OBSERVATIONS upon history. BY W. H. Esq. LONDON Printed by T. Cotes, for Will. Cook, and are to be sold at his shop, near furnivalls-inn gate in Holborn. 1641. TO THE READER. THe world must forgive me my trouble, and perhaps its own; if I throw myself on censure by this public Edition of my private study. These observations are history, such as surprised me in the reading, & which least my memory should betray me, I committed to writing. They are singular accidents, and therefore more powerful to arrest the eye, and make the imagination stand amazed at the vicissitude of time and fortune. And where can philosophy find such sober precepts as out of history? History, that faithful preserver of things past, that great instructor of the present, and certain Prophet of the future. By it we may discover the print which former ages made, and treading that, know how to avoid the byways of error and misfortune. By it we are taught the value of human things, by contemplation of the frailty and ruin of which we are elevated to the love of the eternal. For when we read the subversion of Empires, and look for those great Princes who commanded them, and find not so much dust left of them, as may serve the smallest wind to sport with, what variety of power is not confounded? What authority with most famed Monarchs can secure itself, to the least complacence, when the proud manreades the folly of all those cunning Arts which advance to greatness, but never could protect from ruin? And who can look cloudy on his own poor fortune; when he finds that the too much favour of Princes, like the too near rays of the sun, tans them they shine upon? Neither can discontent find entrance into that soul, who by a just valuation of what is transitory resolves fortune hath not in her gift what may ennoble, nor in her rage what may debase a well ordered mind. This History instructs us to; which maturely read by a Sober spirit, hath power in the uncertain Sea of frailty, to settle man fixed against all the injures of nature hath depraved us to. Farewell. OBSERVATIONS UPON HISTORY. Of Henry the seconds association of his eldest son to the regal Throne. MAude the Empress, by the weakness of her sex, lost that crown she had title to in being sole Daughter to Henry the first. The ungrateful English opposing power against infirmity; and violating that oath they had sworn to her succession; as if fealty could not be obleiged to woman: and the more politic regards had authority to dispense with the more honest. Yet did her son prevail, and anchored in the Haven of that monarchy; from which so various tempests such broken tides, and so many shelves and rocks, had barred her. For the very Genius of this Nation by a strange dotage on the male heirs, hath still been cruel to the female, when they had a son able for government. Henry the seventh, like this great Henry, not disputing the title of a mother, when youth and action raised him to be acceptable to the kingdom: though in that some contempt reflected on her reverend weakness. So little did the appetite of power regulate itself by the straight rule of conscience. But Henry the second disdained this disordered voting in the people; who were in danger as easily to misplace Authority, if fancy should mislead them to dote unlawfully: since in how dangerous a Doctrine an unwarrantable precedent instructs posterity? And with what little difficulty the multitude breaks all duty, if by an awful hand not kept to the most severe? The liberty of such elections having been ever of ruinous consequence to that Nation which maintains it. Among many gallant sons to leave the kingdom no dispute about the choice, he gave order for coronation of his eldest, thereby to exempt the people from the trouble of an hereafter suffrage. For since the violent entrance of his great grand father, William the Bastard, on the government of England; passion had disordered succession, and no Prince but might challenge in his tyranny, a descent from the first usurper. But King Henry brought justice to the throne, and making claim to the monarchy by a straight line, with more earnestness endeavoured to continue it to posterity. But when policy shoots too far, her arrows fall ever wide; for human judgement hath no sight into the future, and mistakes when it endeavours beyond a lawful distance. The wit of man delights to find eternity in a moment; and to build a lasting edefice on a quickesand. For what Arts can perpetuate monarchy, and how frail a reed is all our wisdom to support an empire? This very cunning in King Henry proved such folly, that his friends were enforced to pity. For while in the pomp of this Coronation he seemed even to survive himself, and see his eldest son succeed: which happiness no Prince here had for long time attained. A sudden devil (for what else can we term ambition?) was raised, which no exorcism of a parent's awe had pour to lay. For this new honour created new passions, and the son having equal title with the Father disdained to want equal greatness. Why should he be made a mockery of Princes, and wear the Diadem without the power? why should he be thought worthy the throne, and not the sceptre? why should his youth active to great attempts, be frozen up by the cold advice of a declining father? If it was wisdom to raise him to so eminent a degree; why wanted he justice to exercise it? Unless his father designed to make the most serious act of government, an interlude of mirth; and convert the Church into a stage to represent the comedy more to the life. But though this was intended only for a Pageant; yet did it behoove him in this first appearing to the world, to show himself far above the scorn or sport of either his enemies or friends. This was whispered in his ear, and the discourse pleasing the vanity of his passion, soon won authority on his reason. For with how little remorse is the conscience persuaded when the least appearance of justice privilegeth ambition? what thoughts at first he feared to trust his heart with; by this advice he enlarged to his tongue: and from private discourses, he began open complaints; so that he took confidence to urge his father to a resignation of his kingdom and other Provinces, which with so eminent a fame he hitherto had governed. Nor was a powerful faction wanting both in England and abroad, who though at the inward tribunal of their judgement they condemned so unnatural ingratitude, yet outwardly did applaud the young Kings most crooked ways: which easily are made straight to opinion, when they carry in them matter to foment hopes of innovation. The father endeavourd by reason to calm this tempest, & advised the son not to anticipate vexation; for how smooth a brow soever Majestiepretended; the inward aspect must needs prove rugged. Since no command is happy, if not innocent. The least train of wicked policy undermining the firmest edifice of empire. That hereafter when the father's death shall prepare the passage to the son's government, the entry not being violent might be happy and carrying with it no cloud of sinister practices, might shine glorious. For the present, he entreated that patience which the Divine Law commanded; and all human customs had still observed. Withal he persuaded him to tame his wild ambition: ambition; which if natural, is a sickness destroys the body it possesses: if infusive, a venom, ministered by the most malicious, against which there is no antidote but ruin. That his association into the kingdom, was not prejudice the present authority of the Father, but to confirm the greatness of the son in future. That it was high ingratitude to retribute disobedience for so unexampled a favour. But reason forced by strongest arguments was to weak to prevail against those many Castles built high in the air of his vain thoughts. And seeing his desires battered by his father's just resolutions when he expected no resistance; pride persuaded him to seek remedy abroad, and to force what he could not entreat. Suddenly therefore he conveys himself and all his passions to King Lewis of France, whose daughter he had married, but never bedded: King Henry the Father carefully providing against the consummation of those nuptials; lest his son might by the alliance increase in power and dependencies. But this politic bar which divided the young Princes mature for love, created rage in the young King, disdain in the Lady, in Lewis discontent, but in Queen Aeleanor (Henry the father's wife) an impious jealousy. For she who in her youth had made forfeit of her honour, and in her lust (repugnant to Christian laws) chose a Sarazen for her Lover; interpreted this restraint of the young King's wife, to a vicious design in the old King and that all the cautions pretended were only with the more artifice and secrecy