A MORAL ESSAY, PREFERRING SOLITUDE TO PUBLIC EMPLOYMENT, And all its Appanages; such as Fame, Command, Riches, Pleasures, Conversation, etc.  
2 King. 4. 13. — wouldst thou be spoken for to the King, or to the Captain of the host? And she answered, I dwell among mine own people.  
EDINBURH, Printed for Robert Brown, and are to be sold at his Shop, at the Sign of the Sun, on the North-side of the Street, over against the Cross, 1665.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, JOHN EARL of CRAWFORD, etc.  
My LORD,  
seeing man can glory in nothing, but in that he is GOD's Image; certainly, that must be his most glorious state wherein that Image is most clearly seen, and this is solitude; wherein his composed soul (like the smooth face of the Ocean) represents, with much advantage, this glorious image which the unequal risings of stormy and aspireing waves of ambition do exceedingly conceal. The heathen Poet Lucretius describes the great perfections of the Deity to consist in that it is,  — Privata dolore omni privatapericlis Ipsa suis pollens opibus— 
And Cicero upon this score confesses, that the Philosopher's life was of all others most preferable, because of all others, it approached nearest to that of the gods. This, my Lord, invited me to write this Discourse in its favours; which because I intended as a bundle of rods, for whipping such as were fond ambitious, I did therefore strip naked of these leaves and flourishes of Eloquence, which by making them more pleasant, could not but make them less sharp. And if any tax me for sending this Book to public view, from that solitude which both it and I so much commend; my answer is, That either it will convince these who read it, and then it will gratify that solitude which it hath left; or else it will meet with censure and disdain, and then it's fate will demonstrate how dangerous it is to gaud abroad; to press which, is another of my great designs.  
I intent not really to depreciat such by this Discourse as enjoy Honours and Employment; that design lies as far out of my road, as it is raised above my power: but I intent by it to congratulate with such as either undervalue them out of inclination, or have lost them by accident; and to discipline such unquiet humours, as like powder, do, in blowing up themselves, destroy all that is above them, or resists their violent ascent: wherein, as I oblige Philosophers, by complementing the object of their complacency; So I gratify Statesmen, by reclaiming such as are the ordinary object of their fears. Neither should any thing in this Discourse, which is picquant against those Courtiers who have been rather great then good, displease such as are both good and great, more than it should displease a Gentleman of noble shapes and features, to see a Painter draw another man (though of the same species with himself) under all the disadvantages that can be traced by a deforming Pencile.  
That I should choose your Lordship for my Patron, is no act of virtue; because your condition, as it stands circumstantiat, made you almost the only person who deserved it at all, and altogether the person who deserved it most; for, being the best Pattern for solitary persons, ye were the person who deserved most to be the Patron of solitude itself: especially, having obliged it so far, as to prefer it to that rival against which it now disputes for precedency; and preferred it, after it's adverse party had been your old acquaintance, and had offered to bribe you, for your suffrage, with a purse heavy enough to have weighed down a light spirit. Fear not, my Lord, the want of fame (which is the only thing that solitude is thought to want) For, as the heathens resembled it to a Maid, so it hath this of a coy Maid likewise, that it courts most these who seem most to undervalue it; and rarely any person admires his own servants so much, as it doth these who are stranger▪ to it. And great men have this loss, that their superiors will not admire them, as being less than themselves; their equals will not, because they hate them; nor their inferiors, because they envy them, and do but too oft imagine that they are oppressed for feeding their luxury. That famous rod which wrought so many miracles for others openly in Egypt, did never itself flourish till it was laid up in the tabernacle, (according to their opinion, who will have both these to have been one and the same) and the Diamond ceases not to enjoy a greater lustre, though hid in the darkest corner, than these pleasing blossoms do, which the weakest breath of a storm will command down from the highest branch upon which they perch. Fame then shall transmit your name to posterity, as the jews did their embalmed bodies which they preserved perfumed and odoriferous in secret and retired Grotts and Sepulchers; whereas it will preserve that of more public persons, only as the Egyptians did theirs, whom by exposing to the open Sun, they kept as mummy, but so black and parched, as that it had been better they had returned to their former ashes. But, though fame should not thus gratify you, yet virtue (who hath so few deserving followers now, that it cannot but pile up pyramids of favours upon such as are) will recommend you to succeeding ages, both to let see that she wants not her Trophies even in this dotage of the world (wherein she is not so deformed by age, as not to have charms strong enough to conquer such as deserve her favour) and to engage others, by this act of gratitude, to a dependence upon her. And amongst her admirers, you, as one of her Minions, shall have still all deference paid you, by  
Your Lordship's most humble Servant.   

SOLITUDE preferred to public EMPLOYMENT.  
Generous CELADOR,  
I Know that your advancement was to you, but as the being thrown up is to solid bodies; from which state they cannot be so properly said to fall, as to run with inclination to that beloved centre and level, from which they were at first raised. I know you made no other use of that height which makes others giddy, then to take from off its loftiest tops, a full prospect of all these vanities which so much ravish mean spirits. And your public deportment being thus, so exact a picture of true Virtue, I hope your retirement will be the shadowing of that noble draught.  
In the confidence of this, I send you this Elegy of solitude; not as Physicians send Pills, with praises to their averse Patients: for, as it were below your Stoicism to need such; So it is above my skill, to be able to administrat the meanest remedy, to so well a complexioned soul as yours. But I praise it to you, as we use to praise a Mistress to her enamoured Gallant, whose intimacy with her, though it far exceeds the acquaintance of the praiser, yet it breeds not in her enamorato, an unwillingness to hear what he already knows; complacency being oftener the product of our knowledge, than the occasion of our enquiry. In paralleling greatness and solitude, as to their moral advantages, I shall first make some few reflections upon the ends for which both are sought, upon the employments wherein both are exercised, and lastly upon the revenue made upon either of these enjoyments, when fate or death shall force us to leave both.  
As to the design which men propose to themselves, 
Sect. 1. The motives to both compared.  in pursuing Greatness and public Employment; all will tell you, that they seek these, either to underprop their falling families, (whose proud tops begin to bow, in homage to that mortality, which will needs one day triumph over us and ours) or else to defend themselves against some considerable enemy; or to wipe off the stains and scars of disloyalty or prejudice. For, when opulent or great Persons undertake them, the very rabble have so much prudence, as to condemn these for mad men; when Philosophers or strong Spirits embark in them, they say they do it to serve their Country, and not their inclinations; and flatterers pretend, that they design in these, the pleasing of their Prince, and not of their humour; So that as if all were ashamed of them, all do excuse their zeal after them: whereas, solitude (like a great beauty) is courted for itself, and not for its portion. And such as intend public Employments, will pretend a love and design for solitude; and when they have attained their honours, they will still praise retirement: whereas, such as live privately may sometimes pity, but will never seem to envy such as are in public Employment. And not only is solitude courted for itself, and Greatness for some remoter end; but even Greatness and public Employment are themselves oft (if not always) designed as subservient to solitude. Thus Merchants hazard drowning, and like the Sun, reel about the world, that they may gain as much as may afford them the conveniency of a recess. For this Lawyers empty their brains, and Soldiers open their veins; and have oft nothing to sweeten their anxieties, but the remote prospect of a solacing retirement: So that solitude must be excellent, seeing its enemies buy it at so dear a rate. And even Cesar behoved to recreate himself, with an aliquando mihi licebit, mihi vivere, esteeming that part of his life to belong to others, which was spent on other men's employments. And seeing all aim at solitude, it must certainly be by as much more nobler than public Emplyoment as the end is more noble than the means: and in this it approaches very near the nature of happiness, which is defined to be that, to which all things tend, and which itself respects nothing yet acquireable. But yet I must condemn these, who are at all this pains to gain Solitude, whom for this I esteem as unskilful in the art of happiness, as these Navigators in Solomon's time, were of the art of Sailing; who crused alongst so many tedious shores for reaching the gold of Ophir, a journey easily to be accomplished, in far less than half the time. Happiness is not the product of such endeavours, and these are rather hindrances then helps to Solitude. And this remembers me of that notable answer, given by Cineas the philosopher to Pyrrhus; who when he told him that he intended to conquer Greece, than Rome, and so all the world; asked him, why he proposed all that toil to himself? To which Pyrrhus answering, that he would do it, to the end he might at his return live happily and merrily with his friends the residue of his life. Cineas tancing him most sharply, told him, that he might live so, and do so presently, and so needed not be at so much superfluous pains.  
Man is so frail a Creature, and his imperfections are so great and many, that that can only make him be reputed excellent, which can best conceal his natural frailties: And albeit our judgements are but shallow, yet here lies our misfortune, that we are not able to abide the test of one another's judgement. And this is the knack, for which men who are silent and reserved, or melancholy and dumpish, are reputed wise for we admire not what we see, but what we see not. And yet, neither melancholy nor silence serve so to screen out infirmities, as solitude does; seeing such as converse in the world may be fathomed by other means than discourse, and may, upon unexpected rencounters, be even provoked to that likewise. Wherefore it is a virtuous imposture, and an allowable charltanry, to design retirement; because that secures against all the inconveniences of either of these, by abstracting us from the temptations of the one, and from the engines of the other: and if melancholy or silence possesses any thing in their nature, which can be thought excellent, certainly solitude enjoys the same in a more eminent measure; for these make but parcels of that noble state, silence being but a solitude in discourse, and melancholy a solitude in humour: whereas solitude is more excellent than these, because in possessing both their advantages, it wants the adust, bile and jealousness of melancholy, and the constipation of silence.  
Except some volatile Heads, whose mercurial Complexion hath inclined them rather to a restlessness, then virtuous activity, and who like the wind, are nothing at all when they are not moving: and ye will find the residue of men so averse from toil and employments, that they must be either brybed to them by gain, or baited with honour: and the most diligent amongst active Statesmen will wish, that their longed-for triumphs, or desired employments, were at a period, that they might enjoy themselves (for so they term it) in a solitary retirement; which is that Canaan of rest, which like Moses on Pisgah, they see afar off, but without hopes of enjoyment: and so fond are these upon one moment of it, when enjoyed, that they will disoblige for it onwaiters, neglect their interest, and slight oft great advantages. Thus than we see, that nature, inclination and pleasure, vote all for solitude; and that public Employment is unnatural in its rise, and wearying in its sequel, as it is dangerous (if not fatal) in its termination.  
I know that there are some great persons, who like great fishes, never come to shore till they be wounded, disasters, affronts and necessities driving them there for shelter, rather than choice; and this makes many think, that these encomiums given to solitude, are either contrived by Pedants, who could never reach preferments, or by degraded Courtiers, who after they have been outed of their public Employments, harangue against what they have lost, to satisfy, not their reason, but their revenge. But, to these I answer, that solitude is by this objection proved to be an excellent state, seeing even the distressed expect an asyle and protection there: for distress makes us run where we may expect help; and that must be the securest harbour, to which the distrestest vessels make their application. And I believe best these Eulogies, which solitude gets from such who know both states; and because some use this as a Pretext, therefore it must be excellent: for the excellentest things are only used, and can only serve as Pretexts; and that cannot but be much respected amongst men, whose very shadow can make misery pass for virtue, and make misfortunes be esteemed happiness. Yet, certainly, misfortunes may make men real Philosophers, as afflictions makes real Christians: and it is very probable, that one, who after much confidence in Court and Riches, hath been tumbled down unexpectedly, will be more really convinced of its slipperiness and emptiness, than such as never found the effects of so much revolution. But there are many also, such as Dioclesian and Charles the fifth, both Emperors, and many others, who after a complete fruition of all Courtly success and pleasure, have taken a solemn congee of it, whilst it yet smiled upon them, and I am confident many more would, if they did not apprehend much hazard in their retreat, from these who thought themselves injured by them in their prosperity.  
