THE MOURNER COMFORTED. AN Epistle Consolatory; WRITTEN BY HUGO GROTIUS TO Monsieur DU MAURIER the French Ambassador at the HAGUE. Translated on a sad occasion, by C.B.  Melius se fert sparsus Dolour. 
LONDON, Printed by A.M. for Edward Lee at the Turks Head in Fleetstreet. 1652.   

TO THE READER.  
Reader,  
THis had not seen the light, but that it may be useful to some of the Relatives of that excellent Lady, that could not go to her grave unobserved, nor without great attendance. Her departure may be compared to the disappearing of some star of the first magnitude. Or rather, a new star is thereby added to the heavens. And there let her shine for ever. The use of this Epistolical Discourse may also extend farther than my first design. They that faint under any such loss may take it for a cordial: and they that fear any, may receive it for a preparative. This (upon some experience in himself) is the hope of the Translator in the publication of it; and it is Dedicated to those Honourable persons, whom he will not presume to name, until by some more ample testimony he may publicly show himself their faithful and humble servant,  
C.B.   

HUGO GROTIUS His Consolatory Epistle to the French Ambassador DV MAURIER, upon the Death of his Lady.  
Most, Illustrious Lord,  
I Am thus far indebted to my prison, that the evils of other men come later to my knowledge; even your wound, which otherwise I should have known among the first, by reason of that friendship wherewith you have honoured me, I now understand last of all, like unto those things that come to pass in the remotest parts of Europe. This will excuse the slowness of my duty, which yet beside necessity hath reason enough to defend it. For those consolations are wont to be more acceptable, which are then applied, when the first storm of sorrow is past, and that pleasure (if I may so speak) of grieving is abated; when the mind now wearied with its disease gins to be willing to admit of remedies, and to suffer the touch of some helping hand. I know how you were affected with my calamity, and thence you may understand, I am not unsensible of your sorrow. Let us, if it please you, mingle together the causes of our grief, that we may together seek for comforts, and when we have found them make use of them together. Neither am I ignorant, how little I, that am so destitute of all aids both to my mind and body, am able to bring unto this purpose, which is not already better and more effectually alleged and expressed by the professors of wisdom or eloquence or piety, who have heretofore set up their standard against immoderate mourning. But I am taught by my own experience, That can never be too much repeated which is never enough remembered. We must scour and call back into use the Arms, which by length of time are grown rusty. Besides, the advices which are given in general words, as spoken unto all, are wont to pass by with less observation: but when they are applied to our particular case, having no other mark to hit, they pierce and have a more strong effect. At our first entrance upon this work, we must seriously consider, whether the grief of the heart be in the number of those things, over which our labour and industry hath any power. For if necessarily and naturally we do all grieve so much as the greatness of the occasion, and the immutable frame of every one's mind requireth, it is easily understood all pains to the contrary is taken in vain. Nor doubt I but rude minds surprised with some such persuasion do sometimes give up themselves to the possession of grief, as of a disease incurable. They feel sad thoughts come into the mind unsent for, whence follows that pressure of the heart contracting itself, which we call maeror, and so without more ado they throw down their arms in despair of victory. But we, who besides our inward experience (which alone rightly observed might suffice) have the helps of excellent arts, and the use of all learned and wise men's labours before us, cannot be ignorant of the truth in this point, if we please but to rouse ourselves up, and draw forth what we have hid within us. The truth is this, Those first appearances, and the sudden motions arising thence, which the wise compare to the twinkle of the eyes, are without our power; but to admit of those appearances and let them without judgement and discretion into the closet of the heart; or else to pass a strict examination upon them, and weigh them in the scale of reason: also, to lose the reigns to the affections, or to restrain them; this for the most part is within our power. That