5

and a point of our faith to believe so. Neither in the name of multitude do I only include the base and minor sort of people; there is a rabble even amongst the gentry, a sort of plebeian heads, whose fancy moves with the same wheel as these; men in the same level with mechanics, though their fortunes do somewhat gild their infirmities, and their purses compound for their follies. But as in casting account, three or four men together come short in account of one man placed by himself below them: so neither are a troop of these ignorant

position and humane inclination I bor-
rowed from my parents, and regulate it
to the written and prescribed laws of
charity; and if I hold the true anatomy
of myself, I am delineated and naturally
framed to such a piece of virtue. For
I am of a constitution so general, that
it comforts and sympathizeth with all
things; I have no antipathy, or rather
idiosyncrasy, in diet, humor, air, any- 10
thing: I wonder not at the French for
their dishes of frogs, snails, and toad-
stools; nor at the Jews for locusts and
grasshoppers; but being amongst them,
make them my common viands; and I 15 Doradoes, of that true esteem and value,

find they agree with my stomach as well
as theirs. I could digest a salad
gathered in a churchyard, as well as in
a garden. I cannot start at the presence
of a serpent, scorpion, lizard, or sala- 20
mander: at the sight of a toad or viper,
I find in me no desire to take up a stone
to destroy them. I feel not in myself
those common antipathies that I can dis-
cover in others: those national repug-25
nances do not touch me, nor do I be-
hold with prejudice the French, Italian,
Spaniard and Dutch; but where I find
their actions in balance with my coun-
trymen's, I honor, love, and embrace 30
them in the same degree. I was born in
the eighth climate, but seem for to be
framed and constellated unto all: I am
no plant that will not prosper out of a
garden: all places, all airs make unto 35
me one country; I am in England, every-
where, and under any meridian. I have
been shipwrecked, yet am not enemy
with the sea or winds; I can study, play,
or sleep in a tempest. In brief, I am 40
averse from nothing; my conscience
would give me the lie if I should ab-
solutely detest or hate any essence but
the devil; or so at least abhor anything,
but that we might come to composition. 45
If there be any among those common
objects of hatred I do contemn and
laugh at, it is that great enemy of
reason, virtue and religion, the multi-
tude; that numerous piece of monstrosity, 50
which taken asunder seem men, and the
reasonable creatures of God; but con-
fused together, make but one great
beast, and a monstrosity more prodigious
than Hydra. It is no breach of charity 55
to call these fools; it is the style all
holy writers have afforded them, set
down by Solomon in canonical Scripture,

as many a forlorn person, whose condition doth place them below their feet. Let us speak like politicians, there is a nobility without heraldry, a natural dignity, whereby one man is ranked with another; another filed before him, according to the quality of his desert, and pre-eminence of his good parts: though the corruption of these times, and the bias of present practice wheel another way. Thus it was in the first and primitive commonwealths, and is yet in the integrity and cradle of well-ordered polities, till corruption getteth ground, ruder desires laboring after that which wiser generations contemn every one having a liberty to amass and heap up riches, and they a license or faculty to do or purchase anything.

*

*

To do no injury, nor take none, was a principle, which to my former years, and impatient affections, seemed to contain enough of morality; but my more settled years, and christian constitution, have fallen upon severer resolutions. I can hold there is no such thing as injury; that if there be, there is no such injury as revenge, and no such revenge as the contempt of an injury; that to hate another, is to malign himself; that the truest way to love another, is to despise ourselves. I were unjust unto mine own conscience, if I should say I am at variance with anything like myself. I find there are many pieces in this one fabric of man; this frame is raised upon

a

mass of antipathies. I am one methinks, but as the world; wherein notwithstanding there are a swarm of distinct essences, and in them another world of contrarieties; we carry private and domestic enemies within, public and

5

selves, the world, whose divided antipathies and contrary faces do yet carry a charitable regard unto the whole by their particular discords, preserving the common harmony, and keeping in fetters those powers, whose rebellions once masters might be the ruin of all.