In balancing the employments of Solitude, 
Sect. 2. The employments and difficulties of both compared.  with these of greatness, because greatness will still struggle for precedency, I shall therefore scann first its disadvantages; amongst which, this is one, that either public Persons have attained to the fruition of what they designed; and in that case, there are many ways to make them miserable, because the substraction of any one of these many enjoyments, robs them of all the satisfaction they can enjoy in what remains. And there are but few ways to make them happy, because little can be added to their present possessions: or, they have not attained to what they have projected; and then they fret more, and suffer more disquietings, than the meanest servant whom they command, And like that man in the Parable, consider more the one lost sheep, than the ninety nine which yet remain. Did the conquest of all that the Sun sees, restrain, Alexander from weeping, because he could conquer no more? No. For, Ambition is like hunger, which though it is once satisfied, continues no longer so, than it hath for a little time preyed upon what was at first presented to it: and like the fire, is so far from being satisfied with what is thrown into it, that it is by that new fuel, not only enabled to destroy, but likewise forced to seek more aliment for sustaining its wasting rage.  
These who are in public Employment, have either many dependers, or not; if they have not, they are not satisfied: for, the scope of such is to be depended on, and the missing of this renders them more miserable, than poverty or sickness could a Stoic: but if they be encircled by crowds of attenders, then are they interessed, not only in maintaining their own Posts, but likewise in sustaining their numerous Clients; in whose fall, their reputation is, as in their own standing, equally interessed. And when they have been at great pains to effectuate the pretences of these their dependers, if these pretences succeed, then either the pretenders whom they assist, do arrogat the success to themselves, or their own merits: or else they think it but the price of their attendance, and so look upon it as paid before bestowed: whereas the party with whom these have to do, will ever thereafter carry the Patron at implacable malice: Or, if these pretences succeed not, than they impute it to the want of conduct, or of gratitude in these their lofty Patrons. And if any two, or moe of these dependers, should justle amongst themselves (as ordinarily falls out amongst such as are rivals in favour) than the Grandee is divided in his resolution; and as he gains no new friend by assisting the one, So he losses an old servant by opposing the other. And when a Grandee hath spawned out his Estate amongst his Favourits, one of a thousand will not prove grateful; but though all the thousand should prove grateful to one, the ingratitude of that one will be more unpleasant, then can be repaired by the gratitude of all the remanent nine hundred and ninety nine.  
As to their equals, such as are in public Employment, lie under this inconvenience, that either they please them not, and these they either find, or make their enemies; or, if they endeavour to please all, than the task is either impossible, or unprofitable: impossible, because after that they have crooked their own humour to make it fall parallel to another man's un-even fancy, than they may instantly loss their pains; when upon the same principle (of pleasing all) they endeavour to oblige one, who either is, or is believed to be, either rival, or enemy to him who was first obliged. And is there any thing more ordinar (though nothing more unjust) then to hear, ye must either not be my friend, or that man's enemy? This pleasing all is likewise unprofitable, because things are not valued by advantage but by propriety: and thus we value that friendship most, which is born to us solely, or in a greater measure than to others. Whereby it appears clearly, that if ye carry equally to all, ye oblige none, and if more to some then to others, ye disoblige these to whom ye carry least; which certainly (because our love is like ourselves, most finite) must be the greatest part: and these who are disobliged, are more zealous in their enmity, than these who are obliged, are in their friendship. The conclusion of all, which is, that albeit the great pleasure of public Employment is, that thereby they may oblige many to a dependence upon them, yet men gain by it moe, and more vigorous enemies, than such as are recluse do, albeit they profuse none of their inesteemable time upon so uncertain a purchase.  
As to their Superiors, it vexes doubtless such as are at so much toil to be high themselves, to see any yet higher than themselves; and they count as many crosses, as they do Superiors. If Statesmen be not at the highest pitch of favour, they fret at the unluckiness of their own fate, and exclaim against their ill-faced stars: and if they attain to it, than they are oft jealoused by their promotters: And Sejanus is loaded with more contumely by his Patron Tiberius, then ever he was with honours. And after that these ploding pates, have raised their designs to that line, that they conceive, they may justly admire it's noble structure, and their own skill in its contrivance; then that fabric, upon which, for (possibly) their whole life, they have laid out the whole stock of their happiness and expectation, may be in one moment, blown over by one word from their Prince, who is a man subject to his own fate, as they are to theirs: and when they perceive that the same Prince is thereafter forced to yield to his own destiny, they cannot but conclude, that they have been themselves mean persons, who was so easily destroyed, by one who was so easily destroyed himself. If Parmenio had not killed Attalus, or C●eander Parmenio, their disobedience had been a crime; and when they obeyed, their obedience was really a crime in them, and was hated as such by Alexander who commanded it: so that superiors do oft tie their favourits to the observance of what is contradictory, and consequently require what is impossible.  
It was nobly said, 
Sect. 3.  by that grand Master of Stoicism, Seneca, that, qui multa agit, saepe se fortunae objecit. And public persons are in this, like great Garrisons, which by how much the greater they are, are so much the worse to be defended, and by how much the richer they are, are so much the more stoutly assaulted. For establishing this great truth which is unum ex mirabilibus Stoicorum, I shall underprop it by these two subservient conclusions; first, that seeing that is only, in all the Schools of philosophers, defined to be morally good, which is complete at all points; and that to be evil, which labours of the least defect: certainly it must be a great task, not only to do good, but even not to fall into the commission of evil. The second conclusion shall be, that as it is almost impossible not to slip into the committing of evil, yet our escapes are never forgot, when once committed; and not only wrong they us as to that action, but they likewise detract from all our subsequent good actions: and albeit it be very hard to do what is good, yet our good actions are most unfrequently remembered; or if they be, than they are esteemed duties, and so they bring us by that remembrance, no other advantage from men, than not to bring a tash upon us. Marshal Biron's many victories, obtained by his valour, for Henry the fourth, Walsteins' for the Emperor, nor Essex's for Queen Elizabeth, did not excuse their after-treason. And Balaams' beast (though otherways an Ass) could tell its Master, have not I ridden with thee ever since I was thine without stumbling? and yet now thou hast struck me thrice? From all which it follows, that public employments, because they obliedge a man to many actions, they therefore engage him in many misfortunes, and lay him open to much detraction. Neither doth man's misery stint itself here; but, which is worse, envy, malice and mistake, blaze us for more vicious then really we are; we commit some escapes, wherein we mistake ourselves, but we are said to commit others, wherein others do but mistake us; we commit: some, which are really our own transgressions, but we are said to commit others, which are but other men's imputations. Such as are in public Employments can never want rivals; and such as want not rivals can never miss misreports; especially in our Country, where the way to preferment is so narrow, that we imagine no man can get by his neighbour, except he run over him. O! what a divine state then must solitude be, wherein a virtuous in activity fortifies us against all these inconveniences, and begets in us a tranquillity, not conceivable by such as do not possess it?.  
Have ye not, my Lord, oft heard great men say, I must do this, and assent to that, though neither the one nor the other satisfies my judgement? Have ye not seen great men forced to abandon their most deserving friends, forced to connive at, and oft to congratulate the promotion of their greatest enemies? will they not be sometimes obliged to put on a constrained countenance, feign an unnatural mine, and express what is diametrically opposite to their thoughts; all which are servitudes which greatness exacts from us: for every force is a yoke tied upon our nature; and man being more noble than brutes, because he is more free than they are, certainly what impares his freedom, destroys his reason: and most of these restraints, as they are against nature, in being servitudes; So they are against virtue, in being opposite to what our reason would (if not overpowered by interest or fancy) exact of us. And I should think, that the same impulse, which hurries men on to desire to be great, that they may be Masters, should, with far more reason carry them to be solitary: for there they are emancipat from these necessities, and have none to obey but God and nature; Masters who commands us to do nothing, but what were fit for ourselves to do, albeit we were not commanded.  
As these Countries are esteemed most excellent and preferable, whose necessities are supplied by their native commodities, pulling out of their own bosom all that their Inhabitants require; So by the same rule, solitude must be, by much preferable to public Employment, seeing this requires, and wants but little, but the other needs much, and is not satisfied when it gets what it needs. Solitude requires no avarice to maintain its table, nor oppression to bear up its train; it is satisfied without Coaches, Lackeys, Treasures and Embroideries: The solitary man is not vexed, that others must take the door of himself, or is able to maintain a more sumptuous table than he; he is not disquieted at the infrequency of guests, nor echoes of his equals praises. And seeing great men are still disquieted at the advancement of others, they must still be unfortunate; for though they were capable to receive, yet they are not able to sustain the weight of all employments alone.  
Consider these clouds which sit oft upon the countenance of men in Employments, their gate like to that of an disrudered Ship, and their discourse disjointed, and blown, as it were, all to pieces by their tempestuous passions; and ye will find such (many times) to differ but by an ace, from these who have Keepers at Bedlam: And by these disorders ye may perceive, that employment and madness are of too near an alliance; and if the one, certainly both must be diseases, seeing both have the same symptoms, and the same prognostics. And in these distempers, how oft speak they things, which are thereafter either quarre led openly, or at least are the seed-plot of continual heart-burnings to these at whom they aimed? But to abstract from all these accidental disadvantages, Is it not a madness for a rational Soul, for whom all the world was created, to observe nothing in this world, but whether another manages his Process well, with what harmony strikes another man's pulse, or how to brigue the favour of a Minion? Acts so extrinsic to the nature of an immaterial creature, such as the Soul, that if men got not money by these Employments, they would themselves condemn them as ridiculous. And is there any thing more ordinar, even amongst the herd of brutish busybodies, then to chide their friends for attending either the persons or employments of those who reward not such pains, and for so doing upbraid them as mad men? and so they are indeed. By which it is most evident, that men in employment have nothing to excuse their madness, but that they are not mad, but for money or preferment. And is it not a shame for so noble a creature as Man, to be content to show himself mad for any hire what soever?  
