Horae Subsecivae.  
OBSERVATIONS AND DISCOURSES.  
LONDON, Printed for Edward Blount, and are to be sold at his shop in Paul's Churchyard, at the sign of the Black Bear.  
1620.   

TO THE READER.  
I Take not upon me to write either in the praise, or discommendation of this Book; it belongs not unto me; but now it is abroad, must wholly be submitted to your judgement and censure. And I know, it must be the worth of a Book, and not the flourishing of an Epistle, that causeth your approbation. So that this must stand, or fall in your opinion, by the weight, or lightness that you shall find therein.  
The Author of this Book I know not; but by chance hearing that a friend of mine had some such papers in his hand, and having heard them commended, I was curious to see and read them over; and in my opinion (which was also confirmed by others, judicious and learned) supposed if I could get the Copy, they would be welcome abroad. My friend's courtesy bestowed it freely upon me, and my endeavour to give you contentment, caused me to put it in print. And therefore to keep Decorum, and follow custom, in default of the Author's appearance, I present it to you with this short Epistle.  
The Book, you see, is of mixed matter, by the way of observations, or Essays, and Discourses. There have been so many precedents of this kind, and (when they have come out of the hands of good Writers) always so approved, that there needs no Apology for putting in one Book, so different Arguments.  
If the Observations, or Essays seem long to you, because most that have written in that way, have put them in less room; for that, if the fault grow by multiplicity of words, repetition; or affected variation of Phrases, than your dislike is well grounded. But when you have read, and find the length to have proceeded from the matter and variety, of it, I know, your opinion will easily alter.  
I will hold you no longer from that, to which this but introduceth: But if the Book please you, come home to my Shop, you shall have it bound ready to your hand, where in the mean time I expect you, and remain  
At your command, ED: BLOUNT.   

OBSERVATIONS.  
1 OF Arrogance. 1. 2 Of Ambition. 11. 3 Of Affectation. 30. 4 Of Detraction. 52. 5 Of Self-will. 74. 6 Of Masters and Servants. 85. 7 Of Expenses. 103. 8 Of Visitations. 114. 9 Of Death. 124. 10 Of a Country Life. 135. 11 Of Religion. 176. 12 Of Reading History. 193.   

DISCOURSES.  
1 Upon the beginning of Tacitus. 223. 2 Of Rome. 325. 3 Against Flattery. 419. 4 Of Laws. 505.  
Of such errors as have escaped in the Press, I have thought good to collect only those, which may be supposed likely to trouble the Reader in his way, the rest being few, and but literal, I hope shall either pass unobserved, or excused.  
Page. line. fault. correction. PAge 28. lin. 20. for metire read metiri Pag. 32. lin. 11. for observes read observe Pag. 39 lin. 17. for English read English. Pag▪ 41. lin. 20. for employments r. employments, Pag. 43. lin. 6. for least read most Pag. 96. lin. 19 for he read they Pag. 112. lin. 17. for it read and Pag. 126. lin. 16. for a read A Pag. 128. lin. 2. for naturally read natural Pag. 133. lin. 8. for reduced some r. reduced to some Pag. 142. lin. 17. for a● read and Pag. 156. lin. 11. for Nations read natures Pag. 173. lin. 3. for altogether read all together Pag. 174. lin. 18. for safe: read safe Pag. 184. lin. 14. for multi neglecta read multa neglecti Pag. 193. lin. 11. for detraction r. detraction and Pag. 195. lin. 11. for must read much. Pag. 221. lin. 4. for Mutius, read Mutius Pag. 264. lin▪ 13. for prescription read Pr●scrip●●on Pa. 290. l. 12. for Tribunitiae, read Tribunitiae Pag. 319. lin. 5. for hath read have Pag. 328. lin. 14. for and those. r. and 〈◊〉 th●se Pag. 422. lin. 2. for unseen, read unseen Pag. 495. lin. 7. for anothey read another p. 517. l. 13. for soul to inanimate r. a soul to animate   

OF ARROGANCE.  
ARrogance, is the assuming to a man's self, the Titles of Virtue, Learning, Honour, Riches, or the like, without the possession, or (if with the possession) without the evidence. For not only he that speaks of himself more good than is true, but he also that says more than he is sure will be believed, justly deserves the name of Arrogant.  
This Vice is offensive more to equals, then to Superiors, or inferiors, because they be seldom, the one sort or the other, competitors with a man in praise: And more, when it concerns the gifts of the mind, especially Wisdom and Valour, then when it touches only upon the favours of Fortune, or abilities of the body, Prerogative in these being less esteemed. Nam cum omnis arrogantia odiosa est, tum illa ingenij atque eloquentiae molestissima. Quamobrem nihil dico de meo ingenio, etc. Whereas all Arrogance is odious, that of a man's own wit, and own eloquence, is most tedious. Wherefore I will speak nothing of my own wit, etc. saith Cicero. Likewise it is worse in mediocrity than extremes (though in most vices it be otherwise) because it becomes by excess ridiculous rather then hateful, and so passeth with better toleration.  
Pretending to sufficiency, argues the want of it. The claim itself is a plain conviction that there wants right to the thing claimed. For where Virtue is really, her own light discovers the owner. Vino vendibili suspensa hedera non est opus. Good Wine needs no Bush. So that he need not be his own Trumpet that is truly virtuous, but rather he that is not, but only in his own conceit: which opinion makes him also by not pursuing that which he supposes he hath already obtained, to be out of all possibility of gaining the same.  
Honour found out Cincinnatus digging in his Garden and made him Dictator. And many that in their own dispositions desired to live obscurely, have been against their wills exposed to the toil of great affairs, by the lustre of that virtue which they never boasted. If to admire any thing argue defect of knowledge, much more to admire a man's self, which all men ought best to know, and are most familiar withal.  
An Arrogant person, if he join in the performance of any laudable action, with men of modest natures, deals with them in the sharing of the praise, as the Lion in the Fable did with the other beasts, dividing the prey they had taken; who making of the whole, four parts, pleads a title to three of them at least, and if they yielded him not the fourth of their own goodwill, he would be no longer friends. And such a nature can hardly hold friendship, that admitteth not the Pillar thereof, which is Parity, but thinks himself superior to all, if not in Fortune (at which he therefore grudges, taunts her with her blindness, and rails at her with Apothegms,) yet in all other worth and desert.  
He is so puffed up, that to men in estate beneath him (for fear of contempt, which howsoever he cannot avoid) he will never speak familiarly, seldom any way, as if there could be no greater disparagement, than not to observe the distance which he holds to be betwixt them. Which being to the meanest sort unpleasing, causeth him to want not only the respect he looketh for, as due, but even that (if any be so) that is due indeed.  
He commonly commiserates his equals for their weaknesses, and love's to teach, rather than learn the thing he knows not. Give him but such a handle, and he will be sure to hold it till one be weary, and will instruct with such confidence, that though he produce no reason, a man must believe him on his word, or he'll be angry. If he writ or speak a discourse of any length, he cannot forbear but he must make known somewhat of his own custom, or humour, or life, With I was this, or did this, or like this, or thus am, or was wont: belike, supposing that all men would be glad to make him the pattern of their life and actions.  
As he is distasteful to, so he distasteth all men; for according to his own estimate, he must needs hold himself undervalved, even by those that prise him above his just worth, than which nothing more vexes him. For though when himself detracts, he thinks the detracted aught to bear it, as a righteous censure: yet if another be but sleepy in his discourse, or when he talks, be taken from him with any business, he is presently grieved thereat, as a high neglect.  
If he read another's writings, he finds somewhat to correct, but nothing to praise, and so in their actions. Himself being in his own judgement beyond censure. If he meet with one of his own nature, there's presently wars, and it will appear that he detests himself in the person of his enemy, more than another can do him in his own. But meeting with modesty, he devours it, makes it his prey, and nourisheth his Arrogance with such food; for whatsoever the one shall in modesty lay from himself, the other will take, and yet think too little.  
But it is best when he encounters a cunning Flatterer, for such a one will spur him on, and blow his folly up to madness, and set him out to the laughter of them he most contemned. Or as the Fox served the Crow, make him to let fall the meat from his mouth with attempting to sing. Or put him forward to seek an employment, which he, not knowing his own strength, will be always ready to take upon him, and so ruin him. For such a one will not fear to undergo, what he does not understand. All which be the fittest traps for this Vice.  
Some are Arrogant (as one may say) indirectly, and will extol such a man in such a faculty, as the hearers allow him to be better in, than the party so by him praised. But it comes all to one purpose; for the face of Arrogance, howsoever painted, is not without deformity. Yet I would not wish a man to be so much affrighted with it, as to start to the contrary vice Pusillanimity. For a man should not derogate from himself, there being too many, ready enough for that office, at least to believe him, as one that best knows, what he most wants. And certainly he that doth Sentence himself, hath no colour for an Appeal, nor person to appeal unto, unless it be from his words, to his deeds, which need then to be very remarkable. Howsoever, he must acknowledge it to be great folly, to have denied that ability in himself, which he desires to have made known.  
But such men be seldom found, that say not of themselves full as much as they can do.   

Of Ambition.  
IT is an unlimited desire, never satisfied. A continual projecting without stop. An undefatigable search of those things we wish for, though want not. No contentment in a present state, though fortunate, and prosperous.  
An Ambitious man is in a kind of continual perambulation, or perpetual courting of advancement, not respecting the means, Bribery, Flattery, Humility, Popularity, seeming Severity or Austereness. Any of which, so they confer, and conduce to his own ends, whether for Titles, or Preeminence, or Estimation, shall be disguises good enough for the present occasion.  
The Scripture saith, Quise exaltat, humiliabitur. Whosoever exalts himself, shall be humbled. Not he that is worthily exalted by others, and whose merits be the cause of his rising, but he that will Ambitiously exalt himself, he shall be abased.  
That disposition, which is naturally infected, with this Leprosy (which is a spreading disease) can not foresee the inevitable dangers and events, that be incident thereunto. Phavorinus speaking of these kind of men, said they were either ridiculous, or hateful, or miserable. Aspiring ambitiously to places beyond their worth, makes them scorned: obtaining, hated: and missing of their hopes, wretched.  
If the current of their Ambition be once stopped, like an impetuous torrent, it beats and breaks the banks, grows dangerous, and many times causes inundations. Therefore Princes respects, if they be fixed upon such natures, are tied not only to a continuation, but an addition of favours; for the least surcease makes declination in service. So that these dispositions should be avoided: if discovered, sequestered from employment, as pernicious and incendiary.  
Ambition was the first temptation by which the Devil wrought upon our first Parents, to incite them to a desire of knowing good and evil equally with God.  
It is a strange insinuating affection, for whosoever is once therewith possessed, neither Reason, nor Impediment, nor Impossibility can stay his extravagant desires. For though Nabuchadnezzar enjoyed all greatness possibly incident to man, yet his Ambition stopped not, he would be worshipped as God. It was not Virtue nor Reason that counselled Sylla and Marius, Pompey and Caesar, to enterprise their domestic wars, but a disordinate love of flattering Ambition; being in their own opinions not great enough, which caused the ruin both of themselves & Country. And as this was theirs, so it is the general and principal motive to all seditious, and treacherous attempts. But these men whilst they toss all, be themselves most shaken, and inwardly feel the torture of this pernicious fury, wherewith they have offended others. Therefore it is Apocrypha to think that any man can become truly happy by the way of an other man's misfortune, if for his own particular he be the contriver.  
When Ambition seizeth upon a man, peradventure his first aim will be but upon designs within his reach, or fit for his capacity, which if obtained, is the way to conduct him to higher cogitations, and so by degrees, from step to step, the more Ambition is fed, the more appetite it hath.  
It is in a kind the Ape or imitater of Charity, saith a Father; for Charity endures all things for Eternal, Ambition for Transitory happiness. That is liberal to the poor, this to the rich. The one suffers for Verity, the other for Vanity. So they both believe all things, and hope for all things, but in a different kind.  
I cannot more fitly resemble an Ambitious man, then to one that should have a fancy, to take a journey Eastward, to the place where the Sun seems in rising to touch & to be joined to the earth, in hope to arrive within the reach of the same, always going forward, but not coming nearer to his desire; still progressive, never at an end, being impossible to finish it, but the further that he goes, the more earnest he is and impatient of protraction, and delays. So that I may conclude such natures to be punished with Tantalus torture, of whom it is said, that that he desired, ever seemed to be near him, yet never within his command.  
Some have similized these kind of men with the Chameleon. As that hath nothing in the body besides the lungs: so the badge of Ambition, is only windy, and boisterous ostentation.  
It is a dangerous thing for men to love too much, or think too well of themselves. The self-lover is the Arch-flatterer. Wisdom and caution may avoid the insinuations of other men, but when a man gins to admire and applaud himself, there is no defence. Therefore this partial estimation, or false glass of a man's own worth and merit, is the true cause of Ambition. In, or by this we look upon ourselves with our own eyes, which are so quicksighted in discerning and reading the infirmities of others, that they turn dim when they reflect upon ourselves, according to the Scripture. A moat is easily spied in the eye of our neighbour, but a beam in our own is hardly visible.  
Next to this Idolising of a man's self, I cannot sever it from the company of Enuy. For as the nature of Ambition is to commiserate ourselves, for that we seemingly want or desire: so when we see another man possessed of that, that our endeavours aspired unto, presently Envy breaks forth, privately maligning, publicly detracting what we can, both from his person, and actions.  
Again, if a Vacancy should happen of that place, whereupon our whole course hath been bend, then if another step betwixt us, and home, Ambition changes into a malicious, and violent hatred against him that possesseth against his friends that opposed us, and against the giver, that conferred, or bestowed it. And then upon this we grow averse, and sullen in all our actions, and venture upon any mischief of the highest degree, or largest extent.  
Besides these, it is impossible for an Ambitious man to judge, and estimate the parts, and qualities of another, in respect of his own: for his opinionated sufficiency makes him undervalue, and his malice, to undermine every man beside, and either to find, or out of his malignity to feign whatsoever is done contrary, or unknowing to him, to be deficient.  
But if it happen (as it doth rarely) that their own consciences convince them of another man's desert and merit, presently they suspect opposition in their greatness, and that their eminency may be eclipsed. Wherefore they strive and strain by all possible inventions to put disgraces upon his person and parts, thereby to hinder his rising. For whilst he is out of employment, finding that he cannot so publicly express his worth, they still labour to keep him in obscurity, to the end that themselves may seem and appear more glorious.  
But if this emulation happen betwixt them and one of as public note, or equal estimation with themselves, then in all joint actions and consultations, they will endeavour to take from him, and add as much to themselves in the opinion of the world, as either industry or Art can device. Which kind of contention is pernicious to all well-ordered Commonwealths. For when every one seeks to be principal, or to engross all within his own Circumference, and to compass the rest with subjection, or affects to make himself the increasing figure, whilst the rest serve but for supplies, faction in business, confusion in directions, do necessarily follow.  
And what be these men that so extremely affect Superiority, and Primacy in all affairs? Do they good to the Public, or is their service equivalent to their preferment? Do they show by their actions that this was the principal motive that caused them to desire greatness? No. For an Ambitious man, so soon as he is advanced, remembers no more the duty, but the precedency of his place.  
Some of this sort that think themselves most cunning in their trade, will not plainly profess Ambition, but mask, or shadow it with other colours, whereby they hope they may more safely pass, undescried, undiscovered. They will propound their own merit and ability, or defect in others, and protest they have no particular ends, but public reformation; for which only cause, they are content to devote, and enthrall themselves; when the truth is, the spur that pricks them forward to these designs, is glory, and command above others.  
Therefore there is no way to keep this desire concealed, but utterly to extinguish it.  
If we do but view these men that have their desires, and enjoy their wishes, certainly we should not think it so glorious, and happy a thing, as it is given out for. Vexation, and trouble continually attend it. And beside they be not much more burdensome to others, then grievous to themselves. Long to continue at the height, is seldom seen. Extraordinary favours be uncertain, and slippery. Retire they cannot without staggering, nor descend, if not precipitately. Light burdens be easily taken on, or cast off, without feeling; but if we be overladen, we seldom fail but fall or sink. And no man proceeds so happily, but sometimes he is crossed, the travels and ways of this life be so mixed and confused. Therefore Ambitious men had need prefix a certain limit to their increase, and not to attend the retiring of Fortune.  
To affect superiority above others, when a man's desire is predominant over his reason, argues distemper and weakness.  
Some great men that have, or have had great Offices, complain of the pains and vexation they suffer, or have suffered, with the weight & burden of their charge, being worn in years, and decayed both in spirit and strength. If therefore according to this they would, or could have been content to withdraw, or retire themselves, in respect of weakness and debility, from Public affairs, it would have expressed an excellent temper, and moderation. But few such voluntaries be found. The trains of Ambition, Profit, and Pomp, detain them, and whilst they say they hate the trouble, they show by continuing, that they adore the glory, and gain that follows it.  
But lest we may confound Ambitious, with worthy desires, take these few differences, or distinctions. For the desire of glory in itself is not ill, but it is the excess, or defect that makes it so. The mean between both cannot be expressed in one word, yet is commendable and allowed for a Virtue. So saith Aristotle, Laudatur habitus qui modum adhibet in expectanda gloria, etiamsi vacet nomine. Showing the affecting of glory to be matter both of Virtue, and Vice, according as it is governed, as well as any other passion of the mind.  
The undergoing, or undertaking of Public business, so it be more for the general good, than a man's private respect, is ever profitable to the Commonwealth; but to affect it too much in any kind whatsoever, is always taken in the worst sense.  
For men of place, or Favourites to be zealous in the stream, or general course of business, is commendable, but to be violent, or singular, in the particulars, unsufferably dangerous.  
To desire precedency above others in respect of ones service, or merit, is a good emulation. Nam honos alit arts, omnesque incenduntur ad studia gloria, saith Cicero. For advancement nourisheth Learning, and all men are inflamed to study, by the hope of honour and glory subsequent. But to aspire unto it without either, intolerable Arrogance.  
To be hunting after all preferment, to follow every shadow, shows a man to be inconstant, and expresseth levity: but to refuse Honour when it is offered, which as Seneca saith, is Fructus verae virtutis honestissimus, the honestest reward of Virtue, argues Pusillanimity.  
If a man seek or labour to attain favour, and preferment, with this only intention, that by that way, he may have better means to do good, to reduce ill Custom, to the most ancient, and commendable forms, and to amend breaches, or intrusions, or decays, with particular respect to this, without the least tincture of vainglory, or any other selfe-desire, this kind of Ambition I admit as a Virtue, and in this case, I allow it to be generous.  
Our first thoughts should be to make ourselves worthy to receive dignity, and employment; thesecond, that the world should have a good estimation, and opinion of our merit; and (that which generally with others is the first) with us should be the third, fruition of that we think ourselves able to discharge, and the world thinks us worthy to enjoy, and not that which our private respects, and particular Ambition makes us forward to desire. According to Pliny in an Epistle: Omnia metir ● dignitate malim quam ambitione.  
Scientia quae est remota à iustitia, calliditas potius quam sapientia est appellanda, saith Plato. Knowledge separated from that which is upright, is rather called craft, than wisdom. So a mind that is prepared and ready for any great action, never so worthy, or full of hazard, if the inducement to this be only his own particular ends, or profit, and not the public, or common good, this certainly is better termed in him impudent and rash Ambition, than either Valour, or Virtue.  
To conclude, men that have good aims and ends in aspiring, are not so expressly Votaries to the Public, as that they be secluded (by honest and just ways, free from scandal, importunity, vexation, and tax) even by the means of the present favour, and place they enjoy, to raise or increase their Fortune●, to honour and advance their Posterity, so it be done with moderation, and modesty.   

Of Affectation.  
AFFECTATION is an over-serious love, to ordinary, and minute qualities: or, the putting on the abiliments of sufficiency on the body of Pride.  
It is a vanity, that shame forbids to be acknowledged, yet folly permits not to be concealed. For howsoever a man may appear to himself more complete, and full, in the vestments of Virtue, by their largeness; yet in the eye of another, their disproportion will make him seem the more slender. None being fit to wear the coat of Hercules, but such as have strength to wield his club. Nor shall he ever be thought to have Caesar's spirit, that much careth to scratch his head like him with one finger.  
It argues a desire of honour, but no action towards it: for whatsoever the wishes of one that useth affectation aim at, yet his attempts reach no higher then to the imitation of certain gestures, and manners of speech, which being comely, facile, and natural, as they have the second place to real Virtue; so if they be unsuitable, forced, or counterfeit, they come no less near to Vice, and diminish more the estimation, than some great crimes.  
For whereas some such vices as be notorious, make a man more welcome into some societies, and some make him to be feared. This vanity causeth him to be desired in no company, but scorned, and contemned in all.  
I esteem it a great vexation to see one affect a gravity in behaviour, as he will look upon you with the staidness of a Statue, and obserue● a set distance between every word, like the Images that strike the Clock at every quarter. And some again with more gesticulations than an Ape, to seem to dance about you. Some will carry their heads as if they used a bridle, and some so loosely, as if they needed one. Some had rather be lame of a hand, than not seem so, that they may wear a Scarf. Or of a leg, then lose the grace of carrying a French stick.  
It appears most in some that return from Travelling, who being uncapable of other proficiency by their observations of governments of Nations, situation of countries', dispositions of People, their Policy, and the like, these things not understanding, or not knowing how to apply, which to the bettering of our judgement, and manners, is the right use of all we find either in reading, or travel, they in their stead bring home only fashions of behaviour, and such outward appearances, that a man must guess they have traveled (for there is no other way) by a Leg, or a Peccadill, or a Pieadevant, or a new block, or a mangled suit, or words all compliment, and no sense, or mincing of their own language, or making new and absurd derivations, such as yet the world never heard of: or in every period of their discourse, to say something of Paris, and Orleans, Bloys, and Tours, and then conclude that the River of Loire is the most navigable of the world; or to talk of their Mistresses, and protest that the French Damoiselle is the most courtly, most complete, and for exquisiteness in behaviour and fashion, may be a pattern to all the Ladies of Europe: and from hence they will take occasion, to fall into a digression of their loves, and to tell what hazards they have passed, with the Wife of such a Merchant, or the Daughter of such a Governor, or Mistress of such a Prince.  
All which fashions, observations & wonders, be collected with being a few months in France. And thence being wafted over, the first man they meet, is sure to know (if this half year in France hath not made them to forget their English tongue) the dangerousness of their passage, how near shipwreck they were, and talk as learnedly and seriously of Navigation, only by the experience they have gotten in this double passage in a little Bark, to and fro, as the best Captain can do that hath been three times in the East-Indies.  
But all these things before rehearsed, and diverse more of the same kind, are not only their first month, or half years imitation, and discourse upon their return, but continue to their dying day.  
At London being arrived, they are sure to make their first appearance with their last suit upon the Stage, there practice, their compliment and courtesies upon all their acquaintance, make three or four forced faces, thence upon their Curtoe, with a Page and two Lackeys all in a Livery, go to the Tavern, find fault with all the Wine, and yet be drunk: in which disguise they post to their Sisters, or Aunts, or Grandmother, where they will be admired for their absurdities, and almost made madder than they are by their praises.  
These be affected Monsieurs: but they that pass the Mountains, and leave all this levity behind them, what do they observe? How do they return? (I mean still affected Travellers) Of the two the worse, and the more absurd, because the more grave. For a light fool is always more sufferable than a serious.  
The forced gravity of these, so set them forth, as any man may discover them with half an eye, especially having the dependences of an Italian Suit, Spanish Hat, Milan Sword, Nods in stead of legs, a few shrugs, ●● if some vermin were making a Progress from one shoulder to another, and the like.  
This for their outside: but their discourse makes them every where ridiculous. The name of an English Gelding frights them, and thence they take occasion to fall into the commendation of a Mule or an Ass. A Pastry of Venison makes them sweat, and then swear, that the only delicacies be Mushrums, or Caviar, or Snails. A toast in Beer or Ale drives them into Madness, and so to declaim against the absurd, and ignorant customs of their own Country, and thereupon digress into the commendation of drinking their Wine refreshed with Ice, or Snow. So that those things which in other Countries be used for necessity, they in their own will continue, to show their singularity.  
It were not hard in this discourse to point out the men, and it were a good deed to give you their names, that they may be publicly known, lest some ignorant of their manners, be by their outside misled to admire them. But this may suffice, by which you may see, that the levity of the French, and gravity of the Transalpine Traveller, be equally ill in the way of imitation; for nothing can show well that is forced. Besides that, they imitate but imperfectly, and with less grace, like the Stars, that show us the Sun's light, but with less splendour.  
And they so extremely love to be thought well died into Italian and French, as their eyes are offended at whatsoever hath any colour of English. And to be esteemed familiarly acquainted with other Countries, will seem, and think it an honour to have forgotten both the fashions, & language of their own.  
But one sort of affectate Travellers yet remain, and they be the seeming Statesmen of the time, empty bladders replete with nothing but wind, such as being abroad, though it be but in some butter Town of Holland, will make their first enquiry after such as profess to read Theory of Statisme; fellows that swarm in most places abroad, especially in Germany, or those places where the  most usually frequent, that nation being easy and apt to be gulled by these Impostors; beggarly Cheaters, that will no sooner undertake to teach, but these constantly believe to learn. In the space of six months (for that is the longest time strangers use abroad to stay in one place) they will make them able, and when the time is past, they will so believe themselves to be, or peradventure sooner (they are so fruitful in their own conceits) that they may declare their abilities to be fit for the employment of the greatest Prince, State, or affair in the world.  
And this wonder by their professor of State, is thus miraculously wrought by reading unto them, with some most pitiful observations of their own, and diverse repetitions of the same things, as they use to deal with Schoolboys, a piece of Gallo-Belgicus. Some discourse in Tesoro politico, a part of Sleyden with Pezelius notes, or the like, as, if by reading only, a man could apt himself for public employment such a Master, such a Reader, such fragments, so short a time would enable him thereunto.  
Following this in all places where they come, the very name of a Manuscript ravisheth them, though it be but copied out of some absurd book, printed the last Mart; which once known, as it will be, by their often enquiry for things of that kind, (any thing, it's no matter what, neither do they know more than in general the name of a Manuscript) few morning's pass, that some poor Scribe or other doth not cousin them in that kind.  
Meeting with any of their own Nation, they will endeavour to make them believe that they are as well acquainted with the counsel, projects, and policies of that State or Court where they live, as any that be there, though of the highest employment. They will tell what ways they have found out in Cyphring, and what charge they have been at for Intelligence, which is demonstrated by having some papers waving in their hands, though empty, or at least but filled with their Hosts last account.  
They will protest their entireness and inwardness with the men of the greatest name and employment in those parts, though peradventure they never saw their faces, nor never heard them spoken of, but by a Mountebank in the Piazza.  
But for the great Ones, in their own Country, what is it not they will say, to make us believe they are with them the only great and entire men of the world? Which familiarity betwixt them they will endeavour to express by showing their names to letters, though counterfeit, and Copies of letters they pretend they have writ to them, though never sent.  
They will further tell you, that they are absent thus long abroad, (the State at home taking knowledge of their ability) because they would yet reserve some liberty to themselves, and not be wholly taken up (as they be sure, if they were returned they should be) with public employment.  
And then they will return to generals, and speak of Intentions, and Treaties, and Things, where they will stop with a shrug, or a Desunt nonnulla, and so refer you to the Stars for a consequence: as if these things were too secret, too deep for your knowledge, or to make you believe that the multiplicity of affairs and State-business distract and trouble their minds; when God knows, the most that they think or ruminate upon, is to get the estimation and opinion in the world, of that which they have no colour to pretend to, viz. Witte.  
Again, being abroad, they will translate the very Gazzette, the most ordinary and uncertain news in the World, to send over by whole bundles into England, which some particular friends of theirs, that know no more of foreign business, than their letters infuse into them, by this means are made to believe that the senders are serious, intelligent, and grave, and so they look too, when they come home; but that's all. And better use I know not which way to put them to, then as a sign for those things they outwardly, yet unhandsomly imitate.  
That little which they speak, or think, or do, smells of State. For to get but the name of an employment abroad, they will engage themselves, their friends, and fortunes. That is the uttermost of their Ambition.  
But that small reputation which report gave them here, their own presence at their return, doth utterly make to vanish. And by this means, which no other way could ever bring to their knowledge, they find the fruit of their ostentation, and those vain imaginations which before possessed them. And thus much briefly of an affected Statist. Now to other sorts.  
It's Affectation in one, though naturally an elegant Speaker, not to descend a little to the capacity of such as he confers withal. For to some Country Husbandmen, one were as good speak Latin, as good English.  
To use, in discoursing of an ordinary subject, words of a high, sounding, and Tragic strain, is as unseemly, as walking on stilts, where one may as well go in slippers.  
Likewise Rusticity in speech, and base popular phrases, in themselves show want of education, but affected, discover folly to boot.  
Old Antique words, such as have been dead, buried, and rotten in the time of our Great Grandfathers, would become the ghost of Chaucer on a Stage, but not a man of the present time.  
Likewise, New words, like a new Coin, will not easily be received, till both their weight, and stamp have been examined. To which may be referred the saying of Pomponius Marcellus, who finding fault with some thing that was said in an Oration of Tiberius Caesar's, Atteius Capito contrarily affirmed, that if it were not now Latin, yet it would be hereafter. That is not so (saith Marcellus) for though Caesar can give naturalisation in the City of Rome, to men, yet he cannot do so to words. For they can never be admitted, till Custom have allowed them. That must be referred to public usance, not to Caesar's power.  
There be others that delight in figures, and their words fall in, one after another like sequents; which they bring in, in spite both of perspicuity, and sense. And commonly, where a speech is all figures, you shall find the matter a mere cipher.  
Like to these, are such as out of a poor Ambition to obtain the grace of some good and decent word, or Metaphor, will not stick (so they may get it into their writing) to write that which before they never intended, nor is perhaps to the purpose, or to alter the whole frame of their discourse. And for the most part such words, as they are sought with much pain, so they are placed at little ease, and trouble either the matter, or the method, or the style, for want of elbow room.  
The worst Affectation of all other, is to affect horrible oaths in speech, which some do, thinking them ornaments, or signs of a great spirit, as indeed they are signs of such a spirit as they would be frighted to see appear.  
Or telling of wonders and Miracles, whereby expecting to beget admiration, they carry away the reputation of liars.  
Lastly, there is a sort of people, that as in all things they love singularity, so in this, that they will subscribe to no word that savours not of the Catechism, accounting natural and good Speech, as Ethnic, and unsanctified: But this were better called Hypocrisy then Affectation.   

Of Detraction.  
IT is the tongue both of Envy and Arrogance, which two, though they differ in their nature, yet concerning the good name of another, they speak both one language; equally striving to diminish, or takeaway the reward of their Virtue, which is Reputation and Honour.  
This, and Charity be directly Antipodes. The glory of the one is to cover, of the other to discover infirmities. Charity interprets all things to the best, the other in the worst sense: the whole respects of the first, are to do good to others: but in the Detractor, all things are referred to himself. Many other dissimilitudes might be found, but these suffice to show how contrary they be; which at the first view, sets but an ill gloss upon Detraction, when it is opposite to Charity.  
From Contumely, it is no otherwise distinguished, then as a thief on the way, from him that picks your purse, or privily filches your goods in your absence. The first is more violent, but the second more frequent and more damnifying.  
It hath little force where virtue is eminent. For there Imputation is reverberated, and made to return on the Author, who depraving the fame of a man of known desert, works no other effect in his hearers, than an opinion of his own private malignity, like a tempestuous Sea, beating against a firm Rock, which though it show much fury, works no damage.  
The Detractor, to any laudable achievement, will be sure to find out wrong causes, and to good things, wrong names; as if a man be liberal, he is prodigal: if parsimonious, covetous: if magnificent, ambitious: if courteous, than he is of a weak and servile spirit: if grave, then proud: if considerate in danger, than a Coward: if valorous, rash: if silent, cunning: if a discourser, than one that love's to hear himself talk. When john Baptist came neither eating, nor drinking, they said he had a Devil: and when our Saviour came eating, and drinking, they said, Behold a Glutton, and a wine-bibber. And so forward, that there is almost nothing that a man can be or do, which a Detractor will not pervert.  
Though to praise any thing, be against his stomach, yet he will magnify Fortune when she hath any hand in an enterprise, that Virtue (to which he gives the name of the confining Vice) may the less appear.  
They are the very moths, that corrupt and canker in every Common wealth; how they work, and wear, and eat into every man's good name, experience witnesseth. They be of a poisonous quality, & devourers of men's reputations, and therefore aptly described by the Psalmist, Their throat is an open Sepulchre, with their tongues have they deceived, the poison of Asps is under their lips. A Sepulchre indeed: for men's fames and good reports are in a manner buried in those graves, their deceitful tongues are the instruments, and the poison under their lips the materials, by which so much mischief is wrought.  
And whereas men that bereave us of our lives, do rarely pass without the encounter of some or other condign punishment; shall these that deprive us of that which is inestimably dearer, pass unpunished? No. For we see that public justice doth often meet with Libelers, & Defamers, and there is no Commonwealth, or Kingdom, in which they be not branded. Nevertheless anciently, and in popular States, the liberty of evil tongs hath been more tolerated then now it is, when they have not only pointed at, on the Stages, but also usually named with derision, and taunts, the men of greatest dignity, and that in presence of themselves so touched. And indeed in many commonwealths, it hath been a bridle to the licentiousness of Greatness, in their moral conversation, though that were but an evil remedy. But in a Monarchy, the same would but have been as a spur to seditions and tumults. For it is not so much every particular man that suffers by these men's rancour, and malice, as the whole Fabric of the Republic.  
The actions of great men, their lives, their orders, be most severely and strictly viewed. That which they do for the public, these will pretend to be done for private ends. If things according to former consultation succeed well, they will take the praise wholly from them, and bestow it upon chance; if otherwise, they will take it from chance, and lay it wholly upon their consultations. In brief, they will misconstrue and misapply all manner of acts, and whatsoever tends to the peace, and good of the State, they with their best subtleties will oppose, but howsoever, disapprove.  
In which respect they justly deserve the punishment that is laid upon them, Ecclesiasticus 28. verse 13, 14. Curse the whisperer and double-tongued, for such have destroyed many that were at peace. The backbiting tongue hath disquieted many, and driven them from Nation to Nation. Strong Cities hath it pulled down, and overthrown the houses of great men. This so fully touches the danger that the greatest men, and Nations fall into, by suffering this kind of people, that I need not in this point further to illustrate it.  
In the next place it will not be amiss by way of example, to show that by this means, the worst causes do always set themselves of, in disgrace of the better, which rule will never fail. One instance I will give. The Separatists, or Sanctified, as they term themselves, what doctrine have they more frequent, what point more urged, then for the propagation, as they say, of the holy cause. First, with the Pharise to magnify themselves, and their own opinions, then with terms unfit to be heard, talk of Ecclesiastical functions, Ceremony, and Government, with that disdain and reproach, that they graft in their followers such an opinion against them, that they think all of the contrary opinion, children of Perdition, in the state of Damnation, sons of Belial, unsanctified, lewd, profane, and  persons. But leaving this path that hath been so often beaten, let us view it in other colours.  
Commonly if he hear any man out of discontent, or choler, let slip a word to the derogation of another, he presently takes his advantage, and his Exordium thence, for some malicious Oration. Which with that person confirms the ill opinion already conceived, strengthens his malice, increaseth his hate, and makes him glory with himself, that he goes not alone, but hand in hand with other company in his erroneous conceits, and that which private respects made him formerly to dislike, that now he thinks the others merits might as well provoke.  
By this artifice the Detractor would be thought but a second in the point, whereas he is indeed the first, or rather only depraver.  
Sometimes he will profess love to a person, whom notwithstanding for truth and sincerities cause, he will pretend not to be able to praise, and so fall into an inquisition of his life, and manners, like the fellow in Horace.  Me Capitolinus convictore usus, amicoque à puero est, causaque mea permulta rogatus Fecit, & incolumis laetor quod vivit in urbe. Sed tamen admiror quo pacto Indicium illud Fugerit. Hic nigrae succus loliginis, haec est Aerugo mera, etc. 
He deals with a man, as the stone in Nabuchadnezzars dream, mentioned in the second of Daniel, did with the great Image which it overthrew. But thus, it meddled not with the gold, nor the silver, nor the brass in the Statue; but the lower parts, the legs and feet, which were of iron and clay, those it broke in pieces, and so ruined the rest. In like manner the Detractor touches not the Gold, that is, a man's Virtue, which shines like it; nor the silver, which is a man's wisdom, and judgement, and resembles it; nor the brass, that is, a man's Nobility which glisters like it; but the iron and clay feet, that is, a man's infirmities, weaknesses, errors, those with an unclean tongue they wound and strike, and by that means overthrew his Honour and Fame in all other parts and qualities, though never so eminent, in the mean time no body forcing him, without cause to utter that truth, to the prejudice of another, that charity would have concealed.  
Here it will be pertinent to inquire something touching the liberty of censuring, with what cautions it is limited, and how fare to be allowed.  
A Censurer, is more than any other, obnoxious to Censure, for he thrusteth himself into the office of a judge, by which eminency he converteth men's eyes on himself: and because he is to be supposed less faulty than the reprehended, they are therefore also invited to a more strict consideration of his life, and no less, but rather much more to censure him, than he another.  
Yet upon occasion given, or urged, when a man is freely to speak his opinion, the concealing, or covering, or blanching a knowne, or public error in any man, confirms and strengthens him that is vicious, and by this approving, or at least not blaming, encourageth others to the like, and withal greatly darkens our own reputation: for connivency in this kind, makes men believe, that we ourselves be subject to the same fault. But this liberty of censuring I do thus fare only allow, that it be amongst such, as do particularly know that man's deformities, and not others that be strangers unto it. For than we should increase rumour, and cause an ill opinion to be had of him.  
Next, the liberty of love, and respect, will freely allow a man to do it privately to his friend; but then let not any fool be his friend, lest he take the benefit for an injury. And it must be without any bitterness, or spleen, which will rather gall, then correct him, that we so speak unto.  
If the particular errors of any one do, judicially and pertinently to the cause, come in question, there is no doubt but the blemishes, especially in Public, be to be taxed with all manner of aggravation: but the man, in charity is not to be triumphed over, though this cannot but reflect upon him. Yet humane frailty which is common to us all, is inducement enough, so long as no prejudice follow by the example, to make the best interpretation that so ill a cause, so ill a man, can deserve. And certainly there is a great deal of caution, and sparing to be used in this kind of ripping up a man's life: but if necessity bring such a man before you, and that he cannot scape a censure, yet use no opprobrious, or disdainful words against him.  
Sometimes such as have received injuries from a man, and in that respect be dis-affected to him: they will be often glad to take advantage, at his life and conversation, in heat and choler, by that means to be revenged of him. But though this be against the rule of Charity, yet in the strictest sense it cannot come within the bounds of Detraction. For the one is impelled, the other voluntary; a certain habit of doing mischief, without cause given.  
All truths be not to be spoken, (especially if we receive them but by report) but a man may be forced to discover such a truth, as may prejudice another, and yet be free from Detraction.  
Sometimes a man may seek into, or discover another's infirmities, either upon his own, or friends cause, and yet not detract, for these respects. If such a man do an injury, it cannot but accidentally fall, in a man's justification, to show what a kind of man he is, from whom he hath received it. Or suppose a man have a cause judicially depending, and the most dangerous thing against him be the deposition of such a man, the civil Law than allows, that a man may, to weaken or take away his testimony, bring what he can possibly against him that may touch him in life or conversation.  
Again, though a man need to have a door before his lips, and to use a great deal of discretion and moderation, in whatsoever he shall say, yet if he should chance to fall upon a man, a little too boldly in the way of censuring; certainly if it proceed but from rashness, and no will, or purpose in himself to do the other hurt, I cannot aptly call it Detraction. There may be named other particulars of this nature, yet I cannot presently think of any very material, that will not be included within some of these. But to go forward to his description.  
He inveigheth much against Flattery, & glories that he is free from it, making that a cloak to shroud his calumniation. And though it be commendable in every man else to avoid Flattery, yet it is not so in him, because it proceeds from a perverse crookedness of nature, that cannot endure another's praise, though just.  
He likewise protests against dissimulation. But if he discourse of any man's actions but his own, you shall easily observe him to dissemble that which makes most for his reputation. For, in reckoning up persons expert in some faculty, to leave out one of the best, and most marked in that kind, or, in commending a man's smaller virtues, to forget his better & greater parts, is a dissimulation as depraving as the bitterest Inuective.  
Also he that gives willing ear to a Detractor, Qui non defendit, alio culpante, solutos Qui captat risus hominum, famamque dicacis, Hor. or applauds the Satirical conceits of such a one, is an Accessary to this crime, if not a Principal. For as the one hath the Devil in his tongue, so the other in his ears. Hear but a Detractor willingly, and you encourage him to speak; whereas, if you but show an averseness to him, he than learns unwillingly to speak, that which he knows you do not willingly hear.  
So that though his teeth seem placed only in his tongue, yet he hath diverse ways of biting, as David complains, Psal. 57 verse 4. My soul is amongst Lions: and I lie even amongst them that are set on fire, even the sons of men, whose teeth are spears, and arrows, and their tongue a sharp sword.  
The persons that be the Detractors objects, are commonly greater than himself, and therefore though he may darken their Fame, yet he can never totally eclipse it. Yet his endeavour is especially against such, because their brightness darkeneth and obscureth his. Like as the Moon, in conjunction with the Sun, cannot show her own light, but can oft hide from us part of his.  
Some delight so much in speaking evil, that they will detract from the dead, though never offended by them. Such spirits as these, if they have never spoken ill of God himself; have only this excuse, that they never knew him.  
The scope of them is commonly the disgrace of another, but sometimes also, the showing of the acuity of their own judgements, in discerning of men's actions, or sayings; as if they had been placed here as a Chorus on the Stage, to censure & comment, or were the general Inquisitors of the world. But it falls not out as they expect: for they discover not acuteness, but acrimony, nor are esteemed sharp apprehenders, but bitter reprehenders.  
Sometimes by depression of another's merit, they aim at the advancement of their own, finding themselves absolutely worthless and nothing, but contending to be somewhat by comparison.  
Lastly, the Detractor, though he sow but words, oftentimes reaps severer requitals, or at least a plentiful harvest of his own grain. Dehinc ut quiescant porro moneo & definant maledicere, malefacta ne noscant sua. Terent. For he shall be sure to hear as much evil as he speaks, and howsoever he put his faults behind himself, yet they hang before on the shoulder of another.   