sorrow may be overcome, nature itself teacheth us; for, if by no other means, it is at last consumed by time. Art imitates Nature. The Physician observing any disease mitigated by natural sweat, endeavours to ease his patiented sick of the like disease by medicines that procure sweeting. The new Philosophers, the Chemists, worthy of more praise and favour, if they did not corrupt the glory of their excellent inventions by vainglorious promises, teach that the nature of metals is ambulatory, and by long continuance of time one is changed into another: and herein consists their industry, to promote the endeavours of nature, and hasten that effect which will at length be produced. Such is the office of right reason in overcoming sorrow. Sorrow hath this good in it, above other evils, it bears not age. Other diseases of the mind are nourished, this is wasted by time. You may suppose it is a weak enemy, that cannot maintain itself, and without any force opposed, falls of itself. What nature promiseth at a longer day, reason represents and pays down in hand. Let us therefore, as it is the property of Art, follow the steps of nature. When by little and little the grief of mind departeth, there is for the most part no change in the thing itself, yea the incommodity that was, often becomes greater, as when he that hath lost a friend or wife declines to old age, wherein he hath most need of helps. Whence then arises that calm in a mind so much troubled before? Truly hence, the appearance of the thing that causeth sorrow is more seldom in the eye of the mind; it slides by, not sticks, it touches, doth not press or pierce the mind, and at last it doth not so much as touch it. Consider now whether every one be not able speedily to cure himself, and hasten his own enjoyment of so great a good. Most of us not only suffer, but create our sorrow, whilst we yield ourselves to sudden cogitations; in mourning especially, where the vexation flatters us under a show of piety. Those sad thoughts we cherish carefully, and to our own hurt patronise, doing like them that seek for looking-glasses which represent bodies greater than they are. Surely, the will of man, that hath such force to hurt himself, might do somewhat, if it pleased, for his own ease. That sorrow is an enemy to us, we cannot deny. The leanness of an exhausted body, paleness of countenance, dejection of mind (causes of grief for the most part more just than that for which we grieve) show it to be an enemy. In the dealing with an enemy, what are we wont to do? If he be strong and at the first onset violent, whilst your forces are not yet come together; the first caution is, to decline the battle: afterward, when you are assured and confident in your strength, you shall march into the field and display your colours. Even so the appearance of your loss being fresh, and your mind tender, it is best to bend your thoughts another way. None may do it more easily, excellent Sir, than you, who need not seek for employment, you have in your charge affairs of so great weight and labour, that they may very take up all your thoughts. The King whom you serve, the greatest and most Christian, the difficult times, the many and various businesses of your Office, what else do they all say unto you, but; Attend your work, you are not at leisure to be a Mourner. Most true is that old saying, The mind is prevalent, where you put it forth and use it. Certainly it is there to be used, where our labour may be to good purpose; that is, not in mourning, but in the service of your King and Country. It is no more than ordinary common sense which the Greek Poet hath adorned with elegant expressions to this effect; 
If ills were cured by our weeping eyes,  
And tears could wash away our miseries;  
Thy tears were worth gold: which I now must blame,  
For weep, or weep not, evils are the same.  I know that, said Solon, and I weep the more, because I can do no good by weeping. This very foolish saying of so wise a man may be an example to us, how much sorrow darkneth the judgement, that made Solon himself to speak unwisely. For in those things wherein care and industry is of any force (among which things sorrow is one, as we have said) we must observe, not whence the passion comes, but whither it goes. 'Tis the office of reason to look forward, not backward. Wherefore he that doth any thing ought often to put the question to himself, Why do I do this? What do I hope? What do I desire? This if one ask himself who cherisheth his grief and endeavoureth not to correct it, he shall see how nothing can be answered.  