Solitude has likeways this advantage over public Employment, that there is no vice commissable in solitude, to which men in public lie not yet more open; whereas, there are some crimes, such as, treason, sedition, ostentation, and a whole tribe of the like nature, which retired persons can hardly commit; and though they could, yet hardly does that state admit of these temptations, which are previously necessary to the commission of them. Is there any thing more ordinar, then to hear one who is accused for deserting his friend, or party, to answer, that his office, or present designs, occasioned and required that defection? And are not men, for accomplishing their projects, tempted to betray secrets, to become rivals to their friends, and assisting to their enemies? Whereas, no Record can witness against retired persons, that they ever either ruined their native Country, betrayed their Prince, or deserted their Friend? At least, if any in that state have been tempted to the least degree of any such crime, certainly they had committed moe, and greater villainies, if they had lived in public, where those wicked inclinations might have been strengthened, by example, design, passion, revenge, or some such temptatoin. And if our inclinations be so wild, when they are caiged up in solitude, how untame will they become, when they are licenced to range abroad? He who would stob his Prince, who had never the occasion to offend his remote Cell, would burn the world, if he had a design, to which that might be subservient. Did not Nero, Tiberius, Heliog abulus and others, enjoy the repute of noble souls, before their mounting the Imperial Throne, brought them new vices, with new honours, and made them as much beyond other in their debauches, as they were in the power, which fed them in that their dissolute humour. Since than no honest person can deny, but that it were better never to have the greatest honour, then to be said by after-ages to have committed the least villainy: certainly the state of public Employment is scarce to be wished for, seeing therein men are tempted to commit the greatest of crimes; especially, seeing these their escapes must be committed in public, where they are never concealed, and but seldom (if ever) pardoned.  
As to the periods of both, 
Sect. The periods of both.  certainly solitude hath by much the advantage: For, look over the calendar of all these Heroes or Grandees who have governed Kingdoms, or were Favourites of the first rate to such as did govern them; and ye will find most of their fates marked with the red Letters of a violent death, or the black Letters of shame. Ignominy overtakes, whom fate hath left undestroyed; and Gleans the grapes, after the other hath cut down its vintage: 
— Sine caede, & sanguine pauci  
Descendunt Reges & sicca morte tyranni.   
It is observed, that betwixt julius Cesar and Charlemagne, thirty Roman Emperors have been slain, and many since. And I am so ashamed of the cruelty of those who are of the same species with myself, that I must conceal the many other murders of King's and Grandees: and as to the disgrace of others, these can hardly be sufficiently either numbered or regretted. And albeit others are not deterred from embracing those honours under which their first owners have been crushed upon the account, that they imagine their Predecessors ruin to have flowed from some personal frailty or error, against which they are confident they can guard; yet certainly all should, even from this answer, conclude, that greatness must be most undesirable, seeing, at least, it discovers these frailties, or tempts men to commit these errors, which thereafter occasions these ruins. Neither find we any such dangers to attend solitude, either necessarily▪ or by accident: So that albeit these be the misfortunes of those men, and not of the employment, yet seeing these are only the misfortunes of men in employment, I see not why employment should be so desirable by men who fear misfortunes. But the truth is, it is impossible to ward against the unexpected blows which are thrust in at such, for they are so cunningly contrived by the attacquers (because of the danger of being discovered) that they are sooner felt then foreseen. Who could dis-appoint the malice of those who killed these noble Princes, Henry the third, and Henry the fourth of France? Who could have targetted Buckingham against Feltons' thrust? And all the prudence of Caesar's Court could not avert his massacre in the Senate, especially being contrived by his confident, Brutus; Et tu fili Brute said that great Emperor. And that which renders the sudden fall of these Heroes the more deplorable, is, that by being sudden, it not only disorders their affairs and endangers their souls, but likewise so amazes their friends and followers, that they are thereby incapacitate from providing against the sequels of that fall, and are themselves (who only can help their falling friend) brought to fall with him. I have oft remarked with wonder, how ghastly the favourites of a falling Minion do look, and how astonishingly they are looked at by their former intimats; and which is strange, not only do the enemies of a fallen Grandee insult over his misfortunes, but even these who were his former wellwishers, are (to avert the jealousy of those who occasioned his fall) necessitate to inveigh most bitterly against his memory; 
Dum jacet in ripa calcemus Cesaris hostem.   
Neither can I see how greatness can be defended against misfortunes; for ordinarily these rise from such unexpected beginnings, that none see in (or apprehend the least danger by) them: and all the world is not able, by conjecture, to fall upon that medium by which providence intends to infer their ruin. Who could have guessed, that Mordecay's discovering a plot to Ahasuerus wherein Haman was not concerned, would be the mean to destroy that great Favourite? I have oft heard the friends of those who are now low, ask at such as told them of the slipperiness of favour, how could their Patron ever be destroyed? and it was impossible that could fall out during such a Government. And yet I have myself seen these men outed of all their confident expectations; a passionate expression, a rash act, a jealousy or misinformation which could not be foreseen, because then there was no bottom for such a conjecture, hath ruined ofttimes such as never expected any alteration: and who can promise that they shall never drop one word in passion, act any thing without a previous deliberation, or never fall under misinformation? And which is yet worse, when misinformations are forged against great men: They are not acquainted by such as either gives or receives them, and so their defence becomes imprestable. I have heard of Favourits who have been ruined, because the Queen said they were handsome men, or the King thought them to excel himself in any thing wherein himself pretended to a mastership: and what plodding pate could have staved off, or foreseen these misfortunes? No, no. 
Ludit in humanis divina prudentia rebus.   
And seeing there are many who have the courage to throw away their lives upon the revenge of a small affront, or to hazard them in an open, and yet almost a barren robbery, why should it be thought, that to saitsfie so impetuous a passion as Revenge, there should not be some found who will hazard death, by giving it in the revenge of either an injury done to a Family or Nation, much more of an affront fixed upon the undertaker himself, in his honour, or entire fortune, as oft falls out?  
But albeit great men and public Ministers escape the fate of a murder or massacre, yet how is their happiness founded? is it not either upon the humour of a capricious people, if in a Commonwealth? and then how unsolid is that happiness where the foundation is so fleeting? Consider Rome, which, though the wisest of all Republics, yet, upon a jealousy or a mistake, or some times out of wantonness, destroyed in an instant the most carressed, and most deserving of her Favourits, Or, upon the favour of a Prince, if in a Monarchy; and than ye must confess them ofttimes subject to all the caprices of a lofty humour, licenc'd by the extent of his power, to equal his power and his humour; and enticed, by the instigation of enemies or rivals, to stretch his humour beyond his allowed power. Why did Solyman the Magnificent, cut the throat of Ibrahim Bassa his Confident? was it not to satisfy the fancy of a Concubine? Or justinian pull out the eyes of valiant Bellisarius? was it not to gratify an insolent Wife? So that a Statesman lies open, not only to the hazard of his Master's fancy, but to the passion of his Wife, his Concubines, his Favourits and Fellow-servants, and even to Fate itself, which is the most comprehensive of all dangers.  
But albeit a Statesman were able to escape private revenge, and to manage, with success, his Prince's humour, and to satisfy that of his Favourits, yet he is still obnoxious to ragione del stato, and interest of State, by which his Prince is oft (to evite the rage of a multitude) either forced to object his Minion to their rage, as the head in a natural body defends itself by throwing up its hand or arm to receive the stroke, or else he may be pulled from the kind bosom of his unwilling Master: And of this hazard our own age affords us a lamentable instance in the person of the great Earl of Strafford, whom popular fury did drag to the Scaffold; his Prince's protection not being sufficient for his defence; who viewing, from that deplorable Stage, the inconstancy of Courtship and Advancement, did leave in legacy to his Son, a straight command never to aim at higher promotion then that of a Justice of Peace in his own County.  
Consider likeways how sometimes the satiety of a Prince produces the same ruin of Favourits, which is at other times the product of his cruelty. And Comines observes, that Lewis the eleventh of France used to say, that seeing Princes did weary of Houses, Countries and other inanimat things, which could never offend them, and which no rival or enemy was at the pains to traduce, It was no wonder that they wearied of Favourits, who were subject to all these inconveniences. Princes do likewise ruin their Grandees, sometimes to satisfy their vanity, in showing that their power is able to remove those who think they cannot fall without a miracle; and sometimes to make way to new Favourits, thinking it injustice to entail all honours upon the same persons. And, as in the body natural; So likewise in the politic, it is observable, that nature hath provided more diseases, than the best of Physicians can prevent by remedies.  
To conclude this period, be pleased to conclude the unluckiness of public Employment from this, That not only amongst rivals, one of two pretenders satisfy, by their fall, the rage of fate, but when it hath assisted the one to destroy the other, it than turns its fury against the late victor: Thus Pompey and Cesar's blood purpled equally the swords of murderers, agreeing in nothing but their destiny. Hannibal beats the Romans; Scipio beats Hannibal, and the Romans banish Scipio. Bellisarius makes Gilimer King of the Goths ridiculous, leading him as a prisoner in his triumph; and Fate renders Bellisarius yet more ridiculous, driving him to beg, with this expression, bestow but a farthing upon Bellisarius. And it is most observable, that during our civil wars, four most eminent persons, who did head contrary, as well as different parties, did all loss both their heads, and their fortunes in the quarrel; whereas it might have been expected, that at least one of the opposites, should have worn unfadeing laurels: and really there was more hazard in the fear, of being the one who was to be destroyed (for they might certainly have expected, that one of themselves, should fall) than all the grandour, which the survivers, might expect, could sufficiently requite.  
And when the monarch or commonwealth, which a Statesman hath long served, intends either in compliance with their interests, or to gratify their humour, to out their servant of his employment, or in order thereto to fix a crime upon him: then how can he escape from that trial, or defend his right against that pursuit? for where the Judge is party, there the Law may prove Advocate. And in these contrastoes, I remember few dicisions, amongst all who have collected them, of any subject, who came off with honour.  
Seeing as of all other things, 
Sect. 3. Motives to solitude from religion.  so of our thoughts the firstborn should be sacrificed to our almighty Maker; I therefore resolved, to begin my first discourse with these reflections, which Solitude might borrow from devotion. But, since Orators recommend the last place in our discourse, to the strongest persuasives (as being able when placed there to leave the freshest impressions; upon the leaving Reader) I shall therefore in this last place, (which is, alas! the too ordinar room allowed to devotion) recommend to you, to consider, that GOD possesses more excellencies, and we labour under more sins, then can be fully contemplated, in the one case, or lamented in the other, throughout the whole flux of eternity. And after that we have evacuated our more refined spirits; in chase of these fleeing follies, will it satisfy him to to have our dulled thoughts (the lame of the flock) served up upon his holy Altars? And seeing he styles himself a jealous GOD: certainly he cannot but be jealous, that because we converss with others more than with him; we must therefore, either love these better or expect more, either advantage or pleasure in their society then in his.  
I confess that public Employment, is lawful in itself, and necessary to the Commonwealth, and that men may serve GOD in the intervals of their other public negotiations. But the question is not, what is lawful in itself; but what is convenient for us, and seeing we run already, but too slowly that divine race; I see not why we should slow our pace yet more by taking on the burden of public employment. And seeing all our time is but too short, for the service of him whom far more excellent creatures than we worship uncessantly, time without end: I think it strange, that we should content ourselves to serve him per parenthesin, or by intervals.  