Of Self-will.  
WHereas in every man there be two faculties of the reasonable Soul; namely, the Understanding and the Will: this Vice will admit but one, giving the whole administration of man's life into the hands of the latter; which doth so much tyrannize over our reason, that it makes us wholly incapable of apprehending, when we hear good counsel: so resolved we be in our own opinions, though never so bad, that we leave no space for maturer directions, never calling to mind the possibility of the rule, that Standards by, oftentimes see more than those that play the game. And as this so opinionated conceit of our own resolutions, continues the mist before our understanding, making us impatient to receive any good counsel: so consequently, it deters our friends from giving it, as an unnecessary and thankless office, they being out of hope that their endeavours shall prevail, and also in fear to hazard the ill opinions of those they desire to continue for friends: as having in themselves altered the received definition of man, who being Animal ratione praeditum, should this way be Animal voluntate praeditum. Selfwilled men being always violent and impatient, if one endeavour to alter or cross their resolutions, which though grounded upon little consideration, and sudden rashness, yet they be generally so obstinate, and wel-conceited of themselves, that whatsoever they conceive and purpose, must be peremptory, and without alteration. For Self-will is nothing but a kind of will that usurps the place and office of reason, giving Antecedence to her actions, before those of the Understanding: as to Resolution, before Deliberation; Execution, before Counsel; and the like. For it is not reason that guides this will, because they can give you none for it, except you will take this for one, I will, because I will: which is an absurd, womanish, and childish justification, and an argument of so small force, that it is a shame to use it.  
And this is that deprives most enterprises of good success, but always (howsoever be the event) the enterpriser of commendation. For good events depending ordinarily upon good counsel, they seldom chance without it; when they do, it is by fortune, whence can arise no glory to the doer, but must wholly be attributed to some chance. And if any cross accident interpose itself, this takes away all excuse. For as it is seemly in no man after a chance, to say, I did not think; so it is inexcusable in him, when the cause is his refusing of good counsel, or hearing and neglecting it, following none but his own. Like a bad Logician, it lays the conclusion down first, and seeks the premises & inducements after; or as a worse judge, decrees at home, and after hears the parties at the Bar.  
A man so conceited of himself, can be no companion in deliberatives, but rather precipitates them, and is altogether of a nature unfit for business, as coming with prejudicate opinions, so usurping upon our reason, that we will hear none from any else. And therefore if this violence and self-conceit be so dangerous in a Councillor, it is fare more in a judge. For in the first there is equality of voices, and a man cannot so easily sway. But in a judge, if the will resolve before, with a kind of settled opinion, notwithstanding any thing that can be urged to the contrary by the Council at the Bar, I see no use of pleading, farther than to draw the judge's inclination, and for formality.  
It takes away also from a man both his sight and his guide, and yet hastens his pace, which must needs cause precipitation. Whereas receiving of good counsel, is to one both a light, and a guide, and a staff, and assures him more than the wall, and the watch doth a City.  
A Self-willed person most commonly stops his ears to advice, as to an enchantment, and when he is content to hear it (which is seldom) he doth it either as only for custom, bringing with him a resolution what to do, whatsoever shall be said, and (knowing that strong and evident reason hath in itself a kind of violence) he therefore arms himself against it with obstinacy: or else admits of counsel, out of a desire to act his own devices, as Xerxes, who began a speech to his Council with this, That he called them together not to ask their opinions, but to have their confirmation of his.  
Two things make this disease seem incurable. The first is, that it keeps out the Physician that should open such passages, as being stopped, hinder recourse from the will to the judgement. For he that will admit a friend freely to give him counsel, and to show him the true causes of this vice, might easily avoid it. The second is, because the poison of flattery is his ordinary food, and few dare oppose the violence of his Appetite.  
Yet on the contrary, me thinks in time, a Self-willed person should be cured, and become very wise, because no sort of men do more often, or more deeply repent, or buy their repentance more dear, than they do. Yet such, if they come to amendment, are beholding for it more to their enemies, than friends; for they punish them for their follies, and by seeking advantages, teach them to seek defences for their safety, and fly to counsel. But as for friends, they be not likely to have them many, nor wise; for who having jewels of that price, as wisdom, and ability to give counsel, will be content to remain and converse, where he dare not utter them, or they be not at all set by? For as there can be no greater contentment to a wise man, then to have his counsel made use of; so there is no greater scorn and vexation, then to have it neglected.  
This vice proceeds from two causes, which are first Arrogance, and next, a debility of the mind, possessed with an earnest desire to some pleasure or appearing contentment. The first cause works upon stiff and severe natures: the latter, in women, and men of soft and effeminated affections. The first maketh the understanding by prejudging, unfit to discern of good advice: the latter disableth the will to follow it. The first makes it more dangerous: The second more incurable.  
Yet betwixt Self-will and Affection, a man must distinguish as much as betwixt a settled resolution, and a wish, as one many times desires prohibited things may be lawful, though he approves them not to be so, and so follows not, but bridles his inclination.  
Besides, notwithstanding all this, I hold it better for any man that hath a mediocrity of judgement, to be wedded to his own will, then to the will of any one man beside, the danger being equal of both sides; for as the adventure is great, wholly to depend upon our own wills, so inconstancy is fare worse, when a man will bevaried and disposed with diverse, or single opinions. It is better to subject ourselves to our own appetites with little reason, then to another man's with less. The mean is, neither to resolve without appearance of reason, nor to be altered, unless with better; neither to be subject to the will of another, nor too peremptory in our own. It is the Counsel of diverse, and wise men, (amongst whom a man's self should be of the Quorum) that most easily conducteth our actions to their desired ends.   

Of Masters and Servants.  
THis part of Economical jurisdiction is in abstract, a representation of a more public Government. To be unexperienced in the first, argues much disability for the latter. He that cannot rule his own family, is much more incapable to govern a multitude.  
In this description I accept not Servants as bound, nor Masters as absolute, but take them in those degrees as with us they be generally received, where there is left to both an equal liberty, and free election. And as a Servant is bound in obedience to his Master, which is the part he must act; so a Master's power is limited, that he cannot impose upon him dishonest employments, nor exact a strict performance of his servant in any action of that sort. Wherefore, where commands be lawful, obedience is due, otherwise not.  
In your choice, first, the occasion is to be known, next, the man. For to affect extraordinary multitudes, expresseth ostentation.  
If your own knowledge acquaint you not with a servant for your use, then venture upon another's recommendation, but cautelously. First, know his integrity, and next, his judgement; lest out of his affection he prefer one, for his preferment, and not for your use; or that through ignorance he presume one to be fit, that is a mere stranger to such employments as your occasions require. And to take a man of his own word, is the worst of all. For many will promise for their own sufficiency in those very things they understand not.  
To take a servant, though capable of any impression, yet wanting experience, is more fit for a Master that hath employment in expectance, then present, though certainly in time, such do prove the best Servants, and follow only the method of their Master's directions; for they seldomest  from his very thoughts, and make such businesses as pass their hands, to be even done by himself. But this way is laborious, and requires both an apprehending Servant, and an intelligent Master.  
In matter of business, never think it to be so well done by troops, as few and able Servants; for in dispatch numbers ever breed confusion, where affairs be alike, and equally distributed. For your Servants either trust too much one to another, or emulate, and so it rests undone; especially if there be not one Superintendent, that governs and directs the rest. But if you have businesses of diverse and sundry natures, than it is good to divide them into such parts & degrees, as one man may not depend upon another: for where one is full of employments, he must of necessity rank his Servants according to the diversity of his business, conditionally, that he be sure himself often to take a particular account of their several dispatches, which using, or omitting, provokes either diligence, or carelessness in his servant. More especially in the particular of employing your servant in matters of account, and expense, you ought often to review, and give allowance of those things that pass under his charge. For first, you may trust one whom you think honest, though he be not, and then you are sure without great care to be deceived. Next, if you be negligent in taking his accounts, and not remembering every particular, you may suspect him that is honest, & without a cause; so that both for your own sake, and his, this course will be necessary.  
Now in this great trust, that Masters be as it were of necessity tied to confer upon their servants, one whose integrity you are most confident of, is the man, that with the general bulk, and burden of your affairs, I would have you communicate, especially concerning those parts require secrecy, either in respect of yourself, or others. If you should omit this, and refer all to your own memory, somethings might be forgot, others mistaken, when you are pressed both with multitudes, and variety of business. Yet a Master need be very precise, what, and how much trust he reposes in a servant: no man but is subject to some faults, which they ought rather to hide, then to reveal. Communicating then of them to our servants, doth not only decrease respect, and opinion in them, but also subjects us to their danger; if either upon discontentment, malice, or treachery, they have at any time a mind to do us an injury; or, if their easiness, and facility make them liberal in disclosing of trust, or else out of a hope to gain grace and reputation, they brag of the confidence reposed in them, which must be expressed by seeming to know those things of us, that in reason we ought to conceal. And if a man cannot be so true to himself, as to keep those things he would have secret from the knowledge of his servants, why should he expect more secrecy in a Servant, than he finds in himself? For as we, out of some conceived good opinion, lie open to them, it is likely, they also may have some acquaintance, whom they equally esteem, and may be as confident in disclosing their own, and your trust to them, as you were to your man, and that friend may have another, and so in time, our most concealod actions, become public.  
In particular and several businesses, you must apply your direction to those that have the dispatches of that kind. For such as require consideration, and debate, I would have you consult in general, with all those you have selected for business: & when you have both discussed the difficulties, and resolved on the course, then for the expedition, refer it to the particular care of him, whose part is to deal with the affairs of that nature.  
In this domination that Masters have over their Servants, two extremes are to be avoided. Severity, and Facility. One makes them to fear, the other, to presume too much. The first, brings them too near the nature of Bondmen; the second, of Fellows. This breeds hate, that contempt. But observe the golden mediocrity, both to command, and not be feared; to be familiar, and not scorned.  
Let your conversation be such, that your servants may take a pattern from your actions, of virtue, & not deformities. The liberty and licentiousness of Superiors doth not only provoke, but nourish vices in lower ranks. Men be naturally inclined to a pleasing and voluptuous kind of life: and when they see those that be above them, to live loosely without any manner of restraint, they think ●● lawful to imitate, and be ambitious to follow the fashion, as it were by precedent. Besides, this inconvenience happens to Masters themselves, that they cannot with justice blame their Servants, for those faults, whereof themselves be as guilty, and for the example more ; especially, if they use their servants to base and dishonest employments, which must needs turn to their justification, if ever they fall into any errors of that, or the like kind.  
Altar your servants rarely, and but upon extraordinary occasions. Doing otherwise, argues weakness in your first choice, levity in your change, and shows you to be of an ill disposition.  
And lastly, for those servants that be of chiefest employment about you, as their business and trust is greater than the rest, so should their exhibition be: it doth not only reward their merit, but makes them more diligent. And yet I would not have you to be at once so liberall-handed, as that they should take that for their last reward: but upon new occasions, and several merits, express something of your bounty. And in your preferments, if your place can give you leave, they that way may be plentifully recompensed in subordinate employments under you, and so together both serve you, and profit themselves. If you have not this way to prefer your Servants, but that it must come out of your own private state, than your business being the less, your train may be the shorter. For as it expresseth ingratitude, not to reward servants, So it shows little foresight, if in endeavouring to raise the fortunes of too many you impair your own. But howsoever, when a servant depends upon you, as you ought not to defend him in doing of injuries, so you are bound to protect him from receiving them. Men of quality and place, they may, and must have servants, as well for Honour, as business. In appearing abroad, and entertainments at home, they be necessary, and add respect. But leaving the numbers, I will now descend to the description of such servants, as the wisest Masters should affect to choose, and in what kind he ought for to use them.  
And first in their choice, I would have them to avoid all, of whatsoever present state, or fame, that had been noted for, or branded with any notorious crime. It is seldom seen, that either punishment, or shame, reduce men to good, but rather confirm them in evil, and dissolute behaviour.  
Neither would I take a man that presumed too much on his own sufficiency, or that seemed to be extreme wise in his own conceit. Such a disposition is fond and ridiculous in all sorts, but in a servant most intolerable. For whatsoever he doth, will smell of Ostentation and Arrogance.  
Men that be married, they be ever less diligent than others, and therefore he that can keep but few servants, had best make choice of those that be single.  
Such a one as is always preaching to you of preferment, begging of Sures, and putting you in mind of his merit, is a servant merely for his own ends, and not at all for yours, and is ever accompanied with the spirit of impatience, and presumption.  
Such as affect Principality in your employments, and Primacy above others, be of busy, envious, ambitious, and factious disposition, and therefore unfit for service.  
Such as are too officious, and instruments of dissension in a house, by doing ill offices, betwixt a Master and the rest of his Family, in flattering of him, censuring or slandering of them, those natures be made of too crooked timber for this building.  
Those that will be prying into your most secret affairs, censuring your actions, murmuring at your rebukes, be most pernicious, and incorrigible.  
And lastly, I would avoid such as have passed through the hands of many Masters: for, as that may be a sign of some ill quality that they have, so it necessarily expresseth them to be of inconstant and giddy dispositions.  
But such as be diligent and constant in their duties, faithful in their service, trusty in their places, and loving to their Masters, be the servants of whom you are to make election, resolution should be to keep, and will to prefer, according to their merits, and your own ability.  
A Master's part is to command, and a Servants to obey: wisdom is required in the one, and duty in the other. Master's should so live with their inferiors, as they would wish their Superiors should do with them; and they know best how to govern, that know how to serve.  
Put not your servants to base offices, nor make them not the instruments of your licentiousness, and luxury.  
Neither tyrannize over them with strokes, for that argues intemperance: nor rebuke them with public checks, and scorns, which be both insufferable, and disgraceful.  
Suffer your servant sometimes the freedom of speech, and let not his lips be ever sealed in your presence. They that speak least to you before your face, seldomest speak good of you behind your back. Such servants as speak most freely before their Masters, be most reserved in disgracing his person, or publishing his errors.  
Think not your servant, your slave. Fortune hath as much power over the one, as the other. You have no certainty of not being transferred to the same, or a worse degree. You are borne after the same manner, enjoy the same air, eat the same bread, breathe, live, and dye alike with them. Therefore insult not too much, and reduce them not to overgreat subjection. For love can never suffer mixture with fear. And think not that there is so great a distance betwixt you, and your servant: for there be few Masters, that serve not either Pride, or Women, or Ambition or Fear, or Covetousness. And these kinds of servitude, which be most voluntary, are always most reproachful.   

Of Expenses.  
Expenses do naturally divide themselves into actions of Honour, Charity, and Necessity: the first requires a Great man: the second, a good man: the third is common to both. Honourable expenses be commendable: Charitable, religious: and Necessary, forced. The first adds respect: the second, love: and the last, shows our humane frailty. Inaptitude to the former, shows a man to be of a poor and ignoble spirit: backwardness in the next, expresseth an Atheistical, and heathenish nature: and not promptness to the third, argues a most perverse, and covetous disposition. But on the contrary, to undo a man's self with public, and magnificent charge, is the badge of a Vainglorious man: to  another, and go naked himself, is a sign rather of Fryerly Hypocrisy, then of Charity. To limit our whole expense for ourselves, and to be covetous in respect of others, and prodigal in our own particular, is the true mark of a Licentious, Luxurious and Self-loving condition. Let not therefore Honourable expense be stained with wasting: neither let Pharisaical ostentation be joined to our Charity: and take heed that superfluity choke not either. And love not Riches, more than your Reputation, the Poor, or yourselves: but let your honour be maintained without Pride: the poor relieved without Arrogance: and nature satisfied without Excess.  
Expenses should ever be limited according to the occasion, and our own ability. For unnecessary charges be as vain as the other dangerous. They that spend more than they have, want government: they that spend all, Providence. And as a man should take an account of his expenses past: so he ought to make a rate of what he means to spend. For incertainties of this kind be never good. As expenses be proportioned, so the reckonings should be certain, otherwise, a man walks in the dark. But this is to be understood of such as have a competency, be come to years of ripeness and judgement, and that have not been by any casualty, or accident put behind hand in the world. All which though they do not avoid the mischief, yet they extenuate the error.  
Riches be ordained for our use, but neither to be adored, nor contemned. A Prodigal runs thorough his estate, and is so entangled to other men, that he is never master of himself: this is the fruit of the Contempt. A covetous man, as he is fare from benefitting others, so he is loath to accommodate himself, but life's in the state rather of a Steward for another, than master of his own. And this is the benefit of the Adoration. So that in this there can be no other mediocrity, or better composition, then to spend with discretion, that that you have honestly obtained. Liberality is a Virtue, and so is Parsimony within their several bounds, but the error is, when the one steps, or the other declines too near the contrary.  
Those men that be blest with great and fortunate estates, I think to be tied even by the law of Nature, to a more public appearing, than those that be below them, either in degree, or estate, to a willingness in relieving the necessities of others, proportionably according to their abilities, and so to provide for their posterity, that they may rather find increase then diminution of any part of their patrimony.  
A man ought to moderate his expenses, and keep them within certain limitations; for he is bound to increase and better the fortune of his Family, to maintain, and marry his children, to be of a reasonable ability, not to refuse, when that which he love's and likes, may chance to be offered unto him, to have means to maintain himself from wrongs and injuries, to keep him from being contemptible in the world, and many respects more in the same kind. But for a man to suppose too great a necessity in these or the like occasions, and make that a colour for extremity of covetousness, I cannot imagine a man so rich, that may not that way pretend an occasion for as much more, if it were possible to be had; so that there is no end in coveting, if the more a man enjoys, the more he desires, though in a man's fortune I think it better for ones consideration, to fix upon the competency, than superfluity of his estate.  
In private expenses it is good to be near, in public, magnificent, being poor and base to spare in honourable expenses, to the end they may the better spend upon their private pleasures. Therefore hate Covetousness, but endeavour Thrift, despise Prodigality, yet love to be liberal.  
To spend upon back and belly too sumptuously, too deliciously, cannot be reckoned in the number of honourable expenses, but mere effects of Pride and Epicurism. And I am persuaded that indeed there be none more avaricious than these gorgeous spenders. Honest expenses they think makes no show, and honourable, they find gives no taste; wherefore they neglect them, striving covetously to lay up, whereby they may feed their sumptuousness and delicacy. And you shall commonly see in expenses of this kind, more desire, more zeal then in any sort beside, as being governed by the square of irregular passions, and neither by the rules of Honour, nor Honesty.  
And it is not good to have our liberality wedded to some kinds of expenses, and in others of as great account to grow miserable, as to be bountiful to our horses, and keep a beggarly house, to be sumptuous at our Miser's feast, and then live like Farmers all the year after. These extremities be not good, but according to every man's means, an equality is to be kept. Use pleasures, yet forget not your profit; you may be liberal, yet hurt not your state.  
I have known some, and very rich, who all their life time have not been accessary to one good and charitable act, and yet, after their death, give order to dispose of their estates more liberally in this kind than any other, which show of Charity I esteem not: for it is necessity of leaving, and not desire to do good, that enforces that act. Or, peradventure it proceeds from custom: for they who all their life have never benefited any of their friends or kindred, are loath to alter or differ from this habit in their death; and not knowing else what to do with their estates, be after a manner forced to this poor Charity, in spite of their hearts. For if it were possible to have themselves and their money buried together, I verily believe that they would rather incline to that way.  
It is not the mere doing of good, but the willingness and cheerful proceeding that crowns acts of this nature. The very deferring and protraction argues it to be an action rather strained then voluntary. And beside, benefits thus bestowed, when we are dead, deserve neither the Attributes of Charity nor Liberality, for that that we then part withal belongs to another owner, for it neither appertains to us, nor is in our possession.  
If a man would truly enter into a contemplative consideration of riches, certainly he would find them extremely overvalued, and in themselves worth nothing, but that estimation makes them so; so that they have rather gotten a name and reputation in the world by opinion then merit. For it is impossible for the most careful provider to foresee the fortune of his wealth, whether continued, increased, dispersed, or lost. The first stock one may guess of; but to presume of farther assurance, is vain, and uncertain.  
Riches be therefore well placed, when a man can as contentedly leave, as enjoy them: which every man will easily do, that esteems them not beyond their use, nor is deceived by their lustre.   

Of Visitations.  
FEminine thoughts, be for the most part enemies to Meditation; yet in this Subject, a help. For it is an idle, womanish, and therefore unnecessary, and no masculine habit, though their weakness in this kind hath entered fare into our sex, as it were by imitation; from whence may be discerned the force of ill examples, when so weak ones from weak women can draw us to ridiculousness, being an outside quality, and expressing nothing of man's inward abilities. And yet it is a wonder to see what multitudes there be of all sorts, that make this their only business, and in a manner, spend their whole time in compliment, as if they were borne to no other end, bred to no other purpose, had nothing else to do, then to be a kind of living walking ghosts, to haunt and persecute others with unnecessary observation.  
It is an argument either of folly, or deceit, for any to be more ceremonious than real, which is necessarily employed in these unnecessary visits. For they express either Simplicity, or Flattery, the one the weakest, the other the basest quality that can be incident to any. Wise men will not view such persons but with scorn, nor respect them but with disesteem; for men of ability, & judgement undervalue, rather than praise them, for these needless compliments, as being the practice of light & fantastical, and not of wise men, because these unnecessary visits, interrupt actions of more value and worth, with making businesses, where there is none.  
Some go abroad, and God knows, the Visited be not beholding to them. For if these giddy goers be forced to give a reason for their wheeling up and down the streets, their answer is, they know not else how to pass the time. And how tedious it is, for a man that accounts his hours, to be subject to these vacancies, and apply himself to lose a day with such timepassers, who neither come for business, nor out of true friendship, but only to spend the day, as if one had nothing else to do, but to supply their idle time: how hard a task this is, those that be haunted with these spirits, do so sensibly feel, that I am loath to enlarge their torture; but only advice them to let those know, who make a profession to pass their time, with the loss of mine, that as their visitations be unprofitable to themselves, so they be tedious, and burdensome unto me. And if that serve not the turn against their untimely visits, than bolt my door, or hide myself, which shift I have known many put to for want of other defence.  
And beside, when these spirits walk abroad, it is rather to show themselves, then to see any, which for the most part is never in the Morning; (and especially on Sundays, because it is the best day in the week) all that while they be building themselves, and viewing their own proportions, feeding in stead of a breakfast, upon how brave they shall appear in the afternoon, And then they go to the most public, and most received places of entertainment, which be sundry, and therefore they stay not long in a place: but after they have asked you, how you do, and told some old, or fabulous news, laughed twice or thrice in your face, and censured those they know you love not, (when peradventure the next place they go to, is to them, where they will be as courteous to you) spoke a few words of fashions, and alterations, whispered some lascivious motion, that shall be practised the next day, fall'n into discourse of liberty, and how it agrees with humanity, for women to have servants besides their husbands, made legs, and postures of the last edition, with three or four new and diminutive oaths, and protestations of their service, and observance; they then retire to their Coach, and so prepare for another company, and continue in this vocation, till the beginning of the next day, that is, till past midnight, and so home: when betimes in the morning, the Decorum is, if it be a Lady visitor, to send her Gentleman Usher, to see if all those be well, that she saw in perfect health but the night before.  
This hath been more to show the Deformity of it, than the Danger, which I would rather avoid, then unmask, because it touches too many particulars; but in general this. It is the Index of an idle and unprofitable disposition, a taker up of time that may be better disposed; and such a spender of time, that in few actions it can be worse employed. Many an unlawful bargain is concluded upon this exchange: contrary purposes be concealed under this vizard, and few be practic in this art, whose manners and lives be not corrupted. Besides, this vain custom once begun, induceth a habit not easily lost, therefore not good to begin; and once practised, it is not so safely left: for begun, and not continued, makes the leaving of it off, esteemed a neglect: which otherwise would be never claimed as a due.  
There be of this Family, or Sect, that are so punctual, and methodical in their art, that they turn Critics, and censure those that be not as pertinent, in impertinencies, and spit not with as good a grace, or speak not to as good a tune (for all their words be but sound, and no sense) as themselves, when such as are truly intelligent, think this scorn, their praise: for no man that hath any thoughts worthy consideration, will bestow the labour to speak, or to entertain argument in such a case, upon so barren, and worthless an occasion.  
And these kind of ceremonies, be equally tedious to the Complementer, and Complementee, if they reciprocally respect not this fond and dissimulate kind of conversation: and though it often happen, that in some places where they visit, their tedious society be well accepted, (which then must only be allowed to such, as are of the same occupation, & are even with them in the same kind;) yet sometimes it falls out, they thus running over all kind of company, they be to many so unwelcome, and troublesome, in distracting, or diverting their better employments, that oftentimes those they come to, conceal themselves upon purpose, or suppose some necessary business that calls them away, with intention only to get rid of them. From which tediousness, if no better employment of their own can divert them, yet the consideration of the unseasonable trouble they put those to, whom they visit, should even shame them from frequenting so bad a custom.  
Yet custom hath so fare prevailed, that I dare not prescribe a total neglect: but counsel to avoid frequent and assidual practice of so superfluous, though received a fashion.  
Those that duty, love, respect, business, or familiarity bind us to, we must observe, and visit; lest they interpret our absence to be either in contempt of their persons, or a carelessness, and disesteem of their favour, and friendship.  
And howsoever, with a non obstante, I do not by this seclude society, and conversation: for such a solitary, & unsociable disposition, I hold to be worse than this Gadder.   

Of Death.  
NOthing is more certain than Death, and nothing more uncertain than the the time. Every man is to pay this debt, though few be ready at the day; life is but lent us, and the condition of the obligation is Death, yet not without a penalty, if in this wand'ring and uncertain state we make no preparation.  
Life then being so short, Death so certain, a man should not confine his thoughts within the small circle of the present being, but dilate them to more high and worthy considerations; and one is the immortality of the soul, which without comparison is the chief and only happiness; the next is, perpetuating of a good name; which according to the actions of our life good or bad, continue in memory and fame after we be dead: and surely, a man that hath any affinity with Virtue or goodness, and is not only borne for, but buried in himself, as he should desire an honest report and memory to continue of him, so he should fear the contrary. Every man naturally desires to have his name continued by children and posterity; and certainly it is a great blessing, yet surely the actions of a great man's life, if they be good, make his name, when dead, more durable.  
Beatitude is never seen in this life, but by a false light; we must be dissolved, transformed, and changed, before we arrive to fullness and fruition, which cannot be conferred in this, but a higher habitation. Many examples, especially if common or usual, convert into precept, yet these which be most visible, lest avail; for though we daily see our acquaintance, friends, and children taken from us, yet we provide and prepare for this life, as if we were irremovable, and think of death no otherwise, then as a tale that is reported to fright us, till the stroke come home to our own doors. So fond, so vnsettled be our cogitations. For a man in nothing more shows the goodness, and greatness of his spirit, then in contemning and not fearing Death; for it must come, and fear cannot prevent it. And me thinks therefore, the certainty of it should abate timidity: therefore rely not so much upon so uncertain and transitory an estate.  
And the continual passing away of our children, and kindred, and friends, by this gate, are but so many guides and forerunners to us, and the nearer one is either in affection, or alliance, the application should be more particular to ourselves. Some think to deceive, or prevent, or delay this blow, and attribute the cause of it rather to accident, than providence; as if the rules of diet, or Physic, were able to oppose fate; though I dispute not against those means the which God hath appointed for the preservation of life; but I esteem them only as helps, and not causes of continuance. All men in this life be subordinately governed: we are naturally bodies, and live not by miracle, but sustentation: so that it is as ill to avoid those helps, as to trust to them.  
It is a strange, but vulgar error, for men to say, counsel or temper would have prevented such a man's death; might they not consider the several, sudden, and strange accidents that lead to this end, that there be not more men than ways that conduct to this condition? Children die before Parents; strong, before weak; sound, before sickly; which as often happen by small & unobserved chances, as great diseases: as a man goes well to bed, and is smothered before morning; is well at the beginning of a meal, and dead before the end; now in a serious discourse, and dead, in the midst of a word. He that's a friend to day, proves a murderer to morrow; a pillow may stifle, smoke may suffocate, a Fly may choke. This, if it were to be illustrated by examples, would plainly show, that there is no action, nor instrument so small, or unobserved, that is not master of our life.  
Therefore to esteem life above the price, or to fear death beyond the rate, be alike evil. No man can be in love with this world, that is not in some doubt of the next. He that respects life, expects little beyond death. But than it may be demanded, Are those the best men, that be most weary of this life, and therefore hasten death with their own hands? Certainly no. For every act in that kind, shows that it was not in respect they hated to live; but because of want, fear, punishment, ignominy, and diverse other causes, that these examples do daily publish, and are notoriously known. Man is created by God, therefore not to be his own executioner, but to wait for the time, and expect the hour of his Call.  
A man's Peregrination in this life should be employed, but as a harbinger for Death, nay rather, life: for whilst we live, we die; but live not till death. Yet good men, may in a sort religiously fear death, in respect of the cause of it. For the wages of sin, is death. In respect of not knowing the place of our being after death (we ourselves being altogether unmeriting) these, and the like considerations, may justly make death seem terrible. But to go on.  
How can a man think himself happy in this world, without the expectation of a better? If a man enjoy that his heart can wish, if he know not want, have plenty in abundance: these things may sometimes make him glory in himself, and in a kind of scornful pity to commiserate those that be below him; yet the consideration of Death, and the little while he hath to enjoy these temporary happinesses, turns all his pleasures into melancholy, his sweetness, to gall. This is the happiest condition, that the happiest man can have, that thinks there is no happiness beyond this life.  
But if you view other men, and see what cares, what hazards, what jealousies, what sickness, and what miseries, they endure in all kinds, only to preserve and please themselves in this short, troublesome, dangerous, suspicious, and wearisome life, you would think them rather dreams then substances, fictions, than men.  
But so live, as neither the pleasures of this world may possess, nor the miseries confound you. Boast of nothing in yourself, but that you are a lively representation or Image of your Creator, which you deform, if you look to earth, or those things which be below. The benefits which God hath here bestowed upon you, use according to his direction, but not contrary to his command; and fear not, but welcome death, as being the end of your unhappiness, and beginning of your joy.  
Many men without the knowledge of Religion, have excellently expressed their contempt of Death, but that may be reduced some of these causes: peradventure they had a kind of uncertain opinion that some greater happiness followed, then accompanied this life: or, in respect of the daily examples of their mortality, custom extinguished fear: or lastly, to perpetuate their memories, or publish their fame to succeeding ages, have for the liberation of their Country, or Friends, or Honour, voluntarily exposed themselves to a certain and present death.  
There be few lingering diseases, or sudden pains, that be not more sensible and painful than Death, and the recovery from them, is but as a short reprieve. Therefore I see little reason why a man that life's well, should fear death much more than sickness.   

