FIVE PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTIONS, Most eloquently and substantially Disputed:  
VIZ:  

I. Whether there be nothing New in the World.  
II. Which is most to be esteemed;— An Inventive Wit, Judgement, or Courage.  
III. Whether Truth beget Hatred, and why.  
iv Of the COCK; and whether his Crowing doth affright the Lion.  
V Why dead Bodies bleed in the presence of their Murderers.   
LONDON, Printed for George Badger, and are to be sold at his shop in S. Dunstan's Churchyard in Fleetstreet. 1650.   

Whether there be nothing new.  
THe desire to learn is natural, and no less pleasing to the mind of man, than his desire of getting: and indeed, it is one kind of getting: and as men receive more contentment in one new purchase, than in often thinking on all those which they had made before; so our understanding takes a great deal more pleasure in feeding upon new nourishment, than in chewing the cud upon that which it had already: yea, and among those new repasts, if it light upon any which it never tasted before, it receives it, as our palate is wont to do, with so much the more pleasure: for nature is more pleased with the change, than with the continuation of the use of any thing: the reason is, because seeking the supreme good, and not finding it in any of those things which she hath yet made trial of, she always hopes to find it elsewhere. This sweetness, is that which allays the bitterness of learning to children, who are ravished with the pleasure of learning all those Histories and Pedantical conceits, which we can so hardly endure when we are grown to more age. It may be, it makes old men so melancholic, because you can hardly tell them any thing that they know not, and therefore men's talk is tedious to them: whereas ignorant youth admires and takes pleasure in every thing. And we are so delighted with novelty, that there is no beast so ill-favoured, which seems not pretty when it is young, witness the Ass' foal; nor no plant of so little delight, as that novelty cannot commend it, as we see in the Hop and the Primrose. But I distinguish Novelty into Physical or Natural, Moral and Artificial. The first of these is in new productions, whether of substances, or accidents, as of diseases unknown to the Ancients. The second of new and unusual actions. The third of Inventions. According to which distinction, we may state this question, and that in my opinion, must be done thus: There are no new substantial productions, Nature having displayed all her forces almost these six thousand years (according to true account, and much more, if we believe the Egyptians and Chinois) and having run through all imaginable varieties of species, by the divers combinations of all her matters; and also through all mixtures of qualities and other accidents: which makes it impossible to show any disease that is new and unknown to the foregoing ages. But for actions it is another case; their number cannot be determined, because they depend upon the liberty of man, which could be no longer liberty, if our Will were not free to pass some set number. Much less can Inventions be said to be determinate and reducible to a certain number, because they depend in their productions, upon the wit of man, which is infinite in its duration, and in its conceptions, which cannot be bounded, no not by that Vacuum which some have imagined on the further side of the Heavens. Of which all our inventions are proofs sufficient.  
The second said, that this exception is unnecessary, there being nothing at all new in any of those forenamed classes, according to the testimony of him that was best able to judge, as being the wisest, and who had made the most experiments; I mean Solomon, who boldly pronounces of his own times, that there was not then, nor should ever be any new thing. How much more than is it true in our time, being so many years after him? For, to begin with the formae substantiales, as they call them, there is not one of that sort new, not only in its species, but even in its individual qualities, which, indeed, appear new to our senses, but yet are not so for all that: as the shape of a Marble Statue was in the stone not only in possibility, but also in act, before the Graver made it appear to our eyes, by taking away that which was superfluous, and hindered us from seeing it. And if we believe, that we have so good a horse that his like was never found, it is not because it is so, but because it seems so; other horses, as good or better than that, never coming to our hands. Much less likely is it that new diseases should be produced, as some have believed, imagining that the Ancients were not curious enough to describe all those of their times, or their Successors diligent enough to examine their writings to find them there. As for humane actions, do we see any nowadays, that have not been practised in times past, whether good or bad, valiant or cowardly, in counsel or in execution? And that which they call Invention i, s for the most part, nothing but a simple imitation in deeds or words. Thus, Printing, and Guns, which we believe were invented within these two or three hundred years, are found to have been in use among the Chinese above twelve hundred years. So saith Terence of speech, Nihil est jam dictum quod non dictum sit prius. Our very thoughts, though they be innumerable, yet, if they were registered, would be all found ancient.  
The third said, That Nature is so much pleased with diversity, which is nothing else but a kind of novelty, that she hath imprinted a desire of it in all things here below, and, it may be, in things above also: for they are pleased in their work, and the supreme and universal Causes produce us these novelties. Thus the different periods of the heavens make new aspects, and new influences, not only every year, but also every month, every day, yea, every moment. The Moon, every quarter, shows a several sort of face; and particularly, when she sends all her light toward the Sun, she is called New. The Sun at his rising is new, and so he appears uncessantly to some Country or other in the world; in each of which he makes new seasons; and amongst the rest, Spring, because it is the most pleasant time, is commonly called in France le Renouveau, because it renews all things: the air decking itself with a more cheerful light, the trees clothing themselves with leaves, the earth with greenness, the meadows being enameled and embroidered with new flowers. The young man that feels the down upon his chin, acknowledgeth his mossy beard to be new: upon his wedding day he is a new-married man: it is a pretty new case to his Bride to find herself made a woman: her great belly and lying-in, are also novelties to her: the little infant then borne, is a new fruit: his first sucking is new, his teeth at first coming, are new. And so are all other conditions of Clarkship and Priesthood, and Widowhood, and almost infinite others. Yea, many things that seem not at all to be new, yet are so; as a River seems very ancient, and yet it renews itself every moment▪ so that the water that now runs under the Bridge, is not that which was there yesterday, but still keeps the same name, though it be altogether other indeed. We ourselves are renewed from time to time by our nourishments continual restauration of our wasted triple substance. Nor can any man doubt but that there are new Diseases, seeing nothing is written of them in the books of the Ancients, nor of the remedies to cure them, and that the various mixtures of the qualities which produce them, may be in a manner innumerable; and that both sorts of Pox were unknown to the Ancients. But this novelty appears yet better in men's actions, and divers events in them, which are therefore particularly called News. Such are the relations of Battles, Sieges, take of Towns, and other accidents of life, so much the more considerable, by how much they are ordinarily less regarded. It were also too much injustice to go about to deprive all Inventors of the honour due to them, maintaining that they have taught us no new thing. Do not the Sectaries and Heresiarches make new Religions? Moreover, who will make any question, whether we have not reason to ask what new things Africa affords nowadays, it having been so fertile in Monsters, which are bodies entirely new, as being produced against the laws of Nature. And when the King calls down money, changeth the price of it, determines its weight, is not this a new ordinance? In short, this is to go about to pervert not only the signification of words, but also common sense, in maintaining that there is nothing new: and it had not been amiss if the Regent, which printed such Paradoxes in a youthful humour, had never been served with newlaid eggs, nor changed his old , and if he had complained, answer might have been made, That there is nothing new.  