To these I shall add this import consideration, that most of temptations, are in Solitude disarmed of these charms, which renders them formidable to us in public: love wants there the presence of an enflaming object to second it; revenge wants the presence of the party injured to press it: and vanity when it wants admirers, wants force. Though Moses was the meekest man upon the earth, whilst he lived in the desert; yet the extravagancy of those whom he governed, when providence had advanced him, made him offend his Maker, so highly, that all his former services, could not obtain, even from the Father of mercies, a liberty to enter into an earthly Canaan. If Naaman had lived an Hermit, he needed not have craved the Prophet leave, to bow to the idols of his master; in the house of Rimmon. And if David had not been governor of Israel he had wanted the means both to humble Bathsheba; and kill Urriah, such is the ill fate of public Employment, that it not only affords us temptations, but the means likewise of effectuating that to which we are tempted.  
It was I confess GOD'S own verdict of man, that it was not good for him to be alone, but this was when because of his congenial innocence, he needed not fear the contamination of society; but to demonstrat what the hazard of being in company is: even Adam could not live one day in it, and live innocent, for the first news we hear of him, after that Eve was associate to him, is, that he had forefeited that native purity.  
I know that our Saviour, was carried by Satan to the wilderness, that he might tempt him there. But it is most observable, that after that experienced enemy, found that his Divinity would not yield to any thing therein represented; he thereafter (as the last and so the strongest shift left to him unessayed, did bring him to jerusalem; and having advanced him above the temple, he proffered him the half of the belted world, and all its glories; a temptation, sitted only for such as value honour and public Employment.  
When GOD Almighty intended to converse with Moses, He called him from the populous camp, to the top of Mount Sinai. And our Saviour did not disclose the glories of his Transfiguration at jerusalem, but upon the top of the Mount of Olives. The Widow who intended a lodging for Elisha that great Prophet, did build it apart upon the wall, 
2 Kings 4. 10.  furnishing it only with a Stool and Candlestick: and when he asked her, if he should speak for her to the King, or Captain of his Host, she told him, without farther answer, that she dwelled amongst her own Friends, and in her own Country; 
2 Kings 4. 12.  intimating thereby, that there was no need of any favour Kings could bestow upon such as enjoyed so happy a recess. I recreate myself to think I see Elijah sitting under a juniper Tree, or in a concealed Grove, visited in that solitude by the same GOD, who refused His presence to mighty Ahab; and to contemplate how Ahaziah was able to find no ease upon his purpred couch, till he dispatched in quest of it some of his chiefest Captains to court it from the same Prophet, sitting upon the top of a mountain: By all which places and postures, the Spirit of GOD (who losses no observation) intends doubtless to enamour us of solitude and recess. And it is very observable, that none of these old Prophets are found, in Scripture, at Court or in Public, but as bearded Comets appear in the air, where they have no other earand then to denounce Judgements to the place over which they hover.  
GOD Almighty, who because he is the object as well as enjoyner of our devotions, should, and does upon these and many other scores, best know how to address them; hath commanded us to retire into our Closets (the most solitary of all our rooms) and to make these yet more retired, hath ordained us to close our doors behind us when we make any religious applications to him; promising, that he who seeth in secret, will reward us openly: And if we will consider these gaudy distractions, whereby our public devotions are almost rendered no devotion at all, and that there is more noise in the world than will suffer us to hear that still voice which cries behind us, This is the way, walk ye in it; certainly we may conclude, from both reason and experience, (as well as out of obedience to divine Commands) that solitude is the true forge of the purest devotions. When GOD did intend to discipline his beloved (though rebellious) Israel, he chose first the wilderness of Sinai, and then the two Captivities to be his sacred School. And, Hosea 2. 14. he tells his own people, that he will allure her (meaning the Jewish Church) and bring her to the wilderness, and speak comfortably unto her.  
Religion hath another quarrel at Advancement, which is, that it devests ofttimes its enjoyers, not only of devotion and of friendship, which is a moral virtue, but even of affection; which is so natural to brutes themselves, that a man is worse than these when he wants it: and not only forget they it upon such necessities as might at least excuse, if not justify, their so doing, but do so likewise to satisfy their humour; a slavery which deserves to be condemned, though its object were in itself justifiable. No man could have believed, if Scripture had not told it, 
1 Sam. 18.  that Saul would, from being an absolute Monarch, descend to so low a baseness, as to cast away his daughter Michael merely that he might destroy her Husband: Or that a Prince of Midian would have prostitute his daughter Cozbi, 
Numb. 25.  to the promiscuous multitudes of the Israelit●sh camp, of design to tempt them to a sin: which could not but be attended with his own infamy, as well as their ruin. Was it not for this that Romulus cemented the first foundation of the Roman walls with the blood of his brother Remus? And though Abel and Cain had the division, of what tempts (I will not say) satisfies now the ambition of many thousands to gratify their expectations; yet, was not so ample a partage able to prevent the spilling even of a brother's blood, by one whose crime was so much the greater that it was without precedent, and was to become an example to many thousands of succeeding ages? Many whereof might, and have been thereby not only encouraged to commit afresh this old sin, but likeways to seek, in the greatness of this offence, excuses, whereby to lessen their own barbarity.  
But if any call in question the advantages that accrue to devotion by solitude, let him cast back his eye upon the primitive Church, wherein the material fabric was contrived dark, and situate in the remotest corners and solitary Groves, both by Pagans and Christians; as if that black enamel heightened the lustre of the golden Candlesticks: and upon the infinite swarms of such as became Monks and Hermits, encouraged thereto by the homilies and entreaties of the noblest Fathers; of which state the Emperor justinian did, after he had kept that oecumenick Council, become so enamoured, that he hath registrat it's noble Eulogies in the Frontispiece of his divine codex. Whilst, upon the other hand, the Heathens of old, and now the mahometans did, and do teach, that one of the chief torments in their hell shall be, that men will there be cast louse to to these occupations and civil employments which here exercised them; esteeming it a torture for illuminat spirits, and such as are defecat from sensuality, to be re-embarast with such terrestrial affairs as busy us in this our earthly state. Pardon, my Lord, this inroad I have made upon devotion; and learn from it, that solitude and devotion are so nearly related, that we can hardly praise the one, and not commend the other.  
I shall hear use the authority of great Hero's; who, after the fruition of both, have by much preferred solitude, whereas (which is very strange) there is not a single testimony to be had from such as these, in favours of public Employment.  
The first shall be of Charles the Great, 
Marineus lib. 18.  who, being to die, cried out to these who stood about him; O! how vain are the thoughts of men? and how wretched are they that aspire to glory? What hath my Kingdom, or the service of so many men gained me? Much more happy had I been, if in stead of a Sceptre, I had wielded an hedging Bill; and if of a King I should have made myself a Clown: Following in this almost the very expressions of Alphonsus his brother: Suatocopius King of Bohemia and Moravia, having lost a battle against the Emperor Arnold, did retire himself into a wilderness, where, after he had lived a long time with three Hermits, he at his death told them, that there was not any greatness preferable to the tranquillity of that solitude. The safe sleep (said he) which we enjoy here, makes the roots savoury, and the waters sweet; whereas the cares of a Kingdom makes all meat and drink taste bitter. That part of my life, which, I have passed with you, was true happiness; whereas that which I led upon my royal Throne deserves more the title of death then of life. And Gyges' King of Lydia, puffed up with his great wealth and many victories, having asked the Oracle of Apollo, if there was any man happier in the world than himself, had Agesilaus the poor Arcadian shepherd preferred to him. And Similis, one of Adrian the Emperor's chief Captains, having retired to the Country, after all his preferments, caused grave this Epitaph upon his own Tomb, Here lies Similis, of a very great age, who yet lived but seven years. I might here cite Constantine, that excellent King of Scotland; Theodatus King of the Goths; Charles the fifth; Sertorius, and hundreds of other Princes, if I thought it not more of advantage to solitude to say of these, that they are so many, they cannot be cited.  
Seeing then reason and experience do impress us with so pungent dissuasives from greatness, 
Sect. 3 ●an 6. examined.  let us a little examine what can be in it, able to preponder to so weighty discouragements.  
The first prize contended for by great persons, is Fame, a revenue payable only to our ghosts; and to deny ourselves all present satisfaction, or to expose ourselves to so much hazard for this, were as great madness as to starve ourselves, or fight desperately for food to be laid on our Tombs after our death. Either public Ministers value much the discourses of the multitude; and if so, they err in offending them as oft as their gain or pleasure affords them the meanest temptation, or else they value these not; and if so, why is there so much pains, taken for Fame, which is nothing else but a collection of their suffrages: which reflection recommends much to me, that stoical fear, given to Hannibal by juvenal, 
— I demens, & savas car per Alps,  
Ut pueris place as, & declamatio fias.  
— Climb over the Alps, thou mad, vain glorious fool,  
That thou may children please, & be their theme at school.   
For convincing us of the folly of this passion, be pleased to consider, that either our souls, have the same period with our life, and then to talk of us after death, is to talk, of what is not; and what advantage brings it to us when seeing we are not, what is said o● us, cannot affect what is not, or our de●parted souls survive, in eternal bless. And then the loud hallelujahs of my riads of Angels, will easily drown so the voice of Fame in our ears, that it will not be heard by us; and our souls will be so replet with infinite joys, that there will be no room for its report, though it were exauceable; for Fame, being b● air, must yield and flee out at the access of any thing, that is more solid, or else the souls of these, who are praised, will be damned: and then they will not be susceptible of any pleasing impressions. And I am confident that one of the torments of damned spirits, is that they imagine all the world to be full of their infamy. And seeing the Fame of the greatest of men, is not able to solace him in the fit of a fever, or gravel; Why should we imagine that it can lessen the weight of such pressing torments, as infernal horror, or eternal damnation? To talk of Amphialus, who never was, is the same thing as to talk of Alexander: only Amphialus, cannot be stained with cruelty, vanity and drunkenness as Alexander is: but albeit Fame were to be courted, what share of it can we expect, who are scarce known beyond the line of our own History, and but transiently in that likewise? Who amongst us would toil as we do, to be esteemed, as Popenham or Bajard, (whom I believe very few have heard of) and yet these acted upon the continent of the world, and did greater things than the present state of affairs will admit us to do. And I am confident, that there lived lately at the Court of France and Spain, hundreds of Courtiers, who enjoyed fat taller honours than we, and who would not have embraced the honours we grasp after; and yet Fame scorns to be at so much pains as once to mention their names. How many know not at present, the name of that grand Visier, who but lately made Germany tremble? and to say that it was the grand-Visier, is to praise his Office, and not himself. Who can name the greatest Cardinals at Rome, or Dogi of Venice? And yet, what infinite pains is taken to gain these employments, by such as live upon the place?  
I smile to see underling pretenders, and who live in a Country, scarce designed in the exactests maps, sweat and toil for so unmassie a reputation, that when it is hammered out to the most stretching dimensions, will not yet reach the nearest towns of a neighbouring Country: Whereas, examine such as have but lately returned from travelling in most flourishing Kingdoms, and though curiosity was their greatest errand, yet ye will find that they scarce know who is Chancellor or first Precedent in these places; and in the exactest Histories, we hear but few news of the famousest Pleaders, Divines or Physicians; and by Soldiers these are undervalved as pedants, and these by them as madcaps, and both by Philosophers as fools.  
