixt them; so that the smoke and dust, as Saint John saith in the Revelation, that cursed star fell from heaven, hath raised, is gotten up to the fourth sphere, and darkened the Sun. This is the cloud of enmity and mortal hatred, which the devil sowed between the Spanish and the French, which obscured the sun and light of these two nations. Since, if had not been this cursed seed of enmity, whence groweth the distrust of one another? They had, being both united together, conquered most kingdoms and Monarchies of the world, dissipating the darkness of infidelity in many provinces and kingdoms which want the light of the gospel, and had offered an acceptable sacrifice to God, of an infinite number of souls, which they would have drawn out of the way of perdition, and brought them into the way of salvation and eternal life.  
It is therefore lamentable to see, that this accursed Leviathan should find so much aptness in such wise nations, to swallow his mortal poison, and bring them from their first perfection, that he could be contented to set them at variance, and in hatred; but he hath also with his powerful diligence converted them (at least in outward show) into himself: seeing that although a Frenchman be the same with the Spaniard, in that which is of the essence, that is rationality; yet hath the devil so disguised this nature in such sort, and hath so maliciously defiled, and changed her accidents, humours and conditions, that now a Frenchman in a Spaniards eye seems to be no man; and a Spaniard a devil in the Frenchman's eye.  
And if the devil would have been contented with setting enmity and discord only in the humour, clothing, commerce, and other particular ceremonies of these two nations, it were no great matter, for it might easily have been remedied; but he was so cunning in sowing this mortal dissension, that with his deadly punctures and poison, he converted that into nature, which before were but accidents, making it pass by succession, from the fathers to the sons, & from these to the grandchildren, like original sin. So that as the Chicken flieth from, and is afraid of the Kite, although he doth not know him: or as the gentle Lamb scarcely come out of the mother's belly, seeing the wolf a great way off, retires fearful and timorous, flying him as a mortal enemy, having never seen him before, nor received any hurt by him, nor any having showed him any enmity and antipathy. In like manner the hatred of the French to the Spaniards, and the Spaniards to the French, is grown so natural, that even in children hanging on their mother's breasts, there seems to grow a natural instinct to know a Spaniard a mile off, crying out as loud at the sight of him, as if he did see some strange vision or apparition.  
From this natural antipathy cometh that to either nation, the customs, clothing, & manner of living of the one, seems evil-favoured, improper, and altogether abominable to the other, though the things of themselves be good, joining them with the three ordinary fruits of hatred, which are, unbelief, detraction and contempt. For if one tell a Frenchman of any victory, any strong hold, or city which the Spaniard hath taken, or any other famous & heroical erterprises, which this nation ordinarily perform, none shall make him believe it, no not if an angel should come down from heaven to verify it. And if he be either by common report, or other credible relations forced to believe that the thing is true, he will say, they yielded without resistance, or that all in the hold were asleep, that the watches and sentries betrayed it, or that there were but thirty of the enemies soldiers, and the Spaniards were three thousand: or finally, that there were many Frenchmen in the Spanish army, by whose advice and industry the battle was given, and the victory obtained. Howsoever, he will never confess, that the victory was truly gotten, but by some accident, or mischance.  
So again, if the Spaniard hear any such like news of the French, he will say that some river broke her banks, and drowned the enemy's camp, or that thirty pieces of ordnance broke and killed half their army, or that the plague, or some other contagious disease, was amongst them: so that he will not confess that the victory was obtained by any strength, valour, or industry, but by mere misfortune.  
All the world knows that Spain is more barren than France, by reason of the great droughts, and small store of rain, that falls there: wherefore some years there comes corn, and other victuals out of Languedock, and Provence into Catalonia, and France, come your hollands, cloth, linen, cambric, and a thousand other commodities which Spain hath not: yet you shall not find a Spainard who will confess, that France is a better land, or more abundant, and rich. The same weakness we also find in the French, seeing that the greatest Prince of that nation, that day as he will make show of his greatness, he adorns and beautifies himself with things which come out of Spain: if he have any brave horse, it is Spanish, if he have perfumes about him they are Spanish, if he be clothed in fine cloth it is Spanish, if he drink good wine it is Spanish, and will scorn at play to carry any money about him but Spanish pistolets; and yet though all this be true, they will not believe, but that Spain is a wretched country, and Spaniards a cunning, malicious, and no way curious nation. And when they are convinced by experience, they will say, that all is good in Spain which cannot speak.  
All Spaniards hold the French liberty, mirth, and affability, to be base, contemptible, dishonourable, and of small esteem, and almost madness, and yet is a wonderful perfection, wherein they excel all other nations; for by that means any one be he never so poor, may come to speak to the King, and relate his grievances to him when he will, without any let. The French gives like judgement of the Spaniard, calling his gravity, and continency, pride, and madness; yet it standeth with reason, that every one should know what he is, and not give occasion to suffer too much liberty, to breed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and disrespect.  
The Spaniards account your French liberality in great feasts, and banquets, to be an unreasonable gluttony; it being very true as I myself have seen, that they are very abundant, and delicate in their food, especially your Nobility; their ends in these excesses being no other then to keep their houses, servants, and families, satisfied, content, and merry; which are things properly belonging to generosity. The French believe that to abstain from these excesses, and the rule and order which the Spaniards keep, proceeds from baseness, and avarice, only to avoid expense: and yet it is manifest that this is no virtue, like unto sobriety, and parsimony, as well for the commendation it particularly hath in holy Scripture, as also for the spiritual and bodily benefits, which proceed from it.  
If you ask a Spaniard what he thinks of the French habit, and fancy, he will not only hold them to be ill favoured, but will be scandalised at a thing which causeth mirth, and attracts the minds. For to see a troop of French upon a festival day clothed in such variety of colours with a thousand kinds of feathers, jewels, embroideries, fringes, ornaments, and gold laces with so many hundred of jewels, diamonds, pearls, rubies, emeralds, and topaces, that one would think the Indies were landed in France; is even as one should see a garden enameled, and interlaced most artificially with divers flowers, or a fair field full of daisies, lilies, and violets, whose fair show, wakens the senses, keeps the mind in suspense, and enamoures the very soul: Yet the Spaniard will say, that it is the greatest folly in the world. I do not wonder at it, because that in Spain your civil habit is so much used, and wearing of colours so abhorred, that they force the hangman to wear colours, for a mark of his shame, and infamy. And if we have a French man's judgement concerning your Spanish habit, and manner of clothing, he will say that to go always in black is a sign of despair, the mark of a widow, or a decayed person, yet black is one of the most honourable colours, and argues modesty, reputation, authority, and understanding.  
Let a French man truly consider the effect of the look, modesty and courtesy of a Spaniard, his deliberateness in his speech, his reservedness, his affectuous conceits in his discourses, his gravity in his gate, his patience in his business, his measuring of his words, his attentive harkening to his reasons who speaks to him, and he shall truly find that all is but civility and courtesy; yet he will say that Spaniards would seem to be wise but are not. And if a Spaniard looks upon the actions of a Frenchman, his never standing still, his unquietness and impatience, his flinging away, though he knows that under such actions there is a great deal of wit, capacity, subtlety, and wisdom, yet he will say, that Frenchmen neither seem nor are wise.  
If a Gentleman go to a friend's house to visit him, he will scarce be in, but with a great deal of mirth he asketh for breakfast, if it be in the morning, or according to the time of the day, wherein he shows his liberty and friendship, seeing that to eat in one dish, and drink in one cup is a sign of fidelity and friendship. Now this would be abominable and disgraceful to the Spaniard, who would rather starve for hunger and thirst, then ask for it in a friend's house. Yea there are some so shamefaced, that will sit a whole meal without drink, only because they will not ask for it: as it happened to certain country people, who being invited to a Bishop's house, after they had eaten went to drink at a river, because they were not so bold as to ask for drink at the table. If we ask a Spaniard what he thinks of the manner and fashion which the French use in saluting of Ladies, kissing their facess, coming near them and touching them with that freeness as is used in France, he will lose his patience, and he will by no means be persuaded that such ceremonies can have any civility or courtesy in them: it being a maxim among them, that who parleys will yield the hand, who yields the hand will yield the face, and who yields the face will yield the rest. And yet it is most certain true, that such actions are void of malice, and ancient customs, practised even in the Apostles times. As also when they salute them afar off, going backwards, raking their feet upon the ground, with such like honest, wise, and just ceremonies, wherein there cannot be the least occasion of any rash judgement: yet I do not wonder at this ordinary contrariety, seeing the devil hath so taken away all manner of liking between the two Nations, with envy and hatred, that he makes that seem evil and detestable unto them, which indeed is commendable and honest.   

