Title: Paradoxes and Problemes
Author: John Donne
Editor: Geoffrey Keynes
Release date: April 8, 2020 [eBook #61783]
Language: English
Credits: Produced by deaurider, David Wilson and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
[ii]
This edition is limited to 645 copies, printed
and made in England for the Nonesuch
Press in the 17th century Fell types by
Frederick Hall, printer to the University
of Oxford. The type has been distributed.
This is number 9
❧ PARADOXES
❧ PROBLEMES
❧ CHARACTERS
❧ AN ESSAY OF VALOUR: P. 75.
Donne’s Paradoxes and Problemes are clever and entertaining trifles, which were probably written before 1600, during the more wanton period of their author’s life. Owing to their scurrilous nature they could not be published during his lifetime, but shortly after his death the greater part of them were licensed to be printed, the Imprimatur printed at the end both of the eleven Paradoxes and of the ten Problemes being signed by Sir Henry Herbert and dated October 25, 1632. The volume was published under the title of Juvenilia in 1633, but already on November 14, 1632, an order of inquiry had been delivered at the King’s command by the Bishop of London, calling upon Sir Henry Herbert to explain before the Board of the Star Chamber his reasons ‘why hee warrented the booke of D. Duns paradoxes to be printed’. Perhaps Herbert’s explanations were regarded as satisfactory, but, however this may have been, the King was not successful in suppressing the book. The volume is a thin quarto containing only thirty-two leaves, and was printed by Elizabeth Purslowe for Henry Seyle, to be sold at the sign of the Tyger’s Head in St. Paul’s Church-yard. The printer seems to have been [vi] somewhat careless in imposing the licences, for, although most copies contain the two, copies occur from which one or both have been omitted. It is not known through what channels the publisher obtained possession of the text, but it is probable that the publication was quite unauthorized, and took place even without the knowledge of the younger Donne, who, when he reprinted the Juvenilia in 1652, made no reference to any previous issue.
The Juvenilia were at once in considerable demand, and seem to have been bought by many of the purchasers of the Poems, which were also first published in quarto in 1633. This is evident from the fact that the two books are so often found together in contemporary bindings, the lesser volume usually being relegated to the end. The first edition of the Juvenilia was thus soon exhausted and a second edition was published in the same year. So ineffectual did the Star Chamber inquiry prove to have been that in this edition the publisher not only omitted the Imprimaturs altogether and so abandoned all pretence of having any official sanction for the publication, but even added to the first Probleme, ‘Why have Bastards best Fortune?’, which was particularly offensive to the Court, twenty-three lines which had not appeared in the first edition. This edition, as before a quarto and with the same imprint, but containing only twenty-four leaves, is considerably rarer than its predecessor. It is unlikely, however, that this fact is to be [vii] attributed to the King’s having had any greater success than before in suppressing it. More probably the demand for it was less, so that part of the edition remained unsold and was subsequently destroyed.
In 1652 the younger Donne, in the course of his exploitation of his father’s writings, prepared an authorized edition of the Juvenilia, which was printed by Thomas Newcomb for Humphrey Moseley. The number of the Paradoxes was now increased to twelve and of the Problemes to seventeen, the offensive passages in the first Probleme being allowed to remain. To these were added two ‘Characters’, ‘An Essay of Valour’, ‘A Sheaf of Miscellany Epigrams’, a reprint of Ignatius his Conclave, and, finally, the Essays in Divinity. The Epigrams purport to have been written by the elder Donne in Latin and to have been translated into English by Jasper Mayne, D.D. They may have been printed by the younger Donne in good faith, as it seems to be certain that his father’s Epigrammata mea Latina once existed; but the epigrams attributed to him in this volume are, as Mr. Gosse has shown (Life and Letters of Donne, i. 16), certainly spurious, and may well have been composed, as well as translated, by Mayne, who was an unprincipled, though witty, divine. The Essays in Divinity had been printed in 1651 for a different publisher, but they are very rarely found as a separate volume in a contemporary binding, for the younger Donne, as he made [viii] clear in his preface, sought to temper the secularity of the Juvenilia by issuing them in company with the Essays in Divinity, and in this way to invest the volume with an altogether fictitious respectability.
Even in 1652 the Paradoxes and Problemes were not printed entire. Another Probleme concerning Sir Walter Raleigh has been preserved in the Bodleian Library (Tanner MSS. 299, f. 32), the copier stating that it ‘was so bitter that his son, Jack Donne, LL.D., thought fit not to print it with the rest’. Yet another has recently been discovered in a manuscript containing Donne’s poems.
The Juvenilia have not been reprinted since 1652. In the present edition the text follows that of the second edition of 1633, amplified from the third edition of 1652 and with the additional Probleme from the Bodleian manuscript, already printed by Mr. Edmund Gosse in his Life and Letters of Donne, 1899, ii. 52. The spurious epigrams have not been included.
GEOFFREY KEYNES
That Women are Inconſtant, I with any man confeſſe, but that Inconſtancy is a bad quality, I againſt any man will maintaine: For every thing as it is one better than another, ſo is it fuller of change; The Heavens themſelves continually turne, the Starres move, the Moone changeth; Fire whirleth, Ayre flyeth, Water ebbs and flowes, the face of the Earth altereth her lookes, time ſtayes not; the Colour that is moſt light, will take moſt dyes: ſo in Men, they that have the moſt reaſon are the moſt alterable in their deſignes, and the darkeſt or moſt ignorant, do ſeldomeſt change; therefore Women changing more than Men, have alſo [2] more Reaſon. They cannot be immutable like ſtockes, like ſtones, like the Earths dull Center; Gold that lyeth ſtill, ruſteth; Water, corrupteth; Aire that moveth not, poyſoneth; then why ſhould that which is the perfection of other things, be imputed to Women as greateſt imperfection? Becauſe thereby they deceive men. Are not your wits pleaſed with thoſe jeſts, which coozen your expectation? You can call it Pleaſure to be beguil’d in troubles, and in the moſt excellent toy in the world, you call it Treachery: I would you had your Miſtreſſes ſo conſtant, that they would never change, no not ſo much as their ſmocks, then ſhould you ſee what ſluttiſh vertue, Conſtancy were. Inconſtancy is a moſt commendable and cleanely quality, and Women in this quality are farre more abſolute than the Heavens, than the Starres, Moone, or any thing beneath it; for long obſervation hath pickt certainety out of their mutability. The Learned are ſo well acquainted with the Starres, Signes and Planets, that they make them but Characters, to reade the meaning of the Heaven in his owne forehead. Every ſimple Fellow can beſpeake the change of the Moone a great while beforehand: but I would faine have the learnedſt man ſo skilfull, as to tell [3] when the ſimpleſt Woman meaneth to varie. Learning affords no rules to know, much leſſe knowledge to rule the minde of a Woman: For as Philoſophy teacheth us, that Light things doe alwayes tend upwards, and heavy things decline downeward; Experience teacheth us otherwiſe, that the diſpoſition of a Light Woman, is to fall downe, the nature of Women being contrary to all Art and Nature. Women are like Flies, which feed among us at our Table, or Fleas ſucking our very blood, who leave not our moſt retired places free from their familiarity, yet for all their fellowſhip will they never bee tamed nor commanded by us. Women are like the Sunne, which is violently carryed one way, yet hath a proper courſe contrary: ſo though they, by the maſtery of ſome over-ruling churliſh Husbands, are forced to his Byas, yet have they a motion of their owne, which their Husbands never know of. It is the nature of nice and faſtidious mindes to know things onely to bee weary of them: Women by their ſlye changeableneſſe, and pleaſing doubleneſſe, prevent even the miſlike of thoſe, for they can never be ſo well knowne, but that there is ſtill more unknowne. Every Woman is a Science; for hee that plods upon a Woman all his life [4] long, ſhall at length find himſelfe ſhort of the knowledge of her: they are borne to take downe the pride of wit, and ambition of wiſedome, making fooles wiſe in the adventuring to winne them, wiſemen fooles in conceit of loſing their labours; witty men ſtarke mad, being confounded with their uncertaineties. Philoſophers write againſt them for ſpight, not deſert, that having attained to ſome knowledge in all other things, in them onely they know nothing, but are meerely ignorant: Active and Experienced men raile againſt them, becauſe they love in their liveleſſe and decrepit age, when all goodneſſe leaves them. Theſe envious Libellers ballad againſt them, becauſe having nothing in themſelves able to deſerve their love, they maliciouſly diſcommend all they cannot obtaine, thinking to make men beleeve they know much, becauſe they are able to diſpraiſe much, and rage againſt Inconſtancy, when they were never admitted into ſo much favour as to be forſaken. In mine Opinion ſuch men are happy that Women are Inconſtant, for ſo may they chance to bee beloved of ſome excellent Women (when it comes to their turne) out of their Inconſtancy and mutability, though not out of their owne deſert. And what [5] reaſon is there to clog any Woman with one Man, bee hee never ſo ſingular? Women had rather, and it is farre better and more Iudiciall to enjoy all the vertues in ſeverall Men, than but ſome of them in one, for otherwiſe they loſe their taſte, like divers ſorts of meat minced together in one diſh: and to have all excellencies in one Man (if it were poſſible) is Confuſion and Diverſity. Now who can deny, but ſuch as are obſtinately bent to undervalue their worth, are thoſe that have not ſoule enough to comprehend their excellency, Women being the moſt excellenteſt Creatures, in that Man is able to ſubject all things elſe, and to grow wiſe in every thing, but ſtill perſiſts a foole in Woman? The greateſt Scholler, if hee once take a Wife, is found ſo unlearned, that he muſt begin his Horne-booke, and all is by Inconſtancy. To conclude therefore; this name of Inconſtancy, which hath ſo much beene poyſoned with ſlaunders, ought to bee changed into variety, for the which the world is ſo delightfull, and a Woman for that the moſt delightfull thing in this world.