I thank God, amongst those millions of vices I do inherit and hold from Adam,

more hostile adversaries without. The devil, that did but buffet St. Paul, plays methinks at sharp with. me. Let me be nothing, if within the compass of myself I do not find the battle of Leanto, passion against reason, reason against faith, faith against the devil, and my conscience against all. There is anther man within me, that's angry with me, rebukes, commands, and dastards 10 I have escaped one, and that a mortal me. I have no conscience of marble, to resist the hammer of more heavy offenses; nor yet so soft and waxen, as to take the impression of each single peccadillo or scape of infirmity: I am of 15 a strange belief, that it is as easy to be forgiven some sins, as to commit some others. For my original sin, I hold it be washed away in my baptism; for y actual transgressions, I compute and 20 reckon with God but from my last reentance, sacrament, or general absoluon; and therefore am not terrified with re sins or madness of my youth. I ank the goodness of God, I have no 25 sins that want a name. I am not singuEr in offenses; my transgressions are epidemical, and from the common breath ei our corruption. For there are tain tempers of body, which, matched 30 with a humorous depravity of mind, do hatch and produce vitiosities, whose newness and monstrosity of nature admits no

rame.

cer

* For the heavens are not crly fruitful in new and unheard-of 35 stars, the earth in plants and animals; but men's minds also in villainy and vices. Now the dulness of my reason, and the vulgarity of my disposition, never prompted my invention, nor SO- 40 cited my affection unto any of those. Yet even those common and quotidian firmities that so necessarily attend me, - do seem to be my very nature, have dejected me, so broken the estimation 45 that I should have otherwise of myself, that I repute myself the most abjectest ece of mortality. Divines prescribe a it of sorrow to repentance; there goes dignation, anger, sorrow, hatred, into 50 mine: passions of a contrary nature, which neither seem to suit with this action, nor my proper constitution. It 1 no breach of charity to ourselves, to be at variance with our vices; nor to 55 hor that part of us, which is an emy to the ground of charity, our God; herein we do but imitate our great

enemy to charity, the first and [fathersin], not only of man, but of the devil, pride; a vice whose name is comprehended in a monosyllable, but in its nature not circumscribed with a world. I have escaped it in a condition that can hardly avoid it. Those petty acquisitions and reputed perfections that advance and elevate the conceits of other men add no feathers unto mine. I have seen a grammarian tower and plume himself over a single line in Horace, and show more pride in the construction of one ode, than the author in the composure of the whole book. For my own part, besides the jargon and patois of several provinces, I understand no less than six languages; yet I protest I have no higher conceit of myself, than had our fathers before the confusion of Babel, when there was but one language in the world, and none to boast himself either linguist or critic. I have not only seen several countries, beheld the nature of their climes, the chorography of their provinces, topography of their cities, but understood their several laws, customs and policies; yet cannot all this persuade the dulness of my spirit unto such an opinion of myself, as I behold in nimbler and conceited heads, that never looked a degree beyond their nests. I know the names, and somewhat more, of all the constellations in my horizon; yet I have seen a prating mariner, that could only name the pointers and the north star, out-talk me, and conceit himself a whole sphere above me. I know most of the plants of my country, and of those about me; yet methinks I do not know so many as when I did but know a hundred, and had scarcely ever simpled further than Cheapside. For indeed, heads of capacity, and such as are not full with a handful, or easy measure of knowledge, think they know nothing, till they know all; which being impossible, they fall upon the opinion

of Socrates, and only know they know
not anything. I cannot think that Homer
pined away upon the riddle of the fisher-
man, or that Aristotle, who understood
the uncertainty of knowledge, and con-
fessed so often the reason of man too
weak for the works of nature, did ever
drown himself upon the flux and reflux
of Euripus. We do but learn to-day,
what our better advanced judgments will to
unteach to-morrow: and Aristotle doth
not instruct us, as Plato did him; that
is, to confute himself. I have run
through all sorts, yet find no rest in
any though our first studies and junior 15
endeavors may style us Peripatetics,
Stoics, or Academics, yet I perceive the
wisest heads prove, at last, almost all
sceptics, and stand like Janus in the
field of knowledge. I have therefore 20
one common and authentic philosophy
I learned in the schools, whereby I dis-
course and satisfy the reason of other
men; another more reserved, and drawn
from experience, whereby I content mine 25
Own. Solomon, that complained of
ignorance in the height of knowledge,
hath not only humbled my conceits, but
discouraged my endeavors. There is
yet another conceit that hath sometimes 30
made me shut my books, which tells me
it is a vanity to waste our days in the
blind pursuit of knowledge; it is but at-
tending a little longer, and we shall enjoy
that by instinct and infusion, which we
endeavor at here by labor and inquisi-
tion. It is better to sit down in a modest
ignorance; and rest contented with the
natural blessing of our own reasons, than
buy the uncertain knowledge of this life, 40
with sweat and vexation, which death
gives every fool gratis, and is an acces-
sory of our glorification.