The fourth said, that there are no new substances, and, by consequence, no new substantial forms, but only accidental ones; seeing Nothing is made of Nothing, or returns to Nothing; and in all the other Classes of things, there are no new species, but only new individuals, to which Monsters are to be referred. Yea, the mysteries of our Salvation were always in intellectu Divino. Which made our Saviour say, that Abraham had seen him. And as for Arts and Inventions, they flourished in one Estate, whilst they were unknown in another, where they should appear afterward in their time. And this is the sense wherein it is true, that, There is nothing new.  
FINIS.   

Which is most to be esteemed, an Inventive Wit, Judgement, or Courage.  
THe life of man is intermingled with so many accidents, that it is not easy to foresee them; and though our prudence could do that, yet it belongs to the Inventive faculty to provide for them; without which, the Judgement remàines idle. Even as a Judge cannot give sentence till the Advocates or Proctors have let him understand the arguments and conclusions of both parties, that he may know to whether side he ought to incline; which, in us, is the office of the Wit or Invention to do: Without which also Courage is but a brutish fury, which inconsiderately throws us headlong into danger, and so loses its name, and is called foolhardiness. It is the good wit that enables us to do and say things in the instant, when there is need of them, without which they are unseasonable; like the Trojans Embassage sent to the Roman Emperor to comfort him for the loss of his son, who died a year before they came; and therefore he requited their kindness with comforting them for the loss of Hector, their fellow Citizen, slain by Achilles, in the time of the war between the Trojans and the Greeks (above 1200 years before.) It is the Wit that seasons all the discourses and actions of men, who make no other distinctions of good and evil, of wisdom and folly; but by our speaking, or doing things fit for every occasion: which is the act of the Wit, and not of the Judgement or Courage, although in great and heroical actions: all the virtues are to be found inseparably chained together; witness all those neat flashes of wit, witty speeches, and replies made upon the sudden, which have always gotten their authors more honour & favour, than their premeditated words and actions, to which the Judgement contributes more largely than the other two. It is the Wit, that by its inventions, drew men from their caves, and the life of beasts, to give them palaces, food, raiment, conversation, and in a word, all the commodities of life which we enjoy at this present. For the better deciding of this question; suppose in one company, three men differently endued, the one having a good Wit, the second a ripe Judgement, and the third a great Courage: This last man can bear with nothing; the judicious man will say nothing which he hath not first well pondered, he will rather hold his peace; and both of them may find much diversion in the inventions of the ingenious man; who also, if they fall out, will find a means to make them friends again; whereas the judicious man would use so many circumspections, that their quarrel would grow old, and be past the estate of accommodation wherein it was, when he began to seek the means of agreement, whilst the other being merely courageous, would hear nothing to that purpose: But their ingenious companion will find a remedy for all these difficulties, and will show them the way by his own example; none being harder to be reconciled, than those which are not at all ingenious. In war, the courageous, I grant, will run headlong into danger more readily: The judicious will delay an enterprise, oftentimes employing that time in consultation, which should have been spent in execution: but the Engineer, like Archimedes, will defend a Town all alone, or will set upon a Fort, and subdue it by the force of his inventions, better than a thousand men could have done with handy strokes. As we may see in stratagems, which have more success than open force, so that it is become a Proverb, Cunning is better than Force. Antigonus having scattered many Bills of Proscription, wherein he promised a great sum to him that should kill Eumenes; many of the soldiers of Eumenes began to plot his death, till Eumenes, as soon as he heard of it, called his men together to thank them for their fidelity, telling them, that he having been informed that some of his own soldiers had a design upon his person, thought good to scatter those Bills under the name of Antigonus, that so he might discover those which had the traitorous intent; but he thanked them, he found no such villains amongst them. This strain of Wit stopped the designs of his enemy, and made them unprofitable. In private business, one puff of wind upon the Sea, one war happening between two neighbouring estates, one change of some customs by land, have need of more Wit than of Judgement, or Courage, to save you harmless from shipwreck and loss. In the Courts of Law, their Replies are pieces of Wit: Yea, Wit is of so great esteem with every one, that all the perfections of the Soul are comprised in this word. The French when they would express all that may be said of man (beside the comeliness and graces of his body) say only he is homme d'esprit. I therefore think, that the Inventive Wit ought to be preferred before Judgement, which is of no use, but only in such affairs as afford and require choice, as Courage is only for dangers.  