Of a Country Life.  
TO write of a Country Life in what respects it is necessary, or unfit, for all degrees of men, would too much lengthen this part, in the resolution of sundry questions, which I now do purposely avoid; I only intending to write in the praise or discommendation of it, so fare as it hath relation to men of great quality, and estates. So that in this description, I banish all that may refer to any other kind and ranks of men, either for their use, or necessity, of living in the Country.  
This kind of life hath been more familiar with us, than other Nations; so that we have in a kind appropriated it to ourselves; more Southernly people, as rarely using the country, for retirement, or variety, or air, as our Country Nobility and Gentry, were anciently upon extraordinary businesses driven to the town. But different people have several forms of living and behaviour: that which is necessary in one place, is ridiculous and pernicious in another. In these cases therefore we must not guide ourselves by precedent. It is as easy to introduce one common language, and reverse the confusion of tongues, as to parallel all men in one kind and fashion of life. Rigidly to keep unseemly customs, because we receive them from antiquity, and ancestors, no man will defend. Time as it hath a quality in some cases to degeneratè, and corrupt; so in others it hath to cleanse: but to alter so good a custom as this, whereof we have had so long experience and benefit, upon pretence only of imitation, appears in my judgement, to be altogether void of reason. And yet this, taking it for a general question, I will at this time neither dispute nor resolve, either by the numerousness of ancient precedents, and example, or force of reason and argument; only as the case stands, with us in the particular, conclude, That it is neither good, nor safe, to innovate, or alter old and approved customs.  
But as in the choice of any indifferent action, men's affections and fancies predominate and govern, they have equal power, and work the same effect in the election either of this, or any other kind of life: but what reasons in this should induce us either to the one or other, that which falls accidentally by the way, passing, I will touch.  
By a Country Life, I do understand such an habitation as impliesa retiredness from the press, business, and employment either of city or court; the distance and that course of life secluding them from those kind of troubles: & how a man of quality is to behave and direct himself in this way, shall be my first enquiry.  
To make living in the Country a veil, or shadow, for base and sordid sparing, becomes not the thought of such a man as I propose, whom I name not, as driven to live there for necessity, & nearness, but for honourable and virtuous endeavours. Amongst which his first should be to express freedom and Hospitality in his house, and bountiful liberality towards his poorer neighbours: these be the true ornaments of a Country housekeeper; an honourable custom, so peculiar to our Nation, that that way we have outgone all others; and howsoever of late it hath been declining and decaying, yet it is worthy of renovation, being so great a stay to the Country, such a relief to the poor, so honourable for themselves, and exemplary for posterity, the very knot which contracts society & conversation, a receptacle for ones friends and children, which be the chiefest solaces of a man's life, and the surest way to make a man be loved of those that know, and esteemed by all that hear of him. To set down a particular rate and order in keeping of such a house, is not now my purpose: that it ought to be governed regularly and religiously none doubts; and not replete with those confused disorders, & riots, which some licentious & prodigal dispositions have allowed. That makes it rather a snare and invitation to nourish lewd, and base affections, then to be either a stay, or relief to the Country where they live.  
Next, under pretence of this noble and free life, for a man to take too much upon him, expressing Arrogancy and Pride to those below him, in his own opinion, creating in himself that greatness and power, which is not his due; squaring his actions by his will, not reason; forcing to his ends by the way of greatness and authority, not equity and justice; awing his neighbours with his countenance and power; turning law into affection, and reason to appetite; these should be none of the ends in a noble and good nature, when he chooseth a country life; but contrarily, a purpose to express such moderation and modesty in all his actions, that he may be useful, not oppressing; serviceable, not burdensome; loved, not feared in the Country where he life's.  
And having here, and thus settled him, his life must not be wholly reserved to his own quiet, and particular pleasures; but in that place whereunto he is called, and destined to live, to apply himself, and service, for the common and public good; which in such a life as this, will principally consist in these particulars. The disordered and unruly life of those under his authority & command, (setting aside those outrages of Murder, Theft, and the like which the law punisheth, and imposeth also a duty upon his vigilancy) he ought beside, not only to suppress, but prevent all bold & contemptuous behaviour of one neighbour towards another, all seeds of seditions and quarrels, and such common means as in the Country usually provoke them. Generally also, all manner of distemper in the Country ought to be qualified by his judgement and discretion; a● in the better sort, if any faction or emulation arise, than the virtue of his authority must appear in equal moderation. Wherein he is chief to take heed, that when factions be sided, his Greatness uphold not one faction, to the decay and ruin of the other; but contrarily to even and compound them in mutual amity and agreement.  
Again, in this place, he is not only to prevent i'll, but to do good, and that, first by his example, in equally bearing part of the burden in country services, with the rest of the gentlemen, (though in quality below, and in akind depending upon him) & this not only in the private execution of his duty & place, but also in the solemn and public meetings, for distribution of justice; which will be a very great encouragement, and invitation, to awake others diligence, as also an excellent restraint of partiality and favour, in the several votes of the rest, which oftentimes respect persons, more than causes, or spleen then truth; this good will follow the endeavours of so great a man, if he carry himself evenly, and without private ends, in the businesses of the Country; otherwise the mischief will be more dangerous in awing the Country, than the benefit necessary in governing it: but if he be of a condition prepared with integrity; then to declare his ability in Country services (I do not say always to engross them) will make the rest more wary in their steps, and diligent in the uprightness of their endeavours. But allow his carriage never so clear, if it be either affected, or smell of ostentation, so that one may discern either of them to be the spur of his endeavours, his labour is lost, will be imputed to him for vainglory, and put upon the account of his disgrace. But yet the censure of this must not be left to the vngouerned tongues of the ignorant multitude, and envious people; but to men of quality, indifferency, and discretion.  
The next means of doing good in the Country, wherein men's endeavours should never slack, nor their labours seem troublesome to themselves, is in composing of differences and discontents, betwixt one neighbour or friend, and another: it is the principal act of Charity; by this, they not only do, but preserve it: This is the proper work of a superior power, men's passions will not be so much misgoverned, nor reason blinded before them, as betwixt themselves, or more low arbitrators. It is impossible for men to be competent judges in their own causes, their affections will incline, and judgements lean to their particular pretensions. This perverseness is it that brings men so often to the hazard of censures, and suits; which may be manifested in the still continuance of their peevishness; for the murmur remains when the cause is sentenced, which is the ground of an ill Proverb, that Losers may lawfully complain. And this misery of imputation is it, which judges are forced to suffer; wherein, in doing justly (for that I admit) impartial judgements will be so fare from finding fault, that they love their integrity; for a judge is to sentence according to the merit of the cause, and not to arbitrate in respect of collateral circumstances. But I will no farther digress. It is the best work wherein a man in the Country can employ himself, to be a Peacemaker, and ender of controversies; it confirms friendship; expels malice, avoids needless and extravagant expenses; shuts the gate against those bad instruments that move and stir suits, to make their living upon that prey; expedites causes; and makes a more indifferent and satisfactory end, than the judge in his place can do. This common good succeeds so worthy an endeavour. And why it is not more commonly practised, I rather impute it to the unwillingness of interposers, them a common perverseness in the parties interessed, to submit their differences to an upright and unpartial neighbour; which his own actions, if conversant in this kind, will sufficiently assure: and I see not such difficulty, but it may be possible this way to give satisfaction to both sides.  
But if either's mistrust cause them not to yield to so easy and quick an end, the merit of his endeavours and good will cannot be taken away. And if it fall out, that the business be of such a nature, as may judicially afterwards come before him, let not the party's jealousy, before in referring it, wrist or wry his judgement in the least degree to prejudice. I will enlarge this no farther, these particulars last touched being only in the power of men of degree and authority; and here ends my first enquiry, how a Noble man in the Country ought to carry and govern himself. I now descend to take a short view of the more peculiar delights, and healthful conveniences, incident to them that live in the Country, then in any other place.  
All field delights, as Hunting, Riding, and Hawking, commendable, if used with moderation, are properly belonging only to this life, and certainly they greatly enable, and active men's bodies, making the difficulty of enduring labour, and other accidents, that in times of war, a man may be subject unto, more easy than any other preparative, or imitable practice that I know. The unseasonableness of the times, early, and late: and so the uncertainty of the weather, heats, and cold, and wet: of diet, little, or none, or course, and at hours unlimited, and not set, assured also & ready in his horsemanship, by so often occasions of practice, which is no small advantage. So paralleling these, with the chances, and necessities in time of service; the often using of these exercises, will make the labour less difficile, and hard, when necessity of employment shall require it, and the body more agile, and healthful, free from those infirmities, that rest, idleness, and full feeding do bring men into. This is the good that follows the use of these exercises, setting aside the delight which draws most men to follow and entertain them; which surely, though not always discerned by wise men, yet may by good reason be proved to be delightful.  
If I should breathe the country air, and digress into the commendation of it, in respect of health from that cause, I think the whole College of Physicians would subscribe to my opinion: for without doubt, it is freed from those noisome vapours, and consequently infections, which thronged and populous Cities do produce. And this daily practice makes manifest: for in those Countries where towne-dwelling is most frequented, yet every Summer the better sort retire, only for the freedom, and liberty of the air, to their Palaces, and villa's, as they term them; which shows there is a necessary, and impulsive cause for their health, that drives them thither. And here with us, those that be most in love with the town, in Summer ever fly into the Country: and the general reason of it must only be, to change a bad air, for a good; wherein though the Country doth always predominate, yet in Summer the air of the City is so fare from good, that it is neither tolerable, nor indifferent.  
And being now in a meditation of health, to say truth, the helps, and furtherances of it are much more appropriate to a Country than a City life, which I will but touch, without robbing the Poets at this time, by falling into the praise and pleasures of Gardens, Rivers, Fountains, Woods, places of privacy, and retiredness, or the like: of most of which, though all Cities have a show, yet it is but forced, and counterfeit, in respect of them in the country, which is the proper element for those delights. But to return to my consideration of health, the Country is the place most free, from that easy, & sedentary life, which men in Cities be forced to entertain; there all exercises for the health, and agility of the body be in daily practice; as Riding, Shooting, Bowling, Walking, Hunting, Hawking, and the like: which though some towne-livers, sometimes make hard shift to practise, yet there, there be so many other diversions, that there are very few living in towns, who can either take or find opportunities for that purpose, which must needs greatly decay, and disable both a man's health, and strength. Of this argument much more might be said, but I purposely avoid it: and indeed would have left it out, but that I was forced to it in completing the description, for fear of falling from my Title. But I now hasten to other observations: and first, of those advantages and benefits, a man gains by living in the country.  
A man in the Country is retired out of the crowd and noise of factions, and emulations, dependencies, and neck-breaking of one another, which Court, and Town, do too often yield, and though a man in his own inclination be free from, and not busy, yet if present, can hardly be a neuter: or if he be one, will yet scarcely be thought so, and suspected of either side for affection to the other. But take him allowed for a neutral, he then commonly is so fare from the affection of the sides, that they both turn his enemies, because he is neither of their friends. These straits by being away, and by living in the Country, men often escape from.  
Next, he is free from those tempestuous winds of businesses, and multiplicity of vexations, wherewith many have been tossed; the calm of the Country being void of those storms, and troubled waves, that commonly accompany a town, or Court life, where men's desires and ambitions so abound, that they be always in hopes, and projections, wherein many times they do so outstraine & over-graspe, that in reaching too high, they overreach themselves, in seeking a new fortune, lose their old, and so convert their substance into pretensions, their certainty into nothing.  
Again, no man can expect to live in the same, or equal reputation, out of the Country, and his own dwelling. In Town, or Court, he is as it were, in a throng, wanting elbow room: there be so many his equals, and superiors, above him both in place, and merit, that he is reckoned for number, not weight; one of the troop rather for show, than use. Those Nations therefore who affect this place, out of vainglory, and pride, to show themselves, and get opinion, if they compare their estimation here, with their reputation at home, they will find cause quickly to change their mind and place, to go thither where they shall be sure to find that, which they so affectedly desire, and that is to their own Country; ask but Northern men, or Welshmen, they will swear to you this is true.  
Besides, I believe, if it went to voices, most would opine, that the stability of a Country fortune were less subject to declination, and the cataracts of adversity, then that whose only foundation is built upon the present favour of the time. They who raise their estates above, the Haven they strive for, is a Country fortune, that is the end of their ambition. When a man therefore hath that which the Courtier only aims at: why should he fix himself in that sphere upon purpose, to look after those things, which he hath already? If that be not his end, and no other just cause can be alleged, I cannot free him from the imputations of lightness, and vanity; who besides the neglecting of that good he may do at home, offends first, against his own estate, and next, against the Crown and state of the Kingdom, in seeking relief there, for that which he hath vainly, and inconsiderately spent; when neither his own abilities, nor favour of the Prince, have forced the necessity of his attendance.  
And writing now as well to honest, as wise men, if through their own infirmities they find themselves subject to the temptations of high, and ambitious desires, and desire to abate them: there is no such corrective as a retired country life. For though in itself good and great places, where they meet with men that be fit for them, may, out of honest ends, and for good purposes, be both desired, and kept: yet when these be only wished, for the greatness, and dignity of the place, it is an inordinate, and unruly passion, and aught to be suppressed. If a man therefore in his own arraignment, find himself guilty of such thoughts, and withal be not ignorant of his own inabilities, let him avoid those occasions that may renew his desires.  
Moreover, a man that life's in the Country, is more out of the way, and less obvious to the malice and envy of busy and ravenous men, such as build up their own fortunes upon others decays: curious inquisitors into men's lives, and false interpreters of their actions, by that way to lay a ground for ruining them, and so raise a step to their own advancement. And though a Country Life do not totally conceal a man from these that be so quicksighted; yet he that takes that course, makes them seek farther off, and they often go not down, when they find work nearer home.  
And lastly, this kind of life gives a man more free hours, for reading, writing, and meditation, than the public towne-livers can possibly allow themselves; their time in the Country being neither so taken away, nor distracted, as avoidable in town it must often be: both by several occasions, to which their own wills invite them, and also by often bestowing themselves, and time, upon others, out of affection, and respect, which accidents of divertion, do more rarely happen in the Country, men being there more free masters, both of their hours, and disposing of them, than they can be in the other place. Many more advantages might be found; but it sufficeth me, if I have said enough, though not all. But several forms, and actions, of our Moral life, have as well their disadvantages, as commodity, and so hath this; wherefore to deal, and distribute, my opinion equally, my now search must be to set down the disaduantageous inconveniences that accompany a Country Life.  
As in the choice, and reading of good Books, principally consists the enabling and advancement of a man's knowledge, and learning; yet if it be not mixed with the conversation, of discreet, able, and understanding men, they can make little use of their reading, either for themselves, or the Commonwealth where they live. There is not a more common Proverb, than this, That the greatest Clerks be not always the wisest men, and reason for it, being a very uneven rule, to square all actions, and consultations, only by book precedents. Time hath so many changes, & alterations, and such variety of occasions, and opportunities, intervening, and mingled, that it is impossible to go new ways, in the old paths; so that though reading do furnish, and direct a man's judgement, yet it doth not wholly govern it. Therefore the necessity of knowing the present time, and men, wherein we live, is so great, that it is the principal guide of our actions, and reading but supplemental. Now this knowledge, which is obtained by conversation, and acquaintance, must be sought where it is, and that is in Cities, and Courts, where generally the most refined, and judicious men, be likeliest to be found: and as reading forms a judgement, so conference must perfect it, or else it will be lame.  
It must then follow, that a mere Country life; if men look as well to the enriching of their minds, as fortune, is not the way to purchase ability, and judgement; for it both secludes us from the knowledge of the Court, and government there, and also eclipseth from our acquaintance, the Great men, and guiders of the State, which any man who desires to store his understanding, will find to be as necessary to be looked upon, and turned over often, as the most useful books.  
And this will appear, if any occasion or necessity of business, force them thither: for they will be then so to seek, and imperfect, so incongruous in their behaviour, and discourse, that they scarce know how to do their business, nor they that they go to, what they would have. And in this negotiating, such cannot possibly guide themselves, by their own judgements, but must submit to the direction of others, who many times for want of judgement be ill chosen; or for want of honesty, be worse advisers. So that if any occasion happen, it is impossible for Great men always to want them, they be by this long absence, both unknowing, unknown, and unable to dispatch their own businesses when they happen.  
Besides, if a man by his experience, and reading, have gotten much sufficiency, and ability, in the knowledge of affairs, than a total sequestration in the Country, doth not only hinder him of that preferment, and honour, which in all likelihood he may arrive too, but robs the State and Commonwealth where he life's, of an able, and fit minister, to do it service. Whereas if a man in his own judgement finds that he may be useful, and that his first look is at his Country's service, in that case the wilful retiring, and obscuring of a man's self, must needs be accounted a fault: for we are not borne for ourselves, and to please only our own fancies, but to serve the public in that kind, and in those places, we be thought most fit for.  
So then as it is ill for men, that know their own strength, voluntarily to conceal and hide it: it is also certain, that continual absence from the face of the world, causeth an impossibility in men, though of never so good wits, to have capacity, judgement, or experience, to undergo the charge of any public employment, either at home, or abroad, if they should be called thereunto: which forceth the state oftentimes to fix their greatest places upon men low, and meanly descended, and though their industry can never be sufficiently commended, who wanting those means, that in all likelihood the nobler degrees might have had, and have notwithstanding made themselves more useful, and able for their Country's service: yet it cannot but be interpreted as a disgrace, and must reflect upon the ill education, and weakness of knowledge in our Gentry, and Nobility; who, me thinks, for that only respect should strive, that as they precede others, in degree, & birth; so at least to equalise them in sufficiency, and judgement.  
Moreover the great trade, and commerce of the world, is in giving, and receiving of good turns, (I mean amongst men of equal condition.) But a Country Life absolutely solitary, makes a man neither capable to receive, nor of ability to do one, and so they run out their days unprofitably both to themselves, and all men beside, as if they neither had friends, nor were friend to any, which is a hard condition for a man to live in.  
Also it cannot be denied, but that a man's long absence from the Court, and Town, makes him a stranger to all passages, and alterations of the world, both at home, and abroad: for a man there will get that by conversation, he will never learn either by Letters, or report. Who knows not, that wise men to their friends will say that, which they will never write to them? Besides, if a man hold correspondency abroad, he is tied to the Town, being very hard to keep it, and live in the Country. Those therefore that thus desire to inform, and enrich themselves, must either live where it is to be gotten, or else be content with less knowledge, than other men have. And so for the necessities, and conveniences, that may induce a man to live in town, for the present these shall serve. Now in a word, still supposing as I begun, the man that should either live, or not live in the Country, to be of quality and degree, I will give my opinion, how, and in what manner, he must dispose himself, and then end.  
In the forming of this sentence, I will be very short; but first lay this foundation, that no man is, or aught to be so absolutely master of himself, as to take the liberty of electing that course of life, which only his own will, and inclination, governs and desires: but to follow and direct himself in that way, which his own abilities, and Country's service, make, and think him fit to be disposed unto: it being one principal end of a man's being in this world, to be serviceable in one kind or other, to that Kingdom, or Commonwealth where he life's.  
I will therefore first select those, whom necessity and convenience, seclude from a Country Life: who are such as be in the place of necessary attendance about a King, or Prince: or such as finding their presence there well esteemed of; do for the increase, and continuation of their favour at Court, give their attendance: but that observance than ought to proceed rather out of respect, and duty, then particular, and private ends: for he is very unworthy of a Prince's favour (which is freely bestowed) if in his love and hearty affection, he truly, and reciprocally, return not the best of his service. Others also that sit at the Helm, and have the charge of great affairs, and guiding in the State, are bound to continual residence: and so such as be appointed to any judicial places, and Magistracy, or any other office, that forceth their presence in town: or if a man have any tedious business, or suit, that calleth them up, and requires there their frequent attendance. And lastly, it is convenient, for such to live about the Town, and Court, who have neither settled state nor calling in the Country, because a man that hath there nothing to do, and little to live on, can hardly be tied to a worse place; whilst in the mean time living abroad, they make better use of their time by conversation, and knowing of men, as well as books, by that way to enable their sufficiency, for any employment, public, or private, in Town, or the Country, that the state, and their own endeavours, may in time advance them unto.  
And so these excepted, I think that notwithstanding the conveniences, allurements, and advantages, which cause most men to be so much in love with living about the Town, and Court, the Country to be the proper sphere for all of quality beside. In that place they may do most good, as well by their government, and direction, as hospitality, and house-keeping. For men of equal ranks, can not altogether be of equal employment, in that they must submit, to the choice and opinion of the Prince, and State, and go on in that path, that they direct them. And though it be true that the greatest business of the State, is commonly directed and concluded above, yet most they there consult upon, is for the common good, and that is the good of the Country, which then ought not to be abandoned, and left naked. Once allow but that liberty, & there are few Noblemen, or Gentlemen there of quality, who will not pick an occasion to live out of their country. Those therefore whose services be found to be of use, and necessity there, and have no other calling to divert them, are bound not to relinquish that confidence, and trust, which the State hath reposed in them.  
But yet it seems very hard, so strictly to confine and imprison a man of rank, and quality; and truly in my opinion, I cannot think it to be either reasonable, or convenient: for by that means their former endeavours would be lost & experience abated: therefore I mitigate thus. Their settled houses and family must needs be in the Country: but for to make themselves altogether strangers from the Court and Town is too strict, and withal not very safe for such men to lose their friends, and acquaintance at Court, for the keeping of home. Though a man be not tied to a continual attendance, yet he is to some, and if he be but now & then there, his estimation, and respect, will be rather more, then less, when he comes but seldom. So I conclude, such a man should neither be a Plebeian, nor Citizen, more in the Country: sometimes at Court; mixed together, but as the Frenchmen do allay their drink, three parts water, to one of Wine.   

Of Religion.  
THere was never yet Nation; or people, either Civil or Barbarous, that accounted not a Prescript or Law, for a kind of divine thing; and such unruly and untamed desires, as would not be restrained by that bridle, have been ever esteemed worthily to suffer such punishments, whether Corporall, Pecuniary or Capital, as the laws have inflicted. If the laws then of men do deserve, and indeed worthily, such reverence, without doubt that Law which a man's Maker lays upon him, doth beyond the degrees of comparison merit a fare higher valuation: the particulars whereof be diverse, but the general head that comprehends the rest, is Religion, a blessed and most sacred name, in the right understanding whereof, is concluded the whole labour of a Christian.  
But this word, and the reverence also due unto it, hath gone fare; for the very heathen are subject to the power of some Religion, and submit themselves thereunto, as experience, and a number of voluminous writers do manifest. So it seems all people have with one consent joined together, to make this the ground, and Basis, of all their other actions, and laws, and the foundation or principal Pillar to uphold the rest, but sometimes out of Policy, as well as Devotion: for grant the multitude were awed with the reverence, and number of their Gods, yet sometimes the wiser Heathen, though they thought it good wisdom to nourish their opinions, yet had not so little wit as to believe them.  
Briefly now then to know what is meant by Religion: It is the true knowledge, and true service of God, in these two consists Piety: without them it is maimed and defective. The knowledge of God is revealed in the Scriptures, and wrought by faith, which is not true, unless it be certain, and not mixed with error, or doubts. And the true service of God, is a kind of restrained veneration, within certain Laws and Ceremonies, and that either inward, or outward. Inward, when a man pours out his soul in Prayers, and Thanksgiving. Outward, in the several rites, gestures, and ceremonies of the Church.  
Those men therefore, whose only joy consists not in this life, and the period of whose hope lies not upon their deathbeds, will be assured that their first choice should be, the true knowledge of Religion, which assures them of an infinite addition, and continuation of happiness in the life that is to come. This is the house built upon the Rock, this is the corner Stone of the building, this is the Pillar that will not be moved, in a word, this makes a man unlike that Reed which will be shaken with every wind.  
The seat of Religion must be in a man's heart, conducted thither by the means of faith, and knowledge, grounded upon Scriptures, and the consent of the Church. It is a man's heart that justifies him before God, his outward works before men, by which they may guess, but not conclude, such a one to be a godly, and religious man. For if works alone could justify; the Heathen in their morality have outgone us, very Hypocrites and Impostors go beyond us, the Catholic glorifyers of works in their blind zeal exceed us. Wherefore as it is impossible to justify a man by his works, so it is desperate to judge a man for his not so frequent working, or not working at all, to our knowledge: for keep true Religion within his bounds, that is, in the heart of a man, it is possible for one to do the acts of a good man, and yet not to be seen, or marked, for fear of being his own Trumpet, and that so his good deeds may either taste of vainglory, or least that his own heart, (considering the frailty of humane nature, & that himself hath sometimes had temptations, and tickle that way) be puffed up with Pride by the Plaudities of other men. This case I only put, not to abridge men of their good and public acts of charity; but to abate the overbold, and common censuring that is used. And I resolve thus, that as all the best, and good deeds, that can be imagined, or were yet ever done, avail nothing towards a man's salvation, without they proceed from a touched and religious heart, yet no man can be truly Religious, that expresseth not his faith by his works. By which it is plain, though works be nothing without Religion, so Religion cannot be without works; they are so unseparably linked together, they cannot be severed.  
There is nothing, if duly considered, that aught to be more dear, and of greater comfort, and hope, to mankind, than the true sense, and Religious application, of divine mystery: we now are, anon are not, when all leaves us, and we leave all the world, it is the true joy we conceive by this knowledge, which doth strengthen us in death, and immortalize our souls. How miserable were a man, and little above the fortune, and happiness of a beast, being of so short, and uncertain continuance, if he put not a difference betwixt passing & remaining happiness? & if he knew not that the knowledge, and service of God were the only way to lead to so happy an end.  
The inward thoughts, in the high and reverend estimation of God, is the first degree of Religion, for only the formality of it, which is but hypocrisy, and outward appearance, is as ill as Atheism. Then as we think well, so need we to know truly, lest our good thoughts, and religious meditations, be misplaced by mistaking.  
And let no man persuade himself, that there is any action, or virtue, comparatively, in this world, of equal estimation, and power, with Religion. It was the commendation Saint Ambrose gave the Emperor Theodosius, that upon his deathbed, and in extremity of weakness, he took more care for the state of the Church, and preservation of Religion, then of his own extreme dangers and infirmities. And justinian in the preface to his laws, disclaimed all confidence in the greatness of his Empire, number of Soldiers, advice of his chief Commanders, and Council, but relied only upon that providence and mercy of God which Religion had taught him; knowing, the neglect of this duty would otherwise awake God's justice and wrath: according to Horace; Dij mult● neglect● dederunt Hesperiae mala luctuosae.  
It was the policy of the Roman State, and they pretended so much reverence, to their made, and borrowed religion, that, as I find cited from Varro, whensoever the Se●a●emet, the first thing propounded, had always relation to Religion, and no cause of the greatest weight, or that required the most sudden expedition; could precede this; because (it seems) as in all their other actions, they dedicated the beginning of it to religious and divine worship, so they would not vary from that custom in their consultations. And certainly, if an imaginary religion were of so great power with them, much more ought we, in the height and certainty of this knowledge, to submit ourselves thereunto.  
It is excellently observed by Solomon, Prou. 29. verse 2. When the righteous are in authority, the people rejoice: but when the wicked beareth rule, the people mourn. For certainly the prosperity, and decays of States, do very much depend upon good, and religious governments: morally good, I dare say all stories will witness, and that is a handmaid to Religion: and so I understand righteous, and wicked, in this place, as denominating virtuous, and vicious persons. But for to affirm, that the prosperity of States hath been ever in those places only, where Religion is truly professed, I dare not go so fare. For God did heretofore confine, and yet doth not much enlarge (in respect of those secluded) the knowledge of Religion to multitudes.  
But where God hath declared himself, there good governments, if not Religious withal, do commonly precede some stroke of God's justice, Knowledge revealed always requiring obedience thereunto, which should awake the diligence of Superiors, to see the service of God, and true substance of our Religion, not in name only to agree, but in truth to be answerable to our profession: not that God stands in need of our devotions, and worship, but proceeding from his abundant love to mankind, to supply our natural, and spiritual necessities, which commonly comes not unbegged, nor stays not unacknowledged: and this you shall ever find, where Religion is not truly esteemed, and had in due respect, men's manners turn so depraved, that the force of other laws can hardly restrain them.  
This is a law that works as well upon the restraining of inward thoughts, as outward actions, working upon the mind, and inclination: but our corrupt desires, and deeds, if Religion be wanting, nothing but the curb of laws, can keep within bounds: and in actions that be forced, there is little assurance; so that we may conclude, All the vicious, and disorderly behaviour of our conversation, springs from our simplicity, and neglect in Religion. Primae scelerum causae mortalibus aegris naturam nescire deorum. So saith Silius.  
Without this there could be no safe commerce, and conversation amongst men. The best can but be inclined to do good one to another, but this ties all sorts to do it: take away this bond, and we plunge ourselves into a sea of all kind of mischief. No man, no Prince, no State, can be confident one of another, though we have often seen pretenders to Religion, who make it but their countenance to disguise their deceitful purposes, and corrupt thoughts: and yet these, me thinks, if they entered into the consideration of their mortality, and the vastness of eternity, with the succeeding happiness, or miseries they must endure, they would be more circumspect in the ways of their lives, which causeth and continues all the good present, and to come, they can desire, or expect. Aspiciunt oculis superi mortalia iustis. So Ovid: and Horace, Qui terram inertem, qui mare temperat ventosum, & urbes regnaque tristia. This acknowledgement was yielded to Religion, even in Paganism.  
The pure, and primitive part of Religion, aught to be kept clear, and unspotted, and they who innovate therein, are to be cast off, and constrained to recognition, not only for God's cause, whom whosoever neglects, disclaims all interest in his mercy, and favours; but even in Policy also: for innovation in Religion, commonly precedes alteration in Government: and generally, most seditious and conspiring actions, have their cause, and pretence, from different opinions, and establishments of Religion; which even the Heathen were so careful to avoid, and found to be of so dangerous consequence, that both the Athenians and Romans had particular laws, against such as introduced new opinions in Religion: for attempting of which, Socrates was condemned at Athens, and both the jews and Chaldeans banished Rome. Let it then be the endeavour of all good men, so to establish this unity, that it may be said of them, as of the people mentioned in the Acts 4. verse 32. And the multitude of them that believed, were all of one heart, and one soul.  
It was the politic advice of Maecenas to Augustus, as Dion notes it, that in matter of Religion, he should show all outward devotion and reverence, according to the Law, and form of his Country, and force others to do the like, and that as well in form, as substance, in which case men are always tied to the rule of the Law, and bound to observe it: which caused Seneca with more affection than religion to write, that sapiens seruabit ea tanquam legibus iussa, non tanquam Dijs grata. By which you see, the maintaining, and continuing of unity in Religion, was held a point of government & policy. But though it be true, we cannot force religion, because no man is constrained to believe, whether he will, or no, and that I subscribe to Saint Bernard, that sides suadenda est, non imperanda: yet, there is no doubt but that in all Christian good governments, the people have been forced to yield their outward obedience to the religion publicly professed; otherwise inevitable confusion would follow, and Religion would grow into contempt. To prevent which, it is better for a time to force men to outward comformity though mixed with Hypocrisy, then suffer them to continue refractory.   

