THE LIFE OF THAT Incomparable Man, Faustus Socinus Senensis, Described by a POLONIAN Knight. Whereunto is added.  
An Excellent Discourse, which the same Author would have had premised to the Works OF SOCINUS;  
Together with a Catalogue of those WORKS.  
London, Printed for Richard Moon, at the seven Stars in Paul's Church yard, near the great North-door. 1653.   

TO THE READER.  
THe Life of Socinus is here exposed to thy view, that by the perusal there of thou mayst receive certain information concerning the man, whom Ministers & others traduce by custom, having (for the most part) never heard any thing of his conversation, nor seen any of his works, or if they have, they were either unable or unwilling to make a thorough scrutiny into them, and so no marvel if they speak evil of him. To say any thing of him here by way Elegy, as that he was one of the most pregnant wits that the world hath produced; that none since the Apostles hath deserved better of our Religion, in that the Lord Christ hath chief made use of his Ministry to retrieve so many precious truths of the Gospel, which had a long time been hidden from the eyes of men by the artifice of Satan; that he shown the world a more accurate way to discuss controversies in Religion, and to fetch out the very marrow of the Holy Scripture, so that a man may more avail himself by reading his works, than perhaps by perusing all the Fathers, together with the writings of more modern Authors; that the virtues of his will were not inferior unto those of his understanding, he being every way furnished to the work of the Lord; that he opened the right way to bring Christians to the unity of the faith and acknowledgement of the Son of God; that he took the same course to propagate the Gospel, that Christ and the Apostles had done before him, forsaking his estate, and his nearest relations, and undergoing all manner of labours and hazards, to draw men to the knowledge of the truth; that he had no other end of all his undertake, than the Glory of God and Christ, and the salvation of himself and others, it being impossible for Calumny itself with any colour to asperse him with the least suspicion of worldly interest; that he of all Interpreters explaineth the precepts of Christ in the strictest manner, and windeth up the lives of men to the highest strain of holiness: to say these and other the like things (though in themselves true and certain) would notwithstanding here be impertinent, in that it would forestall what the Polonian Knight hath written on this subject. To him therefore I refer thee, desiring thee to read his words without prejudice, and then the works of Socinus himself; and though thou be'st not thereby convinced that all which Socinus taught is true (for neither am I myself of that belief, as having discovered that in some lesser things Socinus, as a man, went awry, however in the main he hit the truth) yet for so much of Christ as thou must needs confess appeareth in him, begin to have more favourable thoughts of him and his Followers.  
I. B.   

THE LIFE OF Faustus Socinus Senensis.  
TO pursue the Life of Faustus Socinus in a brief and perfunctory manner, would be below the dignity of so great a man; but to do it fully and elaborately, would perhaps be above our strength. For to relate the praises of renowned men by snatches, and in a negligent fashion, is an injury to virtue: and if there was ever any, certainly this is the man who deserveth to be described not only with care, but also with wit. Yet since it is better that excellent endowments should be commended below their merit; then wholly passed-over in silence: it is unreasonable, either that the meanness of the Relators should prove prejudicial to famous men, or the greatness of those who are celebrated be any prejudice to the wit of the Writers. But as for myself, pardon is due to me upon another account, being cumbered with many cares, and hurrying my discourse within the limits prefixed to a pittance of time.  
Socinus was born in Seine, a most famous City of Tuscany. The Nobility of his stock was ancient, and the splendour of his Alliances exceeding the condition of a private man. His father, besides the honours of his own Family, was on his mother's side further ennobled by the Salvetti. Which family sometimes flourished with so great power amongst the Florentines, that Pandulphus Petruccius being expelled out of Seine, was chief beholding to the assistance and wealth of Paulus Salvettus for the restitution of his Country, and shortly after of his Princedom. By which benefit being obliged, he conferred on him the freedom of the City, and persuaded him to leave his country and dwell at Sene. This Paulus was father to Camilla, who being married to Marianus the younger, was mother to Alexander and Laelius Socinus, and grandmother to Faustus. His mother, born to the hope of more than a private fortune, was daughter to Burgesius Petruccius (sometimes Prince of the Commonwealth of Seine) and to Victoria Piccolominea, who being the daughter of Andrea's Piccolomineus, Lord of Castilio and Piscaria, and Niece to Pope Pius the second and third of that name, and either Sister or Kinswoman to Cardinal John Piccolomineus, to the Dukes of the Amalphitanis, to the Marquess' of Capistranum, to the Earls of Calanum, and many other Italian Princes, married into the house of the Petruccii, which then held the Fortune of the Princedom of Sene. But Burgesius succeeding his father Pandulphus, and not long after by a fatal change expelled out of his country, did not long survive his dignity. Nevertheless Cardinal Raphael Petruccius was his successor in the Government of his country, and held for a while the helm of that Commonwealth. But Victoria, being left a widow, suffered not her mind, which in the splendour of her former height she had never liftedup, to be quailed with so disastrous a vicissitude of things. So that for the space of fifty six years, wherein she survived the life and common fortune of her husband, she did with singular modesty, and approved integrity and chastity, endure the solitary condition of widowhood. Her daughter Agnes, whom according to the dignity of so great a family, she had trained up in most holy manners, she gave in marriage to Alexander Socinus, a young man of noble extraction, but private condition. He was the Father of our Faustus, and born in such a family as had for a long time, not by Arms and Power, but by wit and Scholarship, seemed to hold a kind of Princedom in one sort of learning. For this very Alexander was called the master of subtleties; and his Father Marianus the younger, the Prince of Lawyers; and Bartholomew the Uncle of Marianus the younger, was by Angelus Politianus styled the Papinian of his age; finally Marianus the elder, Bartholmews father, a most grave Lawyer, is by Aeneas Silvius so highly extolled, that that the narration almost exceeds belief.  
The son of this Marianus was Alexander the elder; the grandchild, Marianus the younger; the Great-grandchildrens, Alexander and Laelius, the one, (as we said) the father; the other, the Uncle of our Faustus. Both of them for greatness of wit, and endowments of Learning, exceeding famous, but to whom that of the Poet may justly be applied,  
These to the earth the Fates will only show,  
Causing them presently away to go.  
For Alexander, having a marvellous sharpness of wit, together with a Divine memory and excellent Eloquence, had scarce fulfilled the one and thirtieth year of his age, but he was suddenly snatched away, to the great grief of all Italy. And Laelius having in a short race of life performed very great matters, exceeded not the seven and thirtieth year of his age.  
The memory of this man I judge worthy to be exceedingly admired by posterity, who in so short a space as he lived, not only smelt-out so many grievous errors, which had privily crept into the Church; but pulling them out of their very holes, first shown the way how to kill them. He being by his Father Marianus put upon that study which was hereditary to his name, thought that the knowledge of humane Laws was to be fetched out of the very fountains of Gods Law. To which purpose whilst he diligently turned-over the sacred volumes, he without difficulty found that very many of those Doctrines of the Church, which are commonly received, are quite opposite to the Divine Testimonies. And that so much the more easily, because most of them are also repugnant to Reason, and such principles, as Nature itself hath implanted in us. Inasmuch therefore as the height of his excellent wit and sharpness of his judgement was accompanied with a singular probity of mind, having detected the errors of the Church, he did not (as the greatest part do) abuse them to the contempt of the Scripture and Religion; but rather used the authority of the Scripture and of the Christian Religion to heal the diseases of the Church, which could not be cured, unless the errors were detected. Wherefore in that study, to which his sublime and pious mind was carried with inflamed speed, a great light, not without the Divine Assistance, suddenly broke out unto him, especially because to fetch out the senses of the Scripture, he brought with him the knowledge of the Oriental Tongues, the Hebrew and Greek chief, and also the Arabic. Whether therefore it were for fear of danger, (as it is likely) or that he might more exactly study purer Divinity and the Tongues, he soon passed out of Italy into Switzerland and Germany.  
He left his country very young, not being above one and twenty yeeers old. In the next four years, having traveled over France, Britanny, Belgium, all Germany and Poland, he took up his dwelling at Zurich. Whereupon, although he were often drawn away with public and private affairs, yet did he spend the chiefest part of his exile there, being endeared to sundry Princes in all parts, and favoured also by certain Kings.  
There was not a noted Scholar in that time, (than which none ever abounded more with learned men,) but he had by his carriage won not only his friendship, but his samiliarity also. Whereby it came to pass, that the inbred goodness of his judgement was accompanied with a singular prudence and sweetness of behaviour. Which endowments are acknowledged in him as by very many other famous men, so chief by Philip Melanchton in his commendatory Letters which he wrote to him as he was departing. And indeed what correspondence was between him and the most renowned men of that age, chief Calvin, Melanchthon, Bullinger, Brentius, Musculus, Munster, Zanchius, Vergerius, Castellio, Beza, Martyr, Ochinus, Coeleus, and sundry others, their frequent Letters unto him do testify, the copies whereof in a great number have come to our hands. He did not more desire to enjoy their friendship for the safeguard of his fortune, then to make use of the same to the benefit of the Church. Wherefore he did by his questions much urge and exercise those redoubted Doctors of then-flourishing Divinty. I have a Letter written with calvin's own hand, wherein he openly professeth that he was put into choler by him, and in stead of an answer sends him back a check and threatening.  
It is not fit, saith he, that you should expect until I answer those portentous questions which you object. If you are disposed to fly through those airy speculations, I beseech you, suffer me, an bumble Disciple of Christ, to meditate on such things, as tend to the edification of my faith. And indeed I will by my silence gain what I desire, namely that you be not henceforth troublesome to me. Now that so gallant a wit, as the Lord hath bestowed on you, should not only be unprofitably taken-up with slight matters, but also corrupted with pernicious figments, is a very great grief. What I not long since testified, I again seriously warn you of: that if you do not timously correct this itch of enquiring, it is to be feared, you will draw on yourself great torments. Should I under a show of indulgence cherish such a vice as I know to be very hurtful, I should be perfidious and cruel towards you. Wherefore I had either you should be a little offended with my roughness, then be drawn away with the sweet allurements of curiosity beyond all recovery. The time will come, I hope, when you will rejoice that you were so boisterously awakened.  