But though Fame were desirable, yet public Employment is not always attended by it: for, either advancement is attributed to the fancy of the advancer, or to fate and hazard. And in either of these cases, the person promoted is not honoured, but his fate; and it will be loudly proclaimed as a thing most strange, that one of so mean merit or so rebellious principles, or tainted with any such vice (as envy will either find or make) should be promoted to such honours: whereas if the same person had satisfied himself with a solitary life, his real vices had neither been discovered, nor such forged vices proclaimed; and because people blame Minions, whilst they live for what they dare not charge upon their Master, their envy or revenge transmits' to posterity, that character which was received to their prejudice, whilst they yet governed. Was Perenni●● famous, though Commodus then Emperor raised him next to the throne? or Oliver the Barber, though Lewis 11. made him his Minion? No, for Princes can bestow greatness, but Fame lies no more under their jurisdiction the● the winds do, from which it doth b●● little differ. Of all witnesses Fame●s the most suspect, because it ordinarily flatters most these who depended most upon it, and were at greatest to●● to gain its suffrage, and to depon●● falsely against the greatest of such 〈◊〉 value not its testimony: and as it's report, is by law judged, to be unstable as water, So in this it resembles much the water that it presents (like to it) the straightest objects to our sight, as crooked and uneven. And since Fame depends upon the credulous multitude, and upon unrestrainable accidents, who can assure himself of its suffrage? or believe it when it is obtained? If the Soldiers prove cowardly, and lose a battle, the General is for ever affronted, and yet he cannot help it: or if a Servant betray a Statesman's secret, than the Master's prudence is for ever traduced. Ignominy being like all other black spots (a tenaciousness peculiar only to that colour) which cannot be worn off, nor washed out: And the designs of Statesmen being as latent, as the springs which do inwardly move mechanic machines, the people (whose intelligence cannot reach these) judge of the designs by the events: And if at any time the event answer the contrivers expectation, than the malicious multitude ascribe this success, either to hazard, or to their power. And, to speak seriously, power is so happy a suffragant, that it takes off much of that repute which is due to the contriver: for, who can be foiled having such a second? And to convince us, that power and command conceals what strength and energy there is really in the Governors' wit, reflect but a little upon those pitiful rebels, who governed lately this Country, and did seem most wise, whilst they were vested with power: Of which, being now again devested, their wit falls far short of the first cast. Like those Venetian Ladies, whose native stature rises, and allows in appearance, according to the height of these, socculi whereupon they walk. But if Fame be the great prize, I see not why the Literati and Virtuosos, or retired Curiosi, may not put in for as large a share in it, as most (if not any) Statesman: For, if that maxim hold, that propter quod unum quodque est tale, propter hoc, illud ipsum est majus tale: certainly it follows in true Logic, that seeing solitary persons are the dispensers and bestowers of Fame upon great men, they cannot miss it themselves. How had Aeneas conduct, or Achilles' valour, been forgot, had not Homer or Virgil sung their Eulogies? And after a great man hath defeated Kingdoms, a pedant is (like the silly worm) able in one night, to consume that blossoming gourd of his reputation: And seeing the world know not what the one did, they will believe what the other said. History (which is the grand-register of Fame) is known for the most part only to retired persons, and these will admire most what suits most with their own humour: And Fame itself being most obliged to such as study solitude, it obliges ordinarily these most, because they have obliged it. Aristotle hath proved himself, by his Syllogisms, a greater person than Alexander his famous Scholar; Solon is more famous for his moral advice to Croesus, than Croesus, who possessed those mountains of gold; which were the subject of his advice: and Cicero's tongue, though pulled out of his head by Anthony, hath spoke out his praises louder, than all the acclamations of the Roman legions and echoing artillery could proclaim that more than Monarch. And seeing that man is happiest, who is happy whilst he is a man, such as attain to Fame by solitude, are happier than great men, because they are happy whilst they are able to find it, whilst the others have it only when they are not sensible of what they have. Compare julius Cesar (to the stature of whose repute our dwarfish endeavours will never be able to rise) with Lucan, who wrote the story of his wars, and ye will find Lucan the much happier: Consider Cesar, macerat oft with hunger, stiffened with unrewarded toil, jealous of his own soldiers, and apprehensive of the Senate, tortured with the uncertain events of the war, and terrified by the having killed his Son in law Pompey, after he was sure of the victory. And then return your reflections upon Lucan, sitting in the bosom of a shadowy grove, flanked with a crystal stream, and there creating those noble lines, which have since carried his fame as far as Caesar's actions; and having in this the advantage of Cesar, even as to posterity, that Caesar's soldiers, Pompey's ill fate, the Senate's irresolution, and the cowardliness of their Auxiliaries, share with Cesar in the event, and really more than he; whereas Lucan inherits the sole praise of his story now, as he did the pleasure of having wrote it whilst he was yet alive. But to conclude the folly of Fame, consider even this generous Lucan, falling under the sword of Nero; because that cruel Prince was ashamed to see himself so far outdone in wit by one of his own Subjects: and from this learn, that Fame is suspicious to its dependers, when it bestows its favours, and injust, when it denies them.  
Next to this, 
Sect. 6. The pleasure of commanding others examined.  the satisfaction received in commanding others, is admired as one of the ravishing advantages of public Employment: And the soul of man in this, seems to have retained still a false appetite of being like to its Maker. But seeing this design could not be managed even by the judgement and purity of the greatest of Angels, so as not to deserve the severest punishment, and did in them prove also ineffectual; I find that little hopes can be entertained of our succeeding in it. But consider seriously, that it being a congenial humour in all mankind, to desire freedom; certainly great men must conclude, that their dependers would not bow to such homages, If they thought not thereby to oblige their Patrons, to the full requital of what they so highly value: And therefore, these being debts, rather contracted by us then favours done us, I see not why we should so highly prize them; and seeing in return to these, protection, salaries and Offices are expected, all which put us to real pains; consider if these imaginary pleasures deserve to be bought at the rate of such real vexations. The Magnifico must himself bow to his Prince, bear his extravagancies, swear a friendship with these whom he hates, dispense with affronts, spend all his time in attendance at Court, and in observing these humours, which he must thereafter superstitiously obey; and all this, that he may gain wherewith to repay salutations, flatteries, legs, congees, and such like pitiful pleasures; and that he may screw himself so far into the respect of the people, that he may have hats pulled off to him, which will be likeways done (and for the same reason likeways) to a lifeless chair of State or the meanest fool, if his shoulders be strong enough to bea● a tittle, or any other the meanest mark of his Prince's favour. And that he may be magnified by his dependers, whom because of their interest none will believe, being bribed to depone what they say of him, is not this satisfaction a mere act of fancy? And is it not saifer to translate our fancy to some other object, then to moderate it here? And who can assure himself, that when he hath arrived at that pitch of command which he presently proposes, that this shall terminat his ambition? and is not the French King as much troubled, that he cannot command the Grand-signior, as a french courtier is for being lower than his King. And after that a Chancellor, hath rendered his place, by any short possession familiar to him, he than despises what he enjoys, by the same principle which invited him to desire that employment, when it was yet above his reach. But abstracting from these considerations, what can it advantage any man that another bows to him? It can neither cure Gout nor Gravel: And when he is displeased at any thing else, it is so far from being able to solace him, that that which vexes him most, is, that any person can be found who dares displease one who is so great as he: and if he had not been so great, that accident which now grieves him, could not have vexed him: so that in wishing to be great, we wish that we may be made more susceptible of affronts, than nature hath already made us.  
I need not tell you, Celador, that great men are obliged to attend more submissively their Superiors, than we do them: because these have more designs than we; and design is the occasion of our dependence. So that if there be any pleasure in liberty, we enjoy it more than these; and if there be none, why is there so much pains taken to be great, upon expectation, that greatness sets at liberty? A private man is not obliged to oppose his Relations, fight against his Country, give his own Judgement the lie; all which are but the meanest impositions that some Princeslay upon greatness: and why should men purchase, at so dear a rate, the liberty to serve others, which is all that greatness can bestow?  
I know that society is one of these satisfactions which we rank amongst the pleasures of the first magnitude; 
Se. ct 7. The satisfaction of society examined.  and that as to the possession of this, solitariness seems to cede to public Employments. But when we consider, that the prerogative of society stands not in seeing one another, but in rational conversation, it will appear that the difference is not wide. For, what pleasure can be received by talking of new Fashions, buying and selling of Lands, advancement or ruin of Favourits, victories or defeats of stranger Princes, which is the ordinary subject of ordinary conversation? And really I have admired to see persons of virtue and honour long much to be in the City, where when they come, they found nor sought for no other divertisement then to visit one another, and there to do nothing else then to make legs, view others habit, talk of the weather, or some such pitiful subject: and it may be, if they made a farther inroad upon any other affair, they did so pick one another, that it afforded them matter of eternal quarrel; for what was at first but an indifferent subject, is by interest adopted into the number of our own quarrels. This begets heats; heats opprobries; opprobries revenge; and revenge leads either to fret, if we cannot satisfy its thirst; or to ruin, if we cannot quench it. How many likewise are in these rencounters, tempted either to betray their ignorance or malice? and if one know not the new name of such a dish or dress, such an intrigue, or such a quarrel or marriage, than they are esteemed blockheads. Most of men desire to frequent their Superiors, and there men must either suffer their raillery, or must not be suffered to continue in their society: If we converse with these who speak with more address than ourselves, than we repine equally at our own dulness, and envy the acuteness that accomplishes the speaker; or, if we converse with duller animals than ourselves, than we weary to draw the yoke alone, and fret at our being in ill company: But, if chance blow us in amongst our equals, than we are so at guard to catch all advantages, and so interressed in point d' honneur, that it rather cruciats then recreats us: How many makes themselves cheap by these occasions, whom we had valued highly if they had frequented us less? and how many frequent persons, who laugh at that simplicity which the addresser admires in himself as wit, and yet both recreate themselves with double laughters? It is remarked by Geographers, that no King alive is worshipped by his Subjects but the King of Binon, and that he is never seen by them▪ and certainly, if he were seen, he would not be worshipped. And thus these ancient Hero's were never deified, till death had, by burying themselves, buried the memory of these infirmities, which, though they were but few in some, and mean in others, had notwithstanding enough of allay in them to make the committers, not only be conceived no gods, but ofttimes to represent them as frail men. Familiarity is (in the proverb) said to breed contempt; which it does not only by that natural satiety, whereby nothing can become common and continue (to our apprehension) good, but likewise, by laying open to conversers these lapses and failours, which if they deserve not contempt, do, at least, lessen that repute which was in others founded for them rather upon Ideas which they framed of our perfections, then upon these merits which might justly challenge them. Familiarity hath likewise this prejudice in it, that it blunts those endeavours in us, whereby repute is ordinarily acquired; and in remitting that exactness whereby we entertain strangers, we loss that share of esteem which exactness and politness deserves; these extraordinary parad's, made ordinarily to our less familiars, being a holy-days dress in conversation, which though it flatters, ceases not therefore to weary us. Our Saviour does himself, and of himself, say it in holy Scriptures, that a Prophet hath no honour in his own country; and the foolish Jews gave him ground to say so, when they concluded that he could not work miracles, because his mother and brethren dwelled amongst them, and because they did know him and his extraction.  