Of reading History.  
OF all studies, either for ornament, or understanding, I prefer History, because by an exquisite expression it doth show unto us the Acts & Counsels of precedent times. And it is certain, that where neither Affection, nor Flattery, nor Fear bear sway, you shall find perfectly delineated the image of truth, without obsequiousness, or detraction, committed to perpetual memory the most worthy, and noblest Acts of Great men, without colouring their defects; but leaving both their good and evil to posterity, the one for a pattern of Honour, and Virtue, the other for a direction that we may not follow their steps where they tread awry, lest we leave to ourselves nothing but an everlasting memorial of infamy, the true property of an Historian being, Vera, non falsa, scribere sine ostentatione.  
Of Histories some are Natural, some Civil; of Civil, some concern the state of the Church, and some, the affairs of the Commonwealth. To them both appertaineth the History of places, which is Geography; of times, which is Chronology; of descents, which is Genealogy; and of actions, which is that I now am to speak of, and is principally, singly, and by a kind of prerogative called History. And the other three, namely, Geography, Chronologie, and Genealogy, are but assistants to the same. This kind of History therefore which I hold most necessary, & profitable, may be written either by way of Commentaries, which are only a mere relation of things done, without either the Counsels, occasions, pretexts, speeches, or any other circumstances of action; or else more completely, by joining together both times, persons, places, counsels, and events. And this is that History that addeth (if it be read with attention and understanding) so must strength to a man's knowledge and judgement.  
But not to reiterate the so many and so much decantate utilities and praises of History, nor to prescribe the best way to an Historiographer (the one being a vain, and needless; the other, a presumptuous task) but only to show the means how by reading them, to reap most benefit for a man's private instruction, I think that the first considerable point, is the end wherefore History is to be read and held in estimation.  
And that is (as is the end of all humane knowledge,) to make a perfect man, namely, of an understanding well informed of what is true, and of a Will well & constantly disposed to that which is good. For whosoever is so, wanteth no virtue, or ability of the mind that can be imagined.  
To the obtaining of which perfection, though this be not the only means, yet is it the aptest, containing in particular and appliable examples, what many sciences together, in general precepts, and such as have innumerable exceptions, can hardly comprehend.  
And beside, though Moral Philosophy have the same scope and aim, and hath been anciently learned, for the prudent, and virtuous government of a man's life, and actions: yet at this day the books of it afford matter rather to dispute of wisdom and virtue, and to define and distinguish of their natures, and sorts, then to make a man either wise or virtuous.  
And though heretofore they were accounted good Philosophers, that could strain, and slack the bridle of their passions, when, and where they ought: that feared turpitude most of all things, and death lest: that in their deeds could distinguish between two vicious extremes, and walk evenly in the midst, not for fear of one Vice, running back as fare as to the other, and finally, that were able to master all their affections whatsoever, yet now such pretend to that Title, as can do none of these, but only Syllogise of them, as if they thought it were, Summum Bonum, to define Summum Bonum; or Wisdom, Valour, and Virtue, to know what those notions meant. Whereas he that by reading of History, desires to learn the Art how to govern himself in the passages of this life, shall find no occasion to dispute: but either to imitate, or eschew.  
It was the council of Demetrius Phalerius, to Ptolemy K. of Egypt,  sibi pararet libros, de Regno, deque militari imperio, & bello gerendo tractantes, eosque evolueret. And what better books can a Prince have for that purpose, then good Histories? He that would seek such knowledge in books of Theory, written by such as keeping themselves at home in their studies, never once saw an Army in the field, nor the face of an enemy, is as he that would go to the school of Phormio to learn the Art of War, rather than to the camp of Hannibal. But in Histories are those things written, which King Ptolemy might apply to his own use, and which none else durst tell him of. And though a man's experience of his own times, may give him much help and direction in all his actions; yet the knowledge of former times, & applying those accidents which then passed to the present occasions, must needs be the greatest help to enable us for action, or council; and is of such profit, that one says, Historia, si adsit, ex pueris facit senes, sin absit, ex senibus pueros.  
The benefit that the Understanding receiveth thence, ariseth two ways. First, it becomes informed, as it were, with matter of fact, by the direct Narration of things past, in manner as they fell out. And in this respect, History is said to be, Testis temporum, Lux veritatis, nuntia vetustatis. Secondly, it is enabled by particular examples, and by the events of humane counsel, (as by so many rules and patterns) to take the wisest course in conducting our affairs to their right ends. And for this effect, it is called Magistra vitae.  
For the will of man, it is also inclined to goodness thereby, when it heareth recounted the commendation, and vituperation; the reward, and punishment; the honour, and ignominy; the happy, and contrary estates, and successes, of good and evil persons, and enterprises.  
Now that the Understanding, touching the bare Narration, may the better apprehend, and the memory retain, what is recounted unto us of the men and matters of such times & places as are remote from us, and the faces of things covered over, and sullied with the dust of Antiquity, may appear brighter to our apprehension, there must be joined to our reading these helps.  
First a good method; as namely, the History of what Age and Country you will begin with, and with what follow. In which point, this is my opinion, that a man shall with best success begin, at the beginning of time, and so descend with it. And for the principal reading, to take the History of those Nations, that from time to time lived in most flourishing, most extended, and most civil estates: then as it were collaterally, of those people that were the same age in ascent: and lastly, of such as were then declining, and of less mark, until one come to the beginning of the Chronicles of his own Country. And then it will be best to make that his principal reading, and the rest as secondary or incident.  
Withal, if there be in the body of any general Story, some notable actions registered in volumes apart, or described by occasion of writing the life of some great Captain, or Statesman, or particularised in the Letters of eminent, and wise men; these would be especially, and carefully read in the places where they fall in. As in reading the second Punic war, written by Livy, I fortify my knowledge, by reading the lives of Hannibal and Scipio, in Plutarch; or strengthen the Story of Caesar's time, with the reading of Cicero's Letters to Atticus; or in reading the volume of the French Story, when I come to the life of Lewis the eleventh, I join thereto that which is written of him by Philip Comines, and the like in like cases; being commonly more exactly, and with more pertinent circumstances in these manners delivered. This being done, recourse should again be had to the body of the History. Notwithstanding, I would not wish a man to be so long abroad, or a stranger at home, till he had read all that precedes the Records of his own Nation, but rather both in, and besides the set course spoken of, be conversant in them at all opportunities.  
As for Epitomes, or brief universal Chronicles, for one that means to go through all the singulars, they seem quite unnecessary: and for my own part, I should less remember the Epitome, which is for the most part a ivycelesse Narration, than I should the actions, with their needful circumstances, set down at large in a complete History, which in the best Epitomes, may rather be said to be lopped of their best parts, then contracted in the total.  
Secondly, there is required a due, and diligent observation of the times and Chronologie, when you find it mentioned, and the Histories of the same age, one to be conferred with another in every point of it; otherwise there will want, not only credit sometimes to the Author; but also light to the understanding of that which is read. For Relations concurrent, if they agree on the time, both strengthen and enlighten each other, like diverse witnesses upon several occasions, deposing one and the same truth. And as the sense perceiveth nothing without the circumstances of time, and place; so the understanding (which is the more perfect, as it hath more sensible information) without the description of them, conceiveth no business clearly. For they be such circumstances as make things past & gone to come again, and as it were be represented, rather than related.  
And therefore also Cosmography in the third place, is necessarily to be adjoined, as a special help to us in the reading of History, thereby to know the forms and situations of the Regions, Seas, Rivers, Hills, Lakes, and the like, every where mentioned, and the postures both of one in respect of another, & of each in respect of the heavens. For the constitution, complexion, manners, and proprieties of their several inhabitants, depend not a little thereon. And oftentimes the qualities of the times, and places, discover the reason of an event, when the Author does omit it. So in these three observations, namely, of method, time, and place, is contained all that in reading History is considerable, so fare forth as it serves to inform the understanding in matter of fact.  
But now for the other more principal use of it, that is, to inform and enable the judgement, and furnish a man with discretion, and wisdom; these things are to be regarded.  
First, the election of Authors, wherein I will not presume to compare, and prefer one Author before another, (except the sovereign compiler of holy History, between whom and men there is no proportion) by their several names, which were a thing both tedious and distasteful. But yet we must be careful in our choice, and have a special regard to the persons that have written, lest by too much credulity we be led into errors. For some have written for favour partially, for fear falsely, for spleen spitefully; but a discreet Reader may easily trip them. And in general, such as you shall think to write most truly and most fully, upon the passages of every Age and Region, you should labour to find out, and read over. For where truth is wanting, the judgement shall want a foundation, whereon to frame to itself any precept, for institution and instruction of life: Truth being the form and essence of History, without which it is but the worst kind of Poetry.  
And though it would be hard to find any one History, (much less a sufficient number for all ages and places) wherein there be not some untruths, yet this ought not either to deter the Reader, or disgrace the Author, where the main and best part is truly set down, but only to move a man to choose Caeteris paribus, those that have fewest fables, and most sincerity in the main drift. And seeing that every relation is a story, a man may run over those passages, which are false, and fabulous, without prejudice to the profit he shall receive from the rest. As for example, though he lightly pass over the many superstitious Narrations of miracles, and prodigies written by Livy, and other good writers, yet he may gather excellent recompense of his labour, by careful observing their principally intended scope; namely, the true, and ample Narration of the deeds of whom they writ.  
Another thing to make choice of in a Writer, is fullness. Herein he is not most to be commended that hath most words, but rather he that relates most in fewest words: for some are large by digressions, discoursing upon, and censuring the actors, and acts, as they leave the Stage. Some mislike this, as proceeding (it may be) from vainglory, or presumption, to anticipate the judgement of the Reader, to whom, and not to the Writer, that part belongs. But I am of this mind, that if it be done by a wise Historiographer, and such as hath been exercised in great affairs, whatsoever his intent is, (which is to be judged to be the bettering of his Reader) a man should esteem himself obliged to him the more, as to one that goes out of his own way, to show another his. Besides, so many ancient and wise compilers of great Histories, use thus to digress, that for a man of this age to tax them for it, were to tax himself of Arrogance.  
Some fill many leaves together with Orations, which though they are but the invention ofttimes of the Writer, and therefore declare not what was said; yet they show what might be fitly said for such a purpose, entering herein the confines of the Orator, for our instruction, which is the thing the Reader should aim at, and not the censuring of the composer.  
But those, whose volumes grow, by a care not to omit any necessary circumstance that accompanieth great, and remarkable enterprises, should be your chief election. For this diligence in Histories is so needful, as without it there ariseth no profit at all to the Reader. As for examples sake, Where it is registered, that such a King in such a place, such a time began his reign, reigned so long, builded such Cities, & was succeeded by such a man, I cannot imagine what benefit I should draw hence for my instruction, or how I am the wiser for it; only I may receive the contentment of knowing so much, which is a very small purchase.  
But the description of armies set in array, after this, or that manner, the placing of Ambushes, the celerity of Marches, the taking in, or preoccupying of advantageous places, the beleagring, oppugnation, expugnation and defending of strong holds, the diversities of stratagems, and such like, in matter of War: the occasions, and effects, of good and evil laws, the stirring, the maintaining or appeasing of seditions, and conspiracies, the policy or imprudency of wise, or unwise Senators, in consulting, or treating, the humours and customs of Princes, and great Commanders, and swayers of State, and the like, in administration of Republikes, being truly and lively related unto us, are the things that so much confer to the enabling of our understanding.  
And not barely to know the first and last day of a King's reign, or what Cities he built, no nor how great a slaughter was made at such a battle, or who killed most with his own hand. For this the Poets do best, who because they wholly take away from men, the precedent counsels, attributing them to the gods, whom they call to Senate, upon almost every great action, are held nothing so useful as the Historian, though they set down the fact itself never so truly.  
For if, as Homer shows, the Troyans' gave the Grecians many overthrows for this cause only, that at the entreaty of Thetis, to show what need the Grecians stood in, of the presence of her son Achilles, jupiter was pleased to make Hector appear more terrible, then is here nothing imitable, & by consequence nothing profitable: but if they overcame as choosing fit seasons, & places, & other advantages of fight: than there ariseth much for a man's instruction, and imitation.  
Having in your hands a good Author, the better to receive benefit by him, there would be requisite assiduity in reading, or at least, times chosen that may be freest from interruption. For to leave any particular complete Narration in the midst, or too much intermission in a general History, are both of them very prejudicial to the memory: and in this especially is verified the Proverb; Not to proceed, is to fall back.  
Besides, as no great virtue can be attained without labour and diligence according to Petrarch:  Non à caso è virtute, an●ié bella arte. 
Virtue is not obtained by chance, but it is rather a great Art; so in this particular it is so necessary, that whosoever out of irksomeness, or haste, or impatience, in expecting the issue of any Relation, shall run over a History in post-haste, shall be sure to lose the best part of the profit, which with attentive consideration he might otherwise reap.  
He that reads, as it were for a wager, though he miss never a word, shall miss almost all the matter: whereas the studious, and insisting Reader, reads more than peradventure a hundred others.  
Another necessary help, is the referring of those things that are worthy observation to certain heads, and common places in writing, thence to be sought again with more ease, as a man shall have occasion to use them. In this case every man's own Method commonly sorteth best to his own profit: and diverse men have their diverse ways. As some, considering that all humane actions fall under one of these three heads; Thoughts, Words, and Deeds; to them, and to their subdivisions, do refer all their observations. And by this way, no question, may aptly be comprised whatsoever there shall because to note; except some Stories of strange effects of Nature, or the like, which no way appertain to humane power; which being rare, may be referred to their places, in the History of Nature or natural Philosophy. Or there may be made these three places for referring of Historical observations; Deliberation, Execution and Event. Deliberation grounded upon propositions certain, or conjectural, both concerning men's manners, or actions. In execution, to distinguish whether it be defective, excessive, or equal, compared to what was deliberated. In the event whether contrary, or conformable to expectation. Whether caused by the providence, and execution precedent, or by accident. Which things upon every story being noted, a man shall straightways find, if a thing hath well succeeded, where was the council, or if evilly, where lay the error. In this compass also falleth all that can be gathered out of History, for the institution of a man's life.  
But for more ease, if need be, all these particulars may be subdistinguished diversely, and placed in a book accordingly for that purpose.  
Some think it unnecessary to have for the common places of History any particular book by itself, because they may be all properly referred to their place, in some part or other of Philosophy. For how many rules of life so ever be fetched from History, they are but so many Philosophical precepts; Philosophy deriving authority from the matter, and examples thereof; as Grammar may do from the language wherein it is written.  
Lastly, to compare the ages, and places one reads of, with that he life's in, and when occasion is given to make in a man's mind application of things passed to the present, and to consider whether, and why, they hold, or hold not, is a kind of imaginary practice, to confirm, and make a man the readier for real action, though fare from the perfection, that use it self, and employment in great affairs would bring forth.  
Thus much shall suffice to have been said of the means to benefit the judgement and understanding by reading History.  
The will of man comes to be inclined to virtue, by the examples which are registered of good men, and good acts; and their commendations, rewards, and ends; or of evil men, and evil deeds, with their reproaches, punishments, and events; which being well delivered, inflame the mind with love, and desire to imitate, or with detestation, and horror, according to the merit of the thing.  
And though Philosophy be an Art that aims only at this scope, yet all the precepts therein, will not so soon teach a man fortitude, and constancy of mind, severity, and military discipline, temperance, and all other virtues, as will the examples of Mutius Scaevola, the Deccis, Manlius, Fabritius, and other such noble Roman Citizens.  
But herein a man ought thus far to have a care, not to suffer his ●●●ection to cleave too easily to every thing, that an Historian shall through humane frailty, and peradventure erroneously commend, nor contrariwise presently hate what he revileth, driving and cleaving to every Rock, according as the tempest of the writer shall stir him. But to remember this, not to think well of any thing how much soever extolled, if it be contrary to Christian Religion.  
For praising of things, though never so evidently blame-worthy, if it be done by an Author of regard, either directly, or indirectly, by a magnificent relation in terms and words most received in the best sense, will insensibly, and secretly bring on a love to the evil so praised; & likewise dispraising, will nourish a mislike of such things, as deserve commendations.  
FINIS.   

A DISCOURSE UPON THE BEGINNING OF TACITUS.   