The second said, In vain have men Wit, if they want Judgement to guide it, as for the most part it comes to pass. So that ordinarily they are accounted opposites. Also fools want not that sharpness of Wit, which serves for Invention; nay, rather both it and Courage are sharpened and made more active by the heat of frenzy. But it is Judgement that they want, the loss of which makes them be called fools. Which is observable in the same company which was but now mentioned: Wherethe Engineire or sharpwitted man, will talk of very fine things, but he pours them out like a torrent, and without discretion: whereas the Judicious man shall give better content than either of them, though he speak fewer things of the business in hand than they do: But the Courageous man is apt to give distaste, it being usual with such to run beyond the bounds of that respect which other tempers are ashamed not to use; for Judgement proceeds from a coldness of temper, opposite to that heat which causeth promptness of Wit, and Courage. In war, the Inventions and Courage aforesaid, are also ordinarily not only unprofitable, but also hurtful without Judgement: Which also in traffic, is the thing that directs the Merchant in his choice of the several designs which he proposeth to himself, and of the means to attain his ends: without which deliberation nothing comes to a good end, neither in war nor merchandise.  
The third said, that the most courageous do always give laws to the rest, and so cause themselves to be esteemed above them. For in the first place, if the company aforesaid be of knowing men, before whom you are to speak; Your invention and disposition (the effects of wit and judgement) will stand you in no stead, if you have not the Courage to pronounce your Oration, as we see in the Oration which Cicero had penned for Milo. Nay, it is impossible to invent well, if you want Spirit, which gives life to all actions, which have the approbation of all men, whether at the Bar, or elsewhere, so that they call them Brave actions, and full of Spirit. And if Courage be of esteem in all actions, then in War it is esteemed above all; and the Laws punishing cowardliness, & not the defects of Wit or Judgement, do plainly show, that they esteem Courage more than either of the other.  
The fourth said, That those which speak in favour of Wit and Courage, employing their judgement in the choice of the reasons which they produce, do sufficiently show that judgement is above them, as being the cause that they are esteemed. For, you know the Philosopher's maxim, the cause hath a greater portion of whatsoever it communicates to the effect, than the effect itself hath. Also the Judge is greater than the Advocates; to whom we may compare the Wit, because it proposes the means, and the Judgement makes choice of them; and as for Courage, if it be without Judgement, it deserves not the name. Without Judgement, the inventions of the Wit are nothing but Castles in the air, and empty fantasies, like a ruined house without chambers, or any other requisites. Such Wits for want of Judgement, dwell upon nothing, but always skip from bough to bough, and from conceit to conceit; which for that cause are not ordinarily so profitable to their inventors, as to the judicious, who better know how to make use of them. In truth, you shall find most of the inventions in those which have least practice, their in experience making many things easy, which practice shows to be impossible, and therefore they never found entrance in the Fantasy of a practitioner. Also, there is more courage found in beasts than in men; and in men we often see that the most courageous are not the most judicious, but according as the quicksilver fixes in them by age, so they grow less and less inventive and less resolute to expose themselves to such perils, as their foolish youth, and want of experience caused them to undervalue.  
And to say the truth, the Judicious man hath all the Wit and Courage that he should have: for he that invents, or proposes things contrary to a sound Judgement, goes for a fool: but he that hath Judgement, cannot want Courage; for these two cannot stand together, to be judicious and yet not to foresee that Courage is necessary in dangers, for the avoiding and overcoming of them: So that he that saith a man is Judicious, presupposeth Wit and Courage in him: but not on the contrary; there being many courageous, but neither judicious nor inventive; and more that have Wit without Judgement.  
The fifth said, that all our actions being composed, all the faculties contribute to them: and they must needs be faulty if they be not seasoned with Wit, Judgement, and Courage: but if we compare them together, the Wit is the most delectable, the Judgement most profitable, and the Courage is most esteemed.  
FINIS.   

Whether Truth beget Hatred, and why?  
TRUTH is an affection or quality of speech, agreeing with our thought or apprehension: Whence it follows, that to speak the truth, it is sufficient to speak of things as we think of them, whether we have conceived of them aright or no. For which reason, they say in Latin, mentiri, est, contra mentem ire. Yet there are two sorts of Truths; the one single, which is the truth of the terms, as also there is an untruth of the terms, for there neither is, nor ever was any such thing as a Chimaera: the other is composed truth, which is an indicative speech, wherein we affirm or deny something of some other thing; which manner of speech is only capable of truth or falsehood. For, truth properly taken, is when not only our discourse agrees with the species which is in our understanding, but also when this species agrees with the thing spoken of. So that truth may be called, the measure or agreement of any thing with the understanding, and of the understanding with the speech concerning that thing. This truth may be again divided according to the difference of its objects, into natural, which treateth of the nature of every thing; and civil, which speaketh only of the actions and customs of men. These things being granted, I think that truth of itself begets no hatred; and therefore we need not seek the cause why it doth: but on the contrary, I say with Aristotle, that we love truth, and that in such a measure, that we like no falsehood but that which hath an appearance of truth; which we call likely or probable: which makes the romants to be disliked as soon as we discover any impossibilities in them. And they that would amuse little children with monstrous tales, must yet so fit them to their little wit, as that they may believe them, and so think them true; which is easily done, because of their want of experience. But, forasmuch as the greater part of men is imperfect, so fare as they love to be praised, so fare do they hate those that tell them the truth of their defects, which ordinarily carry blame with them. And because the same reason that makes every one love his own praise, makes a man also take pleasure in blaming of others, that he himself may seem more perfect: Hence it comes, that dispraise being very well liked by all save only him whom it concerns, who is very sensible of it; it was upon this ground that Terence said that Truth begets hatred, especially when it is opposed to flattery, and to complying with the humours of every man; which makes truth appear so much the more austere: as a Countryman coming next after a Courtier, seems so much the arranter clown; and all other contraries set near together, make one another the more discernible.  