Fouleneſſe is Lothſome: can that be ſo which helpes it? who forbids his Beloved to gird in her waſte? to mend by ſhooing her uneven lameneſſe? to burniſh her teeth? or to perfume her breath? yet that the Face bee more preciſely regarded, it concernes more: For as open confeſſing ſinners are alwaies puniſhed, but the wary and concealing offenders without witneſſe doe it alſo without puniſhment; ſo the ſecret parts needs the leſſe reſpect; but of the Face, diſcovered to all Examinations and ſurvayes, there is not too nice a Iealouſie. Nor doth it onely draw the buſie eyes, but it is ſubject to the divineſt touch of all, to kiſſing, the ſtrange and myſticall union of ſoules. If ſhee ſhould proſtitute her ſelfe to a more unworthy Man than thy ſelfe, how earneſtly and juſtly wouldſt thou exclaime? that for want of this eaſier and ready way of repairing, [7] to betray her body to ruine and deformity (the tyrannous Raviſhers, and ſodaine Deflourers of all Women) what a heynous Adultery is it? What thou loveſt in her face is colour, and painting gives that, but thou hateſt it, not becauſe it is, but becauſe thou knoweſt it. Foole, whom ignorance makes happy; the Starres, the Sunne, the Skye whom thou admireſt, alas, have no colour, but are faire, becauſe they ſeeme to bee coloured: If this ſeeming will not ſatisfie thee in her, thou haſt good aſſurance of her colour, when thou ſeeſt her lay it on. If her face bee painted on a Boord or Wall, thou wilt love it, and the Boord, and the Wall: Canſt thou loath it then when it ſpeakes, ſmiles, and kiſſes, becauſe it is painted? Are wee not more delighted with ſeeing Birds, Fruites, and Beaſts painted then wee are with Naturalls? And doe wee not with pleaſure behold the painted ſhape of Monſters and Divels, whom true, wee durſt not regard? Wee repaire the ruines of our houſes, but firſt cold tempeſts warnes us of it, and bytes us through it; wee mend the wracke and ſtaines of our Apparell, but firſt our eyes, and other bodies are offended; but by this providence of Women, this is prevented. If in kiſſing or breathing upon her, the painting [8] fall off, thou art angry, wilt thou be ſo, if it ſticke on? Thou didſt love her, if thou beginneſt to hate her, then ’tis becauſe ſhee is not painted. If thou wilt ſay now, thou didſt hate her before, thou didſt hate her and love her together, bee conſtant in ſomething, and love her who ſhewes her great love to thee, in taking this paines to ſeeme lovely to thee.
Nullos eſſe Deos, inane Cœlum
Affirmat Cœlius, probatq; quod ſe
Factum vidit, dum negat hæc, beatum.
So I aſſevere this the more boldly, becauſe while I maintaine it, and feele the Contrary repugnancies and adverſe fightings of the Elements in my Body, my Body increaſeth; and whilſt I differ from common opinions by this Diſcord, the number of my Paradoxes increaſeth. All the rich benefits we can frame to our ſelves in Concord, is but an Even conſervation of things; in which Evenneſſe wee can expect no change, no motion; therefore no increaſe or augmentation, which is a member of motion. And if this unity and peace can give increaſe to things, how mightily is diſcord and war to that purpoſe, which are [10] indeed the onely ordinary Parents of peace. Diſcord is never ſo barren that it affords no fruit; for the fall of one eſtate is at the worſt the increaſer of another, becauſe it is as impoſſible to finde a diſcommodity without advantage, as to finde Corruption without Generation: But it is the Nature and Office of Concord to preſerve onely, which property when it leaves, it differs from it ſelfe, which is the greateſt diſcord of all. All Victories and Emperies gained by warre, and all Iudiciall decidings of doubts in peace, I doe claime children of Diſcord. And who can deny but Controverſies in Religion are growne greater by diſcord, and not the Controverſie, but Religion it ſelfe: For in a troubled miſery Men are alwaies more Religious then in a ſecure peace. The number of good men, the onely charitable nouriſhers of Concord, wee ſee is thinne, and daily melts and waines; but of bad diſcording it is infinite, and growes hourely. Wee are aſcertained of all Diſputable doubts, onely by arguing and differing in Opinion, and if formall diſputation (which is but a painted, counterfeit, and diſſembled diſcord) can worke us this benefit, what ſhall not a full and maine diſcord accompliſh? Truely me thinkes I owe a devotion, yea a ſacrifice to diſcord, for caſting that Ball upon Ida, and [11] for all that buſineſſe of Troy, whom ruin’d I admire more then Babylon, Rome, or Quinzay, removed Corners, not onely fulfilled with her fame, but with Cities and Thrones planted by her Fugitives. Laſtly, between Cowardice and deſpaire, Valour is gendred; and ſo the Diſcord of Extreames begets all vertues, but of the like things there is no iſſue without a miracle:
Vxor peſſima, peſſimus maritus
Miror tam malè convenire.
Hee wonders that betweene two ſo like, there could be any diſcord, yet perchance for all this diſcord there was nere the leſſe increaſe.
I have not been ſo pittifully tired with any vanity, as with ſilly Old Mens exclaiming againſt theſe times, and extolling their owne: Alas! they betray themſelves, for if the times be changed, their manners have changed them. But their ſenſes are to pleaſures, as ſick Mens taſtes are to Liquors; for indeed no new thing is done in the world, all things are what, and as they were, and Good is as ever it was, more plenteous, and muſt of neceſſity be more common then evill, becauſe it hath this for nature and perfection to bee common. It makes Love to all Natures, all, all affect it. So that in the Worlds early Infancy, there was a time when nothing was evill, but if this World ſhall ſuffer dotage in the extreameſt crookedneſſe thereof, there ſhall be no time when nothing ſhal be good. It dares [13] appeare and ſpread, and gliſter in the World, but evill buries it ſelfe in night and darkneſſe, and is chaſtiſed and ſuppreſſed when good is cheriſhed and rewarded. And as Imbroderers, Lapidaries, and other Artiſans, can by all things adorne their workes; for by adding better things, the better they ſhew in Luſh and in Eminency; ſo good doth not onely proſtrate her amiableneſſe to all, but refuſes no end, no not of her utter contrary evill, that ſhee may bee the more common to us. For euill manners are parents of good Lawes; and in every evill there is an excellency, which (in common ſpeech) we call good. For the faſhions of habits, for our moving in geſtures, for phraſes in our ſpeech, we ſay they were good as long as they were uſed, that is, as long as they were common; and wee eate, wee walke, onely when it is, or ſeemes good to doe ſo. All faire, all profitable, all vertuous, is good, and theſe three things I thinke embrace all things, but their utter contraries; of which alſo faire may be rich and vertuous; poore may bee vertuous and faire; vitious may be faire and rich; ſo that good hath this good meanes to be common, that ſome ſubjects ſhe can poſſeſſe intirely; and in ſubjects poyſoned with evill, ſhe can humbly ſtoop to accompany the evill. And of indifferent things many [14] things are become perfectly good by being common, as cuſtomes by uſe are made binding Lawes. But I remember nothing that is therefore ill, becauſe it is common, but Women, of whom alſo; They that are moſt common, are the beſt of that Occupation they profeſſe.
