EPISTLES, THE FIRST Volume: containing two decades.  
By joseph HALL.  
LONDON Printed by A. H. for S. MACHAM& E. EDGAR.  
1608.   

TO THE HIGH AND mighty Prince, HENRY, Prince of GREAT britain, son and heir Apparent to our sovereign Lord, james, King of Great britain, &c. all glory in either world.  
Most gracious PRINCE:  
IT is not from any conceit of such worth in my labours, that they durst look so high. A lower Patronage would haue served an higher work. It were well, if ought of mine could be worthy of popular eyes: Or if J could wring ought from myself, not unworthy of a judicious Reader. I know your Highnesse wants neither Presents, nor counsels: Presents from strangers, counsels from your Teachers; neither of them matchable by my weakness: Only duty herein excuses me from presumption. For, J thought it injustice to devote the fruit of my labour, to any other hand beside my Maisters: which also J knew to be as gracious, as mine is faithful. Yet( since even good affections can not warrant too much vileness in gifts to Princes) lest while my modesty disparages my work, J should hazard the acceptation; here shall your Grace find variety, not without profit. J hate a divine, that would but please; and, withall, think it impossible for a man to profit, that pleaseth not. And if, while my style fixeth itself vpon others, any spiritual profit shall reflect vpon your Highnesse, how happy am J! who shall ever think, I haue lived to purpose, if( by the best of my studies) J shall haue done any good office to your soul. Further( which these times account not the least praise) your Grace shall herein perceive a new fashion of discourse by Epistles; new to our language, usual to others: and( as novelty is never without some plea of use) more free, more familiar. Thus, we do but talk with our friends by our pen, and express ourselves no whit less easily; some-what more digestedlie.  
whatsoever it is, as it can not be good enough to deserve that countenance; so, the countenance of such Patronage shall make it worthy of respect from others. The God of Princes protect your person, perfect your graces, and give you as much favor in heaven, as you haue honor on earth.  
Your Highnesse humbly-deuoted seruant, IOS. HALL.   

THE CONTENTS and subject of every Epistle.  

decade. I.  
EP. I. To jacob WADSWORTH, Lately revolted, in spain. 

Expostulating for his departure, and persuading his return. 1    
EP. II. To my Lord& Patron, the Lord DENNY, Baron of Waltham. 

Of the Contempt of the world. 11    
EP. III. To my Lord HAY, H. and P. 

Of true Honour. 19    
EP. IV. To Mr. NEWTON, Tutor to the Prince. 

Of Gratulation, for the hopes of our Prince; with an advising apprecation. 27    
EP. V. To Sr. THO. chaloner. 

A report of some observations in my travell. 35    
EP. VI. To Sr. DAVID MVRRAY. 

Concerning the Miracles of our time. 53    
EP. VII. To Mr. WILLIAM BEDELL, at Venice. 

Lamenting the death of our late divines, and inciting to their imitation. 69    
EP. jix. To my Lord, the earl of ESSEX. 

advice for his travels. 79    
EP. IX. To Sr. ROBERT DRVRY, and his lady. 

Concerning my Remoouall from them. 91    
EP. X. Written to Mr. I. B. and Dedicated to my Father, Mr. I. HALL. 

Against the fear of death. 97     

decade. II.  
EP. I. To Sr. ROBERT DARCY. 

The estate of a true, but weak Christian. 105    
EP. II. To Sr. edmund BACON. 

Of the benefit of retiredness, and secrecy. 111    
EP. III. To Mr. John WHITIMG. 

An apologetical Discourse of the Marriage of ecclesiastical persons. 119    
EP. IV. To my sister, Mrs. B. BRINSLY. 

Of the Sorrow not to be repented of. 137    
EP. V. To Mr. HVGH CHOLMLEY. 

Concerning the Metaphrase of the psalms. 145    
EP. VI. To Mr. SAMVEL SOTHEBY. 

A Preface to his Relation of the Russian affairs. 151    
EP. VII. To STANISLAVS BVCHINSKI, late secretary to DEMETRIVS Emp. of RVSSIA. 

Of the comfort of Imprisonment. 161    
EP. jix. To my father in law, Mr. GEOR. WENYFFE. 

Exciting to Christian cheerfulness. 169    
EP. IX. To Mr. W. R. Dedicated to Mr. THOMAS BVRLZ. 

Consolations of immoderate grief for the death of friends. 175    
EP. X. To Mr. I. A. Merchant. 

Against sorrow for worldly losses. 185      

¶ The First Decade.  

EPIST. I. To Jacob Wadsworth, Lately revolted, in spain. EP. I. Expostulating for his departure, and persuading his return.  
HOw unhappily is my style changed! Alas, that to a friend, to a brother, I must writ as to an Apostate, to an adversary! Doth this seem harsh? You haue turned it, by being turned, yourself. Once the same walls held us in one loving society: the same diocese, in one honourable function: Now, not one Land, and( which I lament) not one Church: You are gone, we stand and wonder. For a sheep, to stray through simplicity, is both ordinary and lamentable: but, for a shepherd is more rare, more scandalous. I dare not presume overmuch, vpon an appeal to a blinded conscience. Those, that are newly come from a bright candle into a dark room, are so much more blind, as their light was greater; and the purest ivory turneth with fire into the deepest black. Tell us yet by your old ingenuity, and by those sparks of good which yet( I hope) lye covered under your cold ashes; tell us, What divided you? Your motives shall once be scanned before an higher bar. shane not to haue the weak eyes of the world see that, which once your vndeceiuable judge shall see, and censure. What saw you, what heard you a-new, that might offer violence to a resolved mind, and make it either to alter, or suspend? If your reasons be invincible; inform us, that we may follow you: but if( as they are) slight and feeble; return you to us: return, and think it no shane to haue erred, just shane to continue erring. What such goodly beauty saw you in that painted, but ill-favoured strumpet, that should thus bewitch you so to forget yourself, and contemn the chased love of the Spouse of your saviour? I saw hir, at the same time in hir gayest dress: Let my soul never prosper, if I could see any thing worthy to command affection. I saw,& scorned: you saw, and adored. Would God your adoration were as far from superstition, as my scorn from impiety. That God judge betwixt us, whether herein erred: yea, let men judge, that are not drunk with those Babylonish dregs. How long might an indifferent eye look vpon the comical and mimic actions in those your mysteries that should be sacred, your magical exorcisms, your clerical thanksgivings, your uncleanly unctions, your crossings, creepings, censings, sprinklings, your cozening miracles, garish processions, burning of no one-day, christening of bells, marting of pardons, tossing of beads, your superstitious hallowing of candles, wax, ashes, palms, chrism, garments, roses, swords, water, salt, the pontifical solemnities of your great master, and whatever your new mother hath, besides, plausible, before he should see ought, in all these, worthy of any other entertainment, than contempt! Who can but disdain, that these things should procure any wise Proselyte? Can not your own memory recount those truly religious spirits, which having sought Rome as resolved Papists, haue left the world as holy Martyrs; dying for the detestation of that which they came to adore? Whence this? They heard& magnified that, which they now saw, and abhorred. Their fire of zeal brought them to the flames of martyrdom. Their innocent hopes promised them Religion: they found nothing but a pretence; promised devotion, and behold idolatry: they saw, hated, suffered, and now reign; whiles you wilfully, and unbidden, will lose your soul, where others meant to lose,& haue found it. Your zeal dies, where theirs began to live: you like to live, where they would but die. They shall comfort us, for you: they shall once stand up against you: while they would rather die in the heat of that fire, than live in the darkness of their errors; you rather die in the Egyptian darkness of errors, than live in the pleasant light of truth: Yea, I fear, rather in another fire, than this light.  
Alas! what shall we looke-for of you? Too late repentance, or obstinate error? Both miserable. A Spira, or a Staphylus? Your friends, yourself, shall wish you rather vnborn, than either.  
O thou, which art the great shepherd, great in power, great in mercy, which leavest the ninety& nine to reduce one, fetch home( if thy will be) this thy forlorn charge: fetch him home, drive him home to thy fold, though by shane, though by death. Let him once recover thy Church, thou him, it is enough. Our common Mother I know not whether more pities your loss, or disdeignes thus to be robbed of a son: Not for the need of you; but hir own piety, hir own love. For, how many troops of better informed souls hath shee every day returning into hir lap; now breathing from their late antichristianism, and embracing hir knees vpon their own? She laments you, not for that she fears she shal miss you; but, for that she knows you shall want hir. See you hir tears, and do but pity yourself as much as she you. And, from your Mother, to descend to your Nurse; Is this the fruit of such education? Was not your youth spent in a society of such comely order, strict government, wise laws, religious care( it was ours: yet, let me praise it, to your shane) as may justly challenge( after all brags) either rheims, or DOWAY, or if your Iesuites haue any other Den more cleanly, and more worthy of ostentation? And could you come out fresh, and unseasoned, from the midst of those salt waves? Could all those heavenly showers fall beside you; while you, like a Gedeons fleece, want moisture? Shall none of those divine principles, which your youth seemed to drink in, check you in your new errors? Alas! how unlike are you to yourself, to your name? jacob wrestled with an angel, and prevailed: you grapple but with a Iesuite, and yield. jacob supplanted his brother: an Esau hath supplanted you. jacob changed his name for a better, by his valiant resistance: you, by your cowardly yielding, haue lost your own. jacob strove with God, for a blessing: I fear to say it, you against him for a curse; for, no common measure of hatred, nor ordinary opposition, can serve a reuolter: Either you must be desperately violent, or suspected. The mighty one of Israel( for he can do it) raise you fallen, return you wandered; and give you grace at last to shane the divell, to forsake your stepmother, to aclowledge your true Parent, to satisfy the world, to save your own soul. If otherwise; I will say of you, as ieremy of his Israelites( if not rather with more indignation) My soul shall weep in secret for your revolt, and mine eyes shall drop down tears, because one of the Lords flock is carried away captive.   

To my Lord and Patron, the Lord DENNY, Baron of Waltham. EP. II. Of the contempt of the world.  
MY Lord: my tongue, my pen, and my heart, are all your seruants; when you cannot hear me, through distance, you must see me in my Letters. You are now in the Senate of the kingdom, or in the concourse of the city, or perhaps( tho more rarely) in the royal face of the Court. All of them places fit for your place. From all these, let me call off your mind to hir home above; and, in the midst of business, show you rest: If I may not rather commend, than admonish, and before-hand confess my counsel superfluous, because your holy forwardness hath prevented it. You can afford these, but half of yourself: The better part is better bestowed; Your soul is still retired, and reserved. You haue learned to vouchsafe these worldly things, use, without affection; and know to distinguish wisely, betwixt a stoical dulness, and a Christian contempt: and haue long made the world, not your god, but your slave. And, in truth( that I may loose myself into a bold& free discourse) what other respect is it worthy of? I would adore it on my face, if I could see any majesty, that might command veneration. Perhaps, it loues me not so much, as to show me his best. I haue sought it enough: and haue seen what others haue doted on; and wondered at their madness. So may I look to see better things above, as I never could see ought here, but vanity and vileness.  
What is famed, but smoke? and metal, but dross?& pleasure, but a pill in sugar? Let some gallants condemn this, as the voice of a melancholic scholar: I speak that which they shall feel, and shall confess. Tho I never was so, I haue seen some as happy as the world could make them: and yet I never saw any more discontented. Their life hath been neither longer, nor sweeter, nor their heart lighter, nor their meales heartier, nor their nights quieter, nor their cares fewer, nor their complaints. Yea, wee haue known some, that haue lost their mirth when they haue found wealth; and at once haue ceased to be merry and poor. All these earthly delights, if they were sound, yet how short they are! and if they could be long, yet how unsound! If they were sound, they are but as a good day between two agues, or a sun-shine betwixt two tempests. And if they were long, their honey is exceeded by their gull. This ground bears none but maples, hollow and fruitless; or, like the banks of the dead sea, a faire apple, which under a read side contains nothing but dust. every flower in this garden either pricks, or smells ill. If it be sweet, it hath thorns:& if it haue no thorns, it annoies us with an ill sent. Go thē, ye wise idolatrous Parasites,& erect shrines, and offer sacrifices to your god, the world; and seek to please him with your base and servile deuotions: It shal be long enough ere such religion shall make you happy. You shall at last forsake those altars, empty and sorrowful. How easy is it for us Christians, thus to insult over the worldling, that thinks himself worthy of envy! How easy to turn off the world with a scornful repulse;& when it makes us the divels proffer, All these will I give thee, to return Peters answer, Thy silver and thy gold perish with thee! How easy to account none so miserable, as those that are rich with injury, and grow great by being conscious of secret evils! Wealth and honour, when it comes vpon the best terms, is but vain; but, when vpon il conditions, burdensome. When they are at the best, they are scarce friends; but, when at the worst, tormentors. Alas! how ill agrees a gay coat, and a festered heart? what avails an high title, with an hell in the soul? I admire the faith of Moses: but, presupposing his faith, I wonder not at his choice. He preferred the afflictions of Israel, to the pleasures of Egypt; and choose rather to eat the lamb, with sour herbs, than all their flesh pots: For, how much better is it to be miserable than guilty? and what comparison is there betwixt sorrow and sin? If it were possible, let me be rather in hell without sin, than on earth wickedly glorious. But, how much are wee bound to God, that allows us earthly favours, without this opposition! That GOD hath made you at once honourable and just, and your life pleasant and holy, and hath given you an high state with a good heart; are favours that look for thanks. These must bee acknowledged, not restend in: They are yet higher thoughts that must perfect your contentment.  
What God hath given you, is nothing to that he means to give: He hath been liberal; but he will be munificent. This is not so much as the taste of a full cup. Fasten your eyes vpon your future glory, and see how meanly you shal esteem these earthly graces. Here you command but a little pittance of mould( great indeed to us; little to the whole:) there, whole heaven shall be yours. here you command, but as a subject: there you shal reign as a King. here you are observed; but sometimes with your just distaste: There you shal reign with peace and ioy: here you are noble among men; there, glorious amongst Angels. here, you want not honour; but you want not crosses: there is nothing but felicity. here you haue some shortioies: there is nothing but eternity. You are a stranger here: there at home. here Satan tempts you, and men vex you: there Saints and Angels shall applaud you, and God shall fill you with himself. In a word, you are onely blessed here, for that you shall be.  
These are thoughts worthy of greatness: which, if we suffer either employments or pleasures to thrust out of our doors, wee do wilfully make ourselves comfortless. Let these stil season your mirth,& sweeten your sorrows,& ever interpose themselves betwixt you& the world. These only can make your life happy, and your death welcome.   