CHAP. X.  
Of some things which befell the Author in France, touching the enmity of the two Nations.  
I Know that every one will believe the antipathy which I am describing, without urging me to prove it by any of those many particulars which happened unto me. Yet I will a little digress from the theory, and (as by the way) delight the Reader with some passages, which when I remember I cannot forbear laughing, and afterwards to fall into a strange admiration, in seeing how much the name and sight of a Spaniard hath been, and is abhorred in France.  
I went out of Spain, drawn by that curiosity to which the desire and appetite of knowing inclines unquiet minds. And being told that in France I might satisfy my desires, I was not slow in taking my journey that ways, it being near unto Spain, and there being also ordinary commerce between them. I undertook my journey with as much ease as my poverty could afford me, which was not so great, but that I did ride on horseback, and had some money, though not much, which I also was forced to lay out to make me a suit of clothes. I believed that as soon as I should come into France, without any other art or ostentation, that only seeing of me in Spanish habit, would make all the world affect me, and strive who should first have me home to his house. I thought that a span of ruffing which I wore stiff starched, would serve me for bill of Exchange; believing that having them on, none durst deny to lend me money, if I desired to borrow of him.  
Then I assured myself that I should be esteemed of, respected and in a manner feared, by reason of six palms of rapier which hanged by my side, raking with the chape upon the ground. At last I arrived into France, clothed in Spanish habit, as may be presumed of one that went into France with a pretence of finding favour, only because he was a Spaniard. I traveled all the way from Bordeaux to Paris, without any accident worth the writing, unless it were some base words they gave me when I paid my reckonings at inns; which because they were of no great importance, and spoken by people which could not offend me, I bore with patience. I came into Paris with that desire which the city deserves all men should have, which come to see it. I began to walk the streets with a Spanish gravity, state and garb: yet I was fain to leave it, and hasten my pace, forsaking my wonted gravity: for I had not scarce gone twenty paces, when I heard a noise behind me of children that called to me, Senor Senor de la Burricapany Ravanicos: Sir, Sir, out of your budget bread and radishes, with a thousand other injurious words, and such untuned voices, that I was by necessity forced to go into the first house that I found open, leaving the door and court as full of little children and men, as if it had been the council chamber gate. By misfortune there were three little boys playing in the entry, who seeing me in a habit which they were not accustomed to, did entertain me with such out-cries, fears and shrieks, that with their noise many began to look out at the windows: then came a groom, who thinking▪ I had done those children▪ some injury, struck me such a blow on the head with a currycomb he had in his hand, that he had almost astonished me. I thought to excuse myself in those troubles, with some humble reasons; but it was a kind of preaching to a desert. And so after I had made my complaint to 30. or 40. that were come into the entry, they resolved to put me into the street, and turn me over to my first tormentors, who waited at the door for me, whose number being by the one half increased, they began to follow me up another street, with such a noise and tumult, that from all sides came an infinite of people to see the cause of this extraordinary tumult, thinking I was some fellow that was whipped up and down the streets. I was so troubled, and besides myself, that I had not the wit to ask where I was; and though I could have done it, yet that accursed company of Humble-bees did not give me time to do it: so that all as I could do, was to hasten my pace, endeavouring to find some gate of the city, taking it for my last remedy, to go out of it. But my evil fortune not yet satisfied, (to my greater confusion) caused me to see a Church which stood open, and a Priest saying mass in it, and many hearing of him; I went in, thanking God a thousand times for the favour he had done me, in delivering me out of the hands of so many Chaldeans. I was scarce gone up the second step, but there began such a laughter amongst the poor lame people that stood begging at the Church door, that they which were within the Church very attentive at mass, turning their backs to the Altar, began to gaze upon me, and second the others laughter, whereat I remained so astonished and confused, that I stood a great while still in the midst of the Church, turning myself no way; and I had stood so a great while longer, if one of them as stood next to me had not come to me and bid me make clean my cloak.  
So I went into a corner of the Church, where looking upon myself from head to foot, I found a hare's scut and a piece of a sheep's gut pinned upon my cloak, and the rest of it embroidered with spitals and other filth, which together with my habit, had been the cause of the tumult in the street, and laughter in the Church; the sudden murmur of them which heard mass was so loud, that the Priest looked about three or four times, to see the motive of this news, and because I perceived he knew that I was the cause of that whispering and noise, every time he turned himself about to the people and cast his eyes upon me, me thought he reproved me as a disquieter and disturber of that spiritual rest. Which did so trouble me and make me so ashamed, that I repented a thousand times that I was come into the Church. Once amongst the rest, when the Priest turned towards the people, he looked upon me, and whether it was true, or but only my imagination, I thought that in stead of saying Dominus vobiscum, he had said to me, Why dost not thou get thee hence? with which impression I suddenly went out of the Church so enraged, astonished, and troubled, that not looking what was before me, nor regarding where I set my feet, as I came out of the door I hitting my head against a friar's nose, who stood in the middle of it, begging with a box in his hand, and gave him such a knock, that he fell on his hands and head to the ground, and the box tumbled down the steps, at the bottom whereof stood ten or twelve foot-boys holding their Master's horses, who enraged against me for the knock I hit the friar, began to make a tumult, and hold up their rough cudgels against me: and surely they would have evil entreated me, if my laying hands on my patient sword, and the sacrednes of the place where they stood had not stayed them. Yet using their tongues for instruments of revenge, they followed me down the street with such injurious words and speeches, as were able to have scandalised the desperatest fellow in the world: And they did not leave me, till crossing of a street, I shut myself up in a cook's house, where I stayed all night, yielding infinite thanks to God for being gotten out of so great a fear and confusion.  
The day following I resolved to take another way, thinking that of the last day to have been unlucky. And so with hope of better fortune I took heart, and came out of the house with the same gravity and stateliness as I used before: yet still looking every way, to see if I met with any of mine enemies. Truly that day was lucky, for none followed me in the streets, only the shoemakers, cobblers, and tailors in every street as I went by, would leave their work, and standing upon their door sills, would hiss, scoff, and laugh at me till I was gotten out of their sight. Whereof I made small account, it seeming but a pastime to that was past.  
This manner of contempt and scorn lasted all the while I went in Spanish habit, which was almost two months, during which time my very soul was tormented with divers affronts, fictions, and jests, whereto I could by no means find any remedy: so that the remainder of that time, I was forced to go in the evenings after sun setting, like a night-Bat, or a man that hid himself for debt, it being impossible by day to go in the street an hundred paces, without having twice as many boys about me. Once that I presumed to go over a market place, the sight of me was such a novelty, and seemed so strange to certain women which sold radishes, salads, and eggs, that coming near one who was weighing of a Cheese of ten pounds, she so wondered, and was so affrighted at the sight of me, that the scales fell out of her hands, and both scales and cheese fell upon a basket of eggs which stood under them, out of which immediately began to run a stream of whites, and from her mouth issued more excommunicate curses than doth come from an Exorcist to one possessed of the devil: the eggs were another woman's who stood by her, and perceiving her ware upon the ground, without scolding with the other, took hold of three or four of her cheeses, which stood there upon a little table, so that the one striving to take them away from her, and the other to keep them, they struggled so long that both they, the table, cheeses, and basket, and all came to the ground, and falling with their heels upwards, discovered &c.  
I stood by looking on, and laughing with the rest, who stood by looking upon the skirmish, which lasted above a quarter of an hour, struggling, and scratching upon the ground, with the skirts of their coats over their heads, so that those that came at last could not perceive what it was, seeing nothing but their buttocks and their feet. The battle ended with some little blood, bruises and loss of much hair on both sides; and having wiped their faces which were all bedaubed, with butter, eggs, dirt, and blood: seeing me there, and remembering that I was the first cause of the skirmish, they both with one accord took up the broken eggs which lay on the ground, and ran towards me with their hair about their ears▪ and barefoot throughing them at me: after them arose all the rest, and believing I had been the cause of all that mischief, they began to shower upon me so many stones, onions, pears, whole cabidges, and pieces of poor John, that they made me look blacker, and more disfigured than they; and I remember I could make no more use of the cloak nor the hat, seeing a whole army of women upon me, so enraged as they were, I sought to escape from them running as nimble as a deer, forgetting that gravity, and stateliness which I professed.  