A DISCOURSE UPON THE BEGINNING OF TACITUS.  
THis piece of Tacitus, which I make the foundation of this Discourse, and to which I have here confined myself, containeth 1. The enumeration of the several forms of the Roman government. 2. The Author's digression touching the quality of one that is to write a History. 3. The means Augustus used in acquiring and confirming to himself the supreme and Monarchical authority. 4. The providing for succession. 5. The plotting of Livia for the advancement of her children. 6. The estate of the times after Augustus was fully settled. And lastly, the censure of such as (when Augustus began to grow weak and toward his end) might probably be thought to succeed him. And therefore in this order I begin with my Author.  
[Vrbem Romam à principio Reges habuere. The City of Rome was at the first governed by Kings] The first form of government in any State is accidental: that is, according to the condition the Founder happens to be of. If one man of absolute power above the rest, be the Founder of a City, he will likewise be the Ruler of the same; if a few, than a few will have the government; and if the multitude, then commonly they will do the like. And it is but justice, for every man to have his own work subject to his own will. So here Romulus built, and ruled; was the founder, and was the King. The building of this City was about 800. years before the Nativity of Christ; and consequently from that time to this present, about 2420. The Contemporaries of Romulus reigning in juda, were jotham; in Israel, Pekaiah; amongst the Medes, Artycas; in Macedonia, Thurimas; in Athens, Charops, who began the ten years government there instituted; in Lacedaemon, Polidorus; and in Italy there were many petty States, of might not much unequal, whereby this new City might the safelier grow up amongst them, and be the soonerable to match the most of them. For if any of those States had been of eminent power above the rest, it is likely, Rome should not have been suffered to have encroached so fast on her neighbours.  
Now we have seen the times in which this City was built, let us next view how many Kings successively reigned over it, and how long this government continued. ●●r●t, Romulus began, and there succeeded him, after one years interregency, Numa Pompilius, than Tullus Hostilius, after him Ancus Martius, his successor was Tarqvinius Priscus, next to him, Servius Tullius, and last of all, Tarqvinius Superbus. All whose reigns being gathered together, amount to the number of 240. years, and hath been compared by Florus, to the infancy of a man, and commonly accounted the infancy of Rome, though I cannot find that they were much under the Rod, till this last King's Reign, who, to his cost, found them already grown too stubborn.  
The next government of this State, was Consulary. [Libertatem & Consulatum Lucius Brutus instituit. Liberty and the Consulship Lucius Brutus brought in.] Every one that hath read the Roman Histories, can tell how much this act of Lucius Brutus hath been magnified, insomuch as they instituted in the honour of it, an Holiday, by the name of Regifugium: and how the imitation of it drew another of the same race, and name, into such another action, who came not off with the like applause, though otherwise with the like fate. But I shall never think otherwise of it then thus; Prosperun & foelix scelus Virtus vocatur. For it was but a private wrong, and the fact not of the King, but the King's Son, that Lucretia was ravished. Howsoever, this, together with the pride, and tyranny of the King, gave colour to his expulsion, & to the alteration of government. And this is by the Author entitled, Liberty, not because bondage is always joined to Monarchy; but where Kings abuse their places, tyrannize over their Subjects, and wink at all outrages, and abuses, committed against them by any either of their children, or favourites, such usurpation over men's estates, and natures, many times breaks forth into attempts for liberty, and is hardly endured by man's nature, and passion, though reason and Religion teach us to bear the yoke. So that, it is not the government, but the abuse that makes the alteration be termed Liberty. This Consulary government began about Anno Mundi 3422. not long after the beginning of the second general Monarchy, which was of the Persians, amongst whom reigned Cambyses, Xerxes, and Artaxerxes, all within the space of fifty years, or thereabouts. And in the Athenian State lived Themistocles, and Aristides, in those days famous.  
Now during this Consulary government, there were others intermixed. [Dictaturae ad tempus sumebantur. Dictator's were chosen but upon occasion.] This Magistrate, for power, was limited only by his own will. For time, he had limits from the Senate, and those so short, that their power could do little hurt, and bred little ambition. They had now authority like absolute Kings, and by and by had no more than a King in a Play. But when it came to the hands of such as could not easily be constrained to lay it down, they found it of that power, that by the colour thereof the people were bereft of their liberty, and enthralled to Sylla during pleasure, and to Caesar during life. But the Dictatorship is not to be accounted another form of government, but only an Office in the Commonwealth, though for the time supreme.  
[Neque Decemviralis potestas ultrabiennium. The Decemviri passed not two years.] After the people had delivered themselves from the authority of Kings, and came themselves to undergo the cares of government, they grew perplexed at every inconvenience, and shifted from one form of government to another, and so to another, and then to the first again; like a man in a fever, that often turneth to and fro in his bed, but finds himself without ease, and sick in every posture. They that could not endure one King, were soon weary of ten Tyrants, and for their extreme ambition, vexation, and cruelty, as also because of the licentious and barbarous lust of Appius Claudius, one of the number, (who for the satisfying of his appetite, had judged a free woman to slavery) they soon extirped that authority: but indeed the thing they most feared, was, that they saw those who possessed the power for the present, would not give it over, but sought to make it personal, and perpetuate it to themselves. They were jealous of their liberty, and knew not in whose hands to trust it, and were often at the point to lose it: but at this time licentious and inordinate lust gave them once more an occasion to shake off the yoke. As afore the Tarquins, so now the Decemviri suffer for the same offence. They for the ravishing of a Wife; these for the intended deflowering a Virgin: the first acted, and herself revenging it on herself by her own hand; the second purposed, but prevented by a Father's hand, in the murder of his own Daughter. This alteration in government began 58. years after the expulsion of Kings, about Anno Mundi 3500. And 19 years after this time, began the Peloponnesian wars. In these times lived Pericles, Alcibiades, and Thucydides in the State of Athens.  
[Neque Tribunorum militum Consulare ius diu valuit. Neither did the consulary authority in Tribunes of the Soldiers remain long in force.] After the Decemvirate, they returned again to Consuls: they were not long content with them, but bestowed the same authority on Tribunes of the soldiers; and weary of these, they had again recourse unto the Consulship. For the State at that time being young and weak, loved change & variety of governments: but the emulation of the Commons, to equalise the Nobility, did give the principal occasion to these alterations. For on whomsoever the commons conferred the supreme authority, the Senate and Nobility still gained in all suits and offices to be preferred before them, which was the cause of most of the seditions and alterations of the State.  
[Non Cinnae, non Sullae longa dominatio The domination of Cinna & Silvius did not long endure.] It is true that these men attained unto supreme power by violence & force, but yet I cannot think that to have been the cause why their power was so soon at an end. For though violence cannot last, yet the effects of it may; and that which is gotten violently, may be afterwards possessed quietly, and constantly. For Augustus also took upon him the Monarchy by force, and yet he so settled it, as the State could never recover liberty. These took no order, and it may be, had no intention to reduce the State of the Commonwealth to a Monarchy, more than for their own times, else they might peradventure have found ways how to have mollified or extinguished the fiercer, alured the gentler sort, prepared the whole State to a future servitude, and what they had obtained by arms, have assured to themselves by politic provisions: which not doing, was the cause that their authority came the sooner to an end.  
[Pompeij, Crassique potentia, cito in Caesarem. The power of Pompey and Crassus soon passed into Caesar.] This was an authority, in the Roman State, exercised without public permission only out of their own private strength. Of these Crassus was the most wealthy, Pompey the best beloved of the Senate, and Caesar of most power in the field. Their ambition was equal, but not their fortune, nor their wisdom. For Crassus was slain in the Parthian war, the which he undertook only out of avarice. Pompey, though he affected the Monarchy, yet he took not the course that was fittest for it; for he then courted the State; when he knew his Rival had a purpose to use violence, and to ravish it. But Caesar knew the Republic to be feminine, and that it would yield sooner to violence, than flattery; and therefore with all his power assaulted and overcame it: and so in him alone remained the strength of all the three till his death.  
Likewise after the death of julius Caesar, [Lepidi & Antoniuses armain Augustum cessere. The forces of Lepidus and Antonius came into the hands of Augustus.] This was the last change of the Roman government, and was permanent; for now Rome utterly lost her liberty. For Antony by occasion of Caesar's slaughter, being himself then Consul, having taken arms, which the State feared he would make use of to serve his own ambition, and to set himself up in Caesar's room: the Senate gave authority to Augustus to levy an Army, and make head against him. Which he did, & within a while after agreeing with Antony, and taking Lepidus in for a stolen, established this Triumvirate, which in the end was also wholly reduced to Augustus. So that hence may appear, that it is a most dangerous oversight, to put Arms into such a man's hands for our defence, as may advance himself by converting them to our destruction. To which purpose the Fable is also applied of the Horse, who suffering a rider and the bit, for his assurance against the Hart that fed with him in the same pasture, could never after recover his former liberty.  
[Qui cuncta discordijs civilibus fessa, nomine Principis sub imperium accepit. Who when the whole Sat was wearied with civil discords, received it under his government with the Title of Prince.] The manifold miseries that do accompany Civil Wars, and the extreme weakness which followeth them, do commonly so deject & expose a State to the prey of ambitious men, that if they lose not their liberty, it is only for want of one that hath the courage to take the advantage of their debility. And when a mighty and free people, is subdued to the tyranny of one man, it is for the most part after some long and bloody Civil War. For civil war is the worst thing that can happen to a State: wherein the height of their best hopes can come but to this, to venture & hazard their own, to overthrew their friends and kindred's fortunes. And they that are at the worst, have reason to be content with, and wish for any change whatsoever. This was one occasion which Augustus laid hold of to establish the Monarchy, they were weary, their strength abated, and their courages foiled. Yet he would not presently take unto him the Title belonging to Monarchy, especially not the name of King, but [nomine Principis sub imperium accepit.] Every man that hath an office of command, though never so mean, desireth a name that may express the full virtue of his place, and most men receive as great content from Title, as substance. Of this humour Augustus retained only thus much at this time, that he took a title which signified not authority, but dignity before all the rest: as if the people of Rome had been to be numbered one by one, he thought himself worthy that they should begin with him. Also he knew that the multitude was not stirred to sedition so much, with extraordinary power, as insolent Titles, which might put them to consider of that power, and of the loss of their liberty. And therefore he would not at the first take any offensive Title, as that of King or Dictator, which for the abuses before done, were become odious to the people. And in a multitude, seeming things, rather than substantial, make impression. But having gotten the main thing that he aspired unto, to give them then content in words, which cost him neither money, nor labour, he thought no dear bargain. And this was but for the present neither. For he doubted not but that the power which he had in substance, would in time dignify any name he should take above the name of King: and in the mean space he should keep the love of the people, which is the principal pillar of a new sovereignty.  
Hitherto, the several changes and alterations in the state of Rome, and how the sway thereof, after the space of almost 800. year, being now arrived at her greatest strength, remained wholly in the person of Augustus Caesar. He therefore after much deliberation had, whether he should restore it again to the former liberty of a Commonwealth, or convert the government into a Monarchy, at length resolved on the latter. The means he had, and the devices he used to bring the same to pass, are now by the Author likewise touched, and should follow in order. But because Tacitus here digresseth, to show the faults of Historiographers, and the uprightness he purposeth to use in his own story, I will also take his words as they lie in my way, and afterwards proceed with the History itself.  
[Sed veteris populi Romani prospera vel adversa claris Scriptoribus memorata sunt. But of the ancient people of Rome, both the prosperous, and adverse estate, hath been recorded by renowned Writers.] It is a sign of too much opinion, and self-conceit, to be a follower in such an History, as hath been already sufficiently achieved by others. And therefore Cicero said well of the Commentaries which Caesar wrote of his own acts, and intended should be but the notes, and the ground of an History, to be written by some that should afterward undertake that task, that though that were an acceptable, and welcome work to some arrogant persons, yet that all discreet men were thereby deterred from writing. So, that as it was here to Tacitus, it should also be cause enough to any man else to abstain from the writing of those Histories, which are already wisely, and perfectly related. The reason why the times of the Commonwealth have been better Historified, than those that came after, seemeth to be the liberty that such a government affordeth. For where the governor (who is always the main subject of the Annals of a City) is not one man, but a great many, there personal tax breedeth not so often public offence.  
[Temporibusque Augusti dicendis non defuere decora ingenia, donec gliscente adulatione deterrerentur. And there wanted not good wits, to write Augustus his time, till by the prevailing of flattery they were deterred.] Also under Monarches, so long as their deeds be such, as they can be content to hear of again, the Historiographer hath encouragement to follow the truth in his writings; but when they be otherwise, men must dissemble, if they will please, and must please, if they will have their writings pass unsuppressed. Therefore the known Law of History, which is, Ne quid falsi dicere audeat, neque vere non audeat, that a man should not dare to say a falsity, nor not dare to speak the truth, must needs be abrogated, where Flattery hath admittance. For there it is more needful to have regard to the acceptance, then to the substance of our writings. And hereby Flattery in time cometh to wear out, and consume the able writers in a Kingdom.  
[Tiberij, Caijque, & Claudij, ac Neronis res florentibus ipsis ob metum falsae; postquam occiderant, recentibus odijs compositae sunt. The occurrences of Tiberius, & Caius, and Claudius, and Nero, whilst themselves flourished, were for fear, and after they were dead, out of fresh hatred, falsely written.] It is the condition of most men, having been restrained from moderate liberty in any thing whatsoever, when that restraint is taken away, to become immoderate in the same. For their desires swell, and gather strength at the stop, which when it is removed, they run more violently than if they had never been hindered at all. Hence it is, that he which flattereth during the danger, slandereth when it is past, when the truth lieth betwixt both: so that the same men that would before for fear most have blanched, are they that when they may do it safely, will most detract. And from hence it is, that the latter end of Augustus, together with the reigns of the four here named, had not as then found a faithful relator.  
[Ind consilium mihi pauca de Augusto & extrematradere, mox Tiberij Principatum & caetera, sine ira, & study, quorum causas procul habeo. My purpose therefore is to deliver to posterity a few, and those the last things of Augustus, and then the principality of Tiberius, and the rest, without spleen, and partiality, the causes whereof are fare from me.] The defects above mentioned, and want of a true History of these last times, caused the Author to take this task in hand, wherein to avoid the suspicion of the same faults he hath before taxed in others, he putteth in to our consideration that the causes both of spleen, and affection, are fare from him. These causes must be either fear, or hope, of future good or evil, or else some benefit, or injury formerly received, which every writer of History should do well to show himself void of, if he can; because most men measuring others by themselves, are apt to think that all men will not only in this, but in all their actions more respect what conduceth to the advancing of their own ends, then of truth, and the good of others. Thus much of the digression: now followeth the History itself.  
[Postquam Bruto & Cassio caesis, nulla iam publica arma. After that Brutus and Cassius being slain, the Commonwealth was no longer in arms.] Though Cremutius, that called Brutus and Cassius the last of the Romans, writing it in a time which would not permit a man so much as to look back at the former state of the Commonwealth, was perhaps worthily punished; yet this may be truly said of them, that they were the last Champions of the Roman liberty. For after them no man ever bore Arms for Recuperation of that government. What an advancement than was it for Augustus that these were slain? For now the Commonwealth relinquished her liberty, and confessed herself subdued. So that his strongest adversary yielding, he might the easilier deal with the next.  
[Pompeius apud Siciliam, oppressus. Pompey defeated in Sicily.] This Sextus Pompeius being the relics of the Pompeian faction, was defeated near Sicily, by Agrippa the Lieutenant of Augustus, in such manner, as of 350. sail, he fled away only with 17. So that this was another step to the quiet establishing of his Empire. The first Civil war was between the Caesarean faction on one side, and Pompey with the Republic on the other, and Caesar prevailed. The next will be a subdivision of the Caesareans, that Augustus standing on one part, and Antony on the other, the authority may at length settle in the individual person of Augustus, who hitherto hath had to do against the faction of the Commonwealth and Pompey, in the wars against Brutus, and Cassius, and against Sextus Pompeius. How he will now divide from himself the other heads of his own faction, is next to follow.  
[Exuto Lepido, interfecto Antonio Lepidus being put out, and Antony slain.] Lepidus if he had remained in the Triumvirate, might have hindered the contention of the other two, by keeping them in doubt to whether part he would incline. Wherefore, as if they desired to try the mastery between themselves, they won Lepidus, whose authority was least of the three, to dismiss the Legions that were under his command, and to lay down his office. That done, the desire of sovereign rule would admit no longer friendship in the other two, so they fell to wars: and Augustus following it with all his power, brought Antony (who was already vanquished with effeminate passions, and had his heart chained to the delight of a woman) quickly to destruction, and himself remained sole heir of all their claims, and interests.  
[Ne julianis quidem partibus, nisi Caesar dux reliquus. There remained not another Commander, no not in the faction of julius, but only Augustus Caesar.] This faction did not divide as long as Brutus and Cassius were alive, for than they had soon come to nothing, and the virtue of Brutus might have had as good fortune, for the maintenance of liberty, as that of his ancestor. But when they had made use one of another, to advance both of their hopes, than they parted, and contended who should be the sole gainer. Which happening to Augustus, he had afterwards no more to do, but only to keep what he had gotten; which he might easily do. For first he was alone, and when a man's power is singular, and his intentions are only of his own free election, he is then most likely to reduce them into act. Companions in such affairs can seldom be content, that all counsels, nay almost that any, should tend to the others profit; so constant is every man to his own ends. This Augustus foresaw, when he secluded from him those two, that were equal in authority and power with himself; Antony by force, and Lepidus by deceit. And now having power over the bodies of the people, he goes about to obtain it over their minds, and wills, which is both the noblest and surest command of all other.  
[Posito Triumvirs nomine. Laying away the name of a Triumvir.] He had three reasons to leave that Title; the first is of less weight, (except in Grammar) and that is the impropriety of that word applied to him that hath charge alone, being proper only to such as be three in Commission. The second is, because the name was too mean. For till this time, the Triumvirs were rather for overseeing, then governing; sometimes appointed to look to one business, sometimes to another; but never had any whole charge of government of the Commonwealth, till such time as Augustus, Antony, and Lepidus, being three men, equally interessed in the State, gave themselves that Title. But the chief cause was this, that the name carried with it a remembrance and relish of the civil wars, & proscriptions, which were hateful to the people. And a new Prince ought to avoid those names of authority, that rubbe upon the Subject's wounds, and bring hatred, and envy, to such as use them.  
[Consulem se ferens, & ad tuendam plebem Tribuntiio iure contentum. Calling himself Consul, and content with the authority of a Tribune to maintain the right of the Commons.] This officer of Tribune was ordained anciently, & so always continued, for a protector of the people, and a defender of their rights, immunities, and privileges against the violence, and incrochment of the Nobles. The authority therefore of this officer, together with the Title of Consul, Augustus took to himself, that even of the old offices he might have those, that were both for name, and effect, of greatest consequence. And for authority, there was none now greater than that of Tribune of the Commons. Insomuch as Tacitus saith in another place, Id summi fastigij vocabulum Augustus reperit, ne Regis aut Dictatoris nomen assumeret, ac tamen appellatione aliqua, caetera imperia praemineret. Augustus' found out that name of chief dignity, that he might avoid the name of King, & Dictator, and yet have a Title of preeminence above other Magistrates. But the main cause why he affected the Title of Tribune, was this, because he thought it best to make his faction sure with the Commons, who at that time were the strongest part of the State, by having the Title and Authority of their Protector. And seeing it is impossible to please all men, it is therefore best for a new Prince to join himself to, and obtain the favour of that part in his State, which is most able to make resistance against him. This Augustus neglected not. But rather used all means to draw all men to be contented with his present government.  
[Militem donis, Populum annona, cunctos dulcedine otij pellexit. He alured the Soldiers by largesse, the people by provision of corn, and all men by the sweetness of ease, and repose.] Soldiers are most commonly needy, and next to valour, they think there cannot be a greater virtue than liberality, from which they think all Donatives proceed; when, if the truth were examined, it would appear that such gifts came not from the virtue Liberality, but were merely the price of their Country's liberty. But, this the Soldiers were too rude to examine. An open hand draws their affections more than any thing else whatsoever. The same effect in the mind of the people is produced by provision of corn, which if they can buy at a lower price then formerly they could have done (though peradventure the measure be as much lessened as the price) they think then the State to be excellently governed. How effectual this kind of liberality hath been, appeared long before this in the same State, when as Spurius Cassius, by distribution of money, and Spur. Melius, by largesse of Corn, were very near obtaining to themselves, an absolute sovereignty, and tyranny over the Commonwealth. This is also one of Augustus his designs. He steals the people's hearts by sustenance, and relief, as he did the Soldiers by his money. Further he pleaseth them all with the sweetness of ease, and repose. They saw that to bear the yoke of Augustus, was to be freed of other vexation; and to resist, was to renew the miseries they were lately subject to. When they were much stronger, they could nor make sufficient resistance, now they are weak, they can much less do it. Therefore being weary, they could not but be much won with the present ease, and vacancy of War, especially civil war. So Augustus took in this, the best order that can be, to assure a new sovereignty, which, is to to afford the Soldier money, the People a good market, and all men ease, and quietness.  
[Insurgere paulatim, munia Senatus, Magistratuum, legum in se trahere. He began by degrees to encroach, to assume the business, and charge of the Senate, of the Magistrates, of the laws to himself.] Augustus hath hitherto dealt with the State, as one that tameth wild horses; first, he did beat and weary them; next, took care not to frighten them with shadows; then, shown them hope of ease, and made provision of corn for them; and now he gins gently to back the State. He gets up by little and little. For it is not wisdom for one that is to convert a free State into a Monarchy, to take away all the show of their liberty at one blow, and on a sudden make them feel servitude, without first introducing into their minds some previae dispositiones, or preparatives whereby they may the better endure it. Hastiness in any action, especially of importance, is most times the overthrow of it, and to do that at once, which must be done successively, is an argument of a rash, and intemperate man, that cannot contain himself, and stay for his desires. Also to a people so long weaned from a Monarchical government, it was most probable he might gain by degrees, insinuation, and continuance of time, more than on any sudden he could. Therefore he takes upon him the business, and charge of the Senate, of the Magistrates, and of the Laws, and gins now to assume, what he had long looked for, and expected. For whereas all the plots and policies he had before used, were to this end, if he had not also come to fruition, he might have been justly condemned of levity, and his actions to have proceeded from a vainglorious, and unconstant brain, and his authority would have in time come into contempt. For action and continual managing of business, is the only thing that preserveth the life, and vigour of authority. And all men give their respect, and think it due to those, to whom they have recourse in the dispatch of their weighty affairs.  
[Nullo aduersante; cum ferocissimi per acies aut proscriptione cecidissent. No man now opposing him, the stoutest men being fall'n either in battle, or by proscriptions.] This encroaching on the liberty of the State, in former times, never wanted opposers: but now the stout Patriots were rooted out. For such men being forwardest, and busiest in Arms, must needs waste sooner than the rest, and finding too much resistance, must therefore break, because they were of a nature unapt to bend. And again, in the proscriptions these only were they, that were aimed at, whereas the less violent adversaries found safety in contempt. The Proscription here spoken of, being that of the Triumvirs, where the heads of the factions joining, abandoned, and as it were sacrificed their old friends to this new friendship, it could not be, that almost any stout, and dangerous man, of what faction so ever, should be left alive. And it may be it was no less advantageous to the designs of Augustus, that some of his own faction were slain, then was the slaughter of those that took part with Anthony, and Lepidus. For they might have expected, for the requital of their service, to have been paid with participation of his authority, which he might not suffer, or else have grown averse, and have plucked him down, though they had with his fall crushed themselves to death. But Augustus was now rid of those stubborn companions.  
[Caeteri nobilium quanto quis seruitio promptior, opibus, et honoribus, extollerentur; ac novis ex rebus aucti, tuta et praesentia, quam vetera & periculosa mallent. The rest of the Nobility, as any one of them was most ready to serve, so he was exalted to wealth and honour, and being enriched by the change, liked rather the present State of things, and that which was safe, than the former, and that which was dangerous.] It is both justice, and good policy, to reward with preferments those that yield their obedience readily, and willingly; for it stirreth emulation in men, to exceed each other in diligence. And on the contrary, to heap benefits on the sullen, and averse, out of hope to win their affection, is unjust and prejudicial. For first, they shall lose one benefit after another, through vain hope of winning them, and not losing the thanks of their first benefit; and then also others will learn, and think it wisdom to be averse and stubborn, by their example. Also those that were rewarded for their service, must needs strive to maintain the present State, and help to keep off the Civil wars. For times of tranquillity be always best for the rich men. In wars and trouble they pay for all, and in desolation their loss is greatest. For Civil war is commodious for none but desperate unthrifts, that they may cut their Creditors throats without fear of the gallows; men against whom the Law, and the sword of justice maketh a fearful war, in time of peace. But the rich, and such as were in love with titles of honour, found more ease and contentment here, than they could expect in the Civil war, and did accept the present with security, rather than strive for the old, with danger.  
[Neque Provinciae illum statum rerum abnuebant, suspecto Senatus populique imperio, ob certamina potentum, & avaritiam, magistratuum; invalido legum auxilio, quae vi, ambitu, postremo pecunia turbabantur. Neither did the provinces dislike this state of things; for they mistrusted the government of the Senate and people, because of the contention of great men, and covetousness of the Magistrates for the aid of the Laws was weak, being infringed by force, canvasing, and lastly by money.] The Roman State did not consist in the magnitude of that one City of Rome, or in the extent of Italy alone, but in the multitude, & greatness of Provinces, that were subject unto it. And therefore it much concerned the surety of Augustus his government, to have also them content with this alteration: which they were for two causes. First, a Popular State, if the great men grow once too mighty for the laws, is to the Provinces not as one, but many tyrants; so that not knowing to which faction to adhere, they procure the enmity always of some, and sometimes of all, and become subject to the rapine of whosoever first seizeth it, and to be the prize of their contention. At home they are commanded by contrary factions, contrary Acts, so that they can neither obey, nor disobey without offence: but are hurried, and haled, sometimes to this faction, and sometimes to that. Those that were deputed to do justice amongst them, must not administer the same according to the Law, but according to the humour of him, whom himself followeth; which may be now one, and anon (fortune changing) another. At Rome, if they sued for any thing, though they could all be content their suit should pass for the matter itself; yet the furtherance that one faction should give it, would stir up contradiction in the other, and so cross it. Therefore it is better for a Province to be subject to one, though an evil master, then to a potent, if factious, Republic. Next, they found covetousness in the Magistrates. For when they expected, that having truth, and equity on their sides, their causes, and suits should not go amiss, they found contrarily, that by that, their judgements were not balanced, but that they distributed justice rather by weight then measure. That purse that was heaviest, that bribe that was greatest, carried the cause justice was not seen, but felt; a good bribe was their best Advocate. Such in those times were the Magistrates, and judges. Every thing was carried by might, ambition, and corruption. He that was not ambitious, was neglected: and he that was not corrupt, was esteemed undiscreet. In this time the Provinces would have been content with a Monarchy, or tyranny, rather than to be troubled with so different, and ill humours of diverse men. But there may also be covetousness in Magistrates, when one hath the sovereignty, being a fault of the person, and not of the form of the government. Indeed, there may be bribing in such a State; but in a factious, and divided Commonwealth it cannot be otherwise. For where the State is united, the Magistrates will have some respect unto that; but being divided, every one is for himself, and must look to strengthen and enrich himself by any means how ill soever. For faction hath no strength, but from Injustice, and Rapine. One remedy there is for such an inconvenience, and that is, if the Laws be strengthened with authority; which also wanted in the former times. For force, friends, and money overthrew their validity. For what Law was so strong, that the force of Cinna, Sylla, Marius, julius Caesar, and others, in their times could not have broken thorough? Nothing is more proverbial, than that Laws are like Spider's webs, only to hold the smaller Flies. Then, favour and friendship, made way even for the weak men to break thorough. And lastly, money gave the easiest passage of all. Wherefore the Provinces, conceiving better hope of the rule of Augustus, could not dislike, but were rather glad of the alteration. Thus fare the acquist and assurance of the Monarchy to Augustus: now, his ways to perpetuate the same, and derive it to posterity; are to be considered.  
[Augustus subsidia dominationi Claudium Marcellum, sororis filium, admodum adolescentem, Pontificatu & curuli Aedilitate extulit. Augustus, to strengthen his government, preferreth Claudius Marcellus, his Sister's son, one as yet very young, to the Pontifical dignity, and office of Aedile.] A Prince that hath raised himself to the Sovereignty of a State, and is once quietly settled in it, will for the most part have a desire to make the same successive, and will take all opportunities that may further such his intention. So Augustus doth now, and adorns with offices, and dignities, all those upon whom, he thought, he might make the Empire to descend. Provision of successors, in the life time of a Prince (besides that it is a kind of duty they own their Country, thereby to prevent civil discord) hath this virtue, that it nippeth in the head, and killeth the seeds of ambitious, and traitorous hopes in those that think of alteration: whereas the uncertainty of the succeeder, breedeth, and feedeth Treason in aspirers for many years together. If any man therefore had any hope alive in him, that when Augustus should dye, the State might again struggle for liberty, or a new form of government might arise better to their own liking, this providence of Augustus doth utterly extinguish it. First therefore, he putteth his Nephew into these two places of great command, that of Pontifex, & the Aedileship: whereof the former, in matters of their Heathenish religion, was of supreme authority. In places of authority, and subordinate command, it is no small policy in the supreme governors, and especially in the principal offices, to place such as are either tied in nature, or necessity unto them; that as they themselves have supremacy in command, so all their underministers may be so fast unto them, that their actions may be always limited according to the will, and affection of their Sovereign, by whom they were installed, and ordained for that purpose, to the places they hold. This was one stay and strength of his government, to put into the hands of his Nephew (as I may so say) the Supremacy in matters Ecclesiastical, which is one of the chiefest guides of a Commonwealth.  
[Marcum Agrippam ignobilem loco, bonum militia, & victoriae socium, geminatis Consulatibus extulit. He makes Marcus Agrippa, one descended meanly, but a good Soldier, and companion with him in his victories, twice together Consul.] After he had advanced his Nephew, the next that he exalteth to dignity, was his friend. Wherein we may perceive, that in the opinion of Augustus, when a Prince hath a Minister of valour, and worth, which may make him capable of great place, the meanness of his birth ought to be no bar to his rising. Again, in raising him, first he should not need to fear that he might endanger him, being one that could presume so little of his Nobility. For a man that by his virtue raiseth himself from out of the common people, shall more often get envy from the multitude, than any popular applause, and consequently cannot be very dangerous. So Augustus conferred that honour safely. Besides, Agrippa, in that he was a good Soldier, deserved to have the reward of his virtue, which is honour. And lastly, as the companion of his Victories, he deserved to participate of some fruit thereof. Which Augustus might also consider, not so much for his company in the war, as in the Victory. For men reward the success of actions done on their behalves, rather than the labour, and virtue, or the danger which they expose themselves unto in the same. The office of Consul was a great place, and had been in former times of supreme power in the Commonwealth: yet Agrippa being a man, of whose faith, love, and worth, he had had long experience, and for the reasons before recited, he doubted not to bestow the same upon him twice together: and more than that, intends to make him another stay, and hope of the succession.  
[Mox defuncto Marcello generum sumpsit. Shortly after when Marcellus was dead, he makes him his son in law.] The greatness of this benefit, bestowed on one that could no ways exact, or extort it from Augustus, giveth here an occasion to inquire into the minds of all men in the matter of giving and receiving benefits. Tacitus in the first book of his Histories, saith, Beneficia eo usque esse laeta, dum exolui possunt. That benefits received are pleasing so long as they be requitable. When once they exceed that, they are an intolerable burden, and men seldom are willing to acknowledge them; for who but a man of desperate estate will set his hand to such an obligation, as he knows he never can discharge? This is the reason that Princes are so slow in advancing some men, that have deserved it; because they cannot easily do it according to their full merit, or else they think it will not be so taken: So that they should, by rewarding them, both pay, and yet remain in debt. And generally all men, but Princes most of all, hate acknowledgement, & like not to have such great Creditors in their eye; but will rather be content to take advantage against them, as against so many upbraiders of ingratitude: So that great services procure many times rather the hatred than the love of him they are done unto. On the contrary, when men can, without lessening of themselves, reward those to whom they have been beholding, so as to satisfy them according to their own estimate, they will then overdo it, and heap one favour upon another, thinking by showing their affection to them, to gain theirs in the same proportion: but it falls not so out in humane nature; for benefits increase the love of the bestower, more than of him that receiveth them: for as it is proprium humani ingenij odisse quem laeseris, the property of humane nature, to hate those they have wronged; so also is it on the contrary, to love those to whom they have been beneficial. Agrippa had done great service to Augustus; but Augustus was now able, without diminution of himself, both to requite and surmount him; and therefore leaves out nothing that may express his gratitude, but makes him his Son in Law, whereby his children might become heirs even to Augustus his own power, which was the absolute sovereignty of the whole Empire. Which act of Augustus, as it proceeded out of affection, so it also agreed with good policy; for whom should he more trust, than one whose love had been so much showed, whose fidelity so much tried? And therefore he sets him near himself, and (Marcellus being now dead) bestows on him the widow julia, his only child.  
But here I must have leave to transpose these few lines of the Author, to the end that that which touches the advancement of the children of Livia, may afterwards be joined together.  
After this, he advanceth the Children that Agrippa had by this match. [Genitos Agrippa, Caium & Lucium, in familiam Caesarum induxerat, nec dum posita puerili praetexta, Principes inventutis, appellari, destinari consuls, specie recusantis, flagrantissimè cupiverat. He received Caius and Lucius, the chil-of Agrippa, into the Caesarean family, and seeming to refuse, most ardently desired to have them, while they were yet but boys, to be called Princes of the youth, and to be designed for the Consulship.] His sister's son Marcellus being dead, and having now of his own offspring to succeed him, he desires that the people would be pleased to take notice of them betimes, and in his life time, to put them into some possession of their future dignity. He would therefore now, whilst they were in their minority, have them honoured first with the title of Princes of youth. This title, did imply as much as Heirs apparent of the Empire. And to give it, was to admit and openly consent, that the State should be, not only the possession of Augustus, for his own life, but also the inheritance of his descendants for ever. Secondly, with being Consuls elect, that they might have some command of importance, as soon as their age could bear it. Though Augustus had force to bring this to pass, yet he was loath again to irritate the minds of his new subjects; and therefore he would not openly so much as make show of this his desire touching his Grandsonnes, lest they who were content to obey him for his own time, upon this offering them a Successor, as the perpetuation of their servitude, might turn desperate, and do some such act as might displease him. But he turns to dissimulation, which was in those times held an inseparable accident of a politic Prince. He makes show of refusing, and yet most ardently desires it; and that desire must also appear by the refusal. And those that saw him thus refuse, durst do no other than force his consent, and put these honours on his Grandsonnes, whether he would, or not.  
[Tiberium Neronem & Claudium Drusum privignos Imperatorijs nominibus auxit, integra etiam dum domo sua. And his own house not yet failing, he adorns with imperial titles Tiberius Nero, and Claudius Drusus, his wife's children.] Augustus, to make the succession certain, and not to have it depend upon the lives only of two, and those but young, advanceth also the sons of his wife, men of mature years, and seen in the wars, and honoured them with imperial titles, that if his own issue failed, he might leave a succeeder, such as his own affection should make choice of. This course in the general, is to be esteemed in a Prince both a provident one for himself, and also in a manner necessary for the public good of his subjects, considering the bloody and fearful wars, that have followed upon the death of such as have not provided a successor before their decease. But yet it falleth out otherwise in some particulars, then according to the intention of him that so nominateth his succeeder; as it did in this: for had Augustus thought it should so much have prejudiced his own blood, to advance those of his wives, he would I think have left them in obscurity. Therefore it is not good for a Prince in appointing his succeeders, to leave the reversion of the State to such as may have power and means to subvert the first heirs thereof. Thus fare he hath been tying the knot of succession, which now Livia his wife beginneth on one part to untie, or rather cut asunder, for the strengthening of the other.  
[ Agrippa vita concessit, Lucium Caesarem euntem ad Hispanienses exercitus, Caium remeantem Armenia, et vulnere invalidum, mors fato propera, velnovercae Liviae dolus abstulit. Assoon as Agrippa was dead, Lucius Caesar going to take charge of the Army in Spain, and Caius coming from Armenia, untimely Death by fate, or else by the treachery of their Stepmother Livia, took away.] As the watchfulness of a faithful, and wise Counsellor about a Prince, often checketh the very thoughts towards treason; so on the contrary, the death of such a one wonderfully facilitates the designs of a traitor. When Agrippa was dead, his sons did not long outlive him, and though Tacitus here doth not accuse Livia directly of their death, yet there may be gathered these presumptions against her. First, her ambitious and plotting humour. Then their hasty and opportune death; as if fate, (if their death were merely natural) had been of Counsel with her. And lastly, the benefit which thereby accrued unto her own sons. This last is of much importance in the judgement of men: for to whomsoever comes the profit of strange and unexpected accidents, to him also, for the most part, is imputed the contriving, and effecting of them, if they be thought able. To Livia appertaineth the suspicion of their death, because it was good for her that they should dye when they did, and she was also generally suspected in that kind of evil.  
[Druso pridem extincto, Nero solus è privignis erat. Drusus being before dead, Nero was only left of his sons in Law.] This was the fruit reaped by the death of Augustus his Grandsonnes; for hereby her son Nero remained the only man that was likely to succeed in the Empire. For his brother Drusus died of a fall from his horse two years before. So that now he had no competitor neither of his own kindred, nor of the house of Augustus to oppose him, save only Agrippa Posthumus, who for causes hereafter to be mentioned, was not of much respect.  
[Illuc cuncta vergere, filius, Collega Imperij, Censors Tribunitiae▪ potestatis adsumitur, omnesque per exercitus ostentari, non obscuris ut antea matris artibus, sed palam hortatu. All inclined that way, he is made his son, his Colleague in the Empire, his companion in the tribunitial power, shown to all the Armies, not by the secret artifice of his Mother, as before, but by open persuasion.] Every man that followed Augustus in his strength, now in the declining of his age turn their eyes upon the next change: for those who had fortunes under Augustus, desired the conservation of them at the hand of the next; & those that had none, began now to hope for estates and honours, under his Successor. All men being of this condition, that desire and hope of good more affecteth them then fruition: for this induceth satiety; but hope is a whetstone to men's desires, and will not suffer them to languish. It was wisdom in Augustus to make manifest one certain successor, thereby not to give occasion to the ambition of many. But that Tiberius should be the man rather than his own Grandsonne, that was certainly the wisdom of his Wife: for not many men would deprive their own offspring of so fair an inheritance, without greater cause than is expressed, to confer it on the issue of another. If Livia had loved her own no better, the house of Caesar might have continued much longer than it did. The honour Augustus gave to her son, was to adopt him for his; which was to give him sole power for the future, after the death of Augustus, and make him Colleague of the Empire, and partaker of the authority of Tribune, which was authority equal to his own for the present; and then, to cause the armies to yield him their respect, and acknowledge him for their next Lord. These favours Livia had been long soliciting for, by insinuation, detraction, deceit, and whatsoever Art else is requisite to the supplanting of a Rival in a Prince's affection. But now the way was so clear, by reason of the Emperor's age fit to be wrought on, and the rudeness of Agrippa, that she durst openly move Augustus to disinherit his own issue, and prefer hers. But the favour that Livia shown to Augustus' children, besides the suspicion of causing the death of two of them, was clean contrary.  
[Nam senem Augustum adeo devinxerat, uti nepotem unicum Agrippam Posthumum in Insulam Planasiam proijceret. For she had so tied unto her Augustus, who was now an old man, that he confined his only Grandsonne Agrippa Posthumus into the Island Planasia.] I have not found so great a defect in Augustus his judgement, in all his former actions, as in this, so fare to follow her will, as to banish and confine his own blood, for the advancement of hers. But, as Tacitus saith, he was now grown old, and so the weakness that accompanieth old age may excuse that fault, which in his younger, and more mature judgement, peradventure he would never have committed. It was hard for him, being now in years, to want the comfort of his Wife; to live with her, and not to have her pleased, intolerable, and against the dignity of an Emperor; and to extinguish her ambition, impossible. So that if he had seen her drifts, unless they had broken out into some violent actions, he must in a manner have been forced to dissemble it. For it is contrary to the dignity of a Prince, to take notice of that fault which he is not able to amend. But he saw them not: for what cannot the craft of some wives, through opportunity, continual flattery, and arguments framed with all the Art that can be used, work upon the weak judgement of an old man? The place of Agrippa's exile, being a small, and uninhabited Island, where he was rather imprisoned, then banished, was in a manner, a sure argument, that he should not long outlive his Grandfather: for as the fear of Augustus kept him now alive, so the fear of his own Title, would make Tiberius never let him escape out of his fingers.  
[Rudem sane bonarum artium, & robore corporis stolidè ferocem, nullius tamen flagitij Compertum. Ignorant (to say the truth) of good Arts, and bearing himself foolishly fierce of his strength of body, but not detected of any crime.] These are the causes, for which Agrippa was put by the right of his succession, and wanted the respect which was otherwise due unto his birth. He had not good education. That was the sum of all his faults. And in a State which might freely elect their Prince, the same had been a just cause to pass by him. For it is a great misfortune to a people, to come under the government of such a one, as knows not how to govern himself. For where it is said, he was unfurnished of good Arts, it is not meant of letters, though that also be good in a Prince, and of ornaments the chief; for he may want these, rather than judgement, valour, or goodness of nature. But the Art that he is principally taxed to want, seemeth to have been the Art of conforming to times, & places, and persons, and consisteth much in a temperate conversation, and ability upon just cause, to contain and dissemble his passions, and purposes; and this was then thought the chief Art of government. And whereas he is said to be undetected of any crime, that made not much for the matter in hand; for though he might prove no ill man, he might be nevertheless an ill governor. But Agrippa's defects were not the sole cause of his disinheriting, though they were the sole justification of it, when it was done. The hope of succession, notwithstanding the care of the Emperor, being reduced by the Art of Livia, to one only man, Augustus again takes order for the bringing in of one more.  
[At hercule Germanicum Druso ortum, octo apud Rhenun legionibus imposuit, adscirique per adoptionem à Tiberio iussit, quamquam esset in domo Tiberij Filius iwenis; sed quo pluribus munimentis insisteret. But yet he made Germanicus the son of Drusus, Commander of eight Legions upon the Rhine, and commanded Tiberius to adopt him, although Tiberius had a young son of his own: but this he did, to have the more supports.] Augustus is still of this judgement, that the succession ought not to depend on the life of one man, and therefore will have more props to establish it. But as the advancing of Tiberius, was thought to be the ruin of Caius, and Lucius: so now the making of Tiberius to adopt Germanicus, might have proved the ruin of Tiberius, if the Ambition of Germanicus had been answerable to his power. For Augustus put eight Legions into his hand, the which afterwards would not only have been ready to have given him the Empire, but also went about to put it upon him by force. Therefore if a Prince raise many to the hope of reigning, he ought to provide against the emulation, ambition, and mutual jealousies that ordinarily arise thereof. For else he shall hardly bring any of them to the fruition, or if one, than all the rest to untimely ends. Augustus here gave Livia indeed no occasion to work against this last choice of his, being one of her own grandchildren; but yet to command Tiberius, who had a son of his own, to adopt another, must needs breed a hart-burning in him, because he knew by himself, how much rather men desire to possess, then expect such authority. And fearing therefore; that Germanicus might bear the same mind, he afterwards, as is thought, took a course to bring him to his end, whereby may be perceived in what danger an honest man standeth, being near unto one that is ambitious, either before or behind him, whose nature is to destroy before him, out of hope; and behind him, out of fear.  
After that Augustus had mastered, quieted, & taken order for the succession of the Empire: the Author showeth next the state of the present times. And first for matter of wars abroad. [Bellum ea tempestate nullum, nisi adversus Germanos supererat: abolendae magis infamiae ob amissum cum Quinctilio Varo exercitum, quam cupiditate proferendi Imperij, aut dignum ob praemium. There remained at that time no war, saving against the Germans, and that rather to wipe off the disgrace for the loss of the Army with Quintilius Varus, then out of any desire to enlarge the Empire, or hope of worthy recompense.] Wars are necessary only where they are just, and just only in case of defence First, of our lives, secondly, of our right, and lastly, of our honour. As for enlargement of Empire, or hope of gain, they have been held just causes of war by such only, as prefer the Law of State before the Law of God. But this war against the Germans, was to defend the reputation of the Roman Empire, and was necessary, not for the curiosity alone, and niceness, that great Personages have always had, in point of honour, much more great States, and most of all that of Rome, but also for the real and substantial damage (for some man might account the other but a shadow) that might ensue upon the neglecting of such shadows. For oftentimes Kingdoms are better strengthened and defended by military reputation, than they are by the power of their Armies. For there is no man that doth an injury to another, and scapeth with it, but will attribute his impunity to want of power in his adversary, (for there be few that want will to revenge disgraces) and thereby be the more emboldened to do him another, and so another, as long as they may patiently be endured; whereas, when they deal with one whose sword is out at every contempt, they will be very wary not to do him wrong. And besides this, Augustus might find commodity in this war, by employing therein the great & active spirits, which else might have made themselves work at home, to the prejudice of his authority.  
[Domires tranquillae. Eadem Magistratuum vocabula. juniores post Actiacam victoriam, etiam senes inter bella civium nati. Quotusquisque qui Rempublicam vidisset? In the City all was in quietness, the same names of Magistrates. The younger sort were all born after the victory at Actium, and even the old men in the time of the civil war. How few were left that had seen the Commonwealth?] After the violent storms of civil wars, succeedeth now the calm of Augustus his government. For it fareth with the body of a whole State, as it doth with the body of one man, that when a Fever hath spent the matter, and bilious humour, whereby itself was nourished, the body cometh afterwards to a moderate temper. Whatsoever might have caused a desire of returning to their former liberty, and bred a grudging of the old disease, was now removed. Few remained that had seen the ancient Republic. And there is never in men so strong a desire of things they have not seen, as of those things which they have. And a man's nature is to stir more for the recovery of a good, which they once enjoyed, then for the acquisition of what they are ignorant of. As for the longing which might arise in them, through relation, and report, they had therein also some satisfaction. For whereas they might have heard of the names of Consuls, Tribunes, Censors, and the like, the same they found also in the present State; though the authority of them all, remained only in Augustus.  
[Igitur verso civitatis statu, nihil usquam prisci & integri moris: omnes exuta aequalitate, iussa Principis aspectare. So that the State of the City being changed, nothing remained of the old, and uncorrupted customs, every one (equality laid of) attended the commandment of the Prince.] In vita hominum perinde accidit, ut si ludas tesseris, etc. Terent. It falleth out in a man's life, as in a game at Tables, wherein when one cannot cast that which is the best, he must mend the matter as well as he can, by good play. The change being now fully settled, and the ancient customs no more hoped for, they find, that striving for equality, is not the best of their game, but obedience, and waiting on the command of him that had power to raise, or keep them low at his pleasure. For though other virtues, especially deep wisdom, great, and extraordinary valour, be excellent ones under any sort of government, and chief in a free State, (where therefore they thrive best, because they are commonly accompanied with ambition, and rewarded with honour) yet in the subject of a Monarch, obedience is the greatest virtue, and those before mentioned as they shall serve more, or less unto that, so to be had more or less in estimation. Therefore they now study no more the Art of commanding, which had been heretofore necessary for any Roman Gentleman, when the rule of the whole might come to all of them in their turns; but apply themselves wholly to the Arts of service, whereof obsequiousness is the chief, and is so long to be accounted laudable, as it may be distinguished from Flattery, and profitable, whilst it turn not into tediousness  
[Nulla in praesens formidine, dum Augustus aetate validus, seque, & domum, & pacem sustentavit. There being at that time no fear of troubles as long as Augustus' undecayed by age, sustained both himself, and his house, and the Public peace.] Although that the principal strength required, to the managing of an Empire, be that of the mind, yet ability of the body is also of such necessity, that without it a Prince runneth the danger of suffering many disorders that he would else remedy. The cause hereof is obvious to every man, namely, that when for weakness of age, or want of health, he cannot be present at the consultations of those he useth in matters of estate, he must be forced to rely on the relations of diverse, and so be subject to distraction, or else wholly trust unto some one, & become liable to abuse. And in the mean time every great man, hoping to make his private benefit out of the public remissness, severally oppresseth the common people, & withal, keep off their complaints from the Prince's care; and thereby draw on the danger of sedition & rebellion.  
[Postquam provecta iam senectus, aegro & corpore fatigabatur, aderatque finis & spes novae: pauci bona libertatis incassum disserere, plures bellum pavescere, alij cupere, pars multo maxima imminentes dominos varijs rumoribus differebant. But now that he was grown very aged, and wearied with his sickly body, and that his end and new hopes were near at hand: some few there were that discoursed in vain of the commodities of liberty, more feared war, some desired it, but the greatest number by fare, with diversity of rumours did descant on those that were to be their next Lords.] When a Prince draweth near to his end the people's minds are all set upon new hopes, and discourse of nothing that is present, but only of what is in expectance. The reason hereof is this, the hopes of Subjects being much built upon the life of their Prince: when he dies, they are of necessity to begin again, and lay their foundation anew in the next. Augustus therefore being ready to leave his room to another, there could not choose but be much discourse of the probability of the succeeder. One of these three was of necessity to come in place: Liberty, Civil war, or a new Monarch. If another Monarch then either Agrippa, or Tiberius. For Liberty they had no hope at all, but yet that was also talked of: for men have generally this infirmity, that when they would fall into consideration of their hopes; they mistake, and enter into a fruitless discourse of their wishes; such impression do pleasing things make in man's imagination. As for war, it was both feared, and desired by many, according as their fortunes required it; for without doubt, those whose estates were whole, would be afraid, though such as had not a fortune able to sustain their inordinate expense, thereby to seize the wealth of other men, would much wish for it. Lastly, touching a Monarch, as it was most credible to come to pass; so which of the two it should be, was now become the common talk of the greatest part of men, who censuring their persons, gathered arguments thence of their succession, and of the welfare of the estate under them; and used liberty in their speech of them, more boldly (though nevertheless privately) then in the times that came next after, they could safely have done. Thus fare the state of those times, wherein Augustus was come to the last Scene, and ready to quit the Stage of this great Empire. And now Tacitus comes to the opinion conceived of those that were next to enter.  
[Trucem Agrippam, atque ignominia accensum, non aetate, neque rerum experientia tantae moli parem. That Agrippa was cruel, and kindled with his disgrace, and neither of age, nor experience sufficient for so great a burden.] By the weight of these censures, I should hardly think they proceeded from the common people, but rather that they sprung out of the Authors own meditation, or else that he means by [pars multo maxima] the greatest part of the Nobility, and men of knowledge in great affairs. Age and experience are necessary for the government of a great Empire; therefore the want of these in Agrippa, was of much importance against him; so also was the fierceness of his disposition, the absence of which fault is more desired by subjects in their Prince, then of any other vice whatsoever, that concerneth only morality. But that other note given to Agrippa, that he was ignominia accensus, is a fare greater exception against him then all the rest. The great men had most of them no doubt approved his banishment, and he lived thereby in contempt of them all; so that he could not choose but hold himself generally injuried, though his ignominy proceeded but from a few: and opinion of contempt is a frequent cause of cruelty and tyranny. If now therefore they had chosen him for their Prince, they had then given him full power to make his revenge according to his own cruel inclination, and done contrary to the custom of humane nature; for men more willingly trust him with their lives and fortunes, that hath done them injury, than one that hath been or holds himself injuried by them: for from these they can expect nothing but revenge, from the other they may hope for amends. But this is not always the best course, considering on the other side another general disposition of mankind, which is apt to remit to such as are under their power an injury received, then to make satisfaction to them for one committed; because for the first they shall have thanks, and the second is held but for a debt.  
After the censure of Agrippa, falleth in that of Tiberius. [Tiberium Neronem maturum annis, spectatum bello, sed vetere atque insita Claudiae familiae superbia, multaque inditia saevitiae, quanquam premantur erumpere. That Tiberius Nero was of ripe years, and of reputation in the wars, but he had in him the old & hereditary pride of the Claudian family, & many signs of cruelty broke forth in him, though he striven to smother them] Ability to govern is not all that is to be wished for in a Governor; Tiberius was here thought too able, that is, likely to hold the reynes of government too hard, especially over a people so lately weaned from liberty: for such are ever more sensible of every restraint and pressure of Monarchical rule, than others are that have been so accustomed. There are not two more tyrannical qualities in the world than pride and cruelty; whereof the former imposeth intolerable commands, & the later exacteth immoderate punishments. They argued Tiberius his pride both from his ancestors and education, and of cruelty himself made demonstration. Men derive their virtues and vices from their ancestors two ways; either by nature or imitation. By the former are derived all that depend on the temper of the body; the rest are by imitation, and do seldom fail. For the reverence that naturally men do bear to the qualities of their ancestors, begetteth a lively imitation of them, in their posterity. And so pride may pass thorough a Stock by imitation, not that men would imitate that, but by error under the name of Magnanimity. Then for his cruelty, by how much the more he endeavoured to hide it, and could not, by so much the more it was feared and abhorred in him. For a passion that can be mastered, is nothing so dangerous as one that cannot; especially in Tiberius, that knew best of all men how to dissemble his vices. Those things that Tiberius would dissemble, were evil, and those evils he could not dissemble, were great ones; therefore for such cruelty as himself was not able to cover, he was justly to be feared. And yet it is no easy thing to dissemble one's vices, I mean, if the dissimulation must be of long continuance; for, for once a man may overcome the most violent passion that ever was: but difficile fictam ferre personam diu. 
Seneca Trag.   
[Hunc & prima ab infantia eductum in domo regnatrice; congestos iweni consulatus, triumphos. That the same man was brought up from his infancy in the house of Sovereignty; that be had Consulships, & triumphs heaped on him while he was yet but a youth.] This is another argument of the haughtiness of Tiberius, drawn from his education Honours sometimes be of great power, to change a man's manners and behaviour into the worse, because men commonly measure their own virtues, rather by the acceptance that their persons find in the world, them by the judgement which their own conscience maketh of them, & never do, or think they never need to examine, those things in themselues, which hath once found approbation abroad, and for which they have received honour. Also honour many times confirmeth in men that intention wherewith they did those things which gained honour; which intention is as often vicious as virtuous. For there is almost no civil action, but may proceed as well from evil as from good; they are the circumstances of it (which be only in the mind, and consequently not seen & honoured) that make virtue. Out of all these things, I suppose, may be gathered, that honour nourisheth in light and vain men a wrong opinion of their own worth, & consequently, often changeth their manners into the worse, but especially that it increaseth their pride & insolence. As for his education in a house of sovereignty, that might put into the heads of these censuring subjects thus much: (for certainly they liked never a jot the better of Tiberius for having been brought up in so high a School of sovereignty as the house of Augustus) First, that what seeds soever of haughtiness and pride were in him hereditary, and which he possessed by virtue of his blood, were now also through long custom sprung up, & wanted but the season of reigning to bring forth their unpleasant fruit. Secondly, that having by experience, under so learned a master in the Art of government been taught how to hold them under as much as himself should please, they could not look for any remissness to proceed from want of knowledge how to keep them low, and consequently were sure to find his government every way uneasy.  
[Neijs quidem annis quibus Rhodi specie secessus exulem egerit, aliquid quam iram, & simulationem, & secretas libidines meditatum. Neither those years that he lived under colour of retirement in exile at Rhodes, did he meditate anything but wrath, dissimulation, & secret lust.] It is reported of Tiberius, that at the first he traveled voluntarily to Rhodes, but being there, he was commanded to stay. Howsoever it was, he obtained the fairename of retirement, to cover the ignominy of banishment. A man would perhaps think, that adversity should rather quench, or at least assuage those passions, which have their life especially from great prosperity, as wrath, & dissimulation, & lust. And so it doth, when the adversity is so great, that the hope is lost of reducing their meditations into act. But otherwise it worketh a clean contrary effect. For whereas anger commonly dyeth, where revenge is despaired of; dissembling is laid aside, where the labour of it is vain; & imaginations of lust diminish, where they can never be accomplished; when adversity is but such as they expect to overcome, it often falleth out, that the hope which nourisheth such imaginations is inflamed thereby, and men please their vicious fancies for the present, with the conceit of what they will execute with effect hereafter, when they shall have the power. This was the case of Tiberius, and a cause of fear, & censure in those that were to live in subjection under him. [Accedere matrem muliebri impotentiâ: seruiendum foeminae, & duobus insuper adolescentibus, qui Remp. interim premant, quandoque distrahant. That besides this, there was his mother offeminine impotence: that they were to serve a woman & two young men, that would for the present oppress the Commonwealth, & might hereafter rend it.] Next to the person of Tiberius, they considered in him those of his Family, that would also look for service, and obedience at their hands, namely, his Mother & two sons: Germanicus by adoption, and his own natural son, and thought them no small grievance to the Commonwealth. For it is a hard matter to serve and please well one Master: but to please two, or more, when there is, or may be, betwixt them competition, or jealousy (leaving out that one of them, is a woman) is altogether impossible. The cause hereof is not, because the diligence and dexterity of a man cannot suffice for the quantity of service, but because the quality of it will not permit: for the service that the one will expect from you, is most times this, That you displease the other. And this proceeds from the emulation of those that are in the way to authority, that often labour not so much to outrun each other in the course, as they do to trip up one another's heels. And the same emulation, when they once draw near the races end, makes them snatch at the prize, and fall to violence, and war, and to distract, and draw the Commonwealth into faction and sedition.  
FINIS.   

A DISCOURSE OF ROME.   