to secure the fruition of his injurious pleasures. And she seemed to have ground for her suspicions in the much liberty of his former life; which seldom had in his restraint condemned that action dishonest, which his blood prompted was delightful. This calumny wrought the old King into the people's hard censure, and brought compassion to the young King, whose injuries seemed of that quality as might authorise disobedience. So that not only Lewis of France who as being a Neighbour King, was concerned to foment that discord: but even many of the subjects to the crown of England prepared their arms for an unnatural warâ–ª The chief heads of which Rebellion at home, were the Earls of Chester and Leicester: who to give their King despair of any sudden quiet, fortified their Castles and other strong holds, with so much Art as if they designed to perpetuate mischief. And what encouraged them to danger, was, beside hopes of greatness in the change of government; confederacy with the King of Scotland; by whose power joined to that of France, they doubted not either to advance their fortunes by war, or make an honourable retreat by peace. For when did unquiet subjects presume to arm, without promise of aid from foreign Princes? And when bad attempts with them proved unsuccessful; what stranger but disavowed all underhand dark intelligence? But the wonder of this mischief was, that Richard and Geoffrey brothers to the young King entered into this conspiracy; as if the blood of Princes had not flowed according to the course of Nature: and the eminency of birth, had elevated them above the laws of filial duty. To wrest justice to either quarrel, both betrayed themselves: for infamy and rage shot no arrow to wound the others honour but repercussively flew back. Even he who most apparently proved himself injured, being guilty: and no man safe to fame, who had best title to defame his enemy. So unhappily had nature cemented them, that their fortunes and honours could admit no disunion: and none could triumph, but when part of him was ruined. The Father amazed at the irreligious quarrel; forgot not nevertheless, that he was to maim himself if he destroyed his enemy: and therefore by most loving addresses courted his sons to more peaceful thoughts. He urged them to return to duty, with confidence that he retained a mercy greater than their error. That their demand should end in no denial, provided that Reason gave it moderation; and that they would not chide with time, which yet enlarged their father life That from their best confederates they could expect nothing but the breach of faith: and who could be more interessed to advance their business than a father? All other allies only dissembling friendship to entrap their youth: and nourishing this discord to dissolve all the Ligaments of our Empire, and purchase safety at the cost of our ruin. But no persuasion could humble the young King's desires, his cause now justified by a general sentence, and his army increased by an universal confluence of his confederates. For into conspiracy of mischief, how easily are men drawn, who value the justice of the quarrel at the rate of their own profit? All the territories belonging to the crown of England were now on fire: the King of France with the unnatural sons wasting Normandy and Aquitain; the King of Scotland with the disloyal Lords destroying England. In the meantime, the innocent people were offered a victim to both their furies; and the honest labourer forced to the sweat of war, to obey the passions of those Lords, whose quarrel he understood not. So cruel is the fortune of the vulgar, that they can make no just account of their own lives or states, when Princes are pleased to follow the disorder of their rage. For at the expense of the common blood highest discords are maintained; and at their loss chiefly the ambition of the Mighty is purchased. Victory at length brought the old King to the majesty of a Father: and the young King inclined to obedience, when by overthrow of the King of Scots and the English rebels he found his faction weakened. For adversity hath a more powerful Oratory, than all the wit of piety, to persuade the proud from their usurped height. And seldom can we stoop to confess our frailty, till compelled by some accidental weakness. But the Father had his arms open, when ever the son would throw himself into his embraces; never wanting affection to entertain humility. And concord was thus restored: when the son perceived his inability longer to continue impious; and the father found that his revenge would be most cruel to his own Nature. The young King was to consummate his marriage with the Daughter of France (for in all tragedies the amorous business acts a part) with an allowance great as the dignity he wore, but no sovereign power. For the Father gained by this treaty from his son, the liberty to live a King. All discored by this agreement appeared rooted up, when indeed nothing but the branches were cut down: For no free delivery of all the prisoners taken in the late battle, and fully re-invested in their greatness: no over liberal allowance, no solemn protestations of a Father could win authority with the son. New disgusts on the least grounds were built, by his own unquiet spirit, and the suggestions of cunning instruments. For he wanted that absolute power his title challenged: from which he was debared by his father's life and fortune: they who had adherd heard to his disobedience expected recompense for mischief: and he unable to pay them for their sins, rewarded their humour with discontent. His disease of mind was incapable of cure: for no Phificke without the mixture of his father's vital blood could minister relief; & that the old King preserved against all practice: And to a resignation of Empire, no Argument could persuade him; not willing to encoffin himself in a Church solitude till death enforced him. At length unquiet thoughts destroyed the young King who disdained to live and not to reign: and since he could be only the mockery of his own title, he was willing not to be at all. For while with his brother Geoffrey he was in arms against his Father, and found no success to his designs: a violent fever with a flux seized, and admonished him he was to die: which he entertained with little horror, till at last the conscience of his many crimes frighted him with apprehension of that world he was suddenly to travail to. The rack which put his soul to the extremest torture was the injury he had contrived against his father: which he redeemed by humble penitence: for the old King sent his signer, whether he durst not trust his person: and assured his son a pardon; which gave courage to his death and made him with less trouble resolve for his last account. Having by his preposterous association into the sovereign title, created to his father disquiet and repentance, and to himself only enlarged the shadow. The death of Richard the first, King of England. THe several parts of human life are distinguished by our vices. The smoothness of youth is tyrannised by sensual pleasure; the body growing to more strength ambition engageth to action: but when age inclines toward the grave: Avarice, preposterous to reason, forceth man then to reckon upon treasure, when death threatens to cancel all the bonds, and Out him from the world with no more gaiety than at his birth he entered. Thus are we mocked by our own sins; vainly providing for the safety of life, when the tomb lays claim to our wrinkles, and infirmity holds before our eyes Times hourglass, with the last grain of sand ready to fall down. The soul busying its thoughts with setting long leases, when it is suddenly to be turned out of its own weak cottage. Richard the first of England varied not from this common path; having stained his youth with lust: honoured his maturer years with triumphs: but leaning now toward age, permitting Avarice to be night the glory of his former actions. And so vainly did this wretched vice misgovern him, that as wandering by the conduct of an ignis fatuus, he followed the acquisition of an imaginary treasure. For while he pursued the punishment of some rebel Lords in Poitou, who had assisted, contrary to allegiance, the French Kings affairs during the late wars; he was informed that Widomer a Viscount of base Britain, had possessed himself of much wealth: fortune unawares to his endeavours, having lead him to a secret cave, wherein foolish Avarice, or fear of some sudden surprise had buried vast treasures. This severe pursuit thrust the distracted Lord into several passions, which counceled him rather to forego his allegiance than his fortune: and knowing how safe even innocence and integrity are against the assault of power; he having no such warrant fled into Limosin (a