By good fortune in this my trouble I met with a gentleman, who questionless had been in Spain, and moved with compassion, took me into a friend's house, which by chance was at the end of that street, for me unfortunate, and commanded certain grooms to make clean my cloak, and clothes. I came out again, timorous, and angry; fearing to commit some infamous action, as really I had done if I had drawn my sword against ten or fifteen women, who warred against me with nothing but onions and cabidges; and I had scarce gone a hundred paces, but a far off I espied a troop of people who very silently stood harkening to a long and set discourse which a blind man had with a dog tied to his girdle in a chain. The dog harkened to him attentively, that he truly seemed to have judgement and capacity to apprehend all that was said unto him. So having made him dance to the sound of a cymbal which he carried at his back, he began to ask him certain questions, and amongst the rest, he said unto him what wilt thou do for the King of France? Then the dog began to dance and skip, and make such show of rejoicing, that if it had been a man as indeed it was a beast, he that had seen him would have judged him to be mad or frantic, seeing how he danced and stirred about. This question being past, the blind man asked him again, what he would do for the King of Spain? Lord! who could relate the foolish noise which that beast made with barking? truly the hair upon the ridge of his back began to bristle, he grinned with his teeth, turned his eyes awry, pricked up his ears, and began to gape so wide that he seemed to have a legion of devils within him. I could look on no longer, I was so enraged & even smothered with anger, to see that the hatred & disdain against the Spanish nation, should be a means for blind men to get their livings in France. Whereupon I resolved to clothe myself after the French fashion, and conform myself to the use of the country, persuading myself that I might thereby prevent a thousand inconveniences.  
I went away from that company, thinking that my habit gathered more people together then the blind man and his dog: and so taking my way homewards, I found at the end of a narrow and unfrequented street, a woman sitting upon her door silly, and giving her child pap, who being froward, and untoward, would by no persuasions eat his pap. The poor mother vexed with the child's obstinacy, seeing all the fair means she could use, could not make it take that which she would give it, made use of the present occasion, and when I was near her she said to it, see the Spaniard that comes to carry away little boys that will not eat the pap: in truth that little creature was so affrited when it saw me, that full of fear with a panting heart he held up his little hands, as a sign to his mother to give him all the pap at once: This thing made me laugh so heartily that for two hours after, I did nothing but laugh and wonder at it.  
But if I should particularize unto you, the broils, the decepts, and cozenings, which the innkeepers used towards me, I should never have done. I never came into an inn but I came out of it, with a quarrel, was cozened, and yet forced to ask all those that were present forgiveness: The quart descu in my hands, or rather in their hands was worth ten Sol's: a relon of ten sols was converted into a half quart d'escu, and this into a royal, and that of five royals into five Sol's: and if I chanced to reply any thing, they would turn towards me like Lions, chiding me, and saying, that if I did not know what value coins were of, I should learn, and not contest with honest people that feared God, and carried a good conscience: and they would tell me I had no skill in arithmetic, and especially in subtraction. Many times I should buy some wares which I knew would not waste at the air nor the fire, yet within a quarter of an hour in a pound I should find four ounces wanting. With these and the like deceits I passed my first days, till knowledge and practice of the country showed me what means I should use to free me from these evils.   

CHAP. XI.  
The contrariety and antipathy of the soul and body of the Spaniards and the French.  
I Have thought a thousand times to ask the midwife in what manner the French came out of their mother's bellies, for seeing the contrariety that is between them and the Spaniards, methinks it is impossible for them ●o be borne in the same manner, seeing one can hardly presume, ●hat having the middle and the end, the body and the soul, yea ●nd their very death contrary, they should have their natural beginning, which is their birth, alike. This contrariety is so great and so remarkable, that to define a Frenchman, one cannot do it more properly, then to say he is a Spaniard the contrary way. For there the Spaniard makes an end where the Frenchman begins, as I shall show in the following chapters. As for the soul I must confess that they are all created in tempore, and that they are all of the same species, and that God doth with one action create and infuse them into the organical body. And if faith did not teach me, I should never believe, that French and Spanish souls were of the same nature. Yet I find, that if we consider the soul of itself, and without any reference to the body of either Nation, the soul itself is neither French nor Spanish: And this specifical unity which Divinity admits between them, is not against that which I say; for considering the soul within the body, it is no more indifferent, but determined to be either Spanish or French.  
Wherefore I say, that the soul determined into a French body, hath her powers quite contrary to a Spanish one. First the French understanding hath its apprehension very quick, and with a great deal of ease will go through any difficulty that can be proposed unto it: yet it goeth no further, nor entreth into deeper discourses, which depend upon the same difficulty: But with the same speediness as he did apprehend it, with the same it goeth away and is forgotten. Contrariwise, the Spaniards understanding is slow in apprehending the difficulty, but having once understood it, he will hold it fast, drawing a thousand consequences out of it, and sifting every point of it.  
The Spaniard his understanding is altogether speculative, since that in all his actions, his end is no other but the contemplation of things, without afterwards directing or settling of it upon any servile or mechanical work. Wherefore you shall find few natural Spaniards of any mechanic trade, as shoemaker, tailor, cobbler, Joyner, inn-keeper, or the like. For which I call the French to witness, who go into Spain, and come back again offended, because they find no Alehouses nor inns as they have in France, so that sometimes they may travel three days and not come at an inn, whereby they are constrained to carry meat with them in their bags, and wine in their bottles. The French understanding is altogether practical, being it is not content with the only knowledge of things, but learns them for to make use of them therein, where he may reap some profit by it, and so is not idle, but to avoid idleness employs itself in any manner of exercise; and thence grows the variety of trades in that Nation. The greatest part of your French wits addict themselves to the study of the Law and Canons, and very few study Positive or school divinity. Amongst the Spaniards few study the Law, and almost all divinity.  
The French understanding, though it receive and hold things concerning Faith and Religion for infallible, yet it cannot stay and fix itself on them, but will see, consider, and also judge whether that which faith says is as he means, and finding some difficulty, he runs his boat a ground, believing himself only, and denying that which others hold. The Spaniard his understanding is fearful, and humble in that which concerns faith, and determination of the Church. So that as soon as any Article of faith is propounded unto him, he presently sets bounds to all his knowledge, wisdom, and discourse, and not only strives not to know whether that be so or no, which the faith sets down, but useth all the means he can to avoid speculation thereon, fearing to fall into some error through the frailty of his understanding. Whence groweth the punctual obedience which the Spaniards yield to the Church of Rome, and the difference and dissension that is thereupon amongst the French.  
The French man will resolve upon businesses of greatest importance, when he is in most company, being not disturbed by any tumult, noise, or outcry: so that I have noted in this nation, that your Princes, Lords, and other persons of quality, will dispatch their commissions, and other weighty businesses sitting at table, the eating being no disturbance to the audience which they give to a thousand people: and sometimes they will sit at meals and have one of each side of them, who at the same time will talk to them, and they will answer them all as punctually, as if they were shut up privately in a chamber, without any disturbance and had nothing to do, but to harken to them, which speak to them. All this is contrary to the Spanish understanding, who if he have any business of consequence, retires himself into some solitary place, and is such an enemy of company and tumult, that if a fly comes buzzing by his ear, when he is in the depth of his business it is enough to hinder his resolution.  
In the second power of the soul which is the memory, there is contradiction, & antipathy, since the French man's is altogether concerning the present: I mean, that all his actions have none other end, but that which they then have and possess, remembering neither that which is past, nor that which may happen: and so for a content and pleasure in hand, they forget all past adversities, and make no count of any thing which may come, though they know assuredly, that that very occasion once past, it shall surely happen to them. The Spaniards are quite contrary, who weigh all their actions with the scale of what is past, and what is to come; not plunging themselves, in the content, and enjoyment of the present, without thinking, weighing, or esteeming all inconveniences which may ensue: and therefore reducing this point to two words, I say: that the French man's memory is about the present, if one may bear present things in memory: and the Spaniards is of that which is past, and is to come: the French will easily remember, or forget a thing, being quickly angry for any present wrong done to them, and easily forget and pardon it: Your Spaniards must be much urged before they will remember an offence, but once had in mind, they will hardly forget it. I could make a whole book and a large volume, of the contrarieties, and antipathies which are in their wills, if I might speak all that which truly I might, without distasting of neither nation: I will therefore be content, without touching the virtues or vices, which might be found in either, God only being perfect, and without fault, to say that there is no nation in the world so patient, and suffering, as the Spanish nation is; so that it will never quarrel nor contend, unless it be upon a more than urgent occasion, which must prick him on to it. The French contrariwise, if you do them but a hair's breadth of offence or injury, he presently makes a breach, and will never rest till they be revenged by fighting.  