But you may object, It is hard and inhuman to expel out of your heart the thought of her you loved so dearly and so deservedly, not less for her virtues, then because she was your wife. Remember, 'tis required but for a time, and, as in a labyrinth, this way leads you to a place contrary unto it. So doth a short abstinence conduce to the better concoction and digestion of the food you shall eat. I would have her live in your thoughts perpetually, but so that the memory of her may delight, not torment you. 'Tis an injury to her, when she is called into your mind to create her husband sorrow. Let her come then, when she may come, in the quality she was wont to come, fair, kind and cheerful. This image of her, which now occurrs to your mind, sorrowful, and leaving a troublesome remembrance of her, is false and resembles her not. I do now foresee the time, when that sweetness of manners, that love and reverence of you, that unwearied care in the good education of her children, that sincere piety toward God, and whatsoever in many of that sex is wanting, in some few is most praiseworthy, will offer itself to your mind, not only without danger, but with much sense of joy: when it will delight you to remember her, and to set before your children's eyes all her actions as the best Sampler for their life. Only for a little while put by the thought of her, which you shall afterward resume with advantage. To this end, as I was saying, will avail these many weighty affairs, which being enough to oppress another, sit lightly upon you. Now is the time, if ever, to be immersed in public cares, and suffer no room at all in the mind to be unpossest. Nor are the conferences of friends unprofitable, provided they be men of courage and wisdom, not such as commend themselves by the imitation of your sadness. Confer with the dead also, and turn over Books with greater diligence now then ever, and let that which was but your recreation before, now become a part of your labour. Books will not only give you a safe retreat from the enemy's fury, but arms also against the enemy. For whether you contemplate with your most capacious soul the nature of things, you will see how nothing is without the empire of death, no not the elements themselves: It is the most universal law, which condemns every thing that is born, to die; and it were great ignorance to think one person can be exempted from the common ruin: Or, whether you turn to the Morals, among that fair company of virtues you shall behold Fortitude, of a firm body, a head lifted up, a cheerful countenance, but among the vices Sorrow, macilent, pale, of a cloudy brow, and downcast looks: Or, whether you search the Animals, you shall find examples of men, who have born the deaths of Parents, Children, Wives, with a mind less moved than ours is at the reading of the story. Now, having by these Arts escaped the dangers of the first time, and withal gotten strength, let the soul at length come forth into the field, as it were, and prepare to fight.  
But here also I think it fit to imitate wise Commanders, who, as much as they can, sever the enemy's forces, that fight with the several parties, they may more easily conquer all. Mourning is a confused thing, it objects unto the mind many things at once and in a heap, which being joined terrific, but vanish being divided. All the assaults it makes against you are either in respect of Her whom you lament, or of yourself the Mourner, or of your children, with whom and for whom you mourn. Weigh these particulars severally, you will find partly that there is no cause of grief, partly that the incommodity is much overbalanced by greater good. I will begin with Her. It is in all men's mouths, which we read every where in Christian Writers, but in Antiphanes too (which you may more admire) a heathen Poet speaking in words of this sense: 
Lament your friends with sorrow moderate:  
They are not lost, but gone before, where Fate  
Disposeth all: And we, in order, must  
One after one be turned to the same dust;  
And meet at the same Inn by several ways,  
And in another world shall see new days.   
We must dwell the longer upon this place, because it alone without the rest, if it be rightly considered, is sufficient for consolation. I would not have any credit given me without a most competent witness, the Doctor of the Gentiles, the Founder of Churches, called to be an Apostle by a voice from heaven; who being endued also with humane learning, all other arguments omitted, checks the immodesty of sorrow with this alone: I would not have you ignorant, Brethren, concerning them that are asleep, that ye sorrow not even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and risen again, even so them that are asleep will God bring with him. It is the manner of Epistles to deliver in short that which familiar discourse doth express more liberally. But if Paul, as it is believed, after he wrote this, visited his Disciples of Macedon again, he might haply prosecute this most wholesome point more at large after this sort: Friends, whom nature hath made of the same kind with us, and the Word of God hath new made and raised to the same Grace; ye know it is our duty throughly to purge out whatsoever old corruption remaineth in you; your countenance, your habit and gesture speak you to be much and long grieved in mind, it any of your dearest Relatives be taken out of your sight. Nor