Country which owed to King Richard no obedience but what his just title and sharp sword did force) and in the strongest town there he enclosed himself, and the purchase of that treasure which created him so many fears and so little safety. By the communication of his gold, he brought the townsmen into association of his danger: for where they are interested in a regard to profit; what tye hath fealty upon the conscience, and how little is a life esteemed, when money (that supreme felicity of fools) is concerned? The King disdained thus to be opposed, threatning ruin and devastation to that place, which could so easily sell its homage; and in the heat of rage and power he assaulted it, venturing for a poor bargain, the crown of England and his principalities in France and Ireland For if his life miscarried in the attempt; what interest could death reserve for him to Empire, who wanting children despaired even to survive in that imaginary vanity? But when did passion take advice of truth? Or when powerful Avarice inclined to revenge; what reason could give a bound to mischief? But the town resolved to oppose: since no conquest could bring more desolation, than to yield to that passion which hath no affinity with mercy. And while the King when violence received repulse, laboured by Art to master the place, an envenomed Arrow, shot by a revengeful hand, struck him into the shoulder. Which wound being dressed by a rude unskilful Surgeon, made the anguish insupportable to any man whom rage armed not with a new kind of patience. For neglecting all complaint, he so seriously used his wit and courage to prosecute his design; that within twelve days he brought the town to yield to mercy: Where after narrow search, he found the treasure he so vainly followed, a deceitful vision that misled him to his ruin. This conquest finished he began to acknowledge he was but man: for death commanded him away, and he obeyed the summons. Then he found another law to overrule his spirits, and being to appeal from the severity of the eternal justice, he laboured in himself to practise mercy. And in this short interval between the glorious thoughts of life, and his last hour, he left his virtue an example to the most religious, as his valour had been an envy in the most ambitious. For when the parricide, in a pride of the high mischief he had committed, refused to lay fault on error: but impiously avered he did that great sin to revenge his Father and two brothers slaughtered by the King: the King forgave him with so much piety, that he rewarded even the Executioner: and conjured his servants that this unhappy man might enjoy the comfort of his revenge, and survive a trophy of so eminent a mercy. But this pious Testament had no obedient Executors; the King no longer obeyed than he had liberty from death to command. For justice then unsheathed her sword, and lest the example of too much favour might afterward become an injury, the parricide was flayed and hanged upon a gibbet: In the horrid silence of his punishment more effectually expressing his own treason and the King's mercy. Before this holy Prince parted with his life, by much penitence he parted with his sins. For highest courages fall lowest when overcome by supernatural grace. And how vast a progress toward heaven can a soul so illuminated make even in a moment? For the immense bounty is not tied to measure, and how can the quantities of time prescribe to the eternal? His testament bears evidence to posterity, that his mind was no way dazzled looking down on death from the highest precipice of Empire. For discreetly he made distribution of his command and treasure: to John his brother, he bequeathed his kingdom, neglecting the weaker years of Arthur, and having more regard to the people's safety than the right of blood: To his Nephew (though then Emperor, he left one part of his treasure, the other to his servants; and the third to the poor, whom the wealthy never think their friends till death. His body he disposed too, though corruption still challengeth that legacy, and commanded it at Fonteverard to be laid prostrate at his father's feet, that even after death he might crave him pardon whom in life he had unnaturally offended: To Roan in testimony of his love, he gave his heart; that great undaunted heart, which being more valiant than that of man, and the heavenly spirits wanting proportion for the comparison was forced to permit itself to be called a lion's heart. But his entrails he bequeathed to Poeters: to obreyed it to posterity with its ingratitude, as which by many treasons was rendered unworthy to receive any Nobler part of so great a Prince. The battle of Varna, between Vladislaus King of Hungary, and Amurath the sixt King of the Turks, 1444. THe prevailing virtue of John Huniades (the greatest captain of that age) by continual victory humbled the proud Monarch of the Turk so low, that peace was sued for to the Christians. Which Vladislaus condescended to, imposing such conditions as if Fortune had made him conqueror. And indeed it was sought with an earnestness, so far beneath their former arrogance: that it was received at first either as a high contempt or dangerous stratagem. But when time assured this overture to be no counterfeit: Vladislaus demanded that Amurath should withdraw all his Forces and garrisons out of Servia, and restore it to George the Despot: delivering with that Country to the long exiled Prince his two sons, whom the Turk kept prisoners, and whose eyes in hatred to the father had been put out. That he should never after make claim to Moldavia and Bulgaria which Countries the fate of the last war had won to the Christians: That he should no way molest the Hungarians or invade any part of their dominions. And that he might not only part with territory, but even with money to purchase this peace, he was to pay forty thousand ducats to the King, and in recompense have Carambey his Bassa, not long before taken prisoner by Huniades restored. This peace the most honourable that ever Christian Prince made with the Turkish Sultan, was interpreted ill and Vladislaus thought rather to have sought his own quiet, than the glory of the Christian name. For in so high a tide of victory it could not be but a poor design to secure his fortunes by treaty with an infidel, whom necessity could only make religious, and whom want of power could only preserve a friend. This consideration incited Julian the Pope's legate, and agent for other Christian Princes in this cause, to persuade Vladislaus to repent his former peace; and to settle his Conscience without scruple to prosecute the war. For what Religion could oblige him to preserve an oath of faith, with him who only endeavoured by pretence of fidelity to entrap him? Or why should a nice piety hinder the growth of Religion? Or to what purpose should only one party be obleiged, when experience instructed him that the Turk never swore but to tie the Christian and enlarge himself? But now was it more than ever impious to have peace, when all men concured to advance a war so holy: where victory was an increase of Religion, and even to be overcome the highest triumph of the soul, since it assured a martyrdom. And beside the assistance of heaven, whose cause they fought, and whose soldiers they were; all politic regards concured to ascertain the ruin of the Ottoman empire: which not to do upon the too tender conscience of a league, was an injurious piety, which only merited reproach for a reward. For John Paleologus Emperor of the East, was then prepared with mighty Forces, and protested that in religion to the Christian cause, he had refused by making peace to endeavour his own safety. Many Princes likewise of the Turks invited the Hungarian to this war; desirous rather to abate the overgrown Empire of Amurath, then to continue the splendour of their Sect with danger to their state. For religion hath but a slender tye upon that soul, which is overruled by ambition or private interest. And where maintenance of command was concerned; what wonder if Mahometans laboured the Christians, common enemies of their law into association? Moreover all the States of Italy had prepared for the present war, sending their fleet into the Hellespont to join with the Grecian Emperor, that the Turk on both sides assaulted might in neither meet with any thing but ruin. As for Amurath himself; age and evil fortune had thrown him into despair, and that confined him to a solitude: where in an impious piety with certain monks, counterfeit base coin of the right Christian stamp, he tired his time away, and expected an ugly death. The whole government of that usurped Empire, now by resignation of the Father under Mahomet but fifteen years of age, fitter for a school and obedience to Tutors than the