The Spaniards are true, firm, and constant in their loves; so that many times they go beyond the bounds of affection, adoring that which they love, and with so much fidelity, that they would be afraid to annoy it so much as with a thought, and they inviolably preserve this faith; no chance whatsoever, being able to remove them from what they profess, yea they are so affected to their will, that many times they lose their judgement, which never happens to the French who are so mutable in their wills, and purposes, and so voluble that having set their affection upon one, they will settle it upon a hundred more, if so many should come to them. And if any there be, as there are many, that have not this defect: yet their affections are to changeable, that the least anger in the world, will change their fire of love into a colder snow, then that which is in winter upon the Pyrenean mountains.  
A French man that is in his mistress's favour, will do what he can to let his friends and all the world know his being in favour, and his being acceptable unto her: a thing much abhorred by the Spaniard, who if he be in any such predicament, with all care and diligence, will seek to hide his content from his friends, and all the world, and even from himself, if it were possible. Finally, in this particular they have two contrary motions; The French man seeks to have that seen, which lies hidden. The Spaniard seeks nothing more, then to hide that which is outward and in light.  
The Spaniards delight extremely, in outward appearance, and honour, caring more to satisfy the world, then for their own interests; so that they care not for suffering want or misery, so that it be not known: and there are some who being in places that they must go abroad, handsome in clothes, want will bring them to that extremity, that they will fast two days to have a handsome cloak, and a starched ruff, to go abroad in, and they will carry themselves so lustily, well disposed, and haughty, that you would think they had kept a very good house. Contrariwise the French have no other end in their actions, but their proper interest, and pleasure, so that if he may but fare well in his diet, he cares not what the world can say: and if necessity source him to it, he will sell his cloak, his sword, yea his very shirt, and drawers; and after he hath consumed them, he will go forth naked if need be into the street, to give his friend's satisfaction; holding it no disgrace to say that he hath sold them to buy food. If a Spaniard be so near driven that he must sell his clothes, to buy food; he will first sell his shirt▪ seeing that with his doublet, and ruff, he covers the want of it; and if his need increases he will sell his doublet, covering his body with his cloak, after his doublet goes his sword, after that his ruff; and the last thing of all is his cloak. But the French man when he is in want, doth quite contrary, beginning where the Spaniard ends, and the first thing he sells is his cloak, next his doublet, than his breeches, and last of all his shirt: in want there is none more valiant and fearless than the Spaniard; nor is there any are more timorous than the French, if he want victuals. A Spaniard will live three days upon a piece of bread, and will not be dismayed, or show loss of courage, but if the French man wants his pottage but one day he thinks himself lost and undone.  
A Spaniards generosity is notable when he begs an alms; seeing he will never confess he doth it for necessity, but by some accident or disaster; that he was forced to save his life and his honour, to clothe himself in a poor habit, & beg in the streets; and the words he useth when he begs shall be these or the like: Please you, Sir, to do some courtesy for a poor cavallier, who is come out of his country for such a mischance; that he hath been forced to clothe himself in this habit as you see: And when you know who it is that begs (as long it shall not be before you do know) you will think yourself happy that you pleasured a man of my condition and quality; and if by chance he that hears him, and hearkens to his complete speeches, ask him who he is, and what mischance he hath had; having first made him swear that he will not discover him, he will answer that he is nephew to an Earl or Duke, or brother to the admiral of Castille, and that a great Princess falling in love with him, he conveyed her out of her father's house in man's apparel, which being discovered by her parents, he was forced to absent himself and live in that fashion unknown, till his friends had made peace; and he will say that he hath fifteen or twenty thousand crowns a year, and eight or ten Baronies: Finally, the Spaniard then shows his generosity most, when he sees himself most crossed. But if a Frenchman comes to that pass, that he hath not a penny, nor any thing to sell for food, good Lord who can rehearse his inventions! his stratagems, his wry mouths, and shruggings, to make his misery known, and to draw men to bestow an alms upon him? He will shrink up his shoulders, cross his hands, fall on his knees, beat his breast, weep, and with a doleful humble voice full of anguish, will desire you to give him a farthing, to buy him bread, seeing he hath eaten nothing in three days; he will say he hath nothing in this world that he can depend upon, nor any that can afford him any comfort, that he is altogether wretched, forsaken of his kindred, parents and friends: finally, he shows so much lowliness, and faints so, that he should be harder than any stone, that hearing a relation so full of compassion and misery, should not bestow something upon him.  
The contrariety of body which is between the French and the Spaniards is so manifest, that it would be time lost that were spent in discoursing long upon it; it being manifestly seen, that the most part of Spaniards are little, and your French tall. Your Spaniards are brown, your French fair: your Spaniards brave black hair, your French red or flaxen: your French wear long hair, your Spaniards short: your French have spare legs, your Spaniards fleshy, seeing a Spaniards calf of his leg will be as big as a Frenchman's thigh: your French let their beard grow, your Spaniards cut it, leaving nothing but the moustaches and a little tough in the middle: your French are choleric, your Spaniards phlegmatic: your Spaniards are slow, your French quick: your French are light, your Spaniards solid: your French are merry, your Spaniards melancholy: your French are bold, your Spaniards shamefaced: your French are precipitious, your Spaniards wary: your French liberal, your Spaniards sparing. From these may be considered infinite things which shall always be found wholly contrary.   

CHAP. XII.  
Of the contrariety that is between the French and the Spaniards in their clothing.  
IF one consider a Spaniards habit, you shall find it quite contrary to the French; the Spaniard from the waste upward being broad and thick, and the French man contrariwise, from the middle upwards is slender, his doublet being very close and straight. Amongst a thousand Spaniards you shall find none but wears a cassack, and amongst a thousand French, you shall not find one that will wear it: there is not a French man but will in summer wear his doublet open before and behind, holding it a stately thing to show their shirt: The Spaniard although there should fall lances of fire, will never unbutton himself, holding it disgraceful to show one's shirt: A Spaniard's hat is high in the crown, and narrow in the brims; the French quite contrary: The neck and collar of a Spaniard is close before; the French man's open: That which the Spaniard wears upon his arms, the French man wears it upon his thighs, wearing long sleeves, and short breeches▪ and the French man wears very long breeches, and his doublet sleeves very close: The Spaniard wears garters, and the French man wears none at all: The French fancy wears two great roses which cover almost all his shoe: The Spanish pomp is to wear such a small latchet that you can scarce perceive it: your French wear high hollowed and pointed heels, your Spaniard wears them low, broad, and flat: The Spaniard wears his stockings drawn up smooth, that you can scarce take hold of them with a pair of pincers, the French man lets them fall loose, desiring to have four plaites just above his heel: The Spaniards wear a long cloak and let it hang down; the French wear it short, and so tucked up, that you can scarce see any thing of it but the cape: A French man cannot hold his arms under his cloak as he walks the streets, the Spaniards never hold them out: your French wear a little sword and with small hilts, and hanging before them: your Spaniards wear their rapiers with large hilts, and wear it upon their side: your French man wears his dagger on the middle of his girdle: your Spaniard hangs it on the one side: your French man when he goeth to fight in duel, will put of his doublet, and his shirt too: the Spaniard wears his shirt, his doublet, his coat, and his jack of mail: the French man begins to button his doublet from the neck down towards the waste: the Spaniard begins at the waste and ends at the neck: the Spaniard when he makes himself ready puts on his doublet first; the French man last: the French man in cold weather puts on a wastecoate in the night, and puts it off in the day, because he will not seem thick wasted: The Spaniard wears it the day, and pull it off at night.   

CHAP. XIII.  
The contrarieties in eating and drinking.  
THE Spaniards ordinary rule is to eat twice a day, a●… at dinner and at supper: The French man four times eating besides those two meals a●… breakfast, and afternoons nunching: The Spaniard brings in fruit at the beginning of meals, your French at the latter end: your Spaniards have every one their several dishes to eat pottage in: your French eat all in one platter: The meat which is set on a Spaniards table is cut in small pieces: The French man's is whole: your French will put all their fingers in the dish to take out a sop, your Spaniard will very carefully take it up with two fingers, if he have no fork: the Spaniard reserves what good meat remains at dinner, for supper: the French man never brings meat to the table again: the French man eats his boiled meat first; the Spaniard his ●ost meat: the Spaniard eats ●allads only at the supper, and at the beginning of it: your French man at every meal, and at the ●atter end: the French man after meals walks and goes: the Spaniard rests and sleeps: when the Spaniard drinks he fills water out first, and then wine; the French the wine first, and then the water: the French man always talks while he is eating; if the Spaniard speaks a word it is a wonder: the French man calls aloud for his drink, the Spaniard beckons, and says nothing: the Spaniard eats much bread, and little meat, the French much meat and little bread: the Spaniard eats very leisurely; the French man very fast.   