Jan. 1. 1552.  
Yours, John Calvin.  
Neither was the truth of his threatening either uncertain or contemptible: For in the month of October the next year Servetus was burned at Geneva. Nevertheless the gravity of Laelius, and his incredible modesty in the greatest endowments of learning and wit, together with his dexterity of carriage, had so disarmed the anger of those that were in a chafe, that they did not endure to hate the man, although otherwise they could not brook his freedom. Which thing may teach them, whom overmuch freedom of truth betrayeth into needless dangers, that that very Truth which they maintain, is more secured by the circumspect mildness of prudence, then by unbridled zeal. So that they who of their own accord meet dangers, seem to make greater haste to their own praise, then to the advancement of the public good. And certainly if there be any, this is the place where the simplicity of the Dove is to be mingled with the subtlety of the Serpent: unless we suspect the counsel of our Saviour condemning their unadvised rashness, who oftentimes have very bad success in casting-down their pearls where they cannot be estimated according to their worth. The truth is, Laelius remained entire and inviolate amongst the capital enemies of his opinion. Yet did he not suffer the sense of his judgement to perish within the closet of his conscience. Wherefore to those whom he liked, he feared not to entrust the things that had been discovered to him by God. But chief he instructed his countrymen the Italians, who by a pious and voluntary exile were scattered through several regions of Germany and Poland. I find in the commentaries of the Polonian Churches, that he came twice into our country. First, about the year 1551. when he was six and twenty years old. At what time he is said not without great success to have conversed with very many of the Polonian Nobility; and to have caused Francis Lismaninus the Corcyraean, confessor to Bona Sforzia the Queen, and who was then (if I be not mistaken) the provincial of the Minorites, and first lifted up an ensign of revolt from the ●ope in this kingdom, to cast away his Cowle. But then in a few month's space departing into Moravia, he reti●●d thence to the Swissers. His second coming into Poland I find to have happened after the death of his father Marianus, who died at Bononia in the year 1556. For not long after, about the years 1558 and 1559 he desired letters of recommendation from the Kings of Poland and Bohemia, that he might the more securely treat with his friends in Venice concerning his Patrimony. Then indeed it appeared to the greatest part of the Germane and Polonian Nobility in what favour he was. For in his case there was very great canvasing both with Lud●vicus Priulus the Doge of Venice, and Cosmus the grand Duke of Tuscany. Almost about the same time a grievous storm arising upon a suspicion of Heresy, did with a perilous gust shake the whole House of the Socini. After the death of Alexander, Laelius had three brethren surviving: of whom Celsus lived at Bononia, Cornelius and Camillus together with Faustus, son to his brother Alexander, dwelled at Sene. Amongst these also Laelius, a marvellous Artist in suggesting the truth, had scattered the seeds thereof, and though he were separated by the remote distances of countries, yet did he by effectual industry so cherish them, that being unknown as yet, and absent, he drew the wives of some to his party. Nor were there wanting amongst his other familiars and friends, such as were either partners in the same design, or privy thereunto. But the fair hope of that crop was blasted in the very blade, Cornelius being taken, and the rest either scattered, or chased away. This fear drove Faustus also, then very young, not only out of his native City, but out of Italy, itself. Who having lived a while at Lions in Franc●, Laelius was in the mean time, extinguished by an untimely death at Zurich. Faustus being certified of his death by the letters of Marius Besozzus, had much ado to prevent the snares laid for his papers, yet got the possession thereof, having been already by him informed of very many things, which he afterwards in long progress of time did by his sharp wit and indefatigable study polish. The death of Laelius happened on the third day after the Ideses of May 1562 & in the thirty seventh year of his age. That so great a wit was not long-lived, will not seem strange to him who shall consider how soon it was ripe. He had hardly past the age of a stripling when he left Italy. Within the six and twentieth year of his life, having traveled almost through all the regions of the West, he was by his great renown made known to most of the chief Nobility in sundry parts, and perhaps to all learned men . It was well-nigh fifteen years that he was absent from his country. Out of so small a space of life far journeys challenge a great part, by means of which his exile became profitable to many in sundry coasts of Europe. Add his perpetual commerce with so many great men, together with his continual intercourse of letters, and when you have subtracted these things, how small a pittance of time (I pray you) was left for his studies? And now being amazed, we must inquire, what was that so profound leisure? what so vigorous industry? what so ready wit? what so vast understanding, as was sufficient to master so many tongues, so many sciences, and withal to recollect the mind to itself, and manage the greatest affairs? To premise these things touching Laelius, had I not listed of my own accord, necessity itself did require. For he it was who by his guidance and counsel drew Faustus himself and others to enter into that way, which they afterwards followed.  
Now I return to Faustus, intending in the first place to relate in brief the course and chief occurrences of his life; then to comprise his chief actions; and lastly to add a few words concerning the habit of his mind and body, as far as I have by a cursory enquiry attained the knowledge thereof.  
He was born two hours and almost three quarters before Sunrising on the Nones of December, 1539, well-nigh fourteen years younger than his Uncle Laelius. He died in the year 1604, a little before the beginning of the spring, being sixty five years old.  
He first spent twenty, and a little after twelve years of his age in his country; about three in his retirement at Lions; the other thirty in voluntary exile. He seemeth to have lost his parents at that age, which is most apt for the improvement of learning and wit. For he complaineth how he employed his labour in the studies of good arts very slightly, and without the guidance of a teacher. And elsewhere, how he had not learned Philosophy, nor ever was acquainted with School-divinity; and confesseth that in Logic itself he never tasted but only certain rudiments, and that very late.  
It was a baffle to that proud age, to be taught by so notable an instance, that even without those helps (which we, though not without cause, yet oftentimes without measure do admire) there may be great men, and such as will perform rare feats. Perhaps also it was expedient, that a wit born to take cognisance of the Opinions of the world, should be tainted with no prejudices; lest it should admit some string of those errors, for the rooting out of which it grew up. For Divinity being full of errors, infected also Philosophy itself, and almost all good arts. And therefore not only in the cradle, but also in the very rudiments of the first learning the infancy of the world hath now for a long time been deceived, and sucked in opinions as true, before it was able to judge whether they were false. Whereby it cometh to pass, that oftentimes it is better to be seasoned with none, then with perverse doctrines: nor is it a wonder that sometimes learned men dote more shamefully, and the rude multitude judgeth more sincerely. Which I would not have so taken, as if I would condemn learning, but only the abuse thereof; nor give a check, but a caution to it. With such a slight tincture of learning, and (as I suppose) with the study of the Civil law, the first age of Socinus was taken-up, until the three and twentieth year. Yet had he before sucked-in the principles of Divine Truth, partly by his own sharp wit, partly by the instruction of his Uncle Laelius, especially when upon the rising of a sudden tempest, he, as we before hinted, betook himself into France. Although Laelius, confiding in the wit of his Nephew, did intimate more to his guess, then deliver to his understanding; concealing also some things from the young man for the trial of his judgement, and openly presaging amongst his friends, that these things should more fully and happily by Faustus be discovered to the world. But when after the death of Laelius he was returned into Italy, in that unsteady age of his life, his youth floating like a ship without a Pilot, and carried away with I know not what winds, almost grew old amongst the Sirens of the Court. For being admitted into the Palace of Francis the grand Duke of Tuscany, and very much endeared to him by honourable employments, whilst he there flourished in highest favour and dignity, he spent whole twelve years in the Court of Florence. Then did he lose (as he with perpetual groans complained) the most flourishing part of his life; if at least that time is to be accounted lost, wherein his sublime judgement was form, not with the shadowy precepts of Learning, but with the substantial experiments of Life; wherein also that youthful heat of his evaporated, which for the most part hurryeth great wits to great falls. And indeed, were we not otherwise assured of it, yet from the very force of his wit we might conjecture with how vehement motions that nature of his was sometimes agitated. About the close of that time his heart was touched with a serious deliberation concerning the choice of good things; which he performed with such greatness of mind, that he determined for the hope of heavenly things to trample under foot all the commodities of earthly wishes; wherefore without delay, despairing to obtain from the extremely unwilling Princes leave to departed, he of his own accord forsook his country, friends, hopes and riches, that he might the more freely employ himself about his own and other men's salvation. That his service had not been ungrateful to the Grand Duke, the longing after him being now absent and in exile, showed. For sundry times by letters and messengers, chief at the motion of Paulus Jordanus Vrsinus a noble man, who had married the Grand Duke's sister, he solicited Socinus to return, which he with usual modesty, but resolute mind did refuse. It was the year of our Lord 1574, and the five and thirtieth of his age, when he retired out of Italy into Germany. At his coming he was entertained by Basile, that courteous receiver of Christ's exiles, which had long since learned to cherish in her lap endangered Innocency. Where he studied Divinity full three years and upwards, being chief intent upon the Sacred Scriptures, to the sincere understanding whereof whilst he aspired with daily vows and prayers, he was much helped with a very few writings of his Uncle Laelius, and sundry scattered notes left by him. Which thing, though it was in his power to suppress it, yet did he always ingenuously own and profess. As he lived at Basile until the year 1575., he detained not within the closet of his private breast, the truth that had been deposited with him. And therefore whilst he endeavoureth to propagate unto others the light that was risen to himself, he proceeded by degrees from reasoning with his friends to discourse with strangers, and having begun his disputation concerning Jesus Christ the Saviour by word of mouth, he afterwards comprised it in writing. Which ere he could finish, being first excluded by sickness from his studies, then by the pestilence from his books left at Basile, he in the mean time dispatched at Zurich, in the beginning of the year 1578 another Disputation with Franciscus Puccius; and afterwards in the same year being returned to Basile, he put the last hand to his book concerning the Saviour. At that time the Transyivanian Churches were extremely infested with the opinion of Franciscus Davidis and others touching the Honour and Power of Christ. To remedy which mischief, Georgius Bl●ndra●a (a man very powerful in those Churche●, and with the Bath●rrea● Princes who then ruled the Nation) in that very year of the Lord invited Socinus from Basile, to the end he might draw the Ringleader of the Faction, Franciscus Davidis, from so gross and pernicious an error. Which that it might the more commodiously be effected, having at a great rate hired a lodging for Socinus, with Franciscus Davidis, he would have them both for above the space of four months to use the same house and table. But the said Franciscus took far greater care how to retain his credit amongst those of his party, then how to seek after the truth. Whereupon adventuring not only to spread his error in private, but publicly to proclaim it in the Pulpit, lie drew present danger on himself, being soon cast into prison by the command of the Prince of Transylvania, where he shortly after ended his life. Of whose death though Socinus was altogether guiltless, yet did he not escape blame. As if he were not able to vanquish the said Franciscus with other weapons, when notwithstanding the disputations of both are published: or that Magistrate was so addicted to the cause of Socinus, as to employ the weapons of his authority for him or any one of his party. But if perhaps some person, who savored the cause of Socinus, did incite the Prince to deal roughly with the said Franciscus, (whereof nevertheless I am not certain,) yet let not Socinus be blamed for him, inasmuch as he could neither know his counsel, nor approve his deed. For to omit sundry other considerations, there could not happen any thing more contrary to the mind of Socinus, then that such a doctrine, as could not be defended with the words and wit of the said Franciscus whilst he lived, should seem to be confirmed by the mute, but efficacious testimony of his death: especially because, carrying the face of a Martyrdom, it presently turned the eyes of all men to it. The Disputation of Secinus with him, though written whilst the said Franciscus was alive, could notwithstanding hardly come to light fifteen years after. When this Disputation was finished in May, anno 1579, and presented to the Transylvanian Churches, Socinus could not long tarry there, by reason of a Disease then raging, which they commonly call the Colic. Wherefore in the same year, being now forty years old, he traveled into Poland, where he made suit publicly to be united to the Polonian Churches, which acknowledge none but the Father of the Lord Jesus Christ to be the most High God: but not concealing his dissent in certain doctrines, here suffered a repulse very roughly and for a long time.  