manage of war against as able soldiers as the most warlike age ever boasted. But these regards only looked on policy; that which made the Conscience free from obligation to preserve this league Sacred, was a former made with the Princes of Christendom. With whom to break faith, was sacrilegious; and to maintain it with an infidel, sinful and ruinous. Unlawful oaths being vicious in the making, but far more in the performance. He who swears the burning of an Altar commits a crime: but his absolution comes far easier if repentance make him perjured, then if obstinacy render him sacrilegious. Easily was the conscience of Vladislaus untied from his former league: the appetite of glory and extent of Empire oftentimes taking as soon away all scruple from the soul, as the most sober resolution of Divines. For Huniades (upon whose valour and fortune the success of the war depended) had promise of the kingdom of Bulgaria: and who not miraculously awed by virtue, will not endanger to be but a bad Christian to become a powerful Monarch? The Despot of Servia had his hopes too, of a more settled principality, and some extent of power; and that made his Religion which never much troubled his preferment; dispense with an oath, himself had been the chief actor to work Vladislaus to. But above all Scanderbag that miracle of true and happy courage animated to this war: promising to bring 30000. Soldiers both for strength of body and observation of Discipline excelling the most famed of Europe. This joint power, in so much security of Amurath precipitated Vladislaus into war, which he managed with as much good order and secrecy, as a business so general could admit. For first present notice was given to the Italian fleet now in the Hellespont, that it should no way retire upon any rumour of peace. Then was it mutually agreed that Scanderbag should at an appointed day meet in Servia, and there both Armies join in the common cause. The season of the year might have detered any man, from this attempt in the depth of winter. Considering when the King was come into Bulgaria, and had numbered his men; Dracula Vayvod of Valachia dissuaded any farther progress into that Country, Scanderbag not yet come with his Forces, being in command of an enemy, who used often to hawk, with a retinue more populous than his army. But ambition and presumption grounded on former good success, deafened him to sober council: so that he went on as if heaven had been tied by miracle still to come down to his succour, Which obstinacy when Dracula perceived he presented the King with two lusty young men to be his guides through the Country, and two swift horses to serve him for flight upon the worst of fortune: desiring his majesty since contrary to his long experience he violently was carried into so inevitable a danger, that he would accept that gift which might be of advantage if that happened, the very thought whereof he trembled at: But withal he prayed that this present might prove to be given to vain, whereby his prayers would appear to have taken effect. But no ill aboding language abated his confidence: and Religion which before detered, now gave courage: for what at first was held a resolution doubtful to Conscience, became from dispensable to be lawful, and in fine meritorious. So uncertain is the judgement of man; that frequently those designs, which carry the deformity of sin at the first sight, become by long acquaintance of the eye, amiable, and win upon us by the apparency of virtue. Mistake either deluding in the first encounter; or error betraying upon a long discourse. For practise of sin begets confidence, and when punishment wants swiftness in the execution, it loseth by little and little upon the belief. The noise of this army weakened Amurath out of his devout dream; and fearing his enemy might force him to that solitude, he voluntarily had undertook, again he entered upon the government. Which he found running into disorder by the weak age of Mahomet; no just title or hopeful youth creating authority to that Prince, who wants virtue to make his subjects believe him their superior. Amurath suddenly gathered in Asia a vast power, and presently marcheth to transport it into Europe. Two parts of the world being brought together to decide the great quarrel between these two Princes. But the Hellespont was stopped by the Popes and the Venetian galleys; and the distracted Turk began to fear his command was to be imprisoned in the third part of the then known earth. To enlarge himself he Marched by the sea side up the straits of Bosphorus; where he found the merchant ships of Genua, ready to traffic with him: who transported his army, selling Europe for a hundred thousand ducats. Though some lay this crime to the Grecians, who were possessed of the strong holds upon the Bosphorus, and whose faith the Turks gold corrupted so far, that in the event every man became a traitor to himself. The Turkish army past the straits, the King of Hungary began to prophesy danger and entreat advice. Those violent Spirits who disdained the enemy a far off, approaching now somewhat near, too much overvalued him. Passion, like some optic glass, that presents a man at one end a pigmy, at the other a giant, never faithfully informing the understanding. They who with most swiftness had ran thus far, wanted not now the same motion to carry them back. And the King though he never failed in courage, was not unwilling to have provided for his safety, with some hazard of his honour. But the brave Huniades opposed, and let him know that the number of the Turk was over-macht by the courage of the Christian; and that the Almighty, who disposeth victory, delighted in so just a cause to appropriate the honour of the day to his own power. That the happy course of their attempts hitherto had instructed them, how feeble that enemy is, and how weak armed, who brings to the battle the inward horror of a wicked conscience That they with whom now the conflict was to be, were no other but those effeminate slaves, who had yielded to the Hungarians still matter of triumph. Vladislaus was not uneasy to be persuaded to danger, and when he perceived there was no retreat but must suffer the scandal of flight, he resolved his life to want weight, if put into the scale with honour. He left therefore the order of the battle to Huniades; who to frustrate the advantage, the Turks had in number ordered his Army so that on side was a marsh, on the other the Carriages, and at the back a steep hill. Thus out of danger to be encompassed by the multitude of his enemy he entertained the battle; and performed so well the part of a great Commander, that the Turks began to despair and the Christians to presume of victory: when old Amurath seeing his soldiers ready to fly, and by the example of former overthrows misdoubting the present fight, pulled out of his bosom the League of late entered into, and solemnly sworn by Vladislaus, and holding it in his hand with his eye fixed upon the crucifix (which the voluntary Christians bore for their ensign) cried out to Christ to revenge the perjury of his people, who without just cause had violated the faith they in his name had given, and to show himself a God now his honour was concerned. The prosperity that so flattered the Christians began through the disorder of the clergy men, and over confidence of the zealous soldier on the sudden to change and the King engaged by too much courage among the thickest of the Janizares was slain, and with him the glory of the day fell to the enemy. For his head fixed upon a Lance, being presently showed a spectacle of terror, the Hungarians who should have drawn revenge from so barbarous an object, lost all courage: As if Religion to God had not equally animated them, with the zeal they owed the Prince. But there is a strange kind of more than human virtue in the presence of a King, who as the soul quickens the body of an army; which if he miscarries becomes an unactive dead lump. A King whose presence is vital heat to the loyal but lightning to the Rebellious. Huniades by flight reserved himself to farther fortune: but Julian perished there less wounded by the enemy's cymiters than the reproaches of the Christians, who obrayded him to have persuaded with breach of league; to enter into this fatal war. Which had it ended in victory the world would have said that Christ disdained to regulate success according to the vain invocation of Amurath, and that it Religion is not so ruinous to itself, as to command observation of faith with a faithless enemy, whose very law enlargeth him to perjury. The loss of Constantinople of the Turk. THe great City, Mistress of the Eastern World, which gloried in bearing the name of Constantine the Great, was now after eleven hundred years commanded