CHAP. XIIII.  
Of their Antipathy in going.  
IT is a strange thing to see a company of French men walking in the street; for they will all, if there were a hundred, walk side by side, taking up the whole breadth of the street, and they go as close as grapes in a cluster, stumbling, falling, and rising, yet never forsaking their rank; neither advancing forwards, nor tarrying behind, though they meet with other company, and be justled by them; or though they justle, and be ready to overthrow one another: The Spaniards do quite contrary; for if they be above three in company, they will go together but only two and two, so that when they are many, they make as it were a procession: when the French walk always in their turnings they keep their places: the Spaniards change at every turn, those going into the middle which were on the sides: the French ordinarily walk as fast, as if they had Sergeants at their heels: the Spaniards walk with such leisure and gravity, that they that see them, think they have lately been sick, or have yet some quartan ague: your French use to walk about the city booted and spurred, the Spaniards cannot endure it; and if they do chance to walk in boots, they will not wear spurs: your French when they are a horseback, ride always a full trot: the Spaniards ride leisurely: The French men's footboys run after their Masters when they ride: the Spaniards go before: your Spaniards on horseback wear their cloaks and swords, and their man's sword too: amongst the French, the Page carries his Master's sword and cloak: if a French man walks pensive, he lets his cloak hang upon one shoulder, and holds his hand upon the pommel of his sword, the Spaniard casts out his legs, and turns up his mustachios: when your French go together in the street they leap, laugh, and make a noise, that you may hear them a mile off: the Spaniards walk upright, stiff, and grave, say nothing, nor make any uncivil or unmodest action: the French man when he meets a friend, salutes him with his whole body, bending down his head, kissing his hands, and making legs, and stand half an hour in such action: the Spaniard holds his body and his head, as stiff as a stake, & only with the pulling off his hat, requites the prolix courtesies, and reiterated ceremonies of the French: a French man though noble will make no difficulty, to pull an apple out of his pocket, or buy it in the street, and eat it before all the world: a thing so abhorred by the Spaniard that he would not do it for the world, fearing to offend them that look upon him: when the French man seeth some body a far off and would beckon to him, he lifts up his hand towards his shoulders: the Spaniard casts his hand down, holding it towards his feet.   

CHAP. XV.  
Of the contrariety in speaking.  
HE that would discourle of all the particulars, which might be spoken of in this point, must of necessity make a great volume of it, wherefore to shun prolixity to which I am an enemy, I will only touch the property of these two languages, & also of the third which is the Italian: Some curious wits fain that these three languages had their original with the beginning of the world, and that they were all three used between God, the serpent, and man: They say that when God commanded Adam he should not eat of the tree of knowledge, he spoke to him in Spanish, showing thereby that the property of that language was gravity, imperiousness, command, and nobleness: after God had given him this command they say the serpent, the better to induce him to sin, and to disobey God's command, spoke to him in Italian, to show us that amongst all languages there is none so persuasive, sweet, and affected, as the Italian: after our first parents had sinned God called them, and asking them the cause of their disobedience, they answered him in French, there being no language to free and excuse themselves like unto it.  
As for the rest it is seen by experience that the French ordinarily do speak much, and aloud, the Spaniards a little, and softly. If one ask a Spaniard why he came out of Spain, he will answer that the King sent for him, because he should go treat about some business of great importance. And if you ask a Frenchman the same question, he will say he went a pilgrimage to St. Jaques in Galicia, or to visit the holy crucifix of Burges, and that his fellow dying in an hospital, he stayed behind looking for some company to go home into his country with him. Finally, you shall get nothing out of a Spaniard that is out of Spain, but greatness, nobility, and authority; and from a Frenchman when he is in Spain, you shall hear nothing but abasing of himself.  
Your Spaniards have a noted property, different from all other Nations, which is, that being out of their country, they love one another, honour, and respect one another extremely, though at home they have been mortal enemies. And if any one questions him concerning his fellow, asking him who, and what he is, though you question him about the poorest fellow in the world, and the son of a cobbler, he will answer with great admiration, and say, Is it possible Sir that you do not know that cavallier, and that you have not heard of him (though perhaps he hath never a shoe on his feet) I dare lay a wager, that there is scarce in the City or kingdom a child of five years old but doth know him, at least if he be of any fashion. You shall understand Sir, that he is son to the Maggiorasco of Castille, and of the greatest families of Spain; and there are many that say, he is second cousin to King Don Sebastian: yet he goes disguised, and in the habit you see, by reason of some mischance; and I beseech you, Sir, not to discover him: for if the King should know of it, he would take it very ill, that he did not go directly to alight at Court: and he would not for all the world be known. If a Frenchman, or any of another Nation, meets with another countryman out of France, presently they become mortal enemies, speaking the worst they can one of another; and if any one desires to know, and be informed what his companion is, he will with all manner of contempt, say: Sir, that is a Frenchman, a poor Carpenters son, whose fathers goods were all taken away for debt, and had not above eight or ten crowns left, with which he bought that suit at the Brokers, which makes him seem to be some fine fellow; but before four days comes to an end, he will sell it, and then you shall see him go a-begging: and so will speak the worst he can of him.  
All the industry in the world cannot make a Frenchman keep a secret, but that he must needs reveal it: And all the drugs in the Indies shall not get a secret from a Spaniard. Finally, all the Spaniards actions are contrary to the French, and there is no concordancy nor resemblance in any of them.   

CHAP. XVI.  
Of the fruits of the said Antipathy.  
THe aforenamed, and many other contrarieties, which manifest the hatred and mortal enmity between these two Nations, were sown by that accursed Satan, the enemy of mankind, planting this accursed root between them, that so the head being infected, all the members might also be out of order, and overthrown, with such extravagancy of Religions, customs, and laws, as we now see over all the world: since that we may freely say, that the liberty which barbarous nations have to multiply their beastly customs, Statutes and Edicts, proceeds from nothing else, but from the enmity and disagreement of these two: and that the greatness of many Princes, who at this time have great dominion and command in divers parts of the world, groweth from the small confidence these have in one another, each doubting to lose their own, whilst they engage themselves in the conquest of others.  
Who makes any question but if they would with one accord have communicated that wonderful talon, of knowledge, virtue, and learning which God hath bestowed upon them, but that they might have gotten out of the devil's hands an infinite number of souls, which for want of teaching, lie now buried, in the darkness and chaos of ignorance and error? And we see that by reason of our sins, and to the great affronting of the valour and greatness of these two nations, a barbarous and tyrant King governs all the East: Christendom also in part yielding him obedience, homage, and tribute, and all the world honours, and holds him for a great Lord, to the great disparagement of the honour due to the Catholic faith, her chief, and defenders: yet it hath no other ground nor cause, but this accursed hatred, and pernicious enmity: For the strength and valour of these two nations lying buried in themselves, necessarily their enemies must increase, and so innumerable heresies, errors, sects, and unbeleefes spread themselves abroad in the world, by which the body of the Church is daily persecuted and evil entreated: wherefore the devil being cunning and well experienced, made use of the invention and strategeme of the good shepeard, when a troop of wolves fall upon his sheep, which is to set his dogs, and mastiffs upon them, that whilst they two fight, his flock may pass securely and untouched: A cunning and marvelous invention of the devil to come to his accursed ends: He saw plainly, that if he left the strength and mouths of these two valiant Lions unmuzelled, they would have swallowed up all infidelity and barbarism, filling it with all manner of holiness and virtue, so that there would have nothing redounded unto him but shame and confusion: wherefore fearing to lose the command he had over the infidels, he caused hatred and discord to come between these two nations, and so diverted them, that they might not disturb the increase and prosperity of his vassals, and truly when I consider this point, I am astonished with wonder, being not able to imagine or think, what veil or cataract, so blinds these Nations, as that they cannot see these evils; and that they will suffer their enemies to grow great, and exalt themselves before their faces; to the blemish of that reputation they hold in the world; it being thought that they are the two greatest Monarchies of it.  
And if the zeal of their own honour did not move them to open their eyes, and to take it ill, that they being styled the one most Christian, and the other most Catholic; a barbarous infidel and tyrant, should usurp and command the holy Sepulchre, and that he should entitle himself grand Signior: and the continual cries of poor Grecia, Bulgarie, Sclavonia, and Armenia, and many other poor Christian Provinces, which only implore the favour, and protection of those two Nations or either of them, for to bring them out of the wretched slavery and servitude wherein they live: yet might they be moved to compassion; by reason that it is one of the easiest & securest enterprises that is in the world; as it is well known to them who have been in those parts.  