Nevertheless he, being composed unto patience not so much by his natural inclination, as by the resolution of his mind, was no whit enraged with this disgrace, nor ever gave any signs of a disaffected mind; But rather undertook to repel with his wit the incursion of divers Adversaries, who than infested those Churches. And first of all he received the charge of Andrea's Volanus, by refelling his Paraenesis; and upon the same occasion, at the request of Niemojevius the seventh Chapter of the Epistle to the Romans was explained. Afterwards it pleased him to assail Jacobus Palaeologus, whose reputation and Authority did at that time cherish the relics of pernicious errors in men otherwise well-minded. Him being somewhat roughly handled, not out of hatred, but advice, he always excused. A little after, when Volanus had renewed the fight, he was again encountered, and withal an Answer made to the Positions of the College of Ponsa. Whilst Socinus undergoeth so much fight and hatred for the patronage of the truth, amongst so many enemies there wanted not some Calumniators. Stephanus was then King of Poland. A Pickthank blows his ears with the report of a book written against the Magistrate; adding that it would be a very dishonourable thing to suffer a wand'ring Italian exile to escape scotfree with so bold an enterprise. He hinted at the book against Palaeologus. Which though it required no other testimony of its innocency, than the reading, yet did he think good to decline the danger.  
Whereupon he departed from Cracovia, where he had now lived four years, to a Noble man, named Christophorus Morstinus, Lord of Pawlicovia, in which place he defended his innocency not so much by skulking, as by the Privilege of Nobility in our Nation. For that suburb-farm is a few miles distant from Cracovia. It seemed a wiser course to clear himself from the crimes laid to his charge, rather out of that place, than out of prison. Nor was he entertained in that hospitable house for that nick of time only, but there cherished for above three years. And to the end that the courtesy shown to an exile and stranger might be more abundant, a little while after the daughter of the family, a noble Virgin, was at his suit given him in marriage; so that being of a stranger become a son-in-law, he seemed to have established his security in those places by affinities and friendships. Whilst he lived in the country, he wrote many notable pieces, and chief that against Eutropius, constantly defending the fame and cause of that Church, which had with most unjust prejudice condemned him, and caused him, though innocent, continually to suffer many indignities. His daughter Agnes was born to him in the year of our Lord 1587., and forty eighth of his age, of whom, being after her father's death married to Stanislaus Wiszowatius a Polonian Knight, there are as yet remaining nephews and nieces. In September the same year he lost his wife Elizabeth, which sad and disastrous chance was followed with a grievour fit of bodily sickness, so obstinate, that for certain months it caused the use of his studies to cease. And that no kind of calamity might be wanting, almost about the same time, by the death of Franciscus the Grand Duke of Tuscany, the revenues of his estate, which he received yearly out of Italy, were quite taken away from him. Indeed a little before, by the bitterness of Accusers, and threats of Popes, his estate came into danger. But by the strenuous endeavour of Isabel Medicea the Grand Duke's sister, (who was married to the aforesaid Paulus Jordanus Vrsinus,) whilst she lived, and afterwards by the favour of Franciscus the Grand Duke, it came to pass that during his life Socinus received the yearly income of his estate. For indeed his old deserts were still so fresh in memory, that those Princes though long since forsaken, and oftentimes rejected, did yet in a most difficult matter gratify the letters and prayers of a condemned and exiled person. Yea letters full of courtesy were sent unto him, and he bidden to be of good cheer for the future, as long as they lived, so that in setting forth books he suffered not his name to appear. But those Princes were then taken away by a destiny disastrous to Socinus. And that all things might seem to have conspired to the perplexity of the man, being a widower, sick, and stripped of all his fortunes, he was molested with the very times of our Commonwealth, which were then exceeding turbulent, because divers did contend who should be the King of Poland; so that the adversaries thereupon took greater licence to themselves. Socinus was now returned to Cracovia, and sought solace in the midst of so many evils from the employment which God had imposed on him, to purge the Church of such errors, as were then rife in her. Wherefore although he had been formerly accustomed to frequent Ecclesiastical Assemblies, yet in the year 1588. in the Synod of Breast (which is a Town on the borders of Lituania) he disputed with greater earnestness and fruit then before touching the death and Sacrifice of Christ, touching our Justification, touching the Corrupted Nature of Man, and finally with the Davidians and Budneists touching the Invocation of Jesus Christ. This was the year wherein the care and charge of the Church at Luclavicia was committed to Petrus Sto●nius, son to Petrus Statoriu● of Tho●●ville, whose family having heretofore been naturalised into the Nobili-of our Nation, hath even at this day some men surviving who have been invested with great Honours in our country. He being no less sharp in judgement, then ready in speech, being once admitted into the friendship of Socinus, yielded willingly to his Opinion. A little before also he had privately drawn many of the chief ones into his Opinion, and there was daily an accession made of such men as complied with them. Nevertheless certain men of very great authority still stood off, as Niemojevius, and Czechovicius, together with the greatest part of the ancient Ministers. The report is that Securinius was the first that adventured openly to maintain the Tenets of Socinus, to which he had assented. Not long after others followed. Which party was exceedingly strengthened by the accession of the three Lubjenecii, Andreas, Stanislaus, and Christophorus, who being brethren of noble descent, and born to very great hopes, and brought up partly in the King's Court, partly in the society of the greatest Peers, were by a sacred instinct transported from the midst of the allurements of this life to the care of Religion. These men, as they had by a most inflamed zeal trodden under foot all the impediments of piety, so with an equal candour and greatness of mind they subscribed to the known Truth.  
And now others of the pastors came-in a vie to the party, especially the juniors, who were less retarded with the prejudice of inveterate opinion and authority, and that by reason of an accident very notable for the newness thereof, which gave a memorable proof how great the force of the Truth is. Amidst a great jarring of Opinions this was a laudable agreement of that Church, that those men contended only with arguments and not with hatred. And though they detested one another's opinions, yet did they not condemn one another. And therefore keeping mutual tolerance entire, they oftentimes disputed very eagerly, and this was the chief work of their Synods.  
Wherefore anno 1585. in the Synod of Lublin, the opinion of Socinus touching the seventh Chap. of the Romans was exceedingly agitated. There were some that defended it; but as great a number of Pastors that opposed it. One whereof, named Nicolaus Zilinius, being willed by others of the same party to explain that Chapter contrary to the mind of Socinus, and having to that purpose stoutly managed the matter, falling in his discourse upon those words, wherewith the Apostle giveth thanks to God for his freedom, stood like a man amazed. And by and by, what is that freedom? saith he. What is that benefit, which drew from the Apostle so great thanks? was it, that he was of necessity detained in so great a servitude of sin? Certainly such a thing as this can at no hand gain approbation with me. I therefore (saith he) in like manner give very great thanks to the Father of lights, in that he would have the light of his truth arise unto me, who am now freed from error. Afterwards entering upon a contrary way of explaining, he accurately disputed for the Orthodox Opinion. When they, whose cause he had undertaken, being amazed did rebuke him, his answer was, that he could not resist the judgement of a convinced mind. This business was of great moment for the propagation of the Truth; nor did their endeavours less conduce thereunto, who had lifted up the standard unto others to embrace it. Amongst them the Eloquence of the foresaid Petrus Stoinius did excel. That Elegant Tongue only had God bestowed on those Churches equal to the wit of Socinus and able to deliver in a popular manner his subtle senses that were above the capacity of the ruder sort, and to commend them unto all by the genius of his flexanimous speech. Him therefore, as the chief Interpreter of his mind, did Socinus make use of, to the notable advantage of God's Church. And indeed certain things happened, which did enforce a stricter union with him. Socinus sojourning at Cracovia began long since to be environed with such dangers on every side, as are for the most part wont to accompany the faithful servants of Christ. How great an Indignity was there offered to him by that insolent soldier Vernecus, he himself signifieth in a certain letter. But above all, after the printing of his book touching the Saviour, the Adversaries again began to show the rancour of their hatred. Whereupon in the year 1598. the Scholars, having stirred up the dregs of the rabble, took Socinus being then sick and minding the recovery of his health, and pulling him out of his chamber half-naked, drag him in a contumelious manner through the market and the the most noted streets, the greatest part in the mean time crying out to have him brought to execution. At length having been grievously handled in that furious rout, he was with much ado rescued out of the hands of the raging multitude by Martinus Vadovita Professor of Cracovia. The plundering of his goods and householdstuff, together with other things liable to spoil, did not so much grieve him, as the irreparable loss of certain writings, concerning which he often did profess that he would redeem it with the expense of his life. Then perished together a notable labour of his against Atheists, which he had undertaken to refute the ingenious Devices of a certain Great Man. But when to so barbarous an example of cruelty threats were also added, he departed from Cracovia to Luclavicia, unto a certain village famous for his last habitation and death, and distant about nine miles from Cracovia; where having for certain years used the table and house of a Noble Man, named Abrahamus Blonscius, he lived a neighbour to Sto●nius. Both therefore affording mutual help near at hand in chase away the relics of errors, had now brought almost that whole Church to an unanimous consent in all opinions: for even Niemojevius himself having in most things already given assent to Socinus, condemned his own mistakes with such ingenuity as can never sufficiently be extolled.  