To affect, yea to effect their owne death all living things are importuned, not by Nature only which perfects them, but by Art and Education, which perfects her. Plants quickened and inhabited by the moſt unworthy ſoule, which therefore neither will nor worke, affect an end, a perfection, a death; this they ſpend their ſpirits to attaine, this attained, they languiſh and wither. And by how much more they are by mans Induſtry warmed, cheriſhed, and pampered; ſo much the more early they climbe to this perfection, this death. And if amongſt Men not to defend be to kill, what a hainous ſelfe-murther is it, not to defend it ſelfe. This defence becauſe Beaſts neglect, they kill themſelves, becauſe they exceed us in number, ſtrength, and a lawleſſe liberty: yea, of Horſes and other beaſts, [16] they that inherit moſt courage by being bred of gallanteſt parents, and by Artificial nurſing are bettered, will runne to their owne deaths, neither ſollicited by ſpurres which they need not, nor by honour which they apprehend not. If then the valiant kill himſelfe, who can excuſe the coward? Or how ſhall Man bee free from this, ſince the firſt Man taught us this, except we cannot kill our ſelves, becauſe he kill’d us all. Yet leſt ſomething ſhould repaire this Common ruine, we daily kill our bodies with ſurfeits, and our mindes with anguiſhes. Of our powers, remembring kils our memory; Of Affections, Luſting our luſt; Of vertues, Giving kils liberality. And if theſe kill themſelves, they do it in their beſt & ſupreme perfection: for after perfection immediately follows exceſſe, which changeth the natures and the names, and makes them not the ſame things. If then the beſt things kill themſelves ſooneſt, (for no affection endures, and all things labour to this perfection) all travell to their owne death, yea the frame of the whole World, if it were poſſible for God to be idle, yet becauſe it began, muſt dye. Then in this idleneſſe imagined in God, what could kill the world but it ſelfe, ſince out of it, nothing is?
I am not of that ſeard Impudence that I dare defend Women, or pronounce them good; yet we ſee Phyſitians allow ſome vertue in every poyſon. Alas! why ſhould we except Women? ſince certainely, they are good for Phyſicke at leaſt, ſo as ſome wine is good for a feaver. And though they be the Occaſioners of many ſinnes, they are alſo the Puniſhers and Revengers of the ſame ſinnes: For I have ſeldome ſeene one which conſumes his ſubſtance and body upon them, eſcape diſeaſes, or beggery; and this is their Iuſtice. And if ſuum cuiq; dare, bee the fulfilling of all Civill Iuſtice, they are moſt juſt; for they deny that which is theirs to no man.
And who may doubt of great wiſdome in them, that doth but obſerve with how much [18] labour and cunning our Iuſticers and other diſpenſers of the Lawes ſtudy to imbrace them: and how zealouſly our Preachers dehort men from them, onely by urging their ſubtilties, and policies, and wiſedome, which are in them? Or who can deny them a good meaſure of Fortitude, if hee conſider how valiant men they have overthrowne, and being themſelves overthrowne, how much and how patiently they beare? And though they bee moſt intemperate, I care not, for I undertooke to furniſh them with ſome vertue, not with all. Neceſſity, which makes even bad things good, prevailes alſo for them, for wee muſt ſay of them, as of ſome ſharpe pinching Lawes; If men were free from infirmities, they were needleſſe. Theſe or none muſt ſerve for reaſons, and it is my great happineſſe that Examples prove not Rules, for to confirme this Opinion, the World yeelds not one Example.
Who reads this Paradox but thinks mee more fantaſtike now, than I was yeſterday, when I did not think thus: And if one day make this ſenſible change in men, what will the burthen of many yeeres? To bee fantaſtike in young men is conceiptfull diſtemperature, and a witty madneſſe; but in old men, whoſe ſenſes are withered, it becomes naturall, therefore more full and perfect. For as when wee ſleepe our fancy is moſt ſtrong; ſo it is in age, which is a ſlumber of the deepe ſleepe of death. They taxe us of Inconſtancy, which in themſelves young they allowed; ſo that reprooving that which they did approove, their Inconſtancy exceedeth ours, becauſe they have changed once more then wee. Yea, they are more idlely buſied in conceited apparell then wee; for we, when [20] we are melancholy, weare blacke; when luſty, greene; when forſaken, tawney; pleaſing our owne inward affections, leaving them to others indifferent; but they preſcribe lawes, and conſtraine the Noble, the Scholer, the Merchant, and all Eſtates to a certaine habit. The old men of our time have changed with patience their owne bodies, much of their lawes, much of their languages; yea their Religion, yet they accuſe us. To be Amorous is proper and naturall in a young man, but in an old man most fantaſtike. And that ridling humour of Iealouſie, which ſeekes and would not finde, which requires and repents his knowledge, is in them moſt common, yet moſt fantaſtike. Yea, that which falls never in young men, is in them moſt fantaſtike and naturall, that is, Covetouſneſſe; even at their journeyes end to make great proviſion. Is any habit of young men ſo fantaſtike, as in the hotteſt ſeaſons to be double-gowned or hooded like our Elders? Or ſeemes it ſo ridiculous to weare long haire, as to weare none. Truely, as among the Philoſophers, the Skeptike, which doubts all, was more contentious, then either the Dogmatike which affirmes, or Academike which denyes all; ſo are theſe uncertaine Elders, which both cals them fantaſtike which follow others inventions, and them alſo which are led by their owne humorous ſuggeſtion, more fantaſtike then other.
Shal ſhe be guide to all Creatures, which is her ſelfe one? Or if ſhe alſo have a guide, ſhall any Creature have a better guide then wee? The affections of luſt and anger, yea even to erre is naturall; ſhall we follow theſe? Can ſhee be a good guide to us, which hath corrupted not us onely but her ſelfe? Was not the firſt man, by the deſire of knowledge, corrupted even in the whiteſt integrity of Nature? And did not Nature (if Nature did any thing) infuſe into him this deſire of knowledge, and ſo this corruption in him, into us? If by Nature wee ſhall underſtand our eſſence, our definition, or reaſon, nobleneſſe, then this being alike common to all (the Idiot and the Wizard being equally reaſonable) why ſhould not all men having equally all one nature, follow one courſe? Or if we [22] ſhall underſtand our inclinations; alas! how unable a guide is that which followes the temperature of our ſlimie bodies? for we cannot ſay that we derive our inclinations, our mindes, or ſoules from our Parents by any way: to ſay that it is all from all, is error in reaſon, for then with the firſt nothing remaines; or is a part from all, is errour in experience, for then this part equally imparted to many children, would like Gavel-kind lands, in few generations become nothing; or to ſay it by communication, is errour in Divinity, for to communicate the ability of communicating whole eſſence with any but God, is utter blaſphemy. And if thou hit thy Fathers nature and inclination, he alſo had his Fathers, and ſo climbing up, all comes of one man, and have one nature, all ſhall imbrace one courſe; but that cannot bee, therefore our complexions and whole bodies, wee inherit from Parents; our inclinations and minds follow that: For our minde is heavy in our bodies afflictions, and rejoyceth in our bodies pleaſure: how then ſhall this nature governe us, that is governed by the worſt part of us? Nature though oft chaſed away, it will returne; ’tis true, but thoſe good motions and inſpirations which be our guides muſt bee wooed, courted, and welcomed, or elſe they [23] abandon us. And that old Axiome, nihil invita, &c. muſt not be ſaid thou ſhalt, but thou wilt doe nothing againſt Nature; ſo unwilling he notes us to curbe our naturall appetites. Wee call our baſtards alwayes our naturall iſſue, and we define a Foole by nothing ſo ordinary, as by the name of naturall. And that poore knowledge whereby we conceive what raine is, what wind, what thunder, wee call Metaphyſicke, ſupernaturall; ſuch ſmall things, ſuch no things doe we allow to our pliant Natures apprehenſion. Laſtly, by following her, we loſe the pleaſant, and lawfull commodities of this life, for wee ſhall drinke water and eate rootes, and thoſe not ſweet and delicate, as now by Mans art and induſtry they are made: we ſhall loſe all the neceſſities of ſocieties, lawes, arts, and ſciences, which are all the workemanſhip of Man: yea we ſhall lack the laſt beſt refuge of miſery, death; becauſe no death is naturall: for if yee will not dare to call all death violent (though I ſee not why ſickneſſes be not violences) yet cauſes of all deaths proceed of the defect of that which nature made perfect, and would preſerve, and therefore all againſt nature.
Extreames are equally removed from the meane; ſo that headlong deſperateneſſe aſmuch offends true valour, as backward Cowardice: of which ſort I reckon juſtly all un-inforced deaths. When will your valiant man dye of neceſſity? ſo Cowards ſuffer what cannot be avoided: and to runne into death unimportun’d, is to runne into the firſt condemned deſperateneſſe. Will he dye when he is rich and happy? then by living he may doe more good: and in afflictions and miſeries, death is the choſen refuge of Cowards.