This is the snare wherewith the devil keeps tied the strength of these two Nations, and the veil which he hangs before their eyes: there being at this time an infinite number of valiant soldiers buried in sloth, who study nothing, but how to undo and break the Spanish power, and policy: who if they were employed against the infidels would perform more heroical exploits than Homer writes of Hector and Ulysses. With such persuasions and deceits doth this cursed enemy bewitch a great number of cavaliers & Gentlemen that live contented with their mean fortunes, who if they would employ their valours and warlike courages in Turkey, would not make plain cavaliers, but mighty Monarchs. In the same manner are in France many Illustrious Princes, and magnanimous Lords, which following the ordinary course of the Court, and service of their King, live at home, who if they did put to execution the inclination of their noble minds in Africa or in Asia, would conquer more Provinces than Ferdinand Cortese did in America. Wherefore I know not by what diabolical witchcraft such noble understandings are blinded, that they do not perceive that by this hatred and enmity, both Nations lose many crowns and kingdoms which they might have subject to their dominions. And that their union should not only not suffer themselves to hurt one another, but neither of them to be hurt by other Nations, but be assured also, that such a concord and amity could have no other end nor issue, but the service of God, the exaltation of his Church, the peace of the world, the banishing of infidelity, and the increase of the common good. Things which this pestiferous venom of enmity, troubles, and hinders, there redounding from it nothing but multiplicity of heresies in Europe, institution of sects and religions in the East, the observance of beastly and savage customs and statutes in those parts of Libya and Ethiopia, the exaltation of Mahomet's law in Africa and Asia, the Turks swelling pride in Constantinople, the little respect and discourtesy of the King of Fez and Morocco, the poor Christians miseries which live among the infidels, the captivity of the holy Sepulchre, the martyrdoms and torments of an infinite number of slaves in heathen lands, the multitude of Lordships and States, which know no Kings nor Lords, the persecution of the Catholic Church, the perturbations and commotions of commonwealths, the small security of neighbours, the contempt of those who are far off, and the boldness of vassals. All these things happen by reason of the hatred and enmity of these two nations, which certainly if they were as well united in conformity of wills, as they are in confederation by way of marriage, scarce the world were able to resist the force of such an union. In witness whereof I will allege a reason which an old and wise Moor told me upon a Friday in Constantinople, who after he had long questioned with me concerning the manner of living of the Kings of Europe, and particularly of these two kingdoms, which they confess to be the chief and the most powerful of Christendom, he told me that every time they came into their Moscheas to say their prayers, they prayed to God that the hatred of these two Nations might last for ever, that the one being continually suspicious and mistrustful of the other, they might not remember them, nor think upon taking arms against them.   

CHAP. XVII.  
Of the cause of the enmity and antipathy of the Spaniards and the French.  
I Have endeavoured divers times to find out by speulation the fundamental cause of the disdain and hatred between these two Nations: Because that though it is true, that the devil hath been the principal author of this antipathy and discord, to hinder the fruit which might grow through their union, yet we must presume, that he found in them some ground and root to increase such a cursed dissension, and pernicious poison.  
Some do attribute this contrariety to the difference of the stars, and their influences, as their universal cause, and say, that the situation of the heavens, and constellation of Spain, being far different from that which the French have, consequently the temperament and humours of both must be very different. They confirm this with Hippocrates doctrine in his book de Aere, Aquis & Locis, which saith, that the divers constitutions of the stars, is cause of the variety of temperaments, complexions and humours of man. And verily he that considers the humours of these two Nations in order with the constellation and change of time, shall find some likelihood in this reason; seeing that in Spain, if hot weather once begins, it continueth in the same vigour three or four months, there being in all that time no notable change; and of the same compass is the Spanish humour: seeing that setting upon a purpose, he keeps himself firm in it, without any change or alteration at all. It is otherwise in France: for there, be it Winter or Summer, the cold nor the heat, nor the fair weather, never lasts three days together; but the variableness of this constellation is such, that a man can never perceive what time of the year it is. The inhabitants of Paris know this to be true, because that in one day there you shall have the weather change eight or ten times, the morning or day break being very fair, and two hours after there falling a deluge of rain: after the which, the sun will appear more bright and resplendent then in the month of June: and he shall scarce have spread his beams, but you shall hear a noise of thunder, lightning and wind, as though the world were sinking: and therefore there being a dependency from the influence and constellation, the French, as subjected to an inconstant climate, must needs be voluble and inconstant in their determinations. And therefore he that will assign for the reason of this Antipathy and hatred, the diversity of climates, will say, that the devil grounded his malice upon nature, making use of the differences of the stars.  
This reason, though in appearance it bears some show of truth, yet it doth not resolve our question: seeing that though the stars have dominion over natural things, yet they do not extend their force to acts of absolute command of the will, which are hatred and love, and therefore we must confess, that those who bring this reason, that the stars incline things subject unto them, (yet natural ones) and by reason of the league, which it hath with their wills, this influence may somewhat touch them, moving them in some manner, but yet it cannot force them.  
And since this matter gives me occasion of speaking of a difficulty, which is commonly handled by curious and learned men, I will not pass it over with silence, without speaking that which my small talon will afford me. All the world almost marvels at some things which the Astrologers foretell, which depend on man's will, over which no constellation, influence, or celestial virtue, hath power to move it or force it; but contrariwise the will and discourse command and govern the stars with their influences. Whence came that common Proverb, Sapiens dominabitur astris: and yet we see that many times they prognosticate the truth, and so punctually, as if the stars did directly enforce man's will 〈◊〉 whence holding such predictions to be miraculous, they call the Astrologians Magicians, no● believing that such things may be known by natural reasons, thinking it impossible, that the command of the stars should go beyond material things, under the which are not comprehended the powers and actions of our soul.  
Surely they which find great difficulty in this, do it not without great ground: but if they ●hall consider the order which our understanding and the will ●old in producing of their acti●ns, they shall find, that it may ●e done only by the perfect spe●ulation of the stars; without ●oing beyond the bounds of na●…re. Since all will yield to me, ●●at the stars have their influ●nces in sublunary things; and ●●at they have great power over natural things, they being governed by them: and that being true, the consequence follows, that the celestial virtue and influence, shall have command over that which is natural in man, as might be the body with the senses, to which our soul is so linked, and so depends upon them, that it can produce no act without them, representing unto them the matter, which is the intelligible species; it necessarily follows, that by reason of this union and straight bond of amity which they reciprocally hold, the soul must somewhat participate of the dominion which directly falls upon the senses. And although by this means they do not force, but only incline, ye● our will, after sin, remained so contrary to the law of Reason and so annexed to the sensitive appetite, that it seldom withstands or contradicts it, reproving those things which it propounds unto it; which senses being governed by the influence and power of the stars, as subject and depending on them, the will must needs follow that which the appetite propounds unto it. And therefore the Astrologers judging the actions of the will by the influence which governs the sensitive appetite, many times prognosticate the truth, though absolutely it depend on the will of man.  
From this doctrine, though true, it followeth not, that the influence of the stars only, and the diversity of the climates are the fundamental causes of the hatred & antipathy of these two nations: being there are many other nations in the world, far more different in climates, and constellations, which have not so much hatred and contrariety amongst themselves, as these two: we must therefore find out some other reason, more powerful, than this of the stars.  
I remember I have read in the histories of France, that King Lewis the eleventh, came to meet the King of Castille upon the confines of France, to confer with him about some business of importance. This King though magnanimous and generous, had notwithstanding his particular humour, as other men have, and so he ordinarily wore a leaden medal in his hat, his clothes, and other French men's who were his followers were ordinary, and of mean stuff; so that he was but meanly clothed without any stateliness or pomp: the Spaniards did clothe themselves the best they could, using all the pomp they could, believing that the King of France would have come withal the greatness and variety as they expected from so great a King: and seeing him otherwise, they began to despise him, and strangely to scoff the French men; where they conceived such hatred against the Spaniards, that they could never since forget this disgrace and affront: and if we will say that the devil at this meeting grounded the enmity, and antipathy which now a days reigns, we shall not say amiss, seeing a far lesser ground than this will serve his turn.  