To my Lord HAY, H. and P. EP. III. Of true Honour.  
MY Lord: It is safe to complain of Nature, where Grace is; and to magnify Grace, where it is at once had and affencted. It is a fault of Nature, and not the least, that as shee hath dim eyes, so they are mis-placed. Shee looks still, either forward, or downward; forward to the object shee desires, or downward to the means: never turns her eyes, either backward, to see what shee was; or upward, to the cause of her good: Whence, it is just with God to withhold what he would give, or to curse that which he bestows; and to besot carnal mindes with outward things, in their value, in their desire, in their use: Whereas true wisdom hath clear eyes, and right set; and therefore sees an invisible hand in all sensible events, effecting all things, directing all things to their due end; sees on whom to depend, whom to thank. Earth is too low, and too base, to give bounds unto a spiritual sight. No man then can truly know what belongs to wealth, or honour, but the gracious; either how to compass them, or how to prise them, or how to use them. I care not how many thousand ways there are to seeming honour, besides this of virtue: they all( if more) still lead to shane: Or what plots are devised to improve it, if they were as deep as hell, yet their end is loss. As there is no counsel against God: so there is no honour without him. he inclines the hearts of Princes to favour; the hearts of inferiors to applause. Without him, the hand cannot move to success; nor the tongue to praise: And what is honour without these? In vain doth the World frown vpon the man, whom he means to honour; or smile, where he would disgrace. Let me then tell your L. who are favourites in the Court of heaven; even whiles they wander on Earth: Yea let the great King himself tell you, Those that honour me, I will honour. That men haue the grace to give honour to God, is an high favour: but because men give honour to God( as their duty) that therefore God should give honour to men, is to give because he hath given. It is a favour of God, that man is honoured of man like himself: but, that God alloweth of our endeavours as honour to himself, is a greater favour than that wherewith he requites it.  
This is the goodness of our God: The man that serves him, honours him: and whosoever honours him with his service, is crwoned with honor. I challenge all times, places, persons: who ever honoured God, and was neglected? Who wilfully dishonoured him, and prospered? turn over all Records, and see how success ever blessed the just, after many dangers, after many storms of resistance, and left their conclusion glorious; how all godless plots, in their loose, haue at once deceived, shamed, punished their author. I go no further: Your own breast knows, that your happy experience can herein justify God. The world hath noted you for a follower of virtue; and hath seen how fast Honour followed you: Whiles you sought favour with the God of heaven, he hath given you favour with his deputy on Earth.  
Gods former actions are patterns of his future: he teaches you what he will do, by what he hath done. unless your hand bee weary of offering service, he cannot either pull in his hand from rewarding, or hold it out empty. Honour him still, and God pawns his honour, on not failing you. You cannot distrust him, whom your proof hath found faithful. And whiles you settle your heart in this right course of true glory; laugh, in secret scorn, at the idle endeavours of those men, whose policies would out-reach God, and seize vpon honour without his leave. God laughs at them in heaven. It is a safe and holy laughter, that follows his. And pity the preposterous courses of them, which make Religion but a footstool to the seat of aduancement; which care for al things but heaven; which make the world their standing mark; and do not so much as rove at God. Many had sped well, if they had begun well, and proceeded orderly.  
A false method is the bane of many hopeful endeavours. God bids us seek first his kingdom; and earthly things shall find us, unsought. Foolish nature first seeks the world: and if she light on God by the way, it is more than she expects, desires, cares for; and therfore failes of both, because she seeks neither aright. Many had been great, if they had cared to be good; which now are crossed in what they would, because they willed not what they ought. If Salomon had made wealth his first suite, I doubt he had been both poor and foolish: now, he asked wisdom, and gained greatness: Because he choose well, he received what he asked not. O the bounty and fidelity of our God! because we would haue the best, he gives us all: Earth shall wait vpon us, because we attend vpon heaven.  
Go-on then, my Lord, go-on happily to love religion, to practise it: let God alone with the rest. Be you a pattern of virtue; he shall make you a Precedent of glory. never man lost ought, by giuing it to God: that liberal hand returns our gifts, with advantage. Let men, let God see that you honour him; and they shall hear him proclaim before you, Thus shall it be done to the man whom the King will honour.   

To Mr. NEWTON, Tutor to the Prince. EP. IV. Of Gratulation, for the hopes of our Prince; with an advising apprecation.  
SIr, God hath called you to a great and happy charge; You haue the custody of our common Treasure: Neither is there any service comparable to this of yours; whether wee regard God, or the world. Our labours, oft times, bestowed vpon many, scarce profit one: yours, bestowed vpon one, redounds to the profit of many millions: This is a summary way of obliging all the world to you. I encourage you not in your care: you haue more comfort in the success of it, than all words can give you. The very subject of your pains would give an heart to him that hath none. I rather congratulate, with you, our common happiness, and the hopes of posterity, in that royal and blessed issue. You haue best cause to be the best witness of the rare forwardness of our gracious Master: and I haue seen enough, to make me think I can never be enough thankful to God for him. That Princes are fruitful, is a great blessing; but, that their children are fruitful in grace, and not more eminent in place than virtue, is the greatest favor God can do to a State. The goodness of a private man is his own; of a Prince, the whole worlds. Their words are Maxims, their actions examples, their examples rules. When I compare them with their royal Father( as I do oft and cheerfully) I cannot say whether he be more happy in himself, or in them. I see both, in him, and them; I see and wonder, that God distributes to natural Princes gifts proportionable to their greatness. That wise moderator of the world knows what use is of their parts: he knows that the head must haue all the senses that pertain to the whole body: And how necessary it is, that inferiors should admire them no less for the excellency of their graces, than for the sway of their authority. Whereupon it is, that he gives heroical qualities to Princes: and, as he hath bestowed vpon them his own name; so also he gives them special stamps of his own glorious image. Amongst all other virtues, what a comfort is it to see those yeeres, and those spirits stoop so willingly to devotion? Religion is grown too severe a mistress for young and high courages to attend. Very rare is that nobility of blood, that doth not challenge liberty; and that liberty, that ends not in looseness. Lo, this example teacheth our gallants, how well even majesty can stand with homage; majesty to men, with homage to God.  
far be it from me, to do that which my next clause shall condemn: but, I think it safe to say, that seldom ever those yeeres haue promised, seldom haue performed so much. Only God keep two mischiefs ever from within the smoke of his Court; flattery and treachery: The iniquity of times may make us fear these; not his inclination.  
For, whether as English, or as men, it hath been ever familiar to us to fawn vpon Princes: Tho, what do I bestow two names vpon one 'vice, but attired in two sundry suits of evil? For, flattery is no other than gilded treason; nothing else but poison in gold: This evil is more tame; not less dangerous. It had been better for many great ones not to haue been, than to haue been in their conceits more than men. This, flattery hath done: and what can it not? That other, treachery, spilles the blood; this, the virtues of Princes. That takes them from others; this bereaves them of themselves. That, in spite of the actors, doth but change their crown; this steals it from them for ever. Who can but wonder, that reads of some not unwise Princes, so bewitched with the enchantments of their Parasites, that they haue thought themselves Gods immortal,& haue suffered themselves so styled, so adored? Neither Temples, nor Statues, nor Sacrifices haue seemed too much glory to the greatness of their self-love; Now none of all their actions could be either evil, or unbeseeming; Nothing could proceed from them worthy of censure, unworthy of admiration: Their very spots haue been beauty, their humors iustice, their errors witty, their Paradoxes divine, their excesses heroical. O the damnable servility of false minds! which persuade others of that which themselves laugh to see believed. O the dangerous credulity of self-love, which entertains all advantages if never so evil, never so impossible. How happy a service shall you do to this whole world of ours, if you shall still settle in that princely mind a true apprehension of himself; and shal teach him to take his own height aright; and even from his childhood to hate a parasite, as the worst traitor: To break those false glasses, that would present him a face not his own: To applaud plain truth, and bend his brows vpon excessive praises. Thus affencted, he may bid 'vice do her worst. Thus shall he strive with virtue, whether shall more honour each other. Thus sincere and solid glory shall every where follow, and crown him. Thus, when he hath but his due, he shall haue so much, that he shall scorn to borrow the false colours of adulation. go on happily in this worthy and noble employment. The work cannot but succeed, that is furthered with so many prayers.   

To Sr. Thomas chaloner. EP. V. A report of some observations in my travell.  
SIr, besides my hopes, not my desires, I traveled of late; for knowledge partly,& partly for health. There was nothing that made not my journey pleasant, save the labour of the way: which yet was so sweetly deceived, by the society of Sr. edmond Bacon( a Gentleman truly honourable, beyond all titles) that I found small cause to complain. The sea brookt not me, nor I it; an unquiet element, made only for wonder& use, not for pleasure. Alighted once from that wooden conveyance, and vneuen way, I bethought myself how fond our life is committed to an vnsteadie and reeling piece of wood, fickle winds, restless waters; while wee may set foot, on steadfast& constant earth. Lo, then every thing taught me, every thing delighted me; so ready are wee to be affencted with those foreign pleasures, which at home we should overlook. I saw much, as one might in such a span of earth, in so few moneths. The time favoured me: for, now newly had the key of peace opened those parts which war had before closed; closed( I say) to all English, save either fugitives or captives. All civil occurrences( as what faire Cities, what strange fashions, entertainment, dangers, delights we found) are fit for other ears,& Winter euenings. What I noted, as a divine, within the sphere of my profession, my paper shall not spare in some part to report; and that to yourself, which haue passed a longer way, with more happy fruit of observation. even little streams empty themselves into great riuers; and they again into the Sea. Neither do I desire to tell you what you know not: it shall be sufficient that I relate ought, which others shall think memorable.  
Along our way, how many Churches saw we demolished! Nothing left, but rude heaps, to tel the passenger, there had been both devotion and hostility. O the miserable footsteps of war, besides blood-shed, ruin and desolation! fury hath done that there, which covetousness would do with us; would do but shall not: The truth within, shal save the walls without. And, to speak truly( whatever the vulgar exclaim) idolatry pulled down those walls; not rage. If there had been no Hollander to raze them, they should haue fallen alone, rather than hid so much impiety under their guilty roof. These are spectacles not so much of cruelty as iustice; Cruelty of man, Iustice of God. But( which I wondered at) Churches fall, and Iesuites Colleges rise, every where: There is no City, where those are not either rearing, or built. Whence cometh this? Is it, for that devotion is not so necessary as policy? Those men( as wee say of the Fox) fare best, when they are most cursed. None so much spited of their own; none so hated of all; none so opposed by ours: and yet these ill weeds grow. whosoever lives long, shall see them feared of their own, which now hate them; shall see these seven lean kine devour all the fat beasts that feed on the meadows of tiber. I prophecy, as Pharaoh dreamed: The event shall justify my confidence.  
At Bruxilles, I saw some English-women profess themselves Vestalls; with a thousand rites, I know not whether more ridiculous, or magical. poor souls! they could not be fools enough at home. It would haue made you to pity, laugh, disdain( I know not which more) to see by what cunning sleights& faire pretences that weak sex was fetched into a wilful bondage; and( if those two can agree) willingly constrained to serve a master whom they must and cannot obey: whom they neither may forsake for their vow, nor can please for their frailty. What follows hence? Late sorrow, secret mischief, misery irremediable. Their forwardness for will-worship shall condemn our coldness for truth.  
I talked there( in more boldness, perhaps, than wisdom) with Costerus a famous Iesuite; an old man, more teasty than subtle, and more able to wrangle than satisfy. Our discourse was long and roving; and on his part full both of words and vehemency. He spake as at home; I as a stranger: yet so, as he saw me modestly peremptory. The particulars would swell my Letter too much: It is enough, that the Truth lost less than I gained. At Gaunt( a City that commands reverence for age,& wonder for the greatness) we fell vpon a Cappucine novice, which wept bitterly, because he was not allowed to bee miserable. His head had now felt the razor, his back the rod: all that laconical discipline pleased him well; which another, being condemned to, would justly account a torment. What hindered then? piety, to his mother, would not permit this which he thought piety to God: he could not be a willing beggar, unless his mother must beg unwillingly. He was the only heir of his father, the only stay of his mother: the comfort of hir widowhood depended on this hir orphan; who now naked must enter into the world of the Cappucines, as he came first into this; leaving his goods to the division of the fraternity: The least part whereof should haue been hers, whose he wished all: Hence those tears, that repulse. I pitied his ill-bestowed zeal; and rather wished, than durst teach him more wisdom. These men for devout, the Iesuites for learned and pragmatical, haue engrossed all opinion, from other Orders. O hypocrisy! No Cappucine may take or touch silver: for, these are( you know) the quintessence of Franciscan spirits. This metal is as very an Anathema to these, as the wedge of gold to Achan; at the offer whereof he starts back, as Moses from the serpent: Yet he carries a boy with him, that takes and carries it; and never complains of either metal or measure. I saw, and laughed at it; and, by this open trick of hypocrisy, suspected more, more close. How could I choose? while commonly the least appears of that which is; especially of that which is loathe some in appearance, much more in nature. At Namurs, on a pleasant& steep hil-top, we found one that was termed a married hermit; approving his wisdom above his fellowes, that could make choice of so cheerful and sociable a solitariness. Whence, after a delightful passage up the sweet river Mosa, we visited the populous& rich clergy of Leodium. That great city might well be dichotomized into Cloisters and Hospitals. If I might adventure, I could here play the Critik, after all the ruins of my neglected Philology. Old monuments, and after them our Lipsius, call this people Eburones: I doubt whether it should not rather be written Ebriones; yet without search of any other Records, save my own eyes: While yet I would those streets were more moist with wine, than with blood; wherein no day, no night is not dismal to some. No law, no Magistrate lays hold on the known murderer, if himself list: For three dayes after his fact, the gates are open, and iustice shut: private violence may pursue him, public iustice can not: whence, some of more hot temper carve themselves of reuenge; others take-vp with a small pecuniary satisfaction. O England, thought I, happy for iustice, happy for security! There you shall find in every corner a Maumet; at every door a beggar, in every dish a Priest. From thence we passed to the Spa, a Village famous for hir medicinal and mineral waters, compounded of iron& Coperice; the virtue whereof yet the simplo inhabitant ascribes to their beneficial Saint, whose heavy foot hath made an il-shaped impression, in a ston of his 
The name of the vpper Well of the Spa.  Sauenir; A water more wholesome than pleasant,& yet more famous than wholesome. The wide deserts( on which it borders) are haunted with three kindes of ill cattle; Free-booters, wolves, Witches: Although these two last are oft-times one. For, that savage Ardenna, is reputed to yield many of those monsters, whom the Greeks call {αβγδ}; they, Lougarous; we( if you will) Witch-wolues: Witches that haue put on the shape of those cruel beasts. We saw a boy there, whose halfe-face was devoured by one of them near the village: yet so, as that the ear was rather cut than bitten off. Not many dayes before our coming, at Limburgh, was executed one of those miscreants, who confessed on the wheel to haue devoured two and forty children in that form. It would ask a large volume, to scan this problem of Lycanthropy. The reasons, wherewith their relation furnished me on both parts, would make an Epistle tedious. This in short I resolved; A substantial change is above the reach of all infernal powers, proper to the same hand that created the substance of both: herein the divell plays the double Sophister; yea, the Sorcerer with Sorcerers. he both deludes the Witches conceit, and the beholders eyes.  
One thing I may not omit, without sinful oversight; A short, but memorable story, which the Grephier of that town( though of different Religion) reported to more ears than ours. When the last Inquisition tyrannized in those parts, and helped to spend the Faggots of Ardenna; one of the rest, a confident confessor, being lead far to his stake, sung psalms along the way, in an heavenly courage, and victorious Triumph: the cruel Officer envying his last mirth, and grieving to see him merrier than his tormentors, commanded him silence; He sings still, as desirous to improve his last breath to the best. The view of his approaching glory, bread his ioy; his ioy breaks forth into a cheerful confession: The enraged sheriff causes his tongue, drawn forth to the length, to be cut off near the roots. bloody wretch! It had been good music to haue heard his shrieks: but, to hear his music was torment. The poor Martyr dies in silence, rests in peace. Not many moneths after, our butcherly Officer hath a son born with his tongue hanging down vpon his chin, like a dear after long chase; which never could be gathered up within the bounds of his lips. O the divine hand, full of iustice, full of reuenge! Go now, Lipsius, and writ the new miracles of thy Goddesse; and confirm superstition by strange events. 
Histoire et Miracles, &c. queen le 8. iour du mois de september audict an. 1603. estant feast de la Natiuitè de nostre Dame, le nombre de Pelerins a estè euuiron 20000. Pag. 35.  judge you that haue seen, if ever the chapel of hall or Zichem haue yielded ought more notable. Wee met every where pilgrims to those his Ladies: two Ladies shall I call them, or one lady in two shrines? If two, why do they worship but one? If but one, why doth she that cure at Zichem, which at hall she could not? O what pity it is, that so high a wit should in the last act be subject to dotage! All the masculine brood of that brain wee cherished, and( if need were) admired: but these his silly virgins, the feeble issue of distempered age, who can abide? One of his darlings, at lovan, told me from his own mouth, 
Virgo halensis.  that the elder of these two daughters, was by him in ten daies got, conceived, born, christened. I believed, and wondered not. These acts of superstition haue an invisible father, and mid-wife: besides that it is not for an Elephant to go three yeeres with a Mouse. It was  told me in the shop of his Moretus, not without some indignation, that our King, when he had well viewed the book, and red some Passages, threw it to the ground with this Censure; Damnation to him that made it, and to him that believes it. Whether a true story, or one of their Legends, I inquire not: I am sure, that sentence did not so much discontent them, as it ioied me. Let me tell you yet, ere I take off my pen, two wonders more, which I saw in that wonder of Cities, Antwerp; One, a solemn mass in a shambles,& that on Gods day: while the house was full of meat, of butchers, of buyers, some kneeling, others bargaining, most talking, al busy. It was strange to see one house sacred to God, and the belly; and how those two services agreed: The Priest did eat flesh, the butchers sold flesh, in one roof, at one instant. The butcher killed, and sold it by pieces; the Priest did sacrifice,& orally devour it whole: whether was the more butcher? The like we might haue seen at Malines. 
Mechlinia. One Goodwin a Kentish-man.  The other, an English-man, so madly devout, that he had wilfully mur'd up himself as an Anachoret; the worst of all prisoners: There sate he pent-vp, for his further merit, half hunger-starved for the charity of the Citizens. It was worth seeing, how manly he could bite-in his secret want, and dissemble his ouer-late repentance. I cannot commend his mortification, if he wish to bee in heaven, yea, in purgatory, to bee delivered from thence: I durst not pity him; because his durance was willing, and( as he hoped) meritorious: But, such encouragement as he had from me, such thank shall he haue from God; who in stead of an Euge, which he looks for, shall angrily challenge him, with Who required this? I leave him now, in his own fetters; You, to your worthy and honourable employments.  
Pardon me this length. Loquacity is the natural fault of travelers: while I profit any, I may well bee forgiven.   