But if variety be that which is admired in society, certainly our own thoughts, or other men's Books, can in these far exceed conversation; possessing above it this advantage, that we can never be either importuned or betrayed by these, as is much to be feared from the other. And it is most remarkable, that after Solomon hath fixed a vanity and vexation of spirit upon all the actings of men, and hath after several times subjoined it to public Employment, he only says, that reading is a wearyness to the flesh, without adding it to be a vexation of spirit. But albeit society were to be valued at the rate imagined, yet solitary persons enjoy more ●he sweets of society then great men ●●o: for, in all addresses to these, the addressers consider only what is sit for their private interest, and little else is added, besides the dropping of a flattering expression or two: and when any disinteressed subject is fallen upon with them, it is spoke to with so much constraint, and the speakers are so hemmed in by discretion and respect, that the discourse is managed with much disadvantage. And our very duty teacheth us, that to speak learnedly, is pedantry there, and to speak religiously is impertinent: So that we must either transgress our duty, or else be mean in our conversation. But, albeit the humour of the Grandee were so noble, as to admit of freedom in conversation; yet few ingenuous spirits (who are the only best companions) can speak freely in public, or to public persons: whereas, the most hidebound Orator can pour his conceptions into his neighbour's bosom, in their natural set and fashion, and with as little alteration as a discourse receives, by being cast off the Press upon paper.  
Reflect but upon these many thousand apologies which are carried up and down amongst such as converse much together; and which, as they make up the greatest part both of their employment and vexation; So are not incident to any who live solitarly, these being the natural product of conference and rencounters: And ye may conclude, that either these who make such apologies, are as real in making them, as they seem passionate in having them to be believed; and then, conversation may appear to be most dangerous, seeing these prove, that men may easily mistake, and are so easily mistaken by such as daily frequent them, as yet to need so solemn and so numerous apologies; or else these are but feinged, and then they prove conversation to be yet more dangerous; seeing, as men are subject to mistake and be mistaken, so our own real apologies for those mistakes will not be believed, because of the frequency of other counterfeits; nor can we, for the same reason, discern whether such as are made to us be real or not: what was the subject of this day's conference, will be the subject of an accusation to morrow; and that secret, which we thought we did but lately depositate in our friends breasts, will shortly fly in our faces from the mouth of our enemies: But though our friend were real and secret, yet his inconstancy may make these either no virtues at all, or ineffectual and unprofitable ones; a quality now so ordinary, that I take pleasure to see both myself and others mistake the several interests which they knew intimatly a year ago, cabals and intrigues moulding themselves almost every month in different shapes, according to the humours or interests of the parties concerned: And so pestilential is the malignity of conversation, that even Ladies fail here, and this piece of frailty they are suffered to carry about them to keep them from being adored,, because of their other amiable qualities: For, if their converse were not dangerous, because that any error is there a crime, and no affront can there be revenged, certainly there should no place else be frequented. Consider, I pray you, how discourses are laughed at, though never so witty, if three or four combine to represent them as ridiculous; how a slip, either in the choice or accent of a word, becomes irreparable, by being incurred in a society where nothing is designed but censure; and when any proves happy in that trade of jybing, they must be gauding abroad (so tempting is this folly) though sure to meet in these journeys the repute of slight or dishonest; and that Jearer, who at the beginning was esteemed a wit, is, by continuing his trade (yea though he improve in it) undervalved as a Buffoon.  
It was nobly observed by Marcus Antonius, that great Emperor and Philosopher, that a Weaver or Cobbler, would willingly sequestrate themselves from all society, that they might prosecute their several trades; and yet man cannot retire himself, that he may admire the creation, and exercise his own soul, which is the great trade of a rational Creature, and of a true Philosopher. And since gain can prevail with all so far, as to make them renounce society, and esteem company an idle folly; certainly, if we would reflect upon the great advantages of solitude, both as to morality and devotion, it were an easy matter to prefer it to those which are in themselves but trifles, if not burdens.  
I have these three Arguments to persuade me, 
Sect 8.  that solitude, 
That solitude is more pleasing then public Employment.  Contemplation, or a Countrey-life, have more of pleasure in them then public Employment. The first is, that pleasure, being in men, an act of the fancy, and consequently of the soul; certainly these pleasures, which do more immediately affect the soul, must needs be the most active pleasures; and such are these which arise from contemplation: whereas sensual pleasures, and such as arise from exterior objects, do arrive but consequentially at that immaterial agent, and so they do move it with far less vigour. A second is, that Contemplation does often drive our souls into ecstasies, and is so charming, that it may be rather said to ravish than please, committing so open a rapture upon our souls, that it pulls them almost into a state of separation: Thus those old Hermits are the members of the ancient Church, who are oftest remarked to have become thus nobly senseless, being as far transported out of themselves, as they had transported themselves formerly out of the world, and lying whole weeks under that spiritual amazement, and drunk, as it were, with those streams of consolations which slow from those blessed Cisterns, the open wounds of our glorious Saviour. And amongst the Heathens, did not Pythagoras almost distract with the satisfaction conceived in finding that noble and famous demonstration mentioned in the second Book of Euclid? Was not Pliny so ravished with the pleasure of contemplating the rarities of the hill Vesuvius, as, for further enquiry to approach so near, that he lost himself in its flames? And was not Archimedes so much pleased with his demonstration upon the sands of Siracuse, that he would not lose so much time from it as wherein he might beg his life from the rude conquerors: Whereas, besides what comes from fear or revenge, we read nor hear of no such mighty passion in any of these who live in the fruition of public Employments, or sophisticat satisfactions. The third Argument is, that we find the satisfaction resulting from honour and ambition, to ced to very mean pleasures, and to such as have nothing of satisfying in them, besides what they owe to the corruption of our senses, and to be such as do themselves yield easily to this energetic pleasure of contemplation.  
Is not a Gallant, and even a Statesman, who is in love with a Mistress, and sometimes with a whore, or hath an unquenchable thirst for wine or companionrie, willing to prefer the satisfaction of these passions to all advancement, or the pleasures which he can receive by them? And this evidences, that this desire to govern, is, of it's own nature, none of the strongest; at least that our fancy may have other objects less dangerous, and equally pleasing, whereupon to dote. And a Pedant, reading Pompey's actions in good Latin, is as much enchanted with it, at least with the having written handsomely his Epitaph, as Pompey could have been himself in the fruition of all his glories, and the most spreading ruff of his pride. And a Country Gentleman is as much taken with a happy chase, or a Clown with a mean hire, as the happiest Favourite can be with the purchase of the highest office, which the fear to lose, or new pretences, and much anxious attendance, doth lessen much to him: But if these concessions of gain or honour occasion raptures in the receivers, that joy brings more tickling with it, then is fit for the spirit of man to receive; and occasions want of sleep, discomposure in discourse, and all these other extravagancies which proceed from grief at other times: Whereas, Solitude gives no other pleasures then what is fit for our recreation, or suitable to our reason and stoical indifferency; so that seeing every state hath pleasant objects provided for the enjoyers fancy, that state must be most preferable which fancies objects the least dangerous; and such is Solitude, but such is not public Employment.  
I think the ancient Philosophers put but a mean compliment upon man, when they called him a little world: for certainly, his vast soul hath in it nobler ideas of all that is created, than the finitness of matter will allow to the Creation itself; whose spirit is so narrow, but it can in one thought represent larger Spheres, a more vast Globe, and more boundless Seas, than all these which were brought from the bosom of the first Chaos? And after infinite expense hath impoverished a building Prince, the meanest Peasant can in his fancy add exceedingly to its bulkishness; and which is more, that faculty can mould ideas of thousands of species never yet created, that can bring forth more monsters than afric, and can produce more novelties than America: and as we cannot but admire these productions, for their variety; So we cannot but love them, because they are our own. And thus, seeing there can be no pleasure in that variety which is to be discerned in the world, but what our fancy takes, (for, what else is there in beholding real Castles, Navies, Courts or Cities, but a divertising of our fancies? for nature needs none of those) certainly, retirement hath in this the start of its rival: for there, fancy is at fuller freedom, and roaves with less contraction then when it is limited by the narrowness of the senses; through which wickets, certainly nothing can enter which is angust or ample. In public we see the same men most ordinarily still act the same things; and we ourselves are so much busied with our interest, that we regard little even the small variety which is discoverable in them. And certainly, it is a great disparagement to the Creation to think, that there is not variety enough there, to busy our meditation; or that there is less there then in a City or Court: It is true that we'll see there variety of Hangings, Cabinets, and such like toys; but if we would view the various faces of the sky but one day, we would perceive more of variety in those, more of excellent colours and various motions, then in ten thousand such trifles as these. Consider but the beauty of one tulip, and it's several freckles; the motion of one Bird, and it's several wheelings; the shapes of several worms, and their different crawling; and ye will find task enough, and more variety there, than a City can afford, wherein they may represent you a painted Rose, but not its smell; the shape of a Fowl, but not its motion: And yet men there dot upon that one quality of shape in pictures, more than upon ten thousand real species in the complex of all their excellent qualities; which if ye call fineness, I see no reason why ye may not call madness virtue. It is not then want of variety in nature, but want of observation in us, which occasions this error; and he understood all things infinitely better than we, who said, that Solomon in all his glory was not like one Lily of the field. It's reported of a great Philosopher, that for fifty years he employed himself in the observation of Bees, and all that time found both new task and pleasure; and never any could say that he had observed fully all that was to be observed in flowers, Anatomy, Astrology, or any of these Sciences, amongst which the least copius in measuring lengths hath advantage of our lives; and yet we complain. that retirement (where these are only to be found) hath not employment or divertisement enough for us.  
But if these suffice not, my dear Celador, enter into your own breast, and there survey the several operations of your own soul, the progress of your passions, the struggle of your appetite, the wander of your fancy; and ye will find, I assure you, more variety in that one piece, than there is to be learned in all the Courts of Christendom. Represent to yourself the last age, all the actions and interests in it, how much this person was infatuat with zeal, that person with lust; how much one pursued honour, and another riches; and in the next thought, draw that Scene, and represent them all turned to dust and ashes.  
The world is a Comedy, where every man acts that part which providence hath assigned him; and as it is esteemed more noble to look on then to act, So really, I know no securer box, from which to behold it, than a safe solitude, and it is easier to feel then to express the pleasure which may be taken in standing aloof, and in contemplating the reel of the multitude, the eccentric motions of great men, and how fate recreats itself in their ruin, as if it fed them with success, as the Romans fed their Gladiators, who served for nothing else but in beating one another, to recreate the disinteressed beholders. Consider how some are cartelling for not drinking of a glass, others fretting at the promotion of their equals; one vexed that he was not safely delivered of his prepared harangue; another scanning every syllable of his frowning Mistress letter: 
Heraclitus. Democritus. Sect. 9 Solitude enriches more than public Employment.  And even these humours again laughed at by some; and that laughter wept at by others of these Virtuosis, who pretend to a Dictatorship in moral philosophy.  