To all that is said before may be added a great motive which these two Nations have had to contemn and abhor one another; which is that in times past, there came not out of France into Spain any people of sort and note, but only poor beggarly and needy people of the frontiers, as Guascons, Biernois, and others, who went as they do to this day in white round caps like a trencher upon their heads, bare legged, with wooden shoes which they call esclops upon their feet; these with a base kind of avarice will put themselves to any base office, as keeping of cows, and hogs, to sweep chimneys or the like, and though in their eating they be sober enough, for with an onion, or a head of garlic, and a piece of bread they will pass the whole day, yet in their drinking they are unreasonable, and all their gains goeth in wine, which being strong and heady, presen●ly makes them drunk, so that for the most part of the day they go reeling and falling about the streets, to the great scandal of the Spaniards, amongst whom there is no greater infamy or dishonour then to be drunk: wherefore the Spaniards who saw no other French men but these, & thought that all the rest had been like them, did abhor them, and conceive much enmity against them, and contempt of them; the same occasion had the French, for very few or no Spaniards of fashion going into France, and they seeing none but poor and wretched people who went to be touched for the King's evil, verily believed that all other Spaniards had been of the same kind; and so from that baseness they took occasion to hold the Spaniards in little esteem; and besides this contempt to increase this mortal enmity; each of these foresaid reasons in my mind, are sufficient occasions and motives of the hatred and disdain we find between these two Nations, especially the devil mixing his care and industry with it: But if I should speak mine opinion, I think there cannot be a more powerful reason given for this antipathy, than the natural contrariety of these two Nations humours: and so it being so hard a thing to force nature with reason, I do not wonder, if the will in which consists hatred or love, keeps company with nature, and follows her steps, obeying her contrarieties and repugnances; and we must imagine, that to move the will so much the more to the contrariety of humours, the devil did help forward all the forenamed accidents; so that the constellation, the diversity of humours, the contempt of both nations, and the devil joining together, there could nothing be hoped for, but a mortal hatred, and the antipathy which now we see; the remedy of which lieth in God only; seeing I do not believe that on earth there is any antidote for such a pestilent poison.   

CHAP. XVIII.  
That the conjunction, and confederacy of these two crowns, is a thing which proceeds from heaven.  
AMongst the great and infallible truths which the Apostle St. Paul writ, to lift us up towards the knowledge of God, me thinks that is a marvelous one when he saith, Invisibilia Dei per ea quae facta sunt intellectu conspiciuntur, which is as much to say, that in all and every creature; shines the infinite power of the divine wisdom; and that they are all like so many tongues, to declare unto us, what the almighty power of their author is; wherefore that must be a gross and material understanding, which by the contemplation of things created, could not reach to the knowledge of the perfection and nobleness of of him that made them.  
The same was the royal Prophet his intent when he said, Coeli enarrant gloriam Dei & opera manuum eju● annuntiat firmamentum: whereby is known the imperfection and misery of our understanding, subject only to the knowledge of the materialities of this world, and unable to reach at the knowledge of things which are beyond nature's bounds; since that in these (as Aristotle saith) he is as the owl or the night-bat is with the sun beams, when it shines most clear and bright: and the same Psalmist knew this truth, when he with such great fervency craved of God; Revela oculos meos & considerabo mirabilia de lege tua: holding it for a certain, that it was impossible to arrive to the knowledge of such high mysteries, with the imperfection of nature only; wherefore the supreme architect finding that there could be no equality nor proportion found between his greatnesses, and our human understanding, they being infinite, and this material & limited: he ordained that man should come to the knowledge of his infinite power, by means of the visible effects of this world.  
Whence we shall see by this reason that God at all times did communicate himself to men by material, and visible means, as in the guiding of the people of Israel, by day with a pillar of cloud, & by night with a pillar of fire, making mount Sinai to shake when he gave the Law, affrighting them with thunder & lightning, sending fire from heaven, the deluge and the like, by which he did accommodate himself to the imperfection of our understanding. For if God should not use material things, and easy to be understood, perhaps the understanding of man, would either attribute such effects to some other cause, or would not know from whence they proceeded. For it is certain, that when God decreed to destroy the world with the flood, he could as well have annihilated and destroyed it without filling of it full of water, or doing any other manifest and visible action; but it would not have seemed so great a wonder to men, if they were all fallen dead without any manifest cause, as the rivers overflowing of their banks, and the opening of the cataracts and windows of heaven was.  
And though God could have destroyed those accursed cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, without any apparent sign, with making them fall simply, without any other visible effect; yet he would have their ruin be by means of a material cause, which should manifest the great power of him who sent to do such an execution, as that was, to make fire (as the sacred text speaketh) and brimstone to come down from heaven, a sign that he could make even the grossest understanding know what the power of divine justice was: for if God had used some insensible means, the cause would not have been known, nor his great might and power. So also when he gave the Israelites their freedom, taking them out of Egypt, he could in the night have opened the gates of the city, and made them come out, or by day have blinded all the people of Egypt, that they might not have seen them, or find some other means to free them out of bondage; but if he had done so, he had not caused that fear which material means did, and the visible tokens which he showed, in turning the waters into blood, filling the land with Locusts and frogs, and Flies, with other marvelous wonders & effects; by means of which, all that barbarous people, and even Pharaoh himself confessed the omnipotency of the God of the Hebrews, and besought Moses, and his brother Aaron to pray for them, that those plagues might be taken away from them, and that they would obey him. And if God had used some other sign as had not been so plain and manifest as this, and that which he used at the red Sea, peradventure the Egyptians would not have attributed the deliverance of their slaves to the power of God: nor the people of Israel, who was rough and of a hard belief, would have believed that he by his omnipotence only could have wrought any such effect.  
In the law of Grace God used the same means to make himself known, seeing that all the miracles which he wrought (as the Evangelists set them down) were done by sensible and material signs; from which every gross and rough understanding might gather the greatness and the supreme power of the Creator. For who could be so gross, but seeing sight restored to a blind man with only laying a little dirt upon his eyes, might not know that the dirt of itself had no such virtue; and that therefore he who applied that medicine, had a command above nature? And who will but say, seeing a Lazarus, who had lain in the grave four days, raised only by saying, Lazarus come forth, that he had power over death? And that the satisfying five thousand people with five loaves and two fishes, only by blessing of them, doth not infer supreme worth and power? And that seeing the healing of one, the restoring of sight to another, turning water into wine, banishing death by natural means, do not presuppose that this is a supernatural power and virtue? And if that Christ had done these wonders without visible and material means, only by his absolute power, peradventure his infinite power had not been known: and therefore let us conclude with Saint Paul, that by means of visible and material things, we come to the knowledge of the invisible things of God, as his infiniteness, his Immensity, his goodness and omnipotency. And if in all nature there be any visible thing which showeth us this divine power, it is the miraculous conjunction of these two Nations, so prodigious a one, that any gross understanding may plainly perceive, that it is an immediate work of God's omnipotency, which only could undo that which the devil with so much diligence and art had done: since we cannot imagine that any secondary causes could have so much worth, industry and power, as in an instant to unite two natures so infinitely distant one from the other, and make them come from an extreme hatred and enmity, to the other extreme of union. And seeing that if the discord and contrariety of these two Nations, had been a new or superficial accident, the only consideration of good understandings, and the perspicuity of wise and prudent persons, might have been sufficient to remedy it, but being nature and antipathy, which like original sin goes by succession from the Fathers to the children, and so to the grandchildren; and especially being fostered and maintained by the devil's malice, we must infallibly believe, that it is the work of heaven, and that this union was only reserved to God, for to prevent an abyss of evils and miseries, which by the said enmity were threatened. And so God, to whose goodness it belongeth to dispose sweetly of things, having created and preserved the world by means of the union and peace of his creatures, seeing that the discord of these two Nations was sufficient almost to ruin it, stayed through his omnipotency, the fury of this raging evil, and through his goodness and mercy, provided such a perfect and salutiferous remedy as this divine union is, that so the world might not only be freed from its imminent ruin, & the calamities which threatened it by reason of this enmity, but might also be enriched with those precious fruits which from this union may be expected.  
And as the end which God pretended in this confederacy, is no other but this: so it is plainly known that the devil with all his followers, hath not had power to hinder the execution of it, though he raised a thousand inventions, pretences, and fears, both amongst the common people, and also the most Noble, egging them on with the fire of enmity and hatred, to oppose themselves with all the power as might be, against God's decree, the commonwealth's repose, and the good of the whole world: and though the devil went loose, and puffed up, holding the victory certain with his forces, against that small aid which was promised; yet his care and labour being against the will of God, and the universal peace, I wonder not that God did send a woman to break his head, through the wisdom of so good a physician, whilst he laid wait and snares for her heel.  
And though there were no other reason to prove that this confederacy came from heaven, this would of itself be a sufficient proof, that we see it was gloriously effected, against all human endeavours, and propounded difficulties, and against such great oppositions, as I will now leave to the wise man's contemplation, and the pens of others, who peradventure will write of this matter. Wherefore I conclude, saying, that this conjunction being made at that time, when this antipathy was most rooted between these two Nations, we must needs confess, that it was done by divine power, since neither hatred, nor disdain, nor the diversity of climates and humours, nor the variety of customs, nor mistrust, nor the devil's endeavours were able to hinder it.   