To Sr. david Murray. EP. VI. Concerning the Miracles of our time.  
indeed the World abounds with Miracles. These, while they fill the mouths of many, sway the faith of some, and make all men wonder. Our nature is greedy of news; which it will rather fain, than want. Certainly, ere long, miracles will bee no wonders, for their frequency. I had thought, our age had had too many gray hairs, and with time experience,& with experience craft, to haue descried a juggler; but, now I see, by the simplicity, it declines to his second childhood. The two Lipsian Ladies, the charms of Bluntstones boy, and Garnets straw, what a noise haue they made! I onely wonder how Faux and Catesby escaped the honor of Saints, and privilege of miracles. herein you ask my sentence; more seasonably, than you hoped. For, I meant to haue wrote a just volume of this subject, and furnished myself accordingly in that region of wonders; but that I feared to surcharge the nice stomach of our time, with too much. Neither would my length haue ought availed you; whose thoughts are so taken up with those high and serviceable cares, that they can give no leisure to an overlong discourse. May it please you therefore to receive, in short, what I haue deliberately resolved in myself, and think I can make good to others.  
I haue noted four ranks of commonly-named Miracles: from which, if you make a just subduction, how few of our wonders shall remain either to belief or admiration! The first merely reported, not seen to be done; the next seeming to bee done, but counterfeited; the third, truly done, but not true miracles; the last, truly miraculous, but by Satan. The first of these are bread of lies, and nourished by credulity. The mouth of famed is full of such blasts. For these, if I listed a while to rak in the Legends, and book of comformities, an ingenuous Papist could not but blushy, an indifferent Reader could not but lay his hand on his spleen, and wonder as much that any man could bee so impudent to broach such reports, or any so simplo to beleeue them; as the credulous multitude wonders that any should bee so powerful to effect them. But, I seek neither their shane, nor others laughter. I dare say, not the Talmud, not the Alcoran, hath more impossible tales, more ridiculous lies. Yea, to this head, Canus himself( a famous Papist) dare refer many of those ancient miracles reported, and( by all likelihood) believed of Bede, and Gregory. The next are bred of fraud, and cozenage, nourished by superstition. Who knows not, how the famous Kentish idol moved his eyes, 
The Rood of Grace ●t B●xley abbey.  and hands, by those secret gimmers, which now every Puppet-play can imitate? How Saint Wilfreds needle opened to the penitent, and closed itself to the guilty? How our lady sheds the tears of a bleeding vine? and doth many of hir daily feats, as Bel did of old eat up his banquet, or as Picens the Eremite fasted forty dayes. But, these two every honest Papist, will confess, with voluntary shane and grief; and grant that it may grow a disputable question, Whether Mountbanks or Priests are the greatest cozeners. vives beyond his wont vehemently terms them execrable and satanical impostors. The third are true works of God, under a false title: God gives them their being, men their name: unjust, because above their nature; wherein, the Philosopher and the superstitiously ignorant, are contrarily extreme; while the one seeks out natural causes of Gods immediate& metaphysical works; The other ascribes ordinary effects to supernatural causes. If the violence of a disease cease, after a vow made to our lady; If a soldier, armed with his vow, escape gun-shot; a captive, prison; a woman traveling, death; the vulgar( and I would they alone) cry out, A miracle! One loadstone hath more wonder in it, than a thousand such events. every thing draws a base mind to admiration. francisco deal Campo( one of the archdukes Quiries) told us, not without importunate devotion, that in that fatal field of Newport, his vow to their Virgin helped him to swim over a large water, when the oars of his arms had never before tried any waves. A dog hath done more, without acknowledgement of any Saint. fear gives sudden instincts of skill, even without precept. Their own Costerus durst say, that the cure of a disease is no miracle: His reason, because it may be done by the power of Nature, albee in longer time. 
En l'an mill six cents& trois, y fureut comptez cent& trent cinque potences& iambes de bois de personnes boyteuses y apportées au sole espace de quatie ou cincque mois. Histoire& Miracles. c. 12. p. 34.  yield this, and what haue Lipsius his two Ladies done? wherefore serves all this clamour, from the two hills? I assented not; neither will be herein thus much their enemy: For, as well the maner of doing, as the matter, makes a miracle. If Peters handkerchief, or shadow, heal a disease, it is miraculous, though it might haue been done by a Potion. many of their recoveries, doubtless, haue been wrought through the strength of Nature in the Patient; not of virtue in the Saint. How many sick men haue mended, with their physic in their pocket? tho many other also( I doubt not) of those cures haue fallen into the fourth head; which indeed is more knotty, and requires a deeper discourse. Wherein, if I shall evince these two things, I shall( I hope) satisfy my Reader,& clear the truth: One, that miracles are wrought by Satan; the other, that those which the Romish Church boasteth, are of this nature, of this author. I contend not of words: wee take miracles in Augustines large sense; wherein is little difference betwixt a thing marvelous and miraculous; such as the Spirit of God in either instrument calls {αβγδ}, 
Or 

{αβγδ}  
{αβγδ}    and {αβγδ}. Perhaps, it would be more proper to say, that God works these miracles by Satan: for, as in the natural and voluntary motions of wicked men; so in the supernatural acts of evil spirits( as they are acts) there is more than a mere permission. Satan, by his tempest, bereaves job of his children: yet job, looking higher, saith, The Lord hath taken. No sophistry can elude this proof of Moses; that a Prophet or dreamer may give a true sign or wonder, and yet say, Let us go after strange gods: 
Deut. 13.1.  nor that of our saviour, who foretelles of false Christs, false Prophets that shall give {αβγδ}; signs and wonders,& those great. There are some too great, I grant, for the hand of all infernal powers: by which, our saviour invincibly proves the truth of his Deity: These never graced falsehood, neither admit any precedent from our times. As to the rest so frequent and common, for me, I could not beleeue the Church of Rome were Antichristian, if it had not boasted of these wonders. All the knot lies then, in the application of this to Rome, and our imaginary lady: How shall it appear, that their miracles are of this kind? Ludouicus vives gives six notes to distinguish Gods miracles, from Satans; Lipsius three: Both of them too many, as might easily be discovered by discussing of particulars. It is not so much the greatness of the work, nor the belief of witnesses, nor the quality nor maner of the action, nor truth of essence, that can descry the immediate hand which worketh in our miracles. That alone is the true and golden rule which justin Martyr( if at least that book be his) prescribes in his Questions& Answers; How shall it be known that our miracles are better than the Heathens, although the event countenance both alike? Resp. 
By the faith and worship of the true God.  Ex fide& cultu veri Dei: Miracles must be judged by the doctrine which they confirm; not the doctrine by the miracles. The Dreamer or Prophet must be esteemed, not by the event of his wonder; but, by the substance and scope of his teaching. The Romanists argue preposterously, while they would prove the truth of their Church by miracles; whereas they should prove their miracles by the truth. To say nothing of the fashion of their cures, that one is prescribed to come to our lady, rather on a Friday, as 
Pag. 7.  henry Loyez; another, to wash nine dayes in the water of MONT-AIGV, as Leonard Stocqueau; another, to eat a piece of the oak where the image stood, 
history et Miracles de nostre Dame. Pag. 73. Pag. 102.  as Magdaleine the widow of Bruxelles. All which, if they savour not strong of magical receipts, let the Indifferent judge. Surely, either there is no sorcery, or this is it. All shall be plain, if the doctrine confirmed by their miracles be once discussed: for, if that be divine Truth, we do unjustly impugn these works as diabolical; if falsehood, they do blasphem●●sly proclaim them for divine. These works tend all chiefly to this double doctrine; That the blessed Virgin is to be inuoked for her mediation, That God& Saints are to be adored in and by Images. Positions that would require a Volume, and such as are liberally disputed by others: whereof one is against Scripture; the other( which in these cases valves no less) besides it. One Deifies the Virgin; the other, a stock or ston. It matters not what subtle distinctions their learned Doctors make betwixt mediation of Redemption, and Intercession, {αβγδ}, and {αβγδ}, the Saint, and the Image: Wee know, their common people, whose devotion enriches those shrines( by confession of their own Writers) climb the Hill of Zichem with this conceit, 
Examen pacific de la doctrine des huguenots. O sanueresse, s●nne moy. Manuel of French prayers, printed at Liege, by approbation and authority of Anton Cheuart Inquisitor, &c.  that Mary is their Sauioresion that the stock is their Goddesse: which unless it bee true, how do their wonders teach them lies!& therefore how from God! But, to take the first at best( for, the second is so gross, that were not the second Commandement by Papists purposely razed out of their Primiers, children and carters would condemn it) it cannot be denied, that all the substance of prayer is in the heart; the vocal sound is but a compliment, and as an outward case wherein our thoughts are sheathed. That Power cannot know the prayer, which knows not the heart: either then the Virgin is God, for that shee knows the heart, or to know the heart is not proper to God: or to know the heart, and so our prayers, is falsely ascribed to the Virgin: and therefore these wonders, which teach men thus to honour her, are Doctors of lies; so, not of GOD. There cannot bee any discourse, wherein it is more easy to bee tedious. To end; If prayers were but in words, and Saints did meddle with all particularities of earthly things, yet blessed Mary should bee a God, if shee could at once attend all her suitors. One solicits her at hall, another at Scherpen-heuuell, another at Luca, at our Walshingham another; one in Europe, another in Asia; or perhaps another is one of her new Clients in America: Ten thousand devout Suppliants are at once prostrate before her several shrines. If she cannot hear al, why pray they? If she can, what can God do more? certainly( as the matter is used) there cannot be greater wrong offered to those heavenly spirits, than by our importunate superstitions to be thrust into Gods throne; and to haue forced vpon them the honors of their Maker. There is no contradiction in heaven: a Saint cannot allow that an angel forbids. See thou do it not, was the voice of an angel: if all the miraculous blocks in the world shall speak contrary, wee know whom to beleeue. The old rule was, 
Let no man worship the Virgin Mary.  {αβγδ}: Either that rule is devilish, or this practise. And if this practise bee ill, God deliver me from the immediate author of these miracles. Change but one idol for another,& what differ the wonders of Apolloes Temples, from those of these Chapels? Wee reverence( as wee ought) the memory of that holy and happy Virgin: We hate those that dishonour her: We hate those that deify her. Cursed be all honour, that is stolen from God.  
This short satisfaction I give, in a long question; such as I dare rest in; and resolve that all Popish miracles are either falsely reported, or falsely done, or falsely miraculous, or falsely ascribed to heaven.   