Czechovicius only could not be removed from his opinion. Who, as the better part prevailed, conniving, though with much ado, at other things, a little after began to make a stir about the opinion concerning Baptism, which nevertheless being suddenly according to the wish of Socinus laid asleep, did afterwards vanish of its own accord. Having thus fully purged the Church from errors, as if his life had been prolonged hitherto for this purpose only, he was at the end of winter, in the sixty fifth year of his age taken away at Luclavicia, by a death not so untimely to himself, as sad to his followers. His last words at his death were these, namely that he no less full of envy and troubles then of days, did with a joyful and undaunted hope incline to the period of his appointed time, which shown to him both a discharge from his sorrows and a reward of his labours.  
Petrus Stoinius who had been the associate of his life and labours, was also the Praiser, and in the year following the companion of his funeral. For as if he had already ended the appointed task of his life, he followed Socinus being hardly forty years old.  
Having passed over the race of Socinus life, through which we have made a short cut, it remaineth that we stop a while in considering what he did, and performed.  
No man in our memory did better deserve of all the Christian world, but chief of the Polonian Churches. For first, by setting out so many works, he opened the genuine meaning of the Holy Scriptures in innumerable places.  
Next, he only shown how to confirm with solid arguments, and skilfully to defend from subtle cavils and sophisms, those opinions touching the Person of God and Christ, which he found already rife in Poland. After that he happily extinguished some impious, other profane opinions, whose deadly poison did by stealth insinuate itself into the bosom of the Church. No man did more vigorously quell Judaizers: he also exploded the opinion of the Chiliasts, and many other fanatic dreams besides. As for the errors, received from the Reformed Churches, which did in a great number as yet reign in that Church, he did with a marvellous felicity root them out. Such were that of Justification, that of Appeasing the wrath of God, that of Predestination, that of the Servitude of the Will, that of Original Sin, that of the Lords Supper and Baptism, together with other misconstrued Doctrines. Finally, having taken-away pernicious errors, that he might not also leave any fopperyes in the Church, he exterminated very many superstitions about indifferent things. Of which sort was the overmuch affectation of mean clothing, and the eschewing of Magistracy, and refusing to prosecute ones own right even without a desire of revenge, and what other like spots there were, caused by the inconsiderate zeal of their first servor.  
Having explained the order of his life, and his actions, it remaineth that we add a few things concerning the habit of his Mind and Body. To relate the praises of his wit and judgement, is a superfluous labour, inasmuch as there are so many monuments thereof extant. As for his learning, the more pertinaciously he hide it, the more impatiently it breaketh-out. It was somewhat late, but more solid. Nor are there wanting in his writings the footsteps of a happy memory also. I cannot passby one proof thereof, which he gave in his disputation with Christianus Francken. This fellow in the Session of the Synod of Chmelnica, desiring to show a proof of his learning and wit, did in a more arrogant manner than was meet, challenge those Pastors to dispute, slighting the mean learning of every one. And that he might with very plenty puzzle and overwhelm him that was to dispute, having beforehand provided himself, he together proposed fifty agruments against the Adoration of Christ. This matter troubled some, and they, though the Church had so often rejected Socinus, did yet enjoin him to make an answer. He attentively hearing the man, who had on a sudden entered upon an unjust way of arguing, and did with one breath almost, pour out so many prepared shafts, was admonished to take in writing at least the heads of the reasons to which an answer was to be returned. But he in confidence of his memory, slighted the assistance of his pen, and patiently heard the man uttering those reasons of his as long as he pleased; and by and by in the same order repeating the long series of his arguments, gave such a solid answer to each of them, that the Adversary had hardly any thing to mutter against him. Whereupon having professed that he was unskilled and unprepared, he went away confounded, to the admiration of all. And because we have touched the endowments of his nature, if any man be curious to know the figure of his body also, let him know that he wanted not a form answerable to his disposition, being of such a stature as exceeded not the just size, yet was nearer to tallness. The habit of his body was somewhat slender, yet within measure. In his countenance the dignity of his high forehead, and Masculine beauty of his eyes did cast a glance. Nor did the comeliness and grace of his look diminish the vigour and majesty thereof. He was somewhat sparing of meat and sleep, and abstinent of all pleasures without affectation, only in the conservation of his health he seemed scrupulous, and oftentimes over-diligent. Yet was he for the most part of a prosperous health, but that he was sometimes troubled with the pains of the stone, and with the colic. Moreover, being grown somewhat old, he complained of the dimness of his sight, contracted with overmuch watching. The genius of his life was gentle and innocent. There was a marvellous simplicity in his manners, which was so tempered with gravity, that he was free from all superciliousness. Whence it came to pass that you would sooner reverence him than you could fear him. He was very affable, giving honour to every one exceedingly; and would you desire to reprove any thing in him, there was nothing nearer to discommendation, than the overmuch debasement of himself.  
The clothing of his body was modest, but yet neat and spruce; and though he was at a remote distance from bravery, yet was he less averse from slight ornaments. He was officious towards his friends, and diligent in all parts of his life. He had so won the affection of the Princes, in whose service he spent part of his life, that neither could long absence extinguish the desire of him, nor manifest offence obliterate the favour to him. Having showed all manner of officiousness towards his Uncles, brethren, and male-kindred, he chief regarded and reverenced Laelius. Amongst his female-kindred, besides his Grandmother Camilla, a most choice Matron, he exceedingly loved his Aunt Portia, and his Sister Phyllis, and that according to their deserts. The former of which twain, being whilst she lived, an example of most commendable chastity, did by her discretion and incredible gentleness of manners so gain the affection of her husband Laelius Beccius, a man of rank and quality, that he would often say with tears that he was unworthy of such and so great a wife. The latter by the sanctity of her manners and discipline in governing the house, had so approved herself to her husband Cornelius Marsilius a great Noble man, that at her death she left behind her an immortal desire of her company. And forasmuch as we are long since slipped from the endowments of nature to those which he acquired by his own industry, we must not pass-over in silence some of his virtues, whereby he was eminent above many. I cannot easily say whether there was more fire or wit in so vehement a disposition, so prone to choler had nature framed him, before he had allayed those violent motions with reason. Nevertheless he did so break and tame his choleric temper, that the mildness which afterwards shined-forth in him, seemed to very many to be the praise of nature, not of industry. The commendation of his patience likewise is enhanced as by the indignity of his fortune and injuries, so also by his delicate and consequently touchy disposition. No evil is wont to happen unto such persons without an exquisite resentment; nor is it so much to be wondered at, that oftentimes a larger wit is capable of more sorrow.  
But he in this fight also appeared conqueror of his fortune and nature, after he had with a Christian greatness of mind born and undergone so many calamities from strangers, so many injuries from his countrymen, perils from enemies, ingratitude from friends, envy from the learned, hatred from the ignorant, infamy from all, poverty from fortune, in fine a continual repulse, not without ignominy, from that very Church, which he had chief beautified. I have almost done an injury to fortune, in seeming to have ascribed unto her the cause of his poverty. But I have not now accused her fault, but intimated her condition: which Socinus might perhaps by Fortune's means have escaped, would either his conscience or a certain generosity of mind have permitted him. Certainly he never sought after the same of holiness by beggary. Nevertheless as often as he was able to sustain his condition with the smallest means, he could not be brought to take such gifts as were freely offered him. Yea he did of his own accord expend his means on the poor. Nor was he only conversant in every kind of alms, but in every kind of liberality also: so as you may thereby understand that his charity was inflamed with the promiscuous love of all men. Likewise he published certain books at his own charges; that he might omit nothing for the accomplishment of his ardent Zeal to promote Divine Truth, which he had undertaken to propagate, what with so many writings, what with so many letters, what with so many private and public disputations, what with so many informations of them who were in all places the Interpreters of his mind, what with so many long journeys, most of them from the utmost border of Silesia to the midst of Lituania, what with the loss of health, fame, and fortunes, what finally with the hazard of his life. That very thing which had been the only solace to sustain him in the midst of so great labours and perils, did he continually inculcate to the whole Church, as the only remedy to lead a holy life, namely a continual hope of Immortality, which he thought was to be carefully and delicately cherished. So that when a certain old man shown a tomb built for himself in token of piety, saying that he did perpetually meditate on death : Socinus replied, that he would do more rightly, if he did meditate on the reason of the Resurrection. Certainly his prudence shined-forth in all the parts of his life, but chief in his judgement of spiritual things, and was as it were a certain fruit of his humility and his modesty, a virtue so inbred and peculiar to his nature, that in other virtues he may seem to have vied with others; in this, with himself. He never despised any man; never attempted any thing but with advice and circumspection. In his very studies also he was so far from all selfconfidence, that he never assayed to write any thing, but what had been concocted with long and mature meditation. And this may easily be discerned in his works. How often did he go very gingerly through those rough ways which others would have securely trodden? So that no man seemeth to have disinherited another's wit, as he did his own. Which, as we have said, was then the reward, and now the token of his singular modesty. But especially his faith did much shine-forth amongst other praises. None in the memory of men was better furnished with all helps whereby we ascend to fame, and wealth, and the highest pitch of this life: nature, fortune, and finally industry, had emulously accumulated nobility of stock, splendour of friendships, grace of Princes, liberal means, health, wit, eloquence, learning, and a natural reach capable of the greatest matters. Obedience to the call of God, and the pledge of truth entrusted to him, cost him the loss of so great privileges. It was a small matter to have forsaken so many pledges of the greatest hope, had he not also, as a sacrifice devoted to the public hatred, wittingly and willingly exposed himself to infinite miseries, want, hazards, enmityes, universal contempt, reproaches, contumelies, & to an execrable memory of his name in all places. Nor indeed looked he for anyother reward at present, or shortly after. His wishes reached beyond the bounds of his life, yea beyond the race of the present age; and his hope was so truly erected towards heaven, that it rested on no prop of earthly solace. I detract not from the praises due to the merits of other men: each of them hath his proper honour. Yet will I by their good leave say, that some famous men have perhaps made an attempt at so sublime a proof of faith, but I cannot tell whether any one hath reached it. For the greatest part wanted not helps whereby their virtue was soon relieved, so that they were not long God's creditors. The magnanimity of Luther and others was quickly entertained with the applause and affections of Princes and peoples. How many others, otherwise poor and obscure, were by the maintenance of God's cause advanced to riches and power? whom nevertheless this vicissitude doth not exclude from the praise of faith, if that which was the cause of their advancement, did grow up to maturity together with them.  