A DISCOURSE OF ROME.  
IN the sight of any place there be two especial Objects, Antiquity, and Greatness; both which none can sooner challenge than Rome: in the very beginning noted for Sovereignty. The continuance of which, in such diversity of governments, as Kings, Consuls, Tribunes, Dictator's, Emperors, cannot but show a divine power; for otherwise so many changes might in all likelihood have bred confusion, and so consequently suppressed their rising to so great an Empire: which as the last, so it may be truly styled the greatest that yet the world ever knew, or heard of; obtained only by the valour of this one City, no Commander, and for a long time no Soldier, that came not out from thence. So that it may be said, the people of this one place, made themselves masters of the rest. Whereupon they might have just cause to esteem Orbem in urbe, the world confined in their City.  
In the height of whose Imperiality, which was in Augustus' reign, Christ came into the world. This as then the chief Commandress of the whole, was the place where holiness, and religion, aimed to have their principal plantation; where, during the time of the infidelity of the Emperors, till Constantine the great, who was the first that maintained the faith, it is infinite to comprehend the tyrannising over Christians, the martyrdoms they endured, so many, that it is hard to name any who sealed not his faith with his blood.  
But now Constantine was converted, to see the ill effects so good a cause produced, cannot but breed admiration. For the Ambition of the Bishops of Rome made this their first step to greatness, and subversion of the Empire. How grounded upon this donation, I cannot imagine, nor I think they yet well defend: but this was the true Original, by which in succession of time the Empire was translated. The zeal of this, and some succeeding Emperors, was so well taken hold of by the Prelates of Rome, that by degrees they assumed more authority to themselves than was due; the other in a manner before they were ware, losing all at Rome but the title. From which pretended power, the Popes now take to themselves supremacy in all causes, through all Kingdoms in the world, and those which were before, their superiors, to be as it were subject, and created by them that were their creatures. Which shows a great contrariety to the pretended arguments of Romanists, for superiority, and rather may be returned upon them, that this their greatness hath more risen by encroachment, then right. Why therefore Princes have been so blinded with their pretences for greatness, I cannot tell whereunto to attribute it, except to the fate of this place, that hath ever been, or aimed to be the Mistress of the world. First, by their wisdom and power, and then under colour of Religion and Saint Peter's Keys.  
And now to the description of Rome, as I saw it. In which I will neither go beyond mine own knowledge, and fly to the reports of others, nor yet so strictly tie myself to a bare description, but that I may upon the occasions of those particulars I saw, set down my observations, and the conceits I then had; which consist, first, in the situation. Secondly, the Ethnic Antiquities. Thirdly, the Christian Monuments. Fourthly, the modern Buildings, Gardens, Fountains, etc. Fiftly, the Colleges, Churches, and Religious Houses. Sixtly, the present strength of the City and Pope, with the description of his and the Cardinal's Magnificence. And lastly, the safety and danger for an English man to travel to Rome.  
If you observe the situation, it stands in a place that could neither afford pleasure nor profit to the dwellers, other than that which is forced. Though not so seated, as it may be said to stand in the Apennine, yet amongst those Mountains. All the Country about is so barren, except some little, near the City, which is by labour brought to fertility, that the wildest Forest of England may be esteemed good ground, in respect of this. In some places hereabout, I saw where corn had been gathered, but by the stubble might perceive had been so thin, that a man would think one stalk had been afraid of another. The ways thereabout both coming down the Apennine to Rome, and from thence toward Naples, so unpassable for a Coach, that a man may think himself well blest, if he break not his neck from horseback.  
The sight of this so miserable a Country, wonderfully distracted my thoughts, to think how the inhabitants of so wild a place could ever come to such a greatness. And from thence proceeded these cogitations. First, that ease and delicacy of life is the bane of noble actions, and wise counsels. A man that is delighted, and whose affections be taken with the place wherein he life's, is most commonly unapt, or unwilling to be drawn to any change, and so consequently unfit for any enterprise, that may either advance his own honour, or the good of his Country. Any actions that reach farther than their own private contents, in their estimation be needless and unprofitable Labours. And it hath many times happened, that whilst men live in this Lethargy, that Countries, Cities, their own fortunes and all, have been lost through their negligence.  
Again, a life of pleasure doth so besot and benumb the senses, and so fare effeminate the spirits of men, that though they be naturally prone to an active life, yet custom hath brought them to such a habit, that they apprehend not any thing farther than the compass of their own affections; think nothing beyond their present enjoyments. A strange Epicurean opinion, that men, who were borne to have dominion over all creatures; should be now subject to them, and under their rule. A mere inversion of the prime ordinance.  
From this consideration I declined to the contrary, that a place of hardness, and a life exercised in actions of valour and not idleness, hath ever produced the bravest men, & arrived at the greatest fortune. Let but the Roman Story be a mirror to you in this kind, you shall hardly, I think, find in the first times any enterprise of great worth, that the cause of it might not be drawn from this head. For their first poverty, being men brought to this place by fortune, and rather by forced, than desired election, not knowing where else to settle, in despite of want, their ambitions put them forward; first, to encroach upon their neighbours, and then, as their fortunes were enlarged, to go on in actions of greater consequence and more difficulty. Being a race of such men, as could not confine and limit themselves to one place, but successively from father to son, you shall scarce read of any, that was not either a man of action or direction, though some peradventure naturally unapt for the one, yet exquisite in the other: and ability to give counsel, is at least, not inferior to the former.  
To prepare a man fit for both, nothing so much prevails, as a hard and weary life, such an agitation as will not permit idleness, nor the mind to settle too much upon private ends, which being so, could never be aptly applied for Public. Besides, a continual working of the mind, which in an active spirit, will still grow and labour in production of good effects, if it should be suffered to rest, would soon degenerate. For if a man give over himself to an easeful life, the sharpness of his senses will be dulled, and grow retired, applying himself to his own contents, and then, can never have sufficiency, nor will to prevail for the public, once being confined to his own particular interest, and looking no further. Many men are naturally given to such a life, and some by accident fall into it, but certainly their memory dies with them: for no man is borne only for himself. This is so well known, that I will not seek farther to illustrate it.  
A third consideration that came into my mind, at the sight of the place, was to wonder at a sort of men (but either ignorant, or malicious) who from the spirit of detraction think to calumniate, the valours, and virtues of men, in disgracing their Country for barrenness, for poverty, or the like. These men, if they had ever seen this place, and known the story, would never have imagined this a good argument. Cannot virtue and poverty be together? cannot an unfruitful Country yield men full of worthiness, and Valour? a strange mark of an envious disposition, to tax the men's virtues, for the unpleasantness of the soil; as if virtue and plenty could not be severed, or that of necessity a hard Country must produce soft and ignoble spirits: but if they would truly look into themselves, they could not choose but see a wonderful imperfection, and ignorance, who judge virtue by means, and men by places. If Noble and worthy Spirits had consisted in these outward respects, the men of this place would have been wonderful ignominious; but you may plainly see, by the example of them, that a poor and hard life, a desolate, and almost uninhabitable place, brought forth such men, and they performed such actions, as in this age (we are most of us so much degenerate) we can hardly hear of without incredulity. So I will leave the place itself, and speak of the Country about it.  
Not fare distant from the City, is the Mediterranean Sea, and the principal Port now is Civita vecchia, where since the Church hath had dominion, the Navy is very small, and chiefly consists of Galleys. But certainly, this was a great help, in the time of the ancient Romans, as well to increase their dominion, as to fortify themselves against foreign invasions: for by this means men were more easily, and with less charge transported to those parts of Africa, and Greece, where they made great conquests, which otherwise could never have been compassed, and they themselves much strengthened against all enemies that could come from those parts, seeing it a matter of great difficulty to surprise, or take any place, that hath so good a defence as the Sea. And to a people who be strong, and of great power, it is not difficult to defend themselves from the enterprise of any assailers; and experience hath ever shown, it is harder to conquer Lands & places well fenced with the Sea, them the Continent.  
Thus much for this, and now I will confine myself within the walls, which be the ancient ones, adorned in former times with many towers, but now the most decayed, and not very many left. The River Tiber runs thorough the town, and within this compass are those seven Hills so famously known, all of one side the River, upon which old Rome was built. And still there be some Palaces on them; but the City, as it is now, is more built in those spaces, as Campus Martius, etc. which before were left vacant.  
But I will now take a view of the ancient Antiquities; and first, of the famous Capitol upon one of the seven Hills, called Mons Capitolinus, whereof almost nothing remains but the memory. The place where the Senate sat, is now plain, and covered with earth, only some steps you may see where they went down, & it is said to have been framed in the form of a Cockpit. The houses now about the Capitol are assigned for the place of justice. Three several ascents there be by stairs unto it; and I have heard those Romans, who are descended from the Ancient, do (though at any price) desire to have their dwelling hereabouts. The principal of them be of the Scipioni, and the Camilli. From this place Nero made a Gallery to his Palace upon Mons Palatinus, whereof there is now nothing remaining, but some few Pillars which bore it up, very great ones, and of Marble. This place is adorned with many choice Statues, both in the open place, and buildings about it. In the open place you shall see a Statue, lying upon a Marble stone in a fountain, called Marforius, (pasquin's Intelligencer.) There is also the Statue of Marcus Aurelius in brass, and upon horseback, not anciently here, but removed hither from a more obscure place, by Paulus III. P. M. Besides, there is the Statue of a woman Comedian, represented as if she were speaking, and two Auditors listening unto her, so lively expressed, that a man not instructed, may easily know they were made for this representation. In the buildings there be also many principal Statues, as one of a Scolding Woman, so well done, as it would almost fear one to look on it. A Hercules in Brass. julius and Augustus Caesar in Marble. Romulus and Rhemus sucking a Wolf, in Brass. Quintus Curtius on horseback, in Brass, and jupiter in Marble. Of Romulus and Rhemus sucking a Wolf there be many in Rome, and not defaced, being ever left by them that sacked it, to put the people in mind of their base beginning. But it seems, in this respect, they never thought the worse of themselves, seeing they have in so many public places made representation of this. There is beside, the Statue of Nero's Mother, wherein her countenance of sorrow is expressed, when the news of her son's unnaturalness meant to her was told. There is another in brass, of a Boy, taking a thorn out of his foot, looking so earnestly, & pitifully, that a man would think he had some sense of pain. There be in this place many other Antiquities of this kind, which to avoid prolixity, I omit to name.  
Descending from the Capitol, there be three or four Triumphant Arches dedicated to the honour of Emperors, as to Augustus Caesar and Constantine, where be engraven their principal Acts, & victories: but the most remarkable of these, is Vespasians erected upon his return from jerusalem, where you shall see the overcoming of the City, lively set forth, and the holy things which he brought away from thence in triumph, as the Candlesticks and the rest singularly expressed. Here is also the great Amphitheatre, but now extremely ruinated, where the most public shows and sports were usually shown. Upon Mons Palatinus, where Nero's magnificent house was built, there is nothing to be seen but decays, and now employed to a Vineyard, which is bestowed upon the English College. At the foot of the farther part of this hill is the place, where, upon great Feasts, the Naval Battles were wont to be presented. Not far from thence is the Pantheon or Rotonda, in Campo Martio, a place built round and high: at the entrance are many Marble pillars of great thickness, and height, having one only light in the top like a Lower. This anciently was a Temple dedicated to all the Gods, and now converted to the honour of all Saints. The two Pillars that be erected as Triumphs to Traian and Antoninus, are of a great height, and exquisitely engraven upon the sides, with their acts and victories. Upon the top of Traian's, his ashes are said to be in a ball of gold. In the house of Alfonso Suderetti, is the place where Caesar made his Tomb, whereof now almost nothing remaineth but the ruins: this he purposed not only for himself, but his Family; it is a great compass, built round, and some old pieces of the Tomb yet remain. In many places of this City, there are to be seen the ruins of the ancient Emperor's Baths; amongst which, the most principal are those of Dioclesian, of a wonderful great compass. Upon this, it is said, that for twelve years together, multitudes of Christians were condemned to continual working. Some part of it now is converted to a Church and Monastery. Without Porta Pinciana, there is the Temple of Bacchus, which stands upon Marble pillars, and it is a fair Rotonda. Here his Sepulchre is set about with pillars, and the tomb itself is of Porphyry curiously graved. This temple, is now divided into two parts, and dedicated to two Saints, Saint Agnes and Saint Constanza, whose bodies have been there lately found, and that of Saint Agnes is said to be uncorrupt. This Temple was of late all covered with earth, and but newly discovered. By Porta Ostia there is a Tomb of one Cestius an Aedile, which was an ancient office amongst the Romans, principally to look to burials. This is built in manner of a Pyramid, all of great and broad Marble, half in the wall and half out. In many places there be Pyramids set up, which are said long since to be brought out of Egypt: of these you shall see at Santa Maria Maggiore, Saint Peter, and other places. There is moreover no house of any worth, that is not replenished with infinite numbers of ancient Statues; so that a man might think, in respect of the number, that in ancient time the inhabitants were employed about nothing else. Courts, Galleries, every room is adorned with them, and in many rooms heaped one upon another, there be so many. And yet, for all this multitude, it is a strange thing to see at what inestimable prices they hold every one of them; nay, it is almost an impossibility, by any means, or for any money to get one of them away, they hold them in so great estimation. Nevertheless, every day amongst their Vineyards, and in the ruins of old Rome, they find more, which, in whose ground soever they be found, at a certain price, do now belong to the Popes, who distribute them in their own Palaces, to their favourites or kinsmen, and sometimes as presents to Princes. And this is the cause that the houscs of such as have been Nephews or favourites of the Popes; be best furnished with these ornaments.  
If a man should make an exact relation of the Anticaglie in this kind, he must have seven year's time to view, and two men's lives to write them. But for a taste and so away. At the Pope's Palace, at Saint Peter, the Statues of Commodus and Antoninus, the Statue of Laocoon, which is written of by Virgil in the second book of his Aeneads; and they say that his very seeing of that Statue, was the cause of those verses: the Statue of Apollo: and in the midst of this place the thigh of a man done in Marble, which the best workmen have judged admirable in the true proportions; and they say that Michael Angelo stood two days by it in contemplation, and the artifice was so excellent, and beyond his apprehension, that he had like to have gone mad with the consideration of it. In this place there be many more Antiquities, the great Pine Apple of brass, wherein were found Adrian's ashes. At the Pope's other Palace upon Mons Quirinalis, before the Gate, there be two other Statues done in full proportion, of Alexander, taming Bucephalus, made by those two famous men Phydias and Praxiteles, one in emulation of the other. And from these two Statues being set here, this place is called Monte Cavalli. In the Garden of Cardinal Borghese without Porta Pinciana, there is a Tomb which is said to be Alexander's. In the Palace of Cardinal Farnese, amongst an infinite number of other Antiquities, there be the Statues of the twelve first Emperors, two Tables of the Grecians Laws, which the Romans brought from thence, one of the gods which is said to have given answers in the Pantheon, a Statue of the two sons of a King of Thebes, after the death of their father, tying his Concubine to a Bull, in revenge of those wrongs she had done their mother, (this Story is said to be related by Propertius and Pliny) brought to this City by the ancient Romans out of Rhodes, found in the time of Paulus, III. of the Fernesian family, and by him left as a relic to this house. Hear are beside the ancient Statues of the Horatij and Curiatij, & such another of Nero's Mother as I have mentioned to be in the Capitol, but better expressed. In one of the Palaces of Cardinal Borghese, which in former times hath been the Kings of England, and given by Henry the 8. to Cardinal Campeio, at his being here; now enriched by the best hands of Painters, and the most ancient Statues: you shall see amongst the rest a Gladiatore (or Fencer) admirably described in Marble, and a Statue of Seneca in brass, bleeding in his bath to death, with whom this part also of the Roman Antiquities shall dye.  
Now from these ancient ruins of Temples, Trophies, Statues, Arches, Columns Pyramids, & the rest, there would be required in a curious pen a particular observation, but I will only prescribe unto myself some general notes. How venerable Antiquities both be and have been in all men's esteem, is so generally known and received, as I will not enter into a Laudatory thereof, further than to show the singular use and profit that may be gathered from the knowledge of them.  
First, they much illustrate Story, and in some cases illuminate the understanding of the Reader, and serve as a confirmation of that he hath read. When actions of note be registered, the bare after-reading of them, without seeing the place whence they proceeded, is by many men not so constantly retained in memory. For every man knows, that if in reading an History (only by a Map) the place be observed as well as the action, ones judgement is better strengthened, and consequently much more when a man sees that which others have but by description. They that have read of Antoninus, Traian, and Vespasian, and find their acts which they have read, engraven in Arches, Pillars, and the like, it is hard to express what credit they give to the History, and satisfaction to the Reader. And if in this respect, any place in the world deserve seeing, none can sooner claim it then Rome.  
Secondly, the ancient Statues of the Romans, do strangely immortalize their fame; and it is certain that the men of those times were infinitely ambitious, to have their memories in this kind, recorded; & such was the benignity of that people, that they willingly yielded to honour their acts, by public expression, and in a kind, to Deify the persons of their worthiest men, which industry of theirs may be gathered by the numbers of Statues of Cicero, Seneca, Brutus, Cassius, the Horatij, and Curiatij, Cato, and many more, whose virtue, more than their greatness, made them famous. Otherwise if I had only seen the Statues of the most powerful men, and ancient Emperors, I should have thought there had been in those times as great Timeservers, as there be now, where power & authority is more esteemed of, than virtue, or valour. Yet I think, if ever men of any place, in any time desired to have their names and actions to continue to Posterity, not knowing any farther immortality, these were they, and this one consideration produced better effects of virtue and valour, than Religion, and all other respects do in our days. Certainly, therefore, if they had been as well instructed in Divine, as Moral precepts, no man of any age had ever exceeded them.  
Thirdly, the multitude and riches of these Statues, and other Antiquities, do wonderfully argue the magnificence of those times, wherein they have exceeded all that went before, or followed after them; and yet this sumptuousness nothing diverted their minds from a generous and active life, but rather instigated them; which now we most commonly find contrary. For greatness and goodness do not always agree together.  
Fourthly, the Architecture of many ancient Temples, and Statues, is so singular and rare, that they that ever since have been esteemed the best, durst never assume, or undertake, to equalise them in that kind of singularity, especially of the Statues, which are so done, that never any could come near the original for exquisiteness in taking the Copy: so that a man cannot but gather, that in this place, and those times, there were conjoined all singularities together, best workmen, best wits, best Soldiers, and so in every kind Superlative.  
But it may be there are some, who will draw ill conclusions from these Antiquities, either tending to Atheism, or Superstition. For Atheism thus. If men desire to immortalize their memories in this kind after their death, it may seem the only happiness (being dead) they can expect, is by this means to continue their fame for those acts which living they performed, and have thought of no other immortality than this sort of continuing their memory: and this may seem to be the end of such as in these modern times make Monuments, or have left order for some to be erected after their death in their memory.  
To this I will not deny, but that these peradventure might be the farthest ends the Romans aimed at. But amongst us the erection of them is free from the corruption. For first, where the end is out of a religious care to constitute some place for our bodies to remain in, till the day of the general account, I cannot see what more blame can be ascribed to any, for adorning these, than their habitations whilst they live. And beside, in respect that these be usually set in public places, which is an ornament to them, they are therefore the more allowable. Again, in respect of the benefit and use to such as live, they be not unnecessary; for if they be of such, whose virtues have deserved perpetuity in our memory, they breed a kind of emulation to imitate; if otherwise, their lives have deserved contempt, it is an expression of God's justice, who hath suffered such men, who have lived scandalously all their lives, so fare to be blinded, that they perpetuate their shame to posterity, and by such men's Monuments, those who have heard of their vices, seek to avoid them.  
Again, there be others, who to set a gloss upon their Atheistical opinions, argue thus. If the Romans of that time, who were ever reputed men of most acute judgement, and reverenced for their gravity, & understanding, thought their chiefest happiness after death to consist in those outward respects, why should it be thought in this declining age of the world, where men for learning, and height of wit, come short of those which preceded, that we should find new ways of immortality, which the elder world never dreamt of, and charge those who have ever been so much esteemed for their wisdom, with so gross an ignorance? To this it may be answered: First, that these Romans had some sense of the immortality of the soul, but in what manner, & way, being only guided by natural reason & learning, they were utterly ignorant. For there is none but the fool that hath said in his heart, that there is no God. Again, it is not all the learning or wit of man, can find out the mystery of true religion, without God's blessing, & holy Spirit to assist them. But to such as these, who are only learned in natural sciences, and had no inspiration from above: how can they but (as the Apostle saith) count the manifestation of Religion foolishness? So that this argument must be no derogation to the truth of Religion, for that learned men heretofore understood it not.  
For the other error that may be drawn from these Antiquities, inclining to Superstition, which may be defined to be a Religion exercised in false worship. In those times, these durable Monuments tended that way: for either men were so ambitious to expect Deification, or people so foolish to give it them, ascribing miraculous operation to their dead Images. Which error needs no confutation: for all men see the Arrogance of them that desired, and simplicity of such as gave belief to these vain imaginations. And yet I cannot but admire at the strange blindness of such, who in this clear Sunshine of Christianity, have such a mist before their eyes (imaginary not real) that they will still turn the image of the incorruptible God, into the likeness of a corruptible man, which in any natural understanding, seems foolish, in a religious, profane. I dare walk no farther in this Labyrinth, for fear of growing too infinite, only this, it is the wonder of the world, that men should be so fare carried away with this Idiotism, which is both against Reason and Religion.  
Now in the next place after profane, the religious Antiquities of this place deserves consideration, in which, I profess a greater brevity, then in that which is past. Of the seven Churches, to which men go upon extraordinary devotion, the first is Saint Peter, now in re-edifying, of a great length, with an answerable breadth. You ascend unto it by many stairs, where, at the first view, is presented the most goodly Facciata, or forefront of the world, supported with many great pillars of Marble. This Church is very high, and upon the top of the Coppola, or circumference, is a Ball of brass, which to them below seems no bigger than an ordinary Bowl, yet is of that capacity, that it will receive at least forty persons. The inside of this Rotonda within the Church, is most curiously painted with the acts of Christ and his Apostles. The finishing of the high Altar is undertaken by the King of Spain. The lower part of this round is adorned with Mosaique work, and the Altar compassed about with those pillars of Marble which are said to have been in salomon's Temple, they being curiously carved & fashioned in the form of wreaths. On the left hand in a Chapel where the Canons sing their Office, is the Statue of our Lady, and Christ in her arms, cut in Marble by the most famous Painter and Statuist in the world, Michael Angelo. Within a vault of this Church be the bodies of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. Hear also be seven Chapels resembling the seven Churches which be usually visited. Adjoining to this Church is the Pope's Palace of Saint Peter, and from thence a Curridore, or private way, to his Castle of Saint Angelo. In this Palace the Consistories usually assemble, and here is the Conclave where the Popes be elected. There is also a private Chapel of the Popes, where the high Altar is set out by Michael Angelo's curious description of the day of judgement. Besides, in this Palace is the Vatican, or famous Library of the Popes, which consists only of Manuscripts, but of great antiquity, as well profane, as divine. Besides, all correspondencies, & matters of State, that are and have been betwixt the Pope and other Princes be here registered. This Palace hath been sundry times enlarged by diverse Popes.  
The second of the seven Churches is Santa Maria Maggiore, seated upon one of the seven Hills, called Mons Esquilinus; upon which goes this Story, that in the time of the Primitive Church, there was a vision appeared to a man and his Wife, that very night the same also appearing to the then Bishop of Rome, that presently in that place where that good man and his Wife lay, there should be a Church built and dedicated to our Lady: and this they say is that Church which was erected for that dream. This Church is famous for these relics. The bodies of Saint Matthew, and Saint Jerome, which lie here buried, The Cope of Saint Thomas Becket, which he wore at his death, and sprinkled with part of the blood which he then lost. And the picture of our Lady drawn, as they say, by Saint Luke. But that which makes this Church now so remarkable, is the two splendid Chapels, the one built by Sixtus Quintus, where he lies buried, and the other overagainst it (but more beautiful) by this Pope Paolo V where he is to be buried. In that of Sixtus Quintus, there be carved all his Acts, during his Papacy, but especially the expedition of Ferrara, and in the other, besides his own actions, and Statue, the whole Chapel is most richly and curiously painted, the high Altar standing upon pillars of brass, inlaid with Agate, and beside, in many places adorned with stones of inestimable price. To relate particularly, the magnificence of both these, would ask a longer Narration than I purpose.  
The third of these Churches is Saint Paul's, without the town, about a mile and a half in Via Ostia: here is underneath, the grottes or Caves, wherein, as in others about Rome, the Christians in time of persecution were wont to conceal themselves, and make their private conventions.  
The fourth in this way also, and without the town, is consecrate to the memory of Saints Sebastian and Fabian. In one of the Altars here made of Marble, and about a foot thick, you shall see a little hole, in compass about the bigness of a twenty shillings piece. Of which there goes this Tale, that a Priest in the celebration of Mass, and at the time of the consecration, had an imagination of the impossibility, how upon the saying of the words used in the consecration, the host should be converted really into the body of Christ: whereupon the host suddenly and miraculously vanished out of his hand, and made this way specified, proportionable to that bigness.  
The fift without Porta Esquilina, is that of Saint Laurence, where his body is interred. This Church was built by Constantine the Great, and those instruments wherewith they were wont to sacrifice Christians, be here to be seen, and more particularly, the Gridiron whereupon it is said Saint Laurence was broiled.  
The sixth is Santa Croce, one of the principallest Churches of devotion, built by Helena, mother to Constantine. The ground upon which this Church is built, is of the holy earth brought by her from jerusalem. Amongst other Relics, there is a part of the Cross, from whence it took the name, and one of the thorns of that Crown, which was in derision set upon our Saviour's head.  
Now the last of these is that of Saint john de Lateran, where the Lateran Council was held. The heads of Saint Peter, and Saint Paul be here retained for Relics. The pillars that support the Altar in this Church, are said to be brought from jerusalem to Rome by Vespasian. Hear is the Font where Constantine was baptised by Pope Silvester. Besides, the pillars are thought to have been taken out of pilate's house, and that upon one of them stood that Cock, which by his twice crowing gave Peter warning of his sin. Hear in the Sanctum Sanctorum, (where women cannot enter) is also conserved the Ark of the old Testament, Aaron's Rod, The Sudatorium, which is a Napkin, with which in the way to the Cross Christ wiping his face, there remained in it his picture, The Table upon which Christ celebrated his last Supper, and one little Glass of his Blood. At the entrance of this Church be those Stairs, brought from jerusalem, by which Christ ascended when he entered pilate's house, some twenty in number, whereupon daily many people go up, upon their knees for devotion, upon every one saying a Pater noster, and an Aue Maria, and then kissing it. Some also whip themselves as they go up. And this Church was also built by Constantine the Great, at the instance of Pope Sylvester.  
To go more particularly in the narration of the holy Relics, and Monuments of Rome, after the description of the seven Churches, they are so infinite, that I should be too prolix. This may serve as aview to the rest, only I will remember one strange tale in the Church of San Pietro ad vincula: Saint Peter coming to Rome, was cast in Prison, and bound with a chain, which after his death was kept as an holy Relic: sometime after this, the chain wherewith he was bound in his imprisonment at jerusalem, being by Christians brought to Rome, and into the place where this other was kept, they, as it may seem, for joy, being a good distance asunder, leapt together and joined themselves, and still remain so: so was this Church builded in remembrance of that miracle, and herewith I will end this part of my Discourse. Now for my other observations, that I gather from these holy Antiquities:  
First, I must profess for myself, that I am not so credulous, as to tie my belief to these miraculous reports; nay, I am so far from it, that I esteem most of them rather feigned then true; yet such is the Artifice of these popish traders, that they are fain to sell their commodities by this false light, and to set a gloss upon their Religion, by these and such like Illusions.  
So that here in the next place we are to consider, how easily men are drawn by circumstances, to think they embrace certainties, by shadows to conclude truth, and by outward show of zeal and Religion, to embrace impiety. Such is the flexibility of our nature. And by way of digression there can be nothing more observable, than the variation of minds, as well as faces. Some have such stony hearts and leaden heads, that they cannot conceive (beyond themselves, and nature, as they term it) any supernatural, or powerful government in their life and actions, nor any heaven, besides their sensuality. Others so believing, and uncertain, that every tale, or imagination creates in their brains a new Creator, and forces a false worship. Such are these which I now speak of. A false miracle prevails farther than the written verity, a Monastical, and severe-seeming habit more persuades, than sincerity in life and manners; the representation of an image strikes deeper into their affections, than that way whereby God hath made himself manifest in the Scriptures. So that they are carried away with every wind: so great is their corruption, so stupid their senses, so monstrous their ignorance.  
By this you may see, it is no difficult matter to persuade these men's consciences to one's own fancy, and to serve ones own turn. Alas, an outward show of devotion, and a few good words carries them into admiration, and to imagine that God is better pleased with ceremony, than truth, with form than substance. This trade hath been so long, and this deceit so customary, that many, though otherwise of strong capacities, are blinded with the same ignorance as it were by prescription: but if they would but give themselves leave to review the grounds, upon which they retain these opinions, and search to the original from whence they sprung, they would quickly discover the deceit. But if men will believe impossibilities, and for no other reason, but because other men do so, and their Fathers did so before them; I can think no otherwise of such, then as of blind men, who are to follow their leaders, and may be sometimes drawn into the ditch. A man might spin out a long Discourse of such a subject: but thus much shall serve for this observation upon the Religious antiquities, and Relics of Rome.  
Now in order, but very briefly, as before, Antiquities profane, and then Religious were considered; so now the present buildings, and pleasures, and next the more modern houses of Religion be to be discoursed of.  
For the first, I will only for a taste, name some few places, by which you may guess the rest. There be in this town multiplicity of Palaces, which for Architecture, and curiosity, may compare with any City of the world, of which, I will but nominate two. The first is a house newly built by this Pope, at the foot of Monte Quirinale, or Cavalli, given to his brother's son the Prince of Sulmo (a Principality in the Kingdom of Naples) built round, and standing upon Pillars of Marble, divided into three heights, separated by Terraces, and every one standing alike upon Pillars. The Court, Terraces, and particular Chambers adorned with antique Statues, many of the rooms being most curiously painted both upon the top, and sides, and equal rooms in all three heights, both for pleasure, and use.  
The second is a Palace beyond Porta Pinciana, built by Cardinal Borghese, this Pope's Sister's son, a house full of pleasure, and spacious, where about the middle, from room to room, the doors being open, you may see in a direct line, the whole length of the house, as it were a prospective, a kind of curiosity very much followed in the best buildings of Italy.  
Now for houses of pleasure, gardens, water-works and the like; there is that Garden-house (as I may term it) of Burgheses, near Monte Quirinale, built in that place where Propertius the Poet lived. This is very pleasant, not many rooms, but three or four Gardens, enriched with diverse Statues, and Fountains. Then there is that of the Beluedere by Saint Peter, which is the Popes, and another garden rare for Fruits adjoining to it. That Garden of Cardinal Bandinoes, by the Noviceship of the jesuites, towards Santa Maria Magglore, hath Statues & Fountains in it, & is all vaulted, the better to take the fresh air in the heat of Summer. Then the Garden joining to the Pope's Palace at Monte Cauallo, is very splendid: but amongst those, and all the other Gardens of Rome, which be most remarkable, those of Montalto, Maffei, and Lanfranke, be the three rarest for pleasure, beauty, store of banqueting houses, Fountains, and other delicacies, that can add ornament to such places: and thus much of this division.  
From hence I observe, that as man's life ought to be sustained with those necessities which most uphold it; so there may be an addition of lawful delights, and pleasures, to comfort and refresh it. For there is no man, or mind, so retired, but requires some delight, and pleasure: otherwise the sharpness of our apprehension would be tired, and the progress of our life, solitary; it being an impossibility, and Solecism in nature, for a man continually to travel without intermixture of recreation, because we be so subject, as well in body, as in mind, to variation.  
And in this kind I know few recreatives that possess us more, than the humour of building, in respect they both satisfy our own present invention, and serve to our posterity, as perpetual remembrances, and memorial of their progenitors, adding present content to ourselves, perpetuating reputation in the world, remaining as living Monuments of our magnificence, and beneficent expressions of our greatness.  
And although munificency in this kind, be by many esteemed superfluous, I rather hold it convenient, so it be of our abundance, and diminish nothing of the competency of our estates. If it should do so, it were too great an argument of our folly, to propose unnecessary charges. Otherwise these respects might make it allowable.  
First, this Art of Architecture is honourable in all men's esteem, and profitable to ourselves. Next, it keeps us busied in thought, and action, and so diverts us from delights more dangerous. Then upon occasion it enables us in the use of fortification. Fourthly, it gives a kind of extraordinary delight to ourselves, when we see those things, which before we had but form in conceit, made visible. Next, it is an addition of repute to the City where we live. And lastly, it makes a man's fame to spread both at home, and abroad.  
But to descend more particularly to the pleasures of this place, the delicacy of Gardens be of inestimable consideration, where a man's mind may receive such content, and his eye such diversity of objects, as in nothing more. If a place of delight and pleasure content our minds, it may here be satisfied with the beauty of walks, sweetness and diversity of Flowers, melody of Birds, and the like. If sometimes a man be inclined to melancholy, the privacy and solitude of this place, the murmuring of the waters, fills us with a strange kind of satisfaction. If one would contemplate the wonders of nature, here he may find all things necessary, and pleasurable; healthful, or hurtful for man. If we be inclined to any serious study, or meditation, here is the place where our thoughts cannot be perturbed, nor diverted, nor our senses unsharpened, because they continually meet with such variation. If you meditate, sit by the fountain, or walk in the most remote and obscure places. When you would read, or write, then is there Arbours and Banquetting-houses to repose in. And to conclude, if at any time a man would desire to give himself, & some few of his friends, the height of civil entertainment, no place can be more apt than this, especially in the heat of Summer, in a Country so subject to the violence of it as Rome is.  
If a man were Poetical, than this discourse, he could not find a better field to exercise his wit. The Houses of these places be adorned with many rarities, but especially painting, the praise and excellency whereof is sufficiently known; so that I will forbear the repetition: and thus I conclude this consideration.  
In the next place, the present Colleges, Churches, and religious Houses come in turn, in which of late years, those of the jesuits be of principal reputation, where in their chief Church lies buried their founder Ignatius, and his Tomb is there to be seen. There be beside diverse Churches appropriate to several nations, as that of Saint Apolinarius, to the Germans, Saint james, to the Spaniards, Saint Stanilaus, to the polacks, a Church dedicated to the holy Trinity, built by Lewis the eleventh King of France, to the French, and another dedicated to the holy Trinity, for the English.  
There is their College, and in the Church be the Tombs of Cardinal Allen, and Parsons; upon the walls whereof be set forth in painting, the Martyrdoms (as they call it) of such as suffered persecution, and death, for their Religion in England. And in this, now amongst the rest are Campian, and Garnet, and the Hangman, and Tyburn, as perfectly described, as if they were better acquainted with the place, and person. Here is also a Library consisting most of Controversies. To the maintenance of this Church, and College, there be some lands appointed, besides other pensions that they receive from the Pope, and King of Spain. The persons here be all English, and were governed by a Rector of the jesuites order, called Father Owen, lately dead. They are all Priests, and young Youths, sent thither out of England, to be brought up in Philosophy, and Divinity, in number about 120. all going in the habit of Scholars, and no sooner come thither, but they take upon them false and supposititious names, as the Rector himself told me.  
This town is full of Monasteries, and Religious houses, many public Schools, where Divinity and Philosophy are read in Lectures, and many public Libraries. Besides, there be sundry Hospitals for strangers, maimed, poor, sick, and mad folks. The number of the Churches be about 140. And so I will leave this part.  
Now for my observation, it is this, to show the Policy that they use for confirmation, and establishing of their Religion, and consists, first, in an outward show of devotion, with strange expressions of humility, set forth in the poor and austere life of many orders, in their sundry acts of penitence, in their daily visitation of their Churches, in their outward actions of grief, and repentance at the celebration of Mass. Wherein is inserted all possible inventions, to catch men's affections, and to ravish their understanding: as first, the gloriousness of their Altars, infinite numbers of images, priestly ornaments, and the diverse actions they use in that service; besides the most excellent and exquisite Music of the world, that surprises our ears. So that whatsoever can be imagined, to express either Solemnity, or Devotion, is by them used.  
Their next way, is in their acts of Charity, wherein they exceed, and imagine this a great argument to make the world believe the truth, & certainty of their Religion.  
The third is, their boasting of miracles, with which they make such a noise, and would have them infallible arguments, to uphold their faith: but when a man sees the ridiculousness, and finds proved the falsity of them, they are of great force to persuade the contrary. For example, if a man going down a pair of stairs, by chance his foot should slip, he would presently make a miracle of it, and say, that in that instant he called upon Saint Francis, or San Carlo, or some other Saint, by whose prayers he was relieved, that otherwise he had maimed himself, or lost his life. Or if in riding in a Coach, it by chance be overthrown, he presently attributes to some Saint whom he then invoked, the liberation of him from an imminent danger: and with the expressions of these miracles, all the Churches be hung full. But for others that be more strange, it is certain, & hath been proved, that many of them are false, and broached only to delude the people, which may give a great suspicion to the rest. But more, it is the jesuites doctrine, and they labour to prove it lawful, to forge a miracle for the furtherance of their Religion. By which Position, if any thing happen, which may seem a wonder, as in the recovery of some desperate sickness, wound, or the like, in the attribution of it to some particular Saint, or extraordinary operation by their means, they diminish the power and glory of God. And if any sign should happen to confirm it, of which they will nominate thousands, as the bleeding of a Crucifix, the speaking of an Image, etc. It may as well show the now delusive power of the Devil, still blinding the eyes of the world in this kind, as he hath formerly done by Oracles.  
Now the last policy is, in the course of their teaching, and disciplining, which I will only exemplify by the practice of our English there. First, there shall no scandal pass, that they will not be sure to lay upon our Religion. And this at the first they beat and insinuate into the ears of their Novices. Next, they use all possible Art to magnify their own: in the mean time, barring the reading of any defence of our parts, and put them to study such books as be written against us; so that they will conclude a judgement, before both parts be heard. But when they have them more strongly grounded, and they be sure that their opinion is preiudicated, they will suffer them then to read some of our books (but by the way, this liberty is seldom given to Italians) and then for ourselves, that be so strongly instructed of one side, and strangely opinionated of the other, he is a rare man, and receives from God a great blessing, that ever finds the true difference. And thus being woven in their nets, they be in a manner destitute of all possibility of recovery. And so much for this.  
Now next in order it follows, that something be said of the present strength of this place, and of what force it is against foreign, or domestic enemies. And in my opinion it is of no great power. For examples have showed, that it hath suffered diverse surprises; so that of necessity it must be of less ability now to withstand then before. For place of strength, it hath only the Castle of Saint Angelo, and that also very weak, to withstand any strong assault. But the truth is, there be so many Princes in league with this Sea, and ●yed in so diverse obligations unto it, that it is free from danger, without the Turk should make a war; and then there is so strong opposition like to be made by the Princes of Italy, and other foreigners, that it will be hard to prevail against it, if the Emperor, Italy itself, the King of France and Spain, should not cast off their yoke and subjection: if so, than it were impossible for the Bishop of Rome by his own strength, to oppose, or subsist.  
Now for the government of this place, it is wholly subject to the Pope, which he holds as a temporal prince, but solely guided by spiritual Ministers; all causes of judgement in matters divine are brought hither, as to the last Court of Appeal for final sentences.  
For the Pope's Revenue: that which he receives from his own principalities, is the least part; the rest consists in the Fair of Indulgences, liberation from Purgatory, conferring of Church-livings, sale of Offices, Pensions from other Princes, and the like. The treasure is never great, in respect of the changes of their Governors, who for the most part have employed all the Revenue of the Church to their own private families, and friends. If upon occasion they be forced to make any great, and sudden supply, they make bold with the treasures and ornaments of Churches, which be in Italy of very great value.  
Now to the person of this Pope: he is descended of no great family, an Italian borne, and exercised the former part of his life, before his Papacy, in the office of a judge. He was made Cardinal by Clement the eighth, and Pope by the difference of the two great factions, in that conclave of Montalto, and Aldobrandino; both striving to make one of their own creatures, yet finding the other opposition too strong, were in the end forced to make a neutral. And so by this fortune it lighted upon this man. His Court is not great (some small guard of Switzers excepted) but he rather life's a kind of retired life; the chiefest of his actions tending to the advancement of his Kindred. He is most governed by his Nephew the Cardinal Borghese, but for matter of greatness in correspondency with the greatest Princes, he is behind none, having Ambassadors from, and sending to them, more than any other temporal Prince whatsoever. And when he shows himself, it is in as great majesty, and with more ceremony than is used to any other Prince, which for exemplificatition shall be showed in the custom that is used of kissing his feet, and the manner of his carrying in a chair when he goes publicly.  
For the first, upon his Pantofle there is a cross, which people in show of their reverence and devotion, kiss at the time of his giving audience to Ambassadors, or some other public assembly: and this is to show the people's reverence to his person, and to set forth his own dignity. And the sign of the Cross upon it, is to declare that in that action, the people's devotion to our Saviour, as well as honour to him, might be expressed, and in a kind, for acknowledgement, that Religion is under his government, and subjection. For his being carried in a chair upon men's shoulders, they urge this to be used as an argument of his sanctity, and holiness, to stir up reverence in the beholders, and devotion in their hearts, and that as all outward respects be used to honour the Princes of the world, so there aught to be much more to the Pope, being head of the Church. In this kind he is usually carried, when he goes to Church or Consistory.  
Now to end this part with the Cardinals: it is strange to see their pride, every one esteeming himself of equal rank with any Prince, and are served with a kind of extraordinary pomp, using in their rooms of audience,  of estate, as Princes do, and when they go to Consistory, you shall have one of them attended by their friends and followers with 20. or 30. Coaches, and at least 200. or 300. Staffieri or footmen. Some in this kind exceed other, but the principal be Montalto, that was Sixtus Quintus, and Aldobrandino, that was Clement the eighth, and Borghese, that is this Pope's favourite. Some others live more retired, of which rank Bellarmine is chief noted. Most of them be in faction Spanish, and all receiving bribes and pensions from him. Their creation comes either from the Pope's particular favour, or some great Prince's intercession; younger brothers of great families, and all in a manner by the way of the present favourite, who enriches himself, and makes his faction great, by the distribution of these honours. I only saw them once assembled together, and that was in the Pope's private Chapel, at Saint Peter, upon All-Saints even, when the Pope sang Vespers or Evensong: there were in number of them about some 30. I think, all that were then in Rome.  
Where I observed 3. things; first, their places, all sitting round about the Chapel; secondly, their habits, of Scarlet; thirdly, their reverence to the Pope, in the time that the Anthem was sung, every one in his rank, one after another, rising out of their seats, and going to his chair, which is by the Altar, where they adore him in this kind, by bending their bodies, kneeling, and kissing his garments.  
Amongst these Cardinals I principally observed two: one for his learning, and that was Bellarmine, a little lean old man; the other was Cardinal Tosco, & he, at the Conclave when this Pope was chosen, was so near being chosen, that many yet think the election went on his side. For of 60. he had 45. voices. But when he was set in his Chair, and they coming to adore him, Baronius came in, & said, Will you choose him head of the Church, that cannot speak a sentence without that scurrilous byword of the Lombard's (Cazzo) what a shame will this be in our election? and upon this diverse of his voices fell from him, & he lost the Popedom.  
Now for that I gather from this place, which shall be very short, it is this; That the sumptuousness of the Pope, and the pride of his government, is one token of the falsity of their doctrine; seeing they which pretend to have rule over, and to give direction unto others, are tainted with this leprosy. For it is never seen that the body is sound, when the head is corrupt, & it is impossible for any to guide another, that stumbles in his own way, or to be a director to others, that stands in his own light.  
More particularly for these Prelates: it is quite contrary to the ordinance of God, and different from the example of Christ, and his Apostles, to challenge temporal jurisdiction or superiority, when their charge is only to instruct. And they who should be examples for others to imitate, in life and conversation, and in that kind to teach as well by example as precept, what instruction can we gather from them, but ambitious thoughts, and unsatisfied desires after the wealth and glory of this world?  
Again, their excess in this kind is unnecessary; for what can be pretended for these Popes and other Ecclesiastical persons, that they should so violently desire honour, and superfluity in wealth? Are they not, by their own rules, in a manner, separated from the world, and bard from any hope of succeeders in their own posterity? Therefore one should imagine these so immoderate desires, impertinent. And it could be no diminution either to the glory or progress of Religion; for the very function itself is honourable, and reverenced; and moderate attributions both of dignity and living aught to be ascribed them. But why all should be included within this centre, and wholly referred to the person of the Pope, I neither see for it Reason, nor Religion.  
But lastly, this extremity of their pride is advamtageous against them, and gives dangerous examples even amongst themselves. When the People be taught moderation and sobriety, and see excess and liberty in their teachers, none is so blind but must see their deceit. When they are instructed in acts of charity, and persuaded to impoverish themselves to enrich a Priest, who can shadow their cozenage? When they pronounce Indulgences, and we pay for them; what man can think the Pope hath so much interest in God, as to make him pardon us, for his profit? When they profess sanctity and strictness of life; who will believe him, when, after he hath gotten to be a Bishop or Cardinal, he is found to be as proud, seditious and covetous as the rest? When the Pope professeth poverty, and as they say in his procession, when he is elected, being carried publicly to show himself to the world, hurls brass amongst the people, and uses these words of Saint Peter, Gold and silver have I none, but that which I have, I give unto thee, what man perceives not their abusing of the Scripture, and mocking of the people? When the Pope, to show his humility upon the Maundy Thursday, washes the feet of the poor, and in the mean time is attended with Cardinals, and Ambassadors, some giving him water, some the towel, others holding his train, himself carried into, and out of the room, as if he were too good to tread on the earth; what man can be so stupid that discerns not his pride? Thus you may see what contrariety there is betwixt their profession and practice. And so I will leave this observation.  
And now to draw to a conclusion: after this description I do not think it unnecessary to say something of the safety and danger for an English man to travel thither. And I am the rather induced unto it, because I have heard from many that have been there, such strange tales, and such wonders of their escape, as if they meant to scare us with Rome, as children be here with Hobgoblins.  
It is true, that for some persons there can be no place in the world so dangerous for them to come in, as this; and they are such, as have been noted either to be extreme persecuters of them, violently addicted against them, or such as have opposed them by public disputation, or writing, in matter of Controversy; for these, it is certain, if they be found, they shall be either brought into the Inquisition, or forced to be reconciled to their Church. And yet I do not think it impossible for any of this sort to make a Voyage thither, and never be surprised; but then they must neither publish their purpose nor time; for the English there, have eyes and ears in all places, and such a man is no sooner gone, or purposes to go out of England, but they hear of it, and he can live in no place of Italy, but they have intelligence of him. Therefore the safest course for such a one, is to pass that, before he settle in any other place, and in the mean time neither to make himself, nor intention known to any body living, for then there may be a possibility of discovery. And besides it is necessary, that he have some other Language besides his own, that he may pass for that Countryman: and amongst some of them he should troop himself, and be careful also, that with them he never show any disaffection to the Religion; for than they may grow jealous, and discover him. Besides, I would not have him stay there too long, nor converse with any of his own Nation.  
There be some others also that may not come hither safely; and they are of this sort, who though themselves have in no action given them cause of offence, yet some of their name or Kindred, either were, or be professed enemies against them. Others also are endangered here, if they have any particular enemy, that is great in, or hath interest with any of the College (for no Englishman is put into the Inquisition, unless he give some public offence but by their means) then peradventure he may be brought into trouble, only upon revenge and malice.  
But for others, and specially men of Quality, their coming hither may be with as much freedom, as to any other part of Italy. I myself have, and have met with diverse that do find it so, and therefore, I believe it, whatsoever other men say to the contrary, to grace, or make wonderful their own Travels.  
Now after the person, those actions which may bring a man into danger, aught to be avoided. If a man, in his going thither, or being there, converse with Italians, and disclose, or dispute his Religion, he is sure, unless he fly, to be complained on, and brought within the Inquisition. For they hold it an act of merit, to discover an Heretic (as they term us) thinking that by this means we may be drawn from our Religion, and the honour of our conversion (as they call it) must be attributed to them.  
Next, when you are in the Church, or near any Relic, Cross, or Procession in the street; you must give no scandal, nor seem to to be singular from the actions of other men: but if you be desirous to avoid their superstition, you must forbear coming into their Churches, at Masse-time, or Vespers, and beware of their street-encounters.  
Thirdly, in the place where you lie, you must be careful to observe their Fasts, & not be curious in desiring, or seeming to desire such fare as those days will not admit.  
Besides, it ought to be one of our principal cares, lest in any place where we should reside, before our coming thither, we show ourselves too bitter and violent against our Nation there, especially in their persons; for that may exasperate, if it come to their knowledge.  
Fiftly, it is a mere folly in any man that hath lived publicly in any town of Italy, before he come thither, to hide and conceal himself there, for he cannot live undiscovered: and peradventure this jealousy of ours, and distrust of them, may produce some mischief against us, which otherwise they would never dream of. But some will be so quick, that they will come to Rome, and away before they have half slept. And certainly, such dispositions, I think, they had even as good lived in England, with their Nurses, and would have there got as much experience, I am sure, as much wit.  
Sixtly, I hold it very dangerous, for a man that is known to be there, to go about to cozen the College, and make them believe he is a Papist, when there is no such matter. For this dissimulation may cause them to force him to express that which he affirms, by some act, that may foil his Religion. And therefore, methinks, it is a strange Arrogance in those people, to go about to deceive them, that know their Religion, and Character, as well as themselves.  
Next, in your conversation, show (and so peradventure you may have cause) to express a thankfulness for those courtesies you receive: and though they give you cause to speak something in the defence of your Religion, show no violence, nor reply not too much, by which you shall argue your own temper, and give them less cause to urge you. For heat in disputation, especially where a man comes with disadvantage, shows folly in us, and stirs malice in them.  
Now the final caveat is, that by no means you go about to persuade any from thence, though formerly your friend, and near acquaintance. For you must believe, that they who dare let him converse with you, be sure that he will discover whatsoever you say, and there is not any one thing, will sooner breed a mischief against us, than the attempting to divert one from their society.  
The last point that a man is to enter into consideration upon, when he travails to Rome, is the time. First, those times of public hostility, as in the Reign of Queen Elizabeth, when the Pope thundered excommunications, and professed himself an open enemy to the State, as he did then, it is dangerous. Next, if the Governor of the English there, were of so violent and malicious a disposition as Parsons was, there were little safety. Thirdly, in the time of the holy week, because then there is an exact view, and every householder is to render an account of those strangers he entertains, that they have confessed, communicated, and the like. Fourthly, if a man should enter into any quarrel, and be apprehended by the Temporal Magistrate, the Inquisition also takes hold of him, and he cannot be delivered till he be reconciled to the Church. And lastly, if a man should fall sick, during the time of his being there, within three days the Physician is to take his oath, that his patient hath confessed, & communicated, otherwise he must leave him, and the party be delivered over to the Inquisition before he depart. And thus have I briefly, and sincerely discovered my knowledge of this place.  
FINIS.   