35

I was never yet once, and commend their resolutions who never marry twice: 45 not that I disallow of second marriage; as neither in all cases of polygamy, which considering some times, and the unequal number of both sexes, may be also necessary. The whole world was 50 made for man, but the twelfth part of man for woman: man is the whole world, and the breath of God; woman the rib, and crooked piece of man. ** I speak not in prejudice, nor am averse from 55 that sweet sex, but naturally amorous of all that is beautiful; I can look a whole day with delight upon a handsome

picture, though it be but of a horse. It is my temper, and I like it the better, to affect all harmony; and sure there is music even in the beauty, and the silent 5 note which Cupid strikes, far sweeter than the sound of an instrument. For there is a music wherever there is a harmony, order or proportion; and thus far we may maintain the music of the spheres: for those well-ordered motions, and regular paces, though they give no sound unto the ear, yet to the understanding they strike a note most full of harmony. Whosoever is harmonically composed, delights in harmony; which makes me much distrust the symmetry of those heads which declaim against all church-music. For myself, not only from my obedience, but my particular genius, I do embrace it: for even that vulgar and tavern-music, which makes one man merry, another mad, strikes in me a deep fit of devotion, and a profound contemplation of the first composer. There is something in it of divinity more than the ear discovers: it is a hieroglyphical and shadowed lesson of the whole world, and creatures of God; such a melody to the ear, as the whole world well understood, would afford the understanding. In brief, it is a sensible fit of that harmony, which intellectually sounds in the ears of God. I will not say with Plato, the soul is a harmony, but harmonical, and hath its nearest sympathy unto music: thus some whose temper of body agrees, and humors the constitution of their souls, are born poets, though indeed all are naturally inclined unto rhythm. This made Tacitus in the very first line of his story, fall upon a verse.' and Cicero the worst of poets, but declaiming for a poet, falls in the very first sentence upon a perfect hexameter. I feel not in me those sordid and un christian desires of my profession; I do not secretly implore and wish for plagues rejoice at famines, revolve ephemeride and almanacs, in expectation of malignan aspects, fatal conjunctions and eclipses I rejoice not at unwholesome springs, no unseasonable winters; my prayer goe with the husbandman's; I desire every thing in its proper season, that neithe men nor the times be put out of temper

Let me be sick myself, if sometimes the malady of my patient be not a disease unto me; I desire rather to cure his infirmities than my own necessities: where I do him no good, methinks it is scarce 5 honest gain; though I confess 't is but the worthy salary of our well-intended enCeavors. I am not only ashamed, but heartily sorry, that besides death, there are diseases incurable; yet not for my 10 own sake, or that they be beyond my art, but for the general cause and sake cf humanity, whose common cause I apprehend as mine own. And to speak more generally, those three noble profes- 15 sions which all civil commonwealths do honor are raised upon the fall of Adam, and are not exempt from their infirmities; there are not only diseases incurable in thysic, but cases indissolvable in laws, 20 ces incorrigible in divinity. If general ouncils may err, I do not see why parcular courts should be infallible; their perfectest rules are raised upon trroneous reasons of man; and the laws of one do but condemn the rules of anther; as Aristotle oft-times the opinions of his predecessors, because, though agreeable to reason, yet were not consonant to his own rules, and logic of his 30 proper principles. Again, to speak nothing of the sin against the Holy Ghost, whose cure not only, but whose nature is unknown; I can cure the gout or stone in some, sooner than divinity pride or 35 avarice in others. I can cure vices by physic, when they remain incurable by divinity; and shall obey my pills, when they contemn their precepts. I boast nothing, but plainly say, we all labor 40 against our own cure; for death is the 1ture of all diseases. There is no cath

the

25

icon or universal remedy I know but his, which though nauseous to queasy tomachs, yet to prepared appetites is 45 rectar, and a pleasant potion of imTortality.

From HYDRIOTAPHIA URN-
BURIAL

What time the persons of these ossuaries
entered the famous nations of the dead,2
and slept with princes and counsellors,
might admit a wide solution. But who
were the proprietaries of these bones, or
what bodies these ashes made up, were
a question above antiquarism, not to be
resolved by man, nor easily perhaps by
spirits, except we consult the provincial
guardians, or tutelary observators. Had
they made as good provision for their
names as they have done for their relics,
they had not so grossly erred in the art
of perpetuation. But to subsist in bones,
and be but pyramidally extant, is a fal-
lacy in duration. Vain ashes, which,
in the oblivion of names, persons, times
and sexes, have found unto themselves
a fruitless continuation, and only arise
unto late posterity as emblems of mortal
vanities, antidotes against pride, vain-
glory, and madding vices! Pagan vain-
glories, which thought the world might
last forever, had encouragement for
ambition, and finding no Atropos unto the
immortality of their names, were never
damped with the necessity of oblivion.
Even old ambitions had the advantage of
ours in the attempts of their vain-glories,
who acting early, and before the probable
meridian of time, have by this time found
great accomplishment of their designs,
whereby the ancient heroes have already
out-lasted their monuments and mechan-
ical preservations. But in this
scene of time we cannot expect such
mummies unto our memories, when ambi-
tion may fear the prophecy of Elias; 3
and Charles the Fifth can never hope to
live within two Methuselahs of Hector.*

latter

And therefore restless inquietude for the diuturnity of our memories unto present considerations seems a vanity almost out of date, and a superannuated piece of folly. We cannot hope to live so long in our names as some have done in their persons: one face of Janus holds no proportion to the other. 'Tis too late to be ambitious. The great mutations of so the world are acted, or time may be too short for our designs. To extend our memories by monuments, whose death we daily pray for, and whose duration we cannot hope without injury to our ex