by another Constantine. But age and fortune made it now the common pity, which had been the envy of all the most Noble towns of the habitable earth. For Cities like human bodies have their diseases, and death is their fate, cruel to them as us. The vast extent of its command was straightened to a small circuit; and it appeared only its own monument: serving the Inhabitants for an empty boast, and strangers for History. It had been often attempted by the Turkish power, who disdained the Christians even a titular Empire, having forced away all those large Provinces, that heretofore preserved it formidable. Mahomet, was now entered upon the Turkish government and the Neighbouring Christians, were comforted in the change: Amurath the father having assured them, by a long cruel reign, that no Prince could succeed more dangerous. Moreover this new King, was by the Mother a Christian which gave them hope (who were willing to entertain any) that his youth had received good impressions of Religion. But he soon assured the world that his blood by the mixture was grown so impure, that it rejected all thought of a divinity that might curb it, when invited either by lust or ambition. And he hath left it disputable to posterity to the tyranny of whether passion he more slavered himself. But the latter was of far worse consequence: which persuaded him as soon to attempt the ruin of Constantinople, as he entered on his own kingdom. It being a Law enacted by the unruly pride of that family, not to believe their command glorious unless unjust; as if Rapine and injury were the two supports of Empire. At first he entertained friendship with the Christians: having two regards, revenge and treason. The King of Caramania had provoked his rage, in wanting patience to smile when he was injured: whose punishment was the first resolution of his government. And this dissembled friendship was the easiest way to work the Christians to security; which would be a charm to make them dream of safety. But they soon found themselves betrayed for Mahomet was no sooner released from the design of his revenge, but presently resolved on his ambition. Constantinople was prepared against, and with the more fierce desire: In regard the conquest would not only possess him of the most imperial city of the world, but raise him above the victories of his Father and grandfather Bazazet, who in vain had attempted it. In which contention Mahomet showed that having no competitor for greatness among the living, he was forced to rival with the most eminent conquerors of the dead. And no family producing spirits worthy enough, he was constrained to contest with his own: by outshining the glories of his Ancestors, to make his memory the wonder of all History, and the envy of posterity. The Spring opening the ways for an army he gathered three hundred thousand soldiers; the least part of which were the natural Turks, or renagates: Christians were the main bulk of that fatal body, and they only such whom his command and tyranny enforced to the most unjust executions, but voluntaries out of Germany, Hungary, and Bohemia, whom hope of prey and entertainment invited to betray the honour of their Religion. Men who coveted the wars to satisfy their Avarize by Rapine, having no honest ways to subsist: Men who believed their souls as temporary as their bodies, and who mocked their Saviour by carrying his name, when they fought against his cause. Men whose memory is only safe in an eternal darkness. The poor Emperor Constantine, having no treasure and therefore no friends; sought by his Ambassadors to the Princes of the West, to move them by Religious compassion to participate his dangers. But they had their quarrels at home, hopes to encroach upon their neighbour's territory: jealousy of another's growing power: Subjects not perfectly regulated to obedience: and other small excuses begot a ruinous neglect of the common cause. With much solicitation the Pope, the King of Naples, and the state of Venice condescended to furnish out thirty galleys in defence of that place, for which what Christian should not blush, not to have hazarded a life? But this assistance was no more remedy than treacherous comfort of a physician to a patient past all cure: For it only served to please the imagination of the wretched Emperor; who like a man now drowning was willing to catch at every smallest hold. For this aid, which could not have been of strength to resist such an opposition, failed him too. But what title had the Grecians to complain the neglect of strangers, who were so cruel to themselves? In the public danger, every man threw the care of his safety on his Prince, yet taxed his want of providence; grumbled against his smallest impositions; and denied supply when instructed in their perils: no man conceiving himself interessed to support the falling Empire, though certain to be overwhelmed by it. If declaration were made of Turkish Forces levied, it was presently suspected a state bugbear to surprise the people with unnecessary fears. If the enemy took the field, the Emperor was calumniated of underhand confederacies. If upon undeniable appearance of invasion, contribution for defence was required; the over politics whispered it nothing but a State-ambush to seize unawares without legal Order, the treasure of the Empire. Thus when a kingdom's sins have procured an universal desolation by the just sentence of the eternal judge: the delinquent is blinded by his vices, and becomes his own executioner. Already was Mahomet, Master of one of their elements the water paying him tribute. For before he laid siege to the city he built such strengths upon the straits of Bosphorus, that the rich trading to Caffa and other Ports upon the Euxin sea was interdixted. So that the Empire acknowledged a maim, the Merchant disabled to furnish the Exchequer with the former customs. And the insolent Turk, grew wealthy by frequent surprise of such vessels, which to their own repentance and ruin continued traffic. For what dangers threatened by a remorseless enemy, and a more cruel sea can deter the covetous? The enemy drawing near the city, the Emperor in haste made levy of what Forces he could in so short a time and so great a danger. Six thousand Grecians he pressed, in whom he hoped the sense of liberty would quicken the sense of honour: and three thousand Venetians, Genoese, and other of Europe he entertained; making choice of Justinianus an adventurer of Genoa, (who with two tall ships manned with four hundred soldiers, having scoured the Seas by accident, came to Constantinople) to be general of all the Forces destined for the last defence of that Empire. And certainly while the least probability of success gave life to courage, no man performed more acts of great direction and admirable resolution. But when fortune absolutely forsook the city; he forgot his Spirit; and gave proof to the World, that no human vetue can long triumph over ruin, unless by heaven miraculously supported. For while there was any spark glowing of the ancient Roman fire, with which the city first became the glory of the East; Justinius made victory incline from the vast Turkish multitude to the defendants, strong only in honour of that cause they were to fight. So far did courage despise number, that Mahomet entered into sober council, whether the attempt might not end in loss: and the chief Bassa persuaded safety in a retreat, by the example of his great progenenitors. But emulation in the inferior Bassas urged young Mahomet to danger, to which the ambition of a proud nature violently forced him. As if heaven had forsook the defence of whatever place, the lust of his pride had desire to violate. And indeed such fortune at that time prospered mischief that the Earth appeared abandoned to his tyranny. For when the vast labour of this siege threatened the Turks to expire in reproach of the Assailants: the Haven keeping one side of the city secure from ruin, and open to relief, in regard a strong chain, and many great shippesbarred the enemy's fleet all admittance. A Christian, witty to invent highest treason against that majesty his professision obleiged him to observe, instructed the Turk upon certain engines, by Land, to convey his navy into the Port of Constantinople. Which passage opposite both to Nature and Religion; extended first to the terror, then to the overthrow of the poor defendants. Who perceiving the Earth made Navigable, and the enemies vessels to sail upon dry land; became astonished and submitted their courages to the miracle of that power which triumphed o'er the Elements. Yet in the hourly expectation of death, the wretched inhabitants of the city, omitted not the trades of life: and the enemy ready even to make prey of all their substance; the Merchant busied