But it is taught and practiſed among our Galants, that rather than our reputations ſuffer any maime, or we any miſery, wee ſhall offer our breſts to the Cannons mouth, yea to our ſwords points: And this ſeemes a very brave and a very climbing (which is a Cowardly, earthly, and indeed a very groveling) ſpirit. [25] Why doe they chaine theſe ſlaves to the Gallyes, but that they thruſt their deaths, and would at every looſe leape into the ſea? Why doe they take weapons from condemned men, but to barre them of that eaſe which Cowards affect, a ſpeedy death. Truely this life is a tempeſt, and a warfare, and he which dares dye, to eſcape the anguiſh of it, ſeems to mee, but ſo valiant, as hee which dares hang himſelfe, leſt hee be preſt to the warres. I have ſeene one in that extremity of melancholy, which was then become madneſſe, to make his owne breath an Inſtrument to ſtay his breath, and labour to choake himſelfe, but alas! he was mad. And we knew another that languiſhed under the oppreſſion of a poore diſgrace ſo much, that hee tooke more paines to dye, then would have ſerved to have nouriſhed life and ſpirit enough to have outlived his diſgrace. What Foole will call this Cowardlineſſe, Valour? or this Baſeneſſe, Humility? And laſtly, of theſe men which dye the Allegoricall death of entring into Religion, how few are found fit for any ſhew of valiancy? but onely a ſoft and ſupple metall, made onely for Cowardly ſolitarineſſe.
Ride, ſi ſapis, ô puella ride; If thou beeſt wiſe, laugh: for ſince the powers of diſcourſe, reaſon, and laughter, bee equally proper unto Man onely, why ſhall not hee be onely moſt wiſe, which hath moſt uſe of laughing, aſwell as he which hath moſt of reaſoning and diſcourſing? I alwaies did, and ſhall underſtand that Adage;
That by much laughing thou maiſt know there is a foole, not, that the laughers are fooles, but that among them there is ſome foole, at whome wiſemen laugh: which moved Eraſmus to put this as his firſt Argument in the mouth of his Folly, that ſhee made Beholders laugh: for fooles are the moſt laughed at, and laugh the leaſt themſelves of any. And Nature ſaw this faculty to bee ſo neceſſary in man, [27] that ſhee hath beene content that by more cauſes we ſhould be importuned to laugh, then to the exerciſe of any other power; for things in themſelves utterly contrary, beget this effect; for wee laugh both at witty and abſurd things: At both which ſorts I have ſeen Men laugh ſo long, and ſo earneſtly, that at laſt they have wept that they could laugh no more. And therfore the Poet having deſcribed the quietneſſe of a wiſe retired man, ſaith in one, what we have ſaid before in many lines; Quid facit Canius tuus? ridet. We have received that even the extremity of laughing, yea of weeping alſo, hath beene accounted wiſedome: And that Democritus and Heraclitus, the lovers of theſe Extremes, have been called lovers of wiſedome. Now among our wiſemen I doubt not, but many would be found who would laugh at Heraclitus weeping, none which weepe at Democritus laughing. At the hearing of Comedies or other witty reports, I have noted ſome, which not underſtanding jeſts, &c. have yet choſen this as the beſt meanes to ſeeme wiſe and underſtanding, to laugh when their Companions laugh; and I have preſumed them ignorant, whom I have ſeene unmoved. A foole if he come into a Princes Court, and ſee a gay man leaning at the wall, ſo gliſtering, and ſo painted [28] in many colours that he is hardly diſcerned from one of the pictures in the Arras, hanging his body like an Iron-bound-cheſt, girt in and thicke ribb’d with broad gold laces, may (and commonly doth) envy him. But alas! ſhall a wiſeman, which may not onely not envy, but not pitty this monſter, do nothing? Yes, let him laugh. And if one of theſe hot cholerike firebrands, which nouriſh themſelves by quarrelling, and kindling others, ſpit upon a foole one ſparke of diſgrace, he, like a thatcht houſe quickly burning, may bee angry; but the wiſeman, as cold as the Salamander, may not onely not be angry with him, but not be ſorry for him; therefore let him laugh: ſo he ſhall be knowne a Man, becauſe he can laugh, a wiſe Man that hee knowes at what to laugh, and a valiant Man that he dares laugh: for he that laughs is juſtly reputed more wiſe, then at whom it is laughed. And hence I thinke proceeds that which in theſe later formall times I have much noted; that now when our ſuperſtitious civility of manners is become a mutuall tickling flattery of one another, almoſt every man affecteth an humour of jeſting, and is content to be deject, and to deforme himſelfe, yea become foole to no other end that I can ſpie, but to give his wiſe Companion occaſion to laugh: and to ſhew [29] themſelves in promptneſſe of laughing is ſo great in wiſemen, that I thinke all wiſemen, if any wiſeman do reade this Paradox, will laugh both at it and me.
I ſay againe, that the body makes the minde, not that it created it a minde, but formes it a good or a bad mind; and this minde may be confounded with ſoule without any violence or injuſtice to Reaſon or Philoſophy: then the ſoule it ſeemes is enabled by our body, not this by it. My Body licenſeth my ſoule to ſee the Worlds beauties through mine eyes; to heare pleaſant things through mine eares; and affords it apt Organs for the conveiance of all perceivable delight. But alas! my ſoule cannot make any part, that is not of it ſelfe diſpoſed, to ſee or heare, though without doubt ſhe be as able and as willing to ſee behind as before. Now if my ſoule would ſay, that ſhee enables any part to taſte theſe pleaſures, but is her ſelfe onely delighted with thoſe rich ſweetneſſes which her inward eyes [31] and ſenſes apprehend, ſhee ſhould diſſemble; for I ſee her often ſolaced with beauties, which ſhee ſees through mine eyes, and with muſicke which through mine eares ſhe heares. This perfection then my body hath, that it can impart to my minde all his pleaſures; and my minde hath ſtill many, that ſhe can neither teach my indiſpoſed part her faculties, nor to the beſt eſpouſed parts ſhew it beauty of Angels, of Muſicke, of Spheres, whereof ſhe boaſts the contemplation. Are chaſtity, temperance, and fortitude gifts of the mind? I appeale to Phyſitians whether the cauſe of theſe be not in the body, health is the gift of the body, and patience in ſickeneſſe the gift of the minde: then who will ſay that patience is as good a happineſſe, as health, when wee muſt be extremely miſerable to purchaſe this happineſſe. And for nouriſhing of civill ſocieties and mutuall love amongſt men, which is our chiefe end while wee are men; I ſay, this beauty, preſence, and proportion of the body, hath a more maſculine force in begetting this love, then the vertues of the minde: for it ſtrikes us ſuddenly, and poſſeſſeth us immoderately; when to know thoſe vertues requires ſome Iudgement in him which ſhall diſcerne, a long time and converſation betweene them. And even at laſt how much of our faith [32] and beleefe ſhall we be driven to beſtow, to aſſure our ſelves that theſe vertues are not counterfeited: for it is the ſame to be, and ſeeme vertuous, becauſe that he that hath no vertue, can diſſemble none, but he which hath a little, may gild and enamell, yea and transforme much vice into vertue: For allow a man to be diſcreet and flexible to complaints, which are great vertuous gifts of the minde, this diſcretion will be to him the ſoule & Elixir of all vertues, ſo that touched with this, even pride ſhal be made humility; and Cowardice, honourable and wiſe valour. But in things ſeene there is not this danger, for the body which thou loveſt and eſteemeſt faire, is faire; certainely if it bee not faire in perfection, yet it is faire in the ſame degree that thy Iudgement is good. And in a faire body, I doe ſeldome ſuſpect a diſproportioned minde, and as ſeldome hope for a good in a deformed. When I ſee a goodly houſe, I aſſure my ſelfe of a worthy poſſeſſour, from a ruinous weather-beaten building I turn away, becauſe it ſeems either ſtuffed with varlets as a Priſon, or handled by an unworthy and negligent tenant, that ſo ſuffers the waſte thereof. And truely the gifts of Fortune, which are riches, are onely handmaids, yea Pandars of the bodies pleaſure; with their ſervice we nouriſh [33] health, and preſerve dainty, and wee buy delights; ſo that vertue which muſt be loved for it ſelfe, and reſpects no further end, is indeed nothing: And riches, whoſe end is the good of the body, cannot be ſo perfectly good, as the end whereto it levels.