To Mr. William Bedell, at Venice. EP. VII. Lamenting the death of our late divines, and inciting to their imitation.  
WE haue heard, how full of trouble, and danger, the Alpes were to you: and did at once both pity your difficulties, and rejoice in your safety. Since your departure from us, Reynolds is departed from the World. Alas, how many worthy lights haue our eyes seen shining and extinguished! How many losses haue wee lived to see the Church sustain, and lament; of her children, of her pillars; our own, and foreign! I speak not of those, which( being excellent) would needs bee obscure: whom nothing but their own secrecy deprived of the honor of our tears. There are, besides, too many whom the world noted and admired; even since the time that our common mother acknowledged us for her sons. Our Fulk lead the way; that profound, ready, and resolute Doctor, the hammer of heretics, the champian of truth: whom our younger times haue heard oft disputing acutely, and powerfully. Next him, followed that honour of our schools, and angel of our Church, learned Whitakers; than whom, our age saw nothing more memorable: what clearness of iudgement, what sweetness of style, what gravity of person, what grace of carriage was in that man! Who ever saw him, without reverence? or heard him, without wonder? soon after, left the world that famous and truly-illuminate Doctor, Francis Iunius, the glory of Leiden, the other hope of the Church, the Oracle of textual and Schoole-diuinitie: rich in languages, subtle in distinguishing, and in argument invincible: and his companion in labours, Lu. Trelcatius, would needs be his companion in joys; who had doubled our sorrow and loss, but that here compenced it with a son like himself. Soon after, fell old reverend Beza; a long-fixed star in this firmament of the Church: who, after many excellent monuments of learning and fidelity, lived to prove vpon his aduersaries, that he was not dead at their day. Neither may I without injury, omit that worthy pair of our late divines, Greenham, and Perkins: whereof the one excelled in experimental divinity; and knew well how to stay a weak conscience, how to raise a fallen, how to strike a remorseless: The other, in a distinct iudgement,& a rare dexterity in cleared the obscure subtleties of the school, and easy explication of the most perplex discourses. doctor Reynolds is the last; not in worth, but in the time of his loss. He alone was a well-furnisht library, full of all faculties, of all studies, of all learning: The memory, the reading of that man, were near to a miracle. These are gone, amongst many more, whom the Church mourns for in secret: would God her loss could be as easily supplied, as lamented. Hir sorrow is for those that are past, hir remainder of ioy in those that remain; hir hope in the next age. I pray God the causes of hir hope, and ioy, may be equivalent to those of hir grief.  
What should this work in us, but an imitation, yea( that word is not too big for you) an emulation of their worthiness? It is no pride, for a man to wish himself spiritually better than he dare hope to reach: nay, I am deceived, if it be not true humility. For, what doth this argue him, but low in his conceit, high in his desires only? Or if so; happy is the ambition of grace, and power of sincere seruiceablenesse to God. Let us wish, and affect this, while the world lays plots for greatness: Let me not prosper, if I bestow envy on them. he is great, that is good: and no man, me thinks, is happy on earth, to him that hath grace for substance, and learning for ornament. If you know it not, the Church( our mother) looks for much at your hands: shee knows how rich our common father hath left you: shee notes your graces, your opportunities, your employments: shee thinks you are gone so far, like a good Merchant, for no small gain; and looks you shall come home well jaded. And for vent of your present commodities( tho our chief hope of success be cut-off with that vnhoped peace) yet what can hinder your private traffic for God? I hope( and who doth not?) that this blow will leave in your noble Venetians a perpetual scar; and that their late irresolution shall make them ever capable of all better counsels; and haue his work( like some great Eclipse) many yeeres after. How happy were it for Venice, if as she is every year married to the sea, so she were once thoroughly espoused to Christ! In the mean time, let me persuade you to gratify us at home, with the publication of that your exquisite polemical Discourse; whereto our conference with M. Alabaster gave so happy an occasion: You shall hereby clear many goldsmiths; and satisfy all Readers: yea, I doubt not, but an adversary( not too perverse) shall aclowledge the goldsmiths victory and yours. It was wholesome counsel of a Father, that in the time of an heresy every man should writ. Perhaps, you complain of the inundations of Francford: How many haue been discouraged from benefiting of the world, by this conceit of multitude! Indeed we all writ; and, while we writ, cry out of number. How well might many be spared, even of those that complain of too many? whose importunate babbling cloys the world, without use. My suspicion gives me, that some may perhaps reflect this censure vpon myself. I am content to put it to hazard, and( if need be) bear it. But certainly( me thinks) of profitable writings store is an easy fault: No man is bound to red; and he that will spend his time and his eyes where no sensible profit draws him on, is worthy to lose his labour. Let others look to their own; I dare promise yours happy success. Be entreated only to cast off this injurious modesty, and suffer me to draw you forth into Pauls Church-yard, and to fetch from you some honest issue of an able mind; which deceiving you shal stil preach the truth when you are gone to dust. God give you as prosperous a return, as your passage was difficult; and serve himself of your gifts at home, and repossess us of you; whom we at once love and reverence.   

To my Lord, the earl of ESSEX. EP. jix. advice for his travels.  
MY Lord, both my duty and promise make my Letters your debt; and, if neither of these, my thirst of your good. You shall never but need good counsel, most in travell: Then are both our dangers greater, and our hopes.  
I need not tell you the eyes of the world are much vpon you, for your own sake, for your Fathers: Only let your eyes be vpon it again, to observe it, to satisfy it, and in some cases to contemn it. As your graces, so your weaknesses, will be the sooner spied, by how much you are more noted. The higher any building is, the more it requires exquisite proportion: which, in some low and rude piles, is needless. If your virtues shall be eminent like your Fathers, you can not so hid yourself, but the world will see you, and force vpon you applause and admiration in spite of modesty: but, if you shall come short in these; your Fathers perfection shall be your blemish. think now, that more eyes are vpon you, than at home: of foreigners, of your own; theirs to observe, ours to expect. For, now we account you in the school of wisdom: whence if you return not better, you shall worse; with the loss of your time: of our hopes. For, I know not how natural it is to us, to look for alteration in travel;&, with the change of air and land, to presuppose a change in the person. Now you are( through both your yeeres and travell) in the forge of your hopes. We all look( not without desire and apprecation) in what shape you will come forth. think it not enough that you see, or can say you haue seen, strange things of nature, or event: It is a vain and dead travell that rests in the eye, or the tongue. All is but lost, unless your busy mind shall, from the body that it sees, draw forth some quintessence of observation; wherewith to inform, and enrich itself. There is nothing can quit the cost and labour of travell, but the gain of wisdom. How many haue we seen and pitied, which haue brought nothing from foreign Countries, but mis-shapen clothes, or exoticall gestures, or new games, or affencted lisspings, or the diseases of the place, or( which is worst) the vices? These men haue at once wandered from their country, and from themselves: and some of them( too easy to instance) haue left God behind them; or perhaps, in stead of him, haue after a loose and filthy life, brought home some idle Puppet in a box, whereon to spend their devotion. Let their wrack warn you, and let their follies be entertained by you, with more detestation than pity. I know your Honour too well to fear you: your young yeeres haue been so graciously prevented with sovereign antidotes of truth and holy instruction, that this infection despairs of prevailing. Your very blood gives you argument of safety: yet, good counsel is not unseasonable, even where dangers is not suspected. For Gods sake, my Lord, whatsoever you gain, lose nothing of the truth; remit nothing of your love and piety to God; of your favour and zeal to Religion. As sure as there is a God, you were trained up in the true knowledge of him. If either angel, or divell, or Iesuite, should suggest the contrary, sand him away, with defiance. There you see and hear, every day, the true mother and the feigned, striving and pleading for the living child. The true Prince of peace hath past sentence from heaven, on our side. do not you stoop so much as to a doubt, or motion of irresolution. Abandon those from your table and salt, whom your own or others experience shall descry dangerous: Those serpents are full of insinuations: But, of all, those of your own Country: which are so much more pernicious, by how much they haue more colour of privilege of entireness. Religion is the greatest care: advices for carriage, and improvement of travell, challenge the next place. I need not counsel you to keep your state, with affability; and so to manage yourself, as that your courtesy may be more visible, than your greatness. Nature hath taught you this; and hath secretly propagated it from your Father: who, by his sweetness of disposition, won as many hearts, as by his valour and munificence. I rather tel you, that a good nature hath betrayed many; who, looking for that in others which they haue found in themselves, haue at last complained of their own credulity, and others deceit. Trust not Strangers too much, with your counsel, with your person: and, in your greatest familiarities, haue an eye to their common disposition, and infirmities. Those natures, wherewith you converse, are subject to displeasure; and violent, in pursuit of small indignities. Yesterday heard I name, from no unfaithful report, a French Courtier, that in single combat hath sent 18. souls from the field to their place: yet he ever as the patient in the quarrel; and for this, mentioned with more than excuse: I censure not how justly. This is others care: Only hence I argue the rifenesse of vnkindenesse taken, and pursued. You shall see, that the soil is not so diuers, as the inclination of persons: who, in all Climates, though they differ in particulars, yet still agree too well in common faults. The Italian deep, close, and crafty; the French rash; the Germaine dull. One not forward to offer wrongs: but, apprehensive of a small wrong offered: another, prove either to take, or give them; but, not uneasy to remit: another, long in conceiving, long in retaining. What do I exemplify? There are long Catalogues of peculiar vices, that haunt special places; which, if they were not notoriously infamous, my charity would serve me to particularise: It were pity there should bee fewer virtues, local and proper. There are good uses to bee made of others enormities; if no more, by them to correct our own: who loathes 'vice in another, is in good forwardness to leave it in himself. The view of the public calamities, and disorders of other Churches, shall best teach you thankfulness for the better state of ours: But, better use of their virtues; by how much it is more excellent to know what we should do, than what we should not. You must now look vpon all things, not with the eyes of a stranger onely, but of a Philosopher, but of a Christian; which accounts all lost, that is not reduced to practise. It is a great praise, that you are wiser by the contemplation of foreign things; but, much greater, that you are better. That you haue seen Cities, and Courts, and Alpes, and Riuers, can never yield you so sound comfort, as that you haue looked seriously into yourself. In vain do wee affect all foreign knowledge, if wee be not thoroughly acquainted at home. Think much, and say little; especially in occasions of dispraise: wherein, both a little is enough, and oft times any thing is too much. You cannot inquire too much: that, which in us inferiors would bee censured for dangerous curiosity, in your greatness shall bee construed as a commendable desire of knowledge. ask still after men of greatest parts and reputation: and where you find famed no liar, note and respect them. Make choice of those for conversation, which either in present, or in hope, are eminent: and when you meet with excellencies in any faculty, leave not without some gain of knowledge. What are others graces to you, if you only admire them; not imitate, not appropriate them? lo, your equals in time grow up happily in the college( so I may term it) of our young, and hopeful Court, which you haue left; and above all, that gracious President of woorthinesse and perfection: whom while in all other things you serve, you may without reproof emulate for learning, virtue, piety. myself am witness of their progress; which I do joyfully gratulate to the succeeding age. Beware, lest their diligence shall out-strip you, and upbraid you with that ancient check of Going far, and faring worse. I am bold and busy in counseling: you abound with better Monitors; and the best you carry about, I hope, in your own bosom. Tho these should be needless, yet they argue my humble affection, and discharge my duty. My prayers are better than my counsels; both of them hearty and unfeigned for your good. God guide and return you safe, from a journey not more happy and prosperous than I wish it.   

To Sr. Robert Drury, and his lady. EP. IX. Concerning my Remoouall from them.  
WIth how unwilling an heart I leave you, he knows that searches the heart: Neither durst I go, but that I sensibly see his hand pulling me from you. Indeed, desire of competency betrayed me, at first; and drew mine eyes to look aside: but, when I bent them vpon the place, and saw the number and the need of the people, together with their hunger and applause, meeting with the circumstances of Gods strange conuevance of this offer to me; I saw, that was but as the Fowlers feather, to make me stoop: and contemning that respect of myself, I sincerely acknowledged higher motives of my yielding; and resolved I might not resist. You are dear to me, as a Charge to a Pastor; if my pains to you haue not proved it, suspect me: Yet I leave you. God calls me to a greater work: I must follow him. It were more ease to me, to live secretly hidden in that quiet obscurity, as Saul amongst the stuff, than to be drawn out to the eye of the world, to act so high a part before a thousand witnesses. In this point, if I seem to neglect you, blame me not; I must neglect and forget myself. I can but labour, wheresoever I am. GOD knows how willingly I do that, whether there or here. I shall dig, and delve,& plant, in what ground soever my Master sets me. If he take me to a larger field, complain you not of loss, while the Church may gain. But, you are my own charge; No wise father neglects his own in compassion of the greater need of others: yet consider, that even careful Parents, when the Prince commands, leave their families, and go to warfare. What if God had called me to heaven? would you haue grudged my departure? Imagine that I am there, where I shall be; altho the case be not to you altogether so hopeless: for, now I may hear of you, visit you, renew my holy counsels, and be mutually comforted from you; there, none of these. he, that will once transpose me from earth to heaven, hath now chosen to transpose me from one piece of earth to another: what is here worthy of your sorrow, worthy of complaint? That should be for my own good: this shall be for the good of many. If your experience haue taught you, that my labours do promise profit; obtain of yourself to deny yourself so much, as to rejoice that the loss of a few should be the advantage of many souls. Tho, why do I speak of loss? I speak that, as your fear, not my own: and your affection causes that fear, rather than the occasion.  
The GOD of the harvest shall sand you a Labourer, more able, as careful: That is my prayer, and hope, and shall be my ioy. I dare not leave, but in this expectation, this assurance. whatever become of me, it shall be my greatest comfort to hear you commend your change; and to see your happy progress in those ways I haue both shewed you, and beaten. So shall wee meet in the end, and never part.   