The second said, that this proverb [Truth begets hatred] is not grounded upon truth; for, every man not only professes it, but also gives testimony, that he is pleased with it. It is also the object of our understanding, which never rests till it hath found it, seeking it with no less earnestness than that wherewith the will seeks after goodness. So that setting truth on the one side, known to be such, and on the other side untruth, likewise known to be such; it is as impossible for the understanding not to love the truth, as for the will not to incline to a known good. This love of truth is so remarkable in all persons, that not only the judges, according to their duties and places, do use all possible diligence to find out the truth of a fact; but also all those which are not at all interessed in the business, are notwithstanding so much taken with it, that though their ears be extremely tired with listening to the one party, yet they have not the power to refuse audience to the other side that undertakes to discover falsehood in his adversaries tale: and if the understanding do not conceive the truth, it never remains any more satisfied than a hungry stomach would be with painted meat. Wherefore, it belongs only to diseased minds to hate truth, as only to sore eyes to turn from the light. Wherefore, as men do not determine of colours, tastes, and other objects of the sense by the judgement of indisposed organs, nor say sugar is bitter, because the tongue in a fever, being filled with choler, judges so; even so ought we not to say, after the perverse judgement of the vicious, that truth begets hatred; and by consequence we are not to seek the cause of a thing which is not so.  
The third said, that whatsoever agrees to our nature, and is found in us all, cannot be called a disease, but rather the contrary. Now, not only the understanding and the inner senses, but also all the outer senses of man, taken in general and in particular, are pleased with falsehood, and love to be deceived: Whence it comes to pass, that of all the sects of Philosophers, there was never any sect more esteemed than those which disinherited the abilities of our mind, and held themselves in a continual suspense or uncertainty: nor was there ever any more ridiculous than those that were most confident of their opinions. And because the acknowledging that we cannot know truth, is a kind of truth of which our understanding is uncapable; therefore did Democritus lodge truth in a pit; and others said she was flown to heaven: both expressions signifying, that she is out of men's reach. Besides, our understanding loves its liberty, no less than our will loves it; and as the will should no longer be free, if it were necessarily carried to some object; whence proceeded so many differing opinions concerning the chiefest good? even so our understanding foreseeing that if at once it should know the truth, it must cease to be free to turn from it; it therefore prefers likelihoods and probabilities: from whence ariseth that pleasure which we take in disputes and problematical altercations. For which cause also the sect of Pyrrhon is by most men esteemed above all others. And the greatest part of the Sciences and Arts have no foundation but upon the errors of our faculties: Logic, upon the weakness of our understanding in discerning of truth; for the better disguising of which, and so our greater pleasure, Rhetoric or the Orator's Art was invented, the end of which is not at all to speak the truth, but to persuade you to what it pleaseth. Poesy is the art of lying artificially, in feigning that which neither is, nor was, nor ever shall be; as picture, and especially perspective, endeavours only to deceive us. Even the most pleasing Arts, as Cookery, the better they abuse our taste, and our other senses, by their disguises, the more are they esteemed. Look into civil conversation, it is nothing but disguisement; and (not to speak of the maxim of King Lewis the eleventh, to which he restrained all the Latin of his Successor) the greatest part of the civilities of our Courtiers, and Citizens too, reaches no further. And therefore we need not wonder much, if the clowns that run contrary to the ordinary course of all other men, render themselves odious to every one.  
The fourth said, that the understanding is pleased with doubts, as the wooers of Penelope loved to court her maids, that is to say, because they could not enjoy the mistress: Nor is there any that being hungry, and having put his hand to the platter, would like well to look on it, through a pair of spectacles of many faces, through which there would appear so many dishes, and in several places, that he could not tell which was the right. Wherefore, it is certain that we love truth so well, that no untruth can be welcome to us, unless it be covered with the ornaments of truth; and all those arts of disguising show what esteem we have of untruth, seeing it must be like truth that we may like it. 'Tis true, that none but God being able to discern this sort of truth, which consists in the agreeing of our thoughts with our words; and deceit being very frequent in this matter, civility and courtesy teacheth us rather to use words of compliment than rude and ill polished language; the rusticalnesse of which is ordinarily excused by clowns with the name of truth, though truth be no more incompatible with good grace than pills are with leafe-gold, by which the one is taken in better part, and the other with less pain to the sick.  
The fifth said, that truth being the expression of the species of something, and we taking pleasure to see a copy well representing its original, it cannot beget hatred. Things of themselves do not displease us, at least there are more that please than that displease, and of these a good part is sweetened by the manner of speaking of them, as we see in jesting; no man hindering us to speak truth laughing, so that the denomination being not to be taken from the lesser and the less sound part, truth cannot be said to beget hatred. Also truth not being able to produce any thing but its like in an univocal generation, it must be an equivocal one when it begets hatred: the ignorant vulgar in this (as they do often in other cases) taking that for a cause which is none. Otherwise the difficulty that we meet withal in seeking of truth, increases the love of it, and begets not hate of it. Which love is no less universal than the hate of untruth, as may appear by that story of two Roman Citizens, one of which was banished by a general consent, after it was known that he was so given to lying, that he had never been heard speak truth; the other received great and public honours, because he had never been heard speak any untruth, no not in jest. And we have nowadays store of examples of the bad entertainment which all liars find; which our ancient Gauls well knowing, did account it the utmost degree of offence, to give one the lie.  
FINIS.   

Of the Cock, and whether his crowing do affright the Lion.  