I call not that Virginity a vertue, which reſideth only in the Bodies integrity; much leſſe if it be with a purpoſe of perpetuall keeping it: for then it is a moſt inhumane vice—But I call that Virginity a vertue which is willing and deſirous to yeeld itſelfe upon honeſt and lawfull termes, when juſt reaſon requireth; and untill then, is kept with a modeſt chaſtity of Body and Mind. Some perchance will say that Virginity is in us by Nature, and therefore no vertue. True, as it is in us by Nature, it is neither a Vertue nor Vice, and is onely in the body: (as in Infants, Children, and such as are incapable of parting from it). But that Virginity which is in Man or Woman of perfect age, is not in them by Nature: Nature is the greateſt enemy to it, and with moſt ſubtile allurements ſeeks the over-throw of it, continually beating againſt it with her Engines, and [35] giving ſuch forcible aſſaults to it, that it is a ſtrong and more then ordinary vertue to hold out till marriage. Ethick Philoſophy ſaith, That no Vertue is corrupted, or is taken away by that which is good: Hereupon ſome may ſay, that Virginity is therefore no vertue, being taken away by marriage. Virginity is no otherwiſe taken away by marriage, then is the light of the ſtarres by a greater light (the light of the Sun:) or as a leſſe Title is taken away by a greater: (an Eſquire by being created an Earle) yet Virginity is a vertue, and hath her Throne in the middle: The extreams are, in Exceſſe; to violate it before marriage; in defect, not to marry. In ripe years as ſoon as reaſon perſwades, and opportunity admits, Theſe extreams are equally removed from the mean: The exceſſe proceeds from Luſt, the defect from Peeviſhneſſe, Pride and Stupidity. There is an old Proverb, That, they that dy maids, muſt lead Apes in Hell. An Ape is a ridiculous and unprofitable Beaſt, whoſe fleſh is not good for meat, nor its back for burden, nor is it commodious to keep an houſe: and perchance for the unprofitableneſſe of this Beaſt did this proverb come up: For surely nothing is more unprofitable in the Commonwealth of Nature, then they [36] that dy old maids, becauſe they refuſe to be uſed to that end for which they were only made. The Ape bringeth forth her young, for the moſt part by twins; that which ſhe loves beſt, ſhe killeth by preſſing it too hard: so fooliſh maids ſoothing themſelves with a falſe conceit of vertue, in fond obſtinacie, live and die maids; and ſo not only kill in themſelves the vertue of Virginity, and of a Vertue make it a Vice, but they also accuſe their parents in condemning marriage. If this application hold not touch, yet there may be an excellent one gathered from an Apes tender love to Conies in keeping them from the Weaſel and Ferret. From this ſimilitude of an Ape & an old Maid did the aforeſaid proverb firſt ariſe. But alas, there are ſome old Maids that are Virgins much againſt their wills, and fain would change their Virgin-life for a Married: ſuch if they never have had any offer of fit Huſbands, are in ſome ſort excuſable, and their willingneſſe, their deſire to marry, and their forbearance from all diſhoneſt, and unlawful copulation, may be a kind of inclination to vertue, although not Vertue it ſelfe. This Virtue of Virginity (though it be ſmall and fruitleſſe) it is an extraordinary, and no common Vertue. All [37] other Vertues lodge in the Will (it is the Will that makes them vertues.) But it is the unwillingneſſe to keep it, the deſire to forſake it, that makes this a vertue. As in the naturall generation and formation made of the ſeed in the womb of a woman, the body is joynted and organized about the 28 day, and so it begins to be no more an Embrion, but capable as a matter prepared to its form to receive the ſoule, which faileth not to inſinuate and inneſt it ſelfe into the body about the fortieth day; about the third month it hath motion and ſenſe: Even ſo Virginity is an Embrion, an unfaſhioned lump, till it attain to a certain time, which is about twelve years of age in women, fourteen in men, and then it beginneth to have the ſoule of Love infuſed into it, and to become a vertue: There is alſo a certain limited time when it ceaſeth to be a vertue, which in men is about fourty, in women about thirty years of age: yea, the loſſe of ſo much time makes their Virginity a Vice, were not their endeavour wholly bent, and their deſires altogether fixt upon marriage: In Harveſt time do we not account it a great vice of ſloath and negligence in a Huſband-man, to overſlip a week or ten dayes after his fruits are fully ripe; May we [38] not much more account it a more heynous vice, for a Virgin to let her Fruit (in potentia) conſume and rot to nothing, and to let the vertue of her Virginity degenerate into Vice, (for Virginity ever kept is ever loſt.) Avarice is the greateſt deadly ſin next Pride: it takes more pleaſure in hoording Treaſure then in making uſe of it, and will neither let the poſſeſſor nor others take benefit by it during the Miſers life; yet it remains intire, and when the Miſer dies muſt come to ſom body. Virginity ever kept, is a vice far worſe then Avarice, it will neither let the poſſeſſor nor others take benefit by it, nor can it be bequeathed to any: with long keeping it decayes and withers, and becomes corrupt and nothing worth. Thus ſeeing that Virginity becomes a vice in defect, by exceeding a limited time; I counſell all female Virgins to make choyce of ſome Paracelſian for their Phyſitian, to prevent the death of that Vertue: The Paracelſians (curing like by like) ſay, That if the lives of living Creatures could be taken down, they would make us immortall. By this rule, female Virgins by a diſcreet marriage ſhould ſwallow down into their Virginity another Virginity, and devour ſuch a life & ſpirit into their womb, that it might make them as it were, [39] immortall here on earth, beſides their perfect immortality in heaven: And that Vertue which otherwiſe would putrifie and corrupt, ſhall then be compleat; and ſhall be recorded in Heaven, and enrolled here on Earth; and the name of Virgin ſhall be exchanged for a far more honorable name, A Wife.
Becauſe Fortune herſelfe is a Whore, but ſuch are not moſt indulgent to their iſſue; the old naturall reaſon (but thoſe meetings in ſtolne love are moſt vehement, and ſo contribute more ſpirit then the eaſie and lawfull) might governe me, but that now I ſee Miſtreſſes are become domeſtike and inordinary, and they and wives waite but by turnes, and agree aſwell as they had lived in the Arke. The old Morall reaſon (that Baſtards inherit wickedneſſe from their Parents, and ſo are in a better way to preferment by having a ſtocke before-hand, then thoſe that build all their fortune upon the poore and weake ſtocke of Originall ſinne) might prevaile with me, but that ſince wee are fallen into ſuch times, [41] as now the world might ſpare the Divell, because ſhe could be bad enough without him. I ſee men ſcorne to be wicked by example, or to bee beholding to others for their damnation. It ſeems reaſonable, that ſince Lawes rob them of ſucceſſion in civill benefits, they ſhould have ſomething elſe equivalent. As Nature (which is Lawes patterne) having denyed Women Conſtancy to one, hath provided them with cunning to allure many; and ſo Baſtards de jure ſhould have better wits and experience. But beſides that by experience wee ſee many fooles amongſt them, wee ſhould take from them one of their chiefeſt helpes to preferment, and we ſhould deny them to be fools, and (that which is onely left) that Women chuſe worthier men then their husbands, is falſe de facto; either then it muſt bee that the Church having removed them from all place in the publike Service of God, they have better meanes then others to be wicked, and ſo fortunate: Or elſe becauſe the two greateſt powers in this world, the Divell and Princes concurre to their greatneſſe; the one giving baſtardy, the other legitimation: As nature frames and conſerves great bodies of contraries. Or the cauſe is, becauſe they abound moſt at Court, which is the forge where fortunes are made, or at leaſt the ſhop where they be ſold.
It needs not perſpicuouſneſſe, for God knowes they are plain enough: nor doe all of them uſe Sem-briefe-Accents for ſome of them have crotchets enough. It may bee they intend not to riſe like glorious Tapers and Torches, but like Thinne-wretched-ſicke-watching-Candles, which languiſh and are in a Divine Conſumption from the firſt minute, yea in their ſnuffe, and ſtink when others are in their more profitable glory. I have thought ſometimes, that out of conſcience, they allow long meaſure to courſe ware. And ſometimes, that uſurping in that place a liberty to ſpeak freely of Kings, they would raigne as long as they could. But now I thinke they doe it out of a zealous imagination, that, It is their duty to preach on till their Auditory wake.
Did he know that our Age would deny the Devils poſſeſſing, and therfore provided by theſe to poſſeſſe men and kingdomes? Or to end the diſputation of Schoolemen, why the Divell could not make lice in Egypt; and whether thoſe things hee preſented there, might be true, hath he ſent us a true and reall plague, worſe than thoſe ten? Or in oſtentation of the greatneſſe of his Kingdome, which even diviſion cannot ſhake, doth he ſend us theſe which diſagree with all the reſt? Or knowing that our times ſhould diſcover the Indies, and aboliſh their Idolatry, doth he ſend theſe to give them another for it? Or peradventure they have beene in the Roman Church theſe thouſand yeeres, though we have called them by other names.
It is becauſe it is the figure of Youth wherin nature wuld provide as many green, as youth hath affections; and ſo preſent a Sea-green for profuſe waſters in voyages; a Graſſe-green for ſudden new men enobled from Graſiers; and a Gooſe-greene for ſuch Polititians as pretend to preſerve the Capitol. Or elſe Prophetically foreſeeing an age, wherein they ſhall all hunt. And for ſuch as miſdemeane themſelves a Willow-greene; For Magiſtrates muſt aſwell have Faſces born before them to chaſtize the ſmall offences, as Secures to cut off the great.