Written to Mr. J. B. and Dedicated to my Father Mr. I. HALL. EP. X. Against the fear of Death.  
YOu complain, that you fear Death: he is no man, that doth not. Besides the pain, Nature shrinks at the thought of parting. If you would learn the remedy, know the cause; For that she is ignorant, and faithless. She would not be cowardly, if shee were not foolish. Our fear is from doubt, and our doubt from unbelief: and whence is our unbelief, but chiefly from ignorance? Shee knows not what good is elsewhere: she believes not her part in it. Get once true knowledge and true faith, your fear shall vanish alone. Assurance of heavenly things makes us willing to part with earthly. He can not contemn this life, that knows not the other. If you would despise earth therefore, think of heaven. If you would haue death easy, think of that glorious life that follows it. Certainly, if we can endure pain, for health; much more shall we abide a few pangs, for glory. think how fond wee fear a vanquished enemy. lo, Christ hath triumphed over Death: he bleedeth and gaspeth under us; and yet we tremble. It is enough to us, that Christ died: Neither would he haue died, but that we might die with safety, and pleasure.  
think, that Death is necessary annexed to Nature: Wee are for a time, on condition that we shall not be; wee receive life, but vpon the terms of redeliuerie. necessity makes some things easy; as it usually makes easy things difficult. It is a fond injustice to embrace the covenant, and shrink at the condition.  
think, there is but one common road to all flesh: There are no by-paths of any fairer, or nearer way; no, not for Princes. even company abateth miseries: and the commonness of an evil makes it less fearful. What worlds of men are gone before us; yea, how many thousands out of one field! How many crownes and sceptres lye piled up at the gates of death, which their owners haue left there, as spoils to the Conqueror? Haue we been at so many graues, and so oft seen ourselves die in our friends; and do we shrink when our course cometh? Imagine you alone were exempted from the common law of mankind, or were condemned to Methusalahs age; assure yourself death is not now so fearful, as your life would then be wearisome.  
think not so much what Death is, as from whom he comes, and for what. We receive even homely messengers from great persons; not without respect to their Maisters: And what matters it who he be, so he bring us good news? what news can be better than this, That God sends for you, to take possession of a kingdom? Let them fear Death, which know him but as a Pursuiuant sent from hell; whom their conscience accuses of a life wilfully filthy; and bindes-ouer secretly to condemnation: Wee know whither we are going, and whom wee haue believed; Let us pass on cheerfully, thorough these black gates, unto our glory.  
Lastly, know that our improvidence only adds terror unto death. think of death, and you shall not fear it. Do you not see, that even bears, and tigers, seem not terrible to those that live with them? How haue wee seen their Keepers sport with them, when the beholders durst scarce trust their chain? Be acquainted with Death, though he look grim vpon you, at the first, you shall find him, yea, you shall make him a good companion. familiarity cannot stand with fear. These are receipts enough. Too much store doth rather ouer-whelme than satisfy. Take but these, and I dare promise you security.   
FINIS.   

THE SECOND DECADE Of Epistles.  
 crown 
ICH DIEN    

¶ The Second Decade.  

To Sr. Robert Darcy. EP. I. The estate of a true, but weak Christian.  
IF you ask how I fare: Sometimes, no man better;&, if the fault were not my own, always. Not that I can command health, and bid the world smile when I list. How possible is it for a man to be happy without these; yea in spite of them? These things can neither augment, nor impair those comforts, that come from above. What use, what sight is there of the stars, when the sun shines? Then onely can I find myself happy, when( overlooking these earthly things) I can fetch my ioy from heaven. I tell him that knows it, the contentments that earth can afford her best favourites, are weak, imperfect, changeable, momentany; and such, as ever end in complaint. We sorrow that we had them; and, while we haue them, wee dare not trust them: Those from above are full, and constant. What an heaven do I feel in myself, when( after many traverses of meditation) I find, in my heart, a feeling possession of my God! When I can walk, and converse with the God of heaven, not without an openness of heart, and familiarity: When my soul hath caught fast and sensible hold of my saviour; and either pulls him down to itself, or rather lifts up itself to him; and can and dare secretly avouch, I know whom I haue believed: When I can look vpon all this inferior creation, with the eyes of a stranger, and am trans to my home in my thoughts, king myself in the view and ation of my future glory, and 〈◇〉 present of the Saints: When I 〈◇〉 wherefore I was made, and my conscience tells me I haue done that for which I came; done it, not so as I can boast, but so as it is accepted; while my weaknesses are pardonned, and my acts measured by my desires, and my desires by their sincerity: Lastly, when I can find myself( vpon holy resolution) made firm and square, fit to entertain al events; the good with moderate regard, the evil with courage and patience, both with thanks; strongly settled to good purposes, constant and cheerful in devotion; and, in a word, ready for God, yea full of God. Sometimes I can bee thus, and pity the poor and miserable prosperity of the godless; and laugh at their moneths of vanity, and sorrow at my own: But then again( for why should I shane to confess it?) the world thrusts itself betwixt me and heaven; and, by his dark and indigested parts, eclipseth that light which shined to my soul. Now, a senseless dulness ouer-takes me, and besots me; my lust to devotion is little, my ioy none at all: Gods face is hide, and I am troubled. Then I begin to compare myself with others,& think, Are all men thus blockish and earthen? or, am I alone worse than the rest, and singular in my wretchedness? Now I carry my carcase up and down carelessly, and( as dead bodies are rubbed, without heat) I do in vain force vpon myself delights, which others laugh at: I endeavour my wonted work, but without an heart; there is nothing is not tedious to me, no not myself.  
Thus I am, till I single myself out alone, to him that alone can revive me: I reason with myself, and confer with him; I chide myself, and entreat him: and, after some spiritual speeches interchanged, I renew my familiarity with him; and he the tokens of his love to me. Lo, then I live again, and applaud myself in this happiness, and wish it might ever continue, and think basely of the world in comparison of it. Thus I hold on, rising and falling; neither know, whether I should more praise God for thus much fruition of him, or blame myself for my inconstancy in good; more rejoice, that sometimes I am well, or grieve that I am not so always. I strive, and wish, rather than hope, for better. This is our warfare; wee may not look to triumph always: wee must smart sometimes, and complain; and then again rejoice that wee can complain; and grieve that we can rejoice no more, and that wee can grieve no more. Our hope is, If we be patient, wee shall once bee constant.   

To Sr. edmond Bacon. EP. II. Of the benefit of retiredness, and secrecy.  
SVspect( if you can) that, because now many could winds blow betwixt us, my affection can bee cooler to you. True love is like a strong stream, which the further it is from the head, runs with more violence. The thoughts of those pleasures I was wont to find in your presence, were never so delightful, as now when I am barred from renewing them. I wish me with you; yea( if I could or might wish to change) I should wish me yourself. To live hidden, was never but safe, and pleasant; but now, so much better, as the world is worse. It is an happiness, not to be a witness of the mischief of the times; which it is hard to see, and be guiltless. Your philosophical Cell is a safe shelter from tumults, from vices, from discontentments. Besides that lively, honest, and manly pleasure, which arises from the gain of Knowledge in the deep mysteries of Nature; How easy is it, in that place to live free from the common cares, from the infection of common evils! Whether the Spaniard gain or save by his peace, and how he keeps it; and whether it were safer for the States to lay down arms, and bee at once still and free; Whether the Emperours truce, with the turk, were honourable and seasonable; or whether Venice haue won or lost by her late jars; are thoughts that dare not looke-in at those doors. Who is envied, and who pitied at Court; Who buys hopes, and kindness dearest; Who lays secret mines to blow up another, that himself may succeed, can never trouble you: These cares dare not enter into that Sanctuary of peace. Thence you can see how all, that live public, are tossed in these waves, and pity them. For, great places haue seldom safe and easy entrances: and( which is worst) great charges can hardly bee plausibly wielded, without some indirect policies. Alas! their privileges cannot countervail their toil. Weary daies, and restless nights, short lives, and long cares, weak bodies, and unquiet mindes, attend lightly on greatness. Either Clients break their sleep in the morning, or the intention of their mind drives it off from the first watch: Either suits or complaints thrust themselves into their recreations; and Packets of Letters inter-rupt their meales. It is ever term with them, without Vacation. Their businesses admit of no night, no holiday: Lo, your priuacie frees you from al this, and whatever other glorious misery. There you may sleep, and eat, and honestly disport, and enjoy yourself, and command both yourself and others. And, whiles you are happy, you live out of the reach of envy; unless my praises sand that guest thither: which I should justly condemn as the fault of my love. No man offers to undermine you, none to disgrace you: you could not want these inconveniences abroad. Yea, let a man live in the open world, but as a looker on, he shall be sure not to want abundance of vexations. An ill mind holds it an easy torment, to live in continual sight of evil; if not rather a pleasure: but, to the well disposed, it is next to hell. Certainly, to live among Toads and Serpents, is a Paradise to this. One jests pleasantly with his Maker: another makes himself sport with Scripture. One filles his mouth with oaths of sound: another scoffs at the religious. One speaks villainy; another laughs at it; a third defends it. One makes himself a Swine; another a divell: Who( that is not all earth) can endure this? Who cannot wish himself rather a desolate hermit, or a close prisoner? every evil wee see, doth either vex, or infect vs. Your retiredness auoids this; yet so, as it equally escapes all the evils of solitariness. You are full of friends; whose society, intermixed with your closeness, makes you to want little of public. The Desert is too wild, the City too populous, the Country is onely fit for rest. I know, there want not some obscure corners, so haunted with dulness, that as they yield no outward unquietness, so no inward contentment. Yours is none of those; but such as strives rather, with the pleasure of it, to requited the solitariness. The Court is for honour, the city for gain, the Country for quietness; A blessing, that need not( in the iudgement of the wisest) yield to the other two. Yea, how many haue wee known, that having nothing but a cote of thatch to hid them from heaven, yet haue pitied the careful pomp of the mighty? How much more may those which haue full hands, and quiet hearts, pity them both? I do not so much praise you in this, as wonder at you. I know many, vpon whom the conscience of their wants forces a necessary obscurity; who if they can steal a virtue out of necessity, it is well: but, I no where know so excellent parts shrouded in such willing secrecy. The world knows you, and wants you; and yet you are voluntarily hide. love yourself still; and make much of this shadow, until our common mother call you forth to her necessary service, & charge you to neglect yourself, to pleasure her. Which once done; you know where to find Peace. Whether others applaud you, I am sure you shall yourself: and I shall still magnify you, and( what I can) imitate you.   

To Mr. John whiteing. EP. III. An apologetical discourse of the marriage of ecclesiastical persons.  
I Know not, whether this quarrel bee worthy of an answer, or rather of a silent scorn; or if an answer, whether merry, or serious. I do not willingly suffer my pen to wade into questions: yet, this argument seems shallow enough for an Epistle. If I free not this Truth, let me be punished with a divorce. Some idle tabletalk calls us to pled for our wives. Perhaps some gallants grudge us one, who can be content to allow themselves more. If they thought wives curses, they would afford them vs. Our marriage is censured( I speak boldly) of none but them, 

Bartolem. Brixtensis in Gratianum.  