What song the Syrens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women, though puzzling 55 questions, are not beyond all conjecture.

The puzzling questions of Tiberius unto grammarians. Marcel. Donatus in Suet.

* Κλυτὰ έθνεα νεκρών. Ηom. Job.

That the world may last but six thousand years. Hector's fame lasting above two lives of Me. thuselah, before that famous prince was extant.

the founder of the pyramids? Herostratus lives that burnt the temple of Diana; he is almost lost that built it. Time hath spared the epitaph of Adrian's horse,

pectations in the advent of the last day, were a contradiction to our beliefs. We, whose generations are ordained in this setting part of time, are providentially taken off from such imaginations; and, 5 confounded that of himself. In vain we being necessitated to eye the remaining particle of futurity, are naturally constituted unto thoughts of the next world, and cannot excusably decline the consideration of that duration which maketh 10 pyramids pillars of snow, and all that's past a moment.

Circles and right lines limit and close all bodies, and the mortal right-lined circle must conclude and shut up all. 15 There is no antidote against the opium of time, which temporally considereth all things. Our fathers find their graves in our short memories, and sadly tell us how we may be buried in our survivors. 20 Grave-stones tell truth scarce forty years. Generations pass while some trees stand, and old families last not three oaks. To be read by bare inscriptions, like many in Gruter,3 to hope for eternity by enigmatical epithets or first letters of our names, to be studied by antiquaries who we were, and have new names given us like many of the mummies, are cold consolations unto the students of per- 30 petuity, even by everlasting languages.

25

To be content that times to come should only know there was such a man, not caring whether they knew more of him, was a frigid ambition in Cardan, 35 disparaging his horoscopal inclination. and judgment of himself. Who cares to subsist like Hippocrates' patients, or Achilles' horses in Homer, under naked nominations, without deserts and noble 40 acts, which are the balsam of our memories, the entelechia and soul of our subsistences. To be nameless in worthy deed exceeds an infamous history. The Canaanitish woman lives more happily 45 without a name, than Herodias with one. And who had not rather have been the good thief, than Pilate?

compute our felicities by the advantage of our good names, since bad have equal durations; and Thersites is like to live as long as Agamemnon, without the favor of the everlasting register. Who knows whether the best of men be known? or whether there be not more remarkable persons forgot, than any that stand remembered in the known account of time? The first man had been as unknown as the last, and Methuselah's long life had been his only chronicle.

Oblivion is not to be hired: the greater part must be content to be as though they had not been, to be found in the register of God, not in the record of man. Twenty-seven names make up the first story, and the recorded names ever since contain not one living century. The number of the dead long exceedeth all that shall live. The night of time far surpasseth the day, and who knows when was the equinox? Every hour adds unto that current arithmetic, which scarce stands one moment. And since death must be the Lucina of life, and even pagans could doubt whether thus to live were to die; since our longest sun sets at right descensions, and makes but winter arches, and therefore it cannot be long before we lie down in darkness, and have our light in ashes; since the brother of death daily haunts us with dying mementoes, and time, that grows old itself, bids us hope no long duration: diuturnity is a dream and folly of expec

tation.

Darkness and light divide the course of time, and oblivion shares with memory a great part even of our living beings; we slightly remember our felicities, and the smartest strokes of affliction leave but short smart upon us. Sense endureth no extremities, and sorrows destroy us or themselves. To weep into stones are fables. Afflictions induce callosites, miseries are slippery, or fall like snow upon us, which notwithstanding is no stupidity. To be ignorant of evils to come, and 55 forgetful of evils past, is merciful provision in nature, whereby we digest the mixture of our few and evil days, and our delivered senses not relapsing into

But the iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy, and deals with the 50 memory of men without distinction to merit of perpetuity. Who can but pity

10 The character of death.

2 Old ones being taken up, and other bodies laid under them.

Gruteri Inscriptiones Antiquae.

Cuperem notum esse quòd sim, non opto ut sciatur qualis sim. Card. in vita propria.