THe first man said thus; The Germans going to the wars, had reason to take a Cock with them to serve them for a spur and an example of watchfulness; whence came a custom to this day used by the Mule-drivers; some of which tie a Cock upon their foremost carriage; and others that will not trouble themselves with him, provide only a plume of his feathers. Upon the same ground Phidias made a statue of Minerva bearing a Cock upon her helmet: unless you will rather think his reason to be because this Goddess is as well precedent of war as of study; both which have need of much vigilancy. Though this bird for other causes may be well enough said to pertain to her; as for his being so warlike and courageous, as that he will not part with his desire of vanquishing, though it cost him his life: And this desire he prosecutes with such fury, that Caelius Aurelian reports, that a man fell mad, having only been pecked by a Cock in the heat of his fight. For the passion of choler being a short madness, is able exceedingly to raise the degree of heat in a temper already so extremely choleric; that in time the body of a Cock becomes nitrous; and in this consideration it is prescribed to sick persons to make them laxative, and it is the better if he were first well beaten, and plucked alive, and then boiled.  
And this courage of the Cock moved Artaxerxes King of Persia, when a soldier of Caria had slain Prince Cyrus, to grant him leave to bear a little Cock of gold upon his Javelin, as a singular badge of his great valour. In imitation whereof, all the soldiers of the same Province fell to wear the like upon the crests of their helmets; and were thence called Alectryons, that is in Latin, Galli, a name afterward given to our Nation, and it may be for the like reason.  
The Cock is also the Hieroglyphic of victory, because he crows when he hath beaten his adversary; which gave occasion to the Lacedæmonians to sacrifice a Cock, when they had over come their enemies. He was also dedicated to Mars: and the Poets feign that he was a young soldier, and placed for a sentinel by this God of war when he went to lie with Venus, but feared the return of her husband: but this watchman sleeping till after Sunrising, Mars and she were taken napping by Vulcan. Mars being very angry, transformed this sleeper into a Cock, for his negligence: whence, say they, it comes to pass, that well remembering the cause of his transformation, he now gives warning when the Sun draws near to our horizon. Which fable is as tolerable as that of the Alcoran, which attributes the crowing of our Cocks to one that, as he saith, stands upon the first Heaven, and is of so immense a hugeness, that his head toucheth the second: which Cock crows so loud, that he awakens all the Cocks upon the earth, that immediately they fall a provoking one another to do the like; as if there were one and the same instant of Cock-crowing all over the face of the whole earth. The Cock was also dedicated to the Sun, to the Moon, and to the Goddesses Latona, Ceres● and Proserpina; which was the cause that the novices or those that were initiated in their mysteries, must not eat of a Cock. He was also dedicated to Mercury, because vigilancy and early rising is necessary for merchants; and therefore they painted him in the form of a man sitting, having a crest upon his head, with eagle's feet, and holding a Cock upon his fist. But particularly he was consecrated to Esculapius, which made Socrates at the point of death to will his friends to sacrifice a Cock to him, because his hemlock had wrought well. And Pyrrhus curing men of the Spleen, caused them to offer a white Cock; whereas Pythagoras forbade his followers to meddle with the life or nourishing of any of that calour.  
The Inhabitants of Calecuth sacrifice a Cock to their deity, whom they conceive in the shape of a he-goat; and Acosta, out of Lucian, assures us, that anciently they worshipped a Cock for a God: Which Christianity not suffering, hath put them upon Churches, the spires of steeples, and high buildings, calling them weathercocks, because, as fans, they show the coast whence the wind comes; unless you rather think they are set up in remembrance of St. Peter's repentance at the second crowing of a Cock.  
The cause of his crowing is commonly attributed to his heat, which makes him rejoice at the approach of the Sun, as being of his own temper; of which approach he is sooner sensible than others; because he more easily than any other creature receives the impressions of the air, as appears by that harsh voice which he sometimes useth in crowing when he hath been newly moistened by the vapours; and therefore the Countrymen count it an ordinary sign of rain. And forasmuch as the whole species of birds is more hot, dry, and light than the species of fourfooted beasts; therefore the Lion, though he be a solar creature as well as the Cock; yet is so in a lesser degree than he. Whence it comes to pass, that the Cock hath a pre-eminence over the Lion, which he understands not, till the crowing raise in his imagination some species which in him produce terror. Unless you will say, that the spirits of the Cock are communicated to the Lion by means of this voice; for that is a thing more materiate, and so more capable to act than the spirits which come out of sore eyes, which nevertheless do infect those that are found if they look on them; nay, to speak with the Poet, they do bewitch the very lambs.  
The second said, we must reckon this error [of a Cock scaring a Lion by crowing] among divers other vulgar ones, of which oftentimes the chairs and pulpits ring, as if they were certain truths, when in the trial they prove stark false. It may be some tame Lion grown cowardly by the manner of his breeding, hath been seen affrighted by the shrill sound of some Cock crowing suddenly and near to his ears; which will seem not unlikely to them that in the beginning of March last passed were present at the intended combat in the Tennis-court at Rochel, between such a Lion and a Bull; at the sight of whom the Lion was so afraid, that he bolted thorough the nets, throwing down the spectators which were there placed in great number, as thinking it a place of greater security; and running thence, he hide himself, and could by no means be made re-enter the lists. Or it may be the novelty of this crowing surprised some Lion that never heard it before, as having always lived far from any village or country house where poultry are bred; and thereupon, the Lion at this first motion, startled.  
It is also possible, and most likely too, that the startle of choler (whereinto the Lion falls as soon as any thing displeases him) was mistaken by some body for a sign of fear, whereas it was a token of his indignation. For I see no show of reason to imagine in this generous beast a true and universal fear of so small a matter as the voice of a Cock, seeing that this likeness of nature which is attributed to them, should rather produce some sympathy than any aversion; and yet this enmity (if any were, and that as great as between wolves and sheep) ought not more to scare the Lion than the bleating of a sheep affrights a wolf. But the wolf devours the sheep, and assimilates it to his own substance, rather for the goodwill that he bears himself than for any ill-will or hatred that he bears toward the sheep. Besides, we ordinarily see Cocks and Hens in the court-yards of the houses where Lions are kept, which never make any show of astonishment at their crowing. Nay, I remember I have seen a young Lion eat a Cock; 'tis true, he did not crow, any more than those of Nibas a village near to Thessalonica in Macedon, where the Cocks never crow. But the Lion would have been content with tearing the cock in pieces, and not have eaten him if there had been such an antipathy between them as some imagine. But this error finds entertainment for the morals sake which they infer upon it, to show us that the most hardy are not exempt from fear, which oftentimes arises whence it is least looked for. So that to ask why the crowing of a Cock scares Lions, is to seek the cause of a thing that is not.  