is it any marvel, for thus did your fathers, and thus do the people with whom you live intermixed: Great is the power of a vice commended by the authority of parents, and the diseases which have seized, not upon single persons, but whole Nations, are very contagious: but you must remember to what Institution you have given your name: in your baptism, when the washing of your body figured the cleanness of mind, I received your vow to forsake the world. Peace with God is not bought at any cheaper rate. We have doctrines, we have also rites which separate us from the world, and make us a people different from all the rest of mankind: Even our words are not the same, whom they call dead, we say are fallen asleep: So are we taught to speak by him that is not only the Master of life but speech. What is the meaning of that new word? That sleep is the image of death, even the Poets of the Grecians and their Philosophers have delivered; but with them the similitude holds not, which with us is most exact. By motion and action we understand life: there is a defect of these, when the body is tied up with the bonds of sleep, and lies as it were buried: when the morning Sun hath driven away the night, that vigour that was not lost but intermitted returns again: mean while, the soul which hath a power not depending on the body, performing the offices of both times, perpetuates her action; So when the term of mortal life is come, the body lies torpid and unactive, whether it retain as yet the shape it had immediately before, or else hath rendered its parts to the original dust. But wait until the great day shine forth, there it will appear, the body rested for a time which seemed lost. In the mean, that part which is invisible keeps possession of life in behalf of the whole man. Compare with this our faith, what others running into so many byways do conceive: when in very many and the greatest things their opinions differ, in this almost alone they agree, that they are without hope of life ever to return unto the body, and therefore deprive man of his immortality. For man is a body animate, not a soul without a body, nor a body without a soul. The soul itself departed from the body, many of them either think to be annihilated, or at least not to retain the state of its own substance. So the whole man, to them, is destroyed without hope of restitution, as appears by those very consolations which they apply to mourners. For they say, Dead men indeed have no good; but neither have they any ill. Now, although the opinion of these men is hard, yet theirs is much harder who make the soul outlive the body. For that lower place which they will have to be the common seat of souls gone out of the body, they describe as a wild place, horrid and dark, and of such a condition, that one would die another death to get out of it. Moreover, which is worst of all, They to whom other punishments are remitted are (according to this opinion) everlastingly under this torment, a vain and never satisfied desire of returning back again to their former life. If some few among those men have any better conjectures, they doubt and fluctuate more like to those that wish then affirm. But ye have learned among the elements of our doctrine, that life remains in the soul, and shall be restored to the body. That which is the consummation of our desires, concludes the formula in our holy initiation. For being asked whether ye believed the Resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting, ye answered every one before God and his Chuach, that ye did believe. Upon this formula the confession that you made I now treat with you: but it is not sufficient to give a light assent, that persuasion must be firmly rooted in your minds, so shall it bring forth mature and fair and lasting fruits. Much will avail to this purpose, the attended meditation of those Arguments by which you were induced to subscribe to this Faith. We caught you not by the affected ornaments of humane eloquence, nor did we by a long chain of consequences entangle the minds of the more ignorant; but we brought the business to that which is common to men and women, learned and unlearned, young and old, and which is accounted the greatest assurance of all, even to the judgement of sense. The most famous enquirer into nature among the Grecians, gives this reason why we have not the knowledge of many things; because we can neither see them with our eyes, nor touch them with our hands: by which way things are wont to come unto the understanding. God hath excluded us from this excuse and pretence for our ignorance. He hath presented to our hands and eyes a specimen and pledge of what we hope for. That Jesus Christ the Author of our faith was nailed to the cross, and died on the Cross, all Jerusalem saw, the Senate saw, the Roman band saw it with their eyes, and also that multitude of strangers wherewith that great City was then filled: That he was buried and lay in the Sepulchre two whole nights, and the day interposed, is manifest, both by the declaration of the Seal, and by the testimony of the watch. So far we and our adversaries are agreed. This same Jesus after that time women saw living again, his followers also saw him, both severally and all the eleven together, at divers times: There were some also that handled his hands and side. That nothing might be wanting to make faith complete, He shown himself to