CHAP. XIX.  
Of God's marvelous invention to unite these two Nations.  
IT will not be hard to persuade an understanding man, that this so important & so glorious confederacy comes from heaven, & was ordained for the general good of mankind; the effects, circumstances & means of effecting it, having been such, and so mysterious, that they prove it to be true: and that which now stupifies man's understanding, is the marvelous and divine invention which God used in uniting those two Nations, so different amongst themselves, a means so ●ngenious and sovereign, that it not be hoped nor looked for from any other place th●n from that inaccessible and majestical consistory of the holy Trinity: seeing that in it God hath showed three effects of his immense godhead, which are, omnipotency in uniting from an infinite distance. Mercy in preventing an abyss of mischiefs, which threatened the world: and wisdom in establishing an union & indissoluble marriage. Whereupon we are to consider, that God was not contented (by finding out of such a way & means) to remedy the present evil, but like a good physician he left an antidote and medicine to preserve these two Nations from any infirmity or danger as might ensue.  
This healthful medicine which God sent into the world is matrimony the most effectual and strong means that could be found in nature, the wills being thereby so straightly knit together, that they being two that are united, come to be one flesh, and so conformable and united, that it causeth one to forget father and mother and brethren, to forsake his country, his own interest, and even himself; for married folks many times deprive themselves of their own liberties, to subject themselves to the content and desire of one another; wherefore marriage bringing forth such effects, we may say that God by means of it uniting these two actions, found an extreme and exquisite remedy, for an extreme and exquisite disease, there being joined to it by succession an eternal and perfect union, out of danger of ever being lost, by reason of the stability promised in those things which come from heaven; where I dare say there could not have been found an invention more to the purpose, or more secure than this was; seeing there is nothing in the world that can mortify the fire of enmity and discord more than the matrimonial knot, which once contracted between two enemies, when they think the grievances and distastes which are past, they quite forget them again, having not the heart or mind to persecute or offend so much as in thought, those that are of their own blood, or have any dependency of it.  
The Romans (as histories report) made use of such remedies, when they saw themselves most persecuted by the Sabines, amongst whom there was so much enmity, hatred, and persecution, that they did destroy and ruin one another, burning their corn, spoiling their vines, and killing one another wheresoever they met; whereby other nations which were not subject to them grew the stronger, and increased through their two enmities, and discords: so that at the last they perceiving the damages and wrongs they did themselves by persecuting one another, and the triumphs and glory which other nations got, grounding their happiness and greatness upon their discord, they agreed to use for a remedy the same means which God had used with these two nations; which was, that the Romans determined to give their daughters in marriage to the Sabines sons, and the Sabines held it for an excellent good remedy to give their daughters unto the Romans sons, that so by this mixture the evil might be remedied, & the nations remain in peace and concord: and it is certain that though the Romans remembered the wrongs, & injuries, they had received at the Sabines hands, & that through this remembrance there might some appetite and desire of revenge be stirred up: yet when they saw that if they executed their rage and fury, they must do it upon their own bloods, having their daughters amongst the Sabines, they stayed themselves from doing them any hurt: which consideration served also for a bridle to the Sabines, knowing that they could not use their swords against the Romans without spilling of their own blood; and so by means of marriage and confederacy they forgot all passed enmity, and remained intimate and hearty friends: such and many other good things ought we assuredly to hope for; through the means and confederacy which God hath ordained between these two nations; for they being linked together with so firm and effectual a knot, as matrimony, we may be sure that Spain having matched her daughter with the son of France they will quite forget all enmities, rancours, & hatreds, as hitherto have troubled their peace and quiet, to their great wrong, and diminution of the renown which they might have gotten if they had agreed; and will unite themselves, with such indissoluble and firm amity, that there shall not be seen any sign or shadow of what is past; and their wills will be so well ordered and disposed, that neither of them will have any more intent to attempt war, persecution, breach of faith, or any other manner of deceit against the other, each of them binding their hands to their girdles for fear of doing hurt, and harming their own blood: moreover none can imagine but that by this confederacy the antipathy and enmity which was, will be quite extinguished, and ended; seeing that marriage in all respects both of law and reason, aught to be more powerful and effectual in subjects that are so noble, generous, prudent, Christian, and fearing God, as these two nations are, then amongst barbarous, heathen, and idolatrous people, as the Sabines and the Romans were; whereby all those who are well affected to these two nations, may assuredly promise themselves and hope for so perfect and complete a peace, and agreement, as the like hath not been seen in the world, with all the fruits and properties that from it (as proceeding from heaven) may or ought lawfully to be hoped for. In so happy a confederacy I contemplate the supreme and extraordinary love that God hath showed to these two nations, giving unto them the same means & manner for peace and union, as he himself took, when he was most at enmity with the world: not only Divines but others also know the continual war and enmity which was between God and man before the incarnation of the word; they employing themselves in nothing else but in offending him, with all the sins and wickedness as they could, neither fear, nor shame, nor any thing else being able to refrain their disordered appetites; and these sins were so great, that there could not be five righteous men found in Sodom, no nor one to stay the vengeance of heaven; but man's nature was so corrupted and depraved, that God seeing their wickednesses and sins, said in Genesis, poenitet me fecisse hominem: not that he repented, for he being exceeding perfect, was uncapable of grief, repenting, change, or imperfection, but it was as if he had said: I see human nature so disobedient, ungrateful, and bent to evil, that were I capable of repenting I should repent that I had created it: so that at that time men did so obstinately contemn God's commandments, that they offended him without any care, and on the other side God was extreme severe and rigorous in punishing of faults; which the names that were then given him in holy Scripture may witness, calling him the God of armies, the God of vengeance, the strong, rigorous and severe God: which titles were accompanied with the fury of his power, as it was seen in the general Deluge of the world, in the fire which descended from heaven to punish Sodom, in the number of the Jews which he caused Moses to kill when they worshipped the calf, in the four hundred years that he kept his people in slavery in Egypt, in the number of the Egyptians which he drowned in the red Sea: and infinite other examples which the Scriptures teach us; so that God doth nothing but punish, and men nothing but offend. So that seeing he had created mankind to save it, and his divine goodness being more inclined to mercy, and love, then to justice and cruelty, he took pity and compassion upon human nature, and determined to make a peace, by means of the most glorious and admirable marriage as could be conceived; which was to marry his son, the Divine Word, unto our Daughter, human Nature, and to unite himself with it so intrinsically and perfectly, that he never left it, nor will ever leave it (as great Anselmus saith) by which confederacy and hypostatical union our nature was so extolled and favoured, that it surpassed the spiritual degree of Angels, from whose greatness, (as we have said) the first angel took an occasion to rebel against his Creator. By means of this divine & supreme league, God's justice and divine wrath was converted into mercy and compassion: mercy and Truth (as David saith) meeting, and Peace and Justice giving each other sweet kisses: Yet there remained in man an Obligation of never offending God, but always to serve him; taking as a motive thereunto, God's extraordinary mercy and clemency showed to Man, in espousing himself to human nature our daughter: so that in offending him, besides the disloyalty and ungratefulness we show, we do also offend our own blood and nature; And by this selfsame union was God moved to use sinners mercifully, staying the rigour and punishment, by reason of the matrimony which his son contracted with our Nature, holding it for a certain, that this great Advocate which we have in heaven with the Father, which is Christ, doth obtain forgiveness for our sins: and in consideration of his merits, the everlasting Father bestows those favours and mercies upon us which we feel every day.  
Hence it is, that holy King▪ David, when he implored the Divine favour, was always wont to say, Protector noster, aspice Deus, respice in faciem Christi tui. As if he had plainly said, God of my soul! my stay, my protector, and only refuge, look on me with the eyes of thy divine mercy; but do not look immediately upon me: for thou shalt see nothing but sins, iniquities, disobediences, and wickednesses, which will provoke thee to wrath and anger; but cast thine eyes upon thy son: for seeing him wedded to my nature, questionless thou wilt be moved to mercy and compassion. Finally, with this miraculous league, God remedied the enmity which was between man and him, and left man fortified with eternal peace and amity. All this may in some sort be seen by the heavenly conjunction which God hath made between these two Nations, which he hath of his infinite mercy protected; it being certain and sure, that they being united by divine means and invention, they shall live in perpetual peace, and continual concord, triumphing over their enemies, and leaving unto posterity memorable erterprises, and actions of nobleness and generosity.  
FINIS.