virg.  
Carnis,  
Mentis.   
cause. 35. q. 5. C. Tunc salu●bitur.  
Mulier suam virginitatem benè servat, si ideo nubat, vt filios pariat ad justitiam. Ibid. Bartolomeus.   which never knew to live chastely in marriage: who never knew that Canonists old and true distinction of virginity. What care wee for their censure, where God approves? But some perhaps maintain it, out of iudgement: Bid them make much of that which Paul tells them, is a doctrine of divels. Were it not for this opinion, the Church of Rome would want one evident brand of her antichristianism. Let their shavelings speak for themselves; vpon whom their unlawful Vow hath forced a wilful and impossible necessity. I leave them to scan the old rule of In turpi voto muta decretum; 
Profirentur continentiam corporum, in incontinentiam de bacchantur animorum. De Roman. clear. Salutanus.  if they had not rather, Cautè si non castè. even moderate Papists will grant us free, because not bound by vow; no not so far as those old Germans, pro posse& nosse. Or what care we, if they grant it not? while we hold us firm to that sure rule of Basil the Great; 
Qui vetat quod Deus praecepit, ●ut praecipit quod Deus vetuit, maledictu● habeatur ab omnibus qui amant Dominum. In Moralib. sum. ca. 14.  he that forbids what God enjoins, or enjoins what God forbids, let him be accursed. I pass not what I hear men, or Angels say, while I hear God say, Let him be the husband of one wife. That one word shall confirm me, against the barking of all impure mouths He that made marriage, says it is honourable: what care we for the dishonour of those that corrupt it? Yea, that which Nature noteth with shane, God mentions with honor, 
Heb. 13. The marriage bed is honourable.  {αβγδ}; 
Non quia peccatum sit coniugibus commisceri: hoc enim o●us castum non habet culpam in coniuge, &c. Greg. in Psal. Patiut.  gregory with the title of Opus castum; Paphnutius, 
{αβγδ}. Socrat. Hist. Eccles.  of {αβγδ}, Chastity. But, if God should be judge of this controversy, it were soon at an end; who, in the time even of that legal strictness, allowed wedlock, to the Ministers of his sanctuary. Let cardinal Panormitan be heard speak. 
Continentia non est in clericis secularibus de substantia ordinis, nec de jure divino▪ Panor.  continency, saith he, in clergy men is neither of the substance of their Order, or appointed by any Law of God. And Gratian, out of Augustine, yet more: 
Copula sacerdotalis, nec legali, nec evangelica, nec Apostolica authoritate prohibetur. 26. q. 2 c. Sors ex Aug.  Their marriage, saith he, is neither forbidden by legal, nor evangelical, nor apostolic authority. GOD never imposed this law of ꝯtinence: Who then? 
Only ex statuto Ecclesiae. Durand. 4. Dist. 37. q. 1. Tom. i● 2.2. q. 88. art. 11.  The Church. As if a good spouse would gainsay what her husband willeth: But, how well? hear, O ye Papists, the iudgement of your own cardinal; and confess your mouths stopped. 
said credo pro bono& salute esse animarú( quod esset salubre statutum) vt vol●n es possint contrahere; quia experientia docente contrarius prorsus effectus sequ tur ex illa lege continentiae, ●um hody non vivant spiritualiter, nec sint mundi, said maculantur illicito co●tu cum corum grauissimo peccato, ubi cum pro●rià uxore esset castitas. Panorm. de Cier. coniug. cap. Cum olim.  But I beleeue, saith he, it were for the good and safety of many souls, and would be an wholesome law, that those which would, might marry; For that, as experience teacheth us, a contrary effect follows vpon that law of continency; since at this day they live not spiritually, neither are clean, but are defiled with unlawful copulation, to their great sin: whereas with their own wife might be chastity. Is this a cardinal, think you, or an Huguenot? But if this read Hat be not worthy of respect; Let a Pope himself speak out of Peters chair. pus the Second, as learned as hath sit in that room this thousand yeeres: Marriage, 
S●cerdotibus magna ratione sublatas nuptias, maiore restituendas videri. In the Record of Platina himself, in vita Pij 2.  saith he, vpon great reason was taken from the clergy; but, vpon greater reason is to be restored. What need we other judge? How just this law is, you see; see now how ancient: For, some doctrines haue nothing to pled for them, but Time. Age hath been an old refuge for Falsehood. Tertullians rule is true: That, which is first, is truest. What the ancient jewish Prelates did, Moses is clear: What did the Apostles? Doth not 
{αβγδ}, &c. 1. Cor. 9.5. &c.  Paul tell us that both the rest of the Apostles, and the brethren of the Lord, and Cephas, had wives, and( which is more) carried them still along in their travels? For that childish elusion of 
Rhemists read it a woman a sister.  {αβγδ}, who can abide, but to laugh at? Doth not 
Clemens, citatus etiam ab Euseb. l. 3. c. 13. Petrum cum vxorem suam ad mortem duci cerneret hortatum& consolatum his verbis: {αβγδ}.  Clemens of Alexandria( a Father not of more antiquity, than credit) tell us, that Peter, Philip, and Paul himself, were married? and this last( tho vnlikest) how is it confirmed by Ignatius, in his Epistle to the Philadelphians? Yea, their own cardinal, learned 
In illud, ad Ph●lip. {αβγδ}.  cajetan, doth both avouch and evince it. This was their practise: What was their Constitution? look in these Canons, which the Romish Church fathers vpon the Apostles, and Franciscus Turrian their Iesuite sweats to defend it in a whole volume: There you find, Canon. 5. enacted, That 
{αβγδ}( non ejiciat) {αβγδ}. Can. Apost. 5.  no Bishop, Presbyter, Deacon, shall forsake his wife( {αβγδ}) in pretence of Religion, vpon pain of deposition. It would move laughter, to see how the Iesuites gnaw vpon this bone, and suck-in nothing but the blood of their own jaws; 
Constant. 6. l. 3. Can. Quoniam. Canon Apostolicae {αβγδ}. Nos, sequentes veterem Canonem Apostolicae {αβγδ},& constitutiones sacrorum virorum, legales nuptias amodò valere volumus, &c.  while the sixth general council avers and proclaims this sense truly apostolical, in spite of all contradiction.  
Follow the times now, and descend lower; what did the ages succeeding? Search Records: whatever some palpably-foisted Epistles of Popes insinuate; they married, without scruple of any contrary injunction. Many of those ancients admired virginity; but, imposed it not. Amongst the rest, 
Qui a Christianis parentibus enutritisunt, &c. maximè si fuerint ex patribus sacerdotali seed dignificatis. 1. Episcopatus, presbyteratus, aut diaconatus ne glorientur. Orig. Tr. 9. in Ma●t.  Origen( tho himself a wilful Eunuch) is fain to persuade the sons of clergy men, not to be proud of their Parentage. After this, when the Fathers of the Nicene council went about to enact a law of continency, Socrates the Historian expresses it thus: 
Visum erat Episcopis legem nouam introducere in Ecclesiam. Socr l. 1. c. 8.  It seemed good( saith he) to the Bishops to bring in a new law into the Church. 
Signa per Paphnutium non minus quam dudum per apostolos fiebant. Ruff. l. 1. c. 4. Paphnutius, miraculis& pierate clarus, obtinuit in Nicena synodo habendum pro castitate cum propria uxore concubitum. So. l. 1 c. 8  It was then new, and they but would haue brought it in; therefore before it was not: where wee know how Paphnutius, himself a Virgin, famous for holinesse, famous for miracles; rising( {αβγδ}) cried loud, that they ought not to lay this( {αβγδ}) heavy yoke vpon men of the Church. His Arguments won assent. He spake and prevailed. So this liberty was still continued and confirmed. If this be not plain enough; Holy 
In Epist. ad Dracont.  Athanasius, a witness past exception, shall serve for a thousand histories till his age. 
Multi ex Episcopis matrimonia non inicrunt; Monachi contra parentes liberorum facti sunt: queen madmodum vicissim Episcopos filiorum patres,& Monachos generis potestatem non quaesiuisse animaduertas. Athanas. Epist. ad Dracont.  Many Bishops, saith he, haue not married; and contrarily Monks haue been fathers of children: as contrarily, you see Bishops the fathers of children; and Monks that haue not sought posterity. Would you yet haue instances of the former, and the next age? Here you haue 
Numidicus presbyter, qui vxorem concrematam& adhaerentem lateri laetus aspexit. Cypr. l. 4. Ep. 10.  Numidicus the Martyr, a married Presbyter; 
Ex Dyonisio. Euseb. l. 6. c. ●.  Cheremon of Nilus, a married Bishop; 

Euseb. l. 7. cap 29.  
Euseb. l. 8. c. 9. Gregorius vero apud Nazianzum oppidú in locum patris s●l episco●us iubrògatus. ruffian. l. 2. c. 9.   Demetrianus Bishop of Antioch, whose son Domnus succeeded Paulus Samosatenus; Philonomus and Phileas Bishops of the Thmuites; Gabinius brother of Eutychianus B B. of Rome; the father of Nazianzen, Basil, and the other 
Greg. Nissen frater B●t●tlij, teste Nicephoro, vxoratus, vxorem& liberos habuit: said non propterea fuit● rebus& exercitijs divinis inferior vel deterior. Sozom.  gregory, Hilarius, and that good Spiridion Bishop of Cyprus, of whom Sozomen gives so direct testimony. To omit others, what should I speak of many Bishops of Rome, whose sons not spurious, as now a-daies, but( as Gratian himself witnesses) 
De legitimis coniugijs nati.  lawfully begot in wedlock, followed their fathers in the pontifical chair? 
cum ergo ex sacerdotibus nati in summos Pontifices legantur esse promoti, non sunt intelligendi de fornicatione said de legitimis connubijs nati; quae sacerdotibus ubique ante prohibitionem li●ita erant,& in Orientali Ecclesia usque hody eis licere probantur. Dist. 56. Cen●ma●.  The reason whereof, that author himself ingenuously rendereth; for that marriage was every where lawful to the clergy, before the prohibition( which must needs bee late) and in the eastern Church to this day is allowed. What need wee more testimonies or more examples? whatever 
The author of the Aethiopicke history.  Heliodorus Bishop of Trica( a man fitter for a wanton loue-storie, than a Church controversy) brought into the Church of Thessalia, Socrates thus flatly writes of those Bishops of his time: 
Nam non pauci illorum, dum Episcopatum gerunt, etiam liberos ex uxore legitimâ mocreant. Socrat. lib 5. cap. 21.  For many of them in the place and function of Bishops, beget children of their lawful wives. This was practised: see what was decreed in that sixth general 
The words of that council are thus truly translated by Chemnitius: Quoniam in Romana Ecclesia, loco canonis seu decreti, traditum esse cognouimus, vt ij qui digni habendi sunt ordinatione diaconi vel presbyteri, profiteantur se deinceps cum vxoribus suis non congressuros; nos sequentes veterem canonem Apostolicae, sincerae, exquisicae& ordinatae constitutionis, legitimas sacrorum virorum cohabitationes comugales etiam ex hodierno die in posterum valere ratas& firmas esse volumus; nullo modo eorum cum vxoribus proprijs coniunctionem seu copulationem dissoluentes. Itaque si quis dignus inueniatur, &c. is minimè prohibendus est ad hunc gradum ascendere, ideò quòd cum legitimâ uxore cohabitet. Nec tempore ordinationis suae ab eo postuletur, seu cogatur vt abstinere velit aut debeat legitimo congressu cum propriâ uxore.  council of Constantinople, to this purpose, to the confusion of al repliers. If any Protestant Church in Christendom can make a more peremptory, more full and absolute, more cautelous decree for the marriage of ecclesiastical persons, let me be condemned as faithless: A place, I grant, miserable handled by our aduersaries; and because they cannot blemish it enough, indignly torn out of the councils. What dare not impudency do? Against all evidences of greek Copies, against their own Gratian, 
Citatura a Nilo Thessalonicensi.  against pleas of antiquity. This is the readiest way; Whom they cannot answer, to burn; what they cannot shi●t off, to blot out; and to cut the knot, which they cannot untie. The Romanists of the next age were somewhat more equal: who, seeing themselves pressed with so flat a decree, confirmed by authority of Emperours, as would abide no denial, began to distinguish vpon the point; limiting this liberty only to the eastern Church,& granting that all the clergy of the East might mary, not theirs. So Pope steven the second freely confesses: 
Aliter se Orientalium habet traditio Ecclesiarum: aliter hu●us sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae. Nam eorum sacerdotes, diaconi, aut subdiaconi, matrimonio copulantur: Istius autem Ecclesiae, vel occidentalium, nullus sacerdotum, a subdiacono vsque ad episcopum licentiam habet coniugium sortiendi, dist. 31.  The tradition( saith he) of the eastern Churches is otherwise, than that of the Roman Church. For, their Priests, Deacons, or Subdeacons, are married; but, in this Church, or the western, no one of the clergy, from the Subdeacon to the Bishop, hath leave to mary.  
Liberally; but not enough: and if he yield this, why not more? Shall that bee lawful in the East, which in the West is not? do the Gospels or Laws of equity alter according to the four corners of the world? Doth God make difference betwixt Greece and England? If it bee lawful, why not every where? if unlawful, why is it done any where? So then you see, we differ not from the Church in this; but from the Romish Church. But this sacred council doth not onely universally approve this practise( with pain of deposition to the gainsayers) but auouches it for a decree Apostolical. judge now, whether this one authority bee not enough to weigh down an hundred petty conventicles, and many legions( if there had been many) of private contradictions. Thus, for seven hundred yeeres, you find nothing but open freedom: All the scuffling arose in the eighth age; wherein yet this violent imposition found many and learned aduersaries, and durst not be obtruded at once Lo, even then gregory the Third, writing to the B B. of Bauaria, gives this disjunct charge: 
Nemo scorta aut concubiname alat: said aut castè vivat, aut vxorem duca●; wuam repudiare fas non esto.  Let none keep an harlot or a concubine: but either let him live chastely, or mary a wife; whom it shall not be lawful for him to forsake: According to that rule of Clerks cited from 
Dist. 2●.  Isidore, and renewed in the 
Anno 813.  council of Mentz, to the perpetual shane of our juggling aduersaries. Nothing can argue guiltiness so much, as unjust expurgations. 
Clerici castimonian inuiolati corporis perpetuo conseruare studeant; at certè unius matrimonij vinculo foederentur. Isid. reg. cleric.  Isidore saith, Let them contain, or let them marry but one: They city him, Let them contain; and leave out the rest: somewhat worse than the divell cited scripture. But, I might haue spared all this labour of writing, could I persuade whosoever either doubts, or denies this, to red over that one Epistle which 

Whether Hulderichus or( as he is somewhere entitled) Volusiarius, I inquire not: the matter admits of no doubt.  
Hulderichus Episcopus Augustae. Anno 860. Aeneas Sylu. in sua Germ. Hedion. Eccl. hist li. 8▪ ca. 2. Fox in Act.& Monum hath it fully transated.   Huldericus B. of Auspurge wrote learnnedly, and vehemently, to Pope Nicolas the first, in this subject: which if it do not answer al cavils, and satisfy all Readers, and convince all( not wilful) aduersaries, let me be cast, in so just a cause. There you shall see, how just, how expedient how ancient this liberie is; together with the feeble and injurious grounds of forced continency: red it, and see whether you can desire a better advocate. After him( so strongly did he pled, and so happily) for two hundred yeeres more, this freedom still blessed those parts; yet, not without extreme opposition. Histories are witnesses of the busy, and not unlearned combats of those times, in this argument. But now, when the body of antichristianism began to be complete, and to stand up in his absolute shape, after, a thousand yeeres from Christ; this liberty, which before wavered wder Nicolas 1. now by the hands of lo 9. Nicolas 2. and that brand of hell, gregory 7. was utterly ruined, wives debarred, single life urged: 
Auentin. l. 5. Gratum scortatoribus, qui●us, pro vnâ uxore, sexcentas iam mulierculas inire licebat  A good turn for whoremasters( saith aventine) who now for one wife might haue six hundred Bed-fellowes.  
But, how approved of the better sort, appears( besides that the Churches did ring of him, each-where, for Antichrist) in that at the 
Anno 1076.  council of Wormes the French and German BB. deposed this gregory, in this name( amongst other quarrels) for 
Maritos ab vxoribus separat.  separating man and wife. Violence did this; not reason: neither was Gods will here questioned; but, the Popes wilfulness. What broils hereon ensued, let 

Ex Interdicto sacerdotum coniugio, grauissima seditio gregem Christi perculit: nec vnquantralis lues populum Christi afflixit. Auent. l. 5.  
Henric. Huntingdon. de Anselmo l. 7. de An. 1100. in Synodo Londinensi: Prohibuit sacerdotibus uxores, ante non prohibitas.  
anselm( saith that Historian) was the first that forbade marriage to the clergy of England( and this was about the year of our Lord 1080.) Till then ever free. Item Fabianus liberos aijt fuisse Sacerdotes per annos 1080.   aventine witness.  
The bickerings of our English Clergy, with their Dunstanes, about this time, are memorable in our own History, which teach us how late, how repiningly, how unjustly, they stooped under this yoke. I had rather sand my Reader to Bale and Fox, than abridge their monuments, to enlarge my own.  
I haue( I hope) fetched this truth far enough; and deduced it low enough, thorough many ages, to the midst of the rage of Antichristian tyranny. There left our liberty; there began their bondage. Our liberty is happily renewed with the Gospel: what God, what his Church hath ever allowed, wee do enjoy. Wherein wee are not alone: The greek Church, as large for extent as the Roman( and, in some parts of it, better for their soundness) do thus: and thus haue ever done.  
Let Papiists& Atheists say what they will; It is safe erring with God and his purer Church.   