The third said, we must not make so little account of the authority of our predecessors, as absolutely to deny what they have averred, the proof of which seems sufficiently tried by the continued experience of so many ages: for to deny a truth, because we know not the reason of it, is to imitate Alexander, which cut the Gordian knot, because he could not untie it. It is better, in the nature of the Cock and his voice, to seek a cause of the fright of the Lion, who being a creature always in a fever by his excessive choleric distemper, of which his hair and his violence are tokens; great noise is to him as intolerable as to those that are sick and feverish, especially those in whom a choleric humour inflamed stirs up headache. Besides, there are some kinds of sound which some persons cannot endure; and yet can give you no reason for it, but are constrained to fly to specifical properties and antipathies, and such we may conceive to be between the Cocks-crowing and a Lion's ear, shith much more likelihood than that the Remora stays vessels under full sail; and a thousand other effects impenetrable by our reason, but assured by our experience. Lastly, this astonishment that the Cock puts the Lion into with his crowing, is not very unreasonable. This king of beasts having occasion to wonder, how out of so small a body should issue a voice so strong, and which is heard so fare off, whereas himself can make such great slaughters with so little noise. Which amazement of the Lion is so much the greater, if the Cock be white, because this colour helps yet more to dissipate his spirits, which were already scattered by the first motion of his apprehension.  
FINIS.   

Why dead Bodies bleed in the presence of their murderers.  
GOod Antiquity was so desirous to know the truth, that as often as natural and ordinary proofs failed them, they had recourse to supernatural and extraordinary ways. Such among the Jews was the water of jealousy, of which an Adulteress could not drink without discovering her guiltiness, it making her burst. Such was the trial of the Sieve, in which the Vestal Nun, not guilty of unchastity, as she was accused to be, did carry water of Tiber without spilling any. Such were the oaths upon Saint Anthony's arm, of so great reverence, that it was believed that whosoever was there perjured would within a year after be burned with the fire of that Saint: and even in our times it is commonly reckoned, that none lives above a year after they have incurred the excommunication of Saint Geneviefve. And because nothing is so hidden from justice as murder, they use not only torments of the body, but also the torture of the soul, to which its passions do deliver it over: of which Fear discovering itself more than the rest, the Judges have forgotten nothing that may serve to make the suspected person fearful; for besides their interrogatories, confronting him with witnesses, stern looks, and bringing before him the instruments of torture, as if they were ready to make him feel them; they have invented all other means to surprise his resolution, and break his silence, especially when they have found already some signs and conjectures. Wherefore they persuade him that a carcase bleeds in the presence of the murderers, because dead bodies being removed do often bleed, and then he whose conscience is tainted with the Synteresis of the fact, is troubled in such sort, that by his mouth or gesture he often betrays his own guiltiness, as not having his first motions in his own power. Now the cause of this flowing of the blood in the presence of the guilty is this: After death the blood grows cold and thick, but after a few days it becomes thin again; as when we open a vein and receive our blood into Porrangers, if we let it stand in them, we may there see the like; the heat of the corruption supplying the room of the natural heat, which kept the blood liquid in the living body. So that if the carcase be removed by the murderer, it is no wonder if it bleed. And because the murder is hardly discovered by suspicions, till after some days, about which time also this liquefaction of the blood happens, so that this accident is often found in the presence of the murderer: hence it comes to pass, that the one is counted the cause of the other. Although this cause and this effect be of the nature of those things, which with small reason are thought to depend one on the other, merely because they fall out at the same time; and because this persuasion, though it be false, hath a real effect in discovery of truth, therefore the Lawgivers have authorized it, using the same care for the discovery of truth, that the guilty do to cover and hid it by their denials and divers sleights. But we must take heed that we render no such cause of this issuing of the blood, as may make it depend on the presence of the murderer, as if it would not have happened without it.  
The second said, that it is not credible that the Sovereign Courts which have practised this trial, and made good use of it, were so defective in the knowledge of natural causes, as not to be able to discern the effusion of blood, which comes by the putrefaction of it in the veins, (for they have a property to keep it from congelation) from the gushing out of the same blood observed at the first approach of the guilty, and when he is brought to look on the body. It is therefore much better to seek the cause than to call in question the effect, unless we had better reason so to do, than because it seems too marvellous. Some have referred it to a magnetic or electrical virtue of the blood, saying, that quarrels seldom happen between persons unknown, but that the murderer and the slain having had acquaintance together, their bloods have gotten such society as to draw one another; and so the living man's blood being the more active, draws the blood out of the other. But as this attraction hath an imperceptible subtlety, so it is not easy to conceive it possible, if it be not helped by some means that may connect this effect to its cause. I like better the opinion of Levinus Lemnius, who presupposeth that two enemies, intending one another's death, do dart their spirits one at another; for they are the messengers of the soul, by which she exerciseth the sight and all her other outward senses. Now these spirits seeking the destruction of one another, and being made active by the sting of choler, do insinuate and work themselves into the opposite bodies, and finding an open entrance through some wound, they tend thither more notably than to any other passage, and there they mingle with the blood of the wounded, and he shortly after dying, they there settle themselves and abide with his spirits, till the murderer afterwards again approaching to the dead body, the spirits, which were all this while separated from their total, do take this occasion to rerurn and rejoin themselves (as all things are desirous to return to their own beginnings:) But this they cannot do without clearing and separating themselves from that mass of blood wherein they lay confused; and therefore they trouble this mass, and so cause an effusion of that blood, which till then was retained in the veins. Which is helped not a little by that confusion whereinto we bring the murderer, by laying before him the body by him murdered: for hereupon his spirits, forsaking their Centre and wand'ring, do meet with their fellows, as the Loadstone and Iron meeting one another half way.  