be seen and heard by five hundred witnesses at once: who in good part are living and do testify the same. To come unto myself, I have seen Him shining with divine Majesty, and by his immediate authority was converted, and vowed to be his servant whom before I had persecuted. And can any one yet be doubtful? Certainly, never did any equal Judge reject so many witnesses, men of integrity, and such as had no temptation to make a lie. This testimony is so fare from being gainful to us, that we must pay for it with the loss of all things, for the saving whereof lies are wont to be invented. Therefore do we incur the hatred even of our nearest Relatives; we are dispossessed of our Estates, we are banished from our Country, we are in hazard of our life every day. No man at so dear a price doth buy the pleasure of deceiving another. Now if our testimony be received by amost evident example it is manifest that God can restore life to a dead body, And by the same Argument it is evinced, that this shall be done for all the Disciples of Christ's institution, if that be certain, which was certainly heard by many thousands, that Christ hath promised it. For the Resurrection of our bodies is assured by Christ's testimony, the veracity of Christ is witnessed by his Resurrection. Neither could it stand with the equity of God to give that honour to one that spoke not the truth, especially when himself before the event had set it for a sign: Wherefore believe us, that Christ is risen; and believe Christ, that all shall rise to immortal blessedness and blessed immortality who die his Disciples. He shall present us to the Father, who hath once obtained such grace with the Father, that no request of his can ever be in vain: He shall make us partakers of his glory, and bring us into those places, where dwells an undisturbed peace; where neither diseases shall approach the body, nor vices have access unto the mind; where shall be life without fear of death, and joys without mixture of sorrow. Some taste of this supper have the souls already, that are departed hence in the faith of Christ, in most sweet tranquillity waiting for the consummation of their felicity, together with the bodies. He that hearty believes these things, must needs be so far from lamenting, that he will congratulate their happy condition, whom he hath sent away before him to the enjoyment of our common hopes. For in a true judgement they are not dead, but freed now at last from their mortality. This place of Paul hath carried me farther than I intended, whilst I endeavour to examine every one of his words, and the force of them. For I am assured, there can be no better remedy applied to sorrow, then that which the great Physician of souls among the infinite treasures of saving wisdom hath brought down from Heaven. And yet, how many things have I omitted, which might be drawn from the fame fountain? But those considerations that we have deduced thence, if they be taken to heart, and received throughly, will be sufficient. Believe it, excellent Sir, as if you saw it, the soul of your wife for many reasons most beloved, gins already to enjoy the sweet fruits of her virtues, and tasteth the rewards promised to sincere piety. The end and consummation of so many ages, when she shall be wholly restored to herself; that immense accumulation of all good things, to which all that can be imagined is far inferior, is not expected afar off, as by us; but looked upon by her at the nearest distance. What she hath in possession is so great, that she wanteth nothing; and yet that is more which she seethe she shall possess. Nor have you any reason to say, She might have stayed longer before she went thither. Time is some advantage, and it is a great felicity to be quickly happy. How many evils, partly certain, partly uncertain, doth he escape who is called hence betimes? How many are the examples of men that have paid dear for the lengthening of their life? I might here relate the torments of diseases, and the affronts of fortune never more to be feared then when she flattereth, and the incommodities of old age which every man that lives long shall be sure of. This one thing seemeth to me a sufficient benefit of an early death, to be put out of danger of sinning any more. It remains that you say, I am not sorry for her sake, but my own: And to this I was now coming, for that is wont to be said; but how unjustly, any one may easily understand whose ejulations have not made him deaf to the voice of reason. He that flies to this refuge manifestly shows himself an offender against the laws of friendship. For they that fetched the original of friendship from indigence, were entertained with the hisses of almost all Philosophers; nor among the common people, whose manner is to measure most things by profit, could they make good their cause. In friendship, the Affection goes abroad, and without self-respect, seeks the good of another. Applauses fill the Theatre, as oft as any Pylades derives upon himself the dangers of Orestes: so prone is the consent of men to esteem it the office of a friend, in an equal matter to prefer his friend's safety before his own. How much more ought the sense of our own incommodity and loss be swallowed up by the felicity of one we profess to love; when we consider here is much more of good then there of evil. Zopyrus is commended in the story, because he cut and dismembered his own