Some admire public Employment, and prefer it to solitude, because the one gains (whilst the other wastes) an opulent fortune: But these should consider, that as these Merchant-venturers would eminently deserve to be esteemed mad, who would hazard their Stock in a voyage, where certainly ten of a thousand bottoms will not return unshipwracked; So pretenders to advancement must be mad, seeing scarce ten of a thousand prove successful in the design, so few are the preferments which can enrich, and so many the hazards in reaching them; and which is worse, of these ten which are preferred, scarce four will be found, who do not prove so unhappily long-lived, as not to survive their conquests and honours; and having got a glimpse only of happiness, En passant, do become so much the more miserable, that they have been once happy. And as to these with whom greatness is pleased to continue, do they not ofttimes, by raising themselves as high as their fancy, raise themselves too high for their estates, and the one by swelling make the other to burst? How few Grandees are not forced to eek up their spend with contracted debts after their own revenues are wasted? whereas such as live privately, and in a Countrey-life, transmit to their posterity the remainders of that yearly rent which rests after all necessities are defrayed: So that the Countryman must be rich, seeing his necessities overcome not his fortune; and public persons must be reputed poor, seeing they have not sufficiency for their maintenance. Is not a little man as well clothed in his four yards of cloth, as a taler is in six? And are not the Princes of Italy esteemed but petty Princes, because in desiring to be such, they have made these fortunes which might have made them rich Subjects, too small for the support of so weighty titles, as that of Sovereign? But admit that these enjoyments continued for the enjoyers life-time; yet GOD ordinarily takes from the length of the duration what these added to the breadth of their conquests: As a too hasty concoction destroys the body; So a too soon conquest estate destroys the conquest: and what like Ionah's Gourd flourishes in one night, loses the next these blossoms wherewith it was adorned. Hasten not to be rich, was the counsel of a great Moralist, as well as Divine, and GOD Almighty gave us no other task, then to gain our bread, and that with the sweat of our brow: So that in desiring great and sudden estates, we are peccant both as to the matter, and manner of our acquisition: And what can we propose reasonably to ourselves in thus doing? for little can defend us against our present necessities, and nothing can defend against the future. And when these riches are piled up, they serve either to satisfy nature, and that is easy; or to satisfy fancy, and that is impossible. When a public Minister hath gained, by either toil, oppression, or a long courted favour, a great sum, he possibly makes a great entertainment, or buy's a great Jewel, with that or the equivalent, and either surfeits in the one, or vexes himself in losing the other; and albeit he do not, what pleasure is there in either of these, but the serving of our fancy, after the same manner that children do, when we laugh at them for hugging toys and babbles? Most men are as much troubled in the spending of what they gain, as in gaining it; and thus one trouble creates another by an alternat succession. All we gain (saith Solomon) is either for food or raiment (pomp and supersluity being no design allowed by nature) and much or fine of either of these, serve not to defend against either cold or hunger: And so seeing the Peasant or solitary Philosopher, attains sooner to the true end of riches by his sobriety, than the other by his abundance; certainly he must be the richer; and that is most excellent which attains soon to the end for which it was destinat: If such want money to give lawyers or Physicians, they also want employment for these; and without employment no man desires money: So that riches are really (though they remain) but like the manna, 
Exod. 16. 18  whereof he who gathered little had abundance; and he who gathered too much, had nothing over: And if riches remain not but take the wings of the morning, and flee away, as oft they do, then consider that public Persons are most subject to these alterations; for forfeiturs, alterations of Government, or favour, intestine wars, luxury, gain, popular fury, or an heir confiding in his father's prosperity, or educat amidst many spending wanters, and such other dissolute persons as frequent public places, will sooner drive to that necessity, which men should only fear, than moderation or retirement can do: And when great men are impoverished by these accidents, they are ashamed, because of their former state, and incapable by want of suitable breeding to repair their losses, or satisfy their necessities by pains or frugality, as private men can; and which is worse than all this, their former prosperity makes want far more unsupportable to such, then to the other, to whom the greatest hardships have been rendered familiar.  
As to such who think, 
Sect. 10. The satisfacti of lust considered.  that public Employment and Command will afford them convenience to satisfy their lust, I can say nothing, but that it's better to live in a sober solitude, wherein men may so tame their lusts, that they need not satisfy them: There is no pleasure in eating but to such as are hungry; and certainly, it were for our advantage, rather that we could live without being hungry, then even to have as much as might satisfy hunger when it comes: High feeding, and want of better employment, begets this; and what impairs these extinguishes it: Whereas, I am confident, such as are servilly subject to it, suffer more anxiety in the purchasing of that conveniency, then private men can do by the want of bread: For they will for that purchase disoblige friends, cheat their intimats, prove ungrate to their sweet bedfellows, suffer themselves to be talked of, and run a thousand other hazards, which they would not encounter for staving off the greatest of these necessities under which mean men suffer; and when this is gained, what brings it, but sickness, jealousies, horrors in conscience, and reproach amongst men?  
When I compare solitude with public Employment, 
Sect. 11. The recreations of both compared.  as to their recreations, I find, that the one follows only such as because nature hath invented, it doth therefore sweeten, and such as have no danger in them, besides that of being too much charming; as hunting, hawking, angling, and the like, wherein we have occasion to learn, as well as to praise, the workmanship of our mighty Maker: And in the other, such divertisements are most familiar, as if they have not been invented to gain money, or seed lust, yet are not really recreations, if they look not towards these ends; and which are attended by so much toil, fretting, sweeting, swearing, lying, cheating, and other vices, that their great pleasures are the worst of torments except their tragic periods; of which nature, are cards, dice, tennis, danceing, drinking, feasting and whoring, which do oftener divert men from being real Christians, then divertise those who are really such. If great men enjoy not recreations, they become unfit for employment, and employment becomes a burden to them; and if they sequestrate the meanest portion of time for private recreations, they are cursed by those thousands, whom multitude of affairs, rather than laziness, hath deferred, and who are so unreasonable as only to consider that they are put off, but not to consider wherefore.  
Though food and raiment are no constituents, 
Sect. 12. Both compared as to their food and raiment  yet they are too often looked upon as considerable appanages of our more material happiness; and these used by great men, though they cannot make the enjoyer happy, yet serve to make the bystanders conclude themselves unhappy in the want of them: And therefore I shall make these few reflections upon both, whereby it will appear, that as to these, the meanest men are more happy than the greatest Monarch.  
As to Raiment, certainly, that used by private men, is most noble, most easy, and attended by fewest inconveniences: Most noble, because in these great men follow the mode, but mean men make their own mode, and so the one, as to that, is a Subject, and the other a Sovereign: Great men are servants not only to the fashion, but to such clothes as are in it, they must abstain from every thing which may soil or disorder them, and must employ much of that time and life, which is the only thing they pray for, and which they buy with much torture and money from Physicians, merely in adjusting them every morning, and though it should prejudge their health or estate, they must have these fashionable and rich. How many shifts will be used, and other pleasures abandoned, that money may be got to give for these; whereas a solitary person wears such as are convenient for his health, and may be subservient to any employment; and that his are more easy, appears from this, that great men, when they resolve to take their ease, lay aside their robes, which served for nothing else, but make themselves sweat, and others gaze: Jewels and Embroideries may make clothes, by being stiff, useless and insupportable, but neither are necessary to cover our nakedness, or entertain our natural heat. And when the fashion changes, these rich suits serve only either to make the owner ridiculous, if he wear them, or to make him fret and grumble when he must lay them aside; and though they continue fashionable, yet if another outstrip us in a more sumptuous suit or retinue, than we repine, and by missing our design of being more gallant than others, we likewise miss our happiness; which, because it was not placed upon something which was in our own power, it is therefore in the power of every other man to take from us.  
As to Food, that which is used by mean men is both more natural and more pleasant; more natural, because it is prepared with less toil, and being cooked by nature itself, serves nature more adequatly, as to all intents and purposes; it neither entices men to eat till they be unable for their affairs, nor brings it sickness; it affords strength, and prolongs life; whereas, when public Employment brings riches, and these have hired cooks, all they can do, is to cheat the stomach into an oppression, and by fumes sent from thence, chase away fine thoughts out of our heads to make room for vapours. Solitary persons dine when they please, but great men when it suits with their business; and as they are more subject to invitations, to feasts and entertainments; So they must there sit longer, and eat more than nature requires, and they must either disoblige their Host, or kill themselves. I know many, who in place of complementing such as they invite, make them envy them; and many who are vexed when they hear of another who lives at a nobler rate than themselves, and who pillage the poor, that they may entertain the rich; That the Food of private men is more pleasant, arises from this, that the stomach hath, by its fumes, depraved the taste, so that nothing can relish; or custom hath rendered the finest delicacies so ordinary, that nothing can appear pleasant; a Peasant by fasting longer, or working more laboriously then at other times, can thereby heighten the relish of his dish beyond all the art in the Emperor's kitchen, or Apothecary's shop. And I have heard of a Merchant's wife, who being much subject to diseases whilst her husband's trade flourished, did live very long, and very healthfully, after he was broke. And when rich persons fall sick, who knows but their Physician may contribute to make the disease continue long, or the apparent air to make it end suddenly: And when the Physician is honest, does he not forbid the use of all these delicacies, whereof greatness boasts of as an advantage?  
The greatest pretext used to excuse this zeal, 
Sect. 3. Object, That the Country must be served.  after public Employment, is, that the Country must be served, and man is not made for himself: To which my answer is, that this makes employment the object of our duty, not of our passion, and infers it as a necessity, not as a choice, which is all that is contended for: Who is so absurd as to deny his Country that service, which is really but the return of its protection? Or, who will be so mad as not to contribute either skill or agility in saving that Ship from sinking, wherein himself sails? And this makes me conclude such as rebel against their Governors, to be as mad as these are, who pull down their own houses, which defends them oft against the circumambient and blustering storms; and gives me a veneration for the persons of such as are my Superiors, to whom nothing said here, that is disadvantageous, should be applied. But if the serving of our Country be that impulse, which only acts us on to undertake employments, this same design should make us wait till we be called for by our Country: do not pretenders to employment, in desiring each to enter first, obstruct all entry to employments? As we see, in entering at public places, where the pressing of all hinders the entry of all; do we not upon this account oft remark, that offices are kept vacand by Princes, because of the multitude of rivals who compet for preference, and so by their haste to enter, prejudge the Country more, then by their entry they can assist it: Whereas, if it were for the public good that we undertook these employments, all would wait till their rational reluctancy were vanquished, with either the importunities of their Prince, or conveniency of their Country: And when that design for which they were called, were satisfied or driven to it's designed period, they would willingly solace themselves again, by their retreat to these Countrey-employments, from which they were at first rather driven, then brought. And certainly, if the public interest were that which only did invite men to appear in public, they would not repine at their being laid aside, nor force an entry through the very sides of their Country, making a breach in its ramparts, because they cannot enter at its gates, as too many pretenders daily do.  