Is it becauſe others tending buſily Churches preferment neglect ſtudy? Or had the Church of Rome ſhut up all our wayes, till the Lutherans broke downe their uttermoſt ſtubborne doores, and the Calviniſts picked their inwardeſt and ſubtleſt lockes? Surely the Devill cannot be ſuch a Foole to hope that he ſhall make this ſtudy contemptible, by making it common. Nor that as the Dwellers by the River Origus are ſaid (by drawing infinite ditches to ſprinkle their barren Country) to have exhauſted and intercepted their maine channell, and ſo loſt their more profitable courſe to the ſea; ſo we, by providing every ones ſelfe, divinity enough for his own uſe, ſhould neglect our Teachers and Fathers. Hee cannot hope for better hereſies then hee hath had, nor was his Kingdome ever ſo much [46] advanced by debating Religion (though with ſome aſperſions of Error) as by a dull and ſtupid ſecurity, in which many groſe things are ſwallowed. Poſſible out of ſuch an ambition as we have now, to ſpeake plainely and fellow-like with Lords and Kings, wee thinke alſo to acquaint our ſelves with Gods ſecrets: Or perchance when we ſtudy it by mingling humane reſpects, It is not Divinity.
It is agreed that wee have not ſo much from them as any part of either our mortall ſoules of ſenſe, or growth, and we deny ſoules to others equal to them in all but in ſpeech for which they are beholding to their bodily inſtruments: For perchance an Oxes heart, or a Goates, or a Foxes, or a Serpents would ſpeake juſt ſo, if it were in the breaſt, and could move that tongue and jawes. Have they ſo many advantages and meanes to hurt us (for, ever their loving deſtroyed us) that we dare not diſpleaſe them, but give them what they will? And ſo when ſome call them Angels, ſome Goddeſſes, and the Palpulian Heretikes made them Biſhops, wee deſcend ſo much with the ſtreame, to allow them ſoules? Or doe we ſomewhat (in this dignifying of them) flatter Princes and great Perſonages that are ſo [48] much governed by them? Or do we in that eaſineſſe and prodigality, wherein we daily loſe our owne ſoules to we care not whom, ſo labour to perſwade our ſelves, that ſith a woman hath a ſoule, a ſoule is no great matter? Or doe wee lend them ſoules but for uſe, ſince they for our ſakes, give their ſoules againe, and their bodies to boote? Or perchance becauſe the Deuill (who is all ſoule) doth moſt miſchiefe, and for convenience and proportion, becauſe they would come neerer him, wee allow them ſome ſoules; and ſo as the Romanes naturalized ſome Provinces in revenge, and made them Romans, onely for the burthen of the Common-wealth; ſo we have given women ſoules onely to make them capable of damnation?
I meane not of falſe Alchimy Beauty, for then the queſtion ſhould be inverted, Why are the Falſeſt, Faireſt? It is not onely becauſe they are much ſolicited and ſought for, ſo is gold, yet it is not ſo common; and this ſuite to them, ſhould teach them their value, and make them more reſerved. Nor is it becauſe the delicateſt blood hath the beſt ſpirits, for what is that to the fleſh? perchance ſuch conſtitutions have the beſt wits, and there is no proportionable ſubject, for Womens wit, but deceipt? doth the minde ſo follow the temperature of the body, that becauſe thoſe complexions are apteſt to change, the mind is therefore ſo? Or as Bells of the pureſt metall retaine their tinkling and ſound largeſt; ſo the memory of the laſt pleaſure laſts longer in theſe, and diſpoſeth them to the next. But ſure it is not in the complexion, for thoſe that doe but thinke themſelves faire, are preſently [50] inclined to this multiplicity of loves, which being but faire in conceipt are falſe in deed: and ſo perchance when they are borne to this beauty, or have made it, or have dream’d it, they eaſily believe all addreſſes and applications of every man, out of a ſenſe of their own worthineſſ to be directed to them, which others leſſ worthy in their own thoughts apprehend not, or diſcredit. But I think the true reaſon is, that being like gold in many properties (as that all ſnatch at them, but the worſt poſſeſſ them, that they care not how deep we dig for them, and that by the Law of nature, Occupandi conceditur) they would be like alſo in this, that as Gold to make it ſelf of uſe admits allay, ſo they, that they may be tractable, mutable, and currant, have to allay Falſhood.
Is it becauſe it is nearer the earth? But they whoſe profeſſion it is to ſee that nothing be done in heaven without their conſent (as Re — ſays in himſelf of Aſtrologers) have bid Mercury to be nearer. Is it becauſe the works of Venus want ſhadowing, covering and dignifying? But thoſe of Mercury need it more; For Eloquence, his occupation, is all ſhadow and colours; let our life be a ſea, and then our reaſons and even paſſions are wide enough to carry us whether we ſhould go, but Eloquence is a ſtorm and tempeſt that miſcarries: and who doubts that Eloquence which muſt perſwade people to take a yoke of ſoveraignty (and then beg and make Laws to tye them faſter, and then give money to the invention, repair and ſtrengthen it) needs [52] more ſhadows and coloring, then to perſwade any man or woman to that which is natural. And Venus markets are ſo natural, that when we ſolicite the beſt way (which is by marriage) our perſwaſions work not ſo much to draw a woman to us, as againſt her nature to draw her from all other beſides. And ſo when we go againſt nature, and from Venus-work (for marriage is chaſtitie) we need ſhadowes and colours, but not elſe. In Seneca’s time, it was a courſe, an un-Roman and a contemptible thing even in a Matron, not to have had a Love beſide her huſband, which though the Law required not at their hands, yet they did it zealouſly out of the Council of Cuſtom and faſhion, which was venery of ſupererrogation:
saith Martial: And Horace, becauſe many lights would not ſhew him enough, created many Images of the ſame Object by wainſcoting his chamber with looking-glaſſes: ſo that Venus flies not light, as much as Mercury, who creeping into our underſtanding, our darkneſs would be defeated, if he were perceived. Then either this ſhadow confeſſeth that ſame dark Melancholy Repentance which accompanies; or that ſo violent fires, needs ſome ſhadowy refreſhing and [53] intermiſſion: Or elſe light ſignifying both day and youth, and ſhadow both night and age, ſhe pronounceth by this that ſhe profeſſeth both all perſons and times.
The Moon hath as many names, but not as ſhe is a ſtar, but as ſhe hath divers governments; but Venus is multinominous to give example to her proſtitute diſciples, who ſo often, either to renew or refreſh themſelves towards lovers, or to diſguiſe themſelves from Magiſtrates, are to take new names. It may be ſhe takes new names after her many functions, for as ſhe is ſupream Monarch of all Suns at large (which is luſt) ſo is ſhe joyned in Commiſſion with all Mythologicks, with Juno, Diana, and all others for marriage. It may be becauſe of the divers names to her ſelf, for her affections have more names than any vice: ſcilicet, Pollution, Fornication, Adultery, Lay-Inceſt, Church-Inceſt, Rape, Sodomy, Maſtupration, Maſturbation, and a thouſand others. [55] Perchance her divers names ſhewed her appliableneſs to divers men, for Neptune diſtilled and wet her in love, the Sun warms and melts her, Mercury perſwaded and ſwore her, Jupiters authority ſecured, and Vulcan hammer’d her. As Heſperus ſhe preſents you with her bonum utile, becauſe it is wholeſomeſt in the morning: As Veſper with her bonum delectabile, becauſe it is pleaſanteſt in the evening. And becauſe induſtrious men riſe and endure with the Sun in their civil buſineſſes, this Star caſts them up a little before, and remembers them again a little after for her buſineſs; for certainly,
was ſpoken to Lovers in the perſons of Goats.
Muſt the old Proverbe, that Old dogs bite ſorest, be true in all kinde of dogs? Me thinkes the freſh memory they have of the mony they parted with for the place, ſhould haſten them for the re-imburſing: And perchance they doe but ſeeme eaſier to their ſuiters; who (as all other Patients) doe account all change of paine, eaſie. But if it bee ſo, it is either becauſe the ſodain ſenſe & contentment of the honor of the place, retards and remits the rage of their profits, and ſo having ſtayed their ſtomackes, they can forbeare the ſecond courſe a while: Or having overcome the ſteepest part of the hill, and clambered above Competitions and Oppoſitions they dare loyter, and take breath: Perchance being come from places, where they taſted no gaine, a little ſeems much to them at firſt, for it is long before [57] a Christian conſcience overtakes, or straies into an Officers heart. It may be that out of the generall diſeaſe of all men not to love the memory of a predeceſſor, they ſeeke to diſgrace them by ſuch eaſineſſe, and make good firſt impreſſions, that ſo having drawen much water to their Mill, they may afterward grind at eaſe: For if from the rules of good Horſe-manſhip, they thought it wholeſome to jet out in a moderate pace, they ſhould alſo take up towards their journeys end, not mend their pace continually, and gallop to their Innes-doore, the grave; except perchance their conſcience at that time ſo touch them, that they thinke it an injury and damage both to him that muſt ſell, and to him that muſt buy the Office after their death, and a kind of dilapidation if they by continuing honeſt ſhould diſcredit the place, and bring it to a lower-rent, or under-value.