his thoughts in continuance of his bargains, and congratulated the smallest gain: the builder raised up his glorious piles, as if not threatened to be his monument; and the rich man reckoned upon the unnatural generation of his moneys, as if no insolent thief endangered the principal. For though the Emperor fearing so fierce a war from the most formidable Prince of the earth, laboured to make his peace with heaven by prayers and fasts, and all those humble acts to which ancient piety instructs us; yet no commanded devotion could expiate the vices of a licentious city, some fondly believing it a point of valour to dare, in so visible a danger to be vicious: As if there were a cowardice so abject, as that captivates the mind to sin. While any hope remained, the Emperor disdained to give his courage over to despair: and exhorted the tradesman to forsake unseasonable labour to work his own defence: who fullenly made answer, that it was to no purpose to fight upon the walls, and afterward to starve in his house. And the corn masters, upon a general complaint for want of bread, brought their grain in to the Emperor to be divided indifferently among the people, with so averse a mind, as if they had designed it only to supply the enemy, when at his entrance into the town, they were to be enrouled his slaves. But the private wealth of the inhabitants was on no conditions to be borrowed in the general cause, every man desirous to admit the barbarous insolences of a new government; rather than to part with that treasure, which they were shortly for ever to forseite, and which then well ordered might have prevented so famed a desolation. But the Emperor at so sad a necessity, for got the ceremonies of Religion, and made bold with the wealth of Churches, to pay the Christian soldier, lest it might be destinated to a more profane abuse. But no endeavours could support an Empire ruined by the battery of an over-powerful enemy, and undermined by its own vices. For the Turk made frequent breaches, and gained even when repulsed with loss: for if the slaughter of five Turks procured the death of one Christian (considering the inequality of the number) yet had the Emperor justice to complain. For his men lost were irrecoverable; whereas the infidel (as Cadmus is fabled) seemed to have sowed the dragon's teeth upon any repulse, new armed men growing up out of the earth in his defence. Frequent assaults on every side brought the city to hope no honour but in ruin: for to servive itself and become the seat of blasphemy; were to resemble the punishment of a soul in hell, & grow more miserable than not to be: That subsistence far more horrid than to suffer the labourer to plough up the rubbish of the most envied palaces. But this happiness was denied, a long continuance in vice prepared the way to the most powerful impiety, that ever swayed the world. This city like a ship overcome by tempests. yielded at length to a Sea of enemies which entered through the breaches, and sunk it for ever. In one of which Justinianus having received a wound, lost his spirit; and by flight endeavoured a poor reprieve of a disgraced life: for who that was interested in the quarrel could outlive that siege and retain his honour? Constantine the son of Helena, allied in name and title, but not in fortune to the first Constantine) in the throng of those who yielded to the violence of the Turkish army, perished; undistinguished among eight hundred, who pressing for life became their own murderers. But the narrow scrutiny of the Turk and his own ill fate, denied him even the honour of being unknown: so that as his life was more eminent his death had greater ignominy. For having that day his imperial habit on; it only served to obreyed his ruin, and sequester him for more scorn from the vulgar. His head they presently severed from his body, to make a common reproach of what had been so awful in its diadem. And in the cruelty of that mirth, all hope and courage of the defendants perished. The city three days lay prostitute to the licence of the conquerors: who were witty to invent new mischiefs to please their barbarous wantonness. And well might they congratulate the fortunes of their victories; for never did so much treasure become a prey to so much rapine: and never did such ancient greatness fall to so low a slavery; honour became a contumely, former wealth served only to aggravate future poverty: and beauty far more cruel than wrinkles, betrayed itself to the most loathed deformity. Of the war called the commonweal in opposition to Lewis the eleventh of France. Several designs drew diverse Princes (who had relation to the crown of France) into league against Lewis the eleventh: and though no man endeavoured but his own interest, the Common weal was pretended. For no hypocrisy disguiseth with more cunning; since rebellion, is so monstrous to the eye of conscience, that it blusheth to appear itself, and therefore wears a vizard which oftentimes betrays the ignorant. Every man in taking arms protested this war contrived to work a more honest peace: as if sin could smooth the way to virtue, and the conspiracy of many tempests calm the Ocean. But the plot of every Prince was at the public cost to purchase to his broken or unquiet fortunes more profitable conditions: and the good natured vulgar with little trouble gave themselves liberty to be deceived. Charles the King's brother, Charles Earl of Charolois, Francis Duke of Britain, and John Duke of Bourbon, were the heads of this monster; for what other title can we give Rebellion? The King's brother disdained the narrow revenue of Berry; Charolois the forced delivery of many towns in Picardy heretofore mortgaged to the house of Burgundy; Britain was commanded to desert those ancient privileges bequeathed him by his Ancestors; and Bourbon in vain had solicited payment of that portion Lewis designed him with his sister. Every inferior Lord likewise had discontent enough to warrant to his passions the most unjust attempt. For Lewis of France had been so ill a husband of opinion, that the world gave small reputation to his carriage: and having at his entrance to the government supplanted all the Officers of the Crown, and in their places planted those whom his favour had selected, the better part of France, envied or contemned his choice. For the ancient dependencies by this remove were weakened; and they who subsisted high in authority, imagined no death so wretched as this privation. Disgrace therefore made them resolve on honour; which since no other way, they designed to buy with danger. For the royal favour could smile on no man, but whom the whole world beside disdained as unworthy the least regard. What misled the people to tumult, was a pretence to relieve the many impositions which lay heavy on the merchant's trade, and the labourer's sweat. But when the silly vulgar by mutiny endeavoured release of payments; how near resembled they the ass, which to ease her burden cast it down into the water? Forgetting that the load was wool which taking wet contracted weight, and that she was a beast created to labour. King Lewis perceiving this storm with so much violence brought upon the very morning of his government: contrived at first to oppose it; and in some small encounters showed himself no way defective in courage: however his much wit with so much caution overruled the motions of his spirit, that posterity hath brought his valour into question. But being to make head against so united a power, he found his people as slow to their sovereign's defence, as they were rash to unlawful arms. Every man believing his interest concerned to subvert that edifice of power, which he suspected to be built on tyranny. Which persuaded all degrees of men to run into this war, though the hazard was of the whole estate, for supporting the immunity of the least part of every man's particular. Lewis finding this defection so universal, entered into distrust of his own forces: fearing them, who had the strongest tye of duty, to have the weakest tye of Love. And where affection arms not the soldier, how unsafe is the greatest general, in the best ordered army? For disaffection to the Commander disorders suddenly the highest actions: and how poorly he betrays himself, who hopes to advance his designs by terror? Lewis therefore flies from his Native subjects to Auxiliaries; and to teach France obedience, brings in Forces from Italy. The Duke of Milan liberally concurres to this Service, sending five hundred men at arms and three thousand foot under the command of Galeas his son. And with this power he presents his advice, That he should yield to any conditions to divide his enemies, and be careful still to preserve his men. This council was of more service to Lewis his affairs, than all