Should not such as the State have thought fit to remove from employment, 
Sect. 14 It is just that there should be changes in favour.  consider, that others have an equal title by nature, to advancement with them; and that, as if their predecessors in these offices had not been removed, they had not been advanced? So either it was injustice to remove these, or else i● is no injustice to remove them; and they should rather prove grateful for having enjoyed these honours so long, then ingrate in repining, that they retained them not still, which were as unnatural as if the Sun should constantly dwell in one of his twelve houses (making that the only Summer-house in heaven) and should not, by successive withdrawings and returns, magnify his presence by his absence, and by that constant change be so just, as not to gratify all, that he may please a few. If these, who are in offices, were not subject to alterations, they would presume too much, and such as wanted them would certainly despair; whereas, now the fear of being degraded, makes such as are in employment virtuous and compassionate, fearing lest their practice become their dittey; and the hope of advancement makes such as yet have not attained to it, walk so as may deserve applause, and so as they may shun reproach: If such alterations were not incident to great men, they would oft want occasion and time to repent of those sins which they committed in public, either by inadvertence, having their thoughts distracted with many things; or by extravagancy, having their thoughts raised above their just level. And if there were not such alterations, great men should neither have time to admire GOD'S many wonders, nor to review his many mercies, and it should be unknown whether Greatness or solitude were the most Christian state.  
Many noble spirits have been frighted from solitude, 
Sect. 15 Solitude lessens not our vivacity of spirit.  as conceiving it to be a state wherein the soul contracts a rust, which cankers its own substance and makes it unpleasant to others, and that it begets men the name of a Countrey-clown, and unfashions him as to the world. But these should consider, that seeing the finitness of our souls allows not a complete accomplishment, it is our wisdom to fill our narrow rooms with the most necessary provisions, and these are, the knowledge of God, and his works; from which will result that tranquillity of spirit which is peculiar to Philosophy, and is the guest of solitude: So that when in exchange of compliment, courtship, knacks, repartees, and such other appanages of conversation, we become pious, learned and moral Philosophers; I think us losers in no other sense, than a tree is, when it's gaudy flourish ripens into such fruit as can both please the relish, and feed the body. It may be, a Philosopher may forget by his solitude whether to give a Lady his right or left hand; but if in his solitude he hath learned to know what is right or wrong in her or his own actions, I think she should esteem him so much the more, and he is by much the more happier. And if the world conclude him improven, who in learning how to order an Army, hath forgot how to order a ball; I see not why they should account him an Apostate in breeding, who is so intent upon the contemplation of a Deity and its productions, as not to care to adore these mortal goddesses, except for whom the pressers of this objection have little or no devotion, being rather devoted servants to these, then devout servants to the Almighty: and how can that soul rust which is in continual exercise, as these of Philosophers are? And this is more to be feared in such, as by living in public are still busied, and yet idle: for, may not we be busy in soliciting for unnecessary favours to others, in receiving and paying visits, in driving on unnecessary factions, and yet our souls contract a rust, whose cancer may make it at last moulder away to nothing? For, what share can our souls take in such actions, wherein it hath no other concernment than such as a man hath in the motions of his enemies?  
Let us then admire solitude (noble Celador) seeing to it religious persons flee when they would seek GOD'S face; sick men when they would seek health: here Statesmen find their plots, learned men their knowledge, Poets their sublime fancies. In solitude, nestle the greatest of Saints; in public, range the greatest of Sinners, to the one we owe the best of inventions, to the other the worst of cheats.  
Having thus raised this pitiful structure to its Cape-stone, I resolve to furnish it with these two Landscapes; the one of solitude, the other of Greatness.  
When I come to represent solitude, 
Sect. 16 The Landscape of solitude  I must confess that its advantages are so great, as that if any thing can surpass them, it must be the esteem I have of them. And for contriving its Landscape, I represent to myself Quintus Maetius post humius, that noble Roman, who having been brought from his plough to govern that great City, did after he had conquered its enemies, return to his former employment; and being ready to leave them, called for a balance, and▪ by putting the falces (or marks of Authority) in one scale, and his plough in the other, did let them see, that these Imperial Ensigns were the far lighter. Not far from him, I represent Timon the noble Athenian, and Gerson Chancellor of France, who starved after they had spent their estates in compliment and liberality; exclaiming against all public persons as perfidious, and friends (as they found) to a man's fortune, but not to himself. Here Diogenes undervalues so far all Alexander's presents, as to prefer one sight of the Sun to all that he could command, who commanded all that the Sun shined upon: and there Fiacre, that illustrious Scot, refuses to return from his Hermitage to receive the Crown of his Ancestors. Here lurks St. jerom, laughing in the midst of his own torments at the follies of the world: and there the great Constantine bewails with tears the want of solitude; and the multitude of these distractions, which though they did not extinguish, yet did disturb his devotions. Below these stands a Country-gentleman, admiring the folly of a Venetian Ambassador, for being vexed to death, because he was at a festival placed upon a stool, and not upon a chair; and smiling to see a Russian Ambassador, who could not step (though very sound) till he was led by two attendants; and to hear of the Emperor and Turk's Ambassadors, who at their last meeting, behoved like two Pendula's Clocks, either to set their paces equally, or else not to be reputed just. Represent to yourself rich Valleys, where the liberal soil needs neither be brybed by yearly accessions, nor courted with nice attendance, nor torn by instruments (as in City-gardens) before it will bestow any thing upon its Masters; but without keeping close doors (as these do) keeps an open house to all passengers for herbs and flowers of all tastes and liveries. Here the Nightingale is constrained to stay without any other cage, then that of the native pleasures of the place; and here the Sun looks from morning to night with a pleasing countenance, upon the offspring of his own beams, neither clouded with smoke, nor intercepted by angles of falling houses; and these, in effect, differ from Gardens, but as Prose from Meeter, where the materials are ofttimes richer, though the contrivance be not so artificial. Here the levelling, though aspiring, trees, lay their heads together, to protect such as seek shelter under their well-cloathed branches: and the Cristal-streams run slowly and turn many windings, as if by that and their quiet murmurings, they would express an unwillingness to leave so pleasant a field; and in token of their thankfulness, do in a generous manner (because without showing how) enrich freely the neighbouring Lands, and draws to their Master his picture in one instant, without putting him to the pains of frequent or long sitting, beyond all the skill of Vandyck or Angelo; entertaining likewise for him whole plantations of fishes, which may afford him both aliment and recreations beyond all that the City can boast, where water never comes, but empty, and as a prisoner, and like all other things and persons corrupts, if it but stay a while there. Here old age crowns, with innocence's livery, these who have innocently improven their youth; and youth bestows strength, because it knows that the strength it bestows is not to be revealed away in whoring and banqueting. Here Ladies scorn, and need not submit their native colours to fairding, and in their blushing at the sins and impudence of City-gallants, show a scarlet far exceeding the noblest Lilies, though Solomon and all the glory of his Court was not to be compared to one of these. Here Compliments (which, like cobwebs, are but the artificial texture of pitiful stuff, woven by poisonous spiders) are looked upon as unnecessar and dangerous; unnecessar, because there goes much of time and pains to their contrivance, yet do they not persuade such as they are addressed to, to believe them so well as Countrey-ingenuity does its inhabitants: and dangerous, because they are ordinarily but handsome disguises for such cheating inclinations as are sent abroad to betray the party concerned. Here Lovers are not like prisoners, coupled together with chains of metal, nor joined, like Princes, in a league for civil interest. Jealousy, that moral fever which tortures so the soul of man, as that GOD was content to ordain a miracle for satisfying his doubts, finds no employment here: for virtue entertains these matches which itself hath made, and lengthens out their productions to many more ages, then are able to consume thousands of public families. And (to dispatch) here, Nature, the eldest daughter of Providence, governs as Queen-regent, and receives so absolute a difference to all her laws, that man may be here thought to be restored to that primitive innocence, which he formerly forfeited by his courtship.  
For framing the Landscape of Greatness, 
Sect. 17 The Landscape of Greatness.  represent to yourself Alexander running like a mad man up and down the world, and killing every man who would not call him master (for certainly, we would call any man mad, who would behave so in our streets, and yet they might as justly do the one as he the other) and all this to gain as much as might make him a person worthy of being poisoned; and esteeming all his greatness so meanly, as to prefer to its enjoyment the embraces of a whore, who would have prostitute herself to the meanest of his attenders. Here lies Tiberius toiling more for the title of Emperor, than a Porter would do for bread, and yet preferring to all that Roman pomp (after he knew what it was) the pleasure of seeing a naked Strumpet, than which no man is so mean, as not to enjoy many greater pleasures. There stands Hannibal, as a Switz, guarding the King of Bithynia; here Chancellor Bacon starts at liberty, and there the Duke d' Alva starved in prison; in this bed lies a jealous Courtier, tortured with another's growing, not only greater, but even equal with him; and in another lies one loaded with wounds, received for his Country or Prince, but not regarded by them: not far from these lies Anthony stobbing himself, and Cesar stobed by the Senate. In another corner, ye may perceive a rich heir selling that rich Suit to a frippery, wherein he had but lately spent a great Fortune at Court; and another despairing under these wounds which he did receive, for challenging one who took the wall of him. Here ye may see the head of a Nobleman, who to be revenged of his Prince for complementing another, was content to hazard the happiness both of Prince and Country, in a rebellion which at last could not but ruin himself and his family; and there ye may see the quarters of another, who after he had gained much more honour than he at first designed, yet was so desirous to have more, as that to satisfy that desired super-addition, he would hazard what he was already possessed of in jeopardies, which any man not blinded by ambition, might have seen to be fatal. In a third corner, lies heaps of such as Somerset, Marquess D' Ancre, Duke Murdock, Cardinal Wolsey and others, whom nothing but their affronts have made famous, albeit they were the greatest Ministers and Minions of their age.  
In a fourth corner are represented many great men, who having left a pleasant Country to come to a City, covered with smoke and infected with stink, are there vexed to get money to entertain their Ladies in that luxury and fineness, whereof the one tempts them, and the other tempts others to entertain these amours which are dangerous, and may prove fatal; and who have likewise quit their own families, wherein all these respects were paid them, that they are glad to have occasion to pay at that Court, for which they exchanged their former residence; and who, by the diseases occasioned by want of that free air which they have left, are rendered unable to relish all the other pleasures which they expected to enjoy in the City. And if after all this, ye will not conclude a solitary Life to be more noble than public Employment, yet at least ye will, with seraphic Mr. Boyl, confess, that there is such a kind of difference betwixt virtue shaded by a private, and shining in a public life, as there is betwixt a a candle carried aloft in the open air, and enclosed in a lantern; in the former of which situations it gives more light, but in the latter it is in less danger to be blown out.  
I shall (Celador) in this last place, close this Discourse with the last advantage of solitude; which is, that by abstracting ' its favourits from being rivals to great men, and from being sharers with covetous men, it conciliats to them that applause, which as it was due to their merit, so was obstructed by these and the like incentives.  
— Defunctus amabitur ide●● hath been the fare of many who were persecuted whilst they were alive; and death and solitude have this in common, that they suffer enemies and oblige friends, to express their former esteems: fame resembling in this a shot, where the ball is fled, before the report arrive at our ears.  
But I have spent so much of the age of this night, in ending this Letter, that it now begins to grow grey; and the dapling twilight brings as much light as to let me see, that I have been rather zealous, then mannerly, in showing you how much I am,  
Dear Celador,  
Your most humble Servant, and sincere Wellwisher.  
FINIS.