body, to the end his King might obtain a great, yet but one City. In this case there was some comparison: but in yours, if in the one scale you put your wife advanced to the very gates of Eternity, enjoying the society of Christ and the blessed souls, free from every thing that may occasion either grief or fear; in the other scale place yourself, destitute of those commodities which a happy matrimony prolonged for some more years might add unto you, there will be found no weight in your part of the balance, the beam will not stand at all, but speedily turn with the great weight on the other side, as if on yours were nothing. What if I acquit you from this comparison, and convince you that your incommodities weighed by themselves are nothing really, but only in opinion? For wherein, is he more unhappy who hath lost a wife, than he who never had one? In opinion there is some difference, for the memory of the thing once possessed represents the image, the image excites the desire: but this is the judgement of the lower bench, we may appeal. Let your Reason aided by so much experience, and instructed by so much reading, sit in the Judgement-seat and pronounce the sentence. That which is past, is not; and therefore can have no efficiency: nothing is ours but whilst we have it; afterward it pertains no more unto us, then that which is farthest from us. Really then, He that never had, and he that now hath not, are in the like case; but that he seems the more ingrateful, who from the benefit he once enjoyed takes an occasion to complain. Would you therefore see, how not miserable you are? Look upon so many thousands of men, who to their last years have willingly and by their own choice lived a single life: in which number are many learned men, pious, prudent, and such as were not ignorant either of the good or evil wherewith married men are attended. Wives are helps and comforts to their husbands: but they must be likewise helped and comforted. And if the burden be equally divided, there is no more in one whole burden, then in half of that which is double to it. Such is the nature of the contract, that it lays the harder bond upon the men, to whose protection the infirmer sex commends itself. One in the Greek Comedy, if God should offer him a double body, saith he would refuse the favour; his reason is, because with multiplicity of the parts his care would be multiplied. It is indeed a pleasant thing in prosperity to have one to whom you may do good: but the more favourably fortune fills your sails, the more you must contract them, and take heed lest even in the greatest innocence your behaviour give colour and occasion unto Calumny, which doth closely pursue men of higher fortunes. If any adversity befall you, it is true the wife partakes of the sorrow, but it returns and lies heavier upon the husband: as the rays of the Sun reflected from the ground do the more inflame the air. The Grief derived from a dear person whom you behold grieving for you, is more grievous than the primitive. I allege not these things as if I had undertaken the Encomium of a single life: it is enough for me to show, that seeing either life hath its commodities tempered and mixed with the incommodities, it becomes every one, with an equal and indifferent mind, to conform himself to that lot and condition that hath befallen him. The last pretence of grief is the most specious, in respect of children whose education, when the care is divided between the two parents, proceeds the better. This is somewhat, but herein hath God abundantly provided for you. You are a man of unwearied vigour; and if you please to use your whole strength, able to supply the place of both sexes: Cut off from your businesses and studies so much as that charge requires, yea, think that charge to be the best study and business. Matters of most consequence execute yourself, the lesser commit to others: and as oft as you can, visit your sweet children with your paternal eye, now also serving for the maternal. And look upon the great supporters of your House, your most gracious King, by whom your diligence and trust are well tried, and therefore well esteemed; Your honourable employment, your estate virtuously acquired, your kindred, alliance, friends, flourishing and prosperous. You see if any accession shall be made unto your labour, how great comforts are given you aforehand. Moreover, that very labour will decrease under your hand, whenas every one of your children shall ripen in years, so he will succeed into the care both of himself and the rest. But how little of justice there is in your complaint of this burden, you may even hereby understand. Had your Wife left you a house empty of children, I believe as the custom is, you would say, 
O hadst thou left some might me father call,  
O for one child to play about my Hall!  But had some Prophet, foretold before your marriage day, You shall, for many years have a happy and peaceable enjoyment of your wife, only you know one of you must needs outlive the other: this indulgence shall be yielded to the more tender sex, that she may not mourn for you. Choose whether you please, by her and after her to be called Father, or no. You would have answered, I doubt not, Let me have, when I can have her no longer, O let me have some living images of her, and successors of our common fortunes.  
Riches then unhappy are,  
When they do not find an heir.  