A DISCOURSE AGAINST FLATTERY.   

A DISCOURSE AGAINST Flattery.  
FLATTERY may be described to be a kind of seducing, or deceiving by a counterfeit, or feigned commendation, whereby men are drawn to have an overgood opinion, and liking of themselves; through this false glass, making an undue and too great estimate of their own parts, and actions; which, though peradventure increased by the subtlety of Flatterers, yet is nourished, and enlarged by their own self-love.  
Flatterers do not only dazzle, and deform our Intellectual parts, but are mere moths in our estates, and live upon our spoil, by conforming their words; and acts, to our wills and inclinations; whereby insinuating themselves into our favour, they draw from us our understanding, and so reduce us to be either the scorn of other men, or Tributaries to them; one of which, Malice, or Gain, must needs be their aim; the first the more dangerous; but the second more common.  
And therefore chrysostom desines Flatterers to be those, Qui colunt aliquem, ut auferant ab eo aliquid boni temporarij. For when they commend any, for that he deserves not at all, or more than he deserves to be praised, for any private end, or gain to themselves, I can call this excessive pleasing others in words and deeds, nothing else but Flattery. By that insinuation, they wind themselves into the familiarity of those, whose fortunes and dispositions appear to be such, that with probability they may hope to work and prey upon, by this sweet infusion of Flattery; all men being naturally inclined to think the best of themselves, & to hear of it too.  
Now the humorist, that must please, and tickle our fancies, is a smooth and sly enemy, a Wolf in sheep's clothing, and so much the more dangerous, and necessary to be observed, and avoided, fishing with a subtle, and unseen▪ bait, Mel venenatum, or venenum mellitum, sweet poison, or poison sweetened; as colouring treason, with the show of friendship; disguising dissimulation, with the pretence of liberty, and freedom in speech, and the like. And this seldom but in presence, and commonly to such, out of whom they hope to suck some commodity. Wherefore I may say, Quod divitum sunt asseclae, a man of means seldom wants such followers, such shameless and fawning creatures, that force can hardly repel them. And I think this to be the reason why Diogenes gave the Epithet to Aristippus, of Canis Regius, the King's Dog, in respect of their course of life, more sit to be compared with the fawning nature of Dogs, then worthy to be honoured with the title of men.  
I take Flattery to be that which the Prophet allegorizeth in the Psalms, under the term of Oleum Peccatoris. Emendabit me iustus, & arguet me: Oleum autem peccatoris non impinguet caput meum, distinguishing between the reproof of a Friend, and commendation of a Flatterer, choosing rather the severest correction of a good man, then the smooth and pleasing praise of Flatterers, who tell us we are happy, in the midst of misfortune, and make us think ourselves to be well, when we are most desperately infected. Those therefore that be made proud, and insult, and swell, by the praises of these Dissemblers, and Sycophants, of such a one it may be well said, Crevit caput, Impinguatum est oleo peccatoris; a fat and swimming head indeed, when it flows, and is full of this kind of oil.  
Flattery, and Dissimulation be of near kindred; for all the Art of a Flatterer, is to seem that he is not: mark but the difference betwixt his outward appearance, and inward desires; his words, & his thoughts; his speech, & his meaning. Before your friends, or yourself, they give a Plaudite to all your actions, with a show of much love, & respect: but in private with your enemies, or such as they may hope to make so, by doing you injuries, they deprave & detract you with a great deal of liberty, and scorn: in the mean time, peradventure taking occasion under the colour of abusing you, and lessening your merit, to fall comparatively into their praises, and so at one time, and with one tale, play both the parts of a Censurer, and Flatterer. Such men as these, it were not hard to show you every day, whose continual trade is to abuse the company they were last in, and to praise those they are now withal: such as appear with the face of friendship, but have their hearts fraught with more malice & venom than the stings of Scorpions: such as would make the world believe (and so every man, whom by their close and cunning Flattery they surprise, doth) that they be the only men that give good and honest advice, and discreet cautions, charitable in peacemaking, and all other good offices of that kind: whereas indeed they be the closest breeders of mischief, malice, and detraction that do unworthily live.  
These men's minds be truly Hermaphroditized; these be Pliny's Androgyni in mind, though not in nature, whose sex resemble both Male and Female: for you shall have them vary and change as often as thought. And as the parties with whom they have to do, or as their fortunes alter, so do they. Sometimes also they be so gross in their Flattery, that they become ridiculous. As for instance; the Flattery of Carisophus to Dionysius, who seeing Dionysius in company laughing and merry, he smiled for company, though he knew not the cause. Dionysius seeing him smile, asked him why he did so? Because (said he) I think that which moves you to laugh, is worth laughing at. And this kind of imitation is commonly the note of a Flatterer; but sometimes also the badge of a Foole. And so Clysophus the Parasite in Philip of Macedons Court, when his master halted because he had the Gout, he counterfeited lameness too; and whatsoever his Master was forced to by necessity, he would always affectately imitate, according to Ovid's description of a Flatterer, what you deny he forswears; what you affirm he justifies; if you weep he is sad; if you laugh he is merry.  
So that a Flatterer is a Monster ugly to behold, if visible; dangerous to trust, if discovered; hath the heads of Hydra for any mischievous invention, the hands of Briareus for any base or dishonest action, the eyes of Argus for any lewd or false intelligence; legs swift as Thalus for any treacherous or wicked design. This is he we dare (and it is a wonder we dare) admit into our privacies, appearing with a tongue as sweet as honey, though his heart be as bitter as gall; whence groweth that old description allotted to them, Melin over, verba lactis, fell in cord, fraus in factis. Yet for the most part, these kind of men overweigh, and sway down the most faithful and honest friends and Counsels. Aristippus' flattery with Dionysius, out-ballanced the honest freedom and endeavours of Dion the Syracusan. Cleo wrought more into the favour of Alexander by his Flattery, than Calisthenes could prevail by his free and honest Counsel.  
Of this tribe and generation were Ahabs false prophets; they assured and promised him to be free from all dangers, certain of prosperity and good fortune; but it fell out otherwise, and his Fortunes (which they only served) were decayed and lost. Even so the Flatterers of this age play the false prophets, and always prognosticate of fair weather and good fortunes to attend us, in the mean time, passing over with silence those plain, obvious, and present errors, that be manifest Symptoms of our certain overthrow, if not suddenly altered and amended. So you may see what a weakness it is for any man to trust these uncertain winds, to build upon these sands.  
Adulatoris verba, saith Trismegistus, sunt iniquitas & dolus. The words of a Flatterer be iniquity and deceit, overgrown with canker and rust, encroaching upon us: at the first, intruders of small appearance, and by that means taking the surer hold. These be they that with their Sirenical charms throw us upon the unavoidable dangers of Scylla and Charybdis. These be those Infernal Spirits, that dissuade from all good purposed or intended, and from any thing that hath affinity either with honesty, or goodness. But on the contrary, provokers of all uncleanness, corruption, wickedness and obscaenitie, and as Theodoret notes, Incipiunt a Placebo, sed in fine sepeliunt in peccatis.  
Some there be of this damned crew, who, so they may please you with praises, care neither why nor wherefore they do it: against which kind of men, salomon's caution Pro. 27. v. 6. to us, is worthy the observing. The wounds of a Lover are faithful; but the kisses of an Enemy be to be shunned. And again, his malediction to them should serve as a bridle, Pro. 27. v. 14. He that praiseth his friend with a loud voice, rising early in the morning, it shall be counted unto him as a curse. And for the most part these traders practise this Art, either in hope of favour or gain; and that is the reason why they press into the company of such as be men of dignity and place. For as no vermin will breed, where they find no heat; no Vulture haunt where they find no prey; no Flies swarm where there is no flesh: so no Flatterer lurks where he finds no gain.  
A man may oftentimes find out a Flatterer by this, that their praises, if you well observe them, do oftentimes fall upon contrarieties. So, it is plain, that they speak ficte, non vere, feignedly, not from the heart; and that manifesteth their dissimulation and deceit; and their praising of such actions as we know and acknowledge to be naught, argues their aim to be directly for private ends, neither for the benefit of him they praise, nor good example of others. Wherefore I could wish, that all men were of Achilles his mind, who, as Homer reports, Hated not the gates of Hell so much, as he did those that spoke otherwise then they thought. And we had need be very well fortified and constant in this resolution: for they be of so servile a condition, that though you reject them, they will still observe; though you banish them your company, yet they will attempt entertainment again.  
But they wait only upon our good fortunes, and the least wind of adversity disperseth them; when our means fall, they fail; which plainly showeth them to be of a most base condition. Of this rank were 2. King's ch. 9 v. 35. jezabels' Eunuches, who in her prosperity served and followed her with all diligence and observance: but when fortune turned the wheel, King jehu had no sooner said the word, Cast her down, but they did cast her down. They are most diligent observers of the time, then to vent their Flattery, when men be most likely to give ear unto them: therefore we ought at all times to be very watchful over them; for if once they cast anchor in our affections, they will hardly lose their hold.  
Dolus, saith Saint Augustine, duplicat cor, adulatio duplicat linguam. Deceit doubles the heart, Flattery the tongue: these two be mixed together; for when the tongue saith one thing, and the heart thinketh another; when the thoughts go South, and the tongue North, there is the disease. So that Flattery cannot subsist without dissimulation. And seeing they be so subtle and cunning to deceive and entrap us, we cannot be too careful in the choice of our company, our friends, and advisers to choose such as love goodness and truth, and such as so desire to please and commend their friends, that they may encourage their constancy and continuance in virtue, not to puff them up with overgreat thoughts of themselves. But seeing such a one is hard to be found, and not easily discerned, this advice of Cicero's is worthy the observing, who says, Amici tibi sint multi, Consiliarius autem unus. Our friends may be many, but one Counsellor, and he such as hates this detestable vice. Diogenes calls it Lethale mulsum, poison in a cup of gold; though outwardly beautiful, yet full of hidden corruption, Masters of that Art which Tully calls Mercenarium praeconium.  
Flatterers by Simonides are compared to Cooks; for as they do sweeten with sauces such kind of meats as of themselves be bitter and sharp: so Flatterers, Verbis Coquinarijs (that I may use the Proverb) soothe us in those things for which we ought to be reproved, and with their cunning Cookery settle and infuse so good an opinion in us of ourselves, that in aftertime our judgements be so subverted, that we esteem our worst actions worthy praise, and our vices virtues.  
Quintus Curtius opinion was not without ground when he said, that More Kings and Kingdoms were overthrown by the means of Flattery, then by public Hostility. How plentiful Stories be to justify this Paradox, every man that will take the pains to read them, may know; for there was never yet treason closely attempted, but disguised with Flattery. A few examples I will give you. Caesar had not been so easily murdered in the Senate, if Flattery and fair words had not assured him of his safety. Alexander the Great, who was poisoned in the midst of his triumphs at Babylon, received it not at the hands of a stranger or enemy, but those he most trusted, his Cupbearer jola, and Kinsman Antipater. Who could be more cautelous than Cicero? and yet under colour of friendship, he was discovered and betrayed by his friend Popilius, in whose defence he had formerly pleaded, and saved from an ignominious death. But not to weary you with many more examples: Was not judas his Flattery the apparent and visible means of effecting his treason against Christ, when his embracements and kisses pointed him out to be apprehended? And lastly, the original fall of Mankind may be referred to the insinuating Flattery of the Devil in shape of a Serpent, that so he might become more lowly and humble to disguise his dissimulation, when he meant to work upon the weakness and credulity of the woman; for you shall always find this way of deceiving, shadowed with courtesy, treason under trust.  
But although the infection of this pestilence be dangerous to all men, yet in respect of the consequence, fare more perilous to men of great and eminent place. For as diseases be ever more violent, where they meet with full and abounding bodies, and the cure more uncertain: so (the application is at hand) when persons of quality be tainted with the poison of Flatterers, besides their own loss, that folly of theirs, to be gulled by these Impostors, advanceth the trade of Flattery, and increaseth their breed. For all those that serve and depend upon such, if they hope to obtain any thing by their favour, or do desire to continue in grace, they must work it by soothing them in all their ridiculous affections, and so slave themselves to Flattery; which, to any honest mind is a vice as odious, as truth is a virtue superlative; for it is the subversion of truth, a reproachful vice, as ill becoming a man, as impudency a woman, which shameful and lascivious behaviour, as you shall find some strange compositions of men delighted withal; so Flattery bewitcheth and benumbeth other men's senses, against all probability of reason; acting a worse part than that of a false witness; for he corrupts not, but deceives the judgement, producing an ill opinion or sentence against our will & knowledge: but Flattery corrupts the judgement, enchants the understanding, and makes a man uncapable to take the least impression of any good or honest advice. So that you see this domestical enemy of ours hath a sting, though hid, and many times hurts us most, where least doubted.  
The credit these Flatterers gain to themselves, is commonly under the title and pretence of friendship, and in stead of withdrawing us from ill, confirm us in it: like those of whom Ezechiel speaks, Cap. 13. ver. 18. that sow pillows under our armholes, so commending our vices, that we may sinne with more security, and delight, nourishing and increasing our errors, as oil adds flame to fire: wherefore it is very dangerous to give credit to such, who in the person of friends, prove so dangerous enemies, confirming and increasing all our corrupt affections, by consent, either in conformity, or application of themselves to the same actions, by approbation, in allowance, though not imitation of their precedent, or by extenuation, or rather justification: as terming anger, severity: fury, zeal: rashness, boldness: pusillanimity, humility: lavish expenses, liberality: covetousness, parsimony, or the like. And these be those deceivers, that in the frontispiece, or outside, proclaim the name of friend; but this is only in outward appearance, not inward affection: like those spirits of darkness, that can transform themselves into Angels of light.  
It is the common practice of Flatterers, to counterfeit, rather than not imitate, the passions & forms of those they apply themselves unto, their sullenness and mirth, as they have their different variations: so they sometimes with the Crocodile of Nile will nothing but weep and lament, and immediately change that tune, to the mirth and songs of Sirens: now with joy, sometimes with grief conforming themselves to that humour, which at that instant they do think to be most predominant in us, making themselves voluntary slaves to another's inclination; in the mean time not caring how untruely, so plausibly they may speak. So base is their mind, so mercenary their tongue. But when the tide turns, there is no danger in their power that they will not cast upon us, in laying us open to our enemies, disclosing those secrets they have formerly by their Flattery stolen from us, and the like: supposing by this dishonest means to stand upright, though his titular friend be declined; or else expecting no more advantage from him, hope upon the ashes of his ruin, to build a new fortune with him that caused his overthrow. For as Actaeon was murdered by his own dogs: so they, who advance and cherish Flatterers, are commonly by them overthrown and undone: all which, by this positive proverb of salomon's, Prou. 26. ver. 25. is confirmed. A false tongue hateth the afflicted, and a flattering mouth causeth ruin. And therefore it is good to follow his advice, Prou. 26. ver. 29. Though he speak favourably, believe him not, for there are seven abominations in his heart And as Saint Bernard speaks of it, Bla●da est, sed aspera; dulcis, sed amara.  
Where Flattery bears sway, honesty is thrust out of doors; where Flattery is advanced, there truth is banished & oppressed: and where Flattery obtains friendship, there truth finds hatred. Seeing then, in a manner, the differences be as great betwixt this and truth, as truth and lying, we had need to pray with David, Psal. 28. ver. 3. That we may not be drawn away with the wicked and workers of iniquity, that speak friendly to their neighbours, when malice is in their hearts. Yet now adays it hath gotten so much the upper hand of the world, and is grown so common, that he who scorns to Flatter, will generally be thought to be either envious, or proud: for it hath now, in a manner, quite left the name of a vice, and gotten the reputation of a virtue. It hath shaken off the old name of deceit, and is now covered with the title of wisdom: it hath quite lost his ancient attribute of cozenage, and hath gotten itself graced by the name of Policy. It is necessary therefore, to reduce it to the former colours, lest the outside deceive.  
Be therefore so fare from it, as to esteem better of a friend's reprehension, then of all the praises a Flatterer can give you, whose end is to confirm and fasten you in your errors, by his feigned commendations, dissembled love, and affection; subverting and subduing your mind from any tincture of goodness, which justifies that speech of Saint Augustine's, where he says, Quod plus persequitur lingua adulatoris, quam manus persecutoris. For if the hand of an enemy hurt not so much as the tongue of a Flatterer, much less the rebukes of a friend, which will be able to abide all tests: agreeing with Solomon, who saith, Pro. 28. ver. 23. He that rebuketh a man, shall find more favour at length, than he that flattereth with his tongue. Crossing that passage of the Comical Poet, Obsequium amicos, veritas odium parit. Flattery, procures friendship; but truth, hatred.  
But this you may be sure of, that though these disguized and deceitful praises of Flatterers, press more upon the confirmation of our ill, then of our good parts; yet our nature is so frail, that we are commonly better pleased with the coverers, than the discoverers of our ill affections; not so much considering with ourselves what we are indeed, as what we seem to be to others, carried away with a self-opinion, requiring, as it were, the Testimonial of our good parts, not from our own consciences, but the vain report of others; nay, though our consciences accuse us, that those things we be commended for, deserve nothing less; yet the Flatterer so surpriseth us, that we no sooner begin to condemn ourselves, but his dissembling praises, & glorious glosses, choke that good meditation. Liking therefore so well, to hear well of ourselves, we should endeavour to deserve it. Whence proceeded all those ridiculous and unnatural vices of Domitius Nero? whose beginning of Sovereignty, whilst he gave ear to good counsel, is compared to the times of the best Emperors; but when once the reynes of his affections were let lose, what absurd, what cruel, what unnatural acts did he stick at? and yet the viciousness of the time so observed and praised him, that they turned his belief into an imagination, that his grossest vices were reputed for principal virtues. Witness the thanksgiving of the Senate to the gods, for the murder of his Mother, and the vain Plaudites he expected for his ridiculous Rhymes, and foolish affectation, or rather emulation upon the public Stage of the part of a Minstrel, & Player; which simplicities of his were by Flattery so wound in him, that when he was, in a manner, certain of his destiny, yet some flashes of these vanities did still remain.  
Now the reason, why men against all reason be so strangely overtaken and blinded with the praises of Flatterers, is, though common, yet uncertain to guess; sure it must be either such a malignity and disease in our affections, as cannot abide to be removed, or else a strange and greedy appetite to hear ourselves commended for whatsoever we do: or otherwise, a superabounding opinion, and self-conceit of our own abilities and parts, that we can do nothing so ill, we shall not think commendable, and worthy of praise: and so from all, or some of these, it comes to pass, that we despise friendly admonitions, and are so subject to the snares of Flattery, by which our vices, if never so notorious, be at the least disguized with the resemblance of some virtues that be near unto them. Wherefore if we stop not the beginnings of this dangerous and unseen mischief, the poison will grow past recovery, & wholly bereave us of the true knowledge of ourselves. For it is not the present Flattery that doth so much hurt, as the relics and remains of it in our minds; for though the Flatterer be gone, yet the infection still continues, as for instance, those who hear Music, though that be done, yet the harmony, sweetness, and sound, doth afterwards possess & make impression in their minds: so these kind of praises remain longer with us, than the instant of hearing them. And as a sweet and pleasing sound is not easily expelled our fancies; and though we chance sometimes to forget it, yet it oftentimes returneth into our imagination again: so fareth it with the pleasing discourses of Flatterers. Therefore we should be deaf to their voices, & avoid them at first.  
Yet this seems most strange to me, when I see men of apparent wisdom, and great parts, such as are able to discern and inquire of matters of the deepest consequence, to be notwithstanding surprised by the cunning of these dissemblers: but certainly any man that thinks well; and love's to hear well of himself, can hardly avoid this trap: for they that Flatter, will shadow it under the colour of friendship; as in affability, advice, free discourse, seeming reprehension, officiousness in our business, conformity of manners, and the like. All which, though in a true friend, they be the very tokens of friendship, and love; yet in a Flatterer they have only the representations of it, that thereby they may more cunningly and craftily deceive such as they have to do withal. The reason now why this kind of Flattery is so dim and undiscernible, is because that in every motion of the mind, it is so closely intermixed with friendship, that it can hardly be discovered from it, though if once unmasked, it hath no manner of affinity with it, nor comes nearer it, then as glass which is dull and brittle, resembles Crystal, which is solid and transparent: so this Flattery is only the Ape of Friendship. Therefore these kind of men be fare more dangerous to trust, than professed enemies, for from them men expect nothing but the fruits of malice & ill will, whilst the other sort, under pretence of love and friendship, do sooner & more dangerously work the effect. And the difference of the danger, I put, as betwixt those that assault us prepared, and such as take us unprovided, or strike when our backs be turned.  
But seeing from mean fortunes expectancies cannot be great, they are not much subject to this kind of battery; the siege is laid to such as be men of great means & place in the world, thence they hope for fortune, for credit, for preferment; and commonly men of this high rank do seldom descend to the true knowledge of themselves, that whatsoever they do, it is in such an assured & imperious fashion, that it must pass uncontrolled, & whatsoever they do but think, or wish to do, must be presently put in act, and whatsoever by them is performed, shall be sure to find whole volleys of praises; and that they do so certainly look for, and think they deserve, that it is dangerous for any, with such to express the true parts of friends. And so it comes to pass, that all about them are professors of this mystery: and to say truth, I see not how this fault, though used, can be very much pressed against such as be followers of these men. For this kind of Flattery is not so much affected, as forced: yet surely an honest mind would be loath to subject itself to so base a trade. And these great men that have so enured themselues to to be pleased with the applause of Flatterers in all their actithough never so bad, can hardly wean themselves from that habit, custom hath so wrought it into them; and notwithstanding sometimes upon better thoughts & considerations, they oppose themselves against it, yet that hath not long continuance, but for the most part it returns again with greater force. Vnde saepe exclusa, novissime recipitur. Wherefore the danger is the greater at the first, to give way to this humour which is so hardly repelled.  
Now if the danger of this be so great, and the avoiding of it so necessary for all sorts of men, than no doubt, but women, as the weaker vessels, had need to be very careful, and circumspect of giving entertainment, or harkening to any of this condition. For besides the general danger, which is common to them with all others, more particularly it doth often precipitate them into worse straits. For there is not an easier, or more ordinary way to corrupt & subdue their affections, then by this means, with entertaining & feeding them with the commendation of their person, beauty, behaviour, comeliness, discourse, or the like; being generally of their own natural inclination, so full of vanity, & desirous of praise.  
That which I have hitherto written of the danger of Flattery, is, when it is severally applied to particulars: there remains one other sort which I cannot omit, and that is the popular man, that insinuates and winds himself into the love of the multitude, by pleasing and praising them in all their desires, and by application of himself unto their humours. The end of which observance must needs be, to strengthen himself in their good opinions; by that means hoping, that in any design of his against the Prince or State, they would second his attempts. This is the common end of affected Popularity, and that thousands of examples can justify. If there be any other inducement, it must be referred to a vain glory. I will only instance two or three examples of the dangerous effects of this popular Flattery. The change of government amongst the Romans proceeded from the favour and grace that Caesar had obtained amongst the soldiers; and so the way was made plain and easy to him, for the subversion of that state, and making of himself absolute Monarch. And so in all, or most of the changes of the succeeding Emperaurs, popularity with the multitude was the way by which they entered. In our own Stories, H. Bullinbrooke, whom Richard the second did well enough foresee, was cunning in the Art of winning the hearts of the people, and so sought means by his banishment to prevent the danger; yet upon his return, he was so strengthened by that means, that without all colour of right, he acquired the Kingdom, and assured it to himself by the death of the former King. So now, this point I will conclude with one Story of the Bible, and will only relate the words of the text. The way which Absalon proposed to himself in the treason against his father, was to make himself popular by flattering of the people. Mark but the Story, 2. Sam. 15. 2. 3, 4, 5, 6. 2. And Absalon rose up early, and stood hard by the entering in of the gate, and every man that had any matters, came to the King for judgement: him did Absalon call unto him and say, Of what City art thou? And he answered, Thy servant is of the tribes of Israel. 3. Then Absalon said unto him, See, thy matters are good and righteous, but there is no man deputed of the King to hear thee. 4. Absalon said moreover, O that I were made judge in the Land, that every man which hath any matter or controversy might come to me, that I might do him justice. 5. And when any man came near unto him, and did him obeisance, he put forth his hand, and took him and kissed him. 6. And in this manner did Absalon to all Israel that came to the King for judgement. So Absalon stole the hearts of the men of Israel. The steps of this popular Flattery (I think) cannot be more punctually described then in this narrative. You find his diligence, He rose up early; his purposed showing himself to the multitude, He stood hard by, etc. his affability, And every man that had; his finding fault with the present government, Thy matters are good and righteous, but: a promising of redress, if power were transferred to himself, Oh that I were. A show of extraordinary respect and love to the people, And when any man came near. And this course he took, not with any particular; but applied himself to all the people. And in this manner did Absalon to all Israel. And so it came to pass, saith the text, that, he stole the hearts of the men of Israel. Thus having discoursed of the deformity of this vice, & dangerous consequence of it both applied to particulars, and to multitudes, I will descend from this point, and give you some rules and directions how to avoid so great a danger, so dangerous an enemy.  
Knowing the ill effects which proceed from so dangerous a cause, a man would think reason, sufficient to avoid the occasions of being surprised with the false and deceitful baits of Flatterers; but experience daily shows so great a weakness in our natures, that we are apt to fall in love with our praises, though fare from our merit, and given but for private respects. Seeing therefore, in this case we cannot be too surely fortified, it will be necessary to add some cautions, to strengthen our resolutions in the avoiding of so great a mischief. And the first must be, not only a professed, but an inward averseness, from giving encouragement to any to think they may any way possibly ever hope to catch us in this snare. For if we be found to have an open ear, the disease is so catching that it will be hardly avoided. There are few resolutions so constant, that can avoid the mischief, if they admit the discourse of Flatterers. The first temptations therefore must be suppressed; which if we do not in time, will so increase, that when we would we cannot. For if we be content to have men think well of, and praise us for those things which in our own consciences we do not deserve, we shall in time be so besotted, as to think ourselves worthy of those praises, so unjustly laid upon us by these impostors, who as Solomon saith, Pro. ch. 20. v. 19 Go about as slanderers, and discover secrets; therefore meddle not with them that flatter with their lips. And this may be a second reason to avoid the insinuation of Flatterers, in respect of these two abhorred crimes, of standering, and disclosing of secrets.  
Again, as their cunning, so our care in avoiding them, should increase; for they be come to that height and excellency in their profession, that they will colour their Flattery with the show of Friendship, usurping the offices, behaviour, nay even carrying the name & counterfeit of amity so artificially, in taking upon them the highest part of friendship, which is free reprehension, that the shadow is hard to be distinguished from the substance. Their love will seem so fare to exceed, where in truth nothing is more contrary unto it, not injury, not professed enmity, not detraction.  
Seeing therefore the only comfort of society, (which is in the assurance of true friends) is so corrupted by the intrusion of Flatterers, who would usurp a place in estimation so high, deserving one so low, concealing so dangerous a poison under so wholesome an appearance, we need discerning spirits to exclude such from our conversation, & not to measure our virtues by most voices, but by most desert. So presuming every man to know his own merit in those things for which he is commended, we must not esteem our happiness to consist in having praises, but in deserving them.  
But in these cases of persuasion, examples many times moving more than precepts, it will not be amiss to view the care that men in former times have had to repress the increase & rising of Flatterers. Augustus Caesar, & Alexander Severꝰ are reported to have been so strict against Flatterers, that if any did but extraordinarily bow himself, or show but the least sign of Flattery towards them, they were presently banished & expelled their Courts. The Emperor Sigismond perceiving one to flatter him grossly, in stead of reward, gave him a blow. Why strike you me, said he? Why bite you me? saith the Emperor. There is a Story of a Nobleman of Muscovia, who being imprisoned, & desirous of enlargement, feigned to dream, the K. of Pole was taken prisoner, & brought captive to the D. of Moscovia. This dream was told the Duke, who perceiving it to proceed from an intention to flatter, commanded he should be kept more close, till he saw the event of his dream. Suetonius reports, that Caligula recalling one that was banished in the time of Tiberius, & regrating his liberty, ask him how he spent all the time of his banishment; he answered, he did nothing but pray that Tiberius might dye, & Caligula succeed: for which kind of devotion the Emperor commanded he should be put to death. And after this sort was the youngman punished by David, who hoping to please him, brought news of Saul and his children's death.  
So that the nearest way to avoid so bad companions, is so to behave ourselves, that it may appear to the world how little we desire, how much we scorn, what small confidence we put in the praises of Flatterers. This course Canutus, once a King of this Island did take; who as Polidore Virgil recites, walking upon the shore near Southampton, the soldiers that were about him, did palpably, in magnifying, flatter him, calling him King of Kings, & Commander both of Sea & Land; whereat the King being amazed, he resolved demonstratively to show how gross their Flattery was, and how little he was moved with it; for which purpose commanding himself to be stripped, sat down close by the water, seeming to speak to the waves in this manner: I command you that you touch not so much as my feet; they keeping their ordinary course, beat upon the shore, and notwithstanding his charge, upon him too: so presently retiring, he returned to his soldiers, & said; You called me King of Kings, and Lord of Sea & Land, yet you see I could not command these waves from touching me: therefore learn, that these titles belong not to mortality; but only to him by whom all things are governed And this was his counterpoison to their Flattery, agreeing with the translation of a verse of Homer's,  Nullum ego sum numen, quid me immortalibus aequas? 
Alexander, who sometimes was ambitious to be thought the son & heir of jupiter, and wanted not those Flatterers that would indeed have made him believe to have been so. A hurt brought him back to the knowledge of himself, and fall into this speech, Omnes iurant me esse jovis Filium, sed hoc vulnus me hominem esse clamat. Alsweare that I am the son of jupiter, yet this wound proclaims me to be but a man. So experience daily shows, that where they can get audience & gain, they never care how absurd their praises be, laying most commendations upon those vices that deserve greatest reprehension. If we run into riot, they commend our temperance; when we express our folly, they praise our wit: which if we did but well observe, how our worst faults by them are applauded for principal virtues, our own consciences would tell us, they be but Impostors and deceivers, discerning with Seneca, Vos dicitis me esse prudentem, ego autem scio quam multa inutilia concupiscam, nocitura optem. You say I am wise, and yet I find, that I have many unprofitable desires and hurtful wishes. Which if we be as willing to practise, as capable to know, if our affections abound not above our reason, discovering their Flattery for such things as we merit not, we should quickly abandon them our society.  
And hence it will fall into our consideration to observe the causes and reasons for which we be praised, whether they be for such virtues wherein we have a part or not, or whether they honour us for that we do not deserve, for their own profit: and this must be done by the true contemplation of ourselves; not suffering our judgements in our own persons, to depend too resolutely upon the opinion of others; but without partiality look yourself in your own glass, and if you meet with any other that be false, or flatter you, trust them not, but let your own conscience be your own praiser, and be not so simple as to be carried away with things that be not, neither be too peremptory in your own judgement; but take so much as your conscience assures you may be justly attributed, and no more; for as Seneca says, Si vera sunt coram magno teste laudatus es, si falsa sine teste derisus es.  
The way then to prepare & rectify our judgements in the knowledge of ourselves, is to love, to desire, to be pleased with the hearing of truth, though it search deep into our own wounds: and if we come once to endure so sharp a corrosive, it is certain we shall never be delighted with the praises of Flatterers. But it will be necessary to foresee (which I have enlarged before) that a Flatterer creep not in, in the habit of a friend, & sometimes take the liberty to find fault with our errors, by that means to give a better gloss to the insinuation of their Flattery: but these, if truly observed, will be found like false gold, which only hath the representation of true, and such as if throughly tried, cannot possibly abide the touch, notwithstanding the ring of the piece be of the purest metal: but if it be not throughout good, the deceit is greater, then if it were plainly counterfeit. Let us count then of friends, as of the salt commanded in the ancient sacrifices; and of Flatterers, as of the honey forbidden in them: for the salt of sound and faithful reprehension, is the true relish and best part of a friend, whereas sweet honeyed Flattery, though for the present pleasing our fancies, yet is of a most loathsome and dangerous consequence.  
But a main impediment that blinds & chokes our understanding, from receiving any advice and premonition that can be given against the subtleties, and insinuations of Flatterers, is the too great confidence, and too permanent assurance of the prosperity and continuance of this transitory and vanishing life. Thoughts so low, so short, be the grounds upon which these men do lay their foundation. How can any man Flatter us more extremely than we do ourselves, relying on, and delighting only in the pleasures & vanities of this passing world? This Lethargy both Stories & Scripture manifest, to the ruin of multitudes, who living in all manner of sensuality, yet discerned it not till all hope and remedy were passed, continuing the course of their life in pleasure and idleness, never considering, how that in the mean time, their arraignment was a making in heaven.  
We need therefore to get the victory over ourselves, and the Art of subduing our own affections; for otherwise this self-loving inclination will so stir, and move our appetites, & desires, to have our judgement concerning ourselves, seconded by the applause of others, that it will be impossible for us to resist their snares, being so desirous of praises, and so willing to receive them; which is the only advantage a Flatterer can get, when a man strives to acquire reputation for those virtues of which he never participated, & is most impatient to receive the least check for any vice, though knowing it to be inhabitant within him; a kind of fancy, which is most certainly neither guided by judgement, nor reason. And this is it which lays us so open, & makes us so subject to the practice of Flatterers; which if for any thing before said, we desire to avoid, that it should neither entrap nor endanger us: let us look diligently into ourselves, & make a true Character of our own dispositions, not partially, but really: and then we shall find so infinite a number of vanities, imperfections, & faults, mixed in our words, deeds, and thoughts, that we cannot choose but see the falsity and deceit of such as have praised and flattered us for those virtues, wherein we have had no manner of share. And so leaving this part, I come to some differences, and limitations, lest in the general inveighing against Flattery, it may sometimes be misapplyed.  
A man is not bound to be so censorious a Critic, as to take upon him the disciplining of every body for their errors & imperfections. The error is in defending or praising, not in concealing them. A man may be too busy, and where there is no obligation of duty, or respect, too narrow an Inquisition may be impertinent. If we smother the faults of those that trust and rely upon our advice, that cannot be exempted from the imputation of Flattery; but to such as we be mere strangers, & tied to in no manner of obligation, there as it is most base to praise their defects, so it is not necessary at all to find fault with them.  
Besides, in common civility & conversation, to men though known yet above, or equal with us, to whom we have no bond but acquaintance; as we do not commend, so we are not bound to take notice of what we know of their errors. Far be it from us to use any means to settle them: but on the other side to take upon us the assurance of removing them, upon the strength of our oratory, and persuasion, is many times too high a hope, and decreaseth friendship. Men love not to have their faults seen or known, and there is no ground of advice or direction, when those we converse withal, do seek to conceal their infirmities from us.  
Again, seeing praising is the Flatterers weapon; it may be demanded whether it be impossible to praise a man, without Flattering him, as having a consequence and dependency the one of the other? Without question no. For if we do truly and moderately commend those things in another which they justly deserve, that tends to their good, encouraging them in those virtues for which they be commended, to the end they may increase, and that others may be animated by their example, to the imitation of the like. This kind of praising, without any private end or respect to ourselves, can in no sense be termed Flattery, but Charity, which is the mark of true friendship, and not of feigned love.  
There is now one question to be resolved, whether Flattery can be reckoned in the number of sins, or no. For if it be one, how comes St Paul to say, 1. Cor 10. 32. Give no offence, etc. 33. Even as I please all men in all things. Seeing that to please all men in all things, cannot be without Flattery; for so our praising, and pleasing, may be referred to the Catalogue of our imperfections. To this, I resolve, that neither to praise, nor please, in themselues can be termed Flattery, but may be made so by their ends and circumstances. And so Paul in the end of the 33. ver. expounds himself, meaning that he would have us please all men, so as we seek not thereby our own glory, and profit, but the good of our neighbour. And so neither pleasing, nor praising can be called Flattery, more than the just reprehension of him that is faulty, can be called detraction. And now I am arrived at the last part of this discourse, wherein I will lay down some distinct rules, and notes, whereby a Flatterer may be discovered.  
In such a man you shall always see a strife & ambition, to steal into the affection of those they depend upon, with more than an ordinary pace, too assiduous care, and servile observation, by all means, endeavouring not only to get the start, but to keep others back in the good opinion of those they follow, by diligence on their parts, and laying imputations upon others, so engrossing their affections; that willingly they will suffer none else to be inward, or about them, but such as fight under their banner, and be of their own stamp. And then as a shadow continually follows a man wheresoever he goeth: so they will imitate and affect whatsoever it be that their patrons apply themselves unto; and there is no vice in them, which from these, will not have their colour, approbation, and allurement.  
And the principal part they act, is either to further ill actions, or so to conceal them, as a man shall not see his own imperfections. Arrogance, and Pride, they seek to incorporate in our affections: they will swear we be the men of only eminency and mark; That those to whom we show favour, & respect, are sufficiently honoured, and so praise us to a kind of dotage, that we think all those who do not equally observe, and commend our supposed abilities, neglect it out of ignorance, or envy; whereas the Flatterer yields to, & approves of all his actions, though such as in his own conscience and belief be manifestly worthy of reproof and scorn.  
Then if you mark the persons to whom their praises be applied, you shall seldom hear them give a good word of any man, but before his face, except it be to such by whom he thinks his praises may be related, and that is his cunning; otherwise slandering & backbiting is as common a trade of a Flatterer, as commending of one in his presence. For in detracting from others, they either hope to please those they now apply themselves unto, or else take occasion comparatively by casting aspersions upon them, to magnify the contrary virtues of those they be withal: but whether deservedly, or no, that with them is not material.  
Again, you shall find that those actions which they seem so much to approve, and commend in us, their own judgement and understanding will not allow of: for if a stranger, or a man, whom they purpose not to observe, shall by way of argument, fall into discourse of such & such vicious actions, as they have formerly allowed, in the person of their Patron, their reason will force them to disavow and dislike them, except they imagine, this discourse is upon design to convince them of Flattery.  
And but observe whether those praises they bestow upon you for any action, they only give to you, and no other; or to you, and all others; and you shall generally find, that their praises go not according to the merit of the action, but affection of the party: for those things they do now commend you for, they will immediately discommend in another, and those things they commend in another, they will as quickly dislike in you.  
Besides, you may note that howsoever our actions and affections do vary and alter, yet their praises be constant, and their opinions will seem to be the same, though in contrarieties, which is a kind of Paradox; for let us but now say or do one thing, we shall have their Plaudites for it: some distance after, if our opinions, and actions chance to change to the contrary, they altar not their praises, they be still the same they were before, they lie as the wind goes; if you change into forms never so contrary, they do so too. For there is no uniform equality in all their actions, and intentions, because they have no permanent place, or person, to apply them to. Their opinions can in no kind be settled, because they have wholly given over themselves to content and please others, and the course of their life is uncertain, being never like themselves, but changeable, and varying from one form to another.  
And if a man would but examine the beauty and deformity of his actions, by the rule of his own conscience, he shall find those things, for which many times he is so highly commended, to be naught, and of dangerous example; and such vices, as notwithstanding their commendations, his own conscience hath often accused him of, and many times he hath been ashamed of.  
Now those that be diligent observers, are to be discovered also by their inconstancy: for allow them now the followers of one that is great in fortune, and place, if they chance to decline; and peradventure by the plot and malice of an enemy, or competitor, their service falls off too, their expectancies being frustrated, and are of a condition so base, as to apply themselves to the overthrower of him they have have been so much bound unto; & peradventure themselves too have been instruments of his destruction. But with their new master, whatsoever he likes, or dislikes; approves, or disavows; loves, or hates, they are of the same mind that they seemed to be with the former, & in a manner do like the Orator, who amongst many other flattering speeches, to Augustus, said that they, who called him Caesar, knew not his greatness; and they that called him not Caesar, were ignorant of his humanity.  
Also in public assemblies, as Parliaments and the like, some of this sort do often crowd in, the grossness of whose observance cannot possibly be concealed; for you shall never hear them, but you may see a fare off, their aim is for private respects, not public good; either through Flattery or fear of some person there present, whom they wish may always speak before them, that they may be sure not to differ from his opinion, and whatsoever it be, good or bad, it is by them sure to be seconded. And if speaking before, any thing hath chanced to slip from them that they see is disliked, they then fall to shifts and excuses, to purge themselves, by interpreting their words; or if that will not serve, acknowledging their ignorance, and altered judgement upon better information, and so their note is quite changed; but these sorts of Flattery being plain and palpable, easy to be found out, and so avoided, are the less dangerous; for plainly to affirm, or deny as another doth the same, the grossness of that Flattery is easily discerned; whereas they that are more cunning in their trade, are hardly visible, if not un-vizarded, which is my now endeavour to do.  
You shall find some to flatter, when they seem to reprove, and flatter most, when they show to be most opposite against it. Of this sort of Flatterers was Agis Argiws, who seeing Alexander liberal in gifts and rewards to a certain ridiculous fellow, murmured that Alexander would show such bounty to so unworthy a fellow. Alexander hearing him mutter, asked him what he said. Indeed, saith he, I must confess that I cannot with patience endure to see, that all you that are descended from jupiter, should be so delighted and pleased with Flatterers. For as jupiter kept Vulcan for his mirth, and Bacchus took great delight in Sylenus: so such as these, be of account and estimation with you. Tacitus also recites an example, though somewhat more gross, that may be referred to this sort of Flatterers. When the Emperor Tiberius was in the Senate, one rose up and said, It was fit that every man should speak freely, and in matters belonging to the Commonwealth, no man ought to hold his peace: Tiberius and all the Senate were in expectation what so bold a preamble would produce, and then with the Proverb, Parturiunt montes, nascetur ridiculus mus, saith he, Caesar, there is a fault we all blame you for, though none dare take the hardness to tell you of it, you spend yourself too much in caring for us, wearing your body both day and night in labours for the Republic, not valuing your own safety and health, in regard of our happiness and prosperity. This kind of Flattery that goes in the habit of frankness and liberty of speech, is very obscure. And if this, which ought to be a remedy, prove the way and means more colourably to flatter, without good caution and observation, we shall hardly discover their aim.  
Some again not unlike these will, by another way of reprehension, lay the ground for their Flattery; as if by chance they spy in us any small and petty errors, they will declaim with vehemency and earnestness against them; so that their encouragement to, or connivency at our great and monstrous deficiencies, by this their seeming severity, may in a manner be eclipsed. Which kind of cunning, as Plutarch notes, may be compared to Hercules his club in a play, that seems weighty, though indeed light, and filled with wool or feathers. So this reprehending liberty, which a Flatterer useth, will upon examination be found weak, and of small force to give a blow. For instance, if your clothes be not of the new fashion, your beard not of the late edition, your hat not of the last block or the like; from hence, for these they will take occasion with a kind of severity to censure and correct you. But admit you should despise your parents, abuse your wife, neglect your children, scorn your kindred, consume your estate, or fall into numbers of notorious vices, these they will neither move nor stir, these they will neither take knowledge of, nor regard.  
Others sometimes you shall note, the better to disguise their Flattery, will, by reproving of men for contrary vices, confirm those they have. As if a covetous man once in his life show a little liberality, or if you will, inclining to prodigality, (for the Proverb saith, Whose feast is so great as a miser's?) they will upon this single occasion, seem out of their love to be much grieved at the vastness of his expense, and carelessness of his state. And if an envious slanderer, that never loved to speak well of any body, by chance be so convinced by anothey man's merit, that he speak a few words in his commendation, they will presently impute this for a fault, and an argument of facility, for commending of one rather out of easiness, than desert. And after this manner, those vicious affections which we have inhabitant in us, they do seek to confirm, and settle for ever removing, not by approving their vices, or alone reproving the contrary; but sometimes also by discommending the contrary virtues: as calling zeal, hypocrisy; liberality; prodigality; parsimony, covetousness; and so forward: using the same Art towards the maintaining of any vice that they think a man hath a mind to.  
If they happen to meet with one that suspects all praises that be forced or thrust upon him, such a one they will not commend as from themselves, but invent some good reports they heard of him abroad, and express how glad they were to hear so well; herein imitating the Rethoricians, who often in their Orations use the third person for the first. Or, on the contrary, accuse him of some ill they have heard laid to his charge, which he knowing to be untrue, and so denying, they will find matter to fall into a laudatory of his abilities, by showing how innocent he was of those vices that the world had taxed him withal. And if these ways serve not to make him think too well of himself, they will not in words commend, but in a silent kind of approving and good opinion of his parts, will express it by seeking his opinion, or relying and trusting to his judgement and discretion in some things that may concern themselves; which when delivered, they will seem to admire, and prefer before any opinion or Counsel they have received from any other body. But if a man could suspect this beforehand, give them but some absurd Counsel, and so you shall discover them. For they are prepared to commend it whatsoever it be. Seeing then by this before, that the colours of Friendship and Flattery be so like, and hardly discerned; I will in the last place show some main differences betwixt them both, and so conclude.  
A friend will never be employed in ill, or dishonest actions: but in such as may turn to the good and profit of him he love's, none is more willing than he: where, on the contrary, a Flatterer seeks to gain our good opinion, by being employed in actions of the worst sort, and most dangerous consequence, in respect of our good either fortune, or name; not caring for the event, so they may raise themselves by our ruin, loving our meat and means more than they do ourselves, continuing friends unto us, no longer than our purse persuades them thereunto. And whereas a true friend imitates our actions in nothing but that which is good; the Flatterer, like a Chameleon, that turns himself into all colours but white, can frame himself to any likeness but good; ordering all his actions, not to the good of his friend, but his own private respect, and turns all to his own particular benefit; whereas Friendship seeks not so much the good of itself.  
A Friend reproves his friends vices, and commends his virtues rather to another, than himself; whereas on the contrary, a Flatterer always praises him in sight, as well for his vices as virtues, and behind his back, is as liberal in blaming and defamation of him; saying, that he possesseth him wholly, governs him at his pleasure, and makes him do what he list. So, whereas a true friend preserves the good name and fortune of him he love's, the Flatterer precipitates him to all manner of danger and ruin.  
A Friend is always constant and settled in his opinions; the judgement of a Flatterer being diverse, like wax, or a lookingglass, receiving different forms, praising or dispraising, ever applying himself to the mind and inclination of him that he flattereth, vexing himself too violently in whatsoever he doth, in the knowledge and view of him that he observes; continual in praises and offering of service. Non imitatur amicitiam, sed praeterit, having no moderation in his outward actions, and contrarily no inward affection, which is a condition quite different from the nature of a friend.  
A friend will never commend and approve any actions of ours that be vicious, but friendly and freely dissuade us from them, whereas the Flatterer doth always give the victory, applauding whatsoever we do, aiming no further than to please; whereas a true friend doth not respect so much how he may please, as profit.  
A Friend endeavours always to procure in us a love of those things that be reasonable and honest: a Flatterer rather desires to confirm us in liberty and pleasure. And where all men have these two desires within them, the one given to virtue and goodness, the other to licentiousness and passion: the true friend always assists the better part, in giving counsel, and comfort; and the Flatterer applies himself to the other, which is void of reason, and full of passion; so feeding our affections by devising of some vicious and dishonest pleasure, that they quite divert us from the rule of reason; like some kind of meat, that neither breeds good blood, nor engenders spirits, nor adds vigour or strength, but only breeds fogs and rotten humours that be neither fast, nor sound: so, if a man look narrowly into a Flatterer, all the good he shall find to come from him, is only the increasing and settling of our worst and basest affections, whereunto we seem to have but the least inclination.  
So that, as it is plain, a true friend always respects the good of another, more (which is the ground of his love) than any particular purpose or design for his own advantage; on the contrary, the ends of a Flatterer be Antipodes to the desires of a Friend, who will no less be willing to participate of his calamity, than prosperity; whereas the other doth observe and follow him only in his prospering evil. By which you see, it cannot possibly stand together, for one man to be both a Friend, and a Flatterer, which is as much as if I should say, a Friend, and no Friend: or rather an enemy than a Friend.  
FINIS.   