To my sister Mrs. B. Brinsly. EP. IV. Of the Sorrow not to be repented of.  
IT is seldom seen, tha a silent grief speeds well: for, either a man must haue strong hands of resolution to strangle it in his bosom; or else it drives him to some secret mischief: whereas sorrow revealed, is half remedied, and ever abates in the uttering. Your grief was wisely disclosed; and shall bee as strangely answered. I am glad of your sorrow; and should weep for you, if you did not thus mourn. Your sorrow is, that you can not enough grieve for your sins. Let me tell you, that the Angels themselves sing at this lamentation; neither doth the earth afford any so sweet music in the ears of God. This heaviness is the way to ioy. Worldly sorrow is worthy of pity, because it leadeth to death: But, this deserves nothing but envy and gratulation. If those tears were common, hell would not so enlarge itself. never sin, repented of, was punished: and never any thus mourned, and repented not. lo, you haue done that, which you grieve you haue not done. That good God, whose act is his will, accounts of our will as our dead. If he required sorrow proportionable to the heinousness of our sins, there were no end of mourning. Now, his mercy regards not so much the measure, as the truth of it; and accounts us to haue that which we complain to want. I never knew any truly penitent, which in the depth of his remorse, was afraid of sorrowing too much; nor any unrepentant, which wished to sorrow more. Yea, let me tell you, that this sorrow is better, and more, than that deep heaviness for sin, which you desire. Many haue been vexed with an extreme remorse for some sin, from the gripes of a galled conscience, which yet never came where true repentance grew; in whom the conscience plays at once the Accuser, witness, judge, Tormentor: But, an earnest grief, for the want of grief, was never found in any but a gracious heart. You are happy, and complain. Tell me, I beseech you; This sorrow which you mourn to want, is it a grace of the Spirit of God, or not? If not, why do you sorrow to want it? If it be, oh how happy is it to grieve for want of grace! The God of all truth and blessedness hath said, Blessed are those that hunger and thirst after righteousness; and with the same breath, Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted. You say, you mourn; Christ saith, you are blessed: you say you mourn; Christ saith, you shall be comforted. Either now distrust your saviour, or else confess your happiness, and with patience expect his promised consolation. What do you fear? you see others stand like strong oaks, unshaken, vnremoued: you are but a reed, a feeble plant, tossed and bowed with every wind, and with much agitation bruised: lo, you are in tender and favourable hands, that never broke any, whom their sins bruised; never bruised any, whom temptations haue bowed. You are but flax; and your best is not a flamme, but an obscure smoke of grace: Lo, here his spirit is as a soft wind, not as cold water; he will kindle, will never quench you. The sorrow you want, is his gift: Take heed lest while you vex yourself with dislike of the measure, you grudge at the giver. beggars may not choose. This portion he hath vouchsafed to give you; if you haue any, it is more than he was bound to bestow: yet you say, What, no more? As if you took it unkindly, that he is no more liberal. even these holy discontentments are dangerous. Desire more ( so much as you can) but repined not when you do not attain. Desire; but so as you be free from impatience, free from vnthankefulnesse. Those, that haue tried, can say how difficult it is to complain, with due reservation of thanks. Neither know I whether is worse, to long for good things impatiently, or not at all to desire them. The fault of your sorrow, is rather in your conceit, than in itself. And, if indeed you mourn not enough, stay but Gods leisure, and your eyes shall run over with tears. How many do you see sport with their sins, yea brag of them? how many that should die for want of pastime, if they might not sin freely, and more freely talk of it? What a Saint are you to these, that can droup under the memory of the frailty of youth, and never think you haue spent enough tears! Yet so I encourage you in what you haue, as one that persuades you not to desist from suing for more. It is good to be covetous of grace, and to haue our desires herein enlarged with our receipts. weep still, and still desire to weep: but, let your tears be as the rain in a Sun-shine; comfortable and hopeful: and let not your longing favor of murmur or distrust. These tears are reserved; this hunger shall be satisfied; this sorrow shall bee comforted: There is nothing betwixt God and you, but time. Prescribe not to his wisdom: hasten not his mercy. His grace is enough for you his glory shall be more than enough.   

To Mr. Hugh Cholmley. EP. V. Concerning the Metaphrase of the psalms.  
fear not my immoderate studies. I haue a body that controls me enough in these courses; my friends need not. There is nothing whereof I could sooner surfet, if I durst neglect my body to satisfy my mind: But, whiles I affect: knowledge, my weakness checks me, and says, Better a little learning, than no health. I yield, and patiently abide myself debarred of my chosen felicity. The little I 'gan get, I am no niggard of: neither am I more desirous to gather, than willing to impart. The full handed, are commonly most sparing. Wee vessels, that haue any empty room, answer the least knock with a hollow noise: you, that are fuil, sound not. If we pardon your closeness, you may well bear with our profusion: If there be any wrong, it is to ourselves, that wee utter what wee should lay up. It is a pardonable fault to do less good to ourselves, that wee may do more to others. Amongst other endeavours, I haue boldly undertaken the holy metres of david; how happily, judge you by what you see. There is none of all my labours so open to all ceasures; none, whereof I would so willingly hear the verdict of the wise and judicious. Perhaps, some think the verse harsh, whose nice ear regards roundness, more than sense: I embrace smoothness, but affect it not. This is the least good quality of a verse; that intends any thins but musical delight. Others may blame the difficulty of the tunes: whose humour cannot bee pleased without a greater offence. For, to say truth, I never could see good verse written in the wonted measures. I ever thought them most easy, and least poetical. This fault( if any) will light vpon the negligence of our people; which endure not to take pains for any fit variety: The French and Dutch haue given us worthy examples of diligence and exquisiteness in this kind. Neither our ears, nor voices are less tunable. here is nothing wanting, but will to learn. What is this but to eat the corn out of the ear, because wee will not abide the labour to grind, and knead it? If the question bee, whether our verse must descend to them, or they ascend to it; a wise moderation I think would determine it most equal. that each part should remit somewhat, and both meet in the midst. Thus I haue endeavoured to do, with sincere intent of their good, rather than my own applause. For, it had been easy to haue reached to an higher strain; but I durst not; whether for the grave majesty of the subject, or benefit of the simplest Reader. You shall still note, that I haue laboured to keep Dauids entire sense, with numbers neither lofty, nor slubbred: which mean is so much more difficult to find, as the business is more sacred; and the liberty less. Many great wits haue undertaken this task; which yet haue either not effected it, or haue smothered it in their private desks, and denied it the common licht. Amongst the rest, were those two rare spirits of the Sidnyes; to whom, poesy was as natural, as it is affencted of others: and our worthy friend, Mr. sylvester, hath shewed me, how happily he hath sometimes turned from his Bartas, to the sweet Singer of Israel. It could not bee, that in such abundant plenty of Poësie, this work s hold haue past unattempted: would God I might live to see it perfected, either by my own hand, or a better. In the mean time, let me expect your unpartial sentence, both concerning the form and sense. Lay aside your love, for a while; which too oft blinds iudgement. And as it uses to bee done in most equal proceedings of iustice, shut me out of doors, while my verse is discussed: yea let me receive not your censure onely, but others by you: this once( as you love me) play both the Informer and the judge. Whether you allow it, you shall encourage me; or correct, you shall amend me: either your stars or your spits( that I may use Origens notes) shall be welcome to my margin. 
Asteriscus. Veru.  It shall bee happy for us, if God shall make our poor labours any way serviceable to his Name and Church.   

To Mr. Samuel Sotheby. EP. VI. A preface to his relation of the Russian affairs.  
travell perfecteth wisdom; and observation gives perfection to travell: without which, a man may please his eyes, not feed his brain; and, after much earth measured, shall return with a weary body, and an empty mind. Home is more safe, more pleasant; but less fruitful of experience: But, to a mind not working and discursive, all heauens, all earths are alike. And, as the end of travell is observation; so, the end of observation is the informing of others: for, what is our knowledge, it smothered in ourselves, so as it is not known to more? Such secret delight can content none but an envious nature. You haue breathed many and could airs, gone far, seen much, heard more, observed all. These two yeers you haue spent in imitation of Nebuchadnezars seven; conversing with such creatures as Paul sought with, at Ephesus. Alas! what a face, yea what a back of a Church haue you seen? what manners? what people? Amongst whom, ignorant superstition strives with close atheism, treachery with cruelty, one divell with another; while Truth& virtue do not so much as give any challenge of resistance. Returning once to our England after this experience, I imagine you doubted whether you were on earth, or in heaven. Now then( if you will hear me, whom you were wont) as you haue observed what you haue seen, and written what you haue observed; so publish what you haue written: It shal be a grateiull labour, to us, to posterity. I am deceived, if the fickleness of the Russian State haue not yielded more memorable matter of history than any other in our age, or perhaps many centuries of our prcdecessors. How shall I think, but that GOD sent you thither before these broils, to be the witness, the register of so famous mutations? He loues to haue those just evils which he doth in one part of the world, known to the whole;& those evils which men do in the night of their secrecy, brought forth into the theatre of the world; that the evil of mens sin being compared with the evil of his punishment, may justify his proceedings,& condemn theirs. Your work shall thus honour him; besides your second service, in the benefit or the Church. For, whiles you discourse of the open tyranny of that Russian Nero, John Basilius; the more secret, no less bloody plots of Boris; the ill success of a stolen Crown, tho set vpon the head of an harmless son; the bold attempts and miserable end of a false, yet aspiring challenge; the perfidiousness of a servile people, unworthy of better governors; the miscarriage of wicked governors, unworthy of better subiects; the injust usurpations of men, just( tho late) procedings of God, cruelly rewarded with blood, wrong claims with ouerthow, treachery with bondage; the Reader, with some secret horror, shall draw-in delight, and with delight instruction: Neither know I any relation whence he shall take out a more easy lesson of iustice, of loyalty, of thankfulness.  
But, above all, let the world see and commiserate the hard estate of that worthy and noble secretary, Buchinski. poor gentleman! his distress recalles ever to my thoughts Esops stork, taken amongst the Cranes: he now nourishes his hair under the displeasure of a foreign Prince; at once in durance and banishment. he served an ill master, but, with an honest heart, with clean hands. The masters injustice doth no more infect a good seruant, than the truth of the seruant can justify his ill master. A bad workman may use a good instrument: and oft times a clean napkin wipeth a foul mouth. It joys me yet to think, that his piety, as it ever held friendship in heaven, so now it wins him friends in this our other world: Lo, even from our island inexpected deliverance takes a long flight, and blesseth him beyond hope; yea rather, from heaven by vs. That God, whom he serves, will be known to those rude and scarce human Christians, for a protector of innocence, a favourer of truth, a rewarder of piety. The mercy of our gracious King, the compassion of an honourable counsellor, the loan of a true friend, and( which wrought all, and set all on work) the grace of our good GOD, shall now loose those bonds, and give a glad welcome to his liberty, and a willing farewell to his distress. he shall, I hope, live to aclowledge this: in the mean time, I do for him. Those Russian affairs are not more worthy of your records, than your love to this friend is worthy of mine: for, neither could this large Sea drown or quench it, nor time and absence( which are wont to breed a lingering consumption of friendship) abate the heat of that affection, which his kindness bread, religion nourished. Both rareness and worth shal commend this true love; which( to say true) hath been now long out of fashion. never times yielded more love; but, not more subtle: for every man loues himself in another, loues the estate in the person. Hope of advantage is the loadstone that draws the iron hearts of men; not virtue, not desert. No age afforded more Parasites, fewer friends: The most are friendly in sight, serviceable in expectation, hollow in love, trustless in experience. Yet now Buchinski, see and confess thou hast found one friend, which hath made thee many; on whom while thou bestowedst much favour, thou hast lost none. I cannot but think how welcome liberty( which tho late, yet now at last hath looked back vpon him) shal be to the Cell of his affliction when, smiling vpon him, she shall led him by the hand, and( like another Angel) open the iron gates of his miserable captivity, and( from those hard Prestaues& savage Christians) carry him by the hair of the head into this Paradise of God. In the means time I haue written to him as I could, in a known language, with an unknown hand; that my poor Letters of gratulation might serve as humble attendants to greater.  
For your work, I wish it but such glad entertainment, as the profit, yea the delight of it deserves; and fear nothing, but that this long delay of publication will make it scarce news. We are all grown Athenians, and account a strange report like to a fish,& a guest. Those eyes and hands stayed it, which might do it best. I can not blame you, if you think it more honoured by the stay or his gracious perusal, than it could be by the early acceptation of the world. even the cast garments of Princes are precious. Others haue in part prevented you, whose labours, to yours, are but as an echo to a long period; by whom wee hear the last sound of these stirs, ignorant of the beginning. They give us but a taste in their hand; you led us to the open fountain. Let the Reader give you but as much thank, as you give him satisfaction; you shall desire no more.  
Finally, GOD give us as much good use, as knowledge of his judgements; the world, help of your labours: yourself, encouragement; Buchinski, liberty.   