Paracelſus perchance ſaith true, That every Diſeaſe hath his exaltation in ſome part certaine. But why this in the Noſe? Is there ſo much mercy in this diſeaſe, that it provides that one ſhould not ſmell his own ſtinck? Or hath it but the common fortune, that being begot and bred in obſcureſt and ſecreteſt places, becauſe therefore his ſerpentine crawling and inſinuation ſhould not be ſuſpected, nor ſeen, he comes ſooneſt into great place, and is more able to deſtroy the worthieſt member, then a diſeaſe better born? Perchance as mice defeat Elephants by knawing their Proboſcis, which is their Noſe, this wretched Indian Vermine practiſeth to doe the ſame upon us. Or as the ancient furious Cuſtome and Connivency of ſome Lawes, that one [59] might cut off their Noſe whome he deprehended in Adulterie, was but a Tipe of this; And that now more charitable lawes having taken away all Revenge from particular hands, this common Magiſtrate and Executioner is come to do the ſame office inviſibly? Or by withdrawing this conſpicuous part, the Noſe, it warnes us from all adventuring upon that Coaſt; for it is as good a mark to take in a flag as to hang one out. Poſſibly heate, which is more potent and active then cold, thought her ſelfe injured, and the Harmony of the world out of tune, when cold was able to ſhew the high-way to Noses in Muscovia, except ſhe found the meanes to doe the ſame in other Countries. Or becauſe by the conſent of all, there is an Analogy, Proportion, and affection between the Noſe and that part where this diſeaſe is firſt contracted, and therefore Heliogabalus choſe not his Minions in the Bath but by the Noſe: And Albertus had a knaviſh meaning when he preferd great Noſes; And the licentious Poet was Naſo Poeta. I think this reaſon is neareſt truth, That the Noſe is moſt compaſſionate with this part: Except this be nearer, that it is reaſonable that this Diſeaſe in particular ſhould affect the moſt eminent and perſpicuous part, which in general doth affect to take hold of the moſt eminent and conſpicuous men.
Becauſe women are become eaſyer. Or becauſe theſe later times have provided mankind of more new means for the deſtroying of themſelves and one another, Pox, Gunpowder, Young marriages, and Controverſies in Religion. Or is there in true Hiſtory no Precedent or Example of it? Or perchance ſome die ſo, but are not therefore worthy the remembring or ſpeaking of?
They think that Feathers imitate wings, and ſo ſhew their reſtleſſneſs and inſtability. As they are in matter, ſo they would be in name, like Embroiderers, Painters, and ſuch Artificers of curious vanities, which the vulgar call Pluminaries. Or elſe they have feathers for the ſame reaſon, which moves them to love the unworthieſt men, which is, that they may be thereby excuſable in their inconſtancy and often changing.
Doth it direct all the venom to the heart? Or is it becauſe bribing ſhould not be diſcovered? Or becauſe that ſhould pay purely, for which pure things are given, as Love, Honor, Justice and Heaven? Or doth it ſeldom come into innocent hands but into ſuch as for former foulneſs you cannot diſcern this?
It is not becauſe they are got neareſt their ſecrets, for they whom they bring come nearer. Nor commonly becauſe they and their bawds have lain in one belly, for then they ſhould love their brothers aſwel. Nor becauſe they are witneſſes of their weakneſs, for they are weak ones. Either it is becauſe they have a double hold and obligation upon their maſters for providing them ſurgery and remedy after, aſwel as pleaſure before, and bringing them always ſuch ſtuff, as they ſhal always need their ſervice? Or becauſe they may be received and entertained every where, and Lords fling off none but they ſuch as they may deſtroy by it. Or perchance we deceive our ſelves, and every Lord having many, and, of neceſſity, ſome riſing, we mark only theſe.
Is it becauſe as Phyſitians contemplating Nature, and finding many abſtruſe things ſubject to the ſearch of Reaſon, thinks therefore that all is ſo; so they (ſeeing mens deſtinies, mad at Court, neck out and in joynt there, War, Peace, Life and Death derived from thence) climb no higher? Or doth a familiarity with greatneſs, and daily converſation and acquaintance with it breed a contempt of all greatneſs? Or becauſe that they ſee that opinion or need of one another, and fear makes the degrees of ſervants, Lords and Kings, do they think that God likewiſe for ſuch Reaſon hath been mans Creator? Perchance it is becauſe they ſee Vice proſper beſt there, and, burthened with ſinne, doe they not, for their eaſe, endeavour to put off the feare and Knowledge [65] of God, as facinorous men deny Magiſtracy? Or are the moſt Atheiſts in that place, becauſe it is the foole that ſaid in his heart, There is no God.
Are they all wiſe enough to follow their excellent pattern Tiberius, who brought the ſenate to be diligent and induſtrious to believe him, were it never so oppoſite or diametricall, that it deſtroyed their very ends to be believed, as Aſinius Gallus had almoſt deceived this man by believing him, and the Major and Aldermen of London in Richard the Third? Or are buſineſſes (about which theſe men are converſant) ſo conjecturall, ſo ſubject to unſuſpected interventions that they are therefore forc’d to ſpeak oraculouſly, whiſperingly, generally, and therefore eſcapingly, in the language of Almanack-makers for weather? Or are thoſe (as they call them) Arcana imperii, as by whom the Prince provokes his luſt, and by whom he vents it, of what Cloath his [67] ſocks are, and ſuch, ſo deep, and ſo irreveald, as any error in them is inexcuſable? If theſe were the reaſons, they would not only ſerve for ſtate-buſineſs. But why will they not tell true, what a Clock it is, and what weather, but abſtain from truth of it, if it conduce not to their ends, as Witches will not name Jeſus, though it be in a curſe? eithere they know little out of their own Elements, or a Cuſtom in one matter begets an habite in all. Or the lower ſort imitate Lords, they their Princes, theſe their Prince. Or elſe they believe one another, and ſo never hear truth. Or they abſtain from the little Channel of truth, leaſt, at laſt, they ſhould finde the fountain it ſelf, God.
Was it becauſe that being told at his Arraignement, that a Witneſs accuſing himſelf had the ſtrength of two; he may ſeem by Writing the ills of his own Time to be believed? Or is it, becauſe he might reenjoy thoſe Times by the Meditation of them? Or becauſe if he ſhould undertake higher Times, he doth not think, that he can come nearer to the Beginning of the World? Or becauſe like a Bird in a Cage, he takes his Tunes from every paſſenger, that laſt whiſtled? Or becauſe he thinks not that the beſt Echo which repeats moſt of the Sentence, but that which repeats Leſs more plainly?
At his firſt appearing in the Charterhouſe, an Olive coloured Veluet ſuit owned him, which ſince became mous-colour, A pair of unſkour’d ſtockings-gules, One indifferent ſhooe, his band of Edenburgh, and cuffs of London, both ſtrangers to his ſhirt, a white feather in a hat that had bin ſod, one onely cloak for the rain, which yet he made ſerve him for all weathers: A Barren-half-acre of Face, amidſt whereof an eminent Noſe advanced himſelf, like the new Mount at Wanſted, overlooking his Beard, and all the wilde Country thereabouts; He was tended enough, but not well; for they were certain dumb creeping Followers, yet they [70] made way for their Maſter, the Laird. At the firſt preſentment his Breeches were his Sumpter, and his Packets, Trunks, Cloak-bags, Portmanteau’s and all; He then grew a Knight-wright, and there is extant of his ware at 100l. 150l. and 200l. price. Immediately after this, he ſhifteth his ſuit, ſo did his Whore, and to a Bear-baiting they went, whither I followed them not, but Tom. Thorney did.