A DISCOURSE OF LAW.   

A DISCOURSE OF LAW.  
THe nature of all sorts of Laws, whether they concern God, and Religion, and so have reference to divine Laws, or whether they concern society, and conversation, and so be merely Humane, is properly this, to be the strait and perfect rule, by application whereunto, right and wrong are discerned, and distingnished one from another: and the knowledge, and practice of them, bring a double benefit, either Public, which is the general good, & government of the State; or Private, which consists in the quiet, and peaceable life of every one in particular. So the true end of all Laws is to ordain, and settle an order, & government amongst us, the jurisdiction whereof we are rather bound to obey, than dispute; Laws being, as it were, the Princes we ought to serve, the Captains we are to follow, the very rules, by which all the actions of our life be squared and disposed. They are the people's bulwarks, and defences, to keep them in safety, and peace, that no unjust thing be done against them; that by the Law's men may be made good, and happy; and that the punishment of offenders should appear to proceed from a necessity forced, rather than a will voluntary, and that by the example of punishing some, others might be made the better; that by the fear, and terror of them, men's audacities might be repressed, and their innocence, & peace, secured from force and oppression.  
If men were not limited within certain rules, such confusion would follow in government, that the differences of Right & wrong, Just and unlawful, could never be distinguished; and that would cause such distraction in the people, & give so great an overthrow to conversation, and commerce amongst men, that all right would be perverted by power, and all honesty swayed by greatness: so that the equal administration of justice, is the true knot that binds us to unity and peace amongst ourselves, and disperseth all such violent and unlawful courses, as otherwise liberty would insinuate, preserving every man in his right, and preventing others, who if they thought their actions might pass with impunity, would not measure their courses, by the rule of Aequum and justum, but by the square of their own benefit, and affections: & so not being circumscribed within reasonable bounds, their reason becomes invisible; whereas when they find that justice hath a Predominant power, they are deterred from proceeding in those acts, that otherwise their own wills, and inclination would give them leave to effect.  
Plato affirms the necessity of Laws to be so great and absolute, that men otherwise could not be distinguished from unreasonable creatures: for no man naturally is of so great capacity, as completely to know all the necessities, and accidents, which be required for a common good: and then if a man could suppose in any so perfect a knowledge, yet is that man not to be found, that either absolutely could, or would do all that good which he knows: so that in an Utopia of such men as be not, yet the necessity of laws are absolute. But where men's affections and manners are depraved, and given over to unruly and unreasonable desires, there Laws be so necessary; that Heraclitus said, A City needed rather to defend their Laws, than Forts: for without Laws no people can subsist; without defences, it is possible that they may: agreeing with Demosthenes' observation, who supposed Laws to be as the soul of a Commonwealth; for as a body without a soul, remains not; so a People without due administration of Laws, do wholly decline: but take people, as they are commonly mixed of the good, and worse sort, nay rather, more of the bad, then better composition, yet it will evidently appear, that Laws are so absolutely necessary, to restrain from ill, to confirm in good, to make a happy concord, and union in our civil conversation, to make such a distinction betwixt lawful, and exorbitant desires, as unlawful affections may not be coloured with good appearances; that it can not be denied, that Laws be the only sinews of contracting people together, and not merely useful, but necessary.  
But in the exercise, and execution of Laws, such moderation is ever to be held, that it may appear rather to to be used, as a preventing Physic, by way of example to warn others, that they fall not into the like danger, than out of a desire to afflict, or make miserable any private person: and therefore the conclusion of Tacitus is very observable, Pauca admodum vi tractata, quo caeteris quies esset; In some few matters severity was used, by that means to cause quietness in the rest. So that it is necessary in every Commonwealth to cut off offenders, as well for present safety, as prevention of further mischief, which will be plain, if we will but observe the benefits that follow, and inconveniences that arise, if this exemplary justice be not executed.  
First, when any fact is unlawfully committed, there is no other satisfaction left to the world, or the party offended, than the punishment of the offender; which if it be not executed, Injustice were as well offered to the Public State; as to the private person of him who hath suffered the injury.  
Next, as it encourageth honest men in their just and lawful actions; so it abates the insolency of others, who be only bridled with the fear of punishment; for otherwise the worst men by wickedest courses, were most likely to make great fortunes, and to carry the greatest sway; which would so discourage men honestly disposed, that they would neither have will, nor power, nor confidence, to labour for the public.  
Thirdly, it banisheth all presumption from such as think, that their reputation & wealth, Riches, or Offices, can press down justice, or make it incline to their purposes: for if these respects should prevail, judgement were merely inverted, and would not look upon the cause, but the Bribe; the right, but the power; the truth, but the greatness of the greater Adversary.  
Again, it adds confidence to the poorer sort, when they see that equity, & not favour, procures the sentence, and so by this means are conserved from oppression. And if it were not for this, in what a miserable case were these lower degrees of men subject to be trod under feet by their imperious Adversary, & then to have no means left for redress.  
Fiftly; it is the greatest honour, and reputation, a Kingdom, or commonwealth can be ambitious of, & enjoy, to have justice justly distributed, and people obedient to Laws; justice guarding the people, by correcting & cutting off such as give ill example to the rest. And in what Commonwealth soever this is neglected, it breeds confusion amongst themselues, gives advantage to their enemies, & causeth their disreputation to spread through the world.  
Next to the honour of a Kingdom, it is the safety of the King, who being reputed to be as the fountain of justice, so justice keeps the fountain free from corruption, infection, or danger, prescribing rules for fear it corrupt, ascribing Antidotes for fear of infection, & preserving his person, & reputation both from sensible, & insensitive danger: whereas if Laws be neglected, his person is more subject to the attempts of Traitors, his life to the tongues of malice and detraction, & his reputation to perpetual infamy.  
And lastly, this is it, that enriches and secures the subject in all Kingdoms, gives him his right, protects him from wrong, increaseth commerce, and proclaims traffic throughout all the world: whereas if justice were not duly administered, there would follow a diminution of our substances, a general disconsolation in our life, & a certain separation from all trade with strangers. And mark but narrowly, and you shall seldom find that God ever blessed that Country, where justice was either neglected, or abused.  
Those therefore (if any such insensible creatures be) that dislike therestraint, & strive, & declaim against obedience to Laws (which may be truly termed the walls of government, & nations) they make themselves so contemptible, as no objection of theirs can be worthy the answering: for a general dissolution of Laws in a civil body, is the same with the convulsion of the sinews in a natural; decays, and dissolution, being the immediate, and unavoidable succeeders. And yet a man had better choose to live where no thing, then where all things be lawful: which is the reason why all men have thought it more dangerous, to live in an Anarchy, then under a Tyrant's government: for the violent desires of one, must necessarily be tied to particulars, in a multitude they are indefinite.  
The first degree of goodness is obedience to Laws, which be nothing else but virtue, and good order of life, reduced unto certain rules: and as reason hath the predominant power in our natural bodies, so the body Politic cannot subsist with out soul to inanimate, to govern, to guide it, & that is Law, proceeding from the reason, counsels, & judgement of wise men. For where Laws be wanting, there neither Religion, nor life, nor society can be maintained. There be three branches that men's Laws do spread themselves into, every one stricter than other. The Law of Nature, which we enjoy in common with all other living creatures. The Law of Nations, which is common to all men in general: & the Municipal Law of every Nation, which is peculiar and proper to this or that Country, and ours to us as Englishmen.  
That of Nature, which is the ground or foundation of the rest, produceth such actions amongst us, as are common to every living creature, and not only incident to men: as for example, the commixture of several sexes, which we call Marriage, generation, education, & the like; these actions belong to all living creatures, as well as to us. The Laws of Nations be those rules which reason hath prescribed to all men in general, & such as all Nations one with another do allow and observe for just. And lastly, the Peculiar Laws of every Country, which mix with the general Laws of all places, some particular ones of their own: & this is that which the Romans called amongst themselues, the Civil Law of their City, and is indeed in every Nation: the Municipal Laws of that Country, as it were Laws only created for those Climates, for those estates.  
Take away the power of Laws, and who is it that can say, This is my House, or my Land, or my money, or my goods, or call any thing that is his, his own. Therefore every man's state and fortune is more strengthened and confirmed by Laws, then by any will or power in those from whom we receive them; for whatsoever is left unto us by the Testament of another, it is impossible we should ever keep it as our own, if Law restrained not others claims, & confirmed them not unto us. In which respect, Laws be the strongest sinews of humane society, helps for such as may be overborne, and bridles to them that would oppress. So that we receive much more benefit from Laws in this kind, then from Nature; for whereas men be naturally affected and possessed with a violent heat of desires, and passions, and fancies, Laws restrain & draw them from those actions, and thoughts, that would precipitate to all manner of hazards and ill, which natural inclination is prone enough unto; and do govern, direct, altar, dispose, & as it were bend them to all manner of virtuous & good actions.  
Wherefore Laws be the true Physicians and preservers of our peaceable life, & civil conversation, preventing those i'll accidents that may happen, purging and taking away such as have broken forth, & sowing peace, plenty, wealth, strength, and all manner of prosperity amongst men. And for those things that be ill, but yet introduced by custom, severe and just Laws will readily correct; for the force and power of Law doth easily dissolve an ill custom, though it have been of long continuance: the excellency and praise of which Laws can never be better illustrated, then in that saying of Solomon: Mandatum lucerna est; lex, lux, & via vitae, increpatio disciplinae. The commandment is a lamp; and the law is light; and reproofs of instruction, are the way of life.  
The dispensers and interpreters of the Law, be the Magistrates and judges, and all sorts and degrees of men whatsoever, be tied & bound to the observance of the same. To this purpose, Solon being demanded, What City was best governed? answered, That, wherein the City obeyed the Magistrate, and the Magistrate the Laws: and certainly that government is better, which useth set and firm Laws, though not all of the best sort, then that where the Laws be most perfect and exact, and yet not observed. Law's therefore ought to be the rulers of men, and not men the masters of Laws.  
There is no doubt but that Laws were at the first invented, as well to give rules to the good, that they might know how to live peaceably & regularly one with another, as to repress the audacity of those unbridled spirits, who, in despite of discipline and reason, do thrust themselves into all kinds of outrage and disorder; from which bad cause notwithstanding, according to the old rule, a good effect is produced: Ex malis moribus, bonae leges oriuntur. But the particular introducements of Laws, arise either from a pressing necessity, or a foreseeing and provisional carefulness of those that make them; these proceed from providence, the other from some sense of evil. The impulsive causes in the making of provisional Laws, are either love of their Country, or desire of glory, or affectation of popularity, or sometimes particular interest, and private respect; for it often happens, that a private good may have connexion with the public. And the sense of ill, decaying either by the increase of it, or a seeming to be destitute of remedy, is the cause, that where Laws are once forced, out of the sense of mischief, & inconvenience, they be for the most part grievous and immoderate; as on the other side, such as reason & providence do produce, are many times more specious than useful. In the first, take away the spur and sense of ill, and it makes men in the constitution of Laws, to be careless and unwary; and in the other, if there be not continued a strong and constant affection, they commonly faint in the execution of them.  
But in the mean time there is no doubt, that there are certain fountains of natural justice and equity, out of which hath been taken & derived that infinite variety of Laws, which several people have apted to themselves: and as several veins and currents of water, have several qualities and tastes, in respect of the nature of that ground and soil, thorough which they flow and run: so these Laws and the virtue of them, which be fetched from an original fountain, receive a new kind of application, and tincture, in respect of the situation of the Country, the genius and nature of the people, the fashion and form of public actions, diverse accidents of the time, and sundry other occurrences, I will not stand to repeat. And in the making of Laws, wise men have always had these things in consideration. First, the Common-good, and benefit, for which they intent them, and that requires that they should be both just and profitable: now no law can be profitable, nor yet just; which is made for private & particular respects, & not for the public good.  
2. The persons to whom they be to be applied; that for the execution, & application of them, they be such as may be possible to be observed, & apt for the customs, places, & time, where, & when they be to be used.  
3. The present course of the State; what Laws there have been usually received, by what special ones it hath been conserved, and by what new ones it may be assured: for one kind of care is not fit for all places, and countries'.  
But Laws, when they are once made, ought very rarely to be changed: to which purpose the ancient position of wise men is not unworthy the observing, that nothing is to be changed in the Laws of a Commonwealth, which hath a long time by these Laws preserved itself in good state & government: & as Isiodor ' well noteth, after a Law is once made, we ought not to judge of it, but according to it. And yet in these two cases the alteration of Laws may turn to the better. 1. When by the changing of it the Law is made more perfect, more clear, more positive, more profitable. 2. When the condition of subjects & government is changed, there of necessity the Law must vary, according to the difference & diversity of the times and persons: for change & variation of Laws, are either by occasion of entertaining foreign customs, or some internal deficiences, or excesses, according to the alteration of time. One of these is so far from innovation, that it is altogether necessary: but that is not introducing of Laws by way of imitation of other people; it argues a desire of change, rather than any cause that is material. But on the other side, old and ancient customs, in respect of their very antiquity, do induce a kind of harshness, and breed satiety; for the wilful retaining of a custom against the present reason of the time, is altogether unequal.  
This is to be understood of temporary Laws, made and applied to new and several accidents. For the fundamental laws, upon which the fabric of a commonwealth and people be grounded and built, they in no case will admit innovation; neither are the other sort to be lightly altered, but where the present custom of the time find them impertinent, and the State thinks them unuseful. To illustrate, in the same times, sometimes we see Laws mutable, & fit to be so: such as are made in time of war, peace doth extinguish, and so on the contrary; agreeing with Livy speaking to this purpose: Quae in pace latae sunt, plerunque bellum abrogat; quae in bello, pax; ut in navis administratione, alia in secunda, alia in adversa, tempestate usui sunt. And although change of Laws be sometimes necessary, it ought notwithstanding to be done with a great deal of caution: but yet it must be confessed, that time, of all things is the greatest innovator, and therefore wilfully to prescribe the continuance of an old Law, in respect of antiquity, the face of the world and affairs being changed, is indeed an introducement of novelty; for the pressure of the use of it, urging and setting it only forth with the grace of antiquity, if notwithstanding it be opposite or incongruous to the present times & government, makes that old Law, if practised, to fall, and be converted into a new and unreasonable custom.  
Now for my judgement concerning the use of Laws, I think this, that as the use of much Physic and diverse Physicians, argue the abundance of humours, and diseases; so the multiplicity & number of Laws, be manifest signs of a diseased & distempered Commonwealth. And therefore to follow the similitude, as in diseases new experiments be dangerous, where those that be ancient and approved may serve; so new Laws be needless, when the maladies of the Republic may be cured by the old: for it is a thing both unequal and unjust to ensnare the people with multitude of Laws.  
Law and Reason are twins, the absence of one, is the deformity of the other; being in a kind convertibilia, and inseparable. That common reason we have engrafted inour natures, is a Law, directing what we are to do, forbidding the contrary, according to Cicero: Eadem ratio cum est in hominis ment confirmata, & confecta, lex est. For Law is nothing but reason dilated and applied upon several occasions and accidents, the comprehension of reason and Law, as of public enormities, and necessities, for which they be severally, at several times made, being infinite. The disease commonly in our knowledge, having the priority of the remedy. And thus the reverence, and duty we own to Laws, is nothing else but obedience to reason, which is the begetter, correcter, and preserver, of the very Laws themselves: those therefore who will not obey them, do come more near the nature of Brutes and savages, than men endued with reason: but I go on.  
If a reason be demanded why all Countries do differ, and vary so much in their customs, and Laws, I answer, that it proceeds from the custom of the first inhabitants. As we may see where there are several plantations by one people, they severally give different orders, & customs, according to the intent and purpose of the first Planters, and according to the necessity, and end of the present Plantation, as may be observed in the different Constitutions, & Laws, in our two late Plantations, of Virginia, & the Bermudas. And though, I confess, that these original customs, may in time be altered, upon several occasions, diverse changes of government, as in the Roman State, or upon conquest, as with us; yet I doubt not, but that some relics of the old customs would remain to perpetuity, if a people be not wholly extirpate. I should now punctually search the several Authors, and Inventors of Laws, amongst different Nations, together with their diverse oppositions, and emulations, one with another, but that would be too long, and uncertain: I will therefore only in a word touch the original, and growth of Law amongst the Romans, as being more certainly known, and of larger extent.  
You must understand that at the first they had no other set Law, than the will, & commandments of their Princes. That government being changed, and so their constitutions extinct, the people were then governed by precedent, & custom, without any direct, & written Law; but that continued not many years. Then the law of the 12. Tables succeeded, which the Romans, in respect of their own defects, had borrowed from the Grecians: & these, as in Laws it commonly happens, being subject to dispute, were forced to be reconciled, and decided, by the authority, and arguments of the most great, grave, & learned men, which afterwards being collected, & gathered together, became a kind of volume, & body of Law, and so afterwards, before the Commonwealth was subverted, received by diverse men, in sundry ages, several additions: but after the government was Monarchical, the present Emperors did add to the old, or confirm or abolish them, according to their own will, and power. And all together is that which is commonly known by the name of the civil Law; & because it continues to be the most practical, & generally received Law of the world, and that though all Countries have Municipal Laws of their own, yet this Law in every place carries some sway, and authority, in some places more, and in some less, and that an aspersion is cast upon the ground, & foundation of our Laws, in being different & contrary to the original beginning of the civil Law, I will briefly parralel them together; wherein if any do not find so punctual an agreement as he expects, let him remember that the nature of a comparison, implies but a similitude, and affinity of one thing to another, and not a total and absolute agreement.  
The Law which the Romans used, and so we, is either written, or not written. Those that were written, saith justinian, were of these kinds. 1. Lex, and that is such a Law as was made by the people, but first propounded by the Senat. Such are those Laws with us, as are confirmed by the lower House of Parliament, & propounded by the higher. 2. Plebiscitum, and such were the Laws made by the whole people (the order of Patritians excepted) & offered to their consideration by the Tribune; like those Laws that be approved by the Commons in our Parliament, and propounded by the Speaker. 3. Senatus consultu, & those were such Laws as were ordained by the power and authority of the Senate, to which we may resemble the consultations & directions of the King's Council, and the Decrees of the Star-chamber. 4. Principum Placita, which were Constitutions appointed by the Sovereign power of the Prince; some of them being personal, & not exemplary; others more public; of which kind with us be all the King's Edicts, & Proclamations, of what kind soever. 5. Magistratuum Edicta, as the commandments of the Generals in the Field, Governors of Provinces, and the prime Magistrates in great Cities: like as with us is that power which is deputed to the Deputy of Ireland, the Precedents of York, & Wales, the Lieutenants of every Shire, and the jurisdiction of Magistrates, according to their particular customs, privileges, and immunities, in the great Cities, & Corporations of this Kingdom. And lastly, Responsa Prudentum, which were the judgements and opinions of such as were appointed to be judges, and expounders of the Law: and just of that kind be the resolutions of our judges, which in writing be delivered unto us, by the name of Reports, and Cases.  
Law's unwritten (amongst the Romans, were such as custom had introduced, & yet never suffered contradiction by a Positive Law. Such Traditions as they had received touching the ancient manner, and form of government of their Ancestors, in precedent times; and of this nature with us is our common Law, grounded much upon custom.  
And the reason why these ancient customs may be collected to be of so great force, is, because always before their approbation it is to be conceived, that they had passed all censures for necessary, and to be without offence: and so having received this facile approbation, are allowed, and most religiously kept; for Laws of the greatest weight, & consequence, which occasioned Cicero to write ante suam memoriam, & morem ipsum patrium, praestantes viros adhibuisse, & veterum morem, ac maiorum instituta, excellentes viros retinuisse. And believing Dionysius testimony, Romulus in the first foundation of the Republic, did think to strengthen, and confirm it more, with Laws unwritten, then written; peradventure being of the same opinion Demosthenes notes of Lycurgus, who would not write his Laws, but to have them more public, and better known, would leave them only engraven in the memory of his Citizens.  
But more precisely to distinguish betwixt Law and Custom, that the terms, as well as matter, may be understood, you must understand, that where any form, or Law, hath had any long continuance in practice, without any known Author, it than receives the name of an ancient custom, or mos Maiorum: which though in name, and Title it differ from a Law, yet in power, and authority, it is the same: which Ulpian confirmed when he said, Diuturnam consuetudinem, pro jure, ac Lege, in jis quae non ex scripto descendunt, obseruari solere. And there is great reason for it, because Laws are in esteem, and authority with us, for no other reason, but in respect they have had the reputation to be allowed, and made by the judgement of the people. Then full as meritoriously do those Laws deserve esteem, which all men have approved for necessary, without any prescript, or rule; and this is the reason which makes our common Law originally grounded upon ancient customs, of equal power and authority with our Statutes.  
FINIS.