But they cannot easily be admitted into this number, who even with the great detriment of their estates espouse the cause of God (whether truly such, or pretended) being now in a flourishing condition, and come to maturity. For they have what to hope-for on the earth, even without respect to heaven; and in the expectation of such present rewards you cannot always easily discern, whether they repose greater confidence in God, then in their own industry.  
But Laelius and Faustus, men of so great judgement, and so great knowledge and experience of the age wherein they lived, what solace could they promise themselves in the earth whilst they lived, yea in the next ensuing age, for so many labours and dangers, having professed such tenets as were setoff with no pomp of authority, no engagement of parties, no connivency at a more dissolute life, yea no other blandishment whatsoever; but were rather distasteful and odious unto all by reason of their austerity? Certainly I can here espy no crevice of earthly hope, which may detract a whit from the praise of a most noble faith, which how great soever it was, being excluded out of all the earth, was mounted up to heaven, and there conversed with the clemency of God alone.  
Ignatius also, that I may omit others, in the memory of our fathers, contemned his country, kindred, wealth, honours, and other allurements, and also underwent many labours and dangers of his own accord, having professed a zeal to God's glory, and the warfare of faith. I slight not the greatness of mind, which shown itself in him or some like to him. For neither did they hasten unto glory through such a way as was altogether pleasant. Nevertheless I do not yet here behold that difficult proof of a more noble faith, which we seek for. I assume not so much to myself, nor is it at present very material, as to pronounce sentence concerning the purpose of any one's mind, which will at length be performed by an infallible Judge. Wherefore I regard not what Ignatius had in his mind, since for the present business it is sufficient, what he might have. 'tis true, he saw the Pope's affairs in some provinces afflicted, but could not be ignorant, that in most, or at least in the more powerful ones, and consequently in his country, and where he intended to fix his abode, they were well established and flourishing. Who would affirm that the immense rewards, which that Church presently repayeth to her defenders, were unknown to Ignatius? Certainly the spur of glory is very sharp in generous minds. Wheresoever an illustrious field of glory is opened, not only pleasures and riches become sordid in comparison thereof, but very life itself is vilifyed. And therefore even Martyrdoms are easily undergone for a prosperous and rich Church, without a more noble proof of religious faith, nor consequently can they deserve more admiration, than those brave Lads of Canna and Trebia, who were born for the Punic times; or if you like not the common soldiery, than Codrus, who feared not to die for his country. Indeed whosoever hath sought after Eternity of name in the Church of Rome, did wisely choose a race for his glory. For the Roman, Commonwealth heretofore (although she grew great by this means chief) did never propose so many and so great rewards to dangers undertaken for her sake, as the Roman Church doth hold-forth. For those sumptuous beds and altars were a late invention of the Commonwealth, and that to gratify the Emperors only. Whereas the Church doth confer upon her benefactors not only everlasting veneration of name, but also temples, and Orders, and an honourable place amongst the canonised Saints. What higher thing can the most ardent thirst of glory aspire unto? Wherefore when so large offer's are proposed, and almost grasped with the hand, whosoever, though with some loss of his estate, entered into that warfare, hath no great reason to boast of his faith before God. Whilst the Riches of the Roman Church, the power of so many Princes, and the hugeness of the Spanish Empire dispersed over the world came-in to his aid, it was an easy matter even in the greatest danger to run before the Ensigns. That was an essay of a humane and military fortitude, not rising up to the more sacred glory of the Martyrs or Confessors of the Primitive Church. For they did so sincerely mind heaven, that they had nothing left them to be hoped-for in the earth. After their example Laelius and Faustus did so trust God with those things which they lost for his sake, that they received hardly any earthly pledges of the Reward to come, no humane security for the Divine Hope, no solace. They followed the faith and clemency of God alone, in expectation to receive the same a long time after their decease. And having been through the course of their lives perpetually despised, and inglorious, and only famous for the hatred conceived against them, they did not so much as at their death receive a taste of a more honourable report. Nevertheless the beneficence of the most faithful God did never turn bankrupt to any one that had trusted him. Nor would he have that noble pair of his servants be buried in perpetual oblivion, but shown them to the world on that side of them where they might be gloriously known, having brought to light so many famous monuments of their wits.  
And although the full wages of their warfare consisted not in this reward, yet nevertheless he hath begun so bountifully to assert the very honour of their name amongst men, that it is perhaps more to be feared lest posterity should confer on them toomuch dignity, than none at all.  
FINIS.   

An Excellent DISCOURSE Which the same POLONIAN Knight Would have had Premised TO THE WORKS OF SOCINUS.  
London, Printed for Richard Moon, at the seven Stars in Paul's Churchyard, near the great North-door. 1653.   

AN Excellent Discourse.  
THE wit of man was heretofore much turmoiled in seekingout the way of Happiness: but no contention, no industry of mortals could find out that, for which we ought to be indebted merely to the favour of the Immortal God. Wherefore a great part of Mankind was enveigled with the fawning allurements of pleasure. Nor were fewer overcome with the glistering of Gold, and enslaved with the commodity of riches. Certainly on this lime-twig almost all the rabble of mortals have sticked; although the more noble Wits did justly condemn so bad and sordid an image of Happiness. They therefore thought Glory, Empire, Power, and other like things, to be more worthy of that height. But the wiser sort of men did very justly despise these vain and fleeting Gifts of fortune also. Likewise those things which are at first the blandishments, and afterwards the spoils of this transitory life, as beauty and strength of body, happy marriage, numerous offspring, and the vivacity of a long old age, seemed liable to the same disdain with the former things. There remained the honour and integrity of a life guided by virtue, wherein the best of men placed the top of our felicity. And I ingenuously confess that there is nothing amongst humane matters which riseth up higher and nearer to that pitch: but how our mind should rest there, I cannot yet discern. For if you remove the other solaces and contentments of humane life, I see no other fruit in virtue worthy of felicity, then that of a good conscience. Nor indeed do I think that that joy of the mind congratulating itself is to be slighted. But how it is able to secure us from the incident miseries that do infest the life of man, or fill-up the numbers of just happiness, I cannot apprehend. For our mind, in the felicity which it sueth after, doth not only seek the solace, but vacuity of evils; nor desire to be happier than the most miserable, but to be void of all misery. For not to call them evil and miseries, which are irksome to the body or life of man, savoureth of a proud stile, and such as thwarteth humane capacity. Let us leave it to Homer, who only durst to speak in the language of the Gods, and that of right, inasmuch as he was not a Painter, but a Poet.  
Men (saith he touching a certain bird) call it Chal●is, the Gods Cymindis.  
We, as long as we are liable to the casualties of body and fortune, will be enforced to impose the names of good and evil, rather according to the sense of Humanity, then suitably to the ambition of Philosophy. Wherefore we are of opinion that calamitous virtue falleth 〈◊〉 mo●● of happiness, and that a conscience of good works, though worthy of prosperity, is yet oftentimes nearer to pity, than envy. Nor was this unknown to the more acute Philosophers, who not content to have placed happiness in the action of virtue, added the condition of a prosperous life and of outward goods. Upon which account those prime men are undeservedly traduced. For nothing is more ridiculous, then to circumscribe the reason of happiness, which consisteth in the solid affluence of things, within the limits of a cheerful, but naked and barren cogitation. By this accounted Felicity is poor and needy, if virtue serve her at her own charges, nor hath other rewards of dangers, than the remembrance of them. Nevertheless I do not conceive that her chief reward is prosperity and success in this life; nor imagine that the Prince of Philosophers thought so. Howbeit it is a wretched condition, and unworthy of virtue, that she being innocent should be punished with great misfortunes, or having very well deserved, be lurched of the chief, yea necessary commodities and comforts of life. Therefore it was fitting, that that, whatsoever it be, without which the life of men is bitter and calamitous, should be annexed to that happiness, to which we ascend by virtue. Neither again without ground was this kind of happiness disliked. For if it consisteth not without outward prosperity, which can neither be at first gotten, nor aftewards retained at our pleasure, what hope or stress is to be placed therein, since it cannot happen to us upon our endeavour, and may be taken from us against our will?  