He hath a Soule drownd in a lump of Fleſh, or in a piece of Earth that Prometheus put not half his proportion of Fire into, a thing that hath neither edge of deſire, nor feeling of affection in it, The moſt dangerous creature for confirming an Atheiſt, who would ſtraight ſwear, his ſoul were nothing but the bare temperature of his body: He ſleeps as he goes, and his thoughts ſeldom reach an inch further than his eyes; The moſt part of the faculties of his ſoul lye Fallow, or are like the reſtive Jades that no ſpur can drive forwards towards the purſuite of any worthy deſign; one of the moſt unprofitable of all Gods creatures, being as he is, a thing put clean beſides his right uſe, made fitt for the cart & the flail, and by miſchance Entangled amongſt books and papers, a man cannot tel poſſible what he is now good for, ſave to move up and [72] down and fill room, or to ſerve as Animatum Inſtrumentum for others to work withal in baſe Imployments, or to be a foyl for better witts, or to ſerve (as They ſay monſters do) to ſet out the variety of nature, and Ornament of the Univerſe, He is meer nothing of himſelf, neither eates, nor drinkes, nor goes, nor ſpits but by imitation, for al which, he hath ſet forms & faſhions, which he never varies, but ſticks to, with the like plodding conſtancy that a milhors follows his trace, both the muſes and the graces are his hard Miſtriſſes though he daily Invocate them, though he ſacrifize Hecatombs, they ſtil look a ſquint, you ſhall note him oft (beſide his dull eye and louting head, and a certain clammie benum’d pace) by a fair diſplai’d beard, a Nightcap and a gown, whoſe very wrincles proclaim him the true genius of formality, but of al others, his diſcours and compoſitions beſt ſpeak him, both of them are much of one ſtuf & faſhion, he ſpeaks juſt what his books or laſt company ſaid unto him without varying one whit & very ſeldom underſtands himſelf, you may know by his diſcourſe where he was laſt, for what he read or heard yeſterday he now diſchargeth his memory or notebook of, not his underſtanding, for it never came there; [73] what he hath he flings abroad at al adventurs without accomodating it to time, place, perſons or occaſions, he commonly loſeth himſelf in his tale, and flutters up and down windles without recovery, and whatſoever next preſents it ſelf, his heavie conceit ſeizeth upon and goeth along with, however Heterogeneal to his matter in hand, his jeſts are either old flead proverbs, or lean-ſtarv’d-hackny-Apophthegm’s, or poor verball quips outworn by Servingmen, Tapſters and Milkmaids, even laid aſide by Balladers, He aſſents to all men that bring any ſhadow of reaſon, and you may make him when he ſpeaks moſt Dogmatically, even with one breath, to averr pure contradictions, His Compoſitions differ only terminorum poſitione from Dreams, Nothing but rude heaps of Immaterial-inchoherent droſſie-rubbiſh-ſtuffe, promiſcuouſly thruſt up together, enough to Infuſe dullneſs and Barrenneſs of Conceit into him that is ſo Prodigall of his eares as to give the hearing, enough to make a mans memory Ake with ſuffering ſuch dirtie ſtuffe caſt into it, as unwellcome to any true conceit, as Sluttiſh Morſells or Wallowiſh Potions to a Nice-Stomack which whiles he empties himſelfe of, it ſticks in his Teeth nor can he be [74] Delivered without Sweate and Sighes, and Humms, and Coughs enough to ſhake his Grandams teeth out of her head; Heel ſpitt, and ſcratch, and yawn, and ſtamp, and turn like ſick men from one elbow to another, and Deſerve as much pitty during this torture as men in Fits of Tertian Feavors or ſelfe laſhing Penitentiaries; in a word, Rip him quite aſunder, and examin every ſhred of him, you ſhall finde him to be juſt nothing, but the ſubject of Nothing, the object of contempt, yet ſuch as he is you muſt take him, for there is no hope he ſhould ever become better.
I am of opinion that nothing is ſo potent either to procure or merit Love, as Valour, and I am glad I am ſo, for thereby I ſhall do my ſelf much eaſe, becauſe Valour never needs much wit to maintain it: To ſpeak of it in it ſelf, It is a quality which he that hath, ſhall have leaſt need of, so the beſt League between Princes is a mutual fear of each other, it teacheth a man to value his reputation as his life, and chiefly to hold the Lye unſufferable, though being alone, he holds finds no hurt it doth him, It leaves it ſelf to others cenſures, for he that brags of his own valour, diſſwades others from believing it, It feareth a word no more than an Ague, It always makes good the Owner, for though he be generally held a fool, he ſhall ſeldom hear ſo much by word of mouth, and that enlargeth him more than any ſpectacles, for it maketh a [76] little fellow be called a tall man, it yeilds the wall to none but a woman, whoſe weakneſs is her prerogative, or a man ſeconded with a woman as an uſher, which always goes before his betters, It makes a man become the witneſs of his own words, and ſtand to whatever he hath ſaid, and thinketh it a reproach to commit his reviling unto the Law, it furniſheth youth with action, and age with diſcourſe, and both by futures, for a man muſt ever boaſt himſelf in the preſent tenſe, and to come nearer home, nothing drawes a woman like to it; for Valour towards men, is an Emblem of an ability towards women, a good quality ſignifies a better. Nothing is more behooffull for that Sex; for from it they receive protection, and we free from the danger of it: Nothing makes a ſhorter cut for obtaining, for a man of Arms is always void of Ceremony, which is the wall that ſtands between Pyramus and Thiſbe, that is, Man and Woman, for there is no pride in women but that which rebounds from our own baſeneſſe (as Cowards grow valiant upon thoſe that are more Cowards) ſo that only by our pale aſking we teach them to deny, and by our ſhamefac’dneſs, we put them in minde to be modeſt, whereas indeed it is cunning [77] Rhetorick to perſwade the hearers that they are that already which he would have them to be; This kinde of baſhfulneſs is far from men of Valour, and eſpecially from ſouldiers, for ſuch are ever men (without doubt) forward and confident, loſing no time leaſt they ſhould loſe opportunity, which is the beſt Factor for a Lover, and becauſe they know women are given to diſſemble, they will never believe them when they deny, Whilome before this age of wit, and wearing black, were broke in upon us, there was no way known to win a Lady but by Tylting, Turnying, and riding through Forreſts, in which time theſe ſlender ſtriplings with little legs were held but of ſtrength enough to marry their widows, and even in our days there can be given no reaſon of the Inundation of Servingmen upon their Miſtreſſes, but (only) that uſually they carry their Maſters Weapons, and his Valour: To be accounted handſome, juſt, learned, or well favoured, all this carries no danger with it, but it is to be admitted to the Title of Valiant Acts, at leaſt the adventuring of his mortality, and al women take delight to hold him safe in their arms who hath ’ſcapt thither through many dangers: To ſpeak at once, Man hath a priviledge in Valour; In [78] clothes and good faces we but imitate women, and many of that Sex will not think much (as far as an anſwer goes) to diſſemble wit too. So then theſe neat youths, theſe women in mens apparel are too near a woman to be beloved of her, They be both of a Trade, but be grim of aſpect, and ſuch a one as Glaſs dares take, and ſhe will deſire him for neatneſs and varietie; A ſkar in a mans face is the ſame that a mole in a womans; a Jewel ſet in white to make it ſeem more white, for the ſkar in a man is a mark of honour and no blemiſh, for ’tis a ſkar and a blemiſh too in a Souldier too to be with out one: Now as for al things elſe which are to procure Love, as a good face, wit, good clothes, or a good body, each of them I confeſs may work ſomewhat for want of a better, That is, if Valour be not their Rivall; A good face avails nothing if it be in a coward that is baſhfull, the utmoſt of it is to be kiſſ’d, which rather encreaſeth then quencheth appetite; He that ſends her gifts ſends her word alſo, that he is a man of ſmall gifts otherwiſe, for wooing by ſigns and tokens implies the Author dumb; and if Ovid who writ the Law of Love, were alive (as he is extant) would allow it as good a diverſity, that gifts ſhould be ſent as [79] gratuities, not as bribes; Wit getteth rather promiſe then Love, Wit is not to be ſeen, and no woman takes advice of any in her loving, but of her own eyes, and her waiting womans; Nay which is worſe, wit is not to be felt, and ſo no good fellow; Wit apply’d to a woman makes her diſſolve (or diſcloſe) her ſimpering, and diſcover her teeth with laughter, and this is ſurely a purge for love; for the beginning of love is a kind of fooliſh melancholy, as for the man that makes his Taylor his Bawd, and hopes to inveagle his Love with ſuch a coloured ſuit, ſurely the ſame deeply hazards the loſs of her favour upon every change of his clothes; So likewiſe for the other, that Courts her ſilently with a good body, let me certifie him that his clothes depend upon the comelyneſſe of the body, and ſo both upon opinion; ſhe that hath been ſeduced by Apparel, let me give her to wit, that men always put off their clothes before they go to bed; and let her that hath been enamour’d of her ſervants body, underſtand, that if ſhe ſaw him in a ſkin of cloth, that is, in a ſuit made to the pattern of his body, ſhe would ſee ſlender cauſe to love him ever after; there are no clothes ſit ſo well in a woman’s eye, as a ſuit of Steel, though not of the faſhion, and no man ſo [80] ſoon ſurpriſeth a womans affections as he that is the ſubject of all whiſperings, and hath always twenty ſtories of his own deeds depending upon him; Miſtake me not, I underſtand not by valour one that never fights but when he is back’d by drink or anger, or hiſſ’d on with beholders, nor one that is deſperate, nor one that takes away a Servingmans weapons when perchance it coſt him his quarters wages, nor yet one that wears a Privy coat of defence and therein is confident, for then ſuch as made Bucklers, would be accounted the Catalines of this Commonwealth—I intend one of an even Reſolution grounded upon reaſon, which is always even, having his power reſtrained by the Law of not doing wrong. But now I remember I am for Valour and therefore I muſt be a man of few words.
Inconsistent period spelling retained as printed. The original printing used ß occasionally, but inconsistently, in place of ſſ: this usage has not been retained.