To Stanislaus Buchinski, late secretary to Demetrius Emp. of RVSSIA. EP. VII. Of the comfort of Imprisonment.  
THe knowledge that the eye gives of the face alone, is shallow, uncertain, imperfect. For what is it, to see the utmost skin, or favour of the visage; changeable with disease, changeable with passion? The ear( me thinks) doth both most clearly disclose the mindes of others, and knit them faster to ours: which, as it is the sense of discipline, so of friendship; commanding it even to the absent, and in the present cherishing it. This thing wee haue lately proved in yourself, most noble Stanislaus: nearer examples wee might haue had; better we could not. How many, how excellent things haue wee heard of you, from our common friend, tho most yours, which haue easily won our belief, our affections! How oft, how honourable memtion hath he made of your name! How frequently, how fervently haue we wished you, both safety, and liberty! And now, Lo where shee comes, as the Greekes say, {αβγδ}, and visits her forlorn Client. Altho, I would not doubt to say, that this outward durance of the body, hath seemed more harsh to the beholders, than to yourself, a wise man, and( which is more) a Christian; whose free soul, in the greatest straits of the outer man, flies over Seas and Lands; whither it listeth; neither can, by any distance of place, nor swelling or waves, nor height of mountaines, nor violence of enemies, nor strong bars, nor walls, nor guards, bee restrained from what place itself hath chosen. Lo, that enjoys God, enjoys itself, and his friends; and so feeds itself with the pleasure of enjoying them, that it easily either forgets, or contemns all other things. It is no Paradox to say that A wise Christian cannot bee imprisoned, cannot bee banished: He is ever at home, ever free. For, both his liberty is within him, and his home is universal. And what is it, I beseech you,( for you haue tried) that makes a prison? Is it straightness of walls? Then you haue as many fellowes, as there are men. For, how is the soul of every man penned within these clay-walles of the body, more close, more obscure! Whence, shee may look oft, thorough the grates of her busy thoughts; but, is never released in substance, till that God, who gave us our Mittimus into this Gaole, give us our delivery, with a return ye sons of Adam: Thus, either all men are prisoners, or you are none. Is it restraint? How many( especially of that other sex in those your Eastern parts) chamber up themselves, for state; so as they neither see the sun, nor others them? How many superstitious men, for deiotion? How many obscure Aglai, for ease and carelessness, kcepe themselves in their own Cottage, in their own Village; and never walk forth so much as to the neighbour towns? And what is your Russia to all her inhabitants, but a large prison, a wide galley? yea, what other is the world to us? How can he complain of straightness, or restraint, that roues all over the world, and beyond it? Tyranny may part the soul from the body; can not confine it to the body. That which others do for ease, devotion, state, you do for necessity: why not as willingly, since you must do it? Do but imagine the cause other; and your case is the same with theirs which both haue chosen,& delight to keep close; yet hating the name of prisoners, while they embrace the condition. But, why do I persuade you, not to mislike that, which I pray you may forsake? I had rather you should be no prisoner at all; than to be a cheerful prisoner vpon necessity. If the doors be open, my persuasion shall not hold you in: Rather our prayers shall open those doors, and fetch you forth into this common liberty ot men; which also hath not a little( tho an inferior) contentment. For, how pleasant is it to these senses, by which wee men are wont to be lead, to see and be seen, to speak to our friends, and hear them speak to us; to touch and kiss the dear hands of our Parents, and with them at last to haue our eyes closed? Either this shall befall you; or what hopes, what pains( I add no more) hath this your careful friend lost? and we, what wishes, what consultations? It shall be, I dare hope, yea beleeue it: Only thou our good God give such end, as thou hast done entrance into this business; and so dispose of these likely endeavours, that whom we love and honor absent, we may at last in presence see and embrace.   

To my Father in law, Mr. George Wenyffe. EP. jix. Exciting to Christian cheerfulness.  
YOu complain of dulness: a common disease, and incident to the best mindes, and such as can most contemn vanities. For, the true Worldling hunts after nothing but mirth; neither cares how lawless his sport be, so it be pleasant: he feigns to himself false delights, when he wants: and, if he can pass the time, and chase away Melancholy, he thinks his day spent happily. And thus it must needs be; while the world is his God, his devotion can be but his pleasure: whereas the mortified soul hath learned to scorn these frivolous and sinful joys; and affects either solid delights, or none; and had rather bee dull for want of mirth, than transported with wanton pleasures. When the world, like an importunate minstrel, thrusts itself into his chamber, and offers him music, unsought; if he vouchsafe it the hearing, it is the highest favor he dare, or can yield: He rewards it not, he commends it not; yea, he secretly loathes those harsh& jarring notes, and rejects them. For, he finds a better consort within, betwixt God and himself, when he hath a little tuned his heart with meditation. To speak fully, the world is like an ill fool in a play: the Christian is a judicious Spectator, which thinks those jests too gross to be laughed at; and therefore entertains that with scorn, which others with applause. Yet in truth, we sin, if we rejoice not: There is not more erour in false mirth, than in unjust. heaviness. If Worldlings offend, that they laugh when they should mourn: we shall offend no less, if wee droupe in cause of cheerfulness. Shall we envy, or scorn, to see one ioy in read and white dross, another in a vain title; one in a dainty dish, another in a iest; one in a book, another in a friend; one in a Kite, another in a Dog; whiles we enjoy the God of heaven, and are sorrowful? What dull metal is this we are made of? We haue the fountain of ioy, and yet complain of heaviness. Is there any ioy without God? Certainly, if ioy be good, and all goodness bee from him; whence should ioy arise, but from him? And if he be the author of ioy; how are we Christians, and rejoice not? What? do we frieze in the fire, and starve at a feast? Haue we a good conscience, and yet pine and hang down the head? When God hath made us happy, do wee make ourselves miserable? When I ask my heart Dauids question, I know not whether I be more angry, or ashamed at the answer; Why art thou sad, my soul? My body, my purse, my famed, my friends; or perhaps none of these: only I am sad, because I am. And what if all these, what if more? when I come to my better wits, Haue I a father, an advocate, a comforter, a mansion in heaven? if both earth and hell conspired to afflict me, my sorrow cannot countervail the causes of my ioy. Now I can challenge all aduersaries; and either defy all miseries, or bid all crosses, yea death itself, welcome. Yet God doth not abridge us of these earthly solaces, which dare weigh with our discontentments, and sometimes depress the balance. His greater light doth not extinguish the less. If GOD had not thought them blessings, he had not bestowed them: and how are they blessings, if they delight us not? Books, friends, wine, oil, health, reputation, competency, may give occasions, but not bounds to our rejoicings. We may not make them Gods rivals, but his spokes-men. In themselves they are nothing; but, in God, worth our ioy. These may be used; yet so as they may be absent without distraction. Let these go; so God alone be present with us, it is enough: He were not God, if he were not All-sufficient. Wee haue him, I speak boldly; Wee haue him in feeling, in faith, in pledges, and earnest; yea, in possession. Why do we not enjoy him? Why do we not shake-off that senseless drowsiness, which makes our lives unpleasant; and leaue-ouer all heaviness, to those that want God; to those that either know him not, or know him displeased.   

To Mr. W.R. Dedic. to Mr. Tho. Burlz. EP. IX. Consolations of immoderate grief for the death of friends.  
WHile the stream of sorrow runs full, I know how vain it is to oppose counsel. Passions must haue leisure to digest. wisdom doth not more moderate them, than time. At first, it was best to mourn with you, and to mitigate your sorrow, by bearing part; wherein, would God my burden could be your ease. every thing else is less, when it is divided; and then is best, after tears, to give counsel: yet, in these thoughts I am not a little straited. Before you haue digested grief, advice comes too early; too late, when you haue digested it. Before, it was unseasonable; after, would be superfluous. Before, it could not benefit you; after, it may hurt you, by rubbing-vp a skinned sore afresh. It is as hard to choose the season for counsel, as to give it: and that season is, after the first digestion of sorrow; before the last. If my Letters then meet with the best opportunity, they shall please me, and profit you; if not, yet I deserve pardon, that I wished so. You had but two jewels, which you held precious; a Wife, and a son: one was yourself divided; the other, yourself multiplied: you haue lost both, and well-near at once. The loss of one caused the other, and both of them your just grief. Such losses, when they come single, afflict us; but, when double, astonish us; and, tho they give advantage of respite, would almost overwhelm the best patient. Lo, now is the trial of your manhood, yea of your christianity: You are now in the lists, set-vpon by two of Gods fierce afflictions; show now what patience you haue, what fortitude. Wherefore haue you gathered and layd-vp, all this time, but for this brunt? Now bring forth all your holy store to light, and to use; and approve to us in this difficulty, that you haue all this while been a Christian in earnest. I know, these events haue not surprised you on a sudden: you haue suspected they might come; you haue put-cases if they should come. Things that are hazardous, may be doubted: but, certain things are, and must be expected. providence abates grief, and discountenances a cross. Or, if your affection were so strong, that you durst not fore-thinke your loss; take it equally but as it falls. A wise man and a Christian, knows death so fatal to Nature, so ordinary in event, so gainful in the issue, that I wonder he can for this either fear or grieve. Doth GOD only lend us one another, and do we grudge when he calls for his own? So I haue seen ill debters, that borrow with prayers, keep with thanks, repay with enmity. We mistake our tenor; Wee take that for gift, which God intends for loan; we are Tenants at will, and think ourselves owners. Your wife and child are dead: well; they haue done that for which they came.  
If they could not haue died, it had been worthy of wonder; not at all, that they are dead. If this condition were proper only to our families,& friends, or yet to our climate alone; how unhappy should wee seem to our neighbours, to ourselves! Now it is common, let us mourn that we are men. lo, all Princes and Monarchs dance with us in the same ring: yea, what speak I of earth? The God of Nature, the saviour of men, hath trod the same steps of death: And do wee think much to follow him? How many seruants haue we known, that haue thrust themselves betwixt their master and death; which haue died, that their master might not die? and shall wee repined to die with ours? How truly may wee say of this our david, Thou art worth ten thousand of us; yea, worth a world of Angels? yet he died,& died for vs. Who would live, that knows his saviour died? Who can be a Christian, and would not be like him? Who can be like him, that would not die after him? think of this, and judge whether all the world can hire us not to die. I need not ask you, whether you loved those whom you haue lost: Could you love them, and not wish they might be happy? Could they be happy, and not die? In truth, Nature knows not what shee would haue; Wee can neither abide our friends miserable in their stay, nor happy in their departure: We love ourselves so well, that we cannot be content they should gain by our loss. The excuse of your sorrow is, that you mourn for yourself. True: but, compare these two,& see whether your loss or their gain be greater. For, if their advantage exceed your loss; take heed, lest while you bewray your love in mourning for them, it appear that you love but yourself in them. They are gone to their preferment,& you lament: your love is injurious. If they were vanished to nothing, I could not blame you, tho you took up Rachels lamentation: But now, you know they are in surer hands than your own: you know, that he hath taken them, which hath undertaken to keep them, to bring them again: You know, it is but a sleep, which is miscalled Death;& that they shall, they must awake, as sure as they lye down; and wake more fresh, more glorious, than when you shut their eyes. What do we with christianity, if we beleeue not this? and if we do beleeue it, why do wee mourn as the hopeless? But the matter, perhaps, is not so heavy as the circumstance: Your crosses came sudden, and thick; You could not breath from your first loss, ere you felt a worse. As if he knew not this, that sent both: As if he did it not on purpose. His proceedings seem harsh; are most wise, most just. It is our fault, that they seem otherwise than they are. Do we think, we could carve better for ourselves? O the mad insolence of Nature, that dares control, where she should wonder! Presumptuous day! that will be checking the Potter. Is his wisdom, himself? Is he, in himself, infinite? Is his Decree out of his wisdom; and do we murmur? Do we, foolish worms, turn again when he treads vpon us? What? do you repined at that which was good for you, yea best? That is best for us, which God seeth best: and that he sees best, which he doth. This is Gods doing. kiss his rod in silence, and give glory to the hand that rules it. His will is the rule of his actions; and his goodness, of his will. Things are good to us, because he wills them: He wills them, because they are good to himself. It is your glory that he intends, in your so great affliction. It is no praise to wade over a shallow ford: but, to cut the swelling waves of the deep, commends both our strength& skill. It is no victory, to conquer an easy and weak cross These main evils haue crownes answerable to their difficulty: Wrestle now, and go away with a blessing. Be patient in this loss,& you shall once triumph in your gain. Let God haue them with cheerfulness, and you shall enjoy God with them in glory.   

To Mr. I. A. Merchant. EP. X. Against sorrow for worldly losses.  
IT is fitter for me to begin with chiding, than with advice: what means this weak distrust? Go on, and I shall doubt whether I writ to a Christian. You haue lost your heart, together with your wealth: How can I but fear, lest this Mammon was your God? Hence was Gods iealousy in removing it; and hence your immoderate tears for losing it. If thus; God had not loved you, if he had not made you poor. To some, it is an advantage to lose: you could not haue been at once thus rich, and good. Now, heaven is open to you, which was shut before; and could never haue given you entrance, with that load of iniquity. If you be wise in managing your affliction, you haue changed the world for God, a little dross for heaven. Let me ever lose thus, and smart when I complain.  
But, you might haue at once retained both. The stomach that is purged, must bee content to part with some good nourishment, that it may deliver itself of more evil humors. God saw( that knows it) you could not hold him so strongly, while one of your hands was so fastened vpon the world. You see, many make themselves wilfully poor: why cannot you be content God should impoverish you? If God had willed their poverty, he would haue commanded it: If he had not willed yours, he would not haue effected it. It is a shane for a Christian, to see an Heathen Philosopher laugh at his own shipwreck, while himself howls out, as if al his felicity were embarked with his substance. How should wee scorn, to think that an Heathen man should laugh either at our ignorance, or impotence? ignorance, if we thought too highly of earthly things; impotence, if we ouer-loued them. The fear of some evils is worse than the sense. To speak ingenuously; I could never see, wherein poverty deserved so hard a conceit. It takes away the delicacy of fare, softness of lodging, gainesse of attire, and perhaps brings with it contempt: This is the worst, and all. View it now on the better side: Lo, there quiet security, sound sleeps, sharp appetite, free merriment; no fears, no cares, no suspicion, no distemper of excess, no discontentment. If I were judge, my tongue should bee unjust, if poverty went away weeping. I cannot see, how the evils it brings, can compare with those which it removes; how the discommodities should match the blessings of a mean estate. What are those you haue lost, but false friends, miserable comforters? Else they had not left you. Oh slight and fickle stay, that winds could bereave you of! If your care could go with them, here were no damage: and, if it go not with them, it is your fault. grieve more for your fault, than for your loss. If your negligence, your riotous misspence had impaired your estate, then Satan had impouerisht you; now would I haue added to your grief, for your sin, not for your affliction: But now, since winds and waters haue done it as the officers of their maker; why should not you say with me, as I with job, The Lord hath taken? use your loss well, and you shall find that GOD hath crossed you with a blessing. And if it were worse than the world esteems it, yet think not what you feel, but what you deserve: You are a stranger to yourself, if you confess not, that God favours you in this whip. If he had stripped you of better things, and scourged you with worse, you should still haue acknowledged a merciful iustice: if you now repined at an easy correction, you are worthy of severity. Beware the next, if you grudge& swell at this. It is next to nothing which you suffer: What can bee further from us, than these goods of outward estate? You need not abate either health, or mirth, for their sakes. If you do now draw the affliction nearer than he which sent it, and make a foreign evil domestical; if while God visits your estate, you fetch it home to your body, to your mind; thank yourself that you will needs bee miserable: But, if you love not to fare ill; take crosses as they are sent, and go lightly away with an easy burden.   
FINIS.