Howbeit you may more justly here bewail the condition of our mortality, then reprove the judgement of the most acute philosopher. He did what he was able, and drew the lineaments of happness, how great soever might heretofore be hoped-for in this life. What is he to blame, if it be not attainable by every one's industry? If there be something in it, which you suppose to be neither firm, nor stable? In short, if it do not satiate the greediness of man's mind? For whatsoever that felicity was, which might be hoped for in this life, it laboured with great and manifold defect. For first, in that there was no passage to it, but by virtue, and it had not a certain reward, and such as was worthy of it, those complexions that were unhappily disposed by nature, were quite excluded therefrom. And for the same cause even nobler dispositions could not aspire to the highest pitch of virtue. Again, if any man had by a more happy genius arrived through much difficulty to some praise of virtue, Good Fortune, which was no less a deaf then blind Goddess, was to be entreated, that she would either become, or remain propitious: without whose most uncertain help none could by mere virtue maintain the state of his happiness. Finally, though some man were so highly favoured both by Virtue and Fortune, that they conspired together to make him happy even unto envy, nevertheless he could not be void of trepidation whilst an inevitable necessity of dying hung over his head. Which was so far from being mitigated with the solace of the felicity which he enjoyed, that the more happily a man lived, the more unwilling was he to departed from his happiness: and in the greater affluence of good things, he had the juster cause of fear and sorrow. How hard therefore was the condition of mortality, which though advanced to so rare a state as few could wish-for, was notwithstanding unsecure from so great sorrow and anxiety! To find an issue of these evils and miseries, and so tend directly towards sincere happiness, did (as we before hinted) exceed the power of man. That glory was reserved for the bounty of the Most high God, who only by his Son discovered that Secret of Eternity, that there was a reward worthy of virtue besides itself.  
He first by exceeding-great promises erected the desires of men to true Happiness; and gave not only the pleasing overture of so incredible a wish, but the undoubted pledges of the hope itself. We have the Son for an hostage of the Father's faithfulness, the purity and holiness of whose Doctrine doth sufficiently plead for itself without Advocates and Patronage: whose innocency of life confirms his Doctrine; whose stupendious miracles, assert not only his Doctrine but his innocency also. Whose death as undergone for the testimony of his Doctrine, argueth his sincerity; as overcome, sheweth the truth of his undoubted testimony. Whose resurrection from death setteth before our eyes a pattern of his sublime promise; whose exaltation and empire show the certitude thereof. In a word, are the things which he performed by the Apostles, and the admirable operations of the Holy Spirit, who without arms subdued the armed world, and without blandishments alured so many nations to the hardship of virtue, to be esteemed slight proofs both of his Divine Empire, and our hope? Is it credible that any men would heretofore in this world have undergone a huge deal of pains not only without any reward, but with apparent ruin, had they not been emboldened with a hope of something after this life? Can even a strong faith, whilst the memory of things was yet fresh, afford so great a proof of itself, had there been any solid or just ground of distrust? Wherefore the first attempt was to draw the whole world to the belief of those things, which a few very simple men had in the beginning seen with their eyes. So many cities and empires, so many nations and peoples, so many Isles and utmost borders of the earth, although in other things for the most part at variance amongst themselves, do yet agree in the belief of those things, which the Christian Religion holdeth forth. How happy was mankind, which having been before drowned in profound darkness, was suddenly environed with so great a light! How blessed was the condition of men, to whom the way of heaven and immortality was not only shown in a friendly manner, but leveled and prepared for them! This is that true felicity which lieth open unto every one that seriously desires it, and cannot be taken away from a man against his will. Neither fortune, nor the fabulous necessity of fate, nor the silly distaff of the destinies, hath any power over it. As for the right which God himself had over it, he hath resigned the same up to those, who believe his promises in Christ, and remember the covenant, which he hath made with us, whom he bought with the precious blood of his Son. In the last place, whatsoever things did heretofore disturb or delay the prosperity of men in this life, are removed far away from this happiness. So great rewards are in it proposed unto virtue, that all men have an access to the top thereof: so great helps and supports are added, that neither an untoward disposition, nor bad education, nor dulness of wit, nor ignorance of learning, nor weakness of sex, nor meanness of birth, nor poverty, nor employment of life, nor any other thing, but voluntary wickedness, can hinder a man from enjoying it. After that the Christian Religion had drenched so many nations in heavenly cares, no longer was virtue suppliant unto fortune, that she would not disturb her course with sad disasters, nor interrupt her solid joys with humane terrors and lamentations. Then did she begin to despise that blind Goddess without pride, and provoke her without rashness, being as secure of her own safety as of victory. For God would not suffer fortune to have greater power over virtue in this present life, then suited with the indulgence of a kind father towards his children. And though her threatened blows be not disappointed, yet i● it serviceable to our glory and the increase of our happiness, when having surmounted all difficulties we enjoy the glad and glorious memory of our labours. In short, that very invincible necessity of dying, which waiting on the rear of our life, did blast its accumulated joys, afar off with terror, and near at hand with sad destruction, hath long since submitted her conquered neck to virtue and faith. Nor is it an impeachment hereunto, that this enemy seemeth not as yet to have cast away his weapons, for his chiefest blade is dulled, in that death was long since weakened by the resurrection of Christ. O happy and more than Saturnian age, wherein so pleasing a glance did first shine-forth to the world! It was an easy thing for mankind in so saving a light to pass roundly on to immortality, but I know not by what injury of vicissitude, they could not long sincerely enjoy so great a happiness. Whether it were some malignant Spirit, or the very world itself envied her own fortune, or finally the counsel of almighty God, that virtue might never want a ●●fficient combat, certain it is that the hope of so happy a condition, together with the way thereunto, hath been for many ages involved with the greatest difficulties. For first, the very confidence of our hope (which only is able to set us on the top of true happiness) began to be undermined and shaken with engines well-nigh planted against it. Next, the very Religion of Christ, which alone gave assurance of so great a hope to mankind, was on several accounts called into question. Finally, a great impediment lay in the way to hinder us not only from conceiving, but also venturing on this hope. And (which would most of all move you with grief and indignation) all these things were done by them, who professed themselves competitors of the felicity hoped for.  
For, that we may return unto what was proposed in the first place, what engine was fit to undermine our faith, than the difficulty of returning to life? That life might perhaps be extended to a very great length, would though with some difficulty be assented unto by reason, but that being once taken away it should be restored again for ever, was, though not contrary to reason, yet above belief. In so great a miracle, thwarting the custom of nature, mankind could hardly believe without an example. And therefore God exposed to the view of all a certain experiment thereof, having recalled him to life, who did not at all exceed others as to the condition of mortal nature. This so evident a prop of our faith is taken from us by the common opinion of Christians: if Jesus that was raised from the dead be the very most high God, not differing in essence from the Father. For neither did he really die (for who would imagine that the Supreme Power can die? who would affirm that a person coeternal and coessential with the Father was killed?) nor when he was dead, did he, like us, stand in need of another's help: so that returning unto life in a glorious manner, he did by his own strength, and such a power, as was neither taken away from him, nor laid down by him, rescue himself out of the jaws of death. Tell me now, what is there in us like hereunto? It is not something added unto us, but we ourselves that die; and what hope is there in our strength, being altogether broken and quelled by death? Certainly the Ghosts or persons of the dead do not watch an opportunity to raise themselves by their own power out of so profound a sleep. Moreover, as if it had been a small matter to have our faith so dangerously shaken in a thing of the greatest moment, a very provident care was also taken, that it might not make use of some other means to erect itself. For whereas it was the chief duty of a lively faith sincerely to believe so sublime promises of God; the generality of Christians was made to believe, that the main business of faith was to believe certain opinions touching the nature of God, and other the like doctrines. Thus did the Public error wrest and turn aside the minds of all from the true exercise of faith, to the affectation of vain opinions. Whereby it came to pass that all disputed concerning the nature of God, but few believed his promises, and accordingly not many obeyed his commandments. So that with a little ado faith degenerated into opinion, religion into Philosophy, virtue into contemplation, zeal into contention, love into faction. Nor could it be otherwise, when once the manners of men were slighted, and their wits only began to be improved and examined.  
I come now to the second engine wherewith our faith was shaken, and which struck at our hope through the side of our whole religion. No sect, no religion, besides the Christian doth solidly promise heaven and the stars to them who have well deserved. The pledge of so great a promise perisheth, if the promise● himself is called into question. But they have taken the direct way to make it be condemned of falsehood, or burdened with a very just ground of suspicion, who deem such doctrines fundamental thereunto, as are false and repugnant to all reason. Who would not fall a weeping for the miseries of the Church, when he considereth how much she hath degenerated from her primitive chastity? And in the midst of grief a just indignation sometimes breaketh-out, to see that those ancient Bishops should in the doctrine touching God not be ashamed violently to draw the sense of the Holy Scripture to the opinions of the Greek (shall I say?) or Barbarous Philosophy. The ancient Church heretofore laughed at the Gnostics, for corrupting profane Philosophy with shreds taken out of the Christian doctrine, and prodigiously patched together. When in the mean she herself (forsooth) making a more sober use of Philosophy, had rather seem to have defiled the Christian Divinity, than the Learning of that age. Did those Fathers think it so miserable a thing, to be accounted ignorant of those arts, which were then so ardently affected by the times? But as they, who desire to sit on two stools, fall from b●th, even so those Bishops did neither sincerely retain the primitive simplicity of the Sacred Revelation, nor the conjectures of profane wits. Whereupon the Doctrines of the Church were stuffed with absurd and contradictions opinions; which, inasmuch they pull-up by the roots the notions naturally implanted in us, and consequently reason itself, are obtruded under the pretence of Faith.  