The third man was of the opinion of Campanella, who attributes the cause of this bleeding to the sense which is in all things, and which continues in dead bodies; so that having a perception of their murderers, and perceiving them near them, they suffer two very different motions of trembling and anger, which shake the body and remove the blood in the veins violently enough to make it issue at the gaps of their wounds. For the spirits, which during life had knowledge enough to make them perceive and obey the commands of the soul, retain it even after death so fare, as to be able to discern their friends and their enemies. And as at the time of our birth all the objects which are present, do imprint in us their qualities in that universal change which is made at that moment, as Astrologers speak; [whence comes that important choice which they prescribe us to make of midwives and gossips, that is (if we consider the matter more nearly) of the persons which are to be about the child-wife] so when we die and quit our natural qualities to borrow new ones from the bodies about us, we get a conformity with all those which are near us, and with the murderer more than with any other.  
The fourth said, this opinion could not be true; for than it would follow, that he which had killed some man by the shot of an Arquebuz, could not be known by the sign; and that if a man were killed in the arms of his wife, and amidst his friends which had defended him, such a one would rather bleed in the presence of his friends than of the murderer, whose spirits are ordinarily kept in by the guilt of his conscience and the apprehension of punishment; whereas his friends being animated with anger, do call forth all their spirits to a necessary defence. Besides, if the murderer, now brought near the carcase, have also been wounded in this encounter, he should rather bleed than the dead man, because his blood is more boiling and must have received many of the spirits which did all leave the slain man at his death, being evaporated thence upon the bodies which were round about him: For they issue out of the wounds of a dying man together with his blood, and that so violently, that they will not permit at the same time a motion contrary to theirs, and so cannot admit any entrance for the spirits of the murderer; which if they should enter, would there acquire a Sympathy with the dead body, in whose blood they would tongeale, and lose the Sympathy that they had with the body out of which they came. Even as no man retains the spirits of that creature whose blood or heart he eats, but he thereof forms his own spirits. Nay, if they did retain this Sympathy, yet could they not know the murderer, for want of senses, which they never had; because the spirits which are in the blood, hardly merit that name, being purely natural and destitute of all perception, and that in our life time, as being common to us with plants, and specifically differing from animal spirits, as might be shown by the different actions wherein nature employs them. In the next degree above these natural ones are the vital spirits, which vanish with the life which they conserved, so that then the arteries which contained them become empty. And lastly, those that were sensitive cannot remain in a dead man, because they are easily dissipated and have need of continual reparation, as we see in swoonings, the senses sail as soon as the heart ceaseth to furnish them with matter to uphold the continuity of their generation: Or if they did remain in the body after death, they could perform no action for want of necessary disposures in their organs, as we see in those that are blind, dease, paralytick and others. But because the refutation of the reasons given of this effect is a thing very easy, and may be done in many other subjects: It is better to show that this bleeding cannot come from any natural cause, no not of such as are unknown to us; which is easily done, if we presuppose that all natural causes are necessary and do act without liberty at all times when their objects are presented to them: Which falls not out so here, for it hath oftentimes been seen, that murderers, for fear of being accused of murder, have made more and nearer approaches round about the dead body than any other, which hath been used as a presumption against them, though the body did not bleed in their presence; and oftentimes nurses overlie their children, which notwithstanding bleed not after death, though they hold them in their arms, as a sign of their great affection and innocence. And had this sign been natural, Solomon, that was very skilful in nature, would have used this rather than a moral trial, wherein was much less certainty; nor would Moses have forgotten it. Besides, we see every day the executioners come to take from the gallows or the wheel, those persons whom the day before they executed with their own hands, out of whose wounds comes not a drop of blood, although all the causes of such bleeding do concur in this example, and aught to produce their effect, unless you think they were hindered by some moral reason, as the consideration that this execution was by the order of justice. But than beasts, being uncapable of this consideration, and having none of this wisdom, should bleed in the presence of those butchers which are not very exact in their trade, with which the Jews do every day upbraid them. And such as have killed Hares and Partridges, should cause their bodies to bleed when they come near them. Moreover, they which have been set upon by some assasin, find it not always easy to know him again when they see him, though they be in perfect health, and awake: much less can a man that is asleep, or very near death, by any sign discover the approaching assasin that mortally wounded him: and yet it is hard to imagine that we have less perception and knowledge during the remainders of our life, than after our death; and that a wounded man must die that he may become more sensible. Lastly, it is easy to make it appear, that it is not in this effect as in other marvels, which have a natural cause, because though many effects are so hidden from us, that we are not able to assign their particular causes, yet they may be all proved by some reasons, if not demonstrative, yet at least probable: even the magnetical cure, by sympathy and antipathy, which are the only principles of all natural motions: Which motions are but of two sorts, that is to say, Approach and Remotion; it being natural to all bodies to join themselves to their like, and to fly from the objects from which they have some natural averseness. And indeed, if the blood issued naturally, it would be to join itself with blood of the same nature, as the blood of the dead man's kindred: for sympathy is only between bodies joined in amity. Nor can antipathy produce this effect, for it is not its property to join and bring-neerer-together two bodies which are enemies; but on the contrary, in the presence of the murderer it should concentrate all the blood, and cause it to retire to the inner parts. And these are the grounds which persuade me not only that the causes of this miracle are not yet found, but also that it is impossible that it should have any that is natural.  