Well then, what is it that compels you, or I may say, permits you to grieve? Your wife? But she is blessed. A widowers state which is imposed on you? The single life hath adventured at all times to compare itself with wedlock, in point of felicity. Children? You would not be without them; if you were childless, you would be more sorrowful. And do you now grieve because you are not childless? It is great morosity, to accuse and complain of every fortune. But if this discourse may seem too rigid and severe, I will be a little more remiss, and grant that some adversity is befallen you; yet will I thereby evince, that you have reason to rejoice. That the power and the wisdom of God are unlimited, we do all acknowledge. Hence it follows, nothing can happen without his knowledge who is omniscient, without his permission who is omnipotent. Whatsoever he either doth or permitteth, he hath good reason for it. God hath care of all things, but not equally, because they are not equal. According to the several degrees of things, there be degrees of Providence. He governs with a more careful hand the affairs of men, then of inferior creatures. And among all mankind, he hath a nearer inspection over Kings, and other Rulers of the Nations, who are, as it were, earthly stars, from whose influence either the tempests of war, or the calms of peace descend upon the people. But above all, most dear unto that supreme Goodness are faithful Christians. The divine pleasure is, that Kingdoms themselves should be serviceable to them: and in all constitutions through the whole world, they are favoured with a singular respect. Therefore, even those things are for them, which seem against them: according to that immutable decree, All things fall out for the best to those that purely worship God. Nor may we wonder, if God keeps them not delicately but under discipline. This is a father's part. Either they must be purged by some sharp and nimble medicine, if they have contracted any contagion from the multitude with whom they converse; or, before the disease take hold upon them, the souls health must be preserved by some wholesome, though bitter, potion; or else, the soldier of God is to be proved by encountering with an enemy, that himself may perceive, and others may not be ignorant what a proficient he is. Matters of difficulty are provided for the exercise and illustration of every virtue. God hath always set godly men to such a task: but he justly exacteth more from Christian men, who by the very ensign of the Cross are given to understand, upon what terms they are admitted into service. The chief Captain himself having made his way to heaven by patience, and struggled through many sufferings, hath consecrated the same way for us. The soldier that is not called forth into any danger, may fear, his Commander holds him in small esteem. And who would not courageously descend into that combat, wherein there is a certain reward for him that conquers, and certain conquest for him that fights? For he that is the Rewarder, is also a Helper, he shows the crown, he supplieth arms. Nor need we excuse ourselves by pretence of weakness. The most equal Arbiter and Judge of the field, doth so fitly match every combatant, that he calleth forth none to fight, but whom he knows able or will make so. He can no more deny his heavenly aid to the man that prays aright, than a loving and wealthy father can deny bread to his son, that asketh it when he is hungry. How many of the old Philosophers, how many also of a lower rank, having but ordinary encouragements and supports, have subdued Sorrow? and shall we, who are neither destitute of the use of reason, nor of the succours of good learning, and besides are assured of that excellent and peculiar aid from heaven, turn our back and yield to any calamity how great soever? That can become no man, and you least of all, most honoured Sir, you are advanced to an eminent place, where you shine both by your own light, and by that which you borrow from the Majesty of your King. Whatsoever you do is conspicuous, and goes into example. Let it be hereafter said; Bear your wife's death as Maurier did. Nor may you fear being suspected for to have loved your wife less, if you mourn less. Keep her virtues in your memory, deliver them to your children, and as you can by ingenuous and glorious monuments propagate them to posterity. These are truer Tokens of your love, then to do what she would not have you. Among all nations the Wills of the deceased are sacred and inviolate, and not only such as are declared in word, or committed to writing, but also if by probable arguments we can conjecture what their wills were. You are not ignorant what her will was, and what she desires now, if in that place of rest there be any care of our affairs; to wit, that you may pass the remainder of your life with greatest felicity, and never think on her but with a quiet, and (if it may be) a joyful mind. The same you must suppose to be the King's pleasure, whom it concerns, that both in body and mind you may be strong and healthy. To add any more might seem to proceed from a diffidence of your wisdom and courage. What I have said, how much better could you say to yourself? and so, I hope, you nave done. It would be a joy to me to have performed my duty, and that you needed it not. Nor will it be unpleasant to you, to be assured of your friend's fidelity by the succours offered, although your victory achieved, sooner then was hoped, hath made them of no use.  
Lupisten, 11 Calend. Mar. An. 1621.  
THE END.