the Armies he could have levied in his duchy. For by this he kept his majesty entire, and referred nothing to the uncertainty of fortune. He spared the effusion of his subjects blood: whereby his people were not in danger by their losses to hate that sovereign power had chastised them. But the former part of his advice was a stronger battery against the enemy's design, than all the artillery of that age could make. For to divide their Forces was to destroy them, and to bring them into jealousy of each other was to make each the others executioner: By which he was secure at the enemy's cost and danger, to work his own triumph. Then for yielding to conditions, it was safer in Lewis to descend one step beneath sovereign command, than to be enforced to fall down all the stairs. And having both wit and courage he could not doubt but occasion would present him with a mean to recover, if not to transcend his former height. Variety of chances brings soon both Armies to desire to remit nothing to chance, and the war having made both losers, peace was equally sought. And though want of victuals extremely afflicted the Burgonion army; yet did Lewis not dare to take the advantage: the rage of hunger being sometime an animation though for the most it discourages. Lewis therefore having had no great fortune at the hazard of war; desired to change his game and try how he could play his cards in peace: where the cunning gamester is secure at a long sitting to be the winner. And therefore upon the first overture entertains the treaty, which suddenly took effect; No demand of the Princes receiving the least denial. But at the conclusion of this peace, what was at first pretended, was never mentioned: the people whom hope of ease of taxes had engaged to this war, being no way regarded. For they were the same wretched vessel still, whom every tempest moves to danger, but no calm ever secures from wrack. To his brother he grants the duchy of Normandy, a proportion beyond his very hopes. To Charles Earl of Charolois he restores all the towns upon the Some. To the Duke of Britain he confirms the county of Mountfort, with promise of money to defray the charges of his enmity. On the Count S. Pol for having been the great engine in moving these disorders, he bestows the Office of Constable. To the Duke of Calabria he promiseth men and money for the recovery of his kingdom of Naples; so desirous he was at any rate to buy his absence. To the Duke of Bourbon he gives assurance for the portion due to him in marriage with his sister. And to every great man who had been in opposition, he contributes largely: since the event of war might have been uncertain to make azure bargain by this treaty of peace. Thus at Lewis his cost, every discontented Lord attained his aim, and triumphed in the fortune of his design. And so far was this agreement the ambition of both parties, that when the Earl of Charolois allured by the pleasure of Lewis his endearing Language, was engaged into his power, and the Burgonion army gave their general lost, Lewis returned him back with all the ceremony of love; disdaining an advantage that might suffer the blemish of treachery. Actions of so extraordinary a virtue strangely conduce to the fortune of a Prince: for they create him high in reputation; which keeps sovereignty entire; and beget confidence to his after proceedings, which whether just or unjust are by that successful. For as to virtuous men faith is natural, so to the politic the practice of it is necessary. For how can any design prove fortunate, when the contriver is held in distrust? Pirates and Politicians, as common enemies to mankind, obnoxious to the selfsame jealousy: no man embarking his fortunes with either, but whom desperation forceth, or liberty invites. This accord changed the face of France; the brow smooth with joy and acclamations, which had been wrinkled with so many troubled thoughts. Every man retreats to his private entertainments: and discored no longer cimenting them, they divided their business, according to particular interest. Charolois returns home, & finds employment for those passions the ambitious never want. He takes possession of the towns assigned him, and triumphs in recovery of a small Country, whose unquiet pride, the world wanted extent to limit. Yet did he carry still a vigilant eye over his great enemy, knowing that mighty spirits overruled by ill fortune, disdain that humility they are forced to. And though conveniency or necessity bend them down to low conditions; it seldom obligeth the conscience longer than fortune restrains the power. Lewis was not well pleased with debasing majesty to the irregular requests of them, who ought not to have prescribed their Prince. And since to oppose them all was unsafe, it was convenient to destroy one by one: that the revenge might be more secure and less observed. For those wounds are most mortal that bleed inward; and waters which raise least noise have the greatest depth: The shallows of princes' actions sounding loudest to popular judgements: but where the understanding hath the chiefest agitation, the greatest attempts proceed with least disturbance. His resolution was therefore to begin his revenge with him, who was nearest to his person; those contents being scarce heard which are spoken a far off: but the least whisper pierceth, when the voice, approacheth too near the ear. The late Duke of Normandy afflicted him most, in regard nature tied his memory to a continual torment, that preposterously his younger brother had prevailed. For those disgraces obreyed us most, which we suffer where we have good title to claim respect. And between brothers the distance is so little, that the sense of honour grows too tender: which makes the least touch pierce the very quick. Lewis therefore compelled him to an exchange of Normandy for Gaien; either by remove, to prevent his growth in Faction, or by shifting him from one command to another: in fine to leave him none. But this Art was presently discovered; and the divided reunite: bringing Lewis into the same fear and danger. Which with much dissimulation he prevents: And by overpleasing Charolois and Britain he gains liberty to oppress underhand his brother. Which was with less difficulty conived at; in regard Charles now made Duke of Guien, was of an easy spirit, desirous to master an evil fortune, but fearful to effect it with hazard. Moreover he naturally abhorred war, either in Religion or compassion, and the complexion of that time was troubled: Men only safe who feared no danger', and such Princes only secure of peace, who were not frighted at war. Then which was his ruin, any probable conditions of safety, made him renounce confederacy with turbulent unquiet men. And who can hope from others participation of danger, who never entertain friendship but for necessity? Or who will adhere to his fortunes who deserts himself; and no longer loves a confederate than he is useful? This inconstancy in the Duke of Guien laid him open to King Lewis; who finding that his brother's life quickened so many disorders in France, gave way (if History be not unjust in censure) that he should die. But nature yielded little hope to effect the business, the remedy therefore of the present troubles was to be sought from Art: and so well was the plot contrived, that he sickened and died for the quiet of the kingdom; for his death broke all those intellegences had been held so long in France: and the confederate Princes began to think on a new way of greatness, not by disturbing their neighbour's kingdom but by quieting their own subjects. A greatness not destructive to their enemy, but effective to themselves: Which creates a triumph more glorious because more innocent. For power doth never shine unclouded, which is maintained by dark designs, or obscure dishonest Arts. Of Charles the fifth resignation of Government. CHarles the fifth, Emperor of Germany, singular in the pre-eminence of life, disdained to tread the beaten way of Princes, now declining to his grave. In all enterprises he still appeared superior to fortune, to whose mercy he resolved to leave nothing in his age: lest that giddy power loathing infirmity and wrinkles, might have distasted him and forgot her flattery. But his courage did rise yet higher, and vanquished death itself: Death that great Tyrant which adorns its dark palace with the spoil of Kings, and devests the Proud of all the gaudy circumstance that swells their greatness. Death was only left him now to conquer: three parts of the world had seen the trophies of his fortune, and all had submitted but death. To which since inevitably he was doomed to pay the common debt; yet he contrived it so, that it should be small loss to him, who had nothing now remaining but his body, and that weakened by time and sickness. To Brussells he summoned all the nobility of the seventeen Provinces, and solemnly canceled that sacred obligation they owed him as their sovereign. To his son Philip, to that purpose sent for out of England, he gave those Countries and their homage. 