The fifth said, that this bleeding may be caused by the imagination, if, according to the opinion of Avicenna, it doth act even out of its own subject; the fantasy of the guilty, with the remembrance of the blood spilt by him in the kill of the dead there lying before his eyes, which stirs all his powers, may be able to cause this haemorrhagy or issuing of blood. Some nitrous vapours also of the earth may help this ebullition of the blood in the carcase, when it is taken up out of the earth; or the water, having insinuated itself into the veins of a drowned carcase, may make the blood more fluid. Hereunto also the air may contribute by its heat, which is greater than that of the earth or water, and is increased by the concourse of the multitudes which use to run to such spectacles. Also the fermentation which after death happens to the blood, serves very much to this heat, which makes it boil in the veins, as syrups in the time of their sermentation boil and fill up the vessels, which before were not full, till at length they make them run over at the top: in the same manner, the blood which before did not fill the veins, yet after it is fermented, doth so puff them up, that they can no longer hold it all; and having withal gotten a tarmesse which corrodes the orifices of the vessels, it makes its way out some days after death, as we see in the bodies reserved for anatomies, where the rope having caused the blood to rise to the brain, where it could not be contained, it runs out at the nose. Also the sympathy of the spirits once friendly, and afterward become enemies, may help toward this effect; which should not be thought more strange than many other like motions; as the pain felt by the Nurse in her breasts, when her nurse-child cries; the fury which the red colour stirs up in the Lion and the Turkeycock; the falling-sickness, whose fits are augmented or advanced in those that hold in their hand the plant called Virga sanguinea, or a twig of the Cornill tree; a kind of Jasper stays bleeding by a contrary reason; Lapis Nephriticus makes the gravel come out of the kidneys; the Weapon-salve cures a wound, being applied to the sword which made it, 100 leagues off: and many other Talismanick effects, of which we do no more see their connection with their causes, than of this of the spirits of the murderer and the murdered; which notwithstanding are no less effectual in this occurrence, than the spirits which come out of a blear eye, are able to hurt the eye that looks on it; or the eyes of a Witch to bewitch lambs, and to produce all other marvellous effects, whereof their histories are full.  
The sixth said, It would be hard to persuade most men that there is sense in all lifeless bodies, much more, that there remains any after death; because sense is given to all bodies for no other cause, but to enable them to discern their objects, to carry them toward their likes, and to make them fly from subjects worthy of their eschewing. Which cannot be said of dead bodies, for whom nature hath no longer any care or providence. So that she which doth nothing in vain, and gives not to bodies, qualities of which they have no use, hath not taken care to put into, or preserve in carcases, a passion which might serve to uphold them in that estate. For that were against the intention of Nature herself, who strives to ruin such bodies, and to resolve them into their elements, to the end that thereof she may make new mixts, and so augment some of her species. But if we grant Campanella, that dead bodies have some remainder of sense, yet will it not thereupon follow, that they have enough of it to cause the motions of trembling and anger, to which he attributes this bleeding; for anger requires too many sorts of reciprocal motions, and too much mixed to be compatible with the cold which freezeth the spirits of dead bodies, whatsoever the Historians say to the contrary; for they writ, that anger might be seen in the stern visages of divers men slain in battle, which hath no likelihood of truth. And forasmuch as plants (which, according to the opinion of this author) have a greater measure of sense than carcases have, witness the attractions and expulsions which they make; yet are not at all capaple of anger: and having seen some men so stupid, as to be displeased with nothing in their life time, I cannot believe that they become more sensible after their death. Such bodies are then past trembling either for apprehension or memory, both which are fled away with their life, and they are in an estate of having no further apprehension of their murderers: And if they would tremble for fear, it were time for them so to do at the approach of the Anatomists, who without all pity pull them in as many pieces as they can imagine any way to differ from one another; and besides, fear would not make the blood to issue, forasmuch as this passion is not caused but by the concentration of the spirits, and their abandoning of the outer-parts that they may retire inward.  
Another unlikely consequent is, that these spirits separated from the soul should be more able to discern the murderer than when they were joined to it, for a living man is not able to know him that hurt him in the night, or as a high-way-robber with a vizor and silence preventing all discovery of him by his face or voice. Furthermore, the spirits are of the nature of the Sunbeams, which give heat and light so long as they are continued from the body of the Sun to the object on which they fall; but the Sun is no sooner hidden but that the beams cease to be. Even so, as long as the rete admirabile of the brain (which is the spring and forge of the animal spirits, which are only capable of knowledge) does continue an influence of spirits into the nerves, and through them into the other organs of the sense; so long are they able to discern and no longer, though they could subsist longer. So that this opinion cannot stand, no, not with the opinion of the Pagan Philosophers, who teach that the soul after death quits not the body, but only the operations of the inward and outward senses: the ceasing of the actions whereof the spirits are instruments, being sufficient to show that the spirits themselves are ceased.  
The seventh said, that this extraordinary motion cannot be referred but to a light supernaturally sent from God to the Judges, for the discovery of the blackest crimes, which otherwise would escape unpunished: which is also the cause why this miracle, though it sometimes happen, yet is not always observable as the effects of natural causes, which are necessary and thereby are distinguished from contingents: it being no less impiety to deny that the divine justice doth sometimes send succour to the justice of men, than it is ignorant rusticity, in all things to content ourselves with universal causes, without seeking the particular ones, which indeed God commonly employs for the producing of effects; but yet hath not so enchained his power to the necessity of their order, as that hecannot break it when he pleaseth, even to the giving unto moistened clay a virtue to restore sight to the eyes of one borne blind.  
FINIS.