Which might notwithstanding be endured, first if they only surpassed the power of our mind, and did not overthrow it. For there is a wide difference between nor perceiving the reason of a thing, and seeing the falsehood thereof. Because the truth is oftentimes so deeply hid, that it can hardly be brought to light; whereas falsehood can seldom lie so close, but that it may be traced out. Wherefore I could wish that it were as easy a matter to cure ignorance, as to convince errors of falsehood. Otherwise to what purpose doth our mind serve, if it shall on any pretence be afraid to condemn that, which implieth a contradiction? Furthermore, that desense of paradoxes under the buckler of Faith might be endured, did men in very deed fly from the examination of Reason, to the authority of Divine Testimony. But when the cause beginneth to sink under the judgement of Reason, a sudden supply is fetched from Sacred Revelation. When this very Revelation cometh to scanning, we find it (as we formerly hinted) to be more evidently discovered by Platonic Wits, then by the Apostolic Writers. Again, if there be any place in the Holy Oracles, which may seem to prove it, it is so obscure, that we must again return to those flying and airy contemplations of man's brain, to have some certainty concerning the ambiguous sense thereof. In framing which consequences, if the cause begin again to totter, a ridiculous return is also made again to the belief of the Heavenly Revelation, as to a known starting-hole. As if it had been long since granted, that this were a Doctrine delivered by God, and not the very Doctrine itself were then most called into question. By this means whilst Uncertain Reason fetcheth unseasonable help from Suspected Revelation, & Suspected Revelation from Uncertain Reason, neither of them is found to have any stability. Last of all, there are in the Scriptures so many and so clear testimonies of the contrary opinion, that neither can those paradoxes consist with the safety of them, nor the authority of Holy writ remain safe, if they be called into question. And therefore no Christian dares to make a scruple concerning either the certainty or sense of those testimonies: only it is urged that they are maimed and defective, and consequently have need of something added to them from abroad for the full knowledge of Divine things. And indeed let us herein grant their request, so that they abuse not this liberty of adding, to undermine those things which they promised to supply. But what if they produce such additions, as quite overthrow the certainty and reason of those things, to which they are added? This certainly is not to be endured, inasmuch as they had promised to supply our testimonies, and not to abolish them.  
But they fetch those supplements out of the Sacred Oracles, by whose rule they would have their other testimonies tried. Truly we deny not that the Scripture is the most faithful interpreter of itself. But first we must consider, with what fidelity they draw that from some places of the Scripture, which is repugnant to the open sense thereof elsewhere. Next we must demand of them, with what forehead they require that those places, concerning whose meaning (by reason of the open evidence) they do in a manner agree with the Adversaries, should be explained by others, concerning whose exposition there is the greatest controversy. What perverse and preposterous order of knowledge is that, to illustrate the light by darkness? As if this were the way to perceive the most known things, even to be blind in such as are unknown. How great support therefore in the Divine Oracles those opinions have, which are otherwise repugnant unto reason, and how justly they implore the help of Faith is evident from those things which we have discoursed. But to what purpose is all this, if notwithstanding the greatest part of men are persuaded, that it very much concerneth the Christian Religion, that so incredible things be believed? Neither is this the only point, wherein the truth of so Divine Faith is traduced. What should I here mention that sink of most filthy errors, wherewith the most pure doctrine of the Gospel hath been over-flowed? There was heretofore none so profane an opinion, none so silly a dotage, none so ridiculous a superstition, which (by the great injustice of men) did not only find place therein, but also esteem. I omit the portentous opinions touching Transubstantiation, touching the infinite Power of the Priests and the Pope, and touching the worship of Images; I omit the fables fetched out of the Academy, touching Limbus, and Purgatory; I omit so many bug-bear-apparitions, so many marts of absolutions, and sales of sins, so many strange rites and foreign ceremonies; and sundry other things, which either the Greek also, or the Latin Church only hath not blushed so long to propose for the main pillars of the Faith. For whatsoever, either abhorrent from all reason, or repugnant to the Holy Scripture, hath for so many ages been obtruded on the Generality of Christians, all that hath redounded to the disgrace of our Religion and Faith, since neither could the inbred light of our mind be extinguished by any means, nor the authority of the Scripture be overthrown as long as our Faith remained safe. But let that pass for the deplorable calamity of the world fallen in barbarism; now that the light of a happier age is risen, and the world beginneth to come out of that thick darkness, it is a great indignity that being now awakened and stirring it should again be pothered in the same or a worse fog. For whereunto tendeth the unavoidable condition of Divine Destination? whereunto, the most unjust necessity of Fate, far more silly and barbarous than the dreams of the Ancients? which doth not prescribe such a law of life as is equal and common unto all, but a fixed decree concerning the inmutable state of every particular man; which finally thinketh this only worthy of immense rewards, or direful torments, that men, though they be never so willing, are not able to resist the will of God. Whereunto, I say, tendeth so cruel and sinister an opinion, but to enwrap in fable darkeness the reason both of God's Empire, and Man's Obedience? What also meaneth that peculiar opinion of some touching the pravity of good works? or that other more common opinion touching our propriety and possession of another's holiness? Besides the darkening of our mind, are we not averted from the study of true piety by the strange mixture of repugnant things? if when we do never so well we are frighted with the conscience of our good deeds, and when we live never so ill we have the confidence of another's merit? What should I commemorate the price properly paid for our free impunity? and that it is enjoined us by the law of a most equal severity to do impossibilities? and that the will, that is, the freedom of man, is servile? All these opinions can no more be reconciled with a sincere endeavour to live piously, then with themselves. For who would, with the loss of those things that are most dear to him, seek to attain such a reward, as he thinketh to be already purchased at another's cost, and without any pains of his? who would press towards a place through rough and craggy ways, when in the mean time he is persuaded not only that he cannot get thither, but also cannot so much as will to go? I know I have touched those points of the Reformed Doctrine (as they call it) which like the ulcers of a most delicate part cannot be handled without an exquisite sense of pain. Wherefore I will add no more; for neither can those things be comprehended in a compendium of words, whose number cannot easily be reckoned up in the mind. Besides, I know right well that some one, having read those few words, will fly-out, and chase, as if he were pricked on a sudden: although I endeavour so to moderate my stile, that none may justly take offence. For the Christian world sleepeth quietly in his sins, being bolstered up with those opinions; so that if any one attempt to draw away the pillow from his delicate neck, the inflamed faction of Divines falls presently a raging worse than a tiger rob of her whelps, and crying-out that Faith and Religion lie at stake; when in the mean time only the private credit of certain men, or the public allurement of sinning is brought into danger. They impute this zeal to the honour and glory of God and Christ; as if God and Christ liked such Doctrines, as utterly root out of the minds of men the true worship and observance of his Divine Majesty, consisting in Obedience. Every one thinketh that he ought to endeavour according to his ability, that no low opinion creep in concerning the Essence, Person, Benefit, and in a word, the Glory of God and Christ. Nor do I therein blame them. But tell me, good Sir, why do you give fair titles to foul vices? Is it your desire truly and magnificently to assert the glory of God? then use all disigence that the light of your virtues may shine before all men. Which that you may the more readily perform, discard all portentous opinions, that may hinder you in the course of true piety. Unless you use such industry about Divine Things, you must of necessity be very ignorant of them. For it is a most vain hope of yours, to think to win the favour of God and Christ by flattery, whereas it is to be acquired only by obedience. Christ will scorn blandishmen●s and titles, which have been hitherto a cloak for the disobedience of his commandments. A saving light shined-forth to the world: but men rather loved darkness, because they are enamoured on their pleasing Wickedness. What wonder therefore is it, that doctrines so absurd, so contradictious, so distant and abhorrent from all reason have been obtruded on their heedless minds? All those tenets crept on them in the dismal time of night and darkness, whilst men buried in the sweet sleep of their sins, observe not the blind and secret snares laid for them. But above all, as we formerly hinted, the credit of the Christian Religion was impeached, when once men began to be persuaded, that it could not stand without such rotten and weak props. Which are justly excepted against, not only for suspicion of most evident falsehood, but also because they pull the stock of virtue out of the hearts of men by the very roots, whereas our mind, though she turn herself every way, is never able to condemn virtue, as also other common notions. Thus our Religion being called into question by means of so many inextricable ways of error, how small a number is there even of Christians (that I may not speak of others) that hath been able to preserve the confidence of their hope untouched and unstained amidst so many and so grievous suspicions?  
Hence at length it came to pass, according to our third proposal, that after our faith and hope, which only was able to keep us in the obedience of Christ had been hindered, the very obedience itself was also hindered, and consequently the ready way to th● felicity hoped-for. For all kinds of crimes and vices broke into the Church in great throngs. The whole body of the Church is full of so many corruptions in manners, so many diseases and ulcers, that it is a tedious work to prosecute every one in particular. Innumerable errors produced infinite abuses. Wherefore, omitting the rest, which reign everywhere to the infamy of Religion, I will commemorate but twain, whereof not only the impurity was permitted, but the impiety also was enjoined. For first of all, the worship of the Supreme Power being turned aside from a spiritual and heavenly manner, to ugly rites and ceremonies, a sad and shameful kind of Idolatry was introduced. And as if there were a danger, lest men, if not commanded thereunto, should more timerously trample under foot the express commandments of God, by the public sanctions and decrees of the Church it was almost in very terms enjoined, that the first and chiefest precept of God should be violated, and the second be expunged out of the number of the other ten.  