'tis true, he wept, but they were tears of wonder; his virtue not only astonishing that great assembly but even himself: the example was so new, it forced him to an extraordinary expression, with which his courage never had been acquainted. For Noblest spirits in such an ecstasy weep as fast, as weaker souls out of feminine softness. Two months after he had made this essay upon his virtue, he gave perfection to the great work, and to his son made transaction of his dominion over the rest of his kingdoms, Provinces, and Islands, both in this and the new world. Which was with greater concourse of Princes, as the business was of larger extent and more value. For to this tragi-comedy came spectators from all the world, in regard the scene was so new, and the Actors the most eminent of that age, and perhaps as Noble as any other ever gloried in. Nothing was left him now but the Empire, which soon after he renounced sending to his brother Ferdinand King of the Romans, the imperial Crown and sceptre, by the hands of William, Prince of Orange. Who though he appeared unwilling to this Office, loath to see his Prince buried thus alive; yet with small scruple he afterward rent from his sovereign King Philip a great part of the Low Countries, and endangered them all. Thus with a compliment of regret the Subject often appears in just things troubled to obey: who can dispense with all duty when his own ambition is concerned; and justify rebellion with pretence of lawful liberty. Charles having nothing left him now, but what lives yet, the memory of his many victories; retired to private lodgings till the wind served fair to wait on him into Spain. And soon he found in his first solitude it was but his shadow had made him appear so mighty: For being now nothing but himself, he took justly his own height, and confessed he was but man. The swarm of those Courtflyes who had quickened in the heat of favour; appeared no more, now his aspect though more clear wanted the former vital warmth. The wonder past, every man forsook him who had left his glory; and as honour or profit directed them, began to beat new paths. For what truth had in vain heretofore laboured to persuade, now he acknowleged: when he so suddenly perceived, that the supremest virtue, not made awful by authority, can never keep itself high in regard, nor attract the applause of men. And though his son King Philip let fall words on the Anniversary of this resignation which seemed to tax his Father to have as soon repented as done this glorious Act of virtue; yet who can believe in so constant a mind so poor a frailty? Perhaps he was a little amazed at the change: and the son who was enamoured on that Empire, his Father had resigned interpreted the wonder to repentance. Nor can we but imagine that Charles was somewhat astonished at the steep descent he had on the sudden made from so high a precipice: though it was with a far other passion, than tortures them who are thrown headlong down by death or fortune. When he landed in Spain, he kissed the earth, whether he had brought his own to Sepulture: and made his lips do penance for some few trespasses his youth was guilty of. He acknowledged it the common parent in that homage: and confessed how high soever we are in growth, and however wide our branches spread themselves; our root is still in the earth, till age, the Axe, or some, violent tempest pluck us up: and afterterward envious time takes away even the Print that ere we flourished there At Burgos, where he expected the sudden payment of some moneys for discharge of his attendance, he expressed a just disdain, perceiving the Officers slow to serve not him but his necessity. And his title was honest to that passion: for ingratitude cannot be forgiven by a mercy less than heavenly, and he was yet apparelled with his earth. Of all the immense revenues of so many wealthy kingdoms, he had reserved to his own use, but one hundred thousand crowns annually, for that small time he was to outlive his greatness. And this was not paid but with trouble: for the living grudged to allow any tribute to the dead, among whom Charles was to be numbered when he ceased to reign. But this ill nature of the world served him to good purpose, for it comforted him that he had forsook all commerce with that which servilely obeyed him only, when as a Master, he heretofore commanded it. This hastened his final retirement to a religious house of the order of S. Jerome; which was seated in a most wholesome air, that he might not cowardly seem to desire to die, when he had given over to command: And in this his valour outdid all former example; that after resignation of so large an Empire, he could patiently study the Arts to live, and contract his business to so narrow a room; who had made nine journeys into Germany; six into Spain, seven into Italy, four into France, ten into the Low-countries, two into England, and as many into Africa. But when he fixed here, his ambition out-ravailed in two years, all the labour of fifty: for his thoughts disdaining to measure earth or Sea, which geography can give account of; made hourly their ascent beyond the fancy of astrology. Whether the humble only can climb, whom piety racks till they acknowledge themselves dust and sin. Entered into this solitude, he felt a war within him, of more terror than that with which he had awed the World. For now he was to fight alone, where no confederate Prince came to his assistance, no subjects tendered their lives with their obedience; but even his passion who should have been his slaves, with his flesh a great part of himself revolted, and conspired his trouble. This combat ended in a happy victory; human industry Strengthened by Divine grace triumphed over weakness, and enthroned him above his rebels. Yet had he still in his mind a soft echo of the former noise of war: those hours he borrowed from heaven, to solace himself on earth, were recreated with martial sports. Which was either to make a mockery of his heretofore most serious stratagems, and all the business of the warlike: or else to exercise his time in the mathematics, which had much enamoured him from his youth. For Jannellus Turrianus, a great Master in that knowledge, did usually delight him with miracles of study, making little armed men muster themselves upon the Table, and Artificially move according to the Discipline of war: which was done so beyond example, that the superior of the house, nothing read in the Mysteries of that Art, suspected it for witchcraft. Neither was Charles himself unapt to work the little wheels of watches, and to make a clock up, which as it struck did warn him what vanity it was, to reckon on the succeeding moment. And now this great Sun grew near his night. But desirous to outlive his funerals he obtained to see them solemnised before his death. A sad curiosity, to be a mourner to himself; and understand how short a pomp waits on the most mighty to the grave. The hearse was raised furnished with all the vanity of hatchments, which told the world, over how many wide kingdoms his power had intended: and to what a strait lodging it was now shrunk up. The Mourners assisted, and perhaps with as deep a sorrow, as would have pierced them, had his grief been serious: while he with a sober mirth beheld the last scene of all his glory personated; and found what an empty honour Prince's labour for in the sweat and hazard of all their victories. For what a no comfort to the ashes of the conqueror is the triumphs of his life: since only Christian virtue maintains traffic between earth and heaven. But death disdained to be made a sport to the greatest spirit of that age: for this odd pastime soon became serious, and he found he was to die in earnest. Which he per formed with the like cheerful look; for there was neither honour that endeared nor beauty that enamoured him to the world: and this two years' silence had given him a taste of heaven. He therefore without despute parted with that little of the earth, he had reserved, and which in this retirement he had punished, till it grew subordinate to the soul. And though he had quitted all interest to Empire, yet would not heaven let him die without his comet. For as he sickened a new star appeared: which gained in brightness as he declined toward death, and pointing its glory on the cloister vanished as he expired: the poor comet unable longer to shine, when this greater star was darkened, from whom it derived its luster. FINIS. Imprimatur Tho. Wykes. Novemb. 12. 1640.