Furthermore, that New and Royal Law of Christ, which amongst others hath the pre-eminence, not only as the compliment and top of perfection, but as the ordinary badge of his peculiar people, the Law, I say, of Love was publicly abrogated by the vilest customs and institutions. I omit other things, which are practised to the prejudice thereof, not by clandestine infirmity, or private attempt, but by public Advice. That one thing is sufficient, which hath for many ages, to the shameful discredit of the Churches of Christ, been a received practice; namely that those men, who have entrusted themselves their hopes and fortunes to Jesus of Nazareth, acknowledged to be the Christ of God, and who are reckoned in his family, and listed in his service, and whom none (who thinketh not himself exempted from the Laws of Christ) may so much as hate, should notwithstanding on no other ground, then because they descent in something, be by their fellow-servants and soldiers not only abused with most bitter hatred, disgraces, and injuries, but also killed with exquisite tortures, and with cruel and horrid kinds of punishment, This is not a spot of private cruelty: so dire and detestable acts as these are perpetrated in the name of the Church. For many ages since, amongst the people of Christ, a profane and cruel faction hath prevailed, which making havoc of the Church of Christ with fire and sword, doth notwithstanding arrogate ●o herself the name of the Church, excluding others from the participation thereof. This is she, which hath by the slaughter and wounds of the innocent most infamously polluted herself with blood; this is she, which hath by so many doleful fires and dismal flames, branded herself with this indelible mark, with these prints, to her everlasting infamy; this is she, who quaking and sliding no less in the dirt of vices, then in the blood of the innocent, is by the Ghosts of the oppressed drawn to the tribunal of the sovereign Judge; In fine, this is the faction, which imposed such a Prince on the Commonwealth and the Church, whose power lately resting on the lap of Europe, made the Christian world groan, and now puts it in a fright lest it should rest upon it the second time. For the most merciful God taking pity on the hardship wherewith we were oppressed, did cast this yoke from off our necks. And now the darkness of base servitude being dispelled, a most pleasant light of liberty shined-forth, when on the sudden tempestuous clouds arising threaten a more dismal night than the former. What is it, but our ingratitude, that usually causeth God to repent of his benefits? Before the rising of the light, he sent the pleasant glimmering of the morning: but we contenting ourselves with the twilight, have shut our eyes against the very beams of the Sun, that we might with more modesty sin in the dark. He began to restore liberty, but we rather chose servitude. For the same domination that others exercised over us, have we suffered to be exercised over the weaker sort, to the end it might plainly appear that we were not so much displeased with our servitude, as with our master. Why therefore should we accuse God, for thrusting us again into most horrid darkness, when we so basely do despise the light? Why should we complain, that we are again enslaved to the Pope, when we by a shameful kind of vassalage perform homage to ignobler Masters? If we list to become servants, there is some choice in taking a more honourable master. What then? shall we invite all to take up the yoke again which they had heretofore thrown off their necks? At no hand. For though the new servitude be a grief and shame to us, yet do we justly congratulate the expulsion of Idolatry together with the old Tyranny. We also rejoice that in many other things the feature of the Church is restored to her. But above all we acknowledge it for a special gift of God, that the due authority and reverence of the Holy Scripture is vindicated. So that the foundations of a very excellent hope are already laid; it remaineth, that as we have expelled Idolatry, so we restore charity, which cannot be done but by the banishment not only of cruelty, but also of all tyranny and iniquity. And let us use the authority & guidance of the Holy Scripture, which we have asserted, to chase away the relics of darkness, which have hitherto no less weakened the hope of salvation, then disfigured the faith and beauty of our Religion. Why do we linger any longer? why do w● expect the sharper goads of God to prick us forward? Certainly in this juncture of time, there is something greater than the mouth of man that thunders out. We are not now admonished of our duty by a humane voice, but by the dreadful rebuke of the Divine Judgements. God applieth a sad but wholesome remedy to our sickness. Too much felicity had corrupted us, and we had openly loosed the reins to our lusts amidst the blandishments of prosperity. Such of us as have not been carried away with the force of sin or improbity to a cruel hatred of austere truth, have yet by some love or fear of earthly things, been detained in their pleasing errors with soft and gentle fetters. The impiety of the former required punishment, the weakness of the latter craved help. And therefore Providence dispenseth unto both his proper remedy. Such minds as are overwhelmed with vices, pay for their hatred and contempt of the truth, by being again involved in darkness. But such hearts as are honest, yet bound with a teather of earthly things, are by the Divine Goodness set at liberty. Certainly it had been better in the midst of prosperity to have embraced the offer of truth. But the most merciful God did herein also take care for honest hearts, in that he removed the allurements and encumbrances, wherewith they were kept from the knowledge of truth. Wherefore God doth now openly in the view of the world make trial, with what sincerity every one of us hath departed from the society of Antichrist. If either the conspiracy of faction, or love of parties, or any other humane consideration whatsoever hath hitherto detained any in the warfare of Christ, they may retire and betake themselves thither, where there is an offer of greater present advantage. But ye that have trusted the Captain of your faith with the pay of your deferred reward, be not discouraged in so great a storm of adverse fortune. This is the means whereby God exerciseth and tryeth them that are his. Virtue and truth have in all ages been educated with these hardships, and grown to maturity by these trials. With these evils Christ himself and the Apostles, as also the Martyrs and Confessors of the Primitive Church have conflicted. Finally, with these arms the world always rageth against good men; by these mine's the Tyranny of Antichrist hath now many ages since crept-in; with such practices as these, a great part of those Fathers, whom ye Idolise, did drive-on furiously; by these arts were those Counsels, which ye as yet adore, upheld and maintained, whilst in Synods controversies were decided with violent factions, and authority, and the decrees of Synods ratified by Imperial power, with fines, disgraces, banishments, and at length with blood itself and extreme punishments. God would have you taste the equity and nature of such arts, to the end ye might understand, what ye ought to judge of that authority which grew and was established by the like means and practices. Wherefore rejecting those profane and justly-suspected prejudices of ages and autorities, implore the only aid of the Sacred Oracles, and under their patronage seek both the way of finding-out the truth, and of defending it being found. Only bring sincere minds, and such as are desirous of the truth; and since the whole truth may in a manner cost you no more charge and damage, than hitherto a portion of it did, be bold to receive it with both your arms, whilst it is freely offered to you, and without danger. By this means it will come to pass, that your hope and faith b●ing underset with better props, will more readily erect itself to the true worship and obedience of God, and abide more constantly in the same. For facilitating of which work, ye and all the Church are very much beholding to Socinus, a man ennobled by his parentage, virtue, and the monuments of his wit; and who, when the heat of envy shall evaporate together with the ignorance of the age, will be far more ennobled amongst Posterity. The praises of which man it is better to pass-over in silence, then meanly to prosecute: Especially because they are in some measure attested and blazoned by his Life, perfixed before this Discourse; but abundantly by the issue of his sublime wit, and the genius of his writings. He was the man that stretched the sinews of his most sharp judgement, to remove from the Church of Christ whatsoever he deemed prejudicial either to the Glory of God, or to the dignity of Religion, or finally to the sincereness of piety. So that the Reader shall in his writings find, first most of those Engines taken away, wherewith the hope of that happiness to which we aspire, was together with the Honour of Almighty God, undermined. He shall find the dignity of our whole Religion maintained, and its reputation vindicated and asserted from those absurd monstrous opinions, which have a long time caused it most injuriously to be traduced among them that are without. Finally he shall find all the impediments taken away, wherewith men were letted not only from hoping-for, but also entering on the inheritance of the Heavenly Patrimony, and which they being weary of the piety enjoined, had procured to themselves. For not only the study of universal sanctity was extinguished with fawning pernicious opinions, but also licence given to manifest offences against the Law of God, or the desire of them inflamed, or also the necessity of them imposed. These barricadoes being removed, he shall find the way to the utmost happiness of the largest wish, fitted and prepared by the incredible bounty of God. Which happiness for many thousand years before the coming of Christ mankind had still desired, but was still ignorant thereof: which the very Observers of the Mosaic Law could only sometimes sent-out by a very slender guess, but never openly detect: and which finally having been discovered by Christ and the Apostles, but shortly after covered with the thorns of errors springingup, and hidden with a dismal vail of darkness, is now again detected and restored by the mercy of God, who hath cut down the thorny brake of fables, and caused the light of the truth to arise. For the assenting unto which truth so bright and shining, the whole Christian world had need only to behold it once without prejudice: but ere it will be brought thereunto, it must (unless I be mistaken in the temper of the present age) be roused up with the blood of the innocent, and with new Martyrdoms.  
FINIS.   

AN ELEGY Of the Writings of SOCINUS Out of BODECHERUS.  
THe truth is to be acknowledged everywhere. For neither doth she receive her value from any person, but give it to him. Nor can we in this place forbear to give this testimony unto Socinus, where he agreeth with the Orthodox: let the Christian world hear, if it please. He disputeth with the thrust; granteth to the adversary whatsoever he may without prejudice to the truth, and his cause; where the adversary is to be pressed, there he maketh a stand, and argueth the conscience; contendeth rather with Scriptures then with suppositions; and with reasons, not with prejudices, as the School of Calvin is for the most part wont to do; he sheltereth not himself amidst certain nice captions; he seeketh not startingholes, but hits the very throat of the cause▪ ● In him Atheists, Jews, Gentiles, Papists, find matter of employment, otherwise then in the writings of the Calvinists.   

A CATALOGUE OF THE WORKS OF SOCINUS.  
AN Explication of the former part of the first Chapter of John.  
Touching the state of the first man before the fall, a Disputation against Franciscus Puccius.  
Touching the Saviour, a disputation against Jacobus Covetus.  
Touching the Invocation of Christ, a Disputation against Franciscus Davidis.  
Touching the Adoration of Christ, a Disputation against Chrstianus Franken, together with the Fragments of a larger Answer which Socinus did provide against Franciscus Davidis.  
Touching the Existence of the onely-begotten Son of God, a Disputation against Erasmus Joannis.  
Touching the Nature or Essence of Jesus Christ the Son of God, and also touching the Expiation of sins by him, a Disputation against Andrea's Volanus.  
Touching the Divinity of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, an Answer to Wuiekus.  
Animadversions on the Assertions of the Posnanian College touching the Trinune God, against the new Samosatenians.  
A Defense of those Animadversions, against Gabriel Eutropius.  
An Answer to a book of Jacobus Palaeologus, entitled, A Defense of the true Opinion concerning the Civil Magistrate.  
Sacred Lectures, wherein the authority of the Holy Scriptures, especially of the New Covenant is asserted.  
Theological Prelections.  
An Explication of the seventh Chapter of the Epistle to the Romans.  
A Defence of that Explication.  
An Exposition of Christ's Sermon in the fifth, sixth, and seventh of Matthew.  
Touching the errors of the Gospelers, or Calvinists.  
Touching Justification.  
The Fragments of two writings touching the Nature of Christ and the Trinity.  
Epistles written to sundry friends.  
Epistles written to Andrea's Dudidithius.  
Sophistical Elenches.  
A brief Discourse touching the Cause of Faith.  
Touching the Lord's Supper.  
Touching Waterbaptism, whether a Christian may be without it.  
Touching the Church.  
An Institution of Christian Religion.  
Certain brief Treatises touching divers subjects pertaining to the Christian Religion.  
FINIS.   

 printer's or publisher's device 
In Paul's Church Yard Att The ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆  
Richard ☽